Page 31 of Dark Sun (Wicked Lovely 6)

And if he felt the same—and it very much seemed that he did—Katherine could not imagine how either of them could walk away from this unscathed. No wonder mortals died of longing. It was about so much more than touch.

She wanted him to feel as beautiful and treasured as any person ever had. How did one recover from that?

A whisper of caution, one that sounded a lot like her mother’s voice, said this was a terrible idea, adangerousidea. Did she want a broken heart? Did she want that aching loneliness after catching raw magic in her bare hands and losing it?

Katherine looked up at Urian. “I know next to nothing of the world of faeries, and less about romance. Show me?”

ChapterFourteen

Aislinn

When the Hunt, now led by Chela, arrived in the park where Summer held their meetings and dances, Aislinn was reminded why they evoked such terror. She’d fought at their side. She’d seen them as allies, and yet they still filled her with the overwhelming urge to back away.

Chela’s steed, Alba, shifted shapes with mood. Alba chose to express his feelings with his shape. Currently, Alba was leonine, more lion than horse, and the mane of the creature fluffed out like a cloud, half-hiding the rider.

But Chela was impossible to miss. Menace rolled off her like a perfume, and danger made her seem larger than she actually was. It was hard to tear her gaze away, but Aislinn forced herself to look at the Hunt not just the Hound that led them now.

The horses, because in some way that was the easiest way to categorize them, were not all equine in shape. There were definite horse-shaped beings, but others were more chimera-like, many animals blended into one. There was at least one dragonish shaped creature, face reptilian and enormous wings on either side of the rider. Several steeds looked like biological and mechanical hybrids, as if they were a machine’s idea of a horse.

And running alongside them were creatures that seemed so horrific that Aislinn could not look upon them.

When they filled the park, their numbers seemed somehow greater than during the fight with Bananach, and still they poured into the park. A rare few of the Summer Girls twirled through the gloom and terror, as if to cure the darkness. They’d figured out how to make their binding vines into tattoos after the Summer King left, so depending on their choices, they were half ink, half vine dressed. The Hounds, a magical mix of men and women and gender fluid creatures, seemed poised for action. And at their feet were dog-like creatures which ran amongst the hooves and claws of the steeds with a grace and speed that to the average sight might look like smoke.

“Niall says you have quarry we might hunt,” Chela said. She was rarely one for excess words, especially since she’d become the Gabriel after the death of her mate.

It took effort to call her by her title, but Aislinn dipped her head in respect and said, “Gabriela.”

“Summer Queen.”

Then Aislinn turned to the riderless steed and dipped her head to the memory of the last head of the Hunt, Gabriel. His steed rode at Chela’s side. He was one of the many who stood against Bananach, and he’d died in the process.

“My uncle.” Aislinn motioned to Tavish, who was blooded by the shadows that Urian had layering onto a glittering knife.

Her guard stood still as the steeds sniffed his now-healed skin. No creature but them could find a scent on healed flesh.

Aislinn braced herself as they then stalked and prowled toward her. She held out both hands. One held the knife Urian had thrown at Tavish; the other was outstretched so that they might know her scent. Whatever else they were, they could separate her scent from the knife. They separated Tavish’s scent from it. The Hunt would know her anywhere, could now find her anywhere.

To dispatch the Hunt meant letting them store her scent. Perhaps it was foolish, but she wasn’t sure she was ever going to be hard to find anyhow. She was the Summer Queen. It made her fairly easy to locate.

Aislinn stayed perfectly still as the Hounds, steeds, and dogs snuffled at her. Finally, when all but Chela had done so, the leader of the Hunt herself stepped down from her steed and stalked toward Aislinn. That was the first time that Aislinn had felt raw fear trickle over her skin like the sheen of sweat.

“Do you want to run?” Chela whispered. “From now unto my death, we can find you, Aislinn. Anywhere you go, we can track.”

“I didn’t run when I was mortal,” Aislinn whispered back. “Queens don’t run.”

On some level, Aislinn knew that taunting the Hunt was foolish, but she was the Summer Queen. She wasn’t going to bow to anyone. Not now. Not ever. She’d surrendered her mortality, found a way to keep the man she loved, fought the embodiment of War, and was currently figuring out how to be granddaughter to the last Dark King.

Bowing was not in her.

Chela leaned close enough that she was almost touching Aislinn’s throat, and then she inhaled for what seemed like an impossible amount of time. It was frightening and weirdly erotic to have another person that close to her skin. Only Seth had been that close to her in years.

Aislinn shivered.

“You smell like your grandfather, too. No wonder Gabriel liked you.” Chela’s words were whispered still, but they held a wonder in them now.

She stepped back, held Aislinn’s gaze, and added, “I would come for you should you ask.”

Aislinn felt like there were levels of wrongness in those words—or maybe it was just the temptation she felt at the blatant offer.

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