CHAPTER ONE
He woke with his arms clutching her. Except, she wasn’t there. She was never there. His hands felt empty, as if a piece of him were missing—had always been missing.
Until her.
Xaneth rolled onto his back and fisted his hands, jagged rock digging into him. He still felt Aisling against him, still smelled her jasmine scent. He opened his eyes and stared at the gray sky. Smaller, wispy clouds drifted leisurely against the backdrop of larger, darker clouds. At least his headache was gone.
They used to plague him often after he snuffed out evil, but they had ceased—at least, he’d thought they had. After the battle on the Isle of Skye, they had returned with a vengeance. How he despised them. They caused him to pass out, which left him vulnerable. Like last night—or however long it had been since he’d fallen unconscious.
He took a deep breath and slowly released it. Nothing had been the same since Skye. He’d had a chance to end the Fae Others’ leader but had opted to save Aisling instead of going after Lena.
Xaneth sat and bent his knees to plant his feet on the ground. He wound his arms around his legs and looked at his hands. He’d never felt so helpless, so powerless as he had when holding Aisling’s dead body. He should’ve known that he couldn’t do anything to help her. The rage and despair that had welled within him when he realized she had breathed her last had been more than he could handle. He’d been ready to destroy everything.
For her.
Then, inexplicably, she’d taken a breath. He’d been so dumbfounded that he could do nothing but stare at her. He had almost gone back to her. Held her. Touched her. Then he remembered who he was…what he was. And he knew he had to leave. His mission was to eradicate evil. Nothing more. Nothing less.
So, he’d teleported away before he did something foolish. At least Aisling was alive. That gave him a measure of comfort. Though he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
He fisted his hands once more and hung his head. Skye had been a disaster for him. He could’ve—and should’ve—ended Lena once and for all. The havoc the Fae had caused was unconscionable. How many more times would he have the opportunity to reset the balance between good and evil? How could he continue walking this realm, knowing he had let his personal feelings get in the way of what he was meant to do?
Xaneth got to his feet and looked at his surroundings. Wind buffeted him on all sides, the air heavy with the scents of salt, driftwood, and seaweed. Water met the horizon in every direction he looked. Beneath his feet, the rocky ground had patches of snow that clung to the last vestiges of winter. He scanned the desolate area, looking for any signs of life. Other than sea lions and birds, he saw nothing.
Where was he? He glanced at the semi-sheltered area of rocks against the rising hill where he had been lying. At least he hadn’t been left completely exposed—not that the boulders hid him, but they were better than nothing.
Xaneth leaned his head to one side and then the other, hearing the pops as he stretched his neck. Then he looked up at the tall mound and its steep incline. It wasn’t large enough to be a mountain, but it was by no means puny. He could teleport to the peak, but he needed movement after being unconscious. So, he began the arduous trek upward.
By the time he reached the top, his breaths came rapidly. The isle was small, maybe only a quarter mile in any direction. And uninhabited. Perhaps that was why he had chosen it, though he had no memories of it. Other islands were near, and he could even see movement on some. Was he still in Scotland? Xaneth tried to pull up his memories of what’d happened after he left Aisling on Skye, but everything was blank.
How many days had passed? Or was it weeks? How he hated the lost time with no way to account for it.
His thoughts drifted back to Aisling. The moment he’d gone to Skye to join the Reapers and Druids in fighting the Fae Others, he had sought her out—even when he knew he shouldn’t have. They had stood shoulder to shoulder in battle. Not because she couldn’t take care of herself, but because he hadn’t been able to stay away.
She had followed him for weeks, and he’d demanded that she leave him be. She had finally given up and returned to the Reapers as he wanted. He should’ve been overjoyed. Except, he had been anything but. He should’ve kept his distance from her. But that was like asking the moon not to shine.
Xaneth thought of that battle and how he had known that Aisling had his back. That he could count on her. Just as she had known that she could count on him. They had been in sync on a level he hadn’t comprehended even existed. He had enjoyed fighting alongside her, as odd and ghastly as it was to admit.
Since he had awoken from his torture at the hands of his aunt, Xaneth had been utterly and completely alone. At first, he’d wanted to change that, but it didn’t take him long to realize that he was something different. Something to be feared. That was when he knew he had to stand apart from everyone else for however long he had left.
Even the beautiful Aisling.
Especially her.
Because he craved to be near her.
He fought it every second of every hour. His mistake had been going to her before the battle. Worse, he’d lifted her into his arms when he found her wounded. He swallowed at the memory of holding her. The feeling of her body had been imprinted on his soul, just as her exquisite face. He would never be able to forget her, no matter how hard he tried.
Xaneth glanced down at his damp clothes covered in dirt and blood. Aisling’s blood. With a thought, he teleported to one of his safe houses that he’d once used when hiding from his aunt, Usaeil. At one time, he’d believed that was the darkest time of his life. She had been intent on erasing everyone in their family. He had been the last, and he had made it his mission to keep out of her reach until he could end her life.
He’d been damn successful at keeping away from her, too. He’d become known as the Seeker, a Fae who did business with both the Dark and the Light—something that just wasn’t done. Yet he’d found a place for himself in that in-between world. He’d even become…if not friends, then friendly with the King of the Dark, Balladyn. They’d agreed to help each other kill Usaeil since she had betrayed them both. Instead, Usaeil had captured Xaneth and murdered Balladyn. At least Balladyn had gotten a second chance when Death made him a Reaper.
Xaneth hadn’t had that option. Usaeil had trapped him in his own mind, endlessly torturing him. He had finally gotten free, but it had been an accident. He’d been trying to end his life to stop the horrible cycle of torment and somehow freed himself. When he went looking for Usaeil to exact his revenge, he’d learned that his cousin—Usaeil’s own daughter—Rhi had risen against her with the Dragon Kings. Though the Light and Dark army had eventually killed Usaeil. Xaneth would’ve loved to have been the one to take her life, but it was enough that she no longer lived.
As for him, he knew his time on Earth was measured, and there was nowhere else for him to go. Whether Usaeil had changed him or he’d done it himself when he got free of her torture, he was different. Now, he smelled the unmistakable, vile stench of malevolence. And once he did, he was compelled to hunt it down and end it.
The Fae Others reeked of such vast amounts of evil that it made him gag. The Six—three Dark and three Light Fae—had created the group modeled after the original Others who had attempted to take down the Dragon Kings. Though the Kings had won and stamped out the Others—or so everyone thought. One Fae, Brian, had hidden, while two Druids were allowed to go free because no one believed they could do any harm.