Lord of the Hunt (20 page)

Verden closed his eyes for a heartbeat. Those words were like magic. It was what he wanted more than anything. He opened his eyes and placed a kiss on her lips. “You are here with me, not in his bed. For the moment, that has to be enough.” Yet he knew it wasn’t. He was just waiting for the King to order her to his bed—and it would have to be an order, since Taryn wouldn’t go willingly. “Let’s get that drink.”

He’d never been drunk, but getting drunk with Taryn was sounding like a good idea. They could forget for a night who they were and what was waiting. He took her hand and led her through the forest. The doorway could easily be missed—three trees twined together. It had been a very long time since he’d been here, and he’d expected it to be destroyed, but it was still standing and stable. How much had changed on the other side? Hopefully the town was still there.

They walked around the cluster following the twist and appeared at dusk in a field next to what looked like another cluster of trees. Behind them a stream gurgled. Verden suppressed the shiver. The air was still and smelled of animal and grass.

Taryn sniffed, her nose wrinkling. “Where are we?”

“Ireland. It’s summer, very close to midsummer.” He could feel the power of the season change in his blood.

She looked at him. “It seems like only days ago we were in Yosemite.”

“Days in Annwyn…weeks here. Time moves differently. We have a bit of walk to get to the town.” He glanced at her red dress—close fitting, revealing every curve, ribbons laced offering glimpses of her pale skin, and the splits in the skirt reveled her calf as she walked. As beautiful as she looked in it, he didn’t want to see her in it. It was Gwyn’s claim on her. “Do you want to clothe us more appropriately?”

“There’s no Renaissance fair nearby?”

Verden frowned. “The Renaissance ended hundreds of years ago.”

“Never mind. I can only glamour, not make clothes appear.”

“When you get older and stronger, you’ll be able to.” The idea of throwing off his fairy clothes and playing human for a night was becoming more attractive by the heartbeat. He wanted to taste true freedom and live the way Taryn did—free from Court and all of its rules. Once, just the idea of living in the mortal world would have drawn contempt and a small amount of horror. Now he could almost taste the appeal. He didn’t know who he was anymore. “Clothes like last time?” Jeans and shirts—they could wear their own shoes.

“It would be a start.”

He pulled together an image of what they would wear. “We need to get out of these clothes.” He started pulling off his waistcoat and shirt.

“What if someone sees us? I can’t run around naked in a field.”

“I’m not asking you to run, just get naked—you didn’t worry at the ruins or in Yosemite.”

“That was different; we were having sex.” But she was undoing the dress, piece by piece.

His fingers stilled on the lacing of his pants. “If that would help.” He grinned, but was only half joking. He wanted her. All of her. He was too aware that they had to make the most of every moment they had together.

Taryn shot him a glance that was all the answer he needed. No. “Drinks first.”

“We could stay here. It’s nice and quiet.” He pulled her into an embrace with her back to his chest, his fingers quickly finishing undoing her dress. He kissed her shoulder as it began to slide down.

“You’re supposed to buy me a few drinks first, then lure me to somewhere private and take my clothes off.”

“Human men are doing it wrong.” He kissed her shoulder blade, then her spine. His hands cupped her breasts as he hardened against her butt.

“We’ll be coming back here, and we’ll have to get changed again.” She turned in his arms.

He kissed the top of her breast. Then pulled back. As tempting as it was to linger here, he hadn’t picked this doorway just to lie in a field—he could’ve done that with her in Annwyn. He wanted to forget they were fairies with far too much responsibility for one mortal night. “You’re right.”

With a last chaste kiss on her lips, he let her go. Her dress fell away, leaving her bathed in dim starlight. He was a fool. He pushed down the heat in his blood and summoned up some human clothes. There was a shower of sparks and a new pile of clothes appeared.

He bent to grab his and turned around before he took off his pants, because he knew if he watched her dressing, or she watched him undressing, they’d never get out of the field and into town.

“You know, some underwear would’ve been good.”

“Underwear?”

“Like panties and bra?”

