Midnight Enchantment (22 page)

Yes, Gideon, thought, sighing with remembrance, for centuries things had been just lovely. Back then, no one could have predicted it would turn out this way.

He remembered those days with fondness. Hunting down the fae had been good sport. First Watt Syndrome had hit them, making them weak, pathetic, and catchable. The creation of Watt Syndrome had been one of the earliest examples of biological warfare, all thanks to the Phaendir…with the Summer Queen’s help. The illness had hit only the fae, killing them off by the hundreds, making the rest fragile and sluggish, unable to fight off the Phaendir/human alliance.

Watt Syndrome had been key in the capture of the fae worldwide. If the fae escaped now there would be no recapture. The fae had developed an immunity to Watt Syndrome over the centuries and, even though the Phaendir had tried, it seemed impossible to engineer another bug as beautiful as that one had been.

During the Great Sweep, they’d gathered the sick fae and loaded them onto ships bound for the New World. Packed so the vessels were near to bursting, they’d died like flies on the journey. Gideon had thought it was all a big waste of time and resources. Why not just slit their throats as soon as they’d been in custody? Yet even back then there had been a misplaced sense of morality and he’d been unable to convince more than a handful of his fellow Phaendir or humans that killing them right off was the best plan—
Labrai’s
plan. As if letting them die of Watt Syndrome, hunger, iron sickness, or a lack of water on the journey to their prison was any more humane.

Even though the Christian god had said it was perfectly acceptable to slaughter a million or so people during the Crusades
and thousands more in the Inquisitions, killing the fae at point of capture was wrong.

In his opinion, that had been arbitrary, ridiculous, and hypocritical.

Gideon had traveled from England to the colonies in the spring of 1647. His accommodations had been slightly more luxurious than that of the stinky, moaning, sick mass of fae in the ship’s hold, of course. Sharks had traveled in their wake to enjoy the regular feedings.

Those ships hadn’t been unlike those of the already thriving slave trade that had carried Africans. The slaves had been treated much worse than the fae, in Gideon’s opinion. Slaves had been shackled, forced to work, treated like property. Their children had been taken from them, their women raped. The fae had just been thrown into a big, secure area and left to fend for themselves. Set adrift and left alone.

He’d been one of the Phaendir to erect the warding that enclosed Piefferburg. He’d been there to supervise the building of the brick wall, too, the thing humans could see as a tangible barrier.

At first the fae had had nothing. They’d lived in squalor, built their houses from sticks and mud, fought over the game in the forests. Many more had died, and that time Watt had had nothing to do with it. Slowly the fae had recovered, built better houses, formed alliances, and organized the distribution of food.

One thing no one had counted on was the mending of the rifts between the fae races. The war that had originally driven them apart, outed them to the human world, and made them vulnerable to Watt Syndrome and eventual capture was only a distant memory. Survival had united the fae once more. Eventually the Unseelie and Seelie Courts had formed, but their war was not a violent one. Not even now, even after the Summer Queen had betrayed them all, still, annoyingly, unity in Piefferburg reigned.

America had matured outside of Piefferburg’s walls and feelings for—
fascination
—with the fae had begun to take hold. The government had begun to allow shipments of supplies to be delivered through the gates. Commerce had flourished. And where there was money to be made, the Americans
were there to take advantage of it. “It’s a slippery slope!” the Phaendir had cried to no avail. Now look where they were.

Look where
he
was.

Something moved to his right. He turned, releasing a bolt of hive energy that crackled in his head. A bush exploded, something screamed, and bits of flesh flew everywhere. Gideon stood stock-still, fists clenched, then reached up and wiped a bit of rabbit from his cheek.

Someone was going to pay for this. All of it.

ELIZABETH stepped out into the comforting twilight of a chilly late afternoon and heard the crunch of snow under her boots. She headed for the tree line and began to gather kindling and place it into the basket she held. It was nice to get outside and draw fresh air into her lungs. The air had an icy bite to it, and a large amount of snow had fallen. The SUV Niall had driven could still handle the roads, but barely. If it started snowing heavily again, they’d have to leave.

Over the last day she’d gained a lot of strength, though she didn’t quite have enough power yet to dissolve. The iron sickness was rapidly on its way out of her body, and she hoped like hell she never experienced it again.

She and Niall had spent an uncomfortable amount of time talking during the time she’d been recovering. He’d saved her. He’d helped her. Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to do with those facts or the most disturbing thing of all—she liked being with him.

Kneeling, she scooped a handful of snow into her palm and let it melt. It called to her, sparking yearning in her chest for her water self.

Footsteps crunched behind her, and she turned to see Niall. “Let me help you with that.” He reached for the basket.

She snatched it away from him, frowning. “I can handle the weight of a few sticks, Niall.”

He shrugged and stuck his hands into his pockets. “I can gather the wood on my own.”

Not looking at him, she knelt and placed another branch into the basket. “You’ve been doing everything and I don’t like to feel beholden to others.”

“You should be resting.”

“I need to get out a little, feel the snow on my cheeks and get some fresh air into my lungs.”

“You still look pale.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

He grinned. “No, I’m definitely not that. I don’t have very motherly-type thoughts where you’re concerned.”

She felt her cheeks heat and turned away. Damned man was hard to resist, and with every day she spent with him, she had more trouble remembering why she should.

Reaching down, he pulled out a stick peeking from a snowdrift and set it into the basket. “Speaking of your mother—”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t even know what I was about to say.”

“I don’t want to talk about her.” She turned away from him.

