Destiny United (19 page)

Then she saw his ears. Christmas elf ears! Could he be
fae? Or maybe there were other species with freaky ears like hers.

Glowing, not-human stopped a little more than an arm’s length
away. His rounded eyes focused intently on her, though they appeared friendly.

“Hullo. I’m Kieran,” he said in a thick Irish accent.
“I’m the prince of the Unseelie fae.”

A fae! A real live fae standing before her. She opened
her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She grunted. How annoying. At least
she wasn’t hyperventilating.

“You’re Aila, yeah?”

She nodded.

“I’ve come to tell you, when you’re ready to meet your
destiny head on, you can call on me.” He flicked a business card between two
fingers and held it out to her.

Seriously? A fae prince has a
business card?
She took it. It read, Kieran Whelan, with a US phone
number beneath. She turned it over. Nothing.

“Strangest business card I’ve ever seen,” she muttered to
herself.

“Aye, so it is.” He chuckled and held his other hand out.
“Here you go now.” In his open palm lay a small plastic vile filled with clear
liquid. “If you be wantin’ ta meet me, dab this on, like perfume. It’s a cloakin’
potion. It’ll cover you scent. Case you wantin’ ta leave your vampire.”

She took the bottle, nodding dutifully, though she had no
plans to use it. Kieran watched her, his emerald eyes narrowed as if making
some judgment based on her reactions. She looked down at her clothing – ragged
hiking shorts and a sweaty tank top. Her hair was probably a mountain of frizz.
In fact, she could feel sticks and leaves stuck in it. She sighed. Great first
impression. If the birds nest in her hair failed to impress him, her nervous
grunting was sure to.

He, on the other hand, had the look of royalty, from his
angular face and regal posture down to the modern yet tailored fit of his mint
colored button down shirt and khaki pants. Not many men could wear pastels and
still manage to look like they could hunt down some predatory animal, cook it
up for dinner, and then use its hide to make you a purse. But Kieran pulled it
off.

He smiled, which leveled him, gave him a certain boyish
charm. “I ken you must have many questions. You’ll be gettin’ the truth from
me, lass.”

She did have many questions, about the fae, about
herself. Foremost, were they evil? She opened her mouth to speak but stopped
when his head snapped to the side, his eyes narrowing at something in the forest.
His nostrils flared, the tops of his pointed ears twitched.

He turned most of his attention back to her. “It was very
nice meetin’ you, Aila Quinn.”

“But –”

“You’d better be goin’, lass. Your hunter returns.”

Her eyes widened.
She’d better be
goin’ was right
. She thanked him for the potion, which she shoved in her
pocket, said goodbye, then sprinted back to the campsite as fast as she could.
She saved herself a lecture by returning before Marcelo. Sitting down against a
tree she tried to catch her breath.

Two dead rabbits flopped onto the ground by her feet and
she screamed. A large hand clamped over her mouth. Marcelo came into view and
knelt in front of her before releasing her mouth.

With a furious glare he hissed, “What is wrong with you?”

She looked at the rabbits, bloody and broken, and her
bottom lip trembled. “You…you killed them.”

“Of course I did. This is your dinner.”

Something snapped. She was shocked and sad when she’d
first seen them, now she was livid. Killing defenseless furry creatures for
her?
Stupid male!
“I’m a
vegetarian
!”

His hand clamped over her mouth again. “Stop shouting,”
he grated. “We are not alone in this forest.”

Did he know about Kieran? Before she could ask what he
meant, an eerie sound in the distance chilled her to the bone. Breaking the silence
of the night was a very loud, very clear, very close…wolf’s howl.

Marcelo’s usually unshaken demeanor changed. A slow wave
of recognition hit. His nostrils flared, his eyes widened, and his fangs pressed
against his bottom lip though he tried to conceal them.

We’re in trouble.

Marcelo jumped to his feet. “Pack
your things. Put out the fire. I’m going to lay a false trail.” He tensed and
stared into the trees around them.

Aila gaped, unable to make her muscles move. She could
barely hear his directions over her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

“Give me your shirt,” he said holding out his hand.

