CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Vaughn pivoted to face the screen. His eyes widened, his gaze sliding from the screen, then to her and back before he finished leaving a message asking someone to call him back.
She increased the volume and propped her feet on the coffee table, aware of the muscles in her back groaning in protest. She couldn’t remember the last time her body felt so battered, and she’d already one hell of a rough night before returning home to find Vaughn in her pool.
The television screen brightened, the movie’s hospital background a little too bright on her eyes, but she wasn’t changing it.
“You ordered porn?”
“It’s an erotic masterpiece,” she parroted from the description she’d read on the screen before selecting it.
Vaughn grabbed the remote and checked the listing. “Naughty Nurses Volume 5.” He snorted.
Elena shrugged, feigning interest in the thorough examination the nurse was giving to her patient. “What? No nurse fantasies?”
“I’m not playing games with you, Elena.”
“Isn’t that what this is?” She waved a hand around the room. “Snag a sorceress and win a prize?”
“You should get cleaned up.”
She pushed to her feet before he made her. “So I’m too dirty for you, who knew?”
“You don’t leave this cottage without my permission.”
“Whatever you say.” She headed for the bathroom.
Refusing to second-guess the wisdom of trying to get under the gargoyle’s skin, she tugged her shirt over her head.
She could feel the primal weight of his gaze burning into her back, the heat of it caressing her spine like a lover’s touch. She was almost relieved when he remained at a distance, then mentally chided herself for letting feelings that should have been ground to dust get in the way of achieving her goal—her freedom.
Walking into the bathroom, she undid the button on her pants, tugging the zipper down before she faced him. “Sure you don’t want to make sure there aren’t any weapons I can use against you in here?”
He didn’t move.
“You certainly didn’t have a problem getting into my personal space before. But I guess in Vegas it was all about luring me in.”
His lips parted a beat before he pressed them into an unforgiving line.
Had she really expected him to deny it?
She reached for the door. Between one second and the next he was in the way, blocking her from closing it.
Maybe she was getting to him. Progress.
He scanned the interior without stepping a foot inside the cramped space.
She leaned over to turn on the taps. “What, did you develop a phobia of bathrooms? Recent traumatic experience perhaps?” she taunted. She shimmied out of her mud covered pants next and tossed them into the corner.
“I need my bag, assuming you packed more than just your favorite panties for me.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
She leaned in a little closer. “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”
“Trying to seduce your way out of this is a little beneath you, isn’t it?”
“If I wanted to seduce you, you’d be begging for it already.”
He held her gaze and it took everything she had to maintain her feigned boredom.
Inside she was coming apart. He was standing too close and the memories of his touch were playing havoc with her heart no matter how hard she fought to ignore it. Vaughn wasn’t the only one with something to lose playing this kind of game.
Vaughn cocked his head, then retrieved her bag from where she dropped it by the door.
She grabbed for it when he was as close as she could handle.
He refused to sacrifice his hold on it, leaving them at an impasse, and her with no choice but to keep pushing. “What? No offer to wash my back this time, Snoopy?”
He let go.
She turned away, but didn’t make it far. His fingers curled around her wrist, stopping her. She braced herself, sensing he was about to call her bluff.
“Make it quick,” he growled, and something in his voice—something she knew she should ignore—made her glance over her shoulder.
An unmistakable hunger took the startling blue depths from unsettling to possessive. Steam billowed past the curtained bathtub, super-heating the already scorching air.
He leaned toward her, and she held her breath.
And then he was gone, the doorway empty.
“Leave it open,” he called out.
Her eyes slid shut, but that was all the reaction she would allow no matter how much her legs wanted to let go. She had slid to the floor over him once before, and that had been one time too many.
As if the exchange drained the last of her energy, she barely managed to finish undressing before she slipped under the spray, nearly wincing as the hot water beat down on her earlier scrapes.
The brand on her chest was definitely affecting her ability to heal. She touched the center of the glyph, her skin feverish, and this time it had nothing to do with the gargoyle pacing the living room.
Sweet Avalon, what was wrong with her?
She stuck her head under the water and groaned. He’d abducted her, had plans to trade her away. She should be plotting ways to destroy him, not thinking about—
A sudden chill kissed the back of her spine. She jerked the curtain back, certain she was no longer alone.
