Storm's Heart (26 page)

He had not spoken. Instead he kissed her. Then he eased her out of his T-shirt and caressed her breasts. He had taken his time as he bent his head farther down to lick and nibble at her most sensitive areas, her throat, the inside of her elbows, tonguing her navel ring as he learned what pleased her. Then he suckled her, tugging and nipping with erotic care at her nipples as he scraped the edge of his fingernails lightly along her skin until desire for him rose to that keen sharp, sweet ache that made her feel crazed, outside of herself, but he would not enter her no matter how she begged.

“You are too sore,” he said. “I would hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” she gasped, as she twisted under his clever mouth and hands.

“I do.” He moved down her body and eased her legs apart. He settled on his stomach and stroked her swollen tender flesh, first with his fingers then with his tongue, and the sight of his wide shoulders and dark head between her legs as he worked at his intimate task jettisoned her into climax. Then he looked up the length of her bare torso with a steady intent expression and said, “Again.”

She was too tired to handle this intense feeling of ecstasy. Her hands trembled as she stroked his head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he said. He spread the folds of her labia open and put his mouth to her clitoris.

And she did, sharp starbursts of pleasure flaring again and again, until at the last she sobbed, overwrought and wrung out, and he crawled up her body quickly to pull her limp body into his arms. She said,
But I haven’t—you haven’t—

Listen to her. She could not even control her telepathy.

“I have taken exactly what I wanted,” he whispered in her ear. “I will have every part of you, until I live with you underneath your skin.”

If that was his goal, he had achieved it. She sat quietly with her seat belt on, her legs crossed at the knees, her hands folded together in her lap. After they had finally showered, around noon, she had dressed for the day in a simple black Givenchy dress, modest peep-toed pumps, and a pearl necklace and earrings. The makeup she wore was minimal, her hair blow-dried and fluffed with her fingers. The soft, expensive material of her outfit was gentle against the marks left on her skin by their lovemaking.

She gazed at the world with a patience that stemmed from utter physical exhaustion, while she was filled to the brim with a private pool of remembered eroticism. She looked at him with a deeper knowledge.

There, his short black hair gleamed in the sunlight. She knew what it felt like as it slipped through her fingers. There, his elegant mouth. She knew how wise those lips of his were as they traveled along the peaks and valleys of her body. There, the movement of his long, strong fingers. She knew just how those fingers felt as they curled around her ankles, how they felt moving inside of her, where the calluses were on his hands and the way they rasped along her skin. There, his restless, intelligent eyes. She knew the steady promise in them as he took her and took her, until there was nothing left of her to be had for he had taken it all. Yes, he lived with her now, underneath her skin.

Rune pulled the SUV up to the black iron gates. There was a guard booth next to them. A young Dark Fae woman in a plain black uniform approached the driver’s side to greet Rune. Her fascinated gaze darted once to Niniane in the backseat, but other than that she comported herself with discretion. Niniane smiled at her, and after a hesitation, the guard smiled back. After confirming their identity, the guard moved back to the booth.

Nobody spoke as the gates opened. Rune drove through and braked just on the other side. Niniane turned to watch as the gates shut behind them. She looked through the bars at the bright Chicago street. It was populated with the usual band of frenzied paparazzi and news reporters who worked to capture the event as she left official U.S. territory.

She would not see the outside of those bars again until she was Queen.

Tiago put his hand over hers in her lap. His huge palm enclosed both of hers. He squeezed her hands until she looked at him.

He was staring at her with that steady, adamant bedrock gaze. I will do this, that gaze said. I will not leave you. I will take you and make you so completely mine, you will never know your life alone again. She relaxed and gave him a slight nod, and he rubbed the back of her hand with a thumb.

Rune accelerated the SUV up a wide paved drive that was bordered by manicured shrubbery, flowers and trees. Everything within sight was rigidly controlled, trimmed and shaped to within an inch of its life, Urien’s very own Versailles. A sense of nearby land magic tingled against her senses, and she knew what she felt was the nearby crossover point to Adriyel.

I meant to ask if there was any news on the investigation
, she asked Tiago.

