Kyn Series (17 page)

She stifled a scream when the creature came into view. An Ogre… She’d seen sketches of them in books. The sort of books carefully concealed in the houses of Pixies that lived outside Barrows, or that masqueraded as children’s’ storybooks, just in case a human should catch sight of them.

It wouldn’t do—if they ever found out that certain childhood tales were real. Sure, some, like the Watchers and Slayers groups knew the truth, but that was limited, and carefully controlled. On average, a single human was intelligent when confronted with the truth. It was humanity en masse that was the problem. In a group, they were fearful, intent on destroying anything they didn’t understand.

Which wouldn’t be a bad thing at the moment, she decided, wincing as the creature spotted Feral and roared. It charged with a speed it shouldn’t have had, not being that large and misshapen. Like someone had taken a plasticine man and mushed it about a bit, distorting the joints and limbs into a hideous parody of the human form.

But its face was perhaps the worst. Unlike Ogres portrayed in films, this creature wasn’t the dumb and ambling, “fairly easily beaten if you had a modicum of intelligence” creature they were generally made out to be. No, its deep set eyes gleamed with a malevolence and intelligence that was marked, even from this distance.

Noticing the eyes though, meant you had to tear your attention away from the teeth crammed into its mouth. Razor sharp and packed in like sardines, they glinted in the half-light as it roared. Tessa caught her breath as it bore down on Feral, imagining the damage those teeth would do if it got a hold of him.

The Ogre swung the massive club at Feral, going for a full body blow. There wasn’t anything else she could call it, given the size of the thing, it wasn’t a weapon designed for pinpoint accuracy. Or any sort of accuracy.

Feral ducked, sliding under the incoming blow and to the side with a feline grace. His fists flashed as he moved, blades glittering in the half-light as he landed a solid blow on the Ogre. It bellowed again, swiping a heavily taloned hand at the vampire that danced around it.

The fight was fast and furious, and despite how quick Feral was, it became quickly apparent to Tessa that the few blows the creature managed to land were taking their toll. But each time Feral was knocked to the ground, he bounced back up again, shaking his head and bringing himself back into the fight.

Tessa winced with each blow. Closing her eyes was no better—she could still hear the sickening thud as flesh pounded into flesh. The heavy thumps as Feral hit the ground each time. She bit her lip, forcing herself to watch as the Kyn warrior try everything to bring down the Ogre. He moved like lightening, a fearsome sight…she imagined him on the streets, kicking ass and taking names. But here and now, he was out of his depth and struggling.

Tears filled her eyes as he got swiped to the ground again, grunting in pain. Each time, it took him longer and longer to get up. She didn’t think he could keep this up. Frustration and hopelessness filled Tessa. If he couldn’t beat the Ogre, when it was done with him, it would come after her and the baby.

She should run, get out of here now and hope like hell she could outrun it, even though she knew that was unlikely. Despite their misshapen form, she knew Ogres were fast over ground, and could change direction on a dime. And her firefly trick?
That
wasn’t going to work on a creature formed from the Witching.

She should run, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave him here like this, leave him here to die alone in the Night Plains. She knew what Ogres were, they were well known as flesh eaters, and she couldn’t bear to think of the man she loved desecrated that way.

Whoa, loved?
Where had
that
come from? She barely even knew him. She couldn’t be in love with him…could she? She winced as he hit the floor again. She had to do something…he was getting killed out there.

Fear for his life running through her veins, Tessa released the straps holding Spud’s sling. Quickly, she placed him in a small hollow in the rock, a place she hoped he would be hidden from view, and protected from the flying debris being kicked up from the Ogre’s club. His thin wail plucked at her heart strings, but she hardened herself. If she didn’t do something now, that Ogre would kill Feral and guess who would be next on its menu?

She crept out from behind the rocks, leaning down to pick up the sturdiest stick she could find. Her heart pounded. She had no clue what she was doing. If Feral, a seasoned fighter, couldn’t get the drop on this thing, then what hope did she have? The worst thing she’d ever fought were the month end reports at work.

But regardless, she couldn’t leave him to face this on his own. Perhaps she could distract it or something? Allow Feral to get the advantage and finish it off. Filled with determination, she edged forward, looking for a gap in the fight so she could jump in without getting in Feral’s way. Or in the path of those blades he wielded so viciously.

There! Spotting the perfect gap, Tessa shot forward, jamming the stick in her hand upward into the soft flesh under the Ogre’s throat as it was busy fending off Feral’s attack. It roared in pain, black ichor splattering over Tessa’s hand and arm as it twisted violently, swiping out at her. She watched the vicious talons fly toward her in slow motion, fascinated by the blood-caked claws as they headed for her unprotected stomach. Fear froze the blood in her veins, and her feet in place, as she watched her own death sweep toward her.

