Page 11

Cate

T he kiss ended too soon. I clutched Lach like he was an anchor. Solid. Steady. Real .

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him.

Here.

Alive.

And even though I could feel him—touch him—I found myself memorizing every feature like this might be a cruel joke and he would be ripped away from me again. The thick fringe of lashes over his eyes. How those eyes crinkled when he smiled. The joyous hooked curve of that grin.

Oh god, the joy .

A warm buoyancy lifted me onto tiptoes and closer to him, but he turned away, looking down the hallway.

“They didn’t see us.”

I blinked, my brain scrambling to catch up. “Who?”

“Oberon’s guys.”

Fear gripped me at those two words, extinguishing the illusion of safety I felt in his presence. If Oberon didn’t find us, the Hunt would. Dublin was a fae court. We might have stood a chance somewhere else.

“I didn’t want them to see us leave,” he continued like we weren’t in mortal peril. “I’d rather Oberon didn’t find out I was in his city. They’ll sense us nipping. We need to get away from them.”

But for the first time in days, it wasn’t Oberon I was worried about.

“We can’t be here.” I gripped his forearms, prepared to haul him out of fae territory by force. “If the Hunt catches you—”

“They won’t.” He cupped the sides of my face, his thumbs stroking lines over my skin.

I relaxed a little, but my hold on him didn’t loosen. “But we’re trapped.”

“But we’re together .”

Together.

There was enough magic in that single word that I forgot about the strange city outside, forgot about Oberon’s men and the Wild Hunt, forgot about being trapped.

Lach drew a ragged breath, his chest heaving slightly as his gaze searched mine. I’d imagined this moment a thousand times since I woke up in the Hallow Court, but I’d forgotten how green his eyes were—the color as rare and precious as emeralds. He was really here, standing before me.

“You’re alive,” I whispered.

He stole a quick kiss. “Let’s keep it that way.” He swept a quick glance over me and frowned. “You’re going to freeze out there.”

I stared as he shucked his jacket off and wrapped it around my shoulders, its warmth shaking me out of my stupor as I stared at the holster under his arm. He rolled his eyes and slipped it off, tucked a semiautomatic behind his back, then dropped the holster on the ground.

The pub was already half empty, only a few stragglers remaining. Lach didn’t let me go as we slipped closer to the largest group, who were making their way to the door. I pulled his coat tighter and searched the cramped space for signs of Oberon’s men. There were two near the bar, arguing with the woman who had lent me her phone.

“She looks pissed,” I muttered, turning my eyes back to Lach. And froze. “Your glamour .”

It was gone.

“Time to go,” he said grimly. He nudged me into the thick of the group. I cringed, waiting for someone to notice us, but no one seemed to, even after Lach slung an arm around one of the guys’ shoulders and strolled casually out the door.

I followed his lead, pretending to laugh with the strangers as we made our way down the block. My heart raced faster with each stolen step. The farther we got from the pub, the more frantic I felt. Lach was walking down the street with his ears out, Oberon knew by now that I had escaped, and we were in an enemy court without magic.

And I’d thought waking up in Titania’s body was stressful.

Lach untangled himself from his new friend as we rounded the street corner. Waving a quick goodbye, he took my hand and pulled me toward the other side of the street. We darted down a back alley. Tendrils of dense fog curled off the damp street and vanished like smoke, old brick walls pressing in on either side. It was too dark to see where it led, but Lach started down it.

“This screams looking for trouble,” I muttered, gripping his hand more tightly.

His feet splashed in a puddle. “Or running from it.” He drew me closer, wrapping a reassuring arm around my waist, and gazed down at me. “Ready to go home?”

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” I murmured, meaning it.

Lach inclined his head, his lips brushing over mine as he snapped his fingers. Our mouths met as the world fell away beneath my feet, my stomach plunging with it. But this time it didn’t feel like falling—it felt like flying.

My hands clutched his shirt, clinging to him like he might slip through my fingers. Light crackled around us, and I braced, wishing the journey had taken longer. I wasn’t quite ready to return to the real world.

And then something seized the back of my neck and yanked me from him.

My eyes flew open and found his wide with panic as something tore me away. We both lunged forward, even as the phantom force hauled me farther back. Lach mouthed something, the words lost in the void between worlds, as our fingers brushed.

He was slipping away.

We’d found each other, only to be torn apart again.

But he wasn’t dead. He was in reach, and I was not letting him go without a fucking fight.

