by Jane Godman
“My turn now,” she murmured, using the heel of her hand to push him onto his back.
Copying the movements he had used, she inched her way down his body, undoing the buttons of his shirt, then the zipper of his jeans on the way. His stomach muscles tensed and trembled as she trailed her fingernails lightly over his skin. Impatiently, Jethro pushed his jeans and briefs down over his hips and legs before kicking them aside. The full, impressive length of his cock sprang free, straining toward her mouth. His crisp chest hair tickled her cheek as, with tantalizing slowness, Vashti moved her lips lower. She followed the line of hair down from his chest, across his defined abs, to the tip of his cock. Jethro’s breathing became ragged. The musky aroma of his arousal filled her nostrils and she breathed it deep. Licking her lips, Vashti swirled her tongue around the head of his cock. Jethro quivered violently, a moan spilling from between his lips as he threaded his fingers through her hair.
Opening her mouth, she flexed her jaw, taking his full length, inch by inch. He was so hard, so big, so magnificent. His heady scent and spicy taste were glorious. Releasing him, she flicked her tongue along his length, then took him back in her mouth, following her instincts. Jethro’s stomach muscles clenched and shuddered in time with the bobbing of her head. His groan reverberated around the room as he came, his body juddering and shaking wildly before coming to a standstill.
Vashti crawled back up the bed, curling into the security of his arms. She must have dozed because it seemed to be only minutes later that Jethro was easing away from her and righting his clothing.
“I get the feeling Maria will take no prisoners if we miss dinner,” he explained.
Vashti sat up, stretching and yawning. She didn’t want to do this. It wasn’t just the overwhelming feeling of fatigue caused by days of traveling. An insistent, crawling feeling of dread was telling her she really did not want to go back down those stairs.
“Ready?” Jethro was watching her, a hint of concern dawning in his eyes.
She forced herself to smile. “Of course.”
* * *
Dinner was delicious. The food simple and plentiful. Aydan introduced them to the group of resistance fighters around the table and one or two curious glances were sent Vashti’s way. She couldn’t blame them. These people dedicated their lives to fighting Moncoya. Now, all of a sudden, they found themselves sharing a meal with his daughter. It didn’t make for an easy atmosphere.
The meal was almost over when Lisbet joined them. She slid silently into the empty seat next to Aydan, scarcely glancing at anyone else and keeping her eyes fixed on her plate of food. Fascinated by the woman’s strange demeanor, Vashti kept one eye on Lisbet while listening to the conversation around her. For some reason she could tell Lisbet’s behavior was out of character. In the same way I know Aydan is honest and brave, I know Lisbet is not this shy, retiring wallflower. The change is a direct result of our arrival. Or rather, it is a result of Jethro’s arrival.
Because she was observing Lisbet so closely, Vashti noticed how often the other woman’s curious, dark eyes were focused on Jethro’s face. Each time she looked his way, Lisbet lowered her eyes swiftly, as though conscious she might give her thoughts away. Although she did her best to maintain a timid and downcast aspect, each time she looked at Jethro, Lisbet’s face glowed.
“Have you met Lisbet before?” Vashti asked Jethro later as they cleared the plates and no one else was nearby.
“Which one is Lisbet?” His brow furrowed as he studied the group of three women and four men. Since his response was an answer in itself, Vashti didn’t pursue the matter any further.
Once the meal had been cleared away, Maria produced bottles of beer and rich red wine before leaving them to talk. The group discussed the latest atrocities committed by Moncoya’s followers. Although it no longer surprised Vashti to learn of her father’s evil activities, it still stirred up a worm of discomfort whenever his malevolence was revealed.
“He is becoming bolder,” Aydan said, filling glasses with the ruby wine. “It is said Moncoya knows there is no true opposition to his rule. Once the faeries are given the vote, he will be returned to power. And he will be stronger and more ruthless than ever.”
“His destruction here in the mortal realm will be even more devastating.” Lisbet spoke for the first time. Her voice was low, musical, and completely different to the way Vashti had imagined it would sound. “The trafficking and degradation we work so hard to wipe out now will be rampant once his own people have given him their seal of approval.”
Vashti had learned from Tanzi much of the work of the resistance involved rescuing those beings Moncoya’s followers trafficked between Otherworld and the mortal realm. The resistance faced a never-ending battle to shut down the brothels Moncoya’s sidhes operated within the mortal realm. These loathsome establishments operated a personalized service for clients who could afford their extortionate prices. Moncoya had established a system whereby his henchmen would abduct a being from Otherworld, bring them to one of his brothels and force them to work there, obeying every whim of the client who had selected them.
“Moncoya’s lackeys are no longer making any pretense at covering their tracks here in the mortal realm. And their terrorist activity in Otherworld is becoming more frequent. There were two attacks in wolf territory recently and Moncoya’s followers were daring enough to stage a siege in the vampire domain. Prince Tibor was on it in an instant, but the fact they went there speaks volumes.” Aydan shook his head. “Moncoya is making a statement. He’s on his way back and he wants the world to know it.”
