by Alyssa Day
“She knows that you care about her,” Luke said, briefly putting a hand on Merelith’s shoulder even as he wondered why he cared that she was hurting so much.
It was a touch she never would have allowed, and he never would’ve attempted, but for their shared burden of grief over one small, half-human child.
“You are a wizard,” she began, slowly, then picking up speed as the idea formed. “You will be able to find a way. Heal my niece, and I’ll tell you everything I know about Rio.”
Luke scowled. “You damn Fae. Even in the worst situations, you’re still trying to negotiate and bargain. You didn’t need to do that, and you don’t need to threaten me either. I will do everything I can to try to help Elisabeth. For her sake, not for yours.”
He knelt down by the side of the bed, leaned over, and sniffed at the puff of breath that barely touched his face when Elisabeth shallowly exhaled. There was no odor, no hint of a sense that might tell him of a sickness or a poison.
“Is this coma, or sleep, her only symptom?”
“She grew ever more tired when we brought her home, and within the space of six hours had become as you see now.”
He fought the urge to lash out at her for not calling him earlier. For letting her pride get in the way of seeking out help for Elisabeth, who now might be too small and too frail to fight this off—whatever this was—any longer.
“I need a sample of her blood, and a lock of her hair, if I may.” He tried to be formally correct, knowing that to ask for such things, when the request came from a wizard, was no small thing.
Especially to the Fae.
Merelith offered no arguments, though. She simply nodded and walked away, presumably to find the necessary tools.
“I’ll do everything I can for you, I promise that,” Luke whispered to the still, silent form on the bed. “Come back to us, Elisabeth. Your auntie Merelith needs you, and Kit would love to play with a nice girl like you. I promise I’ll bring Rio to visit, too, if she ever forgives me.”
He bent his head and rested it on the edge of the bed, praying to any gods who would still listen to someone with a soul as dark as his. “Please spare this child. Please help me find a way to help her.”
When he looked up, Merelith was standing there, staring down at him with an expression of utter astonishment.
“I had not expected this of you, Lucian Olivieri,” she whispered.
He blinked hard, because his eyes were burning so much. He must’ve gotten dust in them, and he didn’t want Merelith to see it. When he had it under control, he stood up and nodded to her. The healer she’d brought with her gently drew a vial of the child’s blood and snipped a long strand of her hair, packaged both, and handed them to Luke.
“You will do your best,” Merelith said.
The words were not a question, nor were they a request, but rather pure command, coming from one who was second in line to the winter throne.
Luke nodded. “I always do my best. I’ll contact you as soon as I know anything.”
Luke didn’t waste time saying anything else but headed for the door.
Merelith’s voice stopped him. “Your Rio is in more danger than she knows. On the anniversary of her birth, she will be claimed—one way or the other. Keep her safe until we can talk again.”
“Keep her safe from whom?”
“Everyone.”
The word haunted him all the way home.
CHAPTER 18
Rio sat at the Roadhouse’s bar next to Miro eating jelly beans and nachos. The candy was his, and the nachos with extra jalapeños were hers. It was a meal they’d shared once a week or so for the past few years.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” the ogre said glumly, tossing another of the hated black jelly beans into the trash can behind the bar.
Rio, who had shared only a highly abbreviated version of what had happened between her and Luke, wasn’t sure she agreed, but she soaked up the sympathy anyway.
Clarice thumped a small fist on the bar. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Rio. Have a fling. Live a little. Make sure you discover all the special wizarding tricks he can do in the sack.”
Rio didn’t have the energy to pretend to be surprised. Clarice was never anything but blunt when it came to talking about personal relationships.
Miro’s blocky cheeks turned a delicate shade of rose-tinted green. He was a bit of a prudish ogre.
“I think Luke might be important to me,” Rio admitted.
“Then fight for him, or lose him forever,” Clarice said unsympathetically. “Those are your options. I have waited for all the years I’ve known you, since the night you stole the ice cream for us in that damn orphanage, for you to find someone I thought was good enough for you.”
Clarice stood on tiptoe, reached across the bar, and smacked Rio on the side of her head.
“Ow! What was that for?” Rio rubbed her head and scowled at Miro. “Nice job protecting me, Mr. Head Bouncer.”
Clarice wagged her finger in Rio’s face. “That was for being a numbskull. This wizard actually might be good enough for you. You know that, or you never would’ve trusted him this far. Go after him, or you will regret it.”
Miro nodded solemnly, then tipped about a quarter of the bowl of jelly beans into his mouth. When he was done chewing, he belched and then looked at Rio.
“You should. And if he treats you bad, I will rip his limbs apart and use them for pool cues.”
Rio nodded slowly and then put another slice of jalapeño in her mouth as an easily visible excuse for not talking. Sometimes it was good to have friends, even if she didn’t let them very far into her life or heart. She had to fight to protect herself—she’d always been very careful to do so. She’d kept any hint of her true emotions hidden down deep beneath her disguise of amiability, or so she’d thought, but Clarice, and now Miro, had always seen beneath her masks.
