Destiny United (24 page)

“It tells me you aren’t evil,” she said with a relieved
sigh. “The Unseelie aren’t evil.”

He smiled and her heart fluttered. Yes, he was good at
hiding the true warrior he was. That smile was a dangerous weapon. “I’m glad
you think so.”

They walked the rest of the way to the kingdom in
thoughtful silence. When they reached the black iron-gate surrounding the
castle she stopped.

 “Umm…Kieran,” she said, looking down at her disheveled
bloody clothing. “I really don’t want to meet your family looking like I was
ravished by a vampire.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “Are you sure? First
impressions are important. Might not be a bad idea to set yourself up as a
badass.” At her grimace he chuckled. “I suppose I can sneak you in the back and
find you some proper clothes.”

And so she let Kieran lead her into the fae kingdom,
where all her dreams were on the brink of coming true.

Marcelo searched desperately for
his mate, spanning the entire mountain range in Colorado for three days. He
didn’t have a single scent to go on. No trail. No tracks. She’d just
disappeared.

“Damn witch potions!” he muttered to himself.

He’d figured out what Aila had applied on her body after
she’d shot him. It was a cloaking potion. But he couldn’t fathom where she’d
gotten it.
Probably the same bloody fae who left her
the bow and arrow.
And both had proven to be his downfall that day.

On his third trek through the wooded area something
occurred to him. Marcelo was running after another woman who’d left him. He
slowed to a stop. First Natalia had deserted him and continued to avoid him
after eight hundred years. And then Aila had done the same.

His mind drifted to that night so long ago. His beloved had
not returned home from the castle where she worked as her Majesty’s favorite
seamstress. The sun had long since set. The wooded trek from the castle to their
simple yet contented home had been riddled with danger after dark.

 Never before had her Majesty kept Natalia so late at her
beckon. Resolving to find her, Marcelo had intended to mount a horse to ride
through the night. But the door had swung open, and in the shadow, was his
lovely bride…

He breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her beautiful curvy
body. “Natalia, where have you been?” he asked.

Frozen in the doorway, she didn’t answer. He waited for her to
step inside but she didn’t move. Confused, he took her trembling hand and
pulled her inside. His gaze ran over her body, inspecting her for injury, but
there was no sign of blood or broken bones. When at last he reached her eyes,
he saw such intense fear he cupped his big hand around the back of her head and
pulled her into his chest.

“What do you fear, my love?”

He felt her sobs as she grabbed hold of his tunic with both
fists. “Something…” she mumbled into him. “In the woods….” She caught her
breath and exhaled slowly. Marcelo had always admired Natalia’s courage. She
calmed herself and with bravery he didn’t know was possible, she told her
story.

She had been walking home through the woods but the sun was
still high in the Western sky. She’d been overwhelmed with the sensation that
something lurked in the trees, watching her. Through the forest she could see
the field where the peasant farmers worked, some of them her friends. She kept
her gaze focused on them, rushing to leave the nefarious presence behind her.

Less than a furlough from the edge of the trees something had
pushed her down hard onto the rough forest floor. Pinned on her belly, she felt
an animal bite into her flesh. But the beast hadn’t known Natalia was a
fighter. She had grabbed a stick from the ground and, as soon as it let off her
body, she fought like a hellion, striking and stabbing at it. One powerful
swing from the creature and she had fallen, the world going black around her.
All she had seen was a tall human-like figure. When she had awoken she ran home
immediately.

Marcelo listened closely, ire rising in the pit of his belly.
“Where did this thing bite you?”

She spun around and fingered the back of her neck. Marcelo
pushed aside her silky dark red hair to see the wound. Two deep punctures
marred her delicate skin. Fury invaded Marcelo’s body as he pulled her into his
embrace.

He laid her on their cot and warmed some pottage in their
cauldron. He hand fed her while she trembled with a sudden chill. While
stroking her face she looked at him with panic in her eyes.

“Marcelo, you don’t think…the beast…could it have been –”

“Hush,” he said putting a finger over her lips. “You know
those are just stories meant to frighten young children away from the forest.”

