Iron Bones by Yasmine Galenorn
“Can we treat you guys to a nightcap?” I asked.
Talia shook her head. “Thanks, but I need to go home and feed the mutts.” She had two greyhounds, and doted on them. She carried the brushes into the bathroom, Yutani following to help her. Together they washed out the brushes and changed the paint rollers, disposing of the foam coverings. We were set for the next night.
“You guys planning on coming back to help out?” Angel said. “Hint, hint.”
Viktor snorted. “Of course. After what happened tonight, we’re not going to leave you alone here until Kamaria figures out what’s going on. Though I don’t know if the ghost and the portal have the same origins.”
“They don’t.” I didn’t know how I knew it, but my gut insisted they were separate. “I don’t know what that vision was, or how I got burnt with iron, but the ghost and the portal weren’t connected. Unless the overflow of ghostly activity boosted the portal’s ability to manifest. And that’s a distinct possibility.”
Angel stared at me. “How do you know any of that?”
“I don’t. I’m making a reasonable guess.” I grinned at her. “When in doubt, speculate.”
She crossed her arms, giving me an indulgent look. “Okay, then. But I do think you’re right, at least as far as any connections between the ghost and the portal are concerned. They don’t have the same feel, if you know what I mean.”
“Why don’t we get out of here for now,” I said, realizing that I was getting increasingly uncomfortable. “I don’t want to be here too late, and I want to see what Kamaria has to say before we spend much more time here.” As I said it, I realized that I was now frightened of being in my own house alone. And that couldn’t be good.
HERNE RETURNED TO the condo with us. Angel rolled her eyes.
“Guys, can you try to keep it down? You think you’re being discreet but I swear, when the two of you go at it, it’s like sleeping in a room next to a cat in heat. Or I suppose the better analogy would be a rutting stag. Right?”
I blushed, but Herne just laughed. “We’ll try. At least when you’re moved into the new house, you’ll have more insulation. And you’re not quite on top of one another. So to speak.”
“So to speak.” Angel shook her head. “All right. I’m going to take a shower and then go to bed. Tomorrow’s still a workday.”
“I thought it was my job to say that.” But Herne waved at her as she sauntered down the hall to her bedroom. “I think we all need showers,” he said, turning back to me.
“Yeah, we do. But we’ll have to wait until she’s done. The water heater in this condo can only handle so many requests at once. Come on. You want something to eat?”
“You mean after dinner and the snacks we brought, you’re still hungry?” But he was teasing. He followed me into the kitchen.
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Yes, so deal with it. The Fae have voracious appetites. I eat like a trucker.” I poked around in the fridge, looking to see what we had in the way of leftovers. I didn’t cook—that was Angel’s department. Oh, I could make sandwiches, scramble eggs, or bake an occasional cake if I had a mix, but I didn’t have anywhere near the talent that Angel did. I spied some leftover fettuccini Alfredo and pulled it out.
“Want some?”
He shook his head. “Not really, but I’ll take a beer if you have it.”
“Dark ale all right?” I didn’t drink much and neither did Angel, but since our workmates had been coming over more often, we kept it around because all of them liked it.
“Sounds good.” Herne accepted the can and sat on one of the bar stools as I heated up the pasta in the microwave. “So, what do you think the vision was about?”
I glanced at him as I waited impatiently for the bell to chime. Then I laughed. Microwaves had only increased the instant-gratification trigger in people. Human or Fae, it didn’t matter. Three minutes seemed a long time to wait for a piping hot meal.
“I don’t know, but it scared me. And I don’t frighten easily. You know that.” I hadn’t wanted to broadcast just how worried the incident had made me in front of the others, but now, I let out a long breath and leaned against the counter. “Herne, whatever that force was, it terrified me. I felt like it was aiming directly at me. The thing was big and ominous and I was certain I was going to die.”
“You don’t think it was Blackthorn, do you?” He opened the microwave and carried my plate over to the table for me, pulling out my chair. Herne was all about the gestures, but it came naturally to him and didn’t feel like a show.
