ONE
“SEX incarnate,” the women and men around her
whispered. “Half incubus.”
Aislinn didn’t know
if it was true, but she did know the man was Unseelie in a Seelie
Court. That didn’t happen very often, so she stared just like
everyone else as he passed down the corridor.
Dressed head to toe
in black, wearing Doc Martens, a pair of faded jeans, and a long
coat over a thin crewneck sweater that defined his muscular chest,
he seemed to possess every inch of the hallway he tread. He walked
with such confidence it gave the illusion he took up more space
than was physically possible. Seelie nobles shrank in his wake
though they tried to stand firm and proud. Not even the most
powerful ones were immune. Others postured and drew up straighter,
offering challenge to some imaginary threat in their midst. Not
even the gold and rose-bedecked Imperial Guard seemed immune from
his passing, as if they sensed a marauder in their
midst.
And maybe this man
was a marauder.
No one knew anything
about him other than that the dark magick running through his
Unseelie veins was both lethal and sexual in nature. The court
buzzed with the news of his arrival and his meeting with the Summer
Queen, High Royal of the Seelie Tuatha Dé Danann.
According to gossip,
Gabriel Cionaodh Marcus Mac Braire had been welcomed past the
threshold of the gleaming rose quartz tower of the Seelie Court
because he was petitioning the Summer Queen for permanent
residence, a subject that had received a huge amount of attention
from Seelie nobles. Predictably, most of the people against it were
men.
Gabriel, it was said,
held Seelie blood in his veins, but the incubus Unseelie part of
him overshadowed it. The rumors went that he was catnip to females
and—when his special brand of magick was wielded at full force
between the sheets—he possessed the power to enslave a woman. The
afflicted female would become addicted to him. She’d stop eating
and sleeping, wanting nothing more than his touch, until she
finally died from longing and self-neglect.
Just the thought made
Aislinn shudder, yet it didn’t seem to deter his female admirers.
Maybe that was because no one had ever heard of any woman who’d
suffered that fate. If this man could use sex like a deadly weapon,
apparently he never did.
Yet some kind of
sexual magick did seem to pour from him. Something intangible,
subtle, and seductive.
Watching him now, so
self-assured and beautiful, Aislinn could see the allure. His long
black coat melded with his shoulder-length dark hair until she
wasn’t sure where one began and the other ended. A gorgeous fallen
angel whose every movement promised a night filled with the
darkest, most dangerous erotic pleasure? There was nothing to find
uninteresting. Even herself, jaded and pride pricked by “love” as
she currently was, could see the attraction.
That attraction, of
course, was the stock-in-trade of an incubus and Gabriel was at
least half, if court gossip was to be believed. But for all his
dark beauty and lethal charm, and despite that odd, subtle magick,
he didn’t entice Aislinn. To her, he screamed danger. Perhaps that
was because of the very humbling public breakup she’d just endured.
All men, especially attractive ones,
looked like trouble to her now.
“Wow,” said her
friend Carina, coming to stand beside her. “I see what everyone was
talking about. He’s really . . .” She trailed off, her eyebrows
rising into her ebony hairline.
“He’s really what?”
Carina’s husband growled, coming up from behind them to twine his
arms around his wife’s waist.
“Really potent,”
Carina answered. “That man’s magick is so strong that even standing
in his wake a woman feels a little intoxicated, but it’s false.”
She turned and embraced Drem. “My attraction to you is completely
real.” Her voice, low and honey soft, convinced everyone within
hearing range of her honesty.
“Do you think he’s ‘potent,’ Aislinn?” Drem asked,
curving his thin lips into a teasing smile.
She watched the man
disappear through the ornate gold and rose double doors leading
into the throne room at the end of the hallway. The last thing she
saw was the trailing edge of his coat. Behind him scurried a
cameraman and a slick, well-heeled commentator from Faemous, the annoying human twenty-four-hour “news”
coverage of the Seelie Court that the Summer Queen found so
amusing. “A woman would have to be dead not to see his virility,
but if he’s got any special sex magick, it’s not affecting
me.”
Drem shifted his
green eyes from her to stare at the end of the hallway where the
man had disappeared. “So detached and cool, Aislinn?”
She shrugged. “He
doesn’t make me hot.”
“You’re the only
one,” Carina muttered. Her husband gave her a playful swat on her
butt for punishment. She gasped in surprise and then laughed. “Look
over there. He’s the reason no men are making you hot right
now.”
Aislinn followed
Carina’s gaze to see Kendal in all his glittering blond glory. He
stood with a couple of friends—people who used to be her friends—in the meet-and-greet area to socialize
outside the court doors.
