Hels's Gauntlet [Forbidden Legacy 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (5 page)

“Patience never was your strong suit.” The sword slid into the other, vanishing as Helcyon summoned a glamour, disguising his leathers for a deep green shirt and slacks. Below them, closer to the water, a dog barked as its owner tugged the beast along with an apologetic wave. If they’d seen Helcyon and Kyrian come through from Underhill, they betrayed nothing. A sight above jerked Helcyon’s attention. Cassandra’s beach house perched majestically.

Southern California.

Dusting the sand off his clothing, Kyrian shrugged. “I’ve never been a fan of your need for ceremony.”

“You’ve never been a ‘fan’ for common sense and pragmatic decision making.” The more his brother spoke, the more Helcyon disliked his penchant for slang. From Cassie and Jacob, he expected it.

“Arrogance, it’s not just for the Danae, brother.” Kyrian limped over to a larger rock and sat down. “I came to you in good faith.”

“Please, save your stories of misunderstanding for the women you wish to seduce. Be honest. Why are you here?”

“Your blood oath.” Sobriety scratched away all traces of bad humor. “You gave a blood oath to the Danae when you swore your allegiance.”

“You say that as if I am unaware of the consequences of my choices.” Choices he made before he met Cassandra, before he loved her. Before he understood that he would stand against the fires of Hades itself to protect her.

“No, I say that as someone who knows your pig-headed honor and that you will let the Danae kill you and end our entire line before you give her what she wants.” Kyrian rolled his head from side to side, popping the vertebrae. “But it is not your life alone that you will sacrifice, but all our lives. You have not the right to take from Vanagan or Jude…or my daughters.”

“How many children have you produced, Kyrian?” The question escaped him before his good sense kicked in. Kyrian’s need to bed women aligned him with the tales of the Greek god Eros and the dark legends of the incubi before they were banished Underhill.

“Whether they are one or a thousand, I do not want any of them to die, brother. Perhaps if your son lived, you would understand this.”

“Have a care with your words, Kyrian. My son died because you couldn’t stop dipping your cock into every willing woman you came across. My son died protecting you from villagers that would have burned you to death for your seductive games.” Helcyon wouldn’t speak his name. Centuries later, the loss ached like a cancer in his soul. His son died a hero, saving his beloved uncle. He did not begrudge Kyrian his life, but he would not have the boy’s death used as a weapon in this war of words.

“My apologies. You are correct.” Somberly, the younger Fae placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. No illusion colored the contrition or the sadness. Despite his glib behavior, Kyrian loved Helcyon’s son. When he carried the word of his death to Helcyon, he’d offered up his own life in recompense for the loss.

That Helcyon allowed him to live did not mitigate the crime, but it was an old wound that should be left to its scars.

“But it does not change my fear for my kin nor for the child that currently resides within your mate’s womb.”

Of course, he knew. “Vanagan?” The Wizard’s ability to probe thoughts, to steal them away as his own made him an ideal spy and a dangerous adversary.

“He plucked the concern from Jacob during their recent Council meeting. The Wizard Book longed to return to your shared woman, he worried about her condition, and he feared that the babe was his.”

“His concerns are not yours.” Shielding Jacob was as natural as breathing now. His enemy turned ally turned friend loved Cassandra as much as Helcyon did. They were united in their common cause of her safety—more they appreciated the need for unity in that cause.

“You are a stubborn Elf, brother. Are you really dismissing the prophecy and legend surrounding your mating?”

“Prophecies were once sold for a copper, created from the spit of a witch into the goo of a dead animal’s entrails. Yes, I give little thought to the ramblings of the mad and the desperate.” He cared not for what her child might mean and everything for what it did. It mattered little to him whether the baby was Fae, human, or Wizard. Only that the baby was healthy and Cassandra happy.

“She is the key, don’t you understand? If she gives birth to your child, it will be pure Elf. If it is the Wizard’s, then pure Wizard. She will give both our races the chance to procreate again, independent of the other.”