I gratefully accepted the seat and stirred my noodles to cover them with the sauce. A forkful of heaven later, I leaned back and closed my eyes.
“Do I think it was Blackthorn?” We both knew the Ante-Fae had taken too great of an interest in me, but this had felt less cunning and more direct.
“No. Blackthorn’s clever and smart, but he’s like a spider weaving a web. This was brute force, and filled with anger, rather than hunger. Whatever it was, it hated me, and I’m not sure why. Thing is, I didn’t get any sense of a personal vendetta. Just the will to destroy me. The desire to see me dead. Blackthorn doesn’t want me dead, though if he ever got hold of me, that would be preferable to the crap he’s capable of.” The Ante-Fae had a taste for pain and I didn’t want any part of the King of Thorns and his games.
“You’re right. Blackthorn doesn’t want you dead. Could it have been someone from the Light or Dark Courts? They don’t like you.”
I thought about it for a moment. Herne was right about that. Neither the Light nor Dark Fae liked me. I was an abomination in their sight. In fact, my very existence offended both.
MY NAME IS Ember Kearney. My mother was Light Fae, and my father was Dark Fae, and that little fact got them both murdered when I was fifteen. I’ve hated both my bloodlines ever since because I knew full well that either the Dark or Light, or both, were responsible. The Fae don’t like to acknowledge that half-breeds exist, but they take particular offense to the rare few who have mixed Dark and Light heritages like me.
Anyway, until a few months ago, I had been a freelance investigator. Then Angel’s little brother disappeared and she asked me to find him. That led to a precarious situation that ended up with us both being recruited to work for the Wild Hunt Agency.
Now, here we are, helping to smooth out the wrinkles that the Fae Courts cause with their petty warring. In between, we take on whatever cases Herne decides we can solve. With Cernunnos and Morgana at the helm, we navigate the murky waters underlying the SubCult community, attempting to solve whatever situations are brought to our attention. Some cases are easy, some are dangerous, but one thing we can definitely say: the work is never boring.
I SHOOK MY head as I forked a mouthful of noodles into my mouth. After swallowing, I said, “No, I don’t think it’s the Fae. At least not this time.”
“Maybe something to do with your grandparents wanting to see you?” He paused as I set down my fork, then said, “You’re going to have to answer them sooner or later.”
“Maybe, but later is better.”
I wanted to sidestep the conversation. Herne wanted me to find out what they wanted. I, on the other hand, had no desire to see the people I blamed for my father’s and mother’s deaths. One way or another, I couldn’t help but feel that both their families had been in on the kill.
“I’m not asking you to call them right now, but Ember, they’re not going to go away. Your grandfather seems determined to see you.” He paused again, but I said nothing. Finally, he shrugged. “Whatever the case, it’s your choice. I won’t press you any more.”
“I’d be grateful if you didn’t. If I see them—and that’s a big if—it has to be on my own time, when I’m ready. I thought about it earlier today. I truly did, but I can’t bring myself to call Farthing back. I’m just not ready to hear him out. Whatever he has to say to me.” I finished my food and carried my plate back into the kitchen, rinsing it
Herne joined me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He nuzzled my neck. “I love you, you know.”
I leaned back against him, closing my eyes. “I love you too, you big lug.”
We stood there, rocking gently back and forth, until Herne took my hand and led me toward the bedroom. I silently followed.
As I started to slide off my clothes, I could hear Angel’s door open.
“I’m done with my shower,” she called before her door shut.
I motioned for Herne to follow me into the master bath.
I stripped, dropping the rest of my clothes in a pile on the floor, and turned on the water, setting the temperature to a warm rainfall. The evening had taken a turn and the air felt stifling, like we were headed into thunderstorm weather. My hair was plastered to my head from both the remains of the paint and the sweat brought on by the adrenaline rush of the night. I stood back, staring at Herne as he pulled off his muscle shirt to expose his broad, smooth chest. He had chest hair, but it wasn’t thick, and his abs gleamed in the soft lighting.
