King of the Mountains Page 5
And she had warped his magic into something of her own.
Liam had never heard of a witch with power like that.
Scales rasped through the remains of their fight. Arcane made his way to Liam’s side. A pot clanged as the snake knocked it over. “Master?”
“What is it?”
Arcane reared up beside him and stared at the woman. “She’s a witch.”
“I’m aware.”
“A very powerful witch.”
He sighed. “Yes, I believe you are correct. I’ve seen her magic myself.”
Liam didn’t want to think about the work required to fix the aftermath of their fight. The pots were shattered. A hundred plants moaned in his mind, but he didn’t have the time to fix their ailments. Or the power. This little witch had drained him faster than any other opponent, and he’d fought in the faerie wars.
Faerie dust covered the room in a fine layer of green. He’d seen her reaching for the darts, their pink tips covered in troll dust. The woman had wanted him to fall asleep and not wake back up. Smart, but also foolish when her intention was so clear.
Where had she learned how to fight?
He had a thousand and one questions, but none he’d answer while she still slept.
Sighing, Liam looked down at Arcane. “I’m going to wake her up. Are you sure you want to be here for this?”
Arcane straightened his spine even more and bared his fangs. “She picked me up and threw me into the tomatoes. I want answers.”
That shouldn’t have been so funny, but Liam found himself silencing a chuckle. Few people had the courage to pick up a faerie familiar. Let alone one who was hundreds of years old and had been every form of snake imaginable.
The woman had tossed Arcane into the vegetables. He bit his lip at the image.
Balls. The woman definitely had balls.
“All right, Monstera,” he said. “Hold on to her tight. We don’t trust her yet.”
“Of course, Master.”
He snapped his fingers and all the faerie dust in the room disappeared.
The woman blinked her eyes open. It took a while, as it always did with humans. Her eyes narrowed the moment they focused, then she struggled against her bindings.
Monstera tightened her man-sized leaves. He could hear the telltale creak of bones, and the witch stopped moving.
She breathed shallowly. “Tell your plant to ease up.”
“I don’t think I will.” He remained seated and relaxed, but he wanted to fly at her and end it all. Too bad he had questions for the witch. “Why don’t you tell me who you are now?”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
Liam lifted a brow and Monstera squeezed a little more. The breath wheezed out of the witch’s lungs. Her eyes widened as she realized she couldn’t inhale while the plant held her so tightly.
To her credit, she lasted until her face was purple. Only then did she nod at him.
Monstera eased up enough for the woman to fill her lungs with air. And while she got herself back under at least some semblance of control, Liam surveyed her.
Though he didn’t want to think good of the witch, she was beautiful. Her dark hair glistened in the dim light. Her eyes were a startling shade of hazel, blazing green with power. He hadn’t thought humans could have green magic. This one surprised him more and more just by existing.
He’d been alone too long. Liam noticed her soft curves too much. The swells of her breasts were nearly as tantalizing as the curve of her hips.
Monstera’s leaves left the woman’s clothing askew. The leather of her pants couldn’t shift, but the billowing white shirt had ridden up to reveal a waist so pale he could have traced the webbing of blue veins underneath her skin.
He couldn’t afford to think like this. She was the enemy. She was a witch who had come into his home to kill him, and that should have been enough to kill her.
And yet, it wasn’t.
He leaned back, straightened his spine and rose to his fullest height. “Are you going to tell me who you are, now?”
“I’m a witch,” she snapped.
“Clearly.”
He didn’t want to force Monstera to squeeze the woman again, but he would. The plant was all too happy to remind the witch who was in control.
The leaves tightened before the woman let out a snarl. “Fine! My name is Morgan Lefair, I was hired to kill you.”
Liam lifted a brow again. “Yes, that much is clear. I don’t care what your name is, woman.”
“Don’t faeries collect names like gemstones?” she asked. “Every one of you wants to control someone or something whenever you want. My name is more powerful on your tongue than any spell.”
He supposed she was right. Most faeries needed a name to control humans. “I’m not just a faerie. I’m the Mountain King. I don’t need your name to control you.”
He could boil her blood because there was metal in her. He could twist her form because carbon existed in the human body. There were so many things he could do and he didn’t need permission to use her name.
Liam wouldn’t, though. He had never found humans to be a challenge, therefore, he ignored their existence. He just wanted to be left alone.
Arcane slithered closer to the woman. “Why do they want to kill the Mountain King?”
Ah yes, he should have asked that. Liam didn’t care if someone wanted to kill him. Someone always did. Faerie kings weren’t exactly liked by any kind of creature. He was more concerned about her abilities to carry out the deed.
He’d never worried someone might actually kill him before. Not until her.
The woman, Morgan, he reminded himself, relaxed against Monstera. “I don’t know why they want to kill him.”
He could sense the lie long before she even said the words.
Arcane’s tongue flicked out and Liam knew the creature was tasting for deception. It was one of the best tricks his familiar knew how to do. One Liam had taught him.
