“I...” Albigard gasped, about thirty seconds before Len would have given in and finished them both off without further prompting. “Please... I need...”
Len wrapped a hand around both of their dicks and pumped.
“What you need is a solid thousand years of fucking to make up for lost time,” he panted. “Everyone can see it. Danon saw it. He thought you were pretty... he probably went back to the cave to get a bunch of his buddies. Maybe he’s bringing them here right now to take turns with you once I’m finished.”
Albigard made a tortured sound and convulsed, his knuckles white on the ledge he was grasping as he came explosively beneath Len—an expression like that of a martyred saint twisting his perfect features.
Len’s orgasm crashed over him in response to the sight laid out before him, his vision tunneling for the space of a few heartbeats before oxygen returned to his brain and left him gasping. He slumped against the shuddering form beneath him, waiting for his muscles to start responding again, his breath damp against Albigard’s neck in the humid air.
Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.
Tomorrow is another realm.
And he couldn’t fall apart right now. He was still domming... still responsible for another’s physical and emotional wellbeing. Len swallowed hard and took his own weight, lifting himself off of the Fae’s body.
“You were perfect, princeling,” he whispered, stroking Albigard’s cheek. “Absolutely perfect. Come here... drink some more water for me, and we’ll get you freed so you can rest for a bit.”
Len held the water so Albigard could drink, and then took his own advice and finished what was left in the gourd. One at a time, he eased Albigard’s hands away from the rock he’d been clutching, and massaged the joints before settling them in the Fae’s lap.
Albigard remained dazed and pliant beneath his care, floating along happily in subspace. He allowed Len to urge him out of the pool and onto a moss-covered rock, where he sat while Len climbed up to the storage shelf. There, he found a pile of thick furs presumably meant for drying off, or maybe for sitting on. Len returned to the Fae’s side and laid out the furs on a flat stretch of moss-cushioned ground.
“Come here, princeling,” he murmured, and guided Albigard to lie on his side in the warm night air. When he was comfortably settled, Len spooned him from behind, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle.
The Fae was asleep within moments. Len pressed his face into the nape of Albigard’s neck, and tried to believe that the sun would never rise again.
TEN
WHEN LEN OPENED his eyes the following morning, the cat-sidhe was sitting cross-legged on the nearby rock, watching the pair of them with an expression of sad acceptance. The marks on their face and throat had faded to pink, except for one particularly bad bruise that was still mottled yellow and green.
Len carefully untangled himself from Albigard, who slept on, oblivious. His conspicuous nudity would normally have been the most immediate issue on Len’s mind... but the sight of the elfin figure brought everything else crashing into him like a derailed freight train. Compared to the realization that the Hunt had been roaming freely on Earth for more than a day, and he was now expected to shuffle Albigard off to his death at the hands of every Fae’s childhood nightmare, the fact that his dick was hanging out didn’t really rate.
“What happened to his magic?” the sidhe asked quietly. “I sensed its absence yesterday.”
A lump rose in Len’s throat, and he had to force the words out. “He lied to protect me from his father.”
The cat-sidhe nodded. “I see.”
“That’s it?” Len demanded, bitterness clawing its way up from his stomach. “No words of profound sidhe wisdom? No moral judgments?”
“No,” said the little Fae. “It will not affect the outcome of what we must do today. In the end, it does not matter.”
Len’s temper boiled over, and he directed it at the only convenient target. “Yes it fucking matters!” he snapped, barely remembering to keep his voice down. “It matters that he’s getting punished for trying keep someone else safe! It matters that we’re using him as bait for this thing!”
He leaned forward, tangling his fingers in his fringe of blue hair. Only then did he become aware of how badly his hands were shaking.
“Of course you are right, human,” the sidhe said in a soothing tone. The words sounded genuine. “Forgive me. I spoke thoughtlessly.”
Len tried to breathe against the hitch in his chest. “I don’t think I can do this.” His voice broke on the words.
