B00XXAC6U6 EBOK

  “You mean the jacket?”

  “Well, yeah. Where did it come from? It looks almost identical to the one Margetta took from me.”

  Regan looked amazing in her snug jeans and leather ankle boots. Her braided belt had cinched in her waist to a perfect hand-measuring size and he wanted his hands on her.

  He’d awakened with an arousal so hard, he’d stayed in one position for a long time just trying to breathe. The urgency he’d experienced to cross to the guest room and take the woman in bed then and there still had his thighs in a restless state.

  Even now, just looking at her and catching her sweet jasmine and lime scent, had him shifting in his seat and trying to get more comfortable. The needs of his cock fused with his mind, and he knew words of any kind wouldn’t come easily. Despite the handicap, he struggled on, forcing his mind to put a few sentences together. “Uh, the jacket. Yeah. I told Ben what happened and he found this for you.” He waved at the coat. “Hope it’s the right size. Olivia sent over the rest of your clothes and make-up. Everything okay?”

  She frowned. “Everything’s fine.” She lowered her hand and stared at the jacket. “Great, really. And I do appreciate this.”

  “Uh, good.” He repressed an eye-roll at his inability to properly express himself. But he couldn’t get over how pretty she looked with her smoky lavender eye-shadow swept to a point on each lid and her brows arched and dark with whatever women did to their eyebrows. He could tell she’d worked on her hair. It was poufy, the way she liked to wear it and had a sort of wave in back, in fact a few waves.

  His gaze fell to her lips. She’d always had beautiful, full lips, and they gleamed with gloss, or at least he was pretty sure that’s what she called it. He wanted to spend some time getting it off her, taking some onto his own lips.

  “Thanks for the compliment and the jacket,” she added, though her frown had deepened. She lay the jacket over the back of the nearest bar stool. “You’re acting kind of weird.”

  He shook his head. “I feel weird. I don’t have any pain and my eyes don’t hurt anymore.”

  Her arched brows rose. “They don’t?”

  “Not even a little. Another side benefit of your recent donation, I guess. Want some coffee?” He rose as he spoke, and picked up a white ceramic mug, waving it in her direction, waiting for her decision.

  “Uh, sure. Yes. Absolutely. Sweet Goddess, the swill Margetta served. It tasted like she rolled the beans in the mud before grinding them.”

  He crossed to the coffee maker and poured her a cup. “You’ll like this, then. I have a colony of trolls in the mountains who do nothing but grow coffee beans. The Guardsmen take turns making sure the Invictus don’t bother them. We’re all addicted.”

  He handed her the mug, which she took in both hands. Taking her first sip, she moaned softly.

  The sound was unfortunate. He still remembered all the noises she could make when he had her in bed, from the softest coo to the throatiest groan. Of course, the utterances had nothing to do with tasting coffee and everything to do with his need to sit down again and try to ignore her or at least her damn womanly scent.

  Goddess help him.

  “I’m taking you back to Swanicott at full-dark.”

  Her brows rose. “You think that’s wise?”

  He drew a deep breath, trying to find some way to keep his lust for her from taking over. “I think it’s for the best.”

  She sat down on the bar stool and shook her head. “Is it because of our lovely conversation earlier this morning?”

  “Thought you’d bring that up.” He didn’t look at her as he reached for his own mug and took his time refilling. He then returned to his stool.

  He needed her to leave, but she’d asked the right question: was it wise for her to go? He had nothing to offer her, no reason to prompt her to stay. “I told Zane about the fortress and the encampments.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Other than expressing his horror with a few well-chosen words, not much. I think we’re both in shock. He’ll be here in an hour or so. Stone as well. And I’ve had my communications center get in touch with the rest of the mastyrs, letting them know what’s going on.”

  She nodded, staring at the counter. “Thanks again for being at the gorge, for hunting for me. I know I couldn’t have gotten out of there by myself.”

  He frowned. “I’m still not sure why she didn’t make it harder for you to get away.”

