Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  Should I jump us now, or heal him first? Healing magic might draw attention, but if one of those ribs punctured a lung, he might die when she tried to get them out of there. Gritting her teeth in frustration, she knew she had to patch him up before she could do anything else.

  “Ssssh. It will be all right. I’m going to help you.” She infused magic into the broken places in Rune’s body. Because she’d been there before, it was easier this time. And quicker. She was just finishing, congratulating herself for having escaped a speeding bullet one more time, when she felt something coming. Rune got to his feet and shook himself. He must’ve sensed it, too, because hackles went up along his spine.

  Aislinn hoped it was Dewi. She’d been so intent on the wolf, she hadn’t noticed the stink of alien magic drawing near. Whatever it was was close. Too close for her to risk a jump. They’d nail her with her molecules half in and half out of the tunnel. She might never come out at her destination.

  Knowing they’d been discovered, she let her light blaze so she could at least see what was after them. Damn! Lemurians. Aislinn readied her Hunter and Mage magic for a fight. She wondered if she could actually kill an Old One. No one had ever tried, that she knew.

  “There you are, sweetling. Back for a visit so soon?” The honeyed tones belonged to Metae. Aislinn would’ve recognized her voice anywhere. “And you brought your wolf. Marvelous! That must mean you are planning to stay.”

  Three Old Ones came closer. They shed plenty of luminosity, so Aislinn redirected all her magic into fight mode and let her mage light wink out. She waited. They needed to be closer still before she struck.

  “You are coming with us, child. Aren’t you?” Metae was only about fifteen feet away. “Your place is here. I am so glad you realized that.”

  That’s how she’s always gotten to me, by pretending to be kind. Aislinn urged herself not to fall for it. The Lemurian was infusing compulsion into her words. Aislinn could practically see the spell. Still, being wanted was seductive. No one had wanted her since her parents died—except Fionn, and he was gone.

  Bullshit. That’s what she wants me to think. She walled her mind against Metae, even though a place inside her felt broken and bereft. Like losing her last friend.

  Aislinn ginned up what she hoped looked like a convincing smile just before she lobbed a killing blow right for the Old One’s throat. Metae yelped and jumped aside. Aislinn’s magic barely grazed her. In the confusion, Rune launched himself at one of the others and sank his teeth into the side of its neck. Iridescent red and green blood geysered, spraying thickly through the air. The coppery smell was cloyingly sweet. It smelled like the promise of victory.

  Thinking they just might win this one, if the Old Ones didn’t call for reinforcements, Aislinn sent another bolt of magic toward Metae and the other Lemurian. She ducked and wove, avoiding their magic as she chucked power their way. It didn’t seem like they were trying to kill her, only capture her, which made things easier.

  Aislinn panted from fear and exertion. Her breath plumed white and frosty in the chilly subterranean air. Rune had killed one of them. The others danced out of his reach and erected magic barriers he couldn’t jump through. She opened a hole in one of them just for him. Leaping through it, Rune latched onto another’s throat, decimating it. Bones snapped. The wolf was coated in gore, but his eyes were alight with joy. This was what he’d been born for, and he knew it.

  “Well,” she gasped, trying to get near Metae. “That leaves the two of us. How do you want to die?”

  “Why are you doing this, child?” The Old One sounded aggrieved. “Have we not been kind to you?”

  Aislinn snarled. “Earth does not belong to you. You were barely noticeable down here before you teamed up with the dark. Either send them back where they came from, or leave.”

  “But we taught you about your magic—”

  “And killed everyone else.”

  Metae’s body moved under her robes in the Lemurian version of a shrug. Because the Old One seemed more intent on conversation than killing, Aislinn blasted her with magic. Metae twirled to get away from it, and Aislinn jumped her. With her legs twined around Metae’s waist, she shoved her dirk home in the Old One’s neck. The sharp iron blade slid easily between scales, burying itself deep.

  “Y-You do not understand. We have never been your enemy,” Metae gasped before enough blood gushed out of her wound to silence her forever.

