Cutie and the Beast

by E. J. Russell

  “Easy, cariad. I’ve got them.” A rustle of fabric, and Alun’s hands were between them, making short work of his cuff buttons. “But what?”

  Without the shirt, the scent of Alun’s skin overwhelmed David, soap and the sharp tang of male sweat at the end of the day, overlaid by a half-familiar wild scent and the unmistakable musk of his arousal.

  David closed his eyes—so what if it’s stupid in the dark?—and breathed it in.

  “But what?” Alun’s voice was laced with amusement.

  “What what?”

  “What about your name?”

  “Oh.” Another deep breath. Mmm. I could live on that smell. “The American version was easier for people to say.” David leaned forward and nuzzled Alun’s chest, sampling the skin of his solid pectoral with the tip of his tongue. The flavor was just . . . wow. Salty, with a hint of spice and an almost effervescent edge. He tastes like adventure.

  David let his lips and tongue continue their exploration. Nipple. Yes! He suckled there until Alun moaned and laced his fingers through David’s hair.

  “Dafydd. Oak and thorn, I want you.”

  “Excellent,” David murmured, and trailed kisses across the acre of chest, aiming for the other nipple.

  But halfway there, he encountered a different texture under his lips and pulled back, tracing the spot with gentle fingers. The ridge of scar tissue had to be over an inch across, and it extended from Alun’s clavicle all the way down to his waistband, possibly beyond, although considering the length and solidity of the cock that had been riding David’s hip bone moments ago, he wasn’t incapacitated.

  “What . . . Alun, what is this?” David pulled away and reached for the light switch, but Alun grabbed him.

  “Don’t.”

  “What happened to you?”

  Alun released him, and one bare shoulder brushed David’s wrist as he bent down and, judging by the sound of rustling fabric, retrieved his shirt. “The curse. It’s all part of the curse.”

  “Let me—”

  “No!” Alun’s growl rivaled his tone on the first day they met. “It’s bad enough you have to look at my face during the day. You don’t need—”

  “Wait a minute. So the dark closet wasn’t just kinky sexy fun times? You don’t want me to see you?” Heat of a different sort replaced David’s earlier lust. “Screw that, Alun.” David groped for the light switch and flipped it on.

  Alun blinked furiously in the sudden brightness and turned, hunching his shoulders as he buttoned his shirt.

  “You don’t have to hide from me.” David laid his hand on Alun’s shoulder and pulled him around, which was damned hard to do, considering the man was six foot bazillion and solid muscle. But David was nothing if not persistent, and Alun finally sighed and gave in.

  He kept his head bowed, his arms crossed over his partially buttoned shirt. David unfolded those arms and unbuttoned that shirt. The scar was as wide and long as he had imagined, the angry red of a recently healed wound rather than the faded track of one as old as this must be.

  David touched the scar, gently tracing its length from Alun’s collar bone to below his navel, where it disappeared behind his trousers. Alun clenched his eyes shut, and David could practically hear his teeth grinding.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “Only when you do that.”

  David snatched his hand away. “Shoot. I’m sorry—”

  Alun’s eyes snapped open, and he grabbed David’s shoulders. “Not your touch. Your gaze. It hurts when you see how truly ugly I am. I want—” He swallowed, and his hands flexed on David’s shoulders. “I wish I were still beautiful. For you.”

  “But you are. You have lips.” David kissed him to prove it. “Amazing lips. You have the most gorgeous, soulful hazel eyes on the planet.” He planted a trail of kisses from one of Alun’s eyelids, across the bridge of his nose to the other. “And your heart. The way you want to help people, protect them. That’s incredible. Everything else? Incidental.”

  “Everything?” Alun flexed his hips, pressing their groins together.

  David grinned. “Well, I’ve got to admit that’s a huge attraction.” He ground back, their erections tight behind their trousers. “Really huge. But beauty isn’t just in the skin. It’s inside too. Think of Mr. Hoffenberg.”

  Alun scowled, and on his misshapen features, to someone who didn’t know him as well as David did, the expression was fricking scary. “You think he’s hot?”

