A Taste for Blood (The Godhunter, Book 6)

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A Taste for Blood (The Godhunter, Book 6) Page 8

by Sumida, Amy


  “Uh huh,” I took a seat off to the side, a safe distance away from his claws. “Just so you know, I have four boyfriends and I don't need any more.”

  “Four?” He sat up in surprise. “You saucy wench. How do you manage four men? Are they all seeing other women?”

  “No, we're faithful to each other.”

  “So they're bisexual?”

  “No, I mean they're all faithful to me and I'm faithful to them,” I frowned at his raised brows.

  “How is it that you consider being with four men, being faithful?”

  “Because they all know about each other and I don't add any others to the mix,” I shrugged. “It's a lion thing. I need multiple lovers or I go a little crazy.”

  “Verily?” He leaned against one of the tree/posters. “How fascinating. I fail to see why a fifth would matter then. Especially if it's with someone in another realm who they shall never meet. They need not even know.”

  “Ah, and there's where the faithful part comes in,” I smirked. “I don't cheat on my men, Faerie Realm or not.”

  “And what if you can never get back to your men?” My face fell and he looked instantly contrite. “Most likely, the High King will be able to find a way to send you through. It just hasn't been done in years. I was trying to prepare you for the worst.”

  “I have to get back,” I thought of Kirill's face right before I left and my heart clenched. To never see him again? No. What had I been thinking to risk him, to risk all of them and what we had together? If I didn't get back, Trevor would die. “I'm bonded to a werewolf. He'll die without me. I have to get home.”

  “A werewolf,” he shook his head. “This just gets better and better. What are your other lovers? Oh let me guess... a vampire? Oh no, that's too obvious, hold on, hold on. Uh... a leprechaun? Oh wait, that's one of ours. I know... an angel!”

  “How the fuck did you know that?” I stood up, my eyes narrowing suspiciously on him.

  “Sweet nectar of lust,” he exclaimed as he sat up straight again. “You're fucking an angel? Truly?”

  “That was just a guess?” I eased back down but kept my narrowed gaze on him. “Truly?”

  “Yeah,” he huffed. “Damn, I am impressed. How did you get with an angel? Oh and which one? I've met a few of them, I may know him.”

  “It was through work,” I huffed a laugh, “and his name's Azrael.”

  “The death angel?” He ran a hand through his short, black hair, so similar to Azrael's. “Now that one I've never had the pleasure of meeting. Kind of a loner if I remember right.”

  “It's because of his job,” I said defensively.

  “Alright,” he held up a hand, “don't get all twisty. I was just sharing what I knew.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I sat back, relaxing a bit. Then another knock drew both of our attentions but before I could get up to answer, Danal strode in.

  “Vervain,” he started but stopped when he saw Roarke. “What is he doing here?”

  “We're just talking,” Roarke got to his feet with fluid grace, “and I'm just leaving.”

  “Yes, you most certainly are,” Danal followed him out, slammed the door behind him, and then swung around to face me. “He is not fit company for a lady. Do not let his pleasant face seduce you.”

  “I wasn't,” I laughed. “Don't worry Danal, I'm not interested in Roarke and I'm not planning on being here long enough to worry about anyone's interest.”

  “Well,” he frowned, “okay then.”

  “You came to escort me to dinner?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Okay but before we go, I have a couple of questions.”

  “I'll try my best to answer them,” he took a seat in one of the other spindly chairs.

  “I've heard that I shouldn't eat or drink anything here,” I grimaced, “and I probably shouldn't trust anything you say to me about it, if the stories are true.”

  “You're a goddess,” he frowned. “You should know all about the stories humans come up with and how they're only based loosely on truth.”

  “Yeah, I do but I'm wondering, in the case of faeries, which part is the truth.”

  “Let's think about this rationally,” he pursed his lips before continuing. “If we wanted to bespell you with food or drink, we'd have to place an enchantment over your food and your food alone, which I admit has been done in the past to keep favored mortals in Faerie, but to do that now, to you, we'd have to know which food you would choose to eat at the banquet. A task that is tremendously difficult and for a result that may not be to our liking.”

