Heir of the Dog Black Dog (18 page)

I stole a moment to ensure my voice wouldn’t quaver. “That means he’s either in his den and he doesn’t care whether I live or die, which wouldn’t surprise me, or he’s so far away he might as well not care because the odds of him reaching me before the hounds do...” I banged my skull against the wall. “Either way it’s a no-win situation. Why bother? Why risk our necks when it doesn’t matter?”

“It’s the only chance you’ve got.” He tapped my knee. “We don’t have anything better to do.”

“Nothing at all.” I scuffed my shoe on the dirt wall. “Just try not to die. Horribly.”

He slid his hand forward until he cupped my thigh. “You’ve been so brave.”

“Necessity isn’t bravery.” If anything, all the running showed prudent cowardice.

“You could have refused to accept your father’s role, his fate. You didn’t.” His other hand caressed the opposite thigh. “Knowing the endgame, you could have surrendered. You haven’t. You’re fighting. I admire that.”

The higher his hands crept, the more possessive his grip became and the more certain I was that I ought to shut him down hard. Fast. Before this sexy fae led me astray and my family history repeated.

Instead of doing the smart thing, I found myself leaning forward while he did the same.

“Fighting to survive is instinct.” The harder life came at you, the harder you had to punch it in the face.

“Why can’t you accept a compliment?” He hauled my hips closer to his, and the motion rocked me back against the wall. “You even fight those.”

“I’m not used to hearing them, except for the backhanded kind. They’re hard to trust.” Breathing became difficult when he bent over me, his face, his lips, so close to mine. “They’re words. Easy to say even when you don’t mean them.”

He crowded my space until I had to flatten against the dirt wall if I wanted to escape him. The problem being I wasn’t sure I did. In fact, I found myself reaching for him, drawn into him.

I ran the long strands of his hair through my fingers. “What are we doing?”

He covered my hand with his. “I’m hoping you will kiss me.”

“You’re a fan of short-term commitments, huh?” I teased. “Just like a guy.”

“Thierry,” he chastised me.

His breath fanned my cheeks. His lips parted. I almost tasted him.

“Wait.” I pressed a finger to his mouth. “This won’t count as consummating our marriage, will it?”

Rook’s dark chuckle made me shiver. “If a kiss is your idea of consummation...”

“Ha. Try to turn it around on me.” I slid my hand across his cheek, his skin warm silk under my fingers. “I seem to recall being tricked into a marriage I still, quite frankly, question the validity of. I just want to make sure that if I actually let you kiss me, that it’s not some kind of binding spit-swapping contract I can’t break later.”

If I had a later.

“I warned you.” His skin flushed. “Trust I will keep you safe. As to the rest...”

“I can’t help trusting you a teeny-tiny bit when you keep saving me. I know I shouldn’t. You’re working an angle. If I only knew—”

His mouth lowered to mine, silencing my doubts, filling my head with his smoky taste.

He gripped the leather straps on my shoulders and brought me flush against him. Roots tangled in my hair and dust sprinkled onto my lashes. His tongue slipped between my lips, and I sighed against him.

Rook was attempting to drag me under him, without much resistance, when a small throat cleared.

“Forgive the intrusion. The hounds. They breached the easternmost tunnel. Our little ones room not far from there. We evacuated the babes in time,” he added hastily, “but you both must go. Please.”

“Of course.” I disentangled the best I could from Rook. “Which way out is safest?”

“We must return to Autumn.” Rook hummed. “Is the western tunnel clear?”

“As far as I know.” The púca’s whiskers twitched. “We’ll send a scout to see you on your way.”

“That is very kind of you.” Rook eased his hand under my ass and dragged out a rumpled rabbit skin. “If you could give us privacy while we shift? Once we’re ready, we’ll join you at the junction.”

After a slight hesitation, the púca bobbed its head. “That’s fair, but be quick.”

Once our host left, Rook offered me the skin. “Do you think you can manage a while longer?”

“I think so.” I dusted the soft fur. “I got a nap before you arrived, and I’ve eaten. All in all, I feel better now than I have since we left Mom’s house. Did you come all the way down here in rook form?”

He nodded. “The rook in me hates being unable to see sky.” His gaze rolled over our surroundings and a shudder rippled through him. “Try to keep up.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” Had everyone noticed my lack of hopping skills?

