“True, but that last little qualifier killed the deal for me. I prefer my lovers begging me for my dick. It’s good for the ego, especially after they’ve ridden it a few times and know exactly what I can do for them.”
“Then you’ve never had a fitting partner in your bed. There’s a level of ecstasy that can only be found when you give your lover complete control over your body.”
“I’m sure there’s truth in that, but I haven’t experienced it. Have you?”
Her expression closed off. Her body stiffened. And the color drained from her face. She stepped back, breaking their connection.
“Yes, Trevor, I have.”
With those softly spoken words, she turned her back on him and walked away.
He debated going after her. It hadn’t been his intention to hurt her or remind her of her long-dead mate, the one she still mourned even after a millennium. He’d bet that was what he’d done too. A woman like Rowan would only surrender to a man she loved.
He picked up her shoes and headed back the way he’d come. He had to get home before the hounds, who were no doubt watching him from the shadows, had to fade into the Underworld for the day. Otherwise, Rowan would be back, and he didn’t need the reminder of how he’d hurt her. Once was enough.
CHAPTER TWO
She’s staring at me. Again.
Trevor tilted his cell phone to catch the reflection of his living shadow. Rowan leaned against a nearby tree on the other side of the estate’s backyard, one knee bent, with her booted foot flat against the bark. The stance pushed up the short skirt she wore, giving him a teasing glimpse of her crotch. He couldn’t tell what color her panties were from the reflection on his black screen. Green, maybe?
He wanted to turn around and see for himself. Scratch that. He wanted to drag her underwear down with his teeth and bury his face in her folds. Wasn’t going to happen. Actually, if it were up to him, he’d never talk to the female Huntsman again. The woman drove him nuts. Her don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. Her penchant for danger. Her dark moods.
Her damn smile.
He worked his jaw. How could seeing one woman’s smile shatter his world? He didn’t have a clue, but he swore it had. Of course, he’d only seen it once—the day he woke up in the hospital after his little trip to the fairy realm, where he’d been stabbed by a figment of his imagination. He was pretty sure it had been an accident that she let her happiness show too.
She’d turned away the moment after she’d locked gazes with him. He wished she’d done so sooner. That image of her—the wild mess of raven hair framing her face, not a stitch of makeup, a sparkle in her hypnotizing eyes, and her infectious smile—was seared into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, it took center stage, screwing with his libido and his peace of mind. The little encounter in the park yesterday hadn’t helped matters. He’d dreamt about her today. Woken up with his hand wrapped around his cock. Thought about her every moment since.
A thump to Trevor’s head jerked his attention from Rowan. He dropped his phone on his lap, shoved up the leg of his jeans, and reached for the dagger concealed in his boot—an automatic reaction he couldn’t stop. Fingertips on the worn leather hilt, he froze at the sound of Ian’s laughter.
“Lost in your own little world again?”
Trevor forced his hand from the hidden blade that never left his side. “I was just thinking.”
Ian sat on the lawn chair across from him. “About what?”
Nope. He wasn’t divulging his conflicting thoughts about the female Huntsman. Discussing women was not one of his favorite pastimes. After thirty years, he still didn’t understand the human variety. Trying to figure out the inner workings of a damaged demigod who was over a thousand years old? Yeah, he’d have better luck coming up with a solution for world peace.
“The increase of crime in the city and wondering if the new dealer in town is Craig or one of the other redcaps.”
“Are you sure?” Ian leaned forward, the metal lawn chair creaking with the move. Concern pinched his brows. “You had that distracted look on your face I’ve only seen you wear since our trip to the fairy realm.”
“Focused, not distracted. I was thinking.”
“Are you sure you’re not starting to suffer complications? You did experience a lot these past couple of months. Mentally, physically. That takes a toll on a man.”
Complications. That was Ian’s politically correct way of asking if Trevor’s mind was still in one piece or fragmenting the way Allie’s was—confusing reality and what she’d experienced in the fairy realm. It wasn’t the first time Ian had asked him the question. Trevor doubted it’d be the last.
