Hunter Sacrificed (Wild Hunt) Read online

  His vow to save mankind turns him into the father of the damned…

  Arawn, Lord of the Underworld, is faced with the hardest decision of his long life. Because of his neglect, humans are suffering…but his vow to make things right could cost him everything he holds dear.

  Minerva, the Goddess of Love, holds his heart and soul, but the act he must now commit might very well destroy their love.

  But his sacrifice doesn’t go far enough to end the humans’ agony. It compounds it—and turns him into a pawn. He cannot renege on his deal with the Triad, but he can avenge those he’s wronged.

  To do that, he’ll need every one of his Huntsmen to win the greatest game of all time—the Wild Hunt.

  Warning: Goodness and light vs. sacrifice and darkness. Seriously, what could possibly go wrong?

  Hunter Sacrificed

  Nancy Corrigan

  Dedication

  To my readers—thank you for slipping into my world where myth and love meet.

  Chapter One

  Screams reverberated inside Arawn’s head. He knew the story behind each one, had shared in their agony and had experienced their deaths. All had been avenged. None would be forgotten. It was his gift and a reminder of why he oversaw the punishment of the corrupt. Or so the Triad had told him the day he was chosen as the Lord of the Underworld.

  The day he was sacrificed.

  Damned and forgotten.

  Hands clenched, he strode across the balcony of his fortress. At the railing, he stopped and swept his gaze over his realm. The endless barren landscape offered little in the way of scenery or comfort. It wasn’t meant to give any.

  The unfortunate beings who found themselves on the desolate plains stayed only long enough to be judged before moving to the lower sections of Hell, where they faced their eternal punishment. The nine shimmering portals dotting the horizon provided access to each level. He studied the barriers, looking for any additional signs of deterioration. All remained secured. He nodded, pleased that his efforts to mend them had found some measure of success. The horrors and inhabitants contained within the Underworld could not be released, not ever again.

  The demon sentinels who guarded the gateways understood the dangers and the penalties if they failed in their role. Arawn had made sure of it, and those who obeyed his command were richly rewarded. Few offered him their allegiance, however. They were demons after all, and he was a god.

  Revered, envied, feared and…

  Blessed.

  Arawn cracked his jaw. The knowledge that he was the Triad’s favored servant, the one chosen to act as its hand in the never-ending battle against evil, didn’t comfort him or make his endless existence worthwhile. Only one thing did… One person, actually.

  Minerva.

  Silver hair and eyes, the face an angel and the body of a succubus—she was beautiful. As a goddess of love, she would be. He craved her touch, savored her every kiss and found heaven each time he joined their bodies.

  He closed his eyes and conjured her face, allowing the wonder she bestowed upon him to seize him. The screeches and moans echoing within him faded to murmurs. He sighed in relief. Peace filled him. Fleeting, yes. The second her image slipped from the forefront of his mind, the endless anguish he experienced would return.

  He treasured the moment. It would have to last. What he planned would take his personal heaven from him, at least for a little while.

  I have no other choice. My wrong must be righted.

  The truth didn’t erase the sin he would soon commit, nor did it justify his past actions. It was all he had to give his mate, however.

  It wasn’t enough. Nothing was.

  On a weary exhale, he opened his eyes, letting Minerva’s image scatter, lost to his memory. The endless expanse of the Underworld greeted him. The shrieks and pleas of victims returned, ten times worse than they had gripped him before. Dots spread over his vision, and the pressure behind his eyes built. He breathed through the sensation until the dizziness passed. One more deep inhale, and he steadied himself, pushing back the weakness only Minerva knew about.

  He turned his back on the domain he’d been tasked to oversee and made his way inside, each step slower than the last. Choices, past and present, weighed him down. They couldn’t be ignored, however. He’d picked his path, and the consequences of his decision were inescapable.

  At his office, he straightened his spine, then flung the door open.

