by Stella Inox
Her body was no longer her own.
She watched stunned, as without any action of her own will, both her hands grasped the torc and brought it to her, untwisted the clasp, spreading the two arms and placing it around her throat. It was heavy and cool against her skin. She had time to scream once before power hit her like a punch in the belly, and she was dragged through a portal, twisting and screaming, into another world.
Chapter Two
Allan had been feeling tetchy all day. He’d put it down to the disturbance and irritation at the flood in the basement, with Samhain only three weeks away this could be a disaster. His feeling of foreboding had been gradually increasing rather than diminishing, even when the plumber and workmen arrived and started to clear up, and he became more uneasy as the afternoon went by.
The two workmen were answering his questions quite well about time frames and workloads, but the next moment he the felt the portal open, and he realised too late that all was not as it seemed, and cursed himself for a trusting buffoon.
He suddenly straightened, dropping the weak old man act, and stared at them, intense anger burning in his eyes, and stopped the conversation abruptly with a wave of his hand.
“What are you about?” he demanded, the truth spell thick in his voice.
Warwick and Nick, shocked at the change, and wondering in panic what Carin would do to them, found they were unable to lie, even as they fought the compulsion to answer, the whole of Carin’s plan spilled out.
“Fools!” Allan raged, “Stupid, rash fools and dead men! Do you know what you’ve done? The vault was there to keep them in not keep you out!”
Throwing a burst of his considerable power at the two men, who still had no idea what had just occurred, he knocked them unconscious where they stood, and leaped over their prone bodies, fear lending a fleetness to his movements that time had taken long ago.
Allan fled down the stairs and heedless of his slippers, splashed through the mucky water to the entrance of the vault. It stood open accusingly.
He cursed out loud. Entering the earthen chamber, he stopped in front of the gate. The torc was gone which meant the woman had just entered Otherworld as a sanctified sacrifice.
He was minutes too late, and there was now nothing he could do.
He rushed back upstairs and grabbed the phone.
“Eric,” he said, the moment it was answered, “we have a problem.”
Chapter Three
Carin landed on the forest floor on her face. The screaming wind that had snatched her away, dissipated almost as soon as she touched the ground.
She staggered to her feet and, in a futile effort, tugged at the heavy torc. It refused to release her. But at least she had control of her limbs again.
She looked around in despair; she was bruised, filthy and stuck the gods only knew where. She appeared to now be in a picturesque and peaceful woodland. But as beautiful as it was, Carin didn’t want a bar of it. She wanted to go home and put this whole bloody job behind her.
She couldn’t see any pathways or roads, or any signs of human habitation.
“Hello?” she called.
There were whispers and titters behind her. She spun around in a panic but there was nothing there.
Something flashed in her peripheral vision and she twisted, trying to see what had caught her attention but when she turned, there was only silence and rustling greenery moving in a gentle breeze. But she knew she wasn’t alone…she could feel eyes on her skin.
“Who’s there?” she called again, trying to sound brave.
“Who’s there?” echoed a mocking voice.
“Show yourself!” Carin was starting to feel angry now, and a little spooked.
“Show yourself!” mimicked the low male baritone.
She gave a clipped scream in surprise, pivoting to face the man who’d simply appeared behind her. There was no real place to hide in this woodland, just slim young oak and ash trees, and no undergrowth to have concealed him, so where had he come from? He really did seem to have stepped out of thin air…or maybe out of one of her more enjoyable dreams.
He was leaning nonchalantly against a tree, arms crossed over his broad chest. He wore tanned leather pants, laced at the groin, with silvery coloured greaves clinging to his thighs and a white shirt held close to his forearms by matching vambraces. His polished boots were motionless and set deep in the fallen leaves at his feet. She looked him squarely in the face and very nearly hiccuped. He was so profoundly beautiful that her face flushed and her breath stuttered in her throat.
He was also very clearly not human.
His bone structure was finer, and his lean body more slender, athletic definition than bulging muscle. He was about six inches taller than she, and Carin was tall for a woman. He wasn’t at all frail or delicate though, with broadly muscular shoulders and chest, and a solidness about him for all his slender looks and stance.
But it was his head that gave her pause.
His features were polished perfection. He had cheekbones like blades and could have been on the cover of any magazine he wanted. His eyes were topaz and gold, his gaze piercing like daggers. Locks of hair streamed down over his shoulders and it contained so many different colors that she could have gotten lost contemplating the tawny variety for hours.
What really assured her he was definitely not human, were the imposing antlers that sprang from his head. They had multiple tines, like deer antlers and swept back and up in graceful curves, somehow looking natural where they sprang from his skull.
They gave an impression of razor sharpness. But they didn’t appear to be as viciously edged as the smile that flirted with his full lips. He waited politely for her to finish her perusal before he returned the favor, and his own reaction wasn’t nearly as complimentary as her own.
The open contempt of this exquisite being at her appearance nearly cut her to the bone, and she ripped off the ugly wig in embarrassment and used the wet hair on it to rub the make-up away.