You will not trouble yourself with that
, Tiago said.
You have more than enough to deal with right now. We’re handling it.

She sighed. Despite their unprecedented intimacy, Tiago had never acted as her bodyguard before this week, and they had a lot to learn about each other.
Ordering me not to trouble myself isn’t helping. I need to hear details.

There was a pause. Then he said,
The investigation has moved forward a few steps
.
Rune and I went to the morgue and inspected the bodies of the three Wyr. We had a run-in with Arethusa that turned unexpectedly positive, although we’re keeping that under wraps for now. Why don’t I give you a complete update later when we have time to relax?

She gave him a quick smile.
That would be good, thank you.

The SUV went around a bend in the drive, and the Georgian-style mansion came into view. It was an imposing structure, but she had expected nothing else. It stood three stories tall, with a stone facade that was half covered in dark green ivy. The front of the mansion had a roofed portico where carriages, and now cars, could pull and people could enter and exit from the building protected from inclement weather. The rows of tall windows shone with a hard polished gleam in the afternoon sun. There might be poison, innuendo, betrayal and murder within those walls, but there would not be a wayward speck of dust.

Her heart pounded. She whispered, “Urien’s dead.”

All three of her Wyr companions reacted. Tiago gripped her hands harder. Aryal twisted around to look at her. Rune took a deep breath.

Tiago said, “Urien may be dead, but this is still his house, and we have not been allowed to go through it. Remember, you need to go carefully. Whenever possible let one of us into a room before you.”

Aryal asked, “Are you wearing your stilettos?”

Niniane nodded. The harpy was not referring to fashionable shoes, but to Niniane’s pair of small sheathed knives with the thin two-inch-long blades. She wore them now, underneath her dress and strapped to her thighs.

The mansion’s front doors opened as the SUV approached. Rune brought the vehicle to a gentle stop as people poured out of the house. The Dark Fae delegation had all transferred back to the mansion earlier that morning, along with Carling and her entourage of Vampyres who needed to get settled into shelter before daybreak. Now Aubrey, Kellen and Arethusa, and assorted guards and the household staff lined up on the steps to greet her.

It mirrored a similar scene that had occurred as she had left the hotel, where she had thanked the hotel staff and the various Chicago PD officers for their hard work on her behalf. There would be similar groups everywhere she went now. She had better get used to it.

The group at the hotel had been a special one though. She made sure to target Scott Hughes, Dr. Weylan and Cameron. As an expression of her gratitude for everything they had done for her, she invited each one to her coronation. Both Scott and Dr. Weylan thanked her profusely but said they had family and other obligations and would not be able to take time away on such short notice. Cameron, however, was a different story. After one startled moment, the woman grinned and said, “Seriously?”

Niniane leaned close to the police woman and whispered, “We both know Mr. Incredible did not know to buy me Joy perfume, or how to color-coordinate makeup and earrings with those new outfits. And who was it that arranged that absolutely smashing trip to Big Red’s?”

Tiago leaned in close from behind to whisper in her ear, “Mr. Incredible is listening to every word you say.”

She twinkled sidelong at him, and he had given her a slow smile in return. Cameron laughed, her face creased with delight. “I would love to come. I just have to arrange time off from work.”

Niniane clapped her hands. “Oh goody! But taking time off of work can be tricky. Remember, time works differently when you cross over to an Other land, and you won’t know for sure how long you’ll be gone.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” said Cameron. “I have a pension coming to me. I’ll quit if I have to.”

Niniane laughed. “We’ll cross over for Adriyel in two days, so be sure to come by then if you can make it. I’ll arrange at the gate for them to let you in.”

She smiled now as she remembered Cameron’s unaffected exuberance. The casual, easy comfort with which Niniane had interacted with the human woman stood in sharp contrast to how she felt as she looked at this current group waiting for her on the mansion steps. Many wore pleasant smiles, while others wore more neutral expressions. She noticed a tall, elegant Dark Fae woman who stood by Aubrey. The woman was almost Aubrey’s height and was dressed in conservative dark blue tunic and trousers, her black hair swept back in a simple knot. Her hand was tucked into the crook of Aubrey’s arm. She had to be Naida, his wife, who had stayed at the house to arrange the details of their journey back to Adriyel.

