The Outcast Prince (19 page)

Her heart bounced in her chest as she slid her hand into her handbag.
It’s okay. He doesn’t know that you know.

She swallowed and tried not to panic. That was two fairies in as many days, not including the Greys. This man wasn’t a Grey. She was sure of that. He also didn’t have that same hungry air that Verden, the Hunter, had worn like a cloak.

Maybe this man knew something that could help. “Has he called, or said when he’ll be back?”

“He’ll be back before the three days is up.” The fairy considered her for a moment, his gaze flicking to her handbag.

Did he sense the iron? Surely not.
Play
it
dumb. The dumb blonde act usually worked when all else failed.
As much as she hated doing it, people fell for it—who was dumb?

“Oh, I was hoping he’d be back sooner.” She faked a smile. “Never mind.”

She took a step back. She shouldn’t have been so nosy and insisted on checking out his shop. If his car hadn’t been there she wouldn’t have stopped. Who was she kidding? She totally would have, just to see what he sold in here and what the price tags were.

The bells on the front door chimed again, but there was no one there. Another fairy, one she couldn’t see. How nice it was that this one had made himself visible.

“I’ll let Caspian know you stopped by. And you are?” He smiled as if inviting her to tell all.

Dylis’s warnings echoed in her ears. She had iron, she hadn’t agreed to anything, she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything he’d offered, and she certainly wasn’t going to give her full name. She could do this and get out of here with her soul intact.

“Lydia.”

“Lydia.” Her name rolled off his tongue like it was made of silver bells. “Bramwel at your service. I shall pass your message on.” He gave her a half-bow.

Who did that? Fairies, apparently.

“Thank you.” She forced the words out.

“Do not fear, we always keep our word.” He flashed her another smile, but this one was more calculating, as if he’d known all along that she knew what he was and held iron in her hand.

“Caspian ap Felan,” Felan intoned, “do you surrender your soul willingly to Annwyn?”

Caspian glanced back at the castle and all the things he hadn’t seen, but in that heartbeat he knew he could spend his whole life here and never see everything—that was the trap. “No. I choose to remain in the mortal world and live out my days there.”

“Very well, I shall ask you twice more before you die.” Felan moved his hand over the gap and the surface shimmered. “You are free to leave Annwyn, but be aware without your soul you are the equivalent of a banished fairy. You will weaken and die.”

“How long?” What would it be like to live without a soul? Would he miss it?

“I can’t say exactly, one turn of the moon or three? You had less magic in you to begin with and you won’t be able to resize like a Grey.” Felan touched the mirror hanging under Caspian’s shirt. “Find it fast and help me stop the poison corroding Annwyn.”

He looked his father in the eye. “Are you commanding or asking?”

“Both. I have no wish to see you die.” Felan offered Caspian his hand.

Caspian clasped it, but Felan drew him into an embrace. “Do not fail me, son.”

Then Caspian found himself in a cemetery in the rain. Water trailed down the back of his neck and he tipped his face to the darkened sky. The air wasn’t scented with flowers, just the tang of ocean and heavier smell of dirt. The plants were duller. Loss for the beauty of Annwyn cut through him like a knife. He couldn’t think past the pain. He wanted to be part of beauty. With each breath the fog that had enveloped his mind thinned. He knew he was in the mortal world for a reason. He touched the sliver of mirror hanging around his neck. Down the road was a house. That was where he needed to be. Beneath his hand his heart beat. It took a moment for him to register what that meant. He was alive, but not human—that part of him was still in Annwyn.

Which meant he didn’t have long before he’d start to wither like any other Grey.

***

Lydia jumped at the knock on the door. She peeked through the front window to see who was arriving so late. Caspian was on her front step, soaked through. She flung open the door and stared at him for a moment, not sure if she should throw her arms around him and never let him go, or tell him to leave because she couldn’t go through all that worry again.

She wrapped her arms around him before she could check herself again and behave a little more appropriately. She’d missed him so much. She’d worry about the consequences of falling for a fairy later. He put his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek, then found her lips. He kissed her like he’d been starved and was hungry for everything she had. She let him steal her breath, his tongue slipping past her lips. She melted against him, not caring that the cold and wet seeped into her skin. Relief pushed every other thought aside.

“Oh my God, I was so worried you weren’t coming back. I went to your shop but there was some guy there claiming to be your assistant.” She kissed him again. “What the hell happened?”

He looked at her, but his pale green eyes seemed different somehow. There was a faraway look.

“Are you okay?” She touched his cheek, rough with stubble. Had he been drugged?

“I’m fine.” His arms were still around her as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. “What day is it?”

