The telltale sign always triggered the start of her personal hell. She knew what would happen next. Tingles would spread outward, and intense pain would follow. Sheer agony would build upon itself, and she’d thrash in her bonds as her life force was drained from her. A mere shell of her saggy skin and bones would be left.
Then she’d heal and wait for the next round of torture. Tegan glanced down the hallway where hungry sex demons waited to tap into her life force too. They’d mask their feeding session as erotic bliss, but they’d still steal part of her essence, exactly as the living curse had when it demanded her death. The sex demons didn’t want to hurt her, though. No, they wanted their feeding sources eager and willing to supply them with the energy they needed to live. They’d take a sip. She wouldn’t even notice. All she’d remember was how good they’d made her feel.
But she’d know. And if her memories of her time spent in the fairy prison returned to torture her? Yeah, that would be a mood killer. She shook her head. Nope. No orgasm or lover was worth it.
She spun on her heel and hurried toward her father’s suite. The door to his office stood open. She stopped and listened. No grunting. No arguing. Only the ticking of a clock reached her ears. She inhaled and caught the familiar scent of smoke. Arawn. It had to be. The only other males who smelled of a campfire were her brothers, and they were all in the human realm.
“Come in, daughter.”
She crossed the threshold. Leather furniture, the fragrances of lemon and oil, and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the massive space marked the room as her sire’s retreat. The rest of his private chambers reflected Minerva’s tastes, bright and airy, with endless flowers and artwork.
A quick glance didn’t show his whereabouts. She walked farther into the dimly lit space. The door closed behind her. Arawn’s doing. It meant he wanted their conversation kept private. Worry over why warred with annoyance. She hadn’t planned to talk. She wanted information only.
Tegan pivoted on her heel and scanned the sitting area. She noted his desk, a long table with dozens of empty chairs, and a fully stocked bar in the rear of the room. No Arawn. She made her way to the spiral stairs. At the second level, row upon row of bookshelves lined the floor. She looped the platform and peered down each walkway. Empty. She continued on to the third level.
The breeze from the open balcony brought a faint whiff of sulfur and the low moans of the condemned. She ignored both and strode for the far corner, where Arawn’s familiar outline showed him standing at the railing, his back to her.
Dressed in a pair of gym shorts and a plain white tee, he could’ve been any number of men she’d seen on the human’s television shows. His deep tan and bare feet added to the image of relaxation the outfit suggested. It looked as if he’d just walked off a beach where he’d spent the morning playing volleyball. It was a lie. There was no time for relaxing in his life. His duties to both the humans and his mate didn’t allow for it.
She took the position next to him. “Father.”
“Daughter.”
Silence stretched. She knew better than to push him. It didn’t matter if she was his child or not, he wouldn’t have closed the door to his office unless he wanted to speak to her privately. He believed in being accessible at all times. His personal guards, a group of humans who’d earned redemption in his eyes, kept watch over all levels of Hell, including the deepest pits where the Sins and the destructive powers of the Underworld could be accessed. They were to inform him of any issues, no matter how small.
She used the time to study the landscape. Little had changed over the years she’d been away. The buildings spanning the valley around the fortress reflected many different styles of architecture, from simple wooden structures to mansions with massive pillars and stonework. Each belonged to a species’ leader or one of Arawn’s personal assistants.
At the base of the mountains in the distance, shimmering portals allowed entry to the Underworld’s many levels, where various chambers held the incarcerated beings damned to spend eternity in suffering. She’d visited each in the years before she matured, as part of her training. All had left a mark on her, reminding her what awaited those she condemned. It had also guaranteed she’d never exact punishment lightly. Only the sinners who deserved to suffer met her wrath.
Arawn turned and leaned a hip against the railing. Dual-color eyes focused on her. Bright silver surrounded the darker gray inner circle that matched Minerva’s piercing eyes and marked him as a mated male. The combined effect, along with his stark-white hair, was striking, to say the least, but cold. Tegan had only ever seen his expression warm completely in his mate’s presence.