He was built, muscled to perfection, with a few scars that crisscrossed his back and sides. Even gods could get hurt. My stomach tightened as he reached for his belt and I held up my hand, motioning for him to stop. I padded forward, taking hold of the leather strap to slide it out of the belt loops. I dropped it on top of my clothes, then reached down to unbutton his jeans. As I slowly lowered the zipper, I could feel him pressing against the front of the denim, and a moment later, his cock sprang free, rising to attention, firm and hard.
I resisted the urge to touch him, and instead, placed my hands on either side of his jeans, pulling them down to the floor, where he stepped out of them. I was on my knees again, this time facing his groin. I licked my lips as I stared at him. I could barely fit my fingers around his shaft, and now, I closed both hands around him, bringing his cock to meet my lips.
I slowly pressed forward, creating suction, as he placed his hands gently on the back of my head. I tightened my lips to offer just enough resistance so that he had to force his way into my mouth. Inch by inch, I took him in, loosening my throat muscles so that I could fit as much of his meaty cock into my mouth as possible.
Herne let out a groan, swaying against me as I licked his shaft, then slowly began to slide my mouth up and down.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his eyes closed as he dropped his head back.
I sucked harder, licking his length, running my tongue along the ridge of his cock, and he let out a delighted laugh of pure joy as I worked him, securing my lips tightly around the head of his shaft. He tensed, and I paused, waiting.
“Stop! Get up, get in the shower with me, woman.” His voice was throaty, and he reached down to take me under the arms and lift me up. He leaned down, pressing his lips to my left breast, sucking and teasing the nipple until it stiffened under the fluttering of his tongue.
I groaned and stepped over the edge of the tub, into the pouring shower. Herne joined me, reaching for the body wash. As I stood under the warm spray, he lathered me up, soaping my body, running the lather over my breasts and down between my legs, where he slipped his fingers into me, thrusting gently as I braced myself against the tiles.
“I don’t think I’m dirty there,” I managed to say, but he shushed me.
“Oh you are, my beautiful wayward dirty girl.” He motioned for me to turn around. As he loomed over me, I slid back, straddling his cock as he penetrated the folds of my sex. He let out a groan, maneuvering his way inside me, firmly holding me by my hips.
I pulled away and knelt on the floor of the tub. He crouched behind me, once again sliding deep into me, thrusting hard as the water poured over us. I arched my back, grinding back against him as he drove forward. He picked up the pace, pumping harder. With one hand, he held my waist and with the other, he reached between my legs, finding my clit to circle the nub. I closed my eyes, the water streaming over my face, as my hunger for him grew. Every time we had sex, the bond seemed to deepen. Every time he was in me, it felt like I couldn’t get enough.
“Harder,” I moaned as he quickened the pace. He split me open, laid me wide, touched a place inside me that no one else had ever been able to touch. When he was inside me, it felt like Herne knew me. He knew me fully, knew every nook and crevice of my body and soul, and found none of it wanting.
He said nothing, just continued to drive himself into my secret recesses until I felt like I was at the edge of the cliff. He gave one final tweak to my clit and I lost my balance, tumbling over the edge, coming so hard I let out a shriek.
Herne growled, and then he, too, came. His orgasm caught me in its wake, rushing over both of us. We were poised, frozen, as the water streamed over us, and for a moment, I thought I could hear the crashing of the tides.
“WE’RE BONDING,” HE whispered as we lay together in my bed. My hair was freshly washed and in a ponytail, and we were cuddling atop the sheets. “Can you feel it?”
I nodded. “Yes, I can. It feels like each time we have sex, we not only renew our connection, but strengthen it. Is this normal with you? I never really felt the same way before.”
In fact, a couple of my lovers had died—one a victim of my freelance investigations, and the other of a heart attack during the act. A third had been a boyfriend but not my lover and he had been attacked by a goblin when he tried to help me after I told him to stop. Now, Ray Fontaine had turned into a stalker, convinced he was missing out on something by not being with me.