As her natural auburn hair fell down around her shoulders, and the aging effects were removed with swift wipes, his expression changed to contain some elements of cold approval.
“Ah. I had wondered if they were intending to insult me by sending me an aged female.”
Carin lifted her chin in defiance at his words, and tried to meet his glorious gaze “No one sent me, I’m here by accident. Who are you?”
At that, he raised a perfect eyebrow.
“I’m Herne, God of the Hunt, and you’re standing in my forest. You walked willingly beneath the sacred boughs, grasped my token of your own free will and wear it now upon your neck” he said in deceptively silken tones, a nod of his perfect head indicated the golden torc around her throat. “That makes you mine; although they still owe me another milch-kine on Samhain, and the usual offering of valuables. What’s your name?”
“I’m Carin but, I don’t… I’m not…” stammered Carin, trying to understand what was happening.
He abandoned the tree he was leaning on, and stalked over to her on silent feet, his tawny gaze never leaving her eyes.
Hooking a finger beneath the torc, he roughly hauled her closer. Near enough that his warm breath fell on her face. His topaz and gold ringed eyes flicked over her face in a careful study of her features. He drew her closer still until his lips touched her own as spoke.
“Carin, this is going to be an extremely short hunt if you don’t RUN” he snarled.
“You want me to run? How the fuck am I supposed to run in this get up?” she snapped indicating the heavy work boots and tool belt she still sported.
He snorted in wry amusement shoving her back so hard that she staggered again. He was clearly very strong…much stronger than she was, and her palms began to sweat.
“I’ll give you five of your minutes to prepare, which is more than fair considering that by our rules, I don’t have to give you anything. There’s a stream over there.” He waved a languid hand towards a rise on the left.
“When your five minutes is up, I’ll start and if you’re still there, I’ll strike you down for ruining my sport.”
“Wait, you’re going to hunt ME?” Carin felt her stomach drop in shock, and she nearly dropped to her knees in disbelief.
“You haven’t been prepared at all have you? You certainly aren’t showing me the respect I deserve” he sighed in exasperation.
“The rules are simple. I hunt you, and if you avoid me successfully until the sun rises again, you’re free to ask a boon of me and return to your own world.” With that he pulled the long bone handled knife from the sheath at his waist and picked idly at his nails.
He cast those astonishing eyes at her again and cocked that perfect eyebrow again, in a way that was really starting to irritate her. “What are you waiting for? Your five minutes starts now.”
Carin, who’d seen the smooth way he drew the blade, was almost paralyzed by fear. She could waste the minutes he’d given her by asking questions or demanding answers, but one look at his ruthless beauty told her that it wasn’t going to help.
She dashed over the bank, and started ripping off the heavy overalls, desperately stripping the dense material away. She kicked off the steel capped boots but left her socks on to give her feet some protection from the forest floor. The body suit which had given her the appearance of an overweight slob was peeled off, until all she had on was a stretched black sport top and matching cropped yoga pants. It might get cool when night fell but she’d rather deal with hypothermia than an exceedingly large blade.
Speed was her friend now.
She took another few crucial seconds, tied her long hair up out of the way, and was off and running away from the clearing, away from the creature. She had to make haste. She set a fast pace up and over the rise, heading deeper into the forest. Maybe she could lose him if the woods got denser.
She was extremely fit; all good thieves were, since running might be a part of the job description if you were stupid, or unlucky enough to get busted. Carin called on every particle of her training to make good time, heading out and away, arms swinging in perfect motion, athlete’s body already reveling in the determined strides as she fled.
Chapter Four
Herne watched the human run.
Good, at least she was fast. This should offer some amusement for a few hours. But there might be a different type of sport to be had later as well.
He’d seen her eyes flare with attraction when she spotted him, and at first it had disgusted and amused him. But when she’d removed that ridiculous wig and rubbed away the paint, she’d managed to catch his interest.
But after seeing her body revealed in the tight clothing once she’d removed the heavy cloth and pouched material, she’d captured his attention.
She had a trim young body and pretty features. Herne had always enjoyed seeing beautiful human women lost to pleasure before he claimed their blood. If he handled this carefully then she might just provide the key to gaining his freedom along with a night of pleasure.
He contemplated a couple of options, plotting and discarding plans until he settled on the one most likely to give him his desires, and a little pleasure along the way. She wasn’t like the others usually sent to him. She knew nothing of his world or rules, and had no understanding of the impact of her actions, which gave him an opportunity that hadn’t come his way in millennia. The God of the Hunt always got what he wanted eventually.
He nudged the abandoned clothes and gear, and shuddered at the scent of cold iron in the tool belt, hastily kicking leaves over it. If the foolish woman had any brains, she would have known that she had a couple of nasty weapons against him, or any of the other Fae for that matter, in the tool belt that she’d so willingly abandoned.
He shrugged, it mattered little to him that she wasn’t armed, and by his mores he was being more than fair.
