Half-breed’s Bargain by Samantha Wolfe
25
HARLOW
“Son of a bitch,” I say under my breath, wishing I could cuss longer and louder, but Van is already walking out of the nearby trees and heading toward us with his gaze locked on me. I fight to keep my sudden panic from showing on my face. “What the fuck do I do now?” I whisper.
“We’ll figure something out after we get the ring,” Anson reassures me as he stands and disrupts the circle of sand with his foot. “Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry, my ass,” I reply, touched by Anson’s use of the word we, since this isn’t really his problem. “Van might be dead by the end of the night if that fae bitch is still alive.”
“We’ll figure something out,” he repeats more firmly.
“Yeah, right,” I say as I plaster on what I’m sure looks like a deranged smile for Van’s benefit as he approaches, then think better of it and school my features into a more neutral expression. It’ll look weird if I keep grinning at him like a lunatic.
Van studies me as he reaches us, a deep frown forming on his face. Shit, my poker face must really suck right now. It’s totally unlike me. I’m usually frosty and itching for any kind of action like this, but nothing has ever been this personal or important to me.
He steps close to me and runs his knuckles along my cheek, his aura caressing mine with reassurance. “Is everything alright, querida?”
I sigh and lean into his touch as I’m flooded with a wave of affection for him. “Just freaking out a little,” I answer him honestly, knowing he’ll recognize a lie while our auras are touching like this.
“I have faith in you, Harlow,” he says with a soft smile as he takes one of my hands in his. “I know you can accomplish anything you set your mind to.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Móira’s not home,” Anson says, stiffening as Ameera returns to the group, along with Ethan and Mercer, and watches her with wary eyes. “And there are quite a few less guards on the property than we expected.” Van looks relieved at Anson’s revelation while being reminded of my thwarted plan just freaks me the hell out even more.
“What about security cameras or an alarm system?” Ameera asks, earning an undeserved glare from Anson.
“Móira doesn’t trust most modern technology,” Van answers her. “She relies on her magic and her guards to protect her.” He nods toward me. “Harlow’s the only one of us capable of getting past the wards.”
Ameera’s eyes narrow with skepticism. “And how exactly will she accomplish that?”
“By waltzing right through them,” I reply with a shit-eating grin. Call me petty, but I love being able to lord my abilities over my man’s ex.
Ameera makes a scoffing noise. “You can’t be bloody serious.”
“She can,” Anson adds with a sneer. “I’ve seen it for myself many times.”
She spares a dismissive glance for Anson, before focusing on Van again.
“It’s true,” Van assures her. “I’ve seen it too.”
“So we just have to trust her to go in there by herself and not take off with the ring so she can use it for her own gain? For all we know, this unhinged lunatic could be working for another wanker like her last employer.”
I snarl and lunge at Ameera, but Van yanks me back by the hand he’s still holding. He steps between her and me as a bristling Ethan and Mercer move to flank us, his voice dropping to a low, threatening rumble. “Insult my mate or question her loyalty again, and I just might be tempted to let Hale incinerate you like I’m sure he’d still love to do.”
“I totally would,” Anson chimes in with a smug expression.
Instead of taking Anson’s bait, Ameera stares at Van with wide incredulous eyes. “Mate?”
“Yes,” Van answers, his chin lifting with pride. “And I trust Harlow with my life, so if you have a problem with her doing this, then you’re more than welcome to leave.” He scowls. “And you can take that second GPS tracker you hid under my car with you.” Ah, so that’s how she found us again. She’s a conniving little bloodsucker, isn’t she?
Ameera glances between Van and me a few times with a stunned expression. “I… I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t know.”
“That’s because you weren’t invited to the party, bitch,” I say, unable to help myself from getting one more dig in against her.
She glares at me, and I barely remember not to meet her eyes when I glare right back. “I’m only trying to do the right thing here.”
Anson barks out a bitter laugh that earns him a scowl from Ameera.
“Is it really necessary for this bigoted fool to be here?” she asks.
“Yes,” Van and I say in unison.
Anson looks at Ameera with a satisfied grin on his face. “If you want the ring destroyed like you say you do, then you’re stuck with me.”
