“I’ve seen enough,” he said when they reached the end of the row. “Obrigado.”
“De acordo, meu senhor.”
As they returned to the vineyard’s entrance, he thanked Gaspar. “I know you’re doing your best.”
The human nodded but his brown eyes were despondent. “I treat those vines like they’re my own children. Training, pruning, fertilizing, getting the amount of water just right. But”—he moved a shoulder—“I can’t work miracles. It’s as if the earth herself is against us.”
“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing.” Dion clapped him on the back. “You can beat this this thing, irmão. I have faith in you.”
“Obrigado, meu senhor. I’ll do my best.”
“Good man.” But as he walked away, Dion’s shoulders sagged. The vineyards and the winery were the most important source of income for both the clan and the humans they employed. They were barely hanging on after the loss of most of last year’s crop. They’d bought grapes from other vineyards to make into their best-selling vinho verde, but having to pay for the grapes had cut heavily into their profits.
Rock Run couldn’t weather many more blows like this before they fell apart and started fighting over scraps like a pack of animals. It had happened with the Baltimore earth shifters.
And that brought to mind yet another problem. That arrogant young pup of an alpha had actually dared enter Rock Run’s territory. It was Davi who’d discovered the scent mark. Dion had gone with him and Rodolfo to see the mark himself. It was across the creek from the base, near the place where Rock Run flowed into the Susquehanna, and not more than a half mile from the vineyard: the heart of Rock Run territory, in other words.
Dion’s jaw tightened as he scented the mark, saw how the earth shifter had clawed the grass. “It’s him all right,” he confirmed. “Lord Adric.”
It was a deliberate challenge, but right now Dion couldn’t afford to answer it.
He’d glanced at Rodolfo. “How the hell did he get this far onto our land without being challenged?”
Rodolfo squeezed the back of his neck with a beefy hand. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”
“You do that. Meanwhile, have the sentries vary their patterns, cover all our territory a little more often. But don’t put anyone extra on this. He’s young and full of himself. He’s poking at us, seeing what we’ll do. If we let him spook us, we’re playing into his hands.”
“And if we do catch one of the bastards on our territory?” Davi asked.
“Then he—or she—is fair game, of course. But just teach them a lesson. No deaths. I don’t want to set off a blood feud. We can’t afford that right now.”
The two tenentes nodded.
Now he arrived at the vineyard’s dock. Gaspar’s youngest son appeared and he forced himself to acknowledge his greeting with a smile. “How’s it going, Noah?” He stepped onto the boat and took the wheel.
The sturdy young man regarded him with a touch of awe as he unwound the mooring lines and tossed them onto the deck. “Good day, my lord,” he said as Dion started the engine.
He saluted Noah and edged the boat out into deeper water. As soon as he was far enough from shore, he opened the throttle. The hull shuddered in protest, but he knew exactly how far to push it.
The Susquehanna stretched before him like a broad silver path. The powerful engine vibrated in the boards beneath his feet, creating an answering hum in his veins. He braced his legs, brought the speed up another notch and grinned into the wind, temporarily setting aside his problems as the boat sliced through the water.
But all too soon, he was back at the marina. He throttled down the engine and turned toward the dock.
They could beat this, he told himself. If black rot took the grapes, he and his men could always hire themselves out to the pureblood fae. At least the purebloods paid well—even if his hard, proud warriors were little better than hired killers.
But money wouldn’t cure Luis, or bring back the people who’d already died.
After tying up the boat at the marina, he dove into the river, arrowing through an underwater tunnel that led to an entrance on the base’s west side. He dried off in the small anteroom and pulled on a pair of shorts before heading for his quarters, his face etched with determination.
This couldn’t go on. There had to be something Cleia could do.
Branco had reported that she was growing weaker—not steadily, but in fits and starts. He’d done what he could to boost her energy, but he’d confirmed what Dion already knew. The woman needed sunlight; it was a simple fact of sun fae physiology. If she didn’t receive a full dose soon, she would fall ill. Eventually, she’d literally fade away.
