Wytchcraft: A Matilda Kavanagh Novel (37 page)

“Roane!” Willow called out, rushing forward to greet her son as we walked into the audience chamber. The guards melted away from the prince, moving to stand along the walls as Willow wrapped her son in a hug. Roane was still wrapped in the emergency blanket the paramedics had given him, and he didn’t bother to release it to return his mother’s hug. I was really starting to regret saving his life the longer I spent time with him.

Stoirm came down from the dais to join his wife and son. For a moment, the Lord and Lady looked like every other set of parents in the world, just happy and relieved to have their child safe and sound. But when they turned their eyes on me, I watched that warmth and joy melt away and felt a chill run up my spine. Tommie’s hand tightened around mine and I squeezed back. If she wasn’t cowed, I certainly wouldn’t be either.

“Tomasina,” Willow said, her slim brows drawing together as she looked at the young fairy. “What are you doing here?”

“The man who kidnapped Roane took her as well,” I said. Tommie took a step to hide behind me, tipping her head to press her forehead to back of my arm. “Are you telling me none of you noticed she was missing?”

“Young Tomasina here is an orphan,” Willow said, as if that explained everything. I felt my face contract as if I’d sucked on a lemon, and Stoirm leveled me with a look that said he’d like nothing more than to slap me.

“Do not think you’re going to swindle more money out of us for saving her,” Stoirm said. Heat flooded through me and I had to let go of Tommie’s hand for fear of jolting her with power. Willow lifted her chin, looking down that perfect nose at me, waiting for me to do something stupid so that they could renege on our agreement or have me killed and call it self-defense. I took in a deep breath and held it, counting to ten in my head before I released it.

“Tommie, do you have somewhere to go?” I asked, turning my attention to the little fairy girl. She nodded, her hands were balled up and pressed to her mouth. “Then you should go,” I said, brushing a hand over her hair.

Tommie lifted up on her toes and whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Mattie.” Then she scurried out of the chamber on silent feet, her white night gown drifting around her bare ankles as she went.

“Roane,” Willow’s voice brought me back, and I turned to see him pulling out of her embrace and trying to leave. “Roane, where are you going?”

“Mother, I am exhausted, all right?” Roane snapped at her, making Willow flinch as if he’d struck her in the face. Gods, none of them deserved what I had gone through these last couple of weeks to help them.

“Yeah, I’d like to get out of here as well,” I said, but neither fairy turned to look at me. They watched their son stalk out of the chamber, disappearing into one of the dark hallways.

“Hello?” I said, raising my voice so that it echoed around us. Stoirm turned slowly to face me, his face clouded with anger and his fists balled at his sides.

“You dare—” he hissed, but I held up a hand and cut him off. I’d had enough of their stuck-up bullshit.

“You’re not going to break our deal, are you?” I demanded. “I’ve done what you asked of me. In return, you were to pay me the other half of the money you owed me and release Owen.”

“Who are you to tell us what to do?” Stoirm spoke as he walked over to me, stopping so that we were almost toe-to-toe. I could feel his breath as he exhaled, the warm air rushing over my face.

“Who am I?” I asked, keeping my voice level. “I am the witch you contracted and the witch who expects you to hold up to your end of the bargain. Or are you an
oathbreaker
?” I drew out each precious syllable, enjoying look of horror that crossed Stoirm’s face. Willow whipped around, finally pulling her attention away from the hall her son had disappeared into. Her mouth was open in surprise and her eyes were too wide, making her look crazed.

“How dare—” Willow started, but I stopped her just as I stopped Stoirm, holding a hand up to her.

“One more word, stall for one moment more, and I shall name you
Oathbreaker
and will call down the wrath of the
Slaugh
upon you both.” I reveled in their horror, their fear. They thought they were going to take advantage of me, not knowing I knew just how to deal with double crossing fairies. I shifted my eyes from Willow to Stoirm, daring them to call my bluff. If they refused to fulfill their part of the agreement and were named an oathbreaker, the Wild Hunt from their world would descend upon them with horses, dogs, swords, and fury. The two of them would either be ripped to shreds or taken by the Wild Hunt to ride forever, without rest.

