Heir of the Dog Read online

  Pick a voice? Think it? Crazy as it sounded, what did I have to lose? I focused the same as I did when willing magic into my palm, only this time I envisioned the memory of how my voice sounded to me. I would die before admitting it out loud, but I visualized it as a thought bubble forming over my head.

  “I’m Macsen Sullivan’s daughter,” a voice similar to mine said.

  “Ah. We were expecting you last night.” More rustling sounds. “Come along. Follow me.”

  The púca led me through more twists and turns than I could ever keep straight on my own. If I had been myself, I could have followed our scent trails, but no way was two-legged me fitting down this rabbit hole.

  Exhaustion tugged at the corners of my mind. The thought of losing my faint grip on this skin, of shifting to human while underground, made my mouth run dry.

  That death would suck.

  I clung to the hope the púca’s offer of hospitality was genuine and that we would part as friends. If he had any more advice on how to make this body work for me, well, more’s the better.

  We crept through the tunnel for a half hour before light trickled in and illuminated my host. His fur was the same glossy black as all others of his kind. He was unremarkable except for one speck of white on his rump, like someone meant to give him a cotton tail but missed the mark.

  “Watch your step,” the púca cautioned before leaping out of sight.

  Squinting against the bright light of the large cavern, I spotted my host and fumbled my jump to rejoin him. A few snickers made heat rise in my furry cheeks. Let them laugh. They had it easy. They were born shifters.

  For me, experiencing my essence being stuffed into another form, one that retained phantom memories from its previous occupant, was downright creepy. Despite that, I was still kicking. I was fighting. So yuck it up, furballs. Laugh with me or at me, I didn’t care. Not while being alive tasted so sweet.

  My guide cleared his throat. “You’ll be more comfortable in here.”

  Mustering my dignity, I sidestepped after him into a room large enough for a sitting human.

  “In case of an accident,” the púca answered my unasked question. “Stay here. We’re all safer that way.” The rabbit paused. “Your friend, Rook. If he arrives, I will send him to you. If he doesn’t...”

  “If he doesn’t show up soon, I’ll leave. I don’t want to bring trouble to your door since you were kind enough to help me.” I sat flat on my butt since my haunches were wobbly. “I haven’t eaten in a long time. I’m running on fumes. If you had any food to share...” I couldn’t say I would be grateful. That sounded too much like thanks, which might land me in hot water later, “...that would be nice.”

  The púca grinned. “We have plenty here. It’s why we live on the border. Spring is flush with all sorts of delicacies, but Autumn is safer for our kind. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll return shortly.”

  Following his advice, I forced my legs to work and flopped onto a bed of fresh straw. My paws ached and my muscles twinged. Everything hurt, but I shut my eyes with a smile. Pain meant I was still alive. It was hard to be upset about that.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Straw crinkled beneath me when I twisted onto my back. Scratching an itchy spot on my belly with the short nails on my front paws, I yawned. My lids cracked open, and through the frame made of my hind legs, I saw him. Rook. His sleek head rested under his left wing.

  Magic surged through me, snapping my grip on the skin. I screamed when it ripped free and I exploded to normal size, whacking the ceiling with my head.

  “Freaking monkeys,” I hissed.

  Careful of the startled rook, I folded my legs and crammed myself into the smallest space possible to give us each breathing room. The bird stood pressed flush against the opposite wall, his tiny chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “Sorry about that.” I lifted the rabbit skin off my knee. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  He relaxed and cocked his head.

  “I’m glad to see you. I was—” don’t say relieved, “—relieved you’re okay.”

  With a rustle of feathers, he lit on my knee.

  “I guess you can’t do the talking thing or you would have by now.” I examined the tiny cubby, our sanctuary. “Did the food ever show up?” I felt around under my thighs. My fingers hit a bowl the size of my cupped palm. I raised it to my nose and inhaled, relieved as the sharp, sweet scent hit the back of my throat and revived my senses. “No idea what these are, but they smell delicious.” I showed him one. “What do you think?”