“W-what? Why?”

“There’s no time for questions. Your shirt!”

She pulled it off, leaving her in just a bra and shorts,
then handed it to him. He was gone in an instant. The air was still warm but
she shuddered, her arms were covered in goose bumps. She spied his t-shirt
still lying on the ground and pulled it on, tucking half of it into her shorts.

Earlier that day, Marcelo had provided a backpack full of
energy bars and water. She slung it onto her back and kicked dirt on the fire,
then waited for him to return.

She was paranoid, every little noise made her jump out of
her skin. Five anxious minutes later, he appeared before her.

With a sobering look he said, “Run.”

Her eyes went wide as he reached for her hand.
Shit, this is bad
.
Then she was dragged through
the trees, sprinting as fast as her feet could carry her. They zig-zagged
through the terrain in no discernable pattern. There was movement all around
her, shuffling leaves, footsteps, trees creaking, but she’d yet to see an
enemy.

“You have to go faster than that,” Marcelo said.

“I can’t.” She was already panting, her muscles burned
with each step.

Footsteps grew closer, heavy breathing sounded from behind
them. She bit down on her lip and pushed her legs to move faster.

They broke through the trees into a clearing surrounded
by cliffs at least one hundred feet high. Marcelo stopped and she barreled into
him. He inhaled a deep breath, turned the opposite direction, then started to
run. Since he still had her hand, she was forced along until he halted at the
other side of the clearing. He turned them the other way, took a few steps,
then stopped again.

Aila was sweating, hardly able to breathe, and her legs
wobbled beneath her. She was so happy to have stopped running she almost didn’t
care what chased them.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked him between breaths.

Instead of answering, he shoved her behind him, his gaze
glued on something at the edge of the trees. She couldn’t see anything with his
large frame barricading her. The urge to peek was overwhelming, but he nudged
her backward towards the cliffs looming above them. He kept his body in front
of hers, shielding her from the threat.

“Stay behind me,” he commanded.

She nodded – on that point she wasn’t going to argue. His
body stiffened. Aila stood on tiptoes to see over his shoulder into the line of
trees.

Three enormous beasts – monsters from her worst
nightmares – stepped slowly out of the blackness of the forest. Standing on two
legs – though they looked like they could run on four – they were covered in
bulging muscle and patches of black fur. They would have blended into the
shadows of the night if not for their white fangs flashing in the darkness.
My, what big teeth you have.

Their faces were lupine, their ears stood up like a
wolf’s and twitched with each noise. They didn’t have hands, they had claws,
each one like a curved knife. They were taller than Marcelo by at least half a
foot, which meant they’d towered over her by at least two feet. She rubbed her
eyes, unable to believe something this horrifying existed.

Their black beady eyes were fixed on her. She’d been
bitten by a Rottweiler mix when she was twelve, had spent years afraid of dogs,
sometimes she still had nightmares about it. These creatures had the same
savage look in their eyes. Only worse because there was intelligence there. It
awakened some terrifying place within her.

Their fangs snapped together as if trying to intimidate
her. It was working.

This is it. This is how I’m going to die.

Aila had heard in a philosophy class that there were
times in a person’s life when they had the chance to prove their worth, to show
the world what they’re made of, to laugh in the face of fear. This must be her
time. This was her chance to prove, once and for all, if she was a man, or a
mouse.

Well, not only was Aila a mouse, but a trembling one,
happy to cower behind the fattest, most tender looking mouse she could find and
hope the hunter went for him first.
Yep, that’s me, always
the go-getter.

The beasts stepped closer, surrounding them on three
sides. Aila slid further behind Marcelo, grasped onto the back of his jeans and
buried her face into his shirtless back. She couldn’t stop a small squeak as
her body trembled against his. Marcelo’s words from days ago flashed into her
mind.

“If you’re going to be afraid, querida, make it something
worth being afraid of.”

She wondered if he found this situation worthy.

Oh, fuck him! These are damn scary!