“We can race if you like.” His eyes twinkled. “To the victor go the spoils.”

A trap if I ever heard one. “How exactly does the victor think he’s getting spoiled?”

Rook bent over me. “I will allow you to make payments toward my winnings.”

I pulled him down to me and nipped his bottom lip. “How gracious of you.”

“One kiss now...” His mouth brushed mine. “After I win, you owe me ninety-nine more.”

“It’s a deal.” I stuck out my hand, and he shook it. “Now, give me some room.”

He retreated to his corner where he slid into his other form like a letter into an envelope. The bird that was Rook cawed.

“I’m going as fast as I can.” I pushed myself upright and placed the skin on my head, tugging the twin holes over my eyes and peering through the slashes.

Calm. I had to get calm. Ignore Rook. Forget Mom. Shaw—don’t even go there. All those things got shoved into the farthest corner of my mind.

Skin tightening, I felt when the pelt latched on to me. Remembered sensations swamped me. Grass tickling the sensitive pads of my feet. The crisp bite of fresh vegetation. Warm sun on soft fur. Scattered impressions rose to the surface of my mind and tugged me under their spell. Magic quivered over my flesh, folding my essence onto itself, stacking me neatly inside the pelt.

With a nod to me, the Rook hopped from our room through the short tunnel into a four-way intersection.

It took me longer to acclimate, but I managed. Both the rook and the púca appeared surprised to see me so soon, which grated. Lucky for them, the worst I could manage was wriggling my cute button nose at them.

If birds could smirk, that damn bird was shooting one right at me.

“We’re ready.” I used magic to carry my voice and prove my superiority over Mute McSmirkypants. “Let’s go.”

The púca darted down a tunnel before the words were out of my mouth—mind? I couldn’t blame him. We had endangered his home and family. I just hoped by leaving that Rook and I hadn’t jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“This is as far as I go.” The púca worried his front paws together. “Once you have left, I will tell the hunt you’re no longer our guests. The rules of hospitality apply. I won’t tell them where you’ve gone.” He bowed before me. “Your sacrifice will be remembered. You are
dlúthchara
to me and mine.”

I ran the Irish Gaelic word through my memory and came up with
close friend
.

“You do me an honor.” I returned the gesture. “We part as friends.”

Contorting his lithe body, the púca vanished into the safety of the burrow.

Rook hopped toward the tunnel’s opening, dug his talons into the soft dirt and leapt for the sky. Decaying leaves, wood smoke and cloves hit my nose. We were back in Autumn. The rabbit skin dampened the rest. Until I reached the outside or I shed this form, I was stuck receiving sensory information through a filter, which sucked. This was a lesson in putting my other senses to work. I was too dependent on my nose.

After a while, the rook popped its head back into the hole and then flapped its wings. Message received. I exited the burrow, cautious of those first steps into sunlight.

Magic brushed against my shoulder, and Rook stood beside me. After some false starts, I got the rabbit skin removed and shifted back to good old two-legged me. That first lungful of fresh air made me giddy, and stretching felt divine. Pops shuddered down my spine as I reached my arms over my head.

“We can’t risk being out in the open.” He sounded sorry to interrupt.

“I know.” I scooped the pelt off the ground, dusting it before I rolled it up and shoved it into a pouch in the armor covering my thigh. “Ready.”

He set off down a narrow trail marked by clumps of iridescent mushrooms reflecting the sunlight, and I followed a few steps behind. The path smelled familiar, but I sniffed, certain we had never gone this way.

My slower pace gave me a prime view of his backside, not that I was complaining, but it raised some questions I ought to ask. Like why the fabric of his cloak and armor were torn but his skin was smooth underneath. Did he heal fast like me? Was it a byproduct of shifting? Was that how his broken arm reset?

Even better—where did our clothes go when we changed shape? Did they always return the same way? If I scuffed my shoes, shifted, then shifted back, would the shoes still be scuffed? I pulled a weary hand down my face. The answer was an obvious
yes
because Rook’s leather armor resembled a rawhide chew toy, allowing me glimpses of flexing muscle in his back as he walked.

Pale skin I shouldn’t be admiring.

That kiss... It changed things, and I wasn’t sure what came next. Out here, I wasn’t safe and warm or fed and comfortable. Out here, I was exposed and afraid. That kiss, no matter how nice it had been, wasn’t as important as exploring my slim survival options.