Determination settled like cold steel inside me, and I threw myself forward with every ounce of strength I had. Golden strands snapped, cleaving the air like cracking whips as my body sliced forward, arm outstretched. The tips of my fingers brushed his shirt as I tumbled forward into the space between worlds, and then his hand closed over mine. We plummeted, hurtling into chaos and nothing, my fingers slipping from his grasp.

And I did the only thing I could think to do.

I snapped my fingers, only one image breaking through the buzzing terror in my brain.

Safety .

We crashed into a bookshelf, sending it, its contents, and us toppling to the floor. I shot to my knees, relief nearly choking me when Lach sat up, blinking in bewilderment at the ruined library surrounding us.

“Where are we?” But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was on his feet, wary energy radiating from him in waves. “Don’t move.”

I did as he asked. He turned in a swift circle, assessing the change in circumstances, his body still defensive as if waiting for another attack. I held my breath while the seconds ticked by, my heart hammering, until he finally stopped and looked over at me. “Where are we?” he repeated.

“A reading room at”—I forced myself to swallow—“the library on St. Charles.”

It was deserted at this hour. The lights turned off, the tables empty. A cart of books waited to be shelved nearby. This was the place my brain had automatically associated with safety. In a childhood of bouncing between foster homes, the library was the closest place I’d had to a home most of the time, and often I’d pretend that’s what it was, that I lived in the old mansion. I’d practically grown up in these stacks, in the former estate’s reading rooms, beside the unused fireplace while studying for my nursing degree.

Lach stared at me, and then he threw back his head and laughed.

“I’m glad you find this so funny.” I did not. I rubbed my chest, a lump forming in my throat. Part of me still felt that invisible hand ripping me from his arms. The rest of me was only just processing everything that had happened. It was all too much.

His laughter faded, shadows gathering in his eyes. He dropped to one knee and then the other, until we were face-to-face. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t understand how we wound up here.” I was having a hard time comprehending pretty much everything. “Why would we go where I was thinking?”

“I’m not sure.” But his head angled away. “My magic must have redirected us when you grabbed me.”

“Just as long as you can’t read my thoughts.” That would be too much, but the look on his face suggested he wished that he could. I cared less about the how, though. “What was that when we nipped? It felt like something was trying to grab us.”

He drew a deep breath, any amusement long forgotten. “It had to be the Hunt. They’re getting faster.”

“Faster?” I asked with a squeak. If they were getting faster, that meant…

“They caught up with me in New York,” he admitted, frowning as he reached behind his back. “The bastards got my gun.”

He sounded more annoyed than anything.

My mouth fell open, but only one word came out. “What?”

“They can track my magic when I nip or use a glamour. Or basically do anything. They must have figured out how to grab me mid-nip, which makes sense.” He took my hand like I might float away. It felt like I would. “You move between worlds when you nip. They were waiting for me—I should have seen it coming. I guess I’ll be driving from now on.”

None of it made sense, especially how calm he was, given that he’d barely escaped his would-be executioners, who were probably on their way to us again. I jumped up—or tried to. Lach held me fast.

I tugged against his hold, something primal taking control of me. “We need to go before they—”

“They can’t reach us here. This part of the city is warded.”

“Please start saying something that makes sense.” My head was swimming now.

“The Hunt can’t enter New Orleans, thanks to a spell Ciara cooked up. The point is that we’re safe, even if we have a long walk home from here.” He shot me a crooked smile that sent warmth pooling in my core. “Or I can call for a ride.”

Something told me he didn’t want to do that any more than I wanted him to make that call. Not when my body seemed to be waking up to the fact that he was here and alive, real and touchable and mine.

“I can’t believe you found me.” A part of me hadn’t dared to utter the words—the part that remained convinced that one wrong move would break the spell.

Slashes of moonlight streamed through the wooden blinds and illuminated the sharp lines of his face. He cupped my face gently, the pads of his thumbs stroking across my cheeks.

“I meant it when I said I would never let you go.” A rough tremor laced his voice, and the sound of it hit me squarely in the gut.

A sob racked through me, my knees suddenly going weak, and I swayed, about to crumble. But his hands remained fixed on my face, those unblinking eyes never leaving mine as though he refused to let me out of his sight. He didn’t move closer. He didn’t draw me against his body. Instead, he waited. Lach stayed rigid, the taut energy radiating from him somehow as soothing as the fingers caressing my cheeks. My own need became unbearable as he waited for my signal. It was totally and completely unnecessary.