He found her by the pool with Tiago and Fausto. He halted in his bedroom doorway. Cleia was reclining on her forearms, Tiago on his side with his head propped on one hand, gazing at her, while the otter gamboled in the water. Looking at them, Dion had a flash of déjà vu: himself as a young man—slim, strong, with the same untamed mane of black hair and wildly in love with his first woman.
He just hoped he hadn’t made such a damned fool of himself.
His brother said something and Cleia chuckled, lighting her whole face. Dion felt a tug in his chest.
Deus, he loved to hear her laugh. He’d been wrong about her being haughty or prejudiced against fada. She never forgot she was a queen, but she was warm and kind to everyone from the toddlers to the frailest elders.
And they responded in kind, with only a few still refusing to have anything to do with her. Even his most battle-hardened warriors went out of their way to please her, making sure her plate was full at meals, bringing her small gifts, telling her jokes just to see her smile.
And he was the worst of the lot. He who lived in shadows and caves and the green calm of the river bed found her as irresistible as a hot, bright flame to a moth.
If only things were different. If the two of them had met as equals, man to woman, without the burden of their respective clans…
He inhaled harshly, aware his face probably mirrored Tiago’s. And that knowledge, along with the shitty morning he’d had, sent him stalking into the room.
“Damn it, Tiago, don’t you have somewhere to be?”
His brother jolted and jumped to his feet, stammering an apology. “I—I came back to base on an errand and I—”
“Out,” he snarled. “I’m tired of finding you in here every time I turn my back. If you’re not scheduled for training, you can help the fishers with the day’s catch.”
Tiago’s hands balled into fists. Fausto scrambled out of the pool and wound himself around Tiago’s legs. When Dion glanced down, the otter’s upper lip curled back to reveal sharp incisors. Lord, that was all he needed—a challenge from a frigging otter. He raised his own lip, and Fausto retreated behind Tiago.
“We were just talking,” his brother said truculently.
“I know what you were doing. Now get lost before I toss you out by the scruff of your mangy neck.”
Tiago reddened. He glanced at Cleia, who was sitting upright, face averted, pretending not to listen. “Promise you won’t hurt her,” he said in a low, hard voice.
Dion gave a slow, disbelieving shake of his head. “Senhora Cleia is under my protection as long as she’s here at Rock Run,” he said, unable to hide his hurt. “When have you ever known me to harm anyone—man or woman—who’s under my protection?”
His brother’s throat worked, but he didn’t back down. “Prometa,” he insisted. “Whatever you think, she didn’t invite me in here. If you’re angry at anyone, it should be me.”
Dion eyed him with grudging respect. The boy was turning into a man. Even though clearly uncomfortable at going up against his alpha, he was willing to risk it for Cleia’s sake.
“Believe me,” he growled, “I know who’s at fault here. But if it makes you feel better, I have no intention of harming the lady. Now go.” He put all his dominance behind the comma
nd and this time his brother scooped up Fausto and left, albeit reluctantly.
Dion turned to Cleia. She sat a little straighter, sensing his scrutiny. As usual, she’d found a sunbeam to sit in. It illuminated her skin and hair with a hazy golden glow. She reminded him of a butterfly, all long limbs and wispy yellow dress, sunning herself at his pool. He had the curious fear that if he disturbed her, tried to grab hold of her in any way, she’d flit away and he’d find himself grasping empty air.
She dipped a foot in the pool, tracing a figure-eight on the surface. “Don’t be angry with him. He thinks he’s in love with me, but it’s just puppy love. It will pass.”
He sat down a few feet away from her. “Too bad. From now on, he’s not to be alone with you.”
“Tell him, not me,” she said. “I haven’t encouraged him, if that’s what you think. Frankly, I envy him—don’t you?” Her lips formed a bittersweet curve. “It seems so long ago, my first love. The whole world seemed brighter, more colorful—and I was happy all the time. It’s intoxicating.”
