semiregular mate was a source of comfort, but Chela wanted to be more maternal than Ani could accept from her. Similarly, her father’s attempts at fatherhood veered toward something akin to mortal pretenses. She didn’t want a facsimile of a mortal family. She had a family, with Rabbit and Tish, her half-mortal siblings. During the past year when she had been brought to live in the Dark Court, she had hoped for something else: she wanted to be a true part of the Wild Hunt, a full member of her father’s pack. That hadn’t happened.
The Hound paused his steady motions only long enough to glance at her. “Gabriel’s not here either.”
“I know. I’m not looking for anyone in particular.” Ani came to the stall. “I just like it here.”
The Hound looked up and down the open aisle. This early no other Hound was in sight, but there were more than a score of steeds close enough to see them. “Do you need something?”
“Sure.” Ani leaned against the wall. It would be an insult not to flirt, even though they both knew action wasn’t possible. “A little fun. A little trouble. A ride …”
“Get the boss to agree”—the Hound’s eyes flashed a vibrant green—“and I’ll gladly take you.”
She knew her own eyes were shimmering with the same energy that she saw in his. They were both born of the Wild Hunt. They were the creatures that rode the earth, drawing out terror, exacting vengeance, unrestrained by order. They were the teeth and claws of Faerie, living now in the mortal world, bound to the Dark Court by their Gabriel.
A Gabriel who would chew up anyone who touched his daughter.
“You know he won’t give permission,” she admitted.
Her father was in charge. His rules meant that only one who could stand against him in a fight was allowed to date her.
Or anything else.
“Hey?”
She looked at the Hound.
“If you weren’t his daughter, I’d risk it, but crossing Gabe isn’t something I’m going to do.”
Ani sighed, not in disappointment, but at the futility of ever getting a different answer. “I know.”
“Convince him that you’re not going to get broken by a little fun, and I’ll be in front of the line. Promise.” The Hound leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on her lips.
It was no more than a second of affection, but he was ripped away and hurled across the aisle toward the opposite stall. The thud of his body hitting the wooden slats covered most of the curses he was yelling.
“Don’t touch my pup.” Gabriel stood in the middle of the aisle. He was grinning, but his posture was one of menace. Of course, he was the Hound that controlled the Wild Hunt, so menace was as natural as breathing for him.
The Hound on the floor felt the back of his head as he leaned on one partition of the wooden stall. “Damn, Gabriel. I didn’t touch her.”
“Your lips were on hers. That’s touching,” Gabriel growled.
Ani stepped in front of her father and poked him in the chest. “Don’t act like it’s wrong for them to respond to me.”
He glared at her but didn’t lift a hand. “I am the Gabriel. I run this pack, and if any of them”—he looked past her to the Hound on the floor—“want to challenge me over you, all they need to do is say the word.”
The Hound on the floor spoke up. “I turned her down.”
“Not because she lacks anything,” Gabriel growled.
“No, no.” The Hound held up his hands. “She’s perfect, Gabe … but you said she was off-limits.”
Gabriel held a hand out to the Hound on the floor without looking at him.
The Hound glanced at her. “Sorry … I, umm, touched you.”
Ani rolled her eyes. “You’re a peach.”
“Sorry, Gabriel. It won’t happen again.” The Hound straddled his bike and left with a roar that was more growl than a real Harley’s engine could mimic.
For a heartbeat, it was perfectly quiet in the stable. The steeds stayed silent and motionless.
“My perfect pup.” Gabriel stepped up and ruffled her hair. “He doesn’t deserve you. None of them do.”
She shoved him away. “So, you’d rather I’m skin starved?”
Gabriel snorted. “You’re not starved.”
“I would be if I followed all of your rules,” she muttered.
“And I wouldn’t have so many rules if I thought you’d follow them all.” He threw a punch, which she dodged. It was nice, but not backed by the full force of his strength or weight. He always held back. That was insulting. If she were truly a part of the Hunt, he’d fight with her the way he fought with all the rest. He’d train her. He’d accept me in the pack.
“You suck at fatherhood, Gabe.” She turned away and started down the aisle.
He couldn’t taste her feelings, not like most of the Dark Court. Hounds weren’t nourished on the same things, so her emotions were hidden to them. The peculiarity of the Hunt’s inability to taste emotions while everyone around them could made them very blunt in their own expressions. It worked out well: Dark Court faeries were nourished by swallowing dark emotions; Hounds required physical touch for sustenance. So the Hunt caused the fear and terror that fed the court, and the court provided the touch the Hounds required. Ani was abnormal in that she needed both.
Which sucks.
“Ani?”
She didn’t stop walking. There was no way she was going to let him see the tears building in her eyes. Just another proof of my weakness. She gestured over her shoulder. “I get it, Daddy. I’m not welcome.”
“Ani.”
Tears leaked onto her cheeks as she stopped in the doorway, but she didn’t turn back.
“Promise to follow the rules while we’re out, and you could probably borrow Che’s steed again tonight.” His voice held the hope he wouldn’t say aloud. “If she agrees.”
Ani turned then and smiled at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He didn’t move, didn’t comment on the tears on her cheeks, but his voice softened and he added, “And I’m not an awful father.”
“Maybe.”
“I just don’t want to think about you wanting … things … or getting hurt.” Gabriel folded the cloth that the Hound had dropped, looking at it rather than at her. “Irial says you’re okay though. I ask. I do try.”
“I know.” She shook her hair back and struggled to be reasonable. That was the worst part sometimes; she did know that Gabriel tried. She knew he trusted Irial’s judgment, trusted Chela, trusted his pack. He’d never raised a daughter—these past few months that he’d had her around were the sum total of his father-daughter parenting experience. But, she’d never had pack hungers before either. It was a new experience all around.
Later, after she’d secured Chela’s consent, gone over the regular stay-close-to-Gabriel rules, and promised to stick with the pack, Ani was back in the stable with her father.
“If Che’s steed has anything to say, it’ll tell me, and I’ll tell you.” Gabriel’s reminder that she couldn’t hear Chela’s steed—that I’ll never hear one—was delivered with an ominous rumble in his voice. He was already feeling the heightened connection to the Hounds who were filling the aisles.
Somewhere in the distance, a howl rose like