Lord of the Hunt

Chapter 13




“I don’t want to go to the wilds tonight. I need a drink or three.” Taryn leaned against a tree. Ever since the hunt, she’d looked tense. On one hand Verden didn’t blame her, but on the other she wasn’t playing the game properly.

“Where do you want to go?” He’d hoped for somewhere where they could be alone, but maybe that was the last thing they needed.

She lifted her gaze from the ground to look at him. “Take me to a pub where we can drink and laugh and kiss and not care what anyone thinks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pub?”

“A ye olde tavern where people buy ale. We could celebrate the deal?”

“We could,” he said carefully.

“But?” She raised an eyebrow.

They were taking a risk every time they crossed the veil and he wasn’t sure there was anything to celebrate yet. The deal she’d made with the King seemed too easy. “He hasn’t released you has he?”

She pulled a face that involved curling her lip and rolling her eyes at him. “Not in as many words.”

“Then you are still bound to him even after the pardon is granted.”

“What?” She stood up, instead of slouching against the tree. “But once they are back, I don’t have to make nice with him.”

He shook his head. She still didn’t get the finer points. “You are his until he says; until he decides to move on or you fall out of favor.”

Her lips parted and for a moment she said nothing. She didn’t have to; the horror was written all over her face. “No.”

“Yes, Taryn. That’s how it is. You secured the pardon but not your own freedom. The game isn’t over. We are still skirting the edges of disaster.” He could feel the icy fingers reaching for him every time he touched her. And yet, like a moth, he taunted death with every breath. He couldn’t resist her and didn’t want to. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her arms. “You think I enjoyed sitting there, watching you and Gwyn? You think I wanted to pick the Queen? You think I like this any better than you?”

He hated it. It was like having his heart served up to him at every opportunity and each time it had to be cut out afresh.

Her eyes widened. “No. I thought I was done. I hate this hiding. It’s dumb.”

“Dumb?” He let her go. “Fine, let’s see, we go public and I lose my position. Your parents lose their chance of a pardon. Gwyn loses face, and we both get exiled at best, banished at worst.” The skin between his shoulder blades cooled as if touched by frost. They could both be thrown in the river, but he didn’t even want to voice that option. “I don’t know about you, but I enjoy living.”

“This isn’t living. This is dying very, very slowly.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Do you want this over? Is that it?” That would be the smart option, the easy option. It would hurt for a while, but wounds healed. He was sure his heart would heal once she had gone back to the mortal world she held so dear. But Annwyn would be so much emptier without her. He’d be going through the motions, dancing the right steps until Felan took away his rank and privilege simply because he’d supported the old King. He might as well be dead without the stolen kisses from Taryn to look forward to.

He cupped Taryn’s chin and tilted it so she had to look at him. “At least look me in the eye and tell me it’s over. Have that courtesy.” Don’t be like the other women at Court.

She took several breaths before speaking. “I don’t want this over, but I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Everyone, everything. They all want something from me. The King, the Queen—even you.”

“You want something too, Taryn. It’s why you came here. It’s why you’re with me.” Those words hurt him to say more than they should have. They had an arrangement and it was working, and yet neither of them was happy. Because it was no longer a straight trade. He wanted more than sex and trips across the veil. The rush of excitement was being replaced by the worry that someone was watching, waiting to catch them.

She shook her head and blinked as tears pooled in her eyes. Was she going to cry? Fairies never cried—or if they did, they never let anyone see.

His thumb brushed across her cheek. “You’re doing well. Just keep it together for a little longer.”

And he had to do the same.

“I don’t want to be his. I want to be yours.”

Verden closed his eyes for a heartbeat. Those words were like magic. It was what he wanted more than anything. He opened his eyes and placed a kiss on her lips. “You are here with me, not in his bed. For the moment, that has to be enough.” Yet he knew it wasn’t. He was just waiting for the King to order her to his bed—and it would have to be an order, since Taryn wouldn’t go willingly. “Let’s get that drink.”

He’d never been drunk, but getting drunk with Taryn was sounding like a good idea. They could forget for a night who they were and what was waiting. He took her hand and led her through the forest. The doorway could easily be missed—three trees twined together. It had been a very long time since he’d been here, and he’d expected it to be destroyed, but it was still standing and stable. How much had changed on the other side? Hopefully the town was still there.

They walked around the cluster following the twist and appeared at dusk in a field next to what looked like another cluster of trees. Behind them a stream gurgled. Verden suppressed the shiver. The air was still and smelled of animal and grass.

