Seducing the Sun Fae Page 5

  Like hell, Dion thought, but he had the brains not to say it aloud. Instead he said, “What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be training with your cohort? If you want to make warrior, being my brother won’t be enough.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Tiago shot him a hostile look. “I’ve been your kid brother my whole effing life. I have to put in twice the work to get any respect.”

  Dion returned his stare. Maybe someday his brother would be his equal in dominance, but that day was still far in the future. “Then why are you here, sniffing after a woman who’s already turned you down?”

  Tiago flushed and dropped his gaze, suddenly appearing very young. Dion felt a twinge of remorse, but he didn’t know how else to get through to the lovesick idiot.

  “I’m sorry,” Tiago mumbled. “I just—” He broke off, said, “Adeus, meu senhor,” and hurried away.

  Dion passed a hand over his face. Deus.

  It was times like these that he realized just how much he still missed his parents. They’d disappeared ten years ago en route to visiting relatives in Europe. He and his men had searched for weeks, but they’d apparently vanished somewhere in the ocean near Iceland. Eventually he’d been forced to call off the search and declare himself the new alpha.

  His two middle brothers had been adults and had left soon after—the three of them were too dominant to live in the same clan with him as alpha. Nic and Joaquim made their living as mercenaries, visiting only rarely. It had fallen on Dion to raise his two youngest siblings. Tiago had been just eleven and Rosana even younger at five. He did his best, but it wasn’t easy being both their brother and their alpha.

  He expelled another frustrated breath and continued on his way.

  * * *

  True to her word, after showing Cleia to the bathroom, Isa called for a meal of bread, cheese and fresh fruit. When it arrived a few minutes later, she settled Cleia at a table in what she called the sala de estar, or living room, and poured her a glass of grape cider. Cleia applied herself to her food with the intense concentration of someone who hasn’t eaten for almost twenty-four hours. But with her appetite satisfied, she sipped the tangy cider and questioned Isa as unobtrusively as possible.

  Unfortunately, other than confirming what Cleia already knew—that Dion had brought her to the river fada base because he believed she was stealing energy from his men—Isa had little to add. “You’ll have to ask the alpha,” she kept saying until Cleia gave up. It was clear that if Isa knew anything more, she wasn’t going to divulge it.

  From things Isa said, Cleia gathered that Dion’s quarters consisted of the two rooms—the sala and the bedroom—that she’d thus far been in. Apparently the clan did most of their dining and playing together in a large hall, which went with what Cleia knew about them: fada lived communally, as much a pack as wolves or dolphins.

  Dion was not only alpha but the oldest of a family of five, of which Tiago was the fourth and youngest brother. The sister, named Rosana, was the youngest. It had been left to Dion to raise his young brother and sister when his father, the previous alpha, had been lost somewhere in the Atlantic along with their mother.

  “And Lord Dion just became alpha?” Cleia asked curiously. “No one challenged him?” Fada were known for their bloody successions; it was a rare alpha who didn’t undergo a series of challenges to prove his worth.

  “No,” was his former nurse’s proud reply. “Everyone was content to let him rule. We always knew he’d be the next alpha—and not just because his pai wanted it. The young lord has always been tough but fair. But listen to me running on. I promised you a bath, didn’t I?”

  Isa set Cleia’s hand on her arm and led her back into the bedroom to the far wall. The sound of running water grew closer, and Isa explained that a small waterfall ran down the wall on one side, feeding the pool in which she was going to bathe. The water was apparently comfortable for a river fada but to Cleia it was only a shade above freezing.

  She gritted her teeth and immersed herself anyway, needing to wash away the scent of sex and sweat still clinging to her. If she could smell herself, Dion certainly could, and she was damned if she’d wear his scent any longer. Isa helped her wash her hair, then Cleia used a washrag and soap to scrub every last trace of him away before immersing herself a second time.