These were Niniane’s people, and as she looked at them, she felt nothing except a vague sense of anxiety for all the places she could see in their clothing where someone might hide a gun or a dagger.

Clearly bonding was going to take a while.

FOURTEEN

R
une opened the door for Niniane. He offered his hand, and she took it as she stepped out of the SUV. Tiago came around the back of the vehicle and stepped into place behind her, so close she could feel his body heat. His Power surrounded her so that she felt it as an invisible cloak, a warm, protective living presence that pressed against her bare skin. It startled her, and she gave him a quick questioning look. None of the other sentinels had ever covered her with their Power like that before.

He gave her another one of those smiles of his that was so faint, if she hadn’t known his facial expressions so well, she wouldn’t have noticed it.

Rune said in her head,
Aryal and I will get your things upstairs
.
It will give us a chance to check out the space. Then we have things to do while we’re still in Chicago. We’ll see you later.

She gave him a grateful look.
Thanks
.

Rune gave her a slight wink.
Knock ’em dead, pip-squeak.

She smiled at him then turned away, and Tiago moved when she did. He remained always at her back, a silent towering figure that carried with him the promise of certain death for anyone foolish enough to try to harm her. She knew without checking that he had assumed his hatchet-hewn assassin’s look. She could see it in the way that people reacted to them, as she moved to greet individuals in the group.

She went first, smiling, to Aubrey and Naida. Aubrey inclined his head and bowed, and Naida did as well. “Your highness,” Aubrey said. “Welcome. We’re so pleased to have you arrive here, at one of your homes.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate everything you’ve done to smooth the way.”

Aubrey indicated the woman at his side. “This is my wife, Naida.”

Niniane looked up at the other Dark Fae woman, who was several inches taller than her, and her smile widened. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Naida.”

“Thank you, your highness. It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” Naida’s returning smile was smooth and pleasant, then her dark gray eyes moved to Tiago standing at Niniane’s back and Naida’s expression chilled perceptibly.

Don’t react. Naida’s reaction was only going to be the first of many. Niniane said, “I hear you have been working hard to get ready for my arrival and our trip to Adriyel. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“I am pleased to be of service. I’ve heard how much you used to love horseback riding. I think I’ve found a mare for you that you will enjoy.”

Niniane laughed, feeling warmed for the first time since their arrival on the property. “How wonderful! I’ve not been riding in years.”

“I’m sure it will come back to you in no time,” said Naida.

“Rather like riding a bicycle,” she said.

Naida’s eyebrows elevated at a slight angle. “That, I wouldn’t know.”

She opened her mouth. She almost invited Naida for bicycle riding lessons, but there was some quality to the other woman’s composed and sophisticated self-containment that made her hesitate. She said instead, “Bike riding is great fun.” She turned to Aubrey, “Perhaps we can have that chat soon.”

Aubrey smiled, the fan of crow’s-feet deepening attractively at the corners of his eyes. “I am at your disposal. When would you like to talk?”

“Why don’t we get together after I’ve greeted everybody?”

Naida murmured to Aubrey, “I will see to it that refreshments are served in the study.”

Niniane hesitated again. Why did that seem off to her? Naida was only helping to smooth the way by acting as de facto hostess, but this was not the other woman’s house, nor was she a servant.

Or perhaps anything would feel odd at this point. How should one welcome a long-lost heir to the Dark Fae throne to one of her own homes after her murderous uncle had just been killed? It was not exactly a social occasion covered by Emily Post. Not that Naida would have read Emily Post any more than she would have ridden a bike. Niniane didn’t have time to examine the situation further, so she shook off her reaction and turned to greet Kellen and Arethusa, who responded with such warmth, it put the smile back on Niniane’s face.

After greeting Naida and the Dark Fae delegation, they withdrew into the house and she turned her attention to the staff who took care of the property. She started with the steward, Brennan, who was an elderly Dark Fae male with a nervous gaze and restless hands. After greeting him she worked through the house staff and the gardeners. Then she spoke briefly with the captain of the guard, Prydian, who was a close-mouthed man with a shielded gaze who answered her in monosyllables. She also spoke with those guards who were not on active duty watching the gate or other parts of the property.