Ameera huffs out a breath and looks at Van and me. “What now?”
“Now,” I say with an eager grin I don’t completely feel, “I go steal a ring.” I press my body against Van and press a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to give Ethan and Mercer a fist bump.
I ignore Ameera and step closer to Anson. He briefs me on the location of the guards and tells me the ring is in Móira’s bedroom.
“Thanks for your help,” I tell him with a warm smile.
“Anytime,” he replies with a grin.
Then I spare one more glance at Van, his silvery eyes filled with pride and affection as our gazes lock. He still looks pale to me, like I noticed earlier, and I have a terrible feeling about the cause. It makes me even more panicked over the fact that Móira isn’t here for me to enact my plan to eliminate her from Van’s life. What if I can’t get to her before the worst happens to Van when he breaks the bargain? What if I never see him again after this moment? My heart swells with an urge to declare my undying love for the man, but I fight it down, along with my rising fear.
“Catch ya later, babe,” I tell him instead.
“Come back to me, querida,” he says in a soft voice.
“I promise,” I say, then whirl and hurry toward the nearby woods that surround Móira’s estate before he realizes how shaken I am right now.
My eyes burn as I approach the trees, and I have to stifle an urge to look back at Van one more time. I fear I’ll burst into tears if I do. I can’t afford to lose my focus. Even with Móira not here, I still have to get past her guards unseen and then out again once I get my hands on the ring.
I sense the ward around the perimeter of the property just before I walk through it, feeling a shivering, almost itchy tingle along every inch of my skin from its powerful magic. Ugh, I think I would’ve rather climbed a fence or scaled a wall to get in here. I’ve never felt anything quite like it before, but it’s not as if I’ve ever encountered a fae ward before. Bravas knew better than to fuck with the fae. I don’t like the way it affects me, but at least it doesn’t give me the heebie-jeebies like Bravas’ dark and twisted magic used to do.
I shake off the strange sensation and creep in silence through the woods, following the mansion’s lights that glitter ahead of me between the trees. I skirt the mansion, sticking to the trees that surround it, until I reach the back yard. The enormous house is beautiful, with gray stone walls and immaculate landscaping. I locate the wing off to my left where the master bedroom is located and slink along the edge of the yard toward it. Fortunately, there aren’t any flood lights illuminating the back yard like there are at the front of the mansion and the back door lacks any guards. I don’t even spot a single security camera either. I smirk, grateful for Móira’s distrust of technology and thus her total dependence on her magical wards to protect her property. After a few moments of watching to make sure the coast is clear, I hurry across the manicured lawn. I reach the bedroom’s small terrace, then climb up the low stone wall and over the wide railing. Then I crouch low and survey the area for any sign I was spotted before approaching the wide French doors that lead into the bedroom.
I peer inside to make sure the room is empty, then pull out the small flathead screwdriver I tucked into one of the outside pockets of my leather jacket earlier for just this purpose. I straighten and shove it in between the two doors at the top and use it to disengage the flush lock that keeps the left-hand door closed. Then I crouch and do the same to the second flush lock on the bottom. I stand and tuck the screwdriver back into my jacket, then grab both handles and pull, grinning as the doors swing outward with ease despite the engaged lock.
Ah, French doors. A burglar’s best friend.
I step inside through a powerful ward that seems to thrum down to my very bones and carefully close the doors behind me. Then I turn to survey the room lit by a single bedside lamp. Talk about posh. Almost everything I behold is white besides a few pops of silver here and there in the light fixtures and the decor. The massive bed is covered in acres and acres of creamy white satin, and even the tall ornate headboard and matching foot board are upholstered in it. I walk across the room, my boots sinking into the plush white carpet as I gawk around the huge, luxurious space. I look like a damn speck of salt in a pepper mill in my all black outfit. Nope. I don’t belong here at all. It makes me grateful that Van doesn’t make me feel out-of-place like this. His wealth doesn’t define him, and it isn’t something he flings in people’s faces like his mother likes to do. I glance around again, wondering why on earth a fae would spend so much money decorating a room they don’t even use for its intended purpose.