  Lucas, the Demon King, stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze on Minerva’s portrait. He glanced over his shoulder. His plain brown eyes held curiosity. “You summoned me?”

  Arawn shut the door behind him. “I am leaving the Underworld, and I want you to maintain my rule while I’m gone.”

  Lucas raised a brown brow, the only sign of his shock. “And how do you plan to pull off such a feat? You are tied to this realm, as I am.”

  “Through my mate’s connection to the heavens.” She just didn’t know she’d be helping him yet.

  “I see.” Lucas faced Minerva’s portrait. “She plans to leave the Underworld too? I thought she’d vowed to remain here under your”—he cleared his throat—“protection.”

  Protection. Arawn almost snorted at the demon’s word choice. None of the creatures in the Underworld would dare harm Minerva. No, it wasn’t protection Arawn offered her but relief. Within his realm of desolation, she thrived.

  “She will remain here, and you will distract her from the unfortunate side effect of her position.”

  “I am an incubus.” A leering grin spread over Lucas’s ordinary face. “The only comfort I can give is sex.”

  Arawn didn’t bother responding to the demon’s taunting. For one, Arawn didn’t doubt his mate’s love or fidelity. More importantly, he knew what Lucas wanted above all else, and it had nothing to do with sex.

  “Do so, and I will revoke my pardon. You and your flock will descend into the lowest pits of Hell.”

  Lucas stepped forward, body tensed and hands balled into fists. “You need me to corral all the demon species. I am their king. You promised—”

  “I promised nothing. Fear kept the lesser demons in check before you arrived. It will do so again if you lose your position. Do not forget why you were sentenced here.” Arawn motioned toward the body Lucas inhabited. “Or our deal.”

  Lucas’s nostrils flared on his rough inhales. Finally, he cursed. “So be it.”

  “Good.” Arawn nodded. “Until I return, then.”

  He opened the door and stepped out, leaving Lucas behind in his temporary office.

  “You plan to stop Dagda?”

  The mention of his enemy sent a wave of anger through Arawn. Sharpened nails punched from the ends of his fingers. Fangs descended, and his jaw lengthened. He embraced the change, allowing the black, scaled beast feared by the humans to claim him. His massive wings unfolded. One flap, two, and he closed the distance between himself and the demon who focused on Arawn’s wings, envy darkening his eyes.

  Arawn crouched and tipped up Lucas’s chin with a curled talon. “That name is not to be spoken. Dagda is dead.”

  “The fairy king is not dead.” Lucas narrowed his eyes. “He is Dar now, leader of the Unseelie Court, and transformed into a being even the Triad cannot touch.”

  Arawn leaned closer. “Diseased, not transformed.”

  He shoved the other male. Lucas flew backward and hit the desk, knocking over the wooden table. Scrolls and tomes fell. A crystal decanter followed. The bottle smashed, spilling wine over the millennium-old works. Neither of them glanced at the ruined pieces. Their gazes remained locked.

  “Diseased, yes.” Lucas pushed to his feet. “But be mindful of your words. Dagda is not dead, nor is he weak. He grows stronger every day, and soon he will make good on his promise.”

  To unleash his Court upon the mortal realm. Only Arawn stood in Dagda’s way.

  Arawn allowed his winged form to recede and met Lucas’s accusing glare. Arawn didn’t bother arguing. The demon was right. Instead, Arawn offered the other male the one thing that would guarantee he carried out Arawn’s order without question—hope.

  “I will return soon. Maintain my realm, and I will revoke my hold over you. You will no longer need to fear punishment at my hand.”

  Lucas sucked in a breath. “You vow it.”

  A vise squeezed Arawn’s chest and a sense of foreboding settled over him, but he knew it could not be avoided. Lucas was the only male Arawn trusted enough not only to oversee the workings of the Underworld but to guard the destructive powers it contained.

  Arawn nodded. “I vow it.”

  “And my followers? Do you vow not to punish them?”

  “No, demon.” Arawn laughed. “I do not.”

