The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) (17 page)

His cock jumped and his lust rose, deep, hungry and intense, as if he hadn’t been satisfied at all the night before. He shook his head, bemused by the pleasure of simply looking at her, his woman lying naked in the sun, waiting for him. Her beauty caught in his throat.

She made a sound and he fell to his knees between her thighs, using his fingers to spread her even wider, and locking onto her clit with his mouth.

“Yesss.” She hissed out.

His hands gripped her ass and he angled her up so he could whorl his tongue in and out. His eyes closed in the ecstasy of licking her while he fucked her with his fingers. Deep and deeper, her hips writhing her mewls became moans, then screams.

Energy swirled around him. Logan opened his eyes and opened his Gift in order to see the colors of her aura flowing in and around them with each wave of pleasure. He found her breast, pinching her nipple with his fingers.

He sensed something on the edge of his Gift. The rich, brown mist of magical current crept into her aura as she drew power from the earth. He watched in awe as, with each wave of pleasure, a rising beat of magical energy built inside her as power flowed from the ground, pulsing into her and through her as he rubbed.

She came, her muscles clenching tight around his fingers, and the power in the earth rose up, calling to his Gift. Trina reached for him, pulling him to her face. Supported on his elbows he covered her and kissed her, sharing the flavor of her essence. Power surged from her mouth into his, rocking him deep inside.

And he lost control.

He pushed his cock deep into her and she eagerly opened up and received him. She felt right. More than right. Energy built inside him with every tight thrust. Power swirled around them, through them, and back into the node. Pulsing longer and larger as they moved together.

Logan looked into Trina’s eyes, energy oscillating through him, and he cried out and came, pouring everything into her and then getting it right back as she screamed another orgasm. Bolts of power passed through him, into her, and back into the earth, a flaring, blinding light accompanied by a loud, thunderous boom.

They lay unmoving in the grass and waited for the aftershocks to subside.

“What was that?” he asked.

“We woke the earth.” Her voice was quiet, lethargic with post-coital exhaustion. “We must have accidentally tapped into the energy node.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Me either. My power is of earth…you must be affiliated with earth energy as well.”

He rested his forehead in the crook of her neck, his weight on his elbows. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this good, this relaxed. He didn’t want to move.

His cock started to slip out, and he adjusted to stay within her warmth for just a little while longer. Their breathing slowed as he stayed there and allowed himself to be.

To feel the heat of the warm sun on his back. To smell the crushed grasses mixed with the scent of lavender on her skin. To feel the unknown unfurling before him in a voluptuous temptation of possibility.

To pretend, just for the moment, he might be allowed a lifetime of pleasure.

“Logan, you’re squishing me.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“Need…to…breathe.” She pushed at him.

She was tiny, he’d forgotten just how tiny. Her personality, her energy, and her commitment to her cause all made her seem like a much bigger person. He rolled off and tucked her in the crook of his arm. She nestled in, and his breathing seized up as a sense of claustrophobic doom enfolded him.

She would die and leave him alone. If the queen didn’t kill her, old age was still death’s handmaiden. She was human and vulnerable, and he was destined for pain.

He no longer had the heart to use her as leverage against the queen. He’d have to find the prince another way. And that meant tracking down this prophecy of the queen’s and defusing it, one way or another. Otherwise, he would be forced to hide not only her, but himself, her family, and his uncles. The queen had no mercy.

“What time are we leaving? You said the second night of the meet is tonight?”

“You aren’t going. It’s too risky.”

“I’m going. This is my family, my life. I’m going.” She sat up, leaving him with only a hollow space.

Her absence from his side felt horrible, as if she’d somehow taken a piece of him when she rolled across the grass. If having her a few feet away felt this bad, how would it feel if she were gone?

Panic started low in his abdomen and reached its fingers up to squeeze his heart.

“You are committed to me for the next year, I forbid you to go.” He stood and gathered his clothes, his arms and legs moving in short, jerky unfamiliar movements.

Turning her back, she rose and did the same. Her words came out hard as steel and just as sharp. “If you don’t take me with you, I will find a way to break this contract, to leave you. I will find the bitch queen myself and demand answers!”

Logan’s lungs contracted and a bitter taste filled his mouth. So this was how it felt to care.

Chapter Eleven

Trina had to get away from the look on Logan’s face that said the rocking of the world was more than sex. Because it was obvious his face lied. To him, what they’d experienced together hadn’t been any more than a good fuck.

There was nowhere to go but the cottage. She started walking.

“Trina, wait.”

She’d made another stupid mistake by giving in to her body and his desires. Now he’d put her in her place. She was to stay here, clean, and be a good servant. She would never be able to save Brianna, Cassie, or her aunt. Because of her stupidity, they would all die.

“Why?” She kept walking, her face averted. “What do I have to gain by standing here talking to you? You’ve made it clear you’re not taking me with you to the meet. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Please.”

She turned. His head was bowed, his eyes peeking out from under his cascading untangled hair, and he was nude. Splendidly and confidently nude, the sun glinting off the silver ornaments in his silky hair and playing on the perfection of his muscular pecs.

His absolute state of gorgeousness reminded her of the gap between them and it was more than depressing.

Even in this humble stance, holding his bundle of clothes with one hand outstretched, he couldn’t help being every inch the arrogant elven lord, one of the rock stars of the fae. He was a fabulously sexy man, superior in body, magical skills, and everything that counted. But he was ultimately still fae. And by definition, lacking humanity.

Despite that, his penitent expression tugged at her.

