The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) (9 page)

There were none. She took his proffered hand and swung up in front of him.

Sidesaddle on Solanum, Trina endeavored to keep some kind of space between her silk-covered ass and Logan’s groin. She tugged the ridiculous skirt down and ignored the amused snort of her captor.

As they approached the tall, dark trees of the forest, her mind raced in a thousand disjointed directions. Her inappropriate clothes. Her frustrating new position. Her lack of direction as to how she could possibly get away from the domineering elven lord and back to her real job of finding out why the queen had it in for the MacElvys. She wasted time here. Her cousins and aunt were fleeing for their lives. Right now, they could be in danger.

They rounded a curve, entered the forest, and the light grew dim and green. Solanum’s hoofbeats muffled into a distant heartbeat. The pack of hounds, wild, waving tails held high, coursed around them down the wide trail into the dappled sunlight at the edge of the woods. An unwanted blanket of quiet settled onto Trina’s back.

The night before, she’d been aware of nestling between Logan’s legs as they rode, but today, under the hypnotic rhythm of the ride, the honeyed warmth of horse and master wrapped around her. A direct contrast to the intense sexual heat of less than an hour earlier, this slow rocking was sweet, sticky, and seductive, and she was more than tempted to give in, relax, and lean into Logan.

The easy motion, and her tired abs, seduced her into finally sliding back until the bare skin of her thigh pressed against rock hard muscle. She trembled at the contact, not having to see his face to imagine his lips curved in a knowing smile. He felt solid and steady. Her treacherous instincts said she should sink into him, rub her face in his chest, and inhale his scent of leather, smoke, and wild.

She pinched the skin on the top of her hand, using the pain to distract her body from the condescending hot male pressed against her ass. If she didn’t keep her desires in check, she would be completely at his mercy. And she wasn’t sure he had any.

Searching for additional distraction from the sensual slide of her skin against Logan’s thighs, Trina examined the forest. Evidence of life was scant as they wound their way along the nearly impassible track between tangles of fallen logs and ivy-covered rocks. The near silence of Solanum’s muffled hoofbeats was barely audible against the small soughing of the wind through the ancient trees.

No birdsong, no frogs, no crickets. Just them. And the weight of the forest that grew increasingly dense as they moved forward. Trina pulled the heavy air into her lungs, tasting the rich flavor of silent moisture and mossy rot on her tongue.

And then…a movement. Caught in the edges of her vision. An awareness of something inhuman, perhaps intelligent, rippled through Trina and the hair lifted at the nape of her neck.

“What…!”

“Easy now, lass. It’s just the forest. Lean back.”

She turned her head. Whatever had been there was gone.

She allowed her body to ease back, her right thigh and hip rocking against Logan’s reassuring warmth. The hounds split, the majority of the eerie soundless pack moving ahead, leaving two or three behind to shadow their trail.

Logan’s easy confidence as he rode through this place gave her an ironic sense of security. He wasn’t anxious. Didn’t seem to sense, as she did, that something here was wrong.

She tried some deep breathing techniques she used when she had trouble centering and succeeded at last in lulling herself into a state of uneasy relaxation, edging closer with every sway into the solidity and safety of her captor’s chest.

The hounds in front had pulled away around a bend in the trail. Without warning, Logan’s arm tightened into a steel band.

“Hang on.”

They turned the corner and Solanum pulled up short, nearly running into the hounds splayed out in a semi-circle. Teeth barred and hackles up, they were silent, ferocious weapons aimed at a creature three times their size. Twenty feet tall, humanoid, with grey-green skin and tiny eyes. And hairy. Very hairy.

“What in the Goddess’s name is that?”

“Shh.” Logan’s warm lips leaned in close to her ear. “It’s a giant.”

“Oh,” she whispered back. “I thought they were bigger.”

“It’s not fully grown.” Logan glanced from side to side. “Mama is likely somewhere nearby. Damn it.”

The baby giant tore a small tree from the ground and ripped off the branches. It swished the tree back and forth, dirt flying from the roots, and kept the hounds at bay.

“Go! Go ‘way!” it howled.

A hound darted closer.

“Leave it.” Logan snapped out.

The reluctant hounds shot looks between the unlucky giant and their master. Trina slipped, tangling her fingers in Solanum’s mane and scrambling for a more secure seat.

The giant’s branch shook at the hounds. It pulled its lips back, revealing a gap where its front teeth should have been, and uttered something between a growl and a whine.

“Go ‘way!”

“We need to cross,” Logan said, his calm voice laced with a cord of power. For the first time, Trina saw the small stream that gurgled behind the giant.

The giant’s distress increased. Saliva began to drip from its open mouth and the sounds it made grew louder.

The hounds stayed put, their smooth red hides quivered and twitched, only held back from ravaging the creature by Logan’s will.

“This my spot! You not belong!” The creature swung the branch in a fast arc, stepping forward with each pass, skimming the nose of the nearest hound. A great ripple went through the pack and their bodies shook with strain.

“Logan, keep them back. He’s just a baby, he doesn’t understand,” she said. She didn’t know what the hounds were, but they weren’t dogs. Her inner sight told her they were shadow, magic, and something else. But not flesh and blood. No matter how real they felt when they touched her.

“I know what he is. But we need to go through here. Believe it or not, this is the safest path to our destination.”

“I know a lullaby spell, supposedly, it works for trolls. It might work for baby giants. Let me try.” She’d learned it as a child, all witches did, but she’d never thought to use it in a real situation.

Solanum shifted his weight. “I could eat it,” Solanum said. His long tongue licked out and Trina flinched. “Then we could go through. It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Behind the small rheumy eyes of the giant, Trina swore she could see its desperation building. Soon it would feel it had no choice but to take on the hounds. “Please? Hold them off and give me a chance.”