“Nothing you can’t get from a good bottle of wine.”
“You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, do you?” she asked, a smile in her voice.
“If it turns me into an ass, then no.” But a wry grin tugged at his lips. “I just hope I was never so young and idiotic—but I’m afraid I was.”
“You?” she murmured, the laughter still in her voice. “Not Lord Dion.”
“I thought I’d die if I didn’t have her,” he admitted. “My father tried to warn me, but when I refused to listen he let me have my head.”
“What happened?”
He snorted. “We fucked each other brainless for a month, but when we came up for air, both of us knew it wasn’t the real thing. Not even the possibility of a mate bond. She left with a couple of friends to see what else was out there. I hear she mated with a man from another clan a few years later. She lives in Brazil now.”
“Then you understand?”
“It’s why I let him out of here with his hide intact.”
He watched, fascinated, as she continued to trace slow loops on the pool’s surface, the yellow dress bunched up around her thighs. It reminded him of the night he’d had her on the chair as the storm blew in. Her skin had been so soft, those shapely thighs quivering with need…
Blood thrummed in his veins, slow and heavy. He was tired of resisting what was between them. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since he’d brought her to Rock Run. If he wasn’t in the river, dreaming of her, he was tossing and turning on that damned couch, aching to go to her.
He wanted her with every fiber of his being. He craved her sexy body, itched to thread his fingers in her bright hair and taste her full red lips. Wanted those sunny smiles to be all for him.
And it didn’t make it any easier knowing she felt the same. He could smell her arousal, see the faint flush on her cheeks.
She cocked her head in his direction. “Dion?” she asked in husky tones.
He moved the few feet to her and crouched on his haunches, gripped by a sudden, fierce desire to see her unusual tawny eyes. “Cleia.” His voice sounded thick in his ears. “I—we can’t go on like this.”
Her tongue touched her lower lip, and his whole body tautened. “No,” she agreed.
He slid a finger down the smooth silk of her temple. She was visibly thinner, her lovely cheeks beginning to hollow out. And he was the one responsible.
He swallowed sickly. “Help me, querida. I’m begging you. Help me and I can let you go. You need the sun, and my people…they’re fighting for their lives. I wish you could see how thin everyone is. Even the children.”
She swallowed. “Please…don’t. I—”
But he couldn’t stop. If he could only make her see…
“I just came from our biggest vineyard. It’s being attacked by black rot. We need those grapes, Cleia. We need something to sell besides our bodies as the fae’s favorite cannon fodder. A people can’t work only as instruments of war. It takes something from you, chews your soul—”
“Stop it.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “Why won’t you listen to me? I’ve told you before, I can’t help you. I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Can’t.” Her voice was anguished. “I suppose I may have somehow drained energy from your men when they were my lovers, but I’m not doing it now. I swear it. But I can’t give the energy back—it doesn’t work like that. Why won’t you believe me?”
“Why?” He grimaced and rose to his feet. “Because if I do, that means there’s no hope.”
The cavern was silent save for the sound of the waterfall. His words reverberated in his head like a death knell.
Cleia stretched out a hand. “Dion—”
“Don’t,” he said hoarsely. “Just…don’t.” He turned on his heel and strode from the room.
* * *
Tiago shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked into the night. He’d borrowed one of the clan’s motorcycles for the trip to Baltimore. On reaching the city, he parked it outside a rowhouse the clan kept in Fells Point and headed for the Full Moon Saloon. A light rain was falling, but it would take more than a few raindrops to bother a water fada.
Damn Dion anyway. Maybe Tiago hadn’t seen a hundred turns of the sun, but he was an adult and it was time his brother realized it.
He flushed anew at the humiliation of being scolded in front of Cleia. All he wanted was for her to see him as a man. But thanks to Dion, she’d started treating him like a kid brother.