“You have two minutes, and then I’m going inside.”

He moved closer. “I’m sorry.” He seemed sincere, his words awkward and stumbling. “I’ve never been in this position. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m asking. Please hear me out.”

“I’m listening.” She crossed her arms, toe tapping. Waiting. “You’re using up your two minutes.”

“All right. I can do it this way.” A rippling sigh rolled through him. Then he spoke, the words pouring out in a pressure ridden torrent. “I’m not sure why it’s happened, but I’ve grown…attached…to you.”

Her stomach flipped.

“You’re telling me that you, the person who has trapped me here against my will, forced me into this bargain, threatened not only my death, but the death of the few people I hold dear… You? Are attached to me.” Her arms dropped to her sides and she turned to go into the cottage. “You elves are crazier than I thought.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. I don’t understand it.”

The stress in his voice sounded sincere and she found she couldn’t leave. She turned around, her hands gripping her shredded dress.

He implored her with his free hand. “You are shrewish, short-tempered, and human. You will be an old woman before I can even blink, but the thought of you risking yourself by going to the meet is…well…it’s painful.” He ran his hand through his hair, exposing his pointed ears.

She frowned. “Painful?”

“I don’t know how else to put it.” He took another step. “And the worst part about it is this anger of yours, this insistence that I let you go or you’ll find a way to leave. This is painful also.” He took the last step, closing the gap between them. “I’m not used to this. I don’t know what to do. I have a need to keep you safe, keep you here. But if I do so, you’ll hate me. And I find the thought of that hurts, too.” He held out his hand, but stopped short of touching her arm. “Please reconsider.”

“Reconsider my leaving, or reconsider going?”

“Both…either.” He shook his head, bewilderment flitting over his features. “I don’t know.”

He was asking. Not demanding. Deep lines bracketed his cheeks, his lips pressed together. If he were human, she’d think he was in pain.

She flexed her fingers. “If you think you care for me, you have to see I need this. I need to do something, or I will burn up from the frustration.”

The muscles in his neck and chest flexed. “I understand,” he said, frowning. “It doesn’t make me happy, but I understand your need to go. You can go.”

She released the tight breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

“But, you must do exactly as I say.” His smile was dark, bereft of any amusement.

She shivered.

“Come, we have little time. My uncle arrives at sunset.”

“How long does this last? It feels weird.” Trina eyed her bulkier jaw line and her newly dark-shadowed eyes. She didn’t recognize her older, tougher, and sexier glamoured reflection in the antique mirror. Didn’t think even her aunt and cousins would know her now.

“You know,” she tilted her head to the side and tried to see the back of her lightened hair. “You could sell this in Hollywood for millions of dollars. A wave of your hand and hours of makeup and special effects would be complete. As long as the magic didn’t run out before they stopped shooting the scene.”

Logan returned from his fourth trip to the window. His movements were fast and twitchy, and she could tell Rinnal’s late arrival wasn’t helping his nerves. He crossed the room, placed his face over her shoulder, and examined their altered reflections with a critical eye.

“T’will last ‘til midnight Alice, then the pumpkin will appear and so will the rags.”

“Cinderella, not Alice.” But there was no bite in her tone. Things had changed between them and she wasn’t sure how to handle Logan treating her as a person and not a possession. The thought that one of his kind could actually feel any sort of emotion for someone like a human was disturbing.

He winked at her reflection.

She smiled uneasily back, and shifted her weight on the tall stool. This was almost too much like friendship. He made it so easy to forget and become comfortable with him, but she knew it would be another costly mistake.

Outside, the light faded, the trees casting long shadows across the clearing. Logan lit the lanterns. Trina tilted her chin from side to side, angled this way and that to see if she could spot any resemblance to the Trina she usually saw in the mirror. And it wasn’t just her face that had changed.

She eyed the breasts spilling over the low-cut top of the tight-laced, black leather bustier. “Do you think the dress is really necessary?” she asked. The dress was black and flirty and once again, very short. She tugged the bustier up and Logan’s gaze dropped to her cleavage, his pupils growing large and dark.

He leaned in and murmured against the skin of her neck. “You’d best stop pointing it out to me, lass, or I won’t be inclined to let you go after all.”

She ignored the responsive softening in her pelvis and lifted her eyebrows at him.

He laughed and pulled away. “Nay, it’s necessary. You’ve never been to a gypsy meet, but I have. They’re wild and rambunctious parties and there will be many dressed more loosely than this.”

“I do like the boots.” She pointed a toe of the thigh-high, black boots. In them she felt taller, sexier, and maybe a little dangerous.

“It’s the best I can do. Glamour has never been my strong point.” Logan said.

“If I don’t even know it’s me, how do you think anyone at the meet will?” She gingerly touched her nose, testing the feel. The new longer, pointed shape felt odd under her fingers, wrong.

“You still have those distinctive, green MacElvy eyes. You’re still petite and, unless you are a superb actress, you will walk the same, talk the same.” He eyed her critically, one finger tapping his jaw. “My mother was gifted in this area. My uncles have told me she could even change the shape and size of people with her glamours.”

Trina shuddered, turning from the girl in the mirror to inspect Logan’s own subtle changes. Still a black-haired, blue-eyed fae, but a different, angular, sharper version. She’d braided his long hair in the front into tiny little corn rows seeded with feathers and beads, his recognizable ornaments hidden away. He now looked like the other elves she’d seen, slender blades intent on destruction.

Who was he?

She faked a smile to hide her confusion and fear. “I think you’ve done an amazing job.”