Burn for Me (Edanholme Book 1)

by Catherine Fitzpatrick

  gaze to be as full of pain as hers. She wanted to be comforted, to be held for the sake of it,

  not in lust or desire, just plain old comfort. Throwing caution to the wind she threw herself

  into his arms with a wild cry of distress.

  Empathy can work both ways. Drusal soothed her with soft words and tender kisses, whilst

  her skin on his lessened the guilt he lived with daily. With the ease of mighty muscles Drusal

  gained his feet with Cat secured against his chest. Carrying her to the bed, he laid her on the

  pillows, faces inches apart. Brushing a strand of hair from one cheek he used both thumbs to

  wipe glistening tears from flushed skin. Realising too late that she was an empath, her grief

  had called forth the truth he had hidden for countless years.

  He had carried out his mistress’s orders, never revealing that he had let his prey leave the Isles,

  contrary to the Royal mandate of summary execution.

  Iscatya as Princessin and heir to Istirina’s throne could have him executed, could relieve him

  of his life here and now, without a word of reprisal. Drusal’s fear escalated at all he had

  revealed in a moment of weakness. If he truly became her mate his life was inviolate. As a

  breeding male he would be an asset to the throne. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be tortured

  and kept on a leash for eternity. Struggling to find to a way to avoid an imminent demise or

  at least a life as the lowest drudge of the Court, Drusal felt warm fingers brush his cheek in a

  feather light caress. “Thank you for being honest with me Lord Vardon.”

  Cat’s whisper was misty with the tears she had shed. Tears she hadn’t dare release for days.

  Once she started it was impossible to find a place in her life where tears weren’t called for.

  “Now I have the hope that my Parents are still alive.” Her smile was radiantly alive.

  “Can we call a truce? I want to learn all I can about the Court before Grandmother decides

  to drag me there kicking and screaming.” Wriggling into a more comfortable position her

  eyes were level with Drusal’s. “You are in the unique position of being my intended mate.”

  She blushed rosily. “Surely the Queen cannot deny you the time to make sure of your claim?”

  Cat offered him a morsel, whilst using him for vital information.

  Drusal held his breath, watching the colour blossom on her cheeks. She was either cannily

  aware of Court politics or childishly naïve. Whatever the cause of this sudden submission to

  Istirina’s decree, he was more than happy to play along, for now.

  “As you wish My Princessin, I bow to your commands.” Copper lights played around the irises

  of pearlescent eyes. A soft growl left his lips as Drusal placed a kiss on her forehead, a gentle

  touch absent of glamour or coercion.

  “Hey fur ball don’t get carried away. I am considering the idea of becoming your mate, not

  giving you a blessing to seduce me covertly.” Rolling from the bed Cat grinned at his blank

  expression.

  “Lighten up Lord Vardon or walk away. I have had my fill of dark and deadly men.” Striding to

  the dressing room she threw open the doors.

  “Speaking of dark and deadly, Phillipe left his clothes behind when he was called away so

  suddenly.” Her gurgle of laughter put Drusal’s teeth on edge.

  “Either you transform into an adorable little puppy, or you put some clothes on.” Looking over

  her shoulder she grinned at Drusal.

  “Your body is just too distracting for me to hold a sensible conversation.” Rifling through the

  hangers Cat pulled out sweat pants and white t-shirt, throwing them over her shoulder to land

  on the bed at his feet. “Feel free to use my bathroom…” Pulling out a pair of shorts and strappy

  vest she leant back against the door frame. Drusal was the ultimate Sidhe Warrior, so Shayla

  had informed her with fear on her face. Here she was, demanding that he do her bidding.

  Perhaps not a good idea… “If you wish….” She managed to stammer out before running from

  the room.

  Showered and dressed Cat rang Alex, her partner in the optical practice. She was the

  silent partner at present but her old life had to be resumed, or she would be struck off the register

  of practicing optometrists. Cat had worked too hard, and studied incessantly for too long to give it

  all up. She may have a secret life her colleagues couldn’t comprehend, that secret needed money

  to support it. Six months maximum she was allowed, before taking up the reins of health

  professional again. Continuing education was a pre-requisite to staying on the register.

  On-line interactive discussions, local seminars, these she had to do whether she worked or not.

  Drusal found her hunched over a laptop, magazines scattered across the breakfast table, pen

  tapping at her forehead in a tattoo of total concentration.

  “What are you doing?” The deep bass of his voice reverberated through the room and in her

  head, shattering any hope of finishing the module.

  “Working… Or trying to… Money doesn’t grow on trees Lord Vardon. I have to earn my keep.”

  Jotting down notes on a scribble pad she heard and felt his derisive snort.

  “You are heir to a vast fortune. Work is no longer a feature of your life.” Planting himself at her

  side he studied the pictures on the screen. “What is this?” One hand waved in front of her face.

  “This is the structure of the human eye, the retina, macula and optic disc….” She turned to look

  into a bemused gaze, lost in a world of swirling copper lights.

