Lord of the Hunt

by Shona Husk

“We could stay here. It’s nice and quiet.” He pulled her into an embrace with her back to his chest, his fingers quickly finishing undoing her dress. He kissed her shoulder as it began to slide down.

  “You’re supposed to buy me a few drinks first, then lure me to somewhere private and take my clothes off.”

  “Human men are doing it wrong.” He kissed her shoulder blade, then her spine. His hands cupped her breasts as he hardened against her butt.

  “We’ll be coming back here, and we’ll have to get changed again.” She turned in his arms.

  He kissed the top of her breast. Then pulled back. As tempting as it was to linger here, he hadn’t picked this doorway just to lie in a field—he could’ve done that with her in Annwyn. He wanted to forget they were fairies with far too much responsibility for one mortal night. “You’re right.”

  With a last chaste kiss on her lips, he let her go. Her dress fell away, leaving her bathed in dim starlight. He was a fool. He pushed down the heat in his blood and summoned up some human clothes. There was a shower of sparks and a new pile of clothes appeared.

  He bent to grab his and turned around before he took off his pants, because he knew if he watched her dressing, or she watched him undressing, they’d never get out of the field and into town.

  “You know, some underwear would’ve been good.”

  “Underwear?”

  “Like panties and bra?”

  He glanced over his shoulder; she was dressed. The clothing hid all of her but hinted at what was beneath. The dark cloth of her shirt clung to her breasts and offered glimpse of her peaked nipples. He adjusted himself in the jeans. They were far too unforgiving for his taste. The fabric was rough against his skin and revealed too much of what his body was thinking.

  “Have you not had any human lovers?” She raised one eyebrow, her head tilted as if she were confused by him.

  “No. I had plenty at Court. Why would I leave Annwyn?” He knew now why he’d leave, but he didn’t want to go in disgrace. He pulled the black shirt over his head. At least this was soft to touch and unrestrictive.

  She crossed her arms. “Oh I don’t know, because the mortal world is fun?”

  Fun. That was what had been missing from Annwyn before Taryn came along. He was enjoying the game and risks they took as they danced around each other and tried not to let others see the growing attraction. It was their game. And when they could be seen together at Court? Would he still find her as appealing? Yes, there was something about her, something that made him think that maybe he could live in the mortal world once he was no longer Hunter. She made him realize there was more to living than just the next deal, that there was a world beyond Annwyn where one mistake wasn’t deadly and where love was possible.

  “Do I pass?”

  She cast her gaze over him, her lips curving. “I think so. Which way to town?”

  ***

  The town had been around for a very long time, although it was bigger than he remembered. In places the streets had cobbles and the buildings were a mix of new and very old. They walked hand in hand down the footpath. They weren’t the only people out on the mild evening. They did blend in well, better than he’d thought.

  “There.” She pointed over the road at a building with a sign out the front. “I can’t believe I’m going to a real Irish pub and not a fake one.”

  “They have fake pubs?” He was glad she could read the sign and knew where they were going. There were a lot of signs in town and they all meant nothing too him. He might look the part, but that was as far as it went. His initial joy at being in the mortal world and the life it could offer began to fade. Towns were different to the wilds, and he was ill equipped to survive amongst humans.

  “They are Irish themed.” She looked at his face, then shrugged. “Never mind, it’s a human thing.”

  “Right.” A human thing. Something he wouldn’t get. Even she knew that he didn’t belong here. But he hadn’t belonged at Court either; he’d had to find his feet there and he had. Surely the mortal world couldn’t be any harder?

  He followed her into the pub. Music was going—or what humans called music. People were sitting around talking; there was a clear area near a stage that must have been for dancing but no one was using it. He could see why if this was the music they were supposed to dance to.

  “What do you want to drink?” She pulled him toward a counter made of polished wood. Behind on shelves were bottles of liquid.

  “I don’t know.” He hadn’t realized there’d be so many different things to choose from. “Is there wine?”

