The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) (3 page)

Strong arms wrapped in leather tightened around her, forced her upright, her toes dangling sidesaddle. Everything happening too fast. She barely had a grip in the long black mane when the creature flexed under her and they flew over the candles.

The flames blew out.

They landed on the other side of the labyrinth in a hard jolt. She slipped.

If I fall, I could run.

Before the thought had been and gone, her grip on the mane loosened. She slid to the side. Hot breath and the scrape of teeth on her ankle warned her, just in time. She yanked her foot out of range of the snapping jaws, and lost her precarious balance. Making an instinctive grab for the mane with her right hand, she dropped the knife.

Her kidnapper growled and tightened his grip on her stomach and she gasped for her voice.

“Put me down!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I either kill you or take you with me.” The sparkling black blade of his laughter cut deep into her soul.

Accelerating faster and faster, they wove in and out of the treacherous rocks in a mad, blurring rush up the side of the valley. If she fell off now and hit a rock, she’d be roadkill. She anchored both hands firmly in the mane and leaned back into the solid chest of her attacker.

They raced on, licks of green fire lighting up the hill behind them. A deep maw of black within purple mist formed ahead, transforming the familiar landscape into a horror. The knowledge of where they headed slammed inside her brain.

Trina’s heart sped into a sharp staccato.

Words of denial formed in her constricted throat, gone long before she had a chance to know what they were.

Don’t make me go.

They rocketed to the top of the valley, the piranha hounds schooling tightly around them as they raced to the looming mouth of the portal. Steely muscles bunched and flexed under her. Launching into the air, they flew into the mix of fog and darkness encased in the sound of her scream.

Chapter Two

The chortling and screaming winds of the abyss snagged long fingers in Trina’s fine hair, tangling it tight around her face and neck until she choked. Days, hours, or seconds, she had no idea how long the ride lasted. Her sense of time was shot the moment they left the earth and plunged into the portal’s chaotic fog.

Trina flinched as mind blowing images from someone else’s nightmare careened in and out of her vision. Moaning figures, screaming scenes of torture, and strangely solid-looking vistas slid by as they flew through the dark purple and grey mists. A blurry, tormented face with shapeless grey lips reached out soft hands that turned into claws, scratching for her and missing.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she buried her face in her kidnapper’s leather-clad chest and anchored her sanity in his solid warm reality. She focused on breathing, and not hurling the contents of her stomach.

Breathe in… the smell of leather.

Breathe out… the smell of heat.

Breathe in…

Then it stopped. Trina opened her eyes. Hazy pre-dawn light filtered through the dense shade of the largest trees she’d ever seen outside of Yosemite. They pushed through a rich undergrowth of vibrant, unfamiliar flowers that brushed against the horse’s underbelly and tickled her bare feet. Her captor relaxed his imprisoning hold and Trina eased away with an odd sense of reluctance, inhaling the strong sweet scents of the flowers in an attempt to calm her twisting stomach.

Something wasn’t right. The pinks were too pink, the greens too green. Everything hurt her eyes with a subtle sharp edge. They approached a river, so clear she could see every detail of the oddly shaped multicolored fish through the glassy surface. Without hesitation, the horse plunged in, soaking her in icy water that sneaked up her calves to her knees.

Trina shivered.

The bright fish, the odd landscape. This wasn’t her reality. This wasn’t Wyoming, or even the planet Earth. She didn’t know where they were, but she’d heard enough fae stories of lovely landscapes that held secret traps. Odds were good, here was worse than it looked. Escape would have to wait.

They waded across the water, the silent red hounds close at their heels. The elf leaned forward and breathed warm words into her ear and down her neck.

“Hold on, the next portal is opening.”

The horse shifted into a gallop. Trina slid, grabbing a handful of mane to stop her fall. Her captor’s grip tightened and he pulled her back between his muscled thighs as they jumped into the dark purple haze of a second portal.

They erupted out of the grasping mist into the cold dark of a moonless desert night, lit only by a few straggling stars. The horse bogged down in the heavy sand, slowed, and finally stopped. The isolation was palpable. Nothing but sand and stars. No crickets or owls. Nothing but the cold, dry desert night, a naked witch, and an all-powerful elven lord.

“Where are we?” she asked, the dry air burning her throat.

“Get down.”

She didn’t want to get off anymore. Her legs were wet and cold from their dip in the stream and her stomach still rolled from the twisting sensation of the portals. They could be anywhere. If she got down here and he left her, she could be stuck in another world, another time. As crazy as it seemed, this man was now her lifeline in a sea of possible universes.

“No. I’m not getting off,” she said between chattering teeth. “What if you dump me here in some outlying pocket of Faery?”

“Get down,” he ground out, his voice traffic cop hard.

She slid off, her feet sinking deep into the sand.

The horse’s intelligent, narrow red eyes tracked her every move. Doing what she could to cover up from his laser vision, Trina wrapped her arms around her shivering nude body. The large black head snaked out and his teeth flashed. Trina flinched, but he only puffed air into her face instead of the expected bite. She stumbled away, falling into the gritty sand, and she swore he laughed.

“Leave off.” The elf smacked him hard on the flank, the sound loud in the empty dark landscape.

The beast snickered, shook his huge bullet head at her, sharp ivory teeth bared in an inhuman grin. Trina got up and took two more precautionary steps away, stopped short from running by the ring of silent yellow-eyed hounds.

“Where are we?”

The elven lord dismounted.

Under the dark, star-scattered sky, she could make out little more than his shape. Tall. But not the slender ultra-tall of the few elves she’d seen. Maybe a little over six feet. And bulky. Not fat. Muscular.

Not elf-like.

