Son of a bitch. It almost made Jacob smile.

  Mason and his female projects. “Are you happy, Sel ya?”

  She nodded. “Getting there, sir. I’ve a better chance of it here than there.”

  Moving forward, she knelt careful y between his splayed and bent knees. With girlish charm, she put one hand on each of them. “How do you want me, sir?” she asked.

  On a sandwich, with ketchup and a side of chips, came his eager brain, his nostrils already flaring at her sweet scent. He had too little control, and he couldn’t spare anything for finesse. So he simply slid his arm around her waist, brought her fast and hard against his chest so she tumbled against him. Her arms fel around his shoulders, but then gripped as he took hold of her hair, turned her face into his shoulder and sank his fangs into her throat.

  He didn’t look at Keldwyn, didn’t want to see what look of distaste the tight-assed Fae might have on his face. He needed strength for Lyssa. She won’t survive three days. What wouldn’t she survive? The conditions of the desert? What dangers existed there?

  He’d

  been

  sensible

  enough

  to

  release

  pheromones into Sel ya’s blood, the vampire way of easing the pain and calming panic. True to her promise, though, she had a handle on her fear, though no mortal could have helped a racing heartbeat after that rude yank and taking. The pheromones calmed it, so it didn’t provoke his predator instinct.

  Of course the pheromones came with another problem. Her hands were kneading his shoulders, and her generous breasts, loose under her servant’s dress, pressed into his chest, the nipples hard and needy. She was straddling one of his thighs because of the way he’d pul ed her down, and now she was mindlessly rubbing herself against it, dampening him with the slick moisture of her cunt, no underwear under the skirt of course. His cock couldn’t help but respond to it, because he was feeding. But he was as likely to fuck a gentle, helpful girl not in control of her faculties as he was to kil her. Plus, his lady was out fighting for her life, while he was getting hard and thinking of rooting on a serving girl like a mindless beast. That was enough to viciously balance the desire.

  As Sel ya got more aggressive, he made a low growl, startling her enough to tone down some of her reaction. After he’d fed enough, he eased her away, nodding

  at

  Keldwyn.

  Fortunately,

  the

  Fae

  understood, bringing her back to her feet and steadying her as she swayed into him. Her dazed eyes were upon Jacob, her breath fast and shal ow.

  Lifting her, Keldwyn took her to the settee near the bed. He laid her down with a soothing stroke of her forehead. “Sleep,” he said. “Dream of your true love.” Her eyes closed, even though that sexy little body quivered with residual lust as she slid off into the place he’d suggested. Jacob turned his eyes away, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand.

  “You could have done that at the first.”

  “She said she didn’t want an enchantment. She’s given her heart to a Fae, I think. Humans. Always fascinated with others not of their own kind.” Keldwyn snorted.

  “Wel , since she was al owed to live here, I think some of that fascination goes both ways.” Jacob gave him a look. “Can I get up now without being knocked back down?”

  Keldwyn nodded. “You seem much calmer.” As Jacob began to rise, he glanced down at the floor. Froze. A sunbeam from the window lay across his palm. And al he felt was the mild warmth of the autumnal sun.

  From the beginning, he’d noticed he didn’t have the same sense of sunrise and sunset here that he had in the mortal world. He’d attributed it to the differences between the two worlds, some kind of Fae jetlag. But a vampire’s survival was based on an awareness of when the sun would rise. If survival wasn’t a factor, then his sense of it would be like the human one, based on sleep patterns or the clock or looking out the window.

  Lyssa had left the curtain drawn, but inevitably a line of sunlight escaped from the sides, depending on the time of day. When he’d landed at the foot of the bed after that last repulsion, he’d been right beside that stray sunbeam.

  “You bastard.” Striding to the window, he tore back the curtain. As the sunlight streamed in, he flinched, but it was psychological, not physical. The sun poured over his body, giving him nothing more than that mild warmth.

  It had been wel over a year since he’d felt the touch of the sun, been able to stand ful y in its track like this. But that was a fleeting impression, because at the moment, other things were taking precedence.

  Like wrath.