  “So you're saying you don't know if anyone wants to keep me here, much less would want to put the effort into keeping me here against my will?”

  “Precisely,” he nodded. “There's a chance you may not leave anyway. So why would anyone waste spellcraft on keeping you here when it may prove unnecessary?”

  “Hmmm,” I thought about it. “Also a good point. Okay, I'll give you that. Now how about saying thank you? I've read that you should never thank the fey, that it implies an obligation and can get you in trouble.”

  “Oh please,” he rolled his eyes. “I never understood that one. Saying thank you is simple courtesy. Why would you deny anyone simple courtesy, much less a faerie who could magic you if you pissed them off?”

  “So I can say thank you?”

  “Yes, by all means,” he waved his hand loftily, “thank anyone you'd like.”

  “Okay, how about those little faeries I've seen running about,” I frowned, trying to think of a better description. “The ones with the big noses and dark skin.”

  “Brownies,” he nodded, “they're harmless. They do most of the menial work around here, cooking, cleaning, that kind of thing. They're pretty good-natured and as long as you don't harass them, they'll be kind to you. Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, you mentioned that you were from the House of Air.” I'd never heard of faeries divided by element and the witch in me was fascinated. “What does that mean?”

  “Faerie is divided into five houses,” he took on the tones of a college professor. “The House of Air, which I was born into, are the flying fey, like the bean-sidhes, the will o' the wisps, and so forth. The House of Earth are those sidhe born with ties to the earth, such as your green ladies, leprechauns, trows, hags, and brownies. The House of Fire are the hot fey, dragons...”

  “Dragons?” I blinked. Dragons were faeries? I thought about the eyes my pendant had showed me. Maybe they weren't Nidhogg's eyes after all. “There are faerie dragons?”

  “There were sidhe dragons,” he corrected. “Now there is only one, the King of the House of Fire. He's a sidhe fey who can change into a dragon form. There is still an aspect of the beast present on him, even while in man guise, so he'll be pretty easy to recognize. He's very volatile and should be approached with care, if at all. You probably should just stay away from him.”

  “Will I be meeting him tonight?”

  “Possibly,” he frowned. “I believe some of the Fire House is in attendance. Whether or not their King is, I don't know. If word of your arrival has spread, which I'm sure it has, there may be more arriving. Just to get a look at the human.”

  “Fantastic,” I grimaced, “now I'm a sideshow freak.”

  “Humans have always held a fascination for us and they have been lost to us for a very long time. You can't blame them for wanting a glimpse.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I harrumphed.

  “Now, the House of Fire also includes goblins, best to stay away from them too, especially the red caps which are the larger, nastier versions. You'll know them by their bloody hats, thus the name. Also there are phookas, and leanan-sidhe, actually, just stay away from the entire House of Fire as a general rule.”

  “Right,” I frowned, “fire bad.”

  He rolled his eyes and continued. “The House of Water includes all the water fey, your kelpies, mermaids, selkies, asrai, merrows, and so on. Then the final House is the House of Spirit
, this is simply the classification of the ruling sidhe. They can in fact be from any House but once they marry into the High royalty, they become Spirit. King Cian was born into Spirit, his coloring displays this as most children of Spirit tend to be pale, but Queen Maera, she was born into Fire.”

  “Fire?” He'd just warned me off Fire and now he was saying I couldn't avoid one.

  “Yes, she's a leanan-sidhe.”

  “And that means what exactly?”

  “The leanan-sidhe are all very pale, night loving sidhe. They tend to have a lot of female children and so marry outside of their race quite frequently. Their blood is strong though and often children of mixed alliances will lean more toward their leanan-sidhe bloodline.” He paused for effect, his eyes glinting mischievously. “They are what your people call vampires. They drink blood for sustenance.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Oh, okay?” He frowned, evidently not the reaction he was hoping for.

  “I know the Vampire God back home,” I shrugged. “They've kind of lost their wow-factor for me.”

  “Huh,” he huffed. “Those vampires are different, a mistake, I believe. The leanan-sidhe were born as such,” he sniffed. “Well that's the Houses of Faerie. Any more questions?”

