Tempest in Disguise (Darkest Faerie Tale Series Book 1) Read online

  No need to dig further into her history. Cole knew everything about her. The interesting fact lie with the Q security clearance. As a TSA employee, Gavin would be required to be cleared. “I think our best bet is starting with the chemicals and who is on those lists.” His cell rang and he pulled it out of his jeans, looking at the caller ID—Liam. Damn, his timing seemed impeccable. “Give me a second.” Cole hit send while slipping out of the room. “What’s up?”

  “Did you kidnap Mya from the Seelie Court?” Liam’s tone seethed with anger.

  “I have her in possession, yes.”

  “When I spoke to you this morning, you said she was yours.”

  Cole rubbed the back of his neck. “She—is.”

  “Then how in the hell am I hearing reports of you breaking into the Seelie Court this afternoon and running off with Mya who was on trial at the time? What happened?” Liam asked.

  He wasn’t quite sure himself. In all honesty, he should’ve taken Mya this morning rather than let her drive off with Gavin. But, Cole had played it cool in front of the asshole Seelie who came to Mya’s rescue—so much for being discreet. He should’ve thrown her over his shoulder caveman style and hauled her off, then beat the shit out of Gavin. “Look. I have the girl. That’s all you need to know.”

  “The Seelies have declared an official war with us. They are offering a five hundred thousand dollar bounty for Mya—dead or alive.”

  Shiiit. “Nobody will be able to find her, even if they know I took her. I’ve covered my ass. Now, let me deal with her and do my fucking job and you do yours.” Cole’s anger rose and by damn, if he would get in a pissing contest with Liam. “Do not call me again.” He hung up and stuffed his phone in his pocket.

  A war. With how he handled the situation, he’d started a war. Had his cock not gotten in the way, Cole would’ve taken Mya the night before, right from her damned house—but no, he let her sleep and planned to come back the next day.

  Sensible thoughts fled from him in Mya’s presence, but he refused to let another Elder train her. Nobody, only Cole would have the pleasure of touching her. He’d been picked for Mya’s first phase of training and by damn, if he let the Elders take her from him. Now, with such a large bounty on her head, she carried a target on her back from the Seelies.

  Maybe he could atone for his mistakes and post a reward for each Seelie who didn’t harm Mya. No the Seelies would see it as a ploy and they wouldn’t truly accept her then.

  The separation between the two factions was still too fresh, still too raw on those who remembered the consequences of the two races mixed together as one. Trying to think both sides could live in harmony, above humans, had been a joke to them. Their superficiality claimed the Seelies long ago.

  Cole subconsciously rubbed the scar on his chin and once he caught his motions, the flawed abrasion comforted him. He’d let his guard down once and it bit him in the ass. If he kept this game up with Mya, she would turn on him too, literally choking the life out of him when he turned his back for a split second.

  Just like when his best friend sliced into Cole, trying to cut off his head with a short sword tipped with acid. Instead, he missed Cole’s neck and sliced into his jaw—a forever, bitter reminder how love can easily turn to hate in the blink of a fucking eye.

  With as much as he craved Mya, and as much as he wanted to own Mya, Cole saw the truth. He needed to cut his feelings loose, secretly lock away any moment they shared as faded memories. Absently, he rubbed the ache forming in his chest.

  No longer would he give into his dark hunger for her. She already tried to choke him and he couldn’t afford the consequences of being stabbed in the back—ever again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mya’s shoulders ached as she dozed off and on, through the torturous time of her hanging in chains. Her magick dried up, trying to get out of the chains. Trying to move inanimate objects to free herself sucked all her energy out. She didn’t know which situation she preferred more—be at the mercy of Cole and strung up in a cabin, probably in the middle of nowhere, or be at the mercy of the Seelie Court about to lose her head. The lesser of two evils? Cole.

  She lost the feeling in her hands a while back—not really knowing how much time passed since she’d been strung up in the middle of the living room. Pain radiated down her stretched arms through her back. Tiredness and hunger pushed her boundaries to the limit. The quiet and stillness in the room maddened her even further. Plus, she had to pee so badly her bladder might explode.