  Aislinn slipped to the ground along with the Lemurian’s inert body. She yanked hard to get her blade back. Metae’s reptilian scales had closed about it like a vise. “Let’s get out of here,” she said to Rune. Christ! She’d killed an Old One. In fact, they’d killed three. What would the rest of them do once they found out?

  She answered her own question, suddenly iced to her bones. Hunt me down to the end of my days, that’s what. No longer worried about magic giving her away, she curved an arm around Rune’s neck. She’d had time to rethink her exit strategy. It wouldn’t take much magic to jump them back to the top of the rock fall near the place in the tunnel that led into Marta’s house.

  Half expecting a rush of Lemurians to mob them, Aislinn cast a jump spell. The rockslide fell away beneath them. She raced through the upper tunnel with Rune by her side and loosed the spell to open the gateway when they were still fifty feet away. As soon as it opened, she and Rune skittered through.

  She was about to pat herself on the back herself for a mission at least partially accomplished, when hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. Grabbing her dirk, she writhed against her assailant and prepared to fight. Rune raced to her side, whining. Why hadn’t he launched himself at whoever held her?

  Understanding slammed home. Fionn! The basement was dark, but she could smell him. Anger lent an exotic edge to his normally musky scent.

  “Ye were supposed to wait for me. What the fuck, Aislinn? Where have ye been?” He shook her again so hard her teeth rattled. “Never mind that. I know where ye were. What the bluidy fucking hell were ye doing going there without me?”

  Chapter 19

  She tried to twist away, but his hands were like a vise. “You’re hurting me,” she said. “Let go.”

  Rune’s whines shifted to low, warning growls.

  Fionn’s mage light flared. She heard his sharp intake of breath when he saw them. “Ach! Christ! Ye’re covered in Lemurian blood. Talk.” His hands loosened fractionally. At least he didn’t shake her again.

  “Not until you let go of me. And maybe not until after I’ve had a bath.” She tried for dignity, but it was hard with his body leaned against hers. What she really wanted to do was turn around, throw herself into his arms, and never let go.

  “Och aye.” Breath whistled between his teeth, and she knew he’d been inside her mind. He spun her to face him, closed his arms around her, and crushed his mouth over hers. His hands moved down her back, gripped her ass, and pulled her violently against him. She felt the length of his cock press against her stomach, where it throbbed hot and hard. All the moisture in her body fled south, flooding her crotch with need.

  She tore her mouth away. “So do you want to just do it right here in the dirt?”

  She drank him in with her eyes. God, but he was beautiful. So perfect she almost couldn’t breathe. If he said yes, it was fine by her. She couldn’t wait to get him inside her. He didn’t answer, just reached to unbutton her pants. His hands were rough, pushing the fabric down her legs.

  “Wait.” She was so hot, she could barely find words. Bending, she unlaced a boot, wriggled out of it, and got one leg free.

  Grappling to get her hands on him, she realized his pants were already unzipped. “Convenient,” she gasped as she crawled up his body, twined her legs round his hips and her arms about his shoulders.

  He shoved into her, burying himself. She felt a shudder go through him. It made her come, shivering against him. He spoke to her in Gaelic, his voice raspy and urgent.

  “You’ve got to be kiddi
ng,” she managed. “I can barely understand English right now.”

  He gripped her ass, as if it was the only thing standing between him and drowning. Rocking against her, he rammed himself to the hilt again and again. Aislinn felt another climax build in her belly. She clawed his back and screamed that she needed him faster, harder, deeper. Release shot through her in multihued ecstasy, and her body arched against his, vibrating with lust. His cock swelled even more. He had to be close. A feral shriek split the air when he came. She heard desperation in that cry and knew he’d been frightened to the depths of his being that he’d lost her.

  “Are the two of you going to stop fucking long enough to let us talk with the lass?” Understated humor ran beneath an unfamiliar male voice coming from the vicinity of the kitchen.

  Rune barked.

  Aislinn tightened her legs around Fionn. “Who the hell was that?”

  He laughed. “’Tis why I was gone a wee bit longer than I’d expected. I brought reinforcements along, and they traveled with their bodies. Wouldna have been verra useful to have just their astral selves here.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and called to whoever had spoken, “Stay topside till we’re decent.”