  “I expected an Irishman to remember that al the stories of the Fae suggest their world is underground, such that any sense of the sun or moon would be magical y filtered.” Keldwyn spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “However, while the Fae sun here won’t hurt you, the desert sun may be an entirely different matter. Fae enchantments can be organic, thinking things. Cruel y duplicitous. Even if it doesn’t burn you right away, you could find her, only to have your immunity to the sun vanish, making her witness your disintegration to ash before her.”

  “Great.” Jacob stepped toward him. “So it’s like any other normal fucking day. I might die; I might live.

  Why the hel didn’t you tel me about the sunlight?” Keldwyn looked mildly surprised. The Fae lord never managed to look anything less than diabolical y sincere. “You never asked. And my loyalty, my interests, such that they are, are toward Lyssa, not toward her vampire servant.”

  “Horseshit. If you have any loyalty to her, wouldn’t it make sense to give her the benefit of al the resources at her disposal? Like me.”

  “Lyssa needs to accomplish this quest on her own.

  Queen Rhoswen decreed I could give her no help to go through the desert, though she made a concession on my smal offering of a container for your blood. The Fae queen wants that gemstone.” Keldwyn considered the window, the view beyond it.

  “However, Her Majesty did not prohibit me from helping you. Particularly if you are going in separately, wel after Lyssa is on her way.”

  “Rhoswen real y needs to retain a lawyer to deal with you. But thank the gods she doesn’t have one right now. Fine. How can you help me?”

  “I can get you to the portal, and tel you where to find her. I can also give you weapons to help you get to her side more quickly. However, I can’t help you get past Cayden. You must do that yourself. I wil meet you at the stables.”

  Picking up the sleeping girl, Keldwyn moved out of the room, gone before Jacob could even retort.

  Quickly, he donned the protective clothing Keldwyn had brought. He tucked the long hooded robe into the additional pack, which contained a couple flasks of water.

  He’d almost forgotten about Cayden, until he headed across the courtyard and found the captain of the Queen’s Guard at the gatehouse. He sat with deceptive casualness on a stone bench, sharpening his sword. At Jacob’s appearance, his eyes got as sharp as the blade and he rose.

  Jacob knew Cayden was a soldier, with no patience for Keldwyn’s silver-tongued cleverness.

  Rhoswen didn’t want Lyssa helped in any way. That was the intention he’d uphold, no preamble or pretending otherwise.

  As Cayden moved into a confrontational position, Jacob strode forward. He came to a halt several feet away from the male, just out of range of his weapon.

  “Go back to your room,” Cayden said. “Or sit out here and enjoy the rare taste of sunlight, vampire.

  But you’re not leaving.”

  “You saw the spear go through her chest. She’s not your queen’s enemy. I’m going to go help her.” When Cayden leveled the sword, Jacob’s eyes narrowed. “Centuries ago, the Tuatha de Danaan were defeated by Gaelic warriors, despite al their fancy, enchanted weapons. If you need a reminder of that”—he took a matching stance, armed with nothing but determination and a brace of knives

  —“this Irishman is prepared to do it al over again.”

  “She may not be an enemy, but there are many gradations left between enemy and friend. As for you, we have no magical spear to destroy annoyances, so I wil have to handle pest control with normal steel.”

  Jacob sighed, straightened. “Fine.” Then he swung the pack at Cayden’s sword.

  The straps tangled it. Before Cayden could lever upward, cutting through them, Jacob ripped the grip from his hand, sending the blade clattering over the cobblestones. He plowed into him head first, knocking him back against the wal . Cayden struck his back with locked fists, breaking free, but Jacob got in a hard punch to the solar plexus as he went down.

  He’d hoped for and counted on Cayden being pissed off enough to make this a soldier’s fight, not a magical one, and so far he was getting his wish. But the guy was a seriously good soldier. Jacob landed in the dirt, blood exploding in his mouth, and barely had enough time to rol over and get his legs up to shove Cayden back as he charged in on him.

