Marina gripped her hand with both of hers. “You swear this?”
“I swear.” Cleia touched her other hand to her heart in the sign of a sacred vow.
“Muito obrigada, minha senhora.” Her voice held an optimism that Cleia prayed wasn’t misplaced.
“Marina?” Gabriela called from the kitchen. “I could use those peas.”
“Coming.” Marina took the bowl from Cleia and gathered up the almost-empty sack. To Cleia she said, “I have to go, but if you want, Xavier and I can come by tomorrow morning. If you want us to, that is,” she added diffidently.
“I’d love it. And tell Gabriela I can shell more peas.”
“That’s all right. She’s almost done with the rest.”
Cleia smiled ruefully. “She didn’t really need my help, did she?”
“No,” Marina admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t welcome.”
She left and Cleia toyed with her wine. Could she be draining life-energy from Rock Run’s people? But how? Even the night fae didn’t suck life-energy; instead, they fed on dark energy: fear, anger, hopelessness.
Marina was speaking to the other women. This time she was defending her, explaining that she’d agreed to help Luis.
A short while later Cleia once more heard footsteps approaching. “Here.” It was Gabriela, her voice gruff. “It’s still a couple of hours until dinner,” she said as she set a plate on the table next to Cleia. “I brought you some cheese and olives to snack on.”
Surprised, Cleia started to thank her but Gabriela was already walking away. Cleia felt for a chunk of cheese; she was always hungry these days, her body trying to make up for the nourishment it wasn’t receiving from the sun by eating even more than usual. But it only worked up to a point. She was already weaker and she suspected she’d lost a couple of pounds.
She took a bite of the cheese. It was delicious, firm with a slightly nutty flavor, especially when paired with the olives.
Apparently she’d made a friend. She just hoped she hadn’t made a promise she couldn’t keep.
* * *
Dion strode into the dining hall, eager to see Cleia and despising himself for it.
The sun fae queen had been his prisoner for a week now and he was still no closer to a solution. In fact, he was meeting her cousin again tomorrow. He couldn’t keep refusing Lady Olivia’s requests to meet, but he had no idea what to say to her.
Meanwhile, he avoided Cleia as much as possible, except for meal times. He told himself that was because Rosana and Tiago usually ate with her, too, but the truth was he was as drawn to the woman as if she were still powering that glamour. Today he’d forced himself to stay away until dinner, when all the clan gathered for a large, family-style meal.
As he entered the hall, the sun was setting. The light shafts darkened and balls of fae light winked on, floating over the people gathered for the evening meal. His gaze sought Cleia. In the roomful of dark-haired, bronze-skinned fada, her bright hair stood out like a beacon.
But he could’ve found her blindfolded. He always seemed to know where she was, as if he had an internal compass tuned only to her.
She was at a large table with Isa and his family. Cleia grinned at something Rosana said and his breath snagged in his chest.
Mine.
He set off in her direction.
As he threaded his way through the crowd, he was pulled into hugs by everyone from old women to tiny toddlers. Normally he enjoyed this time of the day, these physical touches as important to him as to the clan, cementing his position as alpha and providing reassurance to his people, but tonight he had to force himself to slow down and accept them.
He passed Rui draining a glass of wine, his latest woman cooing into his ear. Worse, Valeria, Rui’s almost-mate, sat a few tables away, watching him flirt with dark, wounded eyes. Catching Dion’s look, she flushed and lifted her chin before turning to her neighbor, a sea fada visiting from Greece who’d been chasing her for the past couple of months.
Dion frowned, disgusted. The old Rui would’ve kept Valeria close, making sure she was too satisfied to even think of taking another lover.
He set a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Idiota,” he said in a sub-vocal voice. “Don’t you see your woman with that Greek ass?”
Rui’s mouth twisted in a derisive smile. “She’s better off without me,” he replied and held out his glass to his current woman to be refilled.
