Tithed to the Fae: Fae Mates - Book 1 Page 11

  A shadow crossed Tamsin’s face. “Yeah, I kind of got that impression from Maeve’s court. As a credo, it’s got distinct downsides. Especially for the weak and powerless.”

  He opened his mouth to disagree—and found that he could not. Tamsin had put into words something that had long lurked unvoiced in the depths of his mind.

  The freedom of the unseelie was marvelous…but it came at a cost. And it was not paid by the mighty, untouchable high sidhe.

  He pushed that uncomfortable thought away. He’d brought Tamsin here to dazzle her, not debate philosophy.

  “This way.” He pulled her onward, watching her face. “Look.”

  Her expression, as they stepped round the final corner, was everything he could have hoped. Her jaw dropped. Pure delight glowed in her deep brown eyes.

  “Oh,” she gasped. “Oh. Cuan! What is this place?”

  “The Crystal Springs,” he said, enjoying her reaction. “Does it please you?”

  “It’s magical!” She let go of his arm, dancing forward a few steps, spinning around as though to embrace everything at once. Angus followed at her heels, bounding through the clouds of steam rolling from the warm pools of water. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  He’d suspected that they had nothing like this in her sterile human world. Her enthusiasm made him see the place anew himself. Had he ever fully appreciated the glowing colors of the natural crystal rock outcroppings—amethyst, citrine, rose quartz, moonstone—or the perfect clarity of the waters they surrounded? Had he ever paused to appreciate the gentle music of the bubbling pools, or the soothing way the warm mists embraced him?

  “I did not bring you here merely to admire the beauty of the springs.” He picked at one of his bandages as he spoke, attempting to loosen the knot without success. “The waters here have healing properties, thanks to the crystals.”

  “Here, let me help.” Tamsin took his hand, her deft fingers unwrapping the linen. “Do crystals really heal, here in the fae realm? I mean, there are people in my world who believe that they do, but I always thought that was kind of silly. Crystals are pretty, but they’re still just rocks.”

  “And we are just meat, yet we walk and talk and love.”

  She pursed her lips at him. “That’s different.”

  “Is it? We are animated by energy, the forces that pervade and join everything in the world. It seems stranger to me that someone could claim that rocks are somehow not touched by that power.”

  He stripped off one of his studded leather bracers, rolling up his sleeve. Going over to the amethyst pool, he dipped his hand in the shimmering lavender-tinted water. Immediately, the pain in his palm ebbed away. He hadn’t realized just how much it had been bothering him until it stopped.

  Tamsin peered over his shoulder at his submerged hand. Her eyes widened as she saw the redness of the puncture wounds fade, his skin beginning to knit back together.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “Okay, amethyst crystals do not do that in my world.”

  “It does not surprise me to hear that.” Cuan withdrew his dripping hand in order to unfasten his other bracer. “By all accounts, your world has become a grim place since we were driven from it. Perhaps the magic left along with the fae.”

  “That would make sense.” She tugged at his armor. “I’m betting you’re hurt a lot worse than you’re letting on. Take this off so I can have a look at you.”

  The command in her voice was so enchanting, his hand was halfway to his buckles before he came to his senses. “I am…not certain that would be a good idea.”

  Tamsin gave him another of those exasperated looks. “You promised to drop the stoic bullcrap, remember?”

  He had indeed, jest though it had been. And an unseelie promise was as binding as cold iron.

  Control, he reminded himself as he unfastened his armor. You can be half-undressed around a woman and not turn into some slavering beast.

  Still, he was grateful for Angus’s presence. Self-control was a lot easier when there was a beady-eyed orange monster watching your every move, itching to sink its teeth into your groin.

  He pulled his undershirt over his head, and was rather gratified by the slight hitch in Tamsin’s breath. Then again, perhaps it was not his physique that had impressed her. From the feel of things, he must have some truly spectacular bruises blooming across his back.

