Authors: Helen Scott Taylor
“Bloody hell,” Devin moaned. “When Troy gets smashed and has meaningless sex he does like to make a production out of it. Well”—he grabbed Nightshade’s arm—“I’m not watching my father perform. Come on. Let’s go somewhere private and get ourselves laid.”
Nightshade stumbled after Devin without question, his surroundings blurred into a swirling mass of color and sound. Branches hit him in the face and he noticed the noise had faded. Suddenly, a glowing purple tent with three peaks appeared between the trees.
“I need to find my father,” he mumbled.
“Time for that tomorrow.” Devin slapped him on the shoulder, making him stagger into the tent pole supporting the door. “Hey, look where you’re going,
ya rajol,
or you’ll have the whole thing down on top of us. We wouldn’t want that. I have a surprise for you.”
Nightshade found himself pushed inside the glowing interior of the tent. Warm incense-laden air hit him like a stifling blanket, and he coughed and wiped his mouth on his hand. Three veiled, dark-eyed women with long black hair circled him, giggling. Their fingers fluttered over his chest and arms in light, exploring caresses.
He tripped and landed on his knees on a heap of silk cushions. The jewel-bright colors ran together, and he tried to blink away his dizziness. When he raised his head, the women had stripped Devin of his coat and shirt. His friend’s golden skin glowed in the oil lamps as he lowered the pink, silky veil from a woman’s mouth and kissed her.
Devin dropped to the cushions near Nightshade and lounged back while the women pulled off his boots. He gave a wolfish smile. “What do you think of my harem?”
Harem?
Nightshade pitched forward into the cushions, his head throbbing.
Someone pulled off his boots. He drifted in a hot, confused haze for a while. The next time he opened his eyes, Devin was naked. A golden-skinned woman clad only in a wisp of pink silk sat astride him, his hands cupping her small round breasts.
Fingers trailed up Nightshade’s arms and speared into his hair. With a grunt, he pushed the person away. The burning tangle of heat the caresses had ignited in his belly summoned a vision of Ruby half-naked, her eager hands roaming his body. “Ruby,” he muttered.
Fingers pulled at the button on his jeans. He jerked his head up and growled.
“Leave him,” Devin said with a soft caress in his voice. “Come back to me, sweet ones.”
Nightshade snuggled down into the silky cushions and imagined he was cuddled up against Ruby’s ample curves.
* * *
Devin lay staring up at the gently fluttering purple silk of his tent. The three women he’d made love with were curled against him like kittens, sleeping peacefully, happy he had deigned to notice them tonight. He was tired, sexually sated . . . and he felt like crap. He got up and put on a black silk robe and slippers to match his mood, then stepped outside into the chilly, pine-scented air.
One of the guards who accompanied his concubines when they traveled drifted out from the shadow of a tree and fell to his knees at Devin’s feet. “Master, do you need anything?”
“Shh.” Devin glanced over his shoulder through the door into the tent. Nightshade was dead to the world; the combination of Troy’s blood followed by the honey wine had wiped him out. But Devin didn’t want any of his women to wake, either. He couldn’t face them in his present mood.
He turned back to the guard. “Remain invisible.”
The man stood up and drifted back into the shadows.
Devin lit a taper in the campfire outside the tent before touching it to the tip of a spiced cigar. He inhaled deeply and puffed smoke rings into the air. The tang of cinnamon and cloves mingled with the taste of tobacco in his mouth, and he closed his eyes. Receiving pleasure from the women’s lovemaking cloaked him in a miasma of guilt. In his fantasies, every kiss and caress came from Aila, his beautiful, unobtainable love. Why couldn’t he just forget her? Why did she haunt him?
He walked over to a tree and slammed the side of his fist against the rough bark, relishing the jolt of pain up his arm. Only a fool pined after what he could never have. He should have realized that attending the Gathering would remind him of his first meeting with the Seelie king’s daughter. He was a bloody masochist.
* * *
Nightshade woke to the high-pitched sound of girlish giggles. He blinked, groaning as pain shot through his head. His mouth tasted like the inside of a boot, yet his body hummed as though an electric current buzzed along his nerves.
