Claiming Valeria

by Rebecca Rivard

  Cleia raised her arms, and the crowd hushed. “Welcome,” she said in a ringing voice, and proceeded to greet each of the sun fae clans by name, finishing with a special welcome to the Rock Run fada. Then she invited Dion to come forward, using his full title, Lord Dionísio, a sign that something serious was about to take place. The crowd held its collective breath when he simply narrowed his eyes and remained where he was.

  The queen stretched out a hand in supplication. “Please, my lord?”

  A fae queen saying please to a fada. Valeria wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

  The sun fae murmured in shocked dismay, but Cleia remained where she was until Dion strode forward and drew her back to her feet.

  “What the hell are you playing at, woman? If this is a trick, I’ll—”

  But it wasn’t a trick. To everyone’s astonishment, Cleia declared Lord Dion was her mate, then admitted to inadvertently draining energy from the Rock Run clan for years. To make amends, she nearly died trying to heal Xavier when the energy she was channeling nearly overwhelmed her. Lord Dion stepped in to help, adding his strength to hers. With his support, Cleia had used the mate bond connecting her and Dion to replace everything she’d taken from Rock Run—with interest. The lovers she’d weakened, their women and children, others in the clan who’d been affected—all were on the mend.

  To cap it off, the two of them officially joined in a mate ceremony.

  And then the ball was in full swing. Valeria watched from the edge of the dance floor as Merry danced in a giddy circle of river fada and sun fae children. She was still stunned by what had just occurred. Fae/fada matings were the stuff of fairytales—but it was real. You couldn’t fake a mate bond. And like the rest of the clan, she’d felt the energy that had come with their mating.

  Everyone was buzzing with it. Valeria felt as if she could dance all afternoon, run the eight miles to the river, swim the couple of miles home and still have energy to spare.

  Sabela danced by, her scarlet dress twirling around her legs. Most of the fada were dressed in more subdued blues and greens and purples, but not Sabela. She rivaled the sun fae, who loved bright, sunny hues. Sabela winked at her over her partner’s shoulder—a man half her age, Valeria was amused to note—and mouthed, “Why aren’t you dancing?”

  “In a minute,” she mouthed back.

  As if on cue, Petros appeared at Valeria’s side and slid his arm around her waist. “Let’s dance, glika.”

  She glanced at Merry, now holding hands with a golden-haired sun fae, both girls shrieking with laughter. Along with the rest of the children, they were being watched over by a group of fada and sun fae elders.

  She turned back to Petros. “Sounds like fun.”

  Guiding her onto the polished wood floor, he took her into his arms. The ball was taking place outside under a large white canopy. A drummer provided a syncopated beat, a tribal counterpoint to the guitar and bass playing fado, the Portuguese blues. A tall, regal woman plucked at a twelve-stringed guitarra Portuguesa before beginning a sultry scold of her faithless lover.

  Petros steered her easily through the crowd. The man could dance, she’d give him that.

  They passed Merry and her new friend. “Hi, Mama!” Merry gave an enthusiastic wave. “Did you see me dancing?”

  “I did,” Valeria called back. “You look great.”

  Merry beamed.

  As Valeria turned back to Petros, the newly mated couple appeared. Knowing smiles rippled through the crowd. Everyone had seen the alpha leading the queen into a secluded glade as soon as the ritual ended.

  Valeria watched as Dion’s dark head bent to catch something Cleia was saying, his face so tender that Valeria blinked. Her throat clogged with something black and acrid. It wasn’t fair. The sun fae queen had stolen her mate; she didn’t deserve to find her own.

  Ashamed, Valeria dragged her gaze away from them. This wasn’t her, this sour, envious woman. Maybe it was too much to expect her to be happy for Cleia, but Dion had been nothing but kind to her. And Cleia had only taken what Rui had freely offered. If he hadn’t gone out trolling for a woman that night, she would’ve never had a chance to sink her hooks into him.