I shake my head and focus on the job at hand. I feel outward with my senses, looking for the ring. My ability to sense magic is pretty sub par, thanks to my human half, I assume, and nowhere strong enough to find things like Anson or even Van. My mate was born with innate fae senses that I’m sure are stronger than mine since they’re not diluted by human blood. I have to be almost on top of whatever I’m looking for to use it, so I take my time as I move around the room. Eventually, I come to a wide white dresser with an ornate mirror above it. Sitting atop it is a silver tray holding a vast collection of high end perfume bottles, a tall crystal vase filled with an enormous bouquet of white lilies, and a small tarnished silver jewelry box engraved with ornate roses. I frown. The unpolished silver looks wrong amid the perfection of the rest of the bedroom. I step closer and reach out to touch the jewelry box, and when I do, the ward on it is so potent that its magical energy jolts up my arm to my shoulder.
“Fuck,” I blurt out under my breath as I jerk my hand away. It didn’t hurt, but it did startle the shit out of me.
I go still at my idiotic slip up, and that’s when I hear footsteps in the hallway outside the thankfully closed bedroom door. Shit, shit, shit. I glance around and spot an open set of double doors to what I assume is a closet or a bathroom, and dart toward it, slipping inside just as the bedroom door clicks open. I squeeze between the wall and one of the doors and peer out through the gap between it and the frame as a fae woman walks into the room.
She’s tall and strikingly beautiful, like all of her kind, her long wavy hair an inhuman shade of dark red with black highlights that contrasts starkly with her glowing ivory complexion. Her sleek black pant suit fits her to perfection and makes her look so badass that it has me questioning my wardrobe choices. Her large dark eyes sweep the room and I stay still and hold my breath for fear she’ll hear me. The fae have great hearing, but thankfully their sense of smell isn’t any better than your average human or she would have detected my scent in Móira’s bedroom the moment she entered the room.
After a long moment that feels like an eternity, she sighs in a long suffering way before whirling to exit the room and closes the door behind her. I wait until her footsteps trail off down the hallway before letting out a breath. Fuck me. That was far too close for comfort. I wait a bit longer before emerging from what has got to be the largest walk-in closet I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m pretty sure my entire apartment would fit inside it. I can’t imagine needing that much closet space, but I suppose an immortal like Móira the Gray would need the space for all the clothing she’s accumulate over the centuries.
I slink back over to the dresser and study the silver jewelry box again. I’m not keen on touching it a second time, but I’d willingly suffer far worse for Van. So I reach out with one hand and brace for impact. A shock wave of power shoots up my arm as I touch the lid, but I ignore it as best as I can and push it open. I let go of the lid and stare down at the single item nestled alone inside the red velvet interior.
The Morrígan’s ring looks exactly as Van described, crude and ancient, with archaic symbols carved all over it. The damn thing is quite ugly actually, yet it arrests my attention unlike anything I’ve ever come across before. Something about it speaks to me, but I don’t have the time to figure out why. I need to get the thing the fuck out of here before another fae goon shows up.
I snatch the ring up, and the instant I do, an unexpected wave of gooseflesh shivers across my skin as its magic zings through my body. But that’s not what has me gasping in surprise. It’s the fact that it feels good, and I have the sudden urge to put the ring on my finger and find out what happens, to see if wearing it feels even better. That’s not of how Van described it. He claimed it felt otherworldly and wrong, and even made him nauseous. He made the ring sound awful, but for me, it’s the exact opposite. It’s familiar, like it was something I was missing, but didn’t realize it until I found it. I’m filled with the giddy eagerness that comes over me when my savage impulses awaken to goad me into violence. The kind of violence that Bravas manipulated me into inflicting on so many for so long. And now I agree wholeheartedly with Van. This fucking thing needs to be destroyed.
I shove the ring into one of the inside pockets of my leather jacket with a horrified shudder. Then I’m even more aghast when a profound sense of loss falls over me now that I’m not touching it anymore. Fuck. I need to get this thing to Anson pronto. I close the lid of the jewelry box, barely stifling another expletive when the ward I already forgot about sends a jolt of magic up my arm again.
