Well then. I blew out a breath, shrugged out of my jeans, and settled back into the bed in only my tank top. The thick sheets were cosy and comforting and drew me into sleep, even though I’d spent the past two days blissfully unaware of the world.
But then suddenly I snapped awake, my heart hammering. I didn’t know if it had been two minutes or two hours, but something had very much startled me from sleep. I rolled out of bed and raised my fists before me...and then realised what had woken me.
A soft, lilting song drifted through the cracked door of the guest room. It had an aching, haunting sound to it, the kind of sound that wanted to burrow itself deep into my bones. I’d never heard anything quite like it, and a strange magic washed over me as I listened.
Was...was that Lugh?
Obviously, I had to find out.
Grabbing a blanket from the closet, I wrapped it around my shoulders and tiptoed into the hallway. The sound was coming from downstairs. From Lugh’s quarters. I minced my way down the stairs and paused as I listened. Now that I was closer, I could tell it was a harp. I tiptoed the rest of the way to his door and peeked inside.
In the center of his living room sat a majestic, gold-trimmed harp that glowed in the darkness. Lugh sat before it, his eyes shut tight. His fingers whistled over the strings, that haunting melody rising majestically into the air.
I watched him, mouth practically touching the floor. The King of Wraiths was just full of surprises. First, he carried a hobgoblin to safety. Then, he played an instrument like this was such soul, such emotion that it brought tears to my eyes.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, my eyes caught on his biceps, his washboard abs, and his sculpted pecs. Yep, that’s right. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, and I was flat-out gawking at him now.
That rumble went through my core again, and this time, it had nothing to do with the Sapphire.
But he had put me in the guest room, and not his own bed, for a reason. What had happened between us in the old burnt-out buildings meant nothing. I had been high, and he had been, too. Hell, he’d even stopped it from going any further than it did.
With one last longing glance in his direction, I back-pedalled to the stairs. I would leave him to it. And instead of bothering him now, I would go take a cold shower.
A very cold shower.
My back slammed into something fleshy. Hands wrapped tight around my arms. Heart leaping into my chest, I screamed and slammed my bare foot up behind me. It landed in my attacker’s groin with a solid thunk, and a male voice groaned.
The arms released me.
I whirled, eyes flashing, fists raised before me. The attacker reached behind his back and pulled out twin glinting blades. I could only see his eyes. They were a deep, deep blue. The colour of the darkest part of the ocean.
And then those eyes flicked up, widening as they stared over my shoulder.
I could feel him, even though I couldn’t see him. Lugh strode out of his quarters, and an intense, lung-tightening power washed over me.
“You dare come into my quarters,” the King rumbled, voice as hard as steel, “and attack my guest beneath my roof.”
The attacker’s eyes gave me the impression that he was two seconds away from weeing in his pants.
I took that opportunity to jog back toward Lugh, my feet tripping over the blanket cape I still held tight around my body. Otherwise, the attacker was going to get an eyeful of my thong-covered bum.
A golden glint caught the corner of my eye, and I turned toward the King of Wraiths. He held his spear in his hands. The real spear. The one he kept locked up in a case. The five sharp peaks glowed as he pointed the weapon right at the attacker’s gut, and the golden rivets whirled around the shaft.
Holy shit. What the hell was this thing? It was almost like it was...alive.
“Who are you?” Lugh advanced on the attacker. “What do you want with Moira? Who else is working with you?”
“I can’t answer any of your questions,” the attacker said in a fearful voice. “They’ll kill me.”
“I’ll kill you,” Lugh roared.
The enemy charged, his twin daggers slicing through the air. He aimed them right at Lugh’s chest, and the pointed tips rippled with the threat of death. My body instinctively moved toward the danger, my arms outstretched to stop the daggers from sinking into Lugh’s skin.
But Lugh’s arm shot out and shoved me back behind him. He grabbed a shield from the wall with such speed that it looked like nothing more than a blur. The daggers slammed into the bronze, and then skittered off, like tiny pebbles against a brick wall.
