by Katee Robert
He still woke up in a cold sweat more nights than he wanted to admit, the memories of that place riding him hard. It wouldn’t end. Fifteen years later, and Luca knew how those kinds of people operated. His hell might have been shut down, abandoned, left for the authorities to find, but there were others.
There were always others.
If they didn’t cut the head off the snake, once and for all, it would never end. He might not deserve peace, not after what he’d done to survive, but he could help ensure no other children were taken, abused, and discarded like trash when their usefulness had reached its end.
“Luca?”
He gave himself a shake and focused on Ryu. He and Amarante were the only two of the Horsemen related by blood, and like Luca, they actually knew where they came from. For Luca, that was Thalania. For Ryu and Amarante, it was Hong Kong.
His brother looked at him like he wasn’t sure if Luca would come apart at the seams. Luca glared. “I’m good. I’ve got this.”
“You sure?” Ryu raked a hand through his short black hair. “Sometimes I wonder if any of us do.”
“We have it under control.” Amarante had it under control. The rest of them would fall in line just like they always did.
Luca turned his attention back to the door. They had dossiers on all the major players participating in this year’s Wild Hunt. The mob guy from Boston. The oil heir from Houston. The assassin who was a legend in and of herself. The Bookkeeper’s representatives who filled the rest of the slots.
He counted them off as he scanned the room. “Everyone’s here.”
“Actually …” Ryu trailed off as she walked in. “There’s one more.”
The white woman wore the palest pink gown, looking like a spring flower that had blossomed in a winter forest. Her cropped dark hair was styled back from her innocent face and she hesitated in the doorway as if she wasn’t sure she was in the right place. She couldn’t be in the right place. Not a spring flower in a winter forest. No, she was a bunny in the midst of hungry wolves. They’d eat her alive.
Luca took a step forward without intending to, and Ryu caught his arm. “We don’t interfere.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
Ryu grimaced. “We don’t interfere where they can see us.”
Luca looked back at the woman. She’d found her courage and shifted through the crowd, oblivious to the way the men tracked her movements, their gazes following her long after she’d passed. She gracefully took a champagne flute from one of the passing servers and lifted it to pink, pink lips.
Fuck.
“Who is that?”
Ryu was the one who compiled the dossiers in the first place, his ability to track down information downright uncanny. “A late addition.”
The hair on the back of Luca’s neck stood up. He forced himself to tear his attention from the woman and face his friend, his brother. “Who. The. Fuck. Is. That?”
Ryu shrugged. “That’s Princess Camilla Fitzcharles of Thalania, second in line to the throne. Or sixth, I guess, since both her brothers have procreated at this point.”
Static blossomed in his head, a roaring he couldn’t mute. Luca spun on his heel, ignoring Ryu’s curse, and stalked through the crowd toward the little lamb wandering to the slaughter. People got out of his way, but they didn’t move far, too intent on watching this little drama play out.
They could keep waiting.
He plucked the champagne flute from her hand, shoved it at a nearby server, and then planted his palm on the small of her back. Christ, she was so tiny, he could practically bracket her waist with his hands if he wanted to. What the fuck was Amarante thinking to invite this little girl to come play, let alone this year of all years?
Camilla let out a little exhale of surprise, but she didn’t resist as he all but shoved her through the room and out the door, careful to keep his body between her and the rest of the guests. That sweet submissiveness died the second the door closed behind them.
She stepped away from him, twisting in a move that was as graceful as it seemed second nature. As if she spent a lot of time avoiding men touching her. Fury rose at the thought, fury he had no right to. “What the fuck are you doing here, little girl?”
She swept her dress away from his feet and somehow managed to look down her nose at him despite his having a good foot on her. Fucking royals. They were all the same. The few times in the past that Amarante had allowed Thalania’s representatives on the island, he’d chosen to make himself scarce. This was different. She might have the snooty thing going for her, but she was as shiny as a new penny.
