With Pride Read online

  Con looked at Oisin. Oisin just gave me his patented smirk and strolled away. "Nope."

  "Con," I said, staring the human down. He gave me a nervous smile and took off after Oisin. "Nothing important," he called back as he ran away.

  Assholes.

  I glanced back at the tent to find the pale man leaning against a picnic table watching us. His brightly patterned robes were even more ridiculous in the light of day. Even if they did cling to those broad shoulders and narrow hips in just the right way. He crossed his arms and smirked.

  I turned away, shuddering as a chill walked down my spine. What new disaster was lurking on the horizon?

  Chapter 2

  I woke to a soft, lingering kiss and Con's fingers stroking my tangled hair. "I've got work," he murmured. "But I left you waffles and coffee. Oswald at the police station wants you to call him about the thing with the animal murders. And don't forget to go see that poor mute girl today, hmm?"

  I unearthed one arm from the mound of blankets and pulled him close for a moment to stop his rambling. "Have a good day, Professor," I said, still not believing Con was real. He was just too damned perfect. I recalled what the psychic had told my human, and Con's need to belong suddenly had so much more meaning. I wanted to wrap him up and keep him here by my side, where I could prove to him how much he was wanted.

  He must have seen the desire in my eyes. He chuckled against my lips. "Seriously, I've got to go. I can't be late two days in a row, and you know if we wake Oisin up we're never leaving this room."

  I laughed and let him go. "Fine."

  After Con left, I nudged the mound of blankets at my side. "Food," I said, not getting a response. I grinned and tried a new tactic. "Pretty new client."

  Oisin sat up immediately. "Coffee?"

  I ruffled his long, silky hair and gave him a serious look. "Not if I drink it all."

  He glared at me. "What have I told you about post-revelry protocols?"

  I shook my head as I sat up over the edge of the bed and parroted an imitation of his cultured, flowing voice "if you wake me up before noon, there'd better be food, mead, or more revelry."

  I stood. "I heard a rumor about waffles."

  He was on his feet beside me in a flash. "Have I ever told you," my beautiful little terror said as he stroked a hand across my ass in passing, "what a genius I am for hiring that wonderful man as your...secretary?"

  I rolled my eyes and followed him as we both made our way to the kitchen for waffles in our pajamas. "Repeatedly," I said in a flat voice.

  Oisin smiled and got out the orange juice. He perched on the corner of his chair and nibbled at his waffles as if food was of minor importance, while he mused over what our new client might need. I, on the other hand, had priorities. I piled eight waffles on my plate, layered them with butter and buried them under syrup, whipped cream, and chocolate.

  I paused with a forkful of gooey waffles half-way to my mouth to find Oisin staring at me. "What?"

  He raised a perfect red eyebrow. "Can gryphons develop diabetes?"

  I threw a strawberry at him. "Fuck off."

  "Anyway," he continued, catching the fruit out of mid-air with ease, "she was clearly a supe. Which is troubling, because I don't think I've met anyone like us who was mute, unless it was inherent in their nature."

  "So maybe an injury or a spell," I said around a mouthful of heaven. I moaned. Oisin was right. I thanked the Gods for the day my fae got the notion to bring Con here to work and live. Oisin and I would have starved to death by now if we had to cook for ourselves.

  And, Con was just sort of all-around amazing.

  "Gesa?" Oisin waved a hand in front of my face. "Gods, she's been bespelled by food and we aren't even in the fae realm."

  "What? Oh, shut the hell up." I glared at him. "But...spells. Is there a reason someone would spell a supe so they couldn't talk?"

  Oisin frowned, marring his perfect, smooth skin. "Maybe if her voice is a part of her magic."

  I finished my food and eyed Oisin's bowl of berries. He shoved it my way, a distracted look on his face. "It could be someone is trying to control her, keep her powerless."

  I shuddered at his tone of voice. "Oisin." He glanced at me, green eyes coming back into focus. "What is it that's worrying you so much lately?"