  Raucous laughter rang from above.

  Embarrassment engulfed Aislinn as she disentangled herself. How many strange men had listened to her shrieking to Fionn to fuck her harder, goddammit? “You should have told me,” she muttered.

  “And when would there have been the time for that?” The glow from his mage light had developed a decidedly randy hue, like an old west bordello. He quirked an eyebrow. “Never forget, lass. Death and sex are linked. Ye came from a battlefield, so ye got the death part. When I found you, ye were ripe for the plucking.”

  “Like a Christmas goose.” Aislinn snorted and slid her exposed leg back into her pants. She fired her own mage light, hunted down her boot, and stuffed her foot into it. “Here, help me get the wolf upstairs.”

  “How’d ye get him down here without me?”

  “Magic.”

  “Why dinna I think of that? And here I was deluding myself that ’twas one more reason ye wouldna try the gateway.”

  She ignored the sarcastic undercurrent in his words. Something he’d said earlier seemed impossible. “You can pull jump magic so potent it transports you across an ocean?”

  “Aye, lass. It takes twice as long as astral travel, but ’tis certainly possible.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him about Taltos, but he stopped her with a kiss. “Wait until ye can tell us all.”

  Three men waited for them in the kitchen, along with Bella. The bird shot Fionn what looked like a reproachful glance. Aislinn wondered if he’d made the raven stay in the kitchen. Though the men tried to wipe knowing leers off their bearded faces, it was a losing battle.

  Aislinn’s cheeks flamed, but she squared her shoulders and said. “I’m going to have a quick wash. Back in a flash.” Rune trailed after her as she headed down the hallway.

  She settled for cold water, not wanting to take time to run a bath. Aislinn did what she could to sponge blood off herself and the wolf. He didn’t seem to appreciate the impromptu bath and skulked away as soon as she let go of him. “Where are you going?” she called.

  “Hunting. I’m hungry.”

  She thought about telling him to be careful, but decided not to. Rune had been a hero tonight. You didn’t tell heroes to be careful. You afforded them the respect of acknowledging they could take care of themselves.

  Grateful for clothes that didn’t stink of blood, she folded up the bottoms of a pair of Marta’s pants and threw a faded blue flannel shirt on over the top of them. Christ, the woman had been a giant. Aislinn was tall at nearly six feet, so pants were generally too short. She’d never had to cut a pair down before. Feet bare, she padded toward the kitchen. The smell of food filled her nose the minute she hit the hallway, and her mouth flooded with saliva. She had no idea what time it was. Had she spent what was left of the previous night in Taltos?

  She peered through the kitchen windows. Dawn lightened the sky to a muddy gray. “Hmph. Answers one question,” she muttered and turned her attention to the men.

  Seeming larger than life, they sprawled in chairs around the kitchen table. They were all about Fionn’s size—around six feet four or so—their bodies thick with muscle. Two of the strangers were blond, the other dark. Everyone’s hair was braided and tied out of the way with strips of leather. Four sets of eyes zeroed in on her, so full of questions it made her head spin.

  Aislinn grabbed one of the biscuits she’d made, dropped it onto a plate, and spooned something fragrant from a large pot over it. “Who are all of you?” she asked, talking with her mouth full because she was too hungry to wait. Besides, manners had gone out with the demise of civilization.

  “I am Arawn,” the dark-haired man said, half bowing to her. His eyes were as dark as his hair. A beard flowed down his chest. When he smiled, his teeth were very white against it. He wore leather pants, boots that laced halfway up his shins, and a leather vest that left his chest bare. A gold medallion, heavy with runes, hung from his neck.

  She inclined her head to him. “God of the dead. Also revenge, terror, and war.” Aislinn glanced at Fionn. “I’m impressed. Where’d you find him?”

