“Only if you caught me,” she returned. “But damn, if we’d had both the alphas’ sisters—”
“Dion and Adric would’ve torn each other to pieces.” He shook his head in reluctant admiration. Whoever was behind this, they were smart.
“I’m surprised Adric didn’t kill you right then, that day at the hotel. I was sure he would. Still, you and Marjani? That was almost as good as Rosana and Marjani.”
“Glad to be of use,” he muttered.
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s not about you or your brother. It’s Adric I want.” Her tone was quietly venomous. “He’s too strong—none of us could beat him in a challenge. But your brother just might be able to.”
Footsteps approached. The other, nameless shifter had the scent of a wolf. He muttered something to Shania and then she assented.
“Here.” She pressed a cup to Tiago’s lips. “You must be thirsty.”
And like an idiot, he drank. Blame it on the fact that he was still recovering from his injuries and, on top of that, preoccupied with how to escape, but by the time the slightly-off taste registered, it was too late. He’d already swallowed a mouthful.
“More,” Shania urged.
He clamped his lips shut and shoved her away with his knee. “Bitch. Get that away from me.”
She inhaled sharply but backed up a few feet. He felt her gaze on him. Waiting.
When he got free, he’d… Beneath the blindfold, he blinked dizzily. “What was in that, anyway?” His voice sounded oddly thin.
“Insurance. In case the blindfold isn’t enough.”
“You”—he shook his head—“you…” He forgot what he was going to say.
His eyes drifted shut. He forced them back open, but they soon closed again, and this time, it was too much effort to open them. His head felt as if there were a weight attached to it. He rested his cheek against the brick wall.
His last thought was to curse himself for a fool. Just because Jorge hadn’t drugged him didn’t mean the earth shifters wouldn’t.
When he came to, it was several hours later and he was slumped to one side, his head at an awkward angle. His inner clock wasn’t as certain as usual, but he guessed it was around two or three o’clock. He was about to sit up when he realized Jorge was back. He, Shania and another man were engaged in a hushed argument on the opposite side of the basement.
Tiago strained to hear them, but they were careful to keep their voices pitched too low for him to catch anything but a couple of names: Dion, Orius.
Jorge’s voice rose. “Damn it, you said—”
“Everything will be fine,” the man returned in a frigid voice, “if you don’t lose your head. You get Dion there, and I’ll make sure Adric hears about it. With any luck, all you’ll have to do is sit back and watch them fight.”
Fucking Baltimore shifters. Tiago would’ve shaken his head if it weren’t at such an awkward angle. It figured they were using Jorge to take Adric down. The clan was a frigging nest of rats.
“Four o’clock,” the earth shifter male said.
Tiago frowned. It wasn’t the same man as before. The voice was different. So there were at least three earth shifters involved: two men and Shania.
“I know,” Shania replied. “I’m the one who contacted Rock Run, remember?”
The earth shifter male left and Jorge crossed the basement to Tiago. “Wake up, you S.O.B.” He kicked Tiago’s hip through the blanket.
“I’m up, I’m up.” Tiago pushed himself back up to sitting. “What time is it, anyway?”
“What time is it, Lord Jorge?” prompted the other man.
“What time is it, Lord Jorge?” Tiago echoed flatly.
“Afternoon. Your brother—here soon. He was told to come alone, but I know the man. He will bring others. But you—don’t worry. We take care of them. You—control Dion.”
“I’ll do what I can, but he’s strong. You know that.”
“You must be stronger. I tell Orius—wait until midnight. If he doesn’t hear from me by then, the girl is his.”
Tiago’s lips peeled back in a snarl. Jorge snarled back and Tiago tensed, but Shania approached and murmured something calming, and Jorge walked away without doing anything else.
Tiago rolled his neck, trying to get the kinks out, before resting the back of his head against the wall. Jorge had explained what Tiago was to do: control Dion without making it obvious so that Dion was forced to accept his challenge, and then make sure Dion lost.