“Of course we wouldn’t forget our end of the bargain,” Willow said, her voice taking on the practiced tone of working politics for years, even going so far as to offer me a closed-lip smile. She placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder, pulling him out of my space. His eyes flashed with fury before he turned away from me and stormed across the room to take his seat.

Willow clapped her hands and a small boy came running into the room, clutching a white envelope in his little hands. He slid to a stop in front of me and held out the envelope, his chin lifted, back pin straight, and arm so tight it shook. I took the envelope and opened it, taking the time to count the money inside. I could feel the heat of Stoirm’s hate, but I didn’t trust them enough to not to count the money. Not after how they behaved today.

“And?” I prompted, satisfied with the amount and tucking the envelope into the inside pocket of my jacket. Willow looked past me and waved a hand. It was a few minutes, but soon I heard the sounds of shuffling feet.

“Mattie?” a rough voice called out to me, but it was strained. I turned and saw Owen. He didn’t look like he’d been mistreated, but there was something about him that said he hadn’t been taken care of especially well either. His usually shiny hair was lank and a little greasy, hanging around his face. And the pallor of his skin was too pale, making him look almost sick, as if they hadn’t allowed him to feed enough in the last few days. His clothes were so wrinkled I wondered if he’d been wearing them since that last night I saw him in my apartment.

My lips parted, I could feel his name on my lips, but I couldn’t manage to speak it. The weight of his ring on the string around my neck pulled me down, and I had to fight against it to walk straight. Owen lifted his hands, expecting me to come to him, but I continued forward, reminding myself to keep breathing as I led the way out of the audience chamber.

We weren’t five feet into the tunnels before the world shifted around us and we were standing outside upon the grassy knoll. Owen flinched away from the bright light of the new dawn.

“They didn’t keep you fed,” I observed. Owen was old enough that the sun never bothered him anymore; to see him holding his arm up against the warm light was strange and disconcerting. A small part of me worried that he wasn’t safe to leave alone. If it had been too long since he’d fed, he couldn’t be trusted around humans as he tried to make his way back to the lair.

“Not well fed at any rate,” Owen answered, keeping his eyes averted from my face.

“So I guess you need a ride then,” I said. He lifted his eyes to look at me and I felt the air in my lungs rush out of me in defeat. I had wanted to return Roane to the Mound, get paid, get Owen released, and just wash my hands of this whole messed up situation, but when he looked at me with those sad and tired eyes, I felt the tiny string that was still tied around my heart that connected me to Owen constrict. My hands itched with the desire to brush his hair out of his face and touch his cheek, press my lips to his, and make that sad look leave his eyes.

“I’m not sure how smart it would be for me to be around humans right now,” Owen agreed, his voice catching in the middle as we gazed at each other.

“I can take you to the hotel,” I said, starting to turn toward the car.

“There are too many humans there,” Owen said, stopping me.

“You’re telling me there isn’t some secret passageway for vamps to get in?” I asked, challenging him to lie to me.

“Mattie, I’ll still be too near them too soon,” he said, leaning toward me, begging me to understand. He wanted to ask for my help, but he knew better than to actually do it. Not after what we’d been through, what he’d put me through.

“Are you seriously asking me to take you home to recuperate?”

“Yes.” He dropped his eyes, lifting his hands to run his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face like I had wanted to do. When he looked at me again, I could see the light pink tint to his eyes, the bloody tears threatening to spill over.

“Damnit.” I stomped my foot, wishing it was his hold on my heart that I was crushing into the ground. “C’mon then,” I growled, turning away from him and storming over to the car.

Chapter 21

Once back at my apartment, I busied myself taking care of Artemis, feeding him, cooing to him, apologizing for leaving him so long. Owen stood in my living room, shifting from foot to foot, unsure what to do with his hands. He’d used my phone to call a contact at the local blood bank to bring him some supplies to help replenish him.

I threw a pillow and some blankets on the couch before retreating to the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. Artie was already curled up on the arm chair in the corner by the time I crawled into bed after the longest, hottest shower I’d ever taken and changed into an oversized T-shirt. It felt good to rub my eyes without the grime and smeared make-up on them.