  When she emerged from the pool, Isa enveloped her in a large and blessedly warm towel and helped her get dressed again before guiding her to a couch in the sala. “I’m afraid I have to leave now,” she told Cleia, “but I’ll be back in a few hours with dinner. You’re sure you’ll be all right here? Alone?”

  She shrugged. “What choice do I have?” Then she felt ashamed when Isa apologized—several times—for leaving her. At last the older woman took herself off.

  As soon as she was alone, Cleia rose to investigate her prison. She started with the sala, working from the outside walls in and utilizing both touch and what sight she had through the gray silk. The walls were stone, cool and slightly damp under her fingers. She’d heard the entire base had been excavated from a system of natural caverns.

  Now, as she moved around the room, she formed the impression of a plain, utilitarian space, large enough to hold a table and a few chairs and a couple of couches. There was nothing in the way of frills: no table cloth, no pictures on the walls, not even a rug to cover the hard stone floor.

  She moved into a beam of sunlight. Startled, she lifted her face to its warmth. She was sure she was underground, so there must be a shaft in the cavern ceiling to let in light and air. Smart. She tipped her head back and drank in its energy. It was weak, too weak, but better than nothing. She would’ve remained beneath it except she wanted to finish exploring before Isa—or Dion—returned.

  She continued around the room until she arrived at the door to the hallway. It was locked, of course, but she was surprised at how disappointed she was. After all, what would she’d do even if the door were open? She had no idea where the exits were, and besides, a blindfolded woman would stick out like a sore thumb. They’d catch her before she’d gone ten yards.

  But there was something about knowing she was locked in that had the panic clawing at her again, fighting for purchase…

  She drew in a deep breath and released the doorknob. About a quarter of the way around the room, she found another locked door. She guessed that was the door to Isa’s apartment; Isa had explained that in Dion’s father’s time, the alpha’s apartment had been one large space made up of both her apartment and his, but Dion lived alone now, with Isa and his younger sister next door.

  Cleia continued until she came across a small kitchen with a sink, a stove and a built-in stone cooler that held wine, juice and cheese. A few yards from the kitchen, she turned another corner and felt her way along the wall until she once more reached the bedroom.

  As with the sala, she methodically worked her way around the outside walls, noting the placement of the bathroom, the bed and the pool, as well as the room’s size—about twenty by twenty feet. Two rustic bentwood chairs flanked the pool. She ran her hands over them, impressed at the clever way they’d been formed from willow and thick vines. They were the only furniture, save for the alpha’s sturdy stone bed.

  With that done, she then moved through the center of each room, locating each of the skylights in turn. There were five in the bedroom, four in the slightly smaller sala.

  Suddenly, she was exhausted. She made her way back to the bed. At its foot was a sheepskin rug, the only floor covering in either room. She leaned against the bed and curled her toes into it, instinctively seeking its warmth after the cool stone floor. She would’ve liked to take a nap while she waited for dinner, but she was damned if she let Dion catch her in bed again. Instead, she returned to the sala, found a sunbeam, dragged a couch beneath it and dozed curled up in its warmth.

  But she didn’t see the alpha again that evening. Isa brought her dinner, which Cleia ate in solitary splendor in the sala. She forced herself to ea
t a decent amount, knowing her body needed nourishment. When Isa had opened the door, she’d heard the clink of dishes and the murmur of what sounded like a crowd dining elsewhere in the caverns.

  A wave of homesickness washed over her. If she were home, she’d be eating with her family: Olivia and several other cousins, including the youngest, little Gracie, who lived with her parents on the mansion’s second floor and never failed to have a hug and a kiss for her “Aunt” Cleia.

  She set her fork down and paced restlessly around the sala, counting the steps from the table to the wall, from the wall to the couches, from the couches to the door to the hallway. Anything to keep her mind off how alone and helpless she felt. Without her sight, she couldn’t even read. If this was Dion’s idea of torture, he was doing a good job of it.

  She might’ve been tempted to give in to him—if she only knew what the blasted man wanted.

