by Gaja J. Kos
A muffled murmur immediately caught my attention.
There was something different about its voice, something that drew me towards it more than any other object in the room. I walked around the table, my hands reaching for the bottommost drawer of the three stacked up on the right side. The murmur intensified, so I pulled the drawer free and peered into its contents.
Folders, papers, pens, a couple of paperclips… And right there, in the deepest corner, a gold pin.
It was shaped like a dolmen, even emitted a small pulse of energy as dolmens usually did. Though the whispers coming from it now were loud, nearly overpowering, I didn’t sense any malicious attributes lurking within them. Curious, I fished the pin out of the drawer and braced myself for the visual that would follow.
But instead of reshaping my reality, the connection that sizzled between my skin and the cool surface of the object seemed to reshape me.
My insides writhed and twisted, coming together and crashing apart as if a thousand earthquakes shook my very core. The demonic tendrils flared to life, trying to push against the invasive energy, but my light magic fought to embrace it instead, even as the violent tremors kept breaking its calm surface into jagged waves.
A scream tore itself from my lips, casting me into darkness from which I emerged in another world. In a memory of another world, but one that was shared with me not through the typical core, but a very much sentient consciousness.
I was faintly aware of my body still convulsing in a faraway reality, but here, I was at peace.
I was power.
I was pride.
I was the companion of worthy rulers.
And I rested pinned to Riordan’s hard chest, a crown of thorns resting atop his head as he gazed at his reflection in a floor-length mirror. I bathed in content, in love for the man who wore me, as well as the purple-haired warrior, who stood tall and proud by my liege’s side.
I came to with a gasp. Nausea rolled through my stomach, and my chest threatened to crumble under the colossal weight.
I knelt on the worn wooden floor of the rural house, gasping for breath, a shitload of unease coupling with a massive headache that throbbed in my temples. My vision was a mess, but, somehow, I managed to clear away the fog enough to see Cian crouched to my left and clutching the pin in his hand.
His gaze was on me, eyebrows drawn, but his purple eyes were wide as if he couldn’t quite make up his mind whether he was pissed or concerned. Luckily, there was no question as to what I was.
Once I was sure I wouldn’t throw up the instant I opened my mouth, my lips pulled into a sneer, and I hissed, “You’re Fae royalty?”
Chapter 8
The purple of Cian’s irises darkened into a threatening storm, yet his voice was painfully calm, almost clinical as he said, “The fact isn’t pertinent to your work.”
The male was definitely hiding something beneath that icy facade, something more than just his gods-damned status.
Only I was too pissed to even bother unraveling that particular mystery.
“You’re right. It isn’t,” I snapped. “But having bloody objects of power lying around for me to touch sure as fuck is!”
Clutching the table, I lifted myself up on wobbly legs. Cian’s hand immediately shot out to catch me in case I tumbled back down, but I cut him a poisonous look that, surprisingly, made the Fae think better of his actions. Long seconds ticked by as we stood there in the study, both of us breathing heavily and ready to pounce at any given moment. Cian perhaps just slightly more ready than me, though the odd glint in his eyes seemed more regretful than violent. Still, whatever it was, it did absolutely nothing to break the iciness of his features.
Royal features.
I swore.
My stomach was still twitching rather viciously, making me glad that I’d eaten the kebab hours before coming here since I had zero desire to lose my meal, but I willed myself not to let the discomfort show. I didn’t want to share the full details of my damned weakened state with the Fae. Didn’t want him to know just how seriously the energy, magic—whatever the fuck the object of power carried—had messed me up.
Shit, I would have never gone near the thing if I’d been aware of its true nature.
Oh, I was plenty, plenty pissed.
Iron strength surged within me, obliterating any unease I’d felt. I locked my gaze on the infuriating Fae. “You know what, Cian, I’m done. You broke the single damned rule, the single fucking thing I’d asked of you. Find yourself another minion, because this”—I raised my eyebrow at him—“is over.”
I spun on my heels, determined to march out of the house and leave this fucked-up mess behind me even as the nausea surged in suffocating waves at the rapid movement. I made it a staggering two steps before Cian’s fingers wrapped around my forearm, and the Fae tugged me back.
Fighting him was useless when he was physically stronger than me despite my demon blood, so I fixed him with a hard stare instead. “What?”
Cian’s grip tightened on my arm, his fingers cold against my heated skin. “The pin was only a minor family relic. It shouldn’t have affected you in such a way.”
“Are you calling me weak?”
Something flashed in his eyes, but disappeared before I could catch it. Cian shrugged in that insufferable, immortal way of his. “Unusual.”
I snorted. Oh, yes, I definitely needed to get out of here before I got a ticket to the nearby asylum. Or a prison cell.
“Let go of me, Fae,” I spat, “or we’ll have that confrontation your kind thrives on right here, right now.”
To prove my point, I uncurled some of the demonic power from my core, letting it flow freely through my flesh—which it more than happily did. It eerily reminded me of an inmate who had just been released into the yard after ten years spent in solitary. Ten years of plotting, not cowering. Ten years of not giving in a single inch.