  He opened his mouth to deny it, but I cut him off. "You check the wards so often it's like a compulsion. And your eyes go all dark every once in a while, like you've gone somewhere else." I heaved a sigh and reached out to take his hand. "Is it your family? Are you worried that they'll come for you?"

  His sharp features lost the teasing mask he usually wore, and he squeezed my hand. "Oh, they will come for me, darling," he said softly. "The question isn't if, but when. And I worry that I've selfishly put you and Con right in their path."

  He leaned forward and traced his graceful fingers along my cheek and jaw. "If you ever see a mage headed your way, don't ask questions. Just take Con with you and run."

  I frowned at him. "A mage?"

  He sighed. "My father won't send our kind after me. He's not desperate enough to come himself, and he knows no one else could take me." There was no cockiness in his statement, and that unsettled me more than anything. "Mages...their magic isn't more powerful than fae magic, but it's different. They can pull magic from other sources, break it, harness it to use later. Work in packs like rabid dogs to bring down stronger prey."

  "And you think your father will send them after you. But why Oisin?"

  His bright green eyes studied me as if he were looking for something. I have no fucking idea what. I was just a meathead gryphon. He needed to explain things to me. Preferably in small words.

  "He wants to use me to keep himself in power. Our clan is ancient and has strong magic, but we are losing territory as the world shrinks and the wild places are destroyed. There is a younger clan that is less powerful magically but owns more of the remaining fae lands because they've made so many political deals." He flicked his eyes to me and away.

  I gaped at him. "I freaking knew it. You're some kind of prince."

  He snorted. "You're more right than you know, darling. Unfortunately."

  I hated the pain I heard in his voice, even if I couldn't really understand it. He was freaking fae nobility. "What is it, exactly, that he has planned for you?"

  He lifted his hands to pluck at his hair, raking through it, compulsively starting and restarting a braid. "He sold me," he said, his voice quiet but hard, brittle. I knew the admission embarrassed him. "To the other clan. I was to marry their leader in exchange for a fuckton of ancient fae land."

  I shook my head. And I thought gryphons were medieval. "So, all of this is about an arranged marriage?" My own stupid mother was trying to get me to marry the man she'd picked out for me. I hadn't quite made out all her twisted motives, but I knew there must be some political or social gain for her. But then, she hadn't sent hunters out to drag me back home. Yet.

  Oisin straightened and stopped fidgeting, his eyes full of fury. "You think I would live in terror of a crazy old man, simply because of a marriage contract? Oh Gesa, how you underestimate me."

  He stood, taking our plates to the sink to drop them with a bang. "The man I was bartered to, my future husband, doesn't just want me for my good looks and excellent social connections." He slouched against the sink, crossing his arms to glare at me. "Have you ever seen a magic user drained of their magic? Of their vital life force? Slowly, painfully sucked dry? It kills them, Gesa. But first, it breaks them. Breaks their bodies, breaks their minds. Drives them slowly insane before they find death to be a sweet, blessed relief." His smooth voice was ruthless. He had seen this happen. I had no doubt. "My father sold me to a man who plans to use mage magic and my life force to make himself stronger."

  I opened and closed my mouth. Nothing came out. Of all the things I had imagined Oisin was running from, this was.... "Fuck," I finally managed.

  Oisin stared at me. Finally, some of the
rage leached away and one corner of his perfect mouth lifted in a wry smirk. "Yes. Fuck. I've not a clue how to stop it happening, not yet. So, I ran away like a child."

  I stood and went to him. My first instinct was to hug him to me, to wrap him up and protect him. But this was Oisin. He might look small and pretty, but he was the proudest, strongest person I knew. I stopped in front of him and clasped his shoulder, giving him a small shake for emphasis. "He won't take you away from me. I will never let that happen."

  Oisin bent his head. "There are other things...other factors at play. But I know, at the very least, you will make the sadistic psychopath sorry he messed with your pride."

  I shook my head. "I do not have a pride. Is there something wrong with your hearing?" I reached out to flick the top of one of his pointed ears.

