Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  Aislinn felt dirty from her time in Taltos. She glanced at the winter sun. It was high in the sky, so her clothes might have time to dry if she washed them. Hastily stripping, she walked into the creek, enjoying the feel of the sand against her bare feet. A deeper pool gave her what she needed. She sank into the icy waters and let them close over her head. Aislinn surfaced, gasping from the cold, and grabbed handfuls of sand from the bottom to scrub her hair and herself. The gash on her face ached, but at least it was clean. She wondered if she could Heal herself, then discarded the idea. She’d need a mirror to do a good job. More importantly, she didn’t want to spare the magic. In another life, she would’ve gone to an Emergency Room for stitches. “Ha.” She snorted. “Another life indeed.”

  “What?” Rune, who’d been sunning himself on the bank, raised his head off his paws.

  “Nothing.” I was just feeling sorry for myself. She gathered the clothes she’d scattered around the bank and dragged them into the water, scrubbing at them. She couldn’t get them really clean without soap, but at least they wouldn’t smell quite so bad. When she was done, she wrung them out and draped her long johns, wool pants, and flannel shirt over bushes. She hefted the pants, grimaced at how heavy they still were, and tried to wring more water out. Gathering wood, she started a fire, moved her clothes closer to it, and set about cooking more rabbits Rune had caught while she’d been bathing and doing laundry.

  The wolf lay on the riverbank in scrub grass. He waited until she was done eating before asking, “What happened?”

  Well, what did happen? She sorted through her thoughts. “I think we came within an angstrom of being trapped there. If you hadn’t gone into my mind when we were all standing outside that travesty they called a lab, we never would’ve gotten away. Before that, though, my astral self separated from the rest of me.” Rune opened his mouth to ask a question, but she shook her head. “Wait till I’m done. I don’t know how the separation happened. If I did it, or they forced it. Anyway, I was in some sort of long, curving tunnel, and this dragon thing was chasing me. It’s what bloodied my face, so it could taste my blood. I thought I was dreaming, but I wasn’t. Ugh.” She shivered. The paltry warmth of the day wasn’t enough to keep a chill from slithering down her spine.

  Needing to do something to force her mind away from the tunnel and the dragon, she checked how dry her clothing was. Satisfied that at least her long underwear would be dry soon, she turned them over and stoked the fire.

  “It was them,” the wolf offered. “The one with his claws in your hair forced your astral self out of your body. I felt it.”

  That solves one riddle. “So they must’ve wanted me to go somewhere, but they looked surprised as hell when I told them what I’d seen.” A thought surfaced, and she stared at Rune. “Would you have had a way out of there if I’d been trapped?”

  “No.”

  Wish I’d known that. She opened her mouth to berate him, but then bit her tongue. Yes, he’d pushed his way onto this journey, but the truth of things was he’d saved them both. If not for him, she’d still be locked in Taltos, at the mercy of the Old Ones.

  “The Old Ones were arguing right before we finally left.” Rune sounded thoughtful. “I wonder what they said and why they decided to let us go.”

  “I know why.”

  “You can understand them? When did that happen? When I was in your mind earlier, you couldn’t.”

  She nodded. “That’s right. Something happened when I was in that tunnel.”

  “Are you going to tell me?” He came to his feet and padded to where she stood.

  “I suspect the dragon had something to do with why I can understand the Old Ones now.” A corner of her mouth quirked into a grin. “I’m not complaining. I’ll take my gifts where they fall. In terms of what they said to one another, apparently they can’t hold us against our will. It’s like what you told me in the crystal cave. It creates some problem with their magic to have a bunch of reluctant recruits gumming up the works. Must be why they kill everyone.”

  “That’s not all.” Keen intelligence shone from the depths of Rune’s lupine eyes. “I’m waiting.”

  “The thing I met up with is named Orione. The Old Ones said he could retrieve me for them anytime they want me. I didn’t like the sound of that.”

  Rune growled. “Neither do I.”

  “Not much I can do about it.” She shrugged pragmatically. “I’m sure not going to hide behind wards for the rest of my life.”