Dion saw Valeria’s flinch even though her face was turned away. His fingers tightened on Rui’s shoulder. He itched to knock the glass out of his hand, but he knew the other man would simply shrug and get another drink. “Deus, you sicken me.”
“Yeah?” Rui took a gulp of wine. “Get in line.” His green eyes met Dion’s. The self-loathing in them made Dion’s heart twist. Then Rui’s gaze slid to the left. He was in no condition to challenge Dion and he knew it.
“Rui—”
The other man’s claws sliced out, even though he was still looking down. “You may be my alpha,” he said, this time in low tones that only Dion could hear, “but my mating is none of your damn business.”
He was right. Dion blew out a breath and released him, continuing across the cavern until he reached Cleia’s table. Luis and his family had joined the others. Xavier stood on the bench next to Cleia, leaning against her shoulder and dipping a chunk of bread into her caldeirada. She had an arm around his waist, encouraging him. Dion shot a glance at Marina—she was fiercely protective of her only child—but she was seated on Xavier’s other side, talking to Cleia as easily as if they’d been friends for years.
As he wished everyone good evening, Xavier dipped his bread in Cleia’s stew again. He shook his head at the pup, but he just flashed a toothy grin and popped it into his mouth.
“Boa noite, meu senhor,” he said around a mouthful of fish and bread.
Dion ruffled the boy’s curly brown hair. “Leave some for the senhora, imp.”
“She don’ mind.”
He glanced at Cleia, who had her lips pressed together, struggling not to laugh. “Even so,” he said sternly, then had to swallow his own laughter as Xavier stole a chunk of bread from his mama’s plate and plopped it on Cleia’s.
“There you go, lady.”
She let out a husky laugh and pressed a kiss to his head. “Why thank you, sweetheart.”
Dion gave up and sat down at the table’s head, with Cleia to his right and Tiago on the left. The steward, an elder named Monte, hurried to put food and drink before him. Dion thanked him and took a sip of wine before starting in on his stew.
Rosana was telling everyone that Cleia was teaching her the sun fae’s favorite dances. “Lady Cleia says I’m a natural,” Rosana added with a defiant look in Dion’s direction. “We’re practicing every day so I’ll be ready when I visit the sun fae. She’s going to throw a ball for me.”
“Rosana,” he said warningly, but Cleia gave a tiny shake of her head and nudged him under the table. He contented himself with saying, “We’ll see.”
Unfortunately, his sister took that as a yes. She brightened and began prattling about the dress she’d have—jade silk, whatever-the-hell color that was—and whether she should wear a silver or gold chain—or both.
He sighed. His sister was going to drive him crazy with this talk of a ball. Didn’t she know the fae weren’t to be trusted?
But Cleia swore that Rosana would be unharmed. And whatever else she might be, she wasn’t one of those fae who twisted the truth to suit themselves. For example, even though she’d used a glamour to lure his men, once she’d had them, she’d treated them fairly, allowing them the freedom of her lands and releasing them without penalty when she was through with them.
The hell with it, he decided. Let Rosana amuse herself preparing for a ball that would probably never take place. He had enough to worry about right now.
He concentrated on his meal, letting his sister chatter on, murmuring agreement where appropriate. But
all the time he was conscious of Cleia seated just a foot away: her piquant scent…the warmth radiating off her skin…the grace of her fingers as she helped Xavier eat…
Somewhere deep inside, his animal let out a contented sigh, pleased just to be close to her.
Tiago had brought his otter friend Fausto and was feeding him tidbits. He whispered something in Fausto’s ear and the intelligent creature hopped on the table to offer Cleia an oyster on the half-shell, chattering in a language only he and Tiago understood.
“Lady Cleia,” Tiago said, “Fausto has a gift for you—an oyster that he shucked himself.”
“Why, thank you.” She smiled and stretched out a hand in the otter’s direction. He set it carefully in her palm. She brought it to her lips and with the help of a fork, tipped it deftly into her mouth. “Delicious,” she proclaimed.
