Sidestepping the mess and arguing males, I inspected the closet. “You’re sure this is where you want it?”
“The old tethers’ locations were common knowledge.” Rook turned his back on Bháin’s scowl, ending the argument. “They were unassuming at first, meant to blend in and go unnoticed. Over time they became adorned as the status symbols they were, and it made them obvious.” He walked to me and patted the doorframe. “I prefer this. Modest and tucked out of sight.”
Given the unrest in Faerie, it made sense to keep it hidden. “Fine by me.”
I knelt in front of the threshold and dusted the area clean. Hunching forward, I placed the paper I took from Mac’s office on the floor and smoothed it flat. I read it one last time before bracing myself for pain. I spoke the Word to open my wound and gasped at the sting. Blood stained my skin while it flowed through my fingers to pool on the tile. Figuring that setting an anchor must be similar to how I severed them, I smeared blood across the threshold from left to right, from doorframe to doorframe.
The pendant around my neck was warm in my palm when I gripped it tight in my crimson fist. I let my second sight rise while pushing magic into the charm Mac had given me. I chanted the Word, the coordinates Mac had jotted down, and I pictured where the shifting blue-mesh tunnel should end.
Power churned through my core and spun through my runes into my fingertips. Blood ignited in a blue wash of cool flames that licked up the sides of the door and caused Rook to curse behind me. Air swirled, catching tendrils of my hair and blowing them into my eyes. A faint suction began, and I leaned forward, testing the limits of the threshold. My ears popped, and the whirling vortex took me.
Chapter Nineteen
I landed hard. My left hip took the brunt of it, but impact popped my wrists when I flung out my hands to stop my head from bouncing off the floor. Vision wavering, I saw why. Rough cement slab bumped under my palms. I listed—no, the room did. The floor tapered to a steel drain in the center. The walls were concrete blocks. Bars filled the narrow window. The stink of ripe blood hit my nose.
It worked. It actually worked. I was in the mortal realm, almost back where I started.
“Come to see me again?” a familiar voice taunted. “Didn’t get enough last time?”
I lurched to my feet and backed against a wall for support. “Nice to see you again too, Red.”
“I remember the taste of you like it was yesterday.” His fingers inched toward his temples where rivulets of blood leaked from the soaked rag on his head, but he paused, as if denying himself a treat.
“That’s not creepy at all,” I said dryly. “Call the guards.”
“Why would I do that?” He gave up and smudged crimson over his cheekbones.
“Look, I don’t have a whole lot of time here.” I sighed. “If you could—”
He charged me, sprung into the air and landed a kick to my solar plexus. Hunching over, he slid his slick fingers through my hair and brought my face down to his knee. I jerked my head to the side, but pain ignited in my jaw. The edge of my teeth cut my cheek, and a copper tang filled my mouth.
Red’s lusty growl of approval when I spat blood on the floor sent an answering rumble pumping through my chest. I was sore, cranky, hungry and wearing dirty leather. I wanted a long, hot shower, to dump this outfit down the trash chute, and to crash on my own bed with Shaw beside me tonight.
Clamping my left hand around Red’s wrist, I made a connection. He tried to pull back, but I held tight and sent magic blasting up his arm. Feeding Shaw had depleted me, and the desire to drink Red down burned in my gut. Those internal scales tipped, and I sank magical teeth deeper into his aura. Devouring chunks of his energy sated the gnawing pit in my belly, but not the moral compass I had inherited from Mac, the one whirling as I fought my instincts over what was the right thing here.
Deep breath.
Red had been captured. He was serving his time. He was not a threat.
To kill him now was to murder him in cold blood.
I was not that person.
Tightening the leash on my magic, I slowed my intake until he collapsed on the floor. I checked his pulse. Steady. Vitals were good. He was fine. Knocked out and no longer my problem. Stepping over a twitching arm, I reached the door to his cell and hammered on the thick metal with my fists while shouting for the guards.
