Claiming Valeria (8 page)

“What?” asked Marjani.

“They invited Lord Dion and his clan. Damn him anyway. I
knew
that sun fae bitch had the hots for him.”

Zuri was the first to catch on. “She’s saying he’s an ally.”

Luc looked from Zuri to Adric, baffled. “Even though he held
her hostage?”

“Yes, damn her.” Adric turned and slammed the side of his fist
against the cavern wall.

It was Zuri who explained. “The word is that Dion took Cleia
as retaliation for all those Rock Run men she took as lovers. I’m guessing she decided
to cut her losses, declare them even. Everyone knows the sun fae women have a thing
for fada men.”

Adric blew out a breath and forced himself to think beyond his
anger and frustration.

“Order the soldiers to stand down. But this is not over. I’ll
go the damn ball and see what’s what. And then we’ll plan our attack—sun fae or
no sun fae. If we can’t take Rock Run in a straight battle, we’ll find another way.”

Marjani’s full lips tightened.

He stabbed a finger at her. “You want to be a diplomat? Here’s
your chance. Because you’re coming along as my guest.”

Cleia was beautiful, Valeria would grant her that.

Her mouth turned down as she watched the queen stroll through
the crowd of sun fae and Rock Run fada assembled for the midsummer ritual.

A long, incandescent candle of a woman, she drew everyone’s gaze
without even trying with her bright hair and body like a dancer’s. Next to her,
Valeria felt like a plump troll with her ordinary brown coloring and a form that
was several inches shorter and ten pounds heavier.

She grabbed Merry’s hand and edged backward so that Cleia would
pass by without seeing her. Most of the people from Rock Run were happily greeting
the queen. They had come to like and respect her during the two weeks she’d been
imprisoned at Rock Run, but Valeria had kept out of her way, only meeting the queen
once, and that briefly. And Cleia wouldn’t recognize her; Dion had kept the queen
blindfolded the entire time, which apparently bound her powers in some way so that
she was as helpless as a human.

As a relative newcomer at Rock Run, Valeria had refrained from
weighing in on whether it was right of the alpha to keep a sun fae imprisoned underground.
But that didn’t mean she had to interact with the woman, because frankly, it was
hard to feel warm and fuzzy about someone who’d stolen your mate, then thrown him
back like a too-small fish when she tired of him.

And she’d kept her curious daughter far, far away, especially
when people began to whisper that Cleia was behind Rock Run’s mysterious decline,
that she was sucking energy from them like a night fae. She’d been glad of her caution
after little Xavier had fallen ill with the same wasting disease as the others.

Now Cleia paused near Valeria. She tensed and placed her hands
on Merry’s shoulders, instinctively peeling back her upper lip. But Lord Dion caught
her eye, his expression warning that she’d better remember she was a guest here.
Abashed, she averted her head, and Cleia passed by without noticing her.

The sun was almost at its zenith. The queen entered the center
of the small outdoor amphitheater where the midsummer ritual was to take place.
The sun fae required energy from the sun for life. Although they could draw directly
from the sun, it wasn’t enough; everyone in the seven clans depended on the Conduit—currently
Queen Cleia—to draw the extra energy they needed. The midsummer ritual was where
the Conduit renewed her or his bond with the sun. Without that bond, the flow of
energy would gradually cease and the sun fae would wither and die like plants kept
too long in the dark.

Cleia raised her arms, and the crowd hushed. “Welcome,” she said
in a ringing voice, and proceeded to greet each of the sun fae clans by name, finishing
with a special welcome to the Rock Run fada. Then she invited Dion to come forward,
using his full title, Lord Dionísio, a sign that something serious was about to
take place. The crowd held its collective breath when he simply narrowed his eyes
and remained where he was.

The queen stretched out a hand in supplication. “Please, my lord?”

A fae queen saying please to a fada. Valeria wouldn’t have believed
it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

The sun fae murmured in shocked dismay, but Cleia remained where
she was until Dion strode forward and drew her back to her feet.

“What the hell are you playing at, woman? If this is a trick,
I’ll—”

But it wasn’t a trick. To everyone’s astonishment, Cleia declared
Lord Dion was her mate, then admitted to inadvertently draining energy from the
Rock Run clan for years. To make amends, she nearly died trying to heal Xavier when
the energy she was channeling nearly overwhelmed her. Lord Dion stepped in to help,
adding his strength to hers. With his support, Cleia had used the mate bond connecting
her and Dion to replace everything she’d taken from Rock Run—with interest. The
lovers she’d weakened, their women and children, others in the clan who’d been affected—all
were on the mend.

