Hunter Betrayed, page 13
part #1 of Wild Hunt Series
Calan turned his head and stared out the window. “She smells death but can’t get close enough to see more. Your human police arrived minutes after a young woman ran screaming out of the house.” The grinding of his jaw sent a shiver down her spine. “But Riesa didn’t pick up any trace of darkness.”
At a stoplight, she faced him. “That’s impossible. If Raul or his sluaghs killed Cynthia’s family, your dog would’ve scented them.” She frowned and tacked on, “Right?”
He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Right. The chaotic darkness leaves its mark on the earth. It fades, as smells do, but with my hound sitting there all night she should’ve not only scented the owner but seen him. Even Dahm couldn’t have hidden from her senses.” He turned in his seat. “It is possible a human committed the crime.”
As much as she wished it, she doubted it, not after Raul’s threat. The light turned green and she drove. She’d find out soon enough. Raul would’ve left his signature all over the kill if it had been him. He’d want her to know what disobeying him meant.
The part of town Cynthia’s parents lived in had two sections. The middle-class homes with small yards and cars parked along the curbs dotted the outermost area. Interspaced among them were a few pizza joints, mini-marts and offices. The poorer family homes circled the cul-de-sac at the very end of town. It butted up against the section of woods separating the town from the abandoned sewing factory that had once supported many of the local residents.
While Harley had never been inside Cynthia’s home, she knew where Ian’s girlfriend lived along the curved road. Even if she hadn’t, the strobe lights and police tape would’ve pointed out the location.
She slowed the car to a crawl then finally hit the brakes. The sight of body bags being loaded into the coroner’s van triggered a lifetime of memories. She’d seen too many murder scenes and it sickened her to know she had inadvertently caused the one before her. Ian could recite his statistics all he wanted. They meant nothing to the tragedy she knew had played out behind the walls of the older home.
Cynthia’s family had died because Harley had led Raul here.
“Harley?”
She glanced at Calan. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
He touched her with teasing mental fingers and yanked her anxiety away before she could shove him out. She breathed a sigh of relief he captured with his mouth. The soft brush of his lips to hers infused her with strength. He pulled back and held her trapped in his gaze. “You’re not, but you will feel better once you hold your brother in your arms.”
She nodded, knowing he spoke the truth.
“Turn around and drive back to the last intersection. I’m going to get out and meet up with my hounds. I want to sweep the area myself.” His brows pinched. “Make sure. Something isn’t right.”
She backed up and double-parked next to a pick-up. “Make sure of what?”
He shrugged in answer. The way he worked his jaw, however, suggested he had a guess. “Go immediately to Ian and reach for me if you feel in any way threatened.”
He peered past her. She followed the direction of his stare and caught a flash of white and red between a tarp-covered boat and someone’s garage. His hounds crouched in the shadows. A surge of protectiveness rose. She hated seeing them lurk as if they were the evil ones.
“Can’t you alter their image?”
“No. Glamour is a fairy skill.”
If the bite to his words indicated his feelings, the fact annoyed him.
“Too bad I can’t use it.” Riesa reminded her of a Doberman on steroids. Harley would like to see the hound be able to walk around without frightening everyone with her blood-colored eyes and red ears.
Calan opened the door but reached for her hand. He pressed his thumb to her left palm, the one with his circle. “You will. You’ll be powerful, a fitting mate for me.” He raised his gaze to hers. “I’ve changed my mind, my Harley. I won’t stop you again from completing our bond.” He cupped her face and brought her mouth to his for a deep, possessive kiss he ended too quickly. “I won’t lose the one female who has managed what no other has been able to do.”
He didn’t tell her what that was or give her a chance to respond, not that she knew what she would say. Another brush of lips and he slipped out of the car. The slow amble he took toward the boat wouldn’t draw any unusual attention. He looked as if he belonged here. The clothes, the sunglasses he’d slid over his nonhuman eyes and the mannerisms he’d obviously picked out of her mind helped him blend in. Sure, he was taller and more muscular than most men. Still, nobody would peg him as a demigod and a rider of the Wild Hunt.