  “I look for anomalies, tumours, haemorrhages, anything out of place. These conditions I make

  note of and refer to the appropriate medical professional.” Logging off Cat gave her full attention

  to the Sidhe male. “This is what I do. I care for people, humans. They are as much my concern

  as the Sidhe or shape-shifters. I cannot ignore what I have been trained for.” His proximity

  unnerved her. Dressed in grey sweat pants and tight t-shirt, damp curls brushing his shoulders,

  Drusal was drop-dead gorgeous and blatantly sexual.

  “I may be heir to the throne of the Sovereign Isles, but I have no access to the wealth of the

  Sidhe realm. I have property to maintain, food to buy. Do you really expect me to apply to

  my Grandmother for a hand-out, a pay day loan?” Her nose curled in frustrated annoyance.

  “Dear Grandmother, could you lend me some money, while I entertain my decreed mate and

  ultimately plot your downfall? Of course Iscatya, here have a million pounds while I lie down

  and die….” Cat’s sarcasm brought home to Drusal how little he knew of this world. He had

  lived off his father’s wealth, never had to earn his keep, other than track down the Queen’s

  enemies. The idea of earning wealth was totally foreign to most Fae.

  “I am sorry to upset you Cat… My knowledge of the transaction of wealth is limited, I move

  in the human world as little as possible. The Queen supplies all my needs.” That I have to pay

  for it with blood, sweat and tears is a by-product of being elevated to the status of the Queens

  Dark Hound. Head bowed he learnt a lesson in humility.

  “Lucky you…” She breathed softly, unaware of the degradation that allowed a seemingly

  carefree lifestyle.

  “Iscatya, we begin your lessons here and now. Your Grandmother rules with pain and torture.

  Any defiance is rewarded with constant physica
l abuse, or worse, confinement in the bowels

  of the earth for eternity.” Drusal picked up the pen Cat had tossed aside, examining its

  workings minutely. “There is no appeal, no voice of reason. Obey, or pay endlessly.”

  His mouth became a fine white line of exasperated impotence, as he tried to explain to Cat a

  fundamentally matriarchal governance, with no form of justice system.

  “I have denied her my body for countless years.” The pen snapped in his fingers.

  “Her reward for this was to demean me before my brothers, by ordering me to take a human

  hybrid as mate.” Lifting pain filled eyes he wanted her to see all that he had suffered at the

  hands of her Grandmother.

  “The Queen banished each and every female from the court over a hundred years ago.

  The males, even the lowest drudge of the Court became her toys. She is sadistic, cruel and

  bloodthirsty. You are of her blood Iscatya, are you strong enough to rise above her filth, or

  would you also condemn the entire Court to a living hell?” Laying down the two halves of the

  pen in a gentle motion he scanned her face.

  Shock leached Cat’s cheeks of what little colour she had, generous lips trembling as she tried

  to formulate a sentence that wouldn’t offend his wounded pride.

  “I’m as ignorant of your world as you are of mine.” Slipping her fingers over Drusal’s clenched

  fist she stroked the whitened knuckles, laying a pacifying balm upon his flesh.

  “I am prepared to help you fight the Queen.” Her nails dug deeply into the fine skin of his wrist

  in warning as desire flared in grey eyes. “But I am not prepared to give up my independence…”

  She finished the sentence with a final dig of sharp nails.

  Twisting free of her grip Drusal rubbed at the dented skin, a calculating expression darkening

  his features. “I am unable to lie to the Queen as well you know. If I tell her we are indeed

  mated she will taste the falsehood in my aura.” Shoulders hunched forward he dropped his

  head into his hands as if in despair.

  “You can’t act either…” Cat’s chortle of laughter brought his head up with a snap. A wide grin

  stretched firm lips wide, face alive with devilment.

  “Then offer me a viable explanation for your reluctance to attend Court as my mate, one that

  I can take to the Queen, one that she will believe.” Copper swirls darkened his Irises in a

  kaleidoscope of ever changing patterns.

  Cat was transfixed by his gaze, all coherent thought blasted from her mind. All she wanted to

  do right now, was to sink into strong arms and drown in magical eyes.

  A delighted laugh broke the spell. “You are attracted to me my mate.”

  He growled long and low, a vibration that sped down her spine, leaving in its wake a trail of

  clammy gooseflesh. A shudder shook her shoulders as Cat groaned out her desire.

  “I never said I wasn’t Fur ball. I said I will choose with whom I mate, it doesn’t mean I can’t

  appreciate the view.” She snapped back at him, receiving a smug smile for her efforts.

  Jumping up from the chair before the situation deteriorated to the point where she would give

  anything to make him smile at her again, Cat tightened the shields in her head before he could

  read what she really wanted.

  “I’m going for a run. It helps me to think more clearly. You’re welcome to join me if you wish.”

  She held out a hand in a silent peace offering. Studying her face intently, Drusal reached out

  slowly to take hold of the proffered hand, before dragging her suddenly onto his lap. With a

  little squeak of surprise Cat found herself sinking into the solid embrace her traitorous heart

  craved. Oh hell, she thought wildly. How do I survive with some degree of sanity, if he makes

  a move to kiss me again? Locked to his chest they were eye to eye, breath mingling.

