His growl turned into a roar that shook the building. The wooden beams groaned. The earth moved under his feet. Electricity sparked in the air around him.
Riesa whined, and the sound pulled him back from the edge moments before he unleashed the power of the Hunt. He peered over his shoulder. She approached him, head lowered and tail between her legs.
He dropped to his knees and opened his arms to receive her nuzzle and lick. “It’s not your fault, Riesa. You can’t smell the chaotic taint when it’s masked.”
At his bitter, raw laugh, Riesa cowered more. The sight bothered him, but he couldn’t help it. The irony was too much. The great leader of the Wild Hunt was linked to a redcap through his mate. Somehow, Raul had ingested Harley’s blood. It was the only explanation for his ability to hide from Calan’s hounds.
As Calan’s mate, the Hunt was blinded to Harley and so too was Raul—the redcap partially bound to her. Although the ceremony hadn’t been performed, the first step had been taken. The moment she turned Unseelie, she could claim the first leader of her army and make Raul her tool, weapon…lover, anything she desired.
It won’t happen. Harley will finish her bond to me, no other.
“He’ll die, slowly and painfully.” The vow didn’t help. Rage still gripped Calan, and he couldn’t think beyond his anger to decide on the best way to eliminate Raul when Calan couldn’t sense his presence.
The situation seemed impossible.
The ground trembled, and his hair stood on end as energy raced to his body. Calan let the power—the rage of the Hunt—swamp him until he too trembled under its force and its sweet lure before stretching his arms to the heavens and calling forth his horse for the first time in a millennium. From the portal to the Underworld only a Huntsman could use, his stallion trotted out. The tug of Arawn’s summons followed. Calan blocked him. He’d deal with his sire soon but didn’t dare risk it while he fought the temptation of the Hunt—to ride, to protect, to avenge. Only. That was the danger. The need to seek revenge could consume them to the point where nothing else mattered. Their duty became everything.
A visit to the Underworld often resulted in a brawl with his father. The additional violence on top of what rode him would send him over the edge. It took every ounce of his control to resist its pull.
Can’t give in. Harley needs me here. So too did his siblings and the humans.
The stakes were too high to risk being locked in yet another prison because he couldn’t control himself. He would become what Harley had first pegged him as—an unstoppable force that destroyed everything in his path.
He couldn’t allow that to happen, not when his personal heaven was within reach.
Chapter Nineteen
Harley stood in Ian’s living room while he prowled. The description fit better than paced. Coiled energy tightened his muscles. He curled and uncurled his fists. Ian finally stopped, faced the mirror above the side table and punched it. Glass shattered. The tinkling noise of shards hitting the wooden floor resounded around them. Rough pants sawed past his lips, and blood dripped from his knuckles.
She blew out a slow breath and glanced from the silvery blades on the floor at his feet to his face. “I’m sorry. I should never have—”
“Fucking stop.” Ian leveled glinting hazel eyes at her. “I am so goddamn sick of hearing your lame-ass apologies.”
Harley stepped back and wrapped her arms around her chest. “I don’t have anything else to give.”
“You need to stop apologizing. It doesn’t change anything. Not the rotten blood in your body or the hell that follows you.” Ian closed the distance between them. “You did not ask to be fathered by a monster.”
She knew that, and for the first time in her life, she had a way to make up for every death Dar, Raul, and the other redcaps had caused.
“Calan will avenge Cynthia’s family, and maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll find her alive.”
“Don’t feed me any false hope. Cynthia is either dead or Raul made her into a sluagh.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And the worst damn part is our last words spoken to each other were ones of anger.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “What happened?”
Ian dug out the antique ring he’d given to Cynthia. It had belonged to their grandmother and was worth a small fortune. He held it up to the light, examining it from all angles.
“We started arguing over china patterns.” He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It turned into a fight with her demanding shit like a new house and car. I figured it was just the stress of the wedding and stuff, but Trevor’s words kept going through my head.”
Silence stretched. Finally, she finished his statement. “So you asked her about it.”
“Yeah. Cynthia said she deserved everything I could give her since it was clear she’d never have my undying love. Then she accused me of cheating on her. I told her she was full of shit. That I didn’t condone cheating.” He cracked his knuckles. “She laughed in my face, so I turned my back on her and told her we’d talk in the morning. I left, but came back when I’d calmed down. The house was dark, so I sat in my car and—”
The front door banged open with a gust of wind. The scent of a campfire rushed in with a breeze that scattered papers and knocked the picture frames from their spots on the mantel.
Calan. She spun.
He stepped through the opening. His gaze zeroed in on her. His nostrils flared, and a rumbly snarl curled his lip. She reached behind her and braced against the wall to steady her shaky legs at the sight of the fury stamped on