Fausto chittered happily and scooted back across the table to shuck another oyster.
Meanwhile, Cleia continued to share her meal with Xavier, breaking bread for him when he needed help while still taking part in the general conversation like a seasoned parent, although he knew she didn’t have any children.
She was going to make a good mother someday—and a fine mate for the man lucky enough to win her.
And why did that make his stomach squeeze?
Mine, that insistent voice stated.
He swallowed and shifted on his chair. Don’t be an idiot, he told himself. Fae don’t mate with fada. And even if she wasn’t a fae, she’s your enemy.
But she didn’t feel like an enemy and that was the problem.
Monte set a bowl of strawberries before Cleia. “Picked just this afternoon, my lady.”
“Wonderful,” she said with a delighted smile. “Obrigada.”
The steward smiled and bowed while Dion stared at him, jaw slack. Monte was a dour, ancient fada who ruled Rock Run’s domestic affairs with an iron hand. Even Dion avoided going up against him unless absolutely necessary.
Cleia nudged the bowl toward Xavier, who was still on the bench next to her.
“Thanks, lady,” he said and stuffed a whole berry into his mouth.
“That’s enough, greedy one,” said Luis. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to choke.” He reached around his mate to snag Xavier and set him on his lap.
The little boy chewed manfully, determined to prove his papa wrong. Dion smothered a grin as Marina pushed the bowl back to Cleia. “Here, my lady. You’d better eat some or Monte will have our heads.”
“We can’t have that,” Cleia agreed. She selected a strawberry and brought it to her lips. “Mm,” she said, taking a deep inhale. “It smells so good—like summer.”
Dion’s fork halted in mid-air as the berry touched her soft, full lips. “Sim,” he murmured absently.
Her mouth closed around the lush red fruit and his whole body heated, his mind awash with salacious pictures. He glanced at Tiago and what he saw made him nudge his brother with his foot. Hard.
Tiago flushed and reached for his beer. Fausto, sensitive to atmosphere in the way of animals, chittered and dove across the table onto Cleia’s lap. She chuckled and offered him a shrimp from her stew. He snapped it up and then rubbed his head against her arm, eyes slit with pleasure—and Dion found himself envying a damn otter.
He drew a serrated breath and focused on his meal. Hades take the woman, anyway. Bringing her here had been a terrible idea. But releasing her was out of the question.
The fact remained that she was slowly sucking his people dry. He had no choice but to see this through to the bitter end.
* * *
Cleia was intensely aware of Dion sitting quietly beside her, eating. The man didn’t speak much, but he didn’t have to. He just had to be in the same room and her whole body started to hum as if her very molecules were attuned to him.
His hand touched hers and energy sparked up her arm. They both froze. Then he inhaled harshly and murmured, “More stew, my lady? Or some bread, perhaps?”
“Some bread, please.” She waited as he placed it on the plate, taking care not to touch her again.
She bit into the light, crusty baguette. If only she could see him. She knew from Rosana that he’d been swimming. He often did at the end of the day; apparently the long hours he spent training with his warriors weren’t enough. No wonder the man was all muscle.
Somehow she knew he’d returned still damp and clad only in a pair of loose shorts, his typical attire. She flashed on an image of him sprawled on that big bed of his, his large, olive-skinned body slick with moisture, a smile playing on his hard mouth as he beckoned her closer—
She swallowed and squeezed her thighs together.
Damn the man anyway. She should despise him for how he’d tricked and captured her. But she didn’t. Other than keeping her imprisoned underground, he hadn’t harmed her. In fact, she was treated more like a guest than a prisoner. She hadn’t forgotten that night she’d had a nightmare and he’d tried to comfort her; hardly the act of the hard-ass alpha he was supposed to be.
With each day, she came to respect him more. He was an astute leader, guiding his clan with a light touch, encouraging his people to find their own solutions where possible. He spoke little, but when he did, people listened. And he had a huge soft spot where it came to children. How could you dislike a man who was as entertained by Xavier’s tricks as she was?