Taryn sniffed, her nose wrinkling. “Where are we?”

“Ireland. It’s summer, very close to midsummer.” He could feel the power of the season change in his blood.

She looked at him. “It seems like only days ago we were in Yosemite.”

“Days in Annwyn…weeks here. Time moves differently. We have a bit of walk to get to the town.” He glanced at her red dress—close fitting, revealing every curve, ribbons laced offering glimpses of her pale skin, and the splits in the skirt reveled her calf as she walked. As beautiful as she looked in it, he didn’t want to see her in it. It was Gwyn’s claim on her. “Do you want to clothe us more appropriately?”


“There’s no Renaissance fair nearby?”

Verden frowned. “The Renaissance ended hundreds of years ago.”

“Never mind. I can only glamour, not make clothes appear.”

“When you get older and stronger, you’ll be able to.” The idea of throwing off his fairy clothes and playing human for a night was becoming more attractive by the heartbeat. He wanted to taste true freedom and live the way Taryn did—free from Court and all of its rules. Once, just the idea of living in the mortal world would have drawn contempt and a small amount of horror. Now he could almost taste the appeal. He didn’t know who he was anymore. “Clothes like last time?” Jeans and shirts—they could wear their own shoes.

“It would be a start.”

He pulled together an image of what they would wear. “We need to get out of these clothes.” He started pulling off his waistcoat and shirt.

“What if someone sees us? I can’t run around naked in a field.”

“I’m not asking you to run, just get naked—you didn’t worry at the ruins or in Yosemite.”

“That was different; we were having sex.” But she was undoing the dress, piece by piece.

His fingers stilled on the lacing of his pants. “If that would help.” He grinned, but was only half joking. He wanted her. All of her. He was too aware that they had to make the most of every moment they had together.

Taryn shot him a glance that was all the answer he needed. No. “Drinks first.”

“We could stay here. It’s nice and quiet.” He pulled her into an embrace with her back to his chest, his fingers quickly finishing undoing her dress. He kissed her shoulder as it began to slide down.

“You’re supposed to buy me a few drinks first, then lure me to somewhere private and take my clothes off.”

“Human men are doing it wrong.” He kissed her shoulder blade, then her spine. His hands cupped her breasts as he hardened against her butt.

“We’ll be coming back here, and we’ll have to get changed again.” She turned in his arms.

He kissed the top of her breast. Then pulled back. As tempting as it was to linger here, he hadn’t picked this doorway just to lie in a field—he could’ve done that with her in Annwyn. He wanted to forget they were fairies with far too much responsibility for one mortal night. “You’re right.”

With a last chaste kiss on her lips, he let her go. Her dress fell away, leaving her bathed in dim starlight. He was a fool. He pushed down the heat in his blood and summoned up some human clothes. There was a shower of sparks and a new pile of clothes appeared.

He bent to grab his and turned around before he took off his pants, because he knew if he watched her dressing, or she watched him undressing, they’d never get out of the field and into town.

“You know, some underwear would’ve been good.”

“Underwear?”

“Like panties and bra?”

He glanced over his shoulder; she was dressed. The clothing hid all of her but hinted at what was beneath. The dark cloth of her shirt clung to her breasts and offered glimpse of her peaked nipples. He adjusted himself in the jeans. They were far too unforgiving for his taste. The fabric was rough against his skin and revealed too much of what his body was thinking.

“Have you not had any human lovers?” She raised one eyebrow, her head tilted as if she were confused by him.

“No. I had plenty at Court. Why would I leave Annwyn?” He knew now why he’d leave, but he didn’t want to go in disgrace. He pulled the black shirt over his head. At least this was soft to touch and unrestrictive.

She crossed her arms. “Oh I don’t know, because the mortal world is fun?”

Fun. That was what had been missing from Annwyn before Taryn came along. He was enjoying the game and risks they took as they danced around each other and tried not to let others see the growing attraction. It was their game. And when they could be seen together at Court? Would he still find her as appealing? Yes, there was something about her, something that made him think that maybe he could live in the mortal world once he was no longer Hunter. She made him realize there was more to living than just the next deal, that there was a world beyond Annwyn where one mistake wasn’t deadly and where love was possible.

“Do I pass?”

She cast her gaze over him, her lips curving. “I think so. Which way to town?”

