Dark Alpha's Fury, page 3
About the time Aisling came looking for him.
Xaneth squeezed his eyes closed. Why did his thoughts always return to the Reaper? They were on different paths. She had a future. He…did not.
In an effort to stop thinking about her, Xaneth focused on ideas for how to find and kill Lena while watching the various birds on the coastline, the time measured by the crash of each wave on the shore. The hours passed slowly, broken only by a brief rain shower that somehow made the cool wind that much colder. He kept his gaze on the constantly moving sea, following the ebb and flow of the water. Until, finally, twilight came.
That was when Xaneth became anxious to leave the cave. He wanted to explore the village and put it to memory as he located Lena or any Fae Others. By the time he lowered his veil and walked from the cave, the shadows had lengthened, blending into the night. He looked up, the sight instantly capturing him. Xaneth gawked in wonder at the mesmerizing view of the sky and the milky cascade with its billions of stars that created the river of light that stretched across the inky blackness.
For long moments, he simply stood and stared, soaking up the beguiling sight. He’d always loved the stars, tracking the planets’ movements, finding the constellations, and even the distant nebulas. It felt like a lifetime since he had indulged his greatest pleasure. He’d looked at the sky so many times, but it hadn’t stilled him as it did tonight. If only he could stay and stargaze until dawn.
Xaneth sucked in a long breath and begrudgingly turned away. Only to come face-to-face with the one person he didn’t want to see—Aisling.
She stood, silent as a sentry, her gaze direct and unflinching—and locked on him. Thick, black lashes framed her large eyes, while delicate brows arched gently above them. There was no smile on or softness to her full lips. A gust from the sea swept past them, causing the ends of her hair to dance enticingly. That was when he realized that her long hair was free of its braids. The moonlight highlighted the silver mixed into her midnight tresses. She wore all black—a chunky sweater, pants, boots—the only color her long nails that matched her eyes.
A memory flashed in his head of her lying still, the gaping wound in her chest. He could hardly reconcile that with the woman he saw standing before him now. He wanted to ask how she had come back to life. But he didn’t. Because if he spoke with her, he wouldn’t want to stop.
Did she have any idea how many times he had wanted to see her face since that day on Skye? Could she know how his hands would forever feel empty after holding her? As if a piece of him had been left with her?
“Nothing to say?” she quipped.
There was a hint of anger in her words, and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. He decided it would be better not to reply. For both of them. So, he shook his head.
“Don’t even think about it,” Aisling stated in a clipped tone, one daring him not to infuriate her more.
He frowned, wondering how she had known he was about to teleport away.
“If you leave, I’ll only find you again.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him.
Rather, she glared. There was no doubt in his mind she was livid. But why direct it at him? Was it because he hadn’t killed Lena when he had the chance? That had to be it. He should have finished Lena. He knew that. But he’d taken one look at Aisling and thought only of her. That couldn’t happen again. And if she stayed, it would. He couldn’t fulfill his destiny if she stayed.
Xaneth might not have shared a lot of words with Aisling, but he didn’t need them to know that she wasn’t going anywhere until he replied in some way. So, he came up with the best he could under the circumstances. “I asked you to stay away.”
She quirked a brow. “And I asked you to talk to me.”
“Nothing would come of us conversing.” He had to get away. Soon. He couldn’t talk to her for all the reasons he had sent her away. Couldn’t she see that?
“How would you know since you’ve not tried it?”
He almost told her they were doing it now. Xaneth opted not to say anything at all.
She shook her head and dropped her arms. “How could you just leave me? Without…anything. Not a word, a touch. Nothing.”
Xaneth’s chest constricted at the anguish in her voice. He couldn’t answer her because he didn’t have those answers for himself. Worse, it had never entered his mind that she might be angry that he hadn’t been there. This was why he didn’t want to talk to her. It was too complicated, too problematic. He shook his head and took a step back.
