Magic Undaunted (The Grimm Files #6)

Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

STRYKER

S tryker sat in the small, dimly lit tent, rubbing his wrists where he’d been loosely bound. The rebel camp wasn’t at all what he expected. It hummed with activity, and the sounds of life—of camaraderie—seemed to be all around him. It was a strange thing, witnessing the rebels up close for the past few days. He had spent so long seeing them as enemies, threats to the order of Celestia, but now, watching them work together, caring for the rescued fae, he was beginning to see cracks in his once-clear beliefs.

The rebels were not the lawless, chaotic force the High Council made them out to be. They were unified, driven by something more than rebellion for rebellion’s sake. There was compassion here. Something Stryker had rarely felt among the cold, rigid ranks of the Council.

The soft murmur of voices drifted through the tent walls, and every now and then, he caught glimpses of fae checking on the wounded, offering words of comfort. It was unsettling how much it rattled him, this realization that these so-called enemies were more than just rebels. They were people. People who fought for something greater than themselves.

And yet, none of that prepared him for what was coming.

The flap of the tent shifted, and Stryker caught his breath as Elyria stepped inside. The tension between them had been simmering for days, but now, in this small space, it was like a live wire ready to snap. Her presence filled the tent, charged with the same intensity that had always drawn him in, even when everything else screamed for him to push her away.

She stood there for a moment, watching him with those sharp gray eyes, the weight of their shared history hanging between them like a heavy fog. Her face was set in a calm mask, but he could see the conflict beneath it. The struggle between duty and the raw emotion that pulsed between them.

Finally, she spoke, her voice cool but edged with something deeper. “We need to talk.”

Stryker sat up straighter, grinning as his gaze locked onto hers. “So, is this the part where you interrogate me?”

Her lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Something like that.”

“Torture or seduction. I know which I’d choose.”

A soft smile escaped her as she moved closer, her presence sending a shiver through him. She was still so infuriatingly beautiful, still the same fierce warrior he had fallen for all those years ago. But she was also different—hardened, changed by the things she had seen and endured.

He couldn’t shake the memory of the last time they’d spoken like this, their heated argument before she had walked away. That fire, that passion, was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. But there was something else now—something raw and unspoken between them.

“What do you want to know?” Stryker asked, his voice low and steady, though inside he felt like a summer squall starting to build.

“I need to know what you know about the mage,” Elyria said, her eyes never leaving his. “About the weapon. About everything the Council is keeping hidden.”

Stryker clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, and I’m not convinced they know either. I was sent to investigate the incident at the gathering, which led me to the rogue mage. I don’t have all the answers, but I do think Oberon knows more than he’s letting on.”

Elyria shook her head, her eyes indicating frustration, but was it with him or the situation. “You’re lying. You’ve always had more access than anyone else. You’re Oberon’s loyal warrior. He keeps you close even though you aren’t fae.”

“My greatest shortcoming,” he chuckled, but her words had struck him like a blow. He knew he should remain calm, probe her for as much information as he could, but before he could stop himself, his anger flared. “You think I want to be loyal to Oberon? That I don’t question him, and my allegiance to him, every damn day now? You think I don’t know that they’re hiding something?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his response, but she didn’t back down. “Then why stay with them? Why continue serving a Council that’s willing to sacrifice everything, even the lives of its own people?”

Stryker pushed to his feet, facing her as the air between them sizzled—years of anger and regret bubbling to the surface. He reached for her, but she took a step back. He let her go, again. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was doing my duty. My kind have been protecting Celestia and those who inhabit the fae realm from chaos. But now… I just don’t know anymore.”

Elyria’s breathing seemed to slow, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What about us, Stryker? Was that ever real, or was it just another part of your duty?”

The question hung between them, thick with pain and longing. Stryker felt the memories of their time together flooding back—the nights they had spent in each other’s arms, the way she had made him feel like there was more to life than duty and honor.

He stepped closer, his voice raw. “It was real. You know it was.”

Elyria’s eyes shimmered with something he hadn’t seen in years, something that stirred the old, familiar ache inside him. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by the mask she wore so well.

“I don’t know anything anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking just slightly. “Everything I thought I knew… it all changed the moment the Council cast me out. You let them do it. You didn’t fight for me.”

