Her Master's Hand Read online

  He had her body just how he wanted it; arched back, her hips writhing. Just as she began to cum again, he finally allowed himself to release his essence inside of her. It felt like it had to have been made up of liquid energy. His knees suddenly felt weak from it.

  He had to sit down in the closest chair in him and catch his breath.

  She eventually sat up and grinned with amusement at him. “You okay? You were working so hard at the end I thought you were going to have a heart attack.”

  He growled at her teasing and then pulled her off of the desk until she plopped down in his lap, straddling him. “It’s been a very good evening so far, indeed,” he told her, and nibbled on her neck.

  “Mmm,” she purred sensually. “It has been nice.”

  “What now?” he asked, giving her a mischievous look and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  She knew better than to take him seriously—he was exhausted. She kissed him deeply as if she was going to suggest another round, which surprised him for a moment, before she broke the kiss and suggested, “Want to get in our pajamas, eat popcorn, and watch a movie that the kids would hate?” She bit her lip with excitement.

  He sighed with relief. “That is exactly the perfect end to a perfect evening.”

  “You have to stay awake at least past the opening credits this time,” she laughed, putting up a finger and tapping him playfully on the nose with it.

  “I can make no promises.”

  His phone rang. At first, they stared at each other’s eyes, in an obvious stand-off. Alice eventually shrugged and said, “It’s your phone, Moriarty. You get it.”

  He grumbled and they got off their chair, unwrapping their bodies from each other. He grabbed his pants back on, and then walked across the room for his phone. “It’s probably Naomi, quitting or something. Your son was probably caught putting up a secret camera in the maid’s shower room again,” he groused.

  “That was something your son did,” she denounced, even though they were talking about the same person. Alice was right though—when he was a boy, he spent a lot of time in fox form running and looking up young ladies’ skirts.

  He grunted and then snapped open his phone. He already knew that he was right about it being Naomi—their house phone had the ability to call Earthside lines, and the house phone was the source of the call. “Please say that you were just letting us know that they’re acting like perfect angels and there’s nothing to worry about,” he said in lieu of ‘hello.’

  What Naomi shrilly told him was so unbelievable that he nearly dropped the phone. “I…” He swallowed, then composed himself. “We’re coming home right now. Light all the torches, and call all hands. We’ll find them. We’ll be there soon, Naomi.”

  He turned the cellphone off and put it into his pocket. He grabbed for his shirt. Alice was still, staring at him fearfully. She must have gathered that something was wrong. “What is it?”

  He tugged his shirt on. “Naomi can’t find either Samuel or Cole. They didn’t come to dinner. She thinks they must be outside.”

  Alice, of course, went completely white, but then flew to action, pulling on jeans and shoes from their suitcase. “It’s dark!” she gasped, looking toward the window.

  It was a good rule never to be outside in the Northlands at night. It was a dangerous realm. Moriarty could hear his heart hammering, but he tried to keep a calm façade for his wife. “Don’t worry,” he told her. They left their suitcases on the floor and headed for the door. He grabbed his car keys on the way out. When Alice glanced at him with worry, anyway, he squeezed her hand. “Alice—we’ll find them.”

  He wouldn’t rest until he fulfilled his promise to her. He would find them, even if he had to crawl through hell to do it.

  * * *

  “You’re going to get us killed! What do you mean you haven’t covered up their tracks?” Princess Anya’s brother snapped, jerking her arm.

  Cole wasn’t exactly happy about being a prisoner, but he didn’t like the way Anya’s brother was holding onto her even more. There wasn’t a whole lot that Cole could do, however. Ankle chains chafed his ankles and his brother was sitting on his shoulders, dozing. Samuel’s weary whining was beginning to annoy his capturers, probably because elf children didn’t whine nearly as much as his brother did. Since then, he’d tried to carry Samuel as much as he possibly could.

  Anya let her brother shake her a bit but then he let her go. He walked over and began to sweep out the path that Cole had been making with his boots; the others didn’t leave prints at all.

  “I am sorry,” Anya said, turning toward Cole for what seemed like the thousandth time; she’d been saying that a lot.

  “Yes, you keep saying that,” Cole said dubiously. “But if you were actually sorry, you wouldn’t have had me marching for the last few days…”

  “I didn’t want to do this. None of us did. We have no ill will against the Huxians, but we were told that if we didn’t take the children of Moriarty Miles away from him, then the armies of Vanguard would descend on our home… We can’t fight them off. We’re too weak, now. We need the water Vanguard said he’d give us if we took you.” She swallowed. “We won’t kill you, though. We just won’t—that’s a step too far.”

  He was too busy being confused by the mystery than elated by this news. “Why does Vanguard want us dead? We can’t do anything to him; we’re cross-breeds. We’re not powerful. We can’t cause him harm…”

  “He didn’t tell my father why. He only demanded this the other day. He said that if we took you, your father and Ashcroft Medwin would follow.”

  He frowned. “I haven’t seen Ashcroft since I was seven years old. He’s across the world, as far as I know. I don’t think even father knows where he is!”