Aisling let out a sound that was half laugh, half snort. “You run headlong into danger against the Fae Others and Lena without a second thought, but you can’t have a conversation with me? You can’t answer simple questions?”
They were far from simple.
“I came to help. That’s all I’ve wanted to do since I started following you,” she told him. “To help. I know it’s what I have to do. I know it here.” She pointed at her chest. “But you won’t accept anything I have to offer. Not even my words. So…fine. Leave, Xaneth. Go do whatever it is you think you have to do. But know this. The Reapers will be there. I will be there. Fighting. You can’t stop that.”
He could if he found Lena before they did. Which was exactly what he planned.
She started to turn away but paused. Her crimson gaze locked on him again. “Thank you. For what you did for me on Skye. I owe you.”
Xaneth parted his lips to ask what she was talking about when she vanished. He blinked, a frown growing as he tried to think of what he had done other than take her from the battlefield. Maybe that was what she had meant. Perhaps she had needed somewhere quiet to heal.
He looked at his hands and recalled how they had been coated in her blood. How still her body had been. How lifeless.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. Once again, Aisling had found him. Erith must be telling her where to go. But then why hadn’t the goddess come herself? He was tired of these questions. Besides, did it really matter? He wasn’t a Reaper. He didn’t answer to Death.
His gaze slid to where Aisling had stood, looking indignant and beautiful in the moonlight, and wished with every fiber of his being that she was still there.
Chapter Four
Aisling couldn’t remember being so exasperated and incensed. She paced the shoreline of Kilbaha Bay, going over her all too brief and ridiculous chat with Xaneth.
“Why did I even think he’d talk to me? Why did I believe that him saving me meant he, I don’t know…maybe cared?” She rolled her eyes as anger whipped through her. “He was surprised to see me, but that quickly turned to annoyance.”
That was what got her. She’d intended to stay quiet until he spoke, but when she saw his irritation, she’d lost it. Aisling knew she should’ve waited until he talked. She might think she could help him, but that didn’t do any good when he kept refusing.
“If the imbecile wants to die, then let him,” she stated.
Aisling stopped pacing and closed her eyes with a sigh. She wouldn’t let that happen. No matter how furious she became. Xaneth had endured unspeakable horrors at Usaeil’s hands, and whatever drove him now was likely a consequence of that. He battled the Fae Others better than even the Reapers. Erith had no intention of stopping him. Everyone just wanted to help him defeat their foe.
The difference was, they had been in his shoes and had found their spot in the family. Xaneth not only didn’t want his place with a family, but he also didn’t want anyone around. And, honestly, she couldn’t blame him.
She sank onto a boulder and listened to the waves rolling over the rocks and sand. Her head tilted back until she looked at the stars. He’d seemed awestruck by them. For just a moment, he had lowered his shields. That was all it had taken for her to see him: the lad who’d watched his family be massacred, the Fae who hid everything he was, the rebel who had made a name for himself in both the Light and Dark worlds. The man who had been tortured but had broken free.
In that instant, her broken, battered soul had recognized one of its own.
Aisling leaned back on her hands and regarded the night sky. But it wasn’t the stars she saw. It was Xaneth. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried himself as if ready to unleash Hell on anyone who deserved it. He’d had his large hands clenched, the muscles in his forearms shifting beneath his skin below the shirt sleeves he’d shoved to his elbows.
He had a ruthless air about him. One that only made him more handsome and appealing. From his chiseled jawline to his full lips to his pale silver eyes, he haunted her day and night. His midnight hair was cut short now, the top long enough to show the soft waves. It gave his gorgeous face a lethal look that made her blood quicken.
She knew every inch of his face, having put it to memory when they first met. She knew the vein in his left temple that throbbed when he was angry. The small scar near his lip. Just as she knew how his body moved during battle. How he made each movement look like a dance.