  “You are hurt worse than you admitted.” Tamsin’s gaze roved over his body, but her expression was more worried than appreciative. “You can’t keep doing this, Cuan.”

  He balled up his shirt, soaking it in the warm spring. “Fighting, getting injured, or being—what did you call me? A swine-headed idiot?”

  “All three.”

  “I am working on the latter. As for the second, not even the greatest of warriors can control all the tides of battle. I can fight for you with all my skill, but I cannot promise that I will take no further wounds.”

  He bit back a hiss as he pressed the dripping shirt to one of the livid lash-marks on his upper arms. The pain ebbed as the magical water took effect.

  “If it is any consolation,” he said, shooting her a wry look, “we are united in desire to avoid further damage to my body. I have no great love of pain. And with any luck, I shall only have to fight a few more duels.”

  Tamsin watched him apply the wet cloth to his other wounds. “You think Aodhan will find a way to free me?”

  “I hope so.” He met her eyes, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “But I suspect that he is not our only hope.”

  Tamsin’s shoulders stiffened. “If this is about mating again—”

  “It is not. I am not a fool. I know that…that can never happen.”

  Even though he’d braced himself, it still hurt to say the words out loud. Perhaps he was a fool after all, in the secret depths of his heart.

  He went on, ignoring the ache in his chest that no magic water could ease. “But I also know that there is something you are not telling me. Some secret hope that you have, and have decided not to share.”

  Her chin set at a stubborn angle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The way that she could say one thing with her mouth when every other part of her body shouted the contrary was really quite fascinating. He’d known that humans could lie, but not that one could be so bad at it.

  “You do.” He held up a hand as she started to retort. “I truly am not a fool, Tamsin, at least in some things. Kindly do me the courtesy of not treating me as one. I left you alone with Motley. That was not by chance. I suspected that you might trust him, even if you could not trust me. And when I returned, he mentioned a door that he had made. One that was no longer there.”

  Tamsin’s skin was too dark to betray a blush. But he could read the flicker of her eyes just as clearly.

  “I am not asking you to tell me what you did,” he said, more gently. “Or what you plan to do. In truth, I do not want to know. I am high sidhe, and sworn to the service of Lady Maeve. If she asks me a direct question, one without room for evasion, I cannot lie. I would cut my tongue out rather than betray you, but it is still safer if you do not tell me all your secrets.”

  “Oh,” she said, in a very different voice. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

  “I did not think that you had.”

  Her hands twisted together. “But…you just said that you didn’t think I trusted you.”

  “I know that you do not.” He stared down at the cloth. “And I do not blame you for that. I have given you little enough reason to trust me.”

  “Cuan. You are literally sitting there covered in whip-marks. And I—” Tamsin stopped abruptly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Wait, how has this turned into me defending you?”

  He had to laugh at that, even with the leaden weight in his stomach. “Your heart is so great, you cannot help but leap to the defense of anyone in pain. Even me.”

  Tamsin muttered something under her breath. It might have been the word g
lamour.

  Then she dropped her hand. Her mouth firmed.

  “You’ve done so much for me, Cuan,” she said. “But I saw how you looked back there, when I told Aodhan that there was a way for me to get back home.”

  He had to forcibly relax his fingers before he shredded his shirt. “I know what you saw. And you read my reaction correctly. I can only say that I am not proud of it.”

  Tamsin breathed out a long sigh. “I trust you to keep me safe. I’m not sure whether I can trust you to let me go.”

  He didn’t answer straight away. He concentrated on wringing out the cloth and trailing it once more through the tranquil lavender water of the pool. He wished he could smooth out his jumbled mind so easily.

  “Tamsin,” he said, aware that the silence had stretched too long. “I am high sidhe. I cannot lie. It is impossible for me to put on a false smile and claim that the thought of you leaving fills me with joy. But I swore myself to your service. If it is truly your heart’s desire to return to your world, I will do all in my power to fulfill it.”