He might not use glamour the way a fairy could, but he had his own. It just so happened he oozed sexuality to cloud the minds of those around him. She shifted in her seat and silently cursed herself for thinking about Calan naked when Ian needed her. She ignored the thump in her clit, threw the SUV into drive and headed back to the scene of the murder she’d inadvertently caused.
Don’t think about it now. Later, wallow in guilt later. She took a deep breath of wood-scented air, the last remnants of Calan’s presence, and parked behind a police cruiser. Ian turned his back on Trevor and strode toward her, his hands fisted tightly and a murderous glare on his face. Her heart skipped a beat.
He opened the passenger door and climbed in. “She’s fucking gone.”
Bile rushed up. She swallowed it down. “Raul killed Cynthia?”
He dropped his head against the seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. She’s gone.”
“As in, disappeared?”
He nodded.
The knowledge didn’t ease the rolling of her gut. Gone didn’t mean safe. Actually, it might mean an outcome a hell of a lot worse than death. She blew out a rough breath. “Tell me what happened.”
“With the exception of her younger sister, Allie, all of Cynthia’s girlfriends who slept over, along with the rest of her family, were killed.” He glanced at her and the pain reflected in his eyes stabbed her in the heart. “Cynthia’s bed was empty and the back door was hanging wide open.”
“Oh god.” She covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “Raul?”
Ian squeezed his eyes shut. “It didn’t look like one of his murders. No missing pinkies or tongues.”
She peered through the window at the house where Ian had spent his holidays over the last few years. The idea forming in her head sickened her.
“A sluagh kill?” Not that they matched any one cookie-cutter slaying, but they all ended with a major artery being cut so the creature could drink of its victim’s blood.
“Some struggled, but all had a single slash over their throats. No other visible wounds other than the bruising that I saw. The cops kicked me out before I could examine the rest of the house.”
She met her brother’s deadened eyes, the pain replaced by acceptance, and asked the only thing left. “You think it was Cynthia?”
He shrugged. “Her bloody handprint was on the table along with my ring.” He reached down, shoved his jeans up and pulled out the dagger she’d made for him, the one that could kill redcaps and sluaghs. He caressed the black blade in a slow swipe, cutting his forefinger on the sharp edge. The scent of blood filled the car. “If it was, I’m going to find Raul and cut out his goddamn heart.”
* * * * *
Calan stared at the evidence before him and cursed a sting of swear words he’d picked out of Harley’s mind. A perfect circle formed out of large, dome-shaped mushrooms sat in the middle of the storage building’s dirt floor. Unlike most he’d seen, these were healthy and plump, not red-topped and diseased. It appeared to be several years old and defied all the rules.
“A fucking fairy ring.” Hidden out of sight from my hounds.
Leading up to the edge of it, the impressions of small feet showed the path the sluagh had taken to return to its home, the realm that still existed in the Underworld even if there weren’t any fairies left to occupy it.
He pivoted on his heel and surveyed the rest of the building. Along one wall, a large map hung with an assortment of colored pushpins decorating it. Next to it, hundreds of frozen images were neatly arranged. Some had crumpled corners and wrinkles, others had been printed on special paper and in different hues. They showed various landscapes and seasons. The clothing style changed, but one thing remained the same in all of them.
They were all of Harley—naked, fully clothed, sleeping under the golden rays of the sun, fucking other men. All of his mate.
Every last one.
The growl started deep in his chest. He focused on one picture—Harley on her knees, sucking some human’s dick with a look of pure rapture on her face, much like the one she’d worn last night when she’d been in a similar position with him. Calan let a nail grow into a sharp talon. He sliced the male’s image then desecrated each of the others. It didn’t appease the rage. He wanted their blood for daring to touch what belonged to him.