If only she knew the feel of his body against hers. She had been unconscious when he took her from the battlefield on the Isle of Skye. She had no idea what it felt like to be in his arms. But she had dreamed of it.
She had imagined and fantasized about it.
Every other Reaper had found someone. Even Death had found her soulmate in Cael. Not Aisling. Not that she deserved it. But she could let her fantasies run wild, which was exactly what she had done with Xaneth.
It was wrong. She knew that. It allowed her to believe that something had developed between them when it hadn’t. Someone as damaged as she couldn’t be put back together to find her person. She had accepted that. She’d been fine with it.
Then she met Xaneth. And everything changed. She’d tried to forget him, attempted to ignore him, but it was all in vain. Everything she touched went to shite. The only thing she was good at was being a Reaper, and even that was questionable since she’d left her family to look for a royal Fae who wanted nothing to do with her.
Which meant that Aisling had a choice. She could continue tracking Xaneth to see where he went. If he found Lena, she would be able to call to the Reapers so they could attack. Or…she could find him, give him the message like Eoghan had asked, and return to Dreagan.
Aisling had made a detrimental choice long ago that had defined her life. This was another one. She knew it, even if she tried to tell herself otherwise. Despite the fact that Xaneth had hurt her with his words—or lack thereof—she couldn’t leave. At the very least, she had to deliver her message. She should’ve done it first thing when he turned to find her. Now, she had to find him again. Then, she’d keep far enough away from Xaneth that he wouldn’t know she was there.
Lena thought Aisling was Xaneth’s weakness. In reality, he was hers. But Lena didn’t perceive Aisling as a threat. Regardless, she would make sure Lena couldn’t use her against anyone. Aisling wouldn’t be the reason the Fae Others claimed victory.
Aisling licked her lips and rubbed her palms on her thighs as she closed her eyes. She thought about Xaneth, focusing all her concentration on him. It wasn’t an easy process. It was exhaustive. And painful. Sometimes, it worked. Other times, it didn’t. She had looked three places before she found Xaneth in Kilbaha. She hadn’t sought him out so many times in one night before, and it was taking a toll. Her head throbbed behind her eyes, but she needed to know if he was still in the village.
She gave up when the pain became too agonizing. Aisling leaned forward and put the heels of her hands against her eyes. The pounding intensified. She had wasted herself on nothing because she couldn’t pinpoint Xaneth. That meant she would have to physically look for him instead—if he was even still in Kilbaha.
Aisling dropped her hands and lifted her head. Then, she cracked open her eyes and winced. She needed a few minutes to heal, but time wasn’t something she had. Aisling pushed to her feet and turned toward the village. She scanned the distant rooftops until she found one she liked. She veiled herself and teleported there. She had to lean against the chimney as her knees threatened to buckle from the pain that suddenly exploded in her head.
She took in the area, looking for any signs of Xaneth. He liked to hide. That meant she needed to search the shadows. She gripped the side of the chimney tighter, her fingers digging into the brick as she fought a wave of nausea. She had experienced pain before, but nothing like this. She slid down the chimney and leaned her back against it.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” asked a deep voice to her left.
Aisling turned her head and looked up at the Dark Fae, who smirked down at her. How had he seen through her veil? That was when she realized she must have dropped it. The Dark had beady, red eyes in a large head. He looked to have more muscle than brains, but at the moment, she wasn’t at the top of her game—something she wasn’t used to. Maybe she could make him go away. “I want some time alone.”
“On a roof?” He laughed, the sound grating. “If you’re looking for company, sweetheart, I’m your man.”
“No, thanks.”
He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her to her feet. “I wasn’t asking.”
Aisling glared at him as he tightened his fingers in her tresses, pulling tighter. “You’re messing with the wrong Fae.”
“There’s a bounty or your pretty head. I am to collect it.”
Aisling couldn’t have heard him right. Bounty? By who? Then it dawned on her. Lena, of course. Aisling shoved her hand toward the Dark, her magic hitting him hard enough that the air rushed from his lungs.