  “We’re in Ireland. Irish whiskey it is—or Guinness.”

  “What can I get you, miss?” The man behind the bar looked at Taryn and then him, then took a second glance, his eyes narrowing. “You got money to pay?”

  “Certainly.” Verden took some leaves out of his pocket and put them on the counter.

  The man didn’t touch them. He lifted a necklace free of his shirt. A gray stone with a hole through the center. Verden tensed as the man lifted the stone to his eye and looked at the leaves through the hole. The man let the stone fall against his chest and stepped back. “I don’t want no trouble from your kind.”

  “We aren’t what you think; we’re just here for a good time.” That was a half-truth at best.

  The man reached under the counter and plonked an iron horseshoe on the counter. “Prove it. Prove you aren’t fairy.”

  Damn it all to the river. “Okay we are fairy. But we aren’t here to make trouble.”

  “Please, sir, we just want a couple of whiskeys.” Taryn smiled and it was all charm—he would have fallen under its spell if he had not already fallen for her.

  “You won’t be changing my mind with pretty smiles, lassie.”

  Verden touched her arm. “Maybe we should just go. People are looking.” He didn’t want to be attracting too much attention. If they knew about fairies and knew how to use fairy stones to see through glamours, they might also be reporting back to Annwyn.

  Taryn bit her lip, then she looked at the man. “We can’t be seen together at Court; we came here to get away. I’m sure I’ve got something to pay for the drinks with.”

  “You won’t curse my pub?”

  Verden shook his head.

  “Or my family?”

  “No curses. We swear.” Verden put his hand over his heart.

  A greedy glint appeared in the man’s eye. “How about a wish if I guess your name?”

  Verden leaned on the bar. “Don’t be pushing your luck.”

  “Right you are. How do plan on paying?”

  “My ruby ring?” Taryn held out her hand.

  The man looked at it through the fairy stone. “Made in Annwyn?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s not ruby. Got anything mortal-made on you?” The man looked at Verden.

  He had nothing mortal-made on him. Taryn bent down and pulled off her shoe. When she stood she was holding the toe ring. Gold with a chip of amethyst.

  She placed the ring on the counter. “Mortal-made.”

  The man looked at it through the stone, then picked it up. “Very well, two whiskeys each, no curses on me, my pub, or my family.”

  Verden waited until the man had walked away to fill their order. “You didn’t have to do that. We could have gone somewhere else where they’d take our money.”

  “It’s better this way; otherwise, we are just tricking and stealing.”

  “But you had to part with gold.” What was wrong with letting the humans think they were paying? Isn’t that what magic was for?

  She shrugged. “It was from an old boyfriend. I just wore it because it annoyed my mother. She said I should aim higher than getting a toe ring from a boyfriend.”

  Verden used her hip to pull her close. “What would she say now?”

  “Probably that I was being reckless.” She kissed him, a light brushing of her lips over his and just enough to make him hungry for more.

&nb
sp; “She’d be right.” He kept his hand on her hip, his fingers resting on the lip of the pocket on her jeans. They molded to the shape of her butt. Maybe humans were onto something with these clothes.

  The man put the four drinks on the counter. “No trouble.” He picked up the horseshoe and put it behind the bar. “I got more where that came from.”

  It wasn’t that iron kept fairies away, but it hurt to touch. It burned skin and took far longer to heal than any other wound, and if a fairy got iron in their body, it had to all be picked out or they would die of slow, painful poisoning. Verden nodded, understanding the threat.

  They picked up their glasses and sat down at a table as far away from the counter as they could.

  Taryn took a sip of her drink and shivered. “I don’t usually drink straight spirits.”

  Verden gave it a sniff. The smell seemed to burn his nose. “This is safe?”

  “I’m still here.”

  “I mean, he didn’t slip some iron filing in to kill us?”

  Her eyes widened in horror. “He wouldn’t.” She cleared her throat. “How would I tell?”

