The Ruby Kiss (9 page)

Twister cut Ruby a sideways glance. “When you’re ready to commit to the blood bond, shout for me and I’ll get you out of here.” He raised his arm, glancing at the four corners of the room. “Whips on duty,” he commanded.

Whips?

“Bloody hell,” Ruby muttered, scrambling to her feet and backing toward the door. But before she had a chance to escape, the cyclops she’d seen at the Gathering stepped into the room and positioned himself across the exit.

The air shimmered and a massive gray wolf appeared in Twister’s place. He glanced at her over his shoulder, then slunk away through the gathering crowd.

“You bastard,” Ruby shouted after him. She wouldn’t let him bully her into agreeing to any blood bond. She would find a
way out of this mess on her own just to prove to him that she could.

“I can’t sense her power,” remarked a man with enough hair growing out of his ears to cover his bald head.

The tension in the crowd ratcheted higher, and Ruby’s guts pinched. A few curious females crept closer, but most of those swarming toward her were male.

“I’ll punish anyone who touches me,” she said in her firmest voice. The threat gave her a few moments of grace, as those approaching paused to glance at one another warily.

In the midst of her predicament, a startling flash of excitement raced through her. What Twister had said finally sank in:
I’m a demigod. I have power.
But if she could use her power, she wouldn’t be cowering against the wall while a ragtag group of otherworldly beings threatened her safety.

The crowd surged closer, regaining confidence. Ruby cast around for an escape route but had nowhere to go.

In the blink of an eye, a tall man in a long leather coat appeared out of thin air and cracked a whip at the crowd in front of her. The barely contained coil of panic inside Ruby eased. Twister’s ambiguous order must have been for the Whips to protect her. She glanced around, wondering how many whip-wielding guards there were.

The safest place for her to be, Ruby decided, was probably the dais holding the throne, as the rabble was unlikely to follow her there. Twister’s wolf lounged at the chair’s foot, his golden eyes fixed on her. She was wary of the wolf, but she doubted he would hurt her because he obviously wanted control of her power. It sounded like that’s what everyone wanted.

Her gaze traveled up the back of the Whip standing in front of her to his short dark spiky hair. She hoped he wasn’t the only guard on duty in the room, because she was about to make his life difficult.

With her shoulder lowered, Ruby sidestepped him and
charged at the crowd. People jumped aside, giving her an opening. Another Whip with long dark hair materialized in front of her and pinned her with midnight black eyes, but she was committed to her plan and in no mood to back down. She cannoned on toward him. At the last minute he pivoted and moved ahead of her, clearing a path through the onlookers. A few times hands touched her, but a whip snapped through the air and deterred them.

Invigorated, Ruby put on a burst of speed, shoving against the back of the guard in front of her to make him move faster. He swore under his breath and disappeared. Ruby stumbled in surprise, recovering just in time to scramble over the rope of leafy greenery trimming the dais. Four dark-haired guards fell into formation behind her and formed a barrier to keep the crowd away from the throne.

Triumph pulsed through Ruby as she bent, resting her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. The greenery along the edge of the dais burst into life, sending creepers spiraling toward her like green snakes, while holly berries swelled and reddened. Her magic definitely worked here. She just wished she could control it.

The huge gray wolf rose to its feet, a growl vibrating in its throat. “Blimey O’Reilly,” Ruby whispered. The wolf looked a lot bigger close up.

She backed toward the throne. “See, I can look after myself,” she said with bravado. Although the Whips had protected her, she had definitely beaten Twister at his own game.

The Unseelie king’s lupine ears were ragged, while his facial scars were scores in the gray fur on his muzzle and cheeks. In a sudden flash of insight, Ruby realized the injuries must have been inflicted when he was in canine form. The wolf’s lips drew back, revealing a vicious set of pointed teeth. He’d been so angry when he brought her here; she prayed she was right in assuming he wouldn’t harm her.

Ruby’s tired legs faltered, so she grabbed the twisted branches of the throne to steady herself. A strange rushing sound filled her ears, and her vision blurred. She blinked, but it took forever to lower her eyelids and raise them again. The next time she opened her eyes, the wolf had gone and Twister stood in its place. The menacing glow had faded from his eyes and confusion flashed across his face.