***

The town had been around for a very long time, although it was bigger than he remembered. In places the streets had cobbles and the buildings were a mix of new and very old. They walked hand in hand down the footpath. They weren’t the only people out on the mild evening. They did blend in well, better than he’d thought.

“There.” She pointed over the road at a building with a sign out the front. “I can’t believe I’m going to a real Irish pub and not a fake one.”

“They have fake pubs?” He was glad she could read the sign and knew where they were going. There were a lot of signs in town and they all meant nothing too him. He might look the part, but that was as far as it went. His initial joy at being in the mortal world and the life it could offer began to fade. Towns were different to the wilds, and he was ill equipped to survive amongst humans.

“They are Irish themed.” She looked at his face, then shrugged. “Never mind, it’s a human thing.”

“Right.” A human thing. Something he wouldn’t get. Even she knew that he didn’t belong here. But he hadn’t belonged at Court either; he’d had to find his feet there and he had. Surely the mortal world couldn’t be any harder?

He followed her into the pub. Music was going—or what humans called music. People were sitting around talking; there was a clear area near a stage that must have been for dancing but no one was using it. He could see why if this was the music they were supposed to dance to.

“What do you want to drink?” She pulled him toward a counter made of polished wood. Behind on shelves were bottles of liquid.

“I don’t know.” He hadn’t realized there’d be so many different things to choose from. “Is there wine?”

“We’re in Ireland. Irish whiskey it is—or Guinness.”

“What can I get you, miss?” The man behind the bar looked at Taryn and then him, then took a second glance, his eyes narrowing. “You got money to pay?”

“Certainly.” Verden took some leaves out of his pocket and put them on the counter.

The man didn’t touch them. He lifted a necklace free of his shirt. A gray stone with a hole through the center. Verden tensed as the man lifted the stone to his eye and looked at the leaves through the hole. The man let the stone fall against his chest and stepped back. “I don’t want no trouble from your kind.”

“We aren’t what you think; we’re just here for a good time.” That was a half-truth at best.

The man reached under the counter and plonked an iron horseshoe on the counter. “Prove it. Prove you aren’t fairy.”

Damn it all to the river. “Okay we are fairy. But we aren’t here to make trouble.”

“Please, sir, we just want a couple of whiskeys.” Taryn smiled and it was all charm—he would have fallen under its spell if he had not already fallen for her.

“You won’t be changing my mind with pretty smiles, lassie.”

Verden touched her arm. “Maybe we should just go. People are looking.” He didn’t want to be attracting too much attention. If they knew about fairies and knew how to use fairy stones to see through glamours, they might also be reporting back to Annwyn.


Taryn bit her lip, then she looked at the man. “We can’t be seen together at Court; we came here to get away. I’m sure I’ve got something to pay for the drinks with.”

“You won’t curse my pub?”

Verden shook his head.

“Or my family?”

“No curses. We swear.” Verden put his hand over his heart.

A greedy glint appeared in the man’s eye. “How about a wish if I guess your name?”

Verden leaned on the bar. “Don’t be pushing your luck.”

“Right you are. How do plan on paying?”

“My ruby ring?” Taryn held out her hand.

The man looked at it through the fairy stone. “Made in Annwyn?”

She nodded.

“That’s not ruby. Got anything mortal-made on you?” The man looked at Verden.

He had nothing mortal-made on him. Taryn bent down and pulled off her shoe. When she stood she was holding the toe ring. Gold with a chip of amethyst.

She placed the ring on the counter. “Mortal-made.”

The man looked at it through the stone, then picked it up. “Very well, two whiskeys each, no curses on me, my pub, or my family.”

Verden waited until the man had walked away to fill their order. “You didn’t have to do that. We could have gone somewhere else where they’d take our money.”

“It’s better this way; otherwise, we are just tricking and stealing.”

“But you had to part with gold.” What was wrong with letting the humans think they were paying? Isn’t that what magic was for?

She shrugged. “It was from an old boyfriend. I just wore it because it annoyed my mother. She said I should aim higher than getting a toe ring from a boyfriend.”

Verden used her hip to pull her close. “What would she say now?”

“Probably that I was being reckless.” She kissed him, a light brushing of her lips over his and just enough to make him hungry for more.

“She’d be right.” He kept his hand on her hip, his fingers resting on the lip of the pocket on her jeans. They molded to the shape of her butt. Maybe humans were onto something with these clothes.

The man put the four drinks on the counter. “No trouble.” He picked up the horseshoe and put it behind the bar. “I got more where that came from.”