  “You’d be on the floor howling in pain by now.”

  She kicked him under the table. “You let me drink it.”

  “Ow. You didn’t give me a chance.” He took a taste—not even a sip from his glass, just enough to wet his tongue. The ice clunked and liquid burned with a taste that was sharp and smooth and a little sweet. He took a proper drink and fire burned down his throat and hit his stomach. He drew in a breath as the scent went up his nose.

  Taryn grinned at him as she took another drink. “You like?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “No one does at first, but if you keep going it tastes better—or you just forget that it tastes awful because you no longer care.”

  Already he could feel the tension fading as the whiskey got into his blood and warmed him. He lifted his glass and tapped it against hers. “To being human.”

  “To being human,” she echoed, and they both drank. “So why wouldn’t he take my ring?” She waggled her fingers over the table.

  “Because things that are made in Annwyn often lose their luster here.”

  “Like banished fairies.”

  “Exactly.” Had forming words always been this hard? He took another drink and drained the glass. She was right; this stuff did get better. “He might have woken up to find a lump of coal instead of a ruby.”

  She swirled the ice around her glass and watched it as if it were fascinating. “Pretty fakes. Kind of sums up the place.”

  “Don’t judge everyone in Annwyn by what you see at Court.” He placed his hand over hers. “There are plenty who are doing what’s right and what’s best for both worlds but they are constrained.”

  “Why not change the rules if they no longer work?”

  He frowned. He should be able to come up with a logical response, one that defended Annwyn and the way fairies behaved. The back stabbing and scheming, the elaborate games to get what they wanted, and the power hungry deals that were made over the dinner table and completed in a bedroom. He had nothing. “You can’t just change a society that has existed for thousands of years.”

  “But it has changed over the years, from wild fae to colonizing Annwyn, from being worshipped as gods to being almost forgotten. Surely there is another evolution. Nothing stands still forever.”

  “Felan will have a chance to make changes.” Verden leaned back against the seat, as his bones seemed to give up and turn soft. His blood was warm and his mind fuzzy. He felt it, knew it was the alcohol and knew this was why no one in Annwyn drank anything alcoholic. Dropping one’s guard there could be fatal. Here it felt good. He gazed at Taryn, aware he was smiling more than he should. “It’ll also depend on his wife.” He shook his head as if that would help clear it. “Politics makes my head hurt.”

  “Have another drink.” She picked up her second glass.

  He watched as her lips curved against the rim. He wanted to run his tongue over her lip and taste the whiskey from her mouth. The rapid beat of the music filled his blood and drowned out thoughts. He needed to feel her skin against his, her body around his. His body responded, hardening even though his muscles were lax, and she grinned as if she knew what he was thinking.

  “You want to finish these drinks and get out of here?”

  “What would a mortal do?”

  “Wait for the band to start, have a few more drinks, call a cab, and crash into bed.”

  He didn’t catch half of that. The way her lips moved when she spoke was far too distracting. “Hmm?”

  “You are a cheap date. You’re drunk already.”

  Ah, so this was what she’d been talking about. He closed his eyes. He was pretty sure that if the King walked in right now and saw him with Taryn, Verden wouldn’t actually care. He’d tell him to pull up a seat and have some whiskey until it all went away. For a moment he could see himself living here, far away from Court. Free.

  “What do you think would happen if we never went back?” Here they wouldn’t have to worry about the squabbles of royalty.

  “We’d die in the power shift. We’ll go back, and it will be like we never left.” Her voice was soft.

  Like they’d never left. He didn’t want to go back to that. It was eating him like poison, killing him like iron. What he wanted wasn’t possible. He’d heard that before though; when he’d left the farm, his parents had told it was a waste of time and that the Court would never accept him. He’d proved them wrong. He’d prove the Court wrong too and have Taryn—he just didn’t know how yet.

