by Chant, Zoe
Chapter 19
Cuan woke to a crushing sense of impending doom.
He lay absolutely motionless, keeping his breathing deep and even so as to betray no sign that he was no longer asleep. He concentrated on senses other than sight; the slight press of weight on his body, the faint movement of air over his bare skin.
Assess the situation, decades of experience as a warrior told him. Size up the enemy. Make no move until you are ready to strike.
Unfortunately, this was one opponent he would never be ready to face.
Cuan opened his eyes.
As he’d feared, Angus was sitting on his chest. The dog’s beady black eyes bored into his own. Cuan was abruptly, painfully aware of the exposed line of his throat, mere inches away from Angus’s jaws.
“Tamsin,” Cuan said in the barest whisper, never taking his eyes from the hound. “Tamsin. Wake up.”
She mumbled something, snuggling closer. Her warm, soft breasts pressed against his bicep. At any other time, this would have been an extraordinarily pleasant sensation. In the current circumstances, Cuan was more concerned with the fact that she was pinning down his sword-arm.
Angus’s eyes narrowed. His jaws opened, exposing tiny but razor-sharp teeth. Cuan silently commended his soul to the Shining Ones.
The dog pounced.
“Ack!” Cuan spluttered, his face full of wet pink tongue.
He flailed, nearly knocking Tamsin off the bed. Rather understandably, she shrieked, flinging her limbs around him.
Now Cuan had a face full of slobbering hound and a naked woman attempting to attach herself to him like an amorous octopus. Again, the latter would have been much more enjoyable without the former.
“Wha? Who—Cuan!” Tamsin’s fingers clenched on his shoulder. “Are we under attack?”
“I am,” Cuan said, from underneath both her and the dog. “From multiple angles. Help?”
Tamsin sat up, straddling him. She pushed back her hair, blinking down groggily. Her position gave him a glorious view of the underside of her full, lush breasts. Alas, it was difficult to properly appreciate with a canine tongue enthusiastically excavating his ear.
Tamsin’s mouth stretched into an enchanting grin. To Cuan’s infinite relief, she captured Angus, lifting him away.
“Hi baby,” she said to the dog. She planted a kiss on his wet black nose. “So you’ve decided you like Cuan after all, huh?”
“I believe I preferred it when he hated me.” Cuan wiped his face with the nearest fur—or at least, the nearest one that wasn’t Angus. “Do I also get a good morning kiss?”
Tamsin smirked at him over the top of Angus’s head. “I thought you just did.”
“I was hoping for one that was less moist.”
She giggled and leaned down. Her nipples brushed against his chest as her mouth found his.
He wound a hand into her hair, pulling her deeper. The sweet warmth of her lips gave him an intense interest in exploring other soft, wet places, at very great length.
Angus wriggled between them, and yapped.
Cuan sighed, regretfully releasing Tamsin. “I must see to your faithful hound, much as I would like to attend to other matters first. Some things do not benefit from an audience.”
Tamsin giggled again. “Yeah, he’d probably pee on us in outrage halfway through.”
She yawned, stretching. This did riveting things to her chest area. Cuan was doubly regretful for Angus’s continued presence.
Still, horses and hounds needed to be fed before one broke one’s fast. Or attended to other appetites.
“Stay in bed,” he said, giving Tamsin another kiss as he got up. “I shall see to his needs, and bring back breakfast.”
“Mmm.” Tamsin snuggled back down into the furs like a cat curling up. “Breakfast in bed sounds good.”
Other things in bed sounded even better, in Cuan’s opinion.
Soon, he promised himself.
They would have few enough moments together. He had to treasure every one.
Angus bounced around, getting underfoot as Cuan pulled on clean clothes. Cuan would have suspected the hound of trying to cause his demise by tripping him up with his own trousers, had Angus’s tail not been wagging madly the whole time.
“Shining Ones, hound,” he said in exasperation, pushing Angus away for the fifth time in as many minutes. “Have you no middle setting between ‘implacable hatred’ and ‘eternal devotion’? I would have settled for ‘grudging tolerance’, you realize.”