  His head tilted side to side while his beak worried the taut flesh. It was an odd-looking berry, deep-orange-colored flesh splattered with red splotches. He pierced the skin and ran his tongue over the tear.

  When he tugged the oblong berry from my grasp and swallowed it whole, I figured that meant it was safe to eat as far as he could tell. Good enough for me. I picked one for myself and popped it into my mouth. Cool juices burst on my tongue, sweet, tart and delicious. I alternated feeding myself and Rook until he shook his head and hopped back to his corner while I polished off the rest and wiped my sticky fingers on the bedding.

  While I sat there enjoying the sensation of having a full stomach, the bird vanished in a blast of magic. A heartbeat later, Rook’s base form crammed the other half of the room, squishing me against the wall.

  “We should talk.” He grunted, shifting his weight while trying to cross his legs like mine.

  “Hold still.” I pulled his legs to either side of my hips, unhooked my ankles and straightened my legs above his lap until I could drape them over his thighs and brace them on the opposite wall. Tall as he was, Rook’s head brushed the ceiling. He had to sit with his neck bent hard to one side. “Here. Wiggle down some. Not like that. You need to scoot your butt closer to me. There. Isn’t that better?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Much.”

  I glanced down at the meeting of our pelvises and slowly arched an eyebrow. “Glad to hear it.”

  His gaze swept over me. “Are you hurt?”

  “I wasn’t the one who faced down the hounds.” I nudged his hip with the toe of my shoe. “Are you okay?”

  A stiff roll of his shoulders was his answer.

  Knowing better than to push, I changed strategies. “What’s the plan?”

  “We return to Autumn.” He gave me no time to argue before adding, “Black Dog keeps a den there.”

  “Do you really believe if we find him that he’s going to switch places with me?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

  “What makes you so sure?” If Mac viewed finding the king’s killer more important than saving me, that’s what he would do. The sense of justice that fueled his legend would settle for nothing less. The woods buzzed with news of the hunt. If Macsen wanted to play rescuer, he was missing his cue.

  “You’re his heir,” Rook said, as though it should be obvious. “He will help if given the chance.”

  “If he’s still in Faerie, he must have heard the rumors by now.” I lifted my hands. “But I don’t see him.”

  “It depends.” He traced the curve of my ankle. “Seasons change on Earth. Some are mild, some are harsh. The thing they all have in common is they will pass. Seasons are static here. Portions of each season reflect the best and worst facets of each period. If your father is in the desert or the tundra, the message will be delayed if it reaches him at all.” Rook studied a crack in the dirt by his cheek. “We just don’t know.”

  I stole a moment to ensure my voice wouldn’t quaver. “That means he’s either in his den and he doesn’t care whether I live or die, which wouldn’t surprise me, or he’s so far away he might as well not care because the odds of him reaching me before the hounds do...” I banged my skull against the wall. “Either way it’s a no-win situation. Why bother? Why risk our necks when it doesn’t matter?”

  “It’s the only chance you’ve got.” He tapped my knee. “We don’t have anything better to do.”
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  “Nothing at all.” I scuffed my shoe on the dirt wall. “Just try not to die. Horribly.”

  He slid his hand forward until he cupped my thigh. “You’ve been so brave.”

  “Necessity isn’t bravery.” If anything, all the running showed prudent cowardice.

  “You could have refused to accept your father’s role, his fate. You didn’t.” His other hand caressed the opposite thigh. “Knowing the endgame, you could have surrendered. You haven’t. You’re fighting. I admire that.”

  The higher his hands crept, the more possessive his grip became and the more certain I was that I ought to shut him down hard. Fast. Before this sexy fae led me astray and my family history repeated.

  Instead of doing the smart thing, I found myself leaning forward while he did the same.

  “Fighting to survive is instinct.” The harder life came at you, the harder you had to punch it in the face.

  “Why can’t you accept a compliment?” He hauled my hips closer to his, and the motion rocked me back against the wall. “You even fight those.”