  “You shut me out Iscatya. Suddenly all I could see was a blank wall where you stood. Tell me

  what you are hiding?” His mouth hovered over hers, the whisper of his breath held the tang

  of summer days laced with the heady scent of vanilla.

  “I’m hiding me…” She gasped out. It was the truth, but not the truth he wanted.

  “Let me go Drusal, or I will have to hurt you.” Straining against the prison of his arms, she was

  immediately released to stagger back against the table.

  “I apologise for my presumption, Princessin…” He was suddenly forbidding, a dark and

  menacing figure, a vicious feral hunter with ice cold eyes. Cat’s shudder was unadulterated

  fear this time, not quivering desire. The same fear the prey feels when a bloodhound bares

  it’s teeth ready to start a vivisection party. “Apology accepted Lord Vardon.”

  Her answer was crisp as anger bloomed to life in her chest, any progress they hoped to make

  was doomed to failure, if he felt slighted every time she rejected his advances. The edge of

  the table ground into the back of her thighs, but Cat was determined not to move away from

  him too fast. Any sign of retreat would been seen as a submissive gesture to the predator

  looming in her face. Inching her butt casually onto the table, she crossed her legs in graceful

  slow motion.

  Drusal’s glowing eyes dropped to the golden skin of her thighs. Gotcha… She nearly crowed

  out loud. “This is ridiculous Fur ball…” Her cold tone caught his attention, an icy shimmer

  fading reluctantly from winter white eyes as he shook a mass of copper curls back off his face.

  She could measure the return of intelligence by the colour change of his Irises, as Drusal

  returned the Hound diminished.

  “Now I understand why you are feared by your victims… Not something I expected to be on

  the receiving end of as an intended mate.” Swinging her legs, Cat allowed him time to control

  the dark anger rolling from his aura in waves.

  Nahh… Sod it. If he was going to keep on getting mad at her, he needed to realise once and

  for all that she wasn’t prepared to tolerate it in any way, shape or form.

  “Did you use this precious technique of domination on your previous women? Let me make love

  to you or I will tear you apart?” She cocked her head to one side a soft smile gracing her lips.

  “It’s so endearing to be considered as a tasty meal. Been there, done that. So not going there

  again...” Bracing back on the palms of both hands, an emerald green glare was an indicator

  of the boiling anger Cat was holding in check. Sarcasm had always been her best defence.

  “Do you want me to tell you exactly what I did to you last night?” She whispered softly, in

  complete contrast to the hardness of her eyes.

  Crossing his arms with a nod of assent, Drusal glowered at her, brows drawn down in a deep

  frown of frustration and distrust.

  “I took the poisonous gases of Venus, mixed them with the frigid dust storms of Mars and

  dumped the whole noxious mass into your body. You effectively died last night… Your earth

  element was extinguished. Everything that makes you true Sidhe, everything that keeps you

  living, was driven from your soul in one crushing blow.” Cat leant forward eyes locked onto

  a turbulent pearlescent gaze.

  “I’m not proud of what I did, but you forced me to retaliate in kind. Don’t ever make me

  that angry, ever again.” The threat in her voice was cushioned by a musical whisper, a

  promise of dire pain if he had the least inclination of stepping
over her boundaries.

  Drusal’s whole body was rigid with shock and a slice of fear, at her cold disclosure.

  “You are able to control the Planets?” Each word was a croak of sound, dragged from a throat

  suddenly dry, with the same wave of terror he had felt when his lungs had been starved of

  oxygen. Cat shrugged, her face blank of any expression. Anger had dissipated to become

  disgust, that she had used the memory of pain to quell his inner animal.

  “I don’t control the planets. I borrowed pieces to protect myself.” She brushed off a talent,

  an ability that had been acquired in desperate need, as though it was no more than a simple

  means of defence, a deterrent to be used on unwanted guests.

  Drusal felt the same flush of fear, his Queen inspired whenever she looked in his direction.

  Her Granddaughter was awesomely gifted, wild and untamed, but nevertheless a force of

  nature to rival, if not overpower the Sovereign of the Isles. It was little wonder the Queen

  wanted the witch tied to her control, kept unaware of her capabilities, to be subsumed as

  a sex slave for all eternity. “By the Fates Iscatya… I cannot take you back to the Court.”

  He dropped to bended knee eyes locked onto her face. “Handing the power you hold over

  to the Queen would be a death sentence for the whole planet. Imagine what she could make

  you do if your loved ones were held hostage?” Forehead resting on the skin of her thighs

  Drusal inhaled a sharp breath, a whisper of raw pain.

  “As much as I wish to flaunt your arrival at Court as my marked mate, I cannot in truth, offer

  her the means to hold complete dominion over this world.”

  Unable to hold back, Cat ran her fingers over the gleaming mass of his hair. The texture felt

  silky, running through her fingers like molten gold. She had to concede, if this was indeed

  acting, it was a pretty convincing performance. Her heart wanted to believe every shocked

  word that fell from his lips, but her head overruled the frantic beat of her heart.

  Having been led in all innocence into a romance that was nothing more than a feeding frenzy