He touched her shoulder. She tensed, painfully aware she was naked and defenseless beneath the thin blanket.
He growled. “Calm yourself. I don’t force myself on helpless women.”
Her hands clenched. Helpless? She itched to unleash her full power, a radiance that could literally blind him.
But she couldn’t. Her magic was dependent upon her ability to see. With her eyes bound she was as helpless as any mortal.
It was her Achilles’ heel—and no one but Olivia knew that. And Olivia would die before she told anyone. So how the hell had he found out?
“Here.” He slid a big arm around her shoulders and brought a cup to her lips. “Drink this.”
She folded her legs beneath her and kept her mouth resolutely closed. The blanket slipped, exposing the tops of her breasts. He stilled and she concealed her triumph.
The fada wanted her even without her glamour; she could practically smell his lust. Maybe she could use that. She let the cover remain where it was.
The cup nudged her mouth. She turned her face away. She was so thirsty her tongue felt thick and too big for her mouth, but she was even more afraid of being drugged.
“It’s only water,” he told her. When she still hesitated, he blew out a breath. “For God’s sake, drink. You have to be dehydrated—you’ve been out since last night. I don’t need to drug or poison you. The binding keeps you prisoner.”
He was right. With her eyes bound, not only was it impossible for her to access her magic, she couldn’t see to escape an underground cavern anyway. She took the cup from him. The water was cool and sweet. She drank thirstily, draining the cup before handing it back.
“More?”
“Yes, please.”
He refilled the cup. When she was finished, he took it from her, saying, “That’s enough for now. You don’t want to make yourself sick.”
He set the cup somewhere nearby and then came back to stand next to the bed. She felt him considering her. A chill slid over her skin. All of a sudden, trying to seduce her way out of this seemed like a bad idea.
Unbidden, she thought of the only bacchanal she’d ever attended. She’d been barely out of her teens and too curious for her own good. Fortunately, Artan and Grady had tracked her down and brought her home. Her parents had confined her to her room for a week with no visitors save a servant who brought her food and water. When she’d begged to be let out, her dad had said she was lucky he hadn’t turned her over his knee.
But she’d been punished worse than he knew. The nightmarish scenes had lived in her mind for years: wine and magic and dancing that turned primitive…carnal…frenzied. Women—and men—taken against their will. Harsh whippings for the slightest resistance.
The baccha brought out all that was wild and dark in the fada, allowing their feral side full rein so that a fada in the grip of the Delírio was more beast than human.
She’d watched from a dark corner, using her glamour to take on the appearance of an old, sick crone until Artan and Grady found her. By then she was curled up in a ball, praying no one would see through her disguise.
The silence thickened. Cleia drew the blanket up to her chin and firmed her jaw, hoping the fada wouldn’t notice her fingers trembling.
“Why?” she asked.
“You know why, minha senhora.”
My lady, not Queen Cleia, she noticed, the nuance making it clear she was a prisoner.
“But I don’t. You say you’re not going to force me—and that’s the only way you’d have me now.” He chuckled darkly but she ignored him. “So if you haven’t brought me here for sex, then why? Without my magic, I’m not much good to you. Unless you intend to hold me for ransom—”
He made scornful noise. “I wouldn’t risk war for a handful of pretty stones.”
“Then why?”
“You’ve developed a taste for river fada. Of your last ten lovers, eight of them were my men.”
“So? They were adults. They came to me of their own free will and were treated like honored guests while they lived with me, and then were returned to you unharmed.”
“Like hell,” he snapped. “Rodolfo was the first. You kept him three years, and then took Miguel soon after. They both returned home with half their strength, and are as yet unmated. Emanuel and Luis you kept for a shorter period of time, and they’ve managed to mate, but only Luis has had a child from these matings—and just one in five years. I don’t know yet with Jorge and Benny because they shifted to their dolphin form as soon as they returned and are lost to the currents.