“What’s all the—? Where is prisoner number zero-one-five?” The guard’s eyes slitted where he peered through the Plexiglas square at me. “Ma’am, remain calm. I’m going to open the door...”
I tuned him out before losing all faith in faekind. Did he really think I accidentally stumbled into the big, bad redcap’s cell on accident? Heck no. You didn’t stumble anywhere inside of a maximum security prison. He was right to question me. I would put the screws to me too. Plus Red was unresponsive...
“Look,” I said, an hour and a pot of coffee later, “I need to speak with Officer Littlejohn. He can vouch for me.” I wish I had my phone to check the time. “How much longer is this going to take?”
“Officer Littlejohn is a NocT officer, ma’am. He works third shift. He ought to clock in any minute.” The officer who had “rescued” me slouched in a metal folding chair angled toward me. A scarred metal table that had seen better days separated us. Bolted to the floor of the formal interrogation room, it didn’t budge an inch no matter how hard I kicked the nearest leg in frustration. “Want me to top off your coffee?”
My mouth opened in a biting retort when the door flung open and smacked the wall.
The officer across from me jumped to his feet, and his hand went to a holstered stun baton.
“What the hell you doing, Fitz?” Littlejohn’s low voice soothed my frazzled nerves. “You know who this is? You damn sure better be glad her daddy’s not here to see this.” His gaze sliced over to me. “I apologize for the wait.”
I strained my neck staring up at him. “Hope I’m not putting you out.”
Fitz stomped out the door, and Littlejohn dropped into the vacant chair. “Last I heard, we were cut off from Faerie. Yet here you are.” He rested his beefy forearms on the table. “You punch a new hole, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He rubbed the shadow bristling his chin. “How’d you manage that?”
“My dad—” there was that word again, “—left me instructions that were open to interpretation.”
Using a redcap to hold a sample of my blood for the spell? Brilliant if you asked me.
“That foot of yours is tapping a mile a minute.” He took my hand and stilled it. “These are clacking like you’re typing up a report on the table. Let’s get down to it. Just tell me what you need.”
Easing my hand from under his, I shot him a genuine smile. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
After switching to water, I sat with Littlejohn and hammered out details for locking down the tether. The favor I asked put him in a tight spot, but he agreed to sit on the news of its existence for six hours. Long enough for me to conclude my business in Faerie before I made my report to the magistrates.
Entrusting sensitive information to those two made me ill. Once Mac got on his feet, our mole hunt would begin. Until then I had to honor the chain of command if I wanted to keep my job, which seemed prudent considering the whole princess thing hadn’t panned out.
One much more productive hour later, I strolled into the cell housing the world’s only tether to Faerie and smeared more blood across the threshold to anchor it in both realms. Glancing around, I decided the place had a certain ambiance.
Then I laughed all the way back to Winter.
Rook snatched me out of the tether’s mouth with sweaty palms and a meaty grunt-thud-flop. On second thought, snatched might not be the right word for it. More likely he had been standing inside of the closet, trying to figure out how to operate the tether without me, when I pinwheeled into him.
“I hate this.” I slumped against the doorframe as the world righted itself. “It sucks e
very time.”
“Thierry?”
I cracked open an eye and found Rook sprawled half in and half out of the closet. “Hmm?”
He elevated himself into a sitting position and dusted his palms. “I assume it worked?”
“Like a charm.” I edged out into the hall for some fresh air. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m calling our deal done. I want to get out of here before you start campaigning. I do not want to get caught in the crossfire this round.”
Scrambling to his feet, Rook backed me against the wall, careful not to touch me. “Thierry...”
“No.” I put up my hands to keep him an arm’s length away. “Whatever you’re about to say, no.”
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?” he purred. “We could rebuild Faerie together.”
“That’s gonna be a no. You threatened to let Shaw starve to death in order to punish me less than five hours ago. That’s kind of a deal breaker.”
He harrumphed like I should have been over that by now.
