Beast

Chapter Two

Dante rubbed his head as he walked into the small kitchen. He didn’t actually eat solid food. He dined on prime grade meal pills, but there was an ultramodern food preparation appliance in deference to the home’s inhabitants with fully functional digestive tracts. He glanced around, slightly relieved to see that his mother was not present. Only Cian sat at the table, munching on a piece of toast and drinking a fragrant tea. Dante poured himself a cup and thought briefly about adding just a little Scotch.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Cian said, never looking up from the book he was reading. Dante caught sight of a bunch of equations that would make his head hurt even more. “It will get back to your father that you’re drinking before noon, and you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Dante groaned a little, but his tea was alcohol free as he sat across from his cousin. “Fine. I’m in enough trouble as it is. What are you doing up so early? Shouldn’t you be screwing your wife or something?”

Cian grinned as he looked up. He didn’t even come close to taking Dante’s bait. “Meggie’s tired. She had a long night. I thought I’d let her sleep her in. You look worse for the wear, cousin.”

“Thanks,” Dante grunted.

He hadn’t slept well, but he didn’t need to be reminded by Cian. His cousin looked fresh as a daisy. Cian looked every bit the young royal. He was dressed in casual clothes, but there was no doubt the man was a king. He simply lacked his throne.

Cian formed the intellectual half of the king. He was one half of symbiotic twins, a rare condition in Fae royals. He shared a soul with his twin, Beck, who formed the warrior half of the duo. Of the two, Dante had always felt closer to Ci. Cian had been his playmate when they were young. Many summers had been spent at the White Palace playing with Cian and Bronwyn. Dante’s heart clenched at the thought of sweet, mischievous Bronwyn. She was gone forever, killed by her own uncle’s thugs.

“If it’s any consolation, I think you did the right thing,” Ci said in his musical accent. “None of those women were right for you.”

“My father would disagree,” Dante replied, thinking about the fight last night. It didn’t seem real, but his father had been serious. He had to get married or get out.

Cian shrugged negligently. “I’ve found parents don’t always know their children the way their peers do. I wouldn’t have picked any of those women for you, cos.”

Dante was curious. “Who would you pick?”

“Someone like Meggie,” Ci said. There was nothing about his attitude that made Dante think he was anything but serious. Dante felt himself flush. He thought he’d kept his little crush to himself.

“Meg isn’t anything like the women I date,” he muttered. Meg was far smarter and kinder than the women he dated.

Cian laughed. “No, she isn’t. That’s the trouble. Everyone you meet here is going to be influenced by your name. They might hate you or want you, but somewhere in there, they’re reacting to the fact that you’re Dante Dellacourt, heir to Dellacorp.”

Dante snorted. He didn’t mention to his cousin that he might not be heir to anything at all soon. “So, that’s just the way it is.”

He wasn’t going to meet anyone who didn’t know who he was. Even among the Fae, he was known as the kings’ cousin. There were very few places worth visiting where he wasn’t known for something.

“Meggie didn’t know who you were, and she couldn’t have cared less,” Cian pointed out. “She likes you for who you are and what the two of you went through together.”

“She told you about that?” Dante was surprised.

He and Meg hadn’t talked about the day in the forest when they’d saved Beck and Cian’s lives. He knew Meg still had nightmares about how close they came to losing them. He tried not to think of it. That day had pointed out all the things wrong with his own life. Meg had been perfectly prepared to die if it meant saving her husbands. He didn’t have anything he was ready to die for.

“Of course,” Cian replied with sarcastic lilt. “I know that Meggie nearly died killing the hag, and you took care of the hag’s wee kitty cat.”

Dante sat up and pointed a long finger. “Hey, that was a damn vicious cat. I had scars for…well, a couple of minutes. I can’t help it if I heal quickly. I still don’t like cats.” He shuddered slightly.

Cian was smiling. “Nonetheless, your relationship with my Meg is based on mutual affection. It has nothing to do with your wealth or the company. It’s why you’ve spent the last six months mooning over her.”

“Am I that obvious?” Dante asked, conceding the point.

“Not to Beck or Meg,” Cian offered. “But I know you better than they do. I also know that you’re not really in love with her. She’s just the first woman who you could be sure liked you for you. You need to find someone who has no idea who you are.”

