Storm's Heart

by Thea Harrison

  Tiago positioned himself in the bathroom so that he could see the top of Niniane’s black tousled head. He leaned against the bathroom counter and hit speed dial #1 on the iPhone he had stolen from Rune. He didn’t need to double-check the number. All the sentinels had Dragos as #1 on their cell phones.

  “What now?” Dragos said as he answered the phone.

  Tiago rotated his shoulders, working to loosen the muscles that had tightened after the fight with Rune. He told the dragon, “I quit.”

  Silence on the other end of the connection.

  “Niniane is my mate,” Tiago said.

  He waited and listened to more silence.

  He snapped, “You can’t tell me Rune didn’t find a way to get in touch with you in the last couple of hours.”

  “I’m waiting to hear from you whether you’re still an ally or not,” said Dragos.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Tiago said. “Of course we are.”

  “All right. Keep her safe and stay in touch.” The phone clicked.

  Tiago shook his head and laughed silently to himself. When all was said and done, Dragos was the most efficient predator of them all. And, after all, what else was there to say?

  He splashed off at the bathroom sink, found and unwrapped a new toothbrush and brushed his teeth. He went to the side of the bed where he undressed and set his weapons within easy reach on the bedside table. He exulted in the exotic intimacy of joining her in bed as he slid nude between the covers.

  That was when he discovered she had curled in a tight ball. He pushed up on one forearm to stare down at her. She was clammy, her breathing choppy, and she had both hands clamped over her mouth.

  “Faerie,” he said in a sharp voice. His Power mantled in the room, seeking an enemy. He couldn’t sense any other Power or influence nearby. He gripped her shoulder. She made a strangled noise and exploded into a hellcat. She kicked and punched at him, her movements wild and uncontrolled. He threw one heavy thigh over her thrashing legs, and he gripped her wrists as gently as he could and pinned them on the pillows on either side of her head. “Wake up, Niniane.”

  She hurtled into awareness, her heart slamming in her chest. For a nightmarish moment she couldn’t remember where she was or recognize the dark silhouette of the male pinning her down. A terrified, despairing noise broke out of her as she tried to buck off his weight. He shifted immediately, easing off of her but not letting go of her wrists. Then he said her name again, and it snapped her reality back into place.

  She stopped struggling and said in a ragged voice, “I’m awake. Sorry.”

  Tiago leaned on one elbow beside her and braced a hand on her ribs. He sounded as ragged as she did. “Fuck sorry. Just tell me what happened.”

  How strange that he was here, warm and naked, one hip pressed insistently against hers. Greedy for the feel of his skin, she burrowed into his side and rubbed her toes along his calf. The crisp hairs on his leg tickled her bare foot. “I was having a nightmare about the night when Urien and his men killed my family. I used to have it all the time. Then it mostly went away. Now it’s come back again.”

  He growled deep in his chest, the menacing sound vibrating against her cheek. He sounded frustrated. “I want to kill that son of a bitch all over again. And again and again.”

  “It was just a dream,” she whispered.

  “No, it isn’t, faerie. It’s a terrible memory of a crime committed against you and people you loved.”

  “Yes.” The word came out on the barest thread of sound.

  He propped a pillow against the headboard, settled back against it and pulled her into his arms. She settled against him with her head on his shoulder, one slender leg hitched over his hips, an arm draped over his chest. He radiated heat and strength, the forcefulness of his presence filling the room and scattering the last threads of the nightmare that clung to her like cobwebs.

  He stroked the hair off her damp forehead. “Can you tell me about it?”

  She lifted her slender shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I’d much rather it just went away.”

  He cupped her shoulder, fingering the delicate bones underneath his shirt. “Maybe it will if you talk about it.”

  So she did, her voice halting at first, as the words came hard. When she got to the part where she found the bodies of her twin brothers, tears streaked down her face. She described watching one of Urien’s soldiers as he murdered her mother with one efficient sword thrust, and Tiago rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body. His cheek rested against hers, and he covered her forehead with one huge palm. It was as if he was trying to hide her from the trauma of what had already happened. She rubbed his back.