As the conversation continued, Vashti’s discomfort grew. Not because of the continued vitriol toward her father. That was bad enough. The greater source of her unease was Lisbet. Although her behavior continued to be discreet, there was no doubt about it. Lisbet was totally enthralled by Jethro. I am not jealous. I have no right to be. He is not mine. There was something deeper in the glances Lisbet cast Jethro’s way, something that spoke of more than longing. Each time Lisbet looked at Jethro—and, as the night wore on, she looked at him increasingly more often—her eyes blazed with a combination of elation and triumph.
There was someone Vashti had to consult and there was no time like the present. Murmuring to Jethro she was tired, she left the kitchen and made her way up to their room. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, she tried to clear her mind of every thought except one.
Tanzi.
Vashti focused on her sister. Surely she should feel closer to Tanzi here than anywhere? It wasn’t so very long ago Tanzi had fled to this place, seeking refuge with Lorcan when she tried to escape Moncoya’s plans to force her into marriage with the devil. When they were growing up, Moncoya had encouraged their fiercely competitive natures, and as a result they had never been close. It was only in the last few months, since that whole wedding-to-Satan fiasco, that they had discovered a new bond. And with that relationship had come the realization they also had the most powerful psychic connection of all. They could communicate telepathically no matter how far apart they were. It was a gift unique to faerie twins and one they might never have discovered if it wasn’t for their father’s rabid, out-of-control ambition. He did something good for us, after all. Unintentionally, it had to be said, but he brought us together. If he hadn’t tried to sell Tanzi to the devil in that megalomaniac way of his, we might have spent the rest of our lives believing we hated each other.
Tanzi, can you hear me?
The response was instant, almost as if Tanzi had been waiting for her. Vashti, where are you?
In Barcelona, at the safe house.
Have you murdered Jethro yet?
How long ago it seemed, that time when she hated Jethro! No, he is here with me. We’ve found Aydan, and we’re on our way to Avalon.
Be careful.
I will. I need to ask you about so
meone. Aydan said when you were here you knew his girlfriend, Lisbet. Tell me about her.
Are they together now? That’s a surprise. I always thought she had a thing for Lorcan. She’s got the personality of a prodded wasp, but maybe that’s because she suspected I had been sent by our father to destroy the resistance.
What do you know of her background?
Nothing at all. Why?
Vashti sighed. Maybe she was reading too much into this niggling feeling about Lisbet. Maybe—heaven forbid—she really was jealous because the other woman was showing an interest in Jethro. No reason. She struck me as a little strange, that’s all. How are you?
By the time Vashti had listened to an enthusiastic account of Tanzi’s marriage, her developing pregnancy and life on the Isle of Spae, she could hear the others making their way up the stairs. She said goodbye to her sister as Jethro entered the room. He looked weary, but also elated.
“I’ve spoken to Aydan about our mission. He’s going to come to the palace with us to meet Cal before we set off for Avalon.” He sat on the bed, stripping off his sweater.
“How did you persuade him to do that?”
“I used the story Lorcan suggested. Now Lorcan has stepped down, Cal is on the lookout for someone trustworthy to take his place. I said Lorcan had recommended Aydan. No self-respecting anti-Moncoya faerie is going to turn down the chance to work alongside the great Merlin Caledonius himself.” He stretched and yawned. “Even better than that, Aydan is going to accompany us to Avalon.”
Vashti had been slightly distracted by the rippling muscles that were revealed as Jethro stripped down to his underwear, but he gained her full attention at that. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he wants to help find the challenger. He doesn’t know, of course, about Tanzi’s theory he might actually be the person we are seeking. But, think about it. The Goddesses of Fate said the truth would be revealed on Avalon. If Aydan is the challenger, we need him with us to find out.”
Personally, Vashti thought they were pinning too much on the slim possibility of Aydan being the lost heir. Just because he’s a faerie who doesn’t look like a faerie and Lorcan knows him. We could be in danger of focusing our attention on Aydan and allowing the real challenger to pass us by. She still felt unaccountably dispirited. “Sounds like a plan.”
Vashti hoped her voice did not reveal the fact she was less than eager about this whole scheme. Since their arrival in Barcelona, it was as if a blanket, gossamer-light as a spider’s web yet dark as the desert skies, had been wrapped around her heart. She couldn’t shake the feeling something was very wrong. No, not since our arrival in Barcelona. Since we met Lisbet.
Hard on the heels of that thought, Jethro’s next words destroyed any final trace of enthusiasm she might have felt about the journey to Avalon. Along with any hope it might end well. “Oh, and Lisbet is coming with us.”
Chapter 13
La Casa Oscura. The Dark House. Only Moncoya could be arrogant enough to flaunt its function by naming his mortal dwelling place after its true purpose. There were many portals between the mortal realm and Otherworld. They were accessible only to those who knew of their existence. Most were innocuous. Dark houses were the flip side of those harmless entry points. Dark houses hid Otherworld’s sleazy secrets, the portals used by Moncoya’s followers to traffic beings between worlds and escape justice. Older than time, they were the gateway to an underbelly darker than the pit of hell itself.
