The Hob (The Gray Court 4) (23 page)

Michaela stirred beneath his touch and he stilled, loathe to wake her. The dark circles under her eyes were disturbing. His lover had not been getting enough rest, and it showed. He would have to see to it that once she was moved in with him she caught up on her sleep.

“Robin.”

Robin held a finger to his lips, quieting Oberon, who’d opened the bedroom door. “Shh.” He made sure Michaela was adequately covered before climbing from the bed. While his own nudity before his king did not disturb him, Michaela’s did. He quickly donned a soft pair of cotton pants and shirt. He did not want his power to awaken her simply because he wanted to be clothed. The bonding had been intense, taking a great deal from both of them.

His Michaela was worn out by more than her work and a crazy convention schedule.

Robin padded barefoot from the room, Oberon hot on his heels. He led the way down the stairs, intending to take the king to his study, when a hand on his arm stopped him. “What happened?”

Robin glanced toward the upper landing and sighed. He had hoped Oberon would quell his impatience for just a few steps more. “I am bonded.”

“So I gathered.” When Robin raised a brow in query, Oberon grimaced. “I received a phone call from Kael.”

“Damn.” He’d forgotten about the pooka.

“He was frantic. Said he heard snarling, but when he searched found nothing but a lady’s robe on his sofa.”

“I’ll contact him, let him know everything is all right.”

“It is not all right, Hobgoblin. You left a fledgling Blade alone to claim your mate.”

Robin winced. He sensed a lecture coming on.

“Not only that, but he had news to impart.”

“Oh?” Robin’s ears perked up.

“Hobgoblin.”

He sighed. “Can we not put off the discussion of my numerous failures until after Prince Evan is safe and the bitch queen’s plot revealed?”

Oberon studied him for a moment. When he began to speak Robin relaxed. “It seems Prince Evan is being held on a ship on the waterfront, the
SS
United States
.”

Robin started. That ship was near where the second body had been located. It made perfect sense now. McNeil was taking his victims to where he’d shackled Prince Evan.

“According to your pet gremlin, it’s a gutted luxury passenger liner parked at Pier 84 in South Philadelphia. They’ve begun restoration efforts to remove things like asbestos, so it’s possible whoever is holding him are posing as workers to keep the real construction crew from finding him. If they’ve got it cordoned off to remove toxic materials it would be simple to keep the boy away from the crew.”

Robin tapped his nail against his lips, his mind racing furiously. If Red said that was where the data led, then Robin had no doubt the information was accurate. “I’d bet on McNeil being the motivator for location.”

“Agreed. If so, your Blades know what they will be dealing with.”

“Indeed. If the water horse gets the prince in the water, there will be no saving him.”

“Worse, Kael claims he overheard Raven cursing about reports of bodies pulled from the river. Bodies with strange marks on them.”

Damn. He should have kept a closer eye on McNeil. “He’s right. Two bodies that I know of, with marks the humans believe to be made by sharks. Worse, he left behind saliva.”

“And their testing would show it to be human.”

He exchanged a glance with Oberon, already aware that the death sentence he’d been seeking was about to be handed down. “The teeth marks will not match with any known shark, either.”

“Take him down, my Hob.”

“As you wish, my king.” Robin bowed. McNeil’s fate was sealed.

“Can we count on the Raven Lord to remain neutral in this?”

Robin began to pace. “I do not know. I will speak with him, offer him a place here in the Gray Court, but his fear of the Black Queen may overshadow his need to escape her.”

“Who do you trust for extraction? Someone must fetch the prince.”

Robin grinned, aware his fangs were showing. “Why, myself, of course, and Jaden.”

Oberon nodded. “And who will you set to guard your wife while you rescue Prince Evan?”

“Wife?”

Robin winced. His truebond could screech quite loudly, it seemed.

“You’re married?”