“You’re going to have to do this alone. Stand up to the Unseelie. Help them mend fences with the Seelie and figure out where the hell Faerie goes from here.” I shoved him backward. “And make sure none of them discover the tether until there’s a new ruler on the throne, okay? A sane one. No one crosses that tether who isn’t cleared by Mac or by me, got it?”
A grin warmed Rook’s features. “I will guard it as though it were my own hatchling.”
“Um, yeah. Okay. You do that.” Backing away, I made it two steps before snapping my fingers. “I almost forgot—what about your mother? I left her back at the den inside the Hall of Many Doors.”
The smile fled his face. “Is she secure there?”
“I think so.” I tapped the toe of my boot on the tiles. “I trapped her inside an air pocket.”
His jaw came unhinged, and choking sounds spluttered out of him.
“What?” I folded my arms over my chest. “She was trying to kill me.”
“Only you,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing you do should surprise me.”
Bristling, I snapped, “I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Maybe it’s for the best.” His gaze went distant. “She soughs dissent wherever she goes, and what we need now is peace.” His smirk mocked my shock. “The fae are not nearly as eager to go to war as they think they are. Let riots break out. Let differences be settled and old slights be forgiven at sword tip. After a few months of chaos and bloodlust, they will tire of the dirt and the blood. They have grown soft in the years under your father’s tenants. Soon they will lament the days of the Black Dog’s rule, and settle into—perhaps not peace—but mutual understanding. At least until they grow bored again.”
Not sure I believed him one hundred percent given the Huntsman’s assessment, I wasn’t about to argue with Rook’s rosy new outlook on life. He was seeing his potential, possibly where there had been none, and those were good things. He was a veteran of surviving Faerie. He knew the score. He knew what he was up against, and I wasn’t about to burst his bubble while he was feeling optimistic.
As close as I was to getting a hot shower and crawling into my own bed for many blissful hours of uninterrupted sleep, I was ready to pin a Vote for Rook badge on and call it a day. But I wanted the details ironed out before I left to prevent unexpected visits from Rook...or from his mother.
A thoughtful silence lapsed. “When do you plan to return?”
“In seven days,” I answered without missing a beat.
When Mac rose, I was going to be here to welcome him back.
“Do you think that you might...?” He rubbed his chin. “If you are certain you will return in such a short time, I wondered if you would consider...” He dipped his hand into his pocket and then extended it—palm up—toward me.
The dainty conch-shell charm Branwen asked me to pass along to him sat there.
I saw where this was headed, and I approved. “You want me to ask if she will consider spending the week with you.”
“I would understand if she preferred to wait and make our reintroduction a day trip.” His stiff posture braced him for a rejection I hoped wouldn’t come.
I accepted the shell, knowing how much this possibility meant to him. A small kindness could make or break a man on the edge of becoming something more or less than he was. Branwen stood at a crossroads too. Her newfound freedom sparkled less without her mate by her side. Maybe a week together was what they both needed to begin healing.
“I’ll speak with her. If she agrees, I’ll make the return trip. If not—” I rubbed my thumb over his token, “—then you’ll see us in a week.”
“That sounds more than fair.” He pinched his chin. “If you don’t mind, I will consider the matter of what to do with Mother, and we can discuss it seven days hence.”
I shot him two thumbs up. “That works for me.”
I had to explain to Mac about the death-goddess balloon I left floating in his hall anyway.
“Oh, hey.” I worried my lip between my teeth. “Can you do a favor for me?”
Cunning sparkled in his eyes. “A favor?”
Asking him for help stuck in my craw, but I was on a deadline. “Can you release Tierney for me?”
“The ogre?” His gaze flicked down and then back to me. “This makes us even—for Branwen.”
I nodded in agreement, relieved when he didn’t ask for more than I had already agreed to do for him.
Calling for Bháin, Rook turned and left. No doubt the boys were settling in to strategize.
Fine by me. I didn’t need to be escorted to the door. Or in this case, the tether.