“And that female exists where?” Dante knew it was a stretch. He wouldn’t be going to any of the far-out planes soon.

“You’ll find her,” Cian said with a smooth smile. Dante was glad his cousin was so very sure. Cian set his ridiculously advanced math text aside and looked slightly thoughtful. “We’re leaving for home tomorrow. Do you want to come with us? We have a meeting with the king of the Unseelie in a few weeks. I’d love for you to be there. You won’t even have to sleep in the barn. We added an extra bedroom. One of these days, we’re going to need it.”

Dante felt his heart rate speed up. He wanted to be there. If Beck and Ci were willing to meet with King Fergus, it meant one thing. They were willing to talk about taking back their throne. Politics. That really interested Dante. It also wouldn’t hurt to be gone for a little while. Maybe his father would cool down…

Beck walked into the kitchen. He held Meg’s hand, and he looked completely happy. Meg was still yawning, but she was adorable to Dante. “I’m afraid we have to cut our visit short, brother.”

“What’s wrong?” Dante asked, concerned. Torin was always a threat. He would feel better if his cousins would simply move into the Dellacorp Building, but they had obligations to their people.

Beck snatched the toast out of his brother’s hand, earning him a dirty stare. He merely smiled and chewed gamely. Meg rolled her eyes and set herself on Cian’s lap. She happily nuzzled his neck while Beck spoke.

“I got a call from Rhys. He’s got a serious problem. The Planeswalker brought him a bondmate from a plane he is unfamiliar with. She’s causing trouble. She won’t talk or eat, and she’s attempted to kill the few men brave enough to try her,” Beck explained.

“What does he expect?” Meg asked, sounding very irritated. “Who knows what the poor girl was doing when a demon kidnapped her. Maybe she was about to buy a really nice pair of shoes. Now she’ll never get those shoes.”

“I’m sorry, lover,” Cian replied, running his tongue over the shell of her ear. “I can’t make up for your footwear. It’s a tragedy.”

She slapped playfully at him. “You know what I’m saying. It’s not easy to be in that position. I should know. It can be very scary.”

Beck smiled down at his bride, his eyes lit with love. “Yes, love, you seemed very frightened by me. I remember you spit bile at me the first time we met.”

Meg reached up and touched her warrior husband’s cheek. “I remember that encounter very differently, husband. But I was frightened. I didn’t understand what was happening.”

Beck nodded, his face tight with emotion. “I understand, love. We’ll do what we can.”

“We’re going to the marketplace to talk to her. It might help to talk to another female,” Meg said. “They say she looks human, so she might talk to me. The gnomes aren’t threatening, but they seem weird if you haven’t seen them before. Rhys says she’s violent and should be put down.”

“He wants to kill her?” Dante was shocked at the thought.

The woman hadn’t asked to be brought to another plane and sold in the marketplace. Dante knew that most of the women who were sold at the market actually requested the sale. It was considered a reasonable way to find a mate. If a man had enough money to buy a wife, it probably meant he could afford to support one. In the Fae world, outside of nobility, it was a very common practice. Only bondmates and consorts from other planes were brought in and forcibly sold. “Why doesn’t he just let her go?”

Beck sighed. “For several reasons. He’s been contracted to sell her. Those demons are damned serious about their contracts. If Rhys simply lets her go, he’ll be in violation. There’s also the fact that he has no idea what he’ll be letting loose. He doesn’t know how to get her back to her home.”

“We’re going to find a way,” Meg vowed. Her face was solemn. “I won’t let anyone put her down like an animal.”

“Of course not, darlin’,” Beck agreed, but there was worry in his eyes. Dante knew that sometimes it wasn’t easy to be the king. “We’ll figure out some way to help the poor girl.”

“You say she’s violent?” Dante heard himself ask. His brain was working overtime. A violent woman who could serve as a consort. A woman who frightened the gnomes. A woman who tried to kill the men who touched her. She sounded awful—and a little perfect.

“That’s what Rhys said,” Beck corrected. “He says she’s out of control. The women can’t get close to her cage.”

“And you’re sure she’s a consort?”

