changeling chronicles 03 - faerie realm (26 page)

I left the guest room and found Vance waiting in the corridor outside.

“Did you talk to Isabel?”

“Yeah. You’re supposed to be sitting down.”

“I wanted to invite you to have a drink with me.”

“What, a date? Now? Here?”

He smiled palely. “You aren’t going anywhere, are you?”

“No.” He still managed to look good even after nearly dying at Faerie’s hands, his hair damp like he’d showered, too. “One drink. I don’t want to wake up hungover.”

Not when in all likelihood, someone might be murdered tonight. Sure, the Lady was back in the Grey Vale, and she’d gained enough of a boost from my magic as well as the shifters, but she’d got a taste for killing. Nothing would satisfy her more than hurting me again.

I shut the thoughts off.
Not tonight.

Vance’s eyes darkened like he’d guessed my thoughts. He reached and took my hand. “Come with me.”

His room was as extravagant as I’d imagined—the size of my entire flat, with a huge four-poster in the room’s centre and fitted furniture made of dark wood. A bottle of wine lay out on a table beside two chairs, and candles were lit along the table’s back. Hell, there was even a fireplace, embers burning low and casting warm light onto the thick white carpets.

I stared around. “You’re going to make a performance out of this, aren’t you?”

Oh dear god. This was too much. I’d lie down and put my head on the floor, but the plush carpet was probably worth more than a year’s rent. The polished furniture gleamed in the candles’ lights, illuminating the old bloodstains on the clothes I carried.

“No performance.” He poured two glasses and handed one to me. I took it with a shaking hand. I needed all the courage I could get.

The wine went straight to my head after two sips. I put the glass down. “You probably shouldn’t be drinking alcohol after losing so much blood.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Witch healing spells work on almost anything.”

“Not death,” I murmured. “I have to fight her tomorrow. It has to be me. I won’t watch her hurt you again. I can’t lose you.” My voice came out quiet, and my eyes burned again. Dammit. I’d come here to forget, not remember everything I’d lost.

He pulled me close to him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I pressed my head against his fast-beating heart. He was so warm, so close,
alive.
I couldn’t live in fear that they’d take him from me. To master my fear was to master my magic, and make the Lady pay.

To master my fear wasn’t to look my own death in the face. I’d spent too long—years—afraid the faeries would take everything away from me again. I’d fight to the end to stop that from happening. But nothing was worth being too afraid to live at all.

Vance’s hand trailed through my damp hair, his other hand circling my waist. He kissed me softly at first, then dived in, fierce, demanding. By the time I came up for air, he’d removed my top and his own shirt was unbuttoned. I had zero recollection of moving, but could hardly draw breath to protest at him using his ability again. Also, the view was thoroughly distracting. My hands explored the contours of his chest, tracing soft skin over hard muscle. He inhaled sharply and lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist, and carried me to the bed.

I held my breath when his fingers brushed the worst scars underneath my ribcage, but his mouth found mine, sending warm, liquid heat straight to my core and blanking out every self-conscious thought in my head. He unhooked my bra with one hand and began trailing kisses from my neck to my abdomen. White-hot lust blazed through me, my blood turning to fire.

“Vance.”

He looked up at me, eyes dark. “Do you want me to—?”

I just nodded. Vigorously.

His hands worked my jeans off, my own palms braced against his shoulders. His skin was warm, his touch feather-light until his fingers found what they were looking for. I gasped aloud at the sensation. Oh
god.
At this rate he’d make me come before he’d even removed all his clothes.

“Vance,” I gasped. “I don’t have protection with me. Do you?”

He lifted a hand and a foil packet appeared. I arched an eyebrow. “I told you not to use your power—”

The rest of his clothes vanished, swept away in a faint breeze that tingled against my bare skin. My protests died. Oh holy hell.

He smirked. I reached to poke him and he caught my arm, pulling me tight against him. My lips grazed his ear. “Idiot.”

“You’re so hot when you’re concerned.” His thumbs circled my nipples. “Tell me you want me, Ivy. Scream my name.”