She made a point to say something to each member of staff, to ask their names and to make a comment or two about their work or to ask after their personal lives. To a person, they reacted to her attention with astonishment and varying degrees of pleasure. She suspected her uncle Urien had not been big on wasting his charm on anyone he deemed Powerless or without political influence.

All the while she carried an intense awareness of Tiago taking watch at her back. He moved when she did, a smooth and silent shadow. Then something different happened. His Power tightened around her as palpably as if he had reached out to grasp her shoulder. She paused, and only years of practice helped her keep from frowning at Prydian, the guard captain with whom she had been chatting. Keeping her movement casual, she took a step back toward Tiago, and his Power lightened again and became almost caressing.

Interesting. She made a point of looking around, as if to admire the front gardens, and she used the opportunity to glance at Tiago. He looked bland and no doubt as discreet as he could, but she noticed that she had come close to stepping out of the “safe zone” area, which would have brought her too close to a potential assailant while at the same time a shade too far from her guard. Tiago had corrected her course without interrupting her telepathically or using a physical gesture. Not long afterward she felt his Power nudge her more to the right, and again when she shifted to comply, the warm sense of his presence lightened as it brushed against her skin.

He would be forming his own opinions of the people she met, cataloguing reactions with names and faces as he conducted a risk assessment. She would make sure to ask him later what he thought of Brennan’s nervousness and Prydian’s guardedness. She couldn’t dismiss everybody just because they had worked for her uncle. They couldn’t all be enemies. Most of them had probably never even spoken to Urien.

It was also true, however, that this was property of some import as it was the main gateway from the Dark Fae lands to Chicago. As such, everything here deserved special scrutiny, although not everything had to be acted upon immediately.

After a half an hour or so, she turned to the house and motioned Brennan to her side. “I’m ready to be shown to the study now,” she said.

“Of course, your highness!” the steward said. He rubbed his hands together, perpetually washing them. “I will be delighted to show you whatever you like!”

It was impossible to believe him. Even her rudimentary truthsense snorted in disbelief. Brennan wasn’t delighted about anything at the moment. It was clear he was overcome with anxiety. No doubt he was afraid he was about to lose his job. She tried not to let her repulsion for him show. She wanted to snap at him to stop what he was doing and to slap his hands apart. The poor man looked like Montgomery Burns from
The Simpsons
. She gestured for him to lead the way.

As they stepped into the cool, elegant interior of the house, Tiago said suddenly in her head,
Be honest
.
How angry would you be with me if I squashed this bug?

She glanced over her shoulder in startled glee.
That thing he’s doing with his hands is making me crazy. But he must be a very effective steward to have survived under Urien’s rule, and we cannot kill everybody we don’t like.

What if I don’t kill him
? Tiago said, his mental voice thoughtful.
I could mash him up a bit around the edges and make him a size smaller.

She pinched her nose hard until her eyes stung and managed to turn her laugh into a cough. This was what had been missing during their quiet drive from the hotel, all the sentinels talking smack. Even though Rune and Aryal were traveling with them to Adriyel, everyone had been feeling the impending separation.

She got a blurred impression of the grand staircase, foyer and the halls as they followed Brennan toward the back of the house. Polished wood shone everywhere. Marble floors gleamed. Every time she took a step, she could see the soles of her shoes just before her feet touched the floor.

An outrageous fortune in rare Dark Fae artwork decorated the foyer and the downstairs halls. The paintings focused on nature scenes from Adriyel. One painting in particular made her catch her breath. It depicted the palace and the spectacular waterfall of the Adriyel River behind it, the scene so unexpectedly familiar, it brought tears to her eyes. The slender flowing pieces of sculpture were all metal. They graced the air by achieving impossible heights and tinkled with a delicate virtuoso of Power that was as refreshing to the mind as the physical shape of the sculpture was to the eyes. Thanks to Urien’s tight control of Adriyel’s crossover passageways, Dark Fae art was difficult to get and fetched high prices at Sotheby’s and other auction houses.