  She met his gaze square on. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. If she’d really wanted to keep me there, she would have posted guards or something. Or had a patrol on the roof. Or even chained me to the wall. Although …”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, Ian. Her confidence troubles me. I know I mentioned this last night, but her superior attitude has me worried more than anything else she’s done over the past year. Even though she was defeated out at Angler’s Cliff, she doesn’t seem concerned at all.”

  He turned the mug in his hands, then tapped his thumb ring against the ceramic. “Your inability to see all the tents in the encampment because of the spell has me worried. I mean, what you’ve described sounds massive all by itself.”

  Regan set her cup down and slid off her stool. She walked to the eastern window with a vista leading to the Leberion Plain.

  The shutters had already come up, the sun having set on the other side of the house. From the eastern view, she would be able to see the forest on both sides of the gorge.

  “I have to go back,” she said.

  “And you should. You should be with your people.” His gaze fell to the shape of her ass, the snug jeans helping him to visualize her naked. He mentally placed a hand on her left cheek. He loved Regan’s figure.

  She turned, looking at him over her shoulder, and shook her head. “Not to Swanicott. I mean the fortress. I want to fly over there at full-dark and see what the mist tells me. You have to remember, I only saw the mist when I was trying to escape. It wasn’t visible from the tower and I need to study it, at least for a few minutes.”

  “You didn’t see the mist when you first arrived?”

  “I was unconscious. I woke up in the tower in a lot of pain.”

  Ian repressed a shudder. He hated the idea that she’d suffered. “Well, there’s no way I’m letting you get anywhere near the mist.” He set his mug down and rose from his seat at the same time. “I just got you out of the fortress. It would be foolish as hell to be anywhere near that place.”

  “Temper, Ian.” She offered him a taunting smile. She could always set up his back.

  He gritted his teeth, grinding his molars. “No way you’re going back there.”

  “Really?” She pivoted in his direction. “Are you forbidding me?”

  “Hell, yeah, I am.” Once more aware that his vision had been healed, that not even indoor light hurt his eyes any longer, he crossed to her. “This is my realm, in case you’ve forgotten, and my word is law. You are not returning to the fortress, the mist, the gorge, nowhere. I want you in Swanicott.”

  She moved within a handful of inches from him. “If I can find a way to help all of you bring that woman down, then I’ll do whatever I need to do. I want to help, and for that I need to be close to the spelled mist. Besides, you’re not the one who was stuck in Margetta’s fortress, who had to endure her torture.”

  “And you’re not the one who sat in the dirt night after night, praying for some kind of opening in the shielding mist so I could find you.”

  An arrested expression entered her doe eyes. He always forgot how beautiful she was until he stood this close to her. Her skin was like cream, her cheekbones high, and the fae point of her chin softer than most. Her eyes were so warm his heart ached just looking at her. Her sweet jasmine-lime scent rose in a sudden wave, a powerful reminder his life had changed because Regan was a blood rose.

  “I wasn’t thinking of what you went through,” she said in a quiet voice. “Only what needs to be done.”
>
  “And what do you think that is?” he asked.

  Her brows rose. “To destroy her army, of course.”

  “So your intention is to swing by, take a look at the mist, hope to hell she or a hundred of her Invictus pairs aren’t hanging around looking for you, then head to Swanicott.”

  “Something like that. Once back at the Fae Guild, I’ll start working on a counter-spell. I just need to get a feel for her mist, how she constructed it. And it would help if I was there.”

  “It’s too dangerous right now. My guess is she’ll have part of her army out hunting for you tonight as it is.”

  She caught his arm. “Then take me out there yourself.”

  “You don’t know what you’re asking. Margetta will be on guard now. She’ll be waiting for you.”

  But her gaze fell to where her fingers now touched his skin. “You still work out.” Her voice had deepened and sounded hoarse.

  Desire rose all over again as he remembered how she liked to touch him and do other things. No one had ever pleased him as much as Regan. At the same time, her hand fell away and she shifted to look back out the window. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I shouldn’t have touched you. Sweet Goddess, I’m scared.”

