by Anya Bast
She rested her head against his chest. “Sadly, that dream sex was the best sex I’d ever had.” She paused. “Well, until I had the real thing with you.”
“Me, too, Charlotte.”
“What?” She glanced up at him. “Come on, you must have been with hundreds of women over your lifetime.” She scowled. “In fact, I don’t even want to think about how many.”
He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “But I’ve only ever loved one.” He grinned. “Do you need more proof?”
“No. I only need you.”
He kissed her again and held her for a long time in silence, pretending they weren’t both afflicted by a curse and they didn’t have the final piece of the bosca fadbh to deliver. That they could just be a man and a woman in love, enjoying the warmth of each other for a few tender, blissful minutes.
AISLINN looked down at the piece Kieran had laid in her lap and began to sob.
Kieran stepped back, dumbfounded. He’d only known Aislinn since she’d taken the Shadow Throne. Since that day she’d been completely poised and, while compassionate, mostly cool and detached. This reaction was nothing at all like detached. This was complete and total relief and joy.
Gabriel knelt at her side and pulled her against him, as though hating to see her cry—even though Kieran was certain these were tears of happiness.
Kieran went to stand near Charlotte, curling her hand protectively in his. The four of them were the only people in the room, something he was sure Aislinn was probably thankful for. This display of emotion completely destroyed the image of composed, controlled leadership she’d attempted to project to the Black Tower.
The Shadow Queen wiped her eyes with a tissue her husband had given her and looked up at Charlotte. “I have no idea how we can repay you for this. You risked your life to get this piece for us, and you did it when you don’t even consider yourself fae.”
Gabriel stood. “We consider you fae, Charlotte. You’re one of us.”
She tightened her grip on Kieran’s hand. “Thank you. That means so much to me. I never thought it would, but it does.”
The queen looked down at the copper piece in her lap. “We have to move quickly now that we have the book and all three pieces of the bosca fadbh. The Phaendir will be fast to act to prevent us from opening the back of the Book of Bindings. I need to meet with the Summer Queen immediately.” Steel resolution entered her eyes. That was more like the Aislinn he was accustomed to. “I hope she doesn’t give us trouble.”
She knew, as did they all, that this was the moment of truth. Would the Summer Queen cooperate with them? Or would she, for reasons only she knew, block the union of the bosca fadbh and try to prevent the opening of the Book of Bindings? This was the question they’d been waiting to have answered. Kieran would bet money there would be a fight. He’d been alive a long time and had rarely seen the Summer Queen be cooperative. He’d seen the Black and Rose towers allied even less frequently.
“Kieran, after I’ve talked with the Summer Queen, you and I will need to meet. Alone.” She gave him a meaningful look. “I’m assuming recent events have altered things?”
Charlotte looked at him curiously.
Kieran inclined his head. “Yes, my queen.”
Aislinn turned her gaze to Charlotte and her face softened. “Charlotte, I just don’t know what to say to you. ‘Thank you’ seems so weak and empty. Is there anything we can give you?”
“The only thing I want is this damned cursed lifted from me and Kieran.”
The queen bit her lower lip. “I wish with everything I am that I had the power to grant that.”
Charlotte glanced at Kieran. Her fingers found and played with the gryphon pendant she wore around her throat. “If I can’t have a future with him then I want time. I would like for us to spend whatever period of life we have left together.”
Kieran pulled her against his chest, one hand going to her nape and the other around her waist in a gesture of protection. Emotion welled up inside him—grief, dark and viscous. He kissed her forehead hard, closing his eyes as her arms came around his waist. “Of course we’ll have that,” he whispered against her skin, but the words were like heavy stones in the center of his heart.
When the queen spoke next, her voice sounded heavy with tears. “You can have anything within the realm of my ability to give. A quiet place, orders to not disturb you, anything.”
