The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) (22 page)

She swallowed.

His expression was fierce, and proud, and otherworldly. Pointed ears peeked through loosened, tangled hair stiff with blood. Lantern light shone softly through the rips and tears in his bloody shirt, glinting off his muscular chest and arms. He was her enemy. Fae. A warrior covered in blood and gore, but tonight, he’d done what he said he would. Kept her safe. And despite her better judgment, she was beginning to trust him.

“Trina,” he said. “I’m a man with few boundaries. I can go outside while you bathe and let you go up to the loft to sleep alone. Or…” His eyes glowed and she trembled.

“Or?” she asked. She knew what he wanted. She could blame his fae magnetism, but she knew better. She’d regret it later but she wanted him now with a fierce melting desire that weakened her resolve. He’d helped her, defended her, proven himself to be more than she’d thought, and she was going to let herself have him one more time. It was inevitable.

“Or I can stay.”

She stroked a flake of dried blood off his cheek. “Stay.”

He dropped her chin, raised her from the chair, and turned her around. Silent, he untied the bindings of her bustier, loosening one tight cross of laces at a time. Her freed breasts moved under the fabric and leather and her breath eased out in relief as both corset and dress dropped to the floor.

She reached for a towel, but he gripped her wrist and held her still. “Let me look at you.”

A deep heat flushed her skin. She moved to cover her breasts.

“Nay.” He held firm as she tugged away. “I’ve been thinking about peeking under your bodice all night.”

Wrestling with a mixture of pleasure, arousal, and insecurity she dropped her eyes and yielded.

He traced his finger along the curve of her breastbone and down the fullness of her cleavage. “You’re lovely, Trina. You should be proud of your body.” He let her go and tugged his shirt off of his torso, hissing as the fabric pulled away from the dried blood.

“You’re hurt.” She darted forward, helping him pull off the remainder of the torn and bloody shirt.

“Ouch!”

“Let me see.” She reached up and brushed his hair back so she could examine him. A deep red gash ran over his shoulder and down his left bicep.

He flexed and winced. “Just a scratch.” He grinned at her frown. “Not enough to keep me from pleasuring every inch of you.” He scanned her again and her nipples tightened. “Not nearly enough.”

He stripped off his pants and she took the opportunity to examine his strong, lean body with fresh eyes. He had a power that she hadn’t fully appreciated until she’d watched him tear into the massive brutes that had attacked them. A human would be in the hospital, but Logan was ready for more.

As was she.

“Come on, let’s clean you up.” She led him to a low towel-draped stool and dipped a cloth into a bucket of hot water, washing the blood off his injured shoulder.

“Ouch, lass, be careful.” He flinched.

“You need soap and a little healing. I wish Bryanna was here, she’d make sure it didn’t get infected.”

His reached out and gripped her wrist. “I’m glad I have you, and not Bryanna.” His eyes glowed. “My green witch.”

Trina dipped her cloth again, soaping his face, sliding silky, white lather over each small wound and bruise. She leaned in and brushed feather-soft kisses along his damp, warm skin, her breasts and thighs bumping against him. He rinsed his hands off in the bucket and took up his own cloth, washing her belly and hips as she skimmed her fingers along an ugly purple bruise shadowing the ivory skin below his ribs.

He winced and sucked in air. “That one goes deep.”

Once clean, he eased into the tub, hissing as the hot water hit his freshly exposed cuts. She stood behind him, massaging his neck muscles with the tips of her fingers. He hung his head and sighed, and she increased the pressure.

“Let’s get this clear,” she said. “The sex tonight is because I want to, not because I owe you, or you think you own me. I’ll pay you for saving me from the boars in massage.”

“I’ll not argue with you, lass.” Logan sighed and bowed his head forward, giving her full access to his shoulders. She leaned in and dug deep into the knots, her nipples dipping into the water as she pushed and dug along his back down to the firm muscles at the top of his ass.

She rubbed and kneaded until her fingers were sore and his muscles became supple and relaxed.

“There. Better?”

“Thank you. Consider the debt paid.” He picked up her hand, brushed a soft kiss along her knuckles, and tugged her to the front of the tub. “Now come relax in the water.”

She climbed into the tub in front of him and leaned back, resting her tired head against his chest. Her body floated in the magically clean hot water, her feet intertwined with his calves.

“Ah lass, I’m sorry we fought earlier.”

An ache grew deep inside the center of her chest. She sighed, and it expanded from a small irritation into an inexorable breath-stopping pain.

She gasped. This was it. This was the opening of her heart.

Goddess knew she hadn’t wanted to fall for this man, but it was happening just the same.

Logan reached forward, his warm, strong arm coming around her chest. “Easy, love.” He traced a wet finger over her face, along her cheekbones, down her jaw, feathering his soft touch over her lips. She guided his finger into her mouth, sucking it in and out, savoring the taste and texture of his rough skin on her tongue.

He groaned, flipping her over and onto his lap. She wrapped her legs around him. His erection floated under her, brushing the hair between her legs.

Their faces were inches apart.

She was in more danger than she’d ever been in her life and yet, for the first time since her parents had died and her world had collapsed into a life on the run, she felt safe. Here, in the arms of the enemy, Logan would let no one harm her.

Words wouldn’t express the depth of her gratitude, nor the lightness of floating here, secure in his protection.

Releasing his finger, she leaned forward and kissed him. A light, brushing thank you of her lips against his. He opened his mouth, tangled his lips with hers, and deepened the kiss. Roaring filled her ears, and she lost herself, drowning in a suspension of time and the heat of his lips.

