Artistic Vision

embedded in his sides, his thighs, his arms, pumping something into him. Something vile. Akane could smell the wrongness. Whatever had poisoned her mate would leave its mark on him. She crooned to him as she yanked the tentacles away, desperately trying not to gag at the stench.

She’d seen Robin use these before to maim, to kill, but the foul, putrid odor from these tentacles smelled nothing like the poison Robin used. It was as if someone had taken Robin’s essence and fouled it beyond redemption. That foulness raced through her mate’s system, tainting it.

Dear gods, what if Shane changed somehow? Would the poison drag him down into the Black? Could it?

He moaned, then coughed, the smoke of the burning barn becoming thick and fierce. Akane lifted her mate from the table and raced from the barn, taking flight once they were free. She had the scents of both the female and the male. She would recognize them again. The male bore traces of Shane’s blood on his claws, something he would pay for.

But first things first. Her mate was in her arms, and he lived. Akane raced to the Dunne farm and the one place he’d want to be when he awoke.

Bres struck, just as Robin thought he would, at the weakest link: Leo. Fortunately the Sidhe had come prepared, using the earth itself to protect him while he unsheathed his sword. It swayed and buckled, forcing Bres back a step.

The leader of the redcaps smiled at Leo’s sword. “Cold iron doesn’t work on me.”

No. Robin had known that. Neither the Tuatha De nor the Fomorians shared the Sidhe’s allergy to iron. It took something else to kill one such as Bres. The only one who had come close had been Lugh, who’d tried to poison Bres by filling three hundred wooden cows with a bitter red liquid, then “milking” them and forcing Bres to drink the liquid. Bres, under a geas to obey the rules of hospitality, had drunk the liquid, but instead of killing him it had merely forced him into a slumber so deep they’d all thought him dead. When he awoke, a thousand years had passed and Oberon, his queen Titannia by his side, was on the throne. The Tuatha De and the Fomorians had been nothing more than a memory, even to those whose lives were measured in centuries.

What part Bres played in Titannia’s fall Robin didn’t know, but some day he intended to find out.

Robin carelessly blocked a redcap, skewering it on the point of a claw before turning his attention once more to Bres. The man was attempting to take down Leo by any means necessary, ignoring the Hob as if he wasn’t even there.

Well. Robin would have to fix that.

Robin smiled sweetly, and Bres tripped, almost falling on the point of Leo’s sword. He flicked his hair back from his shoulders and Bres’s belt broke, his pants slipping from his narrow hips. When Robin sighed, bored of the game already, Bres’s sword broke.

Unfortunately, the tip flew through the air and gashed Leo’s face, narrowly missing his eye. Startled, the Sidhe backed up a step and right onto the point of a redcap pike.

“Damn. Missed one.” Robin muttered to himself in disbelief. How could he have missed one of the little fuckers? He reached out his hand and twisted. The redcap fell in screaming agony, his kneecap shattered.

But it was too late. Leo was on his knees, his hand pressed to the wound at his back. Bres stood over him and knocked Leo out with the butt of his sword.

Robin sighed in relief. The boy was out, and relatively safe; the last redcap was a whimpering mess, and who cared what they saw?

A toothy grin on his suddenly inhuman face, Robin squared off with Bres.

Now it was Robin’s turn to play.

Chapter Eight

Shane stirred, moaned. Pain was etched into every cell of his body. Nausea raced through him and, barely managing to turn enough that he didn’t choke, Shane puked. Thick, viscous black goo poured from his stomach, as foul tasting as it smelled.

“Ew. What the fuck is that? Tar?”

His baby sister’s voice brought a weak smile to his face. He couldn’t even open his eyes, but he could imagine the expression he would see there if he did. Her nose would be wrinkled in disgust, but her green eyes would be lit with worry.

“Ugh. What the hell have you been eating?” Footsteps sounded on wooden floors; Akane hadn’t taken him to his studio. He must be in his parent’s house. “Ma!” Moira bellowed, confirming it. “He’s awake and he puked!”

“I remember when I used to bellow that,” Shane tried to joke, but the words were barely whispered. He tried to remember what Constance and Klaussner had done to him, but he couldn’t think past the pounding in his skull and behind his eyes. Pain wracked every inch of his body. “I think I was hit by a burning oil truck.”

“Close enough.” Warm fingers pushed back his hair, soothed him. His mate’s touch burned him, warmed the cold places that had started to settle through him. “Welcome back.”

He managed to open his eyes, but it was like a film had been drawn over his sight. He could barely see her, and what he did see was shrouded in shadows. “What did they do to me?”

Smoke curled from between her lips. “They hurt you.”

He blinked. “I got that. What exactly did they do to me?”

More smoke. His dragoness was ticked. “They put things into you, pumped poison through you.”

Oh. That. No wonder she was upset. Shane was in for a rough time of it, but when he told her the cure she was going to be really upset. He held back the shivers threatening to rip him to pieces. “I see.”

Her head tilted, her expression fierce. “Do you?” She lifted him in her arms, startling him. “Strip the bed please, Moira.”

Moira huffed but obeyed. Akane’s tone left no room for argument, but at least she’d said please. “I’m okay, a ghra.”

Akane snorted. “Sure you are. You puke up black goo every day.” She placed him down on cold, fresh sheets, then curled up around him. “I thought you were dead.” She stroked the dragon on his arm, the tears she was desperately trying not to shed obvious in her voice.

“I know.”

“You knew they were coming for you.”

He nodded. He wouldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t. “Da?”

“He’s fine. Whatever they used to knock him out didn’t last long, but he is seriously pissed off.” Moira took the one seat in the room that wasn’t the bed and rubbed at her face wearily. “You are in big trouble.”

“Anyone hurt?” Shane could barely stay awake. All he wanted to do was sleep in his dragon’s arms.

“Leo.”

His eyes snapped open at that. He struggled to sit up, but Akane held him down. “What happened?”

“The leader of the redcaps showed up at his place to take him and Ruby to the Dark Queen.”

Shane shuddered. He hadn’t seen that possibility. “How badly is he injured?”

“Bres sliced him up, but he’ll be all right. Mostly cuts and bruises. He managed to take out most of the redcaps by himself. Robin was seriously impressed.” Akane stroked his arm, trying to calm him down.

Shane sagged back onto the bed in relief. “They shouldn’t have attacked him on his own land.”

“Ruby is pissed. She wants Bres’s head on a pike. Apparently one of the blows came close to Leo’s eye and she thinks it will leave a scar on that perfect face of his.”

Shane shuddered. “He’s all right?”

“Yes, Shane. He’s all right. It would have been different if Robin hadn’t been there, but he’ll be fine.”

“We owe him.” He snuggled back, Akane’s warmth once more driving away the strange chill, lulling him to sleep.

“Yes. We do.” She kissed the nape of his neck, and he got the feeling she wasn’t talking about Robin.