Thanks to Shaw’s penchant for snoring, I figured I could find him on my own if I wandered the halls long enough. I knew where the bedroom suites were in general, and where Rook’s quarters were in particular. It was enough to give me an idea of where I ought to be searching for Shaw. Sure enough, I turned the corner past the master suite and heard the muffled sounds of sawing logs. Trailing the noise, I stopped before a door and tested the knob. Unlocked. I pushed inside and hesitated when I found the bed empty.
“Shaw?” I nudged open the door. “Are you in here?”
Movement caught my eye as I entered the room, and I spun as he slammed the door behind me.
My hands shot up, and I backed away slowly. “We already had this conversation.”
I was still bruised from it.
Rims of white frosted his copper eyes. “I remember.”
“Are you feeling okay?” He looked good to me. Better than good. “Are you still—? Oof.”
Somehow my back was against the door and Shaw filled my vision. His gaze dropped to my lips. “I hurt you.”
“You didn’t know.” I lifted my hand slowly and touched his cheek. “I’m fine.”
His grunt said he wasn’t as ready to forgive himself for his actions as I was.
“I can kick you where it counts if you want to even the score,” I offered.
He pressed his hips against mine, and I shivered.
“Give me a fifteen-minute pass.”
“Fifteen minutes?” I choked on a laugh. “What do you need fifteen minutes for?”
Fingers brushing over the buckles running up my side, tugging straps that secured my armor, he unfastened them one by one and didn’t answer. Lines marred his forehead. His white-rimmed eyes savored my bare skin as he uncovered it inch by inch. He traced the new runes with a reverent fingertip before dropping to his knees before me. Leather fell away. Pants were peeled down my legs. My left foot jerked, and that boot vanished. Shaw swore softly when the other refused to budge.
I let my head fall back against the door and watched through my lashes as he undressed me.
“I was afraid.” I hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t meant to ruin the moment with words.
The bare toes of one foot brushed the faded jeans covering his closest kneecap. He locked my other leg under his arm while he fumbled with the uncooperative closure
s. My pants hung from that leg, above the stubborn boot, and the icy door was breaking chills over me.
Or maybe it was the contrast of the cold door and the hot glint in his eyes as they raked over me.
His warm palm cupped my exposed calf. “I wasn’t.”
“You aren’t allowed to trust me that much,” I scolded. “I don’t trust me that much.”
“I love you.” His hand smoothed up the back of my thigh. “Trust comes with the package.”
A flush rose in my cheeks that softened his expression.
Boot forgotten, he placed my foot on the floor and stood. His fingertips moved light as butterfly wings over my stomach, and I quivered at his touch. While his thumb circled a hipbone, I found the hem of his shirt and eased my hands underneath, sliding them over his hard stomach, letting my nails bump over the firm ridges of muscle clenching tighter as my hand dipped toward the button of his jeans.
I flipped my thumb then grabbed the metal tab below it. The sound of a zipper lowering blocked out the pounding of my heart. A shudder racked Shaw, and the earthy citrus scent of his lure rose in the air, burning my nose where I breathed him in, sizzling in my lungs when they filled with the warm, heady fragrance of his arousal.
I worked a hand inside his pants, my fingers closed around him, and he gasped. I met his molten copper eyes, glad it was him. Our hungers were part of us, but God I loved the sincerity in his dark eyes, loved seeing that the man desired me as much as his hunger craved me, loved knowing he wanted me. I loved him, period.
He leaned in until his forehead rested on my shoulder, and planted his palms on the door behind me. His chest pumped, and his skin smelled so damn good I licked off beads of sweat forming there.
I moaned at the taste of him. “Should we be doing this in my ex-husband’s spare bedroom?”
“Tell me no,” he grated between clenched teeth. “I can wait. This can wait.”
But in that moment, holding him in my arms, breathing in the scent of his skin, I couldn’t.
I gripped Shaw’s shoulder, hopped forward and hooked my free leg around his hip. “Now.”
Old Dog, New Tricks Page 21