“He does only grudgingly tolerate most people,” Tamsin said from the bed. “Guess he’s finally recognized that you’re special.”
Cuan finally managed to do up his bootlaces, despite Angus’s apparent conviction that this was a marvelous game designed purely for his entertainment. “I wonder what has caused this change of heart. Perhaps I now smell of you?”
“I don’t think so.” Tamsin gave him a speculative look. “You haven’t done your glamour yet.”
He touched his own face, startled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d forgotten to set his glamour the instant that he awoke. Since childhood, it had been an automatic reflex.
“Thank you for reminding me.” He wove the magic as he spoke. “It would not have done to have walked out into the court looking like—”
A low growl interrupted his words. He looked down, surprised. Angus was stiff-legged and bristling, eyes fixed on his own.
“Thought so.” Tamsin sounded triumphant. “Drop the glamour again, Cuan.”
He did so. Immediately, Angus’s fur flattened, his ears and tail pricking up.
“He can tell when I’m using magic,” Cuan said, astonished.
“And he doesn’t like it.” Tamsin leaned out of bed to pat her dog. “Clever boy.”
Angus lolled out his tongue, looking smug.
“Well, I am glad that we discovered this before I walked him through the heart of the sidhean.” Cuan tied his hair back in a hasty warrior’s tail. “The nobles will be rousing now, and everyone wears fashionably glamoured garments. The last thing we need is for him to take offense to some highborn lady’s stockings.”
Tamsin winced. “Yeah, we’ve got enough enemies already. Is there a back way you could take him?”
“I will go by the servant’s corridors. No high sidhe shall see us.” He picked up Angus, bending down to give Tamsin another lingering kiss. “I shall not be long. We only have a few short hours before Lady Maeve calls the court together once more.”
Tamsin’s smile disappeared. “Before the next duel.”
He traced the worried line between her brows, wishing that he could smooth it away. Gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Let us not think of that now,” he said. “I will go, and return with breakfast. We will lounge together in bed, and I will feed you summer-warm berries dipped in cream, and lick the drips from your chin. We will spoil Angus with tidbits and laugh at his mischief. I will hold you in my arms, and you will tell me of your childhood, and your friends, and all the things that bring you joy.”
Her eyes were troubled. “That sounds wonderful. But Cuan—”
He silenced her with another long kiss.
“And just for a short time,” he whispered, “we will pretend that it will last forever.”
Chapter 20
“Well, now.” One of Maeve’s eyebrows arched as she looked Tamsin up and down. “Someone seems to have had an enjoyable time recently.”
Tamsin’s face heated. She was painfully aware of how disheveled she was compared to the elegant elf queen.
True to his word, Cuan had managed to make her forget all their worries for a few hours. He’d been so successful, in fact, that she’d genuinely lost track of time. When Maeve’s summons finally punctured their little love-bubble, there had barely been five minutes for Tamsin to splash her face with cold water and throw on some of Cuan’s spare clothes.
Probably doesn’t take faerie magic to guess what we’ve b
een doing. I must reek of sex.
She lifted her chin, facing Maeve down coolly. Let the elf queen sneer. She didn’t regret anything.
She took her place next to Maeve, smoothing her borrowed tunic over her thighs. She breathed in the faint, masculine scent that clung to the fine linen—leather and oiled metal, wood and musk.
Cuan. His scent wrapped around her like strong arms, steady and comforting.
The cold iron pressed against her skin was reassuring as well. Following Cuan’s advice, she’d fastened the collar above her right knee, like a garter. He’d reassured her that as long as she kept it out of sight, fae wouldn’t be able to tell that she was wearing it.
Nonetheless, her heart hammered against her ribs. She might be protected from glamour…but Cuan was still about to fight for their lives.
Again.
Across the hall, Cuan looked up from fastening his bracers around his forearms. He’d put his glamour back on before they’d left his room, much to Angus’s disgust. She could see the illusion shimmering around him, like a heat haze.