Kieran pulled Charlotte out of the room with him, his heart feeling bruised about what had to come—and come soon. They were both battered by the effects of the curse, exhausted, dark circles under their eyes, labored breathing, and pains in their chests. He knew Charlotte had been coughing up blood, just as he had. The symptoms would be getting worse very soon, then even worse. Until neither of them could move, eventually until neither could breathe.
Charlotte’s arrival had only delayed the inevitable and made this so much harder. He would make the arrangements with the queen tonight. Charlotte didn’t know it, but they only had one more night together.
Tomorrow morning, before Charlotte woke, he would be gone.
CHARLOTTE curled up next to Kieran after a late dinner of roast chicken and vegetables. It had been the first decent meal she’d had since she’d left Piefferburg. Kieran had started a gentle blaze in the fireplace of his bedroom—something she’d noticed many fae seemed to have. They loved their wood burning fireplaces.
With the room lit only by the light from the hearth and the crack and snap of the logs filling the room, they lay together on the bed, talking softly. The only subject they didn’t speak of was the obvious one—the slow and inexorable failing of their bodies. It was nicer to pretend that part wasn’t happening, though it was hard to ignore.
Charlotte lay on her back. He rested on his side, stroking her hair. He dipped his head and kissed her, his lips skating slowly over hers and igniting warmth throughout her body. He cupped her cheek as he did it, his thumb rubbing her skin.
He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. Turmoil made them seem darker than they were, matching the emotion that twined so bittersweet with the tenderness she felt for him.
“I never knew love could feel like this,” she whispered. “I would do anything for you, sacrifice anything.” Without saying it, she meant the curse. She didn’t want to die, but the alternative was worse—not sharing love with Kieran.
A haunted look entered his eyes. His gaze shifted, his pupils dilating, and for a moment it appeared as if he were looking past Charlotte, maybe to a future she couldn’t see.
She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he dipped his head and kissed her. “I know exactly what you mean, Charlotte,” he murmured against her lips. He caught and held her gaze, speaking fiercely. “I love you so much that I would do anything for you, too, sacrifice anything.”
She swallowed hard, the weight of what was to come a little more than she could handle when he looked at her like that—with such love and protectiveness in his eyes and in his voice. “Let’s promise one thing, Kieran. Let’s do this together, you and I. When the time comes, we’ll stay together and face whatever fate befalls us.”
His pupils dilated and seemed to turn into black holes for a moment as anger swept over his face. It was gone in a flash, replaced by grief. He dropped his head to the curve of her throat. “Charlotte, I—”
“Promise me.” She forced him to look at her. “Please.”
He held her gaze for a moment before speaking. “Of course. We’ll always be together.”
“I just wish we had more time.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “I do, too.”
They lapsed into silence. Then Kieran kissed her and soon they couldn’t stop. Both of them were sick, yet all that physical pain seemed to wash away in their need for each other. Desire overcame the curse . . . at least for a little while.
Ravenous for the feel of him, Charlotte pushed him back against the mattress, straddling him and pulling her sweater over her
head, wanting to feel her bare skin sliding against his. Cupping his face, she lowered her head and slowly rubbed her mouth across his.
With a groan of need, Kieran flipped her and slanted his mouth hungrily over hers, delving his tongue between her lips. She pulled at his clothes, yanking his shirt up and sliding her hands beneath to find the smooth, warm, muscle-tight skin of his lower back. Then her fingers found the button and zipper of his jeans and undid them, slipping inside to take his length into the palm of her hand.
Slowly, lips exploring every inch of bare flesh revealed, they undressed each other. Once their clothing was just so much material piled on the floor, they touched each other like they could derive sustenance purely from their fingertips on each other’s bodies. Kieran stroked her breasts and slipped his hand between her thighs; igniting her until the only sounds she could make were breathy entreaties for more.
Her hands slid down the bunching muscles of his back and upper arms, traced the curl of the tribal tattoos along his side, skated over the curve of his luscious rear, and around to stroke his length until he groaned her name.