He extended a hand, mouthing words she couldn’t hear. Leaves burgeoned on the ancient twisted branches of his throne. Streamers of energy danced across the throne from her hand. Bunches of white buds sprang forth and blossomed, covering the seat in drifts of fragrant white flowers.
I’d love to paint this,
Ruby thought. Then darkness circled her vision and she collapsed to the floor.

* * *

Nightshade had spent an hour wandering the cold moorland outside the Bunker talking with Devin, and now dawn lightened the sky. His hurt had faded to a dull ache, and he realized he’d overreacted. Ruby’s rejection had reopened old wounds from his youth, when the Cornish piskies had tried to drive him away because they didn’t want a vampire in their midst.

Devin departed to take care of his harem, and Nightshade made his way back to Twister’s study. He expected to find Ruby asleep on the sofa, but the ticking and whirring of the king’s perpetual motion devices played to an empty room.

Nightshade’s muscles tensed with concern, so he shrugged his shoulders to loosen them. Twister must have given Ruby a room for the night—but Nightshade still wanted to see her to assure himself she was okay. He left the study and headed back to the main corridor.

“Where will I find the king?” Nightshade asked as one of the brownies that worked for Twister hurried past.

The small thin creature glanced over its shoulder. “Try the Assembly Room. Follow this corridor as far as you can and pass through the door at the end.”

Nightshade strode in the direction indicated, his heart picking up speed. Although he had no reason to suspect Ruby was in trouble here, apprehension still nipped at him. When the arched wooden doorway came into view, his breath hissed out in relief.

He pushed open the door and stepped through, noticing the release of pressure as he left the Bunker’s magical warding. The cavernous room in front of him contained unoccupied tables and chairs. Tankards, cards, and counters littered the tables as though the place had been vacated hastily. A few individuals huddled against the far wall in shadow.

Nightshade swung his gaze to the opposite end of the hall where four men with whips stood in line guarding Twister’s throne. The cyclops who’d been at the Gathering stood there, blocking his view, so Nightshade skirted the room to get a better look—and caught a glimpse of Twister crouching over someone prone on the dais. His apprehension hardened to fear.

“Twister,” he shouted, breaking into a run. “What’s going on? Where’s Ruby?”

“Keep him away,” the Unseelie king commanded.

What
? Nightshade’s step faltered. Something was wrong.

The guards faced Nightshade, readying their bullwhips to strike as he charged forward.

“Stay back,” one of them ordered. A leather thong whistled toward him. Nightshade caught hold of it and looped it around his wrist before yanking the weapon from the guard’s hand, but as he reeled in the length of plaited leather, the other three whips cracked out, biting into his flesh. Blood trickled down his belly from a wound on his chest.

He growled. Now that he was closer, he caught a glimpse of
Ruby’s dressing gown, confirming his suspicion that she was on the ground, probably hurt.

“Let me get to Ruby,” he commanded. Twister didn’t respond.

Fear sliced through Nightshade, followed quickly by anger. He faded to his shade form, something he rarely did, so he would appear as little more than a shadow.

Faster than the guards would be able to see, he shot toward them. He caught one with a punch to the jaw, but when he jabbed a second blow the guard had disappeared. Damn. They were air elementals, able to walk unseen through the air like Troy. Even in shade form, he would find them difficult to overcome.

He was close to the dais, so Nightshade slowed and returned to solid form. Ignoring the agonizing strikes of the guards’ whips, he crouched to see past the cyclops. Twister knelt beside Ruby’s prone form, her head and shoulders cradled in his arms.

“Get away from her,” Nightshade bellowed. “Ruby! Can you hear me, Ruby?”

The Unseelie king’s gaze rose, his jaw tense and his eyes flaring gold. “Get out of here, stalker. She’s mine now.”

“She’s what?” The words slipped from Nightshade’s lips in an incredulous whisper. Twister hadn’t once indicated he was attracted to her. What in the Furies had happened between them in the hour Nightshade had been away?

Twister leaned over Ruby like a worried lover, and burning anger flooded Nightshade. “Get your hands off my woman,” he shouted.

