Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  Aislinn opened her arms. The towels fell to the floor.

  Kicking them aside, he came to her and drew her close. “Mo croi, I love you. More than is good for me. I love you.”

  He crushed his mouth down on hers. His hands roamed down her back and settled on her ass. He pulled her against him and moaned. She heard need and desperation and fear that he’d lost her in the sound, overshadowed by relief that he hadn’t.

  She drew away from him long enough to say, “I love you, too. When I thought you were lost to me, I went a little crazy, because I didn’t want to live in a world without you in it.”

  He scooped her up as if she weighed nothing and laid her tenderly on the bed. His hands worked the buttons of his fly. He freed himself and then knelt over her, stringing kisses down her body. He nuzzled her breasts, sucking the nipples gently until she reached for his hips, desperate to feel him inside her. He wriggled out of her grasp, slid farther down her body, and settled his mouth over the engorged spot between her legs. She came almost as soon as his tongue twirled around her clitoris, hips bucking against his mouth. He dug his hands into her hips, urging her higher as his tongue worked her. No one was more surprised than she when the spasms of a second climax jolted through her.

  “One of these days,” he said as he positioned himself over her, “I’m going to make you come ten times doing that.” His voice was rough with passion. “But just now, I canna wait to feel your body around mine. Ye doona know how close I came to taking you while ye slept. I wanted you that badly, lass.”

  She watched his face as he pushed into her, watched his eyes half-close in ecstasy as he withdrew and then, very slowly, slid back inside. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulled hard to get him to bury himself deep and stay there. Her fingers dug into his back, and she rocked her body against him.

  He kissed her, tongue pushing inside her mouth as his cock slammed into her. Gentleness gone, they grappled with one another, gasping and panting, grinding their bodies together seeking release. He groaned, made the wonderful sound like a lion purring that meant he was close. She shoved herself against him, met him stroke for stroke. Feeling him shudder inside her brought her over the edge again. Aislinn clung to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control.

  “If the two of you could keep your hands off one another for a few minutes,” Gwydion said, “the lot of us need to talk.”

  Rune, who’d been standing guard over them, growled.

  Aislinn opened her eyes. The warrior magician stood in the doorway. A deep purple robe was belted at his waist. Unbraided, his blond hair spilled down his shoulders. Blue eyes twinkled merrily.

  “What is it with you?” she managed, struggling to catch her breath. “First Bran—or was it Arawn?—and now you. Are all of you voyeurs?”

  He grinned at her. “Lass, ye doona know the half of it.”

  “Food,” she said. “I need to eat while we talk.”

  Fionn hoisted himself up on his forearms. He eyed Gwydion. “Leave us, and we’ll get up. Ye’ll want to give the lass a spot of privacy.”

  “Now why would I want to do that? She’s a lush sight for these old eyes.” The slap of his bare feet mingled with laughter as he disappeared down the hall.

  — —

  They sat around the kitchen table. Arawn and Bran were still in battle leathers, Fionn back in his jeans and a shirt. She’d dredged more clothes out of Marta’s closet, finding a black skirt that came to her ankles and a fluffy teal sweater. The woolen garments felt soft against her skin. Rune must have liked them, too, since he’d curled right next to her, his back against her skirt where it fell to the hardwood floor.

  Aislinn had eaten until she felt full enough to burst. In between bites, washed down with plenty of mead, she told them about Slototh. “I asked Dewi this.” She glanced around at the men. “Now I’m asking you. Do you think he’s dead?”

  All four shook their heads.

  “Well, if he’s not dead, where is he?”

  “If we got verra lucky, he’s back in the world that spawned him,” Arawn answered, a murderous look in his dark eyes. “Fionn’s not the only one of us who’ve tangled with that one.”

  “Is there any way to know for sure?” Aislinn asked. She’d feel a whole lot better if she knew Slototh wouldn’t be lurking in some dark corridor, lying in wait for her.

  “Nay,” Bran said. “I’m thinking we’d be better off trying to solve the human hybrid problem.”

  Bella squawked from where she’d taken up residence atop the refrigerator.