Because otherwise, Dion would never let it come to a challenge. By breaking his vow, Jorge had made himself a pariah, outside tradição, the fada system of law. Dion had every right to execute Jorge without following the rituals.
Tiago’s mind churned, trying to find a way out.
If he used his Gift on Dion a second time, his brother would do everything he could to break him. Not even the fact that Alesia was Jorge’s prisoner would be excuse enough. Brother or no, Dion simply couldn’t let the clan know that Tiago had that kind of power over him. If Tiago could force Dion to obey him, then by those same rules of tradição, Tiago was the dominant, and thus should be alpha.
And while Dion was distracted with fighting off Tiago, Jorge would make his move. And Tiago knew damn well he wanted Dion dead.
Jorge might not even let it come to a challenge—why risk it when he could just kill Dion outright?
But if Tiago didn’t help Jorge, Alesia would be at the mercy of these S.O.B.s.
We’ll take your woman and use her every way known to man, and then drop her in the deepest part of the bay.
It was an impossible choice. Tiago’s claws sliced out. Behind his back, he clawed desperately at the leather cord. He had to get out of here. But they must have set some kind of spell on the leather because it remained stubbornly intact. He growled in frustration.
Shania crossed the floor to him. “Just do as he says,” she said in a hard voice. “Or your dryad is dead. Jorge would kill her in a heartbeat. You scented him, didn’t you? He’s going feral, and on top of that, he’s half-crazed with grief. He and Benny were mates, you know.”
Tiago hadn’t known that, but he wasn’t surprised. He almost retorted, Then he should know how it feels to have his mate threatened, but stopped himself in time. He did say, “How the hell can you stand by and let them hurt another woman like that? Maybe you don’t give a damn about Alesia, but Marjani? She’s from your own clan.”
“You think I care? I lost my mate five years ago.”
“You were mated?”
“We hadn’t celebrated the bond yet, but it was there. I could feel it here.” He heard her tap her chest. “His name was Hunter.”
“Hunter?” The name sounded familiar.
“He was there on the island that day with Jace.”
“The bastard who tried to sell Merry Jones to the night fae.”
Word had it that Hunter had been one of a small group trying to wrest control of the Baltimore clan from Adric. All Tiago knew was that the next day, Adric had sent Dion a curt, three-word message: Hunter is dead.
Shania grabbed a fistful of Tiago’s hair and yanked his head back. “He. Was. Not. A bastard—or a traitor,” she growled. “He was just returning the girl to her people. She’s dangerous—a quarter night fae. If they wanted her, why shouldn’t we help them—and ourselves at the same time?” She pushed him from her and paced away.
Tiago knew he should shut up, but he said, “Except that she’s also one-half earth shifter. And anyway, she’d been with Rock Run for two years—she thought of Valeria as her mama.”
“The night fae wanted her. Lord Tyrus is her uncle.”
“And in return, Tyrus would’ve killed Adric for you.” It was a guess, but Shania didn’t disagree.
“He should never have been alpha,” she shot back.
Tiago moved a shoulder. “That’s your clan’s business. But when you involve the night fae—”
“She’s a mixed-blood,” Shania returned.<
br />
“Deus,” Tiago said in disgust. “We’re all mixed-bloods.”
“But in us, the fae blood is just a few drops. Merry Jones is one-quarter fae—and a night fae at that. Let them have her if they want her so bad.”
Tiago shook his head. “She’s just a kid—hell, back then then she was only seven years old. And you know damn well that Tyrus didn’t want her because of any warm family feeling. He wants her dead.”
Across the basement, Jorge gave a sharp, inhuman bark, then started to whine.
Shania immediately went to him and started talking in that same soothing voice she’d used earlier, but Jorge kept whining. It sounded as if he were crouched on the floor, rocking back and forth.
At that weird, high droning, the hairs on Tiago’s nape lifted. The man was getting worse by the minute.
Could it have something to do with Jorge breaking his vow to stay with the Sudanese sun fae? Breaking even a small promise could make you violently sick. Who knew what breaking a vow of that magnitude might do?