He glanced over his shoulder; she was dressed. The clothing hid all of her but hinted at what was beneath. The dark cloth of her shirt clung to her breasts and offered glimpse of her peaked nipples. He adjusted himself in the jeans. They were far too unforgiving for his taste. The fabric was rough against his skin and revealed too much of what his body was thinking.

“Have you not had any human lovers?” She raised one eyebrow, her head tilted as if she were confused by him.

“No. I had plenty at Court. Why would I leave Annwyn?” He knew now why he’d leave, but he didn’t want to go in disgrace. He pulled the black shirt over his head. At least this was soft to touch and unrestrictive.

She crossed her arms. “Oh I don’t know, because the mortal world is fun?”

Fun. That was what had been missing from Annwyn before Taryn came along. He was enjoying the game and risks they took as they danced around each other and tried not to let others see the growing attraction. It was their game. And when they could be seen together at Court? Would he still find her as appealing? Yes, there was something about her, something that made him think that maybe he could live in the mortal world once he was no longer Hunter. She made him realize there was more to living than just the next deal, that there was a world beyond Annwyn where one mistake wasn’t deadly and where love was possible.

“Do I pass?”

She cast her gaze over him, her lips curving. “I think so. Which way to town?”

***

The town had been around for a very long time, although it was bigger than he remembered. In places the streets had cobbles and the buildings were a mix of new and very old. They walked hand in hand down the footpath. They weren’t the only people out on the mild evening. They did blend in well, better than he’d thought.

“There.” She pointed over the road at a building with a sign out the front. “I can’t believe I’m going to a real Irish pub and not a fake one.”

“They have fake pubs?” He was glad she could read the sign and knew where they were going. There were a lot of signs in town and they all meant nothing too him. He might look the part, but that was as far as it went. His initial joy at being in the mortal world and the life it could offer began to fade. Towns were different to the wilds, and he was ill equipped to survive amongst humans.

“They are Irish themed.” She looked at his face, then shrugged. “Never mind, it’s a human thing.”

“Right.” A human thing. Something he wouldn’t get. Even she knew that he didn’t belong here. But he hadn’t belonged at Court either; he’d had to find his feet there and he had. Surely the mortal world couldn’t be any harder?

He followed her into the pub. Music was going—or what humans called music. People were sitting around talking; there was a clear area near a stage that must have been for dancing but no one was using it. He could see why if this was the music they were supposed to dance to.

“What do you want to drink?” She pulled him toward a counter made of polished wood. Behind on shelves were bottles of liquid.

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t realized there’d be so many different things to choose from. “Is there wine?”

“We’re in Ireland. Irish whiskey it is—or Guinness.”

“What can I get you, miss?” The man behind the bar looked at Taryn and then him, then took a second glance, his eyes narrowing. “You got money to pay?”

“Certainly.” Verden took some leaves out of his pocket and put them on the counter.

The man didn’t touch them. He lifted a necklace free of his shirt. A gray stone with a hole through the center. Verden tensed as the man lifted the stone to his eye and looked at the leaves through the hole. The man let the stone fall against his chest and stepped back. “I don’t want no trouble from your kind.”

“We aren’t what you think; we’re just here for a good time.” That was a half-truth at best.

The man reached under the counter and plonked an iron horseshoe on the counter. “Prove it. Prove you aren’t fairy.”

Damn it all to the river. “Okay we are fairy. But we aren’t here to make trouble.”

“Please, sir, we just want a couple of whiskeys.” Taryn smiled and it was all charm—he would have fallen under its spell if he had not already fallen for her.

“You won’t be changing my mind with pretty smiles, lassie.”

Verden touched her arm. “Maybe we should just go. People are looking.” He didn’t want to be attracting too much attention. If they knew about fairies and knew how to use fairy stones to see through glamours, they might also be reporting back to Annwyn.

Taryn bit her lip, then she looked at the man. “We can’t be seen together at Court; we came here to get away. I’m sure I’ve got something to pay for the drinks with.”

“You won’t curse my pub?”

Verden shook his head.

“Or my family?”

“No curses. We swear.” Verden put his hand over his heart.

