Old Dog, New Tricks

by Hailey Edwards

  The only thing keeping that look of wonder fixed on his face was the fact Mac had worked with me for weeks on nibbling energy instead of allowing my magic to sink its teeth in and tear out hunks of power for me to devour. Hunger for me wasn’t constant like it was for Shaw, not as demanding or crippling, but it was ever-present, waiting for those internal scales to tip inside my head and a switch to flip me into hunting mode. Knowing Bháin had preyed upon those I loved most was about to do it.

  And like anyone who has ever been on a strict diet, one taste left me wanting more.

  “Will it hurt?” He sounded far too curious for my comfort.

  Since he asked, I told him the truth. “It could kill you.”

  “I doubt that.” He tightened his grip. “Try it if you like.”

  “I’m not into attempted murder,” I said flatly.

  “Take as much as you like,” he offered. “I draw from Winter herself.”

  “Are you serious?” That might explain his high endurance. Maybe I wasn’t as skilled in sipping as I let myself believe. “If you’re plugged into another power supply, I can speed up the process.”

  His lips curved. “Take all you require.”

  Permission granted, I cranked up the pull. Bháin felt it. He swayed on his feet before flinging his free hand out to brace against the wall. He stabilized just as fast, grinning down at me like I had proved some point to him, and then I was drawing Winter straight through him. It shivered up my arm from my hand and spread ice through my chest, freezing my lungs and making it hard for me to breathe. I drew on him until my skin tingled and sparks dripped from my fingertips, until I was full to bursting and fresh runes joined the old ones, searing themselves into my skin until they covered my arm up to the shoulder.

  “I’m done.” I jerked free of his grasp, our fingers almost frozen together. “That’s enough.”

  “If you’re sure...?” His eyebrows rose. “All right.” He gripped the knob. “I will wait here until I am certain you are safe with him.” He cracked the door a fraction and then peered inside. “Call if you need help restraining him. Don’t be fooled by the act. He is rationing his remaining strength.”

  I wedged the toe of my boot in the gap before he closed it. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Bháin released his hold, and I got my first glimpse of Shaw.

  He sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. His knees were bent, his forearms stacked on top of them. He wore jeans with socks and a new white T-shirt. He was clean, so he must have been allowed to wash off the blood and change at some point.

  His head was tipped back against the ice-block wall, and his eyes were closed. A tremor ran through him, and before my eyes his fingernails lengthened to wicked claws. Tanned skin paled until pronounced veins crisscrossed his exposed skin. His eyes, when they cracked open, had gone chalk white and empty. The full curve of his lips stretched wide, exposing his elongating teeth.

  Lifting his head, Shaw stared through the door right at me, and then he charged.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I darted into the room to give Bháin time to twist the lock, and vertigo swamped me as his glamour took root in my senses. Color blossomed in my mind. Scents poured into me, familiar but faded. The stomp of cadets running with a drill sergeant outside the window carried to my ears. It was like I had fallen back in time, into my old room. Complete with twin beds, a ratty desk and a broken task chair.

  The tendrils of disorientation parted two seconds after Shaw slammed into me.

  My spine popped on impact with the wall, and a pained breath shot past my lips.

  “I missed you too,” I panted.

  His wide palm circled my throat. “I warned you not to come back.”

  Fingers clawing at him, I gasped. “It’s me.”

  “I didn’t believe you the first three times, and I don’t believe you now.” He applied pressure, and I saw bursts of bright light on the periphery of my vision. “Stop being a coward. Shift. Show me your face so I know whose head I’m ripping off.” He leaned closer, nostrils flaring. “You even smell like her. Is that some new trick? Is that why you haven’t been back? You’re trying to fool me with this?”

  “Can’t. Breathe.” My fingers weakened. “Let. Go.”

  Curling his lip, he thumped my head against the wall. “This time get the hell out and stay out.”

  When he spun on his heel, I bent double, sucking in precious air. Once I caught my breath, I ran straight for him and leapt onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist and hooking my left arm around his throat. Chokehold complete, I rode that bad boy all the way down.

