Cruel Enchantment Read Online Free Page B

around her midsection, pinning her arms to her sides and holding her down on the road. The inside of the bag smelled sweet. She knew what it was—Kass, a Norwegian fae herbal concoction that would knock her out if she breathed enough of it in. It was an old trick, one she’d used herself a time or two.
    She held her breath, but he just waited her out. Finally, compelled to take a deep breath, everything went black.
     
     
    HE still couldn’t believe it.
    Sinking down onto the floor of his forge, he watched her lying on her side, still unconscious from the Kass.
    Long ago, when the days of Piefferburg were still young, he’d befriended Ronan Quinn. Ronan was an Unseelie mage with unique abilities born from his mixed fae and Phaendir parentage. Ronan had put in place a web to trap this woman if she ever set foot on fae ground. The moment her boot had hit the earth past the gates, complete awareness of her presence had flooded Aeric’s body and mind—bowing his spine, snapping his head back, and making him bellow until his throat was raw.
    Now, on the floor of his forge, she lay with one arm thrown over her head and the other flopping behind her. He’d parked his motorcycle not far down the road from where he’d found her on the road to Piefferburg City. Once he’d collected her, blood streaming from his nose, he’d put her on the back of his bike and driven her through the Boundary Lands and down city side streets to the back of the Black Tower, uncaring who saw him. Apparently no one of consequence had, since he’d yet to have a knock at his door from someone inquiring about the prisoner in his apartment.
    Hundreds of years of wishing and here she was in front of him.
    He tipped his head to the side, the loose tendrils of his hair falling over his cheek. She was not what he remembered, not at all what he’d ever imagined, with her shoulder-length red hair, bright green eyes, slender stature, innocent face.
    Of course she was probably still glamoured, even in unconsciousness. He was not looking at the true Emmaline now, so fragile and slight on the concrete floor. He had to remember that. This was false glamour, the glamour she always wore, the only thing she knew how to be—a fraud.
    The Emmaline he remembered was a monster, an assassin. Working for the Summer Queen during the fae wars, she had used her skill with personal glamour to kill more Unseelie nobles than the entire Black Army had managed to slaughter. Slipping into the Unseelie Court, she’d seduced and murdered more than her fair share of men, all the while lusting after him—the Blacksmith. Her crush had been known to him, as it had been known to all.
    Back then he’d wanted nothing to do with her. He had his Aileen, his soul mate and perfect match. He was engaged to marry her and would have shared in the time-honored tradition of Joining Vows with her. Never had he imagined the depths of Emmaline’s obsession. He’d underestimated her and it had changed his life forever.
    He would not underestimate her now. He would not buy into the fragile, innocent guise she wore. Emmaline was going to pay for what she’d done to Aileen—slowly, thoroughly, and mercilessly. Though, he mused as he touched his sore nose, she’d started things off by making him pay. It was sheer luck his nose hadn’t been broken. He hadn’t seen stars like that in a long time.
    She roused, grimacing. Bowing in on herself, she curled into a fetal position, pressing the palm of her hand into her eye socket. He’d used a none-too-gentle herbal concoction to divest her quickly of her consciousness so she wouldn’t fight him. She’d be feeling the effects of sickness from the Kass as she woke.
    Her red hair curled around her head and narrow shoulders as she writhed, groaning. One green eye popped open, cast about, focused on him, then widened. She scrambled upward and crab-walked back into the wall behind her, staring at him. “You can’t do this,” she rasped.
    His lips