  “Even though that means losing me?”

  His throat tightened, but he got the words out. “Yes. Even so.”

  Tamsin didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then she leaned over, taking the cloth from his hands.

  “Here.” She moved round behind him. “You’ve got a lot of bruises back here that you can’t reach. Let me help.”

  Cuan felt the wet, heated fabric press against his shoulder blade. Tamsin slid the cloth down, sponging his back with tender care.

  His knotted muscles eased…and other parts tightened. He shifted his weight.

  “Is this okay?” Tamsin asked, sounding worried. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  “Not…exactly.” The ache in his shoulder was now of significantly less concern than the growing pressure lower down, at least.

  “Uh. It’s just that your magic…tattoo…thingies…whatever they are, they’re glowing.”

  He dug his fingernails into his newly healed palm, trying very hard to ignore her proximity. His body had not felt so out of control since he’d been a youth in the first flush of manhood, when a stiff breeze had been sufficient to light him up.

  I am as randy as a satyr in springtime. Control. I cannot make her uncomfortable.

  “Faemarks,” he said, struggling to get a grip on himself (and not in that way, which would admittedly have been a lot easier). “Not tattoos. They are the unique to the high sidhe. We are born with them.”

  “Oh! They’re natural?”

  He sucked in a sharp breath as her curious fingers brushed over the marks twining down his bicep. A lightning bolt of desire struck down his spine, straight to his groin.

  “Ah—yes.” He shifted position again, in a futile attempt to ease the sudden tightness in his trousers. “Every sidhe has different markings. The patterns reflect our souls, indicating our powers. Some believe they tell our fate, as well, if one has the knowledge to read the lines.”

  Tamsin caressed one of his marks. She might as well have reached down and firmly gripped his shaft.

  Shining Ones, give me strength.

  “This one looks like a running wolf,” she said, oblivious to his growing predicament. “Do you have a horse somewhere too?”

  “On my other shoulder.”

  Why in the nine hells did I say that? Now she’s going to go look. Of course.

  Cuan squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to think very cold, icy thoughts. This had no noticeable effect.

  “Oh! I see it now.” Tamsin ran a finger over his markings in a way that had him clenching his back teeth on a violent curse. “They’re pretty, especially when they’re all sparkly like this.”

  “They are also,” he gritted out, “extremely sensitive. When they are sparkly. Like this.”

  She jerked her hand back as though his glowing faemarks had burned her.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh. Um. Sorry.”

  “You did nothing wrong.” Through sheer force of will, he managed to get his faemarks to dim to a polite, restrained shimmer. “A great deal right, in fact, which is somewhat the issue. In any event, it is my problem, not yours. I apologize for my shameful lack of self-control.”

  “An, um, involuntary physical reaction isn’t your fault.” Tamsin was still behind him, so he couldn’t see her face, but her voice was uncharacteristically flustered. “Er. You still have bruises back here that I don’t think you’ll be able to reach yourself. Um.”

  “If you do not wish to continue—”

  “No! I mean, I want to help. It’s the least I can do, after all. But I, er, don’t want to…tease you.”

  “You are not. I do not mistake your intent.” He grimaced. “It is just somewhat difficult to convince some of the stupider parts of my being that this is solely medical treatment.”

  Tamsin let out a pained chuckle. “Yeah, bodies can be like that. Well, if you’re sure you’re okay…”

  She bent to her task again, sponging his upper back. He kept himself motionless, holding onto discipline by his fingernails, determined to give no sign of how even that light touch fired his blood.

  “There.” Tamsin said after what felt like two ages of exquisite torment. “All done. This crystal water really is amazing. Your bruises are nearly gone already.”

  “Fae tend to heal quickly.” He swiveled round to face her once more. “I will be fit enough to fight for you tomorrow, never fear.”

  Something shadowed her face. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

  She touched the corner of his mouth. He could feel her fingertips trembling, ever so slightly.