The Tale of the Nightwalkers was a legend suspicious peasants
whispered amongst themselves. Foul creatures that fed on human flesh and housed
the spirit of the devil. He looked down at his wife’s usually bright, sparkling
eyes. Something was changing. Her face was pale, her eyes a shade darker. Dim
and lifeless. Worry crept into his heart but he pushed it back from his
features. He didn’t want to scare her further.

Later that night, Marcelo shifted in his sleep and woke to
find Natalia’s side of the cot empty. Fear leapt to his throat and choked him.
He sprung to his feet calling her name. As he stepped into his boots to search
outside, the door shoved open and a figure moved across the room faster than
his eyes could follow. In the shadow was a shape that resembled his wife, only
leaner, more animalistic.

“Natalia?” It was a soft question.

She stepped into the glow of the candle Marcelo had lit. Her
face was deathly pale, her eyes turned dark crimson, and under her top lip were
two unnaturally long teeth. Marcelo gasped and staggered back, knocking the
cauldron onto the dirt floor. His beautiful wife was no more. Now this evil
embodiment of her stood before him. Anger flared as he gripped the metal rod
he’d used to coax a fire.

A terrible hiss left her mouth before she moved like the wind
and pulled the weapon from his hand. He looked into her eyes, searching for his
wife – the Natalia he knew and loved. He almost found her, deep beneath the
black ire around her pupils.

“Marcelo,” she whispered, pleading. “It’s me.”

“No.” His voice was hoarse with horror. “No!” He hesitated for
only a heartbeat then ran as fast as his feet would carry him into the moonlit
night. Marcelo continued to run until the sun rose, then he walked through the
woods until it set again.

He spent much time in thought and prayer. But he was lost
without Natalia. He needed her, couldn’t live without her. It mattered not what
she had become. He would take her to the priest if he must. He would guide her
in the ways of God. Yes, there were options.

Even as he thought it, he knew it was untrue. He felt it deep
within his soul. Nothing could save her. Just as nothing could save him.

Roaring into the night, he called to the Nightwalker that
prowled there. “Take me!”

When Marcelo had returned to his home, eager to hold Natalia,
to tell her of the sacrifice he’d made for her – for them, for love – she was
gone.

The memory brought fresh waves of pain and anger. He’d
cared for them, he’d sacrificed for them, and now he followed them with his
tongue hanging out like a dog begging for scraps of attention. Growing furious
at the thought he slammed his fist into a boulder and cracked it down the
center.
The hell if I’m going to spend another eight
hundred years tracking down a woman!

But Aila was his mate. His heart beat for her, relentless,
never ceasing. The need to have her in his arms, sheltered and safe, was agony.

He tried to push the pain away with anger. She had
betrayed him. She had rejected him. She was probably with the goddamn fae who’d
given her the bow. Gods help him if Aila had shot Marcelo, leaving him helpless
and vulnerable, to run away with another male. He would kill him. He would slit
his throat then rip out his heart just to be sure he was dead. Then he would
take Aila some place far away from males of any species. Maybe Antarctica. He
would tie her up so she could never leave him again. He broke another boulder
with an agonized roar.

Dawn was approaching and he had run out of his elixir.
Still he was no closer to finding Aila. He was beginning to think it was a lost
cause. Perhaps the best he could hope for was that she would come back to him
on her own accord, see the error of her ways and ask for forgiveness. He
wouldn’t make it easy on her. No, she would have to pay.

Furious and borderline depressed, he
traversed
to
Rheol Haearn,
the Queen of the Underworld’s castle. Sleep eluded him and pacing until the
next night only drove him mad. He ransacked Sage’s apothecary for a sleeping
potion. Ten minutes later he was blissfully on his way to dream land.

***

Entering the Unseelie fae kingdom was like doing the time
warp. Divided by castes with a king and queen given power by bloodline,
Méadú ar Neart
was governed like a medieval
monarchy.

