“Aves have surrounded this place.” He let the snowflake dance trilling on his fingertip. “I noted them earlier when I went to fetch Thierry. They are hardly subtle. I assumed they still tracked her as the Morrigan had commanded, but it seems they are here to defend their new Crow.” He glanced at Rook. “Communication with them is beyond even Elena’s abilities, but the flock would not be under Thierry’s control if the Morrigan were not…indisposed. That Thierry sits here and your mother does not is more testament that what she says is the truth.” His gaze lingered on me. “I believe she is honest.”
High praise from a fae. Too bad I was about to smash that feel-good vibe we had going.
I cleared my throat. “Bháin, ah, is Elena your snowflake?”
I swore his snowdrift-white cheeks flushed. “She is a flurry.”
My mouth opened, ready with a follow-up.
“Flurries are sentient.” Rook rose to his feet. “They’re kept as pets by those who command them.”
The sour twist of Bháin’s mouth told me he disagreed with the designation, but he didn’t correct his master. From what I had seen, the two rarely agreed. On anything. Their animosity worked in my favor, so I kept my mouth shut too. I had no clue why Bháin sometimes helped me, except maybe to spite his master, but I hoped he would again. Rook was bending to the possibility of freedom—even if it was temporary—from his mother. I was tempting him with power too. Both played in my favor.
“Shaw doesn’t have much time.” I clapped my hands together. “Let’s kick off negotiations.”
A long moment passed where fear nipped at me like hounds on my trail, but then it passed.
Rook folded his arms over his chest. “First tell me how you plan to return home.”
“I can create a new tether.” Maybe. I hoped I could. Inspiration struck, and I added, “I would be willing to create the threshold in your home if you like.” I schooled my features to keep them blank. “If you control access to the only working tether in Faerie, the High Court must recognize you. They will panic when they realize the two realms are cut off from one another. You could step in and save the day.” I noticed the gleam in Bháin’s eyes and added, “Though the same travel restrictions would apply.”
Bháin smirked at me, but I wasn’t convinced he hadn’t been prompting me in the first place.
I wished I understood his stake in all this.
“There are those who would stand beside you if you but asked them, Master,” Bháin said cryptically.
“Even so,” Rook acknowledged, eyes bright, “it might not be enough to sway millennia of prejudice.”
“The tether is plenty, and we both know it.” I snorted. “You’ll have to fight to keep possession of it, but you’re used to that, right? The consul position is yours for the taking. Consider it my gift to you. This way you get everything you wanted—power, influence and…a means of seeing Branwen again. Though, no offense, I’m going to have to ask you to stay on your side of the divide.”
His fingers stroked his shirtfront. “You would bring her to me?”
“Sure. Why not?” I rolled my shoulders. “I’ll be visiting my dad anyway.”
My dad?
Where did that come from?
“All right,” he agreed. “That sounds fair.”
“Good.” Finally. “We’re settled.”
“Not so fast.” He raised his hand. “I—”
“No,” I said firmly. “Take it or leave it.”
Rook eased to his feet and crossed to the glowing fireplace, giving me his back as he braced his palms on the mantle. After a moment, the tension washed from his shoulders, and he dipped his head.
“This is why you chose him over me,” he said, voice almost lost to the crackling fire. “I force you to do as I wish, when Shaw does as you want for the simple fact it pleases you.”
“You have a decent heart in there—somewhere—down deep.” I had glimpsed flashes of it. “You were never in a competition with Shaw. You’ve got to let that go. You were the glimmer of best-case scenario when my life was going to hell in a handbasket. We might have worked out in the end. I don’t know. It’s a future neither of us will ever see, and that’s just it. Shaw is my tomorrow. He was my yesterday, and he is my today.” I rose slowly so as not to startle Bháin into subduing me. “I’ve wanted him for so long, I don’t remember a time I ever wanted anyone else. I see a future with him. I’ve planned it out in my head a million times and in a million different ways. It’s not an easy love, but he is all I want.”