If she concentrated on his glamour, she could bring it into focus, seeing what the rest of the court saw. But by default, the iron showed her his real eyes. That golden gaze met hers, calm and steady.
He’s won two of these things already, she tried to reassure herself. He’ll win this one too. Everything’s going to be fine.
“My beast has done well so far,” Maeve said, as though reading her thoughts. “We are all most surprised by his victories. So unexpected. Who would have thought he had such hidden strength?”
Tamsin tucked her hands between her knees, hoping to hide how her palms were sweating.
“I never underestimated Cuan,” she replied. “But you did. Badly.”
“I quite agree.” Maeve’s red mouth curved in her vicious smile. “Which is why I have decided to give him a real challenge.”
Cuan stepped into the dueling-circle marked in the center of the hall—and froze, stiffening, as two figures came out from the crowd to meet him.
“Sir Angar. Sir Edwyn,” he said, in perfectly level tones. He inclined his head to each man in turn. “And which of you will it be my privilege to face this day?”
Long knives appeared in the two men’s hands, in a glitter of magic.
“Both of us,” the pair said in unison.
Tamsin started up, fists clenching. “What? This is meant to be single combat!”
“By our rules and customs, Angar and Edwyn are a single entity.” Maeve’s voice was as languid as ever, but her eyes glittered. “They are true mates. Bonded and fate-sworn.”
“So what? That doesn’t mean they get to gang up on Cuan!”
Maeve shrugged one slim white shoulder, taking a sip of wine. “What fate has joined, nothing may part. They stand together, always, in all circumstances. Even this one.”
Tamsin looked frantically back at Cuan. From the way his face had set in grim lines, it seemed this was indeed a valid challenge. He bowed to both men, swords appearing in his hands.
“By the way, I must thank you, little human.” Maeve lifted her wine glass in a mocking salute. “It was you who gave me this idea. So splendidly ironic, do you not think?”
Angar and Edwyn spread out, flanking Cuan. One of them—Tamsin had no idea which was which—was blond and built like a brick wall; the other, red-headed and slimmer. They both wore matching, close-fitting armor of articulated steel. They settled into position with the taut, deadly grace of praying mantises, poised to strike.
As one, Angar and Edwyn crossed their daggers in front of their chests, indicating that they were ready to begin. From the way they mirrored each other’s movements, it was obvious that they had a lot of experience fighting together.
More slowly, Cuan raised his own swords. He paused, blades not quite crossing yet. His eyes flicking from one man to the other.
Oh no, no, no. Tamsin hadn’t seen Cuan hesitate before, not even when he’d faced the huge black knight. That can’t be good.
“Such a pity that you did not mate my beast. You would have been legally entitled to help him yourself.” Maeve idly swirled her wine. “Of course, had you mated him, he would not be fighting at all.”
There had to be something she could do. Tamsin looked around wildly, but nothing presented itself. There wasn’t even a fruit platter she could throw.
Maeve raised her voice. “I grow bored, beast. Will you entertain us or not?”
Cuan turned his head. He didn’t even glance at Maeve. He looked straight past the elf queen, to where Tamsin sat.
He smiled.
…Huh?
Tamsin blinked, wondering if she’d imagined that slight, brief curve. Cuan was already turning away, facing his opponents once more.
His swords rang together.
He was shifting even before the sound died away. His two opponents had barely started to move forward when Cuan reared up in stallion form.
Tamsin’s mouth fell open.
When Cuan had shapeshifted before, his hide had always been pure, midnight black…but no longer. Now, faemarks burned across the stallion’s powerful shoulders, exactly the same as when he was a man.
Cuan charged, his markings glowing with power. He smashed into the two men like a wrecking ball. The blond went down instantly, howling, clutching broken ribs.
The red-head echoed his mate’s scream, even though he’d managed to evade Cuan’s hooves himself. He flung himself at Cuan, murder in his eyes—only to be snatched out of the air by the jaws of a wolf.