  “We won’t be the same.” He finished his second glass and was sure it hit him harder than the first. The room took a moment to steady. “Do you do this often?”

  “A few times, and I always left with someone.” She gave him a wink. “Do you want me to take advantage of you?”

  In Annwyn the answer would’ve been no. But he wasn’t in Annwyn and she wasn’t talking about some gamble or game. He had no idea what she was saying. “Take advantage of me how?”

  Her fingers laced with his as she stood up. “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

  He got up, almost stumbled, then laughed. The fuzziness in his head didn’t clear but he didn’t care. All the things that were supposed to matter disappeared when he looked at Taryn.

  “You’re not drunk.”

  “I’m merry, but I’ve had alcohol before. You haven’t.”

  “Can you imagine if the whole Court was drunk?”

  “I have, and I’ve been so tempted to spike the wine just to see them falling over and making bad deals.”

  He would make very bad deals at the moment. He couldn’t think ahead more than his next few steps, let alone the planning needed to…what was he thinking? He gave up. It was too complicated. Here everything was simple.

  The warm night air enveloped him. He could smell the magic of midsummer brewing, gathering in the dusk. “Do you feel it?”

  He turned and clasped both her hands, then spun her in a circle. The streetlights shone brighter; everything was sharper.

  “Feel what?”

  “You can taste it.” He ran his tongue over his lip. It was sweet like summer berries. Then he kissed her, to see if he could taste the magic of midsummer on her lips. The heat of her mouth on his, the lingering scent of whiskey on her breath, and the pounding of his blood in his ears. He was alive for the first time in too long and he could feel it, feel the world within him—but all he wanted was Taryn to be there with him.

  Her tongue flicked over his lips and dipped into his mouth. Her body was pressed against his. She moaned once then drew back.

  “Maybe you should have just had one glass of whiskey.” She tugged him off the road and led him down the street.

  Verden stopped. “Stay still a moment and feel it, listen to the earth. You can feel the energy changing, as the earth prepares to winter.” It was there, a humming that vibrated through him. Like the magi
c of the jungle only bigger, older, and more powerful. All fairies had once been connected to that power. Now only the wild fae were.

  “Yeah…you do know that in the southern hemisphere it’s winter now.”

  “Coming up to midwinter.” He could tell from the look on her face she couldn’t feel it. Maybe it was the alcohol flooding his blue blood. “The endless cycle.”

  “Come on, the walk back will sober you up.” She was smiling, her hand still linked with his.

  Sober up.

  Reality slipped back through the cracks. While he was free tonight, it was all waiting for him. The idea of sitting through another dinner, another dance, where he was supposed to smile as though he was enjoying himself—it made his stomach turn.

  No, that was definitely the whiskey. Verden drew in a couple of slow breaths. His feet moving, letting Taryn lead.

  “Sorry, I’m not on my best behavior.” He was saying things he shouldn’t, things he should only think. No doubt she thought him a little crazy—but he could feel the earth pulsing. Is that what the wild fae felt? Did they tumble through the seasons, reveling in each one the way fairies pretended to at Court with elaborate parties?

  “That’s the idea of drinking.” She tipped her head back to look at the stars. “It’s so nice to not be there.”

  “It’s nice to not be there with you.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her, unable to keep his hands from touching her. Her lips were warm and her arms slid around his neck as she leaned closer. His hands skimmed down her body to cup her butt and hold her there. His shaft hardened and pressed against the jeans. Taryn wriggled her hips as if enjoying teasing him. If they weren’t still in town, he’d be laying her down and having her. She was his.

  At that moment he didn’t want to go back to Annwyn, even though he knew they had to. That they both had jobs to do and lives at risk.

  He promised himself things would be different when they returned, even though he didn’t know how to make it different. Something needed to change. For both of them. For Annwyn and for the mortal world.

  “Did you want to get a room?” she whispered, her breath on his lips and her fingers in his hair holding him there as if she expected him to pull away.