Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) (14 page)

“Leave?” He leaned in close, his tusks nearly grazing her cheeks. “You are never leaving! It’s too dangerous for someone as soft and delicious as you. You’ll never make it without me.” He paced away, as if his rage wouldn’t let him hold still. “And I am never letting you go!”

“Kian, no!” She scrambled to get off the bed, but he leaned in, too close, again. She pressed back against the headboard, away from the smell of goblin blood and rage.

“Count yourself lucky you didn’t find the door,” he hissed. “There are worse things outside than the goblins. The White Queen, trolls, creatures that you’ve never dreamt existed.”

He picked up her broken door and backed out of the room, wedging it in its casing.

Bryanna huddled on the bed. The man who had brought her to ecstasy the night before was again her jailer. And now he’d declared she was never leaving.

The ghostly traces of Bryanna
’
s sobs trailed after Kian, echoing in his ears as he fled the scene of her imprisonment. Pale figures of hobgoblins scurried down the hall in his wake as he strode faster and faster, trying to outrun his anger, outrun his fears. He turned a corner, balled his paw into a fist, and punched the door to an empty chamber, over and over, until its splintered remains lay askew and his flesh was bruised and throbbing.

“Damn her!”

How could he want to fuck her and kill her at the same time?

Misery overwhelmed him, and he sank down to his haunches and buried his head in his arms. Last night he’d had it all. A sexy, charming bed partner. His own body. Hope. Now he had nothing and Bryanna had only fear in her eyes when she’d flinched away from him and this monstrous shape.

She’d been trying to leave.

He huddled in the cold long enough that the hobgoblins crept back, clustering a few feet away as if in comfort.

“Your Highness?” Beezel’s bare, bubbled toes paused in front of him.

Kian sighed. “What?”

Beezel fitted a torch into a wall sconce. “I’ve sealed off that corridor of goblins again. We shouldn’t have any more trouble from that area. If you like, we could still go and kill them off.”

“No. They may not be much, but they’ll muster a defense of the warren if it ever comes to it.”

If it comes to it.

“Yes, Sire.” Beezel bowed and left, fading into the dark beyond the torch’s flickering light.

Kian squatted in the shadows of what he had finally come to realize might be his home forever.

He’d fantasized for so long of finally leaving here, gathering his forces, and confronting his mother, that it had felt like reality when he’d had his own body last night. Good and right. Something inevitable that nothing could take away. He’d wasted his few hours in his own skin enjoying Bryanna and the strange elation that coursed through him while touching her, talking to her, dreaming of her.

Now he was paying for his pleasures.

The opening he’d felt deep inside his chest, that made him want to cling to her, no matter what, was obviously not real. She’d abandoned him without a word. And who could blame her?

He choked back the wail of despair working its way up from the pressure and ache in the center of his chest. He was back to being cursed and if the spell they’d worked together couldn’t destroy it, what could? They’d sealed it with his own blood, and sex. Would nothing break his mother’s power?

His follower’s scattered or killed, his own Gift used against him, and now a loss so keen he didn’t know if he could recover.

But he had no choice.

If any of his followers remained alive, he owed it to them to continue. None were safe until the queen had been removed from power. Nothing would stand between the queen’s worsening insanity and their people. He’d seen that quite clearly when he’d paid the price of rebellion.

He couldn’t stop. Even if he wanted to. He had to try again to become a man. And he needed Bryanna to help him because this was the closest he’d gotten to success in fifteen years of failures. He wasn’t going to let her give up. All he needed was for her to try one last time.

One last time.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Bryanna paced the perimeter of the dining room for the tenth time, waiting, as the candles dripped low and dinner grew cold. She paused at the fireplace, and traced the now familiar cracks in the rose-veined marble. She glowered across the room at the door, waiting for Kian to show.

He was brave enough to face goblins, but not brave enough to face her? Coward.

Beezel had set the table for two and left to fetch his master. He hadn’t come back.

Even if Kian was a beast, she was determined to eat a last meal with him. He’d saved her from the goblins. It was the least she could do, and it might lull his suspicions. After all, he would be pissed at her when he found out she was gone. And she would be gone. She couldn’t stay here any longer, she had to escape.

Meandering back to the table, she stared into a candle’s flickering light. He’d scared her today. Last night, he’d been someone different, someone she wanted to get to know. But today, the angry aggressive animal who’d growled and clawed and fought off the goblins was frightening. He’d made it clear he didn’t care about her family, didn’t care about her feelings or needs.

The flame blurred. Since she was such a failure of a witch, she’d never cure his curse. She’d be stuck here forever if she didn’t escape soon.

She gripped the back of a chair and willed her tears away. As a man, Kian had been different, his laughter a thing of golden light, lifting her up and spreading through her in a way she’d never thought a man’s laughter could. He’d shared a piece of himself. But now she suspected it was all a ruse. He was a monster, only interested in her Gift. Willing to resort to violence to keep her here. Willing to break his word.

A memory rose up, Kian kissing her, stroking her, leaning over her. His gleaming, violet eyes capturing hers, willing her to greater pleasure, up and up until she came, clutching at his shoulders, her nails digging in as she cried out.

She swallowed, and closed her eyes. Somewhere, underneath the self-centered beast, he might be someone worth caring for. More than an animal, more than an elf, more than the enemy of the queen. Before she left, she owed it to herself to see if the man she’d caught a glimpse of last night was buried under the fur and teeth and claws of Kian’s beast.

At least then she’d know what she was leaving behind.

“Miss?”