  To hear him talk, she was some kind of night fae, the pale-skinned, black-haired energy-suckers of the fae world. She would’ve been insulted if it weren’t so serious.

  She thought of that crowd of people eating while she was left by herself in a strange apartment and to her horror, hot tears pricked her eyes. Dropping onto the couch, she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes through the scarf and took a deep breath.

  Calm down. Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to get you out of here.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall. She sat up and scrubbed her hands over her cheeks and put a serene expression on her face.

  The key turned in the lock. “Ah, bom,” Isa said in her kindly voice. “I see you ate your dinner. It was good?”

  “Very good, thank you.”

  “Lord Dion didn’t think to bring you a nightgown, but I borrowed a shift from one of the women. She’s about your size.” Isa chuckled. “You’d swim in one of mine.”

  “Obrigada,” Cleia said politely.

  With Isa gone, Cleia could barely keep her eyes open. The food had helped, but only to a point. What she really needed was to spend a few hours in full sunlight, recharging her energy. But that was impossible as long as she was held underground; the little she could pick up from the skylights wouldn’t be enough. The longer Lord Dion kept her prisoner, the weaker she’d become.

  She braided her hair, climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. For the hundredth time, she tested the scarf’s strength, but it was still as firmly attached as the other ninety-nine times she’d tried it.

  She curled into a ball and wrapped her arms around her abdomen to comfort herself. But even as tired as she was, it was a long time before she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  After leaving Cleia, Dion spent a couple of hours drilling some of the younger warriors and cadets. The entire clan was on alert in case the sun fae attacked, although Dion considered that unlikely. First, they had to make sure Cleia was with him—and he’d been damn careful to muddy the trail—and second, they had to locate the base, concealed by some of the best spells money could buy. No, if he were the sun fae, he’d move cautiously. An attack could result in Cleia’s being spirited away to another location, or even in her death.

  Meanwhile, just spending time with the alpha served to calm the younger ones, who were understandably agitated by the news that he’d kidnapped a powerful fae.

  To add to that concern, he’d never discovered what the Baltimore shifters had been doing on Rock Run’s lands. As far as he knew, they hadn’t returned since that single incursion a couple of weeks ago, but they might have simply been clever enough not to be caught.

  Something would have to be done about them, but right now Dion couldn’t let himself be distracted.

  After washing up, he entered the large cavern that served as Rock Run’s dining hall. It was filled to the brim with people talking in low, worried voices. When they saw him, the sound stopped for a moment before resuming. Dion stifled a sigh and moved through the tables, reassuring people by word and touch.

  Even dinner didn’t provide a respite. He spent the meal explaining himself to Luis, his five tenentes, and a few other brave souls, including Isa. Not everyone had agreed with his decision to kidnap Cleia, and now that he had, there was even less support for keeping her indefinitely. After ten years as alpha, he wasn’t accustomed to being questioned. He sought advice, yes—and often took it—but once he decided on a course, he expected it to be accepted.

  The objections to him holding Cleia prisoner ranged from Rodolfo’s, “We don’t make war on women,” to Luis’s opinion that Dion was inviting the wrath of the sun fae down on their heads. Tiago regarded him as if he’d kicked a kitten, while Isa seemed inclined to bring Cleia under her maternal wing, which was a bit like a seal trying to mother a killer whale.

  Rui simply lifted a glass to him from across the cavern. Dion wasn’t sure whether he was congratulating or mocking him. When Dion arched a brow, Rui dropped his gaze and went back to his dinner, although as usual he was doing more drinking than eating.

  Dion’s mouth tightened. Once, he and Rui had been as close as brothers, raised together after Rui’s mother died birthing him. When Dion became alpha, the only man he wanted as his second was Rui, a tough, seasoned warrior who could’ve challenged him for alpha if he chose—and even Dion wasn’t sure who’d have won.

  Now, the man’s belly was bigger than his chest and he was fit for little but chasing women and netting fish—and frankly, he was the worst damn fisherman in the clan.