“I don’t know whether this is normal. I have to say, most of the women I’ve been with have been content enough when the relationships ended. I seem to have a way of breaking things off that don’t leave them in pain. Most of them. But Ember,” he said, shifting so that he was staring into my eyes. “I’ve been with a lot of women over the years, but none have ever meant as much as you do. With you, it feels right.” He stroked my cheek, then kissed my nose.
I wasn’t sure what to say. There was still so much that I didn’t know about him. Dating a demigod wasn’t something that I did everyday.
“Whatever it is, I like it.” I paused, then decided to bring up a potential landmine. “Listen, I saw your look when I was rubbing Yutani’s shoulders tonight. Don’t get jealous on me, Herne. I’m not a woman who juggles men. You should know that by now. But if a friend of mine needs a backrub or a shoulder rub, I’m going to offer them one, regardless of whether they’re male or female. Ray Fontaine wants to own me, but what he doesn’t understand is that nobody owns me. Not him. Not you. Not the Fae Courts. Nobody. Now, or ever.”
I pushed myself to a sitting position. Herne rested his head on my lap.
“I know. Trust me, I do. But you also have to understand that if I claim you as my woman, I will do everything I can to make certain you’re safe. If you ever want to be free, you have only to say so, but until then, in bed—and in my heart—you’re mine. And only mine.” He traced his fingers down my leg.
I shivered. The gods had their own ways, and I knew that Herne was easygoing, for the most part. But there was a hint of possession in his voice that told me relationships meant serious business to him. He really wasn’t a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em sort of god. Or man.
“I’m yours,” I whispered. “And you are mine. And for now, wherever it is that we’re headed, I’m happy.”
THE NEXT MORNING, after feeding Mr. Rumblebutt and spending some time playing with him, Angel and I took her new car in to work, while Herne drove by himself. She had been up in advance, fixing waffles and bacon. Fully fortified, we arrived at the office ready to face the day.
The Wild Hunt Agency was in downtown Seattle, on First Avenue. The city had aged well. It was beautiful, a mix of the old and the new, with wide tree-lined streets and a constant flow of foot traffic in most of the neighborhoods. But beneath the surface, the city had its problems. The population had grown till it spilled over into the suburbs.
The rich—both old money and the nouveau riche—had moved to the suburbs in the north and to the bedroom communities on the Eastside.
The Fremont and Broadway districts, like the downtown area, thrived with lower-income residents, who did their best to keep up the city that they loved.
There was a rhythm to downtown Seattle, a beat that was most apparent during the summer months. The streeps—the street people who hung out on the stoops and in the alleys and homeless shelters—brought their own culture, a continuous rhythm from the constant barrage of music and cars backfiring and the vibrant cacophony of mingled voices that echoed through the streets. From spring until the early autumn days, life poured out from open windows and on the stoops. Come the rainy season and winter, the city was quieter, more muffled.
Right now it pulsed, crackling and ablaze.
We parked in the parking garage down the street. There was never enough street parking so we rented monthly spots for a premium price. Angel and I had rented one between us, and when we both had to drive in, we took turns finding street parking.
As we drove past a group of three young men who were dancing on the corner, a box set out for spare change from passersby, they waved at us. We had seen them every morning the past few weeks, and they were actually quite good, providing a lively show. I suspected they were runaways. I knew they were some form of the SubCult, but I wasn’t sure if they were Fae.
Both Angel and I reached into our bags and tossed them a handful of coins as we went by and they waved their thanks.
“Chill day, ladies,” one of them said, bowing. “If you want to see us dance, we be happy to oblige.” He was young, probably eighteen, and I wondered how many doorways he had slept in during his young life. He smiled at me, but there was a hunger in his eyes and it wasn’t just for food. The boy he looked beaten down already. I suddenly felt lucky that Mama J. had taken me in when I was orphaned. I had missed out on the street-life experience, and I was grateful for it.