  She shook her head and lifted her shoulders. “I can’t explain why. I’m doing this for my people. We’re starving…”

  “I know,” Cole admitted, and when she gave him a look of surprise, he added, “It’s not like I’ve had anything better to do than to eavesdrop. I might know more about you than you think.” She gave him a smile so pretty and sensual he added, “I’ll tell you what—when this is over, we can just be friends, eh? I won’t hold hard feelings as long as you keep these guys from hurting Sam.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she fluttered her long eyelashes at him. Cole had had a feeling that she would jump at the chance at not feeling as guilty as she had. Obviously, she hadn’t wanted to kidnap him or anyone else. She chewed her lip. “You are very cute for a Huxian…”

  “Some would call me foxy,” Cole said with a wink. “That’s a horrible joke, I know, but it’s one of my father’s favorites. Seriously, though—we’re all extremely attractive.” She gave a laugh at his well-acted arrogance and he shrugged. “It’s a curse.”

  Princess Anya giggled and her eyes twinkled at him. “Alright, tell me what else you are, my modest friend.” She gave him a playful tap with her elbow.

  He smirked, realizing that if he played his cards right, he might be the first kidnapping victim ever to make a girlfriend out of one of his guards.

  God help him, no wonder his father didn’t trust him around women. Apparently, he could seduce just about anyone he wanted to.

  * * *

  Despair.

  Moriarty could barely breathe. He scratched desperately at the surface of the ground, wondering where the scent could have gone.

  Now there were no more footprints, no more scent, and still a whole world spread out in front of him. He couldn’t go back home without his boys. He would not return to his wife without their sons.

  He was so full of emotion that the world around him glazed over and wobbled with tears. Not his sons. Not both of them. Not like this. He couldn’t lose them.

  Yet Moriarty was exhausted after searching for so many days. Somehow they merely got farther and farther away from him despite how quickly he scurried through the thick forests.

  The trail they had left disappeared two whole
days ago. Samuel’s footprints were very light but unmistakable. Not only that, but he seemed to litter a wide trail of candy wrappers. Cole’s prints stayed close by to a female scent that he’d also traced from the beginning. Moriarty guessed that he had been lured by a female and was ambushed while his little brother followed him.

  Samuel walked very little; apparently Cole had mostly carried him—his footprints looked like he was carrying an extra seventy pounds on his back, meaning he was piggy-backing his kid brother on this obviously forced march. Cole’s legs were in irons, spread just wide enough to walk, but not enough to run. Also, he apparently had something around him that made it so he wouldn’t be able to fully change into his fox form, though Moriarty wasn’t sure what that could be.

  Cole’s kidnappers seemed to know what he was, and went out of their way to make sure he couldn’t get away.

  The only good sign there was that they hadn’t been eaten by a demon or another sort of monster that lurked in many of the woods surrounding Ashcroft’s tower. The boys were still alive.

  Still alive and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out where they were. He was too tired to even think now—he’d gone days without sleep and with hardly any food.

  He stretched out until he was back into human form, dirty and sweaty, and trudged back to where he had tied up his horse and his supplies. He had failed them; his head hung low, and he scrubbed the pads of his fingers over his sore eyelids. He walked to a small puddle of water, knelt down on one knee next to it, and then dug into his pocket. He did not have more than a couple of drops of the elixir he carried in his pocket to be able to contact his wife face-to-face, and he hated that this might be the last time he could look at her for a while.

  But he needed to call Alice now, who was probably pacing the floors but had very little choice about it. She was still breastfeeding Daniel; breast milk didn’t last more than about thirty hours, and after this fiasco, she wouldn’t have let the baby out of her sight, anyway. She had done nothing but blame herself since he told her what had happened; she had already felt guilty about spending a night away from the children. She had kept repeating that she was a horrible mother. It broke his heart to hear her say that. It was so intensely not true that it had even angered him.

  No, he was the failure. He was the one who couldn’t protect his own family.

  He carefully released one drop of the elixir into the water, said her name, and waited for her visage to appear. She was hard to see in the dirty water, but he could see a stretched, exhausted expression.

  “Did you find them?” Alice asked, panting and trying to adjust the crying baby in her arms.

  He shook his head, and then realized that his body language was meaningless. “No… I…” He swallowed. “I lost the scent, Alice. I can’t pick it up again. I don’t…” He looked up at the sky for a second and admitted, “I don’t know what to do.”

  Well, she apparently had already decided on the next course of action, because she didn’t hesitate. “Ashcroft. Contact Ashcroft.”

  That was a man who he hadn’t even thought about. Ashcroft hadn’t popped into his head even once the whole last five days while he was searching. He felt a small flutter of hope, but then remembered that Ashcroft was half-mad when he’d last seen him. He hadn’t seen the man in ten years even for the briefest of moments, and he had no idea what he’d really been up to. He might have been unfit to help, and that was if the man could have normally been anything at all to help him. “The man’s probably on the whole other side of this world, Alice,” he warned her, huffing with exhaustion.

  “And he would come if you asked him to. You know he would,” she pleaded.

  Of course he would. Ashcroft was closer to him than any brother would be. Ashcroft would do anything for him, or die trying.

