Iron Master

by Jennifer Ashley

  A lion’s mane was meant to protect him from another male lion trying to break his neck. But it couldn’t protect him from an enraged bear compassionate enough to save a total asshole from too-great odds.

  The lion roared and tried to fight, but Peigi shook him savagely, then let go, the momentum sending him tumbling across the forest floor. The lion hit a tree—hard—and collapsed.

  Michael struggled to his feet, his dark eyes meeting Peigi’s with a gleam of triumph. Peigi humphed her disdain and turned to lope after Stuart.

  No. Michael growled behind her. Leave the Fae. He’s abandoned us. You and me, Peigi. Like always.

  Fuck that, Peigi answered loud and clear in bear, and continued on her way.

  Stuart hadn’t abandoned them at all, she knew. As she ran after him, a dozen tiny balls of steel whooshed past her the other way, heading for the remaining hunters.

  She looked back to see the balls reach the Fae and dive at them. The hunters yelled, swatting and flailing as though at stinging bees. Then they quit the fight, and fled.

  The tiny balls rose and flew past Peigi again, returning obediently to Stuart ahead of her. She put on a burst of speed and caught up to him where he stood silhouetted against the fog.

  Stuart lifted his hand. The balls melted into each other and became one hunk of metal, which dropped neatly into his palm.

  Peigi rose into her bear-human beast, trying to catch her breath. “Where’s the Fae?”

  Stuart gestured off into the trees. “Gone. Maybe he’ll catch up to his horse before it reaches home.” He shrugged, giving her a half smile. “Or maybe not.”

  Peigi shifted all the way to her human form, the cold touching her. “What if he brings back reinforcements?”

  He rubbed his shoulder, loosening it. “I’m willing to bet he’s even now bragging that he single-handedly fought off two Shifters and a dokk alfar and lived to tell the tale. Even if he does decide to come after his Shifter, we won’t be around for him to find.”

  “How do you figure that? You know a way back home?”

  Stuart released his shoulder, shaking out his throwing arm. “I have an idea.”

  He kept his eyes on her face, politely averted from her naked body. Like most Shifters, when Peigi first shifted from animal to human, she paid no attention to her nudity. But Stuart standing so close made her aware, especially when his eyes softened.

  “You are truly beautiful, you know,” he said.

  Peigi’s breath, which she’d just regained, deserted her again. “I’ve been in a fight. I must look like hell.”

  “You’re strong and have more courage than anyone I know.”

  New heat flashed through her, making air further elude her. She coughed. “Maybe we should see if the Feline has recovered enough to attack Michael again.”

  Stuart put a hand on her shoulder, fingers warm. “You don’t owe Michael anything. He once put out a hit on Shane, remember?”

  “He did a lot of things just as bad, and even worse.” Peigi met Stuart’s eyes, loving how dark they were. Darkness could be comforting after painful brightness. “I’m more worried about saving the Feline. He might know the way out.”

  Stuart’s smile always made everything better. “Let’s go make sure he stays alive then.”

  Peigi shifted to bear, and they walked together to Michael and the Feline, Stuart with his hand on Peigi’s back.

  When the Feline saw them coming, he struggled up, snarling and ready to attack again. Peigi and Michael started for him, but Stuart got quickly around them both. The steel he held formed itself into a sharp blade that he pressed to the Feline’s throat.

  “Stop.”

  Stuart spoke in English, and the Feline, with one last snarl, went still.

  The scent he gave off was one of surrender—pissed-off surrender, but Peigi didn’t believe he’d fight again. Michael, whether he sensed this or not, raised one large paw to finish him off.

  Peigi caught his paw with her own. No. We need him.

  Let go of me. Obey me! The unspoken command came through Shifter body language, and Peigi felt the old pull, the fear, and the anger of her younger self.

  Peigi had soon figured out that Michael was a bully who used others and reigned by coercion and terror, but she’d struggled with the equal fear that without him, she wouldn’t survive. Peigi’s choice was staying with Michael, no matter how much he used and belittled her, or taking her chances on her own.