He grasped her elbow and turned her back toward him. “We’re going to have to talk about this sometime.”

Her gaze met his and held. “Not today. It’s a good day and I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Okay, why not procrastinate a little longer? It’s not as if the fate of the fae world hangs in the balance or anything.”

She swallowed hard. “It’s not that I don’t feel guilty.”

“You’re too young to remember.” He walked a short distance away from her, looking for more branches. “You have no idea what the Great Sweep was like.”

“How were you taken? Were you sick?”

He nodded. “A human man chained me in charmed iron even though I couldn’t move because I was so sick from the Watt. I only remember bits and pieces of the hellish journey
over here. I would have died, but my brother came with me. Ronan kept me, and many others, alive on that ship.”

“He came voluntarily?”

Niall nodded. “He never contracted Watt. That’s how it was for some of the fae. They came protecting those they loved.”

She pulled a piece of dead wood from where it was caught on a tree branch. The basket was full, so they started back toward the cabin. “Everyone in my family was born after Piefferburg was created. I’ve heard stories, though, from some of the nature fae.”

“Hearing stories doesn’t come close to having experienced it for yourself. If you had, you wouldn’t be doing what you’re doing.”

She stopped and turned toward him, narrowing her eyes. “Really, Niall? Imagine if it was
Ronan
dependent on the sprae to survive. Ronan, who gave up his life to protect yours? If he was sprae dependent, you wouldn’t be doing what
you’re
doing.” She paused and jerked her chin at him. “Would you?”

He clamped his mouth closed, then took the basket from her and walked into the warm cabin. “It would be a hard call.”

She stamped her boots free of snow in the entryway. “It wouldn’t be a
call
at all and you know it. You and I are a lot alike. We’re both protective as hell.” She waved her hand to encompass the room. “That’s why you’re doing all this for me instead of chasing me down and torturing me like your queen wants.”

“Or maybe instead of wanting to protect you, I just want to fuck you.” He pointed at her and raised his eyebrows. “Or maybe I’m just protecting you
so
I can fuck you.”

Her mouth snapped open. She blinked at him a few times before mustering the verbiage required to reply. “Well,
fucking
me is off the table, so you can forget about that.”

He walked toward her and she forced herself not to take a step back. “It wasn’t off the table…
before
.”

“
Before
none of it was real.”

“You didn’t know that.” He moved closer to her. “To you
all
of it was real.”

“Yes, well…” The only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire as she trailed off, looking for something to say. “We never actually had sex, you and me. Not even in my head.”

“No, it came just shy of that.” He smiled as he continued to walk toward her. It was the smile of a man who knew what he wanted…and who was certain he was going to get it. “But you begged me, Elizabeth. Don’t you remember?”

Her mouth went dry. “Yes, I remember.” She remembered his hands on her, the trail of his lips over her skin, the explosive way he’d pushed her into orgasm again and again. She’d tried to put the incident out of her head, keep her mind on the task at hand. She’d kept denying the truth—she wanted him.

She wanted him for real.

He came to stand a breath’s space from her, and she glued her feet in place, heart pounding. If she backed away from him, she would look afraid. In reality, she was terrified. Terrified of how badly she wanted this man and terrified about what would happen if she surrendered to her body’s desires.

Reaching out as if she was some wild animal that might bolt at any moment—she probably looked that way—he cupped her cheek in his hand. The action was surprisingly gentle and seemed at odds with his thick muscled arm and shoulder. He watched her with an intentness that made her wonder if he was attempting to read her mind.

Maybe he wasn’t as certain of a victory with her as she’d first presumed.

“I want to touch you, Elizabeth.” The words came out like warm honey, thick and sweet. His pupils had gone dark, signaling his arousal. A muscle worked in his jaw, like he was trying to hold himself back from lunging at her.

Her body quickened at the look in his eyes, responding to what Niall clearly wanted to do to her. He wanted her bare and beneath him. He wanted her legs spread and her moans echoing through the air.

He wanted so much more than he was saying with his words alone.

Her breath caught against the rising tide of desire softening her body. She had far too little experience to deal with a man like Niall Quinn. Her lack of knowledge in this area, and the needs of her very much underserved libido, made her easy prey for a man who wanted to use her for sex.

Was Niall such a man? She studied his eyes, seeing genuine hunger for her. He’d helped her when there had been no
gain in it for him, saved her life, in fact. Even though she was not used to dealing with men, she trusted her intuition where Niall was concerned.

Niall wanted her
for her
and no other reason. Incredible, but true.

Taking a step closer to him, she pressed up against his body. His hand cupped her nape as she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. He stilled, as if stunned. Then, groaning deep in the back of his throat, he crushed her to his body and slanted his mouth over hers.

She remembered what it was like to be kissed by this man. It wasn’t anything like how she’d imagined being kissed by a man would be. Niall made love to her mouth, brushing his lips softly over hers, then nipping her lower lip and slipping his tongue deep inside to brush against hers. It made her body tighten and hum with need. It made her think of bare skin and entangled limbs, of sheets and blankets pushed carelessly aside while two bodies fused in ecstasy.

And, oh,
Danu
, how she wanted to do that with him.

He scooped her into his arms. She let out a surprised yelp and then laughed. “What about your back?”

“The nature fae fixed me up, but it still hurts like hell.”

“Then put me down.”

“No way. I’ve been imagining this for too long.” Grinning down at her, he carried her across the living room and into the bedroom. A fire burned in the fireplace, and snow had begun drifting softly past the large window that looked out over the Boundary Lands. Twilight painted the world in gentle grays and light blues.