“And Rui”—his voice tightened and she guessed Rui do Mar was special to him—“was about to mate with a fada woman. You kept him for a year. By the time he came home, he’d lost interest in his woman and is as yet unmated. He was my second-in-command—a strong, capable warrior—and now he’s a drunk, fit only for fishing.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea—” Something struck her: those oddly familiar silver-blue eyes. She felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “And Tiago?”
“My youngest brother.”
“Your…brother?”
“Sim,” was the grim reply. “You only kept him a week, and he appears healthy enough. But the idiota thinks he’s in love with you. He mopes around the base like his life is over.”
“But—” She shook her head. She’d been shocked to find out that Tiago was only twenty-one—an adult as the fae counted these things, but just barely. She wasn’t the evil succubus the Rock Run alpha seemed to think her, draining men dry and then tossing them back, so she’d sent him home. “He’s very young,” she said lamely.
“Exatamente,” Dion gritted out. “But you couldn’t resist him, could you?”
“He approached me. It was a few days before I realized he’d done something to make himself appear older—bought a spell, cast a glamour…I’m not sure what. He said he’d fallen in love with me. I—there was something about him…”
She trailed off. Tiago had radiated the same untamed power as his older brother, except that in the youth it was weaker, still developing. But oh, what a man Tiago would be. She’d promised he could return in seven years if he wished, then cast a spell that made him think he’d escaped and set him free on the banks of the Susquehanna.
His feelings must have been stronger than she’d realized if he was still pining for her. She frowned. She’d genuinely liked the boy—had never intended to hurt him.
Something occurred to her: Tiago had seemed so young and naïve that she hadn’t taken him very seriously. Had she been careless enough to let him discover her deepest secret—that her power depended on her ability to see?
Silence fell. She felt the alpha’s gaze on her, his dark, brooding presence filling the cavern. The skin on her nape tightened. She rubbed her upper arms, wishing she could see his expression.
“Are you all right?” he asked abruptly.
“Yes.” A little shaky, but she’d crawl across a bed of nails rather than admit it.
“Good. I kept the voltage low so as not to harm you.”
“How kind,” she muttered.
Something about the joining of a sun fae and a river fada could cause a power surge—probably the mix of water and energy. She’d occasionally experienced a low voltage sizzle with her river fada lovers. It made the sex that much more exciting, which was why she kept seeking them out. But the current that Dion had sent through her had been a hundred times more powerful.
How had he done it? She remembered the sex, wild and earthy…him thrusting into her, deep and hard, filling her until she was sobbing with pleasure...binding her eyes…and then lightning. Her very veins had burned with it. Even now she hummed with remembered ecstasy.
But the power…that had exceeded anything she’d ever experienced. She suspected he could’ve easily killed her—but he hadn’t, which meant he wanted something.
“I understand you’re upset,” she said carefully, “but what’s done is done. My people have a saying: The s
un cannot reverse its path across the sky. I—”
“I want it back,” he ground out. “What you stole from my men, you will return. You owe us. For twenty years you’ve stolen from us. Twenty years. And not just the men. We’re all weaker—the women and children, too. Even our vineyards are affected.”
“What are you talking about?” She scraped her fingers through her hair. The man was as crazy as his wine-swilling, fornicating namesake. “I stole nothing. How can I return the time we spent? How can I return the lovemaking? And even if I could, what does that have to do with the rest of you? I haven’t touched your women and children and I’ve never even been in one of your vineyards. You’re out of your mind.”
He slapped his palms on the mattress and leaned in close so that she felt his breath on her cheek, hot and dangerous. “Don’t…lie…to…me,” he said in a low, hard voice, “or put me off with your fae half-truths. Or I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.”
She stilled, excruciatingly aware of how vulnerable she was. The only sounds in the room were the running water and his jagged breathing. Instinctively, she tried to call on her magic…but of course, nothing happened. It was like shouting into a dark, echoing void.