“She is not a tool in this war.” He squinted at his brother, his voice dropping a dangerous octave. The younger Elf should know him well enough to leave the subject alone. But of course he did not.

“Of course she is. We all are. The Wizards we fathered, the Council they formed, the bastard offspring of the Danae and her descendants. We are all tools. But will we be used by others, or shall we wield them ourselves? Do you know what others will do to control that womb? Chatter amongst the Wizards is confused, but not amongst the Fae. The Lords wake, Helcyon, the Lords who went into their deep sleep upon the Danae’s ascendency. The battle for the throne of all the Fae is not secure. Why do you think
she
wants to control your woman so desperately?”

“Our claim to the throne is tenuous, Kyrian. That we have one at all is in service to the throne—”

“Not if you father many Elven children upon your bride. You will be the one who gives fecundity back to our people. They will lift you up and revere you. They will tear down the Danae, but if you give Cassandra to the Wizards, the Lords will tear her from you, kill the child in her womb, and fill it with their own. They will stake their claims on the humans. They will summon their Wizard followers back to them.”

“Stop.” Helcyon sighed. “You speak of all of this as though it’s truth. Leave this alone, brother.”

“Or what?” Kyrian rose, the blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth dripping down to stain his shirt.

“Or we will be enemies in truth rather than in name.” In two centuries, he’d had his opportunities to hunt down his brother. He knew that he need only find Vanagan and Kyrian’s whereabouts would be revealed. Even in recent weeks, with the dangerous Wizard in arm’s reach, he’d refused to close in on the scent.

“I am truly sorry for this, brother.”

A sound touched Helcyon’s ears and he spun. He blocked the fist flying toward his face, but took another in the kidney. He twisted, slamming a foot into a third. His sword hissed into existence, and he sliced it through the air. A scream of agony followed the arm he severed from one attacker and blood spattered him from a fourth. As they tumbled away, another rushed to take his place. A dozen dark-cloaked figures surrounded him. Helcyon dismissed his glamour and summoned his magic. A fierce grin rode his lips.

“Let’s dance.”

“Stay here and rest.” The order held the air of automation, but Jacob didn’t argue when she scooted off the bed to pull on pajamas and a robe over her nakedness. She’d rather take a shower first, but the urgency in Jude’s request echoed in the lack of emotion in his voice. In the last few months, she’d gotten to know them all pretty well. Jude’s cavalier emotions made him the most open of all the men living in the house. His bland tone suggested a far greater issue.

“No.” She belted her robe, and Jacob waited, a pair of jeans riding low on his hips. He didn’t bother with a shirt. His lean build with its sprinkle of dark hair on his chest and decoration of old scars emphasized his taut ropes of muscle. Warmth surged through her. Three days without either of her men and she realized she’d become as sex crazed as they were. Most of her exhaustion washed away under the heat simmering in her blood. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she stole a lingering kiss. “I just got you home. I can go downstairs with you. I’m pretty sure Jude would have done more than just pound on the door if it wasn’t safe down there.”

“True. But you still need rest.” He tapped her upturned nose gently.

“You know, I feel better than I have in days.” It was true. Energy hummed through her, tingling in her arms and legs. The fuzzy edges plaguing her vision disappeared under the clarity sharpening her world.

“Yeah?” Jacob touched a finger to her chin and lifted her face until he gazed into her eyes. Another surge of wild heat thrummed through her, tingling from her breasts to her pussy, and a little laugh rode the sigh of her next exhale.

“Yeah.” Giddy delight replaced the weariness. A third surge enveloped her, and the tingling extended to encompass the roots of her hair and the bottoms of her feet. It tickled her senses, the delightfully masculine scent of Jacob filling her lungs. Her eyes widened. “It’s you.”