It wasn’t that iron kept fairies away, but it hurt to touch. It burned skin and took far longer to heal than any other wound, and if a fairy got iron in their body, it had to all be picked out or they would die of slow, painful poisoning. Verden nodded, understanding the threat.

They picked up their glasses and sat down at a table as far away from the counter as they could.

Taryn took a sip of her drink and shivered. “I don’t usually drink straight spirits.”

Verden gave it a sniff. The smell seemed to burn his nose. “This is safe?”

“I’m still here.”

“I mean, he didn’t slip some iron filing in to kill us?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “He wouldn’t.” She cleared her throat. “How would I tell?”

“You’d be on the floor howling in pain by now.”

She kicked him under the table. “You let me drink it.”

“Ow. You didn’t give me a chance.” He took a taste—not even a sip from his glass, just enough to wet his tongue. The ice clunked and liquid burned with a taste that was sharp and smooth and a little sweet. He took a proper drink and fire burned down his throat and hit his stomach. He drew in a breath as the scent went up his nose.

Taryn grinned at him as she took another drink. “You like?”

“Not particularly.”

“No one does at first, but if you keep going it tastes better—or you just forget that it tastes awful because you no longer care.”

Already he could feel the tension fading as the whiskey got into his blood and warmed him. He lifted his glass and tapped it against hers. “To being human.”

“To being human,” she echoed, and they both drank. “So why wouldn’t he take my ring?” She waggled her fingers over the table.

“Because things that are made in Annwyn often lose their luster here.”

“Like banished fairies.”

“Exactly.” Had forming words always been this hard? He took another drink and drained the glass. She was right; this stuff did get better. “He might have woken up to find a lump of coal instead of a ruby.”

She swirled the ice around her glass and watched it as if it were fascinating. “Pretty fakes. Kind of sums up the place.”

“Don’t judge everyone in Annwyn by what you see at Court.” He placed his hand over hers. “There are plenty who are doing what’s right and what’s best for both worlds but they are constrained.”

“Why not change the rules if they no longer work?”

He frowned. He should be able to come up with a logical response, one that defended Annwyn and the way fairies behaved. The back stabbing and scheming, the elaborate games to get what they wanted, and the power hungry deals that were made over the dinner table and completed in a bedroom. He had nothing. “You can’t just change a society that has existed for thousands of years.”

“But it has changed over the years, from wild fae to colonizing Annwyn, from being worshipped as gods to being almost forgotten. Surely there is another evolution. Nothing stands still forever.”

“Felan will have a chance to make changes.” Verden leaned back against the seat, as his bones seemed to give up and turn soft. His blood was warm and his mind fuzzy. He felt it, knew it was the alcohol and knew this was why no one in Annwyn drank anything alcoholic. Dropping one’s guard there could be fatal. Here it felt good. He gazed at Taryn, aware he was smiling more than he should. “It’ll also depend on his wife.” He shook his head as if that would help clear it. “Politics makes my head hurt.”

“Have another drink.” She picked up her second glass.

He watched as her lips curved against the rim. He wanted to run his tongue over her lip and taste the whiskey from her mouth. The rapid beat of the music filled his blood and drowned out thoughts. He needed to feel her skin against his, her body around his. His body responded, hardening even though his muscles were lax, and she grinned as if she knew what he was thinking.

“You want to finish these drinks and get out of here?”

“What would a mortal do?”

“Wait for the band to start, have a few more drinks, call a cab, and crash into bed.”

He didn’t catch half of that. The way her lips moved when she spoke was far too distracting. “Hmm?”

“You are a cheap date. You’re drunk already.”

Ah, so this was what she’d been talking about. He closed his eyes. He was pretty sure that if the King walked in right now and saw him with Taryn, Verden wouldn’t actually care. He’d tell him to pull up a seat and have some whiskey until it all went away. For a moment he could see himself living here, far away from Court. Free.

“What do you think would happen if we never went back?” Here they wouldn’t have to worry about the squabbles of royalty.

“We’d die in the power shift. We’ll go back, and it will be like we never left.” Her voice was soft.

Like they’d never left. He didn’t want to go back to that. It was eating him like poison, killing him like iron. What he wanted wasn’t possible. He’d heard that before though; when he’d left the farm, his parents had told it was a waste of time and that the Court would never accept him. He’d proved them wrong. He’d prove the Court wrong too and have Taryn—he just didn’t know how yet.