  Cole still hadn’t returned since he stormed out of the cabin after their little interlude, but she had no other choice but to fight back. Right? Did he really plan to beat her into surrender? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it wasn’t an option for her, even if she got to experience pleasure by him again—no matter how much she truly wanted him—she would not be beat.

  Round and round, these thoughts always circled back to last night when he took her in her bedroom. She’d been desperate for his touch again, feverish for the passion he stoked in her. The moment Gavin kissed her, she realized Cole was the only one she wanted.

  Her throat tightened and she fought the tears back. No way would she let him see her crying when he finally returned. The sick bastard wanted her to break. It’s why he left her alone and strung up, she felt sure of it. Lonely and in pain. Bound and helpless. Silence all around her. He wanted her to stew over her mistake. Punishment.

  Then, the fact of how she’d regretted it the moment she pulled the chains taut around his neck. Though she wanted to fight, though she wanted to survive, she didn’t want to hurt him. In a way she couldn’t explain, she’d been drawn to him the moment she smelled him in her room. Maybe his pheromones called to her. Whatever the attraction was—she needed him.

  Too much happened to her in the last twenty-four hours and she couldn’t think straight. Being stuck here forever on end without him became pure torture. After everything she lost, she wanted him to be there for her, to take care of her.

  Hours and hours passed. From a fitful sleep, she jerked her head up with every little sound. Only the chains clinked when she roused.

  The front door finally opened. His blue eyes held a hardened seriousness and she tried to tell him she was sorry, but her voice ceased to work. He broke the shared connection and slammed the door. She only caught sight of the back of his flannel shirt and jeans as he went into the kitchen. She heard paper rustling. The small sound gave her senses relief, though her body ached and groaned in protest of being hung up by her arms.

  Cole came back into the room, not glancing in her direction whatsoever. His muscles were bunched, tense while he grabbed a chair.

  Where had he been? She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her raw and dry throat. Using her tongue, she tried to moisten her lips—parched, so parched. How long had she been strung up for? Unable to hold her head up any longer she let it drop. Defeat. This is what he wanted, to wear her down to nothingness, so she couldn’t fight back—to break her.

  Cole slid the chair against the back of her legs. Chains rattling echoed in her ears as a new intense pain shot down her arms to her neck. Oww! She tried to cry out. With each inch she was lowered, different cramps and burns radiated through her body—and she needed to pee!

  When her butt hit the edge of the chair, she collapsed back. Relief did not settle over her. At least strung up, her body had numbed, now it came roaring back with a fierce agony and she cried out silently. Shackles were clamped around her ankles. Next, her wrists were released from the chain and clicked together. Why didn’t he talk to her? She yearned to hear his voice any voice against the solitude of the quiet she succumbed to. Try as she might, she certainly couldn’t mumble a word.

  Big strong arms scooped her up and carried her down a hallway into a bathroom. Cole dropped her legs, but still held her upright at the waist. He unbuttoned and unzipped her pants. Pulling them down over her hips with her thongs, she didn’t even bother to resist—as if she co
uld—while she hunched over. Even if she had the physical strength, she probably wouldn’t have fought him either.

  He helped her sit down on the toilet and she leaned shaky arms on her thighs to support her torso from falling over. Cole never moved from her side. Mortified, she stared back up at him. Was he going to stand there hovering over her while she went to the bathroom?

  As if he knew what she thought, he stared at the wall in front of him and said, “Go. I’m not leaving until you do. You severed the trust between us when you tried to choke me with that damned chain. Your moment of privacy is over.”

  Oh. Yes. He planned to break her.

  Shame and humiliation seared her cheeks with heat, but she couldn’t hold back. He could’ve at least waited in the hall. After she finished, he helped her stand and slid her panties and jeans back into place. She couldn’t be more embarrassed. Tears would have pricked her eyes if she weren’t so thirsty.