Stryker swallowed hard, his heart aching with the weight of her words. She was right. He hadn’t fought for her the way he should have. He had let his honor bind him to his duty, let the fear of losing all he’d ever known stop him from standing by her side.

“I didn’t know how,” he said, his voice low, filled with regret. “I thought… I thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”

Elyria let out a bitter laugh. “Safe? You think I’m safe now? Look at where we are, Stryker. Look at what we’ve become.”

Before he could respond, the sound of an explosion rocked the camp, the ground beneath them shaking violently. Stryker’s instincts kicked in, and he reached for Elyria, pulling her behind him as the tent flap blew open, chaos erupting outside.

“We’re under attack!” someone shouted, their voice barely audible over the roar of magic and fire.

Elyria was already moving, her dagger drawn, her wings unfurling as she charged toward the chaos. Stryker shifted and followed without hesitation, his body moving in sync with hers, just like old times. They moved together, their instincts perfectly aligned as they fought side by side, cutting down the enemies that surged toward the camp.

The attackers were swift, their powerful and warped magic bearing the unmistakable signature of the rogue mage’s forces. Fire and shadow swirled all around them, but Elyria and Stryker fought with a ferocity that bordered on desperation, their blades and talons flashing in the dim light.

Stryker’s heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins as they tore through the attackers. Elyria was a blur of silver and pink, her movements graceful and deadly, her magic crackling through the air. He had fought beside her many times before, but this—this felt different. They weren’t just battling enemies; it was as if they were battling the ghosts of their past.

His shrill screech cut through the sounds of battle as he launched himself off the ground, his wings unfurling wide. The golden feathers and tawny fur glinted in the light as he dove toward the nearest attacker.

Before the mage’s man could raise his shield, Stryker’s talons locked onto his shoulders, yanking him from his feet and lifting him into the air. With a furious shake, he released him, dashing his body into the ground in a heap. Two more men lunged forward with spears, thrusting upward as the Stryker circled back. He was too fast for the men—flying sideways to avoid one spear with a powerful beat of its wings and swiping the other with a talon, tearing through the man’s armor, leaving him screaming on the ground.

An archer loosed an arrow, but Stryker saw it coming. With an angry screech, he dodged to the side and pounced on the attacker, pinning him down. His beak closed around the archer’s neck and ripped it open. The archer died with his eyes wide with terror and not a sound emitted from his mangled throat.

Two more men tried to flank Stryker, but he was already moving. He sprang himself into the air, gaining height in a matter of seconds, then dove back down with claws outstretched, slamming into one of the men from above. The other attacker froze, staring up as Stryker spread its wings wide, casting a shadow over him, Stryker’s golden eyes blazing with a silent warning. The man slinked away.

As the last of the attackers fell, the camp fell silent once more, the air thick with the scent of smoke and blood. Stryker stood panting, his eyes scanning the camp for any sign of more threats. But all he could see was Elyria, her chest heaving, her face flushed from both battle and something else—something unspoken between them.

She turned to him, her eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, the world around them faded away. The danger, the rebellion, the Council—it all vanished, leaving only the two of them standing in the aftermath of the battle.

Shifting back, Stryker said, “Elyria…” His voice was rough with emotion, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“We’re not done yet,” she said, her voice steady, though her eyes betrayed the storm raging inside her. “But we will be.”

Stryker nodded, the tension between them coiling tighter as the battle around them faded. He didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if they could ever truly find their way back to each other. The battle was over, but the tension that had gripped him remained, as if his body knew that the real fight was only just beginning.

Around him, the rebels worked quickly, tending to the wounded and securing the camp, their faces grim. Stryker watched them for a moment, the unity and purpose in their movements a stark contrast to the cold indifference of the High Council. He was convinced that he was seeing something important—something he had missed for so long.

Beside him, Elyria stood with her back to him, her wings folded tightly against her back, her stance tense. Her dagger was still in her hand, its blade gleaming in the dim light. Stryker could feel the weight of her presence, the electricity between them pulsing in the aftermath of the battle.

He took a step closer, his voice low. “Elyria,” he said again.

She turned slowly, her gray eyes locking onto his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them was palpable, thick with everything left unsaid—the anger, the betrayal, the desire that simmered beneath the surface.