Feral came out of nowhere, hitting her mid-stomach in a classic rugby tackle that had them both sprawling to the ground. The Ogre’s claws sailed harmlessly overhead. They both scrambled to their feet, Feral shoving Tessa behind him bodily as they readied themselves for the next attack.

It was an attack that never came. The thunder of hooves surrounded them as suddenly, and the small path became crowded with horses. And more importantly, from Tessa’s point of view, those horses came equipped with some heavily armed knights.

The whistle of arrows cut through the air, followed by sickening thuds as they buried themselves in the Ogre’s flesh. It screamed, a mingled sound of pain and fury, as it swatted at the arrows that made it resemble a grotesque hedgehog. Screams were silenced when one of the knights took aim with a heavy crossbow, death in his eyes. The arrow sprouted from the Ogre’s left eye. It blinked slowly with the other. Once, twice. Then it toppled backward.

Feral looked at the group of mounted knights surrounding them. “Well. At least it isn’t Pixies again.”

The Fae Court was like, well, something out of a fairy tale. Feral found himself wide-eyed at the splendour, as the little group were herded along the corridor, toward the hall of the Lady, whom their rescuing knights served.

He stared around, silently astounded at the beauty of the place, and doing his best to hide it. Anyone would think he was some kind of country bumpkin the way he was carrying on, not a veteran Kyn warrior who’d attended more court functions and balls than most humans had had hot dinners.

“It’s mainly all glamour,” she whispered, as they were ushered into a hall to wait. “The Court itself is a sort of Fae. A proto-Fae I think they call it—what we would have been before we came to be, so to speak,” she murmured, speaking of herself as Fae for the first time to him. “It’s alive,” she carried on, “changes its look as it pleases, which can be a little disconcerting.”

“You ain’t kidding,” he murmured, his hand dropping to the small of Tessa’s back as they walked through the door, a protective gesture he didn’t register consciously. She’d been so brave against the Ogre, even if he did want to berate her soundly for putting herself in danger. His heart had almost stopped when she’d shot in front of him with that stick, attacking the creature like some sort of Pixie amazon.

The knights retreated, a silent bunch if ever Feral had seen one, leaving just the two stationed on either side of the huge doors. Feral eyed them with sympathy. He’d stood guard often enough to know it was as boring as hell. Their set position and expression told him that this wasn’t their first time standing by that door, and undoubtedly, it wouldn’t be their last.

“You shouldn’t have attacked that Ogre.” He turned his attention back to Tessa. Settled on one of the low couches that lined the long walls, she held Spud up underneath his armpits so he could stand in her lap. Which he seemed to be loving, bouncing enthusiastically and grinning at everything. Feral grinned back, unable to resist such wholehearted enthusiasm, and held out his finger for the baby to grasp.

Tessa shrugged, busying herself with amusing the baby. Feral hooked his finger under her chin and turned her face so he could look into her eyes.

“You could have been hurt Tessa, even killed.” His badass attitude slipped a little under his concern. “I was terrified I’d lose you…”

*

Now
that
was love, or at least, what it was supposed to look like. Talven swept in through the double doors on the other side of the hall, pausing as he took in the scene before him. The guy, the vampire warrior, was crouched, all his attention on the woman, a Pixie half-breed. Talven had already noticed she was pretty, not his usual sort, but there was just something…vital about her. But it was the protective set of the vampire’s body, the gentleness of his touch as she looked at him that caught Talven’s attention.

A pang of longing speared him, lancing through his heart with a bitterness that surprised him. That was how it should be between a man and a woman, the sort of relationship he wanted, and a mate who looked at him as though he was everything. Not the barely concealed contempt and ridicule he currently received from the woman that fate had cursed him to be bound to.

“The princess will see you now,” he announced as he strode over, his hand holding the sword. Ilia didn’t like the clinking and chink of armour, or weaponry. Said it gave her a headache.
Bloody stupid woman, what did she expect when she insisted on her knights being battle ready at all times?

Feral rose and turned in an economy and speed of movement that had Talven mentally taking stock. When he got these three into Ilia’s chambers, the shit was going to hit the fan, and in a big way. He’d counted on having enough knights to take down this guy, but looking at him now…the vampire was
big.
Big, and with that manner, a look in his eyes that said, “Wanna mess with me? Just try it buddy, it’ll be the last thing you’ll do.”