Without facing me, Rook raised his voice. “Take her to the incubus.”
“Thank—” I bit off the phrase before ending it.
Rook waved away my words, and I turned to go.
“Bháin?” Rook’s voice carried over my shoulder. “Don’t let him kill her.”
Bháin walked ahead of me at a sedate pace while I bounced on the balls of my feet behind him. There was no mystical fated-mate bond guiding my feet forward, no sixth sense of awareness tingling in proximity to Shaw. Did he register my nearness? Incubi senses were razor sharp where feeding was involved, and he had gone days without energy from me.
Walking the hall, I felt like a piping-hot carton of his favorite takeout delivering myself.
Bháin paused in front of a door and turned. “I wanted to warn you what you might see.”
“I’ve seen him wild before.” He had been starving, crazed when he found me in the caves.
“It’s not that.” His gaze lowered to the doorknob. “The illusion—I picked it from his memory.”
I shifted on my feet. “Okay.”
“It’s your apartment.”
It took me longer to decide why that might be a bad thing. “All right.”
The fingers of one of his hands caressed the doorframe. “The one where you and the incubus first…”
“I— Oh.” I thought about that. “Okay.”
So not my current digs, but the quarters I’d shared with Mai at the conclave during the academy. I stayed on several more days after she dropped out and moved back home with her parents, and yeah. Memories. Shaw and I created lots of them on those twin beds with the squeaky springs and crinkly, plastic-covered mattresses.
Knowing Bháin had seen that, experienced it, tarnished some of those nights for me.
“I used glamour,” he said even softer. “I pretended to be you.”
My throat tightened, fear racing up my spine. “And?”
“He saw through it. Eventually.” His hand fell to his side. “He might not trust you until it’s too late.”
Heart sore, I leaned my shoulder against the wall. “Why are you telling me this?”
“He was mine.” His fist clenched. “She gave him to me.”
“He’s a person.” A warning growl deepened my voice. “No one owns him.”
“I am owned.” His gaze flashed to me. “Am I any less a person?”
“No.” I straightened. “I don’t agree with you being owned, either.”
“I knew I would not be allowed to keep him.” He murmured, “I wanted to know how it felt.”
“How what felt?” The possibilities were endless.
“The difference in how you love him.” Bháin’s brows slanted, and his lips thinned. “I saw you through your mother’s thoughts. Her love for you is part of every decision she makes.” He shrugged. “I have heard it’s like that with mothers. I wondered if it was the same for the incubus. If thoughts of you consumed him. They do. But the quality is…different. Darker, hungrier, possessive. I decided it must be the difference in loving that which you birthed and that which you aspire to create life with.”
“Um.” The anger I expected fell away and left me confused. “You don’t know what love is?”
“I can create the illusion, and it is flawless. Fae wonder at my skill.” Pride warmed his tone. “I am very good at what I do. Emotions, the meanings behind them… I lack the capacity to understand subtle nuance in the degrees of affection, therefor
e my constructs lack realistic depth.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you do with the emotions and images you acquire?”
“I create what the sidhe call sensation exhibits, where they go to experience that which they are incapable of perceiving.” At my puzzled expression, he glanced aside. “Fae are not human, and if I were to be honest, I believe that is the discordant thread that causes fae parents to loathe their own half-blood children when they evidence a spark of humanity that makes them more. They carry fae magic in their bones and human empathy in their hearts. It is one thing to gaze fondly upon a partner whose differences bring you pleasure, but it is another to bear a child who can see and hear and feel outside of your reach. It births a bitter envy.”
“Rook never said how you feed.” I stifled a shiver. “You’re sustained by emotion?”
Making him more similar to Shaw and me than I thought possible.
Bháin chuckled under his breath. “The comparison is close enough that I will let it stand.”
Learning this about him brought up all sorts of uncomfortable suspicions.
Be careful who you give your trust.
Rook had warned me about Bháin the day I met him. For once, I should have listened to him.