“You were reckless back there,” she said finally, flicking her hand and re-clothing him. Her voice was sharp but laced with something softer. Concern, maybe. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

Stryker grinned. “Your impression of a damsel in distress was pretty awful.”

Her lips twitched, and she shook her head. “You know me too well.”

The silence between them stretched, and Stryker could feel the weight of what needed to be said. The battle had shifted something inside him. The way they had fought together, the way their bodies had moved in perfect sync—like they were still that same unstoppable force. It had awakened something he had tried to bury for too long.

And now, standing amidst the destruction, with Elyria’s eyes burning into his, Stryker made a decision that would change everything.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, his voice rough, unsteady. “Something you need to know. Something I’ve been keeping to myself.”

Elyria’s gaze sharpened as she took a step closer. “What is it?”

Stryker’s chest tightened as he forced himself to speak. “The human mage—the one we’ve been chasing, the one who’s been turning fae into those twisted creatures? I don’t think he’s acting alone. I think the High Council is involved, or at least they may have been in the beginning.”

Elyria froze, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“The High Council knew about the mage’s experiments long before you did,” Stryker admitted, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “They’ve been keeping it quiet, trying to control the information. They wanted to use him—to use his power. Oberon sent me to investigate, not to stop him, but to see if we could turn his magic to the Council’s advantage.”

Elyria’s breath hitched, disbelief and anger flashing in her eyes. “You’re saying the High Council has been letting him experiment on fae?”

Stryker nodded grimly. “Yes, I believe so. It may not be the entire Council; it may just be Oberon. He sees it as a necessary evil. A means to an end.”

“What end?”

“A way to maintain control. I think Oberon and the Council believe they can harness the mage’s power and use it to solidify their hold on Celestia.”

Elyria stepped back, her hands shaking slightly as she processed his words. The betrayal was written all over her face—the realization that the Council, the institution she had once bled for, was willing to sacrifice its own people for power.

“You knew this,” she whispered, her voice trembling with fury.

“I didn’t know, not really, at least not until recently.”

“You knew this, and you still served them?”

Stryker stood quietly. The time for prevarication was over. It was time he faced the truth and shared it with her. “I didn’t know, Elyria. Not everything, at least not at first. But when I found out the truth… I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. I couldn’t face what the Council had become.”

Her eyes blazed with anger, but behind it, he could see the hurt—the same hurt that had been there the day she was banished, the same pain he had caused by not standing up for her.

“I trusted you, Stryker,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “And you let me down. You let them cast me out like I was nothing.”

For a moment, Stryker couldn’t speak. She was right. He had let her down, and there was no excuse for it.

“I know I failed you,” he said quietly, his voice raw with regret. “And I’ve been paying for that every day since.”

Elyria’s eyes softened for just a moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. But then, just as quickly, the walls went back up, her expression hardening.

“So why are you telling me this now?” she asked, her tone cold, but Stryker could hear the underlying current of vulnerability beneath it.

“Because I’m done lying,” he replied, his voice steady, though his heart was racing. “I’m done pretending I can stay loyal to a Council that’s willing to sacrifice everything for power. I’m with you and the rebels… if you’ll have me.”

“I’m just supposed to believe like that,” she said, snapping her fingers, “that you’re switching allegiances.”

“It’s up to you whether or not you believe me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Stryker held his breath, waiting for her reaction, the tension between them pulling tighter with every passing second.

Then, finally, Elyria stepped closer, her eyes searching his. “You’re really willing to turn your back on everything? On the Council? On Oberon?”

Stryker met her gaze, his gaze unwavering as he nodded.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of the decision hanging between them like a fragile thread. And then, without warning, Elyria reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, trailing up to stroke his cheek, sending a spark of electricity through him.

“If you’re going to do this,” she said softly, her voice steady but laced with emotion, “then we need to be all in...”

Stryker could feel that storm that had been brewing on the horizon split the sky with its power and fury. Staring down at her, the closeness between them suddenly seemed almost overwhelming. Almost.

“I’m with you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Now and forever, I’m with you.”

Elyria’s breath caught, something deep and hidden for so long breaking free from its prison like a shooting star running across the night sky. For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped, like they were the only two people standing amidst the destruction.