Oh, now that would not do at all. The pain in her voice was unbearable. Robin rushed to where she’d tucked herself behind the bannister and pulled her into his arms. “Of course.” She tried to struggle but he held fast. He kissed the top of her head, laughing when she snarled. “I claimed my bride last night.”

She stilled, but her muscles remained tense. “I don’t remember you asking me to marry you.” She held up her left hand but kept her face buried against his chest. “There’s no ring on this finger, mister.”

He took her hand and kissed that all-important finger. “Then we shall see about placing one there.”

She finally lifted her face from his chest and stared at him. “I still don’t remember being asked.”

As she did not look terribly displeased, Robin decided to play. He put on an offended expression, hoping she would see it for the mask it was. “I did ask.”

She glared at him suspiciously. “When?”

He whispered in her ear, “I distinctly recall it. Remember? ’
Say you are mine
.’” He nipped her earlobes

She shuddered, her cheeks flaming. “That’s a demand, not a question.”

He inhaled her scent, pleased when his own overlay hers, mingling together into a brand new whole. “We are more bound than any human paper can make us, more tied to one another than any human ceremony is capable of.”

“But I’d still like the ceremony.”

He sighed. “Michaela.”

“Robin.” Her serious tone caught at him. “This means something to me.”

Then she would have it. He nodded. “Very well. Once my current mission is resolved, you shall have your ceremony.”

She smiled, and he was glad he had acquiesced so easily.

“In fact, I know just the place to conduct it.” He could not wait to introduce Michaela to the Dunne family.

“That’s all well and good, my Hob, but your mission is not resolved.”

Robin turned, tucking Michaela protectively under his arm. “Of course, sire.”

Michaela gasped. “Holy schlamoly. You really are Oberon?”

Oberon’s expression softened as he looked at Robin’s wife. “Yes.”

Michaela tugged on Robin’s shirt. “Should I curtsey or something?”

“No, but you will need to take vows before the Court, swearing your allegiance to him as I have.”

She opened her mouth, but quickly shut it again with a frown. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head. “If you’re Oberon, where’s Ti—”

Oberon’s eyes had gone pale gray. Robin slapped his hand over Michaela’s mouth before she could say the name. “That name is anathema here. And yes, I will explain, but later. For now, know that Oberon rules as High King over the Gray Court; the White Court is ruled by Gloriana. The Black Queen rules the Black Court.”

Michaela nodded, and he removed his hand. “I assume
she
runs the Black, and that it’s a bad, bad place?” When Robin nodded she shivered. “McNeil is Black, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and you are to stay as far away from him as possible. He is an
each uisge
, a water horse, and feeds on human flesh.”

She scowled, but her fear was obvious in her pale face and trembling hands. “I knew he was a murderer. He doesn’t just feed, he enjoys it.”

Oberon’s brows rose. “How can you tell? You only met him briefly.”

She burrowed closer against Robin’s side. “There’s a darkness in him, an evil. I can see it, plain as day. The man didn’t just want to kill me; he wanted me to hurt first.”

Oberon’s expression blanked. “I see.”

“She dreamed of me.”

The pale silver of Oberon’s eyes darkened to titanium. He glanced at Robin and nodded once. Robin was correct, then. Somewhere in Michaela’s line a Tuatha Dè Danaan had dallied with her ancestor. “Perhaps it would be best if she remained here, then.”

She tried to ease away from Robin, but Robin held fast. “Where is here, exactly?”

“Colorado, in the Rocky Mountains.” Robin waved his hand. “This is my home.”

Michaela pinched his side. “Really? You teleported me to Colorado?”

He waved his hand. “When we were…” He looked sideways at Oberon and grinned. “Enjoying each other.”

Michaela blushed. “Oh.”

“
Souhaite-tu visiter Paris au lieu?
”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know what you just said, but say it again.” She shot Oberon a shy glance. “When we’re alone.”

Robin laughed. “
Tu êtes un délice pour mon âme.
”

She shivered. “I have got to learn French.”