Not that he didn’t have a ruthless side—her capture proved that—but that was part of being a good ruler.
And what if he was right about her? The conversation with Marina had shaken her. Later, when Isa had walked her back to Dion’s quarters to freshen up before dinner, she’d questioned the older woman closely.
Dion hadn’t exaggerated—the men she’d taken as lovers weren’t the only ones being harmed. The whole clan had been affected. Their vineyards and small farms produced less each year. The fishing wasn’t as plentiful as it had once been.
Worse, the people weren’t as strong, especially the children. A few had even died.
Goddess, that tore at her heart.
Oh, she’d heard rumors, but she’d dismissed them as the sort of lies people spread about the fae. After all, as she’d told Marina, wouldn’t she know if she was draining energy from the Rock Run clan? So she’d blithely continued to snap up their best men.
Because she could—and because she, like most fae, was a shallow, pleasure-loving creature.
Dion was right. She had been arrogant, thinking only of her own desires. She would’ve sworn she hadn’t a bigoted bone in her body but she was as bad as the other pureblood fae, treating the fada as if they were created solely for her enjoyment. She’d never considered what the men were leaving behind, that Rock Run might need their skills as warriors or fishers, that the women might resent her for taking their best men.
And what had it gotten her? She’d grown increasingly bored, until after sending Tiago back home, she’d said the hell with it. She was going to try celibacy for a while.
Until she’d come across Dion standing on the road, that big hard body a sexual lodestone, his barely concealed insolence a potent spice…
If only she could give him what he wanted…but she’d told him the truth, she hadn’t deliberately set out to drain his people’s life-energy. However, she was an energy conduit, so there was a chance she was doing it without her conscious knowledge. She’d love to consult some of her own elders—another healer, perhaps, or Olivia, who might know if something like this had ever happened before—but Dion would never agree to that.
Her stomach tightened uneasily. Because even if it were true that she was stealing life-energy from Rock Run’s people, she couldn’t give it back. Any excess energy would’ve been absorbed by her own people.
The best she could do was to stop whatever she was doing—and she had no idea how to accomplish that when she wasn’t even sure she was doing something.
Worse, if she didn’t convince Dion to release her soon, she was going to miss the mid
summer ritual, and no one else was strong enough to take her place as the Conduit. She was afraid Olivia would try anyway—and if she tried and failed, the energy surge would incinerate her.
But if no one took Cleia’s place, the sun fae would miss their annual solar replenishment and start a slow, painful fade from existence. Already she grew weaker with each day spent below ground with nothing save the occasional feeble sunbeam to nourish her.
But that was nothing compared to what would happen if she missed the ritual, now just ten days away—and not just to her, but all the sun fae.
She set down her spoon, her appetite gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Dion perched on a rock in the middle of Rock Run Creek, mentally girding his loins for the coming skirmish with Lady Olivia. It was a tricky dance they did. Without actually lying, he had to continue to make her believe he knew nothing about Cleia’s disappearance, while she in turn tried to trip him up and confirm that he had the queen.
He glanced out over the water. To the north and west was a mix of forests and vineyards, much of it owned by the fada and the humans who worked their lands. To the east the creek emptied into the Susquehanna River, which then flowed into the Chesapeake Bay, fresh water mixing with the sea to create an estuary rich in aquatic life: blue crabs, oysters, herring, rockfish.
He’d been a boy when his parents had led a small group of friends and family to America after their Portuguese home river had grown too crowded. They’d originally been headed for Rhode Island and its large population of Portuguese immigrants, both human and fada. But his father had happened upon this remote corner of the Chesapeake and the large river that fed it and decided it would do even better.
His father had been right. The clan he’d founded had had room to grow and flourish. If they could just turn their twenty-year run of bad luck around…
He glanced toward the distant Rising Sun compound, moodily regarding its lush green forests and meadows. Sun fae had a gift for making things grow.
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