Gods, I really had to stop thinking about a part of me as sentient. Therein lay madness of the worst kind.
But the way the pooling darkness acted… I could have sworn I heard it cackling beneath my skin, thriving on its newly found—moderate—freedom. The scariest thing of it all was that the demonic energy actually wanted to take Cian. Like the Fae was some worthy adversary, but also one we would beat.
Though I didn’t share its confidence, it was kind of comforting to know that at least someone was thrilled I had stood up to the male.
“Liva,” the Fae warned as the darkness probed at him.
But even as my magic rubbed against his, Cian kept his grip on me. The touch of his fingers was becoming more pleasurable with each second that rolled by, and the familiar, treacherous heat started to pool in the vee of my thighs once more.
I needed to put some distance between us before my idiotic hormonal side put a dent in my resolve.
I exhaled through my nose and lifted my chin, facing the Fae head-on. “Let. Go.”
He did.
I almost stumbled back, all of a sudden painfully aware of just how much our little stare-down had cost me. Crap. If I didn’t get some food and rest soon, I just might crumble down into an unconscious heap of Nightwraith. But despite the teeth-grinding exhaustion, I straightened my spine and forced the demonic power to retreat—much to its disappointment.
“Take me back to my car, Cian. Now.”
The bastard had the audacity to shake his head.
“I hadn’t known the relic would cause you such discomfort. It’s uncommon, even among wielders of magic, to have a reaction of such magnitude.”
“Yeah, well, Koldun-demon hybrids aren’t exactly common,” I growled. “But none of that matters, Cian, because you knew Riordan had an object of power stashed in here, and you let me, a fucking material empath touch it!”
His eyes burned with purple fire, but his voice was cold as he said, “My point stands. It is uncommon.”
“And my point stands as well.” I crossed my arms, arching my left eyebrow as high as it went.
Cian stayed silent, still clutching the dolmen-shaped pin in his fist. And that was perfectly all right with me. I was done working with him anyway.
“Fine. I’ll find my own way out.”
And I did. As it turned out, Riordan had been extremely cautious about preventing people from getting in, but the Fae had no qualms about who got out as long as the ward had accepted them at some point in the past. Even I knew better than to be as sloppy as to create boundaries that left their signature on you and granted you passage just because you had entered them once. Then again, the deceased Fae had been more than likely very vigilant about just who he had taken through the wards. Yet that did him little good, in the end.
A pang of guilt shot through me at the thought of letting his killer walk free. But it wasn’t like Cian couldn’t handle things on his own. He had his shot, and he blew it. I wasn’t about to beat myself up just because I refused to work for someone who didn’t give a shit about my rules.
The bad taste my decision left me would diminish. I just needed to get away from this place.
Since the magic on this side of the ward didn’t discriminate between the imprint of the two brothers, I opted for the road—which was also the path least likely to throw any nasty runes my way. There was a rental parked in front of the house, and I seriously doubted Riordan would have been content with veering through his own traps every time he had taken to human means of transportation.
I had absolutely zero desire to deal with any unwanted surprises. I was exhausted enough as it was, and since there was no solemn, towering Fae to protect me from those sly, concealed bastards, I hoped to the gods that I wasn’t wrong about the road. I certainly didn’t have the energy to stretch my magic to its limits right now and leave down the path Cian and I had used before.
But in spite of the headache-inducing strain, my magic stayed on full alert the entire time I walked down the gravel, diligently picking up the powerful hum as I passed, and successfully evaded several smaller traps. My initial guess had been right—the road was by far the least dangerous way in or out, if one didn’t count the ward that had just sucked me in. But it was still lethal.
Despite the pissy mood I was in, I couldn’t help but wonder how the fuck someone had succeeded in sneaking past Riordan’s defenses. My gaze brushed over the shimmering tunnel.
A Lord’s defenses.
I frowned at the thought as the ward released me on the other side, then picked up my pace as the Audi A5 finally came into view around the bend.
Fae fucking royalty.
Cian had been right, though. His position within the Fae community was none of my business. I didn’t go around telling everybody who Mum was, either. But a bloody near-immortal should have known better than to let me within reach of an object of power.
The car flashed as I unlocked it, and I slid into the driver’s seat, letting the sweet purr of her engine wash over me. I made a sharp U-turn on the road, the tires spewing gravel everywhere, then sped back towards civilization.
Music blasted from the speakers, the heavy beats of System of a Down matching my mood perfectly, but my mind was on the pin. At times like this, I truly, truly hated myself. Why was it so hard for me to let things go?
The demonic whispers chuckled from their little box of doom. And for once, my light magic seemed to share the sentiment.
Perfect. The bastards were ganging up on me.
Digging my manicured nails into the steering wheel, I allowed the memory of the pin to flow through me. I hadn’t dealt with any Fae relics before personally, but I had seen them from afar. They were extremely hot items at auctions, the starting bid at several mil easily. Even Nenad had had a short period at the beginning of his collector’s life when he had coveted the damned things. But, honestly, I never saw the appeal myself.
