Night Seeker (16 page)

“I cannot go with you—the Consort of the Queen may never lay hands upon her heartstone. But Chatter and Grieve will make the journey, and Kaylin.”

I didn’t want to say it aloud, but I knew that I also needed Rhiannon. She had to go with us. Wrath would try to nix the idea, but in my heart, it was clear that she had to be there. So I kept my mouth shut, nodded, and followed him back into the snowy night.

We were back at the warehouse within the hour. I blinked—it felt like we’d been gone all night, but then time had little meaning within the barrows and realms of the Fae. We gathered around the table and filled everyone in on what was happening. Lannan was still out hunting, which might be a good thing, considering his mood and what we were discussing.

Grieve looked shaken. “I will go, of course. If the Queen of Rivers and Rushes needs me, I will do whatever she requires. But is it wise to have me revisit Myst’s domain? She might sense me.”

“Then so be it. You must be there. Chatter, too. Kaylin…and Rhiannon.” I turned to my cousin. “I would not ask you to go, but I had a dream and in it we were searching for the heartstone. And you were with us.”

Wrath started to protest, but I shook my head.

“No, she needs to go. This much I know. And we must leave at daybreak. The Vampiric Fae weren’t given the antidote Grieve took—Lainule grew furious at Geoffrey over something—I don’t know what—and she destroyed what was left of it. So we’ll be able to journey during the light without too much worry.”

“What about the Consortium? Can’t we wait for them?” Rex asked.

I tipped my head to one side, considering. “Lainule is on her deathbed. We must regain the heartstone in order for her to survive. And if she dies…” I paused, not really knowing
what to say after that. I turned to my father. “What
does
happen when a Fae Queen dies?”

He let out a shuddering breath and I realized how hard the question must be on him. “Then the heirs are run through a gauntlet of tests to determine who will take her place. If there is only one heir, she will inherit the throne without contest.”

“Do you and Lainule have any children? I know Grieve is a prince—”

Grieve cleared his throat. “Yes, I am a prince, but I would not inherit the throne, even though I am a relative of Lainule and Wrath. There must be a queen before there can be a king, and he may come from outside the bloodline of nobility. But a princess must bear the blood of the Queen in her veins or her soul. And there
must
be a queen. The King cannot rule alone. If Lainule dies—”

Wrath interrupted. “What Grieve is dancing around is that if my Lady passes over the veil, then I will abdicate to a new queen and her choice of consort.” He smiled, his face crinkling with the bare beginnings of crow’s feet. “It is all right, Grieve. You may tell the truth without worry I will take offense. This is the way of the law, this is the way of our people.”

I stood, staring at my father. “If Lainule dies, then you—”

“Will relinquish my crown and fade through the veil to be with my Lady.” He smiled at me. “But take heart, my daughter. You will go tomorrow and do what you can to save your stepmother. And we will cross other bridges when we come to them, should they arise.”

I hung my head, wanting to cry. Both my father and Grieve moved forward, but Grieve was at my side first and I leaned into his embrace, tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn’t hold it in any longer—the stress and the fear and the loss hit me as my walls crumbled. I held tight to him, weeping as he pulled me to his chest.

“I love you, Cicely. I love you and I’m here with you. Hold on to me. I am your love. I am your anchor and rock. I will keep you steady.” His voice was low, purring in my
ear like soothing music, and as I buried myself in his embrace, the smell of apples and pumpkins, of cinnamon and dust, and the rains of autumn swept over me. My love was caught between the summer and the winter—in the limbo of autumn, unable to return to his own world and unwilling to embrace the realm that had claimed him.

“I love you. I love you and I can’t imagine being without you ever again.” I found his lips, fire building in my stomach as I sought comfort in his kiss. “You will never belong to Myst again—I will never allow it. You are mine. You are my heart, my soul, my passion, my mate.”

Grieve swept me up in his arms. I looked up through streaming eyes as he challenged my father to stop him. Wrath stepped aside without a word as Grieve carried me into the bedroom and shut the door behind us.

All thoughts of who might be listening flew to the window as he laid me down on the mattresses, unbuttoning my shirt as I reached for the zipper on my jeans. Grieve gently removed my hand and slowly unzipped them himself, all the while staring into my eyes with his starry gaze. The depths of his onyx gaze swirled with stardust, and I felt myself falling deep into his core.

“Cicely, my Cicely.” He leaned down and was free of clothes, his bare chest pressing against my breasts. I shifted and he unhooked my bra, and then hooked his fingers through the sides of my panties and slid them off.

I sat up, still crying, staring at him. He was gorgeous, my love was, his platinum hair streaming down his back, his olive skin glimmering in the low light of the candle. With one hand, I reached out and slid my fingers along his arm, slowly tracing his muscles up to rest my hand on his shoulder.

He lightly brushed one hand against my breasts, caressing the nipples, his fingers tripping over my skin, setting off a series of explosions deep within me that grew like a chain of firecrackers. I gasped as he wrapped his arm around my waist and bent me back, leaning between my knees, his lips covering mine, tongue probing deep, searching for solace.

I closed my eyes, drifting in his kiss, soaking in his love
and warmth as he reached down with his other hand to stroke me. The feel of his erection against my thigh made me spread my legs wider, the hunger within me growing. Everything paled compared to the need to feel him moving inside me, possessing me.

“Love me. Take me, my Prince.” I opened my eyes. “Myst will never possess your heart, even if she rips us to shreds.”

