11
Rosana returned home to find Rock Run on high alert. A Baltimore fada had been seen near the base, a wolf. A sentry had given chase, but the wolf had evaded capture.
Dion was coldly furious. In recent years, he’d made concessions to the Baltimore clan, accepting the clan’s mining operation on sun fae lands and allowing Jace Jones to visit Merry near the Rock Run base. In return, Adric had agreed to stop trying to steal Rock Run’s territory.
Now Dion felt betrayed. He and Rui do Mar, his second-in-command, were in the war room, discussing the situation with his tenentes.
At least they knew it couldn’t be Adric. Unlike water fada, earth fada took only one form and everyone knew Adric was a cougar. Rosana took advantage of the confusion to sneak through the back tunnels to her quarters so she could wash off his scent before anyone noticed.
She and Isa had their own bathroom, carved out of the wall between their bedrooms. The counter was marbled granite, the toilet a solid black ceramic. Two shelves chiseled into the granite wall held her and Isa’s toiletries, and the shower spilled out of the rough gray rock like a waterfall.
Rosana turned on the shower, stepped under it. She washed her hair, and then soaped up and leaned against the wall, letting the cool water wash over her.
She felt empty. Scooped out, one big hurt beneath her ribs where her heart should be.
What did you expect? One night with you and Adric would start to trust you?
She blew out a breath. Because yeah, she supposed she had expected it.
Not because they’d had sex—she might’ve been a virgin, but she wasn’t an idiot—but because the two of them had finally had a chance to spend some time away from the disapproving eyes of their two clans.
She’d learned better. For him, it was just sex. End of story. There was nothing else between them.
Oh, he’d said he wanted more, just not enough to put her before his clan. Rosana respected that; for an alpha, the clan should come first. But if he really loved her, wouldn’t he work out a way for them to be together?
Everybody leaves. Rosana had learned that early.
She’d begged her mom and dad to take her with them on that last trip, but they’d gently but firmly refused. Then her papai had handed her to Isa and told her to be a good girl.
And that was the last she’d seen of them.
She turned off the shower and reached for a towel.
The mirror over the sink had steamed up. She cleaned a circle in the center and stared at herself. Nothing had changed—and yet, everything had. She expected to look different, older. In the twenty-four hours she’d been gone, she felt like she’d aged at least a decade.
But she looked exactly the same. Same black hair hanging in wet curls around her face. Same full lips and slightly pointed chin. Same deep blue eyes that everyone said were just like her mom’s. Even the love-bite Adric had left on her throat was almost gone.
Chest aching, she touched a finger to the small red mark.
Her shoulders slumped. She hung the towel on a peg, light-headed with exhaustion, and stumbled into the bedroom.
When she awoke a few hours later, Isa was bustling around in their little sala, or living room, humming to herself. Rosana pulled on a tank top and shorts and joined her.
Isa was wearing one of her usual simple dresses, this one dark blue. Her thick, graying hair was wound into a crown braid that framed her round face, and her sturdy feet were bare.
“Boa tarde.” She leveled Rosana a look. Isa might look like a kindly, cookie-pushing grandma, but not much got past her. “Are you hungry?”
“I guess.” She listlessly eyed the fruit bowl in the kitchenette before helping herself to an apple.
“So,” Isa said. “The beach, it was nice?”
“Sim. Hardly any humans. I even went for a swim.” At night and to hide her tracks from the fae, but Isa didn’t need to know that.
Isa set her hands on her ample hips. “And?”
Rosana took a bite of apple. “And what?”
“That’s not all you did. You were with him, weren’t you?”
“Yeah?” Rosana clenched the apple. “Well, if I was, that’s my business, not yours, isn’t it?”
The older woman’s eyes flickered with hurt.
Rosana sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Isa clucked disapprovingly—and then shocked her by saying, “You’re a woman now, bonita. Your choices are your own. I just don’t want you to be hurt.”