Ugh.
Kendal locked gazes
with her, but Aislinn merely looked away as though she hadn’t
noticed him. She’d wasted too much time on him already. She could
hardly believe she’d ever thought she’d loved him. Kendal was a
social climber, nothing more. He’d used her to further his position
at court, for the prestige of dating one of the queen’s favorites,
and then tossed her aside. It had worked for him, too. That was the
truly galling part.
“I have nothing to
say to him,” Aislinn said in the coolest tone she could
manage.
Carina stared at him,
her jaw set. “Well, I do.” She began to walk across the corridor
toward him.
Aislinn caught her
hand and squeezed. “No, please, don’t. Thank you for being furious
with him on my account, but that’s what he wants. The attention
feeds his ego and Kendal doesn’t deserve it.”
“I can tell you what
that weasel is deserving
of.”
Aislinn laughed.
“You’re a good friend, Carina.”
The doors at the end
of the corridor opened and a male hobgoblin court attendant stepped
out, dressed in the gold and rose livery of the Rose Tower. “The
queen requests the presence of Aislinn Christiana Guinevere
Finvarra.”
Aislinn frowned and
stilled, looking toward the doors at the end of the corridor
through which Gabriel Cionaodh Marcus Mac Braire had recently
disappeared. Why would the queen wish to see her?
Carina pushed her
forward, breaking her momentary paralysis. Aislinn moved down the
corridor amid the hush of voices around her. She’d grown used to
being the topic of court gossip lately. The Seelie nobles didn’t
have much to do besides get into each other’s business. Magick
wasn’t a valuable commodity here, practiced and perfected, like it
was in the Unseelie Court.
She entered the
throne room and the heavy double doors closed behind her with a
loud thump. Caoilainn Elspeth Muirgheal, the High Royal of the
Seelie Tuatha Dé Danann, sat on her throne. Gabriel stood before
her, his back to Aislinn. The Imperial Guard, men and women of less
pure Seelie Tuatha Dé blood, lined the room, all standing at
attention in their gleaming gold and rose helms and
hauberks.
It always gave her
shivers to stand in the throne room before the queen. Arched
ceilings hand-painted with frescoes of the battle of Cath Maige
Tuired, depicting the Sídhe taking over
Ireland from the Firbolg, who were humans in their less evolved and
more animalistic form, instilled a sense of awe in all who entered.
Gold-veined marble floors stretched under her shoes, reaching to
rose quartz pillars and walls. It was a cold place despite the warm
colors, full of power, designed to intimidate and
control.
The Unseelie,
Gabriel, seemed utterly unaffected. In fact, the way he stood—feet
slightly apart, head held high, and a small, secretive smile
playing over his lips—made him seem almost insolent.
The Faemous film crew had been allowed within. They
stood near a far wall, the light of the camera trained on the
Summer Queen and Gabriel. Though now the camera turned to record
Aislinn’s entrance. The silver-haired female commentator—Aislinn
thought her name was Holly something—whispered into her mike,
describing the goings-on.
Ignoring the film
crew, as she always did, she halted near the incubus, yet kept a
good distance. The last thing she was going to do was fawn like
most women. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him do a slow
upward appraisal of her, the kind men do when they’re clearly
wondering what a woman looks like without her clothes. He wasn’t
even trying to hide it. Maybe he was so arrogantly presumptuous
that he felt he didn’t have to.
Aislinn was seriously
beginning to dislike this man.
She curtsied deeply
to the queen, difficult in her tight Rock & Republic jeans. If
she had known she was going to be called into court, she would have
worn something a little looser . . . and a bit more formal. Today
she was wearing a gray V-neck sweater and wedge-heeled black boots
with her jeans. She’d twisted her hair up and only dashed on
makeup. This was not an event she’d planned for.
The queen, as always,
was dressed in heavy brocade, silk, and lace. Today her color theme
was a rich burgundy and cream, her skirts pooling at her feet like
a bloody ocean. The royal’s long pale hair was done up in a series
of intricate braids and heavy ruby jewelry glittered at her ears
and nestled at the base of her slender, pale throat. She wore no
makeup because she didn’t need it. Her beauty was flawless and
chilly. Her style, as ever, old-fashioned. It worked for
her.
Caoilainn Elspeth
Muirgheal gestured with a slim hand, the light catching on her many
rings. “Aislinn, please meet Gabriel Mac Braire. He is petitioning
the Seelie Court for residency, in case you hadn’t already heard.
It seems word has spread through court about it. I am still
considering his case. As you know, we don’t often grant such
requests.”
