Masked Desire

“You don’t think we can fix this?”

  “Isindle is a very good scholar, but I don’t think she will find us a solution.”

  “Even though I’m not fey?”

  “I don’t think so. The bond took.”

  “Okay.” She thought about it. “Can anything break this bond?”

  He raised his face to the sky to feel the warmth of the sun. “No.”

  She covered her face in her hands. “Seeing a pattern here.” Her voice was muffled.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We’re always apologizing.” She laughed wearily. “Another thing to blame on the poisoner. Do we have to be together? I mean, what if we’re bonded but live separate lives?”

  “Do you want to?” The question came out before he could check himself and he found himself holding his breath for her answer. This was the first time he’d had a true partner in centuries. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it himself.

  “I want to know the parameters of what we’re dealing with.” She skirted the question.

  “I don’t know. I’ve heard that it weakens each partner. The bond is meant to keep us together. The forest wants our combined strength.”

  “Did you tell me the truth when I asked if I took you from someone?” she asked in a voice so low he could barely hear her. “Another man or woman?”

  “I did.” He watched her carefully and was surprised to see her look relieved. Well, he didn’t blame her. It was hard enough to be mated to someone you didn’t plan to be, let alone a person who resented you for taking them from their true love. Doubt crept in. He was fairly sure Michaela had been alone, but they didn’t know each other that well. “What of you? Did you tell the truth about whether the bond stole you from another?”

  She shook her head and he exhaled, relief filling him. “What else do you want to know?”

  Michaela walked to the edge of the forest. “This is utterly ludicrous,” she said finally.

  He twisted to look at her. “Which part? The surprise mating, the magical tattoos, or the simultaneous death?”

  “All of it, but mostly what you said about the forest’s approval. Why does the forest even care?”

  He saw the gap in her understanding. It wasn’t unusual. Many arcana simply thought the fey had a generic connection to their trees, like pets. Nothing could be further from the truth. “Some background might be useful here. You’ve heard the fey are soulless?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s not true. We place our souls to care for our forests. My soul resides in my red oak.”

  “Since when?” she asked. “Are you born with one? A soul?”

  “There is a ceremony when we’re quite young when we become bonded to our forests. They take it then.”

  “When fey mate”—she paused, thinking it through—“it’s not only individuals, is it? I’m connected to your forest?”

  “Exactly. Your actions can rebound on it, as mine would on yours if you had one.”

  “I don’t get why your forest would have approved this since I don’t.” She frowned. “It’s bizarre to talk about trees this way.”

  “The forest is more than trees. It has a spirit, part of the dolma.”

  “Nature.”

  “The natural world, yes. As for your question, I can’t tell you why it did either. I can’t speak with it in exile.”

  “Is it hard?”

  “Yes.” He left it at that and decided to change the topic before he ended up telling her about being a caintir. He would trust his mate with his life, but that…that was different. “Your masques.”

  “What about them?” She sounded defensive.

  “Today I was surprised by Yuri’s appearance. Will that happen often?”

  Michaela turned suddenly serious. “It’s the same risk as a werewoman shifting, or a vampire sinking her fangs in unexpectedly. Today was a mistake and should never have happened.”

  “I won’t put you to the test again.” He leaned over her and pushed her back into the grass. “I promise.”

  She curled into him, trusting, her face buried into his chest. He bent down and kissed the top of her head softly, loving how his lips almost slid across the smoothness of her hair. It was sleek as mink and as dark as a night forest.

  Michaela lifted her head but he was careful to avoid her lips. She relaxed under his touch, melting into him, warm from the sun and exercise and he pulled her even closer, so they touched down the full length of their bodies.

  He wouldn’t fuck this up this time. He couldn’t, because if he had to go another day without her, he would die. A soft moan escaped her lips and he flipped them so that she was on top. He would give her the knowledge she could end this any moment but kept a firm grip on her hips. She would feel desired. She would know how much he wanted her.

  She pulled back to nibble on his ear, causing him to see stars. Her bites were sharp enough to hurt perfectly. Michaela’s hands came up and stroked his chest. When her fingertips slid over his sigil, they both trembled in unison. Her eyes widened and she bent her head to lick at the green brand on his flesh.

  Cormac groaned out loud. It was as though the soft feel of her tongue had been amplified to fill his entire self. Michaela gasped and rolled over, urging him with her and on top of her.

  He couldn’t stop. With a single tug, he ripped off the loose pants and pressed her thighs open. She tilted her hips up as he buried himself in deep.

  Then he stayed there for a moment, letting her get used to him and forcing himself into an inner calm. He’d make this perfect for her.

  “Now,” she said.

  Cormac raised himself up on his hands as he pulled almost completely out then thrust in hard. Michaela lay below him, fully revealed. He could hardly bear it. Her nipples had turned a gorgeous raspberry and he leaned down to lick each one, feeling each grow in his mouth. Her eyes were wide and fixed on his cock as it slowly slid in and out of her. He glanced down but the sight of himself entering her was too much. He wouldn’t be able to hold back.

