Somehow he’d wound up with the beauty of both his Fomorian father and his Tuatha Dé mother, making him one of the most exquisite-looking people to ever walk the earth. Very few could resist his charm when he chose to employ it. Even fewer wished to incur his wrath. He was vicious to those who crossed him in any way.

Robin was not impressed.

Bres, his fair head bared in the moonlight, bowed. “Ho, Pan.”

Robin barely managed not to roll his eyes. It had been years since any called him that, false though it was. It was lucky for him that Pan had been amused to be associated with the Hob, finding Robin’s antics entertaining. So few of the Greek gods had that sense of fun Robin so prized that he’d been honored that Pan allowed the falsehood to stand, despite Robin’s objections.

To this day he lit incense in Pan’s honor.

Despite the god’s amusement, it wouldn’t do to be pretentious. The gods, even Pan, were capricious, and had a way of making their displeasure known in fascinating, albeit painful, ways. Allowing the falsehood to stand would be bad on a molecular level. As always, Robin objected. “I prefer Hob. Robin if you’re feeling friendly, but we both know you aren’t, yes?”

Bres merely smiled. “Give me the boy behind you, Hob.”

“That you may take him to your bitch-queen? I think not.” Robin would kill Leo himself rather than subject the Sidhe to the tender mercies of Titannia, even knowing sweet Ruby’s life would also end. She’d want it that way, rather than a mate who’d been a plaything for the Dark Queen. The bitch always broke her toys.

Leo shuddered, and if Bres thought for one moment it was from fear he was sorely mistaken. Leo had just linked fully with the earth, using it to enhance his power a thousand-fold. The power raced through Robin’s own, Leo’s connection a shock and a strange pleasure to one who was also of the earth. One by one the redcaps behind Bres began to disappear, sinking down silently ’til nothing was left, not even a twitching nose. Leo had to be using his Sidhe ability to cloud the redcaps’ minds, else they’d be shrieking up a storm. It explained the glazed look in the Sidhe’s eyes when Robin dared glance at him.

“You know how this will end, Pan.” Bres waved his hands languidly. “I’m sorry, Hob. My men have already secured the girl, and another has secured the boy’s brother. Give him to me, and once we have what we wish we will fade away.”

Robin watched without looking as another redcap disappeared into the earth. “My king desires otherwise.”

At the mention of Oberon, Bres flinched, but it was quickly hidden. “I have no quarrel with him or you, but I must obey my queen.”

Robin spread his hands, his nails curling into talons. “Then we are at an impasse.”

Another redcap disappeared.

“Ruby is safe. He’s bluffing. He doesn’t have her.”

Robin tried not to flinch as Leo’s words echoed in his head. The boy was strong on his land; very few could breach Robin’s mental barriers. He found himself more and more impressed with the Dunnes every time he played with them.

“Good. Now get out of my head.”

Leo’s silent chuckle echoed in his head, but Robin decided to let it pass. The boy deserved his brief moment of triumph, for things were about to get ugly.

Bres was going to attack, and he was far more dangerous than any redcap could ever hope to be.

“You fucking bitch.”

The female shivered, her legs curled up as high as they could go. They were over the burning barn now, the heat blistering to Sidhe flesh. “Please don’t kill me.”

Akane growled and flung Constance away from the burning barn, ignoring the female’s cries. Her mate was in the barn, unconscious, possibly dead. His scent wafted to her on the embers, fresh but subtly wrong. She let forth a keening cry, listening for an answer.

None came.

Akane entered the barn, her senses alert to any movement. She hadn’t seen the male who had accompanied the female when she’d flown back down. Where he was she didn’t know, nor did she care so long as he was far from her mate.

Near the back, toward what used to be the tack room, she found him. He was strapped to a table, his jaw slack, his eyes glittering in the firelight under half-closed lids. Black tendrils, ones she’d seen before, were embedded in his sides, his thighs, his arms, pumping something into him. Something vile. Akane could smell the wrongness. Whatever had poisoned her mate would leave its mark on him. She crooned to him as she yanked the tentacles away, desperately trying not to gag at the stench.

She’d seen Robin use these before to maim, to kill, but the foul, putrid odor from these tentacles smelled nothing like the poison Robin used. It was as if someone had taken Robin’s essence and fouled it beyond redemption. That foulness raced through her mate’s system, tainting it.

Dear gods, what if Shane changed somehow? Would the poison drag him down into the Black? Could it?

He moaned, then coughed, the smoke of the burning barn becoming thick and fierce. Akane lifted her mate from the table and raced from the barn, taking flight once they were free. She had the scents of both the female and the male. She would recognize them again. The male bore traces of Shane’s blood on his claws, something he would pay for.

But first things first. Her mate was in her arms, and he lived. Akane raced to the Dunne farm and the one place he’d want to be when he awoke.

Bres struck, just as Robin thought he would, at the weakest link: Leo. Fortunately the Sidhe had come prepared, using the earth itself to protect him while he unsheathed his sword. It swayed and buckled, forcing Bres back a step.

The leader of the redcaps smiled at Leo’s sword. “Cold iron doesn’t work on me.”

No. Robin had known that. Neither the Tuatha Dé nor the Fomorians shared the Sidhe’s allergy to iron. It took something else to kill one such as Bres. The only one who had come close had been Lugh, who’d tried to poison Bres by filling three hundred wooden cows with a bitter red liquid, then “milking” them and forcing Bres to drink the liquid. Bres, under a geas to obey the rules of hospitality, had drunk the liquid, but instead of killing him it had merely forced him into a slumber so deep they’d all thought him dead. When he awoke, a thousand years had passed and Oberon, his queen Titannia by his side, was on the throne. The Tuatha Dé and the Fomorians had been nothing more than a memory, even to those whose lives were measured in centuries.

What part Bres played in Titannia’s fall Robin didn’t know, but some day he intended to find out.

Robin carelessly blocked a redcap, skewering it on the point of a claw before turning his attention once more to Bres. The man was attempting to take down Leo by any means necessary, ignoring the Hob as if he wasn’t even there.

Well. Robin would have to fix that.

Robin smiled sweetly, and Bres tripped, almost falling on the point of Leo’s sword. He flicked his hair back from his shoulders and Bres’s belt broke, his pants slipping from his narrow hips. When Robin sighed, bored of the game already, Bres’s sword broke.

Unfortunately, the tip flew through the air and gashed Leo’s face, narrowly missing his eye. Startled, the Sidhe backed up a step and right onto the point of a redcap pike.

“Damn. Missed one.” Robin muttered to himself in disbelief. How could he have missed one of the little fuckers? He reached out his hand and twisted. The redcap fell in screaming agony, his kneecap shattered.

But it was too late. Leo was on his knees, his hand pressed to the wound at his back. Bres stood over him and knocked Leo out with the butt of his sword.

Robin sighed in relief. The boy was out, and relatively safe; the last redcap was a whimpering mess, and who cared what they saw?