  When he looked back up at me, his usual smirk was back in place. "Says the half-lion with two men of her own and a couple hopefuls lined up just waiting for their chance."

  I snorted. "You've lost your mind."

  He shrugged and stepped away, as if nothing heartbreaking had just happened here. "I don't know, maybe we should ask the mute girl if I'm right."

  I glared at him. "If you are implying what I think you are, you can just stop it right now." I had never dated women before, and I wasn't about to start now. Especially when I already had two lovers—which was two more than I could deal with emotionally.

  He laughed as he sauntered off to get dressed.

  Once Oisin was gone, I leaned over the kitchen sink and took a moment to have the panic attack that I'd just earned. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Mages? A powerful fae father who wanted to drain his fucking soul from his body?

  How? How could I possibly stop that from happening if someone with Oisin's level of magic couldn't stop it?

  My phone started buzzing away on the kitchen table. I glanced at the screen. Motherfucking balls. I stared at the cartoon toad I had saved as my mother's icon. Suddenly a little case of physical rape didn't seem so bad. I had a feeling my messed-up clan were fucking saints compared to Oisin's.

  And I was supposed to concentrate on work now?

  Chapter 3

  I stepped into the nautical-themed shop, Oisin trailing behind me. He had chosen gray slacks with a silvery sheen, a green cashmere sweater that was the exact color of his eyes, and a tailored wool coat. He looked completely out of place in the little tourist shop, and he knew it. Gods, this was probably him toning it down and slumming it because he was in hiding with the peasants. I pulled my bomber jacket down over my jeans and t-shirt and tried not to keep reminding myself he was nobility. Of course, I had suspected as much—anyone who spoke with the beautiful man for more than five seconds would realize he was a precious, coddled brat. But Jesus, Buddha and Odin.

  The only powerful people I knew were my clan. And there was no way I was going to them for help. First off, they were strong and influential, but I was pretty sure this was out of their league. And secondly...fuck them. Fuck them right in their smug lying faces.

  I might still be holding a tiny, little, itty-bitty grudge.

  Oisin seemed to know what I was thinking. He nudged my shoulder as he brushed by me, rolling his eyes. "This is why I didn't tell you sooner. That sense of responsibility you have for everyone around you. Now you've gone all...mopey. Stop it. Not sexy at all, my beautiful beast."

  I growled but did my best to focus.

  Oisin milled about looking at knick-knacks and pirate-themed junk that had been set out for the rapidly approaching All Hallow's Eve holiday. He had already been in here with me the first time we met our new client, so I knew he wasn't really looking at the seashells and ceramic light houses and all the other crap that was imported from China and had absolutely nothing to do with Lake Superior. He was probably poking around looking for wards or other suspicious magic. I left him to it. I could change shapes and feel lies. That was about all the magic I could manage. I was much better at punching things.

  I approached the counter, glancing around. No sign of the woman who had manned the shop before. I could sense another supernatural nearby though. I reached out and tapped the little silver bell on the counter. It dinged, making my ears ache, and the door at the back of shop opened. She came out of what must be an office, carrying a box that was overflowing with some sort of shell-bedecked rope net I suppose was meant to be used as a decoration.

  Her almond eyes were a dark, deep blue. They went wide when she saw me at the counter. She dropped the box on a nearby table and rushed around to me, grabbing both my hands in hers and staring at me like I was her savior. I pulled my hands free of her clinging grip and stuffed them in my pockets. The woman was wearing her usual get-up of flowing shirt and gypsy skirt, and her long black hair was a loose cloud around her head. She clasped her hands to her chest, and she would have looked like a child who was about to be given a puppy—except the move pressed the filmy fabric of her blouse against the truly massive mounds of her breasts and I didn't quite know where to look.

  She was only a few inches shorter than me—tall for a woman—so I was able to keep my eyes focused on her face. A hint of freckles dotted her perfect, doll-like complexion, almost purple against her olive skin. "Hi again," I said, like the socially awkward idiot I was. "We're back."

