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“No.” A whisper, a desperate rebuttal.
Rhun shifted on the couch to face her, his eyes glittering cold. “The deal with him means you have to put your magic at his disposal, and he’s been taking advantage of it—a lot, and mostly for trivial shit. As long as you keep the deal with him, you’ll have to keep using your magic, which means you’ll have to pay back to the Powers That Be.” His neck muscles corded, and his nostrils flared. “Which means our baby will die.”
Merle shook her head, feeling too much for her cracking heart to keep in. “I can’t,” she rasped. “I can’t just send Maeve to that…that monster.” Tears clouded her vision as she looked at her mate, her husband, her lover. “Don’t ask me to make that decision.”
Rhun made as if to say something, but she laid her hand over his mouth. “Please…not now. I can’t do this right now.” She turned to Hazel, who still sat in her chair, cloaked in awkward silence. “Does Maeve know?”
Hazel shook her head. “She’s gone to the movies with Keira, Lenora, and Anjali. She had her phone turned off, so I couldn’t reach her.”
“Don’t tell her.” Merle’s voice was as husky as her baby sister’s, her throat tight with anguish. “Don’t say a word to her about the pregnancy and the risk. I…need to think before I discuss it with her.”
Hazel hesitated, shifted her weight on the chair, but then she nodded. “Sure. We’ll look into this, Merle. We’ll find a way to make it work.”
A muscle ticked along Rhun’s jaw. “You better do it fast. Considering the rate at which Arawn has been using her magic, we have about a week before she has to pay back again.”
Chapter 11
The midday sun filtered through the canopy of trees, painting a lazily moving filigree of gold on the forest floor. Birdsong and the rustle of animals in the undergrowth surrounded Basil as he followed the fae in front of him down the path, the comforting sounds of the woods a stark contrast to the silence of his traveling companion.
Isa had barely spoken a word to him all morning, had reverted to being his professionally distant guide and protector in Faerie. Gone were all traces of the desire she showed him last night, of the lust and longing he felt in her kiss. He hadn’t imagined it, had he? She had welcomed his kiss, had responded in kind, revealing a streak of fiery passion underneath her usually calm facade.
She wanted him, that much was clear after last night. Desire such as she displayed didn’t just fizzle out over a few hours. For whatever reason, she was reluctant to admit her attraction to him, and put up a front of indifference, acted as if nothing happened.
Well, now. That didn’t mean all hope was lost. The possibility of winning her affection was worth fighting for. At the very least, it was worth another shot, another attempt to find out if those doubts of hers would truly keep her from acting on her desire for him, or if they’d dissipate when she got to know him better. He’d barely begun courting her, so he’d give her more time, would respect her boundaries—while at the same time making sure she knew, felt, believed that he appreciated her, and would love to make her his.
If she truly didn’t want him, if she rejected him completely, he’d back off, of course. But until she told him to go to hell, he planned to do his damnedest to woo her off her feet.
“By the way, who is your source?” he asked, referring to the fae they planned to tap for information about Rose. They’d been hiking for a few hours now, drawing close—according to Isa—to the informant’s dwelling.
Isa threw a quick glance at him as he caught up with her. “He’s a collector of rare and extraordinary objects. Buys and sells all sorts of things that are hard to come by, which means he often hears the strangest rumors from people all over Faerie and beyond. Chances are he picked up something about a witch changeling. Or knows someone else who might have heard.”
“Do you think he might have something to eat, too?”
She blinked, stopped short. “You’re hungry? Didn’t you just eat a whole bag of dried meat? And two apples?”
“Well, yes, but that was a snack. We are going to have lunch soon, aren’t we?”
“You had two breakfasts. Two!”
“Which is the way it should be. Just ask any hobbit.”
“Any what?”
He sighed, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Seriously, we are going to have to watch so many movies.”
Something flickered through her slate gray eyes, there and gone again within a heartbeat. “I’ll see if I can bag a rabbit later.”
She resumed walking, and he followed, his attention inexorably drawn to her hips, to the firmness of her butt, so deliciously revealed by the tight fabric of her pants. Her legs were elegantly muscled, a testament to her active lifestyle, to the strength of a hunter. He indulged himself in blissful visions of how those legs would feel wrapped around his hips…or his shoulders…while he dove in and tasted her. Would she squeeze him tight, pull him closer? Would her thigh muscles quiver and flex in response to his licks? Would she be sensitive in the dip at the juncture of her thighs?
His body hardened, desire pumping hot through his veins. He wanted to explore her, every tiny bit of her. He wanted to learn what made her sigh, moan, which touch made her writhe, what move would make her look at him with eyes turned to candescent silver by the force of her desire. And what would she do to him when he gave her free rein?
By the gods, he’d never felt such a powerful craving for a female before. The little taste of her he sampled when they kissed? It had kicked off an avalanche of need, a longing so strong it bordered on addiction.
He took deep breaths of the chilly forest air to clear his head and cool his desire, savored the fragrance of the most recent rain shower. Winter in the Pacific Northwest meant lots of moisture and mild temperatures, which he didn’t mind at all. He’d take months of rain over snow and ice any day.
The path opened onto a meadow, lush green, and rolling out toward wooded hills. A hawk’s cry echoed across the glade, and Isa stopped abruptly. Her face turned toward the sky, she smiled, then whistled a melody. The hawk cried again, almost as if in answer. Basil blinked when she held out her arm, and a few seconds later the bird of prey swooped down and settled on the wrist guard on her forearm.
Isa murmured something in her language to the hawk, her face graced with an indulgent smile. The bird tilted its head, and when Isa touched its beak, caressed its feathers, the raptor nibbled at her hand in what was clearly a display of avian affection.