No one else was in the room. So why didn’t it feel that way?
She scanned the interior, verifying the small bathroom window remained shut. Beyond the bathroom, she heard Vaughn on the phone again, but knew he was too smart to say anything she could use as leverage.
She waited a long moment before returning to her shower, rubbing the spot at the back of her neck that spread goosebumps down her back.
Quick to finish up despite her growing exhaustion, she wrapped a towel around herself, using a smaller one to dry her hair. Vaughn hadn’t packed anything that could help with her present predicament, forcing her to be content with clean clothes and a hairbrush.
It wasn’t the first time anyone had come for her, but it was the first time anyone had packed her a bag in preparation. Not that it counted for a damn thing.
She threw her brush back in the bag just as she felt his presence in the doorway. “Your turn.”
“I’m good.”
“Does going to stone make you squeaky clean, too?” She picked up her bag and didn’t care that she bumped into him on her way by, choosing the bedroom furthest from where he stood.
She closed the door behind her a little harder than necessary, waited for him to tell her to open it.
He didn’t.
She relaxed against it, digging deep. She’d been in worse situations, just never cut off from her magic at the same time. She could feel it reaching for her, chained inside and straining to break free.
If Vaughn thought neutralizing her magic eliminated her as a threat, he hadn’t been paying nearly enough attention. He wasn’t the only one capable of picking up new tricks, and she’d been racking them up for a while now.
She could open the door right now and tell him the biggest ace up her sleeve, but what good would it do her when Vaughn’s sister was still being held by the people pulling his strings?
Maybe he’d care or maybe the information would be just one more thing her would-be assailants could use to their advantage. No, she couldn’t risk it.
She just needed a new angle, a new…
What had Vaughn said before the accident? Something about her sticking around because she wanted the crown.
She pushed away from the door.
Did that mean he had it on him? She hadn’t felt its presence the way she had in the chamber under the Wolf’s Den. Maybe he was masking it somehow. Or maybe she couldn’t sense it so easily with her own magic chained inside her.
She hadn’t been lying about having no desire to mess with the Iron Queen’s crown, but if that was her only play, she might have to risk it.
Two weeks after Vegas, her curiosity had gotten the best of her and she’d started doing some digging into Vaughn’s mystery object. By sheer luck she’d stumbled across the image of a woman who resembled the one in the chamber.
From there she’d found others, and then she remembered the bedtime stories her mother had told her and Emma long ago. Stories about an evil queen who forged a crown from iron to enhance her magic until she was unstoppable.
Elena had always assumed it was no more than a tall-tale that explained how the Fae discovered iron was ultimately poisonous to them. Her experience in the vault said otherwise.
She’d broached the subject of the Iron Queen with her grandmother over cards, but Titania, who’d been surprisingly eager to educate Elena on all things Fae, had dismissed the subject almost immediately.
Every attempt Elena made to learn more about the queen so corrupted by her own magic she was rumored to have slain whole villages was met with resistance.
Unfortunately, there hadn’t been time to investigate it further since then. And no matter how hard she tried, she hadn’t been able to piece together the fuzzy threads of her memory from the day in the vault and the voice that still whispered in her dreams.
She hadn’t been lying about having no desire to mess with the Iron Queen’s crown, if that really was what Vaughn stole. There were a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea to go anywhere near that magic again, but desperate times…
Too many people were depending on her. Too many had been lost already and she’d only lose more sitting around waiting for a solution to her problem to present itself.
The crown might be as good as it was going to get.
Mind made up, she dragged on her clothes, wondering if he had the box hidden in his bag or if it was waiting at their final destination. Maybe the wolf’s partner in crime was bringing it with him.
She ran the brush through her damp hair, mulling over potential scenarios in her head. If she could just—
The temperature in the room dropped, a chill snaking into her bones with icy precision.
Her head snapped up, her palm opening on instinct at the sight of the shadow that materialized between her and the door.
A wraith.
If there was ever a time to rely on magic, it was now. And hers was staked down inside her. Damn it.
“Vaughn!” There was no way she could hold a former-knight-turned-monster off for long on her own, no matter how good she thought she was.
She darted across the bed toward the window. Inky stretches of blackness reached for her, lengthening into razor-sharp claws that raked her arm.
She hissed and jerked to the side. “Vaughn!”