Then he slipped between her thighs, cupping the back of her knee as the head of his cock found her entrance and slid deep within. She gasped at the way he stretched her muscles, closing her eyes and arching her spine. Kieran held her gaze steadily as he began to thrust in and out of her. He took her slow and then even slower, his strokes deep into her body and with their gazes locked.
Tears pricked Charlotte’s eyes at the intimacy of the act. Not only were their bodies joined, but their hearts and minds, too. How bittersweet to know they could share in something as powerful as this, but that it would only last a short time.
They came together in a powerful climax, backs arching and mouths meshing.
Afterward they twined around each other and Charlotte fell asleep in his arms, ironically feeling happier than she could ever remember feeling.
KIERAN woke a few hours later and pulled himself gently from the tangle of Charlotte’s limbs. The light from the dying fire bathed her face and he stared at her in wonder for several minutes. Dark circles marred the skin under her eyes. Fatigue and sickness sat in the lines of her face, but none of it diminished her beauty. Not to him. Her long, dark curling hair fanned out around her face, caught on one bare, dusky nipple. In sleep her lips were pouted, perfect for catching between his teeth.
All he wanted was to crawl back into bed and pull her up against him, make love to her again and again. For the rest of their lives.
But it was time to go. Time for him to take that fatigue and sickness from her body. Lift the curse that he’d put on her.
He cupped her cheek and brushed his lips whisper soft against her skin. His fingers caught in her hair and he took a moment to try and memorize the feel of it, the scent of it. Then he stood, dressed, took one last look at her, and left the room.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
He expected what he was about to do next would be even harder. He was not the kind of man to take his own life. The only thing that would make it go easier for him was the reason he was doing it. This was for Charlotte. He hoped she’d understand that when she discovered what had happened. He hoped eventually she would move past this event, get over him, and find love again—this time with someone who could give her forever.
Sweet Danu, he was jealous of that faceless man.
His legs feeling like he had anchors attached to them, he walked through the corridors to the queen’s chambers. They’d met briefly the night before to organize this. On his way to get dinner for himself and Charlotte, he’d stopped in to see Aislinn—to arrange the manner of his death.
One of the queen’s hallway attendants spotted him approaching the Shadow Queen’s apartment, recognized him, and opened the door. “She’s expecting you,” the attendant said.
“Thank you.”
It was only just after sunrise and the queen still wore her dressing gown, but even that had the pomp and circumstance expected of the Shadow Queen. No T-shirt and pajama pants for her. Long, silky, and jet-black, her nightgown enveloped her slim body like a passionate embrace, cupping her breasts perfectly at the bodice. She wore a lacy black silk robe with a high collar and her silvery blond hair fell loose around her shoulders. Any other man would have thought her incredibly beautiful, but Kieran didn’t think she was a fraction as pretty as Charlotte.
“Hello, Kieran.” Aislinn’s voice and face were somber. Resigned.
Gabriel walked into the room wearing a pair of jeans. As he entered, he pulled a gray T-shirt over his head. “Kieran, are you sure about this?”
He nodded. “It’s the only way to free Charlotte.” He glanced around the room. “Where is he? The Unseelie you asked to do this.”
Aislinn said nothing, she only moved to a nearby table. “Take a seat, Kieran.”
He took a seat on the couch and Gabriel walked into the room, his face pensive. Aislinn went to the bar on the far end of the room, opened the refrigerator, and clinked glasses.
“I can feel the curse working inside me.” Kieran rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s eating away at me and Charlotte, whittling us down to death. It won’t be long now. I think this sickness we’re suffering from is about to get much worse. I want—need—to save Charlotte from this, from this anguish and from the slaugh.”
Aislinn turned with two glasses in her hand. She gave one each to Gabriel and Kieran, and then returned for her own drink.
Kieran looked at his glass. “Orange juice for a dying man?”
Aislinn gave him a wan smile. “Yours has vodka in it. I figured you could use it before . . . everything.”
