Read an Excerpt:
Riding into the dry-as-bones mountains on the back of the
puca, Logan’s anger seared bitter in his chest. It rolled off him in waves,
pulling thunder down from the sky. He toyed idly with the storm letting his
anger draw the danger of the lightning to him as he seethed.
Fifteen years away from his hounds. Fifteen years of Solanum’s running wild,
the puca causing havoc wherever he went. Fifteen years of Logan’s life eaten
away in the hole of the queen’s dungeons.
And now he was to kill witches for the queen—a fact that
rubbed him raw.
Humans were amusing companions, why create trouble?
Irritated with the brief flare of morality, he smothered it with brutal force.
It didn’t fucking matter what he wanted. It never had.
Lightning cracked. The eerily silent hounds of the Dark Hunt tightened around
him, their tense glances and snapping teeth reflections of his flaring
emotions.
He had no room for second thoughts tonight. The Black Queen
had given him no reason why she needed these witches killed, but if he
satisfied her it might give him his freedom. At the very least it would give
him some space. Maybe some time to figure out a way to stay out of the
dungeons. And time to figure out how to truly extricate himself from her bloody
dominion.
Because no matter what she had promised him, he knew, there
was no way she would simply let him go. Not after the way he had betrayed her.
Solanum tossed his head and bucked. “Quit squeezing my
ribs.” Lurid green faery flames leapt from his hooves, igniting short-lived
cold fires in the dry Wyoming brush.
“Cease, horse,” Logan said, squeezing his legs a little
more. Punching Solanum’s buttons felt good, really good. Just like his wrath at
the queen felt good. Justified.
The puca tossed his long mane into Logan’s eyes. “Lay off,
or you’ll be eating dirt,” he snarled, nostrils flaring red in the dimming
light.
Solanum’s irritation put a hard smile on Logan’s lips. He
tightened his legs and drove the puca harder down the hill through the brewing
storm.
A hound pushed in too close. Solanum’s hoof lashed out,
connecting with a solid thud. The hound’s yipe sounded inside Logan’s head as
he regained his balance, cursing the hound’s behavior and the puca’s
intolerance.
He was back. The hounds would get used to him again. And
Solanum too.
Thunder crashed in the sky, following him down into the
shadowed hills as he approached the witches’ lair. Nostrils burning from the
ozone, nerves tingling, he distracted himself with the dark moist wind,
manipulating it to blow through the dry autumn brush like a child's tantrum.
He laughed, the spiteful wind stealing away the dark sound
as cracks of thunder echoed off the mountains. He let the anger simmer and the
lightning moved further away. He wasn’t free yet, and he wasn’t suicidal. What
he was, was trapped. And it pissed him off, the frustration riding him like a
hag.
What could he do when the queen changed her mind and refused
to release him from her service? What if the bitch thought she could use him
then put him back into her dungeons Underhill, calling him to her side like a
lapdog? He needed a way to show her there would be repercussions. He needed
leverage.
In the distance, thunder rumbled. They tipped over the edge
of the valley in search of the witch. A wavering glow of candles shone above
the last few rocks.
Almost there.
The telltale traces of a spell raised the hair on the back
of his neck. He extended his Gift to perceive what he couldn’t yet see. A
labyrinth set by a single inexperienced witch. His lips twitched. As protection
it might have worked, had the Faery Queen sent her regular henchman. Unluckily
for the witch, the queen had unleashed him. The Dark Huntsman.
He would kill the wench, and be done with this thing between
himself and the queen of the Tuatha De Danann. And when the queen refused to
release him? He’d deal with that when the time came.
The wind carried the hot dry smell of sage mixed with the
smell of fear and musky female. He inhaled the raw flavor of the witch, the
taste of her fear and anger and power, slid down his throat, easing his rage.
The anxious hounds shifted around him, sensing the proximity of their prey.
Solanum rounded the rock.
And there she was.
The sight of her rocked him back like a blow, almost
knocking him to the ground. And he realized—despite the stasis, fifteen years
had been too long a time to be without a woman.
Glimmers of power limned her naked body and the silver blade
of the athame that gleamed between her breasts. Her legs were spread slightly
apart, tensed for battle. Long black hair crackled and lifted with static. Her
expressive face was poised on the edge of dilemma, her body caught between the
need to hold the spell and the need for action.
He paused to let the feel of power and woman roll through
him.
Beautiful.
Unexpected.
Green, almond-shaped eyes widened. Her stance firmed, her
shoulders pulled back, and her full breasts rose, nipples tightened with cold
or fear. Something wild and raw he hadn’t felt in a hundred years stabbed low
in his gut.
His agenda changed.