A raw ache stung Rosana’s throat. She set the half-eaten apple on the counter, hunger gone. “Isa.” She reached out her arms, wanting a hug so bad, and then checked herself.
Isa crossed the room to gently rub Rosana’s back over the tank top. She knew not to touch Rosana’s bare skin. “Was it so bad? He was cruel to you?” Her dark brows snapped together. “I’ll carve out his heart with a spoon.”
“No, no. He was…sweet.”
Isa snorted. “That one?”
“He was,” Rosana insisted. “And it wasn’t bad at all. It was…amazing.”
Her cheeks heated, because after all, this was the woman who was like a second mother to her.
“Then perhaps I like him after all,” Isa decided.
“It’s just…” Rosana blinked back tears. “Me and him? It’s never going to happen. He told me straight out.”
“Sit.” Isa’s dark eyes were sympathetic. “I’ll braid your hair. You went to bed with it wet, didn’t you?”
Rosana ran a hand over her head. It felt like a bush had sprung up on her scalp.
“Thanks,” she said with a sniff and allowed the other woman to guide her to the couch.
Isa shut the door between their apartment and Dion’s, and then got a brush and sat on the couch next to Rosana. “Tell me,” she said as she set to work on the tangles.
Rosana gave a small shake of her head. Once, she’d come running to Isa with every bruise and scrape, but this was one problem her former nurse couldn’t solve.
“Obrigada, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It might help. And hold still.” The tangles gone, Isa switched to long, soothing strokes.
Rosana let her head fall forward, eyes half-closed. How many times had Isa brushed her hair just like this? Nostalgia tugged at her, sharp and bittersweet, as if already, this was something she’d left behind along with her girlhood.
They fell silent, the older woman drawing the brush through her hair. When it was free of tangles, she began to plait one side into a braid. “Tell me,” she repeated. “Perhaps I can help.”
“I don’t think so.” Rosana’s mouth twisted. “Unless you can turn me into an earth fada.”
“Ah, bonita.” Isa braided the other side. “Is that what you think it will take?”
“He won’t have me any other way. And let’s face it, Dion would disown me if I mated with a Baltimore fada. Especially Adric.”
“Mated?” Isa joined the two smaller braids into a single plait at the back and wrapped a leather thong around the bottom. “You believe this is possible?” she asked as she tucked the end of the thong into the braid. “A river fada and an earth fada?”
Rosana turned to face her. “It must be. How could I feel like this if he wasn’t my mate?” She pressed the heel of her hand to her heart. “I ache for him, Isa.”
The old nurse’s expression was troubled. “I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve never seen such a thing. I can tell you one thing, that one won’t be tamed. He’ll always be a little wild. Hard. You’ll have to take him as he is.”
Rosana lifted her chin. “He’s hard because he had to be. He’d be dead by now if he hadn’t been. And I don’t want to tame him. I like him just the way he is.” A smile tugged at her lips.
“It was good, sim?” Isa waved a hand. “No, don’t answer that. There are some secrets a woman keeps close.”
They shared a grin.
Isa tucked a stray hair behind Rosana’s ear, serious
again. “Your Adric is the alpha, not a man who can do as he pleases. The alpha is the leader of a clan, sim, but he’s also bound by his duties, his responsibilities to the people he governs.”
“That’s what he said. And he’s not my Adric.”
“He hasn’t mate-claimed you, then.”
“No. And he won’t.”
“But if he did? You would accept his claim?”
Rosana opened her mouth, shut it. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’d have to leave Rock Run, my family, my friends. I—” She shook her head.
Adric’s clan was so different from theirs. He seemed to be constantly fighting off challenges from his own people. Hell, just last summer, two of his own cousins had tried to kill him.
She heaved a breath. “It doesn’t matter. He’s never going to ask me.”
“Then put him from your mind.”
Rosana swallowed. Isa was right. Adric was an earth fada alpha, and she was a river fada from a rival clan. The two of them weren’t going to have some fairytale ending.
But he needs me.
“You’re right. I know you’re right.” She jumped up and paced across the sala.
