Burned
Page 38
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Once I’ve got it burned into my brain, ears attuned for only it, I let the physical world back in, become me again, resettling into flesh and bone.
And I realize why I had such a hard time pinpointing the princess.
I wasn’t tuning myself out.
The same dark march is coming from me.
I open my eyes to find Ryodan watching me intently. “There is only one,” I say, and begin pushing through the crowd.
There’s a simple explanation, I decide as we ascend the stairs, then turn down a long glass corridor. A complete copy of the Sinsar Dubh is inside me. I possess all the Unseelie King’s dark magic and spells from which he created his many castes. I probably sound like each and every one of them at varying times. I just never noticed it before because I had no reason to listen to myself.
Still, as I prepare to place my palm to the right of the door leading into Ryodan’s office, I’m assaulted by a sudden image of whatever’s inside swiveling her head and saying, “Hey, sis, what’s up?” Since the day I arrived in Dublin, I’ve never been entirely certain who and what I am. I understand why Barrons rejects labels. You only know who you are in opposition to something, what you choose to fight for and against. The rest doesn’t matter.
“Wait a minute.” I turn back and am darkly amused to see that even my Unseelie “priests” have abandoned me. They huddle, facing one another, chittering with what almost seems nervous dissension ten feet behind Ryodan, who’s standing half the length of the corridor away from me, allowing no opportunity for the princess to turn him into a mindless sexual slave. I forget what I’m saying, momentarily distracted by that thought. I’m a monogamous woman. I don’t like to share. Yet the idea of this man as a mindless sexual slave is … I shake my head. This is Ryodan, I remind myself.
Then Barrons joins him and eclipses the notion. His eyes are brilliant, his body emanating heat and power. If I pressed my ear to his chest, his heart would be thudding, slow and strong.
“How do you know what’s happening in there if you can’t see inside?” I ask Ryodan. The two-way glass is dark from the outside, transparent only from within.
Ryodan places his cell phone on the floor and slides it across the slick glass floor. It stops at my feet. “Tap the Skull and Crossbones app.”
Of course, he has an app for everything. Figures he’d be able to watch the central hub of his universe from the phone that shouldn’t work, via an otherworldly Wi-Fi network that doesn’t exist.
I open the app, blink once then forget how to. “Oh, my gosh, he’s … that can’t be … holy cow.” My face gets hot.
“Give me a break,” Ryodan says irritably. “And give me my phone back.”
I want to keep it. See what else is on there. I’ve heard rumors there’s a level in this club reserved only for the Nine.
Barrons snorts. Barrons has reason to snort. I got the best one. I glance up and give him a charged look.
Yes, you did.
“Quit procrastinating,” Ryodan says. “And get rid of the bitch. My phone.” He extends his hand.
Not a chance. Not when I’m not sure how the princess will react to me.
I place my palm on the wall and the door whisks aside with a faint hydraulic hiss. Sex slams me in the face, scorching, drugging, volatile.
“I said, my phone.”
I stand at the threshold and look in. The princess has her back to me, and Lor is beyond noticing anything. Ryodan and Barrons are another matter. They’re too observant by far. There is also the small matter of the enormous possessiveness I feel where Barrons is concerned.
I step inside and place my palm on the interior panel.
Two males roar in unison.
“Ms. Lane, you will not close—”
“Mac, you will give me my fucking—”
The door hisses closed behind me.
12
“We are family, I got all my sisters with me”
MAC
Once I would have thought what was taking place in Ryodan’s office was no more than what it appeared to be: an Unseelie of the royal caste subjugating a human, getting drunk on the pleasure they siphon from our souls. Immortal, jaded, void of anything that passes as passion, Fae royalty is incapable of emotion, but they can experience it through a human vessel. Especially during sex. Or torture. Preferably both at the same time. They either use the human up completely and kill it or leave a shell of a sex-starved slave. Death is the better option there.
But the Unseelie Princes just shocked the hell out of me, proved themselves to be ambitious and goal-oriented, willing to adopt a mien of civility to achieve their aims, and channel what used to be a maelstrom of uncontrolled hunger into deliberated action.
Considering the Fae have always been matriarchal, I have reason to assume the princesses are no less driven or capable of evolving than their dark counterparts. I wonder where they’ve been all this time. Feeding in private? Learning self-discipline and -control? Plotting to take over our world?
She’s not throwing off the whirlwind of insanity and insatiability with which the princes first razed our world when freed from their prison, nor does she seem bent on the vicious, obsessive hunt of the Crimson Hag determined to complete her gut-gown. She appears composed, even dispassionate. I consider that perhaps like human women, she’s not as governed by hormones, or whatever passes as Fae motivation, as the males. Perhaps the genders of any species share certain traits. As far as I know, it’s the female Fae that bears what few young they manage, and may be biologically more pragmatic, to ensure their offspring’s survival. I hope so because I don’t want to kill her. Not now, not here with so many humans in the vicinity. As much as I want her dead, I have to find another way.