  “What about the other dark gods?” Aislinn asked.

  “Aye, there is that problem as well.” Gwydion shot a lascivious look her way.

  Fionn must have noticed, because he glared at Gwydion.

  “Stop it, you two.” Aislinn rolled her eyes. “I thought we were supposed to be figuring out what to do next.” She looked first at Fionn, then at Gwydion. “I’m not Tara. Mother was only a girl when the two of you started haggling over her—”

  Aislinn’s jaw clanged shut. Quick as a nod, she was on her feet, hands raised to meet the magic she felt coming toward them. Rune stood next to her, growling. Though she hadn’t seen him move, Fionn was somehow by her side, with Bella on his shoulder. Gwydion, Arawn, and Bran closed ranks, making a wall in front of them. She glanced at Gwydion’s staff, but it wasn’t glowing. Did that mean something magical wasn’t coming? Or was it that the magic wasn’t a threat? She couldn’t tell from the warrior magician’s demeanor. He looked grimly ready for anything.

  The air shimmered on the far side of the room. Travis and his civet took shape.

  Aislinn blew out a breath. “What the hell, Travis? You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Hmph.” Fionn’s face darkened. It was obvious he remembered the Hunter all too well.

  Travis looked from one to the other. “Thank God I came out in the right place. I left in a hurry, and I wasn’t sure I had it just right.”

  “What happened, lad?” Bran asked, concern etched in his face. “Ye sought us out. There must be a reason.”

  Bella flew around the room, cawing. The civet hissed at the bird.

  Fionn grabbed his raven out of the air. “If ye doona behave better, I’ll be shipping you back to the Old Country.”

  “You’d never do that,” the bird informed him haughtily. She pulled out of his grasp and landed on the top of the kitchen door.

  “Watch me,” Fionn said tightly and settled his gaze on Travis. “I suggest you talk, lad. Something is amiss. I see it in your eyes.”

  Travis nodded. “We’re under attack. From the Old Ones.”

  Aislinn gasped. “Holy crap! That’s terrible. We figured they’d turn on us, but not this soon. What happened?”

  “I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “We’d just gotten back from Arizona and were settling in—you know, hunting and trying to get some rest—when a whole herd of them closed on us. We didn’t think anything of it. I mean, we’d never seen quite that many in one place before, but we figured they were just going to give us more orders.” He took an uneven breath. “We wanted to act normal, so they wouldn’t know we were onto them.”

  Travis looked down. His jaw worked. Aislinn figured he was struggling for control. “They just started killing us. Stopped our hearts where we stood.” His voice broke. He cleared his throat and went on. “Some of us have stronger magic than others. We threw up wards and jumped out of there. Later, once we’d had a chance to think, we decided the best thing was to see if you’d help us. I volunteered to come here because my jumps are the most accurate.”

  “What were your losses?” Gwydion asked.

  “Twenty-something when I left. Probably more than that now.”

  Travis dragged his gaze—brown eyes flecked with his green power color—up off the floor and looked at each of them in turn. He settled on Aislinn last. Pleading shone from the depths of his eyes. “Please,” he said. “We need help.”

 
“You’ll get it,” Aislinn snapped, outraged by what had happened. After shoving a goodly portion of Earth’s population into that damned vortex, now the Lemurians were killing the rest of them outright. What had the vortex been? Something for show?

  “Hmph.” Gwydion grabbed his staff. “We were trying to figure out what to do next. Seems that decision has been made for us.”

  Aislinn glanced at her skirt and sweater. “I need to change.” Spinning, she dashed for the bedroom with Rune right behind her. As she rifled through drawers, she was grateful Marta had been a bit of a clotheshorse. Snugging into dark green work pants with lots of pockets, she rolled the bottoms. Clean socks came right before she shoved her feet back into her boots. She eyed them for a moment. They really were in bad shape. She needed to find another pair—and soon.

  She pulled a black long john top over her head and followed it with a thick green jacket made of something fuzzy and synthetic. It was cold here, and it would be cold where they were going. She rummaged through her rucksack, checking to make sure it still had everything she might need for contingencies. Her hand closed on her water bottle. It was empty, so she filled it at the bathroom sink.