  “That’s eerily similar to what Marta said.” Rune blew out a whuffly growl. “Are your things dry?”

  She felt them again. “Not really. They can dry the rest of the way on my body. Why?”

  “Let’s walk a bit.”

  Aislinn shimmied into her damp long johns and dragged the wool pants over them. She tugged her faded flannel shirt over her head and slipped into her vest and jacket. She’d given up on panties and bras long ago. She blessed her woolen clothing. It was still wet, but it warmed almost immediately next to her skin. She sat in the scrub grass and pulled on wool socks, followed by her battered boots.

  The sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds, almost as if it sensed she didn’t need it anymore. A stiff breeze blew her still-wet hair into her face. With a sigh, she gathered it together, fished in her rucksack for a length of leather, and tied it out of the way. “Ready.” She got to her feet and shouldered her pack. “But I want to look through that old fishing lodge first.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe there’s food or something.” Because she had to scrounge for everything, she always searched abandoned buildings, particularly those in the middle of nowhere like this one. The door hung half off its hinges; it made a creaking sound in the wind. She took a tentative step inside, realized the flooring was rotten, and determined where the support beams were. She didn’t find food, but on the second floor, consisting of four large bedrooms, she found clothes. Pants and shirts and a Gore-Tex jacket that looked as if it hadn’t ever been worn. It still had a plastic bag around it. Shoving a dusty coverlet off one of the beds, she tried things on. Nearly everything fit, even the silk panties and lacy bras.

  “They’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but the feel of the smooth material, soft against her skin, made her reconsider. Once upon a time, she’d loved nice things. She settled on a finely woven, long-sleeved wool shirt, sturdy pants with lots of pockets, and the Gore-Tex jacket to wear. Then she filled her pack with three more shirts, another pair of pants, socks that miraculously didn’t have holes in them from resident moths, bras and panties, and a wool-lined vest. Unfortunately, whoever had owned the clothes had feet that were smaller than hers. She looked longingly at a pair of leather boots, but they’d make her feet hurt every time she wore them. She did tie a pair of Teva sandals to the outside of her rucksack, though. They were a big step up from the cracked, plastic Crocs she had at home.

  She thought about folding her old clothes and placing them in dresser drawers, but they were still quite damp. She draped her threadbare garments over the furniture. “For the next person,” she told the silence of the room. “There’s still wear left in them.”

  “What are you doing?” Rune called.

  “Shopping.” Something that sounded a lot like a giggle escaped before she started down the broken staircase.

  “You found food?” the wolf asked, nose twitching. “Must be in cans. I can’t smell it.”

  “No, silly, I found clothes. I don’t have an all-weather fur coat like you.”

  “We’re losing the light,” he observed. “Maybe that walk wasn’t such a good idea—unless we end up staying here for the night. Then we’ll need to scout a protected campsite. Do you have enough magic for another jump?”

  “Sure.” She was astonished by how good she felt. Between food, lolling in the sun—even though it hadn’t been all that warm—waiting for her clothes to dry, and finding new ones, her energy was back online. She thought just maybe she could conquer the world. Or
what was left of it, anyway. “Let’s surprise Fionn and Bella.”

  Chapter 12

  Surprise was a mild term for what Aislinn encountered. Fionn grabbed her shoulders the minute her spell dispersed and shook her. “I’ve been expecting you since this morning. Tell me everything. Everything, lass. Leave nothing out. Christ! What happened to your face?” He let go of one shoulder to trace the gash down her cheek.

  “Welll, nice to see you again, too.” She drew back and stared at him. His jaw was set in a hard line. His brows were drawn together. Blue eyes snapped dangerously. He looked furious—and worried.

  “You were supposed to call for me if you got into trouble.” He balled his hands into fists at his sides.