The attacker’s eyes widened as he stumbled back. Lugh advanced on him, growling. With one last frantic glance in my direction, the enemy pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it right at me.
I froze, swallowing hard. It had been a long ass time since I’d seen one of those.
“I’ll kill her,” the attacker’s voice wobbled. “She might have survived the sword, but she won’t survive a gunshot.”
Lugh made his move. In a terrifyingly split second, the world seemed to shudder against the pull of time. One moment, I swore Lugh stood tall with his shield held before him. I blinked, and then the five-pointed spear rammed deep into the enemy’s chest.
Blood painted the floor.
Lugh jerked back his spear, and the body crumpled like a rag doll. I held a hand over my mouth as blood sprayed everywhere. On the floor, on the walls, on my bare feet.
Heart hammering, I glanced away. I’d seen a lot of death. I’d caused some myself. But this was a horrifying taste of brutality.
“Dammit, I didn’t want to kill him,” Lugh muttered, whirling on his feet and vanishing back into his quarters. I stared after him. Was that...was that it? Was he just going to return to his harp-playing now and pretend that there wasn’t a dead body on his floor with blood spatter everywhere?
But he reappeared only seconds later, the spear whisked out of sight. My heart thudded as I watched him lean over the attacker’s body. “What is that thing, Lugh?”
He glanced up at me, eyes hard, but he didn’t answer my question.
“Your spear,” I pressed. “That’s not a normal weapon. What is it? How did it move like that? Why do you keep it locked up all the time?”
He ground his teeth together, and turned his attention back on the attacker. “It is a very long story. One I’m not sure you’re ready to hear. And right now...” He reached down and placed trembling fingers on the mask. “We need to see who this is.”
He ripped the mask away. The face beneath it was not one I’d seen before, at least that I remembered. He had pale, freckled skin, pale hair that was almost white, and an upturned nose like a ski slope. Lugh let out a heavy sigh, fisted hand braced on the floor.
“Is he one of the wraiths here?” I asked in a soft voice.
“No.” He punched up from the floor and shoved his fingers into his hair. He’d gotten blood on his face, but I decided not to point that out just yet. “He was part of Athaira’s lot. One of the ones who liked her reign and was angry when I took over here. He left the castle months ago. I didn’t expect he’d come back, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Ohhh.” That made a lot of sense, based on what Saoirse had told me. I still didn’t know the full story, but I did know that Athaira had been cruel. If the fae who had actually liked Athaira still held a grudge... “So, does this mean we were wrong? That these traitors aren’t traitors at all, but more like...usurpers.”
“I’m the usurper,” he said roughly. “I took the castle from her after I learned of the abuse she rained down on her weaker subjects. These fae want their castle back. And they want Nemain to rule it instead of me.”
“But that’s kind of good news, right? It means that none of the wraiths are working against us.”
He shook his head. “There will be at least one. They are getting inside information somehow. They are getting access to the castle walls. Someone is letting them in, and is f
eeding them information. For example, they knew you were staying here at the palace, and they knew that I would be playing my harp which would drown out an attack. If I hadn’t been paying attention…”
And we still had no leads on who that was. Saoirse had been taken. And we’d been attacked again.
I cocked my head at him. “How would anyone have known you’d be playing the harp?”
“I play it every night at eleven.” He gave me a long, scorching look from head to toe. “You’re covered in blood. You should take a shower.”
I pointed at my face. “You have some blood on your cheek.”
His eyes softened, and he strode across the floor. “There’s some in your hair as well. Come along. Let’s get you clean.”
My heart thumped, though the flicker of excitement was quickly doused as I tiptoed across the floor. “What about this...mess?”
“Uisnech will take care of it. He will find good use of the blood.”
My footsteps faltered, but his hand quickly found my back, propelling me along. “Do I want to know what a hobgoblin does with blood?”
He let out a low chuckle. “He sells it to vampires. Fae blood is highly potent. And extremely valuable.”
Stomach twisting, I frowned. “Is it really a good idea to sell fae blood to vamps? What if they get a hunger for it?”