He hid his concern well, years of practice serving Ilia. He needed more manpower. Seriously needed more manpower. He knew what Ilia intended to do…well, no, he had a good
idea
what she intended to do.

She thought he was stupid, called him that on many occasions. But he watched, he listened. The warrior would have to be an idiot not to have figured it out by now. And then, there would be all kinds of hell to pay, no doubt violent, and all over the place. Because he seriously doubted either one of them, the Pixie or the vamp, were going to be happy about his princess taking blood from a baby. It even turned his stomach.

Grimly, he stopped thinking about it, locking parts of his mind off from what was happening. His own coping mechanism. The trouble was, it was getting harder and harder to do, and each time, he felt sick. Like a little piece of his soul died each time.

Disgusted with himself, he swept his arm wide in a courtly gesture toward the door. “If you’ll just follow me?” he invited, forcing a smile.

Feral held his hand out to Tessa and helped her to her feet.

*

“Come on Tess, we wouldn’t want to keep the nice Captain’s boss waiting, would we?” he said as he studied the tall Fae knight directly. Feral rarely did circumspect, it just wasn’t in his nature. He’d found a direct look was far easier, and it tended to rattle people. Which wasn’t too much of a surprise. Most people got a little edgy when glared at, by over two hundred pounds of mean attitude, sort of like the Kyn equivalent of a Pit Bull.

He was probably imagining it, but just for a moment there, he thought he’d seen a flicker of something in the Fae knight’s eyes. Something that looked an awful lot like regret, and perhaps sorrow. Maybe even disgust.
But why? What did a Fae knight have to be disgusted about?

His face set as they followed Talven out of the room, anger coiled low in his chest. It was because he was a vampire. Had to be. Bloody Fae and their species-isms, like they were
so great
anyway. No doubt they didn’t like a
filthy
Kyn hanging around the place and lowering the tone. Well, buggar them.

His temper continued to simmer as they followed the Fae down the corridor. In fact, he was surprised the guy’s armour didn’t superheat under his glare.

“Hey, the wind’ll change and you’ll get stuck like that,” Tessa said, indicating his stormy expression. “You should be pleased. We did it! We got here, it’s all going to be ok,” she offered, a smile that told him she was tired curving her lips.

“Yeah.” He smoothed a hand down her back absently, as much to reassure himself as her. Perhaps more to reassure himself, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

They
had
done it, evaded those damn Pixies, made it through the Night Plains and avoided getting killed, or their souls sucked out or a multitude of other nasty fates. It had been a close call there with the Ogre. Closer than Feral wanted to admit. The near defeat didn’t sit well with his warrior pride.

One thing was for sure, he was going to be hitting the gym and ramping up the training when he got back to the compound. And he was definitely going to start packing heat, something big enough to take down even larger nasties, like Fae monsters.

He sighed as her words sank in, one of relief. She was right, he could relax now. They just needed to get the kid back to his parents, or this noble lady they were supposed to see next, and then they could get gone. Perhaps he could persuade Tessa to come back to his place, and they could finish what they’d started in that bathroom, and at the hotel. He looped his arm over her shoulders protectively and slid her a slight smile.

*

His smile stopped Tessa in her tracks, his eyes full of warmth and a sensual promise that took her breath away. Her exhaustion disappeared, body coming alive as his thumb stroked over the front of her shoulder. Even fully clothed, her skin tingled, a trail of fire in the wake of his thumb.

She managed to smile back, not quite sure what he could see in her at the moment. Her clothes were rumpled and torn in places, and she was splattered with black Ogre blood. But something about the smile in his eyes, the way he touched her, made her feel like the sexiest woman alive. Like the only woman alive for him.

A shiver ran up her spine as they approached yet another doorway, absently noting they’d moved further into the Court, into the private wings. Talven’s mistress must be someone important to have a suite here. Which was good, she decided. The higher up the tree this lady was, the more chance they had of getting this sorted quickly.

“Nearly home little man, you’ll see your mommy soon,” she murmured in a reassuring voice, jiggling the little boy in her arms, much to his delight. He giggled as he patted her face with gentle hands. Tessa smiled, but it was a smile with a sad edge now. He was a delightful little boy and she’d miss him, a pang of loss already forming deep in her chest. Perhaps she could ask his parents, whoever they were, if she could visit when this was all over.

The doors ahead of them swung open soundlessly, revealing yet another torch-lit hall. Relief, and a sense of triumph, filled Tessa anew, as they walked in. Despite her words to Feral, she hadn’t really believed it until they were here, about to meet this noble lady.