“Again, according to Rhys, she is. The demon said she glows. I could tell you if she was a bondmate. Bondmates can usually pass for consorts, too.” Beck’s voice became suspicious. “Why? Do you want to come and have a look at her, then? You could tell just by looking at her.”

Cian was staring at Dante with narrowed eyes, but he said nothing.

Dante shrugged. He would be able to tell if the girl was a consort by her glow. It appeared as a slight halo around the consort’s form. It was a lovely, infinitely appealing sight to the royal vampire. “Sure, why not?”

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. It wouldn’t hurt to go take a look at the girl. He got up to follow his cousins out. At the very least, he would meet someone who didn’t know who he was.

It was late in the afternoon when Dante found himself walking through the marketplace following Beck as he strode toward his goal. The door between the Vampire plane and this plane—a refugee plane—was easily accessible. There were hundreds of ways to get to different planes. Vampire scientists had theorized that there were still thousands of planes to be discovered. Many scientists would love to work with the Planeswalker clans to map out all the different doors. Unfortunately, the Planeswalkers came from a plane called Hell, and they didn’t have a problem with eating scientists.

Rhys of the Gentle Hills had the largest and most impressive tent in the marketplace. There was no question the gnome had done well for himself in the years since the civil war in Tir na nÓg.

Rhys’s tent was at the center of the small village, and everything had built up around it. Dante liked the marketplace. It was filled with the weird and wonderful things that could be found across the planes of existence. He even liked the feel of dirt beneath his feet. The surface on this plane was radically different from his home. It was closer to Tir na nÓg. This particular plane had been deserted when Beck and Cian had fled their home. It had been used by vampires as a place to hunt in the old ways and to raise cattle.

There was no smog here. The sun was bright and everything was open and airy. At home, the surface was tight and confined. Sometimes, the sun didn’t get past the clouds of pollution that clung close to the surface. It was why most vampires who could afford it never left their high homes.

Dante adjusted the hood of his jacket to better cover his pale skin. The sun was stronger on the Faery planes. His sunglasses had already adjusted to the light. The nanites in his clothing adapted quickly to keep his temperature in an optimal range and ensure the ultraviolet light didn’t burn him.

But what would it be like to walk unclothed in the sunlight? What would it be like to laze about unencumbered by clothing while the warmth of the sun kissed his skin? He would never tell anyone, but that was what had attracted him to the sunscreen project.

“What do you think you’re doing, cos?” Cian asked. He’d allowed Beck and Meg to get ahead of them.

Dante hoped he projected an air of curious innocence. Ci was right. Ci knew him far too well for Dante’s comfort. “I just wanted to come along. It might get dangerous. You never know, you and Beck might need backup.”

Cian’s gray eyes rolled. “Yes, the warrior king requires backup. He’s not only the greatest warrior to rise from the Seelie in a thousand years, but he’s a storm lord, too. I think he can handle one small female. Now, spit it out, cos. What happened with your dad last night? Don’t lie. I know that look in my uncle’s face. I saw it when he caught me and Beck with his personal assistant ten years ago.”

Dante’s eyes went wide. “You two did Helena? Seriously? How did I not know that? She’s twenty years older than you.”

Cian’s smile was slightly lecherous. “She was very experienced. We were just young lads looking to learn. It was a beautiful afternoon that we got our asses kicked for. Uncle Alex had that look in his eyes last night. What’s going on?”

Dante shrugged as they passed a goblin vendor selling all manner of odd items. “He was a bit upset. He thinks there’s going to be some bad press about the DL.”

“I believe the talk shows labeled you ‘Asswipe of the Year,’” Cian confirmed. “I didn’t think that was a term serious journalists would use, but they seemed happy with it.”

“Stupid tabloids,” Dante cursed. They were always on his back. The paparazzi waited to capture his fuckups on tape for the world to see. “What do they want me to do? I didn’t even like many of those girls. Most of them just wanted to be DL stars. Should I have asked one to marry me so I didn’t look like a jerk and then break it off later?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone on the show in the first place,” Cian said with a sensibility that set Dante’s fangs on edge. “I find it hard to believe you were serious about finding a wife from twenty females desperate enough to share one man.”