  Leaping to his feet, he jumped on the man’s back, tumbling them both into the dirt. They rol ed and punched, an out-and-out street fight. He wondered where Cayden’s men were. Maybe most were part of the ceremonial guard watching over Tabor and Rhoswen. Or perhaps Cayden wanted this to be just between them, which gave Jacob another idea, a faint hope.

  He put everything into his next strike, a solid blow to the face that resulted in a payback crunching sound in Cayden’s nose, staggering him back. The man bared bloody teeth and roared, charging forward again. Jacob took the attack and fel back with it, going over with him in the dirt. He suffered a few face punches himself but then got in another solid body blow. He put his vampire strength behind it, knocking the wind out of Cayden.

  Leaping up, he backed off, wiping the blood off his own face as Cayden staggered to his feet and began circling again. He didn’t charge right back in, however, tel ing Jacob he needed a minute. Good.

  So did he.

  “The only way you’re going to keep me from going after her is to kil me. So if you’re not prepared to do that, save yourself the beating and step aside.” The captain of the guard gave him a sardonic look. “I am not as thickheaded as you believe me to be, vampire. If you die, so does she. So you wil not let me kil you.”

  Jacob nodded. “I was planning to kick your ass anyway, beat you to unconsciousness, so it’s a moot point. But on the slim chance you get the upper hand, to stop me you’l have to take it as close to that point as you dare.”

  Dropping his arms and offensive stance, Jacob came to a stop. Cayden did as wel , eyeing him warily. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to love a moody she-bitch from hel ?” Jacob demanded.

  “What would you do for her, your queen, if you knew her life was in danger and you weren’t with her?

  She’s your heart, your soul, your reason for being alive.”

  “I serve my queen,” Cayden gritted.

  “Yeah. And that means sometimes you have to serve her in ways she doesn’t even know she needs, but you do. Damn it.” Jacob spat out the impatient curse, took three steps forward, coming toe-to-toe with Cayden. “If you want to serve her to the best of your ability, then throw out the fucking etiquette manual and use your heart, your soul, your gut, your cock. Do what they tel you to do. That’s the only way she’l learn to trust you. Stop doing every fucking thing she says, especial y the things you know are wrong. Start loving her. That’s how you serve a queen.”

  Cayden stared at him a long moment. The two men were of an equal height. Jacob was aware the man had a backup knife at his belt and his hand was on the hilt. It wouldn’t kil him, but Cayden could temporarily incapacitate him, if he didn’t move away fast enough, and Cayden was more than capable of moving faster than a vampire.

  Cayden let out a sigh, lip curling in frustration. He dropped his hand from the knife hilt. “Go.”

  “Do you want me to knock you out so it looks less guilty?”

  Cayden raised a brow. “I wil not lie to my queen, vampire. I take the consequences of my actions.”

  “Are you sure? I’d be happy to punch you in the face until you’re unconscious.”

  Cayden showed his teeth. “Go, before I change my mind about stabbing you in the chest.” Jacob was already moving. However, when he paused at the dividing wal between main and lower bailey, he looked back. Cayden was staring into space, his face a picture of abject misery. Damn, damn, fuck.

  Muttering a curse, Jacob took two swift strides back toward him, gaining his attention. “Your queen lost her father,” he said quietly. “A thousand years ago or not, in her mind, he abandoned her, turned his back on her mother, though he never promised her anything, except love for the child they’d made.

  But Magwel rejected that, made that choice for Rhoswen. So in your lady’s mind, he turned his back on her for another daughter, another woman. She’s afraid of trusting any man, which means you have to teach her to trust. You have to stop playing the game al her way. Instead of fol owing, take the fucking lead.”

  That was the best he could do for the guy, but something in his gut had said it needed saying, just in case. He took off at a swift jog, headed for the stables. Once he turned the corner, though, the urgency gripped him even harder, such that he accelerated his pace.

  He arrived with a gust of wind from his passage, leaving skid marks in the soil near the open double doors. Keldwyn control ed the startled reactions of the horses he held. Taking the reins of the nearest one, Jacob swung up onto the bare back in one lithe move. “I can’t touch her mind, but she’s in trouble, I can feel it. We need to hurry.”