Her breath constricted but she forced her voice to be calm. “It’s Monday.”

He nodded like the day held great significance. “I missed you.”

“Me too. I mean I missed you.” She placed her lips against his again. His lips were sweet. Too sweet and too tempting. Yet cold. “Let’s get you in; your skin is freezing.”

He stepped into the house and Lydia realized he was still in the same clothes. His feet were bare and muddy. How far had he walked like that? Maybe he was just glad to be out of Annwyn. With a last glance outside she closed the door and locked it, knowing she’d be sleeping here again because the idea of letting Caspian out of her sight was unthinkable—what if he disappeared again? A frisson of excitement ran through her at the idea of sleeping with Caspian. Then she glanced at him; he looked like he needed to actually sleep.

“Why don’t you have a shower to warm up? I’ll put your clothes through the dryer.” Water dripped off his jeans and onto the rug. For a moment the wet splotting sound was the only noise.

“Lydia…” He reached for her as if he couldn’t live without the contact. His hand was cold. How long had he been standing in the rain?

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me later, if you can.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know; she already knew far more than any human should.

His shoulders slumped. “I feel like I haven’t slept in days.” He pushed the fingers of his free hand through his wet hair. “Like I’m not sure what’s real.” Then he looked at her again as if he didn’t know what to say.

“You’re in no shape to get home on your own.” But aside from looking drained he didn’t seem to be hurt, but then she didn’t know what kind of damage a fairy could inflict. They probably had much more subtle methods than humans. She suppressed a shiver. They’d let him go, for the moment that had to be enough. “Come on.”

Lydia led him upstairs. She fetched clean towels and put on the heater. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt before shrugging out of it. She eased the sodden fabric away from his skin. Her fingers brushed over his arms, she let them linger on his skin for a moment, unable to pull away. It had been days and all she wanted was to have him in her arms and make sure he was really there.

She turned on the shower, but kept her gaze on him. He turned around and her tongue swept over her lip. Then she saw the necklace hanging against his chest.

A piece of mirror on a silver chain. It was nothing special, and yet… Maybe it was the curved shape or the smooth edges. She was used to seeing sharp shards when mirrors broke but this looked polished. Her face was reflected back at her. He hadn’t been wearing it last time, which meant he’d been given it in Annwyn.

“Was that a gift?” She pointed without touching.

He glanced down as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s to help me find the mirror.”

Lydia nodded slowly. “With your psychometry.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you going to do that?”

He lifted his gaze and looked at her, his eyes totally unreadable. There was almost an alien quality, like he wasn’t really part of the world. While he’d always been attractive enough to make her heart skip a beat, today that beauty was sharper, more defined… there was a hidden edge. He looked more fairy.

Or maybe she was just noticing now that she knew. If he hadn’t slept or eaten much over the last three days of course he was going to look edgier and leaner. That was all it was. Still, whenever he looked at her she just wanted to melt.

Her hand trailed up his chest, his skin cool and damp from the rain. Then she stepped closer for a kiss. She brushed her lips over his in a light caress. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek as he tasted and teased with his tongue.

A moan formed as her blood heated. This wasn’t what she’d planned. He was supposed to be having a shower and rest. And yet as he drew her closer, and the hard length of him pressed against her hip, it seemed sleep was the last thing on his mind. He turned her away from the shower so her back was to the wall. He worked her shirt open, kissing down her neck as her fingers threaded into his hair. She’d missed him so much. He opened her jeans and pushed them down her hips, along with her panties.

She pressed her hand against his length, stroking as she fumbled for the zipper. She needed to feel him in her. His jeans opened and she pushed her hand into his briefs, her fingers grazing the smooth head of his shaft. Her breath hitched as his fingers dipped lower and slid over slick skin. Her back arched into his touch. He’d learned her body so fast, his finger using just the right amount of pressure, the right motion. She closed her eyes; she was so close. His lips trailed along her collarbone and lower, his tongue tracing the edge of her bra. Then he stopped.

She opened her eyes and he lifted his head and looked at her with his eyebrows raised as his finger touched the iron nail in her bra.

She swallowed. “In case a Grey comes back.”

He drew away, the heat gone. “I’m not good company at the moment.”

How could he say that? Now? Her blood was running hot. She needed him. Her fingers curled at her side, but she bit back the frustration. What did she say? What could she say? He didn’t want her… and yet thirty seconds ago he’d been as keen as she was.

She took a moment to fix her clothes and gather up as much calm and dignity as she could. “Okay. I’ll leave you to it.” But she paused in the doorway, waiting for the rest of his clothes.