“But I can’t.” She shot Isa a lopsided smile. “Deus, Dion would kill me if I mated with Adric.”
“But it’s not up to your brother, is it? Only you can choose the mate bond.”
“You’re right.” Rosana stared at her, arrested, before shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. He told me straight out he’ll never claim me.”
“Bah.” Isa clucked her tongue. “He’s a man. What does he know? If you want him badly enough, you can convince him. But think about it. This is not a decision to be made lightly.”
Rosana nodded slowly.
“Senhora Isa!” Brisa’s voice piped from the other side of the closed door. “I-sa! Me here!”
“I’ll get it.” Rosana opened the door to find her niece standing wobbly-legged on the other side, one plump hand gripping the door jamb.
Her small face lit. “Tia Wosa!” She reached for Rosana with both hands and nearly overbalanced herself.
“Brisa!” Rosana swooped her up. “Just the girl I wanted to see.”
She spun around in a circle as the toddler put her head back and squealed with glee. When she stopped, they were both laughing.
Rosana hugged her close, pressed a kiss to the little girl’s sweet-smelling neck.
If she mated with Adric, she wouldn’t get to see Brisa every day. Her smile faded. The thought made her a little sick.
She hugged Brisa closer until her niece squirmed to be put down.
Cleia appeared, Dion on her heels. Her brother had apparently been coached by his mate because he didn’t ask a single question about her trip, just said, “I hope you had a good time.” When Rosana said yes, he nodded, and with a glance at Cleia, turned the conversation to other matters.
So that was that, Rosana thought as she got ready for bed that night.
Even if Adric survived the night fae, he wasn’t going to choose her over his clan. So it would be just like always. She’d see him maybe once or twice a year—at the Full Moon Saloon or one of the sun fae parties. Cleia usually invited Adric and his sister. She believed that if Adric and Dion just got to know each other, they’d realize they weren’t so different after all.
Her mouth twisted sardonically. If she was lucky, she might even get to spend a few minutes alone with him without their respective clans breathing over their shoulders.
But Goddess, it hurt. A whole life stretching ahead of her without Adric.
12
Langdon woke at dusk as the black-out shades slid up to let in the last feeble rays of the setting sun. He pushed the silk duvet down to his waist and folded his arms behind his head. Above the four-poster bed, a handful of fae lights glowed on in iridescent shades of lavender and blue. The colors within spiraled around each other in a slow, hypnotic dance.
At his side, Fleur stirred. Her attentiveness to his moods was one of her most attractive qualities.
She propped herself on a forearm and trailed a glitter-tipped nail down his naked chest. The duvet sloped across her hips, leaving her upper body bare except for the black star medallion that marked her as a priestess of the night.
“Good evening, my lord.” Her carmine lips curved, the dark eyes above watchful. One of her small, moon-pale breasts sported a nasty crescent where he’d bitten her earlier before taking her, hard and rough.
He’d been in a vile mood for months, dating to when his son Tyrus had disappeared, his body never found. But then, Fleur liked it rough. When he’d closed his teeth on her soft, delicate flesh, she’d merely sucked in a breath and, when he’d commanded her to beg, crawled in a most satisfactory way.
“Do you require anything?” Her hand slipped under the duvet to his half-hard cock.
A lock of shiny black hair had fallen over her shoulder. Looping it around his fingers, he tugged her closer. “You pleased me this morning, love.” He sank his teeth into her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
She made a small sound, and then her eyes drifted shut. He felt her excitement, knew she wanted him. In her own way, Fleur loved him.
But right now, he wanted her distress. Because he was a night fae.
He released her and left the bed, strolling to the bathroom without a backward glance. He knew by the time he returned, she’d have ordered his breakfast and then left for her own lair. After all, he’d trained her himself.
After showering, he donned a black silk bathrobe embroidered with silver moons and stars. His coffee, croissants and a bowl of hothouse peaches awaited him in the breakfast room, a small octagonal space off the living room. Taking a seat at the linen-covered table, he unfolded his napkin and set it on his lap.