  So I was. “You’re yelling at me. Stop it. And I’m not sure you would’ve been much help.” Ah, whoops, that didn’t come out quite right. “Er, I mean, if you’d been there, of course—”

  He turned away, sucking air like a bellows, clearly trying to get himself under control. When he turned back, the tense planes of his face had relaxed a little. “You’re right, of course. It’s just that I was so damned worried about you. And I felt fucking helpless. Told myself if you weren’t back by midnight, I was going after you.”

  “We didn’t agree on a time when you necessarily expected me back.” Aislinn trod cautiously, aware of how tired she was. The euphoria she’d felt leaving the fishing lodge had gotten sucked up and spit out by the magic she’d summoned to ferry Rune and her to Fionn’s grotto. Apparently, she wasn’t as fully recovered as she’d thought. The last thing she wanted was an argument. “What if Rune and I had spent the night next to the McCloud River? We talked about it. Then you’d have been gone tomorrow morning when we finally got back here, and I wouldn’t have known where you were. Plus, I’d never have been able to get in if you weren’t here to open your wards.”

  He stared at her. No, it felt as if he was staring through her. “What would you have done?”

  She threw her hands up. “I don’t know. Waited for a while, I suppose.”

  That twitchy place under his eye was back. “Just a while?”

  She stalked over to a pile of cushions, unbuckled her rucksack, and flopped down. “Christ, Fionn. I’m tired. I’ve had a hell of a couple of days. Can you just tell me you’re happy to see me and leave it at that?”

  “No.”

  She thought about asking why not and then decided she didn’t really want to know. Next, she thought about asking if he wanted her and Rune to leave. She glanced about for the wolf. He and Bella chatted companionably in a corner. It appeared the raven had offered a far warmer—and less complicated—greeting for her fellow bond animal than Fionn managed for her. Nah, even if he told me to leave, I couldn’t go anywhere without sleep. “How about if we both get some rest?”

  “Not until you tell me what happened.”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “Won’t it keep till morning?”

  Fionn shook his head so hard, unbound hair fell into his face. He pushed it back with an impatient gesture.

  “Okay, I give up,” she said. “It shouldn’t take all that long. We could spend more time arguing about it than it will take to tell…” Fifteen minutes later, she was just finishing her description of Orione and her discovery that she could understand the Old Ones’ language, when he held up a hand.

  “I know you’re tired. And I’m sorry I pounced on you, but could you describe the dragonesque thing again. Close your eyes, take your time. I need every detail you can remember.”

  “Can you get me something to drink?”

  “Sure.” He got up and went into an alcove. In a few minutes, he handed her a cracked cup of something decidedly alcoholic.

  She took an experimental sip that exploded on her tongue. It tasted of flowers and summer. She met his gaze for the first time since he’d raised his voice. “What is it?”

  “Mead.” In answer to the question in her mind, he added, “I made it from honey.” He gestured with two fingers for her to concentrate. “The dragon?”

  She did the best she could describing Orione. It seemed to satisfy Fionn, because he didn’t ask any more questions. Somehow, her cup was empty. The warmth of the liquor relaxed her tense muscles. Her eyelids drifted toward half-mast.

  He laid a hand on her knee. “Let me hold you, lass. Morning will be here before we know it.”

  A feeble protest rose to her lips that she really was too tired to do anything other than sleep, but he shushed her. He helped her to her feet, and leaning on him, she let him lead her to the bed. He pulled off her boots and then lifted her legs onto the low platform fragrant with pine boughs. She curled into a ball on her side and felt him fit his body behind her. His breath was warm and soothing on her neck. It felt good to be held and cherished. But it felt awful to have to answer to anyone else. Her brain tried to find words to express the dilemma, but drowsiness befuddled her tongue. All she could do was murmur his name. She didn’t know why, maybe because she was so tired, but she called him by his whole name, the one she’d been supposed to breathe into the green-flecked quartz crystal: Fionn MacCumhaill.

  “Aye, lass,” he murmured against her ear. “Ye are bound to me, just like ye are to yon wolf. And like him, I will protect you forever.”

  She fell asleep trying to tell him she belonged to no one but herself.

