Niall didn’t flinch. Instead he drew his arm—and therefore her—tight to his body. Her fingers were pressed against his chest, burning small holes in his shirt. Instead of pulling away from her, he held her close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Once she did, Niall said, “My court would like more conflict with yours…and I”—he smiled—“I have to wonder if they’re right.”
“Let go.” She tugged her hand and concentrated so she was no longer injuring him.
He gripped her wrist. “Any blood would’ve done the trick, but I wanted his. I’m not in violation of any laws for doing it. And, really? I suspected I’d enjoy it more this way”—he looked beyond her and grinned at Keenan lying prone on the ground—“and I did.”
Then he released her.
She backed away carefully. “You hurt him.”
“And you injured me. The difference, Aislinn, is that I’d do it every day if I could find justification. Would you?” Niall didn’t sound like the same faery who’d helped her get used to her new role as Summer Queen, and he surely didn’t sound like the faery who’d wooed Leslie. Those faces were gone, and what stood in front of her was a faery that rivaled the worst of the ones she’d hid from as a child.
Her sunlight barely in check, she glared at him. “I’m not the one starting fights.”
“Shall I start one? Really start the conflict they crave? My court whispers and chants tales of what we could do while your court is still weak. It grows hard not to listen.” His dark dancers swayed around him like shadows come to life. Gabriel and several other Hounds stood waiting.
This could get uglier than we can handle.
They hadn’t brought a lot of people with them. She wasn’t expecting trouble. Sure, there were rumblings of discord, but faeries were always in small dissentions. The court rulers kept that in check. Niall had been one of the good guys. Donia was one of the good guys. The two courts that had caused trouble for hers were both led by faeries who’d been confidants—and more—to Keenan. He’d trusted that their past would protect the Summer Court. He knew they were out of sorts, but he hadn’t thought it was severe enough to lead to any true problems. It’s not the way faery courts work, Aislinn, he’d assured her. We aren’t so quick to strike out, he’d promised. And she’d believed him—until now.
“Do I frighten you, Ash?” Niall’s voice was a low whisper, as if they were the only two people in the room. “Do I remind you of why you thought we were monsters?”
“Yes.” Her own voice came out shaky.
“Good.” He glanced to the side of her, where a wall of shadows had formed. Outside that wall lay the only faery there, other than her, who could tear down those shadows, but she wasn’t sure how to, and Keenan was unconscious on the ground.
As if the detail were of only casual interest, Niall added, “Your king never learned to fight. He had me and all the rest to do it for him.”
The wall of shadows grew and enclosed the two of them in a bubble. She pushed against it; the texture was simultaneously feathery and slick. New moon. Hunger. Fear. The touch of it made her shiver. Need. Drowning under black waves of need. Teeth.
She jerked her hand away and forced herself to focus on the conversation. “Why are you doing this?”
“Protecting the mortal you love?” Niall shook his head. “I won’t have Keenan break him too, and you’ve proven that you won’t defend your friends from him. You’re good for your court, but your mortals…”
“Your court did that to Leslie.”
“And you could’ve saved her. If you’d offered her your court’s protection before he took her—” He broke the sentence off with a growl. “You failed her just as you’ll fail Seth.”
“I made mistakes, but I would never hurt Seth. I love him.” Aislinn felt her own temper getting less stable. Niall had trapped her, struck her king, and intimated that Seth was vulnerable because of her. Earlier she’d hurt Niall by accident, lack of control, but now…now, she wanted to hurt him. Severely. Her temper was flaring, and in that moment, she saw no reason to try to control it. The air inside the shadow bubble was growing blisteringly hot. She could taste acrid desert air, sand against her lips.
“Strike me, Ash. Go ahead. Give me leave to let my court loose on yours. Convince me that I should let them torture your frail Summer Girls. Invite me to permit them to draw rowan blood,” he whispered in a tone meant for bedrooms and candlelight. That was the nature of the Dark Court, though—violence and sex, fear and lust, anger and passion. He reached out and caressed her cheek as he added, “Allow me to give in to their desires.
”
Irial was less dangerous to us. That was Niall’s weak spot—Irial. Stop treating him like a friend. Don’t think of him like a mortal. Her mind tangled trying to figure what move made sense here. So much she’d learned about faeries was no longer useful. She’d long since surrendered the ability to live by most of the rules Grams had taught her. One rule was still helpful though: If I run, they’ll chase.
She came closer, advancing on him. “The last Dark King thought to tempt me. Here. In this same place…”
Niall laughed, looking almost joyous for a brief flash, but that pleasure was gone as quickly as it had arrived. “If he’d truly tried, he would’ve had you. He didn’t try you, Ash…you were a momentary distraction, a quick flirt. Irial’s just that way.”
“Keenan says you’re like Irial—a Gancanagh. He didn’t explain that to me before,” she admitted, not proud of her king’s deceits or the results, but willing to be honest. “Are you still? Are you addictive?”
“Why? You want a taste?”
Something feral waited. She saw it under the thin veneer of civility that was still Niall. It wasn’t a surface she wanted to crack. Logic warned her away, but she didn’t heed it. “So we really should start treating You like Irial….”
“No”—Niall put his hand on her shoulders and pushed her until she was crushed between the wall of shadows and him—“you should remember that Irial didn’t really want to hurt Keenan. I do. I only need an excuse. Will you give me one, Ash?”
The feel of that wall behind her body was overwhelming. Dangerous temptations whispered on her skin; things she would rather not consider came rushing to her mind. Keenan under my hands. Mine. Not just a taste, but drowning in him. It wasn’t a Dark Court faery she wanted, but it was Dark Court energy that made her mind go places it really shouldn’t. Dark Court temptations made her think of the faery she wanted, not the mortal she loved. Her heart felt too fast in her chest as the shadows pulled her under her fears and lust.