And I loved him a little more for it.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

He groaned with relief, his eyes shuttering as he brought his mouth to mine. My palms braced his hard chest, fingers sinking to grab fistfuls of his shirt so that he couldn’t vanish. The kiss was soft and searching, despite the urgent ache that spread through me at every point of contact. I needed to feel more of him—needed to erase the memories of our separation—and I pressed into his arms. Lach’s hand moved away from my face, one tangling in my hair as the other cradled my neck with heartbreaking gentleness. He deepened the kiss until the world faded away once more. I forgot the pain behind us and the danger before us. There was only him and the promise his lips made against my own.

When he finally pulled away, I was breathless. He rested his forehead against mine, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between us.

I broke first. “I thought I lost you. He said you died .”

“I will always find my way back to you. Not even death will stop me,” he promised, brushing fingers softly along the nape of my neck. He paused. “Did he hurt you?”

A careful question.

I shook my head, sighing when his eyes narrowed. I didn’t want caution and concern. Not when we’d been through hell and back and my body ached for proof that I was alive—proof only his touch could give me. I wanted to feel him moving inside me until I believed it wasn’t a dream. I needed hands and teeth and skin and him .

“He didn’t,” I said, shifting close enough that Lach’s cedar-and-spice scent filled my nostrils and sent a pang spiraling through me. It was more than need that I was feeling. I almost didn’t understand it. “Well, I guess there might be some emotional scars from telling me the man I love was dead.”

The words left my mouth before I could haul them back. It wasn’t that I regretted saying it. I just hadn’t really thought about it. And now it was out there, and I couldn’t take it back, and if he didn’t…

My gaze dipped to my feet, but Lach reached for my chin and lifted my face to his. His smile spread, the shadows fading from his eyes. “Love?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. Your ego can’t—”

He didn’t wait for permission this time. His lips captured mine, and there was nothing fragile about this kiss. It was as much a claiming as it was a declaration. He wrapped an arm around my waist, drawing me impossibly close as his tongue traced the seam of my lips. They parted in welcome, and I moaned at his taste, at the overpowering flood of emotions that poured through me.

He drew back, keeping a firm hold on me. “I’m in love with you.”

He loved me. I’d known it, but hearing him say it… Something was cracking open and spilling out, and I knew I would never be the same.

It was the first time a man had ever said those words to me. He was the only man I ever wanted to say them. Now and for the rest of my life. I stared up at him, thoughts muddled in the depth of my feelings. Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I blinked in surprise.

“Cate?” He brushed one away, his brows knitting together in concern.

I hooked an arm around his neck, dragging him back to me. “I need you inside me. Now. ”

“So demanding, princess. Are you sure you don’t want to head back to the Avalon?”

It was at least an hour’s walk from here. Calling for a ride would get us there faster—but then his family would know we had returned, and I needed him to myself. I dropped his jacket on the ground. “ Now.”

“As you wish.” His mouth twitched as he cradled me in his arms and gently laid me on his coat. Straightening, he knelt beside me and brushed his thumb over his lower lip as he assessed the prize before him. “This is some dress. Exactly how did you escape from Oberon?”

I cringed, peeking at the red silk I’d stolen off Titania’s back. “Long story.” I crooked my index finger. “Tell you later.”

He chuckled, and I went molten. I squeezed my thighs together as the heat settled into a demanding throb. Lach gripped my ankle and lifted it to his mouth. Pressing a kiss to it, he tugged off my high heel and tossed it over his shoulder with a smirk before moving to the next one. He paused and fingered the hem of my stolen gown. “I dreamed about you.”

My mouth went dry, but I lifted a brow. “Oh?”

Leaning over me, he plucked the dress’s straps off my shoulders before his fingers continued to the plunging neckline. “I nearly lost my mind when I woke up.” He traced the curve of my breast. “I felt like I was dying without you.”

He found the side zipper and tugged it slowly down. My breasts spilled out, and I bowed off the floor, nipples peaking in the cool air. Lach seized his chance and peeled off the dress. A growl rumbled in his chest when he had me completely bare.

“You said it was a long story,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Did he…?”

The unfinished question promised violence.

“He didn’t touch me,” I whispered. “No one touched me.”

But something tortured lingered in his gaze as it skimmed over my flesh, the intensity pinning me in place. His teeth sank into his lower lip, and I found myself squirming.

“ Please.”

He grinned, the light in that smile chasing away those shadows. “Somebody finally found her manners.”

“Never mind.” I glared at him, my annoyance faltering as he swiftly unfastened his buttons. Glimpsing the smooth, muscled chest beneath, I whimpered. “Forget please. Get your damn clothes off.”

