Primal Bounty_Pendragon Gargoyles

by Sydney Somers

  He caught her around the waist and scooped her into his arms.

  Her lashes fluttered but she didn’t open her eyes.

  “Elena?” Her name nearly stuck in his throat. “Come on, Ivy. Wake up and look at me.”

  Dare was next to him. “Let’s get her inside.”

  She still hadn’t stirred by the time Vaughn carried her through the entryway. He cradled her to his chest, willing her to wake up.

  “This way,” Dare called out, waving for him to follow.

  Down a short hall on the right, he found a small room that might have been used by library staff once upon a time.

  Dare jerked the covering off one of the couches, and Vaughn laid her down, dropping to his knees next to her.

  “Ivy.” He touched her faced, half expecting to find her feverish like before, but her skin was cool to the touch.

  She groaned and turned her face toward him.

  “Talk to me,” he coaxed. Tell me you’re okay.

  “Have I mentioned that telling me what to do is getting old?” she muttered.

  Relief shot through him. “Hey,” he said softly.

  She lifted a hand to her head, wincing. “Those really need to stop. At least she didn’t kick me this time.”

  Dare shot him a questioning look, but Vaughn didn’t have a clue what she was talking about either.

  She started to rise, but Vaughn kept her in place. “Don’t try to move yet. Water,” he said to Dare.

  “No problem.” His friend vanished out the door.

  “I’m good.”

  Not even close.

  She put her hand over his eyes. “Not sure how much more of that I can take, Vaughn.”

  His stomach wrenched hard, what was left of his world derailing right in front of him.

  She held his gaze for a long moment then let her hand fall back to the couch. “Maybe I will just chill here for a while.” Her eyes closed. “I might’ve had a little too much to drink.”

  “Right,” he answered, autopilot kicking in at the last second and saving his ass. “I’ll be right back. Stay put, Ivy,” he added at the last second.

  Her lips curved. “Good thing I already canceled my plans for the rest of the night.”

  He retreated from the room, closing the door behind him only to turn and brace his hands on it.

  Dare returned with a bottle of water. He gave him a thoughtful once-over. “You look rattled.”

  Epic understatement. “She called me Vaughn.”

  “Must be the Stockholm Syndrome kicking in,” Dare teased.

  “She never calls me Vaughn. She calls me everything but Vaughn.”

  “And?” Dare prompted, not understanding the significance.

  “She knows.” Sweet Avalon. It took a moment to force the words past his tight throat. “Elena knows she’s my mate.”

  ***

  “You can’t avoid her forever.”

  When he didn’t turn at the sound of Dare’s voice, his friend walked into the small kitchen that complimented the lounge area next door.

  Both rooms had probably been frequented by library staff before everyone went home one day and never came back. No one would have left dirty dishes in the sink—never mind the shelves full of books—if the library had closed under typical circumstances.

  And if Rutger was involved, nothing about it would have been typical.

  He could feel Dare watching him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

  But what the hell was there to say? He didn’t think the dark pit where his stomach used to be could get any bigger but it felt ready to swallow him whole.

  He should probably be grateful that she hadn’t called him for not telling her she was his mate. Maybe he would be when he got past the inexplicable urge to shake the silence out of her. She should be furious with him, or at the very least demand some kind of explanation.

  Instead she offered only a soft smile that nearly ripped him into a thousand pieces and wanted to rest.

  Fuck. Vaughn rubbed at his chest, the growing ache gnawing a little deeper.

  “Sympathy pains? Or is the guilt getting to you?”

  The guilt had consumed him long ago. The only thing he had left were the nightmare images of losing his sister to the same fate as his parents.

  Or so he thought until he watched Elena collapse a few hours ago. The closer they got to the moment when he would have to hand her over, the more vicious his thoughts became. If they hurt her—

  “There has to be another way,” Dare said softly. “You know there does.”

  He shook his head, but the arguments he’d been clinging to wouldn’t come. What if Dare was right? What if there was another way and he just couldn’t see it? What if there was a way to get Piper back without sacrificing Elena?

  He knew better than to hope for that. How many times had he witnessed missions spin out of control because someone thought there was a better way at the last moment?

  “I know you think Elena won’t help, but it’s not like that.”

  “Because now she knows she’s my mate? It’s not that simple.”

  He’d damaged her trust when he walked away from her in Vegas, but kidnapping and planning on handing her over to Piper’s kidnappers would have blown it out of the water completely.

  “Even if she was willing to forgive me eventually, I took away her magic.” And the only edge they’d have.

  Dare grinned like he was finally getting through to Vaughn. “I’m pretty sure she can handle herself without it. And if we could find a way to use that crown against those bastards—”

  “Where is it anyway?”

  “Upstairs. Hidden in the stacks.” Dare frowned. “You’re not still worried she’d turn on you, are you? Besides you told her to stay put. She can’t even open the door unless the wraith comes back, right?”

  Dare’s words tumbled around in the back of Vaugh’s mind. Something about a door…

  Shit.

  Vaughn bolted from the room, skidding to a stop a moment later in front of the staff lounge where he’d left Elena. The knob gave way as he shoved the door open and rushed inside.