  It was clear that he had to contact Ashcroft, as insane as he might be. What else was there to do? Moriarty could comb the entire Otherworld with a fine-tooth comb for his children, but they’d grow up in the meantime. If he was lucky enough to ever see them alive again at all. “You need to send the message for me. I don’t know where he is, so our only hope in reaching him is with the fire-coin.”

  Although Moriarty had long wished the Otherworld would more happily take on the technology provided by the Earthside mortals, cellphone coverage wasn’t even possible more than a mile away from an Earthside portal. Most modern machinery was useless in this realm.

  Thus, he had to use the antiquated fire-coin, a magical communication device that would sometimes accidentally burn the receiver of the message that passed through it. He still used it once a year to be able to stay in contact with Ashcroft, but never before had he used it for any really meaningful purpose.

  “Where do you want me to tell him to meet you?” she asked him.

  Moriarty looked around, trying to pinpoint where he even was. By the bluish looks of the flora, he was beginning to assume he was in the Smokey Lines, which was a thin yet expansive forest south of the Northlands. He grunted and said, “I think I’m just east of New Gate in the Smokey Lines. Tell him my position and the details and he’ll write back and tell me where to meet him.” He sighed. “I’m so sorry, Alice.”

  “For what?” she asked him tenderly. “Stay where you are and get some rest. Stay by water—I’ll contact you as soon as I hear back from Ashcroft.” She paused. “I love you, Moriarty. Don’t give up. Okay?”

  “I won’t, darling. I’ll talk to you soon.” As soon as her face faded away, he slumped his body down next to a tree, grabbing his head between his hands even though it was surely crushing his cap. He had never felt so miserably useless. “Ashcroft, damn you,” he said to the woods around him. “You’d better get that letter. I actually need your bloody help for once.”

  Chapter Nine

  Maili grumbled as she stared out of the window, her body bent up over the edge of the sofa, resting her head in one of her hands. She hated the rain. Hated it. Yes, yes—it was better than a drought, but she wished it would only happen when she was sleeping.

  Ashcroft was where he usually was, on a desk in the corner right underneath the majority of the room’s lanterns. The man still wore spectacles on his nose, and except for the annoying sound of the pages of his book flipping, and the ‘tink-tink-tink’ of him tapping his quill’s edge on the edge of his ink jar, the room was silent.

  She wasn’t sure if she was pleased or upset that he wasn’t much of a speaker. In fact, it had been nearly a week since he’d brought her back home, and he was beginning to blend into papa’s office like he was a piece of furniture. The only thing that would get him to move was mealtime, and even then he would have to be called several times before he’d rise from his seat.

  “He’s horribly dull, isn’t he?” she was complaining to her mama one morning. “How has he lived so long? If we weren’t here, making meals for him, he’d just sit there and starve to death in that chair.”

  Anwen pinched a loose curl away from where it was dangling down Maili’s neck and pulled it behind her ear while softly sighing, as if she was wishing that Maili was more patient. “Yes, but he’s an archivist, darling. The only thing that powers his sort is knowledge. He views his books as his energy, rather than food. Some can go weeks studying without eating or sleeping at all.”

  At this point, Maili had witnessed enough to believe that, but then she tilted her head. “Does something give me powers, mama?” she asked.

  Anwen gave her a chiding look, as if she was being horrible by reminding Anwen that she was a witch at all. Finally, patiently, Anwen said, “I don’t know, darling, but it doesn’t matter, does it? You don’t need powers.”

  She pressed her nose up to the glass now, willing for the rain to stop. Rain always made her feel like something horrible was going to happen. It filled the pit of her stomach with unhappiness she couldn’t even pinpoint the source of.

  “What are you looking at?” she suddenly heard Ashcroft say from just above her head. She hadn’t notic
ed it, but he was practically leaning his big body over hers and aiming his gaze out the window, probably trying to find what she was staring at.

  She rolled her gaze upwards toward him. “Nothing. I just can’t go anywhere or do anything.”

  “Why?” he asked, then grinned. Teasingly, he guessed, “Because of the rain.”

  She nodded, but thoughtfully she acknowledged that he was actually very handsome when he smiled, even despite all of his scars.

  “Go out anyway,” he whispered to her, as if he was letting her in on a secret. “You’re immortal, Maili. That’s one of the perks—fear no rain.”

  “Mama worries I’ll take ill,” she sighed mournfully. Though, the selkies were probably all under the water’s surface today now that there was no sun to warm themselves under. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be outside in it… she just didn’t like the rain, the clouds, or any storms.

  He sat heavily down next to her, nearly making her jump up in the seat as the cushion adjusted to his weight. He might have been small next to Hoel, but he was still much larger than Maili. When they were both standing, Ashcroft would stand a full foot over her head, and his arms were larger than the size of her own thighs. “Lady Anwen is surely aware that immortals don’t take ill.”

  She frowned and then pouted. “Well, I do. I take ill every few years. It’s a horrible inconvenience. Up until a couple of years ago, papa let me go to town to assist him. He taught me to do all sorts of things—and then I got a horrible sickness that was going around that put me in bed for about three weeks. Most mortals died of that plague, though, and I only got ill. Papa was powerless against it…”