Harley had been his from the moment he’d left his mark on her. She should’ve felt the connection to him, even if she didn’t understand it. She should’ve longed for him, needed him, fucking sought him out.
But she hadn’t.
She’d stayed away for nine unbelievably long years. In that time, she’d given her body to the males shown in the pictures displayed on the wall before him. How had she been able to touch them, let alone find release at their hands?
She doesn’t need to return my devotion. Love and commitment cannot be forced. She could still walk away exactly as he’d suggested she could in the traditional binding vow he’d given. It was the ultimate sacrifice a mate could make—eternal commitment without a guarantee of it being returned. Yet, every one of her caresses and kisses suggested she’d loved him as long as he had her.
His growl turned into a roar that shook the building. The wooden beams groaned. The earth moved under his feet. Electricity sparked in the air around him.
Riesa whined and pulled him back from the edge. He peered over his shoulder. She approached him, head lowered and tail between her legs.
Calan dropped to his knees and opened his arms to receive her nuzzle and lick. “It is not your fault, Riesa. You can’t smell the chaotic taint when it is masked.”
At his bitter, raw laugh, Riesa cowered more. The sight bothered him but he couldn’t help it. The irony was too much. The great leader of the Wild Hunt was linked to a redcap through his mate. Somehow, Raul had ingested Harley’s blood. It was the only explanation for his ability to hide from Calan’s hounds.
As Calan’s mate, Harley was blinded to the Hunt and so too was the redcap bound to her.
“He’ll die, slowly and painfully.” The vow didn’t help. Rage still gripped him.
The ground trembled. Calan clenched his jaw and reined in his power. He dragged up the memory of making love to Harley. It helped chase back his rage but not wipe it out. Only her touch would soothe him completely. He couldn’t think beyond his anger to decide on the best way to eliminate Raul when Calan couldn’t sense his presence.
Calan opened his mind to hers. Be ready for me, Harley. I need you.
He cut their connection before she could ask questions. He couldn’t deal with them at the moment.
In the middle of the sewing factory’s parking lot, Calan stood with his arms outstretched. He called forth his horse for the first time in a millennium. From the portal to the Underworld only a Huntsman could use, his stallion trotted out. The tug of Arawn’s summons followed. Calan blocked it. He’d deal with his sire soon but didn’t dare risk it while he fought the temptation of the Hunt.
A visit to the Underworld often resulted in a brawl with his father. The additional violence on top of what rode him would send him over the edge. It took every ounce of his control to resist its pull.
Can’t give in. Harley needs me here. So too did his siblings and the humans.
The stakes were too high to risk being locked in yet another prison because he couldn’t control himself. The danger of the Hunt came when it consumed a Huntsman to the point where nothing else mattered except exacting revenge on whatever had sent him over the edge. He would become what Harley had first pegged him, an unstoppable force that destroyed everything in his path.
He couldn’t allow that to happen, not when his personal heaven was within reach.
Chapter Fourteen
Harley stood in Ian’s living room while he prowled. The description fit better than paced. Coiled energy tightened his muscles. Ian curled and uncurled his fists. He finally stopped, faced the mirror above the side table and punched it. Glass shattered. The tinkling noise of shards hitting the wooden floor resounded around them. Rough pants sawed past his lips. Blood dripped from his knuckles.
She blew out a slow breath and dropped her gaze to the silvery blades on the floor at his feet. “I’m sorry, Ian.” The tears spilled over. She didn’t bother wiping them away. “I should never have—”
Ian leveled glinting hazel eyes on her. “Fucking stop. I am so goddamn sick of hearing your lame-ass apologies.”
She stepped back and wrapped her arms around her chest. “I don’t have anything else to give.”
He whipped his head around to pierce her with the hardest look she’d ever seen from him. She backed up more.
“You need to stop apologizing, Harley. It doesn’t change anything. Not the rotten blood in your body or the hell that follows you.” He closed the distance between them. “You did not ask to be fathered by a monster.”
