Filthy Rich Fae

Chapter Twenty-Three

We drove until the vibrant bustle of New Orleans faded like a memory, eventually leaving the highway for back roads.

I’d never been this far from the city, and I drank in the wild beauty of Louisiana, more untamed as we traveled deeper into the wilderness. Stately cypress trees, their red-brown bark swathed in Spanish moss, heralded our arrival to the bayou.

The farther outside New Orleans we went, the more I was reminded that I’d left Channing sitting in jail. I’d been able to shake off my nagging guilt before, but there was something about leaving him behind now that made that impossible.

“I need to check on my brother,” I blurted out. It was easy to tell myself he was safer in a jail cell when we were in the same city. “I got him arrested, and I shouldn’t be going…”

I didn’t actually know where we were going. Because, at some point, I’d begun to trust Lach. But now I was being driven away from the only home I’d ever known, from the only family I’d ever known. Something cold gripped my guts at the thought.

“It’s already handled, Cate,” Lachlan said, not taking his eyes from the narrow two-lane road.

My eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged without taking his hands from the steering wheel. “The charges have been dropped and he’s been set up with a job in the Quarter.”

“What kind of—”

His gaze swung to mine, something that looked vaguely like hurt in his eyes. “Bussing tables at a restaurant.”

“You…?” I let the question hang between us.

He nodded, confirming he was responsible for this turn of events. “Channing doesn’t know it was me. Just that he’s not being charged.” He cleared his throat. “It’s safe work. No weapons necessary, and I have someone keeping an eye on him.”

“Oh,” I said as he turned his attention back to the road. I should thank him, I knew, but I was too focused on the fact that he’d been thinking of my brother when I hadn’t been. Guilt warmed my cheeks, and I silently stared at the landscape as we sped by. I’d done what I thought was best for Channing in a moment of fear and anger. But Lachlan had actually helped him. I didn’t know what to do with the emotions tightening my chest, so I decided to do what I normally did and ignore them.

But I couldn’t help pulling out my phone. I hadn’t missed any calls or texts. I even checked my email. I didn’t have the heart to ask how long Channing had been out of jail. Not when it was clear my brother was avoiding me.

Eventually, Lachlan pulled the car to a stop, the purr of the engine replaced by the deafening silence between us.

Lachlan climbed out of the car without a word, my pulse ticking higher as he circled to the rear.

I stared out the window at the marshy wetland, searching for a sign as to what we were doing here. He slammed the trunk, and several egrets launched into the air, their agitated croaks shattering the majestic silence. My fingers fumbled for my seat belt as my door opened. He held out a pair of tall, rubber boots. I took them as a hot uneasiness knotted my throat.

“What are these for?” I eyed the black duffel slung over his shoulder.

He crouched and pried off my tennis shoes before reaching for the boots. It took effort to keep my breathing steady as he slipped one on. “It’s muddy out there.” A strand of dark hair fell over his brow. “And there are snakes.”

“I could have lived without knowing that,” I muttered as he slid on the other boot.

Lachlan chuckled as he popped back onto his feet. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me out of the seat, hitching his head toward a footpath worn into the dirt nearby. “Come on. I only have you for a few hours.”

“You have me every night.” The words came out with less bite than intended—almost like I was simply reminding him.

He didn’t respond, nor did he offer more information as we started down the trail. He stayed ahead of me, lifting sweeping tendrils of moss from low-hanging branches and leading the way down the sun-dappled path. The briny tang of saltwater mingled with the earthy musk of the wetlands as we approached the slow-moving brackish waters of the bayou. Tupelos outlined the waterway, their swollen bases tapering into towering trunks. He paused, his attention turned away from the marsh, and I turned to find a cabin built against the base of an ancient cypress. Rustic and utilitarian, it blended into the landscape, save for a single plume of smoke curling from a steel chimney pipe.