  — —

  When she woke in the depths of the night, his body was still curved around hers. She turned to face him and called her mage light. It played over the bones in his face and reflected the blue of his eyes when he opened them.

  “You’re awake,” he said softly, Irish lilt all but gone from his voice. Maybe she’d imagined it just before she fell asleep. “I would’ve thought you’d sleep till morning.” Reaching out with tenderness at odds from his earlier ire, he smoothed hair away from her face.

  She smiled sleepily. “Nice to wake in your arms.”

  The arms in question tightened about her. He found the hollow in her neck with his mouth and trailed kisses downward until he ran into the opening of her shirt.

  “I can take it off,” she murmured. Heat ran like molten silver through her veins. She’d never met anyone who got her going so quickly, except the dark gods, and they didn’t count.

  “Let me help you.” His voice roughened with need.

  As soon as she pushed the wool top over her breasts, he moved her bra aside and closed his mouth over a nipple. His teeth grazed sensitive flesh. She pressed her body against him. He sucked harder, bringing her nipple to a hard, aching point of sensation. Fionn switched to the other breast. Knowing fingers twirled and tugged, replacing his mouth. She felt a climax build and embraced the exquisitely sensitive nerve endings driving her toward it. She started to shove a hand between her legs and then knew she wouldn’t have to. The combination of his mouth and fingers was plenty. She came, grinding her crotch against him, hands and teeth digging into his shoulders.

  Fionn raised himself over her and brought his lips down on hers. His tongue slipped inside her mouth. She sucked on it hard, drawing him in so deep, she lost track of where she stopped and he began. He tasted of nearly forgotten summers, of abandon and freedom.

  The length of him pressed against her thigh, hot and hard. With a shock, she realized the bottom half of his body was naked. Shoving frantically at the waistband of her pants, she finally remembered these were different pants and they had both buttons and a zipper. Somehow, she managed to get them down enough to pull one leg out. He rolled her onto her back, probing for entrance almost immediately. Drawing her knees back, she gripped his hips and pulled recklessly. She wanted him inside. Deep. Now. Gasping and panting, she arched her back, trying to get as close as she could. His breath mingled with hers. He took her lower lip between his teeth and bit down. She bit back, all fire and claws, taking his gambit and giving him one better.

  Fionn groaned as he sank into her and began the same long, slow strokes that had driven her crazy last time.
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br />   Aislinn lost track of how many times she came before she felt the spasms of his release. She tightened her grip on his shoulders and drew him against her. They fell back asleep like that before he shifted his weight off her and drew her into the circle of his arms, crooning softly. It was only when she woke again that she realized he’d been singing to her in Gaelic. It felt like she was a child again and her mother was holding her. She even thought she remembered that particular song. If it was the same one, he’d been telling her he’d care for her always and keep her safe.

  Feeling more awake, she snorted to herself. Nice try, but nowhere is safe anymore. No point in deluding myself. He stirred next to her, but the cadence of his breathing told her he was still asleep. Wonder if Rune and I should leave?

  Are you kidding? the other side of her brain demanded. He’s the best fuck I’ve ever had. Why would I want to walk away from that?

  It comes with strings. Remember last night?

  She rubbed her eyes, not wanting to wake him before she’d had time to sort out her thoughts. Yes, Fionn did come with strings. Was she already tangled up in them? She’d barely had a chance to get used to sharing her life with the wolf. Maybe she and Fionn could take a short break from each other. See how they really felt before they got in much deeper.

  Nope, not a good idea. The way things were today, with no reliable way to communicate over distances, either they stayed together—until one of them decided they were done—or they parted right now. She didn’t see any other choices. Besides, survival was scarcely a foregone conclusion. If they went their separate ways, one of them could be killed, and the other would never know. She thought about how it would be to have him dead, and a part deep inside her ached, the pain so intense it felt like a knife in her guts.

  How could I be so attached? I barely know him. She tried to slip quietly out of their bed, but the movement woke him. He closed a hand about her wrist and pulled her back, said something in Gaelic, and then switched to English. “Sorry. Sometimes when I’m half asleep, I forget.”