Ever After (21 page)

I shook my head, disgusted. Unfortunately, I was so intent on what was happening between Reginald and the guards that I didn't immediately see the two black SUVs until they were within a few yards of the transport.

I cursed under my breath, torn between holding back to watch how the scene played out so I could gather the intel I needed, or bolting forward to defend that which belonged to my king—protecting even that prick Reginald, if necessary.

But before I could do more than make note of my options, my course of action was decided for me when the SUVs came to a screeching halt and four armed gunmen in black suits leaped from the vehicles. A spray of bullets peppered the king's armored car, mowing down the guards before they'd even had time to register what'd happened.

My heart seizing with concern for Arabella's safety, I shifted, coming out within inches of one of the gunmen. Before he did more than register a startled look, I snatched his weapon from his loosened grasp and slammed the butt of the gun against his skull, then turned the weapon upon the two gunmen behind him, firing a single round into the forehead of each, dropping them before they had a chance to fire upon me.

The fourth gunman got lucky.

The bullet caught me in my left shoulder. I dimly registered the bone shattering as the pain exploded, momentarily clouding my vision. I raised the gun I held in my right hand, planning to put an end to the asshole, but his eyes suddenly bulged and he dropped to his knees.

Standing behind him was my darling girl, her eyes fierce and deadly, a bloodied knife still clutched in her hand. The moment our gazes met, she rushed toward me, pulling my uninjured arm over her shoulders, lending me her strength.

We walked over to the closest body, that of one of the armed men. With the toe of my boot, I rolled him over, getting a good look at him.

“These guys look like they're from the Agency,” Arabella said. “Why the hell would they need to steal more dust when I've been stealing it for them?”

I sighed, beginning to understand what was going on. “They aren't from the Agency,” I told her. “Someone just wanted it to look that way.”

“Someone's trying to compromise the truce between the FMA and the Agency,” she guessed.

I stepped away from her and crouched down beside the man at my feet, my heart sinking when I recognized his face. “Maybe,” I told her. “But maybe they're just trying to cover their own asses and the Agency is a believable red herring.”

“You know who's behind this,” Arabella surmised.

I hated to admit it, but I was beginning to think I did. “This man is one of the king's guards. The traitor is within the king's household.” I reached out and closed his eyelids, rage making my hand shake. I stood, cradling my injured arm as my gaze searched the field. “Where's Reginald?”

As if on cue, Reginald's Porsche roared to life. He gunned it in reverse, then whipped the car around and sped off, leaving another cloud of dust in his wake.

“Son of a bitch!” I growled. “I knew that bastard was dirty.”

Arabella glanced at the departing car and then back at me. “That's Reginald?” she asked, gaping. “That's who you think is behind this?” When I nodded warily, she let out a bitter laugh. “I knew I should've shanked that asshole when I first saw him!”

I blinked at her, surprised by her vehemence. “You know Reginald Mann—the queen's attaché?”

“The queen's attaché, is he now?” She laughed again, shaking her head. “His name's not Reginald Mann, Gideon.” She clenched her fists at her sides and hissed, “
That
sorry excuse for a Tale is Sir Guy of Gisbourne.”

“Y
ou're healing nicely,” Arabella informed me, inspecting the exit wound on my back with gentle fingers while I sat dutifully on the edge of the vanity in Merlin's bathroom. “I don't think you'll even have a scar. But maybe we should take you to a clinic—or Trish—just to be sure.”

I suppressed a smile. My Tale metabolism would've knitted the bones together and healed my wound within a day or two, most likely, but my fairy blood made me heal even more quickly than the average Tale. I wasn't surprised at all to hear that the bones were completely mended and my flesh now nearly unmarred.

“I'm sure it'll be fine. It hardly aches at all.” When she set aside the bloodied washcloth, I took her hand and pulled her around from where she stood beside me and then drew her toward me until she was standing between my thighs. “Thank you for caring for me.”

“
Thank you?
” she repeated, incredulous. “Don't be ridiculous. You never need thank me for caring for you.” She took my face in her hands. “I
love
you, Gideon.”

I bent forward and pressed my lips to hers, intending only to give her a tender kiss, but I should've known better. The moment I captured her mouth, I gathered her into my arms, luxuriating in the sweet honeysuckle scent of her as it swamped my senses.

She slipped her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, her lips parting to draw my kiss in deeper. It was several minutes before she gently pulled away and took my hand. “Come on, love, let's get you to bed.”

I let her lead me into the bedroom, trailing behind enough that I could get a read on her. She was exhausted, her aura flickering and
fading
alarmingly. She desperately needed to rest, to let her body do its best to heal her. She put on a good show, could've fooled perhaps anyone else but me.

“You're the one that needs to be in bed,” I told her gently, not wanting to offend by rebuffing her tender care of me.

