“Are you sure you want to get a taste of what I see? Because you’ll never be able to look at it the same again.”
“Then how do you live with it?”
“I buy new furniture. The antiques I sell so I don’t have to live with the history. I try not to buy things that have been present during a murder. I don’t like the vibe.”
“Okay.” That wasn’t the direction she’d been hoping to take. “How about one object, your choice.”
He looked at her as if trying to work out what it was she wanted. Then he pushed her against the railing, his hands on either side of her. She put her arms around his neck and risked a glance over her shoulder.
“I won’t let you fall,” he murmured in her ear. “But now you are part of it as she was.”
And she realized this was it. This is what she’d asked for. He’d picked the railing and had pushed her against it the way someone else had been years before. Caspian’s cheek was against hers, his breath on her skin, and while she couldn’t see his face she could feel the tension in his shoulders beneath her hands.
“She leaned back as far as she could, not caring of the danger. His arm around her waist as he kissed her neck and slowly moved lower. The risk of getting caught, but neither cared.” He swallowed. “Lust is the overriding emotion. The longer I tap into the past the more real it becomes. Music drifts up from downstairs. Laughter.”
Her breathing quickened as he moved against her, hard against her stomach. But as his hand slid around her waist she realized he wasn’t actually with her. He was in the past. And she understood what he meant and why he’d been reluctant to do this.
She slid her hands down his chest then pushed him back, breaking the connection.
He took a couple of steps back and blinked. “I thought you wanted to know.”
“I do… I did. You got lost.” Was he back?
“Not lost; when I’m lost it’s very hard to get free. That hasn’t happened in a very long time.”
“You weren’t here either.”
“The impression was close to what I want, so it was easy to tap in and easy for it to take over.”
“Close to what you want?” She took a couple of steps, until she was toe to toe with him.
“Mmm.” He cupped her cheek and kissed her. His other hand snaked around her waist and drew her closer.
She untucked his shirt and slid her hands under, needing to feel his skin. He must have had the same idea as he worked open the buttons on her shirt and pushed it off her shoulders while she tried to do the same to him. Her fingers skimmed the muscles of his stomach down to the button on his jeans, then she flicked it open.
“And what is it that you want?” She needed to make sure he was here with her, now.
“You, in the room down the corridor.” He tugged on the waistband of her jeans as he walked backward toward the room they were sharing.
Chapter 15
Neither of them had bought groceries so it was bread from the freezer again for breakfast. It was so boring and normal. He hadn’t had breakfast with anyone in… well, in four years, since he’d walked out on Natalie. Lydia knew what he could do and she’d still come back to bed for more.
After several days of being surrounded by Greys and a twitchy Dylis, he felt good. He smiled at Lydia as she sat opposite him at the table. The shop was closed, so he had nowhere to be and nothing pressing to do. And there were no mirrors in the yard—which probably meant Shea was pacing his front yard, but Shea could wait.
A movement on the windowsill caught his eye. A fairy wren hopped along, stopping and turning, its feathers flashing brilliant blue in the morning sun. Caspian watched, willing it to vanish, or to be attracted to him and not a herald for the Court. Not today, not here. Not now.
Three knocks at the front door shattered the hope he’d had. He’d been lulled into an obviously false sense of security. The wren flapped away, its job done. Whoever was waiting out front was associated with Court.
Lydia looked at Caspian. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
He was, but he’d thought he’d gotten away with it when they’d taken so long to come. “I’ll go have a look.” He finished his coffee.
The fairy knocked again. This time the sound reverberated with power and Caspian felt a stirring in his blood as the fairy in him responded to the call of the Court. He stood, then paused to make sure he’d stood of his own accord. He had—a fairy wouldn’t go so far as to control a person; they much preferred to muck around with the limits of free will.
On one hand he could pretend to ignore the knock, on the other he knew he had to answer or the results would be worse. So he would do what any normal person would do—answer the door and then decide what to do with the person on the other side.
He walked barefoot through the house, the echoes of parties long since finished humming around him. Memories of last night lingered but offered no warmth. He wished he could go back and not make the deal, anything to buy himself more time with Lydia.
The fairy on the doorstep was dressed in green and brown. Almost plain by fairy standards. But it was the cut and finish of the clothes that tugged at an unconscious memory. The fairy’s green waistcoat was delicately embroidered with silver deer around the edge, his white shirt was untied at the cuff in elegant untidiness, and his brown leather boots were embossed with oak leaves. A long sword of fairy silver hung from his waist. Everything about him said carefully restrained power. This was no low-level messenger.
Caspian met the fairy’s cool gaze. His eyes were pale like smoky quartz.
“Caspian ap Felan ap Gwynn ap Nudd.” The fairy inclined his head with more than token respect.
Caspian didn’t admit it was his name even though the power of the words spoken by one of the Court cloaked around him. “And you are?”
“Verden ap Hollis, Hunter of Annwyn.” There was a glint in Verden’s eyes that chilled Caspian to the core.
The Court, possibly his father, had sent the Lord of the Hunt after him. That was either a sign of respect or he was in far deeper trouble than he’d imagined.
“The Crown Prince of Annwyn and guardian of the veil cordially invites you to attend Court at your earliest convenience.”
“My father wants to see me.”
“To put it coarsely.” Verden’s expression didn’t change.
“Is everything all right?” Lydia walked up behind Caspian. Verden shimmered and as Caspian turned to Lydia he glimpsed what she’d see. A man in a dark suit, wearing sunglasses, his dark brown hair pulled into a messy, but somehow stylish ponytail with a very obvious bulge under one side of his jacket. To her eyes it would be a gun.
“Oh.” Her gaze flicked between Caspian and the now glamoured fairy.
“Good morning.” Verden smiled with all the charm of a fairy. No mortal could resist. He half-expected Lydia to fall into Verden’s arms.
She didn’t; she moved further behind Caspian. “What’s going on? What does he want?” Then she lowered her voice. “Is he fairy?”
“Caspian’s father needs to speak with him,” Verden answered before Caspian could even form a word.
“Your father, the mechanic?” she said hopefully.
Caspian half-turned so he could keep one eye on Verden and the other on Lydia. “No, the other one.” He gave her a look which he hoped conveyed that yes, this man was a fairy and she should go back to the kitchen. It obviously failed.
“Ohhh.” She looked at the Hunter of Annwyn again as if realizing that he wasn’t human. “I thought you didn’t know your biological father?”
Verden smiled without warmth. He was here to collect and was enjoying watching Caspian squirm as his two worlds collided.