  “I’m not used to hearing them, except for the backhanded kind. They’re hard to trust.” Breathing became difficult when he bent over me, his face, his lips, so close to mine. “They’re words. Easy to say even when you don’t mean them.”

  He crowded my space until I had to flatten against the dirt wall if I wanted to escape him. The problem being I wasn’t sure I did. In fact, I found myself reaching for him, drawn into him.

  I ran the long strands of his hair through my fingers. “What are we doing?”

  He covered my hand with his. “I’m hoping you will kiss me.”

  “You’re a fan of short-term commitments, huh?” I teased. “Just like a guy.”

  “Thierry,” he chastised me.

  His breath fanned my cheeks. His lips parted. I almost tasted him.

  “Wait.” I pressed a finger to his mouth. “This won’t count as consummating our marriage, will it?”

  Rook’s dark chuckle made me shiver. “If a kiss is your idea of consummation...”

  “Ha. Try to turn it around on me.” I slid my hand across his cheek, his skin warm silk under my fingers. “I seem to recall being tricked into a marriage I still, quite frankly, question the validity of. I just want to make sure that if I actually let you kiss me, that it’s not some kind of binding spit-swapping contract I can’t break later.”

  If I had a later.

  “I warned you.” His skin flushed. “Trust I will keep you safe. As to the rest...”

  “I can’t help trusting you a teeny-tiny bit when you keep saving me. I know I shouldn’t. You’re working an angle. If I only knew—”

  His mouth lowered to mine, silencing my doubts, filling my head with his smoky taste.

  He gripped the leather straps on my shoulders and brought me flush against him. Roots tangled in my hair and dust sprinkled onto my lashes. His tongue slipped between my lips, and I sighed against him.

  Rook was attempting to drag me under him, without much resistance, when a small throat cleared.

  “Forgive the intrusion. The hounds. They breached the easternmost tunnel. Our little ones room not far from there. We evacuated the babes in time,” he added hastily, “but you both must go. Please.”

  “Of course.” I disentangled the best I could from Rook. “Which way out is safest?”

  “We must return to Autumn.” Rook hummed. “Is the western tunnel clear?”

  “As far as I know.” The púca’s whiskers twitched. “We’ll send a scout to see you on your way.”

  “That is very kind of you.” Rook eased his hand under my ass and dragged out a rumpled rabbit skin. “If you could give us privacy while we shift? Once we’re ready, we’ll join you at the junction.”

  After a slight hesitation, the púca bobbed its head. “That’s fair, but be quick.”

  Once our host left, Rook offered me the skin. “Do you think you can manage a while longer?”

  “I think so.” I dusted the soft fur. “I got a nap before you arrived, and I’ve eaten. All in all, I feel better now than I have since we left Mom’s house. Did you come all the way down here in rook form?”

  He nodded. “The rook in me hates being unable to see sky.” His gaze rolled over our surroundings and a shudder rippled through him. “Try to keep up.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.” Had everyone noticed my lack of hopping skills?

  “We can race if you like.” His eyes twinkled. “To the victor go the spoils.”

  A trap if I ever heard one. “How exactly does the victor think he’s getting spoiled?”

  Rook bent over me. “I will allow you to make payments toward my winnings.”

  I pulled him down to me and nipped his bottom lip. “How gracious of you.”

  “One kiss now...” His mouth brushed mine. “After I win, you owe me ninety-nine more.”

  “It’s a deal.” I stuck out my hand, and he shook it. “Now, give me some room.”

  He retreated to his corner where he slid into his other form like a letter into an envelope. The bird that was Rook cawed.

  “I’m going as fast as I can.” I pushed myself upright and placed the skin on my head, tugging the twin holes over my eyes and peering through the slashes.

  Calm. I had to get calm. Ignore Rook. Forget Mom. Shaw—don’t even go there. All those things got shoved into the farthest corner of my mind.

  Skin tightening, I felt when the pelt latched on to me. Remembered sensations swamped me. Grass tickling the sensitive pads of my feet. The crisp bite of fresh vegetation. Warm sun on soft fur. Scattered impressions rose to the surface of my mind and tugged me under their spell. Magic quivered over my flesh, folding my essence onto itself, stacking me neatly inside the pelt.