  Being alone meant fighting for survival or getting rounded up by Shifter Bureau agents. Shifter Bureau would shove her into a Shiftertown at best, or at worst, execute her for being un-Collared and a rogue.

  Peigi had stayed with Michael for lack of options. Michael was a powerful alpha, and she felt the tug.

  Three years without him, Nell’s tutelage on female independence, and most of all, being with Stuart, who’d taught her that strength and intimidation were two different things, made Michael’s impact on her a lot less, but it still existed.

  Peigi greatly feared she’d succumb to him again. Not because she believed obeying him was right, but because her brain might fall into its old habits. Do what Michael said, because the alternative was so much worse.

  She made herself retain her snarl, the I’m-sick-of-putting-up-with-your-shit one Nell had taught her. He might know how to get us home.

  Michael continued to growl, then he slowly shifted into his human form. “Why didn’t you say so? Hey.” He smacked the Feline across the jaw with his fist. “Shift and talk to us.”

  With reluctance, the Feline morphed into a hard-bodied man with dark hair and blue eyes. As he unfolded himself to his feet, Peigi was struck by how much he resembled Dylan Morrissey.

  Michael must have noticed it too, because he recoiled a moment before he stopped and eyed the man more closely.

  The Feline wasn’t Dylan—that was apparent. He had the same coloring, and he was a black-maned lion, but he was younger and his face was softer and less square. But he had the defiance of Dylan, which Dylan had tamed into immense strength of will.

  The Feline took in Stuart, Michael, and Peigi as she shifted back to her human form, and scowled. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Who are you?” Peigi countered.

  “None of your damned business,” the Feline snarled.

  Michael grabbed the man by the neck and shook him. “Shifter fucking traitor. I should cut your balls off.”

  Stuart regarded them both with his usual coolness, his steel blade held loosely. “He has a point. Give us your name, Horkalan.”

  The Feline winced at the Fae word, and also at Michael shaking his head back and forth. “All right. All right. It’s Crispin.”

  “Let him go,” Stuart told Michael firmly. When Michael glared at him, Stuart continued. “He gave us what we asked, so he gets a reward.”

  Michael growled but released the Feline, if reluctantly.

  “What clan are you from?” Peigi asked him.

  Crispin sneered. “None of your damned business.”

  “Guardian Network will have that info,” Stuart said. “Do you know the way to the closest gate?” He gestured to the trees behind them, which all appeared the same to Peigi. “Over there somewhere? Why was your master hunting in this area today?”

  Crispin’s face screwed up even more. “He’s not my master.”

  “No? He’s a Fae prince, right? Or a duke, or whatever they call themselves.”

  “Prince. He’s a son of Walther le Madhug, who is in direct line to become the emperor.”

  “I’m sure his mother is proud,” Stuart said. “They love their Horkalan, Fae princes do. Used to be white tigers only. I guess he had to settle for a lion, because the Fae pretty much wiped out the white tigers. All tigers.”

  “Tough shit for them.” Crispin folded his arms but kept a careful eye on Peigi and Michael.

  “That means he’s your master,” Stuart went on. “You’re running at his side, obeying his every command.”

/>   “Like I keep saying, none of your damned business what I do. He might think he’s master, but that’s his problem.”

  Michael lost patience. “Where’s the gate, asshole?”

  “Why the hell do you think I’ll tell you?”

  “Because if you don’t, the guy with the knife really will cut off your balls, and I’ll bounce you on your head all the way to the ley line. I can’t wait to get you back to Shifters on the other side and tell them what a traitor you are.”

  Michael’s rage rolled off him in waves. The fact that Dylan and others were searching for Michael back home with intent to kill him didn’t seem to worry him at the moment.

  “Do you know where the gate is or not?” Peigi asked.

  Stuart nimbly twirled the knife in his fingers. “Think about the fact that this knowledge is keeping you alive,” he said. “If you refuse to take us, the bear is correct, you are a traitor Shifter. I don’t like your chances against the two of them.”

  Crispin wrinkled his forehead in worry, but kept up his belligerence. “You’re one of those dokk alfar, aren’t you?” he asked. “Dangerous bastards.”