To cap it off, the two of them officially joined in a mate ceremony.

And then the ball was in full swing. Valeria watched from the
edge of the dance floor as Merry danced in a giddy circle of river fada and sun
fae children. She was still stunned by what had just occurred. Fae/fada matings
were the stuff of fairytales—but it was real. You couldn’t fake a mate bond. And
like the rest of the clan, she’d felt the energy that had come with their mating.

Everyone was buzzing with it. Valeria felt as if she could dance
all afternoon, run the eight miles to the river, swim the couple of miles home and
still have energy to spare.

Sabela danced by, her scarlet dress twirling around her legs.
Most of the fada were dressed in more subdued blues and greens and purples, but
not Sabela. She rivaled the sun fae, who loved bright, sunny hues. Sabela winked
at her over her partner’s shoulder—a man half her age, Valeria was amused to note—and
mouthed, “Why aren’t you dancing?”

“In a minute,” she mouthed back.

As if on cue, Petros appeared at Valeria’s side and slid his
arm around her waist. “Let’s dance,
glika
.”

She glanced at Merry, now holding hands with a golden-haired
sun fae, both girls shrieking with laughter. Along with the rest of the children,
they were being watched over by a group of fada and sun fae elders.

She turned back to Petros. “Sounds like fun.”

Guiding her onto the polished wood floor, he took her into his
arms. The ball was taking place outside under a large white canopy. A drummer provided
a syncopated beat, a tribal counterpoint to the guitar and bass playing
fado
,
the Portuguese blues. A tall, regal woman plucked at a twelve-stringed
guitarra
Portuguesa
before beginning a sultry scold of her faithless lover.

Petros steered her easily through the crowd. The man could dance,
she’d give him that.

They passed Merry and her new friend. “Hi, Mama!” Merry gave
an enthusiastic wave. “Did you see me dancing?”

“I did,” Valeria called back. “You look great.”

Merry beamed.

As Valeria turned back to Petros, the newly mated couple appeared.
Knowing smiles rippled through the crowd. Everyone had seen the alpha leading the
queen into a secluded glade as soon as the ritual ended.

Valeria watched as Dion’s dark head bent to catch something Cleia
was saying, his face so tender that Valeria blinked. Her throat clogged with something
black and acrid.
It wasn’t fair.
The sun fae queen had stolen her mate; she
didn’t deserve to find her own.

Ashamed, Valeria dragged her gaze away from them. This wasn’t
her, this sour, envious woman. Maybe it was too much to expect her to be happy for
Cleia, but Dion had been nothing but kind to her. And Cleia had only taken what
Rui had freely offered. If he hadn’t gone out trolling for a woman that night, she
would’ve never had a chance to sink her hooks into him.

Petros nuzzled her cheek. “Come into the woods with me. Sabela
can keep an eye on Merry.” When Valeria hesitated, his fingers slid down her back
to rest on the curve of her buttocks. “You know you want to.”

She edged backward.
No, I don’t
, a little voice said.
She ignored it to say, “Not now.” Too many people would see, and she wasn’t ready
for Petros to claim her so publicly. “Later. I’ll see if Merry can sleep at Marcos
and Trina’s.”

The teeth that closed lightly on her earlobe were both a chastisement
and a promise. “Fine. I can wait a few more hours. But no more teasing,
glika
.
I’m going to take you. Tonight.”

Valeria murmured something in response, but her stomach was a
tight ball.
What was wrong with her?
She and Rui were through. At least he
couldn’t spoil things for her and Petros this time; he’d remained behind with a
handful of other warriors to guard the base.

It was time to move on, to stop wishing for something she was
never going to have.

With another glance at Dion and Cleia, she made up her mind.
“You can try,” she murmured—and nipped his lower lip.

He growled and pulled her closer. They both knew that nip had
been a dare.
Try to tame me if you can
.

“Oh, I will,” he assured her.

* * *

Rui paced back and forth in the forest near the only
Rock Run entrance accessible from land. He’d posted guards at the water entrances,
of course, but this was the most likely place for the Baltimore earth fada to
attack.

With most of the clan at Rising Sun, the base was nearly empty.
For the hundredth time, Rui wondered if he’d done the right thing in allowing the
others to attend. But Dion had included a code word in his message, one known only
to Rui and Luis, assuring them he was all right and that he wasn’t being coerced.