Yes, but there were
precedents. Take Ronan Quinn, for example. He was a part-blood
druid and Unseelie mage. He’d successfully petitioned the Summer
Queen for residency in the Rose Tower over thirty years ago because
he’d fallen in love with Bella, Aislinn’s best friend. Not long
after his residency had been granted Ronan lost Bella and
consequently fell into a state of reckless despondency that had
lasted for decades. Last year he’d pulled some mysterious job for
the Phaendir that had nearly gotten him beheaded by the Summer
Queen. In the end, Ronan had retained his life and won Bella
back—but both had been banished from the Rose Tower as punishment
for Ronan’s transgressions. Aislinn didn’t know where they were
now.
She missed Bella
every single day. Bella had been the only one to know her deepest
and darkest secrets. Without her presence, she felt utterly
alone.
That entire story
aside, Ronan Quinn was one example of an Unseelie male who’d
managed to find a place in the Rose. Gabriel, like Ronan, was
exceedingly good-looking. That would weigh heavily in his favor.
The queen couldn’t resist a virile, highly magicked
man.
“He’ll be staying
here for the next week and I have decided you shall be his guide
and general helpmeet while he’s here.”
“Me?” Aislinn
blinked. “Why me?” The question came out of her mouth before she
could think it through and she instantly regretted it. One did not
question Caoilainn Elspeth Muirgheal; one simply
obeyed.
The Summer Queen
lifted a pale, perfectly arched brow. “Why not you?”
“With all respect due
you, my queen, I think—”
“Do you have a
problem with my judgment?”
Oh, this was getting
more and more dangerous with every word the queen uttered. The room
had chilled a bit, too, a result of the Seelie Royal’s mood
affecting her magick. Aislinn shivered. “No, my
queen.”
Gabriel glanced over
at her with a mocking smile playing on his sensual, luscious
lips.
Nope, she didn’t like
him one bit even if he did have sensual, luscious
lips.
“That’s a good
answer, Aislinn. Do you have a problem with Gabriel? Most women
would kill to spend time with him.” The queen gestured airily with
one hand. “I thought I was doing you a favor after your . . .
unfortunate incident with Kendal.”
Oh, sweet lady Danu.
Aislinn gritted her teeth before answering. “I don’t have a problem
with him, my queen.”
The queen clapped her
hands together, making Aislinn jump. “Good, that’s all settled
then. You’re both dismissed.”
Aislinn turned
immediately and walked out of the throne room, Gabriel following.
She didn’t like having him behind her. It made her feel like a
gazelle being stalked by a lion. He’d soon find out this gazelle
had fight. There was no way she was going to lie down and show him
her vulnerable, soft stomach . . . or any other part of her
body.
They exited into a
corridor thronged with curious onlookers. Carina, partway down the
hall with Drem, made a move to walk to Aislinn, but Aislinn held up
a hand to stop her. All eyes were on her and Gabriel. She didn’t
want to linger here and she really didn’t want anyone listening in
on their conversation and using it to weave rumor. They could watch
Faemous for the juicy details, just
like everyone else.
Falling into step
beside her, Gabriel surveyed the scene and ran a hand over his
stubble-dusted, clefted chin. “Is it always like this over here?”
His voice, deep and low, reminded her of dark
chocolate.
“Like what?” she
snapped in annoyance.
He encompassed the
corridor with a sweep of his hand as they made their way down. “All
the Seelie nobles standing around and gossiping.” He glanced at her
stern expression and sobered. “Never mind. Forget I mentioned
it.”
“Insulting my home is
not a good way to start things off, Mac Braire.”
“Call me Gabriel, and
I wasn’t insulting it. I was making an observation. I want this to
be my home, too, remember? That’s why I’m here.”
“Sounded like an
insult to me,” she muttered, hightailing it away from the clumps of
Seelie nobles doing exactly what he’d just accused them of.
Although he walked faster than she did. She had to fight to keep up
with the strides of his longer legs.
“I
apologize.”
“How does the Shadow
King feel about your defection from the Black? He can’t be very
happy.”
Gabriel gave a low
laugh. “He’s not. I’m taking a huge gamble. If the Summer Queen
rejects me and I lose the protection of the Seelie Court, I may
lose my head, too.”
“You don’t seem all
that nervous about it.”
“I don’t live my life
in fear. Anyway, I’ve lived so long that I’m a thrill seeker.
Anything to break up the monotony. Anything for change,
Aislinn.”
The way he pronounced
her name sent a shiver down her spine. He rolled it on his tongue
like a French kiss, smooth and sweet as melting candy.