  “Yeah, how do those fragile wings carry you?”

  “So asks the woman who can change into a lion,” he huffed. “Magic, girl. I'm magic.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The dining room of the High Court of Faerie was a bit unexpected. It was round, the walls made entirely of twisting roots and vines instead of the polished wood I'd seen everywhere else. So you could see through them in spots, catching glimpses of food bearing brownies or late-comers. In the center of the circle of vines, was the dining table, if you could call it that. It was a huge spiral, with one throne-like chair at the center end and a smaller throne right next to it at the inner curve. From there on there were normal sized chairs to either side of the spiral, all the way to its winding end.

  “How long does it take to get to the center?” I whispered to Danal.

  “Awhile,” he chuckled, “but that's part of the socializing. You stop and talk to people along the way to your seat.”

  “So when do you think we'll actually be eating?”

  “Oh, some fey have started already,” he waved his hand to indicate the lucky few who were seated on the outer end of the spiral.

  “Uh huh,” I smirked, having a feeling we wouldn't be so lucky. “And where will we be sitting?”

  “At the place of honor,” he laughed. “The very center, right beside the High King and Queen.”

  “Of course,” I sighed. “Let's get a move on then. I'm starving.”

  “Ah,” he plucked a pastie from the tray of a passing brownie. “Not to worry. We fey don't deny ourselves pleasure. There will be sustenance along the way.”

  “Sweet!” I took the offered pastry. “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome,” he beamed and led me into the spiral.

  Soon, we were wading through a sea of faeries, most of them intent on stopping us for conversation. They looked me over with eyes too big or too small, brightly colored or with oddly shaped pupils. Delicate hands reached out to touch me as well as thick ones tipped with long claws. Lips stretched in amusement, some a little too wide, some with a touch of cruelty, and some with just too many teeth behind them. It was dizzying and exciting. I thought my world had been full of magic before, but the Realm of Faerie had opened my eyes to even more fantasy. The artist in me was fascinated.

  Gods could be creepy or strange. They could do wondrous things and horrible ones. The fey had those aspects to them as well, most definitely, but they weren't gods. These people, these beings, were unlike anything I'd ever seen. More terrifying and more beautiful than any god or goddess I'd ever met. For me, it was like standing outside the massive aquarium at Sea Life Park. I loved leaning against the glass, staring at the beautiful fishes while they swam alongside sharks in peaceful harmony. It was the only way I could appreciate the ocean, with that thick partition between us but here, in Faerie, there was no glass to keep me safe. I was swimming with the sharks.

  Just like those denizens of the deep, there was a different kind of intelligence behind the faerie stares. Reasoning that was alien to mine. I knew, without a doubt, that there were fey in the room who would tear me to pieces just for the fun of it, or just to see what my insides looked like, and they would do it with child-like joy and complete assurance in the appropriateness of the act. These were not humans and they were not gods, they were faeries and I needed to remember that if I was going to make it home with my head attached.

  “Lady Vervain,” a silky voice wrapped around me, twisting into places it didn't have a right to be going.

  I turned and stared. The room was full of strangely beautiful beings but this one struck a chord in me, vibrating through my body and tuning me to his music. It was dark symphony, with sharp leaps and terrifying drops, all glimpsed through the slitted pupils of his bright yellow eyes. Dragon eyes. I knew who he was immediately, before I even took in the rest of him. The sharp edges to his face, the sprinkling of red scales at his temples, and the thin lips pulling back in a knowing grin, to reveal a set of teeth whose main purpose was to rip and tear into living flesh.

  The emerald pulsed hot on my neck.

  “King Arach,” Danal shifted his body so he was just slightly in front of me. “May I introduce you?” The Dragon King nodded without taking his eyes from me. “Lady Vervain, I present King Arach of the House of Fire, Leader of the Host.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I held out my hand to him and one of his dark red eyebrows shot up.

  “Nice,” he drew out the word, sending a shiver down my spine. “I don't believe anyone has ever said that to me before.”

