CHAPTER ONE
KERRIGAN
The key turning in the lock woke Kerrigan. That click had long ago become an alarm she couldn't afford to ignore, or it meant a bad day. She reached for the lamp, didn't find it, and stretched an arm out to grope atop the nightstand. A lantern. She tapped the glass to switch it on, blinking in the sudden brightness. As she took in her surroundings, her groggy thoughts cleared, but her spirits sank. It might be a bad day anyway.
The bare wooden walls and floor of the small, windowless room reminded her they were in a cabin, not her house in the city. Her uncle would be nearby all day. While her house was big enough to avoid him, this place was not.
She rose, made her bed, and opened the door. Down the hallway to the right was the bathroom, where she found her clothes issued for the day and her instructions.
There was never a choice in what she wore or her routine for the day. It had been so long since she'd had a choice, she only vaguely remembered having options.
Shower and breakfast -- one slice of toast and one egg -- fifteen minutes. Guests arriving in two hours. Have the cabin clean and stay out of sight.
Kerrigan took a hurried shower and put on the jeans and long-sleeved shirt. No shoes. There rarely were since the third time she'd tried to escape her uncle's care. He'd not let her have pants for a while after the fourth attempt. When he found her after her fifth try, he'd put a collar and leash on her and threatened to amputate her feet.
She didn't taste the food as she chewed mechanically while cleaning the mess her uncle had left in the kitchen. Guests arriving? Stay out of sight? Normally, her uncle enjoyed ordering her around in front of his Unseelie friends.
There wasn't much tidying to do. A door leading off the kitchen was locked, and she knew better than to ask about locked doors. As she wiped a window clean, she eyed the forest on the other side of the yard. She'd been unconscious when they arrived. That was the norm when her uncle took her somewhere. He never left her with any clues as to where she was or how far away help might be.
How far could she get into the trees? Far enough to get away this time? Was this a normal forest or a Fae forest? Some things found in Fae forests were more dangerous than her uncle, but without venturing into the woods, there was no way to tell.
She rushed through her chores twice, making sure everything was just so, exactly how her uncle insisted things be kept, and slipped into her room as a heavy fist pounded on the door. The guests were arriving.
A red dress lay on her bed. Red shoes on the floor. Foreboding filled her as the decadent silky material slid through her fingers. Although her uncle wore expensive garments, he didn't clothe her in the same manner. The edge of the dress slipped off the bed, and matching, lacy undergarments fell to the floor.
Her hands shook as she folded the jeans and shirt and pulled on the lacy panties and bra. Her uncle had always been free with his fists, but he'd never left her underwear like this, or given any sign he wanted their relationship, such as it was, to change. He didn't even like her. She swallowed hard, hoping her thoughts were heading in the wrong direction, even though she couldn't imagine why else he'd give her things like this to wear.
But, as usual, she didn't have a choice. There was no escape for the moment. She pulled the dress over her head, tugged the zipper closed, and slipped on the strappy, high-heeled sandals with dread. There were guests. Was this outfit for them? The frock cinched at her waist and the low neckline, combined with the bra, displayed her breasts. The hemline hit her mid-thigh. There was a lot of her body on display. Although she had shoes, she'd break an ankle if she tried to run.
Several more fists pounded on the door. How many people were coming?
Heavy footsteps on hardwood planks stopped outside her door. Two men she didn't know burst into the room. They were big, scarred, and horned. Members of The Hunt. She stumbled back from them, falling onto the bed, but they hauled her up by her arms and dragged her out. She'd had no instructions about this.
"Who are you?" She hated the quaver in her voice. "Where are you taking me?"
A slap served as warning she wouldn't get answers. The blow wasn't hard -- more shocking than painful. No one other than her uncle had hit her before.
They opened the door off the kitchen that had been locked since her uncle brought her here two days ago and forced her down some stairs into a room carved from the earth. Lanterns hung on the walls.
More men waited at the bottom. Big, leather-clad men wearing capes and helmets. Some had horns. Others hooves. More of The Hunt. All of them must be here. The worst of the worst. They enjoyed chasing their prey down and inflicting pain.
Hot eyes roved over her body in a way that made her feel like she wasn't dressed at all. In the middle of the room, a hook dangled from the ceiling above a wooden post. A coiled whip hung on the wall, next to manacles, canes, and knives.
Her blood ran cold as her heart pounded and her breath came in short pants that did nothing to provide her with oxygen.
"Here she is." Her uncle, blonde hair and short beard immaculately groomed, wore a custom-made blue suit and shiny black shoes. He flashed white teeth in a smarmy grin as he approached and used the end of his silver-tipped walking cane to lift her chin. "Get a good look, everyone, and don't insult me with any low bids. If you don't like her black eyes, just keep her blindfolded. Or have them taken out."
Sheer disbelief froze Kerrigan in place. Surely she had to be mistaken. What her uncle was saying couldn't be right. What had she done that deserved this treatment?