  “That’s right.” Stuart’s voice was smooth. “So if the bears decide to be nice to you, doesn’t mean I—”

  He never got to finish. Peigi came alert a split second before the shadows spilled forth a dozen or so Fae warriors to surround them. Each held a wicked-looking sword, and the men—and several women—had black-dark hair and eyes like midnight.

  They were dokk alfar, but instead of greeting Stuart like a long-lost brother, they held their swords lengthwise, in a circle of steel, and advanced on the four in the middle.

  Chapter Eleven

  Reid spun in place, his knife poised, but he knew he’d never outfight a dozen dokk alfar warriors by himself. Didn’t matter that he had three Shifters who might—or might not—back him up.

  He didn’t recognize any of the warriors, but he’d been gone from Faerie a long time. Dokk alfar wouldn’t simply embrace him because he was one of them—they had plenty of clan wars and territory disputes amongst themselves, and they couldn’t be certain where his allegiance lay.

  Reid could use his iron master powers to turn their swords into melting piles of goo, but that wouldn’t help if they pulled obsidian knives and came at him. Ruining a warrior’s sword just made him or her that much more pissed off.

  The soldiers wore leather and furs, and plenty of metal. The women had braided beads into their hair, which they wore fairly short. If any opponent figured the women would be the weaker fighters, the best place to attack, they’d be wrong.

  Stuart did the only thing he could do. He raised his hands and let his blade point straight down.

  “Peace,” he said in dokk alfar.

  One of the women stepped forward. “You Stu Aire de Kennan de Reed?”

  “Yes.” Stuart hadn’t heard that version of his name in forever. It pulled at hidden spaces inside him. His formal name was longer, but this was what a stranger would use to address him. “What do you want?”

  The woman didn’t lower her sword. “I was told to find a dokk alfar who dressed in the weirdest clothes I could imagine.”

  “Find me for whom?”

  For answer the woman let out a shrill whistle. The fog in the shadows parted once more for a man, another dokk alfar, to slide through.

  He had the loose but strong limbs common to the dokk alfar, dark hair in many braids that fell past his shoulders, and eyes of intense black. Unlike his followers who wore leather vests or studded leather armor, he had a linen shirt, leather pants, and a cloak that brushed the tops of his boots. He approached Reid cautiously but with confidence, a man who knew he was in charge.

  He glanced at the three unclothed Shifters, who retained human form but were ready to shift and attack if they decided to.

  The dokk alfar halted a respectful distance away, meaning Reid couldn’t reach him with his knife. “Did you speak to the red wolf?” he asked.

  “Are you Cian Tadhg Cailean an Mac Diarmud?” Reid returned.

  The man smiled, not a thing you’d want to see in a dark alley. “He recalled my entire name?”

  “More or less.” Reid decided not to mention Dimitri’s mate or the Tuil Erdannan in front of all his soldiers. “Was that you whispering at me through a ley line?”

  Cian gave him a nod. “It is an old spell, but a powerful one.”

  “One I’m guessing not many can do.”

  Again a nod, no false modesty. “It was necessary.”

  Reid rubbed the back of his head. He’d cut his hair short a long time ago, when he’d found himself stranded in the human world, and had grown used to it. He’d decided cropped hair was better for fighting, but the circle of warriors brought back the touch of braids on his arms, cool leather on his skin, and the weight of an iron sword in his hand.

  “Are we going to talk about this in the middle of the woods?” Stuart asked, as though unworried. “Hunting grounds of a Fae prince?”

  “There is a place we can discuss things.” Cian cast another glance at the Shifters, who wouldn’t understand a word of what he was saying.

  “Send my friends back through the gate, and I’ll go with you,” Reid said.

  Cian shook his head. Reid hadn’t thought Cian would agree, but it had been worth a shot.

  “They will accompany us. But I’ll need your word that they will not shift into their beast forms.”

  “And if they do?”

  Reid let the question hang, but he had a pretty good idea what would happen. His word would make him a hostage for their behavior. If the Shifters shifted or attacked, or both, Reid would be the first to die under a dokk alfar blade.