Maybe it was because she and Clarice had shared part of their childhood. Clarice had been in and out of the convent so fast that her name had still been written in crayon on a piece of masking tape on her locker by the time she’d been adopted. She’d been exactly the kind of child that so many parents were looking for: happy, bubbly, and eager to please.
Rio, who had been none of those things, had somehow never resented Clarice for her happiness or her new family. And when they’d run into each other again in Bordertown High School, they’d become fast friends.
These days, Clarice ran through boyfriends the way Miro ran through jelly beans: in bulk, with great enjoyment, and sometimes with more than one at a time. She never kept any of them around for very long, and they all wound up being great friends after the relationship was over.
As in so many other things, Rio was the exact opposite of Clarice in that, too. Rio had always worked hard to preserve her independence, but she hadn’t noticed exactly when independence had turned into solitude, or when solitude had turned into loneliness.
Her life had been passing her by as quickly as the scenery did when she flew down the streets of Bordertown on her bicycle. Now she’d suddenly acquired a magical fox who might or might not be an ally and attracted an assortment of dangerous people who either wanted to recruit her or hurt her. Her life didn’t make any sense at all.
Except—she’d thought that at least one tiny corner of her life had been beginning to make quite a lot of sense. Her feelings for Luke. Her lips quirked up a little when she realized that she’d just thought of the tall, imposing man as a “tiny corner” of her life. He’d really hate that.
After all, Luke had alluded to the curse before and the danger he would face if he were ever to turn dark. Maybe he’d had the right to expect that she would understand what that meant.
But then he’d made love to her—he’d claimed her, in such a primal way. How could he have even considered casting her aside after that?
How could he even think she would let him?
Suddenly, she was angry, and angry was far, far better than devastated.
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br /> “I’m going to kick his ass for him,” she announced.
She wasn’t going to let this man go so easily, wizard or no. He was her wizard, and he’d better darn well realize it.
She pushed the plate of nachos aside, put her money on the bar, and smiled at Clarice and Miro.
“I love you guys. Thank you for listening to me, and thank you for kicking my butt when I needed it.”
Pretending not to notice the shocked expression on Clarice’s face, Rio gave Miro a quick hug and then started to leave, but found her way blocked by half a dozen goblins.
“We need to talk to you right now,” the tall one in front rumbled.
“Not you, too.” Rio threw her hands in the air. “I have absolutely had it. If you tell me that the goblins are also interested in my twenty-fifth birthday, I am going to lie down on the floor right here and have a kicking and screaming temper tantrum.”
Miro glanced down at the floor and shook his head. “I wouldn’t advise it. Floor’s not too clean.”
Rio noticed that the goblins had all backed up a step and were cautiously watching her, as if she might do something scary. This, coming from goblins, who were famed for their ferocity and destructiveness, should have struck her as amusing. It said a lot about the way her life had been going recently that it didn’t.
“Then let us wish you happy birthday with all possible speed,” offered the goblin, flashing a set of very frightening teeth.
“That wasn’t why I wanted to talk to you, though, human. You helped my cousin Janet find her puppy, and I wanted to say thank you. If you ever need a favor, the goblins in my Oblong will answer your call.”
Rio’s mouth fell open a little. A goblin’s Oblong was his immediate family group, and it usually consisted of around 110 members. The word Oblong referred both to the family group and to the communal residence they shared.
The offer that they would answer her call was a substantial one and conveyed great honor in the goblin world.
Rio belatedly remembered her manners, and she bowed, hoping to convey the proper respect. The goblin lord, for that was what he must’ve been in order to have the ability to offer such a thing, grinned and gnashed his teeth with satisfaction.
“You do me great honor with your words,” she said carefully, remembering what little she’d learned about goblins and how easy they were to offend. “Please forgive the rudeness I showed when you first approached. My life has not gone according to plan this week, and I am somewhat disgruntled about it.”
The goblin chortled, and his companions did the same. “We, of all creatures living, understand about life not going according to plan. Any rudeness is forgiven, and the offer stands.”
Rio bowed again. “There is no debt owed,” she tried to explain. “We were glad to help your . . . cousin?”
“She is my third cousin, and very beloved by my mother. The offer stands. For some reason, Janet values that furry creature above and beyond its value as a potential dinner.” He shook his head in bewilderment, a reaction apparently shared by all of his buddies, considering the way they were shaking their heads and muttering.
Rio worked hard to contain her relief that poor Penelope was safe from their cooking pots, and the goblins trundled off back to the roulette wheel, which fascinated them.
“It’s a good thing I saw that with my own eyes, or I never would have believed it,” Clarice said, shaking her head. “I wasn’t even sure he knew how to talk, other than the same two words he always says: More beer.”
Miro had turned around on his bar stool during the exchange, and he gazed thoughtfully after the goblins.
“This is a big honor from the little man,” he said, from the perspective of his nearly giant-sized height. “Goblins are good to have at your side in a battle. Nasty street fighters, and they never give up.”