It made her miss a
step and deepened her annoyance.
She picked up her
pace and matched his strides once more. “Listen, I don’t know why
the queen selected me for this job, but the last thing I want to do
right now is babysit you.” Ouch. That had been harsh. She winced as
the words echoed through her head. He hadn’t done anything to her
and she wasn’t sure why she was feeling so hostile. It had to be
because of her recent breakup with Kendal. Gabriel reminded her of
him.
Every man reminded
her of him.
She still felt so raw
and vulnerable. She needed time alone to lick her wounds and heal.
The last thing she wanted was to be forced into spending time with
an obvious womanizer who could wield sex as a weapon. Literally.
Perhaps she was using this man as a scapegoat for her wounded pride
and broken heart. If so, that was wrong . . . yet she couldn’t seem
to help herself.
He halted, hand on
her elbow. “Whoa. Look, Aislinn, if you feel so strongly about it,
I’m sure I can find someone else to ‘babysit’ me.”
She winced again,
turning to face him. She was being a bitch and needed to rein it
in. Regret pinched her and she opened her mouth to
apologize.
“It’s too bad you
don’t want to spend time with me, though, since I have news of
Bella and Ronan. They’ve been anxious to get back into contact with
you.”
Danu. Bella and Ronan? So they were at the Unseelie
Court, after all. Aislinn had assumed they’d gone there, but wasn’t
sure whether or not the Shadow King had allowed them residence in
the Black Tower.
The Seelie Court was
called the Rose Tower because it was constructed of rose quartz.
The Unseelie Court was referred to as the Black Tower because—never
to be outdone—it was made from black quartz. The delivery of large
quantities of each had been allowed by human society and the
Phaendir, and magick had been employed to make it usable as a
construction material.
Gabriel walked ahead
of her, intending to leave her in the dust. Damn the man! He’d
tossed that last bit out, and then left, to punish her. He knew
she’d chase him. Clearly her first impulse to dislike the man had
been dead-on.
“Hey.” She took a
couple of running steps to catch up with him. “I’m sorry. I’ve been
unfair to you. You’re all alone and could clearly use a
friend”—although she was sure he’d end up with plenty of “friends”
here soon enough—“and someone to show you around. Let’s start
over.”
He stopped, turned
toward her, and lifted a dark brow. “Ah, so you do want to know
about Bella and Ronan.”
“No.” She shook her
head. “I mean, yes, but I didn’t say that just to have news of
them. This is about me being fair and giving you the benefit of the
doubt.”
“Benefit of the
doubt? What movie about me have you made in your head, sweet
Aislinn? And without even knowing me.”
“That you’re a
dangerous, arrogant, superficial man with piles of discarded,
heartbroken female bodies on each side of the path you
tread.”
They’d stopped in a
large open area where a huge fountain, in the shape of a swan,
flowed into a pool. There were fewer people here. For a moment all
was silent except for the sound of running water and the clicking
heels of the few passersby.
He studied her with
hard, glittering, dark blue eyes. “Your honesty is very refreshing.
I’m sorry that’s your first impression of me. Perhaps I can change
it.”
“Maybe you
can.”
“A little too honest,
that’s my first impression of you.” He narrowed his eyes. “And
perhaps a bit jaded about men at the moment.” He loosely shrugged
one shoulder. “Just a guess.”
Good guess. Time to
change the subject. “Why do you wish to change courts
anyway?”
“I’m surprised a
pure-blood Seelie Tuatha Dé would ask such a question. I thought
everyone here believed the Rose Tower superior in all ways. There
should be no question why I wish to defect from the
Black.”
Aislinn didn’t
understand the twist to his words. It was almost—but not
quite—mockery. An odd attitude to have when he seemed to want to
join those he mocked for the rest of his very long
life.
“Apparently Bella and
Ronan have gone to the Unseelie Court. It can’t be that
bad.”
Gabriel smiled.
“Well, there’s no Faemous film crew
there.” No. Apparently the film crew the Shadow King had allowed in
years ago had been eaten. “And the nobles aren’t as . . .
prissy.”
She raised her
eyebrows. “Prissy?”
He nodded. “The
Unseelie Court is darker and you have to watch your
step.”
“So I’ve heard.
Magick cast, blood spilled.”
“Sometimes. The
magick is stronger, more violent, and held in higher regard. You
know that. The laws are different there and you have to be careful.
You don’t want to make enemies of some of them.”
Fear niggled. “How
are Bella and Ronan?”
