Lord of the Hunt (21 page)

“Felan will have a chance to make changes.” Verden leaned back against the seat, as his bones seemed to give up and turn soft. His blood was warm and his mind fuzzy. He felt it, knew it was the alcohol and knew this was why no one in Annwyn drank anything alcoholic. Dropping one’s guard there could be fatal. Here it felt good. He gazed at Taryn, aware he was smiling more than he should. “It’ll also depend on his wife.” He shook his head as if that would help clear it. “Politics makes my head hurt.”

“Have another drink.” She picked up her second glass.

He watched as her lips curved against the rim. He wanted to run his tongue over her lip and taste the whiskey from her mouth. The rapid beat of the music filled his blood and drowned out thoughts. He needed to feel her skin against his, her body around his. His body responded, hardening even though his muscles were lax, and she grinned as if she knew what he was thinking.

“You want to finish these drinks and get out of here?”

“What would a mortal do?”

“Wait for the band to start, have a few more drinks, call a cab, and crash into bed.”

He didn’t catch half of that. The way her lips moved when she spoke was far too distracting. “Hmm?”

“You are a cheap date. You’re drunk already.”

Ah, so this was what she’d been talking about. He closed his eyes. He was pretty sure that if the King walked in right now and saw him with Taryn, Verden wouldn’t actually care. He’d tell him to pull up a seat and have some whiskey until it all went away. For a moment he could see himself living here, far away from Court. Free.

“What do you think would happen if we never went back?” Here they wouldn’t have to worry about the squabbles of royalty.

“We’d die in the power shift. We’ll go back, and it will be like we never left.” Her voice was soft.

Like they’d never left. He didn’t want to go back to that. It was eating him like poison, killing him like iron. What he wanted wasn’t possible. He’d heard that before though; when he’d left the farm, his parents had told it was a waste of time and that the Court would never accept him. He’d proved them wrong. He’d prove the Court wrong too and have Taryn—he just didn’t know how yet.

“We won’t be the same.” He finished his second glass and was sure it hit him harder than the first. The room took a moment to steady. “Do you do this often?”

“A few times, and I always left with someone.” She gave him a wink. “Do you want me to take advantage of you?”

In Annwyn the answer would’ve been no. But he wasn’t in Annwyn and she wasn’t talking about some gamble or game. He had no idea what she was saying. “Take advantage of me how?”

Her fingers laced with his as she stood up. “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

He got up, almost stumbled, then laughed. The fuzziness in his head didn’t clear but he didn’t care. All the things that were supposed to matter disappeared when he looked at Taryn.

“You’re not drunk.”

“I’m merry, but I’ve had alcohol before. You haven’t.”

“Can you imagine if the whole Court was drunk?”

“I have, and I’ve been so tempted to spike the wine just to see them falling over and making bad deals.”

He would make very bad deals at the moment. He couldn’t think ahead more than his next few steps, let alone the planning needed to…what was he thinking? He gave up. It was too complicated. Here everything was simple.

The warm night air enveloped him. He could smell the magic of midsummer brewing, gathering in the dusk. “Do you feel it?”

He turned and clasped both her hands, then spun her in a circle. The streetlights shone brighter; everything was sharper.

“Feel what?”

“You can taste it.” He ran his tongue over his lip. It was sweet like summer berries. Then he kissed her, to see if he could taste the magic of midsummer on her lips. The heat of her mouth on his, the lingering scent of whiskey on her breath, and the pounding of his blood in his ears. He was alive for the first time in too long and he could feel it, feel the world within him—but all he wanted was Taryn to be there with him.

Her tongue flicked over his lips and dipped into his mouth. Her body was pressed against his. She moaned once then drew back.

“Maybe you should have just had one glass of whiskey.” She tugged him off the road and led him down the street.

Verden stopped. “Stay still a moment and feel it, listen to the earth. You can feel the energy changing, as the earth prepares to winter.” It was there, a humming that vibrated through him. Like the magic of the jungle only bigger, older, and more powerful. All fairies had once been connected to that power. Now only the wild fae were.