But when she peeked at him with her inner sight he glowed blue with power, power that tugged at her, drawing her in with the dangerous innate lure that had ensnared humans for centuries. She peered closer, glad her gypsy heritage lent her some immunity from his charisma. The stars gave barely enough light to see his long dark hair was decorated with the silver jewelry that the elves favored. Braids, decorations, hair. She didn’t need the glow to be sure that under it all lay the tipped ears of the hated fae.

Fae.

An elven lord. The destroyers of her family. Could anything go right tonight?

Dread shivered along her skin and she lifted her chin determined to ignore the disadvantage of her nakedness. He snorted, shook his head, and pulled a length of cloth out of his pocket. It started off small, but it grew and grew until it reached the size of a small blanket.

“Here, you look cold.” Once again, his voice wrapped around her nerves, rough sandpaper encased in folds of brogue. Not Sean Connery. Not Scottish or Irish or Welsh… or anything human.

She scrambled to catch the blanket he tossed. Softer than wool, softer than alpaca, even softer than angora, it glowed off-white in the pearly moonlight. A rush of resentment warped her gratitude, trapping her automatic
thank you
down deep in her throat.

“Where are we?” she asked for the third time, frustration sharpening her words into bold and angry slashes. There was no room for fear anymore. Not when facing a full-blooded elven lord who had all the control and whose magical attraction pulled her in, despite her anxiety and anger and desperation.

“Where do you think, Alice?”

“Underhill?”

“Very good, but wrong.”

“Then where?”

“Another planet, another time. It doesn’t matter much. I needed a location to foil pursuit. The water helped, now the sand will, too. More importantly, it gives me a breathing spot to decide what to do with an Alice.”

“Stop that.”

The starlight caught the curve of his lips, but she didn’t have to see him to hear the arrogance behind his soft mocking laugh.

“Stop calling me Alice.”

“Why? You’re a little girl who has fallen down the rabbit hole and the queen is coming to eat you up. The Black Queen, it is true, but she’s far more formidable than the Red one has ever been.”

Trina’s spine stiffened. She was short. Young maybe. But she hadn’t been a girl since her parents were killed. Killed by elves, just like him.

“There’s only one Queen of Faery.” The mention of the queen burned through the magic of his presence leaving nothing but her anger. “The evil, murdering bitch.” She would have spit if she’d had any moisture left.

“Yes, definitely an Alice.” The cold smile curved a little higher and she caught a flash of arctic blue eyes. “No, there isn’t only one queen, there never has been. Certain parts of Lewis Carroll’s little book contain truth.”

“He was an ass.” The words came from the black horse casting evil looks over his shoulder.

Trina stepped back. “It talks!”

“Of course he talks.” The elven lord turned away from her, momentarily distracted. “You met him?” he asked the horse in a conversational tone. “You never said anything.”

The creature snorted. “Get on with it. I want my dinner.”

The lord’s sharp attention was back on her. “Now, what to do with you.” He rubbed his hand over his lips.

She ripped her eyes from the talking animal, unsure now if it or the man in front of her was the greater threat. “Take me back.”

“Do you want me to kill you, Alice? I’m reluctant to do it, but if it’s your wish, we can stop this right now.” He took a step toward her.

She backed up, stumbling through the shifting sand, staying out of reach. “No! Take me back. Take me home.”

Red eyes gleamed in the desert night. “Just kill her, I want my dinner.”

“It would be easier.” The elf’s lips pursed, considering.

“No!” Trina filled with a fierce need to wrestle the decision from the thing with the wicked red eyes. She had no doubt it would kill her without remorse.

“If you’re certain?” The elf cocked his head and waited for her answer. She stayed quiet. “If I don’t kill you, I certainly can’t put you back where I found you.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’d tell the queen.” His head whipped around and even though she couldn’t see them, his eyes pinned her in place.

“Once the queen has you on her torture table, you would say whatever it took to get her to stop.”

His voice rang with knowledge and she shook with a deep wracking chill.

He scrutinized her. “What to do? What to do?”

Resting long lean fingers on his lips, he tilted his head as his gaze traveled her entire five-feet-nothing. Starting at her bare feet sunk deep in the sand and traveling up her legs, lingering at the hem of the blanket skimming her thighs. Heat flushed her cheeks as he paused, staring at the tops of her breasts pushed high over the edge of the blanket by her tightly wrapped arms. As he reached her face, a strange expression flitted over his shadowed features, gone before she could evaluate its meaning.

He shook his head. “This is foolish. If we are to negotiate, I’d rather go someplace safer, more comfortable. Where to go?” He tapped his lips lightly as he mulled over her fate. “Mmm. I know. Back up you go.”

He extended a black gloved hand.

“Logan…” hissed the thing that wasn’t a horse.

“Quiet. It isn’t your call.” He turned back to her and stood, hand still extended. Waiting.

“I can leave you here, if you’d prefer. The sand demons won’t be out until the sun warms up.”

Trina went over her options. None looked good.

She slow-walked to his side. He placed his hands on her waist and swung her sidesaddle onto the creature’s bare back, then leapt, with inhuman ease, behind her.

The prison of his arms closed firmly around her, pulling her back so she had little choice but to settle her blanket-wrapped bottom against his groin. His body radiated intense heat that warmed her chilled skin through the wool. She leaned back into his chest, her body tense. The vulnerability of her position, nestled in the heat of his lap, toes dangling, aroused a strange combination of danger, safety, and unwanted sexual awareness.

“Ready?”

“Another portal?” Her stomach rebelled. She didn’t think she could do it again. “Yes,” she said, swallowing. She had no choice.

“Only one more jump.” The patronizing tone pushed a ramrod into her voice.