  She moved her hips against him, wordlessly urging him to go faster, deeper. Cormac was happy to oblige. She was perfect. Her body shook against him.

  He buried his face in her shoulder as he burned into her one last time.

  She screamed, a sound of utter release that he echoed a second later as he felt her come deep inside his mind. Their bodies came together and he could feel the flutters as she came. His vision was almost black.

  Never had he experienced anything like that. The mating bond had intensified every sensation until he could barely think.

  Cormac rolled them over so he could wrap his arms around her. Michaela was still trembling against his chest, and he covered her hair with kisses.

  “I…” She didn’t even finish the sentence.

  “Yeah.” He wasn’t doing much better.

  “That was.”

  “It was.”

  That seemed to be enough for her. She stretched, smiling in a way he’d never seen, her heart in her eyes. Miaoling instead of Michaela. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, knowing that whatever he said would be the wrong thing. Instead he held her close and for a brief and shining moment, it seemed like a promise.

  Chapter 25

  Later that afternoon, Michaela sat at the table and nibbled on some of the flowers they’d gathered. Cormac had insisted she take it easy—medic’s orders—and for the first time in a long time, she’d simply enjoyed time passing without worrying. There were no lists. No deadlines, self-imposed or other. She’d gone for another bath in that strangely effervescent stream. Cormac had taken her for a walk and brought her almost to silence by his encyclopedic knowledge of every plant, animal, and even cloud type they’d encountered.

  She even gradually became more used to the sigil on her chest. She’d demanded they do some experimentation—she
hadn’t changed that much—and forced Cormac to try different emotions so she could feel them. To his credit, he had tried. She let him stop after the fifth attempt.

  “I can’t do it,” he said, exasperated. “You need to actually scare me.”

  Unfortunately, it had proved almost impossible to do that too. The sigil had given them such an intimate awareness of the other that it acted as an early-warning system. It wasn’t as intrusive as Michaela feared it would be, but it was definitely there.

  They had spent most of the day in roving conversation, talking about nothing in particular. Michaela had told him stories of when she was a merchant and the strange things she’d witnessed. The ghost at her uncle’s house had intrigued him.

  “You saw it?” he asked skeptically.

  “She was in the same robes as when she’d died. She’d hanged herself with a belt.” It had been an old concubine of her uncle’s, and she’d changed the topic before he’d asked more about her life there. It was too pleasant a day.

  Cormac poured her another glass of the sweet watery birch sap. “Are you tired?”

  “I had two naps.”

  “Like a cat in the sun,” Cormac said with satisfaction. “You enjoyed it.”

  She had, too, leisurely waking to a plate of berries and cool water by her side. Cormac had been out in the woods somewhere but the sigil told her that he was fine.

  After tidying up after their evening meal, they went outside again. Cormac pulled out two blankets from a chest before he followed her out. “Where would you like to go?” he asked.

  She pointed to a fallen log a short walk from the door. “Here. I want to watch the stars come out.”

  He arranged the blankets and they settled down, staring at the sky. The soft hoot of an owl sounded deeper in the woods.

  “There was a place like this near my parent’s house,” she said. “Different plants, of course, but the feeling I had was the same.”

  “What’s that?” Cormac rolled over on his side and propped his head on his hand.

  “Peaceful. The house wasn’t very happy for me, so I ran out of the back gardens to the bamboo grove whenever I could.”

  “Weren’t you watched?”

  Oh, was she. “The amahs weren’t very attentive. My father’s second concubine was kindest to me, but she died.” Suicide by poison after Michaela’s mother beat her.

  “What about when you went to your uncle’s house?”

  “Was sent,” she corrected. “In Melaka. It was Dutch then and much different than home. More alive. I liked the city, liked watching everything going on around me.”

  “And you became a merchant? How?”

  “My uncle tried to marry me off.” To another old man, another set of soft, wrinkled hands.

  Cormac’s eyes were narrow. “Did you go?”

  “No.” Not this time. “I waited and made my uncle believe I would obey. That was the day I decided to make my own way. I snuck out, took on a boy’s masque and wore some servant’s clothes. Captain Lu took me on.”

  Cormac pulled her close. “It was exciting to be at sea?”

  Exciting? “Thrilling. I loved it. Captain Lu taught me everything and when he died he left me his ship because he had no sons of his own. The crew were human, so I had to keep bringing on new men so they wouldn’t notice I didn’t age as they did. No one could tell me what to do. I was in charge.”

  The stars were sparks against the deep indigo sky. “I had a Captain Lu. Her name was Kiana.”

  “Tell me.” Michaela lay down on the blankets and let Cormac’s voice surround her.

  “She was Tismelda’s sister. Smart, driven, moral. Kind. Generous.” He moved so their heads touched. “She trained me as if I was her own.”

  “What happened?”

  “She and Tismelda were never friends. Kiana was to be queen and Tismelda wanted the throne. She’s a political animal, Tismelda, and Kiana was not. She wanted what was best for the Queendom. Tismelda bought alliances with promises of land and honor. There were enough greedy families to support her.”

  He was holding something back, but Michaela didn’t want to press him.