  18

  LYSSA crouched on the sand, getting her breath back. Despite her chest being slick with sweat and blood, the rose stil pulsed against it, tel ing her she was getting closer. If anyone was fol owing her, she’d left an interesting trail of bread crumbs. She’d turned the first three Fae into cacti, and the next group into a smal handful of scorpions. They’d chased her until she outran them. After that, she went for inanimate earth forms. Rocks, dried sticks. The flow of earth magic here was stingy at best, most of it wrapped up into holding the protections and forms of the prison.

  As her energy and that shifting supply of magic dwindled, like a wel spring drying up, the ways she could fight the inhabitants became more and more macabre.

  She stared at the last set of cacti, which were not ful y cacti at al . They were half Fae, half plant, and the Fae were stil hideously, torturously alive, their screams of agony now down to rasping pants, and moans. She was sorry for that. Under normal circmstances, she would have tried to end their pain with a quick throat slitting.

  However, the cold and ruthless truth was that the terrifying image of those mangled, half alive bodies, cactus spikes protruding from their bloody torn skin, was keeping the next wave of pursuers at a wary distance. Even so, the newest group had swel ed from five to ten members, the largest contingent yet.

  She’d wondered how any of them had survived to become these desperate packs, if they were so quick to attack newcomers. When she’d fought in close quarters with them, their damaged bodies and dead eyes told her why. Newcomers weren’t kil ed, not outright. Everything of value was taken from the weak . . . repeatedly. From their crawling, avaricious gazes, she also knew why she’d not seen any women. A woman wouldn’t survive here long because her primary value was quickly used up by males starved for sexual contact. They were wild, savage beasts with no reason or logic, al of that long ago burned away by the sun.

  She was having a hard time believing Rhoswen had ever come here and tried the quest she was attempting now. The fact this place existed was a blight of shame on both monarchs. While the most brutal crime might deserve this kind of judgment, it would taint the judges’ souls to give it. A quick execution would be better.

  She thought of what Tabor had intimated, that the Fae had experienced a dark period when there was little trust among them, as wel as between themselves and humans. Conflict, war between factions. It sounded much like the vampires’ Territory Wars and the brutality that had happened then. For al that she was being constantly pursued, there was not a large populace. How long had it been since anyone was sentenced to this? Did those in the Fae world realize any of the condemned stil survived?

  Though survival was a loose term. Any immortal who figured out how to exist here sentenced themselves to unimaginable hel .

  She wished she could tel how far she was from her goal. While the rose’s pulse was getting stronger, she had no measure for what that meant.

  She’d gone through most of Jacob’s blood in the pouch Keldwyn had provided, but her body was quivering with exhaustion, because her opponents had gotten in their strikes as wel . During one harrowing moment when they’d pinned her, she’d cracked open the earth, a minor quake that threw al of them, including her, fifty feet into the air. When she landed, she’d been fortunate to be the only one not momentarily disoriented, expecting the effect. That had been her first set of mutant cacti, her body too depleted to do the ful job, the supply of magical energy too thin.

  Those ten were starting to move forward. They’d noticed the trembling, her blood forming a larger stain under her feet. She started moving again.

  Perhaps they’d trail her for a while before finding the courage to attack her once more. Every step was a possibility she might reach her father’s soul before her own departed the world.

  Then she realized the shuddering beneath her was not coming from her own body. Whirling, braced for a charge, she saw the ten retreating at a ful , stumbling run, dispersing like rats scrabbling on a flat table surface. Realizing the shudder was from the ground beneath her, she started to fol ow them, to get beyond the point where the desert was violently shifting, the sand rol ing away and ground heaving much like it had done when she cal ed up the percussion force. Only this time, an actual something was coming up from beneath the earth.

  It blasted forth with a loud noise somewhere between a hawk’s cry, an enraged lion’s roar and a dragon’s screech. The explosion knocked her on her ass, but she stopped moving, letting the sand shower over her as a long serpentine neck reared up above. The head that topped it was skeletal looking, with six red eyes and three rows of teeth. This was not a prisoner. This being was indigenous to this place, one of the things put here to ensure nothing survived long. Perhaps the judges’ ironic form of mercy.