Free NocC 021 - Jessa Slade - Dark Hunter's Touch - Harlequin 2012-08 by Nocturne

into the unknown.
    In a small oxbow of the stream lay the broken circle of
toadstools that had been the undines’ gate to the phaedrealii . He completed the circle with his vial of spores and
stepped through.
    There was only one more phae he
needed to catch.
    So when guard duty at the Queen’s next feast was tossed his
way, he just bowed his head in acknowledgment while his brother Hunters jeered,
but this time he bit his cheek to hide his smile.
    Surely Imogene would be there.
    Sometimes the Queen led her courtiers out of the phaedrealii to dance in the reflected sunlight of a
full moon, but apparently she was loathe to risk any more runners. For this
gathering, the shifting walls of the court had drawn back far enough to resemble
a poppy field at dusk. As if a summer sun had just set, a warm glow lingered
across the illusory sky, but the scarlet blooms were already darkening toward
purple.
    The Queen held her phae in
concentric rings. Her attendants lingered nearby with less privileged courtiers
farther out. Her inner circle stood close at hand, her goblin chancellor hopping
at her elbow while her current favorite—a whispered half-blood with rounded
human ears and catlike elvish eyes—solicitously guided her over the rolling
grounds. Dozens of other phae drifted across the
field in small groups, their laughter like distant bells. Someone had even
procured a badminton set, and the soft thwack of
rackets was as indolent as a lazy heartbeat.
    Vaile took up a Hunter’s stance on the farthest edge of the
court. From the small rise beside a spreading tree, he had an uninterrupted view
across the crowd.
    The vantage point also made him clearly face the fact—despite
the idyllic picture—he was not protecting the phaedrealii but imprisoning it.
    He shifted restlessly, ruffling his wings to create a little
breeze in the sultry air. He should curse Imogene for making him realize how
unhappy the phae were…and how unhappy he had become.
But he couldn’t close his eyes again; that was not a Hunter’s way. He was on the
hunt, and his knack would find his answers.
    The glow of the sky did not falter, held in stasis by the
Queen’s magic, but will-o’-the-wisps emerged to dance among the poppies. Their
glinting light brightened the crimson petals like the explosions of miniature
fireworks, making the shadows beneath his tree seem darker by comparison.
Through the heavy drape of leaves, probably no one would even notice him except
for the wisps, and they would never tell anyone, except maybe…
    The slow wave of his wings halted, but the breeze still swirled
around him with a fragrance that haunted his waking dreams.
    He turned just in time to catch a flutter of white.
    “Imogene.” His voice caught raggedly on her name.
    She paused, though he had used no force to stop her, and
glanced over her winged shoulder. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
    He wondered if he should believe her. Without his skin against
hers, he couldn’t be sure. But when he took a step toward her, she sidled back.
Her hands fisted in her gold spider silk skirts, whisking the long train away,
as if she didn’t want any part of her near him.
    He stopped. “If you are looking for a place to hide, there’s
still room under here.”
    “Is that what you were doing here? Hiding?”
    “I was hoping to see you.”
    She snapped out her wings in a well, here
I am motion, but she pulled her arms close to tighten the spider silk
around her like golden armor. “I have plenty of phae watching me. They make sure I don’t go anywhere alone, and I don’t have access
to any gate spores. I suppose you can see me whenever you want since I’m going
nowhere.”
    The glitter in her blue eyes, sharp in the otherwise soft-focus
setting, was a clear warning he might see her, but he had better not touch. So
he looked his greedy fill.
    She was thinner than he remembered, as delicate as the young sylfana who had wished his wing whole. His
fingers clenched, as if he