  He picked her back up and she leaned into him, inhaling his rich, unique smell of a freshly rained forest as he carried her down the hallway to a single bedroom at the end. Placing her on the bed gently, he settled her against the headboard and she cried on the inside.

  A bottle of water sat on the nightstand. He opened it up and handed it to her. “Drink. You’re dehydrated.”

  Trembling with exhaustion, she reached for the bottle and chugged, gulping down the cool, savory water, like heaven gliding down her throat. Quite possibly the best drink she ever tasted.

  “Slow down, wildflower. You don’t want to make yourself sick.” His deep voice rumbled, bringing her senses more alive with awareness by mentioning the nickname he gave her.

  What would’ve happened if she gave into him earlier? Would he really have beat her senseless, or was he trying to see how far he could push her? If he really wanted to harm her, he had the chance after she attempted to choke him unconscious. He could’ve taken his rage out on her then, instead of leaving, but he never raised a hand to her.

  For some reason, she couldn’t use her magick to heal herself. She took another deep pull off the water before licking her lips. “I—” Her voice rasped so much, she barely spoke. “I’m—sorry, Cole.” The hollowness didn’t ease from her chest and it ached so much.

  He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. The flannel clung to his broad muscles. Blue eyes narrowed on her. “For what?”

  Averting her gaze, she swallowed, moistening her throat. “For trying to choke you.”

  “I’m happy you did actually.” He sounded distant as he spoke. “You see, Mya, I was walking on a razor sharp wire with you. There’s something about you I wanted, that I thought I needed, so much so, I forgot I’m on a mission here with you. I got carried away playing with you, but make no mistake, whatever I desired about you, dissipated when you wrapped the chain around my neck—and for that I’m grateful.”

  With her jaw dropped, she stared up at him, her eyes widened. On a mission, obviously involving her somehow, but anything he felt toward her, he spoke about in a past tense and the connection between them vanished. She pressed her hand over her heart, trying to catch her breath as she dissected what he revealed to her.

  When he kissed her before, his passion had seeped into her, the desperate and urgent way he branded her mouth. She touched her lips, remembering how much she’d longed for him—yearned for him, until her Seelie side took over and insisted she go into fight and flight mode. Pressure increased in her chest and she forced the tears to stay back. A little piece of her died inside.

  Damn it, why was this happening to her? Normally, her Unseelie side was the fighter, the Seelie side more docile, but around him, it almost seemed reversed. “Doesn’t make sense,” she whispered under her breath referring to the confusion wrapping around her like a snake.

  “Oh no, it makes a lot of sense really. You basically slapped some sense back into me.”

  His words stabbed at her—a reinforcement of how he so recently rejected her.

  “Not that.” She shook her head, closing her eyes, keeping the moisture in her eyes at bay. The corners of her lips turned down and she pursed them together, so he couldn’t see her frown. What he said crushed her, but she didn’t want him to know. Over the past day, she’d been through so much, lost so much. She wanted to curl up in a ball…and be held. Was it too much to ask to have one person to be there for her, to love her, to help her when she needed someone the most?

  “Is it the mission then? Of course you don’t understand, I haven’t explained anything to you yet,” he said repositioning his hardened stance.

  She held her palm up in the air. “Stop, just stop.” She wasn’t herself right then and she had no desire to get into it with him, at least not while feeling so tired and fatigued—hurt inside and out—broken. Dammit, tension seeped behind her eyes as tears slid down her cheeks. She quickly turned her face from him and discreetly wiped them away.

  “Crying won’t get you released either, sweetheart, so you might as well give up.” He didn’t even call her by her nickname, but some generic one he never used before. He’d closed himself off from her.

  “I said stop!” she yelled, “Tie me up if you must, but get out of the room.” Her battered body needed rest and her wounded heart needed to mend. Even though she’d been alone for who knows how long, she craved the solitude right then. Because in the end, she’d wanted him and he abandoned her—in her time of need.

  “Fine. You have to sleep anyway.” He moved to shackle an ankle to the bedpost.