  Petros nuzzled her cheek. “Come into the woods with me. Sabela can keep an eye on Merry.” When Valeria hesitated, his fingers slid down her back to rest on the curve of her buttocks. “You know you want to.”

  She edged backward. No, I don’t, a little voice said. She ignored it to say, “Not now.” Too many people would see, and she wasn’t ready for Petros to claim her so publicly. “Later. I’ll see if Merry can sleep at Marcos and Trina’s.”

  The teeth that closed lightly on her earlobe were both a chastisement and a promise. “Fine. I can wait a few more hours. But no more teasing, glika. I’m going to take you. Tonight.”

  Valeria murmured something in response, but her stomach was a tight ball. What was wrong with her? She and Rui were through. At least he couldn’t spoil things for her and Petros this time; he’d remained behind with a handful of other warriors to guard the base.

  It was time to move on, to stop wishing for something she was never going to have.

  With another glance at Dion and Cleia, she made up her mind. “You can try,” she murmured—and nipped his lower lip.

  He growled and pulled her closer. They both knew that nip had been a dare. Try to tame me if you can.

  “Oh, I will,” he assured her.

  * * *

  Rui paced back and forth in the forest near the only Rock Run entrance accessible from land. He’d posted guards at the water entrances, of course, but this was the most likely place for the Baltimore earth fada to attack.

  With most of the clan at Rising Sun, the base was nearly empty. For the hundredth time, Rui wondered if he’d done the right thing in allowing the others to attend. But Dion had included a code word in his message, one known only to Rui and Luis, assuring them he was all right and that he wasn’t being coerced.

  And the rules of hospitality were strict. A fae invitation automatically extended protection to anyone who accepted it. If Cleia tried anything, she’d have every fae and fada in North America gunning for her.

  But that wouldn’t stop the earth shifters from attacking while most of the clan was elsewhere.

  He paused to glance at the sky through the gnarled gray branches of an ancient beech. The sun was at its zenith; the ritual must have begun.

  He resumed pacing. His mouth was dry, the skin of his skull pulled tight. The craving was on him again, worse than yesterday.

  He raised his wineskin to his lips and took a swig of grape juice. The skin retained the faint trace of the wine it had held up until a couple of days ago. He clenched his teeth. A fada’s enhanced senses could be a curse at times. Right now he could smell the wine, a lush dark note above the tart grapes. Taste it in the juice.

  His mouth watered. His whole body trembled with the need for alcohol. He took another gulp from the skin.

  It would be so easy to slip inside, grab a bottle. Enough to take the edge off but not get him drunk.

  Just one.

  His head dropped as he fought a fierce inner battle.

  What would be the harm?

  He clenched his fists and gave himself a hard shake.

  No.

  He was a fada warrior and Dion’s second. He would not give in. He knew damn well that one drink would lead to another and then another, until he wasn’t fit to guard an anthill, let alone the base’s most vulnerable entrance.

  He was covered in sweat despite the fact that he was in the shade. He glanced longingly through the trees at the cool pewter ribbon of Rock Run Creek. What he wouldn’t give to change to his shark for a long swim.

  Later, he promised himself. He drew in a deep breath, taking in the scent of the river, the primal mix of mud and organic matter and fresh water that was life’s blood to a river fada. Something about it reminded him of Valeria’s earth and nutmeg arom
a. He flashed on her mouthing, “Do something,” at him the night Dion had been kidnapped, and knew he couldn’t disappoint her.

  Not again. It would crush something permanent in his soul.

  Something settled in him and he knew he could do this…at least for today. At least until Dion returned.

  He kept pacing.

  Probably a half hour had passed when suddenly, a warm energy suffused his chest. Startled, he brought his hand to his heart even as it spread to his fingers and toes. His skin heated and his brain filled with the same warm golden light. It surged, humming throughout his body like a low-level electric current, healing everything it touched. He instinctively spread his legs and stretched his arms above his head, riding the wave while a part of him looked on in wonder.