  My kneecaps cracked on ice-carved tiles, but I had Shaw’s attention.

  “Listen to me. I get Bháin was screwing with your head, but it’s really me.”

  Shaw’s palms smacked the floor, and his body rose like he was doing a push-up, leaving me astride him like a jock on a pony. I tightened my grip, but he shoved upright and staggered against a wall, slamming me into it. My teeth clacked, my grip loosened, and the room started spinning.

  “I can—” I shook my head, “—prove it to you.”

  Weak as a newborn pup, I slid to the floor in a lump when he spun around to face me.

  “Go on then.” His wild eyes shone. “Prove it.”

  I extended my left hand. “I know you’re hungry.”

  His lip quivered at my offering. “I am bonded.”

  “You’re also an idiot,” I slurred, staggering to my feet and leaning on the wall for support.

  Clear across the room, the door cracked a fraction, and Bháin stuck his head inside.

  “Are you all right?” He glanced between us. “I heard thumping.”

  “Just my head against the wall.” I touched the base of my skull and winced. “Nothing critical.”

  “Hear her out, Incubus,” Bháin said coldly. “If you kill your mate, where will you be?”

  The door closed, and Shaw’s expression shut down with it. He paced across the room, staring at me, measuring me against some figment in his mind. Hope warred with doubt and exhaustion. In his eyes, hunger gleamed. Need peered out at me, desperate, hurt, recognizing me as that which sated it.

  Thanks, Dad. His moderation tactics had worked. Shaw was...not in control...but not frothing at the mouth either. Suspended between starvation and salvation, he walked a razor-thin line. His life was mine to save. What I did next determined his fate.

  “Take my hand,” I coaxed.

  “I won’t feed from you.” He turned his back on me. “I can’t.”

  Expecting his answer, I sighed, took a running leap and tackled him. He grunted when he hit the floor, and so did I. My poor knees. I hissed out the Word marshals used for restraining difficult suspects. This one lacked a generic off switch that another marshal—say, Shaw—could flip. Either I removed the binding or it didn’t come off without magical intervention.

  With Shaw’s arms locked behind his back, I scooted down until I sat on his knees, pinning him. He thrashed when he realized he was caught, tried to un-invoke the restraints and failed. As tempted as I was to smack him, I gripped his hand, sliding my runes over his warm skin, and pushed energy into him.

  Magic tingled through our grip, and his shoulders jerked, bones popping as he struggled to free himself. I caressed his back, his thighs, murmuring assurances to him as I force-fed him. Bit by bit the tension drained from his body, and he relaxed against the floor.

  Cheek pressed to the illusion of linoleum, he let his eyes close and his breathing steady. At some point, the biting grip he meant to break the fragile bones in my fingers eased, and his muscles flowed into fluid lines from tight knots.

  Shaw croaked my name, voice hoarse and strained by exhaustion.

  “I’m here.” I stroked his cheek. “You’re safe.”

  I murmured the Word to unravel his restraints and slid onto the floor next to him. He turned on his side, and I eased forward until he could rest his head in my lap. Finger
s raking through his hair, I kept our link strong and steady, passing the glowing vitality I had gleaned through Bháin into Shaw.

  Around us, the illusion flickered. The door opened behind me, and the glamour snuffed out completely.

  Bháin stepped into my periphery. “How is he?”

  “I’ve almost got him topped off.” I smiled when a snore escaped him. “He’s going to sleep for a while now.” How long I wasn’t sure since this was the first time filling his tank hadn’t emptied mine in the process. “Do you have a spare bed he can use? I don’t want him to wake up in here alone and think—”

  “I understand.” Bháin studied the picture we made. “I will have him brought to a guestroom.”

  Shaw and I were a little bruised, a little bloodied, but a whole lot satisfied.

  We had this feeding thing beat. I could feel it. And that meant...

  I bit the inside of my cheek. The man was unconscious. Sex ought to be the last thing on my mind.