She whirled around with a forced smile, intending to argue, but when she saw my eyes, she slapped her hands on her hips. “You're not playing fair. Can you not just take my word that I'm fine?”

“I could,” I replied, taking her by the shoulders. “But what good would that do?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and heaved a sigh. “It would let me pretend that I'll
be
fine, that we have all the time in the world. I can't bear the thought of being parted from you again, Gideon, but the thought of the pain you'll feel when I go . . . It breaks my heart.”

I pulled her close and wrapped my arms around her. “Very well, then,” I relented. “For tonight, we have forever.”

She lifted her face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Tell me what forever will be like.”

“We'll have a home nestled in the woods with enough land for us to go exploring together and never tire of the adventures we'll share,” I told her. “We'll have an archery range and perhaps I'll eventually become a decent shot.”

She chuckled, knowing well my lack of skill with a bow and arrow. “There may be hope for you yet.”

I smoothed her hair. “Perhaps.”

A single tear made its way to her cheek. “And will there be children?”

I wiped the tear away with my thumb and nodded. “As many as y'like. They'll be our pride and joy. We'll fill our home with laughter and love, Arabella, and our wee ones will want for nothing. They'll always know how much their parents adore them. And when they have nightmares, we'll hold them in our arms and sing them lullabies until they nod off again, secure in the knowledge that they've nothing t'fear.”

“Will we grow old together?”

I somehow managed a smile. “If you like. But it'll take centuries. And every night, we'll curl up by the fire together and just enjoy the warmth and light we share. I'll hold you in my arms until you fall asleep, and then I'll carry you to our bed where I'll guard you through the night and keep you safe with my very last breath.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. She reached up to lightly caress my cheek. “But you forgot one thing.”

I lifted a single brow. “Did I now? And what was that?”

Her fingertips trailed down the edge of my jaw, along my throat to my bare chest. “We'll make love every night until, too exhausted to go on, we'll collapse in each other's arms.”

My hand slid up her back until I reached the zipper on her dress. I pulled it down slowly, my gaze holding hers. “I didn't forget.”

The dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her feet. A moment later, the rest of her clothes followed. Her hands roamed over my back as I pressed kisses to her shoulder, the curve of her neck.

“You should be resting,” I murmured against her skin as I pressed kisses down the valley between her breasts, my knowledge of what she
wanted
at war with my concern for what she
needed.

Her fingers slid into my curls as I took one of her rosy nipples into my mouth. “This is all I need,” she said, breathless.

I took my time, lavishing my attention upon one breast before moving to the other. When she moaned softly, needing more, I eased her down onto the bed, now pressing a line of kisses down her belly, along her ribs, the curve of her hips. When I reached her thighs, I kissed the soft skin there, loving the way it made her writhe in anticipation, but I moved lower until I reached her knee, nipping at it gently with my teeth. She gasped my name and reflexively tried to draw away from the unexpected intensity of the pleasure that little nip caused.

I smiled as I shifted to the other thigh, working my way back toward the center of her. When I reached the heat of her sex, I flicked my tongue, teasing, testing. She arched toward me with a moan, clutching my hair in both fists.

This time, I sank farther in, my tongue caressing, exploring, loving how she gasped and panted, writhing against my mouth, her body begging me for what she needed when her voice was struck mute.

Again, I took my time, drawing out the pleasure until she had no choice but to give in to it. Her loud cry of release was the sweetest music to my ears. I grasped her hips, driving her through the climax and not letting up until she collapsed. I drew away just long enough to kick off my jeans, then settled atop her. Her muscles were still contracting when I gently joined our bodies.

She hooked her legs around the back of my thighs and grasped my hips, moving with me in slow, languid rhythm. I braced myself on my elbows, peering down the length of her body to watch as we moved together, my chest growing tight with emotion. But then Arabella grasped the nape of my neck and pulled me down to receive her kiss and I sank into her arms, losing myself in the
now
and pushing from my mind the horrible, gut-wrenching realization of what my life was going to be like without her.

 

I disconnected the call and let my head fall back against the headboard, frustration creeping under my skin until I wanted to claw at it.

Arabella stirred on the bed next to me, having finally curled up beside me to rest after making love for most of the night. She hadn't been eager to sleep, instead wanting to take advantage of every moment we had together, but she'd been exhausted, pale and wan, and even the fairy dust I'd given her hadn't improved her situation, so she'd at last relented, but only when I'd promised to stay at her side.

I smoothed her hair tenderly, not wanting to wake her but unable to resist touching her, reminding myself that she was indeed by my side again. For now. The knowledge that she was
fading
faster and faster weighed heavily on my heart, crushing me to the point I couldn't breathe when I thought on it too much.

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced the panic and hopelessness away, shaking my head in denial. I
would not
lose her. I would find a way. I refused to accept the fact that she could slip away from me again at any moment. There were only two relics remaining. We'd find them.

