She was through being patient with the disappearance of Riley. Their time together might not have been long enough to make her an expert on the lawyer, but this seemed uncharacteristically sullen for the cat, even if she was infamous for taking off to lick her wounds.

That night the passion between Draxcilian and Aolani scorched and burned as she gathered the power, the energy, to send her dream summoning past the barriers of Fae.

Seeking, searching and demanding an answer from the one she had reason to believe could provide it.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------

A whisper of a dream, fleeting and weak. Images, disjointed and blurred about the edges.

Sinful legs wrapped around his hips graced in silk stockings of purest crimson.

A wicked curl of pillowy lips descending over his abdomen, whispering words he can't quite make out...

His name a moaning command of pleasure that drips with desired arousal...

"Eamon...!"

All of these images and more coalesce and break apart, shattering upon awakening, disappearing in the mists of a befogged state.

One image remains crisp and constant. Sharp and vivid. Cat-Green, the eyes fringed in ebony lashes, are familiar in their potency.

"Not my hand." He let her go and took a step back. He whispered a Word and from the nearest mirror drew forth an image. Riley was blindfolded and strapped wrist and ankle to a wooden pole. A tall, stately women dressed in a black vinyl catsuit prowled around the cat. A long wickedly bladed knife held in her hand. Riley's naked body was bleeding from scores of shallow wounds. None of them looked more than two or three days old.

The image of Riley was writhing against her bonds. The Unseelie Queen struck home the blade into the tight planes of the Lycan's belly and the cat screamed. A keening sound that was half pain and half pleasure.

?You lie.? Something cold, angry, vengeful sprung within the depths of those green eyes. ?You did this. You caused this. You pursued her.? Each statement was the verbal equivalency of a slap. ?You took her. You delivered her. To that!? A kinetic blast of energy swept out from her hand with the last motion and shattered the mirror, sending the image fracturing and splintering.

?So tell me truthfully, Fae. What is it that you desire?? Her voice drifting into softer registers.

He clenched his jaw tightly making the muscles jump and flex. "Her freedom." Then a whisper. "And mine."

And now her body became pliant again, soft and seductive, whispering up against his, a gentle hand placed upon his rugged cheek, trailing sweetly against that clenching jaw, ?Of course. And now that the truth of our desires are open, we shall achieve them.? Leaning in to brush her lips, pillow soft against his.

He took her kiss and wrapped his hand around the back of her head. The other hand resting upon the sweet curve of her hip. Reveling in his taste she gave herself over to his lips, relaxing, softening, twining as she drifted in heated arousal. Then he stepped back after a moment. "Understand that you will not deal with me. I am the messenger. You will deal directly with Her Majesty."

The brevity did not appease her, nor did his words, but the waspishness of her tone had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared with the image of Riley's torture, ?No, you are wrong.? Gliding backward to descend upon the divan and look up at him from beneath the fan of ebony lashes.

?Riley?s freedom will come at the cost of yours. Are you willing to exchange one servitude for another?? She continued in soft tones.

"I do not hold the cat's marker, woman." Anger was slowly creeping into his tone. "The Queen does. I cannot free her. I cannot even bargain for her freedom. I literally cannot do this." Now his words were flavored with despair. Because he did not hold the bargain contract, he was under a geas that forbid him from even speaking a word of his own desires.

The position changes in a tactical move. With the Mistress assumed her seat Draxcilian drifted to the side, keeping them both within the panoramic landscape of his vision. Arms remained hidden, hands unseen, as he came to rest adjacent to where Aolani sat, a dozen or so feet away.

She tilted her head as she watched and fed on the play of emotions so potently held in check ?I will deal with your Queen, but first we must be completely aware of your deal with me. And rest assured, you will most definitely be dealing with me.?

He stood in the face of that anger and took it. Her anger and fear was nothing compared to his own guilt. He glanced at the silent Sentinel. "As he protects you?"

?No, for that is beyond you.? And despite the cutting message of the words she means no disrespect by it, ?But for the bargain with your Queen to work you will understand a small measure of his existence.? Her gaze flickering over Draxcilian, a gentle caress that stole the anger from her and softened her approach, ?My Sentinel, depart. Check upon the Sovereign and return to me.?

The sight of that feline gaze was enough to - for just a moment - fade the tension that lined his warrior's frame. Her words would receive a nod of that heavily drawn hood, and without question the shadows would strike, enveloping him in their dark caress, and stealing him from the room completely.