The snake weaved in the air, back and forth like a cobra in a basket. “You’re lying, human.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are. I can taste it like whiskey in the air. Bitter and tempting for all humans. Why is it that your kind finds lying so entertaining? Why lie when you could tell the truth?”
Her face paled even more, if that was possible. Morgan licked her lips, and his gaze caught on the glimpse of a pink tongue.
So pretty. He’d always loved pink things. Flowers, pale silk ribbons, the blush of a woman as it spread across her chest.
He’d been alone for too long. Clearly. Lusting after the witch sent to kill him was a new low.
Liam crossed his legs, uncrossed them at the sudden discomfort, then looked around for his escape. He couldn’t be in this room with her a moment longer when all he could think about was that pink tongue.
What could she do with it? Faeries were uninhibited people. They used their bodies like musical instruments. Humans were a different matter. He’d only taken a few of them to bed and they were always so deliciously shy.
He didn’t think this witch had a shy bone in her body. She struck him as the kind of creature to take charge, a woman who knew what she wanted and how to take it.
What would she take from him?
He stood abruptly. The snake stopped moving and stared over his non-existent shoulder while the woman glared.
Liam wanted to tell her to stop frowning. All he could think about was how close that expression was to the one she might make while screaming his name, and damn it. He needed to go.
He growled, “Get out of my realm, human.”
“I’ll just go back through the portal then.” She struggled against Monstera again, but this time the plant didn’t know if she should stop the witch.
He didn’t care how she left, only that she was gone by the time he returned. Stalking away from the room, he paused at the door when her words flickered to life in his mind.
The portal?
Portals were rare. He knew all the portals and where they were because he’d built them himself. The Mountain King should know when someone waltzed into his home. A tingle of magic had always warned him when someone was approaching.
But he hadn’t felt the tingle. Maybe he’d been so engrossed in his work he hadn’t noticed, but such a slip wasn’t like him.
Liam turned back to the woman, dread churning in his stomach. “Where is this portal?”
The witch stopped struggling against the leaves. She stared at him with her mouth agape, as though he’d asked her to come to bed with him. “In the trees,” she replied. “Near the dust faeries.”
There were no portals near the dust faeries. Not a single one, because they liked to chatter at visitors about things they shouldn’t know. His worst dreams had been realized.
Someone had opened a portal, without permission, and sent a human through to kill him. They’d spilled faerie blood. Blood only meant to be used when a faerie was in mortal danger.
Clearing his throat, Liam leaned against the door jamb and crossed his arms. He stared at the woman as he pawed through his thoughts.
She couldn’t stay. His reaction to her was frightening and strong. If she stayed, he’d do something he regretted and then letting her go would be even more difficult. She was right that faeries liked to collect gemstones, and she was the most precious he’d seen in a long time.
But she also knew a rebel faerie. She knew why they wanted him dead. He could still smell the lie radiating off her like rotting meat. And the witch was capable of green magic, stronger than any he’d ever seen before.
Another question he needed answered. It seemed this woman was full of impossible things and he couldn’t let her go until he knew the meaning to each and every one of them.
Faeries couldn’t lie. The spell surrounding his people enchained his tongue as well. But he could twist the truth at least a little, and perhaps the woman would make her own assumptions.
“The portals only open on Imbolc and Samhain,” he replied.
It wasn’t a lie. He had omitted the information that the portals opened on those days to all neighboring kingdoms and humans. They didn’t need permission to pass into his land for the feasts and festivities.
Portals were, technically, always open. He just knew when people were coming and going from them on the other days.
Let her make her own assumptions.
Her eyes widened in shock and he knew she’d made the correct leap in her mind. The one that would let him control her for a little while longer.
“What?” she whispered. Her shocked horror spread through the room as green magic leaked out of her. He could see it dripping from her body and landing back into the earth in wet plops.
When had humans gotten so strong?
“Faerie,” her snarl echoed. “Tell me truth. I need to go home and if I can’t kill you, then I’ll gladly go with my tail tucked between my legs.”
There were many things he wanted to do between her legs, and none of them had to do with a tail. Liam shook himself clear of the thought and left the room before he did something he regretted.
Her voice followed him as she shouted, “Faerie! I will destroy you for this!”
Faerie courts help him, but he hoped she did. What a way to go.
7
What was she going to do? Her herbs, her home, her job. Everything was back in the human realm and she couldn’t leave them for more than a few days. Let alone...
Morgan froze. She’d be late to the witches summit. Or worse, she would miss her own coven meeting.
They’d kill her. Any witch who didn’t pledge fealty to the others, the ones who were deemed outcasts, were too dangerous to allow alone in the woods.
They’d hunt her just like the other magical creatures. If she missed the summit, she might as well give up her life here and now. They wouldn’t stop until she was dead, and her bones burned.