“According to the information I gleaned in court, Black Dog’s den isn’t too far from here.”

My gaze lifted to peg the back of his head. “You mean you’ve never been?”

“He doesn’t welcome visitors.” He glanced back. “He avoids favoring either side by befriending neither. Or so the rumors say.” He kept moving. “It’s said loneliness is what drove him to the mortal realm, where he could take a lover who wouldn’t compromise his honor, and there he met your mother.”

A sliver of apprehension worked its way under my skin. Black Dog was legendary. He was also critical to maintaining balance in Faerie, so his exploits would make for juicy gossip at court. People—especially fae—loved hearing their peers were as flawed as they were. It validated their choices and made them feel better about all the naughty things they did and hoped remained a secret.

But Rook was so well versed, it brought all my doubts bubbling to the surface. Not that it did me any good. He was my lifeline, even if I wasn’t sure where he was anchored.

I finger combed my hair and freshened my braid. “How long do you think before the púcas break the news?”

“Not long.” Tension hung around his shoulders. “It’s not much farther now.”

Resolved to see this through, I let him guide me while I noted landmarks in case I needed to find my way back out alone. My nose also made critical notations. The air went from crisp and clear to smelling of pungent markers that reeked of warning. Urine. Buckets of it. Some of it old, but most of it fresh.

Nice, Dad. Real nice.

Sneezing, I wiped my tickling nose. “What types of predators are in the area?”

He laughed. Out loud. At me.

“Dumb question,” I allowed. “I smell two distinct scent markers. One is fresher than the other.”

Rook stopped and scanned the area. “Your father?”

“I don’t think so.” I rubbed my nose. “It almost reminds me of...”

“Get down,” he snapped.

My hand shot to my glove, lips moving on my Word. Rook sank his shoulder into my gut, tackling me to the ground as a fluorescent-yellow blur bolted past.

While I lay panting underneath him, an earsplitting roar had me yanking my hand free of my glove and powering up my runes. Rook’s eyes narrowed beyond me. I tilted my head back and, in the upside-down world, spotted a fluorescent-yellow panther-like thing. Its color hurt my sensitive eyes, but not as much as its saber teeth would if I let it get hold of me. I bucked my hips to unseat Rook, but I was stuck until he let me go.

His immunity to my primary defense mechanism was a pain in my ass.

“You dare enter these woods,” a rumbling voice challenged.

It was easier to ask Rook, so I did. “Tell me the cat isn’t talking.”

“Hush, Thierry.” He lifted his hands. “We mean you no harm. We only seek the Black Dog.”

“Ha.” The great cat chuckled. “You are a bird. Food. What can food do to me?”

“I am the Morrigan’s son,” he said with an edge.

“I know who you are, bastard son of Gregory the Smith.” The cat spat, “You will leave. Now.”

Rook’s face mottled. “Don’t speak my father’s name. You don’t have that right.”

A vicious snarl lifted the cat’s lip. “You dare enter these woods with that child and speak of rights?”

Deciding the cat wasn’t going to pounce just yet, I tilted my head back again. “I’m not a child.”

“I have known you since before your feet touched mortal soil. You are a babe to one such as me. You are welcome on your father’s land, in his home, always, Thierry Thackeray.” His grin bared too many teeth to be what I considered friendly. “You may stay, but the Morrigan’s hatchling must go.”

“Rook is my guardian.” I kept calm while my insides quivered. “He is my
coimirceoir
.”

The big cat hissed at Rook. “Who granted you that privilege?”

“The Huntsman.” A cruel twist of his lips turned my stomach. “She is my wife by common fae law.”

That thick tail started twitching. “What do you say to that, girl?”

I bit my cheek before answering. “The Faerie High Court recognized his claim.”

Closing its dark green eyes, the cat sighed. “Child, how you try me.”

I shoved Rook off me and rolled over to face the cat. “Sorry?”

Its toes began drumming its claws into the ground. “Did you not hear my warnings?”

“You sent the pixie?” I shoved into a kneeling position. “That was you in the shower?”

The great cat shuddered nose to tail. “So much water...”

“I’m not flexible enough for the alternative,” I said dryly. “My tongue’s on the short side too.”