  By the time she returned to the kitchen, Fionn was back in battle leathers, hauberk, and vambraces. She wondered where he kept them when they weren’t on his back. Sometime, I’ll have to ask him. Pulling cupboards and drawers open, she grabbed handfuls of nuts, dried fruit, and dried meat and stuffed them into a large pocket of her rucksack. Being half-starved hadn’t worked well for her in Arizona. She was damned if she’d make the same mistake twice.

  “Are we going back near where I used to live?” she asked Travis.

  “Yes. I sent the men an image of where we need to come out while we were waiting for you. Guess I’m going with him.” He pointed at Gwydion. “They didn’t think I’d be fast enough on my own.”

  “How many jumps?” she asked Fionn.

  “Maybe only one.” He smiled reassuringly at her, but worry flashed behind his eyes.

  None of them had foreseen the Old Ones engaging in a direct frontal attack. It hadn’t been part of any equation they’d drawn. They’d viewed the Lemurians as relatively passive, without teeth, reliant on the dark gods to mastermind their destructiveness. Aislinn sucked in a breath. If they’d misjudged the Lemurians so badly, what other mistakes had they made?

  An unpleasant truth intruded. She bit her lower lip and looked at Fionn. “Do you think the dark gods are behind this?”

  “Who else?” Arawn growled. “News travels fast. They would’ve heard what happened to Slototh by now.”

  “Aye, lass,” Bran muttered. “They’re out for revenge. The Lemurians owe them, and they’re calling in their chips.”

  “Okay.” She clucked to Rune, slipped her pack straps over her shoulders, and buckled the waist belt. “I’m all set.”

  Bella back on his shoulder, Fionn stepped to her side, sandwiching the wolf between them. Magic filled the air until it was hard to breathe. Linked to Travis and his civet, Gwydion was the first to leave. Arawn and Bran shimmered and disappeared.

  “Ready?” Fionn asked.

  She felt the thrum of the spell he held in check, waiting until everyone else was safely away.

  “More than ready.” Aislinn tensed her jaws. “I hate the Lemurians. They killed my parents. If we have to blow through an entire army of them to get to the dark gods, it’s fine by me.”

  The jump seemed to take longer than she expected. After a while, she couldn’t feel Fionn or Rune. It worried her. When darkness finally fell away, Aislinn saw the rubble of what was left of a city, except nothing looked familiar. She turned in a full circle before realization slammed her like a kick in the guts. Fionn and Rune weren’t with her.

  “What the hell?” she sputtered and called their names.

  A triumphant whoop turned her blood to ice. Travis stepped out of a gateway in the air, civet in his arms. “Damn! Didn’t think I’d be able to slip away from that Celt. Still not quite certain how I managed it.” He loped over and grabbed her arm.

  Aislinn tried to pull away, but his fingers gripped like pincers.

  “What did you do?” she cried, still trying to wrap her mind around Travis’s plea for help being nothing but a sham. “Where are Fionn and Rune?” She reached for her magic, intent on escape, but couldn’t latch onto it. The threads wouldn’t respond to her call. Fear clutched at her belly.

  Travis curled his lips into a snarl. “You’re human. You belong with us.”

  “Yes.” Regnol, Travis’s Lemurian magelord, slithered out of the gateway Travis hadn’t closed off. “There’s the little matter of Metae’s death—and my other comrades your wolf slaughtered. You are coming with me.”

  The Old One’s gaze shifted to Travis. “You have done well. You may go now.”

  Horror filled her—and fury at Travis’s betrayal. She watched dumbstruck as he and the civet stepped through the gateway and were gone in a flash of blue-white light.

  Her face an impassive mask, Aislinn turned to face Regnol and stared into his whirling, alien eyes. He already had her. There was no reason not to make eye contact. “Where are you taking me?” She forced a bravado she was far from feeling.

  “Where else?” What passed for Lemurian laughter rasped like a saw blade attacking metal. “To Taltos.”