  “I never found out the details of what happened to my father, other than he and Urien fought, and Urien killed him,” she said. “My father had had a great deal of Power. I used to think nothing could touch him. Urien went after him personally and sent his soldiers to take care of the rest of us.”

  Tiago kissed her cheek, her temple. “How did you get away?”

  She laughed a little, hardly more than an exhalation of air. “I was misbehaving. I’d snuck out to meet a boy. He wasn’t acceptable, and I wasn’t supposed to be seeing him, and it was really just a typical stupid teenage prank. I spent most of the night with him trying to decide if I wanted to have sex or not. I decided not, and I slipped back into the palace, and that was when I heard something. It sounded like people running in the hall, only they sounded quiet and furtive. My brothers’ rooms were next to mine, so I went to check on them, discovered their bodies and ran to find help. Then I saw soldiers kill my mother, and I felt Power flare from Urien and my father’s battle, so I knew I had to run. I slipped out the way I had come in.”

  Her apartment had a private walled courtyard with fruit trees and a marble fountain. Several of the apple trees grew within a few feet of the wall. Some weeks previously, she had stolen a rope from the stables and fashioned a rope ladder so that she could indulge in her illicit romance. Leaving had been a simple matter of climbing a tree and throwing the ladder over the wall.

  Tiago pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth as he thought. Adriyel was the seat of the Dark Fae demesne, deep in the heart of one of the largest tracts of Other land in the continental United States. He had never been to Adriyel himself, but he had heard that the journey to the palace from any one of the passageways took several days by horseback. He had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “Chicago was founded some years after you crossed over. In the early 1830s, if I remember correctly.”

  She nodded, watching her fingers as she traced his strong, sturdy collarbone. “Most European settlers called the area Fort Dearborn, which was built in 1803, and the American Indians called it Chickagou.”

  “Getting from Fort Dearborn to New York would have been hard enough.” My God, the more he thought of the journey she must have made, the more it made him shudder. “How did you get from Adriyel to Fort Dearborn?”

  “I went to the stables and stole a graewing,” she said. “I wasn’t used to riding one though, so it was a pretty wonky flight. I managed to get it close to the crossover passage before we crashed. It was injured so I was able to get away from it.”

  He swore under his breath. Graewings were a winged species that bred in Other lands. They looked like giant dragonflies. Like their miniature cousins that fed on mosquitoes, they were efficient predators, but they fed on creatures much larger than mosquitoes. They were dangerous mounts, for not only were they difficult to control, but their flight capabilities were much like helicopters. They could dart forward and backward, or rise and fall straight in the air. Accidents from riding a graewing tended to be fatal. If the fall didn’t kill the rider, most likely the graewing would. The Dark Fae had an elite force of fifty troops who were graewing riders that were traditionally led by their monarch. Urien himself had been famous as a proficient rider.

  A body shouldn’t feel so many things at once, Tiago decided. He wasn�
�t sure if someone could explode from so many powerful emotions, but from the way he was feeling it seemed possible. He unclenched his jaw so that he could talk. “Okay,” he said. “It happened a long time ago. You survived. That’s all that matters.”

  She kissed his warm bare shoulder. “I just realized something,” she said. She sounded drowsy now. “I always dream about my brothers. I never dream about my mother or my father. I mean, in the dream, I just know they’re dead. I wonder why.”

  “Aside from the emotional impact of finding your brothers’ bodies, that was when you discovered how your life had changed,” Tiago said. “You had to have been going into shock by the time you saw what happened to your mother.”

  “Maybe that’s it. I also always dream about hearing Urien’s footsteps as he hunts for me, when the only footsteps I really heard were soldiers running through the palace. Anyway, after I escaped, Urien built the mansion and walled the grounds around that passageway, and of course he built outposts at the other passageways too so that he could control the traffic to and from Adriyel. I know I’m prejudiced against him, but it always sounded a bit like putting up the Iron Curtain to me.” She yawned. They had stayed up all night, and she had already been exhausted, and talking about the nightmare and the memories left her feeling wrung out.