A warm hand closed on his forearm.
“You must,” Albigard said, a sleepy, early morning rasp. “We must. Both our worlds hang in the balance.”
“I know,” Len said miserably, not uncurling. “I know that.”
Everyone on Earth was depending on them to walk into the lion’s den, where Albigard would sacrifice himself to the one thing he feared most. Len might or might not survive that endgame. He was a side character... a nameless bodyguard meant to help deliver Albigard to his appointment with fate, and keep him from getting eaten at the wrong time or in the wrong place.
His stomach churned.
The hand on his arm squeezed. “Come,” Albigard said. “The sooner we leave, the better.”
“You should eat something first,” Len said reflexively, since caretaking other people had always been one of his coping mechanisms.
“So should you,” Albigard retorted.
But honestly, dumping food on his roiling stomach was the very last thing on Len’s mind at that moment.
“Let us depart now,” said the cat-sidhe. “I have acquired weapons for the journey. Your Unseelie may hunt breakfast for us as we travel, human. That way, you need have no worries about accepting the food.”
Len straightened with reluctance, scrubbing his hands over his face—pulling at his metal piercings with ruthless disregard, just to feel something that wasn’t sick dread.
“I would enjoy that,” Albigard said. “My most recent opportunity for hunting lacked much in the way of challenge.”
With a sharp pang, Len remembered the fifteen-minute opossum expedition in suburban Chicago. His eyes moved listlessly over the items lying on the ground next to the cat-sidhe’s perch. A bow and a quiver of arrows. Two leather belts with knife sheaths.
“Okay, fine. Let’s go,” he managed, because the only thing worse than what was about to happen would be if Albigard left without Len and went to his death alone... or if the Hunt showed up before they were ready for it.
The Fae handed Len his pile of rumpled designer clothes before reaching for his own clothing. “Has the Wild Hunt returned to Dhuinne yet?” Albigard asked the sidhe.
“No, not yet,” the pixie-like figure replied. “The camp is packing up to leave as a precaution. I can portal the three of us to the edge of the protected zone around Chaima, but it will take us the better part of the day to penetrate the magical barrier.”
Albigard nodded, accepting it. Len pulled on his clothing, relieved to find that his muscles were not as sore as he’d expected after yesterday’s exertion. Albigard strapped on the weapons the sidhe had brought him, and handed the second knife belt to Len.
Len stared at it. “You realize I have no idea how to use this, right?” he asked. “My one and only experience with knife fighting ended up with me getting skewered through the lung. I’d prefer not to repeat that experience anytime soon.”
A wan smile tugged at the corner of Albigard’s lips. “Take it anyway. If nothing else, I’m sure you can use it to cut up meat for breakfast.”
Len took the belt and strapped it over his hips, feeling vaguely ridiculous. With a final look around the unearthly beauty of the grotto, he gave himself a few self-indulgent moments to picture a world where he brought Albigard here every night and shattered the Fae with pleasure. His eyes slid closed.
“I’m still not ready for this,” he told the others. “Can we pleas
e hurry up and go anyway?”
“Yes, human,” said the cat-sidhe. “We will go now.”
Len opened his eyes as a portal burned its way into existence in front of them. Albigard stepped through without hesitation. Len couldn’t boast the same, but he made himself follow, unwilling to let Albigard out of his sight for more than a moment. The sidhe came through right after him, and the portal snapped shut.
They were in a forest, though like so much of Dhuinne, it was more of a jungle.
“Another good use for a knife,” Albigard observed dryly, taking in the tangle of overgrown paths around them.
“Yes,” agreed the cat-sidhe. “This journey would, in fact, be considerably easier were it not for the very problem we are here to address.”
Len looked up, taking in the towering deciduous trees. “Is one of these Chaima?”
“No, human,” said the sidhe. “Chaima is the world-tree. It dwarfs these tiny things.”
“Umm...” Len said. “Okay. So, how do we get there, exactly?”