He waited the full five minutes before starting out. As a Sidhe Fae, he was bound by his word and was always scrupulous when making vows or keeping promises.
He didn’t bother to summon his horse either. He wanted this hunt to last, and his steed would chase down this quarry much too swiftly. He would also order the other Fae to steer clear of this pursuit. Since she hadn’t known the rules, Herne thought it likely that she had no knowledge of Otherworld whatsoever, which meant that without any protection she’d get herself eaten by a kelpie or raped and eaten by a troll.
She was his, and he wished no interference.
He slid his blade back into this sheath and set out, long strides eating up the ground, and soundless steps taking him silently through his forest.
Chapter Five
Carin reached the next rise as the sun was dropping on the horizon. She paused, panting in the growing gloom. There had been no sign of the antlered man, and she was really hoping that she’d lost him. She continued moving, alternating between a distance eating lope and bursts of speed.
She sought to stick to clear ground, trying not to leave any disturbances or trail. She’d followed a watercourse in the hopes of throwing him off as well, splashing through the shallows for some distance before clambering up and over the banks to scamper off again.
She was tired, her muscles beginning to tremble at the sustained flight.
She slowed and drew to a stop, using all her senses to search for danger. If she could rest for a little while, she’d be able to continue on through the night. Her eyes tried to pierce the dimming light, and she listened warily. She couldn’t see or hear anything, but an atavistic sense of terror swamped her so quickly that she was up and fleeing before her mind registered any movement.
~
Herne laughed in the shadows. She had good reflexes and instincts.
He knew he hadn’t made a sound; Gods of the Hunt didn’t make those kinds of amateurish errors.
He could have had her then but her let her go, playing with her like a cat does a mouse.
She was headed in the right direction anyway, drawing closer to his home with every panicked stride.
He set off again.
~
Carin’s heart felt like it was going to burst, but she kept moving. She could see spires of rock against the backdrop of the falling night. Maybe she could find a cave to hole up in. She’d been running for close to 6 hours and she needed water and rest.
She trotted down an embankment and stumbled out into a clearing.
Damn.
There was a clear section between her and the rocks she wanted to reach. With the moon now casting shadows, he’d see her in the clearing and she was pretty sure he was close by. She headed back into the forest breaking left to stay amongst the trees when a flash of color ahead had her doubling back in fright. But as she wheeled to bolt back into the woodland, she spotted another flash of movement on her left.
She was trapped.
She doubled her pace and fled into the clearing, springing through the tall grass like a white hart on the run from wolves.
She looked over her shoulder as she ran, and her worst fears were realized. He was a couple of hundred meters behind her and closing fast. He ran like a greyhound, his movements economical and spare, a beautiful sight that she would have admired if she wasn’t trying to escape with her life.
The rocky hills were still some five hundred meters away, and she knew she wasn’t going to make it but she tried. She wasn’t going to just give up. She put her head down and tried to squeeze a few more ounces of speed from already wobbly legs.
Her breath wheezed in her throat and her heart pounded like a jack hammer. Her arms and legs whipped in frenzied movements.
He caught her in a flawless tackle, hitting her high in the back and taking her to the ground beneath him. She could barely breath she was so winded, but she fought, rolling beneath his weight and striking at him with flailing arms.
He countered her attack, trapping her underneath his weight with laughable ease, and she bucked and writhed, trying to twist out of the iron grip that pinne
d her arms above her head.
He pressed hard, subduing her, and she was lost. She was going to die here alone, at the hand of the most terrifyingly beautiful being she’d ever seen. She slumped, closing her eyes and waited for the end.
“Good chase” he stated in that silky baritone voice.
Carin’s eyes snapped open. The bastard wasn’t even puffing.
His alien topaz and gold ringed irises looked down into her own eyes. His antlers rose above them both giving the scene a surreal edge.
“Just get it over with” she complained tiredly.
“Are you so eager to die?” he asked mildly.
“Of course not” she bit out.
“Then let’s not be so hasty.” He settled his considerable weight a bit more firmly on her, working his hips so that his legs fell between her own. Carin blinked when his swollen erection pushed against the spandex of the thin yoga pants, pressing the seam against her clit.
He was stiff?
He gave his hips a slight twist, rubbing his hardness against her flesh, and she nearly groaned.
Against her will, she felt her libido firing up. Her belly rolled with a surge of lust and her abdomen tensed with need. Her nipples hardened into taut nubs which pushed against the thin material of her tank top. He watched her body tighten with satisfaction, the desire becoming naked on her face.
At the evidence of his own lust, the material between her legs dampened with a slow seep of honey from her channel, as her body prepared its self for his possession.
He rubbed against her again, a slow circling motion that mimicked the thrusting act of sex and she involuntarily moaned low in her throat, her legs falling open and hips rising to meet the downwards pressure. She pushed her breasts up high, trying to rub her nipples against his chest, her slim body starting to squirm from need.