“She never did possess it, though she tried to claim me. It’s always been you, Cicely—when I met you, so many eons ago, I knew that you would be mine. Everyone told me you were the enemy, but in my heart, I knew that if I could not be with you, I’d rather be dead.” He bit his lip, moaning as he plunged deep within me, his strokes long and hard. “I will not share you.”

The feel of him thrusting within me, of his body sliding against mine as he rode me, spiraled me higher. The soft cries of his passion mingled with mine, and then
a flash
…and the world and its cares fell away…

I was standing on a hill, under the night sky, feeling the wind brush my cheek. The storm had been fierce and all I could think about was the scent of the rain-soaked cedars and mossy dell, and the fire in my belly as the hunger raced through me and the urge to hunt grew. The moon broke through the clouds, and I dropped my head back. I was Cherish, daughter of Myst, and the world was my banquet, a feast of blood and flesh and desire.

A noise to my left, coming through the woods, alerted me, and I quickly hid behind the nearest tree. With luck, it would be an unwary hunter coming through. The natives of the land were in tune with the woodland, but they had never encountered us before. My mother had recently moved us to the new land, leaving pockets of our people behind. Gone were the peasants and castles and soldiers and cities. Instead, here, the people were few but game plentiful, and there was room for us to spread and begin to expand our colony.

We bred slowly—my mother had had only two daughters, and I was the only one who survived. But we were gaining in numbers, and Myst explained to me that our natures were evolving as the mingling of the vampire blood took hold with the Unseelie lineage. We’d been driven from our home by the untainted dark ones and so had sought a new land in which to live according to our nature.

The sound caught my attention again—someone was walking along the path. I waited, biding my time, until he was near enough to catch. I could smell him—definitely male, although he smelled like sweetgrass and apples, hay and summer days, not like buckskin and hides.

I leaped out, triumphant, my fangs gleaming in the moonlight. And then—there was a moment when the world fell away, and I found myself staring instead of feasting. He was tall, with olive skin, and long gleaming hair. His eyes were shimmering topaz, and he cocked his head, looking at me.

Feast, you fool. Feast. You can take him down.
The voice in my head urged me on, but still I stood there, unsure what possessed me.

“Well, are you going to kill me or not?” His voice was smooth, coiling over the words like a snake.

“I…I…” Unprepared for his easy manner, for the lack of care, I stepped back, tilting my head to squint at him. He was no native, that was apparent. And then I knew: He was of Summer’s descent. Unlike the Seelie from back home, he belonged fully to this land. But the scent of summer’s breath wafted off him like a beckoning finger, both enticing and irritating.

I knew who he was then. My mother had done her research. “You are the Summer Prince. Your name is Shy, and you belong to Lainule’s realm. Run now, while you can, Summer’s child, or I will devour you.”

He laughed, and his voice beckoned me forward. Suspicious, angry, I lowered my head, staring at him through the fringe of my lashes.

“I am indeed Shy of the Summer’s realm. I am Summer’s bear-child.”

“You should not laugh—do not laugh at me! Do you
know what danger you’re in?” I should just have at him, get it over with, destroy the prince of our enemy and be done with it. But something stayed my hand.

Shy’s lips crinkled as he smiled. “Oh, I’ve heard tales of you. Cherish, the gem of the Winter Court. You are of the Indigo Fae—the Tainted Ones. We know well of you, beautiful enemy. We know of your charms and powers. Tell me again, why should I run? Do you really think you can destroy me?” And his voice was honey on the night breeze.

A wash of roses glided by on the wind and I caught myself falling under their spell. Mingled with a faint taste of apricots and the sound of the rushing river, they made me want to tear off my gown and go running through the field, naked, letting the moonbeams bathe me under the wild night.

I tried to tear myself out of the trance, but something held me firm, and then I realized that it was Shy—he had hold of me and I couldn’t free myself. I bared my teeth, but the feel of his skin against mine set me aflame in a way I’d never before felt. I gasped, shivering as the fire raced through my belly, Summer’s touch sparking feelings I’d only heard of.

“No,” I gasped out, but my hands were no longer pounding against his chest but racing over his skin. “No…” He pressed against me, hard and demanding, and my body—so long used only as a weapon—became pliant, responding. “No…” My breath came in ragged pants as he fisted my hair and laughed low.

“Cherish, the gem of Winter, what say you to the scepter of Summer? Will you bend? Will you fight? Will you yield? Will you…” He stopped then as our gazes locked, and within that moment, a lifetime of knowledge passed between us, and my will to fight—my will to destroy—faded like cloth left out in the sun too long.

“Cherish…” The triumph was gone. He stood back, letting me go, staring at me, fear and bewilderment crowding his expression.

I could have destroyed him then. I knew it, I could have
ripped out his throat and taken him down, devoured him. But I was as trapped in the spell as he. I searched my memory, trying to decipher what emotions were playing on my senses. I’d never felt like this before, never wanted someone this way. Never wanted to…spare anyone. I’d killed hundreds of people over the years, and never once had I questioned what I was doing.

“Shy…” My voice was shaking, and I began to tremble and then cry. “What’s happening to me? What’s this feeling? I don’t want this!”

But he stepped forward again, slowly this time, and held out his arms. “Cherish?” It was a question, no longer a demand, and try as I might, I could not resist answering. I stepped into his embrace and he pressed his lips against mine, his tongue seeking mine, his arms holding me tightly.