But Lach didn’t laugh. He snarled—and pounced. I arched to meet him, my hands sliding to slip his shirt off. His scent bloomed in my nostrils, and my chest tightened.

The rest of his clothes followed with equal urgency. Strong arms bracketed my body, and I clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as our mouths crushed together. I needed him, needed his skin on every square inch of my own, needed there to be no separation between us. There would be time to linger later.

I bucked closer, rewarded with a brush of his cock. Shifting, I rolled my hips, trying to urge him inside. Lach broke the kiss, drawing back just far enough to meet my eyes as he reached between us and guided his tip to my entrance. My breath hitched as he pushed in a fraction. He paused until I gasped, nodding for him to continue. He slid in, inch by inch, giving me time to adjust as he stretched and then filled me entirely. His piercing gaze held mine, boring through me as if claiming not only my body but my soul.

Darkness curled around him, unfurling like smoke as his magic spread from his body and coasted over me. I craned myself toward it until the shadows brushed my skin, blazing paths of fire where they touched.

“Holy…” My eyes rolled back as his magic ignited every nerve ending into an inferno.

Lach reached over and gripped my chin. “Look at me, princess.” The words strained out of him, and I wondered what he was holding back. “I need to see you.”

I couldn’t refuse, even as the wisps swept long, sensuous strokes up my arms and over my collarbone before continuing to my breasts. His magic circled my nipples, drawing them into tight buds before playfully tweaking them. A sob of pleasure choked out of me as the shadows inflicted their sensual torture, continuing until my body sang with need and my entire being centered on where we were joined.

Lach pulled out a few inches until I protested with a slight squeak of disapproval. A smile ghosted his lips, and he slammed deep before retreating again. In and out, the punishing rhythm taking me closer and closer to the edge. The shadows moved with each thrust, their touch shifting from gentle to demanding. He held nothing back, his entire body claiming me. His magic licked at my body, demanding my submission, and I gave in to its pull.

“Lach!” I cried out his name, and he answered by slamming into me harder and faster. The room spun, and I clung to him. He was both the tempest and my shelter in the storm. The world splintered, emotions tearing through me as I went over the edge, Lach following with a strangled shout. He spilled inside me, his mouth finding mine as the world reknit, weaving bits of his soul into mine.

Collapsing, Lach reached over and tucked me against his chest. I counted his breaths as it rose and fell, treasuring the beats of his heart. We laid there, limbs still tangled, stealing small touches until his breath grew even and his eyes closed.

I pushed onto my elbow and stared at him. “You do have sexy magic.”

“Are you lodging a complaint? Because if you don’t want me to—”

“No!” I cut him off. “Trust me, I’m a fan. But you acted like I was imagining things.” How many times had I been convinced he was using his magic to stoke desire in me, and he had acted like—

“You were.” His mouth pressed into a bemused line. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. “I never used it on you before.”

“Liar.” But I swallowed.

He chuckled, stroking a hand down the length of my spine. “That just now? That was only a taste. A sneak preview of the things I could do…” He paused, peeking at me with heavy eyelids. “Before…I didn’t want to scare you.”

I swallowed, discovering a lump in my throat. I couldn’t pinpoint what had changed between us. Maybe it was saying I love you. But it felt deeper than that, and something told me that sharing that magic meant more than he was letting on. I cleared my throat. “How does one perfect their sexy magic, exactly?”

“Perfect? Are you calling me an expert?”

“I wouldn’t dare risk inflating your ego any further by saying something like that,” I retorted dryly. “I asked out of scientific curiosity.”

But his grin widened. “So, do you want to hear about all the women I’ve used sexy magic on? For your research? Maybe you should take notes. I bet there’s a pen and paper around here somewhere.”

A soft snarl slipped from me, and I sat up, startled. Lach laughed, hooking an arm around me and dragging me back into his arms. He kissed the top of my head. “I’ve never used my sexy magic with anyone,” he murmured. I blinked in surprise but remained silent. “I don’t summon my shadows often.”

“Why?”

“Because usually there’s a cost—not just to me but to my court,” he said in a soft voice. I held my breath, afraid I wouldn’t hear him. “It’s hard to explain. My magic—our magic—isn’t what it was.”

Just like the magic at the Hallow Court.

“Am I worth paying the price?” It was an honest question. I’d seen what happened to magic that had been broken.

“Always, and it’s different with you…now…” He fumbled the words like he didn’t know how to explain it.