He nodded to the man on her left. "Bind her."
Panic kicked in. Kerrigan wrenched an arm free and punched her second captor in his gut. Startled, he loosened his grip.
She ducked a fist but caught a hard slap to the face that spun her around. She kept to her feet by sheer luck and bolted up the stairs, swearing as her ankles wobbled and twisted one way, then the other.
Her uncle laughed. "You know, running doesn't help. Doesn't help you, anyway."
He was right, and it was pointless to run from the men of The Hunt, but everything was different now. The beatings were expected. He used his fists often. Today there was a whip. And a crowd. A post. Ropes. An auction.
For her.
He lived in the house she'd inherited when her parents died. Spent her money. Treated her like a slave. She thought he'd already taken everything from her. It had been that way for years. What changed?
Kerrigan darted through the kitchen and out the back door, racing over the grassy expanse of the backyard and throwing herself into the woods. Her heels sank into soft earth, but refused to slow. Branches and thorny bushes tore at her flesh and dress.
What now? She knew nothing about the forest. But being sold, beaten, and raped would not end well for her. One of her heels snapped, and she lurched, hitting the ground on her hands and knees. Rolling to her side, she ripped at the thin straps of the sandals and kicked them off. The Hunt whooped and shouted behind her.
She'd probably done what they wanted when she ran. They were closing in. Scrambling to her feet, she bolted toward the bright light at the end of the forest.
Stay on the path, Kerrigan. If this was a human forest, the path would lead to the exit. If this was a Fae forest, leaving the path could get her lost, so she never escaped.
Kerrigan had hardly gone ten more steps when a leather-clad and caped man stepped out of the trees in front of her, bringing her to a skidding halt. Dark-haired and blue-eyed, he had a kinder face than the other men in the cellar, but it could be a glamour. How had he found her so quickly and got in front of her? A scream welled in her throat as he stepped toward her.
"I won't hurt you." He held up his hands. "Come with me. I'll take you somewhere safe, but we have to go now." His body shimmered, and a black horse stood before her.
A puca! His offer was tempting. Too tempting. His magic tried to lure her closer, to run her fingers through his mane and climb onto his back. Often as not, they led people astray, or took them for terrifying rides, but brought them back to where they'd started. She couldn't return here.
He knew the right words to say, and Fae couldn't lie, but if he was Unseelie, or with The Hunt, he could twist his words. Take her somewhere safe, but for how long? He wouldn't hurt her, but he might take her straight to others who would.
She was better off on her own. Shaking her head, she held her breath and took a chance, plunging off the path into the trees where he couldn't follow -- at least not as a horse.
"No! Don't --" he called.
Kerrigan ignored him. He'd just try to trick her with his words. Sharp rocks and twigs dug into her soles, and she winced as she passed him. Branches snarled in her hair. Three more steps and she angled back onto the trail, where she sprinted. This had to be the same path. She'd only taken a few steps and kept her eyes on it the whole time.
Ahead, the end of the forest came into a sight -- sun shining on a grassy expanse. She put on a burst of speed. Freedom was so close!
A heavy weight came out of nowhere and collided with her. She grunted as her chest smacked into the ground and something inside her cracked. Her breath whooshed out. Hands were on her, grasping and groping as she tried to scramble away. The material of her dress tore. She clawed at the dirt, sure the next inch she gained would be enough to pull herself free.
The man she'd punched in the cellar flipped her over and pinned her with his bigger body. His foul breath wafted into her face.
She threw soil into his eyes and clawed at him. If she didn't get away this time, she might be killed. Or have a fate worse than death.
In return, she received a fist to her stomach and a hand around her neck that cut off her air. All thoughts of escape vanished as she fought just to breathe. Spots formed in her vision as the edges darkened. Her arms weakened and fell to her sides as starbursts went off in her brain and her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
Giddiness made her want to laugh. If she died this way, she would ruin her uncle's plans. Maybe that was worth it. She felt herself drifting away on a painless cloud.
Footsteps pounded toward them. "Let her go," a man ordered. "You can't kill her unless you buy her first. That's the deal."
The hand disappeared from her throat and the heavy weight pinning her down disappeared. No! She was so close to an escape. Despite her fervent wish to keep floating away, her body gasped to take in a life-saving breath. Tears streamed down her cheeks as hopelessness and the pain of her torn skin and broken ribs returned.
They hauled her up, ignoring her scream of pain as her ribs grated, and easily kept her lifted so her feet didn't touch the ground. Their grips on her arms this time left no room for an escape attempt. Their fingers dug into her skin all the way to her bones.
The cabin loomed in front of them. Going off the path must have triggered the magic and turned her around. She should have gone with the puca. She'd ended up back where she started anyway.
Kerrigan fought back the urge to weep as she struggled and kicked, but her captors laughed. They manhandled her into the kitchen and back downstairs to the cellar.