She wondered what statement Urien had been making with the artwork. Everything about the property was controlled, precise, from the Georgian-style mansion to the manicured grounds. The display of Dark Fae art here, in his property in Chicago, seemed as deliberate in its planning as was the rest of the estate. He would have entertained allies and business associates here. Had he offered them glimpses of Adriyel as an enticement, or had he merely been displaying so much artwork as a statement of his own wealth and Power?

She sighed. She was being haunted by a dead man. She hated how much time Urien occupied in her thoughts when all she really wanted to do was to jump up and down on his grave and sing “Ding-dong, the witch is dead.” She suspected he would overshadow her thoughts for a long time to come, as she second-guessed the decisions he made and chose which of his laws she would reverse.

The thing was, and she hated to admit this to herself, Urien had been a very intelligent man. She wanted to despise everything he had done, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to. The Dark Fae artwork decorating the front of the house was quite lovely. Now Niniane was no longer sure about many of her opinions. Maybe she needed to employ a count-to-ten policy whenever she encountered something she knew was Urien’s creation. She needed to assess things on their own merit, not just reject them out of hand because her uncle had something to do with them.

Whatever Urien’s taste in art had been, what Carling had said was still true. To most people, politically and financially the Dark Fae looked like they were in a strong position with regards to the other demesnes. However, those individuals, like Carling, who had an educated sense of the Dark Fae’s real unmet potential, knew better.

They reached an open paneled doorway, and Brennan stood to one side of it and bowed to her. She thanked him and, without thinking, started to walk into the room first. Tiago’s Power clenched on her even as he grabbed her by the arm. Brennan stared at Tiago, openmouthed.

Niniane rolled her eyes at the steward’s reaction. She stepped back to let Tiago go in first as she said in his head,
Sorry
.

Don’t sweat it, faerie
, he said.
But just so you know, if the bug expires from shock, I’m not giving him mouth-to-mouth.

She bit her lips to keep from laughing as he strode into the room, pivoted then invited her in with an outstretched hand. She walked in and stopped dead a few feet inside the door.

The study was very masculine, with heavy dark leather furniture that looked comfortable rather than stylish, a scatter of bookshelves, a large mahogany desk in one corner and a fireplace. Large windows overlooked the back gardens where the land dipped downward toward a small sunlit lake. A massive seascape painting by the English artist Turner hung over a wide fieldstone fireplace. Urien’s personality seemed stamped in the room, more so than anything she had seen to date. She could see him sitting at his desk and looking out over that fucking immaculate landscape, all the while knowing he was master of all he surveyed. If she were Wyr, she would bet the damn place smelled like him.

Everything clenched. Gut, fists, face. Count to ten.

Tiago was beside her in three long, swift strides, his face sharp with concern. He put a bracing hand to her back.
Faerie?

She raised a hand in a just-a-minute gesture as she struggled to unclench. It was just furniture. They were just books.

It was then she noticed that Aubrey was already in the room. He had risen to his feet at her entrance. Naida was also in the room. A tea service with three cups and plates, along with a tray of delicate pastries were arranged on a table in front of the couch. Aubrey watched her with a concern that seemed almost as sharp as Tiago’s, while Naida looked at them both with a dawning speculation.

I am all right
, she said to Tiago. She squeezed his arm. He nodded, still frowning, and rubbed her shoulders.
The place smells like him, doesn’t it?

There is a single predominant Dark Fae male scent here
, he said.
It is very likely Urien’s
.

All she could smell was beeswax and lemon polish. She decided that was a good thing. She smiled at him on a surge of tenderness. Really, he was the most scary-looking bastard she knew, and she knew a lot of scary-looking bastards. He was one of the most alpha males in the world. Once he had been a god. He was used to commanding troops of Wyr fighters, experienced in tactical maneuvers and making autonomous decisions. He had given up all of it. Today he had sublimated who he was just to walk in her shadow. She tried to imagine him living that way, year in and year out, as he suppressed everything he was just to be with her.