“Was your visit successful, child?”
“I believe so. I’ll find out when I return tomorrow.”
“Really? The succubus who’d attempted to engage him reported he was too far gone and recommended he be tossed back into his mortal life.”
She curled her fingers. Gina had lied. Tegan shouldn’t have expected anything less. She blew out a breath. “He recognized me. It was enough to pull him back.”
Arawn’s eyes widened. “That is a pleasant surprise, though not one I expected. All the other Huntsmen have visited him, including Rowan. None had any luck.”
“Ian and I have a connection.” She linked her hands behind her back to hide the tremor in them. “We’ve met in the dream realm for the past three years.”
He straightened. At over seven feet, Arawn towered over her. A stranger would never have guessed he’d fathered her. She resembled her human mother—short, curvy to the point of plumpness, with dark hair and eyes. Tegan stepped back in order to hold his gaze.
He shook his head. “That’s impossible. He’s human.”
“Human, yes. But our visits were not impossible, according to your mate. She claimed to have saved his soul for me. I have no doubt she was behind our unusual meetings too.” She narrowed her eyes at his incredulous expression. “Didn’t Minerva tell you of her manipulation?”
He pivoted on his heel and stormed away without answering. She tracked his retreating back, until he disappeared down the stairs, before following. She found him at a bar on the main floor, with a bottle of whiskey.
Arawn drank the contents, then slammed the decanter down. “I have not spoken to Minerva in months, and she has not shared my bed in years.” He faced her. “Thirty to be exact.”
Chapter Five
Anger coursed through Ian’s veins. He refused to give in to it. His freedom depended on his ability to maintain control. He wouldn’t take the chance of losing his opportunity to get his hands on Tegan. She knew why they’d been able to visit each other’s dreams. He needed the answer too so he could finally put his past in perspective.
From the moment she’d first appeared to him, she’d captivated him. He hadn’t been able to fuck another woman. God, he’d tried. When the time came for sex, however, his flaccid cock never got into the game. Hell, he’d even tried fucking a man. Nada. His dick and his mind wanted no part of it. Dating Cynthia, who’d insisted on celibacy, became the perfect way to hide his little problem. Nothing else had worked, not drugs, hypnotism, or any of the other lame things he’d tried.
After a couple of years of dating, however, she’d insisted on marriage. He hadn’t known how to get out of it without losing her. She’d become important to him, not exactly a friend or even a partner. Cynthia was simply his to care for. Texting her, checking in on her became a habit, something he could picture himself doing for life.
The months leading up to the ceremony had tried his sanity, however. She’d wanted sex, but every damn time he got close to fucking her, he felt the tug on his chest that preceded a visit from his dream lover. Any lust he’d felt for his fiancée faded instantly. He’d convinced himself his fantasy girl knew when another woman tempted him and made a point of stopping him.
If he and Tegan were destined mates or something, he could understand the reaction and could finally let go of his frustration
. In a crazy way, the idea of being Tegan’s chosen partner excited him, but his connection to her didn’t change the way he’d slighted Cynthia. He’d only given her half of him. The rest, Tegan had owned. He’d loved them both, only in different ways. The time had come to move on. He only wished he could’ve said good-bye to Cynthia first.
Of course, he supposed there was nothing stopping him. He could pray to her. By killing the sluagh she’d become, he’d ensured her soul found peace. She’d hear him. At least he’d always believed spirits could. He’d talked to his parents and little brothers enough times. It had always made the loss of them bearable.
Of course, Cynthia wouldn’t have died if it hadn’t been for him.
Dammit, he couldn’t allow the guilt to choke him. He’d made choices. Some good, some bad. Nothing Ian did would bring her back, but he could save her little sister, Allie. Raul, the redcap who’d turned Cynthia into a walking corpse, had kidnapped Allie. Ian would find her. Unless he wanted to wallow in guilt for eternity, it was the best he could do for Cynthia’s memory.
