The tiny piece he’d left inside her was not a permanent union by any means. It was merely a sign of his favor. He could reclaim it, or take the next step and mate her, completing his half of the bond. Even then she didn’t have to finish it. Nobody could force the words I love you out of her mouth. Besides, most believed the emotion had to back up the traditional binding words.
She turned her hand over and stared at her unmarked flesh. A mated female wore two overlapping circles on her palm. A mated male displayed his status with dual-ringed eyes, his mate’s color circling his pupil. The visual was meant to warn others they were off-limits.
Ian’s hazel eyes wouldn’t change much if he mated her, as hers were dark brown. His would take on dimension, depth and fascinate her even more. They’d be downright mesmerizing. In the heat of passion, the added glow from his godly side would do her in. She’d be putty in his hands.
And I’m not already?
Had he pushed her for sex yesterday, she’d already be wearing his circle. Halfway to being mated. A bond that lasted for eternity. It didn’t allow for mistakes. Once given, it couldn’t be taken back and given to another.
She traced where Ian’s circle would show on her palm. Longings took hold. She’d always wanted a mate who would love her alone.
Forever.
Ian wasn’t that male. He’d given his love to another. All he had left for her was lust.
It wasn’t enough.
She stretched out an arm and braced herself. Her shaky legs threatened to crumble under her weight. After twenty-four hours, she still hadn’t decided what to do about Ian’s claim. Another day, or perhaps a century, would’ve been welcomed to work through her emotions and thoughts. She had maybe twenty minutes.
Rhys had summoned her home. Ian was asking for her. He wanted to thank her for pulling him out of his rage. She wanted to hide from him. Too damn bad she couldn’t. It’d make her look weak. That was the last thing she wanted. The debilitating emotion had no place in a rider’s heart.
She strode through the portal from Hell and into the twilit butterfly garden on the Huntsmen’s estate. The stench of the Underworld faded on the cool breeze. The soothing, rich smell of flowers she had no names for replaced it. She inhaled deeply. No matter how much of the sweet fragrance she dragged in, the taste of cinnamon lingered on her tongue, a reminder of the male who wanted to mate her.
Ian marked me as his. Eyelids squeezed shut, she dipped her head. Why?
The question had repeated over and over since she’d walked away from him. The obvious answer—he hadn’t known what he was doing. Yet it fell short of a believable explanation.
Instincts would’ve stopped him from doing something he didn’t desire. He’d even said he wanted to leave his mark on her. But why would he?
She blew out a rough breath and put one foot in front of the other. She’d have to ask him. The uncertainty on top of her wavering emotions threatened to undo her.
Her boots clunked on the stone path under her feet. She’d tossed the slutty outfit she wore for Ian, in favor of jeans, hiking shoes and a T-shirt. Comfort had always been more important to her than looks anyhow. Which one had Ian preferred? He seemed to have enjoyed both. She halted at the edge of the garden and pressed her palms to her eyes.
The male hovered in her mind. He had for a long time. The additional shadow of his essence on her soul compounded her fascination.
She went back to her earlier thought. He’d known what he was doing, maybe not the specifics of the process, but he’d been clear in his goal—he wanted to keep her. His instincts had guided him. The one reason she’d dismissed surfaced. He’d given her a piece of him because he loved her. It was the most logical conclusion, and it wasn’t unheard of to love another person after losing someone. People moved on.
Wasn’t that what she’d wanted when Ian first appeared in her dreams? To move on. Find a little spark of happiness in her stark existence. She hadn’t even cared that he was most likely a figment of her unraveling mind.
He’d given her a reason to survive. To fight. To endure.
And now? What is he now?
She didn’t have an answer, but they needed to talk before he got his hands on her again.
Goodness knows I can’t resist him, not his seductions or his commands. And wasn’t that a shocking revelation. The third in the Hunt, and she couldn’t deny him anything. The very idea of defying him felt wrong on a primal level.
She sighed and made her way toward the house. The sounds of laughter and arguing reached her ears. She stopped and grinned, despite the urgency to seek out Ian. The normality of hearing her siblings’ interactions warmed her heart, but sadness overshadowed it. Too many of her brothers and sisters lay in cells similar to the one Ian had occupied. She hurt for them. All her siblings who’d walked away with the Triad’s mark shared in their pain. It was in their nature to comfort each other, but after insanity took over a rider’s mind, there was nothing left to connect with.
Maybe, just maybe, the Triad would have mercy on her lost siblings if those who’d walked away could appease its demands. She glanced at her hand, the one with the jagged black line. The Triad’s whispered words as the mark had seared her skin came back to her.
“To negate the curse, you must heal yourself. Make your sacrifice. Save the world.”
That was it. Not a hell of a lot of guidance, but the Triad was an entity unto itself. To say it worked in mysterious ways was putting it mildly. Some of her brothers, Zeph and Rhys especially, had even gotten into heated debates in which they questioned the millennium they’d suffered, blaming it on the Triad’s doing. If they were right, the deity’s treatment of them sucked, plain and simple. Yet she knew better than to voice her feelings. So too did her brothers.