They had done it, actually made a difference! It was like something out of a Hollywood blockbuster. Beat the bad guys, save the world (or the baby in this case), and the good guy always got the girl.

She slid a covert glance sideways at Feral under her lashes. Or the girl got the guy, which she very much intended to be doing, once they’d both showered, and washed the Ogre blood off. It bloody reeked, the stench rising from the black stains on her clothes and making her wrinkle her nose. She might not even wait until he was finished though. She might just join him in the shower and jump his bones, then and there.

Lost in her own increasingly erotic daydream, it took Tessa a moment to realize something was wrong. Feral’s expression was tight, the look in his eyes one she recognised, despite their brief acquaintance. It was the one he wore when the shit was about to hit the fan—in a big way.

“Feral?” she murmured as she edged closer.

He was already dropping his arm as she spoke, freeing his hands up to go for his blades.

Just as soon as they’d stepped through the door, it had started to swing shut behind them, trapping them inside.

*

That had been when he’d felt it. The wrongness. Something that shouldn’t have been here in the light and beauty of a place like this. Something that belonged in the shadows. Something that was hiding itself, like rot buried in an apple’s core.

His senses on high alert, he scanned the room, eyes flitting from Fae to Fae, trying to isolate the source of the feeling. He might not be able to see through Fae glamour as he’d previously thought, but there were some things that just couldn’t be hidden from a vampire. And the need for blood was one of them.

There was another blood drinker in the room.

His eyes narrowed as he assessed the feeling. No, it wasn’t quite the same sort of feeling he got when he was around other Kyn. That was more a pleasant buzz against his mind. An awareness. This was harsher, more abrasive. Not awareness, a warning.

Like the feeling he got around Rogues, the extra unpleasant edge added by their taste for not just blood, but flesh as well. His face paled a little as he made the connection.

It wasn’t just the Rogue that liked blood and flesh…so did demonkind.

“Well, well. I suppose I should thank you for bringing the brat to me. Finally,” a female voice broke the silence of the hall. A voice that should have been beautiful if not for the bitter note corrupting it. “However, you’ve caused me a lot of trouble so I don’t think I will.”

*

The speaker rounded one of the Grecian columns flanking the walls, her venomous eyes fixed on the three of them. She was tiny, a slender wisp of a woman, with an almost childlike aura about her. But the expression on her face was very much adult. Bitterness, lust and arrogance all combined into a look that made Tessa just uncomfortable looking at her…

Tessa sucked in a breath, recognising her as one of the older Fae. Ilia, third of the fabled Seven Sisters, the Seven princesses of the Fae.

“God, no.” The blood drained from her face as Pixies emerged from the columns as well, fanning out behind their mistress.

“It was you all along.” Her heart lurched. This shouldn’t be happening, not here. This was the Court; they were supposed to be safe here.

“Well, looks like the Pixie bitch
finally
worked it out! Not the sharpest tool in the box are you, love?” Ilia commented scornfully. “Ok, I’m bored with this. Guards, seize them!”

Tessa screamed as the Fae surrounded them on one side, swords drawn, and the Pixies on the other, wielding their weapons of choice, various switchblades and daggers, all glinting menacingly in the flickering torchlight. She moved closer to Feral, instinctively looking to him for protection, even though she knew they were sunk. A sense of disgust filled her. She was supposed to be a modern woman, yet at the first sign of trouble, she was relying on a guy to look out for her. Her spine straightened as she shifted Spud more securely onto her hip. They were done for. There was no getting out of this one. Not just the two of them, against dozens.

But that didn’t mean she was going make it easy for them. She should have held on to that baseball bat.

*

“I could learn to hate Fae just as much as Pixies at this rate,” Feral growled, his blades on his hands in the blink of an eye. He moved, easily sliding into a guard position as he eyed the grim-faced men surrounding them.

“Ok, which one of you wants to bleed out on the floor first?” he snarled, adding, “more than enough for everyone, so if you’d like to form an orderly queue, Doctor Pain will begin morning surgery.” He lifted his hand and beckoned to the nearest Pixie. A “bring it on” gesture.

The Pixie spluttered with rage, his face flushing as he raised his arm and charged. Feral didn’t move, waiting until he could practically smell the guy’s breath. When he did move, it was in an explosion of speed. He dropped to the floor and swept a hard leg around, at his opponents. The Pixie hit the ground hard, and Feral heard the wind get knocked out of him. Staying down, Feral rolled and used his body as a ramp to launch himself to his feet. His bladed knuckles buried themselves nonchalantly in the Pixie’s throat, shredding his windpipe beyond repair.