And then she would be mine forever—if she would have me. And whether that was with the benefit of a formal union between us, or merely an understanding that we would never be apart, didn't matter a damn to me. All that mattered was that she would never again want for anything, and she would know the strength and depth of my love in every word, in every glance we shared.

She grimaced in her sleep, rolling onto her back as the pain of
fading
gripped her. It was worse when she slept, when her guard was down. I bent forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

When she seemed to quiet a little, I turned my attention back to the phone, dialing the king's number once more. This time it rang twice before being sent to voice mail.

I sighed and sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and resting my head in my hands. I had to reach him, had to warn him of the treachery under his roof. If I couldn't get him to talk to me by phone, I'd have to figure out another way to get the information to him.

My phone rang, the sudden sound startling me. I glanced at Arabella, relieved to see the ringtone hadn't woken her. “This is Gideon,” I whispered, quickly slipping from the room and into Merlin's living room.

“Why the hell are you whispering?”

I grinned. “Well, good morning, Red, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

She hesitated for a beat. “I wish I could say I was calling to give you some good news.”

I ran a hand through my hair and strolled toward the picture window that opened out into a view of the wooded park across the street. “It must be pretty bad if you're calling
this
early. Might as well give it to me straight.”

“The Huntsman's gone.”

I squinted into the early morning sun, finding it hard to believe I'd heard her right. I cursed soundly under my breath, then said with a huff, “So soon?”

“Sorry, Gideon,” she replied. “Last time I saw him, he was safely locked away in an FMA holding cell. Someone broke into the cell in the middle of the night—blew a hole in the freakin' wall.”

“And no one heard anything?” I demanded, finding it hard to believe an explosion large enough to blow a hole in a wall of concrete and steel wouldn't have raised a couple of eyebrows.

She cleared her throat. “The guards at the jail heard the explosion and went to investigate,” she said, her voice monotone, calm—as if she was delivering an update to the press and not to an old friend. “From what we can surmise, there was a brief struggle—so brief that none of the guards was able to send up an alarm. We found their ashes this morning when the next shift came in to relieve them.”

“Fucking hell,” I breathed.

“Yeah.”

I pulled a hand down my face, feeling responsible for the Tales who'd lost their lives guarding a prisoner I'd handed them, a prisoner who'd assured me we couldn't hold him. I'd signed the death warrants of those men as surely as if I'd put my signature on paper.

“Did they have families?” I asked, my voice tight.

“One did,” Red told me, her tone sympathetic. I could tell she knew what was going through my head. “The others were alone in the Here and Now. The FMA was pretty much all they had.”

I walked toward a nearby easy chair and dropped down into it, covering my eyes with my hand as guilt washed over me anew. “He told me he'd be out in no time,” I said. “I thought he was just blowing me shit, trying to sound tough. I never thought . . .”

“I know,” Red assured me. “We're gonna catch the bastard, Gid. Count on it.”

“Any idea who aided him?” I questioned, wondering if Reginald would be brash enough to go bust the Huntsman out of FMA jail after the fairy dust theft had gone down so badly. “The Huntsman didn't have any magic. Who do you think broke him out?”

“No clue,” she said on a sigh, as frustrated as I was. “The security footage was completely jacked up.”

Shit.

If I was going to go to the king and inform him that the queen's most trusted confidant was a traitor, it would've been helpful to have something more than my word to go on. Making such an accusation was a step below accusing the queen herself. And I sure as shit didn't want to get anything going with my lady. She'd have no qualms about sending me to the Tribunal for another go-around.

“I'll see what I can find,” I finally told Red. “I can visit the jail, send out a search spell. Maybe we can track him down that way.”

“Already tried. One of our Investigators on the scene used a spell that should've lit up his tracks like a neon sign. But it was no good. If not for the big-ass hole in my holding cell, it would've looked like the guy just vanished into thin air.”

Better and better.

Once again someone had known how to cover their tracks to throw us off their trail. And it was seriously pissing me off.

“Let me know if you get any leads,” I told her.

“You got it.”

“And hey, Red?”

“Yeah?”

I paused, hating that I needed to ask yet another favor of a friend. “While I've got you on the phone, could you see what you can find out about a Tale named Reginald Mann?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. I could hear her typing as she spoke. “Who is this Reginald guy anyway?”

“One of the king's employees,” I told her, my tone clipped.

“Here we go,” she said. “Search results coming up now. Hang on a sec.” There was a pause. “Huh. That's weird.”

“Did you find him?”

“You could say that,” she muttered. More clacking on her keyboard and then, “When did this guy work for the king?”

“He's currently employed by him,” I explained. “He's been there for about three years, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, your king might want to do a better background check next time,” she said. “Unless he's into hiring ghosts.”