  Again the smile. “I have to ask those terms or my people won’t back me. And we need you.”

  “Give me a moment to explain it to them,” Reid said.

  Cian frowned as though considering, but Reid knew he’d decided every word of this conversation before it had begun. “Go ahead.” He gestured to Peigi and the two males. Again the movement was casual, but Reid sensed that this man did nothing without calculating twenty moves ahead.

  Reid turned to Peigi and repeated in English what Cian had said. “Agree?” he asked.

  Peigi’s eyes narrowed. “They’ll kill you if we decide to shift?”

  “That’s how it works.”

  Michael growled. “Why should we take orders from Fae shits?”

  “Because they hate the high Fae more than you do,” Reid said. “Trust me on that. And he has twelve trained warriors with very sharp swords who will do whatever he commands.”

  Crispin sent Reid a hard stare. “You want me to betray the people I work for?”

  Reid returned the stare with a flinty one of his own. “You work for me now.”

  “Yeah? How do you figure?”

  “Because if you don’t, you’ll be the first to go down. If they come for me, I’ll make sure I gut you first.”

  Reid didn’t have to speak very loudly or even forcefully to make his point. He’d learned a lot about dominance living among Shifters. Eric, the Shiftertown leader, rarely yelled at anyone and yet his Shifters fell all over themselves for him whenever he opened his mouth.

  Reid didn’t know Crispin’s place in the overall hierarchy, but suspected he fell under Michael at the least, and probably Peigi as well. It would be difficult for Crispin to go against their combined wishes.

  Michael let out a gravelly laugh. “I’m starting to like you, dark Fae.”

  “We won’t shift,” Peigi said, directing her words at Michael and Crispin. “But I want my clothes.”

  Dokk alfar didn’t have the modesty rules humans did, but Reid understood, and it was cold. “Get them,” he said to Michael.

  Michael drew a breath as though to argue then abruptly walked off to retrieve the clothes they’d dropped before the fight with the Fae prince and his men.

  Crispin would have to make do with his own skin. From his expr
ession, he didn’t care, which made Reid wonder how long he’d been in Faerie. He wasn’t quite feral, Reid didn’t think, but he was likely close.

  Michael came back with the clothes and thrust Peigi’s carefully tied bundle at her. “There you go, baby.”

  Peigi wrinkled her nose as she snatched the clothes from him. “You put your scent on them.”

  Michael only gave her a gleeful look. Peigi snarled softly then stepped behind Reid, turned her back, and began to dress.

  Michael pulled on his clothes without hurry. “Want a T-shirt?” he asked Crispin.

  “I’ll be fine,” Crispin said.

  The dokk alfar soldiers wouldn’t care if Crispin remained naked. Like the high Fae, they tended to regard Shifters as animals. They were far more compassionate toward those animals than the hoch alfar were, but they still regarded Shifters as inferior beings. Dokk alfar had as much arrogance as anyone else.

  Once Peigi had pulled on her jeans, shirt, and sneakers, Reid drew her close. “Can you keep watch on those two?” he asked into her ear.

  “Yes.” Peigi’s glare at Michael and Crispin didn’t bode well for them.

  “Sure you’re all right?”

  Peigi understood what he meant. “A couple years ago, I wouldn’t have been. Now?” She slid her gaze to Michael. “I’m fine.”

  Reid heard the slight tremor in her voice, but Peigi held her head high, and he wanted to smile. Michael had no idea what he was up against.

  The dokk alfar moved restlessly. Michael barely had his pants done—minus his belt buckle, when Cian waved at them to march out. Cian moved to Reid and stayed close to him as the party headed off into the woods.

  Peigi kept a sharp eye on where they went as they walked through the trackless forest. She could follow a scent trail better than any kind of sight trail, and she took mental notes accordingly. She saw Crispin and Michael sniffing the air, knowing they did the same.

  Crispin was difficult to read. He must have learned to keep himself closed off while working for a Fae prince—correction, being a Shifter toy of a Fae prince.