“Robin, as charming as your bondmate is, we still have work to do.” Oberon bowed his head to Michaela. “I am sorry, my dear, but I must steal him from you. But first things first.” The aura around Oberon changed. His friend had donned the mantel of the High King.

“Whoa.” Michaela was wide-eyed as she stared at the king.

Robin took hold of Michaela’s hand. “Kneel, and I will whisper the words you need to say in your ear.”

“What?”

“Trust me.”

Michaela knelt without another word, stealing any last bit of Robin’s heart he might have held on to. That unquestioning trust was his undoing, and he couldn’t be happier.

Robin began to whisper, and Michaela repeated his words. “I declare myself Oberon’s man from this day forth, in honor and in faith, having no other oaths to forswear. By the gods I pledge my loyalty to the Gray Court, High King Oberon and his descendants. I declare myself the sworn servant of the Gray Lord, High King Oberon, King of the Gray Court, Lord over the Fae. I pledge my sword and my honor to uphold the laws of the Court. I and my house will abide by the laws handed down by the High King. I will faithfully perform all services required by Crown and Court. So swear I, Michaela Exton—” she jumped when he pinched her and glared at him, “—Goodfellow.”

Oberon smiled. Her disgruntled tone and rolled eyes had charmed the king. “I, High King Oberon, the Gray Lord, Lord of the Fae, hereby hear your oaths and accept them in the name of Crown and Court. I declare you our loyal servant, sworn to our bidding. From this day forth my sword shall defend you, my magic protect you, and my wrath be mighty should you fail of your duty. So swear I, Oberon, High King.” He nodded to Robin as the magical bond of king and liegeman settled over Michaela, causing her to gasp.

Oberon’s voice echoed eerily as he continued. “I acknowledge your bondmate, Lord Robin Goodfellow, and declare her Lady Michaela Goodfellow. Her voice is your voice in all matters pertaining to the Goodfellow house and line. They are hers to protect and defend, and she, theirs. May you find joy in one another.”

Robin bowed his head. Oberon had just told the entire Gray Court that Robin was bound. No doubt word would spread like wildfire to the White and Black. “Thank you, my king.”

Michaela mimicked him a scant second later.

Oberon relaxed. “Now, much as it pains me to do so, I must steal Robin from you.”

Robin helped Michaela to her feet. “Back to Philadelphia, my liege?”

“Yes. Inform Kael that, if he wishes, he may accept training as a Blade. The boy has done well.”

“Yes, sire.”

Michaela tugged on his shirt. “Can I hop a ride back to my apartment?”

Robin’s brow rose. He’d much prefer it if she remained safely in the confines of his home. “Why?”

She frowned. “One, I have to work tonight, just like you. Two, I promised Moira we’d sit in on that Irish fairytales workshop together.”

“You want to go back to the convention?” Robin scowled. He did not like that thought one bit. “Where McNeil is?”

She sighed. “Tell me Moira isn’t a fairy.”

Robin snorted. “She’s not a fairy.”

“Oh.”

His bondmate seemed disappointed. “She’s a leprechaun.”

She shook her head slowly. “Somehow, that makes perfect sense.” Her nose wrinkled in that adorable way she had. “I’m going to need to brush up on my fairytale species, aren’t I?”

“Yes. That should keep you occupied whilst I return to Philadelphia.”

Robin turned to go, but stopped short. Her fist was clenched in his hair. “Not so fast. If you think you’re leaving the little woman behind to bake you cookies, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Of course she was going to be difficult about this. “Michaela—”

“I
will
find a way off of this mountain, with or without you.” She let go of his hair and moved to stand in front of him, a scowl on her face. “And if I have to do it alone, Mr. Goodfellow, the consequences will be ugly.” She held up her fists.

Robin bit back a laugh. “The mighty fists of death?”

“Yup. Fear me, mister.”

Robin shook his head. He hated to disappoint her, he truly did. “McNeil will not, my dear.”