Kyn 3: Feral (14 page)

Ilia’s eyes narrowed as anger flashed in their depths. “You’ll pay for that,
really
pay for that. No one insults me in my own hall. I’ll make you suffer and your flesh will taste all the sweeter,”

“I hope I give you fucking food poisoning!” Tessa spat and threw her weight against her bonds again. They were so tight she was already beginning to lose the feeling in her legs.

Which could be a blessing or a curse depending on which way you looked at it. She closed her eyes for a moment, really hoped this was just a bad dream and any moment now she’d wake up on the couch in her sister’s apartment.

Tears welled in her eyes, one slid from beneath her lashes to blaze a hot trail down the side of her face. It was hopeless, despair flooded her. She couldn’t even save herself, much less help Spud.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, shifting in her bonds to look at him lying next to her. In the background Ilia began to chant; dark, guttural words that struck fear into Tessa’s heart.

She shut the sound out, concentrated on the baby next to her, strained so she could touch him.

Just one touch, a brush of her fingers. A small comfort to take into the darkness that was coming.

Whether it was a comfort for the baby or for her, Tessa wasn’t sure.

Just a little more. Her whole body tensed with the effort, Tessa pushed against the heavy strap around her wrist, fanning her fingers out until…

There! Her fingertips brushed his leg. The swiftest touch, over almost before Tessa realised she’d managed it. She relaxed, a sense of peace stole over her as she looked into the baby’s eyes. Eyes that suddenly seemed too old. Like something ancient was looking out of them.

Unbidden an image rose in Tessa’s mind. That of a tall man dressed in black, his pink hair cut short and spiky, colour bright in the darkness of an alley. He moved as though hunting something, an edge of danger surrounded him, and then seemed to become aware of Tessa’s ‘presence’. He turned towards her suddenly, his fists snapping up, the light glinting across the blades across his knuckles. He smiled; relaxed as though he recognised her, easy charm in every line of his body. Then, with a wink, he was gone into the darkness in the swirl of the long leather coat.

Tessa gasped as she slammed back to reality, blinking at Spud. He smiled slowly at her, the old look faded from his eyes. Shock coursed through her as she realised what she had seen. A glimpse of the future, of the man Spud would turn out to be. The man he would become, which meant somehow he would survive this … and she had been shown to give her hope.

Ilia’s voice rose, triumph filled the unintelligible words as she reached a crescendo, the last words reverberating around the hall in a way Tessa recognised. Words of power, used to close a spell. An evil smile crossed the Princess’s features as she moved forward and reached for Spud.

But before her hands could close on his small body, the door behind her crashed open and slammed into the walls on both sides, splintering. More kindling now than the elegant doors they had been.

A tall figure filled the ruined entrance, his massive frame taught with the promise of violence and dark retribution in his eyes.

“Get away from the baby,” Feral snarled, fangs visible even at his distance, leaning a sneer to his handsome face. “You want to take pieces out of someone, you come pick on someone your own size.”

The look of surprise on Ilia’s face almost made Feral laugh aloud. It was a look that swiftly descended into annoyance as Talven stepped into the hall behind him.

Oh honey, I’d be a little more than irritated if I were you
, Feral thought as he eyed her darkly.
I’d be running for my life.
But she wasn’t running. She merely hissed in frustration and dropped her scroll onto the table next to the two forms trussed up there.

Tessa and the baby. Feral’s gaze swept over them to make sure they were breathing and nothing more. He couldn’t allow himself the luxury of anything more, even though all he wanted to do was rush over there and free Tessa, take her into his arms and never let her go.

“I shall deal with you later Talven,” she snapped imperiously. “You have overstepped your bounds this time. There will have to be … repercussions.”

“You’ll be dealing with me first darling,” Feral growled, shifting to a guard position and beckoned her on. Watching her every move like a hawk. “That is, unless you don’t have the balls for it…” His hard gaze racked her obviously feminine figure in the flowing dress.

“Metaphorically speaking of course,”

“Insolent creature!” she hissed, “How dare you speak to
me,
a Princess of the Fae, in that way? You will pay and pay dearly for this insult!”

Feral lifted an eyebrow as he chuckled, the sound rich with amusement.

“Sweetheart, you lost all claim to any kind of respect the instant you made a deal with whatever kind of critter lent you all that power. Because one thing’s for sure, it ain’t Fae! So, come on, you going to dance with me… or does it only get your rocks off when your victims are strapped down?” he challenged, an arrogant tilt to his head as he baited her.

It was a dangerous thing to do. Borrowed power or no, she was still a threat and he knew it, but all he had to do was keep miss high and mighty here occupied long enough for Talven to get to Tessa and the baby. They’d deal with the rest when they got to it.

She snarled at him, revealing her teeth for the first time. Unlike Feral’s fangs they were crowded haphazardly into her mouth, jagged and darkly stained. Definitely not the dental equipment she started life with and classic for a flesh eater. Feral wrinkled his nose as she circled him; a sword appeared in her hand as if from nowhere.

“I’d look into getting a refund on your dental policy as well if I were you. That look does nothing for your romantic chances you know,” he taunted, the glimpse giving him a good idea of just what sort of demon she sold her soul to.

She ignored the comment, circling him with intent. The sword in her hand flashed out, checking his defences, looking for an opening. Feral smiled, countering each attack easily. If she thought it was going to be that simple she was very much mistaken. He might have been taken down easily before but that had been against multiple opponents and when he was blood-starved.