Eamon returned to his seat on the edge of the chair, the mask slipping a bit. His own fear and guilt over the situation came through. "What will you offer Her Majesty?"

She moved toward him, following his retreat, her body folding downward to kneel before him almost as a supplicant. Making no move to touch him she held his gaze with her own hypnotic one, ?I will offer her myself...my particular abilities are potent and therefore quite a boon to your Queen and Riley will be fairly compensated for..but you ErlKing. You will need to make a sacrifice that will make you unworthy of a return so therefore not bargain-able.?

He nodded curtly. His jaw clenched again and he said in a low and reluctant voice, "What would you ask of me, my mistress?" Every word spoken was a major undertaking and visibly painful. Had he just traded one mistress for another or would he truly find his freedom at the end of his sentence?

She softened. Tilting back her head to take in his pained state, the anger that had leant a hard edge of mild cruelty easing somewhat with the realization that Riley might soon be returned and that she was still alive, ?I do not wish to be your Mistress in such a fashion, I am not your Queen. I wish no slaves. Your protection of Riley, your "servitude" is your penance and one you feel you deserve and desire.? She continued, ?I deal in desires. It would serve me no strength to demand of you something you do not wish.?

He relaxed visibly after hearing her words. His eyes narrowed suddenly and he whispered, "What if she doesn't want me anywhere near her?"

?She won't. Not my Cat.? Soft husky laughter at Riley's guaranteed reaction to Eamon, ?She will hate you. Despise you. Punish you with every breath. Forgiveness is not in her nature.?Considering him, ?Do you still wish her freedom? Still desire to protect her??

"Yes." Spoken softly. A whisper. He looked down at the beautiful creature kneeling at his feet and dropped the mask further. "She is. . .maddening. And it pains me to see her like that. So powerful and brought so low."

He reigned in the power. Clamping it down hard. The fire flared in the hearth and he seemed a shadow of himself. His voice was tired and stripped of its force. "I am a force of Nature. A gift of Danu Herself. If I am not the Huntsman what will I be?"

Picking herself up in a flex of lithe muscles and inhuman agility layered with blatant sexuality, she shook out her luscious mane of hair and pierced him with those smoldering eyes, ?You would be mine. Completely and utterly mine. No thought would exist but for my pleasure.? She is not coating this, not hiding any of it, she clearly wishes him to be aware of ramifications of this plan. ?So long as you remained my lover. As soon as the deal is struck with your Queen, we will cease being lovers and your identity will return... albeit... the process is not an easy one.?

He closed his eyes. His shoulders slumped at last in defeat and he nodded once. "As you will it, let it be done." The words were much more than a simple agreement. His power flared as he spoke them. There was a sound like a church bell pealing through the room. The deal was sealed. He was hers. Completely.

Startled by the sound and the power she tilted her head and looked around the room, brow furrowing,
cat-green her gaze returns to him, holding the defeated image there on a soft sigh of remorse? ?Are you certain? I ...? A deep inhale, ?do not take lovers on the physical realm for this reason. You will forget who you are. You will be completely mine. And when we stop ...you will feel such pain and abandonment. Eventually you will return to yourself, but the...process is.. ? Her voice trailed off, her gaze dipping and drifting to the hearth.

The piercing almost blackness of his eyes were emotionless. "It will save the cat?"

?It will.?

His body tempted her to forget the agreement. He was hers completely and utterly. If she were to renege he would have no way of fighting free of the temptation he currently inhabited; but, Aolani was surprisingly enough a creature of honor in her own way.

Eamon was hers. For now. The meeting with the Queen of the Unseelie was a nightmare to negotiate and during this time he would remain Her Huntsmen. Much like Draxcilian.

Inescapably, inarguably hers.

But she daren?t not touch him. Denying her own desire was not something she thrived at and as he rose from her bed that morning she immediately beckoned Fawne to join her in an attempt to thwart some of the growing frustration.

To ease him free of her would take time and the sooner they sought to break the addictive hold of her upon him the better.


****

She climbed the stairs next to her Huntsmen, the drinking games in the Inn forgotten as the more pressing issue of Eamon himself danced upon the horizon. Within moments they arrived at the door of Room 16 and with a slight air of hesitance she allowed him entrance into her boudoir, the click of heels carrying her across the room toward the couch before the hearth.