Gabriel lifted his drink. “To selfless acts of love.” His voice broke on the words.
“To Kieran.” Aislinn lifted her orange juice to him, voice shaking and tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks.
Kieran looked at his glass. “To Charlotte,” he murmured, “and to the love she helped me know for the first time in my miserable life.” He tipped the beverage to his lips and drank the vodka and orange juice to the dregs, barely even stopping to savor it. Maybe Aislinn was right; maybe a stiff drink would help him get through what was to come.
Immediately he knew something was wrong. Aislinn had put something more than just vodka in there. Poison. Panic washed through him because, even though he’d sought this, he didn’t want it. It was the primal reaction of a man who wanted to live. Ah, Danu, he’d lived the equivalent of ten human lifetimes, but he still wanted more time.
His gaze flew to Aislinn. She sat on the couch, sobbing, her hand pressed to her grief-stricken face. They’d agreed that a death-bringer Unseelie fae would come here and do the deed. He’d never expected this. But maybe that was the point. Maybe Aislinn had thought it would be easier on him if it were a surprise.
Whatever the case, he was done for. The poison rushed through his veins as though he’d been injected with hot metal, headed straight for his heart.
The glass dropped from his fingers and hit the carpet with a thunk. He fell onto his knees beside it, his vision going black at the edges and his head feeling oddly light. No pain burned through his body. He never gagged. This was more like a heavy curtain coming down on him. He lost feeling in his fingers, hands, then his arms and through his chest. His feet and legs went cold and then numb. One by one parts of his body shut down as the poison sent him hurtling toward death.
Charlotte. Every inch of him filled with the thought of her. The knowledge of his loss was the most painful thing about this. “I love you,” he whispered. “Be well.”
His eyes went unseeing; the entire room plunged into blackness. His body listed to the side, hit the carpet, his head impacting hard because he lacked the ability to protect it. His eyes closed.
He knew no more.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“OH, my sweet Danu.” Aislinn went down on her knees beside Kieran’s body. Her whole body shook and tears dropped onto the rug where he lay. S
he tried to touch him, roll him over, but she drew her hands away. She’d been strong enough to pour the foxglove, highly poisonous to the fae, into Kieran’s drink, but she wasn’t strong enough for this. “Why does it have to be this way? It’s so unfair.” Her voice broke on the words and tears streamed down her cheeks.
Gabriel came down on Kieran’s other side and gently rolled him over. “This is what he wanted. I would have done the same if I were protecting you.” He felt for a pulse and looked up at her. “He’s gone.”
She rocked back on her heels, pressing her hand to her mouth. She knew that already. The moment Gabriel had begun checking for a pulse, she’d felt the presence of Kieran’s soul in the room.
She was a necromancer, able to sense and communicate with souls before they passed over into the Netherworld. Or, in this case, were claimed by the slaugh. Gabriel was Lord of the Wild Hunt and would reap Kieran when they rode tonight. She could see and talk with Kieran right now. Gabriel wouldn’t be able to sense him until he reaped him.
Sometimes, when it involved people they cared about, their gifts really sucked.
Gabriel looked up at her, understanding. “You can feel him?”
She nodded, not wanting to turn around and see. Once that happened, this nightmare would be real. She closed her eyes.
Aislinn? Kieran’s voice.
She hesitated, then stood and turned. He looked like all other souls did, wispy and insubstantial. A pale silver cord attached him to the Netherworld. She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed hard. “Kieran, I’m sorry I tricked you.”
It was easier that way. I never saw it coming.
“Are you . . . all right?” What a dumb question.
I’m resigned to what comes next.
Aislinn swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew what came next.
Tell Charlotte I love her more than I have ever loved anyone .
A bright light began to glow behind him. Pressure filled the room, making Aislinn’s ears pop. That was odd. She’d been conversing with spirits for many years and had never seen anything like this.