She tightened her grip on the blanket, her heart rapping like a wild thing. Her magic had always been there. Without it she was merely a woman in the sights of a large, furious man.
He blew out a breath and drew back. When he spoke again his tone was calmer. “You stole life-energy from my men, and what is stolen can be returned. Think on it, my lady. Maybe a few days as my guest will prod your memory. For now, I’ll send someone to attend you. You’ll want for nothing, I assure you.”
She heard his footsteps receding even as she opened her mouth to protest that she could consider it until the sun fell from the sky but that didn’t mean she could accomplish the impossible.
Thrice-damned, irrational fada. She growled and, snatching up a pillow, threw it across the room.
She heard another dark chuckle. Then a door closed and she was alone.
She tossed the cover off and sat on the edge of the bed. With one hand she grasped the headboard. It was made of some kind of stone. In fact—she traced the headboard with her fingers—it had apparently been carved from the cavern wall itself. She put her feet on the floor. It was stone as well, cool under her bare feet.
For some reason that brought it home to her: she was being held prisoner in a cavern. Deep underground, far from the sun.
Panic threatened again. Her hands went to her blindfold, tugging at it even though she knew it was hopeless. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t.
The door opened and she heard footsteps again. Not Dion’s. These were slower and somehow comfortable sounding. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. She might be a prisoner, but she was still a queen.
A kind, motherly voice spoke in Portuguese, as had Dion, although Cleia had been too upset to notice it. Thank the Goddess, her Gift for tongues was intact.
“Good afternoon, Senhora Cleia. My name is Isa.”
Cleia peered at her through the blindfold. She could see enough to tell that the newcomer was short and wide. “Peace to you and yours, Senhora Isa.”
“Peace to you and yours,” she returned. “And how are you, minha senhora?”
“Fine,” Cleia found herself replying, although that was ludicrous, considering she’d been kidnapped, stripped of her power and left naked in a strange bed by an angry fada.
“Good, good. Now, what can I do for you?” The pillow she’d thrown was replaced on the mattress and Isa continued talking without waiting for a reply. “Why don’t we get you dressed first? Raise your arms now.”
Isa dropped a dress over Cleia’s head as the woman continued to mutter soothingly. Unlike the fada, sun fae preferred to go about fully clothed, but their metabolism ran fast and hot, so they wore light, airy attire year-round.
Cleia fingered the skirt. It was a soft cotton gauze, and a perfect fit.
“Lord Dion brought some of your dresses back with him,” Isa said, reading her mind.
“I see.”
“That’s better now, sim? Aren’t you linda?” Isa patted Cleia’s arm as if she were a child. “I nursed Lord Dion, his three brothers, and his sister, too. The alpha is a good man. I’m sure the two of you will work this out.”
Cleia snorted disbelievingly but Isa just took her hand. “I’ll get you a snack—how does bread and cheese sound, minha senhora? And then you can take a nice, long soak in the alpha’s pool. It’s right over there—do you hear the waterfall? And in a few hours we’ll be having dinner—fresh trout tonight. Won’t that be a treat?”
So she was in alpha’s own quarters, in the heart of the Rock Run base. Even though it was what Dion had told her, her heart sank. The base was notoriously well protected by both concealing spells and the fada themselves. Even if Olivia tracked her to the base, she might not be able to rescue her.
“You do like fish?” Isa was asking.
“Yes,” Cleia murmured, allowing herself to be swept along. Now that she thought about it, she was hungry—her fast metabolism burned through calories at a rapid rate—and still shaky. If she was going to escape, she needed to be at peak strength.
And she would escape.
Because if she didn’t return home by the summer solstice, not just her life was at risk, but the life of every sun fae on the planet.
CHAPTER FIVE
The woman was going to be difficult. Dion expelled a breath as he exited his quarters.
He’d expected her to crumble into a hundred pleading pieces as soon as she understood how hopeless her situation was. She was a sun fae, shallow and frivolous. She should’ve caved as soon as she realized she was alone, stripped of her magic and completely in his power. But after that momentary panic, she’d sat there, that proud chin lifted, and refused to let him intimidate her. A part of him couldn’t help admiring her spirit.