Human minds weren’t strong enough to survive an extended stay in the fairy realm. The living magic in the place messed with its human playthings, twisting everything and giving life to their fears or desires.
“You can keep asking me, but my answer’s going to be the same.” Trevor picked up the wadded piece of notebook paper, the object that had whacked him in the head, and unwrinkled it. “I got attacked soon after waking up in that place. There wasn’t time for it to screw with me.”
Of course, that was a lie. The biggest one he had ever told. He had gotten pulled into an illusion the moment he’d opened his eyes. Rowan had starred in it. A naked, wickedly sexy version of the deadly Hunter, and she’d been worshipping him as if he were her god. Allie’s screams had wiped the delusion away moments before Rowan lowered herself on his erect dick.
Ian grunted, then looked across the backyard of the Huntsmen’s estate. Allie, the only other human who lived in the mansion that used to belong to Ian, sat on a bench with her cell phone in her hand. Dressed in one of the loose sundresses she’d always favored with a flowered headband holding back her blonde hair, she looked exactly as Trevor remembered her before she’d gotten yanked into a world she never knew existed.
Trevor had one up on her in that regard. He’d known about sluaghs and redcaps ever since they’d attacked and killed most of Ian’s human surrogate family, all except Harley, Ian’s half sister and Calan’s mate.
“Are you sure about that?” Ian stared at Trevor a moment, then added, “Allie admitted you had a faraway look on your face and didn’t respond to her until she screamed for you to help her.”
Because Allie had thought she was burning alive. She’d been beating at her sleep shirt and crying when Trevor’s fantasy had crashed around him.
Trevor said a little prayer of forgiveness for using Allie’s issues to take the heat off him, then snorted. “Allie wasn’t too sure what was going on. It took several minutes to calm her down and get her to focus on me.”
Ian studied him a little longer with the dual-ringed hazel-and-brown eyes that marked him as a mated male before shrugging. “Well, if you do start having any issues, let me or someone know.”
Trevor dropped the crinkled paper on the table next to him. “I told you I would.”
“I’m serious. We need to know that your head’s in the right place. If you get caught up in a delusion and hurt an innocent, you’ll never forgive yourself.”
That was the understatement of the century. It wasn’t going to happen, though. He wasn’t experiencing complications. He just couldn’t stop thinking about how freaking hot Rowan had looked sucking his cock in that illusion.
Time to change the subject. Trevor scanned the property, avoiding Rowan’s gaze, and brought up a topic sure to capture his friend’s focus—Ian’s Hunter mate. “Where’s Tegan? I thought we were going into the city tonight.”
“I doubt Tegan will be back in time to go anywhere. She’s still in the Underworld.” The concerned expression returned to Ian’s face.
“Why is she there? Doesn’t duty demand she remain here, where there’s a threat to humans?”
Ian gazed off in the direction of the butterfly garden and the entrance to the Underworld. Why the Huntsmen chose that spot to open the portal leading to Hell was a mystery to Trevor. They could open a doorway
anywhere.
“Arawn needs her. He’s hurting because of Minerva’s infidelity. When he lets Tegan hug or touch him, we can take his pain.”
Minerva’s affair with Lucas, the former angel and reigning demon king who’d fathered Ian, had knocked Arawn for a loop. As the Lord of the Underworld, he probably thought himself above betrayal. Because, really, who in their right mind would want to piss off the devil.
Then again, the Huntsmen claimed their father wasn’t evil. He was a man forced to be the final judge, jury, and jailer of the world. Learning that his mate had not only conceived a child with another man, but hid Ian among the humans, hoping Arawn would never learn of her infidelity, would be a kick in the gut.
Shit happened, though, and people weren’t perfect. Neither were the gods, according to the stories Rowan and the other Hunters told. Arawn had to deal with it and move on, or be miserable for eternity.
“We, as in you and Tegan?”
“Yeah. I can share the power I inherited from Minerva, or maybe from Lucas, with Tegan. That’s how this mate business works.” Ian grinned. “You know, two halves of a whole. What’s mine is hers and vice versa.”