  Then he sighed. “When Tismelda captured and killed Kiana, the war was over. I was one of the last commanders. I was banished before I healed from my wounds.”

  “Not killed?”

  He laughed bitterly. “If I was dead, how could the queen lord it over me? Banishment is worse. I can’t see my tree. My forest is without stewardship. Each year”—he paused—“it’s difficult.”

  He reached for her hand and grasped it hard. For a long time, they lay staring at the stars and taking comfort in each other.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Michaela stayed curled up in the bed. Cormac had left to take a bath but she’d been too lazy to join him. She’d been so stunned by her honest admission that she was too lazy that she’d simply laid there thinking about it. That was a Miaoling thing to say. Miaoling had always been clear-eyed enough to acknowledge her feelings, even when they brought beatings. She considered that. It was lovely to allow herself to be Miaoling again, to lower her barriers enough to trust that she could be herself without fear that another being would see her vulnerability as weakness. Here in Cormac’s enchanted place, it felt right to be herself and to peel back the armor that protected her from the sometimes crushing emotions that came with being a masquerada.

  She needed to scale that back. The sex had been amazing. Incredible. Mind-altering. It was still only sex. Physical. She would remember to keep it that way.

  She swung her legs out of the bed, feeling good. The poison was probably gone, but it would be wise to have one of Eric’s medics check her over.

  Someone had poisoned her. She frowned and sat on the floor to stretch her hamstrings. There was no way to get around this. It was a poison deliberately designed for a masquerada.

  Hiro had been killed by accident by a knife meant for her. The further mutilation could either be explained as the killer acting out in anger, horrific as that was, or a desperate attempt to cover or mislead.

  She dressed quickly and had poured a decadent-smelling cup of flower nectar when her phone rang.

  “Stephan!” As always, hearing from him cheered her up.

  “How are you feeling?” he demanded.

  “Good. Very good.”

  “That feyman treating you well?”

  “He is.” She averted her eyes from the tumbled covers of the bed.

  “I’ve been looking into the mating thing.” Stephan sounded troubled. “It’s not looking good for you.”

  She drew out a chair and sat down. “I know. He told me about it.”

  “I’ve got hope, though. Caro and Evie are on it.”

  Caro was one of the most tenacious journalists on the planet and Evie was an unsurpassed data shark. They were basically a research dream team. “Thank you.” Sex was great and all, but Michaela still hated the idea of a forced bonding.

  “Eric said you were coming back today so I wanted to check in. You only come back if you feel ready, understand? We can survive without you another few days.”

  “No, you can’t.” She smiled at the phone.

  “Yeah, I know. Seriously, though, your recovery comes first. You won’t be much use to us if you keep passing out in the war room.”

  “I’m good, Stephan.” She lowered her voice. “I want to come back.”

  There was a short pause. “We’re here for you, Mike. Always.”

  “Thanks.”

  “By the way, Estelle is going to join us,” he said. It was a good try at being casual.

  “Estelle?” She refrained from saying, Your vampire ex-girlfriend? He didn’t need to hear it and she definitely didn’t need to hear another explanation of how it had gone wrong and how they’d decided to be friends and that he w
as completely fine with that.

  “She’s a bit more than a vampire and she can help us. I’ll let her tell you.”

  More than a vampire? Interesting. Estelle was one of Caro’s best friends. Michaela had liked her more every time they’d met but she’d always been under the impression that Estelle was more concerned with Estelle than with the politics swirling around her.

  They chatted for a few more minutes and she ended the call when Cormac came back into the tree. He glanced at the phone in her hand. “All good?”

  “Stephan. I told him I was coming back today, after I meet Ivy and her parents for lunch.” She’d almost forgotten until Stephan had mentioned that it was Sunday. Time seemed to run on a different clock in the tree. Michaela observed Cormac, who stood shirtless and with wet hair. He was always clean-shaven and she wondered if fey even grew beards. There was a lot to learn about her mate.

  Wait. What was that? Mate in name, only.

  “We sorted that out with Eric already.” Cormac pulled on a black T-shirt that did nothing to hide the perfection of his chest. He also looked pissed and that was what eventually drew Michaela’s attention.

  “Yes, he was confirming.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “You what?” She would give him the benefit of the doubt and not automatically assume he was about to go caveman on her.

  “You are my mate. He has no right to you.”

  And…he blew it. She didn’t even know what to say at first; there were so many things wrong with his head.

  He kept digging the hole as she stared openmouthed. “Protecting you is my responsibility,” he said, throwing his towel into the corner of the room. “Not another man’s.”

  That was enough. She held up her hand. “Let me stop you right there. I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.”

  “Michaela, I—”

  “I said you were going to listen. Stephan is my colleague and friend. You think you can dictate who I will and will not speak to?”

  His lips thinned and eyes darkened but he simply crossed his arms over his chest. She continued, surprising herself with her calm. “I protect myself. As we’ve discussed before. In fact, so many times I’m tired of discussing it at all. Last, no one, especially you, who have known me the least amount of time, has any fucking right over me. Mates means nothing to me, Cormac. It was a mistake, okay? All this is a mistake.”