Plenty of witches wanted to wield the torch. They didn’t like hedge witches anymore than they liked kitchen witches. They thought her weak and a grim omen for the name of power.
She was so dead.
Morgan berated herself for ever taking this job. She should have known the faerie king would ruin her plans. Faeries always did.
The snake at her feet shifted. The creature had stared at the door for a long time before it must have finally realized its master wasn’t returning.
It turned to glare at her. “Well, what am I supposed to do with you?” the snake hissed.
“Let me go?” she replied.
“I can let you go, but you won’t like what happens next.” The creature’s long body coiled in a slithering circle.
“Oh?”
If a snake could grin, the creature managed it. “I’ll eat you.”
Morgan couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing until her entire body ached. “A garden snake? Eating me?” Her shoulders shook, and her ribs protested the hysterical sounds erupting from her body. “Maybe a finger or a toe, but I don’t think you’d have much luck!”
Her mirth spread, shaking the plant until she realized the monstera holding her was laughing, too. If she listened hard enough, feminine chuckles spread through the roots.
The snake hissed out a long, angry sound before it settled onto the ground and slithered to the door. “Both of you have no respect. No respect!”
She supposed she didn’t, but how was she to respect a creature that small with so much bluster? The snake was adorable and loyal to its master. But it was still just a garden snake with the heart of a boa.
When she was alone with the monstera, Morgan reached deep into her power. The well of magic she’d always envisioned as a pool was dreadfully low. She could see the bottom and wade through it up to her mind’s knees, but only that.
She dipped her fingers into it, then used a few drops to ask, “Can you let me go? Or does your master wish me to be held like this forever?”
In response, the monstera unfurled its great leaves.
“Thank you,” Morgan said as it helped her onto her feet. “You’re very strong.”
The monstera then did something Morgan didn’t expect. The plant shifted, and she could hear a voice in her head. “Thank you, witch. Your magic is very strong.”
A small sound of surprise escaped her lips before she could catch it. The little scoff wasn’t meant as an insult, but a sound of shock that a plant was... talking. Like this. So easily when it should have required magic poured into it.
Perhaps that was the miracle of this place. The man who owned it, who’d clearly created the entire realm, had fed more magic into the soil than Morgan had thought possible.
She placed a hand against her aching ribs and forced her body into a low bow. Though it hurt, the monstera deserved what little respect she could afford. “It’s an honor to meet you. What shall I call you?”
“Monstera is the name the Mountain King gave me.”
“That’s not a name. It’s your species.”
“And it is also what he calls me.”
The argument was over before it had begun. The plant had no intention of ever letting Morgan sway her thoughts on the Mountain King. Likely to his own benefit, considering the creature wasn’t going anywhere. And it had more importance to him than the others.
Morgan would have to be blind to not see Monstera was the Mountain King’s favorite. He’d given her a place of honor in the house, along with the sick plants in the other room. Morgan could feel them dying, too far gone for her magic to help.
“Did he make all this?” she asked, hesitant to know the answer but needing the truth. “Not just the cottage but the realm and the plants?”
“He cannot create life from nothing, if that’s what you’re asking. But yes, he has fed all of us. We call him life.”
The Mountain King had created a new realm for himself so h
e could escape the actual world. Then, he’d brought plants from everywhere he could and fed them his own life force, his own magic.
Which meant when she had pulled from the land, she’d actually pulled from him.
Morgan looked down at her hands and felt ill. The power in her was his. She’d taken from a faerie and used their own magic against them. Such an act felt as though she had somehow desecrated him and herself without knowing.
“If I can’t go home, I can’t imagine I’m welcome to stay here. I tried to kill him.”
Monstera’s leaves shook. “And a valiant attempt it was. There are guest houses outside, just beyond the ridge. The grass will take you there.”
The grass?
Morgan tried hard not to ask questions. She knew the faerie realms were different and if the plants of this place were feeding off their master, then they could do unimaginable things.
Blades of grass could change forms into switchblades. Flowers could open up into eyes.
No place was safe here for her.
Why in the world had that stupid vampire thought she could come in here and kill the king with no issues at all?
Why had she thought she could do this on her own?
Sighing, Morgan nodded at Monstera. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, I’m not sure I’ll try to kill him again.”
“You’d be foolish to try, but I don’t think you give up easily either.”
How sweet of the plant to think Morgan was so capable. The handsome faerie had slapped her down like a cat playing with a mouse. She knew when the noose threatened. Any wrong step would put her deep below the ground with his roots tangled in her hair.
Her self preservation was much stronger than her need to stay out of a magical jail. Morgan would rather run for the rest of her life.
If Morgan wanted more magic, and she did, then she’d need to find something else to fill her well. She could sacrifice pieces of herself, but that would only make things worse. Drawing from the earth here was only drawing from him. He’d feel it. Thus, that could not happen.
“Stuck between a rock and a hard place,” she muttered.
The rock being her own lack of magic. The hard place being... well. Him.