When he had the condom on and thrust into me, I did. My fingers dug into his shoulders as he moved against me. I tried to take it slow at first for the sake of his injuries, but Vance was having none of it. In seconds we were locked in a fast rhythm. Heat pulsed through my veins, pushing away the darkness that had pursued me ever since we’d left Faerie behind.

I clung to the heat, chasing the ache deep in my core until I came apart, shattering against him.

Vance held onto me tightly afterwards like he was afraid I’d break if he let go. His hands traced patterns on my flushed skin, and I tensed as his fingers brushed against my scars.

“Is something wrong?”

I indicated the marks where the thorn wounds had healed over, so long ago—an ugly raised pattern extending from my shoulder, down my chest and stomach to my hipbones. “There were no healing spells in Faerie.” I managed to keep the tremor out of my voice, but he heard it all the same.

“You think I care about scars?” He kissed me lightly on my scarred shoulder. “Before you tell me faerie thorns are an occupational hazard of being with you, I’m not buying it.”

He’d read my thoughts, damn him. “Not just thorns. Soul-sucking death stealers, trolls, ogres, banshees…”

“Tedious council meetings. Paperwork. You’ll have to stand by my side at those fancy parties you hate so much.”

“That’s
not
the same as nearly dying, Vance.”

“You might change your mind after an hour in the same room as the mage council advisors.”

“Can’t be as bad as the necromancers, can it?”

“Hmm.” He trailed a hand through my hair, his eyes as grey as soft clouds on an autumn morning. “Don’t die on me again.”

“Same to you.”

It was easy, now, to promise never to cross the veil again. I might not have a choice in the matter. Not if the only way to beat the Lady of the Tree was to use my magic to its full extent. No one else would suffer for my sake. Especially not Vance.

I snuggled closer to him instead. “Tomorrow can do whatever the hell it likes. We have one night.”

He pressed his lips to my neck and began a new trail of kisses across my collarbone. “I can work with that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

I blinked awake to find Vance half-out of bed, eyes wide open.

“Nothing happened, did it?”

He shook his head. “No. I keep expecting a call, or the emergency alarms to go off.”

“Me, too,” I said, leaning over to check the clock on the bedside table. “It’s six in the morning. The shifters will be back in human form within an hour.”

“They will.” He passed me my phone.

“Huh? How’s it got full battery power… you grabbed my charger, didn’t you?” I poked him in the chest—now totally wound-free. “I told you not to—”

Clothes appeared on the bed. To be precise,
my
clothes, spare ones from my room back home. The outfit I’d worn yesterday was a tattered mess on the floor—even a cleansing spell couldn’t get the old bloodstains out.

“Vance.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Besides, you can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy last night.”

No. Definitely not, especially faced with his incredibly tempting naked body. His mouth quirked and his hand trailed down the side of my jawline, to my neck. His other hand reached to pull me closer to him.

Someone rapped on the door. Vance swore under his breath.

“Who is it?”

“Quentin, Sir. The council are calling for you.”

Vance swore again and let go of me. “Is it an emergency?”

“No.”

“Give me ten minutes.” He walked to the en-suite bathroom, stark naked. Not fair. “I’m going to shower. Want to join me?”

“Ten minutes?” I raised an eyebrow.

He smirked. “We don’t have ten hours. Coming?”

Hell, yes.

Ten minutes ended up being twenty. I suspected Vance would have left the door locked all morning if not for the growing sound of raised voices from below the pounding water. He switched off the shower, kissed me once more, and walked out, the water disappearing in five seconds. Insta-drying spell. I joined him. The pleasant tingling sensation running all over my skin didn’t vanish along with the water, but by now, it sounded like half the mages were outside Vance’s bedroom door.

“They sound pissed,” I said.

“I don’t care. If it was an emergency, they’d have activated the alarms.” He opened the door from the bathroom back into his room, grabbing my clothes out of thin air.

“You don’t need to try to impress me. Trust me.”

He grinned and tossed me my clothes.