Deus, this was fucked. He and Alesia were at the mercy of three nearly-feral shifters and a woman out to avenge her lost mate. And that didn’t count the other two Baltimore shifters, Kelvin and the one who seemed to be running things from behind the scenes.
Tiago told himself that Dion was strong. Jorge wouldn’t find him easy to control, even with Tiago’s help. And Cleia would have her mate’s back. Dion wouldn’t let her within a mile of Jorge, but she’d probably asked her cousin Olivia, the sun fae’s strongest spell caster, to set a protective ward on Dion.
But would that be enough? Tiago had never tested his Gift against a fae ward, but he suspected that together, he and the beast were strong enough to break it—especially if his own mate’s life was at stake.
Shania must’ve somehow succeeded in calming Jorge, because Tiago heard him mutter that he was okay.
She returned to Tiago and told him that she was going to untie him so he could eat. “But first, I want your promise that you won’t try anything.”
“You’ve got it,” he said immediately. His fingers had gone numb again, and there wasn’t much he could do anyway, not with two guards and his eyes bound.
“Turn around, then,” she said, and when he obeyed, undid the leather thong.
This time, he was expecting the pain. He clenched his jaw and worked his arms and fingers until the pins and needles dropped to a bearable level. When he’d regained used of his hands, Shania dropped a plastic bottle and a couple of energy bars onto his lap. He set the bottle aside without drinking it. He was dangerously dehydrated from the long hours without water and whatever they’d drugged him with, but he was damned if he’d fall for another one of their tricks.
She made an impatient sound. “It’s only water. The bottle’s never been opened—see for yourself.”
He picked the bottle up and tested the cap. She was right; the seal was intact. Just to be sure, he unscrewed the lid and took a cautious sniff, but all he could smell was the plastic.
“Drink, already,” Shania said. “Why would we drug you? We need you awake for this.”
That made sense—and he was so dry, he was willing to take the chance. He drained the bottle and then wolfed down the energy bars.
After that, they left him alone. Shania even left his wrists unbound, after extracting a further promise from him not to move from the spot where he was.
He willingly swore whatever she asked. All he could do right now was let this play out.
But he used the time to go through his muscles one by one, stretching and then consciously relaxed them. His chance would come. He had to believe that.
The beast approved.
Yes. Wait. Chance.
Then—kill.
Tiago shook his head ruefully. He still wasn’t used to his beast counseling patience, but for once the two of them were in complete agreement.
They’d wait—and then they’d make their move.
* * *
The Rock Run fada were taking motorcycles to Baltimore. While Dion and Rui finalized the details of who was going where, Cleia gave Alesia boots, gloves and a jacket in a buttery soft brown leather, explaining they were to protect her from the iron.
“The bike body is encased in plastic, but you’ll be on it for close to an hour—maybe more.”
Dryads weren’t as susceptible to the poisonous effects of iron as true fae like Cleia, but an hour was a long time to be in such close proximity to the metal. And iron was nothing to mess with—first it blistered the skin, and then the wound couldn’t heal so that it festered or seeped blood continuously.
“Thanks,” Alesia told her as she gratefully accepted the leather clothing.
“Maybe you’d like a clean shirt, too?” Cleia glanced at Alesia’s sweater, which was gritty from her sleep on the cavern floor last night, and probably smelled as well.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all.” Cleia took her into the bedroom and found a bright red shirt in her closet.
Alesia removed her sweater and put it on. The shirt was fae-tailored and fashioned from a soft material with a sheen that intensified the red. As she buttoned it up, it formed itself to her body as if it had been made for her and not the tall, curvy queen.
As Alesia adjusted Tiago’s necklace on top of the bodice, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She blinked. Was that her?
She looked—hot. Sexy and confident, especially once she donned the fitted jacket and cute little boots. She just wished Dina could see her.
Cleia handed her the leather gloves and said, “Try not to worry.” She grimaced. “Sorry—how can you not be worried? But I’d like to help. May I give you some energy?”