“The tree exists inside a fold in space, I suppose you might say.” The cat-sidhe turned in a slow circle, examining their surroundings. “We must complete a full circuit around the circumference of the protected area. Once I have charted its boundaries, I will be able to see inside.”
Len looked at Albigard. “Does that make sense to you, I hope?”
“It does. Think of it like the recursive boundary layer that surrounded the pocket realm,” Albigard said. “You charted one edge of it. If you had followed it all the way around, you would have understood the shape of the interior. This situation is, I gather, somewhat the reverse.”
Len thought about that. “Right. If I ignore everything I thought I knew about how reality works, I guess that makes sense.”
Albigard shrugged. “Humans are not exactly renowned throughout the three realms for understanding how reality works.”
The cat-sidhe gave a small snort. “We should get a start on things—the journey is likely to be several leagues’ travel. I will gather berries if you will hunt, Unseelie, and we will stop for a meal once we acquire enough food for one.”
Without waiting for a response, the sidhe headed off in what seemed like an arbitrary direction. For the most part, they were able to squeeze through gaps in the vines and brush, though occasionally one of them had to hack a larger opening through the plant life.
When Len detoured around a patch of vines that his more graceful companions had slipped through, he found the edge of the fold in space. Just as it had in the pocket realm, his path twisted in a different direction than the one his feet had been pointed toward. He realized with a chill that left to his own devices, he’d get hopelessly turned around and lost before he’d gone a hundred feet.
This, apparently, was the sidhe’s special skill. They could sense the edge of the boundary without getting disoriented by it. For his part, Albigard seemed to be watching the cat-sidhe, rather than their surroundings, to gauge their path. Even so, when he darted off in pursuit of a rustle in the underbrush, bow drawn, Len felt a moment of panic.
“Will he be able to find his way back in this weirdness?” he whispered urgently.
The sidhe paused to pick a handful of red berries from a low tree branch, adding them to a pouch hanging at their waist. “Yes, but we will wait here to make it easier for him.”
Indeed, Albigard returned a few minutes later. He was empty-handed, but Len couldn’t help his sigh of relief. Twice more, the Fae disappeared into the confusion of trees, and they stopped to wait for him. On his third expedition, a high-pitched squeal emerged from the bushes. Shortly afterward, he reappeared with a creature about the size of a very large rabbit, but with small, round ears and a flat, paddle-shaped tail.
“Quickly.” Albigard gestured to Len to approach.
He did, and saw with an unpleasantly queasy sensation that the mystery animal was still alive, its chest rising and falling in rapid panting despite the arrow lodged in its flank. “It’s not dead,” he pointed out.
“I’m aware,” Albigard told him. “And no—before you ask, this is not my preferred method to dispatch prey.” With Len standing a step away, he crouched and placed the injured animal on the ground before cutting off its head with the blade of his dagger. Blood gushed, and Len drew in a sharp gasp as a chilly breath of... something... sank into him.
“Fascinating,” said the cat-sidhe, who had been watching the proceedings with interest.
Len—who generally didn’t have to deal with his meat until after it was already dead—still felt faintly ill.
“Did it work?” Albigard asked.
Nose-to-tail eating, Len reminded himself. Nothing going to waste.
“Yeah,” he said. “It worked.”
“There is a stream in this direction,” the sidhe declared, heading down a partly overgrown animal trail. “We will build a fire on the bank, and eat.”
They made their way down a gentle slope to the promised waterway. Albigard gathered dry wood while Len skinned and gutted the mystery critter with less skill than he would have liked. Some of the meat was fouled by the contents of the intestines, which had been pierced by the arrow. Len detached the shoulders and haunches, and filleted out the loin muscles, figuring that would still be plenty to feed three people.