“Your mother was a font of emotion, full of textures and layered meanings. I enjoyed my time with her.” When my teeth began grinding, he raised a hand. “I did not force myself upon her. I touched her in no intimate or physical way. I simply walked her thoughts to glean better understanding. It also allowed me to ensure her stay was as comfortable as possible.”
“I’ve said before that I appreciate the pains you took to make her ‘stay’ pleasant.” I chewed the inside of my cheek while sifting through possible replies and giving up on finding a response that wouldn’t ruin our peaceful chat. “That’s all I can handle on the topic right now, okay?”
“I wanted you to understand that what I did for your mother—for the incubus—I did for myself. I fed from them, learned from them. Though neither is worse for it, those were not benevolent acts.”
Head pounding, I wished Bháin would stop talking before I resorted to the height of immaturity and plugged my ears with my fingers. Granting him permission to dig around in my mom’s head had been hard enough, but discovering how he used what he learned from her and Shaw, that he shared it with fae who had no business knowing my loved ones’ minds or hearts, was a violation I had trouble forgiving.
“I get that,” I growled. “Let’s drop it.”
“I find I am having trouble letting it go,” he admitted. “I am experiencing…” his pale eyebrows slanted downward, “…I believe it is called guilt? I feel I owe you for what I have taken from them.”
The admission sounded like he had spent too much time in the heads of people who loved me to outright hurt me. But was he feeling those emotions? Like a residual echo? Or was the knowledge of what Mom or Shaw might feel in his place causing him to—perhaps unconsciously—fabricate them?
I had no idea, but man did it make my head hurt thinking about the possibilities.
“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “You want to make amends? Do that with them.”
“That’s just it.” He offered me his hand. “I can’t. Your mother is no longer in this realm, nor do I expect to ever see her again, and your incubus is either unwilling or he is unable to feed from me to sustain himself. So I offer myself, my energies, to you instead. Take from me as an apology to him.”
Rubbing the heel of my palm into my eye, I cursed. Accepting his offer was a done deal as soon as he made it, and I hated that, but the bottom line was I was out of juice. I hadn’t fed or sipped on anyone in days. I had no spare energy, and I would need every last drop to establish a new tether.
The burn in my belly ignited, and I grasped his hand. “I accept your apology.”
Interest crossed Bháin’s face when my runes lit, and I took the first slow pull of his magic.
“It doesn’t hurt as I expected,” he said, studying our illuminated grip. “Do you need more?”
I studied him right back. “Do you want to get hurt?”
The only thing keeping that look of wonder fixed on his face was the fact Mac had worked with me for weeks on nibbling energy instead of allowing my magic to sink its teeth in and tear out hunks of power for me to devour. Hunger for me wasn’t constant like it was for Shaw, not as demanding or crippling, but it was ever-present, waiting for those internal scales to tip inside my head and a switch to flip me into hunting mode. Knowing Bháin had preyed upon those I loved most was about to do it.
And like anyone who has ever been on a strict diet, one taste left me wanting more.
“Will it hurt?” He sounded far too curious for my comfort.
Since he asked, I told him the truth. “It could kill you.”
“I doubt that.” He tightened his grip. “Try it if you like.”
“I’m not into attempted murder,” I said flatly.
“Take as much as you like,” he offered. “I draw from Winter herself.”
“Are you serious?” That might explain his high endurance. Maybe I wasn’t as skilled in sipping as I let myself believe. “If you’re plugged into another power supply, I can speed up the process.”
His lips curved. “Take all you require.”
Permission granted, I cranked up the pull. Bháin felt it. He swayed on his feet before flinging his free hand out to brace against the wall. He stabilized just as fast, grinning down at me like I had proved some point to him, and then I was drawing Winter straight through him. It shivered up my arm from my hand and spread ice through my chest, freezing my lungs and making it hard for me to breathe. I drew on him until my skin tingled and sparks dripped from my fingertips, until I was full to bursting and fresh runes joined the old ones, searing themselves into my skin until they covered my arm up to the shoulder.