“Except for the little ability to change into a beast from Hell.”
The alternate form the Huntsmen could take resembled a cross between a demon dog and a human. It was frighteningly beautiful. He wasn’t afraid to admit seeing Calan’s for the first time had scared the shit out of him. Not so much because of Calan’s inhuman form. No, what had left Trevor unsteady was the sensation that had settled over him, as if Calan had judged his unworthiness in one glance. Since Calan refused to invite him to become a Hunter, Trevor couldn’t help thinking whatever Calan had seen had sealed Trevor’s fate.
Leaving him to sit on the sidelines.
Ian shrugged. “I was never meant to be a Hunter. My tie to the angels conflicts with the violent rage of the Huntsmen.”
Trevor laughed. “You’re a damn incubus, just like your daddy. That’s a long way from heaven, buddy.”
“Tegan would disagree. She says that I take her to heaven every time—”
“Don’t even go there. I don’t want to know about your sex life.” It would reinforce how lame Trevor’s was since he’d gotten caught up in the Huntsmen’s world. “I’ll see if Zeph or one of the other Hunters will let me tag along.”
“Rowan might. She’s headed into the city.”
Trevor glanced her way before he could stop himself. She caught his gaze. Held it. Lust slid into her expression, softening the pissed-off look she often wore. Then she promptly turned away to talk to her brother Rhys, who stepped beside her.
“Good for her. I’m not joining her.”
“What’s your problem with Rowan? It’s not like you to ignore a woman, especially when it’s obvious she wants you.”
“Rowan wants a cock to use.” Trevor shrugged. “She’s not getting mine.”
“And you’re withholding it because…”
“Because I want to be a Huntsman, not a Hunter’s lover.”
“And how exactly would sleeping with Rowan stop that?”
“Calan wouldn’t take me seriously. Even if he did, Rowan wouldn’t let me out of her sight.”
Ian looked pointedly from Rowan’s back to Trevor’s face. “Newsflash, but she already watches you.”
As if Trevor needed the reminder. No matter where he was, it seemed as if she were close by…coincidentally, of course.
“Well, I don’t need to encourage her, do I? She’ll get past her overprotectiveness once she realizes I’m all healed up from the attack.”
Or at least that was the excuse he’d heard she gave her brothers when they questioned her about her interest in him.
“Well, okay. Good luck with that, then.” Ian propped his feet on the table separating them. “Give me a call when Zeph and the others leave you behind. We can go over the stack of police reports I have and see if there’re any that fit the redcaps’ profiles.”
Analyzing crime data was something they’d often done before the Huntsmen were released from their prison a couple of months back. Tracking those attacks that hinted of Unseelie involvement was one of the few ways they’d been able to battle the demented creatures. He’d always gotten satisfaction from figuring out their patterns and anticipating their moves. Yeah, not anymore. He wanted to be out there, fighting them. Killing them.
“Sure, I’ll do that.”
Once he was too damn old and frail to gut a sluagh.
CHAPTER THREE
“Have you figured out if Trevor is the reincarnation of your mate?”
Rowan reluctantly tore her gaze from Trevor and met Rhys’s silver eyes. “You’re kidding me, right? Trevor is nothing like Kai. My mate was kind, attentive, romantic. Trevor is rude, obnoxious, and vulgar.”
“True.” Rhys nodded. “He’s also captured your interest.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m protective of him. That I’ll admit to, but it’s because I feel guilty. I am the reason he got stabbed.”
The fairy realm had fed off her memories and conjured the scene of her mating. It just so happened Kai had been stabbed to death before he’d completed the bond that would’ve tied him to her immortality.
Silence stretched without any movement or response from Rhys. He watched her with his trademark piercing gaze as if trying to read her inner thoughts. That was impossible. He couldn’t even connect with her telepathically. Only Calan, as their leader, had that ability. Still, it didn’t change the way her skin crawled under Rhys’s probing study. Her elder brother could coerce an innocent man to admit to murder.