  I gestured at Oisin, who was running his graceful fingers around the chipped paint of the door frame. He waved at us distractedly, then bent to inspect the latch on the door, his long nose twitching as it almost touched the door frame.

  "Ignore him," I said with an eye roll. "He's a little odd, but generally harmless."

  She glanced at Oisin and shook her head, setting her long black waves rippling around her shoulders and back. Gods, she was probably the only reason this place did any business. "Look, I know you wanted us to come back, but...could we maybe meet up somewhere? So we can talk when you aren't at work? I don't want you to get in trouble with that old guy who runs the place."

  I wished we had waited for Con to get off work. But he said he didn't really know much sign language, and that her signing was strange, like she had learned it somewhere else—like a person speaking with an indecipherable accent, which shouldn't matter so much in signing, but he insisted the difference was there.

  I pulled out one of the ridiculous business cards Oisin had made, the slick black surface proclaiming Lionheart Para Investigations on the front in gold lettering. "You could come to our office. It's fine if it has to be after you get out of work—we really don't have set hours."

  She frowned, a deep crease appearing between her eyebrows and her blue eyes going stormy as she shook her head vehemently, refusing to take the dumb card. She gestured at the door where Oisin had been a moment before, then at herself. Then she shook her head again.

  "Are you saying you can't leave the store, sweetheart?" The fae appeared at my elbow and I startled. He smirked at me for an instant. He did that on purpose, damn it. I swear to the Gods I was going to put a collar and bell on him one of these days. I had the senses of an eagle. I should be able to hear him move.

  The woman looked at him and nodded, reaching out to pat his shoulder excitedly.

  He glanced at me, then at the back door to the office. A couple with a kid drifted in through the entrance behind us and started looking around the store, the kid touching everything he possibly could with his sticky fingers, unfolding, moving, and generally fucking up everything he touched while his parents did nothing. The woman heaved a put-upon sigh. I waved her away. "Go on. We'll be here when you're done. Just...you know, refrain from killing the little monster."

  She gave me a wry smile and shook her head, as if I'd ruined all her fun. But when she moved away to corral the kid, she had him laughing and behaving in moments.

  "Amazing she can run this place without being able to talk to people," I said quietly.

  Oisin pulled me over to another corner of the store, his voice a hushed whisper. "The locks on the door are magically reinforced." He turned me to look at
a display of terrible hand-painted post cards, as if we were shopping. "Probably coded so once they are locked, only a certain person can open them. I haven't checked them as thoroughly, but the windows are probably the same."

  "That nasty old dude?" I asked, recalling the surly boss who'd been here the first time we met the woman.

  Oisin nodded, smiling at me and holding up a postcard with a crooked water color lighthouse on it. "Probably. He might have done it so he can lock her in at night."

  I crossed my arms, becoming more pissed off by the moment. That old geezer was holding this sweet woman captive, and she couldn't even tell anyone. Which, yeah, that was probably why she was mute. "But wait—he's a human. How could he do all this?"

  Oisin's expression darkened. "Mages will do anything for the right price. He probably hired it done."

  And there I went, poking that old wound. Damn it. "Why doesn't she just run away during the day, while his back is turned and the door is unlocked?"

  He shrugged. "That would be a question for our beautiful new friend," his eyes lit up as he said that and I followed his gaze to find our "new friend," on her way to join us. She must have heard him, because she gave him a wicked smile and performed a little curtsy, holding out the edges of her wide skirt.

  Oisin put a hand to his chest and bowed, as if he was like five-hundred years old—which let’s be honest, he might be. I had no clue, and part of me really didn't want to know.

  "Is he right?" I asked once she joined us. "Is that damned geezer keeping you locked up here?"

  Her smile faded and she nodded, looking at the floor. I took her arm. A whole new rage swept over me, fresh on the heels of Oisin's flirting. "Wait. He doesn't...has that old fuck tried to...hurt you?" I tried to get my point across without getting descriptive.