The queen wanted to kill the witch. Why? His plan of
placating the queen suddenly seemed weak. She’d never let him go without
leverage, and here was leverage standing naked and lovely before him. He had a
new plan.
Screw the queen.
***
Thunder boomed.
Trina glanced up the valley. The dying light made it
impossible for her to see much more than the silhouette of a horse and rider
barreling through the boulders and uneven terrain, tearing down the rocky
hillside at an impossible speed. But no barrel racer would endanger their mount
careening down the mountain in a thunderstorm. Or ride a horse the color of the
absence of light with freakish red eyes. Only something truly inhuman would
light up her inner sight with that particular eerie blue glow.
The acid in her stomach rose into her throat.
An elven lord.
Oh fuck! I’m screwed.
She swallowed the fear down. Her trap, her best effort, all
her hard work. Dumb. Stupid.
Pathetic. None of it would hold an elven lord—a full adult
fae whose power would make her trap look like an art project. She wished she
could hide the evidence, like a small child wiping up the crumbs of stolen
cookies.
Horse and rider skidded and slowed in a shower of
ricocheting rocks. The enormous red hounds flowed out, surrounding the
labyrinth as the cloaked rider and his dark mount advanced.
She held still, athame at the ready in sweaty hands,
prepared to bolt if she had the chance. Her eyes flicked from the approaching
rider, distracted by the lesser threat of the huge, sharp-toothed,
yellow-eyed hounds encircling the labyrinth like silent sharks waiting
for the command to take their prey.
Her.
“Damn shame to kill you, witch.” His voice was smooth,
well-aged whiskey with a hint of brogue.
“Then don’t.”
“What will you give me instead? A life requires a powerful
exchange. And I was sent for your death.”
Trina tried to keep her face even and not reveal her panic.
She had nothing he could want.
Anything of true power that a fae like this one might
consider valuable, was safely out of reach and driving down the road in the
van. Gone. Along with any reinforcements.
“How about honesty?” She offered in desperation.
“Funny girl.” The dark presence leaned forward, his
impatient mount’s feet shifting on the gravel.
The nervous sweat on her back grew cold.
“Although I would enjoy taking the time,” his voice carried
easily over the wind and thunder, “we shouldn't stand here bargaining. The
queen awaits my report.”
The lord’s level tone distracted her and she was unprepared
when the horse moved. The pair crashed effortlessly into the labyrinth, cutting
a destroying swath across the short, brushy sage and heading for her at the
center. Spectacular violent explosions burst into cascades of colored lights,
as if her carefully constructed wards were merely firecrackers, instead of huge
magical grenades.
The overwhelming smell of crushed sage rose, and she swore
the evil-eyed horse laughed. She reached inside for what was left of her power,
losing her grip on it when he leaned over and grabbed her arm. With no apparent
effort, he hoisted her up.
She scrabbled for a handhold in an effort to not fly over the horse into the
waiting sea of teeth and dogs. She tangled one hand in the long black mane and
held tight to her slippery knife with the other.
Strong arms wrapped in leather tightened around her, forcing
her upright, her toes dangling sidesaddle. Everything happening too fast. She
barely had a grip in the long black mane when the creature flexed under her and
they flew over the candles.
The flames blew out.
They landed on the other side of the labyrinth in a hard
jolt. She slipped.
If I fall, I could run.
Before the thought had been and gone, her grip on the mane
loosened. She slid to the side. Hot breath and the scrape of teeth on her ankle
warned her, just in time. She yanked her foot out of range of the snapping
jaws, and lost her balance. Making an instinctive grab for the mane with her right
hand—she dropped the knife.
Her kidnapper growled and tightened his grip on her stomach.
She gasped for her voice. “Put me down!”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I either kill you or
take you with me.” The sparkling black blade of his laughter cut deep into her
soul.
Accelerating faster and faster, they wove in and out of the
treacherous rocks in a mad, blurring rush up the side of the valley. If she
fell off now and hit a rock, she’d be roadkill. She anchored both hands firmly
in the mane and leaned back into the solid chest of her attacker.
They raced on, licks of green fire lighting up the hill
behind them. A deep maw of black within purple mist formed ahead, transforming
the familiar landscape into a horror. The knowledge of where they headed
slammed inside her brain.
Trina’s heart sped into a sharp staccato.
Words of denial formed in her constricted throat, gone long
before she had a chance to know what they were.
Don’t make me go.
They rocketed to the top of the valley, the piranha hounds
schooling tightly around them as they raced to the looming mouth of the portal.
Steely muscles bunched and flexed under her.
Launching into the air, they flew into the mix of fog
and darkness encased in the sound of her scream.
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