Finally, she dropped her foot to the ground and faced Rhys. “Say it.”
“I still don’t understand why the fairy realm would’ve used that particular memory as a lure to capture you.”
“Umm…maybe because that’s the one that still haunts me? Unlike some of our siblings, I don’t hide what my torture was while we were imprisoned. For a millennium, I mourned Kai’s death. If the fairy realm wanted to trap me, why—”
“Why would it pick the one memory you expect to torment you?”
She frowned. Why did he have to ask? Rhys, along with all her siblings, had mourned Kai’s death with her. When one member of their Teulu, their family of Hunters, hurt, they all did. That was the nature of their bond. “Because no matter how many times I relive it, that’s the one that still hurts.”
“But it’s also one you no longer react to.” Rhys held up a hand. “You grieve. I won’t argue that. If you didn’t, your suffering wouldn’t have appeased the fairy curse placed upon us, but recalling that night will not make you act. You know your mate is dead and gone. Nothing will bring him back, so why would you jump into the fairy ring to save him?”
Truth or lie? Either would invite more of Rhys’s scrutiny. It was obvious her brother had decided her issues were the next mystery he had to solve.
She motioned to Allie, who idly scrolled through some social media platform, one of her biggest hobbies. “Why don’t you go hound Allie instead of me? It’s obvious the girl needs your intervention more than I do.”
Without looking at her, he said, “Allie is twenty-three. Almost twenty-four. That makes her a woman, not a girl.”
“Okay. She’s a sheltered young woman who prances around here as if the world is one big sandbox for her to play in.”
Silence stretched while Rhys stared at Rowan. Finally, he bent closer and lowered his voice. “I won’t deny that Allie has issues that need to be dealt with, but we were talking about you, not her. Answer my question, sister. Why would the living magic suddenly think you’d react to the memory of your mate’s death?”
She glanced over her shoulder and focused on Trevor. “Because it wasn’t Kai who starred in that particular memory.”
“It was Trevor.”
Naked. Strong. And deliciously sexy. “Yes.”
“Why would you be thinking of him instead of the male you loved?”
She didn’t have a clue but wasn’t about to admit that to her brother. She huffed and faced Rhys. “Please. Do we have to psychoanalyze my actions and thoughts now? Can’t it wait until…oh, I don’t know…never?”
Rhys stretched his right arm in front of him, palm side up. The jagged black line indicating the status of the curse he held stretched from between his middle and ring finger to his wrist. Once it started to lengthen, snaking up his arm, he’d know he was living on borrowed time. All the Huntsmen except Calan and Tegan had a similar mark. It only disappeared when they overcame their particular challenge.
“Hold out your arm.”
“I’m not the next pawn in the Triad’s game. I looked at the mark yesterday. It was fine.”
Rhys didn’t move or ask her again. He watched her with that calculating look on his face. She matched his pose, palm up and fingers splayed.
“Nice glove. Take it off.”
She’d worn leather gloves—sometimes only on her left hand, sometimes on both—since the night Kai died. The sight of the single circle on her palm, her partial mate bond, chilled her, even after a millennium.
She’d cut off the skin if she could. Actually, she had, many times. Unfortunately, being the daughter of Arawn, the Lord of the Underworld, meant she’d heal any wound, even the loss of her head. Immortality put a real damper on committing suicide. Covering up the reminder of Kai worked better for her peace of mind.
She wiggled her fingers. White leather fingerless gloves covered her hand from her knuckles to her wrist. The modern world with its many clothing options allowed her to turn the necessary shield into a fashion statement. “But my wrist shows. See? No line extending up my arm. You’ll have to go inspect our brothers’ marks to see if the Triad has picked its next pawn yet.”
That was all they were to the triple-faceted god that ruled over all. Objects to use and manipulate in some celestial game of good versus evil where none of the players, besides the Triad, knew the rules. The only advice given to them was the words whispered into their heads as the mark of their damnation was seared into their skin.
Hunter Mourned (Wild Hunt Book 3) Page 2