  I couldn’t even play innocent and blame his lure. All that tumbling on the floor had made my breaths come harder, and not from exertion. Maybe it was the simple act of touching him, knowing he was safe and mine and wanting to celebrate us surviving our mission. Or maybe straddling him while he was restrained, sweaty and mad, growling and totally at my mercy wasn’t my brightest idea ever.

  I leaned over and pressed my lips to his temple, feeling to my bones the absolute truth of what I had told Rook. This dangerously sexy man was my future. I had been foolish to ever think otherwise.

  A throat cleared, and I glanced up to find Bháin standing in the doorway.

  He gestured to someone behind him. “Are you ready?”

  “I didn’t realize Rook had more staff tucked away in the walls.” I eased Shaw’s head onto the floor. Poor baby was out cold. “Who’s going to bring Shaw to his room? How are they going to lift him—?” I started when the help arrived. “Um, Bháin, what are they doing here?”

  Pie stood in the hallway. A taller Aves ruffled its feathers behind him.

  “They sought assurances their Crow was unharmed.” He poked Pie’s shoulder. “Do you not trust them?”

  Wide black eyes sought mine. At my hesitation, Pie’s gaze slid to the floor.

  Crap. I think I hurt his feelings.

  “I don’t mind as long as you supervise,” I hedged. “I assume Rook is waiting for me?”

  Bháin nodded. “He would prefer you to begin work on the tether as soon as possible.”

  Knees protesting as I stood, I skirted Bháin and headed for the Aves. Shoulders hunched, Pie shed feathers in a panicked flex of wings when I brushed him in passing. I shot him an encouraging look I don’t know if he saw and then went to find Rook and discover if Mac was as clever as he thought he was.

  Given how spectacular the locations of the original tethers had been, I anticipated nothing less grand from Rook. So when I found him cleaning rusted bits of ancient armor out of a hall closet, I didn’t expect him to turn and grin.

  He gestured toward the mostly empty shelves. “What do you think?”

  I set my hands on my hips. “That Bháin deserves a raise for having to clean up the mess you’re making?”

  Rook kicked aside a charred helmet. “He is well compensated for his work.”

  I toed the hunk of metal when it spun too close. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Bháin had it made with Rook serving him piping-hot emotion skimmed off his kidnapees. Their experiences and memories, their sheer variety, was a banquet of potential energy for a fae like him. As quick as Rook was to snatch up innocents and stash them at his home, in the room I suspected he had designated for Bháin’s particular use, his home was a freaking buffet. Human, incubi, elementals...

  I nudged a rusted gorget with my toe. “What’s with the spring cleaning?”

  “This is the location I have chosen for the tether,” he said smugly.

  “Do tell.” Not what I anticipated, but it made good sense. “At least Bháin won’t have to worry about cleaning this mess again.”

  “No, he won’t.” A smug expression wreathed his face. “I plan on freeing Bháin.”

  My mouth forgot how to work for a minute. “What?”

  “I don’t need his particular skills anymore.” He rescued a battered shield from his closet and let me admire it before he flung it skittering down the hall. “I acquired him for one purpose, and thanks to your promise to escort Branwen to me, that purpose is being fulfilled without his aid.” He ducked into the closet and tossed out more junk. “His kind is temperamental and exhausting to maintain. I’m relieved I will soon be rid of him.”

  All I had done was give Rook the potential to secure political power by anchoring a new tether. That didn’t jibe with Bháin’s particular talents. It wasn’t fulfilling an emotional need, except feeding his ambition. Unless he didn’t mean the actual tether, but who he expected to step through it one day.

  Oh man. It all clicked with a nauseating snick in my head.

  Bháin had been indulging Rook with glamour-enhanced role-playing...as Branwen.

  It explained the room, Bháin’s drive for perfection of a talent he might use to create exhibits, but I bet only one fae was ever invited to experience them. This explained a lot, like Bháin’s all-you-can-eat pass and Rook’s animosity toward him.

  They had been playing house.

  Not in a creepy way. Well, okay, it was a little creepy, but Bháin had given Rook the illusion of what he craved the most—love and acceptance and...his sister.