Alesia hesitated and then nodded. “I’d like that.”
Cleia smiled broadly, as if Alesia were doing her a favor, and wrapped her arms around her. A warm glow filled Alesia from the inside out, and her anxiety felt more manageable somehow. She held herself stiff for a few moments, and then gave in and hugged Cleia back. The woman was impossible not to like. And after all, Cleia had sent Tiago away when she’d realized how young he was. It wasn’t her fault that the man had stubbornly refused to let go.
And then Dion was kissing Cleia goodbye and ordering her not to follow him or for that matter, interfere in any way—“And I mean it, minha rainha, this is Rock Run business”—and Rui was hustling Alesia out of the base and into a motorboat along with Dion and the four warriors who were going along with them to Baltimore. She knew Rock Run had women warriors and sentries, but this squad was all men in black leather jackets.
They nodded politely enough to her, and she caught a few surreptitious sniffs, but they were clearly not in the mood to chat. The youngest took out a knife and idly tested the blade with his thumb. She gulped, and the man looked up and caught her staring. He flashed her a smile and she realized it was Tiago’s friend Chico.
She gave an uncertain smile back and then looked down at her hands, interlaced tightly in her lap.
It was a quick trip by boat up Rock Run Creek to the clan garage. Rui handed her a helmet—although she noticed he didn’t use one himself—and made sure she had it on correctly before helping her onto the bike behind him. Together, the six of them roared out of the garage, Dion in the lead, and headed down the wooded country road that led to the interstate and Baltimore.
The morning commute was winding down, but this was I-95 between New York and Washington, DC, so there was still a lot of traffic on the road. The six fada formed a pack and stayed in the fast lane.
Alesia had been in a car perhaps four or five times in her life, and never on a motorcycle. The scenery flew past at a dizzying speed and the roar of the cycle vibrated through her whole body. She set her jaw, tightened her grip on Rui’s waist and leaned when he did, determined not to do anything to slow them down.
The thirty-five mile trip south took close to an hour. By the time they arrived in Baltimore it was eleven o�
��clock and the streets were clogged with cars and delivery trucks. They entered Key Highway and headed toward the Inner Harbor, passing through a neighborhood of upscale condos and funky little restaurants.
They stopped at a traffic light and Dion looked at Alesia. “Where to?” he called over the rumble of six engines.
She concentrated. There. A tug to the northeast. “I think he’s on the other side of the harbor.” She pointed ahead and to the right.
“You sure?”
“No,” she admitted.
For some reason that made him grin. “Okay, querida.” He looked around at his warriors and said what she guessed was the Portuguese equivalent of, “Let’s roll.”
They circled around the harbor past pricey-looking hotels and towering office buildings. Every few blocks, Dion stopped and asked Alesia whether they were going in the correct direction. They were, but it was frustrating—she couldn’t pinpoint Tiago. Then he disappeared completely and for a terrible moment she thought he’d died.
But no, she caught just a hint that he was unconscious—a strange, dreamless unconsciousness.
“Cabrãos probably drugged him,” Rui said when she described it.
They were in Fells Point now, a section of Baltimore that dated to the 1700s. Fells Point had started as a working-class area of shipbuilders and factories, but now it was a picturesque neighborhood with a wharf, cobblestone streets, black iron lampposts and Federal-style rowhouses.
They drove up and down the narrow streets for another fifteen minutes, going further and further from the water, but Alesia couldn’t narrow down Tiago’s location any further.
“He’s near here,” she said with a helpless shrug. “I just don’t know exactly where.”
“Don’t worry,” Dion told her. “Near is good enough. We can find him now.”
The six of them headed back toward the waterfront. There, they bumped down a small cobblestone street that ran along the east side of the harbor and parked the cycles in front of a rowhouse owned by Rock Run.
Rui helped Alesia off the bike. She took off her helmet and shook out her hair, her body still humming from the vibration of the engine.
A couple of men were watching them from across the street. Dion jerked his head at them in acknowledgment.
Tempting the Dryad Page 25