He hadn’t been serious. He could admit that to himself. It had seemed like a fun way to waste some time while the bio-med unit worked on the sunscreen project. Dante had been surprised at how joyless dating twenty hot chicks was when there was always a camera around.

“Besides,” Cian was continuing, “it really works better the other way. You only have one dick, man. How are you going to keep that many women happy? It takes two of us to keep Meg happy. If you really want to go down that road, you should find a friend and get a woman between you.”

“I don’t want a ménage,” Dante growled. The last thing he needed was some dude in bed with him. It worked for Beck and Cian because they shared a soul. Dante had never shared anything, and wasn’t about to start now. “I don’t want anything at all, if I’m honest. I just don’t have that choice anymore.”

Cian stopped in the middle of the street, the dust churning under his feet. “What does that mean?”

“It means my father ordered me to get married or else,” Dante admitted harshly.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Dante sighed and began walking again. “He kicked me off the sunscreen project. He told me I can’t get back in until I have a consort at my side. He apparently thinks getting married will make me seem less like an asswipe.”

“You can’t get married just because your dad tells you to,” Cian insisted.

Dante snorted inelegantly. That was the pot calling the kettle black. “I don’t know why not. You were certainly going to, or have you forgotten a frigid filly named Maris? Are you trying to tell me it was your idea to bond with her?”

Before the civil war, Beck and Cian’s father had arranged their bonding with no thought to love. Dante remembered Maris. She’d been a highborn bondmate. She’d also been one of the coldest women he’d ever met. Cian couldn’t stand her. Many nights, Dante had listened to his cousin bemoan his fate.

“That was different,” Cian insisted.

A wave of rising irritation nipped at Dante’s patience. “Sure, cos. It was different because it was your father threatening you and your inheritance at stake. I remember how much you hated that woman, and you would have married her if fate hadn’t stepped in. I’m sure you would have stood up for yourself in the end. You would have told your father and Beck to go hell because you wanted to marry for love.” Dante’s sarcasm flowed through the room.

“That’s not fair, Dante.” Cian frowned.

“None of it is,” Dante shot back.

“And it was different. There was a kingdom at stake. I’m not trying to say I’m better than you. I don’t think that at all. I’m trying to tell you that you have choices. You have more freedom than Beck and I had.”

“Stay out of it, Ci. I’m going to do what I need to do, and that’s that. My father has always complained that I wasn’t willing to do what it takes. Well, I’ll show him.”

Dante hurried along, leaving his cousin with the perfect wife and happy life behind. He didn’t need a lecture from Cian. Cian was happily married. He had his brother to depend on. Dante’s sister treated him like he was still five years old. Come to think of it, everyone treated him like he was a child. He was thirty years old. He ran a business. He ran an arm of the family business. Of course, he had an assistant and a manager who did most of the daily work, but everyone had help. Not everyone was as efficient and organized as his sister. Not everyone wanted each minute of the day planned out to model efficient time management.

What, he asked himself brutally, did Cian expect him to do? Should he tell his father to go straight to the Hell plane and righteously pack his bags? Where would he live? How would he survive? He’d never gone without a day in his life. He liked being rich, and he was good at it.

A long wail split the air around him, and Dante stopped. It was the howl of an animal in pain.

“What the hell was that?” Cian asked with a hitch in his breath.

“I think that’s our guest,” Beck replied.

Beck broke into a run, his long legs eating the distance to the tent. Meg struggled to keep up with him. While Beck ran ahead, Cian took their wife’s hand and hurried her along. Dante jogged, easily catching up and matching Beck’s stride.

There was a crowd outside the large tent, though he noticed they gave the place a wide berth as though what was inside was too terrible for them to get too close to it. It was easy for Dante to fight his way to the front.

All around him, the people and creatures whispered in hushed tones. They talked about the animal in her cage and wondered if the bars were enough to keep her from their children. Savage, one called her. Brutal. Some spoke of her attempting to eat the little gnomes assigned to care for her.

Maybe he would rethink the whole getting-married plan. Maybe Rhys had another, less hostile consort he could buy. He didn’t need to die to prove this point to his father. A nice, homely, uneducated rube would do nicely. He wanted her to shock his father, not cannibalize him.