  “Sweetheart, everyone, including him, thinks he’s hot, but I wouldn’t touch him with a cattle prod. I may be a sex-starved boyfriend-repellent klutz, but I’m not that desperate.”

  Alun grunted and rolled up his sleeves. “No. Only desperate enough to consort with a monster.”

  “Hey. None of that.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m—” Alun sighed as he buttoned his shirt. “Grant me a little grace, David. I’ve been a beast for many times your lifetime. It will take an effort to get used to this.”

  Reluctantly, David set his own clothes to rights. “Don’t take too long.”

  “Why? Are you— Do you want to leave me?”

  “No. Heck no. But I may expire of sexual frustration if we can’t get any further than closetus interruptus.”

  Alun followed David into the reception lobby, head down as he retied his tie. Oak and thorn, what a disaster. After two centuries with his own shame as a constant companion, it had taken him over a week to work up the courage for this encounter. Yet despite David’s apparent enthusiasm, not to mention the desire coursing through his own veins, Alun couldn’t bear to face a lover in the light—especially David, whom he wanted so desperately to impress. How could he, though, if David were able to see every imperfection, every mark of Alun’s failure, imprinted on his skin and in the misshapen bones of his face?

  David claimed that Alun’s ugliness didn’t matter, but how long would that last?

  “Hello, Mr. Kendrick.” Alun’s head snapped up at David’s overbright greeting. Mal was lounging in David’s chair, his feet propped on the desk, ankles crossed. “We weren’t expecting to see you today.”

  Mal’s gaze flicked from David’s face to Alun’s, and he smirked, damn the man. “Clearly. But then, nothing pleases me more than making a nuisance of myself.”

  Alun felt his habitual scowl settle into place at the way his brother scoped out David, at the urge to push himself in front of David, blocking Mal’s view of something he considered his territory—further evidence that his curse hadn’t eradicated his possessive fae nature or his Sidhe battle instincts.

  “Mal. I thought you were going to call.” Alun insinuated himself between David and his brother, allowing his arm to graze David’s chest, his hand to dangle by his side, directly in front of David’s groin. Mal’s shrewd gaze didn’t miss that message: Back off. He’s mine.

  Judging by an exasperated sigh from David, he hadn’t missed it either. Shite.

  “I was in the neighborhood. Besides.” Mal dropped his feet to the floor and stood up, all the sly mischief draining from his expression, leaving his face tense and bleak. “We need to talk.”

  David stepped out from behind Alun. “Shall I bring coffee for you both?”

  “No,” Alun growled at the same time Mal said, “Absolutely.”

  David patted Alun’s arm. “I’ll make a fresh pot.” He disappeared down the hallway into the kitchenette.

  “Let’s go, then, and you’ll be out of here sooner.” Alun stalked into his office and dropped into the wingback chair. “Although if you sent David away for the sake of privacy, you’re wasting your effort. He’ll just tease the news out of me when you’ve gone.”

  Mal tensed with an abortive grab to where his sword hilt would be. “You told him about us? About supes? Gwydion’s bollocks, man, are you fecking mental? I’m the one who’ll have to bring you in to face— Wait. Why didn’t the alarm sound? Why isn’t the Queen already on my arse to arrest you?”

  “Because I
didn’t break the Pact, obviously.”

  “You want me to believe yon boyo figured it out on his own? He’s sharp, I’ll grant you, but fae living in the Outer World isn’t an ordinary leap of logic.”

  “His aunt is a druid. She did it.”

  “Bloody hell,” Mal muttered, dropping onto the sofa. “She’s got to have an ulterior motive. Druids. There’s—”

  “Always a catch. Yes, I’m aware. But, in this case, I believe her reasons are pure.”

  “A druid? Not likely. They’re as canny as a whole pack of foxes and as twisty as the path to the hells—and they never have only a single objective.”

  Alun shook his head. “Her love for David is clear. I believe her to be motivated only by her care for him.”

  “Did she get what she wanted?”

  Alun sat back, considering the question as a thread of doubt burrowed into his belly. Druid ways were mysterious even to the fae, but they had similar ties to nature and the power sleeping deep within the earth. Perhaps the changes in the Outer World, the same ones that affected the fae and the other supe races, interfered with their rituals as well.