  The energy increased, and then just as it became painful, began to recede. He bent forward, hands on his thighs, gulping in oxygen.

  What the fu—?

  He came back upright and glanced around, dazed. The trees were bathed in the same golden light, their leaves an intense, saturated emerald; the sky above a radiant azure. Everything was sharper—his eyesight, his hearing, his sense of smell.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d been drugged. But no drug had ever left his brain feeling this keen, his senses this clear. He felt strong and energized, better than he had in years.

  He squinted up at the sun streaming through the trees. It was a half hour or so after noon. Could it be something to do with the midsummer ritual?

  Eliana, the young warrior helping him guard the entrance, jogged up from where she’d been running surveillance. “Senhor Rui?” She rubbed a hand over her face, her eyes full of the same dazed wonder he was feeling. “I—what was that?”

  She was young, twenty-one or so, but he had a vague, ashamed memory of taking her to bed a few months ago…although he wasn’t so sure a bed had been involved. He shook off the guilt—there was no time for that now—and asked, “You felt it too?”

  She nodded. “What happened?”

  “Hell if I know. But it could be something to do with the ritual. Why don’t you check with the others? See if it affected anyone else.”

  She ducked inside the base. He scanned the horizon, his senses amped from the energy still humming through him. He could detect nothing out of the ordinary.

  He rubbed his nape and considered what had happened. In a rare sober moment, he’d heard Dion’s theory that Cleia was draining energy from him and her other lovers, but had dismissed it as improbable. But now he wondered if some of what he’d attributed to too much drink—and sheer laziness—had been due to that energy drain.

  Hell. Not that it excused what a drunken S.O.B. he’d been—if it were true, Luis and Rodolfo had been subject to the same energy drain and hadn’t let it affect them the way he had—but still.

  Eliana returned to report that everyone in the base had felt the surge. “You won’t believe it. The sick ones are sitting up in bed, asking for food. And Fernando says for the first time in years his knees aren’t swollen. He did a little dance to show me.” She grinned and shook her head.

  A few minutes later a motorcycle roared up. It was Teresa, returning from Rising Sun. “You’ll never guess what happened,” she said, and then narrowed her eyes. “You felt it too?”

  When they said they had, she confirmed that those at the ritual had felt the same burst of healing energy, and then dropped a bombshell.

  “Lord Dion mated Queen Cleia.”

  Rui blinked. “Dion—and Cleia?”

  “That’s right. The energy surge happened when the mate bond clicked into place. Apparently, we drew energy from the sun through the queen’s bond with Dion.”

  “No shit.” But it fit, even if he’d never heard of anything like it. “So everyone’s okay?”

  “They are—better than okay. And little Xavier—” Teresa’s throat worked. “He’s fine, Rui. He was the first one Cleia cured. He’s out there dancing with the other kids right now. You’d never guess how sick he was three days ago.”

  He briefly shut his eyes. “Thank Deus.”

  “There’s something else,” the tenente continued. “Adric is at the midsummer festival. He knows Dion mated Cleia. Only a complete fool would attack now—and from what I hear, Adric’s no fool. Luis said for you to come, that the sun fae are throwing a mate ball for Dion and Cleia. Dion would want you there.”

  When Rui didn’t say anything, she added, “Valeria’s there, too, you know.”

  “I know.” Teresa didn’t have to spell it out; he’d seen Valeria and Merry leave with Okeanos. “Obrigado,” he told her. “You go on back now.”

  She opened her mouth, but when he just looked at her, she closed it again, and with a nod to them both, headed back the way she’d come.

  Eliana slanted him a look. “You should go, Rui.”

  He was tempted to snarl at her—what was with the women today?—but he reined it in. Still, she must have felt his anger because she dropped her gaze.

  “If you want to, that is.”

  He blew out a breath. “Maybe I will.” He saw again Valeria and Okeanos, the Greek fada pressing her against the wall, and that dark aggression rose up in him, strong and hot. When he spoke, it was his animal talking. “Hell, why not? Teresa is right—the earth fada would be out of their fucking minds to attack us now. We’ll stay on high alert just in case, but take it in turns to go to the party. I’ll send a couple of warriors back to spell you.”