The wolf muttered something about not falling for it a second time.
So she was on her own with no magic and no weapons.
She’d rather face a hundred bounty hunters than one wraith. Dealing with Lucan’s monster half had been intimidating enough without ever landing in his crosshairs as a threat. She wasn’t getting off that easy with this one.
The wraith hovered above the bed, the former knight’s body shrouded in swirling blackness except for the eyes that flashed almost silver as they followed her movements.
He lunged for her, and she grabbed the closest piece of furniture. She shoved the small dresser at the wraith, not realizing until the last second her strength was also hindered by the Fae glyph painted on her skin.
The dresser only moved a few feet instead of pinning the wraith to the wall.
Fuck.
***
The wolf prowled under this skin.
“Vaughn!”
Not an outright scream, but close enough—real enough to make the wolf snarl in the back of his head.
Did she actually expect him to fall for that shit twice?
His head was still ringing from the last time he let his animal half respond without thinking things through. It should never have happened in the first place, which only proved his judgment was compromised where Elena was concerned.
She yelled again, the fear in her voice making the wolf claw at him.
Something smashed into the wall. Destroying the place certainly wasn’t an option. “Knock it off, Elena.” He scanned the darkness beyond the front window. A vaguely familiar scent teased his senses, dark and iron-tinged.
He bolted across the room, slamming into the bedroom door more than opening it.
Elena stood against the wall closest to him, blood running down her forehead and arm.
A clawed shadow reached for her.
“Get out of the cottage. Run!” The last command was more growl than words as he gave himself entirely to the wolf.
The animal in him ripped to the surface as he jerked his shirt off, colors blurring across his vision as muscles lengthened and bones realigned.
The need for the wraith’s blood filled his head, the urge to tear out its throat, to extinguish the threat to Elena pulsed in every fiber of his being.
The phantom backed up, dodging the snap of the wolf’s jaws.
His claws scratched the floor as he propelled himself forward, lunging for the wraith. A tease of another familiar scent surfaced and then was gone. The wraith retreated into the main room, pursuing Elena.
No.
He leaped, catching the phantom. The wraith twisted, reaching back with his claws to rake Vaughn’s side. Yelping, he skidded across the floor, quickly finding traction to propel him back toward the wraith.
The wraith partially returned to his human form, his upper body visible above the shadows that stayed close. “Vaughn.”
Erec?
Catching Elena’s scent drifting in through the open door, Vaughn snarled at the familiar knight, the wolf torn between going after Elena and eliminating the threat.
He prowled forward.
“I don’t have a choice, Vaughn. I can’t allow you to exchange the sorceress for your sister.”
The mention of his sister gave him pause, his craving for his enemy’s blood momentarily eased, but not the fierce need to protect Elena at all costs.
“Release the sorceress, my friend. Walk away from the deal.”
Embracing his human form despite the wolf’s vicious desire to tear the knight’s entrails from his body, Vaughn faced Erec. “Who hired you?”
Erec shook his head, ignoring the question. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I cannot allow you to get in the way. If you plan to move forward with the trade, the sorceress will die.”
“It’s the only way to get Piper back.”
The monster surfaced inside the man Vaughn had once called his friend, his eyes so dark and flat that Vaughn knew he was dealing with a wraith already on the edge. “It’s not worth your life. Release the sorceress. This may be the only warning I can give you.”
The knight disbursed into shadows, slipping into the night.
Vaughn bolted out the door. “Elena!”
He followed her scent, sprinting around to the back of the cottage that faced the woods. “Elena, answer me.”
Nothing.
He darted into the woods. Blood ran down his side from the wraith’s wound, the pain gnawing but bearable. “Answer me, Elena!”
“Here,” she called out a moment later, her throat hoarse, like she tried like hell not to speak and lost the battle.
He altered his course slightly, finding the tracks she’d left behind, the scent of her blood souring his stomach. “Wait for me.”
He found her in a small clearing, her back to him, her fists clenched at her sides. She looked so small, so fragile standing there barefoot, blood dripping off the tips of her fingers. The urge to scoop her into his arms, to shield her and keep her safe nearly choked him “Ivy.”
She shook her head. “You have no right.” She whirled around. “No fucking right. You left me defenseless.” She stormed toward him, flickers of blue sparking in her eyes despite the magic caged inside her. “I had no way to protect myself against him.”