Once dressed, I went to his desk chair, picked up my jacket and went to find Irene. And then I remembered. I stopped dead, oblivious to the noise outside.

“Ivy?” Vance walked to me. “Something up?”

“My sword.” I didn’t need to say more.

“I’m sorry. You can take anything from our weapons room downstairs. Just tell me which you like.”

I swallowed. “I know it’s stupid, but Irene was special. I don’t know—”

“VANCE COLTON!” Drake’s voice roared. “IVY LANE. Stop boning and come and talk to the council.”

That wrung a smile out of me. “The entire mage council knows about us now.”

“Good,” he said, picking up the bloodstained clothes I’d worn yesterday. They disappeared before I could grab them.

“Hey—”

Vance opened the door. Drake stood outside, accompanied by Quentin.

“I managed to shove them downstairs,” Drake said. “Three angry Mage Lords in the house and I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

Vance’s eyes narrowed. “I told them to contact me only if it’s urgent.”

“Nobody else died, did they?” I asked quickly.

“No,” said Drake, “but something weird showed up on shifter territory.”

Vance and I exchanged looks. “Show me,” said the Mage Lord.

***

The hole in the ground extended across half a field, like a giant had pulled a huge chunk out of the ground. Bands of metal were scattered about, some broken. Again, like a giant had trodden on them. A human couldn’t have. Not even a shifter at full strength could break through thick iron posts.

Iron. Holy crap.

Vance’s uncle stood alongside us with Rita and Anabel. Shifters had gathered, too, staring at the hole as though expecting an explanation to leap out of it.

“How?” asked Wyatt. “The hole appeared right next to our house in the middle of the night. I’d have heard someone digging it up.”

“Did you shift?” Vance asked.

His uncle glared. “Yes, but I have acute hearing, and it’s right next to our house.”

I gave Vance a significant look. Crap.
We’d
been the ones to put a soundproofing spell over their house. The wards must have prevented more damage, but it was lucky their house hadn’t fallen into the hole. The earth had formed a sheer edge, like a cliff, on both sides. Too deep to see inside it.

Vance moved forward. I did likewise, but nothing could be seen from here.

“The tomb?” I asked in a low voice. “Is that what she was digging up?” I indicated the shattered pieces of metal. “That’s iron.”

Which, in my experience, usually meant faeries. The iron was half-in, half-out of the ground, and more chunks were littered throughout the field. Like the aftermath of an explosion—but I doubted any earthly substance could blow up reinforced iron. I’d seen witch spells detonate near the shifters’ fence and barely leave a scratch.

“It might be a ward,” said Vance quietly. “Or—a cage.”

Alarm flooded me. A cage. Now I looked closely… the bits of iron that remained intact did resemble bars. Giant ones.

What
was in the hole in the ground?

More to the point, where was our enemy? She must know we were both alive. Surely. She’d disappeared before Vance and I crossed over back into this realm, but maybe she’d gone back to the thorn pit later to check her enemy was dead, and found us gone.

So how the hell had
she
come back to this realm? Nothing but a freakishly overpowered talisman had close to enough strength to cause this level of destruction. She must be here somewhere, waiting to lure me over the veil again so she could claim the rest of my power.

“She was digging for the life-drinker,” I said. “Except the weapon she has
is
the life-drinker…” I trailed off as Vance’s eyes widened.

“No,” he said. “She brought the blade here and used it to break those iron boundaries. Whatever’s contained in that pit… she wanted to uncover it.”

“A god? Buried here?” The shifter legend. Dammit. I’d suggest using Vance’s ability to check out the pit, but transporting ourselves into a hole that potentially contained a sleeping god was the height of stupidity. Worse, I couldn’t begin to imagine how anyone had made these iron bonds in the first place. Humans. Surely not faeries, even the Sidhe. They couldn’t handle iron without dying, talisman or none.

“Maybe,” Vance growled under his breath. “When the Sidhe came, they stirred up forces that should have remained buried. This might be one of them.”

“No kidding.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” demanded a voice.

Two shifters marched over to us—the thuggish guys who’d kidnapped me before.