Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
ANDREIEN
H asannah stilled on the dance floor, back arched, hands high in the air.
“By the Dark,” Constin swore. “A quarter of the Court is going to challenge you for her, including the idiots who think ballet is a cut of steak.”
My hand curled into a fist at my side. Anah, little faeling, you have omitted some very important details.
An edge, she’d hinted, and I’d stupidly allowed the evasion. I’d seen her dance, and yet made faulty assumptions, dismissed the evidence.
I’d been arrogant. Arrogance was a main cause of death in the Courts.
Seven minutes she’d danced. And for seven minutes, I’d been unable to look away. An enemy could have walked up and cut off my head and I wouldn’t have moved, caught in her pull, her command.
“We should get her out of here,” Con said, brow creasing as he watched the crowd.
“Only a fool with a death wish would touch her in my presence.” No one here would fail to recognize the significance of gold edging the Casakraine green. But I heard the doubt in my voice. There was at least one fool with a death wish present tonight.
“I've listened to your mother and sister for enough years to know your human shouldn't have been able to. . .” Constin’s eyes narrowed in thought. “If she's fully human, I'll eat our cat.”
“We don't own a cat.”
“Then I'll eat one of your mother’s swans.”
“Also an empty promise. The last time you made the attempt, she had you crucified.”
“True. And her sense of humor hasn't notably improved.”
Likely because my mother had no sense of humor.
We’d all glimpsed Anah dancing before, but she hadn’t danced like that. She’d danced like a mortal. . .a beguiling mortal, a talented mortal who would make a cherished prize, but mortal.
Just now she’d danced as if she were Fae blooded.
I reframed my thoughts, scanning the room to pinpoint any immediate threats. No one approached her, though there were plenty of looks. “We’ll let her have this night. As long as no one touches. Come, I need a drink.”
Dancing resumed, Anah glancing toward one of her friends. Good. They would keep her occupied while I soothed my nerves. She stomped on every last one, dainty soles covered in spikes.
Suspicion grew, but I wouldn’t act until I spoke to Issahelle. Humans wielded magic, though it was rare, but I didn't think Anah had magic so much as she was magic.
There was a word for that sub-species of Fae.
She'd enthralled me that first evening I'd set eyes on her, this steadily increasing obsession with everything Anah, but I'd blamed the soulbond.
But was it the soulbond, or was it simply her?
With this one impromptu performance she'd skyrocketed her worth, and once it was widely known she belonged to me, I'd receive courteous offers, then less courteous challenges. I’d warn my mother to expect a feeding frenzy. She wouldn’t be pleased by the bloodshed at the beginning of her season, but I’d remind her it would drive ticket sales and attract new patrons. If we cultivated Anah properly, she’d make the House a great deal of money. Damnit.
I should be pleased for her, but she didn’t need any more leverage over me than she already possessed. This was not to be tolerated. I’d regain control, somehow, but it would take time and study. I would have to be subtle, avoid damaging her. Which meant baiting a much prettier cage, the leash as soft as a butterfly wing and invisible. A cage she walked into willingly.
Yes, a lover’s no should mean something. But I had no intention of that word ever falling from her lips.
“You’re going to need an entire bottle,” Constin said when we reached the bar.
A bottle? Amusing. I’d had to open my mouth and ask the Darkness for a challenge.
“I’m going to need a case,” I said. “Where is Mathen?”
“Tracking Dartanyon. We lost sight of him—shit. Andreien, don’t turn. I’ll handle this.”
I pivoted, gaze zeroing in on Hasannah. Dartanyon danced with her. I cursed viciously, startling another person near us, and began striding through the crowd.
“I left her alone for five minutes. Five minutes. Assign her two more quads and—that carrion feeder . I'll tear his entrails out through his nose. ”
The people closest to me scattered.
Dartanyon pulled her close, his hands moving low enough to justify being twisted off at the joints. His House would send a Lord to challenge me to duel, or a barrister to the High Court to demand reparations, but it would be worth Issahelle’s wrath.
Not that mother’d be too upset. He was implicated in the disappearances of at least three dancers over as many decades, and there were rumors of the ballroom he kept in his estate.
I stopped and took several deep, quiet breaths to calm myself. Anah would be angry if I killed someone tonight.
The last dancer he’d patronized was no longer considered quite sane. Dartanyon had released the cavalier, but the male never performed on a Sahakian stage after that. The last I’d heard, he was some Low Fae merchant’s lovely, broken pet—such a distasteful practice. Only the clumsy or heavy-handed broke their toys. A modicum of self-control and one might keep one’s pet forever. The illogic baffled me. Or perhaps it was laziness; my Anah required a great deal of time and energy to maintain after all. If I were a lesser male, it might become exhausting over time. But then I could always throw Mat or Con at her when I needed rest.