His hands fisted in his pockets. If only Dion wasn’t his alpha. He ached to tell him to stay the hell away from Cleia. But he couldn’t. Not unless he was willing to challenge for dominance, and the idea of that made him go cold. Dion wasn’t just his oldest brother; he was the closest thing Tiago had to a father.
And besides, Tiago knew damn well he’d lose.
Fells Point hummed with activity: office workers grabbing supper, tourists strolling the cobblestone streets along the waterfront, college students out partying. The humans made way for him, the men eyeing him warily, the women with unmistakable interest. He looked back—he was a fada male, after all—but even the prettiest didn’t come close to Cleia.
Glancing up, he saw the howling-wolf logo that meant he’d reached his destination. Tiago nodded to the earth shifter with the shaved head guarding the door—at the Full Moon, fada didn’t have to show I.D.—and walked inside.
The bar was a dark, cave-like place with low ceilings and the pungent odor of alcohol and lust. It was already full of fada, both water and earth, and those humans who got a thrill out of rubbing shoulders with dangerous men.
Tiago swiped the rain from his face. There was no one from Rock Run except a couple of older unmated women in sexy little dresses, and they’d already staked out two men from another water fada clan. They nodded briefly in Tiago’s direction before turning back to the men they were with.
That was fine with him. All he wanted was to be left alone.
He crossed the floor to the long wooden bar and ordered a high-octane beer from the owner, Claudio, an Amazonas fada from Brazil. When it came, he drained it and signaled for a second.
Someone turned up the music and hard-driving rock blared. Like all fae, fada were susceptible to music. Tiago closed his eyes and swayed in time to the beat.
He and Cleia had danced one night, both of them naked save for the colorful scarf he’d tied around her hips. She’d spun around and around, the scarf allowing tantalizing glimpses of her thighs and mound until he caught one end and spun her into his arms. She tossed back her head and laughed unselfconsciously, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, his erection pulsing against her belly, wanting her so much he thought he’d go mad with it.
And then she danced out of his arms, only to take his hand and draw him toward her big oak bed…
“Thanks, Claudio,” someone next to Tiago said.
He opened his eyes
to find an earth shifter had joined him at the bar. A young man with a hard, sculpted face under dark hair with the tips bleached almost white. Despite the fact it was summer, he had on a leather jacket and combat boots. Everything about him screamed hard-ass.
Tiago stifled a groan. He could think of only a few reasons why a Baltimore fada would choose to sit next to him and none of them were good. The last thing he wanted was to fend off an earth shifter looking for a fight.
But the man gave him an easy smile and raised his bottle at the soccer re-run playing on a small TV behind the bar. “That Neymar’s damn good.”
“He’s not bad.”
“No? Did you catch that game against Scotland? He was fucking awesome. Man’s a genius with the ball.”
“Yeah, but what about—” Tiago relaxed and settled in to talk soccer with the earth shifter.
An hour passed. Two other earth shifters joined them, more young men in their twenties. They deferred to the first man, whose name was Ric. Apparently he was a man of high status in the Baltimore clan. A lieutenant, perhaps.
Ric ordered a round of shots. “Him, too,” he said, gesturing at Tiago.
“Thanks.” Tiago picked up the glass. He’d never drunk whisky before but he imitated the other men and tossed it down. It was like swallowing a fireball, burning his throat and stinging his eyes and nose. He blinked and struggled to hide his discomfort from the earth fada, who were already calling for another round.
The heat hit his stomach. He blinked again as it spread to his limbs. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. Kind of nice, actually.
“Have another.” Ric motioned for the bartender to refill his glass. “The second one goes down a helluva lot smoother.”
Why not? Tiago picked up the glass. He took a cautious sip, but the burning had changed to a pleasant warmth. He downed the rest in a single gulp.
One of Ric’s friends was talking about a woman—a sun fae. Not Queen Cleia, but apparently just as talented in bed.
“Sun fae burn hot,” Ric said. “The women can’t get enough, if you know what I mean.”
Seducing the Sun Fae Page 12