A greedy glint appeared in the man’s eye. “How about a wish if I guess your name?”

Verden leaned on the bar. “Don’t be pushing your luck.”

“Right you are. How do plan on paying?”

“My ruby ring?” Taryn held out her hand.

The man looked at it through the fairy stone. “Made in Annwyn?”

She nodded.

“That’s not ruby. Got anything mortal-made on you?” The man looked at Verden.

He had nothing mortal-made on him. Taryn bent down and pulled off her shoe. When she stood she was holding the toe ring. Gold with a chip of amethyst.

She placed the ring on the counter. “Mortal-made.”

The man looked at it through the stone, then picked it up. “Very well, two whiskeys each, no curses on me, my pub, or my family.”

Verden waited until the man had walked away to fill their order. “You didn’t have to do that. We could have gone somewhere else where they’d take our money.”

“It’s better this way; otherwise, we are just tricking and stealing.”

“But you had to part with gold.” What was wrong with letting the humans think they were paying? Isn’t that what magic was for?

She shrugged. “It was from an old boyfriend. I just wore it because it annoyed my mother. She said I should aim higher than getting a toe ring from a boyfriend.”

Verden used her hip to pull her close. “What would she say now?”

“Probably that I was being reckless.” She kissed him, a light brushing of her lips over his and just enough to make him hungry for more.

“She’d be right.” He kept his hand on her hip, his fingers resting on the lip of the pocket on her jeans. They molded to the shape of her butt. Maybe humans were onto something with these clothes.

The man put the four drinks on the counter. “No trouble.” He picked up the horseshoe and put it behind the bar. “I got more where that came from.”

It wasn’t that iron kept fairies away, but it hurt to touch. It burned skin and took far longer to heal than any other wound, and if a fairy got iron in their body, it had to all be picked out or they would die of slow, painful poisoning. Verden nodded, understanding the threat.

They picked up their glasses and sat down at a table as far away from the counter as they could.

Taryn took a sip of her drink and shivered. “I don’t usually drink straight spirits.”

Verden gave it a sniff. The smell seemed to burn his nose. “This is safe?”

“I’m still here.”

“I mean, he didn’t slip some iron filing in to kill us?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “He wouldn’t.” She cleared her throat. “How would I tell?”

“You’d be on the floor howling in pain by now.”

She kicked him under the table. “You let me drink it.”

“Ow. You didn’t give me a chance.” He took a taste—not even a sip from his glass, just enough to wet his tongue. The ice clunked and liquid burned with a taste that was sharp and smooth and a little sweet. He took a proper drink and fire burned down his throat and hit his stomach. He drew in a breath as the scent went up his nose.

Taryn grinned at him as she took another drink. “You like?”

“Not particularly.”

“No one does at first, but if you keep going it tastes better—or you just forget that it tastes awful because you no longer care.”

Already he could feel the tension fading as the whiskey got into his blood and warmed him. He lifted his glass and tapped it against hers. “To being human.”

“To being human,” she echoed, and they both drank. “So why wouldn’t he take my ring?” She waggled her fingers over the table.

“Because things that are made in Annwyn often lose their luster here.”

“Like banished fairies.”

“Exactly.” Had forming words always been this hard? He took another drink and drained the glass. She was right; this stuff did get better. “He might have woken up to find a lump of coal instead of a ruby.”

She swirled the ice around her glass and watched it as if it were fascinating. “Pretty fakes. Kind of sums up the place.”

“Don’t judge everyone in Annwyn by what you see at Court.” He placed his hand over hers. “There are plenty who are doing what’s right and what’s best for both worlds but they are constrained.”

“Why not change the rules if they no longer work?”

He frowned. He should be able to come up with a logical response, one that defended Annwyn and the way fairies behaved. The back stabbing and scheming, the elaborate games to get what they wanted, and the power hungry deals that were made over the dinner table and completed in a bedroom. He had nothing. “You can’t just change a society that has existed for thousands of years.”

“But it has changed over the years, from wild fae to colonizing Annwyn, from being worshipped as gods to being almost forgotten. Surely there is another evolution. Nothing stands still forever.”