The vision of Peter and Carl flashed, and Gabriel’s stomach clenched. “No.”

“Bullshit. Get the gun. Get in your car. By that time, I’ll have an address for you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

When I woke, something constricted my chest so tightly I could barely breathe. My shirt was unbuttoned, and underneath my bra was a tightly wound strip of cloth.

“You’re lucky she’s a lousy shot,” a voice said. “Or you’re just good at dodging bullets.”

I knew that voice. Sadly, it wasn’t the one I’d hoped for.

I turned to the Huntsman, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was nearly as big as Gabriel. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. Light brown hair and beard. Looking midthirties. That sense of wrongness he’d emanated in the forest was gone. Here, he looked and “felt” like an ordinary guy.

Yeah, an ordinary guy who tortured a hound and could knock me out with a psychic blow.

“I did not torture the hound,” he said.

Right, also mind reading. I needed to keep my thoughts muddled.

“The hound was broken when she came to me,” he said. “They broke her. Her pack. I healed her.”

“It wasn’t her pack,” I said. “It was an encounter with some creature she didn’t recognize. It killed her brothers and sister and left her maimed.”

“How do you—?”

“She told me everything. You found her. You tried to bribe her with food, and when that didn’t work, you captured her.”

“I healed her.”

“You abused her.”

“I never raised a hand—”

“You treated her like a dog.”

“She’s a cŵn. She serves—”

“You serve each other. That’s how it works. At least with real Cŵn Annwn.”

His face went taut, and he rocked forward as if he’d like to use that psychic TKO on me again. I wasn’t bound, though, and the door was half open. This wasn’t a hostage situation anymore. Or he wanted me to think it wasn’t.

I gritted my teeth against the pain and rose to my feet.

“I rescued you,” he said. “That lamia was going to kill you.”

“How much?” I said.

“What?”

“How much are you charging for the rescue?” I looked at him. “That’s how it works, right? You’re a mercenary. A Huntsman for hire. Now that bank has run dry, so you’re looking for a new source of income.”

“It’s not like that,” he said, a gruffness in his voice that added, Not exactly.

“Which part? You are a mercenary, right?”

“I have to make a living,” he said coldly. “My pack cast me out. Yes, I take money for the use of my skills, which do not involve murdering those who don’t deserve death.”

No, you just help others do it.

I managed to keep that thought hidden as he continued, “My deal with the lamia was not for money. She doesn’t have enough for what she needed done. She paid in other currency.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t sex.”

The look was almost a psychic blow in itself. “No. What they gave me is unimportant. I’ve terminated the contract because she tried to murder Matilda. I want nothing to do with madness like that. So I rescued you.”

“Great. Thanks.” I turned to the door. “Now, I need to—”

“—find Pepper before Melanie does. Yes. And the other one. The samhail.”

“Aunika? She’s down here?”

“They both are. But not where the lamia expects to find them. Once I have secured a promise of payment, I will tell you where they are. And give you these.” He held up my gun and a penlight.

“What’s the price?”

“A blood oath that you will return my hound.”

“Hell, no.”

“I don’t think you understand the situation—”

“If I promise you the hound, you’ll tell me where to find Pepper and Aunika, and you’ll give me back my gun. Otherwise, I have to find them myself, unarmed.”

“No, otherwise, I lock you—”

“Pointless. Gabriel or Ricky will come for me, so all that buys you is a head start. Here’s my offer: I give you my oath to tell Ioan and his merry Huntsmen that you saved my life. They won’t exactly thank you, but it’ll give you a lot more time to run. In return, you do the same—you let me walk away. Personally, I’d prefer the deal where I don’t give you shit, but being part fae, I understand the concept of a fair bargain.”

“And I am Cŵn Annwn, which means I don’t bargain.”

“Um, isn’t that exactly what you’re—?”

“I’m demanding payment for services rendered.”

“If you honestly think I’d return the hound so you can abuse—”

“I will treat her better. I’ll give my blood oath on that. You obviously have some method of communicating with her, so you will explain the situation to her. She stays with me and obeys me, and I will treat her well.”

“No.”

He stepped toward me, his eyes glowing with that wild light. “She is mine. I rescued her. I’ve taken care of her.”

I’d say she wasn’t mine to give, but that implied I would otherwise, and there was no question of that. I’d been inside her head. Returning her to this monster would make me one.