A flick of a finger and the silver coffeepot floated off the table to pour coffee into an eggshell-thin cup, followed by a dollop of cream from a pitcher. His croissants were still warm. He broke off a buttery piece and put it in his mouth.
The Baltimore alpha was cannier than Langdon had expected. Adric had managed to dance around the fact that an earth fada had killed Tyrus. But they both knew the truth.
Langdon sipped his coffee. Frankly, his middle son had needed killing. He’d poisoned his older brother, and then sent assassins after Langdon’s half-human son, Silver. Tyrus’s men would’ve also slain Merry Jones, the daughter Silver had had with an earth fada, if Rui do Mar hadn’t saved the child and taken her back to Rock Run.
Langdon had been furious with Tyrus. That he’d dare kill children of Langdon’s own body. If it had been anyone but his son—and only remaining heir—Langdon would’ve executed him on the spot. Instead, he’d banished Tyrus from New Moon, and set a protective spell on Merry’s quartz.
But his son hadn’t stopped there. He’d joined forces with an exiled Baltimore earth fada and tried to stir up trouble between Baltimore and the Rock Run Clan.
Which was why Tyrus was dead.
It had taken time for Langdon to unearth the truth. Adric had covered his tracks very, very well. But all trails led to Baltimore.
So Langdon had started to harry Adric, politely, relentlessly. The alpha hadn’t broken, but a few months after Tyrus’s disappearance, Langdon had finally Seen his son’s death.
But not at Adric’s hand, as he’d believed. No, it was Marjani Savonett who’d killed Tyrus.
Langdon knew damn well that his son had deserved it. Tyrus had come into Adric’s territory, looking to stir up trouble. Sent assassins after Adric’s people. Invaded Jace’s den and kidnapped him and his mate.
Still, Langdon couldn’t allow a fada to get away with murdering one of his sons.
Marjani Savonett had to die.
But Tyrus’s death had left Langdon with a problem. He had no heir of his direct bloodline, and to the fae, blood was everything.
Blood, and tradition.
Picking up the slim silver knife, he cut a peach into six perfect slices and ate them bef
ore calling his butler to clear the table.
He stood before a window, hands clasped behind his back. Outside, his clan was emerging for the evening from their lairs. They glided among the winter-bare trees like elongated shadows, their tall bodies clad in black, their eyes dark holes in pale faces. The priests and priestesses wore shimmering silver—a dress, a shirt. A few of the more fashion-forward had added a splash of crimson—a scarf, high heels, a pair of gloves.
The New Moon Court was in a lush old-growth forest in Tidewater Virginia, spread across a peninsula that jutted into the mouth of the Potomac River. Each family or couple had their own home, built of granite or veined marble and set partly underground. The few feet that showed above ground were narrow structures with fanciful carvings at the apex—moons and stars, vining flowers, snarling wolves, bats with wings spread wide. English ivy ran rampant, crawling across the ground, over the roofs and up the towering trees.
To a human, it looked uncomfortably like a cemetery with above-ground tombs. To Langdon, it was home.
Tradition, he mused. His people had lived like this for thousands of years.
“Change is coming. The old traditions will be no more.”
At the last full moon ritual, the Goddess had spoken through Fleur. The priestess had stared straight at Langdon as she channeled the prophecy, making it clear to whom the message was directed.
Langdon had inclined his head.
Later, when Quade, the captain of his guards, had asked what the prophecy meant, he’d replied, truthfully enough, “We must see what the Goddess has in store.”
He glanced up at the immense oaks and tulip poplars that guarded the compound, their muscular branches stark against the dusky sky. The New Moon fae had established their court in this backwater country centuries ago, carving out a mile-square territory in the forest. It was dark, isolated, and yet easily accessible to the Chesapeake Bay and from there, the Atlantic Ocean. The indigenous peoples had been wise enough to give them a wide berth, and vice versa.
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