Dartanyon smiled down at her, and the ground I’d gained in the last minute of pleasant thought evaporated. A hiss started deep in my chest.
Constin grabbed my arm, nails digging into my bicep though his expression remained easy.
“Gently. This isn't the place. Wait until we can corner him in a nice dark alley where our cygnet isn't watching—and disembowel him there. She still thinks you're secretly a good boy who only needs to be shown the power of love.”
“She doesn't think that. Where do you come up with this drivel?”
“I think the humans call it House. . .Mark? They are storytellers.”
I stared at him, that silliness distracting me from the immediate need for bloodshed.
He grinned. “All right, no, she's boringly pragmatic, which takes so much fun out of it.”
“Not pragmatic, focused.”
“I still think open bloodshed would send her running. The key with Anah is to give her enough plausible deniability to let her look the other way, but not insult her intelligence. You got away with that human because she wanted him dead anyway.”
I’d been happy to oblige. I shook my luudthen off and headed to where Lord Dartanyon deliberately courted a gruesome punishment for putting hands on my consort with that look in his eyes. Making her look at him with fear in hers. She couldn’t have done anything to offend him, but he was angry.
The anger in his eyes echoed my own—he thought of her as his, had singled her out. How had Mathen missed this? Or had Dartanyon finally decided the manner of his death?
“Dartanyon.”
He flinched subtly, hiding it behind a smooth smile, his eyes glinting with a particular kind of malice. There were truths I could dance around to Anah concerning the nature of Fae males during the bonding process, but Dartanyon knew.
He understood I yearned to rip his throat out with my nails and fling the tissue onto the dance floor—but that my Lord held my leash.
And that this single, delicate human female looking up at me with wide eyes took that leash from Issahelle and strangled me with it.
I wrapped my fingers around her upper arm, squeezing so she would remain silent.
“So, it's you who's claimed the girl,” Dartanyon said, as if he didn’t already know. As if he didn’t relish my silent fuming. “Silly of me not to recognize your taint earlier. But then you always have had a light touch.”
He dared. The taunt normally wouldn’t bother me. If the others thought me weak because I didn’t indulge in senseless killing to assuage boredom, I cared nothing for their opinions. Let them challenge me and learn their mistake. But that lackadaisical attitude was coming back to bite me in the ass, because Dartanyon stood in public insulting me to my face and questioning my claim over my own consort.
He didn't fear me.
That was my fault.
I was going to rectify the fault. But not here, and not now. Not with Anah watching.
“My touch is light because nothing more is required. When one begs for a heavier hand, I give it. This one is not for you, Dartanyon. Choose another.” If he heeded the warning, I would do nothing.
I almost hoped he’d prove to be a twit.
“It's not so simple, High Lord. You don't recognize the water flowing through your fingers, disappearing into the cracks of parched ground.”
A typical play on words implying either I was too weak to hold her, she was the answer to a drought, or both. If we hadn’t been speaking English, I suspected what variation of the word parched he would use, and in what inflection—matching the goading, blatantly sexual gleam in his eyes.
Dartanyon gave Anah a heavy-lidded glance, increasing his taunt by aiming that gleam at her .
“My offer is still on the table, little dancer. And now you know my name.”
I pushed Anah towards Mathen and lunged at Dartanyon, seizing him around the throat. How could I not when he so clearly begged for my attention?
When he made so plain his desire for the embrace of a slow, painful demise.
I dragged him close. He was trained, as all Lords were, but he was no true warrior. My cadre of luudthen regularly did their best to beat my ass into the ground—their version of training. My mother had put blades in mine and Mia’s hands as soon as we’d learned to walk.
“You offer for her in front of my face? Are you challenging me?” I peeled my lip up, aching to sink fangs into his throat.
Dartanyon lifted his hands. “This isn't the venue for a challenge and that would be premature, in any case. Has she danced for you, High Lord? She has danced for me.”
Roaring filled my ears. Her fear beat inside my head, the only thing that stayed my hand and broke the copper taste of blood in my mouth because more than anything. . .but I held back. This was what it meant to be Heir. What it must mean.
One could not hold a territory if one lacked self-control. If the Lords could control you by forcing you to react to every taunt, you would drown under a writhing mass of fangs and claws.
So I would not react, but I would respond. Soon.
Dartanyon smiled. “I see she hasn't. You haven't watched that supple body writhe, the pleasure suffuse her face, heard the cadence of her breaths as she brings herself to completion?—”
Never mind.
I lifted Dartanyon and threw him.
He landed lightly on his feet, his lips pulled back in a snarl as he abandoned his playacting.
I stepped forward, smiling at the pleasure awaiting me. It had been some time since I’d taken a life that so richly deserved to be ended.