The whole matter promised a heavy conversation, one I wasn’t sure I was ready to have. Not yet. Facing the truth was inevitable, but I wanted to steal a few more minutes. I let my eyes drift along his muscled torso, watching all but one of his tattoos shift and swirl as they trailed downward—as if he was thinking exactly what I was.

“Where are those headed?” My finger traced the one that remained on his chest.

Lach hooked an arm around me and dragged me under him.

“Why don’t we find out?” The promise dripping in his voice made my thighs clench.

He started a slow descent, dropping kisses down my neck and over my collarbone. I arched to meet his tongue as it circled my nipple. But as my hand wrapped around the back of his neck, it brushed a raised scar. I pushed up, earning a grunt of annoyance from him, as I inspected the mark there.

“Is that…” I trailed away, already knowing what the winged skull meant. It wasn’t like his other tattoos, smooth and changing. Its ink was burned like a brand into his flesh—a permanent symbol of the crime he’d committed when he saved my life.

“Like it?” he asked, shifting to his knees and taking me in his arms. “It’s one of my top three.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what the other two are,” I whispered. Seeing the mark that labeled him a dead man brought reality rushing back like a hangover. Despite my desire to ignore it, I knew we couldn’t, not when we’d only narrowly avoided the Wild Hunt. I needed answers. A lot of them. And there were things I needed to tell him, starting with what had happened at the Hallow Court.

“We should talk about the Wild Hunt…and Oberon.” My stomach lurched as I said his name.

“Mood officially killed,” Lach grumbled, but he didn’t let me go. “It can wait.”

As if he didn’t want to hear what had happened any more than I wanted to revisit it. Especially when I considered how Lach would react to what the prince of the Hallow Court had done. The witches may have saved me, but they hadn’t stopped him from magically binding me.

Maybe there was no witch wedding. The goddess definitely hadn’t blessed shit. But Oberon had used fae magic before the ritual when he handfasted me, just like Bain and Ciara had done. I lifted my hand, inspecting it for signs of the mark. I had no doubt I had cause to break the handfasting. What I didn’t know was exactly how to officially do it, and when Lach found out…

Plus then there was the matter of my ring. I still didn’t want to believe Oberon’s claims. But Lach had begged me not to take it off, which meant he knew something about it. But what? How was I going to wait to ask about that?

“You’re thinking,” he accused.

I watched as several of his tattoos appeared, scrawling themselves down his neck and over his shoulder. “So are you.” I sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’ll start. Confession or question?”

“Confession?” he repeated with immediate concern. “I think we should start there.”

“Are you sure?” I asked weakly.

“I am now.” He untangled his limbs from mine and sat up.

He loved me, and even though I was new to this, something told me that wouldn’t change—even after he learned the truth. I closed my eyes and blurted it out before I lost my nerve. “Oberon handfasted me.”

I waited for the explosion—bracing for him to nip to the Hallow Court and add another death mark for the Wild Hunt to collect.

“No, he didn’t.”

Maybe it was the utter calm in his voice or perhaps it was my surprise, but I found myself scrambling to sit up, too. I tucked my legs under me and stared at him. “He did. We’re handfasted or married or whatever. That’s all, though. He never laid a finger on me,” I added quickly when Lach’s face darkened. I didn’t want to consider what might have happened if the witches hadn’t secretly conspired against him—if the wedding had been real. “Obviously, it means nothing to me.”

But he shook his head. “You aren’t married. You can’t be.”

So, he was in denial, which might be a good thing. At least it would delay the inevitable violence. “Look, it happened. He handfasted me and said we were married. I was there and—”

“You can ’ t be married to him.” He cut me off but stopped short, his forehead creasing. Every tattoo on his body, save for the four symbols inked over his heart, fled and swirled.

Suspicion seeped through me. “What do you mean by that?”

He considered for a moment. “I need you to hear me out before you freak.”

“Freak?” My voice pitched on the word. “What’s going on, Gage?”

He winced slightly at the use of his surname. “You can’t be married to him, because…”

I waited for him to finish that sentence, my heart straining against the cage of my ribs.

Because he didn’t want me to be? Because it meant even more trouble? Because I belonged to him?

“Finish that thought,” I said through gritted teeth.

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, a new tattoo appeared, snaking in ribbons around his left hand and wrist. I’d never seen it before. “You can’t be married to him because you’re already married to me.”

I rocketed to my feet so quickly that I nearly tripped over the books still lying on the ground. I fought to stay upright as I processed what he was saying. “We are not married!”

“Shortest honeymoon ever,” he muttered.

Understatement of the year.