“Can you do it from up here?”

“It would be better if I touched the ground.”

“It’s just a giant, one less won’t make a difference, but I don’t want to have to deal with its mother.” Logan rubbed his mouth with his free hand and his forehead creased. He sighed. “The forest is a bad place to spill blood. Give it a go.”

He loosened his grip and Trina slid down behind the pack of hounds. Once on the ground, the slavering giant seemed twice as big. The noises it made increased in pitch and the irritated hounds snapped and whined.

“Can you keep them back? I’ll need a little time.”

“They’ll hold,” he said. He leaned over and touched her shoulder. “I’m right here behind you, lass.” His blue gaze held hers, giving her a sudden surge of confidence that he had her back. She nodded and stepped away.

The dirt path was cool against the soles of her feet as she breathed a quick prayer to the Goddess. No time for a circle. No time for much of anything besides sending a questing link down into the strange earth of the forest and reaching for power.

And it came.

It came hungry, looking for a place to go. Strange power poured into her, shot into her feet and out her mouth in a dark and hollow voice that came straight from the decay of the ancient trees.

“O na wa tig. O na wa ti. O na wa huzaltanate!” This wasn’t her childhood nursery rhyme. From somewhere beyond her body, Trina heard ancient foreign words coming from her mouth, and the power rushed through her in a tidal wave.

The giant froze, the branch held tight in its fists. The hounds’ ears perked. This time, the voice was louder, the timbre an echoing vibration in her bones.

“O na wa tig. O na wa ti. O na wa huzaltanate!”

Solanum’s ears pasted flat to his head and out of the corner of her eye, Trina could see Logan’s set face and glittering eyes.

The young giant wailed, the sound grating in her ears, covering Logan’s curse. The hounds’ ears went flat. Dropping the branch, the creature backed away, tripping and falling into the stream in its haste to flee. It picked itself up, turned, and ran, lumbering and wet, into the forest, tearing a whole new path through the trees.

Power built inside Trina and her body began to shake.

“Let it go.” Logan’s command rang inside her ears. “Lass, you have to let the power go!”

If she could have spoken, she would have told him. She would let it go if she could, but she didn’t know any way to push the dark mass out.

Her skin flared and light skittered along her veins, burning a track to her heart. The power pushing to take over.

“Just let it go!”

She didn’t know if she could. She hadn’t called this. It wasn’t the familiar Goddess’s blessed energy of the earth that fed and nurtured her powers. This was old. And it carried a strange, dark frightening taint.

“Trina MacElvy, you can do this.” Logan’s voice rang with confidence that she knew was misplaced. She was twenty-two and partially trained. She wasn’t experienced enough to control this. She wasn’t sure anyone was. But she had no choice. This was her body. No one else could evict the presence.

She groped for a way to find the earth, her earth, the one that had been her friend and power center since she could remember. She pictured the way the green of the land soothed her. The calm, easy way she felt looking at ripe stalks of wheat rippling in fields, the steady pulse of granite and marble, and the fecund touch of a freshly turned garden. Her memories grew, pushing away all thoughts of this aggressive, hungry, almost sentient earth power.

The darkness loosened, slowly sliding back through her. Down, out of her face, and into her throat. Down her chest and past her belly, until finally, it drained out of her feet and back into the ground. Trina collapsed.

She came to riding safe in Logan’s iron grip, each of Solanum’s steps making her head sway in pain.

“Ohhh.”

“Shh, we’re nearly there. Just lean back.” The softness in her captor’s voice confused her. She struggled to remember that he was a threat and not an ally as she leaned back into the security of his chest, laid her aching head down, and hid her face from the watching trees.

The sudden change of light slammed into Trina’s eyes as they cut through a split in a wild hedge and left the broody forest. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her dazzled tears.

“We’re here,” Logan said.

A grey, washed-out cottage squatted in the center of an enchanting, sunny clearing surrounded by wild grasses and scattered flowers. Nearby, a shed leaned, ready to topple from the weight of overpowering honeysuckle vines that threatened to engulf its uncertain walls. Birds and the chatter of small creatures filled the meadow-like space and Trina’s fear and tension dropped away at the suddenly normal sounds. She still ached, had a headache, and felt out of place, but in this oasis, she could sense the safety of the earth.

“Wake up, lass.” Logan moved her hair back from her face, leaving tingling traces of his touch on her skin. She sat up too fast and her head throbbed.

“Sweet, sweet, home.” He grimaced at the dilapidated cottage. “At least for a while.”

“Just great,” she said, rubbing her aching forehead.

“How are you feeling?”

She made the mistake of turning her body and looking into his face, inches away. His eyes, foreign and cold the night before, only seemed concerned. She had a strange desire to reach up and touch his cheek, his chin, trace the contours of his lips. Warmth heated her from the inside and rushed to her cheeks. She ducked her head.

“I’m fine,” she lied and pulled away from the false comfort of his touch. “Let’s hope the inside is better.”

The black beast smirked at her over his shoulder. “Maybe your hounds will fly.”

“Shut it, lout.” Logan dismounted and reached up to help Trina down. “You’re not helping.”

She avoided his hands and slid down, happy to be off of Solanum and away from the conflicting heat of Logan’s body. Her stiff muscles ached from two days of unaccustomed use and she landed hard, bare feet stumbling in the cool, welcoming clover. Logan grabbed her arm.

“Careful, lass.”

Trina jerked away. Warmth spread from where he’d touched her and she resisted rubbing her arm. The physical attraction between his kind and hers would be hard enough to fight without the tingle of power spreading down her wrist and along her skin.

Logan’s hand dropped to hang at his side, his interrupted smile smoothing back into place. He stepped away from her and jerked his head towards the cottage, now blocked by the swarming hounds.

“After you.”