Eamon?s dutiful actions, following her inside, locking the door behind him, and remaining at guard were the epitome of one of her Sentinels but his position was to be tenuous and she reminded herself not to meet his hungry gaze with her own. Since the night of his transformation she had not allowed any real intimacy between the two of them. The decision to enact his freedom by sacrificing his identity had not been an easy one. She avoided such acts most usually and somehow by adopting the appearance of the Cat to entice and seduce him into sharing his passion and emotions she had kept the distance between them that she needed. Carefully she lifted those molten green eyes toward him as she descended upon the couch, whispering the words guaranteed to return him to at least some semblance of himself, ?It is my desire to have you relax Eamon.?

Immediately the demeanor of the man shifted as he stalked across the room. Settled on the edge of the bed and stared into the flames dancing in the hearth. "How much longer?" he whispered.

?I am simply awaiting the acceptance of my request to see the Queen,? Her reply came on a sigh as she leaned back against the couch, long fence-net covered legs drawing upward one at a time to allow her to release the slender dainty feet held fast by the ankle boots. Careful to keep her gaze upon her task and not his masculine frame perched on her bed.

His breath caught in his throat. She appeared as a creature of fire now. The flickering light burnishing her golden skin. He couldn?t formulate a coherent thought. Couldn?t answer her or even add his own take on the subject.

Delighted with the answer and fueled by the rush of his desire she held her arms out from her and gave a lighthearted spin to step free from her fallen dress, teasingly dancing close to him, not so close that he could reach out and touch her, but enough that the flare of her hair whispered near, ?Yes! Of course, I should've thought of it earlier. Unseelie can never resist a challenge.? Cat-green eyes sparkling with that very same connotation.

Her words had less than a desired effect upon her Huntsmen as he shook himself as if slapped in the face, "You would challenge the Queen?"


Startled yet again by his mercurial moods, she came to a quivering stop. A quirk to those plush lips, ?Not a direct challenge no, for we both know how well Unseelie handle what they believe to be a slight to their own power. I meant a challenge as in a riddle...a game..a chance to pit oneself against another.? Her gaze cannot resist dipping down over his form: ?A conquest.?

He nodded after a moment?s consideration. "Yes. She will accept this challenge. She believes she can outwit and outthink anyone." He raised his eyes to her. "You will be prepared?"

She can't help it. She laughs. A rich verdant sound of amusement, not mockery. Moving away from him to the tiled steps that lead up to the bathtub, leaning in to begin running herself a much needed luxury, ?No, Eamon darling, I shall blunder in and allow myself to be captured by her, leaving you to figure out how to rescue both Riley and I.?

"You mock my concern. You would prefer me to mindlessly trust and not care whether you are prepared to deal with her duplicity?"

The water would rise rapidly, her deliciously lush body dropping to all fours as she stretched out across the tub to claim the glass jar of rich oil that she adds liberally, the sweetly enticing scent she wears would trickle into the air as bubbles began to rise, ?I'm not trying to mock you, you're just so ..? she searched for the right word, ?frustrating.? She tried it out after glancing over one naked shoulder back at him.

"Says the pot to the kettle," he mutters beneath his breath. He refuses to look at her. Petulant and pouty as a child now.

Room 16. The door opens. Rhythmic percussion of glossy black boots echo the kiss of a determined stride upon a hardwood floor. A vision in black, the dress fit like a sleeve, hugging and cupping, displaying and containing, the black trench apparently just another garment. Tonight's dance required a little extra special and within its folds there hid a potent protective secret. Hooded dark lashes obscurbed the eerily ebon-ringed cat-green depths as she made her way down the stairs.

Carnal, piercing flesh and bone to search for something deeper. Relaxed, the recumbent length of sinewy camber drew in a breath, held it for a moment, and released it through the coiling grin of delectable claret lips, " Even your casual entrances are grand, my dear."

A stride tonight to echo the tension that hovers about her, knife-like, it was time to let another member of the Covenant know of her dealings and set the plan irrevocably in motion. A flick of a hand sent the cascading wave of dark locks over one shoulder as she gauged the room with her penetrating gaze. A small quirk to pillowy soft lips at the mystical apparition of the Carnal Prince, "Am I so casual?" Purred, leaning into that recumbent form to brush her lips across his in acknowledgment of the desire he emits so effortlessly, "Leave it to you to make a lean look edible."

Eyes fade behind smooth lids, reveling in the touch of those lips that could bring mortal men to their knees, "Well, if you are hungry, you know where to find me." Salacious purr as the reappearance of opaque eyes roam over her curvaceous form once more. "Seems someone is preparing for a field trip, yes?"