I hurry to the French doors and look outside to find the coast clear of any fae, then open the door just enough to slip outside. I close it with care, then climb over the terrace railing and drop onto the soft grass. I run across the yard in a crouch and sigh with relief as I enter the relative safety of the trees again. I rush back the way I came, eager to get to Van so he can ease the chaos the ring stoked inside my head. Even now, with it safely stowed in my pocket, I feel the compulsion to put it on and welcome the violence it incites in me. It feels all too familiar, and it’s all I can do to fight it and keep the threatening flashbacks of my time under Bravas’ thumb from overtaking me. The last thing I need is to fall prey to them right now and end up in a gibbering heap on the ground.
I’m almost overcome with relief when I breach the tree line and spot Van already walking toward me. I break into a run and fling myself into his arms when I reach him, wrapping my arms around his waist and burrowing in close. He holds me tight as the soothing warmth of his aura envelopes me.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs next to my ear.
I sigh, already feeling more centered and calm. “I am now.”
He leans away to study my face with a soft smile. I swear he looks even paler than when I left him here not that long ago. Perspiration dots his forehead and there are darkened circles beneath his eyes. Even his aura feels a bit off to me, though I can’t quite pinpoint how I know that.
“Are you?” I ask with a sinking feeling that I already know the answer.
Van’s smile turns wan as he reaches up to glide his knuckles along my cheek. “Better now that I have you in my arms.”
It’s not an answer, but I can see the resigned sadness in his eyes that tells me he’s anything but okay right now. Damn it. Why couldn’t things have gone the way I wanted them to tonight? That fae bitch would be dead by now, and my Van would be free.
“Did you get the ring?” he asks.
I merely nod, not wanting to talk about the horrid thing or its effect on me.
He leans down and brushes his lips ever so softly against mine. “Let’s get out of here, querida.”
I nod again, and Van takes my hand and leads me toward his car. He opens the passenger side door of his Mercedes for me and closes it again once I’m seated inside. I turn around to find Anson and Ameera in the back seat, sitting as far apart as they can manage in the small space and glaring daggers at each other. Anson even meets her eyes, which surprises me. But I suppose his exceptional skills as a mage must grant him some sort of immunity to her glamour. I smirk. For two people who supposedly loathe each other, they sure do stare at each other a lot.
I planned on giving the ring to Anson as soon as possible, but it doesn’t seem wise now given the current situation. Van climbs into the driver’s seat and meets my eyes. I throw a quick glance toward Anson and Ameera, then lift my brows questioningly.
“Neither will leave the other in the same car with the ring without supervision,” he answers with a ghost of a smile as he puts the still idling car into drive. Then he pulls out onto the road with Ethan and Mercer following along behind us down the narrow road flanked on either side by dark woods.
“Damn straight,” Anson says, still engaged in what I can only describe as a staring contest with Ameera. “I don’t trust her not to glamour you into handing it over to her.”
Ameera makes a scoffing noise. “And I don’t trust him not use the ring for his own gain instead of destroying it.”
“Why would I do that?” Anson asks with a scowl. “Besides the fact that the ring is a disaster waiting to happen, I don’t fucking need the damn thing. I have the might of the entire Unity Coven at my back.”
Ameera rolls her eyes. “Such a massive ego for a mere human. I’m shocked your head could get so big considering it’s shoved so far up your a-”
“Knock it off!” I say, interrupting their verbal sparring. “We don’t have time for this shit. You two will just have to hate-fuck it out of each other later.”
The two of them go still in an instant as color rises in their cheeks. Well, that hit a nerve. And damn, I didn’t even know vampires were capable of blushing. I grin and open my mouth to point that out when Van curses in Spanish and slams on the breaks. I turn back to face the road as the car skids to a lurching halt a few yards away from the two SUVs that are currently blocking the road ahead of us. Then before I can even ask Van what the hell is going on, a tall figure steps into view and stands there with a vile and toothy grin spread wide across the familiar pale face of the last being on earth I wanted or expected to see tonight. Randall Lynch.