“Hmm. Three days without both of us and our little magic junkie wasn’t getting her fix.” The words were light, but a whisper of concern tightened the corners of his eyes. “We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

He caught her hand in his, and the glide of their palms sent a fresh wave of energy rebounding through her. The weight on her spine lessened, and she straightened. “I guess I didn’t realize just how tired I was.” A flutter in the vicinity of her belly tugged her attention, and she froze.

“What?” His indulgent tone hardened.

Cassie waited the space of three heart beats, but the flutter didn’t repeat. “Nothing, I can feel it all surging through me, and for a moment, there was this flutter.” She barely finished the sentence when Jacob’s free hand pressed against her abdomen, cupping the swell of her stomach. For three months, she’d put on a little too much weight. Her slimmer skirts were no longer an option. Fortunately, her pajamas all possessed elastic waistbands.

Jacob’s jaw flexed as he concentrated. But the flutter didn’t happen.

“I’m not feeling it now.”

“If it happens again…” Worry creased the minute pauses in the words.

“I will tell you. I promise. I won’t take any foolish risks with our baby. Now, we should go and see what Jude is worried about.”

Wariness evident despite his smile, Jacob nodded. He didn’t let go of her hand, and she threaded her fingers through his as they left her room behind and walked down the hallway to the stairs. The loft railing overlooked the living room with its scattering of chairs, two sofas, and great picture windows looking out over the Sierra Nevada, white with snow beyond the green surrounding the house.

She noticed Vanagan Marcus first. He stood with his back to Paul and Jude, hands folded together behind him as he looked out the great windows. His distinctive spiky black and white hair crowned an outfit of unrelieved darkness accented by the black leather duster that trailed the back of his calves. His silver orbs offered a touch of elusive magic and enhanced his dark-Western-meets-steampunk aura.

The metallic gaze focused on their reflection in the glass like a physical search. Awareness skated over her senses, and she flexed her fingers in Jacob’s, holding him tighter. His nearness coupled by the contact wrapped around her. Vanagan intrigued her, but not enough to court his mental manipulations. During their first encounter, he kept reading her mind.

An annoying habit.

“Vanagan.” Jacob broke the silence. A few weeks before, the Wizard’s presence in their home might have suggested a battle was in the offing. But he’d proven himself the day of the battle in the Wizarding Council, standing with them, shielding Cassie as she meshed her magic with Dalton and targeted the portal spilling death into the chamber.

He stood with them, fought by their side, earned a modicum of their trust—a trust that grew in the intervening weeks. His appointment to the Council made uneasy the fragile new friendship the two forged.

“We weren’t expecting you.” Despite the welcome, Jacob’s guarded tone tugged Cassie closer, and she leaned against his arm, careful to stay just a step behind him to not block him should he need to act.

“And for that you have my most profound apologies.” Vanagan turned away from the window. His usual sunglasses were absent, and his too-easy expression seemed planned. He bowed slightly, a hint of a smile flirting with the corners of his mouth. “You look radiant, Cassandra.”

“Ms. Belle,” Jacob corrected him, a lazy tolerance in the words. “We just spoke a few hours ago in the Council chamber.”

“True, but another meeting took place
after
you left. I thought you might want to know the results of that particular conversation.” The indolent tone belayed worry, but neither his tone nor his smile reached his eyes.
Belayed worry? Really? I feel like an escapee from Shakespeare in the Park. Belayed…

“What the hell did they do?” Paul leaned casually against the doorway separating the living room from the kitchen. His narrowed eyes and compressed lips didn’t bother to flirt with calm or collected.

The last few weeks, the Wizarding Council’s debates over the Fae escalated into a referendum on their chosen way of life. Even now, Jacob and his team remained on a leave of absence from the Department of Homeland Security pending an internal hearing. No mention of his status as a Wizard was brought up, but the intelligence communities seemed to be investigating anyone involved with the announcement of the Fae.

She laid her cheek against Jacob’s tense arm. Everything about him went still. Even the energy surging through their contact ebbed into a calm, as though the seething riot below couldn’t disturb the surface.