Last Ride of the Umbra Fae

3. Ryder

3

Ryder

N ightlife had always been the same no matter how far I traveled. This was just another place men came to harbor their demons and nurse their liquor in hopes of wetting their dicks by the end of it. The same smells, the same racket of drunken men with roaming eyes looking for a pair of plump breasts to gawk at; this experience was a highlight of their poor existence. If they only knew they were no different from fae, but it wasn’t my job to point that shit out. Inside a world where they were hunted, enslaved, and killed, hid a network of them harnessing a newfound magic to glamor their pointed ears and any other feature that distinguished them by sight. The convenience of the glamor didn’t mean we could live a merry, fucking, little life together on this hell-wrecked land. I was here to do a job: to meet End’s Wrath and his daughter and be their guide.

So he thought.

I was a job, a solution, a cure to what the humans felt was a disease spreading across their land. Tilting my head to the side, I watched the bubbles churn in my amber-filled glass. Maybe I was a disease too. But I was considered special because I had a talent far exceeding basic human strength. I had no lines to draw. I only crossed them. I was death, kicking down their door, waiting to take a life to line my own pockets.

A bounty hunter’s life had always been easy. The day my world ended, I faced this bold truth, sending me on an unexpected path.

Another sip to drown the memory. I always ordered the finest whiskey any shithole had to offer; it was a comfort in the dark. But I had something over this duo of Umbra Fae: more of the tonic End’s Wrath’s daughter needed. I had a few vials for now. Still, I had no fucking clue what it was for other than her body needed it—a “requirement” to take the job, one that would open a door to what I hoped would be the start to a wonderful relationship. I smirked, knowing I held the power over them, sway if need be, because these vials were hard to find. I’ve watched them kill the innocent for just a swig. The Eternal stone itself had the power of longevity, but once the blightstone was melted down, it was made into an elixir that offered healing. Not many fae were left that knew how to make this tonic, which was why the Umbra Fae were seeking a guide. They needed someone who knew the ins and outs of The City of Donia, a place far north and weeks away, and I happened to do business with one of the city’s biggest suppliers.

While I sat here waiting for my next job to walk in, my eyes roamed the room, picking out each fae that hid among the crowd. There weren’t many tonight. Far less these days, which told me our kind was burning out—down to the brink of extinction.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I instinctively turned my head toward the doors. The air was charged; the sudden shift in every shadow of the room seemed to shudder at whatever lay beyond the entrance.

A grin curved my lips. There was only one fae that could stir such a response. The moment those doors swung open, time slowed to a grinding halt.

“Fucking hells,” I groaned under my breath, watching the shadow slinger herself stride into the saloon. The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew how everything was going to play out.

Arrogance emanated off her as she strode in with a vibrancy worthy of another glance. Not only by me, but by everyone else as well. She waltzed into a bar full of drunken swine with her hips swaying side to side, lulling us all into a dance we had no plans to partake in. For only a brief moment, the clamor of nightlife stopped then was resumed by the eager hands of a drunken bastard whose bravado extended to his fingertips. Rightfully so, the man eased into the seat by the piano, playing a harmonic tune that seemed to lull the drunken men back to their affairs. I had a feeling she knew she was a succubus in a crowd full of hungry men who would give their nextborn for a night with her. She would use that to her advantage. I’d seen it many times—a talent well-earned. But did they really know who she was?

I kept her in my line of sight as she weaved through the crowd—a calculated path. She brushed her dark hair behind her shoulders, eyes sweeping over the room while fixing the brim of her dust-covered hat, hiding those black-tipped ears. She must have abandoned her long dark coat, possibly leaving it on the saddle, but her gloves remained.

My eyes trailed up her arm; soft, bronze skin glowing beneath the candlelight, highlighting toned flesh, while the other hid inside a dark sleeve that reached her tricep.

Peering through the crowd, I caught another glimpse of her. Going up against the daughter of a legend would not be an easy feat. My eyes trailed down her body as a grin perked my lips. She was a storm I’d gladly trek four or five times—fucking hells, for eternity, maybe.

Gods-damn.

I downed my drink.

She stood between two stools, waving down the barmaid. The woman offered to remove her gloves and place them elsewhere, but the sneaky little fae declined. Imagine what they’d do to her if they saw her shadowed hands, the mark of her true identity. They would send her to the Scarlet Gallows northeast.

Do not worry, Desert Storm, your little secret is safe with me.

Something about her essence separated her from the rest of the fae, even from her father. I felt it now as we shared the air with sweaty, drunken swine. The more I looked, the more that thread of curiosity wanted to be strung. She pulled out a stool from the bar, sitting with her ass arched as if intentional, but I’d been watching her for weeks. Her body was a walking sin, built with curves carved by all the devils themselves for their perverse pleasures to tempt the foolhardy.

Foolish men, quite like myself. I almost fell out of my own seat stifling a self-deprecating laugh as I sat further back in my chair, crossing one ankle over the other. In another life, she would be a storm I’d love to get close to, but I had a job to do. I had to keep my focus and my cock in check.