Power blazed along Cuan’s fur. In his other duels, he’d always seemed to be pulling his blows, trying not to injure his opponents—but not now. He shook the red-head like a dog with a rabbit.
With a final contemptuous flick, he dropped the limp form on top of the other man. The next instant, Cuan stood on two feet again, his blades leveled at the men’s throats.
The whole fight had taken less than ten seconds.
The hall was dead silent.
Cuan spat blood—not his own—onto the white marble tiles. His feral stare raked the frozen court. His eyes were the wolf’s eyes, gold and fierce.
No glamour!
That faint, telltale shimmer of magic was gone. Everyone could see those eyes now. He stood before the high sidhe, showing them his true self at last.
“I am done with holding myself back.”
He did not raise his voice. He didn’t have to. That growl reverberated in Tamsin’s bones. It spoke to some deep, primal part of her. Some ancestral memory of huddling close to a feeble fire; watching eyes like Cuan’s, circling, shining.
“You call me a beast,” Cuan went on, in that dark, deadly voice. “So be it.”
He dropped his burning stare to his defeated opponents. The blond man flinched, cradling the redhead protectively. The man was still alive—Tamsin could see him breathing—but his armor was stained with blood. Cuan’s fangs had torn through solid steel as easily as he’d shredded her clothes last night.
“This is the last time,” Cuan said softly, “that I will show mercy.”
Cuan flicked his blades up, stepping back. He did not bow to the two men.
“I will allow no one to take my mate from me.” He looked over the court once more, expression cold with contempt. “Challenge me, and I shall rip out your throat.”
Chapter 21
Cuan stretched his back, grimacing at the faint twinge of disused muscles. “If this continues, I shall grow soft.”
Tamsin’s hand ran down his thigh. “Based on the evidence, I really don’t think that’s likely to be a problem.”
He chuckled, capturing her wrist. He drew her hand up to his mouth, planting a kiss in her palm.
“Not in that way.” He released her, sitting up in the bed. “And tempting as it is to prove that to you again, I really must practice. I cannot be out of condition for the next duel, whenever it may come.”
Tamsin propped herself up on an elbow. She was flushed and glow
ing from their recent lovemaking. As ever, his heart turned over at her beauty.
“It’s been five days now,” she said, stretching herself. “Maybe you’ve terrified them all into giving up.”
He let out a wry breath of laughter as he got up, hunting for clothes. “Who would have guessed that showing my true eyes would make them all creep around like frightened rabbits? Half the court seems to think I might snap like a mad wolf at any moment. I suppose I am living down to their worst expectations.”
“Mmm. I think it’s more that you aren’t creeping around with your tail between your legs anymore. Bullies have to make other people feel weak in order to feel strong. Now that you aren’t ashamed of who you are, they don’t have any power over you.”
He leaned down to kiss her again. “I have you to thank for that.”
She hummed in pleasure, her tongue soft and sweet against his. Her palms slid over his shoulders. His faemarks lit, along with a heat lower down.
We do have a few more hours before Motley returns with Angus…
Cuan sighed, reluctantly pulling away. “Sadly, I really do need to practice. Technically, any fae could still challenge me over you. I cannot let myself become a brownie’s cat.”
Tamsin quirked an eyebrow at him, in a way he’d become intimately familiar with over the past few days. They were still bumping against each other’s cultural references, though more usually it was he who was baffled.
The more he learned about her human world, the less he understood it. The worst had been trying to follow her description of an infinite realm that sucked in the bored and unwary through tiny mobile portals. Apparently it was a place populated mainly by cats. But he still hadn’t the faintest idea what ‘the internets’ actually was.
I could spend a lifetime exploring our differences, and never grow weary…
He shook off the hopeless thought, pulling on his pants. “Brownies are famously excellent housekeepers. No vermin in a brownie’s abode. And thus, a brownie’s cat is a lazy beast. As I shall be, if I do not redouble my exercises.”