  It gave her a little bit of freedom since the other ankle bracelet was connected by a metal chain—like a freaking convict. She rolled her eyes at the comparison and lay down on the bed, stretching her arms overhead, ready to be shackled.

  He moved and stood over her. “I will leave your arms free, but this is the last warning you will get and trust me, you don’t want to know how severely you’ll be punished. What happened yesterday will seem like a day at the park.”

  Yesterday? He kept her strung up like a slave all damned day! She bit her tongue, relishing the blood welling in her mouth, only wanting to get rid of him. “Thank you.”

  Cole leaned down, placing their faces closer. His warm breath slid over her cheek and she dug her head deeper into the pillow to get away from him and inhaled sharply, breathing him in. The pain in her chest tightened.

  “These cuffs are bound by magick,” he whispered, “So, there’s no way you’ll be able to get them off.”

  Magick. That’s how he drained her of any power and energy. Only an Elder of a court could procure magick cuffs to subdue another member of the Aos sí. And just her luck, Cole happened to be a powerful Elder in the Unseelie court.

  “When you wake up, I’ll bring some food in for you.” He strode out of the room and she exhaled a weary breath.

  You infuriating man! She couldn’t figure him out and to be honest, she didn’t want to. However, she needed to find out why he took her, what type of mission he was on. It could be quite possible the Unseelie Court wanted her, probably for her magick. No, they’d come right out and ask her instead of resorting to such measures with a mad Elder. Or would they? The Unseelies were darker and known to go against the rules, authority. They wanted to restore power to themselves, she reminded herself.

  Her mind fought her body’s fatigue, trying to understand the predicament she found herself in, and to plan her next move. As her eyes closed, she drifted to sleep, imagining herself strung up again in the living room, her arms pulled comfortably taut overhead. The cool air in the room tingled against her naked body.

  Cole stood in front of her. A wicked grin on his powerful yet handsome face, promised pain and pleasure. He tapped a riding crop against his palm. Each smack against her skin drove a fiery anticipation into her and she tried to close her legs, but a bar in between them kept her open. She wanted to be his. She dreamed of this moment.

  “You’re so beautiful, Mya. The pink flushing of your skin is delicious. I wonder what it will lo
ok like when it’s turned a gorgeous red to match your hair.”

  She licked her lips as an intense yearning shot to her sex, throbbing with each of her heartbeats, thudding with her pulse. She needed this, him, what he could deliver—his pain, his pleasure. “Please Sir.”

  “My girl is greedy?” He raised a brow. “I love how hungry you are for me.”

  “Yes, Sir.” And, yes she felt so ravenous for him. Only he could sate the craving, the appetite inside of her. “Please Sir.”

  “So eager too.” He walked around her, dragging the floppy tip of the flogger around her waist, “Tell me, Mya, who does this body belong to?”

  She quivered against the soft touches. “Only you Sir—always you.”

  Cole stopped behind her and lined the crop up underneath her butt cheeks in the juncture at the top of her thighs. Her nipples hardened as the cool air around her kissed her skin. She swallowed heavily as he slid the length of the crop back and forth below her ass. Anticipation of fear and pleasure filled her sex with moisture and her body lit on fire with a crazed fervor.

  “Who do you want to please, Mya?”

  “You, Sir.” Only you. She sucked her bottom lip through her teeth.

  The riding crop tapped against her body in the same spot, tantalizingly slow, warming her skin. “Good girl.”

  He kept torturing her and the storm inside of her raged. She needed more, him inside of her—to be impaled on his cock. She arched into the little stings of the crop and he whacked a little harder. The pain bit into her skin, but it felt so amazing, she moaned.

  Cole walked around and faced her. His blue eyes blazed with lust while he stared at her. He led the floppy tip of the crop over her clavicle, then over the swells of her breasts. The leather tempted and teased her skin with feather light touches. He took the tip further down between her breasts, then smacked each one of her nipples—every bite of the pleasure-pain driving her higher. The crop danced over her stomach, finally down to her mons.