  Tiago said quietly, “Walking back into the palace is going to be difficult.”

  What else could she say to that but the truth? “Yes.”

  He ordered, “You must tell me whenever the memories bother you. And you must swear to me you’ll never ride a graewing again. I don’t even want you within fifty feet of one. Understand?”

  “That seems a bit extreme,” she muttered. “It wasn’t that bad. They’re just so fast, and while I’d seen them in flight lots of times before, I didn’t know what I was doing. Anyway, I’m s’posed to. Tradition. Need flying lessons first though.” Her eyelids drifted shut.

  “I don’t care about tradition. If you ever need to have a flying mount, you will ride me,” he said. He could protect her that way, and if she ever got dislodged, he could catch her before she fell. He frowned. Maybe they could create a harness for him to wear that she could use as a saddle. With a seat belt. And she was going to have to wear a helmet. And a life jacket if they ever had to fly over water. Would a parachute be too much, just in case?

  “Fine. Whatever.” She groped along his face until she could tap his mouth with an admonishing finger. “Shush now.”

  “All right, faerie.” He pressed his lips to that slender pink-tipped forefinger. “You sleep.”

  By the time he eased his weight off of her again, she had fallen fast asleep.

  The Dark Fae mansion and its eighty-acre tract of land lay a half mile northwest of Chicago’s downtown Loop area. The grounds were bordered by a tall stone wall topped with rolls of barbed wire. The area had changed so much over the last two hundred years. Niniane didn’t recognize anything in the stylish surrounding neighborhood as their SUV approached two tall iron gates.

  This time Rune drove and Aryal rode shotgun. All of Niniane’s things had been packed in suitcases and rode in the back, along with Tiago’s duffle bag. Rune and Aryal had already sent their things ahead. Rune had dressed up for the occasion: the jeans he wore didn’t have holes in the knees. Aryal wore her usual outfit of fighting leathers and weapons. Tiago rode with Niniane in the backseat. He was dressed in a clean black T-shirt and fatigues, and of course he was armed as well. His hawkish face was alert and relaxed, his dark gaze constantly moving over their immediate surroundings.

  She flashed back to earlier. She had awakened with the awareness of his long, powerful body lying next to her, one of his hands resting on the narrow frame of her rib cage. Even before she had opened her eyes, she knew she faced a day filled with profound differences. She had stirred and turned to him, and discovered he was already watching her, his expression pensive and strange with rare tenderness.

  He had not spoken. Instead he kissed her. Then he eased her out of his T-shirt and caressed her breasts. He had taken his time as he bent his head farther down to lick and nibble at her most sensitive areas, her throat, the inside of her elbows, tonguing her navel ring as he learned what pleased her. Then he suckled her, tugging and nipping with erotic care at her nipples as he scraped the edge of his fingernails lightly along her skin until desire for him rose to that keen sharp, sweet ache that made her feel crazed, outside of herself, but he would not enter her no matter how she begged.

  “You are too sore,” he said. “I would hurt you.”

  “I don’t care,” she gasped, as she twisted under his clever mouth and hands.

  “I do.” He moved down her body and eased her legs apart. He settled on his stomach and stroked her swollen tender flesh, first with his fingers then with his tongue, and the sight of his wide shoulders and dark head between her legs as he worked at his intimate task jettisoned her into climax. Then he looked up the length of her bare torso with a steady intent expression and said, “Again.”

  She was too tired to handle this intense feeling of ecstasy. Her hands trembled as she stroked his head. “I can’t.”

  “You can,” he said. He spread the folds of her labia open and put his mouth to her clitoris.

  And she did, sharp starbursts of pleasure flaring again and again, until at the last she sobbed, overwrought and wrung out, and he crawled up her body quickly to pull her limp body into his arms. She said, But I haven’t—you haven’t—

  Listen to her. She could not even control her telepathy.