The sidhe efficiently stripped the bark from a couple of green branches with forked ends, and had Len thread the meat onto a third stick with a sharpened point. Albigard came back with wood for a fire, and cleared the vines from a section of the pebbled bank. The sidhe started the fire with magic, and soon had it blazing merrily away—the forked sticks stuck in the ground on either side to act as support for the spitted meat.
Len babysat their meal, turning it every couple of minutes to roast it evenly. While he was cooking the meat, Albigard brought him a waxy, tubular leaf filled with water from the stream, and Len ended up spilling half of it down his chin because drinking from a leaf wasn’t nearly as easy as it sounded. When the meat was cooked, they ate. There was no seasoning—nothing except the char from the fire. It was still amazing, and Len once more felt the tingle of disquiet over how unnaturally good everything tasted in this realm.
The water was sweet. The berries were tangy. The mystery critter was more succulent than the best prime rib Len had ever eaten.
To distract himself, he turned to the cat-sidhe and raised a subject that had been bothering him. “There was a cu-sidhe guarding you when we got you out of that vault where Oren was keeping you.”
“Was there?” asked the sidhe.
“Yeah,” Len confirmed. “Shouldn’t the cu-sidhe be on your side? Why would they help Oren?”
The diminutive Fae gave a mirthless smile. “Unfortunately, the cu-sidhe tend to go where they are led. It’s something of a characteristic of theirs.”
“If Oren told them that it was necessary to keep the cat-sidhe safely out of the way until they’d used me to bring the Hunt to heel in Dhuinne,” Albigard added, “I’m sure they would have done so without question.”
From what he’d seen of the dog-like Fae, Len supposed it made sense.
“Are Oren and the Court likely to realize that we’ve come here?” Len wondered. “To Chaima, I mean.”
“Unlikely,” said the cat-sidhe. “They still seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that luring the Hunt back to Dhuinne and allowing it to consume its prey will be sufficient to bring it back under their control. Fools.”
“What do you think is really causing this... imbalance in Dhuinne?” Len asked. “If it’s not the Hunt, I mean?”
The cat-sidhe looked pensive. “If I knew that, human, we would not be in this situation in first place.”
“It all started soon after the war ended,” Albigard put in. “Perhaps the demons used some kind of weapon we do not know about, causing damage to the veil and throwing things out of alignment.”
“Perhaps,” said the cat-sidhe, though they didn’t sound convinced.
&nb
sp; The three of them finished eating and extinguished the fire, throwing water on it to prevent any possibility of embers. The cat-sidhe retraced their path, leading them back to the exact spot where they’d detoured from the edge of the fold in reality for their meal. Their little group continued at a steady pace, hacking a trail through the jungle-like forest until Len was exhausted and sore, with fresh blisters on both heels complaining at every step.
The sun had risen to its zenith in the lavender sky and gotten a good start on its afternoon descent by the time the sidhe finally called a halt. “Here we are.”
Len couldn’t see anything familiar about their surroundings at first, but then he looked down and saw footprints in the damp loam. One set had the distinctive tread of Doc Martens.
They had arrived back at their starting point.
The cat-sidhe peered intently into the area of jungle they’d just circumnavigated. “Yes, I see it now. Come, my friends.”
With a gesture of one hand, the little Fae called up a portal. Rather than murky darkness, a luminous golden glow emanated from the center. Albigard straightened his spine and stepped through, his chin held high. Len swallowed against the hollow ache in his stomach and followed.
On the other side, he was confronted with a tree so massive that it took up the entire sky.
ELEVEN
THE CAT-SIDHE followed them through and closed the portal. Len tried to take everything in, but it didn’t work. This appeared to be another one of those things human brains simply weren’t designed to process.
They were still quite a distance from the tree... or at least, he thought they were. It was so big that it messed with his perception of scale. The impression that it took up all the available space was further reinforced by the nebulous nature of the rest of their surroundings. Everything was misty, illuminated by the diffuse, golden glow he’d seen through the portal.
Forsaken Fae: The Complete Series, Books 1-3 (Last Vampire World) Page 43