“No!”
Her voice didn’t break through at first, but the touch of those fingers on my wrist did.
“No, Andrei. Not now, and not here. That's not what tonight is for.”
I stilled, taking a cleansing breath, trying to clear the bloodlust from my vision. To recall that tonight was important to her.
Her hands settled on my chest, the fingers fluttering in a nervous attempt to soothe me. My rage softened. She filled my arms, my vision, and I stared into her eyes, clinging to the anchor she provided. Traveling back from the brink.
“Please, my Lord. I beg this favor.”
Clever cygnet. I kissed her cheek, wanting more, needing more, but settling as always for the crumbs she allowed me. “Very well, consort. I will grant you this, for now.”
“Thank you. Can we—can you take me somewhere quiet for a moment? I’m a little. . .”
Her mouth thinned, a particular kind of feminine hurt in her eyes and I ground my teeth. But her discomfort was more important than my need to kill.
I wrapped her in my arms, shielding her from view as best I could and took her out of the ballroom, finding a small sitting room where we wouldn’t be disturbed. I opened the curtains to give her some light then pulled her back into my arms, calming as she settled her head on my chest.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
I forced my voice to remain mild. She had no reason for shame. “What for?”
Anah looked up at me with those wide, hurt eyes. Again. I would get on my knees to take that expression away from her, but she had no idea. None. Fortunate for me.
“You know I would never—you know I never.” She faltered. “What he said sounded bad, but?—”
These flashes of innocence were almost endearing. “Hasannah.” She flinched. Leash it, warrior. Leash yourself. “It never once crossed my mind that his taunts were based in anything but the particular blend of truth and deceit my people are capable of.”
But Fae lies were of a necessity always based in truth, and Mathen had missed something. My mood darkened. Mathen and I were going to have an earnest discussion.
“I was in my solo practice room—the day after we met, and I didn't notice he was there until the end. He approached me, but I didn't think I'd see him again.”
My calm unraveled.
“You should have mentioned it to me.” This was inconceivable. A Lord had approached her, and she’d said nothing? Nothing! “Whenever you're approached by another, no matter how outwardly innocent, you tell me.” I grabbed her chin. I wanted to wring her neck, but that wouldn’t be productive. “Do you understand?”
She nodded, mouth turning down.
It didn’t take our fledgling bond to read the expression. “I’m not being cruel. You don’t know Lord Dartanyon.” I emphasized his title, so she’d understand. She feared Lords of the Courts, and in this circumstance that would work in our favor. “He is not sane.”
Anah looked up at me through her lashes. “Can any of you make that claim?”
There she went, her delicate, flaying tongue again.
I bared my teeth. “Do any of us keep woman sized bird cages on our estates and force our ballerinas to dance until their toes are raw? Tell me, Hasannah, have you ever been claimed by a fairy circle?”
She stilled.
“No, you haven’t.” I tightened my fingers on her chin, just short of pain. “And unless that’s the fate you secretly yearn for, I’d suggest you heed my warning. Stay away from Dartanyon. Stay away from any Lord you might encounter.”
Her eyes flashed. She tried to veil the spark of temper by lowering her lashes over her eyes. “And how am I supposed to know a High Fae from a High Fae Lord from a Low Fae Lord from a frog? You don’t come with flashing signs or name badges!”
“You’ll learn.” I released her chin. “Now I'll have to handle him in haste because he publicly questioned my ownership over you.”
Anah stiffened. “Your ownership.”
I suppressed a snarl, though I shouldn’t bother with that much consideration, since she clearly wouldn’t reciprocate by taking basic security precautions. “That’s right. You're mortal, and you're mine.”
“Like your pet? Like—like your coach? Something you keep well-maintained and shut away in your garage until you’re ready to ride it? I don’t belong to anyone but myself!”
I wrapped my hands around her upper arms in an effort not to wrap them around her neck. “Are you challenging me, Hasannah?”
She needed to learn. She needed to understand the danger of flouting me, of dismissing me. She still didn’t believe she was mine.
I’d been too gentle, perhaps. It wasn’t in me to frighten a female, but a touch of judiciously applied intimidation would rein her in enough that I could protect her from herself.
“I’m not challenging you,” she said in that scathing, contemptuously soft tone. “Whatever that means. I’m saying that I’m not a toy or a pet.”
Was the Dark mocking me? Testing my resolve to be the one High Lord in the Court who didn’t slowly destroy their lovers? I understood the impulse now. Understood the need. I would never look at the others with scorn and contempt again.
I hadn’t known. Hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to suppress the need to crush her beneath me. Obliterate her defiance, drink down her spark and warm the frozen core of my soul with it.