And as likely to be tossed away by the men in the room behind them.
“I asked you a question.”
“I’m deciding if I feel like answering.” She eyed him, obviously trying to place him with the rest of them. Luca knew what he looked like. A bruiser who just happened to fill out a tux. Dark hair a little too long, scruff on his jaw where he hadn’t bothered to shave, nothing but shadows in his dark eyes. Dangerous.
Because that’s exactly what he was. He made no claims otherwise.
So why wasn’t she quivering in fear and wilting beneath his gaze?
“You don’t get a choice about answering me.”
“Don’t I?” Her pointed chin rose another notch, her blue eyes flashing. “I have my invitation, the same as the others.” Without looking away, she dipped her hand into her tiny purse and fished out a gold embossed invitation with her name scrawled across the front of it.
Princess Camilla Fitzcharles
Goddamn it. Luca barely bit back a growl. He was going to kick Amarante’s ass for this. “I don’t give a fuck about the invitation. You’re leaving. Now.”
“That line of intimidation may work with other representatives Thalania has sent. It won’t work with me.” She gave him a carefully constructed smile, false and polite. “I’m staying, and I’m competing.”
That’s what he was afraid of.
The Wild Hunt might not overtly be a fight to the death, but every year there were fatalities. It was a risk the players accepted when they came here. The greatest reward sometimes meant the greatest risk, and the players were all aware of that. No matter what this woman said, she wasn’t. She couldn’t possibly be. “You will die.”
“I might surprise you.” She gave a shrug that meant absolutely nothing at all, brushing his words away as easily as she’d brush away new fallen snow.
Or a gnat.
He had to get her out of here. He didn’t give a fuck if Amarante invited her. This woman wasn’t ready, and her competitors would pick her off early on. She’d be lucky if they only killed her.
The thought sank through Luca like a stone in water. He’d never once reacted this way to the people who came to this island to try for whatever prize Amarante had put together. But there’d also never been a fucking innocent thinking she could play with the big boys. “Pack your shit. I’m calling the chopper, and you’re leaving.”
“No.” She took a careful step back. At least she knew enough to recognize him as a threat. “Not until I have what I came for.”
Luca had done terrible things in his life, things he’d never put into words. People instinctively moved away from him when they saw him coming, whether they knew his reputation or not. And now this little piece of fluff was staring him down as if he couldn’t see the pulse thundering away in the hollow of her throat.
“What did you come for?” he ground out.
“Not what. Who.” She gave a sad little smile. “I came for you, Luca.”
2
Cami might have laughed at the dumbstruck look on Luca’s face in response to her lie if the situation wasn’t quite so dire. Because he was Luca Nibley. Or at least formerly Nibley. She didn’t know what surname he went by now. It didn’t matter. His grandmother had spent nearly three decades trying to bring him home, and here he stood, healthy and whole. He had the look of the Nibley family—dark hair, dark eyes, and ski
n that tanned up beautifully in the summer sun.
Cami just hadn’t expected him to be so … large.
He had an air of disreputableness despite his expensive clothing, and the glare his strong features morphed into only reinforced that opinion. He wasn’t pleased to see her, and he had no intention of being shuttled back to Thalania to take his place within the Nibley Family.
Just as well.
I’m not actually here for you.
He reached for her again with those massive hands, and she shifted at the last moment, leaving him clutching at air. “It’s rude to manhandle.”
“It’s rude to manhandle,” he repeated under his breath as if her words were the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “Guess what, little girl? You’re signing up for a whole lot worse than a hand around your wrist if you enter the Wild Hunt.”
“I’m aware.” She couldn’t quite quell the thrill of fear his statement brought. The primary goal of the Hunt might be to find and capture the so-called White Stag—someone chosen to flee the hunters—but word was that people took out the competition in whatever way they could manage. The fewer people hunting their quarry, the greater their chance of winning.
She would have to be just as ruthless as the others. More ruthless.