“Is that—” I cut off as the door banged open, creaking on its hinges, and a male fae stepped onto the cabin’s small porch. His hair hung over his shoulders, a few braided plaits nestled against its black waves. He wore a leather vest unbuttoned over his muscled, tattooed chest and a pair of black jeans that faded to gray over his thighs. His pointed ears were each pierced nearly a dozen times. I found myself stepping closer to Lachlan.

“Goemon,” Lachlan called, shouldering his bag a little higher. “This is Cate. I brought her out to do some shooting. Thought I’d better warn you.”

“Do some what?” I hissed.

Goemon crossed his massive forearms over his chest. “Appreciate the heads-up. Stick to the north territory. The egrets are farther south.”

I blinked, surprised by not only his lack of deference to the prince but also his concern over…birds?

Lachlan tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Things have been quiet here?”

“Relatively.” Goemon searched the sky, frowning at whatever he saw in the clouds. “Even with your city full of foreigners.”

Did he mean the visiting courts?

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep them in line.”

Goemon’s gaze skimmed to him, a cruel sneer tugging back his lips. “I’m happy to step in when needed.”

A chill shot down my spine, but Lachlan shrugged. “I’ll let you know.” He took my hand with one final nod in the strange fae’s direction.

Lachlan strode back toward the forested lowlands, towing me along.

“Who was that?” I asked when the cabin was a speck in the distance. “He acted like he owns the bayou.”

He snorted, quickening his stride. “Goemon doesn’t own the bayou. He’d probably be offended at the suggestion. He guards it.”

“Does he work for you?” There was something off about their interaction.

His brows shot up with another low laugh. The sound slid under my skin and settled into my bones. “Goemon belongs to no court. He’s a member of the Wild Hunt.”

The term tripped a memory I couldn’t quite place. “The Wild Hunt?”

“Mercenaries who live outside the courts,” he explained, his boots squelching in the muddy marshland. “They uphold our most ancient laws, hunting down those marked for breaking them.”

I thought of the night I met Lachlan. “I thought you meted out your own justice.”

“Most of the time.” He glanced at me. The shadows hanging in his eyes told me he was remembering the same day. “But there are plenty of fae who ignore the authority of any court. Most live outside them, like Goemon, and avoid entering our cities. There are others who flee to avoid justice for their crimes, but they’re delaying the inevitable. Either we will brand them or magic will. Out here, the Wild Hunt is the law amongst the lawless. They don’t care about status or title or influence. They will collect any soul that’s been marked without mercy or consideration.”

His words chilled me. “By collect, you mean murder them?”

“Execute,” he corrected me. “Those marked for the Hunt are dead souls walking. The Hunt cannot be escaped. They are tireless in their pursuit of justice.”

“And if someone is innocent?”

“They aren’t.”

I paused, forcing him to stop. “How can you be sure?”

“Even if I brand a soul, magic must seal the mark.”

“Like a bargain?” I asked.

He nodded. “Magic has to deem the accusation to be true. It won’t condemn an innocent. It’s another way to balance our power.”

“But magic can mark someone on its own?” I shook my head. “Why would anyone ever break the law?”

“You’d be surprised how many think they won’t get caught. Maybe it’s a fault of our nature. But no, magic does not actually brand a soul entirely on its own. That duty lies with me or Roark, as well as the other heirs and their penumbras. There is only one instance in which magic will be called to mete out justice independently.” He held up his hand, flashing me the signet he wore. “It’s called upon when I cannot meet my responsibility.”

The coldness inside me spread until ice ran through my veins. “You mean, if you’re…”

“Dead,” he said in a clipped tone. “The assassination of an heir or their penumbra is considered a violation of the natural order.”

The ice inside me splintered. “If I had shot you that night…”

“Try not to think about it,” he advised, “but yes, you would have been marked.”

For a moment, I only stared. Then, I smacked him in the shoulder. “You might have warned me!”

Delighted laughter spilled from his lips. “What would have been the fun in that?” He edged dangerously close. “I took the bullets out, princess, but I left your choice up to you.”

Another part of the test, I realized.

“And even if it had been loaded, you wouldn’t have killed me.”