  Seeing Rui only fueled Dion’s resolve to hold Cleia until she agreed to fix whatever she was doing to his people. This was her doing. It was up to her to make it right.

  He set down his fork. As usual, he hadn’t quite gotten enough to eat, but for once he didn’t notice.

  “Enough,” he said when Davi, his youngest tenente and eager as a puppy to prove his worth, asked leave to scout the sun fae defenses. “We’re not going to attack the sun fae—that would be suicide. And by the time they figure out where Cleia is, she’ll have given in. Does anyone doubt I can break her?” He rose to his feet and looked around him.

  “No, my lord,” Davi replied quickly. Luis and the other four tenentes murmured their agreement and around the hall, other heads nodded as well.

  “But will it be worth it?” Isa asked, her dark eyes shrewd.

  He slapped his hands on the table. The entire room went silent. “All I know is we can’t go on like this. Twenty years that bitch has been stealing our life-energy. Look around you—how many children have been born in recent years? Not to mention the warriors she’s drained—” He inadvertently glanced at Luis. The other man looked stricken. Dion swiftly looked away.

  His second-in-command drew himself up. “If you’re asking for my resignation—”

  “Of course not,” he snapped back. “You’re a good man, Luis, and I’m fortunate to have you at my side.”

  Luis gave a taut nod, but he glanced at Davi, who was listening avidly. Unless Luis recovered soon, the younger man would be within his rights to challenge for second and everyone there knew it.

  Dion dragged a hand through his hair. It felt as if he’d spent the entire day fighting in some way or the other—first Cleia, then Tiago, and now this.

  “I’m going for a swim,” he muttered and strode from the cavern. He desperately needed to get in the water. It was either that or explode—or return to Cleia and take his frustrations out on her hide.

  Changing to his river dolphin, he swam down Rock Run Creek to the Susquehanna and from there into the Chesapeake. A couple of warriors joined him, no doubt sent by Luis to guard him. But he was glad for the company, taking comfort from the pack—as long as it wasn’t arguing with him. Together, they cruised the bay, snacking on fish and spying on the humans who were in sailboats enjoying the early summer weather. When he returned a couple of hours later, he felt much better.

  Most of the clan had retired to their quarters. Other than the sentries, the only people he passed were a courting couple who had eyes o
nly for each other.

  His apartment was dark save for a few dim fae lights floating in the gloom. His eyes went night-glow, adjusting to the reduced light. He trod softly through the sala to find his captive fast asleep—in his bed.

  He stared down at her hungrily. She’d kicked off the blanket and was curled onto her side, one arm hugging the pillow, her shift rucked halfway up her thighs.

  She was soft-skinned, vulnerable, desirable.

  He wanted to protect her.

  He wanted to rip the shift the rest of the way off and take her until she was sobbing with pleasure.

  He clasped his hands behind his back to keep himself from touching her. But he couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming over her, taking in the soft curve of her thighs, the thick braid that fell over one shoulder, and her full, perfect breasts, outlined beneath the thin white cotton. He knew he should return to the sala but he couldn’t make himself take the first step.

  Had it been just yesterday that he’d had her? It felt like another lifetime. He hated that he wanted her even now, when she was doing nothing to entice him. Hell, the woman merely had to take a deep breath and he got hard.

  She whimpered in her sleep. Something in him tightened at the unhappy little sound. He disliked making war on a woman as much as the rest of the clan. Why didn’t they understand that he had no choice?

  She whimpered again. “No…no…”

  He couldn’t hold back any longer. He told himself it had nothing do with sex. She was having a nightmare. She needed comforting.

  He smoothed a palm over her hair. “Easy there, menina. You’re all right. It’s just a bad dream.”

  Cleia gave a sleepy murmur and pressed her head into his hand. Then she went taut. He removed his hand and melted back into the shadows, but she jerked upright, the blanket clutched to her chest.