  “But they are innocent. They—”

  “They followed your lead. Stupidity landed them in Hell. I cannot take the chance their poor judgment will affect my holdings. Keep them in check, and they will continue to live freely in my world.”

  Lucas lifted a lip, but no sound accompanied his enraged expression.

  “Do you agree?” Arawn asked. There could be no misunderstandings. Too many lives depended on it.

  “I agree to maintain your law as you have set forth, to comfort your mate as if she was my own, and to ensure the creatures you’ve restrained here do not slip through the damaged gateway to the human realm. Is that enough?”

  Arawn gave a single dip of his chin, then pivoted on his heel and strode dow
n the hall.

  “What is your plan?”

  Lucas’s question stopped Arawn’s steps. He glanced over his shoulder. “I will build an army capable of hunting the corrupted fairies in the mortal world.”

  The same curiosity that had damned Lucas and landed him in Hell bled into his eyes. He tilted his head. “And how do plan to accomplish that feat?”

  By sacrificing the one thing my beloved mate has yearned for. “You need not concern yourself over my plans. It is between me and the Triad.”

  Lucas grunted. “Then prepare to lose everything.”

  Arawn turned and continued down the corridor without responding. He feared the demon was right.

  And it’s my own fault. I chose love over duty.

  Chapter Two

  Arawn jogged the flight of stairs to the tower Minerva had claimed as her private sanctuary. Each step quieted the screams reverberating in his head. The weight on his shoulders lessened, and peace filled him. Love mixed with his gratitude for the relief she offered him. He let the softer emotion swell his chest and strengthen him. He would need it for the days ahead.

  At the top of the winding stairwell, a heavy oak door blocked the inhabitants of the Underworld from the entrance to Heaven. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and listened. The gut-wrenching sound of her sobs reached him, faint but unmistakable. A difficult and self-centered woman, Minerva was often viewed as cold by those who didn’t know her. Arawn knew her, and he understood her pain.

  Love hurt. The more people she allowed into her heart, the more she bled.

  He opened the door. Minerva sat in the center of the room, her head on her knees and arms wrapped tightly around her legs.

  Thick white candles encircled her. Within the ring, green grass formed a soft carpet—her dominion. Beyond the burning tapers, cold stone made up the floor of his domain, the one she preferred.

  Duty demanded she play the role she’d been created to fill, despite the repercussions to her. His love for her required he save her from the heartache she experienced while satisfying her obligation. He couldn’t, however. She was meant to bleed for love lost, just as he was meant to live with the screams of the wronged echoing in his head. The best he could give his mate was a shoulder to cry on and his touch. Only he could deaden her pain.

  He shut the door behind him. The click resounded in the room. She lifted her head and met his gaze. Swirling lines of molten silver set off her piercing gray eyes. From them, silver tears formed twin trails down her cheeks.

  “My love.” She held out her hand. More droplets of silver dripped from her palm where she’d dug her nails into her flesh.

  He went to her, stepping over the tiny flames, then dropped to his knees. With care, he cradled her injured hand and brought it to his mouth. He licked away her spilled blood, healing the wounds and taking her agony into himself.

  He met her gaze. “Tell me of the lovers who have caused your suffering.”

  “Not merely lovers. Souls paired by my hand. Events have ripped them apart tonight. One has died. The other mourns.” She turned tired eyes on him. “And I am once again crying for them so they may have another chance.”

  He sat on the soft grass and lifted her, settling her over his lap.

  “They are old souls?” They had to be. The Triad had taken away her ability to pair mates a millennium ago. Arawn didn’t know why. She’d never shared the reason with him. Since he refused to disclose his arrangement with the demons, he had no right to demand her secrets.

  “One of the first seventeen.”

  He closed his eyes on a long exhale, finally comprehending her pain. “One of your maidens.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and laid her damp cheek against his chest. “Yes. My third.”