  Eliana’s eyes rounded. “You mean it?”

  “Claro.”

  She did a happy little dance, ponytail bouncing. “All right.”

  * * *

  “Oh, Ric.” Marjani took in the scene with her mouth slightly open. “This is—” She waved a hand without completing her sentence.

  Adric followed her gaze to the huge, canopied dance floor and neighboring dining area. The decorations were understated in a way that screamed of wealth: enormous flower arrangements in blown-glass vases, delicately sculpted fountains, unlit fae lights that danced like soap bubbles above the crowd. Through it all, the sun fae moved like colorful fish in their shimmering clothes and glittering gems, their hair every bright shade from gold to silver to copper. Threaded among them were the Rock Run fada, no less beautiful with their dark, vivid coloring and simple clothing in rich hues of river and ocean and forest.

  “Who would’ve thought we’d ever be guests at a fae ball?” he remarked.

  Their eyes met in shared understanding. Marjani and her fellow lieutenants were the only ones who knew how hard he’d worked to save the clan. And if he’d been brutal at times, well, the end justified the means.

  He crossed his arms and watched the dancers. It was mostly sun fae until a young river female took the floor with a tall blond fae. She gracefully followed her partner’s lead, her dress an iridescent blue-green, her wavy black hair floating around her shoulders. The music changed to a samba and she grinned up at the sun fae and started to move her slim hips with a provocative innocence that made Adric’s lungs seize.

  For an endless few seconds he simply stared at her, entranced.

  Mine. The knowledge settled in some deep, primitive corner of his soul.

  And she damn well wouldn’t dance with anyone but him. He was about to stride across the dance floor and take her from the sun fae when Marjani nudged him.

  “Ric? That river fada over there is staring at you.”

  He frowned, not caring.

  “Ric?” she repeated. “I said—”

  “I heard you.” He forced his gaze away from the river girl—because she was a girl, as much as his body was reacting to her as a woman—and glanced in the direction his sister had indicated.

  Ah…

  The man could’ve passed for Lord Dion. He had the same shoulder-length black hair and strong, hard face, although this man was younger, slimmer, not yet fully formed. Adric knew exactly who he was: Tiago do Mar, the man who’d given him Cleia’s location in the Rock
Run base. Apparently the Rock Run alpha hadn’t yet discovered his own brother had betrayed him.

  He inclined his head in Tiago’s direction. The other man jerked his gaze away and took a gulp of beer.

  So he didn’t want anyone to know they were acquainted. That suited Adric just fine. Tiago must be desperate to keep his brother from knowing—and a desperate man was ripe for blackmail.

  Other fae had started to arrive for the festival—walnut-skinned sun fae from Africa and Australia, ice fae from the far north with their pale skin and cold light eyes, a trio of dryads with long brown hair and shy smiles, and others whom Adric couldn’t name, including a group of slim, golden-skinned beings with translucent wings and the air of being not quite of this earth.

  A night fae in dark sunglasses strode by Adric. Power brushed over his skin, cold and black. He had to force himself not to shudder. But he’d vowed never again to bow down to anyone—especially a fae.

  He looked back at the dancers. The river girl threw back her head and laughed up at her partner. She glanced toward Adric. Her eyes were a rich blue, startlingly beautiful against her light olive skin. Their gazes snagged and she missed a step.

  So she felt it too. He smiled at her, slow and dangerous.

  She stared back, eyes wide. Then the sun fae spun her around and she returned her attention to him.

  “Who is she?” he asked Marjani. He kept files on the Rock Run alpha and his top warriors, but he’d never seen the young river shifter before.

  Marjani followed his gaze. “Christ, Ric,” she muttered. “You do like to live on the edge, don’t you?”

  He frowned. “Who?” he insisted.

  “Rosana do Mar. The alpha’s only sister. His baby sister.”