“Good. They’ve
adjusted to life in the Black. They said to tell you they’re fine,
but Bella misses you. They say to tell you they’re
happy.”
She studied him for
lies. It was what she wanted to hear, of course, and Gabriel seemed
the type to tell you what you wanted to hear. But she so wanted to believe what he’d said. She’d lost
more than one night’s sleep worrying about her friends. The memory
of watching them walk away into Piefferburg Square on Yule Eve,
forever banished from Seelie by the Summer Queen, still made her
heart ache.
Though the crime that
Ronan had committed—taking work from the Phaendir—normally would
have held the punishment of death. He’d been lucky. They both had.
The Phaendir, a guild of powerful immortal druids, were the sworn
enemy of the Sídhe—Seelie and Unseelie alike. Enemy of all the fae races.
There was good
reason.
The Phaendir, with
the full support of the humans, had created and controlled the
borders of Piefferburg with powerful warding. They called it a
“resettlement area.”
Piefferburg’s
inhabitants called it prison.
If one wanted to be
philosophical about it, the fate of the fae was poetic punishment
for the horrible fae race wars of the early 1600s that had
decimated their population and left them easy prey to their common
enemy, the Phaendir. The wars had forced the fae from the
underground, and the humans had panicked in the face of the
truth—the fae were real.
On top of the wars, a
mysterious sickness called Watt syndrome had also befallen them.
Some thought the illness had been created by the Phaendir. However
it had come about, the result was the same—it had further weakened
them.
The two events had
been a perfect storm of misfortune, leading to their downfall. When
the fae had been at their most vulnerable, the Phaendir had allied
with the humans to imprison them in an area of what had then been
the New World, founded by a human named Jules
Piefferburg.
These days the sects
of fae who’d warred in the 1600s had reached an uneasy peace. They
were united against the Phaendir because the old human saying was
true—the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Aislinn cleared her
throat against a sudden rush of emotion. Bella had been the only
one in the court who’d carried the weight of Aislinn’s secret.
Really, Bella had been more of a sister than a friend. “Come with
me. I’ll give you a tour before dinner.”
“Sounds
good.”
They walked the
length and breadth of the Rose Tower, which was enormous and
completely self-sufficient. She showed him all the floors and how
they were graduated in terms of court ranking. The higher floors,
the floors closest to the queen’s penthouse apartment, were where
the purest-blood Seelie Tuatha Dé resided. She showed him the
court-yard in the solarium where the families with children lived
so they could have yards to play in. The school. The restaurants on
premise where the nobles dined. The ballroom, the numerous
gathering areas, and the banquet halls.
Most of the residents
never really left the building for much beyond shopping or to have
a night of dining out. Some of the more adventurous slummed it at a
few of Piefferburg’s nightclubs, but the Summer Queen discouraged
the Seelie Tuatha Dé from mixing with the trooping fae—those fae
who didn’t belong to either court and weren’t wildings or water
dwelling.
While social contact
with the troop was discouraged, un-chaperoned and unapproved
contact with the Unseelie Tuatha Dé was strictly forbidden. Aislinn
suspected more of the illicit sort went on than was widely known.
After all, she suspected her own mother of it. There was no other
way to explain away certain . . . oddities . . . in Aislinn’s
magickal abilities.
She and Gabriel ended
up at her front door. A good thing, since she wanted her slippers,
a cup of hot cocoa, and her own company for the rest of the
evening.
Gabriel grabbed her
hand before she could snatch it away. “Thank you for spending time
with me today,” he murmured in Old Maejian, the words rolling soft
and smooth like good whiskey from his tongue. He bent to kiss her
hand in the old custom, his gaze fastened on hers. At the last
moment, he flipped her hand palm up and laid his lips to her wrist.
All the while his thumb stroked her palm back and
forth.
That callused rasp in
conjunction with his warm, silky lips sent shivers through her.
Made her think about his hands and lips on other parts of her body,
which made her think of his long, muscled length naked against her
between the sheets of her bed.
In a sweaty
tangle.
Limbs entwined . .
.
Bad incubus. She snatched her hand
back.
He stood for a
moment, bent over, hand and lips still in kissing position. Then he
grinned in a half-mocking, half-mischievous way, straightened, and
walked down the corridor, all sex wrapped in black and adorned with
a swagger.
She supposed the
Summer Queen thought spending time with Gabriel would be good for
her after her breakup with Kendal. A little meaningless fling to
get her back on the dating horse? But she did not do meaningless
flings.
And she was
definitely unappreciative of being saddled with a man like Gabriel
Mac Braire.
Sweet Danu, what had
the queen thrown her into?