Where did that leave them? Floundering in the dark, that’s where. And if they failed the Triad’s challenge, the barrier separating Hell from the human world would fall, flooding the mortal realm with evil. Once again, the pressure was on them to save the world. They would. Failure wasn’t an option.
The front door opened, pulling her out of her thoughts. A blast of music added to the revelry. Rhys stepped out. He made his way to where she stood in the middle of the lawn.
He stopped a foot away and crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”
That was a loaded question. She didn’t know where to start or even if she would. She shrugged and latched on to a relatively safe topic. Well, one that didn’t involve her. “I stayed in Hell an extra day to see what I could find out about the demons’ latest threat.”
“What have they done?”
“Lucas wants to mate Rowan.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I told her not to screw around with those damn demons.”
Tegan had been just as guilty. Age had shown her the foolishness of her actions. “Well, she did. She also managed to get the Demon King hooked on her. According to the demoness I spoke to, he’s been syphoning energy off them for a millennium, refusing to feed from another lover.”
“Fuck.”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
Silence reigned for a moment. Finally, he chuckled. “She had to have worn her gloves the entire time she was with him.”
So as to hide her incomplete mate mark.
Rowan once told her that she hated to look at the reminder of her stupidity in falling in love with a human. She’d given her lover her half of the eternal bond, but he’d died before completing it.
Tegan sighed. “She hates the pity and the questions.”
“Rowan loved him.”
She closed her eyes against the memory of Rowan holding her dead lover’s body in her arms. Her sister’s anguished cries had hurt all the Huntsmen that night. His killers had found their way to the lowest levels of Hell for it. “Fate was against them.”
The sound of a door closing drew her gaz
e to the mansion. Rowan leaned against the closed surface. She glanced between them, then narrowed her eyes. “Fate was against who?”
Tegan considered her response. She didn’t want to stir any of her sister’s bad memories. They were all trying to forget their hellish pasts. No believable answers came to her, though. She shrugged. “Fate can be against a lot of people.”
“True.” Rowan nodded. “Which two were you talking about?”
Rhys tilted his head. “Why do you care?”
“Hmmm.” Rowan tapped a single finger to her lip. “Because I’m a nosy bitch and I have nothing better to do?”
“What? Are there no human criminals around for you to hunt and toy with?” Tegan asked. It’d been Rowan’s favorite pastime the last time she’d roamed the mortal world.
“Oh, I’m sure there are”—Rowan grinned—“but I haven’t made it to the humans’ town yet. Much has changed. I need to understand their laws before I can deliver the proper retribution to their killers and thieves.”
“They believe in jails and redemption.” Rhys crossed his arms. “Not death and torture.”
Rowan pursed her lips. “A pity too, but I’ll do what I can.”
“And while you’re at it, be wary of your surroundings.” Tegan let the warning in her expression show. “We don’t need to draw unwanted attention to our existence.” That was all the Huntsmen needed: getting caught on camera in the Hunter’s form.
Rowan turned toward the lake. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”
“Wait.” Tegan approached her. “I was coming to find you and give you a warning.”
“And that is?”
“Lucas wants you to mate him.”
Rowan clenched her gloved hand. “Guess he’s shit out of luck, huh?”
“Be careful, little sister.” Rhys stepped forward. “The Demon King won’t give up easily. He can still claim you as his mistress.”
Rowan laughed so hard she doubled over. “Make me queen of his harem, eh?”
Rhys got up in her face. “Yes.”
They held each other’s stare for a long moment. The amusement faded from Rowan’s face. “Noted, brother. I’ll stay out of Hell.”
“Good.” He nodded.
“And, Tegan”—Rhys peered over his shoulder—“we need to talk about Ian. He’s driving me nuts.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Asking about you.” He held up a hand and raised a finger. “What your fears are.” He raised a second one. “What torture you suffered.” He narrowed his eyes and added a third finger. “Who you loved that hurt you.”
“What did you tell him?”
He curled his fingers. “Not a damn thing.”
Her breath escaped in a rush.
“Don’t be relieved. He walked away from me and went straight to Zeph, who answered the only one he knew.”
“About Bjorn.” Only Rhys and Calan knew of the price she’d paid to the fairy curse, and nobody knew her fears. She wasn’t sure she even understood what they were.
“I stopped him before he shared the details of Bjorn’s many women and children,” Rhys said.
“And I warned the rest of our brothers to keep their mouths shut,” Rowan added.
Tegan met her sister’s sympathetic stare. “Thanks.”
Rowan shrugged. “Bad enough we made the mistake of tangling with humans. We don’t need to drag our skeletons out of the closet for all to see.”
“You loved your male.” Tegan dared not mention his name. Nobody uttered it, not unless they wanted to experience Rowan’s temper. Tegan had no desire to fight today.
“Did I? Or was it lust?” Rowan shook her head. “No matter, he’s dead and gone, no more than a pile of dust now.”
She ambled into the surrounding woods as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Tegan pushed the worry for her sister aside. She had other more pressing ones. She headed toward the front door.
Rhys grabbed her arm. “Did you figure out why you’ve been visiting each other’s dreams?”