Rio sighed. “Well I’m hoping things haven’t deteriorated so badly that I need an Oblong of goblins on call just in case I get into a street fight.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Considering the stuff that’s been happening to you lately, you might be heading for one hell of a birthday party,” Clarice pointed out. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I believe you’re perfect for that private investigator job. Not just because of your mind-reading talent, either. Wherever you go, you manage to make friends, or at least allies. It seems to me that that would be a big part of the PI business—networking and contacts.”
Clarice dried a few more glasses, obviously deep in thought. “Everybody likes you, Rio, and for good reason.”
Miro nodded. “It’s true. If you go into business with Oliver, he gains every bit as much as you do.”
Rio was ridiculously touched by their comments, but she didn’t want to get all girly about it, so she just bit her lip and smiled. “Well, Maestro was probably lying to me anyway about knowing who my parents were. Also, from what I’ve seen of the way the League of the Black Swan works, I don’t want anything to do with it. So I think I’m going to refuse his recruitment offer.”
“Perfect. We’ve plotted out your future,” Clarice said. “Changing the subject entirely, what kind of cake do you want for your birthday?”
Rio groaned. “Surprise me. And no presents! I love you both, but I’ve gotta bounce. I need to go talk to a wizard.”
Clarice grinned wickedly. “For your present, maybe he can wrap a bow around his—”
“I’m leaving now. La la la, I can’t hear you,” Rio shouted, putting her hands over her ears.
But the visual kept her warm all the way to Luke’s place.
Luke smashed his foot into the side of his desk, accomplishing nothing except for denting the metal and hurting his foot. Nothing worked. None of it. None of the spells or potions or powders he’d carefully collected for so many years. Her blood had given him no clues, no matter how many different ways he’d tried to analyze it.
He would not—could not—accept that Elisabeth would die because of his incompetence.
His office door slammed open and he whirled, snarling, ready to incinerate whoever dared to interrupt him, but it was the one person he hadn’t expected. Protest and anger sharpened into sensual emotions bordered by need and hunger. For her.
“Rio.”
She glowed. Her eyes flashed amber fire as if she were lit up from within; she was brilliantly incandescent. Unbelievably beautiful.
“I’m not letting you leave me over some stupid curse,” she declared.
She was furious. Defiant.
Spectacular.
She was the dream he’d never even known he’d been having, come to vivid, three-dimensional life, and he wanted her so badly that he ached with it.
She glared at him. “You can’t just make love to a person all night long and then suddenly decide to be noble.”
She pronounced the word noble as if it meant cowardly. He suspected there were times that the two might be interchangeable.
He needed her. Now.
He waved his hand, and the office door slammed shut and locked behind her. He finally let it all go. Let down his safeguards. Smashed the barricades to his emotions aside. Unleashed the helpless fury he’d felt ever since she’d left him that morning. The rage—an electric, visceral fury—had intensified when he found Elisabeth. All afternoon, while he failed over and over again, he’d fought to keep it under control.
Control shattered. Rage lost the battle to desire—hunger—need.
Luke handed the reins to Lucian, and the beast he kept caged inside him roared its way to the forefront. He waved his hand again, and shutters slammed shut over the large office window.
Rio flinched a little, but he was pleased to see that she stood her ground. She had courage, his woman.
“I need you,” he ground out.
“Well, you should have thought of that—”
He snarled, cutting off whatever defiant remark she’d been about to finish. “Take off your clothes.”
She actually growled right back at him. �
�Are you out of your tiny little mind? After what you said to me this morning? Don’t even think—”
He prowled across the room toward her, throwing off his shirt as he went, sweeping his hot gaze from her head to her toes and letting it linger on her beautiful breasts until she blushed again.
“Take them off,” he repeated, his voice low and menacing.
A distant part of his brain recognized that he could not—he would not—take her without her consent, but he’d be damned if he’d let her go without a fight.
He clenched his hands into fists at his sides to keep from touching her, his cock so hard it was already straining the fabric of his jeans. He ached for her; he throbbed for her, and nothing would calm the savage monster inside him until he was driving his cock into her hot, wet heat.
“You have about ten seconds to run away before I rip your clothes into shreds,” he warned her. “Run now, tell me no, give me some indication that you don’t want me, but do it right now, because in less than a minute I plan to be fucking you right here on my desk.”
She gasped, but she didn’t back away. She didn’t run away.
Deep in her amber gaze he found the acceptance he wanted and needed so badly, but he didn’t pounce until she raised her hand and touched his face.
“I need you,” he repeated, broken and desperate.
“I need you, too,” she said, and the words were the tinder to the flames burning his body.
He shoved his jeans down and kicked them off, groaning in relief as his cock sprang free from its denim restraint. He was so hard that the head of his erection pointed straight up into the air, and he could almost feel individual veins and nerves pulsing with hunger and need.
“Now,” he said, because that was all he could manage. It was the only word he could find in the roaring conflagration of his mind.
Hunger dominated reason; need overpowered caution. He bunched the front of her shirt in his hands and ripped it down the middle. Her breasts, barely hidden from his sight in a scrap of blue lacy fabric, begged him to touch them and lick them and suck on them, so he lifted her by the waist and took one hard little nipple into his mouth and sucked, hard.