He still clung to her hair, so he dragged her with him until he stumbled back and dropped to his knees. His chest had a sizable hole from her hit. Aisling somersaulted over him, landing on his other side. She grabbed his hand that held her hair and twisted at the same time she kneed his elbow. There was a loud crack as the bone broke before he bellowed in pain.
“You bitch!” he screamed as he fell onto his back.
She freed her hair and flipped it away from him. Aisling went to deliver the killing blow when everything went fuzzy. She reached out for something, anything to hold onto. What was happening? She blinked and tried to focus on her attacker, but he teleported away before she could finish him.
“Aisling?”
She didn’t have to see Xaneth to recognize his voice. He was in front of her, just to her right.
“You’re hurt,” Xaneth said.
She heard the concern in his voice and wanted to flip him off, but right now, she had to concentrate on staying on her feet. Maybe she shouldn’t have tried to look for him this last time. She’d never been able to find anyone like that before. It had only been something she’d developed while searching for Xaneth. But, obviously, she had overdone it.
“What did he do? Tell me,” Xaneth insisted. “You don’t look well.”
Aisling needed to get somewhere quiet and safe.
Instead of answering, she teleported back to Dreagan. At least, she tried to. She found herself on the damp rocks instead. Aisling gripped her head and curled into a ball. She wanted to stay there, but it wasn’t safe, especially with the bounty, if the Dark could be believed. She had no idea where she was. Anyone could find her like this. She tried to speak, to call Eoghan’s name, but it took too much effort.
The icy waves crashing into her and the bitter wind registered first. Aisling forced open her eyes to see that she was on the beach where she had confronted Xaneth. It took a great deal of effort to lift her head and look around. She spotted the cave before her head fell. Her attempt to teleport failed, causing a kind of terror she had never felt before. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t teleport, and it felt as if her very skull were breaking apart.
Aisling had been through too much and had overcome so much more to die like this. She gritted her teeth and used her hands and arms to pull herself over the rocks, fighting the incoming tide. It was excruciating and slow, too slow for a Fae used to magic coming easily. Each time the water hit her, it was like being blasted with cold. It seeped into her boots, soaking her socks. Her wet hair stuck to the sides of her face, making it difficult to breathe.
She had to pause twice because she nearly passed out, but she pushed against the blackness that dotted her vision. Aisling tried to use her magic to keep herself warm, but it never lasted long. Then, finally, she reached the cave. Tears of joy and pain coursed down her face. The blackness intruded again, and she couldn’t push it away this time. Her lips formed Eoghan’s name, but she passed out.
Chapter Five
Xaneth stared in confusion at the spot where Aisling had stood moments ago. He had seen her but had decided to stay away. Then, he’d witnessed her encounter with the Dark. Xaneth hadn’t been able to keep himself from watching her deal with the scum. Though it didn’t take him long to realize that something was wrong.
His first thought was that the Dark had hurt Aisling. But, like before, he’d said the wrong thing, and she’d left. He wanted that, didn’t he? Why did he feel like shite every time it happened then?
Xaneth’s concern grew. Aisling had clearly been in pain, her eyes unfocused. The image of her lying so still in his arms on Skye flashed in his mind.
“Fek,” he grumbled as he turned in a circle.
He had to look for her and make sure she wasn’t injured. The problem was, he didn’t know where to start looking. She’d managed to find him, and while he could locate evil, she wasn’t that—regardless of her coloring. Or her past. Once a Fae became a Reaper, they retained their coloring from before, but they weren’t Light or Dark anymore. They were simply Reapers.
No one knew when the mystery and myth of the Reapers had come into being. One day, they were suddenly a part of Fae culture. Many believed they were made-up stories to get children to mind their parents. Xaneth had assumed the same until he came face-to-face with the Reapers himself—though they hadn’t told him what they were at first. He’d figured it out, however.