But his darker side had wanted to keep pushing, to take what she’d so recklessly offered when she’d taunted him with those high, firm breasts, teach her how risky it was to provoke a man who was part animal. He’d wanted to pin her to the bed and tease her mercilessly with his mouth and hands until she was writhing with pleasure and begging to give him anything he wanted…
Then he’d scented her fear.
His insides had twisted in self-revulsion. Queen Cleia owed him and his clan, big time—but when he realized she was truly afraid of him, he’d immediately backed off. And then, to his disgust, he found himself directing Isa to treat the woman as an honored guest, although he’d also ordered that she be kept confined to his quarters.
Tiago stepped out of a doorway, causing Dion to swerve so as not to bowl him over.
“She’s here?” his brother asked. “Queen Cleia?”
“Yes,” he replied shortly without breaking his stride. He was damned if he’d encourage the young whelp’s infatuation.
At twenty-one Tiago was nominally an adult, but just barely, since the fada had a lifespan of four or five centuries. A younger version of Dion, he had the same mane of curly black hair and broad face with high, hard cheekbones, although on a youth’s wiry frame. But already his shoulders had begun to broaden, and his hands and feet were big boats of appendages, intimating that someday he’d match or even surpass his oldest brother. Dion just prayed his hair didn’t turn silver before that happened. At a hundred turns of the sun, he was in the prime of his life, but Tiago seemed determined to make him old before his time.
When he’d disappeared, Dion had been frantic. He’d had every man he could spare out searching, and damn it, they should’ve been able to find him. The fada were the best trackers in the world. But Tiago had deliberately covered his scent—as he’d been taught by Rock Run’s own trackers—and they hadn’t found a trace of him until he’d been discovered swimming as his otter in the Susquehanna Flats, tired but unhurt…and sick in love with Cleia.
“She’s okay?�
� Tiago demanded. “You didn’t—”
“Of course she’s okay. She’s in my own quarters and Isa is looking after her.”
“And you?” his brother asked suspiciously. “Where will you sleep?”
“On the couch in my sala. Not that it’s any of your frigging business.”
Tiago ignored that to turn back toward Dion’s quarters. “I’ll just say hello.”
“The hell you will.” Dion snagged his arm. “Stay away from her, entendes? She eats pups like you for breakfast.”
Tiago’s smile was sly. “She liked me well enough until she found out how old I was.”
Dion blinked. It seemed the boy was turning into a man. But of all the women he could’ve chosen, did it have to be the sun fae witch?
“For God’s sake, you saw what happened to the other men. Do you want to end up like Jorge? Or Benny?”
His brother hunched a shoulder. He was too young to recall what some of the older men had been like before Cleia, but Jorge had been his mentor, giving him his first training in the fighting arts. Then one day Jorge had left on a mission and never returned, surfacing a few weeks later along with Benny as Cleia’s latest lovers. Tiago had seemed to take it in stride, but Dion had seen the naked hurt on his face when he’d first found out.
“Of course not,” Tiago replied. “But she didn’t hurt me. She’d never hurt me.”
“You think you’re a match for a two-hundred-year-old fae? You’re a child compared to her. Whatever she does, it takes time—months, even years. You were damn lucky to get out of there when you did.”
“Maybe. But maybe I’m the one she wants too much to hurt.”
“That’s just her glamour. She makes every man think he’s the only one for her.”
“You can say what you want,” his brother said with a defiant lift of his chin, “but I know what I know. And I’ll tell you one thing, I wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t sent me home. I didn’t want to leave, but she said the whole clan was looking for me. And then she did something”—Tiago’s dark brows drew together—“and suddenly, she wasn’t so beautiful anymore, and I knew it was time to go home. But she said I could return in seven years—and I will.”
Seducing the Sun Fae Page 4