He blew out a breath. Determination eased the tightness of his muscles. He closed his eyes and made his vow. “I’ll rescue Allie. Do you hear me, Cynthia? I won’t rest until I bring her home.”
“Well, that’s a foolish thing to promise.” The door to his cell opened and closed with a clank. “Hasn’t anyone explained to you that words have power?”
He craned his head but couldn’t see the man who’d spoken. “Who are you?”
His visitor stepped closer to the bed. “Don’t you recognize me, Hunter Ian?”
Ian took in the tall man’s white-blond hair, odd silver eyes, and tan skin and tried to place his face. Another Huntsman, possibly, but he couldn’t be sure. He shook his head. “No.”
Between one heartbeat and the next, the stranger morphed into the black-skinned, winged monstrosity Ian had met when he’d joined the Hunt. Ian swallowed hard and would’ve put distance between them if he hadn’t been bound to the bed. Then again, doing so would make him appear weak. He couldn’t have that.
He took a deep breath and willed his heart to stop racing. “Arawn.”
The god nodded. “Well, Hunter? Did my son fail to warn you of what would happen if you break your vows?”
“Calan told me you’d punish me.”
“True, but all spoken vows have power. To break one is to damn yourself.”
“I’ll keep it. I owe it to Cynthia.”
“The sluagh you killed?”
“Yes.” Ian didn’t like the term applied to her, but it beat the alternative—admitting he’d killed his fiancée.
Arawn grunted, the sound neither approving of his goal nor condemning it. “I suppose you need to be released to carry it out.”
“Tegan promised to unlock me tomorrow if I remained in control.”
“And are you?”
“Yes.” He had a reason to not give in to his anger. Tegan.
Arawn narrowed his eyes. “I must say I’m surprised. My daughter insisted you were sane, that all it took was talking to you. It’s the reason I came to see you. I didn’t believe her.”
Ian shrugged, or tried to. His position prevented it. “We have a connection.”
“So I’ve heard. What I want to know is why.”
Was the god playing with him? Even Ian had figured it out. “Well, I’m assuming I’m Tegan’s destined mate.”
Arawn chuckled. “Gods and humans have free will. We fall in love.” His amused expression faded. “Or out of it.”
Ian stared at him for a long moment. He snapped his mouth closed. “Then how were Tegan and I able to connect within our dreams?”
Arawn rubbed his chin with the back of his knuckles. “I don’t know. You’re a human. My tie to you gives you immortality and strength. Nothing more.”
“Tegan always came to me.” Then promptly left before he could find release or give it to her. “Is it possible she initiated it?”
“No. Demons and angels have such abilities. She is only one of my beloved children, born of a human.” Arawn tilted his head and leveled a piercing stare at him. “I’d suggest my tie to you opened some pathway, but the timing is wrong.”
Arawn’s confusion stirred Ian’s. Shouldn’t Arawn know? He was a god. Ian pushed the frustration back before it angered him.
“Well, whatever the reason, Tegan became the center of my world over those years. Now that I’ve found her, we’re going to explore our connection.”
“And if she doesn’t want to”—Arawn leaned over him—“explore it.”
The sharp teeth in Arawn’s mouth and his accompanying growl sped Ian’s heart. He couldn’t help the reaction. Pissing off the Lord of the Underworld wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done.
“Then I’ll back off, but I don’t think that’ll be an issue. She wants me. More than that, she cares.” She wouldn’t have washed his body if she hadn’t, or been annoyed by the demoness who’d tried to get his dick to rise. He’d heard the anger in Tegan’s voice when she’d spoken to the woman.
The god walked toward where Tegan had left the bowl and rag. He ran his finger along the rim and sighed. “Think carefully about what your plans are for my daughter, human. Hurt her, and the pain you cause her will return to you tenfold. That is my vow to you.”