  Nothing she’d said had surprised him more than these words. “You should be afraid of Margetta.”

  “No, that’s not it. I mean, yes I am afraid of the Ancient Fae.” She waved a hand between them. “It’s you and me. I’m afraid of getting sucked back in.” Her eyes widened as she turned back to him. “You hurt me, Ian. You’re still hurting me.”

  “And you’ve done the same to me.”

  “I didn’t cause the massacre.”

  “But you might as well have because you enthralled me, the way the powerful fae can do. Your eyes often turned silver when we were together, the way Vojalie’s do when she’s reading people, entrancing them, taking their minds unaware. You enthralled me, Regan, keeping me by your side when I should have been caring for my people. My sister died and my two nieces. Ben lost his brother. This will always be your fault. You did something to me back then and I’ll never forgive you for it.”

  He moved away from her, all his rage flowing once more in a heavy tornado through his head. He could recall what it had been like that night, flying slowly through Raven’s Overlook and seeing blood on every doorstep, children in pieces, several of his Guardsmen decapitated. The funeral pyre had been enormous and burned for two days in order to properly send all the dead to the afterlife.

  He’d wept over his sister and her girls. Her husband had been killed as well. His grief had been almost unbearable.

  “You’re wrong,” she countered. “I don’t have the ability to enthrall, not like that, and certainly not someone at your power level. I’ve talked this over with Vojalie and even she doesn’t know why my eyes turn silver, but it isn’t about enthrallment. You can ask her yourself.”

  He flared his nostrils, his lips turning down. “So you’ve become a liar as well.”

  She moved close to him once more, her fists clenched at her sides, breathing fire at him. Her dark eyes flashed her anger. “Never that, Ian, and you know it.”

  He knew he was an imposing man, given his mass and his strength. But here she was, the slender fae woman, at least seven inches short than he, and she didn’t hesitate to stand up to him. She’d said she was afraid, but he knew she had a lot of natural courage and he respected her for it.

  He’d never wanted to believe she was liar, but what other conclusion could he draw? Regan was one of the most powerful fae in the Nine Realms. Known as the Ruby Fae, she’d sat on the Fae Council in Tannisford Realm for at least two centuries before leaving to create the Fae Guild retreat in her home realm of Swanicott.

  She was highly respected, not just in the fae community but in all the realm-folk communities of their world. She’d even helped Mastyr Zane and Olivia defeat a small army of Invictus out at the Dead Zone near Angler’s cliff in Swanicott. Regan had dispelled Margetta’s non-mist based shield which had kept a massive Invictus camp hidden for decades.

  But he’d always believed her accomplishments reflected her guilty conscience, her attempts to atone for her misdeed in keeping him away from Camberlaune at a critical hour. He believed nothing less now.

  “Go home to Swanicott, Regan, because I won’t allow you to head back up the gorge. Leave the war to the mastyrs.”

  He turned his back to her, pulled out his cell and contacted Zane. He told Zane to hold off coming to Camberlaune because he was returning Regan to the Swanicott Fae Guild. He also asked him to contact Stone and tell him to wait until Ian was back in Camberlaune before coming to him. The last thing he wanted was a powerful mastyr like Stone getting anywhere near Regan.

  ~ ~ ~

  Regan moved past Ian. In the space of a few minutes, their relationship had reverted to all the old issues. Besides the fact he’d called her a liar, Ian had always thrown his weight around any chance he got.

  But she’d been in charge of her own life for a very, very long time. She also had a strong opinion about their current situation. Regan had been a woman of faith from the time she could remember. And in her opinion, the Goddess never did anything without a purpose, including her miraculous escape from the fortress.

  Add to that the undeniable fact she’d helped Zane and Olivia demolish the Invictus camp at Angler’s Cliff, Regan felt in her bones she was meant to have a role now. But it wouldn’t be a bad thing to head back to Swanicott and ask for fae assistance to break the spell. Maybe she could persuade Zane to take her with a large portion of the Swanicott Guard back to Dark Gorge and the mist.