  David was once more ensconced here in the office, with greater access to secrets about the most disturbed members of the supe community. Could Cassie want David here as a spy? It was the druids’ job to know everything—could this be how they achieved their apparent omniscience? Not through arcane divination, but through a vast network of informants?

  He scowled. Whatever Cassie’s reasons, he refused to believe David would divulge details about any client. The man was too serious about his job, too competent.

  “Enough. Say your piece.”

  “You look better than last time. I think your jaw may have shrunk a couple of centimeters.”

  “If that’s all you’ve come to say, you can leave now.” Alun started to rise, but Mal waved him down.

  “Don’t be so bloody touchy. You’re worse than a molting gryphon. Have you made your decision about the Revels?”

  “No decision to make. Looking like this, I couldn’t get past the portal if I wanted to.”

  “Say there was a way. Would you consider it?”

  Alun’s brows drew together, and he searched his brother’s face for signs of a trick. Goddess knew it wouldn’t be the first time Mal had tried to take the piss out of him. “Why?”

  Mal leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and laced his fingers together. “There’s going to be a ceremony.”

  Alun rolled his eyes. “If you’re trying to entice me, you’re going about it the wrong way. I avoided ceremonies when I was part of the Court. Why would I want to go to this one?”

  “Because it’s different. I told you about the shift in Court politics, the unrest by some of the disenfranchised groups, the power play by the Daoine Sidhe.”

  “So? They’ve been jockeying for position since the Unification. They never thought that the Welsh or the Bretons should have been allowed in, let alone the Manx or the Cornish. I’m not sure they don’t consider the Scots beneath them, for all that the Queen is a Scot.”

  “The Queen wants to put an end to it. She’s demanding an oath of fealty from all members of the Court. Individually.”

  Alun snorted. “One at a time? She won’t be able to do that at the Revels. It is the shortest night of the year, after all.”

  “Only the highest ranking courtiers will swear the oath at the Revels. She’s been making the rounds of all the lower orders for weeks. By the solstice, the only ones left will be the high lords.”

  “Sounds like a nightmare. Enjoy yourself.”

  Mal punched his palm with his fist and swore under his breath. “You have to be there, Alun, we all do. Gareth’s making an appearance.”

  Alun’s teeth clenched. Serious then. Gareth hadn’t willingly set foot in Faerie since his own lover had been kidnapped by Unseelie fae. “Quite the occasion. Sorry I’ll miss it.”

  “You can’t. Anyone who fails to take the oath will be exiled from Faerie permanently.”

  “I can’t be more permanently exiled than I already am.”

  “Not only that, you’ll be declared an enemy of the Court and a fugitive from the Queen’s justice. With a price on your head, literally. Any fae, Seelie or Unseelie, who brings in an unsworn will be rewarded.” Mal glared at Alun. “The head does not have to be attached to the body.”

  The idea of the Unseelie hordes and the stray ambitious Seelie lordling on his arse didn’t worry Alun overmuch on his own account. However, collateral damage in fae feuds could be cataclysmic, and he now had David to consider.

  “Can’t I take the oath by proxy?”

  Mal shook his head. “No. In person, on bended knee, head bowed to receive the Queen’s beneficence. You know the drill. Of course, there’s a little twist this time. The oath is not just to the Queen herself, it’s to the Unified Seelie Court—and the Consort.”

  Alun’s head snapped back in shock. “An oath to the Consort? Why in all the hells—”

  “He’s Daoine Sidhe. It’s the Queen’s way of placating their faction, and you have to admit, they’re formidable.”

  Alun thrust himself out of the chair and strode to the window behind his desk, the blinds now open to reveal the flickering lights of the street below. “Blast. You can wager anything you like that this plot is of the Consort’s making. He’s had it in for me since I bested him in that ridiculous archery tournament.” Three bloody centuries ago. The fae could hold a grudge forever.

  “No, brother.” Mal’s voice took on a softer note, conciliatory, something Alun had heard perhaps twice in his life. “He’s aware that the Queen nearly chose you as Consort.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “But she discussed it with you.”