And the rules of hospitality were strict. A fae invitation automatically
extended protection to anyone who accepted it. If Cleia tried anything, she’d have
every fae and fada in North America gunning for her.

But that wouldn’t stop the earth shifters from attacking while
most of the clan was elsewhere.

He paused to glance at the sky through the gnarled gray branches
of an ancient beech. The sun was at its zenith; the ritual must have begun.

He resumed pacing. His mouth was dry, the skin of his skull pulled
tight. The craving was on him again, worse than yesterday.

He raised his wineskin to his lips and took a swig of grape juice.
The skin retained the faint trace of the wine it had held up until a couple of days
ago. He clenched his teeth. A fada’s enhanced senses could be a curse at times.
Right now he could smell the wine, a lush dark note above the tart grapes. Taste
it in the juice.

His mouth watered. His whole body trembled with the need for
alcohol. He took another gulp from the skin.

It would be so easy to slip inside, grab a bottle. Enough to
take the edge off but not get him drunk.

Just one
.

His head dropped as he fought a fierce inner battle.

What would be the harm?

He clenched his fists and gave himself a hard shake.

No.

He was a fada warrior and Dion’s second. He would
not
give in. He knew damn well that one drink would lead to another and then another,
until he wasn’t fit to guard an anthill, let alone the base’s most vulnerable entrance.

He was covered in sweat despite the fact that he was in the shade.
He glanced longingly through the trees at the cool pewter ribbon of Rock Run Creek.
What he wouldn’t give to change to his shark for a long swim.

Later
, he promised himself. He drew in a deep breath,
taking in the scent of the river, the primal mix of mud and organic matter and fresh
water that was life’s blood to a river fada. Something about it reminded him of
Valeria’s earth and nutmeg aroma. He flashed on her mouthing, “
Do something
,”
at him the night Dion had been kidnapped, and knew he couldn’t disappoint her.

Not again. It would crush something permanent in his soul.

Something settled in him and he knew he could do this…at least
for today. At least until Dion returned.

He kept pacing.

Probably a half hour had passed when suddenly, a warm energy
suffused his chest. Startled, he brought his hand to his heart even as it spread
to his fingers and toes. His skin heated and his brain filled with the same warm
golden light. It surged, humming throughout his body like a low-level electric current,
healing everything it touched. He instinctively spread his legs and stretched his
arms above his head, riding the wave while a part of him looked on in wonder.

The energy increased, and then just as it became painful, began
to recede. He bent forward, hands on his thighs, gulping in oxygen.

What the fu—
?

He came back upright and glanced around, dazed. The trees were
bathed in the same golden light, their leaves an intense, saturated emerald; the
sky above a radiant azure. Everything was sharper—his eyesight, his hearing, his
sense of smell.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d been drugged. But no
drug had ever left his brain feeling this keen, his senses this clear. He felt strong
and energized, better than he had in years.

He squinted up at the sun streaming through the trees. It was
a half hour or so after noon. Could it be something to do with the midsummer ritual?

Eliana, the young warrior helping him guard the entrance, jogged
up from where she’d been running surveillance. “Senhor Rui?” She rubbed a hand over
her face, her eyes full of the same dazed wonder he was feeling. “I—what was that?”

She was young, twenty-one or so, but he had a vague, ashamed
memory of taking her to bed a few months ago…although he wasn’t so sure a bed had
been involved. He shook off the guilt—there was no time for that now—and asked,
“You felt it too?”

She nodded. “What happened?”

“Hell if I know. But it could be something to do with the ritual.
Why don’t you check with the others? See if it affected anyone else.”

She ducked inside the base. He scanned the horizon, his senses
amped from the energy still humming through him. He could detect nothing out of
the ordinary.

He rubbed his nape and considered what had happened. In a rare
sober moment, he’d heard Dion’s theory that Cleia was draining energy from him and
her other lovers, but had dismissed it as improbable. But now he wondered if some
of what he’d attributed to too much drink—and sheer laziness—had been due to that
energy drain.

Hell
. Not that it excused what a drunken S.O.B. he’d been—if
it were true, Luis and Rodolfo had been subject to the same energy drain and hadn’t
let it affect them the way he had—but still.

Eliana returned to report that everyone in the base had felt
the surge. “You won’t believe it. The sick ones are sitting up in bed, asking for
food. And Fernando says for the first time in years his knees aren’t swollen. He
did a little dance to show me.” She grinned and shook her head.