  “That’s only because ye havena yet heard who I am.” One of the blond giants leapt to his feet and bowed from the waist. “This is how ’tis done,” he told Arawn, humor sparking from his eyes. “Ye rise in the presence of the fair sex.” Dark blue robes fluttered. He tightened a black sash so vigorously that leather pouches swung from it. Aislinn wondered what was in them. A carved wooden staff, glowing with an inner light, was propped against the table next to him. His reddish beard was close cropped, following the lines of his jaw. Like her, his feet were bare.

  “You are?” Still on her feet, Aislinn took another mouthful of her meal.

  “Gwydion.” He looked hard at her out of eyes as blue as Fionn’s. “Ye seem to know your mythology. Can ye tell me who I am?”

  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You’re a warrior magician. Greatest of the enchanters.” She cocked her head to one side, thinking. “You also control illusion.” Setting down her plate, she snapped her fingers. “Hey, you could take on D’Chel.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Aye.” He looked at the others and winked. “The lass has faith in me.”

  “There’s another problem you might be able to help me solve,” she said before shifting her gaze to the third man. “First, though, tell me who you are.” She met coppery eyes set in a tanned face. His beard was scraggly like Fionn’s, and he was dressed in leathers like Arawn, except rather than a vest, he wore a full leather shirt.

  “I am Bran.” His gaze never left hers.

  “Prophecy, war, sun, music, arts.” She held his frank stare.

  “’Tis a pleasure to be recognized. Nice to meet you, lass.” Bran smiled.

  Aislinn blew out a breath and sank into a chair with her food. “My, what an august group. Guess I can retire to the back bedroom while you save the world.”

  Fionn handed her a glass filled with mead. “What did ye mean about there being something Gwydion could help you with?” It sounded as if he was jealous, and his next words clinched it. “I can do anything he can.”

  “The hell ye can,” Gwydion snarled.

  Better start at the beginning. Aislinn leveled her gaze on Fionn. “You’re going to be angry with me, but stuff it, okay? When you caught me downstairs a little bit ago, Rune and I were coming back from our second trip—”

  “What?” He was on his feet and by her side in an instant. Fionn locked his hands on either side of her face and stared at her in disbelief. His eyes shaded to midnight, and she understood how pissed he was.

  “Stand down, man.” Arawn rolled his eyes. “Ye doona own her.”

  “Aye, leave the lass to tell her tale,” Gwydion said. Coming to his feet, he took one of Fionn’s
arms and yanked hard. Grumbling, Fionn let go, but didn’t return to his seat. She heard him behind her, pacing.

  Aislinn shook herself. “Thanks.” She smiled at Gwydion. “You can rescue me anytime.”

  “I don’t fucking think so,” Fionn snapped.

  “I was teasing,” she protested. “Trying to lighten things up a touch.”

  “Don’t encourage them. They’d lure you to bed in a heartbeat if I turned my back.”

  She couldn’t believe how out of sorts he sounded. Guess it’ll take more than that roll in the basement hay to calm him down. “You don’t trust me—” she began.

  “Nay, it’s that I’ve known them for hundreds of years.” His tone softened ever so slightly. “Aislinn, we need to know what ye did in Taltos.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. “The first trip, I mostly wanted to see if I could get through. I eavesdropped on the Old Ones, and Dewi talked to me.” Turning, she spoke to Fionn. “I was careful. I noted the place I came into Taltos, even marked it with magic so I could find it again.”

  “What’d ye overhear?” Fionn still didn’t sound very friendly.

  Aislinn looked around for Rune, but he wasn’t back yet. Good. “I’d rather Rune didn’t know this, but according to the Old Ones, Marta did…something to her parents. They’re upstairs in the attic, slathered in layers of illusion and spells. I don’t know if part of them is still alive, but Marta may have used their energy to boost her own magic.”

  Bella cawed and flapped over, landing on Aislinn’s shoulder.

  She turned to the bird. “You will not tell Rune, either. Understand?”

  The raven pecked gently at her hand. Aislinn took that for a yes.

  Fionn looked interested in spite of himself. “Did you try to break the spell?”

  Good, he’s back to American English. Means he’s at least trying to get along with me. “Did I ever. Spent hours. Nothing worked.” She ate some more. “Rune sensed them there, too. We searched the entire rest of the house, and the yard, before we found them.”