And I realize why I had such a hard time pinpointing the princess.
I wasn’t tuning myself out.
The same dark march is coming from me.
I open my eyes to find Ryodan watching me intently. “There is only one,” I say, and begin pushing through the crowd.
There’s a simple explanation, I decide as we ascend the stairs, then turn down a long glass corridor. A complete copy of the Sinsar Dubh is inside me. I possess all the Unseelie King’s dark magic and spells from which he created his many castes. I probably sound like each and every one of them at varying times. I just never noticed it before because I had no reason to listen to myself.
Still, as I prepare to place my palm to the right of the door leading into Ryodan’s office, I’m assaulted by a sudden image of whatever’s inside swiveling her head and saying, “Hey, sis, what’s up?” Since the day I arrived in Dublin, I’ve never been entirely certain who and what I am. I understand why Barrons rejects labels. You only know who you are in opposition to something, what you choose to fight for and against. The rest doesn’t matter.
“Wait a minute.” I turn back and am darkly amused to see that even my Unseelie “priests” have abandoned me. They huddle, facing one another, chittering with what almost seems nervous dissension ten feet behind Ryodan, who’s standing half the length of the corridor away from me, allowing no opportunity for the princess to turn him into a mindless sexual slave. I forget what I’m saying, momentarily distracted by that thought. I’m a monogamous woman. I don’t like to share. Yet the idea of this man as a mindless sexual slave is … I shake my head. This is Ryodan, I remind myself.
Then Barrons joins him and eclipses the notion. His eyes are brilliant, his body emanating heat and power. If I pressed my ear to his chest, his heart would be thudding, slow and strong.
“How do you know what’s happening in there if you can’t see inside?” I ask Ryodan. The two-way glass is dark from the outside, transparent only from within.
Ryodan places his cell phone on the floor and slides it across the slick glass floor. It stops at my feet. “Tap the Skull and Crossbones app.”
Of course, he has an app for everything. Figures he’d be able to watch the central hub of his universe from the phone that shouldn’t work, via an otherworldly Wi-Fi network that doesn’t exist.
I open the app, blink once then forget how to. “Oh, my gosh, he’s … that can’t be … holy cow.” My face gets hot.
“Give me a break,” Ryodan says irritably. “And give me my phone back.”
I want to keep it. See what else is on there. I’ve heard rumors there’s a level in this club reserved only for the Nine.
Barrons snorts. Barrons has reason to snort. I got the best one. I glance up and give him a charged look.
Yes, you did.
“Quit procrastinating,” Ryodan says. “And get rid of the bitch. My phone.” He extends his hand.
Not a chance. Not when I’m not sure how the princess will react to me.
I place my palm on the wall and the door whisks aside with a faint hydraulic hiss. Sex slams me in the face, scorching, drugging, volatile.
“I said, my phone.”
I stand at the threshold and look in. The princess has her back to me, and Lor is beyond noticing anything. Ryodan and Barrons are another matter. They’re too observant by far. There is also the small matter of the enormous possessiveness I feel where Barrons is concerned.
I step inside and place my palm on the interior panel.
Two males roar in unison.
“Ms. Lane, you will not close—”
“Mac, you will give me my fucking—”
The door hisses closed behind me.
12
“We are family, I got all my sisters with me”
MAC
Once I would have thought what was taking place in Ryodan’s office was no more than what it appeared to be: an Unseelie of the royal caste subjugating a human, getting drunk on the pleasure they siphon from our souls. Immortal, jaded, void of anything that passes as passion, Fae royalty is incapable of emotion, but they can experience it through a human vessel. Especially during sex. Or torture. Preferably both at the same time. They either use the human up completely and kill it or leave a shell of a sex-starved slave. Death is the better option there.
But the Unseelie Princes just shocked the hell out of me, proved themselves to be ambitious and goal-oriented, willing to adopt a mien of civility to achieve their aims, and channel what used to be a maelstrom of uncontrolled hunger into deliberated action.
Considering the Fae have always been matriarchal, I have reason to assume the princesses are no less driven or capable of evolving than their dark counterparts. I wonder where they’ve been all this time. Feeding in private? Learning self-discipline and -control? Plotting to take over our world?
She’s not throwing off the whirlwind of insanity and insatiability with which the princes first razed our world when freed from their prison, nor does she seem bent on the vicious, obsessive hunt of the Crimson Hag determined to complete her gut-gown. She appears composed, even dispassionate. I consider that perhaps like human women, she’s not as governed by hormones, or whatever passes as Fae motivation, as the males. Perhaps the genders of any species share certain traits. As far as I know, it’s the female Fae that bears what few young they manage, and may be biologically more pragmatic, to ensure their offspring’s survival. I hope so because I don’t want to kill her. Not now, not here with so many humans in the vicinity. As much as I want her dead, I have to find another way.
