Page 21 of Denied

Kayla laughed a little. “Which you kept trying to gnaw on.” She took Christine’s hands in hers. “I want to know everything about you. Everything you haven’t told me. Everything I’ve missed.”

“I’ve been waiting nineteen years to tell you,” Christine said with a laugh. “It’ll take some time.”

Kayla grinned, absorbing every detail of Christine’s face. For a few moments, they could only look at each other.

“Sister,” Kayla whispered, which made Christine grin.

“If it’s all right with you,” her sister said. “I’d rather not change my name. I’m kind of attached to Christine.”

Kayla’s smile faded. “Let her keep the name. That’s the last thing she’s ever going to steal from you.”

CHAPTER 12

T ARA WAITED UNTIL sunset before she covered the Fae warrior with her blankets and left the cottage. Refusing to eat had left her as weak as if she were still chained. She could smell the food the men were preparing for the evening meal. They’d find Jannon later, when they remembered to bring a tray for her.

Ifthey remember, the snide side of her heart whispered. Maybe they’ll keep forgetting.

Ryan and his men hadn’t been cruel to her, but they hadn’t bothered to be kind, either. The only reason they’d kept her alive was because of Kayla, and her idiotic ideas about her being damaged or something. Tara should have laughed in her face when she’d talked about the clan abusing her—or used it to coax Kayla into setting her free. Dirk would have.

The sound of heavy footsteps crushing the carpet of brown leaves made Tara duck down in some brush.

“I know naught about the Cloudstar,” Gavan said, sounding miffed. “Our liege may hold a life-debt over them, but I doubt it will have much sway. Devalan has no love of outcasts.”

“Aye, but his honor will outweigh his disgust,” Colm replied. “We should take Jannon with us when we call on the clan. Devalan married a Ferguson, as I recollect.”

“Doubtless to combat the seething heat here,” Gavan said, his voice growing distant. “’Tis like one giant sweathouse, even in winter.”

Once the men had gone, Tara crawled out of the brush and stood up to head for the spell boundary. Dirk had assured her that the changeling curse cloaking her would shield her from any spell the Fae cast against Dark Fae. It had worked in Tennessee. When she reached the protective barrier, however, the bruised side of her body began throbbing unpleasantly.

Going through the Fae portal had almost killed her. Pushing through this might just finish her off.

Tara smirked.

She stepped to the barrier’s edge, spread out her arms, and walked into the boundary. Magic burned against the left side of her body, and purred against the right. By the time she stepped through she could feel every bruise down to the bone. She gasped, barely able to stay upright. But the lopsided pain brought forth her nightmare, and its meaning.

The beautiful Fae woman in the cell had been her mother. The thug with the blade, a bigger version of Dirk, was Jarek, her father. She had been the squalling infant.

Jannon had been right about everything.

I love you, he’d said.

“So what? Everybody has to love me.”

Tara limped on, making her way to the opposite side of the lake.

She knew she didn’t have to open a shadow portal there. She could keep going until she reached town. It would be easy to find some tourists who lived far from Florida. Canadians were supposed to be nice people, and she could hitch a ride north with an older couple. By the time they reached the U.S. border they’d want her to move in with them, so they could take care of her and love her and never let her suffer again.

Only Dirk would find her, and kill them, and the nightmare would start all over again. No, she had to stick to her original plan.

Tara walked into the woods until she felt sure none of the Fae would spot her from the other side of the lake. Then she leaned against a nubby pine tree trunk and drew on the last dregs of her power. The moonlight shifted away from the pine’s shadow, which darkened and expanded until it formed a large oval with glowing yellow edges.

Dirk Blackstone stepped through the shadow, his big body tense, and long daggers held ready. When he saw her, he sheathed one blade but kept the other in his fist.

“You took your time,” he muttered, his gaze crawling over her with greedy thoroughness. “Where is she?”

Lying to her brother wasn’t any more difficult than it had been with Kayla. “I killed her.”

Dirk made a vicious sound. “You did what?”