Bryanna startled. Beezel stood next to her, too close, staring at her. Two weeks and she still wasn’t used to the way you could nearly see through his eyes. She rubbed the rising hairs on her bare arms and stepped away, putting a more comfortable space between herself and the gnome. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid his highness won’t be joining you.” He walked to where she’d sat for the last two weeks, far from the other place setting that waited for Kian. “Would you like to be seated and eat?” He pulled out the chair and waited for her to sit.

She stared at the food laid out on the table. It smelled delicious. She wasn’t hungry, but she’d need her strength if she was to have any opportunity of escape.

“Yes, fine. Whatever.” She walked to where her place had been laid out. “Beezel?”

“Yes miss?”

“If the locked door at the other end of the warren is filled with goblins, how do you get all of this?” She waved at the food.

“The queen granted us some magic, miss. And I sometimes bring back supplies from court.”

A fist squeezed her heart tight. She stared at him and gasped for breath. “You’re not trapped here?” she wheezed. Kian had misled her.

“Don’t make that mistake, miss. I’m more trapped here than His Highness.”

She’d been so busy, focused on the spell, that she hadn’t bothered to find out any information about the gnome. Because she’d been sure she was leaving. “But you go in and out,” she said. “There must be a way for me to leave.”

He shrank into himself. “You can’t go that way. It’s a keyed portal. It only takes me to the Black Court.” His skin went a sickly green. “You don’t want to go there. They would kill you. Or worse.”

“But there must be another way out of here, one that doesn’t go through goblins or to the queen’s court.”

His eyes shifted away from hers. “His Highness will beat me if I speak of that to you.”

“Beezel, please! I’ve tried to cure him, but it didn’t work. Now he refuses to let me leave, and my mother and sister could be in trouble. What if they landed outside with the goblins, or all those other things Kian warned me about? I need to find a way to get out of here.” She could barely hold still. She’d waited too long, thinking she’d have Kian’s help if she did. Thinking she needed it. But what if her waiting had been a mistake?

Beezel’s hand traveled into his pocket. He hesitated, his glance darting to the door and back. Slowly he withdrew his hand, wrapped so tight around something that his knuckles stood out under his thin skin. “I can’t help you miss, but this might.” He spread his four-fingered hand wide. In the center of his palm gleamed a golden locket, on a linked chain.

Bryanna leaned in, trying to see the odd, foreign words and Celtic knot work engraved into the polished face.

“It leads to your heart’s desire,” Beezel said.

But she hardly heard him. She strained to hear something else. Nearly too low, just above the range of her hearing—a tune. Lilting and lively, it called to her, the lustrous gold singing of new beginnings, true loves, and old treasure.

She wanted it. It sang to her that if she held it, it would help her find whomever she liked. Have everything she’d ever need. Be everything she wanted to be. She leaned closer, and closer in, her hand stretching out and reaching for the prize.

Just before she touched it, Beezel’s fingers closed, and he snatched it away.

Anger flashed through her. She could still hear the tiny song, muffled now under the gnome’s hand, and it called her. “Beezel! That’s mine.”

“Beezel?” Her voice was breathless, urgent, wheedling. Her stretched out hand hovered just beyond Beezel’s clenched fist. “It’s exactly what I need. You’re so smart and generous to think of me. To give it to me.” The last five words came out hard, harder than the marble on the fireplace, harder than honed steel.

“I’m not sure,” he said, backing away. A bead of sweat formed on his brow. “He’ll kill me if he ever finds out.”

“He’ll never know,” she said, advancing one careful step at a time. Trying to look soft and innocent she modulated her voice into a soothing, sweet tone. “Please? I need it.”

She backed him into a corner and eased her hand toward him, one tiny movement at a time. All the while, the heart-song called from behind the prison of his fingers, telling her she and the locket belonged together.

“Beezel,” she said to the poor thing cowering against the wall. She didn’t care. The locket was hers. “You know this is inevitable.”

He shook, each reluctant digit tightly bound to the next in a protective fist. She couldn’t figure out why he fought this so hard. He’d been the one to show her the locket in the first place. But then his hand blossomed open. One at a time his fingers sprang free. And she didn’t care anymore.

The locket lay exposed and gleaming, waiting for her in the center of his palm.

She looped her own trembling fingers in the chain and held it high. It dangled, glistening and spinning in the air between them. A surge of satisfaction ran from her toes and prickled her scalp. Absently, she walked to the table and held the locket closer to the candlelight, twirling it back and forth, and listening to its song dwindle.

She shook her head, trying to catch the sound. But it was gone.

The room came back into focus. The bright candles. Beezel wiping his hand on his chest, stepping away from the wall. He muttered, “I’m sorry.” And smeared his hand again on his tunic, mussing the usually neat fabric.

She furrowed her brow. “Beezel, is there anything else I should know?”

He ducked his head. “If His Highness finds it, he will take if from you.”

“Thank you,” Bryanna said and stuffed the locket down into the cleavage of her dress where it warmed the skin between her breasts. Kian would not be finding it there, not tonight. She wouldn’t let him have it. It was hers, the answer to her prayers.

Beezel again pulled out the chair and waited for her to take her place. She sat down at the table and settled her gown, the memory of the locket’s song still singing in her head.

“How does it work?” she asked.

“When you’re ready, open the locket and think of what you desire. A picture will form inside that will lead you to what you want.”

The last time she’d used fae magic, she’d ended up here. She sighed and decided maybe tonight she’d have a glass of wine. She’d been avoiding it, afraid to let down her guard in this strange place, but the worst had happened and Goddess knew she had enough worries to drink herself into oblivion. She picked up the sparkling crystal decanter, and poured.