He stripped off his jeans without a trace of embarrassment and handed them to her. She glanced away not wanting to see him aroused when he’d just turned her away.

Something wasn’t right. He seemed different, but she couldn’t say how.
Exhaustion, that’s all.
Of course he wasn’t going to be into sex even if his body was saying something different. “Did you want something to eat or did you want to go straight to sleep?”

“Sleep would be good.” He looked at the wet clothes in her arms, then back at her face. “I’m not being a very good guest.”

“Don’t worry about it. We can talk later.” She even tried to sound like she meant it.

He looked at the running water and hesitated before stepping under and closing the door. The glass warped his outline, but she saw him just standing there, head bowed, letting the water drum on his shoulders.

She bit her lip and turned away, shutting the bathroom door behind her to keep the heat in. Was she in over her head? She had more than enough problems of her own, including the relocated ghost. Yet that fairy had been in Callaway House for as long as she could remember without causing problems. She wanted to show Caspian the mirror in her handbag, but now wasn’t the time. Maybe in the morning.

She put his clothes in the dryer on low, as jeans had a horrible tendency to shrink. He wouldn’t care at the moment he would in the morning.

The sound of water running through the pipes rattled above her reminding her how old the house was. It had never been a silent house. It had always creaked and groaned and sighed and rattled with life; now it was too silent. The ghost hadn’t come back yet. She almost wished it would. The pipes shuddered as the taps were turned off.

In her mind she saw him drying off and the heat in her blood rose. She was tempted to go up, but hesitated. She didn’t want to intrude and she didn’t want to be turned down twice. She knew when she was shattered all she wanted to do was lie down and be left alone. So she left him alone, hoping that when he woke up he was more like himself.

For the next couple of hours she made a list of all the diaries including the dates they spanned and then photographed them the way Caspian had done. This way there was record of them, just in case someone thought to destroy them and act like they never existed. There’d been no mention of the memorial in today’s paper, but she was expecting something and she was expecting the reporter to mention the diaries. She’d have to ask Caspian who he’d spoken to about them. But that would have to wait until morning, along with the rest of her questions.

As she thumbed the old pages she wished there was a way she could make a copy of them, but she didn’t have the time to photograph every page. There was just too much. Carefully she packed them back into the trunk and locked it. For the moment she’d done all she could.

With a sigh she walked around and turned off the lights, double-checking that the doors were locked as she went. She hadn’t planned to stay here tonight, but she wasn’t leaving him alone, and she didn’t want to wake him to take him home. It was better they were both here. While she wanted to slide into bed next to Caspian, it would be smarter to sleep in the bed she’d used growing up. But she didn’t think she could sleep in the same house in a separate room.

She used the little lie of checking on him. The bedroom door was open as if he was leaving an invitation… or he’d been so out of it he hadn’t thought to close it. Light from the corridor cut across the bed. He was on his back, his chest rising and falling with each breath. The mirror pendant was still around his neck, but she couldn’t see his face as it was in the shadow cast by the door.

“Join me.” His voice was soft like he was half-asleep.

She should leave him to rest, but she wanted him and her feet moved as if she couldn’t resist the request. Desire still ran through her body, aching and unsatisfied. She pulled her hair free of the grips so it tumbled down her back, still a little damp from washing it that morning. Then she took off her clothes, carefully placing the iron nail on the bedside table, and then slid into bed next to him, glad to feel his skin against her again and know he was safe. Even as she lay there she tried to clamp down on her rising desire. But her body was aware of every move and every breath he took. She was on edge from before. He turned toward her and drew her close, her back against his chest, the hair on his thighs tickling the back of her legs. She let out a shaky breath. Her thoughts were on everything but sleep.

Behind her his skin was cool against hers, even though he’d been in bed. His arm was looped over her waist, his fingers trailing along her stomach. When he placed his lips on the back of her neck she shivered. Then his hand slid higher and traced the curve of the underside of her breast. The simple touch made her stomach tighten. His thumb brushed the swell but never came close to her nipple, which was already peaked and aching to be touched. Yet his touch couldn’t be called seductive; it was more intimate than going straight for the erogenous zones where nerve endings made it easy to arouse someone.

He kissed another vertebra in her neck, pausing long enough to taste her skin with a flick of his tongue. Against her butt, part of him warmed up and hardened against her skin. She swallowed and tried not to wiggle her hips closer in invitation. He pressed his palm flat to her belly, the tips of his fingers barely brushing her curls. She wanted his hand to move lower. It did, but he smoothed down her hip to her thigh, his hand never slipping between her legs. Lydia pressed her teeth together to stifle the frustration at having him touch her everywhere but where she needed to feel his hands.