My eyes narrowed to slits until all I could see was his perfect, annoying face. “Take off your ring and let’s test that theory.”

Lachlan leaned in, leaving nothing but a breath between us. “Why do you think we’re out here?”

I gulped, my eyes straying to the bag over his shoulder. He dropped it on the ground, where it landed with a thump that echoed in my chest. My heart pounded as he bent and unzipped it. When he straightened, he was holding a heavy black pistol.

“You need to learn how to use this.” His tone suggested this was not a conversation so much as an order.

I inched back a step, shaking my head. “I’m not…”

Words failed me as I stared at the gun.

“You are.” His gaze pinned me. “You have.”

I opened my mouth to deny it but found I couldn’t.

His wicked smile taunted me. “You pulled the trigger.” His tongue swept over his lower lip like he enjoyed the way the truth of that statement tasted. “And since I prefer to know that you’re safe, even in my absence, you need to be willing to do it again.”

“I’m not sure…” I could barely think over the blood roaring inside me.

“It’s different when you have no choice.” Something grim streaked his tone. I caught a fleeting glimpse of sadness in his eyes, but then he blinked and it was gone.

He pressed the gun into my hand.

It was the same one I’d pulled from his waistband the night of the Equinox, but it felt different without adrenaline coursing through my veins. Heavier.

“It’s a 9-millimeter. This is the safety.” He pressed a small button down on the side of the gun, each word clipped and efficient. “It needs to be off before you can shoot someone.”

I rolled my eyes, hoping he didn’t notice my trembling hand. “I know that.”

“You didn’t the night you tried to kill me.” His look dared me to challenge him. “Feel its weight. It’s loaded.”

That’s why it felt heavier. He hadn’t just relied on me not knowing about the safety that night. I recalled him reloading the bullets in front of me. He’d told me he would teach me how to use it—after I’d earned the right to a weapon. I had no idea what I’d done to warrant his sudden decision that now was the time for me to learn.

Lachlan touched the broad end of the muzzle. “This is a built-in silencer.”

I lifted a brow.

“It means that it’s not going to blow your eardrums,” he explained. He moved behind me, close enough that his body brushed against mine. His arms circled around me, and he took both of my hands, coaxing the gun into position until it was firmly in my grasp and my index finger was curled over the trigger. He drew my arms up and lowered his head over my shoulder. It was harder to concentrate with his warm breath ghosting over my neck, with his hard chest bracing my back, with my body riveted to everywhere it touched his. “Keep both hands on it when you fire. It’s got a hell of a recoil.” His finger settled over mine, but he didn’t force the trigger. “Lock your elbows.”

I tried to steady my breathing as I stared straight ahead. We weren’t pointing at anything in particular, just a vast expanse of swampland. No wonder he had dragged me all the way out here. I wasn’t in danger of hitting anything.

I wondered what the other courts would think of the Nether Prince teaching me how to kill their kind. If that was the real reason we’d driven all the way to the bayou—so that no one could see what we were up to.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he whispered, his mouth so close that the words felt like a kiss. “Just pull the trigger.”

My chest heaved as I stared ahead, everything fading away except the heat of his body, the steadiness of him bolstering me, and the certainty that seemed to seep into me where we touched. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. The shot reverberated through my fingers into my muscles, the gun’s butt biting into my palm as it jolted me against him. He remained solid, unaffected, an anchor as my entire world shifted and rewrote itself. I held back a gasp as adrenaline soaked my senses.

His lips nipped my earlobe, and a bolt of pleasure barreled down the back of my neck. His body curved firmly around me, and his finger twitched. “Again.”

The second shot pushed me even deeper into his arms, and I shivered.

“You like it, don’t you?” he breathed. The question was as scorching as where his flesh met mine.

I swallowed. “No.”

“You feel powerful.” His lips spelled the last word on my skin.