I’d been sent to enter the eye of her storm, to rip apart every thread of magic that made her whole. She was a whisper in the dark. The rumored truth of her existence could mean the end of Fang’s reign over The City of Donia. I’d been hired by him to learn why she was so fucking special. Why was she such a secret among the fae?

I knew something for certain, what made her whole and weak all at once.

Two things, actually.

The tonic her body depended on, and the tanned, salt-and-pepper-haired male who had just strolled in. I’d heard stories of who people called “the old specter who shifts into End’s Wrath.” A power harnessed by the dark side of the moon, which our ancestors called ama . He was ruthless and vile while he tore enemies to shreds. The kind of evil that kept his prey breathing long enough to feel themselves being filleted alive, carving them into nothing but a vessel of flesh and muscle. Seeing the legend himself before my eyes, this elder looked no more than a man in his mid-fifties. He would be the barrier to her.

I leaned into the crook of my corner, watching him from the shadows that stopped at the edge of where my shot of whiskey waited for me.

He didn’t take the empty stool beside her. He sauntered over to a round table of drunken men who’d been gambling all night. I watched them deal him in. I tried to read his lips, but the old man barely had any words to say. Tilting my head, I studied how he took in the crowd, casually grazing over the bar where his precious daughter sat with her all too brazen appearance. You stare in the face of death long enough, and its flaws begin to surface.

Behind the hard lines of his chiseled face and days-old scruff held the eyes that softened for her .

I downed my drink as I took another glance at that empty stool on her right, signaling for the barmaid with two fingers.

Within a few quick strides, the voluptuous woman eyed me from the brim of her thick blonde lashes. Her breasts looked as though they needed air. Judging by the way her full lips gently fell open when she caught my stare, I knew she’d oblige. She smirked in response, but I bit down the temptation to invite her to air them out for me later.

“Another shot,” I said coldly. She said nothing as she glanced at the collection of empty crystal glasses on the table.

Tempting—she truly was—but as my gaze drifted back to the fae sitting at the bar with windswept onyx hair, it would have to be a date with my hand tonight.

Something in the air shifted, a darkness that crept in on a breeze as every candle in the room flickered against the wisps of shadow. I kept my eyes trained on the opaque apparition moving past every drunken patron in the saloon.

“Luck’s on my side tonight boys,” her father said. The men at the table cast their sneers in his direction. A diversion as the shadow weaved unseen through the crowd.

Suddenly, a man appeared from the swells of darkness, taking the empty seat beside her. I lowered my gaze, eyes prowling over the man whose broad shoulders hunched. The fucker was too big for that stool. He stretched out a leg, running a hand through his short, dark, thick hair before putting his hat back on. A little too fancy to be a cowboy but too rugged to be a lawman. Pretty boy better be careful; if someone saw the iridescent shine to that all-too-perfect hair, they might view him as a prize. I understood who approved of the bond. If it were any other man, her father would have ended his life in a simple breath for getting that close.

Irritated by his presence, my eyes darted around the room. He was not like other fae. I realized he had the power of illusion, something I had never seen in all my years of living.

Who are you? I rubbed the scruff of my beard.

Aggravation fluttered my damn jaw as I clenched the glass of whiskey until it cracked; the sound reminding me to get a fucking grip.

Damn the hells.

How could I have missed this big fucking detail? One they’d kept so well hidden while riding into town. One I hadn’t seen as I’d stalked their route from the mountain or when I’d watched them rest.

She gave him a knowing smile and eyes that might have lingered for far too long, stirring the urgency for me to see what shade of red this fucker bled. The soft sweep of her dark lashes sent an unexpected surge through me. The two Umbra Fae had always been alone. Whoever this bastard was, he was another barrier to her. I paused for a moment, looking at her father, who had just won another hand at poker, unaffected by the carcass that now warmed the empty seat beside her. As my eyes bounced back and forth between the two, I finally put it together. He was their sentinel, which meant he was a shadow shifter.

The raven.

With a simple wave of my hand, I summoned the power of Nai beneath my fingertips and blew into the air.

A soft light emerged from my palm, a faint wind swaying between the crowd. Within seconds, a bond appeared between them. My suspicions had been confirmed.

Interestingly, the bond had been forced and not bound by love.

This type of bond was a bodyguard, entrusted by their elders. I’d read about this after spending too many days in a library, back then, when I didn’t have a home.

This raven was a complicated mass of annoyance to me.

She was her father’s shadow, and this male of a bird was hers. But as I studied their connection through my own power, that bond was not well received on her end. I could tell in the speckle of stars woven through the magic that bound them. His was brighter, matching a star-filled sky, while hers ended in mute black, stark and void of any inkling of acceptance. She was a black hole, sucking up the life of those who had fallen by her beauty.

The raven followed her every step as if she were an extension of his heart. One I wished to sever if I could harness enough to expose the filth for what it truly was. If it weren’t for the elders, she would have been easier to obtain.

I had to plan out my next move methodically. I was ready to ravage her and make her undone. I needed to get to her, really get inside the head of a hellion like herself and see what I could draw out.