All of it carefully orchestrated by my father, the maestro. The thought made Vashti grimace as she viewed the beautiful, quirky house clinging to the hillside high above the city. Bizarrely, she had never viewed La Casa Oscura from this angle. In the past, Moncoya had sent his daughters into the mortal realm with precise instructions about who they were to kill, attack or kidnap. They saw little of the mortal realm and were not permitted to interact with anyone other than their chosen target...for whom the outcome wasn’t pretty.
“La Casa Oscura is unique,” Aydan explained. “Unlike most portals, it serves several purposes. As well as being a dark house, it is also a direct link to the royal palace and it is the mortal headquarters of Moncoya Enterprises. Let’s not forget that, until he was forced into hiding following the battle for control of Otherworld, Moncoya was able to maintain a mortal identity. As well as being King of the Faeries, he was also Ezra Moncoya, electronics billionaire.”
“We never knew.” Vashti shook her head in amazement. “Tanzi and I only learned of his double life after he went into hiding.”
“So how do we get in?” Jethro scanned the terra-cotta rooftop that peeked out above the trees. They were standing across the street from the casa, slightly to one side of the main gates. “This side is the problem. Once we are in, and can get to Otherworld, Cal is in charge and entering the palace won’t be a problem.”
“Moncoya Enterprises’s security systems are said to be the most sophisticated in the world. Ordinarily, there is no way we would get through those gates.” Aydan gave them a mischievous grin. “But one of our resistance members works this shift, so we’re in luck. He will have turned off the cameras on the rear wall. I hope you two are good at climbing.”
Jethro groaned, flexing his injured arm. “It’s not my favorite activity right now. By the way, where’s Lisbet?”
“She had things to finish up back at the safe house. She said she’ll meet us when we depart for Avalon. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Jethro caught hold of Vashti’s hand, his eyes probing her face as if he sensed her mood. “You?”
She nodded, swallowing the tight feeling of apprehension that threatened to block her throat. What was wrong with her? Not so long ago she had dreaded entering the mortal realm, now she was dismayed at the prospect of leaving it.
Fear of the unknown. That is what you are experiencing. First of the mortal realm, now of Avalon. Get a grip, Vashti.
What had happened to the ferocious warrior princess? Had she ever existed or was she a figment of Moncoya’s overactive imagination? In a way, it was comforting to know she was not an automaton.
Although, it has to be said, you do pick your moments to have these flashes of in-depth soul-searching.
They made their way along a path to the rear of the building. The tree-covered area of the hillside had been allowed to grow wild and lethal-looking shrubs scratched at Vashti’s arms as they forced their way through to the rear of the casa. The section of wall Aydan indicated loomed over them. Made from rough, terra-cotta brick, it was at least ten feet high and topped with razor wire.
“We’re supposed to climb that?” Vashti tilted her head back, regarding the obstruction before them with a daunted expression.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Aydan, ever the optimist, pointed to a length of rope hanging down from the coping stones at the top of the wall. “Our contact on the inside left that for us.” Jethro and Vashti remained silent, their faces twin masks of doubt. “I’ll go first, shall I?”
When no answer was forthcoming, Aydan rolled up his sleeves and spat on his hands. Grasping the rope, he commenced walking his feet up the wall while using his hands to haul himself up. In minutes he was at the top and navigating the razor wire. He gave them a grin and a thumbs-up before dropping down the other side.
“Will you be able to do this?” Vashti indicated the rope. “Your arm isn’t fully healed.”
“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Jethro grimaced.
“You go next. I need to know you’re okay.”
Jethro paused, looking down at her. Something shifted in the depths of his eyes. Vashti knew it was because she’d told him she cared. Even though it was a tiny fraction of what she could have said, it tilted the balance of their relationship. Not now. Not here. Her eyes pleaded with him. We don’t do this. Jethro gave an infinitesimal nod. The gestu
re was much more than agreement with her suggestion. It told her he knew what she was feeling. Let’s save this conversation for another time and place. Like when I’m not the daughter of the most hated man in either world and you know who you are and what you want.
Unexpected, unaccustomed tears burned the back of her eyes. “Go. Aydan is waiting for us.”
Jethro shook his head. His smile was irresistible. “Bad timing.”
He caught hold of the rope, scaling the wall as Aydan had done. His progress was slower and Vashti could tell from the way he favored his left arm he was struggling. She bit her lip, willing him to reach the top safely, exhaling a long, relieved breath when he finally gripped the coping stones and pulled himself clear of the razor wire. Giving her a wave, he disappeared over the other side just as Vashti heard the bushes rustle with the unmistakable sound of someone approaching.
Dropping into a crouch, she shifted instantly and easily, transforming herself into a black cat and slinking into the cover of the surrounding shrubs. Faeries weren’t shape-shifters and it had taken Vashti and Tanzi a long time to accept that and master the art of changing their form. Once they realized faeries did not change in the same way were-creatures did, and shifting for them was an illusion not a change in their bodies, they had become comfortable with the skill. Now, it was second nature. Vashti offered up a prayer to the ancient Celtic gods who watched over the fae that Jethro would not decide to look back over the wall to see what was keeping her.