  “I am sorry.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Did she get to spend a lifetime with her male?”

  She leaned back and glared at him. Rage turned her eyes into glowing silver discs. “A single night.”

  She shoved from his embrace and strode to the edge of the circle. The moment she stepped over the boundary of the ring, the blades of grass withered. A wave of her hand, and the candles tipped, igniting the brittle grass. Flames raced toward him. He stood but didn’t rush to escape the fire singeing his feet. He couldn’t die, not permanently at least, and pain meant little to him.

  He waited while she stood in silence, clenching and unclenching her hands.

  Finally, he asked, “Her male was killed?”

  “No. She was. Dagda has murdered all my handmaidens, save my first maiden. He’s allowed her to live.” Eyes squeezed shut, she hung her head. “For now, at least. I have no doubt he will end her life once she’s served her purpose.”

  Although he hated hearing the name of the once-beloved fairy king come out of his mate’s mouth, he didn’t correct her. She loved the male once. She had the right to call him whatever she wished.

  “I will send my hounds to your maiden.” His dogs, along with his horse, Deliverance, retrieved the souls of those humans who died at the hands of the fairies. Stained by their touch, the mortals were often too traumatized to move on. Arawn offered them peace in the resting fields until they could.

  Minerva spun, her hair whipping around her to form a silver cape. “No!”

  “Why not? They will protect her, and—”

  “They will kill her.”

  He studied his mate but couldn’t understand where her fear stemmed from. “My hounds would never harm an innocent.”

  “Dagda has impregnated her.”

  And infected their babe with the chaotic taint he carried, damning his child to a living hell and marking Minerva’s beloved maiden as a member of the Unseelie Court and an enemy, at least for the next nine months. If Arawn’s hounds stumbled upon her while she carried Dagda’s baby, they would kill her. It was what they were bred to do—eliminate the threat to the humans. No matter how much Arawn wished differently, the innocent child she carried would one day turn into a monster, exactly like the babe’s father.

  Arawn sighed. “Then death is best for her and the baby. It would spare them both much agony.”

  “You cannot.” Minerva closed the distance between them and fisted his tunic. “She has not yet met her mate in this lifetime.”

  He covered her hands. “And? I do not understand. She will get another chance. It is why you bleed for them.”

  “She will not.” Minerva licked her lips, then dropped her gaze to their joined hands. “The deal I made with the Triad requires my maidens to consummate their bindings with their mates or lose their connection to them.”

  “You would condemn an innocent child? For what? So your maiden can find and fuck her male after her damned babe is born?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Do you think so little of me, my mate?”

  Shame burned his gut, but his desire to protect those who couldn’t do so for themselves often overshadowed his choices and his words.

  “No, of course not.” He turned his back on her and walked toward their bed. “But I cannot help feeling protective of all those who have suffered at the fallen fairies’ hands.”

  “I understand, but you must trust in me to do what is right for my maiden and the child she carries.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. Her confidence worried him. As a goddess of love, her powers were limited to ones of a gentler nature. “You have a plan?”

  She nodded. “I will offer the Triad a sacrifice.”

  No, the only sacrifice made would be his. He knew better than to forbid her, however.

  “For the child’s life?” He needed to be sure of her desires. When dealing with the Triad, there could be no misunderstandings. The being’s words were law.

  “For all of Dagda’s tainted offspring. My maiden’s babe is not the first to be conceived.” She twisted her fingers together. “I do not know what his plans are, but the other gods fear him. They think he will use his half-breed children to make good on his promise.”

  She hung her head but didn’t elaborate on how he’d accomplish his goal. By wielding Dagda’s own magic, Arawn had tied Hell’s gateways to the fairies themselves. The pain and suffering of those fairies incarcerated in the deepest pits of the Underworld fed the living magic, ensuring it would never falter.

  “To tear down the barriers between Hell and the human realm, unleashing the members of his Court I have punished.” He spoke the words they both knew, breaking the silence that had descended.