“They already have a hunger for it Moira,” he said smoothly. “Selling it to them prevents them from trying to take it by force. And none of us here wants a supernatural war in Edinburgh.”
Lugh led me to a door at the end of the hallway, opposite from the room that led to his quarters. Inside, an expansive bathroom gleamed before me. A large claw-footed bathtub sat before a floor-to-ceiling display of windows that overlooked the cliffs. To the right, there was a long stretch of sinks, the counters made up with a charcoal marble. On the opposite side was a shower. The kind with the rainforest shower-head and jets that shoot out from the side. The door to the shower was see-through glass, and the cubicle itself could fit at least two people, maybe more.
“Let me take that blanket,” he murmured, and I realised I still clutched the soft material tightly around my body. Nervously, I handed it to him.
His eyes sparkled. “Don’t look so afraid. I won’t bite you.”
That’s a shame.
Lugh leaned past me and flicked on the shower. Hot water poured from the large shower-head. Before I understood what was happening, he’d lifted my shirt over my head. Which meant I was now wearing nothing more than my bra and panties.
His eyes scorched across my body. “Go on. Ladies first.”
Heart thudding against my ribs, I stepped under the soothing spray of the water. Lugh began to turn away, seemingly to give me some privacy, but I cleared my throat. He paused.
“You need to shower, too,” I said quietly.
His lips twitched, and in an instant, his clothes were a puddle of cloth at his feet. I kept my gaze rooted to the spot, which was the tiny little knob about chest height. I didn’t let myself look at him, mostly because I was scared I might turn into a puddle myself.
Was he wearing pants?
My eyes flicked down. Damn them. The traitors. No, he was not wearing pants.
He was very, very naked.
I couldn’t take it any longer. Twisting around to face him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and crushed my lips against his. For a moment, I was scared this shower idea of his had been nothing more than a way to get clean, but then a groan seeped from his parted lips.
His hands slipped down my back, splaying across the curves of my bum. With a sharp tug, he pulled me closer, his kiss deepening.
“Excuse me!” a shrill voice echoed through the marbled bathroom. “You have a dead fae lying in your entryway!”
Lugh growled, twisted away, and cracked the door just enough to stick his head around it. Steam billowed around us, obscuring the view, but I’d recognise that voice anywhere. “Uisnech. I told you to wait. I am otherwise occupied. I will be with you in...an hour.”
An hour?!
“Yes, you see, but the door to the palace was wide open, and you see...there’s a crowd. And they are extremely frightened, my dear King.”
Lugh swore. He released me and vanished from the steamy shower. Through the fogged glass, I could see the outline of his shape. One moment, he was the male I’d wrapped my arms around. The next, he was taller, more commanding, just more. He was the King.
16
It had been three days since Saoirse had been taken, and the entire Court was on edge. Uisnech had cleaned up the mess, but a half a dozen fae had seen the gore first. News had spread like wildfire, and everyone was too afraid to step outside their rooms at night.
Truth be told, I didn’t blame them.
For the past two nights, I’d stayed in the Royal Palace guest room, but Lugh had been gone for most of it. At night, he would disappear after playing his harp for an hour, and he would do who knew what. I never asked him. I assumed it had something to do with Saoirse’s disappearance.
Tonight, however, things were different. He’d called me into his room just before ten. Uisnech stood in the corner, rubbing his hand against his chin.
“What’s going on?” I glanced between them. “Have you heard something about Saoirse?”
“The enemy has called. Saoirse can go free. For a ransom.” Lugh’s words were clipped, his expression betraying nothing.
“Are you serious?” I strode further into the room, heart tripping. “What did they say?”
“They want to exchange you for Saoirse,” the little creature piped up. His expression was nowhere even near blank, though he was just as hard to read. Nose twitching, his eyes swirled with a mixture of delight, curiosity, but also somber dread.
“Trade me?” I gazed from Lugh’s blank face to Uisnech’s strangely somber one. “Why the hell would they want to do that? You can’t be serious.”