She knew that and for the first time in her life she had a way to make up for every death Raul and the other redcaps caused.
“Calan will avenge Cynthia’s family and maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll find her alive.”
“Don’t feed me any false hope. Cynthia is either dead or Raul made her into a sluagh.” Ian groaned. “And the worst damn part is our last words spoken to each other were ones of anger.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “What happened?”
He dug out the antique ring he’d given to Cynthia. It had belonged to their grandmother and was worth a small fortune. He held it up to the light, examining it from all angles.
“We started arguing over something stupid, china patterns.” He grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It turned into a fight with her demanding shit like a new house and car. I knew it was just the stress of the wedding and stuff but Trevor’s words kept going through my head.”
Silence stretched. Finally, she finished his statement because she could guess where the conversation was going and didn’t like it. “So you asked her about it.”
“Yeah. She didn’t deny or admit to it. She told me that if I didn’t trust in our love then maybe marriage wasn’t the right choice for us.” Ian curled his fists. “I turned my back on her and told her we’d talk in the morning. I left but came back when I’d calmed down. The house was dark so I sat in my car and—”
The front door banged open with a gust of wind. The scent of a campfire rushed in with a breeze that scattered papers and knocked the picture frames from their spots on the mantle.
Calan.
He stepped through the opening. His gaze zeroed in on her. His nostrils flared and a rumbly snarl curled his lip. She reached behind her and braced against the wall to steady her shaky legs at the sight of the fury stamped on his face.
The long fingers that had brought her pleasure hours ago lengthened. The nails thickened, sharpened and grew into slightly curved talons. She jerked her attention from the deadly claws to his face. He swept his gaze over her in an intent perusal that stripped her, penetrated her and left her raw and open in front of him. He settled his gaze on her face. Desire softened his eyes but the pointy teeth filling his mouth didn’t match the hungry look he wore.
“Come here,” Calan growled. “Need you.”
Her heart raced but she closed the distance between them. The moment she stepped within arm’s length, he slid his hand around her waist and tugged her against him. Face buried into her hair, he breathed deeply.
“Harley, my Harley,” he whispered the words into her hair.
Whatever he had discovered had upset him. She wanted to demand he tell her what he’d found. The urge to calm him stopped her.
She pressed her lips to his neck and nipped right over his pounding pulse. He sucked in a breath, but the tension in his body didn’t lessen. With the faintest caress, she skimmed her fingertips across his back and kissed up the column of his throat to his ear.
A lick to his skin froze him in place. A nibble on his earlobe and his pent-up air escaped in a rush. She grinned at the implications of his reaction. The power she’d always sought over her lovers had never been as immediate and complete as what she had with Calan. Maybe it was a different sort of control, but it filled her with a sense of importance. She’d calmed the wicked Huntsman with only a kiss.
He clutched her tighter. “More. Touch me more.”
She kissed her way across his jaw, the stubble tickling and sensitizing her lips. At the corner of his mouth, she flicked her tongue out. He parted his lips and turned for her kiss. She didn’t take his offer. Once she did, she’d want everything he could give her. With Ian a few feet away, it wasn’t happening.
A hand on her bottom, he lifted her. She automatically linked her ankles around him and he took the kiss she’d been reluctant to give.
A groan of hunger added to the rough thrust of his tongue along hers. Head tilted, he delved deeper—stroking, licking and exploring as if he’d never kissed her before. He swept his hands over her back, along her spine and into her hair. Held still for his pleasure, he ate at her mouth, feeding his moans to her and demanding her response in return. She dug her hands into his hair, mimicking his pose, and gave it to him. It was impossible not to.
The passion he stirred in her spread through her body in a wave of sensation that left her squirming over the trapped cock she wanted lodged deep inside her. Her breasts ached, eager for his mouth. Her clit thumped, begging for his touch. She rocked over his hard length, pushing the head against the bundle of nerves. Not enough. She needed more. She slid her hand between their bodies and over the bulge in his pants. He groaned.