“Yeah…you do know that in the southern hemisphere it’s winter now.”

“Coming up to midwinter.” He could tell from the look on her face she couldn’t feel it. Maybe it was the alcohol flooding his blue blood. “The endless cycle.”

“Come on, the walk back will sober you up.” She was smiling, her hand still linked with his.

Sober up.

Reality slipped back through the cracks. While he was free tonight, it was all waiting for him. The idea of sitting through another dinner, another dance, where he was supposed to smile as though he was enjoying himself—it made his stomach turn.

No, that was definitely the whiskey. Verden drew in a couple of slow breaths. His feet moving, letting Taryn lead.

“Sorry, I’m not on my best behavior.” He was saying things he shouldn’t, things he should only think. No doubt she thought him a little crazy—but he could feel the earth pulsing. Is that what the wild fae felt? Did they tumble through the seasons, reveling in each one the way fairies pretended to at Court with elaborate parties?

“That’s the idea of drinking.” She tipped her head back to look at the stars. “It’s so nice to not be there.”

“It’s nice to not be there with you.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her, unable to keep his hands from touching her. Her lips were warm and her arms slid around his neck as she leaned closer. His hands skimmed down her body to cup her butt and hold her there. His shaft hardened and pressed against the jeans. Taryn wriggled her hips as if enjoying teasing him. If they weren’t still in town, he’d be laying her down and having her. She was his.

At that moment he didn’t want to go back to Annwyn, even though he knew they had to. That they both had jobs to do and lives at risk.

He promised himself things would be different when they returned, even though he didn’t know how to make it different. Something needed to change. For both of them. For Annwyn and for the mortal world.

“Did you want to get a room?” she whispered, her breath on his lips and her fingers in his hair holding him there as if she expected him to pull away.

He took another kiss before answering. It was easier to kiss than think; his body knew what it wanted. “It’s too nice to be indoors.”

“Then we’d better get moving. We can catch a cab to the field. You still got leaves in your pocket?”

“What?” She was jumping ahead too fast for him to keep up.

“Never mind. I can use my ring. Next time I’m bringing my purse—it’s got real money in it.”

Before he had time to catch up, she’d hailed a cab and given directions. He closed his eyes as the cab darted through the town and out toward the farms. When they drew close to a house, Taryn called a stop and paid with the leaves from his pocket—her fingers brushing against him for a moment before handing them over. The dark-skinned driver accepted them without question and drove away. If he’d been Irish, he’d have been more careful about picking up fairies. Still it was good to be out of the vehicle. He preferred horses—although no one rode them around anymore, and carriages were gone too.

He’d spent more time in the mortal world when he’d been a farmer’s son than he had in the whole time since he’d been at Court. What a waste. He should have kept up with the changes better. He should’ve learned to read—Felan could read and write, not that he made it common knowledge. It was deemed a useless skill. Yet after tonight, Verden could see the need.

“I need to learn to read. Is it hard?”

“I don’t think so. But if you intend to spend more time here, it would be advisable.”

They walked further up the lane before clambering over the fence and into the field, the cluster of trees little more than a blot against the night. It had been easier climbing over on the way into town. He stumbled and blamed the whiskey even as he grinned and laughed at himself.

Taryn was smiling too, that full smile that revealed her teeth and lit up her eyes as if they were amber catching the sun. Why was she interested him? He was as corrupt as the next fairy—maybe more because he was the Hunter. The things he’d done to get here…the things he’d do to get free.

“You’d like me to spend more time here.”

She slowed her pace, and he could see the pinch of her eyebrows even in the starlight. “What’s going to happen when Felan takes the throne?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t care right now. “Leave it for another day. We came here to forget about that for one night.”

Taryn nodded. “I know, but it’s always there, at the back of my mind.”

“It’s at the front of mine most days.” The best he could hope for was a loss of rank, the worst banishment. It all depended on how Felan felt on the day. He’d have to spend some more time with the Prince—without betraying Gwyn. Right now he couldn’t see a way out of the web without tearing everything down in the process, and if he did that, he’d take Taryn with him. He couldn’t do that. Not when she was still dependent on the King’s good will to save her father.