He must have felt her shaking because he reached around
and gave her arm a squeeze. “Shh,” he said. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

She almost laughed out loud. Marcelo was fast and strong
but there were three of the deadly beasts and only one of him. All it would
take was one swipe of those nasty claws and she’d be dead. Marcelo may have
started training her to protect herself from a human attacker, or maybe another
fae, but there was no way in hell she could fight a werewolf that looked
straight out of Van Helsing.

“You don’t want to fight us, wolves,” Marcelo stated in a
voice reserved for talking to mental patients. “You will not survive.”

Her jaw dropped. Speaking of mental patients…he was
certifiably insane!
She could swear a sort of strangled laugh came from
one of the beasts.
Right there with ya’ pal.

The werewolves showed no signs of backing off. Before
Marcelo could inform Aila of what she hoped was a brilliant plan, an arrow whizzed
by his head and plunked off the rock face behind them.

“
Mierda!
” he swore. “We
must have some shit luck because here come the fae.”

 “The fae?” She clung desperately to hope. “As in the
ones who want to protect me?”

Another arrow
thunked
against the rock. “I’m guessing not. Must be the Seelie.”

“That’s the thing about life,” Sage had told her once,
years ago. “Just when you think it can’t possibly get any worse, it goes and
kicks you in the teeth then shits on your head.”

She hadn’t understood it at the time. But now…now Aila
knew exactly what she’d meant.

Another arrow whistled and Marcelo’s body stiffened. An
arm flew out and he caught the arrow in mid-air. He sniffed it.

“Poison,” he whispered.

“What?”

A werewolf yelped then collapsed onto the ground, the
arrow Marcelo had been holding was lodged in his throat. The other two lunged.
Marcelo’s body disappeared.

It all happened so fast her brain could barely keep up
with her eyes. Marcelo grabbed the closest werewolf right as the archers let
loose three more arrows. He used the body as a shield then tossed it at the
third werewolf just as it lunged for her.

Marcelo wasted no time, he tore into the third werewolf
with such intensity she almost felt bad for it. Until it swiped one of its
deadly claws across Marcelo’s face. She screeched when an arrow missed her by
an inch. Marcelo spared her a glance then caught the next two arrows, shoving
them deep into the werewolf’s chest. But the two wolves she thought were dead started
to rise, pulling out the arrows, shaking off the effects of the poison. They
were sluggish, but regaining strength quickly.

Marcelo’s look was bleak. “Climb, Aila.”

“What?”

“Climb the cliffs. Then run.”

“What? Where? I don’t know where to go!”

Another arrow soared towards her, but she dodged it. She
picked it up off the ground and held it tight in her fist, feeling a little
better armed with a weapon. When she looked up, Marcelo was gone. One of the
werewolves swung its head around to pin her with a terrifying glare. It
growled. She’d never heard anything so menacing.

“Marcelo!” Where the hell did he go?

The werewolf crouched down onto his clawed paws then
sprung towards her. She screamed and squeezed her eyes shut, hugging the rock
wall, arrow thrust out in front of her.
Maybe I’ll get
lucky and it will impale itself
.
Nothing happened. When she dared
open her eyes Marcelo was inches from her face, blood dripping down his mouth
and chin.

“Climb,
querida
. Head
east. I’ll find you.”

“But –”

“Climb!” he bellowed, startling her into obedience.

She turned around and began scaling the cliff, expecting
to be hit with an arrow at any moment. Halfway up, she stopped to look below
her. From the higher position she could see the fae archers, hidden in the
shadows of the forest. Three were dead. Marcelo appeared behind a fourth and
snapped his neck. The other two loaded arrows aimed at her. She ducked when one
came a little too close for comfort.

Marcelo’s growl rivaled the werewolves’ as he ripped the
archer’s throat out with his teeth. The last archer released an arrow just as
she sprung from the foothold where she rested and gripped a ledge above her
with one hand. The arrow missed her by a narrow margin. She grappled with
somewhere to place her feet, then continued to ascend until she reached the
top.

Marcelo had told her to run, and he would expect her to,
but when she looked over the side of the cliff and saw all three werewolves
surrounding him again, she couldn’t leave him.