  Rook must have read the realization on my face because his flushed scarlet.

  I cleared my throat and found somewhere less awkward to look. “What will happen to him?”

  A shrug dismissed the problem. “He will return to his people.”

  “I cannot return.” Bháin’s voice startled me. “I cannot leave my master’s service and survive.”

  Meaning no one else would feed him or no one else could?

  I glanced between them before glaring at Rook. “Is that true?”

  Rook mashed his lips together and glared at Bháin.

  Proof positive.

  “Already thinking like a politician, I see.” I let my head fall back on my neck. “You’re covering your tracks. Unseelie House thinks you’re weak because of your mixed blood. Now you’re lobbying for the consul position, and you’re afraid your peers will uncover Bháin’s role in your household and expose your weakness for what it is.” It boggled the mind. “You would really let him die after all he’s done for you?”

  A smirk twisted Bháin’s expression. “This is how the sidhe have always treated us. I expected it would happen one day. It is the nature of our talent that we are feared by those who desire us the most.”

  I groaned and forced myself to interact with Rook without throttling him. “Has it occurred to you that you’re treating him the same way full-blooded fae treat you?” When that failed to elicit a response, I tossed out another idea. “Why not use him? He can slide into people’s heads, Rook. I mean, he can’t read minds, but harvesting memories is almost the same thing. He’s loyal to you. Use him in other ways.”

  Bháin tilted his head. “Why do you care what becomes of me?”

  Once I might have confided it was because Shaw and I shared a similar link, that his dependence on me to survive made me sympathetic to Bháin’s situation, but the thought of failing Shaw terrified me beyond my ability to speak of it except to him, and Bháin already knew too many of our secrets.

  “You two have some kind of symbiotic relationship happening that I don’t fully understand, and if I’m honest, I don’t want to.” I held up my hands to stall Rook’s protests and kept on addressing Bháin. “Rook knew what he was taking on when he brought you into his home, and that makes your health and wellbeing his responsibility. As your master, he damn well better honor his end of the bargain.”

  I forced my teeth to unclench as I awaited a response.

  Gestu
ring toward Bháin to finish clearing out the closet, Rook crossed the debris-strewn hallway to me. He dusted his hands and exhaled through his mouth. “What other ways do you have in mind?”

  “Be the opposite of Daibhidh. Mingle with the Unseelie. Host lavish dinners here in your home. Allow Bháin to serve your guests. Let him lift information you can use to better conditions in Faerie. I’m guessing few are aware you’ve retained Bháin except for your mother. Slap some glamour on him to hide his distinctive coloration, and let him earn his keep in another way, in a more lucrative way.”

  Gaze distant, Rook murmured, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll abuse the power given to me?”

  “I expect you will bend rules and use your questionable morals to get the results you want.” The truth was that fae he managed to deceive would likely respect him more for his cunning, much as his mother had. “You’re not the upfront or honest type, no, but you love your sister, and when I bring her here, you’ll want her to see what you’ve made of yourself and to be proud of you. You’ll want to show her that her faith in you was not misplaced.” I played the highest card I had left. “Or, you follow in the Morrigan’s footsteps, and when Branwen sees how corrupt you’ve become, she will never forgive herself for leaving you. She will spend the rest of her days carrying the burden of guilt for not choosing family over Dónal. Make no mistake, I’ve met Branwen, and she will be ashamed of you.”

  Brow creased, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “If I wore a belt, that would have landed below it.”

  I shrugged. “You’ve done worse to prove your point.”

  “I can’t deny that.” Indecision rippled across his face. “All right. I will use Bháin as you suggest. For the time being.” His demeanor shifted when Bháin overheard and straightened to stare at us. “He can remain.” He aimed his next words at Bháin. “Should he betray me or if his usefulness diminishes...”

  “I will not,” Bháin snarled, “and it will not. My skills surpass all but those of my dame.”

  Discard him and leave him to die, and Bháin kept his cool. But insult his honor or his talent, and he became High Lord Hissy Fit. Priorities much? I mean, you can’t very well art when you’re dead.