  The room was empty.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Now if I was a sneaky wolf, where would I hide the crown of a forgotten Fae queen?

  Elena brushed her finger along the spines of thick volumes, wondering if any of the locals had noticed when their library closed or if magic made them forget all about it.

  A hint of something, like an echo of magic, lingered in the room. If her own magic wasn’t locked down, it would be easier to identify. The faint imprint was distinctly different than the whisper of ancient magic that pulled at her, yet familiar somehow.

  But puzzling that mystery out would have to wait until later. There was no way of knowing how long she had until Vaughn checked on her and realized she was gone.

  She’d spooked him.

  She might have been half buzzed at the time and coming down off another encounter with the Iron Queen, but she’d seen the look on his face as it dawned on him that she knew the truth about their connection. Knew that she was his mate.

  She’d waited for him to say something, anything. For a foolish moment she’d actually thought Dare was right, that maybe she should tell him that she was the Shadow’s Angel.

  And then he all but bolted from the room.

  Which turned out to be just the wake-up call she needed. Vaughn had made his choice and she’d deal. She was on her own. On her own—and no longer on Vaughn’s leash.

  She’d opened the car door without his permission.

  She’d been so wrapped up with holding it together during her panic attack she never noticed it at the time, and she was betting Vaughn hadn’t noticed either. More than once he told her to stay in the car and no matter how hard she tried, she hadn’t been able to make herself so much as grip the handle.

  Elena thought it was just a fluke until he woke up and told her to touch her nose and the compulsion to obey w
asn’t nearly as crippling.

  She didn’t know if discovering she was his mate overrode that control, but all magic came with its own set of rules and loopholes, even the magic between mates.

  Then again, it could also be her proximity to the crown.

  If a Fae Queen, who’d died more than two thousand years ago, could trigger visions of a bloody battlefield as real as the one from the Gauntlet, maybe the same magic was also weakening Vaughn’s hold.

  Either way, she needed to know for sure. And the only way to be certain was to get closer to the crown.

  She walked the length of the next row, concentrating on the threads of power that pulled tighter on her skin.

  This way…

  The voice was eerily foreign, and at the same time almost…familiar.

  Elena paused, second-guessing herself.

  The last time she’d messed with ancient magic, she’d trapped Cian in stone for over a century. But what choice did she have? Sit and wait for her next set of captors to show up?

  Vaughn may have left her vulnerable without her magic, but he hadn’t physically mistreated her. She doubted those coming for her would be worried about that.

  Here…

  Elena jerked back, coming an inch from impaling herself of the end of a spear jutting from the earth.

  A cloaked figure kneeled on the ground, a handful of scorched earth in her open palm. A blood-stained sword rested on the ground next to her.

  The Iron Queen. Again.

  She’d been in the same place the last time Elena had a vision, only the other woman hadn’t said a single word then, just stared at the devastation until the connection between them was broken.

  “This really needs to stop.”

  “It stops when you do what you must.” The Iron Queen rose, pushing back the hood of her cloak. “You won’t be able to save them all. Not on your own.”

  “Save them? Don’t you mean slaughter them? That is your thing, isn’t it?”

  The Iron Queen faced the brutal remains of those left on the battlefield. The warriors, their families. Their children. And they died for what?

  “You’re running out of time.”

  “Pretty sure that’s not all I’m running out of,” Elena growled. “I’m not interested in being your plaything. Whatever you’re after—”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand what I desire,” the Fae interrupted. “And you don’t need to.”

  “Good then. I guess we’re done here.” She turned as if she could walk away and only to come face-to-face with the woman who bore an increasing resemblance to her and Emma.

  A Fae glamour? Or had she just not noticed the similarities before, too distracted by the surrounding devastation and the chilling power that radiated from the Fae.

  A cold smile curved the other woman’s lips. “He will destroy you if you keep fighting this.”

  “Who?”

  “The one you never saw coming.”

  Vaughn? No. She couldn’t mean Vaughn. Alrick maybe, or whoever had taken Piper.

  “Let me help you, Elena. Before it’s too late. He can’t be trusted.”

  “Who can’t be trusted?”

  “I’m not the enemy you think I am,” the ancient Fae said, ignoring the question.

  “I’d be insane to trust you.”

  “And dead if you do not.”

  Not a threat. A warning? “I don’t understand.”

  The Fae glanced over her shoulder. “You are out of time.” She jerked her sword up. “If you fight your fate, you will die.” Something that might have been sadness blinked across the Iron Queen’s face.

  “And what is my fate?” Elena demanded.

  The battlefield vanished so fast it made Elena’s head spin.

  She leaned into the bookshelf, letting reality sink back in. She had more questions than ever, and unfortunately she wouldn’t find any answers by running from the magic that called to her.

  And the crown was the only shot she had of leveling the playing field if her ability to disobey Vaughn was only temporary. It wasn’t like she needed to put the crown on, right? She just needed to be close enough to get a good boost to access her own magic.