Heels clicked on the marble, and if Cami hadn’t been watching Luca so closely, she would have missed his low curse. He turned to glare at the woman—at War—approaching. She’d changed outfits as well, now dressed in a red gown that plunged nearly to her belly button and had a slit up one side to her hip. It should have looked too daring, too trashy, but somehow she sold it the same way she’d sold her earlier clothing.
Confidence was a wonderful thing.
She narrowed amber eyes at Luca. “I sincerely hope you’re not threatening our guest.”
“Don’t fuck with me. She shouldn’t be here and you know it.”
War shrugged. “I don’t make the rules, I just break them. She was invited, she’s now here. End of story.”
They squared off like two dogs about to snap and snarl over a choice bone. Cami couldn’t tell if this was an angry argument or something resembling a sibling dispute. She had little experience with either. Both her brothers were significantly older and, beyond that, had their paths set out beneath their feet from birth. She wasn’t the heir, wasn’t the spare. Was simply the third child, the pampered daughter. Raised in relative safety, sheltered from the harsher aspects of the world, and destined to one day marry someone acceptable.
More like a gilded cage.
A cage winning the Wild Hunt would free her from.
Cami carefully lifted her dress so she wouldn’t step on it and turned her back on them. They could keep arguing until they were both blue in the face. She was here. It was too late to stop this from happening now, no matter how little Luca seemed to like the idea.
It wasn’t his call to make.
War’s laugh rolled down the hallway. “Oh my god, I think I’m in love.”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t be mad at me because you want to get all up under that skirt. Not my problem.” With another laugh, War hurried to her side and slipped her arm through Cami’s, just like she had earlier that day. The only difference was how her fingers dug into Cami’s skin. “Keep walking,” War murmured. “Don’t look back.”
“Why not?” Not that she was inclined to look over her shoulder. She already knew what she’d find—Luca glaring a hole in the back of her head as if her very presence insulted him beyond comprehension.
“Because he’s liable to stalk over here, toss you over his shoulder, and take you somewhere sinister.” War gave a mock shudder. “I mean, that could be really sexy if you’re into that sort of thing.” She turned that painfully direct gaze on Cami. “Are you into that sort of thing?”
“I—What? Why are you asking?”
“No reason.” War smiled and opened the door into the room she’d just been unceremoniously hauled from. “You’re blushing like a virgin, princess. It’s seriously cute. Do you like girls?”
The heat in her cheeks had to have turned her face crimson by now. Cami wasn’t blessed with a complexion that would hide her embarrassment. “I … maybe?”
War stopped shot, her brows slanting down. “Wait a damn minute. Are you a virgin? Holy shit, maybe Luca is right. You really shouldn’t be here.”
“You’re doing it again.” A deep voice cut in, and Cami could have thrown herself at the newcomer walking up out of sheer relief. He was a beautiful Asian man who moved with a purpose that made her think military, or some kind of specialized security. He frowned at War just like Luca had, their expressions so similar, it left something resonating in Cami’s chest.
This is his family.
Not the Nibleys, who had fought so hard to reclaim what they’d lost.
It doesn’t matter. Eyes on the prize, Cami.
War gave a put-upon sigh. “Pestilence, this is my good friend Cami. Cami, Pestilence.”
He raised his brows at Cami, looking like he was passing some kind of judgement the same way everyone else she’d met since arriving on the island had. Unlike the others, Cami wasn’t sure what conclusion he’d come to. “Things are getting started. You’re going to want to be closer to the front so you can see.”
“Excuse me, we were having a conversation.”
Pestilence shook his head and pointed at War. “You have bigger shit to worry about.”
Her gaze flicked over Cami’s shoulder and something almost serious slipped into her expression. “I guess I do.”
Even knowing what to expect, coming to this island was like arriving on a foreign planet. The rules weren’t the same, no one acted quite how they should, and danger lurked around every corner. Cami followed them into the room and found an Asian woman presiding over the area. She stood on the small dais that Cami hadn’t noticed before, and instead of a gown, she had on a three-piece suit that almost looked like menswear, but significantly more fashionable.