Raising himself on an elbow among the pillows, he gazed around himself. The mingled scents of sex, incense, and burning oil hung in the air. He vaguely remembered Devin cavorting naked with a trio of women last night, but what in the Furies had happened to him? He’d bitten Troy; now he felt as though someone had kicked him in the head and then trampled on his body. He wanted to flop back onto the cushions, but his stomach rumbled. He supposed he’d better get something to eat.
Outside the tent he found Devin reclining on a purple silk swing eating spicy meatballs and couscous. At his feet sat three women garbed in turquoise, pink, and emerald dresses trimmed with gold thread and sparkling jewels. Their heads were covered and the lower parts of their faces veiled. All three turned inquisitive dark eyes on him as he approached.
Nightshade stiffened under their scrutiny. He remembered them touching him. But delicate, fluttery women who looked as though they would break made him uncomfortable, and an image of Ruby dressed in her tight top and shorts, threatening him with the baseball bat, flashed into his mind. He pushed the memory away. He refused to think about her after she had rejected him so harshly.
Devin gave him a wry grin and signaled to a man crouching by the cooking pot to load another plate. “You’re back in the land of the living, I see.”
The women whispered behind their hands, giggling. Devin barked a command and clapped, sending the females scampering back into the tent, trailing bright gauzy veils like
exotic butterflies. Some of the tension eased from Nightshade’s shoulders once they were gone, and he dropped onto the swing seat at Devin’s side to tuck into his food.
“We missed all the excitement last night,” Devin announced. “A minor deity, the Mistress of the Beasts, died with no known heir to inherit her power, and the king of the Unseelie Court has offered a reward to anyone who finds her female descendants. She didn’t have any daughters, but she had one son—Kade, a Seelie hunter. The way he puts it about, he must have fathered a daughter somewhere. So the contest is on between the blessed and unblessed courts to see who can control the next Mistress of the Beasts.”
Nightshade grunted in response. He had no interest in Scottish Fairy Court politics. Unpleasant experiences in the Irish Fairy Court and the Welsh Fairy Court had taught him to stay well clear.
“Do you feel different after taking Troy’s blood?” Devin asked, his expression curious.
“I feel like crap. I’ve got a bloody hangover.” He winced at his own harsh tone. He sucked in a deep draught of cool woody air and strove to relax. “Sorry. I’ve had a bad couple of days.”
“Let’s hear the details,” Devin encouraged with a suppressed grin.
Nightshade set aside his plate and leaned back with a resigned sigh. His whole sorry tale would come out sometime, so he might as well face the embarrassment now. He related his last couple of days with the human named Ruby, leaving out the part about falling through her roof after being hit in the face by a bird. He could only tolerate so much humiliation at one time. When he’d finished, he looked up to find the djinn struggling to suppress his mirth.
“Listen, stalker. The last thing you want to mention when you’re about to get lucky with a lady is babies. Talk about killing the mood!”
“But both your half brothers’ women had babies quickly.”
“Yes, but I bet neither Michael nor Niall mentioned babies or good childbearing hips or anything like that until they’d romanced their ladies and fallen in love.”
The word “love” hit Nightshade like a bird in the face. He tumbled into a dark place of despair. “I can’t fall in love with a woman. They’re so, well . . .
female.
I’m attracted to strength and power.” Yet without a woman, he would never have the son he longed for.
“You’ve just not met the right one.” Devin eyed him thoughtfully. “Or maybe you have. If you’re cut up about Ruby throwing you out, you should go back. Apologize. Ask for a second chance.”
Nightshade bristled. “I’m not going to apologize to a hysterical female who doesn’t understand the purpose of mating.”
“Oh,
ya rajol.
” Devin slapped him on the thigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m guessing you’ve never mated with a female.”
“Why would I? I’ve only been interested in using these.” His fangs slid out, and sensing the musky smell of the djinn’s skin, he grinned suggestively.
Devin stood and stretched. “If you want to bite me, stalker, you can do it tonight when my ladies can enjoy the show.” The djinn’s playful tone faded, and he gave Nightshade a serious look. “I really think you should go back to Ruby and charm her into bed. I’m betting that once you’ve experienced sex, you’ll forget it has anything to do with making babies.”