“I’m done.” I jerked free of his grasp, our fingers almost frozen together. “That’s enough.”
“If you’re sure…?” His eyebrows rose. “All right.” He gripped the knob. “I will wait here until I am certain you are safe with him.” He cracked the door a fraction and then peered inside. “Call if you need help restraining him. Don’t be fooled by the act. He is rationing his remaining strength.”
I wedged the toe of my boot in the gap before he closed it. “I’ll take it from here.”
Bháin released his hold, and I got my first glimpse of Shaw.
He sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. His knees were bent, his forearms stacked on top of them. He wore jeans with socks and a new white T-shirt. He was clean, so he must have been allowed to wash off the blood and change at some point.
His head was tipped back against the ice-block wall, and his eyes were closed. A tremor ran through him, and before my eyes his fingernails lengthened to wicked claws. Tanned skin paled until pronounced veins crisscrossed his exposed skin. His eyes, when they cracked open, had gone chalk white and empty. The full curve of his lips stretched wide, exposing his elongating teeth.
Lifting his head, Shaw stared through the door right at me, and then he charged.
Chapter 18
I darted into the room to give Bháin time to twist the lock, and vertigo swamped me as his glamour took root in my senses. Color blossomed in my mind. Scents poured into me, familiar but faded. The stomp of cadets running with a drill sergeant outside the window carried to my ears. It was like I had fallen back in time, into my old room. Complete with twin beds, a ratty desk and a broken task chair.
The tendrils of disorientation parted two seconds after Shaw slammed into me.
My spine popped on impact with the wall, and a pained breath shot past my lips.
“I missed you too,” I panted.
His wide palm circled my throat. “I warned you not to come back.”
Fingers clawing at him, I gasped. “It’s me.”
“I didn’t believe you the first three times, and I don
’t believe you now.” He applied pressure, and I saw bursts of bright light on the periphery of my vision. “Stop being a coward. Shift. Show me your face so I know whose head I’m ripping off.” He leaned closer, nostrils flaring. “You even smell like her. Is that some new trick? Is that why you haven’t been back? You’re trying to fool me with this?”
“Can’t. Breathe.” My fingers weakened. “Let. Go.”
Curling his lip, he thumped my head against the wall. “This time get the hell out and stay out.”
When he spun on his heel, I bent double, sucking in precious air. Once I caught my breath, I ran straight for him and leapt onto his back, wrapping my legs around his waist and hooking my left arm around his throat. Chokehold complete, I rode that bad boy all the way down.
My kneecaps cracked on ice-carved tiles, but I had Shaw’s attention.
“Listen to me. I get Bháin was screwing with your head, but it’s really me.”
Shaw’s palms smacked the floor, and his body rose like he was doing a push-up, leaving me astride him like a jock on a pony. I tightened my grip, but he shoved upright and staggered against a wall, slamming me into it. My teeth clacked, my grip loosened, and the room started spinning.
“I can—” I shook my head, “—prove it to you.”
Weak as a newborn pup, I slid to the floor in a lump when he spun around to face me.
“Go on then.” His wild eyes shone. “Prove it.”
I extended my left hand. “I know you’re hungry.”
His lip quivered at my offering. “I am bonded.”
“You’re also an idiot,” I slurred, staggering to my feet and leaning on the wall for support.
Clear across the room, the door cracked a fraction, and Bháin stuck his head inside.
“Are you all right?” He glanced between us. “I heard thumping.”
“Just my head against the wall.” I touched the base of my skull and winced. “Nothing critical.”
“Hear her out, Incubus,” Bháin said coldly. “If you kill your mate, where will you be?”
The door closed, and Shaw’s expression shut down with it. He paced across the room, staring at me, measuring me against some figment in his mind. Hope warred with doubt and exhaustion. In his eyes, hunger gleamed. Need peered out at me, desperate, hurt, recognizing me as that which sated it.
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