“Rhys, what’s going on now?” Beck asked.

A small man with a pointy red hat moved toward Beck and Cian, who had taken his place beside his brother. Dante felt Meg at his side, but he was watching the gnome. Rhys of the Gentle Hills, who had served the Finn family for decades, bowed deeply.

“Your Highness,” the gnome said, nodding to each of the Fae royals. “I am sorry to have bothered you, sir. I simply do not know what to do with the lass. She is completely feral. The demon gave us a potion to keep her weak. We’ve given it to her every day, hiding it in the water she drinks, but I fear it doesn’t work. She wouldn’t eat for the first three days she was here until Cara had the idea to give her raw flesh. She is an animal, sire. Though I am loath to do it, I must ask you to put her out of her misery.”

“No,” Meg argued instantly. She rushed to her husbands.

Dante held his tongue. The sounds coming out of the tent made him think that maybe Rhys was right. There was a long, loud howl. He wasn’t sure how a sound like that came from a thinking being. It was primal. The sound was pure rage.

“Meggie, calm down,” Beck commanded, his voice dropping to a low, dark bark. Meg’s head dropped immediately.

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.

Beck’s hand came out to lift her face up. The harsh lines left his brow, and he kissed her forehead. “I’ll do what I can, Meggie mine. Trust me.”

She smiled up at him, though Dante could see tears unshed in her eyes. “Always, baby.”

Beck looked back at the gnome. He pulled his sword off the scabbard on his back and held it at his side. “Let’s see her, then.”

The flap of the tent was pulled back, and Dante found himself following his cousin.

To his heightened senses, the room was quite pungent. Whoa. He checked his gag reflex.

“I am sorry, sire,” Rhys apologized, his face reddening. “We have not been able to clean her. She is filthy. When we attempt to get close, she tries to bite and scratch. She growls like an animal. It is the only language she seems to know.”

“I thought I gave you translator implants,” Dante heard himself saying. His eyes adjusted as the sunglasses flowed back into his jacket. It was dark in the tent. All of the flaps that would allow light in had been closed. There was a single candle burning, and only a bit of light filtered through the canvas at this time of the day. The place felt a bit like a pit. Or a tomb.

Rhys snorted. “As if we could get close enough to get one in her. We’ve barely managed to keep her fed and to give her the medication the demon claims she needs. I don’t know what the bugger was thinking bringing me an animal to sell. She’s not fit for any society.”

Whatever else was said, Dante missed because he caught his first glimpse of the female in question. Through the gloom, he saw a slender figure move to the bars of a cage. He could see nothing of her face, but her form moved, flowed, toward the front of the cage.

The cage was the largest of the ones kept in the tent. A “mate cage,” as the Fae called them, was supposed to be for show. It was a tradition that was passed down through the centuries. They were richly decorated. There were carpets covering the dirt floor and soft mattresses with fine blankets for the women to rest on. The blankets and pillows had been torn apart in the girl’s cage. It was a chaotic mess, but still neater than the female herself.

She glowed. Like all consorts, there was an aura about her that a vampire couldn’t mistake. His cousins might need to physically touch her to know that she was an adequate bondmate, but Dante could plainly see it. She glowed like Meg glowed. He wondered, seriously wondered, exactly how sweet she would taste. After she’d been properly cleaned, he thought with a shudder.

Dante’s eyes adjusted to the low light. He studied the woman.

Her brown hair was matted. He couldn’t tell how long it was, but there was an awful lot of it. She was covered in dirt and other things Dante didn’t want to recognize. He was surprised to find her naked. Rhys would have given her robes to wear when she wasn’t on display. Her small breasts were round, and Dante couldn’t help but think they would make a sweet handful. She was slender, but her hips flared in a pleasing way. She would be lovely when she was clean. She sniffed the air around her and growled low in her throat at the newcomers.

“You see, Your Highness, she is completely feral. There is no intelligence,” Rhys said.

“Bullshit,” Dante muttered, not taking his eyes off the woman for a second. The woman in the cage was baring her teeth, but he was looking at her eyes. They were a startling blue. They looked like seas of the tropics on his home plane, blue and clear, and he felt like he could see deep down to her soul. He stared, quite caught in her eyes.