Lugh pursed his lips. “Unfortunately, I am.”
My heart thumped hard, and I hated that I couldn’t read his damn face. I knew he cared about Saoirse. They had a bond I didn’t understand. Would he willingly toss me to the enemy in order to save her life? “What did you tell them?”
At that, he finally shifted his eyes to meet mine. “I told them no.”
I actually didn’t know how I felt about that. Somewhat relieved, if I were being totally honest. That meant he cared about me, too, and that sent a buzz of electricity through me that I hadn’t expected.
But then a jolt of frustration joined the much more pleasant emotions. Saoirse was a smart, savvy, intelligent fae. Well, druid fae. But she wasn’t a fighter. She wasn’t skilled in combat. I respected the hell out of who she was and what she could do, but if it came down to a physical fight, she’d lose. I’d seen those traitors in the streets. They’d been trained.
I levelled my eyes at Lugh. “We have to take them up on this offer. It’s been days since her disappearance, and we’ve learned nothing about where they might be keeping her. No leads. Not even a lead for a lead. This might be the only chance we have to save her.”
“I told you that’s what she’d say,” the hobgoblin hissed toward Lugh.
“Uisnech thinks you’re some kind of noble warrior,” Lugh said dryly, “but what he doesn’t understand is that surrendering you to Athaira’s lot will be signing off on your death sentence.”
I crossed my arms. “Really? After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t have confidence in my ability to take on these cauldron tossers? I can take care of myself, Lugh.”
“They won’t accept the trade if you have a sword,” he replied. “And I doubt they’d let you anywhere near something you could transform into a weapon, like that sign.”
“I don’t need a sword,” I shot back. “I only need a blade. Or a few dozen. Yeah. I like the idea of a dozen.”
Uisnech smiled wide, his yellow-green eyes crinkling in the corners. “Clever as well as brave!”
Honestly,
it was nice the little guy didn’t want to feed me to the Sluagh anymore, but this newfound devotion was a bit much.
“Explain,” Lugh said in a low growl.
“My skill is with the blade. Knives work, just not as effectively. I like the feel of a sword, and I love how the steel sings when I swing it. But I can be deadly with less than that.”
Lugh twisted toward Uisnech, who gave an eager nod. But then he scowled. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not sending you to those fae.”
“It’s not up to you,” I said with a shrug. “I’m not actually part of your Court, remember? I can do as I please.” Then, I turned to the hobgoblin, whose little green ears were twitching with excitement. “Uisnech, do you think you can hook me up with a few knives and figure out how to hide them in my clothes?”
The hobgoblin nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes, my love.”
For once, I didn’t hate the moniker. I grinned at Uisnech and gave him a high five.
Lugh scowled, of course.
The Cauldron Tossers—my favourite new nickname for them—wanted to do the trade in Gilmerton Cove, which was a half hour drive south from the castle. Much like the vaults where I’d been forced to fight the Sluagh, Gilmerton Cove was a tangle of underground chambers and tunnels. No one knew quite what the tunnels had once been used for. It was one of Edinburgh’s favourite mysteries. Many theories abounded. A smuggler’s lair, a secret drinking den—for humans or vampires, no one knew—or even a meeting place for the Knight’s Templar, who had been fae.
I leaned more toward the obvious choice—that it had once been a haven for sorcerers trying to escape the witch trials. They’d holed up underground, waiting for the burning torches to pass them by.
Lugh had grudgingly agreed to go through with this plan. On one condition. I wouldn’t actually turn myself over to the Cauldron Tossers. Instead, we set a little trap.
The trap was this: I would descend into the tunnels while Lugh and the ginger twins stood watch and trailed my every move from the shadows. As soon as the Cauldron Tossers showed themselves, we’d all fly into fight mode, including me. Uisnech had succeeded in hiding ten different daggers on my body. We’d tried twelve, but the extra two just wouldn’t fit.
Confessions of a Dangerous Fae (The Supernatural Spy Files Book 1) Page 14