Arawn waved his arm. The manacles locking Ian to the bed opened. He breathed a sigh with the release of tension in his muscles and sat on the edge of the bed.
After the god’s explanation about the power behind spoken words, Ian couldn’t help swallowing against the tightness in his throat. He’d always seemed to upset Cynthia, even when he’d bought her everything she’d asked for. Nothing had been good enough. He only hoped he didn’t piss Tegan off the same way.
Then again, Cynthia had only wanted his money, not his love. She’d admitted that to him the last time they’d spoken. Right before she was turned into a sluagh. He pushed the thought away. Her motives for being with him no longer mattered. He wouldn’t hold her materialism against her when he’d had his own selfish ones for holding on to a sham of a relationship.
“I don’t know what I plan now. I honestly thought we were mates.”
Arawn made his way to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder. “Only those with the blood of a god can initiate a mate bond, and I doubt my stubborn daughter will ever start it with anyone. She’d have to welcome you into her heart and soul during sex, and her heart has been broken.” He opened the door. “But if you can heal her, I will be eternally grateful.”
The door closed with a click. Ian rushed to it and twisted the handle. Locked. He leaned against wall and stared into the empty hallway through the bars. His thoughts drifted to Tegan.
“Heal her, huh?” He grinned. “I can do that.”
Tegan stood in front of the Haven, the demon’s lair. The main room offered dancing, drink, and sex to anyone who entered. Beyond that, hallways led to private booths for indulging in the same. The lower level held more decadent chambers, where the offerings appealed to those who harbored more taboo cravings. Ages ago, she’d made her way through all the floors. She had no desire to revisit any. None tempted her. She’d left the only partner she desired chained to a bed.
The heavy wooden door opened before she reached it. The scent of sex drifted out along with the tempting beat of music. A demon filled the entrance. Black hair, gray eyes and a body that could’ve been carved out of marble. He swept his heated gaze over her in a sex-starved perusal. She hadn’t changed out of the slutty outfit she’d worn for Ian. After a long moment of gawking, he grinned.
Recognition dawned. She inwardly groaned at the sight of Zachariah, Lucas’s only son. Unlike the gods, the sex demons didn’t need to mate to reproduce. All it took was engaging one during its fertile cycle. Luckily that only happened once or twice a millennium, and Zachariah was beyond old. Nobody knew who his mother was, only that he belonged to Lucas.
“Tegan. Funny meeting
you here. Father was just talking about Arawn’s daughters.”
She sighed. “Gina already told me of Lucas’s demands. He can forget it. I’m not sending Rowan to him, nor will I go.”
“That’s fine with me.” Zachariah shrugged. “It gives me a better chance of claiming one of you as my own.”
She laughed. “Sorry, I don’t have time to discuss your foolish dreams, because that’s all they’ll ever be. Dreams. You have no hope of capturing our attention.”
He closed the distance between them and stroked a finger down her cheek. “I did once.”
She remembered. Their games had been fun. Like every other memory of her lovers, she acknowledged him and promptly dismissed any notion of a repeat. She let a growl escape her lips. He dropped his hand. “Touch me again, and you’ll regret it.”
“So be it. You know where to find me.”
Yes, and she had no plans on going to Lucas’s home either. She motioned toward the door. “Is Minerva in there?”
He frowned. “She hasn’t been to the Haven in decades.”
She sighed. “Let me guess. Three.”
“Maybe.” He gave a half shrug. “I don’t keep track of the activities of mated women.”
Minerva was behind Tegan and Ian’s connection. She knew it. But why? It didn’t make sense. Oh yes, she needed to find out what it entailed and what Minerva’s motives were for bringing them together. Tegan couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. Soon it’d be too late. For what, she didn’t know, but she suspected Minerva’s interest in Ian was personal. Only, Tegan didn’t understand how or why. Minerva only cared about one person—herself.
Tegan turned her back on the demon. “Spread the word I’m looking for her.”
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