I examined my nails in the half-light. There were black scorch marks at the cuticles and they were tender to the touch, but at least I hadn’t lost any of them. After bushing my teeth and rising with mouthwash, I’d been able to chase away the taste of pennies.

Slipping down, I rested my head against the mound of pillows, feeling so small in the empty bed as I pulled the covers around me. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I could smell the crisp scent of Owen in the linens as if he’d been there the night before. It took days to get his smell out of the apartment after he left me, and now here he was again, permeating my life. A pain formed in my chest as my throat constricted, making me squeeze my eyes shut when the room went blurry.

The latch clicked as the bedroom door opened and a shadow slipped through. I gripped my pillow, burying my face into it as the springs of the mattress at my back compressed. The covers were lifted and the familiar, cool shape formed around me. Knees fit behind mine as an arm wrapped around me, the fingers prying mine away from the pillow to intertwine. His lips pressed gently to the shell of my ear as he rested his cheek against my damp hair. His smell was a little muskier tonight than in my memories, speaking of the weeks of captivity, but right then, it was exactly what my body needed. I breathed in his scent, letting it fill me, easing the knots in my back as my shoulders relaxed.

I turned, shifting under the covers, to face him, pressing my forehead to his. Even in the half-light, I could see his cheeks were fuller, the pinched skin around his eyes smoother. He had fed, and I hadn’t even heard the door. I traced his face with my eyes, stalling on his full, red lips, stained with a stranger’s blood where once my blood had given him that flush.

He brushed my cheek with the back of his hand, tracing a line down my chin, lifting it. Our lips met, parted, breathing each other. His kiss was light, tentative, expecting me to push him away. My fingers found his neck, slipping around to tangle in his hair, remembering the silky feel of it. He whispered my name and I swallowed it, pressing my lips to his again, harder this time, hungrier, giving over to the need to taste him again.

I felt the prick of a sharp fang nick my lip, flavoring our kiss with my blood. It was so familiar, so comforting it made my head swim with memories. His arms pulled me closer, pressing my body to his, and I realized the only thing separating us was my shirt and the pants he still wore. I closed my eyes, a tear spilling over, running down my cheek and slipping between our lips as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

Time didn’t exist for us then. The world was lost in lips and hips and the bite of our hunger as we filled each other. Blood and love blossoming between us again, as if we’d never missed a beat. I clawed at his pants as he ripped my shirt. Wrapping my legs around him, I had a moment to breathe before he rocked forward and filled me. We both cried out for the other, nails raking a path of passion and need in pale skin before the day slipped away in a whirlwind that stole my breath.

Hours later, I woke in a tangle of sheets and limbs. My legs were twisted with Owen’s and my cheek was resting on his chest. My heart thudded against my chest as relief washed through me and I admitted to myself what I’d been afraid to think earlier as I clung to him with his fangs buried in my shoulder as he drank from me again. I had expected to wake up alone again. But he was there, his arm around me, asleep and dead to the world.

I traced a pattern on his chest with my fingers, reveling in the warmth of his body, knowing it was my blood in him giving him that warmth. It was a strange intimacy knowing that your blood gave life to another.

Owen shifted in his sleep. A small noise of contentment rumbled low in his chest. I smiled, remembering that sound, not realizing how much I had missed it.

“Hey, girl,” he whispered, drawing my attention away from his chest to look him in the face. He was smiling down at me. I felt a renewed heat flush my cheeks and I buried my face in his chest again to hide it.

“No, let me see your face,” he said, reaching with his hand to lift my face by the chin. He pressed his lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the feel and shape of his lips on my skin. “Hungry?” he asked, and almost as if his question had caused it, I felt a small ache in my stomach.

“Actually,” I said and nodded. He smirked a little and winked at me before he slipped out of bed, grabbing his jeans and slipping them on, cutting off my view of those long, lean thigh muscles.

“Nutella and peanut butter on wheat, right?” he asked over his shoulder. It was the same thing I always craved after one of our love making sessions if he’d taken enough blood to make me hungry, which was pretty much every time.