  “You still have cuts here from those horrible vines,” she murmured. “Hold still.”

  She wet the cloth in the pool once more. He closed his eyes as she bent over him. The water was warm on his lips, tasting faintly of salt.

  Like tears. Like longing. Like heartbreak.

  Control.

  “Cuan.” She was so close that he could feel the whisper of her breath against his cheek. “If the next duel goes badly…promise me you’ll surrender, okay?”

  He shook his head, very slightly, against the pressure of her touch. “I cannot. You know that, Tamsin.”

  “I’d be okay. You said the other high sidhe wouldn’t kill me or suck out my soul all at once. I could endure. Long enough, at least.”

  “But I could not,” he said gently. He opened his eyes again, finding hers. “My own pain is nothing, but I could not stand a single second of yours.”

  Tamsin’s eyes were very dark in the shimmering lavender light. He was trapped in those warm brown depths, unable to look away, though he knew he should.

  The cloth fell from her hand. Her lips brushed his.

  Perhaps she’d only meant the kiss as a kindness, a gesture of thanks. If so, that intention was lost the moment their mouths touched.

  Softer than silk, stronger than magic. Heat roared through him, banishing all thought.

  He caught the back of her neck, pulling her closer, thrusting deeper into her sweet mouth. He needed to taste her, devour her, claim every part of her.

  She kissed him back with equal passion, her tongue bold against his. Oh, he loved it, the greedy way she nipped at him, the little, breathy sounds of unabashed pleasure he drew from her, everything.

  He found the curve of her waist, drawing her tighter against his body. She pressed against him without hesitation, every lush curve setting fire to his blood. Her strong arms wound around his neck—

  Angus barked, sharp and annoyed.

  Tamsin stiffened in his arms. She tore herself free, stepping back.

  “I, I’m so sorry!” she said, flushed and breathless. “I, uh, don’t know what came over me.”

  “I do.” The words came out as rather more of a growl than he intended. His bestial instincts boiled under his skin, as though he was about to shift. “We are fated mates. The closer we are, the more we are drawn together.”

  Tamsin cast him a rathe
r strained-looking smile, taking another step back. “Well, good thing we brought a chaperone, then.” She bent to ruffle Angus’s ears. “Silly boy. There’s no need to be jealous.”

  At that moment, Cuan fervently disagreed.

  Angus locked eyes with him, as though divining the frustrated nature of his thoughts. His tongue lolled out in a smug canine grin. Very deliberately, never breaking eye-contact, the dog licked Tamsin’s hand. The animal could not have more clearly declared MINE if he had lifted a leg and urinated on her.

  This is going to be a problem.

  Jaw clenching, Cuan thrust down an urge to shift into wolf form. He could hardly challenge a creature that he could squash with a single paw. Even if Angus was radiating enough insouciant swagger for an entire pack of hellhounds.

  Still, Angus’s intervention was not entirely misplaced. Much as Cuan burned with desire, he didn’t want Tamsin to be dragged into his arms purely by the force of the mate attraction. If he allowed her to succumb to her body’s silent urges while her mind still hesitated, he truly would be a beast. It would be a grave offense against nature itself, a perversion of everything that was sacred.

  He wanted more than a moment of fleeting pleasure followed by her unending regret. He wanted her, that sparkling mind and forceful spirit, all of her.

  Even if it could only be for…however long they had. A week, a day, a single hour. If she came to him, he would treasure every single second…but only if she did so joyously, with a whole heart, of her own free will.

  But she cannot, his conscience whispered. She is chained to you, and not of her own volition. Were she not bound by the tithe-curse, she would never even look at you.

  It seemed to be his day for unwelcome thoughts. He thrust this one too into the increasingly crowded box at the back of his mind, closing it firmly.

  He stood up, adjusting his leather trousers as politely as he could manage. “You too are wearied and dusty. You should bathe in the springs. The citrine pool in particular is renowned for bringing peace to a troubled mind.”