Silence rolled through the room in a wave as people noticed her standing there. The fear and respect that flickered over people’s faces in turn told Cami all she needed to know.
She stood in the presence of Death.
Death looked at each of them in turn, her gaze briefly settling on Cami, before moving on. “Welcome to the Island of Ys. You’ve all been shown to your respective rooms. The Wild Hunt begins in three days.” Her voice was low and measured, but a melodious undertone snuck through. It intrigued Cami despite herself. This woman was beautiful the way all the Horsemen seemed to be beautiful, albeit in different ways. The suit showed off her small frame and her black hair was a glossy wave down that fell to halfway down her back. The only color she presented were lips painted a devastating red.
A warning, there.
Cami intended to heed it.
“The prize this year has brought out a new crop of competitors. A White Stag will be named the night before the Hunt begins. The objective is simple. Capture the White Stag. Win the game.”
Simple. The very idea was laughable. The Stag would get nearly twelve hours’ head start, and the island where the game came into play had to be at least ten miles long and another few miles wide. Not that huge of an area to search … unless one considered the fact it was essentially a jungle, and there would be traps and poisonous creatures and other competitors.
You trained for this.
You’re as ready as you could possibly be.
That’s what she was afraid of. That no matter how ready she was, it wouldn’t be enough. She couldn’t afford to think like that. Doubt killed just as easily as a gun.
Death spread her arms. “Enjoy our hospitality for now. You will sign your name in three days, and the game will begin.” She turned and stepped down from the dais, disappearing through a door Cami hadn’t noticed before now, leaving murmurs in her wake.
It was second nature for Cami to pick her way to a nearby alcove and lean against the wall. How many parties ha
d she spent in this exact same position? Watching, never participating. Her oldest brother, the King of Thalania, liked to entertain and the older she got, the more people seemed to expect things of her. Not her brother. Never him. He would never ask her for anything, would never include her in any important decision-making. She was just shy of ten years younger than Theo, and that contributed to his never quite taking her seriously, to always wanting to keep her safe and protected and packed away from anything resembling danger. To him, she would always be a child in need of protection.
This gathering was no different than the ones back in the palace. Oh, the hostilities rode closer to the surface, the smiles knife-sharp, the honeyed words liberally dosed with poison.
A trio of men and a single woman obviously knew each other, and though their features were radically different, they seemed to have pulled their suits from the same rack. They spoke in low voices, and she didn’t miss the way they watched the two Horsemen in the room. As if they’d like to end them here and now.
As if they wanted to see them hurt.
Why did the Horsemen allow them here? They’re obviously enemies.
She gave an internal shrug and moved on to the next competitor. A large man with dark hair and wary eyes watched the room the same way she did, although he hadn’t retreated first. He was the only competitor who hadn’t brought anyone with him. He wore his tux with the ease of someone who dressed to the nines often, someone who had been born to money.
Like me.
It would be nice to discount him completely, but there was an air of something akin to desperation in those dark eyes, and it left her cold. She’d avoid this man if she had any choice in the matter. He’d plow through anything that got in his way and to hell with the consequences.
The final man was leaner, but also large, also dark haired and dark eyed. Did they pick these guys out of a mold? His tux was new, and he wore it with ill grace, as if he’d be more comfortable in different clothing. The only people he’d brought were a couple at his back. The woman was small and wore a dress that would be scandalous in higher society. It was a masterpiece of beads and sheer fabric, leaving large swathes of her body exposed to the gaze of everyone in the room. The man at her side exuded such cold menace, no one had dared look at her twice. He also hadn’t stopped touching her since they walked through the door, his hand brushing the small of her back, her arm, once even the underside of her breast. Their rings pronounced them man and wife, but Cami didn’t need that outward confirmation to know they’d claimed each other. It was there for anyone who cared to look.