  “I have taken exactly what I wanted,” he whispered in her ear. “I will have every part of you, until I live with you underneath your skin.”

  If that was his goal, he had achieved it. She sat quietly with her seat belt on, her legs crossed at the knees, her hands folded together in her lap. After they had finally showered, around noon, she had dressed for the day in a simple black Givenchy dress, modest peep-toed pumps, and a pearl necklace and earrings. The makeup she wore was minimal, her hair blow-dried and fluffed with her fingers. The soft, expensive material of her outfit was gentle against the marks left on her skin by their lovemaking.

  She gazed at the world with a patience that stemmed from utter physical exhaustion, while she was filled to the brim with a private pool of remembered eroticism. She looked at him with a deeper knowledge.

  There, his short black hair gleamed in the sunlight. She knew what it felt like as it slipped through her fingers. There, his elegant mouth. She knew how wise those lips of his were as they traveled along the peaks and valleys of her body. There, the movement of his long, strong fingers. She knew just how those fingers felt as they curled around her ankles, how they felt moving inside of her, where the calluses were on his hands and the way they rasped along her skin. There, his restless, intelligent eyes. She knew the steady promise in them as he took her and took her, until there was nothing left of her to be had for he had taken it all. Yes, he lived with her now, underneath her skin.

  Rune pulled the SUV up to the black iron gates. There was a guard booth next to them. A young Dark Fae woman in a plain black uniform approached the driver’s side to greet Rune. Her fascinated gaze darted once to Niniane in the backseat, but other than that she comported herself with discretion. Niniane smiled at her, and after a hesitation, the guard smiled back. After confirming their identity, the guard moved back to the booth.

  Nobody spoke as the gates opened. Rune drove through and braked just on the other side. Niniane turned to watch as the gates shut behind them. She looked through the bars at the bright Chicago street. It was populated with the usual band of frenzied paparazzi and news reporters who worked to capture the event as she left official U.S. territory.

  She would not see the outside of those bars again until she was Queen.

  Tiago put his hand over hers in her lap. His huge palm enclosed both of hers. He squeezed her hands until she looked at him.

  He was staring at her with that steady, adamant b
edrock gaze. I will do this, that gaze said. I will not leave you. I will take you and make you so completely mine, you will never know your life alone again. She relaxed and gave him a slight nod, and he rubbed the back of her hand with a thumb.

  Rune accelerated the SUV up a wide paved drive that was bordered by manicured shrubbery, flowers and trees. Everything within sight was rigidly controlled, trimmed and shaped to within an inch of its life, Urien’s very own Versailles. A sense of nearby land magic tingled against her senses, and she knew what she felt was the nearby crossover point to Adriyel.

  I meant to ask if there was any news on the investigation, she asked Tiago.

  You will not trouble yourself with that, Tiago said. You have more than enough to deal with right now. We’re handling it.

  She sighed. Despite their unprecedented intimacy, Tiago had never acted as her bodyguard before this week, and they had a lot to learn about each other. Ordering me not to trouble myself isn’t helping. I need to hear details.

  There was a pause. Then he said, The investigation has moved forward a few steps. Rune and I went to the morgue and inspected the bodies of the three Wyr. We had a run-in with Arethusa that turned unexpectedly positive, although we’re keeping that under wraps for now. Why don’t I give you a complete update later when we have time to relax?

  She gave him a quick smile. That would be good, thank you.

  The SUV went around a bend in the drive, and the Georgian-style mansion came into view. It was an imposing structure, but she had expected nothing else. It stood three stories tall, with a stone facade that was half covered in dark green ivy. The front of the mansion had a roofed portico where carriages, and now cars, could pull and people could enter and exit from the building protected from inclement weather. The rows of tall windows shone with a hard polished gleam in the afternoon sun. There might be poison, innuendo, betrayal and murder within those walls, but there would not be a wayward speck of dust.