* * *
After Nightshade left, Ruby spent the two days before full moon in her art studio painting twelve hours a day. It was always her most productive time: the time when she easily used what she called her artist’s vision to see the energy of living things and
produce the abstract canvases that sold so well. But this session, all she could visualize was Nightshade—his vibrant masculine energy. Canvas after canvas filled with the bold bright strokes of power that defined him. But she would never sell these paintings. She would keep them to remember him by.
On the eve of the full moon she dropped onto the beanbag in her studio with tears in her eyes and stared out at the sun setting behind the trees. Why had she sent him away without even getting his cell phone number? She got up, fed her dogs, and trudged to the small cell-like room where she slept on full moons. It was completely furnished with manmade materials that weren’t damaged by her affliction. She was still thinking about Nightshade when she fell asleep.
The following morning, Ruby stretched in the early morning sun flooding through the window. She felt weary after a night of horrible dreams where she relived the stupid fight she’d had with Nightshade, but at least another full moon had passed without her affliction causing damage to her home. Now she had four weeks before the next full moon to get her work out to galleries, meet up with people who had requested commissions, and try to forget the damn legacy her father had given her.
In the mudroom along the hallway, her two Yorkshire terriers barked to go out. Ruby stepped from the vinyl that covered the moon room’s concrete floor onto the pine boards in the hall and walked toward the back door. The wood flexed beneath her feet. With horrified disbelief, Ruby watched the edges of the boards curl upward, green shoots sprouting from beneath. Her heart tripped, then raced. This shouldn’t be happening now. Why would the affliction be active during daylight when the moon wasn’t even visible?
She hesitated for an agonized second, torn between dashing back to the moon room or running to unlock the back door and let out her dogs. The dogs won. Leaving a trail of warped and sprouting floorboards, Ruby dashed into the mudroom and
received an effusive doggy welcome. She picked both up for a cuddle, straightened the bows on their topknots, then reached to unlock the door.
It took some doing, but she managed to push open the wooden door, let the dogs out, grab a log from outside, and make her way back to the moon room without causing too much damage. Sitting on a plastic chair, Ruby hugged her arms around her middle. What would she do if the cursed affliction didn’t stop this time? She wouldn’t be able to leave the moon room without wrecking the lovely home she’d worked so hard to buy. After a childhood on the road always moving, it was her sanctuary, her dream. The hours dragged past. She watched inane game shows on the old television and listened to the radio. She couldn’t even pick up a book because the paper grew brittle and changed color like autumn leaves.
Memories of Nightshade filled her thoughts. She almost imagined she could smell the musky almond fragrance of his skin, and she remembered with a pang of longing the strange excitement of having him in the house.
Every fifteen minutes, she put her hand on the log she’d brought inside to test if the stupid affliction had worn off. By four p.m., she’d touched the log so many times the damn thing had sprouted into a mini tree complete with roots. It seemed she would have to endure a second night in the room. If she ever met her father, she was going to tell him exactly what she thought about this damn useless power she’d inherited from him. It had been the bane of her life.
The sky darkened and stars became visible against that velvet blue canopy. Pulling closed the front of the ghastly old brown and orange acrylic dressing gown that had belonged to her mother, Ruby dashed outside and called her dogs. Her property covered five acres, and she could hear their excited yaps in the woodland near the northern boundary. They had probably cornered some poor creature in the undergrowth.
Standing on the concrete path outside the back door, she rattled a metal bowl full of kibble to attract the dogs’ attention. No success. She grew cold standing still, so she slipped on her green boots and grabbed a flashlight. But the moment she stepped off the concrete path, the short clipped grass came to life. Beneath her boots, green stems snaked up.
With a little huff of irritation, she started jogging so that her feet didn’t stay in one place long enough to get tangled in the burgeoning growth. She headed in the direction of the barking, but the sound stopped abruptly.
At the edge of the woodland, Ruby swung the flashlight between the tree trunks. “Ares, Apollo—come here, boys!”
Deafening silence met her call. A sense of unease prickled up her spine. Ruby stood still to listen, but ivy reared up from the ground to twine around her legs. She ripped the vines away with a curse and sidestepped.