Aila had spent her first trip downtown looking like a gaping
fish. Main Street bustled with merchants selling everything from hot dogs, to
coffee makers, to magic potions, to swords and daggers. Outside the main city,
houses lined up in blocks, little replicas of one another. Even the fae in the
lowest castes were given adequate homes to live in, Kieran had told her, and
enough provisions to survive. It was important that everyone exist in harmony
and happiness. Though similar in some ways, she was glad to know the Unseelie
fae weren’t too much like the barbarians of the dark ages.

Women, for the most part, wore skirts and dresses, though
it wasn’t uncommon for younger girls to be seen in jeans and tank tops. But the
clothing was exquisite. Somehow taking old fashioned designs and modernizing
them to create a perfect blend that would be accepted in modern America but
stand out at the same time. And it was equally as common to see men wearing
daggers like accessories as it was to see them chatting on cell phones. The strange
mix of old world and new was a mind trip.

The first two days Aila had spent in
Méadú ar Neart
were a whirlwind of emotion. Her heart
had swelled when the royal family had accepted her with open arms.

Kieran had taken her to the fae library and give her
hours to read through the history texts.

“So, I’ve found my fae spirit,” she told Kieran when he
picked her up from the library. “Or whatever you call it.”

They stood by the massive hearth surrounded by shelves at
least twenty  feet high crammed with books, some dusty and falling apart,
others still shiny and untouched. The domed ceiling was covered in paintings of
a great battle. Only the fighters weren’t human, they were animals wielding
human weapons, tearing each other apart. Yet within the gruesome scene was
beauty. The grace in which the animals moved, the detail the painter used to
portray each horrific emotion, it stole her breath away.

“But what else can the fae do?” she asked. “Besides shoot
arrows really well. Oh, and climb trees.”

“Here. Read this,” Kieran said brandishing a leather
bound book so delicate she was afraid to touch it. “It will answer many of your
questions.”

“What is it?”

“A book of fae magic. The first book I ever read. The fae
spirit within us is where most of our power comes from. It connects us to all
living things. There’s a world of potential in you, Aila. This book is just the
start.” He thrust the book in front of her. “I want you to have it. You need it
more than I do.”

“Are you sure? It seems like it has sentimental value.”

He shook his head then smiled, that dimple melting her
resolve. “It would make me very happy if you took it, Aila.”

How could she refuse that face? She thanked him and
tucked the book under her arm.

“Shall we go?” He gestured to the door with his hand. “I
thought we might visit the archery range. I have some tips that might improve
your shooting.” He smiled down at her. “Not that you need it. You’re
practically an expert already.”

She was lament to leave the beautiful room. Just the
smell of it alone touched something deep within her. A library was the only
place where musty was a good thing. Nevertheless, she nodded and followed him
into the hallway to continue her quest to find herself. A strange thought crept
into her mind. Little more than one week ago she’d been hauled away from everything
she’d ever known, fled for her life, confronted things that wanted to kill her,
and had her first orgasm. She’d been challenged at every turn, forced to face
her deepest fears only to come out on the other side stronger, better for it.
Was there really anything else the fae could teach her about herself?

On the eve of the third day, the Unseelie royal family hosted
a ball in honor of Kieran’s return from America. Servants entered Aila’s room
in a bustle of excited energy, carrying with them baskets of items to beautify
her, some she recognized, some she did not. Aila was to be debuted to the
kingdom. The servant girls giggled and whispered about the latest kingdom
gossip while giving Aila the lowdown on royal fae etiquette. She got the
impression this was a big event. A test, even. She fought to temper her rising
panic. Would she be kicked out if she screwed up? What if she ate her salad
with the dinner fork? Or her dinner with the dessert fork?
Oh, God, why didn’t I pay more attention to forks before now?

“You’ll be fine, lass,” one maiden told her, grasping
Aila’s sweaty hands in hers. “Just smile and keep noddin’ yer head.”

She stepped into her evening gown with a sigh.
Let’s do the time warp again.
At least her dress was
beautiful, unlike anything she’d ever seen. A lovely shade of jade adorned with
gold sequence at the bust and a long sheer train. It hung on her slender figure
like it was made to be there.