  Iron was a Fae’s kryptonite and although it had corrupted the Iron Queen, there was a good chance Elena’s sorceress half would offer some protection from the poisonous metal.

  Maybe.

  Part of her resisted the idea of finding out, the part of her that knew how dangerous magic like that was, how addictive it could become. At the same time, she knew tapping into the crown’s magic might be the only way to take back control of her fate.

  If she was going to be someone’s pawn—the kidnappers or a dead Fae Queen—she’d rather it be on her terms.

  Steps echoed close by. Her time had just run out.

  She plucked the closest, thick volume off the shelf as Vaughn stepped into the aisle in front of her.

  She took her time acknowledging his presence. Avoiding eye contact wasn’t an option but she wished it was when she lifted her gaze and his fierce blue eyes locked her feet to the floor.

  It was the first time he’d truly met her gaze since she got out of the car, and she wasn’t even half prepared for the fear, hurt and raw need he managed to convey with one sweeping glance that ran from her eyes, to the book in her hand, and back.

  All the butterflies that poofed into existence in his presence went wild as he looked at her like he didn’t know whether to strangle her or kiss her. But her heart was the worst, followed closely by the suspicion that sliding into his arms could somehow fix everything.

  Not that it mattered moments later when all trace of emotion left his face, and she pasted on her most brazen smile. Fake it ‘til you make it.

  The wolf flashed in his eyes, but didn’t rise to his voice. “All rested up, huh?”

  Okay. If he was going to play games instead of calling her out for not being under his control anymore, she’d roll with that. “I figured I’d find something to read.”

  He nodded to the book in her hand, reading the spine. “Theories of the Spiritual and Metaphysical Woman in the Ancient World. Riveting stuff.”

  “Probably not if you have a penis.”

  His lips twitched but he wasn’t amused. Probably trying to figure out if she’d regained more than just the ability to ignore his commands.

  “We should go back downstairs.”

  Elena flipped through the book. “You know, that almost sounded like a suggestion.”

  “I prefer to think of it as a solid plan.”

  “And here I thought you preferred to fly by the seat of your pants.” She snapped the book shut and lowered her voice. “I mean this whole abduction doesn’t exactly scream well-thought-out.”

  Vaughn straightened up. “Let’s go, Elena.”

  “I know this is going to sound a little juvenile—” she shrugged, “—but make me.”

  “Turn around and return to your room.”

  Elena’s eyes widened then she whistled. “Nothing. Guess it was worth a shot though, huh?”

  Vaughn’s hand flexed at his side, but she knew the show was intentional. If he didn’t want her to see him coming, he wouldn’t betray a damn thing.

  “Best bring your A-game, Shadow. You’re going to need it without those Fae puppet strings you’ve been yanking on.”

  His jaw tensed. “You may not have to listen, but you’re still at a disadvantage without your magic to even the odds.”

  He wouldn’t be the first to mistakenly assume that. “Who says I don’t have my magic back, Barkley?” she bluffed, fighting through the pain to pull a spark of blue flame down the spine of the book.

  There. Let him chew on that.

  He didn’t react when she took a step toward him, then another.

  Yes, this way.

  Vaughn cocked his head, the wolf flashing in his eyes as if he’d sensed the voice in her head. When he didn’t say anything, she set the book down, drawn toward the ancient magic.r />
  She took another step toward him.

  “Stop.”

  She paused, chewing thoughtfully on her lip. “Guess it’s still on the fritz. You should probably talk to whoever sold you those magic beans and get your cow back.” She paused next to him. “Or maybe they just didn’t realize what would happen if you used them on your mate.”

  She couldn’t resist throwing that at him, wanting him to hurt just a little. Okay, maybe more than a little. Maybe as much as it was hurting her to look at him now and see only grim determination in the wild eyes she’d fallen in love with.

  Because there was no way around facing that. Maybe she couldn’t pin down the moment it happened—when she sat down at the Blackjack table in Vegas, when he kissed her forehead in the hall or when he found her waiting at the elevator—but she’d given him her heart.

  Denying that would make her weak, vulnerable, and she needed every shred of strength she could hold onto.

  “What are you doing, Ivy?”

  “The same thing you are. What I have to.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Oh good. For a moment there I thought you were going to say it’s complicated,” she quipped.

  “You can’t have it, Elena.”

  “My freedom or the crown of the Iron Queen?”

  His eyes flared, and she smiled, feeling like there was a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

  He grabbed her hand.

  Two seconds.

  Two seconds that lasted merely a heartbeat and an eternity all at once. Two seconds that tore her down and somehow refortified all the cracks ready to splinter at any moment.

  She raised a hand, cupping his face. His eyes, so fierce and wild, never left hers. She leaned in, her words a whisper as she pressed her lips to his rough jaw as carefully as he had the night in Vegas. “I’m sorry.”

  And she was.

  Sorry that they’d missed their chance, that they hadn’t found each other sooner, that she wouldn’t spend a lifetime trying to outmaneuver the playful wolf.

  And so very sorry that she couldn’t be the woman who sacrificed herself for the man she loved.

  “Ivy.” The plea in his voice nearly broke her.