"And yet again you're observant, are you sure you're not the one better suited to reconnaissance?" A sultry laugh slips free as she teases, unable to resist the smooth expanse of his crimson chest, nails delicately trailing and tickling ever downward as she evades his query for now.

The sturdy stand of scarlet pectorals are hers for the raking, the thin lines left by her nails causing breath to be sucked between clenched teeth before released with a thrumming mewl. A slender hand extends so that the satiny touch of a slim finger can run along the delicate line of her jaw, tracing it. "Who says I'm not? Those best suited for espionage are those who don't claim to care about such things, wouldn't you agree?" A fiendish grin finding that handsome visage. "After all, you are the expert of such things." He wouldn't give her much of a pause to answer, understanding her evasion. "Where are you going?"

Her laugh is more genuine this time, her lashes drifting down to obscure her gaze as she shakes her head at his acuteness, "Excuse me while I pretend a little longer that you're not asking me a direct question while completely in the right to have the information you desire." She grinned up at him with a wickedly amused smile.

The moonlight cast a soft glisten to moist alabaster flesh as he stood in the window, staring out at the night. Utterly naked, lines of perspiration accentuated the distinct cut of muscle that had been honed by decades of physical training, leaving a ghostly image of unabashed masculinity to onlookers and passersby - even though the streets were quiescent, a graveyard amongst the living with the arrival of the Danube, which lessened the chance of being spied even while so blatantly on display.

Not that it mattered. Draxcilian didn't give a great deal of consideration to such things anymore. Inhibition had been stripped away long ago, and flesh, in all of its forms, was now a canvas in which to create a masterpiece of pleasure. The Mistress had taught him that, and so many many other things.

Ashen eyes drifted over his shoulder to where the Mistress lay within her bed, entangled in a web of emerald sheets and Jenillisa limbs. The night had been invigorating and strenuous, with a storm of emotions fueling craving and release. The tension from the Inn and those who sought out Aolani and her sovereignty had simmered to a boil, and while there had been no physical release of this apprehension down below, the trepidation lingered longer after the door to the Mistress' boudoir had been closed. His gaze imbibed the erotic entwinement of seductive ladies for a long time, attention divided from his introspective detail, though only briefly. He turned away, and again inspected the moon.

It was an effort to penetrate the barrier that stands between Sentinel and sentient, laborious and daunting. Awareness, emotion, these were things still possessed, though normally buried beneath a stoic fortress to keep from getting in the way of keen assessment. The bond that he shared with the Mistress was something beyond flesh and blood and, if he were to permit it, those feelings of longing she conjured within him could very well lead him - and her - into the danger that he sought to protect her from. As far as he was concerned, that would never...ever...happen.

These emotions were kept stowed away for a reason. The ardor and fervor of life could never be completely discarded, for if it were, so too would be the passion to see his Mistress endure. He was not a mindless puppet, no matter what one might assume at first glance. He was a guardian, a spectral sentry charged with the welfare of the Lady of the Shaitan. His demeanor might have been cold and aloof, but his mind was efficacious and calculating.

It was this shrewd intellect that replayed the events that had transpired. The four who approached the Mistress with demands and threats. The high-running emotion that exuded from them all, whether it be anger, concern, intrigue or fascination, could be felt upon the air. It had made his skin tingle and his muscles tense. Hands ached to once again hold the hilt of his weapon, and to feel its macabre work tear through flesh and steal life. Stoicism had won out however, and his blade remained housed, though the yearning to send it to work remained in the back of his mind.

He was certain that the next few weeks would prove to be eventful, if nothing else. With Aolani's gathering influence there would be those who would seek her out for numerous reasons, both favorable and not. He would need to stay scrupulous and attentive for her benefit, as well as the benefit of the Sovereignty . Threats were starting to overlap - the dealings with the Unseelie Court, the betrayal of Riley, and now the arrival of this new faction who seemed more than a little eager to challenge the Mistress. It seemed to be coming from all different angles, and that his vigilance would know no bounds.

The man who entered was quite simply: delectable.

Chiseled perfection. The clean cut of his jawline alone demanded a second glance of lingering appreciation. His cheekbones striking and aquiline nose regal. Lips that should be fierce to match that angular declaration of masculinity, instead beckoned with a hint of softness as they thinned into a smile that revealed a flash of straight white teeth. Starkly bright against the tanned complexion of a hunter.

And a hunter he was, this was apparent with the way he moved despite the clean and elegant lines of the dove grey suit. The shoulders broad, the waist narrow, and the lean agile walk of a man who was used to hunting his prey and succeeding in catching it. He was imposing with his otherworldly attractiveness and Aolani felt a quiver of wet heat stir just at the sight of him.