Cage it like a faeling would cage a glowbug, obsessed with its light and fragile beauty.
“I don’t believe we understand the word challenge in the same way, my Anah.”
“Maybe we should return to the party,” she said, attempting to push me away. “Andrei, let me go.”
No, I don’t think so. I tightened my arms on her, the feel of her soft curves against my body enflaming my anger, my need. For all her strength and grace, any Fae could take her and savage her at will and she pranced through the city as if she was safe.
Anah stopped fighting abruptly, sagging against my chest, her bottom lip trembling before she firmed it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to argue. I hate arguing. It’s just been. . .a long week. I’m tired, and my feet hurt, and I think I’m actually hangry.”
She nestled her head on my chest, shuddering.
It was enough to slap me back to myself.
How could I even think of hurting her? She rested in my arms with an ease no Fae female would ever demonstrate. My Anah still didn’t understand how easily she could be shredded into bloody strips. Her trust frightened me, reminded me of my promise. I needed Con and Math. Without them standing between us, I feared what I could do to her.
I closed my eyes, orienting myself, and gentled my voice, my grip. “Another Lord approached you and you didn’t come to me. My lack of response emboldened him. Either he believes you’ve rejected my claim and will therefore welcome another, or I’m too weak to enforce it.”
Anah looked up. “I’m sorry. I understand now. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
I almost laughed because that implied she would make others. She was so young. Three decades of life was nothing, and in humans, so easily snuffed out. But her earnestness soothed more of my edge. I drew a thumb along her bottom lip, wanting it to tremble for a reason other than hurt or fear.
“There’s a partial remedy,” I said, lowering my voice to a purr. “My scent on your skin. It's faint. Too faint for one I've said is mine.”
Her pupils blew out. “I don’t understand.”
Not only had she disregarded me, but the lack of my scent on her skin told a plain truth—that she was mine in name only.
Of course Dartanyon thought her free for claiming.
“My scent should be so embedded in your skin that there's never doubt to whom you belong.”
Of course the puny upstart thought himself worthy to advance his own stake.
“My name should be branded across your body to warn of the death that awaits those who touch and tease and toy with my bonded.”
She’d said nothing of his offer. In the absence of denial, silence meant assent.
Anah trembled. “I think we should take a time out. Maybe a glass of water or a walk outside for some fresh air.”
Fresh. . . air ?
Was I a grumpy mortal adolescent?
“Don’t patronize me, little mortal,” I said gently. “Air is not what will soothe me.”
The intoxication of her fear and desire filled my lungs. Fresh air. I wanted to howl with laughter, but recognized I wasn’t feeling what one might call sane at the moment.
“I’m not trying to patronize you, Andrei. I’m trying to help you calm down so you don’t do something I’ll regret.”
“And what is it that you’ll regret?”
She dared take me to task as if I was in the wrong for wanting her safety . To wanting acknowledgment of my claim. No other Lord would allow her the temerity I allowed, no other Lord would coddle her, choose amusement rather than anger over her open defiance. And the thanks for my indulgence?
More boldness. It was almost as if kindness beget disobedience, rather than the other way around.
Anah pressed her lush mouth into a thin line. “I don’t need you to go back in there and pick a fight. I also don’t want you to take your bad mood out on me.”
It wasn’t a bad mood I wanted to take out on her. I wanted to sink my fangs into that mouth and make her bleed. Make her moan, her body slack with submission.
“And if I want to take my mood out on you? How will you stop me, Hasannah?”
“I can’t. If that’s who you want to be, I can’t stop you. Be a monster.” She lifted her chin. “See what it gets you. It certainly won’t get you me , except by force.”
Force? Force ? Now she accused me of. . .then threatened to withhold herself from me?
When, in my adult life, had any one sane person ever defied me so blatantly to my face? Plenty of insane ones, matching the number of those also dead.
My fangs throbbed. My beast uncoiled, focused. I softened my voice further, splaying my fingers across her cheek. “You dare. I offer you everything, and you dare threaten me . ”
My will broke and I shoved her against the nearest wall, her scent sweet with fear. Dark, how I wanted this female.
I lowered my head to her ear, gently placing a hand on the wall next to her head. My nails gouged into the wallpaper.
“Tell me why I shouldn't take what's mine,” I whispered, and cupped her between the thighs, yearning to shove my fingers, my cock, inside her heat. To fuck her until she unraveled and the only words coming from her throat were cries for more, pleas for mercy.
Which I would give, once she was suitably penitent.
Once I was fully sated.
“Why I shouldn't spill my seed in and over you so there's never again any doubt what male has claimed this pussy?”
She made a little, feminine noise. “Andrei, please.”
Her plea broke the last of my restraint. “I am your Lord .”
And I latched onto her throat.