The power embedded in the relics worked for few individuals outside the Fae race—something to do with the way it was attuned to their magic or chi or something like that. And even if you did wield one successfully, it wasn’t a guarantee that you could establish the same connection with the next one you snatched. All in all, it was an overpriced scavenger hunt.
However, there was one fact that disturbed me more than all the other shit I’d seen today thrown together.
The pin’s murmurs had been different.
The relics I’d seen at auctions possessed voices that were indistinguishable from the rest. They might have carried more power within them, but from a material empath’s point of view, they were still everyday joes.
So what was it about this one that made it so special? Why had it beckoned to me unlike anything I’d ever come across before?
Mulling over the fact, I pulled out on the main road and pressed my foot on the pedal. I soared through the bend, cut the next corner, and was instantly met by the frantic screeching of brakes.
“Fuck!”
I yanked the steering wheel as hard as I could, maneuvering out of the way and nearly running off the road. I managed to stop on the narrow strip of gravel, but the driver of the black Dodge Nitro wasn’t as lucky.
The hood of the car sank into the bushes and crashed into a massive pine tree. I undid my seat belt with shaky hands and scrambled out of the car, desperately wanting to make sure I hadn’t killed the driver just because I was distracted by a fucking Fae relic.
The panic within me subsided as something moved from behind the darkened windows. Alive and conscious were good signs. Signs I desperately needed right now.
“Are you all right?” I asked once the doors opened. I found myself staring at a shaken face of a man in his early thirties.
Hazel eyes met the gray of mine, and some of the confusion fled from the man’s face. But only to be replaced by flaming anger. I winced.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he rumbled and pushed his muscular frame out of the car.
Instinctively, I skittered back, the magic twirling in my core, threatened by his sudden, forceful advance. But the man ignored me completely and went to check up on the hood of his car.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He ran his fingers through the thick mass of brown hair then met my gaze once more. “That”—he pointed to the mass of bent metal—“will have to go to the repair shop. Do you want to call the police or—”
“We can settle this ourselves.” I gave him my best apologetic face and fished a business card out of the back pocket of my jeans. “All my info is on here. And, please, feel free to write down my license plate as well.”
He snatched the card from my fingers and scanned the lines printed in delicate cursive.
“I’m so sorry.” I bit my lip. “I was in a hurry to get to town—”
A noncommittal grunt cut off my words. “I’ll call you when they give me the estimate.”
“Great,” I chirped, my Converse-clad feet already making a dash towards the car.
I sank into the seat and swore extensively.
This shitty day really couldn’t end fast enough.
Chapter 9
I threw my car keys in the gold ashtray by the door and let the familiar scents of the apartment wash over me. Traces of rose, jasmine, and the faintest hint of cinnamon enveloped me completely, easing some of the tension from my neck and spine. The light hum of Saturday traffic filtered through the windows, but the sound was muted, diffused by the magic I had laid all over the space. I stepped into its embrace, every single ward muttering its silent greeting, and then straight to the liquor cabinet.
Although food would probably be a much better choice, given how weak I still felt, this was one of those situations when my inner peace had precedence over the demands of the flesh. And there certainly wasn’t a more suitable balm in existence than a little red wine.
A half-empty bottle of Cabernet Shiraz lingered on the cooled shelf at the very top, so I plucked it from its place, grabbed the largest glass I owned, and filled it almost to the rim. Satisfied with the soothing weight in my hand, I padded over
to the deep blue chesterfield by the window and sank into it, bringing the wine to my lips before my butt actually made contact with the cushion. The fruity, but not too sweet, taste exploded in my mouth, immediately calming my nerves, as well as the rattled magic inside me.
The doorbell rang before I even managed to take a second sip.
I swore. Extensively. And then I swore again.
For a second there, I seriously considered doing something I hadn’t turned to since my early teens—something I had never done if the situation cauterized my other options. But there it was, lurking within me—the notion to just wink out of existence and transport myself to my place of power. To the lair I had been given at birth, the one that had kept me, like every other of my demonic kin, alive throughout my fist year, augmenting and stabilizing my magic with its raw, almost sacred strength. I shrugged the thought away.
Going there now would only break the distance I had fairly successfully put between myself and that particular life. And as much as I wanted some peace and quiet, I also knew my problems would be waiting patiently for my return. So, since the pros didn’t outweigh the cons, I let out a sigh, placed the glass down on the table, and strode across the room. With each step, I let more and more magic bubble beneath the surface of my skin, a few translucent tendrils reaching out to probe at whoever was standing on the other side of the door.
I was almost halfway there when I felt it. Powerful. Male. And sexual as fuck. Argh.
“No!” I shouted at the door, my arms instinctively crossing in front of my chest in defiance.
“Let me enter, Liva.” Cian’s voice sounded from the other side, and I frowned at the sheer demand saturating those words.
Frowned at how good my name sounded coming from his lips, too.
“I’ve said all I have to say. You breached my terms, Cian. I don’t work with people who refuse to cooperate.”