?Well hello.? Her voice a throaty murmur of appreciation for such art, his own greeting gifting her discerning ear with the sound of a rich baritone, ?Hello to you as well.?

?As you are a guest to the Court I am here to provide you with a tour and answer your questions accordingly,? He explained, ?that is if you are ready to depart??

The gift of cobalt blue eyes slid over her body and Aolani could not resist the demand it held, the undulating stretch a reward for his own seeking gaze. Nearly naked in the grasp of silken stockings and lingerie she knew what kind of vision she presented and reveled in it, rolling up to a seated position upon the edge of the bed and smiling, ?Of course.?

She reached for a pair of black strappy heels, only adding a sheer robe to her ensemble as she performed for him instinctively. Each movement provocatively seductive.

?Do you have a church?? His question surprised her and she slanted him a cat-green gaze of inquiry.

?I am not deeply religious no, though I find plenty to worship.? Deliberately drinking him in as she lashed him with her hungry eyes.

?Surely you are a Goddess of a kind??

Her sultry laughter was echoed and twined together with the rich baritone of his own as they indulged in each other?s playful teasing. Perhaps this advent into the Unseelie Court was not going to be as horrible as she first thought.

She ached.

But it was a delicious sensation. A well-used and satiated one. Muscles twinged in places intimate and secret. Her skin was abraded with small marks and scratches and even the hint of a bruise here or there.

A slow stretch to allow each of those reminders carry her along a heated rush of memory.

The flush of her skin revealed her reaction to such remembrances and one slender hand delved downward, trailing, teasingly light scrape of her fingernails as she sought the core of her being that wept at the sweet abuse it had recently experienced. Gently she soothed and apologized with dexterous fingers. Coaxing herself to sweet rhapsody.


She had no idea how much time had passed, there was no sun, nor clock or timepiece of any kind that she could discover.

Hunger of a different kind finally sent her from her bed to bathe and dress. She slipped free from her room and was not surprised to immediately find herself in the company of a young sidhe, his gorgeous blue hair held pinned back to reveal the sweet angelic features almost too feminine to be male. An eager attendant, his youthfulness reminded her of Kay with a bittersweet pang. She missed the music.

And she missed her Cat.

Determination surged through her and with an abrupt shift from compliant houseguest to arrogant regality she led her bewildered and flustered "attendant" through the halls of the Unseelie Court with such suddenness that there was no chance to intervene.

The doors to the throne room opened before her and the rhythmic click of her heels carried her toward the icy perfection of a beauty that sat upon a throne carved in the shape of a black dragon. It was only after the first four or five feet that Aolani realized with a sharp gasp that the throne was breathing.

Her unexpected arrival did not throw the queen for long and Aolani discovered herself immersed in diplomatic niceties that alternately bored and irritated her.

It wasn?t that court intrigue was beyond her grasp only that she preferred the reality beneath the fa?ade. How often had she tried to reiterate that same point to her Sovereignty? What was the need for games and falsehoods if they were only muddying the waters?

She lived emotion. She swam in it like the dreamscape that was hers to possess. She thrived or weakened on the waves of feelings. Before Kay?s accidental mana overload had opened her to the true extent of her powers she had savored only the sultry emotions that led to carnal and blissful pleasures. No longer. She fed upon them all. Had learned even to savor the heady sweet scent of despair, and the dark heavy taste of devastation and pain.

The Queen of the Fae hid her emotions well. She delivered her social platitudes with the iciness of one who lacked empathy. Perhaps it was the barren sensation of it all that had Aolani on edge or bored. Hours passed with nothing truly being said before she finally gave in to the urge to refuse no more dancing and bluntly asked, ?Where is my Cat??

The silence that befell her query was her first warning that she had overstepped but the sudden lash of anger was so potent that it brought a hiss of pleasure from her lips. She had quite clearly pissed the Queen off.

?Are you not immortal?? Came the icy response.

?I am. But my Cat is not.? Aolani was just as quick in her delivery of her words, ?And her time here has been lengthy enough.?

?Your impatience is unbecoming.?

?True, I am sure, but I am not equipped to dance and dally with one such as you. My powers are far better suited for boudoirs and bedrooms. And it is these powers that I choose to bargain with, if there is anything left to bargain for...? Aolani?s words were sincere and respectful despite the quality of rudeness that they might entail.

?Bargain?? The Queen immediately perked.