  With a nod to me, the Rook hopped from our room through the short tunnel into a four-way intersection.

  It took me longer to acclimate, but I managed. Both the rook and the púca appeared surprised to see me so soon, which grated. Lucky for them, the worst I could manage was wriggling my cute button nose at them.

  If birds could smirk, that damn bird was shooting one right at me.

  “We’re ready.” I used magic to carry my voice and prove my superiority over Mute McSmirkypants. “Let’s go.”

  The púca darted down a tunnel before the words were out of my mouth—mind? I couldn’t blame him. We had endangered his home and family. I just hoped by leaving that Rook and I hadn’t jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “This is as far as I go.” The púca worried his front paws together. “Once you have left, I will tell the hunt you’re no longer our guests. The rules of hospitality apply. I won’t tell them where you’ve gone.” He bowed before me. “Your sacrifice will be remembered. You are dlúthchara to me and mine.”

  I ran the Irish Gaelic word through my memory and came up with close friend.

  “You do me an honor.” I returned the gesture. “We part as friends.”

  Contorting his lithe body, the púca vanished into the safety of the burrow.

  Rook hopped toward the tunnel’s opening, dug his talons into the soft dirt and leapt for the sky. Decaying leaves, wood smoke and cloves hit my nose. We were back in Autumn. The rabbit skin dampened the rest. Until I reached the outside or I shed this form, I was stuck receiving sensory information through a filter, which sucked. This was a lesson in putting my other senses to work. I was too dependent on my nose.

  After a while, the rook popped its head back into the hole and then flapped its wings. Message received. I exited the burrow, cautious of those first steps into sunlight.

  Magic brushed against my shoulder, and Rook stood beside me. After some false starts, I got the rabbit skin removed and shifted back to good old two-legged me. That first lungful of fresh air made me giddy, and stretching felt divine. Pops shuddered down my spine as I reached my arms over my head.

  “We can’t risk being out in t
he open.” He sounded sorry to interrupt.

  “I know.” I scooped the pelt off the ground, dusting it before I rolled it up and shoved it into a pouch in the armor covering my thigh. “Ready.”

  He set off down a narrow trail marked by clumps of iridescent mushrooms reflecting the sunlight, and I followed a few steps behind. The path smelled familiar, but I sniffed, certain we had never gone this way.

  My slower pace gave me a prime view of his backside, not that I was complaining, but it raised some questions I ought to ask. Like why the fabric of his cloak and armor were torn but his skin was smooth underneath. Did he heal fast like me? Was it a byproduct of shifting? Was that how his broken arm reset?

  Even better—where did our clothes go when we changed shape? Did they always return the same way? If I scuffed my shoes, shifted, then shifted back, would the shoes still be scuffed? I pulled a weary hand down my face. The answer was an obvious yes because Rook’s leather armor resembled a rawhide chew toy, allowing me glimpses of flexing muscle in his back as he walked.

  Pale skin I shouldn’t be admiring.

  That kiss... It changed things, and I wasn’t sure what came next. Out here, I wasn’t safe and warm or fed and comfortable. Out here, I was exposed and afraid. That kiss, no matter how nice it had been, wasn’t as important as exploring my slim survival options.

  “According to the information I gleaned in court, Black Dog’s den isn’t too far from here.”

  My gaze lifted to peg the back of his head. “You mean you’ve never been?”

  “He doesn’t welcome visitors.” He glanced back. “He avoids favoring either side by befriending neither. Or so the rumors say.” He kept moving. “It’s said loneliness is what drove him to the mortal realm, where he could take a lover who wouldn’t compromise his honor, and there he met your mother.”

  A sliver of apprehension worked its way under my skin. Black Dog was legendary. He was also critical to maintaining balance in Faerie, so his exploits would make for juicy gossip at court. People—especially fae—loved hearing their peers were as flawed as they were. It validated their choices and made them feel better about all the naughty things they did and hoped remained a secret.