  He took my hand, rubbing it between his fingers as if testing the consistency of my skin, before bringing it to his lips. I could feel Danal tense beside me as Arach's face hovered above my hands. I felt him breathe in, then out against my skin before he pressed his lips against the back of my hand. It was strange, sensuous, and disturbed me to my core. I pulled my hand back nervously.

  “What's the Host?” I asked as he raised his head and I was rewarded with a look of surprise from him. I had a feeling that few people had ever seen that particular expression on his face. “I know only of the Angelic Host but I somehow doubt that has anything to do with you.”

  “I'll explain it to her,” Danal stammered and took my arm.

  We turned to walk away from the dragon-sidhe and his hand shot out, too fast for me to see, and gripped my shoulder.

  “No,” he said to both of our hesitant expressions. “I should be the one to tell her.”

  “Of course,” Danal nodded to Arach but shot me a look that was pure warning.

  “The Host is a collection of fire fey who join me on the Wild Hunt,” he let go of my shoulder, his long fingers waving through the air before snapping closed. “We ride the night and hunt those that catch our eye, chase them to ground, and,” he leaned in to my ear and whispered, “snatch them away.”

  “And then what?” I turned my face slightly, so that I was staring him in the eye, his hair touching my cheek, looking like a bloody gash in the corner of my vision.

  “What?” He pulled back, looking a little unsettled that he hadn't unsettled me.

  “After you snatch them,” I whispered. “What's the plan? Torture? Death? Chess? What's the usual routine?”

  “We have a little entertainment,” he quickly recovered his slick expression.

  “Ah, right,” I nodded and shrugged. “So torture. Well, have fun with that.”

  “We haven't had anyone to have fun with in centuries,” he growled.

  “There have been hunts here,” Danal interjected. “The Host are given any who go against the laws of Faerie.”

  “The hunts are few and far between. Most fey know better than turn traitor,” Arach grimaced. “Even then, it's n
othing like before, when we hunted humans. Their terror would perfume the air and they would run in delightfully ridiculous patterns, you'd never know where they'd go next. Faeries conversely, are too predictable and hardly scream at all. Well, until we catch them, that is.”

  “Huh,” I sucked at my teeth, “sounds frustrating. A personal problem. I hate it when they don't scream.”

  “Do you like to scream?” He tilted his head, hair the color of thick blood dripping over his leather-clad shoulders.

  “Only in the bedroom,” I smirked at him and nearly laughed out loud when Danal made a horrified gasp.

  “Challenge accepted,” he whispered, gave me a devilish grin, and left before I could come up with something witty to say.

  “Ah fuck me,” was all I got out.

  “I'm sure he will, among other things,” Danal grimaced. “I warned you to stay away from the House of Fire.”

  “You introduced us!”

  “And you kept talking!” He shook his head at my idiocy. “Only in the bedroom? Are you mad? You just taunted a dragon-sidhe who also happens to be the Leader of the Host. He will not stop now. We have to return you to your world or you're a dead woman.”

  “Huh,” I bit at my lips. “I kinda thought he was flirting with me.”

  “He was,” Danal rubbed his temple, “but you don't want that kind of romance. It invariably ends badly, and not for the dragon.”

  “I don't want any kind of romance,” I sniffed, “I got my hands full back home. I was just playing.”

  “With fire, you idiot human,” he groaned. “Did you listen at all to anything I said to you?”

  “Yes,” I gave him my duh face. “I said thank you when you gave me the pastie.”

  “Oh sweet selkies, what is wrong with you?”

  “I'm hungry?” I held up my empty hands.

  “Well here,” he grabbed another pastie and shoved it at me. “Put this in your mouth with all haste.”

  “Sir Danal,” a sweet, delicate voice stopped us yet again. “Will you introduce me to the human?”

  I turned to see a gorgeous woman dressed in a flowing, light blue dress of watered silk. Her hair was pale pink and opalescent, like the inside of a nautilus shell. It was arranged on her head in intricate curls, decorated with strands of pearls and hair combs of mother of pearl. Her slender neck was white, marred only by the light markings of gills. She looked me over with eyes a little too round and which lacked whites entirely, so only the light green iris and pupil showed.

 

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