“Are you okay?”
She threw her arms up, then winced at the movement. “I’ve been targeted not once, but twice in one night. That must give me bragging rights of some kind.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.”
She laughed bitterly. “I don’t know what’s worse. A ruthless killer coming after me, or you pretending it actually matters.”
“I never planned on any of this. I’m s—”
“Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to fall off the face of the earth. I want you to be weak and vulnerable. I want someone to break your h—”
Her gaze darted to his as she broke off, her usual poker face blown away. He shook his head, denying the emotion that cleaved him in two. He couldn’t have compromised the fierce sorceress on that level. He knew how deep his feelings ran that night, but she couldn’t possibly have fallen...
It was another game, another part of her arsenal. It had to be. Or was it just easier to assume she was playing games than admit that deserting her in Vegas hurt her far more than he thought, than he’d dared let himself believe?
“You want somebody to break my...what?” he asked even when he should leave it alone.
“Go to hell.”
Since he was already there, he kept pushing. He didn’t have much left to lose at this point. He grabbed her arm when she turned her back to him. “What do you want them to break? What did I break, Ivy?”
She pivoted and shoved him hard. “My heart,” she snapped, her voice cracking. She pressed her lips together, then shook her head. “You won’t break me. This won’t break me.”
Sweet Avalon. If anyone was broken it was him. Looking at the blood smeared across her forehead, her eyes flickering from vulnerable to fierce and back, ripped his world apart.
Vaughn didn’t feel himself move, didn’t knowingly reach for her, but she was suddenly there. Dragged up against him, trapped by the arms he locked around her, her lips sliding apart under his.
She murmured softly, the sound either a moan or a protest. Maybe both. He should stop now, before everything spiraled out of control.
He held on, and so did she.
Every brush of his fingers across her skin, every moment he deepened the kiss, every breath he felt whisper past her lips confirmed she was okay.
Another fight she’d survived. Another monster she’d eluded
Somehow he drew her closer, the chain he’d been clinging to inside slipping through his fingers one link at a time. Her heart pounded under his palm, her strength empowering and weakening him at the same time.
He lifted her into his arms, and Elena wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him. Fire burned up his side, sinking deep where the wraith’s claws has sliced him. He ignored it, ignored everything but the woman losing herself to the moment.
It shouldn’t have been like the first night they’d been together. In the middle of the woods when he could have lost her, it shouldn’t be anything like that night in Vegas. But it was. Wild and crazy and so incredible it didn’t matter that they were both bleeding, that he’d put them both through hell.
He fell even harder into the kiss, wanting to taste more of her lips, her tongue. Harder, faster, deeper.
His knees buckled as the chain inside snapped and there was nothing left to anchor him. He sank to the ground, not sacrificing his hold on her.
Her arms tightened around his neck, her mouth parting for his over and over again.
She left his lips only long enough to nip at his jaw, her cheek rubbing across his, the gesture more animal than human, and he loved her for it. She pushed her hands in his hair, her fingers raking his skull, holding him hard to the mouth that slowed, softened.
Their breaths grew longer, the kiss shorter, but they never lost contact. Not even when their mouths were barely moving, savoring the connection.
He watched her eyes flicker open as she drew back a fraction. Blue sparks rolled across her irises, the fire within her burning away the shadows that darkened his soul.
He wasn’t ready to face the rest of the world yet so he ran the back of his fingers down her cheek, the wolf in him howling as she leaned into the caress. He coaxed her closer, opened his mouth over hers—
A twig snapped behind them.
“Does someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
***
Elena wasn’t ready to let go. She didn’t care who was behind them. They didn’t matter.
This—whatever it was—mattered, if only for another few moments. She drew her thumb along the mottled scar on Vaughn’s face that didn’t do anything except intensify the feelings rapidly unwinding inside her.
She’d been so careful, and with one kiss—one hauntingly heartbreaking kiss—he’d exposed every raw nerve, every unrelenting need, every savage instinct to hold on to the man gripping her as if nothing could ever tear her away from him.
“Elena,” he began.
Not Ivy this time.
She shook her head, needing another moment. He’d thrown open Pandora’s Box and she wasn’t strong enough to shove her demons back inside yet. She’d done that once already, buried the smiles, the laughter, the memory of every single touch.