He tripped and let himself fall to the grass, then rolled onto his back. The stars turned, as if dancing to the tune of the earth. He flexed his fingers and let the grass tickle his palms. He just wanted to sink into the ground and be absorbed by the magic everyone had forgotten.

“You aren’t getting up, are you?”

“No.” He reached up and snagged her calf and pulled her down on top of him. “I think we should stay right here.” Her weight grounded him further; he could feel his head clearing. They should’ve taken a bottle from the pub and kept drinking. Drowned out the night and everyone else in existence, on both sides of the veil.

She wriggled, making herself comfortable, her hips moving against his. He groaned and threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer as he tried to block out the rest of the world. His hand slid under her shirt.

Then he was pulling it off as she tried to pull his off. Hands glided over skin. His fingers brushed her breast but didn’t stop as he got her jeans open. She got there first, pushing his down. They rolled, fighting to be free of the denim, kicking it clear. He ended up on top of her, her hips cradling his, both of them naked beneath the night.

“Better.” He kissed her again. He was aching to have her. It felt like it had been too long. A couple of days at Court, maybe weeks here.

“Better,” she agreed, her legs easing apart so he could rest between them.

Her eyes glittered in the soft light; her skin glowed like she was lit with magic. No one could look at her and think she was mortal no matter how clever the glamour. She was too pretty, too special.

Too nice to be playing with the likes of him.

He’d plotted and schemed his way as high as he could go. What a web he’d built himself—so well made he hadn’t realized he’d been setting his own trap. He couldn’t drag her into it. He needed to be the one to walk away so only one of them went down with the power shift.

He rolled off her and lay on his back. His blood thrummed with unspent desire. He wished he could blame it on the mortal world or the whiskey, but it wasn’t. The rush and burn of lust happened whenever he looked at Taryn, whether here or in Annwyn. She did this to him. Made him want to roll the dice and bet it all.

“What’s wrong?” She propped herself up and peered at him, her dark hair tickling his chest. He caught a stray curl and brought it to his lips.

He’d forgotten the ease of lying in the grass surrounded by his parents’ cattle. What he’d once seen as dull farming life at the fringes of Annwyn had actually been living—not dancing around and playing games with others’ lives.

“I was wrong.” And it was too late for him to go back and undo it all.

“Wrong about what?”

“Everything.” He’d mistaken Court and status for living, used sex as a bargaining chip and a way to seal deals. He’d thought gambling with his heart was the worst thing he could ever do. The worst thing would be if he ignored it and pretended as though it didn’t matter. A man without a heart wasn’t living. He caressed her cheek. “I love you.”

Chapter 14

Taryn drew in a sharp breath. That had been the last thing she’d been expecting Verden to say. He loved her? No. He liked her maybe. He liked sneaking off with her. But love, that was impossible. Fairy men didn’t gamble their hearts on love.

“That’s the whiskey talking,” she murmured, even though she wished it could be true.

He used a tendril of hair to draw her closer. “It’s not. When I’m with you, I don’t care about Court politics. You make me live again. I don’t want this to end, yet I should be turning away. I should never have started it.”

“You didn’t.”

“If I hadn’t offered to take you across the veil, would you have sought me out?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, Verden was looking at her, his usually pale eyes were dark and unreadable in the shadows. “Yes. My mother gave me a list of people to talk to, to try and secure the pardon. You were on the list.”

He laughed, cold and bitter. “So you played along, thinking I could help you. I am a fool.” He tried to sit up, but she placed a hand on his chest and he lay back down.

“No. At first, I used you to cross the veil, to escape Court, but then it became something more. I longed for each visit and I never wanted them to end. We are both fools for letting it get this far, knowing we had no chance.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. It wasn’t fair. “I never planned to fall for anyone. I just wanted to help my parents and go home.”

His fingers moved over her skin, as if he couldn’t stop touching her. Her thoughts tumbled around and tangled. The warm summer air clung to her skin and made her ache for something more. She needed to do something; there was an edge in her blood that he sharpened with every touch.