Trina leaned back and stared at Logan through the steam, at his wide eyes and starkly serious expression. She traced his eyebrows with a dripping finger, down his temple, along his jaw line, memorizing the shape of his face with her touch. His eyes closed and a sigh escaped his lips, tension easing from his face and body. She kissed his closed eyelids and they fluttered under her lips as her hardened nipples grazed his smooth chest. She worked her way down to his mouth, outlining his lips with her tongue, bracing herself on the sides of the tub as he opened his mouth and the kiss turned hot and strong.

Logan’s arms wrapped around her and he pulled her tight into him. She couldn’t wait anymore. She reached for his hips under the water and maneuvered onto his erection, easing it deep inside her until he filled her to the deepest point. Staring into his eyes, she moved up and down in the warm lapping water. Water sloshed onto the floor as their rhythm increased faster and faster, until he clenched her to him. They cried out together, and everything in her released. Including the pain in her heart.

Hours later, they sat down to a makeshift meal of leftovers and hot, strong tea, eating in the dark illuminated only by the flames of the fire.

“What were those things?” Trina’s muscles ached, but despite the long night, she wasn’t sleepy. She was restless with her newfound knowledge of her vulnerability to Logan.

He quirked a brow at her. “Would you believe those were wild boars?”

“No. I’ve seen boars on TV. I think they have them in Florida. But they aren’t that big or that vicious. Those things were the size of horses.”

“They grow that big Underhill. I’ve hunted them many times before, thank the Goddess. If it had been just you...” He shook his head, his face grim.

She wrapped her fingers tight on her hot mug, drank her tea, and tried not to think about what could have happened to her had the boars come across her unaware with no time for spells. She would be dead.

“Do they always hunt in pairs like that?”

“Boars don’t hunt. They have tiny brains. They’re brutal and vicious, and will attack upon the slightest provocation. Someone riled them up and brought them through a gate, likely be-spelled to attack. But why didn’t the person attack us directly? Why send creatures from Underhill?”

“It’s a message.” Trina put her mug down and shivered despite the heat of the fire. Logan tugged a blanket over and lifted his arm up, inviting her under it.

She hesitated. His eyebrow raised and she shrugged and ducked under the blanket. Why the hell shouldn’t she? It was too late to save her heart. She snuggled into the warm safety of his body.

“Someone must have spotted you,” he said, wrapping his arm tight around her. “Or targeted me. Someone who wants to divert suspicion to the queen and away from the gypsies.” He frowned. “Tell me about Mariella Boyd.”

“You can’t possibly think she would sic wild boars on us. Why? And where would she find them. Gypsies can’t open portals.”

“What did she say to you?”

“Nothing that would imply she meant me harm. She extended the protection of the meet to me. I want to hear what you discovered first,” she said, wanting to think about her encounter with Mariella and make sense of it before she had to make him understand what had happened in the RV. Logan recounted his evening, ending with the tale of Lady Aoife.

“You mean you are going to go on the word of a drunken old man that this is the fae we are looking for? What makes you so sure?”

“I remember her from the Gold Court.”

“The Gold Court?”

“The court of the Sun King, Oberon.” Logan rubbed the skin of her arm with his hand as he talked. “Kian brought some of us from the Black Court. We didn’t stay long, caused trouble when we did, but I remember the Lady Aoife in particular.” He stared into the fire.

“Why? What was so special about her?”

“I remember the court treated her differently, like she was special, but not in a good way. She was strikingly beautiful, but no one approached her. And she had a private audience with the king himself.”

“Is that uncommon?”

“I’ve never seen it before. Not that we frequented the Gold Court on a regular basis, maybe once a decade or so.”

Trina wondered how old he really was that visits were measured in decades. Time stretched out as a sudden, long highway and she a tiny blip in his road. He looked like he might be in his late twenties, but she knew time was different beyond the veil and the longer lifespan might mean he was at least hundreds, if not thousands, of years older than her. She swallowed some tea to cover her giveaway face and forced her wayward mind back to the immediate question.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked. “Aoife isn’t the name Mariella gave me. Something odd is going on.”

“Look, hunting down information is simply another form of hunting. My Gift tells me this is the right scent. Why don’t you tell me about your evening?”

“Mariella gave me the name Haddon.”

He sat up. “Something is very wrong here. Haddon is the queen’s closest advisor. There is no way Haddon would have tried to negotiate with the queen on behalf of the gypsies. Are you sure you don’t have this confused?”

“I think I asked her to tell me the name of the fae who was involved in the negotiations,” she said slowly as she tried to remember exactly what Mariella had said. “Maybe she thought I wanted the name of
any
fae involved in the negotiations.”

“Well, it’s true he was likely at the table for whatever transpired. But I still think Aoife is the person who was friendly with your tribe, and she’s who we need to see next. I’d hoped you would get the details of where she hides from Mariella, but no matter. I’ll go tomorrow and track her down.”

“You meant both of us. Right?”

Logan’s body stiffened.

Trina sat up and saw by the blank look on his face that he hadn’t meant both of them. She moved to the far side of the couch. “You can’t leave me behind. I have a huge stake in this. It’s my family, my tribe, my life. You can’t possibly think I’d stay behind after all this and clean. No way!”

“I don’t trust this Mariella Boyd.” He reached for her, but she stayed curled up on her side of the couch. He rubbed his forehead. “She gave you the name of the queen’s man. You’re naïve if you think she’ll keep the information you’re alive to herself. Someone sent those boars after us. They either followed you, or wanted to kill us both.”

“You don’t know it was her. I could have been found out by any number of people.”

“I hoped we’d have a more definitive lead and that would justify risking you, but now I fear this woman has something up her sleeve.” His voice hardened. “Tomorrow, you stay here, and I’ll hunt Aoife.”

Her chest began to ache. He sounded like he never intended her to help him. Maybe he would keep her locked up until the end of time, or until he was tired of her and threw her away. Maybe her feelings for him were clouding her judgment. He was still fae and she was still only a gypsy witch.