She thought about lying, but she wanted Rhys’s opinion and prayed it was different from hers. After everything she’d learned, she couldn’t help but arrive at one conclusion—Ian was Minerva’s son. Impossible, yes. As a mated female, Minerva shouldn’t have been able to get pregnant by any male besides Arawn.
“No, but Minerva told me Ian is my male, a gift from her to me.” My Trojan horse. And I unleashed him by coming all over his hand.
Rhys glowered. “That’s not possible.”
She snorted and pressed a palm to her chest where she felt Ian twined around her heart. “It’s also not possible for him to leave his mark on me, but he did.”
Wide-eyed, Rhys stepped back, a rare sign of shock. “He can’t. He’s human.”
She dropped her hand, curling it into a fist. “It’s a lie. His nature is masked. I’ve felt it. He’s powerful. And I think Minerva wants him tied to me.” She quickly recounted what she’d learned over the past couple of days.
Rhys stared at her for a long moment before he muttered, “She wants him mated to you so if Arawn does banish her son, Ian won’t lose his immortality.”
She nodded, hating that Rhys had come to the same conclusion, but not surprised. “That leaves me with three very important questions.” She raised her hand as Rhys had done minutes ago and ticked off her concerns. “Who’s his father? How did she pull off her little feat without Arawn knowing? And why?”
“I think there’s a much more important one.” Rhys held her gaze. Sympathy softened his normally cold eyes. “What you’re going to do about the vow Ian made.”
Trepidation settled over her. She took a calming breath and asked, “And what vow is that?”
“That he’d win your love even if it took him eternity to earn it.”
Chapter Nine
Tegan found Ian in the library. The mahogany walls and leather furniture reminded her of Arawn’s chambers, but that was where the similarities ended. The one in the Huntsmen’s estate had been decorated for relaxation and conversation, not contemplation and business.
Deep-cushioned armchairs flanked two oversized sofas. The low coffee table in the middle had scuff marks and water stains etched into the wood. One look at Ian sprawled on the couch and she knew how they’d gotten there: years of people sitting exactly as he was, feet on the surface of the table and an arm stretched along the back cushion of the couch.
Papers were scattered around him, and an unfolded map lay on the chair next to him. A short, thick glass filled with scotch sat on a folded paper napkin near a pile of folders.
She took in all the details, none of them necessary. Unable to delay any longer, she glanced at him. Tendons strained in his neck. The muscles of his arms were tensed, and white knuckles marked his balled fist. He looked as if he wanted to close the distance between them but fought the urge.
She brought her gaze to his face and sucked in a breath. Hunger, raw and primal, burned in his eyes. The intensity of it sparked an equal need within her. She locked her knees so she didn’t go to him.
He perused her body, from her feet to her face, in a visual caress that sensitized her skin. “I wasn’t sure you’d come to me.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t hunt me down.”
He flashed her a grin that made her belly flip-flop. “You told me once we left my cell, you were my commander only. It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”
“And asking about my past is?” Or vowing to earn my love.
He shrugged. “I’ve been trying to learn about all the Huntsmen.”
She stormed across the room and stopped on the other side of the coffee table. “And did you ask about their past lovers too?” She didn’t want anyone else to know of the betrayal she’d endured, not even the male who’d left a piece of himself inside her.
He dropped his feet to the ground. Her gaze zeroed in on the visible bulge in his pants. Her womb clenched in a wave of desire. It rushed over her so quickly, she swayed.
“I don’t care about anyone else’s love life. Only yours.”
She latched on to her anger instead of her lusts. If she didn’t, she’d release his erection and straddle him. She balled her hands and advanced on him. “You have no right to question my past. You have one too.” She leaned over him. “Or doesn’t your fiancée count?”
One moment, he glared at her. The next, she was flat on her back underneath his powerful body. He’d moved so fast, she hadn’t gotten the chance to react.
She shoved against his chest. “Off.”
A sinful grin spread over his face. “If you insist.”
He sat back, thighs locked over her hips, and tugged off his shirt. Her mouth watered. She had the sudden urge to lick the dips and contours of his abs. She’d been right the first time she’d seen him. He had the body of a god, or, more specifically, a demigod.
The sound of his zipper releasing snapped her back to reality. She grabbed his hand, but not in time to stop him from freeing his cock. Her knuckles brushed against his penis. “Dammit, Ian, that’s not what I meant.”
He captured her wrists and jerked them over her head. She gasped at the rough move. It didn’t hurt. The shock came from the realization that he had her at his mercy. Unless she was willing to embrace her Hunter’s form, he was the one who held the power between them. He bent over her, careful not to crush her. Inches from her face, he stared into her eyes and said nothing.
Primitive hungers rose the longer he held her gaze. She swallowed past the desire his nearness stirred. “I wanted you to get off me.”
“Wanted, huh?” A knowing sparkle shone in his eyes.
“I want you off. We need to talk.”
He leaned closer. His breath bathed her neck and sent tingles skipping across her skin. He inhaled deeply and groaned.
Hunter Forsaken: Wild Hunt, Book 2 Page 7