“We won’t be the same.” He finished his second glass and was sure it hit him harder than the first. The room took a moment to steady. “Do you do this often?”

“A few times, and I always left with someone.” She gave him a wink. “Do you want me to take advantage of you?”

In Annwyn the answer would’ve been no. But he wasn’t in Annwyn and she wasn’t talking about some gamble or game. He had no idea what she was saying. “Take advantage of me how?”

Her fingers laced with his as she stood up. “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

He got up, almost stumbled, then laughed. The fuzziness in his head didn’t clear but he didn’t care. All the things that were supposed to matter disappeared when he looked at Taryn.

“You’re not drunk.”

“I’m merry, but I’ve had alcohol before. You haven’t.”

“Can you imagine if the whole Court was drunk?”

“I have, and I’ve been so tempted to spike the wine just to see them falling over and making bad deals.”

He would make very bad deals at the moment. He couldn’t think ahead more than his next few steps, let alone the planning needed to…what was he thinking? He gave up. It was too complicated. Here everything was simple.

The warm night air enveloped him. He could smell the magic of midsummer brewing, gathering in the dusk. “Do you feel it?”

He turned and clasped both her hands, then spun her in a circle. The streetlights shone brighter; everything was sharper.

“Feel what?”

“You can taste it.” He ran his tongue over his lip. It was sweet like summer berries. Then he kissed her, to see if he could taste the magic of midsummer on her lips. The heat of her mouth on his, the lingering scent of whiskey on her breath, and the pounding of his blood in his ears. He was alive for the first time in too long and he could feel it, feel the world within him—but all he wanted was Taryn to be there with him.

Her tongue flicked over his lips and dipped into his mouth. Her body was pressed against his. She moaned once then drew back.

“Maybe you should have just had one glass of whiskey.” She tugged him off the road and led him down the street.

Verden stopped. “Stay still a moment and feel it, listen to the earth. You can feel the energy changing, as the earth prepares to winter.” It was there, a humming that vibrated through him. Like the magic of the jungle only bigger, older, and more powerful. All fairies had once been connected to that power. Now only the wild fae were.

“Yeah…you do know that in the southern hemisphere it’s winter now.”

“Coming up to midwinter.” He could tell from the look on her face she couldn’t feel it. Maybe it was the alcohol flooding his blue blood. “The endless cycle.”

“Come on, the walk back will sober you up.” She was smiling, her hand still linked with his.

Sober up.

Reality slipped back through the cracks. While he was free tonight, it was all waiting for him. The idea of sitting through another dinner, another dance, where he was supposed to smile as though he was enjoying himself—it made his stomach turn.

No, that was definitely the whiskey. Verden drew in a couple of slow breaths. His feet moving, letting Taryn lead.

“Sorry, I’m not on my best behavior.” He was saying things he shouldn’t, things he should only think. No doubt she thought him a little crazy—but he could feel the earth pulsing. Is that what the wild fae felt? Did they tumble through the seasons, reveling in each one the way fairies pretended to at Court with elaborate parties?

“That’s the idea of drinking.” She tipped her head back to look at the stars. “It’s so nice to not be there.”

“It’s nice to not be there with you.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her, unable to keep his hands from touching her. Her lips were warm and her arms slid around his neck as she leaned closer. His hands skimmed down her body to cup her butt and hold her there. His shaft hardened and pressed against the jeans. Taryn wriggled her hips as if enjoying teasing him. If they weren’t still in town, he’d be laying her down and having her. She was his.

At that moment he didn’t want to go back to Annwyn, even though he knew they had to. That they both had jobs to do and lives at risk.

He promised himself things would be different when they returned, even though he didn’t know how to make it different. Something needed to change. For both of them. For Annwyn and for the mortal world.

“Did you want to get a room?” she whispered, her breath on his lips and her fingers in his hair holding him there as if she expected him to pull away.

He took another kiss before answering. It was easier to kiss than think; his body knew what it wanted. “It’s too nice to be indoors.”

“Then we’d better get moving. We can catch a cab to the field. You still got leaves in your pocket?”

“What?” She was jumping ahead too fast for him to keep up.

“Never mind. I can use my ring. Next time I’m bringing my purse—it’s got real money in it.”