My eyes fluttered closed, caught in whatever spell he was weaving. I softened into his strong embrace, our arms still stretched before us, my palm throbbing from the gun’s recoil. This wasn’t me, but I couldn’t deny that he was right. I did feel powerful. Part of me hated that, but the rest…

He’d read my juvenile record. He’d guessed what was missing from those reports, what I’d been through, how far I might go to protect myself. He’d put a gun in my hand before. He’d been testing me since the first day we met—seeing how far he could push me, honing me into something different, something dangerous.

Something lethal.

A weapon.

Realization dawned on me. He hadn’t asked me to move into the Avalon to keep his sister company. He needed me there. Because the other courts were in attendance, the other heirs. This was all about the bargain. “You don’t want an alliance,” I gasped.

He went rigid. His left hand curled around my wrist, tattoos flickering, like I might turn that gun on him. But I yanked away, and he didn’t stop me as I ducked out from under his arms, gun still clutched in my right hand. “You want me to kill one of them.”

A mask descended over his face, and the ink on his body settled.

How had I not seen it before? “The test. You wanted to see if I could pull the trigger—if you could use me—because you can’t do it yourself. Not without being marked by the Wild Hunt. That’s what you want out of the bargain.”

For a moment, we stared at each other in stony silence. Blood hammered in my head until it was spinning. The gun felt slippery in my palm. Bile rose in my throat as I looked at it. I dropped it, backing away a step but not daring to let it out of my sight. “I’ll never do it,” I swore and finally lifted my face to his. “Release me. The bargain is broken.”

A muscle worked in his jaw as if he was fighting to hold on to that magic binding us. He looked toward the bayou, but I caught a glimpse of something unrecognizable moving behind his eyes. “I know plenty of killers, princess. I don’t need you to do my dirty work.”

I felt a twinge at the back of my neck, as though the magic was taking his side and burrowing deeper to prove I was wrong.

“You were ready to shoot me that night.” The words were strained as he continued to peer into the distance. “The test was to see who you were.”

“And you think you know me?”

His head snapped toward me, nostrils flaring. He took a step in my direction. “I know who you are.” I couldn’t move as he prowled closer. “You chose nursing because you crave that adrenaline rush that was stolen from you. You told yourself it would keep you safe, but you never feel that way. But you are a survivor. There’s only one problem.” I stopped breathing as he bent and picked up the gun. “You’ll only survive if you can protect yourself. Because you won’t let anyone else take care of you. So you will learn how to take the shot. You will be prepared. You will know that you have that power—that no one can make you a victim.” He engaged the safety and held the weapon out to me. “You can pull the trigger.”

My gaze snagged on the weapon. “I don’t want to.”

His fingers tightened over the barrel. “I hope you never have to. I hope I’m always there whether you like it or not,” he added when I started to protest. “But my family protects themselves. I will not lose anyone else.”

His chosen words dragged my attention from the gun to him. I refused to let them grow roots as I scrounged for proof that he was lying—about his family, about me. It was another trick meant to lower my guard. He’d already proven that he knew me, knew secrets I refused to admit even to myself. “Ciara doesn’t—”

“What do you think she carries in those ridiculous purses she buys constantly?” he cut me off. “She can handle herself like you’ll be able to.”

“I’m not comfortable carrying a gun,” I admitted softly.

“Not yet, but you’re a natural.”

I ignored the forbidden pang of pride that swelled in my chest, focusing on what he didn’t say. I wasn’t comfortable today, but I would be. Because this wasn’t a one-time lesson.

But what was the point? “When I break the bargain—”

“You won’t. It’s been weeks, and that was your best guess.” He closed the remaining space between us. “Face it. You don’t want to break our bargain any more than I want to.”

The reality of what he was saying sank in as we stared at each other. That my life might have taken a different path if I hadn’t stumbled upon his world. Maybe none of this was an accident. Maybe I’d simply taken a detour on my way to him.

Lachlan thrust the gun into my hand as if he already knew all of this. My fingers skimmed the metal before I shoved it away—and stomped off. Back in the direction of the car, back to the safety of what I knew, back to the life I knew.

And left him standing there.