The whip-wielding guards closed in on him while he stared, dumbfounded. They wrenched his arms behind his back, trapping his wings, and dragged him away.

He again transformed into his shade form, in which he could move very fast. As his physical form faded, he slipped from his
captors’ hands and rushed forward. A moment later the guards were again blocking his path.

He struck out at the nearest man and found no one there. A whip thong wrapped around his rib cage, leaving a trail of fiery pain in its wake, and he leapt up, beating down his wings. But before he gained enough height to clear the guards, they grabbed his legs and pulled him back to earth.

Four more whip-wielding guards materialized to join the first. He glared into their expressionless black eyes. He was having trouble overcoming four air elementals; eight would be impossible.

“Let me see Ruby,” he shouted as they dragged him backward toward the door again. “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

His threat garnered him a smack to the head with a folded whip that left his ears ringing. He transformed to shade form again and dashed toward the dais, but before he reached Twister the eight guards were ahead of him, forming that protective ring around their king. They grabbed him once more and repeated the painful struggle toward the door.

He would never overcome eight air elementals alone. If only Devin hadn’t left. If only Troy were here. But . . . thinking of Troy gave him an idea. The immortal had said he didn’t interfere in the Unseelie Court’s affairs, but this might be a matter of life or death for Ruby.

Assuming shade form, he again evaded his captors. But instead of charging the dais, this time he regained solid form about twenty feet from the throne. Inside his head, he called Troy’s name, hoping their newly formed blood bond was strong enough for mental contact. He had no illusions he could compel Troy to do his bidding as he usually could through a blood bond, but he hoped the immortal might choose to answer him.

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Troy materialized at Nightshade’s side, dressed in scarlet and gold, a bright spot of
color in the dreary room. “I hope you had good reason to call me,” he said, a hint of censure underlying his words.

The guards cracked their whips, but the leather thongs bounced off a shimmering dome of light now protecting both Troy and Nightshade. The guards regrouped and glanced over their shoulders at their king for instructions.

“Twister has my woman,” Nightshade said under his breath. “She’s sick or injured and he won’t let me near her.”

“Ah.” Amusement flickered in the immortal’s blue eyes. “An issue of global importance.”

“Thor’s blood, what’re
you
doing here?” Twister growled at Troy. He laid Ruby down, vaulted to his feet, and pushed through his guards to face him. “Since when are you at the beck and call of mortals?”

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do, nephew.”

“You’ve no business here,” Twister asserted.

Troy angled his head to glance at Ruby. “Why have you taken Nightshade’s woman?”

“He has no claim on her. They’re not bonded,” Twister replied.

“Are
you
bonded with her?” Troy asked.

“If you’ve bonded yourself to Ruby, I’ll bloody well kill you,” Nightshade gritted out. He sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to maintain his fragile hold on his temper.

“She’s the Unseelie queen,” Twister announced, giving a defiant glare at Troy. “That supersedes any rights this stalker thinks he has.”

“She’s not the bloody queen, she’s the Mistress of the Beasts,” Nightshade retorted, fear and anger knotting his guts. Had Twister somehow claimed Ruby as his queen to make sure he had control of her power?

“The Blackthorn Throne blossomed at her touch,” Twister announced, as if that settled the matter.

For the first time since he’d arrived in the cavern, Nightshade
examined the throne. He noticed tiny white flowers covering it.

“What in the Furies does that prove?” he snapped. “We’ve all seen her make plants grow.”

“An ancient prophecy foretells that the throne will bloom at the touch of the Unseelie queen,” Twister said. “I’ve waited centuries for this to happen.”

Troy shook his head, the rubies adorning his blond hair flickering like fire in the lantern light. “You know this isn’t right, nephew.”

Twister seemed to know no such thing. “Get rid of them,” he commanded his Whips, pointing.

Troy motioned with his hand, and all eight men disappeared. “I’ve sent your guards to visit the Irish fairy queen,” he announced with a small smile. “She likes whips.”

Twister swore and bit out a command to his cyclops.

“Go to your woman,” Troy said in a soft aside to Nightshade. Then he reached over his shoulder and, with a musical whisper of metal on metal, drew his black sword from the scabbard on his back. He sketched a sizzling arc of light through the air with its tip.