Before he had time to catch up, she’d hailed a cab and given directions. He closed his eyes as the cab darted through the town and out toward the farms. When they drew close to a house, Taryn called a stop and paid with the leaves from his pocket—her fingers brushing against him for a moment before handing them over. The dark-skinned driver accepted them without question and drove away. If he’d been Irish, he’d have been more careful about picking up fairies. Still it was good to be out of the vehicle. He preferred horses—although no one rode them around anymore, and carriages were gone too.

He’d spent more time in the mortal world when he’d been a farmer’s son than he had in the whole time since he’d been at Court. What a waste. He should have kept up with the changes better. He should’ve learned to read—Felan could read and write, not that he made it common knowledge. It was deemed a useless skill. Yet after tonight, Verden could see the need.

“I need to learn to read. Is it hard?”

“I don’t think so. But if you intend to spend more time here, it would be advisable.”

They walked further up the lane before clambering over the fence and into the field, the cluster of trees little more than a blot against the night. It had been easier climbing over on the way into town. He stumbled and blamed the whiskey even as he grinned and laughed at himself.

Taryn was smiling too, that full smile that revealed her teeth and lit up her eyes as if they were amber catching the sun. Why was she interested him? He was as corrupt as the next fairy—maybe more because he was the Hunter. The things he’d done to get here…the things he’d do to get free.

“You’d like me to spend more time here.”

She slowed her pace, and he could see the pinch of her eyebrows even in the starlight. “What’s going to happen when Felan takes the throne?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t care right now. “Leave it for another day. We came here to forget about that for one night.”

Taryn nodded. “I know, but it’s always there, at the back of my mind.”

“It’s at the front of mine most days.” The best he could hope for was a loss of rank, the worst banishment. It all depended on how Felan felt on the day. He’d have to spend some more time with the Prince—without betraying Gwyn. Right now he couldn’t see a way out of the web without tearing everything down in the process, and if he did that, he’d take Taryn with him. He couldn’t do that. Not when she was still dependent on the King’s good will to save her father.


He tripped and let himself fall to the grass, then rolled onto his back. The stars turned, as if dancing to the tune of the earth. He flexed his fingers and let the grass tickle his palms. He just wanted to sink into the ground and be absorbed by the magic everyone had forgotten.

“You aren’t getting up, are you?”

“No.” He reached up and snagged her calf and pulled her down on top of him. “I think we should stay right here.” Her weight grounded him further; he could feel his head clearing. They should’ve taken a bottle from the pub and kept drinking. Drowned out the night and everyone else in existence, on both sides of the veil.

She wriggled, making herself comfortable, her hips moving against his. He groaned and threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer as he tried to block out the rest of the world. His hand slid under her shirt.

Then he was pulling it off as she tried to pull his off. Hands glided over skin. His fingers brushed her breast but didn’t stop as he got her jeans open. She got there first, pushing his down. They rolled, fighting to be free of the denim, kicking it clear. He ended up on top of her, her hips cradling his, both of them naked beneath the night.

“Better.” He kissed her again. He was aching to have her. It felt like it had been too long. A couple of days at Court, maybe weeks here.

“Better,” she agreed, her legs easing apart so he could rest between them.

Her eyes glittered in the soft light; her skin glowed like she was lit with magic. No one could look at her and think she was mortal no matter how clever the glamour. She was too pretty, too special.

Too nice to be playing with the likes of him.

He’d plotted and schemed his way as high as he could go. What a web he’d built himself—so well made he hadn’t realized he’d been setting his own trap. He couldn’t drag her into it. He needed to be the one to walk away so only one of them went down with the power shift.

He rolled off her and lay on his back. His blood thrummed with unspent desire. He wished he could blame it on the mortal world or the whiskey, but it wasn’t. The rush and burn of lust happened whenever he looked at Taryn, whether here or in Annwyn. She did this to him. Made him want to roll the dice and bet it all.

“What’s wrong?” She propped herself up and peered at him, her dark hair tickling his chest. He caught a stray curl and brought it to his lips.

He’d forgotten the ease of lying in the grass surrounded by his parents’ cattle. What he’d once seen as dull farming life at the fringes of Annwyn had actually been living—not dancing around and playing games with others’ lives.

“I was wrong.” And it was too late for him to go back and undo it all.

“Wrong about what?”

“Everything.” He’d mistaken Court and status for living, used sex as a bargaining chip and a way to seal deals. He’d thought gambling with his heart was the worst thing he could ever do. The worst thing would be if he ignored it and pretended as though it didn’t matter. A man without a heart wasn’t living. He caressed her cheek. “I love you.”