Now though, it was one on one and he had a belly-full of fresh blood. Fae blood. The power virtually hummed through him, making him faster and stronger than he could ever recall feeling.
Oh yeah, he could get used to this!
He turned another of her attacks, slid one of his blades down hers with a screech and winked at her as she snatched it back.

“Got to be quicker than that sweetheart,” he chided her, as though this were a friendly match between colleagues.

Her face flushed with rage. “You’ll sing sweetly for me Vampire,” she hissed, “A sweet song as I carve chunks out of your living flesh.”

Feral shivered dramatically, circling her. “Ohh baby, you’re getting me all hot under the collar. Bring it on, if you can…” he taunted, seeing how far he could push her before she snapped and lost her temper.

When she did that, it was game over. You couldn’t win a sword fight if you let your emotions rule you. Not unless you were either really good, or really lucky. Usually you just got really dead.

Dimly aware of the hall filling up Feral kept his eyes on the woman in front of him. It was between the two of them now, the rest of the world would have to wait to get a piece of him until after he’d taken this bitch down. With her skirts flying around her dramatically, a useless bit of magic that made him smile, and the look of rage on her face she looked like some dark goddess of battle.

“Oooh, I will,” she promised, as she lashed out again and forced him back with a complex set of moves. Begrudgingly he had to admire her skill with the weapon, especially when she landed a cut on his upper arm. Her blade just kissed his skin, delicately parting it to allow the blood to well, ooze sluggishly down his arm.

“You
can’t
beat me!” she told him, arrogance in her voice as her nostrils flared. Her eyes flicked from the blood on his arm to his face and back again, her small pink tongue flicking out to lick her lips. She had it bad, he realised.

“I mean, how can you?” she carried on, “How can a mere Vampire compete with
me?

I ate Demon flesh, absorbed their power and soon I’ll be a
Goddess!”

Feral didn’t reply, moving like lightening as he spotted the gap he’d been waiting for.

His blades crashed into hers in a complicated overhand movement, flicking her blade from her grasp with ease. Not giving her chance to react he spun her in his arms. One large hand engulfed her forehead, racking her head up and exposing her neck.

“Sorry sweetheart, I was
born
a demon,” he whispered, his breath kissing the side of her throat.

Then he tore it out.

Silence descended on the hall, all eyes on Feral and the tiny figure in his hold. She drew in a breath, a ragged wheeze that bubbled as the blood gushed from her ruined throat, a tide that flowed down the white gown staining it scarlet in seconds. He released his hold, letting her drop to his feet like a rag doll as he spat out the blood in his mouth. The ultimate insult from a Vampire.

Ignoring her frantic scrabbling to try and stop the bleeding Feral turned on his heel, joined Talven at the table to release Tessa. Dropping his blades on the table next to her, his strong hands made short work of the buckles and, as soon as the last strap slithered free, he dragged her into his arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured and buried his face into her hair, breathing in her scent as a shudder of relief went through his big body. Pulling back a little he hooked a finger under her chin to look deep into her eyes looking for answers to questions he didn’t know how to ask. What he saw there made him smile, his head bent to claim her lips in a searing kiss that said far more than words ever could.

It was all over. Tessa sat on the edge of the bed in the frankly
huge
room that they'd been given at Queen Mab's order, her eyes closed as she took it all in.

She thought that was it, all she wrote, for her and Spud... whose name had turned out to be Colin Jenkins. Colin James Jenkins. She smiled to herself. Such an ordinary sounding name for a little boy who would become such a powerful man. She had no doubt that the Winter King thing would come to pass... the guy she had seen in her dream had had that aura about him. The kind only powerful people did, the ones with the kind of power and charisma that was innate.

He would always be Spud to her and his parents had said she could visit whenever she wanted, just grateful to have their baby back.

The shower in the en-suite snapped off. Tessa looked up as Feral re-entered the room, a towel wrapped around his lean hips. The expression in her eyes warmed, appreciation in her gaze as it wandered over his body. Satin skin that moved over the heavy muscles as he reached up, running a hand over his shaven head, the light catching the tattoo-like marks of a Kyn Warrior that covered one side of his body, disappeared under that towel.

She licked her lips, in a moment she was going to find out how far down those marks went. But instead of coming towards her he turned away, opened the wardrobe and peered inside. He checked both of them, even walked to the door and opened it to check the corridor outside.

"Feral?" Tessa asked, her voice confused as she watched him. Just what was he up to?

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for Pixies," Came the reply as he shut the door and headed over to the window, opening it to lean out into the darkness.

"Looking for Pixies? Why?"
What on earth did he want to look for Pixies for?

He re-emerged, shut the window and switched the curtains shut as he turned his attention on her, stalking towards her with a look that was so hot, it should be illegal.

"Because I'm planning to have my wicked way with you and
this
time, I don't plan on getting interrupted..."

Author Bio

Mina Carter can be found exploring in the middle of the English countryside with her real-life hero and their young daughter...the true boss of the family. As a successful businesswoman, Mina never tires of learning new skills, qualified in such fields as Aromatherapy, welding and corsetry.

She juggles full-time mumhood, running a family business and writing, tossing another ball in the air with her cover artwork. For her, writing time is the wee hours of the morning or any spare minute that can be begged, bought or conned.

Her first stories were penned at age 11, when she used a stationery set meant for Christmas thank you letters to write stories instead. More recently, she wrote for her own amusement to save on outrageous monthly book bills, as well as for the masses of friends on her doorstep demanding longer stories. Now you'll find her reading and writing original worlds where the paranormal is everyday and romance is a must.

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