  The End

  The story continues in Earth’s Blood

  And is completed in Earth’s Hope

  All three books are available in print and e-format

  Read on for a sample of Earth’s Blood

  Bonus Chapter

  Earth’s Blood: Book Two in the Earth Reclaimed Series

  Chapter One

  Fionn tumbled through a gateway and leapt to his feet. Something was decidedly wrong. The wolf and raven were right behind him, but he’d lost all sense of Aislinn’s presence in the traveling portal. It made him half-crazy with fear, but there was nothing he could do until the spell spit him out. Mouth dry, heartbeat thudding in his ears, he waited to see who would follow him out of the ragged hole he’d left in the ether.

  For the love of the goddess, please let me be mistaken about this.

  Rune emerged. A howl split the still air. “Where is she?” the black and gray timber wolf demanded. He reared up and plunked his paws on Fionn’s chest. “What happened to my bondmate? I cannot feel her anywhere.” He howled again. It was a mournful sound, full of grief.

  Fionn wrapped his arms around the wolf, but Rune dropped to the ground, apparently not interested in comfort.

  “Yes, where did Aislinn go?” Bella demanded, bouncing forward with her awkward avian gait. Ever cantankerous, the raven was bonded to him, so Fionn was used to her moods. She spread her large wings, took to the air, and cawed her displeasure.

  He stared after her and struggled to manage a mounting sense of panic while balling his hands into fists. Both bond animals knew the truth: Aislinn had disappeared somewhere between Ely, Nevada and wherever they were now. He barked a word to close off his magic. The place they’d rolled out of shimmered and disappeared.

  He loosed a string of Gaelic curses. “What the fuck went wrong?” he muttered. Fionn drew magic to augment his night vision and gazed wildly about for clues. They were in the midst of rubble that could well be Salt Lake City, so at least that part of his casting had been true. No, an inner voice corrected him, I doona know that. This could be anywhere. He shoved straggling strands of blond hair out of his eyes and sent his magic spinning outward to gather data. His heart beat a worried tattoo against his ribcage.

  The air to his right took on a pearlescent hue. Bran and Arawn leapt through a portal in a flash of battle leathers, the snug-fitting garments indistinguishable from Fionn’s attire. Arawn barked a command, and their gateway winked shut. His midnight gaze scanned the small group. “Why is Gwydion not here?” he demanded. “He left afore any of us.”

  Rune threw his head back. Another desolate howl split the night.


  Bran’s coppery eyes narrowed. “Aye, and where is the lass?”

  “And that Hunter scum, Travis,” Fionn growled. He spread his hands in front of him. “I havena felt Aislinn since a few moments after we entered the portal. Join your magic to mine so we might figure out what has happened.”

  Bran nodded curtly. “Aye, Travis must have lied to us, but to what purpose?”

  “To save his own sorry hide, what else?” Fionn snapped. “Or mayhap because he wanted Aislinn for himself.”

  The air took on an iridescent waviness. Gwydion stumbled out of the odd-looking place. Tangled in a welter of blue robes, he clutched an intricately carved staff; blond hair swirled around him. “Be gone, I say—Wait, what happened to—?” He took in the tableau as he lurched unsteadily to his feet. Fionn almost heard wheels turning as Gwydion tallied who was missing. The warrior magician pounded the end of his wooden staff into broken asphalt. Lightning crackled from the end of the staff, betraying his annoyance.

  Something snapped in Fionn. Bright, brittle anger lanced through him, and he launched himself at Gwydion, driving the other Celtic god to the ground. “Bastard,” he screamed. “Ye were in charge of Travis. What? Ye couldna control a simple human? Look what your slipshod seeds have sown!” He raised a fist and drove it into the side of Gwydion’s face. It was more satisfying than using magic. Closer and more personal.

  Rune jumped into the fray and sank his teeth into Gwydion’s leg. Bella cawed her disapproval. She tangled her talons in the mage’s long hair and pulled as she pecked at him. Gwydion bellowed in pain. The air thickened and developed an electric quality as he reached for his magic.