  “I refused the honor.” He’d already met Owain by then. Even if her suggestion hadn’t been purely political, as opposed to physical or romantic, there had been no question. “And it was a private meeting.”

  “You think any meeting in Faerie is truly private? Shite, man, even the trees are as likely to be sentient as not.”

  “Trees aren’t gossips.”

  “No, but their dryad companions are.”

  “I hardly think—”

  “It doesn’t matter how he found out. He knows. And he considers you the biggest threat to his authority.”

  “He has nothing to fear from me. Even if I wanted his place, which I don’t and never did, I’m barred from Faerie. I can’t even pass the bloody threshold.” Alun’s breath stuttered to a halt, then released in a rush. “That’s his plan, isn’t it? I won’t be able to take the oath, and he’ll be able to kill me with impunity.”

  “That’s my theory anyway.”

  “So if I manage to crash this thrice-damned party—”

  “A party?” David said from the door, the coffee tray jiggling as he bounced on his toes. “What kind of party? Are we all going?”

  Mal met Alun’s glare, and his mouth curled up in the wicked grin that presaged every scrape he’d embroiled Alun in since they were striplings. “A once-in-a-lifetime party, boyo. The Midsummer Revels, in the very heart of Faerie.”

  David’s eyes widened, making him look more than ever like a wood sprite. “Get out. Really?”

  “Really and truly. Interested?”

  “Are you kidding? Of course. Can I—”

  “We’re not going,” Alun growled.

  “We’re not? Oh.” David blinked, the bright joy of his expression fading to uncertainty. “Is it because you don’t want to be seen with me?”

  “Shite, no. I’d be proud to be seen with you, but—”

  “Is it . . . is it because I’m a man?”

  Mal took his cup from David’s tray. “Nah. In Faerie, gender is . . .” Mal waggled his hand back and forth “. . . optional. It’s because my brother won’t put himself out. Afraid of a little effort and a little pain.” Mal took a sip of coffee. “All right, a lot of pain.”

  Pain. If anyone could handle pa
in, Alun could—he’d lived with it every day for over two hundred years. If a little more were the only cost, Alun would gladly pay—to see admiration in David’s eyes just this once. To have a chance to make love to him without worrying about repulsing him with every touch.

  “All right. You win, provided you’re not blowing smoke out your arse,” Alun said, snatching his own cup off the tray. “Tell me your plan, but wipe that damned smug smile off your face before you do.”

  If anything, Mal’s grin widened. “Well, then. Get ready for an epic celebration, David bach, because in a few days’ time, you’ll be partying with the fae.”

  On the solstice, Alun scheduled his last patient at seven so he’d have time to prepare for crossing into Faerie with whatever alchemy Mal had conjured up.

  David had almost vibrated with excitement all day, charming all the clients—including surly Jackson Hoffenberg—even more than usual. Charming Alun more than usual too, if he wanted to admit the truth.

  He bounded into Alun’s office at eight fifteen, as Alun finished dictating the last chart notes for Benjamin Tomlinson. He had exchanged his office attire—which was distracting enough—for a pair of brown leather pants so tight that Alun’s mouth went dry, a collarless white shirt open at the throat, and a suede vest with gold trim.

  “What do you think?” He raised his arms and turned in a slow circle. “Will this pass muster at a fae jamboree? You told me only natural fibers or skins. Nothing synthetic, and no base metal.” He traced the stitching on his vest. “Gold is all right though, isn’t it? And stones?” He touched his onyx earring.

  “Yes.” Alun laid down his recorder and growled, “Come here.”

  David grinned and shook his head. The track lighting glinted on the highlights in his hair, and Alun had never wanted anyone, even Owain, more than he wanted David in this moment.

  “No, sir. I don’t want to risk being late. It’s our first date outside the supply closet. I want it to be perfect.”

  A date. Is that how he saw this? Alun blinked, and a slow smile stretched his lips. Yes. It was a date, in that he’d have the chance to spend time with David in a social setting, maybe arrange some alone time in one of his favorite spots in Faerie, the grotto on the other side of the hill from the ceilidh glade, a place he hadn’t visited in two hundred years.