  For now, she needed a break from Ian’s recriminations.

  “Given that Margetta may be in pursuit, I’ll fly you home.”

  “That would probably be best.”

  “You’re not going to fight me anymore?”

  “In this case, I think you’re right. Margetta might have her army out looking for me and you are a much faster flyer than I am. So, yeah, just take me back to Swanicott.”

  Regan put on the new leather jacket, then collected the clothes and toiletries Olivia had sent over. She placed them in the striped violet and white satchel they’d come in. When she returned to the foyer, the door was wide open and Ian stood with his back to her. He filled the space from one doorjamb to the other.

  At six-six, and built like a tank, he was a big man, very much in Mastyr Jude’s mold.

  His attention was fixed on the night sky, so she stopped and allowed herself a good long look. Because his arms were bare, she had a stellar view of his ripped, corded muscles. He wore the sleeveless, black leather Guard coat which hung to mid-calf. His long, dark hair, gathered in a woven clasp, hung well down his back. She’d always loved the traditional Guardsman length.

  A familiar affection rose up within her before she could stop it and her heart swelled so big she felt like her chest would explode. Damn. She’d always loved him.

  And he’d always blamed her.

  In a minor way, she’d faulted herself as well or at the very least both of them. They’d been so caught up in their love affair, maybe it had caused Ian to miss critical signs that a major Invictus offensive was on the wind.

  The massacre had pulverized them both, ending their affair that very night.

  She knew she hadn’t done as he’d said; she hadn’t enthralled him. But if they hadn’t been involved, hadn’t loved each other so deeply, would the massacre have ever happened? Would Ian have seen the signs in his realm? Had his love for her and his drive toward her prevented him from being a proper ruler of his realm?

  Maybe what hurt most, however, was he truly believed her capable of such horrendous wrong-doing. Although, she suspected he’d been using her as a scapegoat to salve his own feelings of guilt. Yet, Ian hadn’t done anything wrong; he’d just loved her.

  But she couldn’t change the past or his beliefs.

  She lifted her chin. “I’m ready to g
o.”

  Ian turned in her direction and held out his arm to her. He was a quick flyer and despite the ocean between the realms, he’d have her home in no time.

  She crossed the foyer and went outside with him, savoring for a brief moment the feel of his hand on the small of her back. He even took her satchel from her. “I’ll carry it.”

  As she climbed aboard his foot, he pathed softly, Regan. Just her name, but she was always surprised by the way his voice sounded so deep and supremely sexy even within her mind.

  Yes? She responded. Did you forget something?

  When he slid his arm around her waist, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. It was like being held in the most beautiful embrace, even though it was just a simple flight hold.

  Apologies. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.

  Which part exactly? She had to ask the question. She didn’t want any misunderstandings.

  For saying what didn’t need to be repeated. You know what I believe, but I didn’t mean to distress you.

  You didn’t. You made me furious then really sad that you hold such a wretched opinion of me. No, please don’t say anything more. Just take me home.

  She slid her arm around his neck, but set her face forward.

  She was done.

  She mentally started making plans. As soon as Ian had her safely back at the Fae Guild retreat, she would contact the Fae Council in Tannisford and make a case for the most powerful fae to work with her to eradicate Margetta’s mist-spell. She’d seen enough before her escape to know it was much more complex than the spell that had hidden the Invictus camp near Angler’s Cliff.

  She felt Ian’s muscles shift in a way that meant he was ready to levitate and take off flying. Then, he stopped, his body growing oddly stiff.

  “Shit. Stone’s here. Zane must not have reached him in time.”

  Stone, Mastyr of Tannisford Realm, dropped down in front of them, fifteen feet distant. He was taller than Ian, almost six-seven, had thick, wavy, black hair, unusual green eyes, and more tats than even Ian. His appearance had always reminded Regan of a hawk, the way his eyes focused like a predator on whatever he was looking at.