She’d buried it all the night she realized he wasn’t coming back, and until now she’d denied just how much it had cost her. For one amazing night—and for a few precious moments just now—she knew what it felt like to be the center of someone’s world, and she wanted it with a fierceness that made letting go impossible.
People left. She knew that all too well.
Her mother walked away centuries ago, regardless of her best intentions. Her father grew more obsessed with magic at the cost of his relationships with his daughters. She’d always had Emma, but her twin had a mate and other priorities now.
She’d built a life around not needing anyone or anything and then Vaughn came along and threw open a door she didn’t know how to close. He made her hunger for more in ways she hadn’t since childhood.
And never like this.
In a minute she’d have to pretend this didn’t happen, but right now she couldn’t think past the strong arms that couldn’t get tight enough or the crushing tenderness of his mouth as he kissed her like it would be the last time.
Maybe it was the adrenaline or the loss of her magic, or just because she couldn’t not go all in, but she let the words out anyway. “Stay with me.” She caged his face in her hands, brushing her lips across his, letting the chips fall where they may. “Stay in the light with me.”
She hadn’t fully realized what he was talking about that night in Vegas, but the sensation spearing her chest now warmed every cell in her body.
Vaughn’s lips curved in a sad smile, and even though she knew it was coming, the pain of the light being extinguished stole her breath. “I can’t.”
She didn’t feel the tear he wiped off her cheek, only parted her lips for a lingering press of his mouth against hers.
“Ivy, I wish...” he whispered brokenly. He touched his forehead to hers. “I have to save her.”
Drawing in every bit of hurt and loss and keeping it close, so close it sliced into her heart like a flame-seared blade, she pushed to her feet.
Walking away was harder than it should have been after everything they’d been through. Before he could object, she said over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’m going back to the cottage. At least you’re slightly more sane and less bloodthirsty than the wraith.”
Vaughn’s sidekick from the casino trailed her at a careful distance, probably to make sure she meant what she said. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options, but for better or worse she knew where she stood.
She’d rolled the dice and it hadn’t gone her way. She’d find a way to work with that, same as she always did.
Physically and emotionally exhausted, she made her way back to the cottage. She skirted the busted furniture, avoiding the chunks of black plastic, glass and circuitry that used to be a television.
No more using it to taunt Vaughn. Bummer.
She heard Vaughn on the stairs outside the cottage before long, but he didn’t come inside.
Good.
After the emotional upheaval of a kidnapping, a wraith attack and the damning proof that being in Vaughn’s arms could make almost anything better, she didn’t have it in her to play nice.
Especially with Vaughn.
She stepped into the bathroom to clean up—again—leaving the door ajar. She preferred not to be taken by surprise a second time, and definitely not while cornered in a cramped space. She had no intention of hiding and licking her wounds, no matter how much she wanted to.
If Vaughn meant to carry through with his plan, she wasn’t going to make it easy on him. Not by a long shot.
She dabbed at the blood with a damp cloth. Not your best day.
Gods, had she really thought a few words could somehow change everything? Even if he’d said yes, where would that have really left the two of them?
She blew out a frustrated breath and glared at the brand on her chest. Any other time or place she’d leave the drama behind and cross the veil into Avalon. There she could slip into the shadows and become someone else.
Someone without dark smudges under her eyes that reminded her of the cattle Morgana enslaved. Only Vaughn wasn’t siphoning her magic until she was nothing more than a shell. He kept it chained close enough she knew it was there, yet couldn’t use it to free herself.
She wasn’t sure which was worse.
Either way, when she finally did figure a way around Vaughn’s control over her, there wouldn’t be an immortal in either realm stupid enough to screw with her. And she’d start with whoever the hell had hired Vaughn.
She’d been trying to draw less attention to herself, hoping it would make her job easier, and where had it gotten her? Abducted, enslaved and marked for death—
Wait.
She jerked her hands up for inspection, flipping them back and forth. Nothing. She checked her reflection, scrutinizing every visible inch before lifting her shirt and tugging at her pants until she was more confused than ever.
She’d been attacked by a wraith without provocation, which had to mean someone had engaged him to take her out.
So where the hell was the spider-web symbol that always marked a wraith’s target for death?