The woman rattled the cage viciously. Her small hands wrapped around the bars as though she could pull them apart with nothing but her own will. She howled, but Dante could hear something beneath the seemingly chaotic sounds.

“Befria mig.” She said it over and over again. He didn’t recognize the language, but it was there all the same.

“Befria mig?” Dante tasted the words, trying to make sense of them. Vampires were known for being very talented with languages, and his innate skills told him that this seemingly feral woman was trying to communicate.

The female stopped suddenly, her hands falling away from the bars. She stood up, where before she seemed inclined to prowl, as though more used to four legs than two. She stood properly now, and all of her attention was on Dante.

“Hjälp mig, behaga min herre,” she said plainly. Her stark blue eyes were filled now with tears.

“Not intelligent?” Beck asked. Dante could feel the iciness in the query.

Rhys sputtered, staring up at his king. “Sire, I…”

Dante ignored the small argument between the Fae. He stepped toward the woman, trying to ignore the smell. “I don’t speak your language, sweetheart.” He pulled a translator implant out of his pocket. He always had a couple. He held it up. “I need to place this behind your ear.” He pointed to a small spot behind his own ear where the translator would be deployed. “Then we can understand each other.”

“Befria mig?” the woman asked, her voice almost timid now, as though she didn’t quite believe him. This close, Dante could see her high cheekbones and the delicate planes of her face. Her cheeks were soft and her chin a stubborn line.

Dante gave her his most reassuring smile. He could handle this. He could handle this better than Beck, who had just planned on brute force. Dante could show them all that diplomacy and charm worked just as well. “Sure, sweetheart. Let me get the translator in and we’ll ‘befria mig’ all you like.”

“Mr. Dellacourt, I would not do that if I were you,” Rhys warned him.

“It’s fine,” Dante said. He had this. He moved toward her. “Give me the keys.”

Rhys pursed his lips together as though he would argue further. His small hands didn’t move toward the keys on his belt. Dante gave his cousin an impatient glance.

“It’s one small female, Beck,” Dante said, irritated that yet again someone thought he couldn’t do something. She was petite, and her eyes were soft and pleading. “I think I can handle her.”

“Well, if you can’t, I’m sure I can,” Beck allowed, his hand still on the sword, but his arm had relaxed. He stood in the center of the room, blocking the way out. He was a broad, reassuring figure. “Rhys, open the cage. Let Dante have a try with her. I would hate to kill her if this is all just a misunderstanding.”

The gnome didn’t hesitate when his king ordered him. Rhys moved immediately, pulling the correct key off his belt and turning it in the heavy lock that separated the female from her freedom.

Dante watched her, strangely fascinated by the creature in the cage. Every muscle in her slender body was taut as the small gnome slowly pulled back the door. Her eyes flicked suspiciously about the room as though she were waiting for something terrible to happen. Was she frightened? She’d been thrown into a world she obviously didn’t understand. At least Meg had spoken the language. This poor thing didn’t even have that comfort. Dante felt a wealth of sympathy rise for her.

Moving cautiously toward her, he kept his hands out, attempting to show her he had no weapons, just the tiny translator that would painlessly burrow into her and attach itself to her brain thereby allowing her to understand the known languages of the planes. Dante really hoped it worked as quickly as it was supposed to work. Even if the language was unknown, the computer would work to decode it. It shouldn’t take long before he could talk to the little creature in front of him. Then they would discuss hygiene.

She took a step back when she realized he was coming in. She went down on her feet. She crouched low, her knuckles grazing the floor. She looked tense, as though prepared to pounce.

“It’s all right,” he cajoled. He suspected she was quite lovely under all that grime. The bones of her face were delicate, but well defined. Her eyes were wide and her lips…he knew a lot of women on his plane who paid money to get lips like that. And she was young. She was too young to have eyes so wary.

He saw the minute her eyes changed from wary to aggressive.

Beck had moved closer, and the female had caught a glimpse of the sword in his hand. She growled and went after the only target she could get to—Dante.

“Wait,” he tried desperately. The translator fell from his hand as she leapt from her crouch and pounced.