But then, as if sensing the danger of their proximity, Elyria stepped back, the moment broken. “We need to move,” she said, her voice firm once more. “If what you’re saying is true, then we’re running out of time. The mage won’t stop until he has what he needs.”

Stryker nodded, the tension still thrumming in his veins, his resolve clear. Elyria met his gaze one last time before turning away, her wings unfurling slightly as she called out orders to the rebels. But even as she moved, Stryker knew that something between them had shifted. The trust that had been broken was beginning to mend.

A s Stryker moved around the camp—helping to restore order, getting the wounded to the medical tent, seeing to the disposal of bodies, et cetera—he couldn’t help but notice that it wasn’t only Elyria with whom he was making progress. Little-by-little the rebels seemed to be accepting him. They might not trust him, but then most of them didn’t have any past with him. Even Finnian gave him a surreptitious nod of approval.

When he was helping one of the wounded to get to Elowen, she pulled him aside. “She needs you,” she said softly. “Even if she doesn’t know it, she does.”

Stryker said nothing but went in search of Elyria. Elowen was right, Elyria had never been one to ask for help. She had been trained to be a fae warrior, and she had been taught that asking for anything was a sign of weakness. He searched the camp looking for her, but she wasn’t to be found.

As he started a second search, Finnian approached him. “I still don’t trust you,” he started without preamble, “but she’s our leader, and if she does, I suppose that should be good enough for me.”

“Is it?” Stryker quipped.

“I don’t know, but it’s a start. Anyway, I saw her heading out to the perimeter of where we have people posted. I think she spent so much of her life alone, that sometimes she just needs a little space where she can just be without having to be in charge.”

“So you’re telling me I should leave her alone.” It wasn’t what Stryker wanted to hear, but he couldn’t argue with Finnian’s logic.

“No. I’m just telling you where I think you might find her. She isn’t always good at asking for what she needs.”

“You think she needs me?”

Finnian nodded. “Like I said, I don’t know that I trust you completely, but I saw the two of you fight together. You don’t develop that kind of synchronicity with someone unless you’ve shared a little part of your soul with them. If Elyria trusts you enough to do that, it means at least at one time you were worthy of that trust. I care about her, Stryker—not just as a leader, but as a person. I can’t give her what she needs, but I’m starting to think you can.”

With that, Finnian turned and went to help with more of the cleanup. Stryker watched him walk away and then headed out to the boundary of the rebel encampment. He found her there with her arm bent, pressed against the tree, leaning against it with her forehead. Her body looked worn down—not just from the battle, but from everything that had happened. She had needed him in the past and he had failed her; he would not do so again.

He purred softly to her as he stepped up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. There had been a time she had found the sound comforting. She lifted her head to look over her shoulder, not even bothering to hide the exhaustion and pain he saw there. Before she could straighten or move away, Stryker tightened his grip. “No, mon chere , you stay where you are. Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of,” she said, trying half-heartedly to get away.

Stryker chuckled quietly. “You need more taking care of than anyone I have ever known, but when you needed me the most, I failed you. Do you think you can ever forgive me?”

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she relaxed against him. “I don’t know, but I do know I want to.”

With his free hand, Stryker moved her hair out of the way, nuzzling her neck before kissing it. “That will do for a start.”

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

“And for that I am so sorry. You never should have had to. Forgive me,” he said placing kisses all along her neck and the top of her shoulder.

As she moaned and relaxed against him, drawing on his strength, Stryker ran his hand down her spine, tracing every vertebra until he reached the hem of her shirt. Stopping there, he teasingly ran his fingers along the thin fabric before sliding his hand beneath the waistband of her leather pants, pushing them down, baring her ass to the warm, sultry breeze that began to dance around them.

Stryker leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss to her neck, trailing tiny wisps of hot breath across her skin. "I promise not to take off too much—just enough to get the job done," he murmured huskily before sliding them down the rest of the way and bringing his hand back up under her shirt to cup her breast, flicking his thumb across the rapidly tightening nipple. “After all, I’m not big on sharing, and I don’t need every man in this ragtag army of yours seeing what’s mine.”

He’d prepared himself for a sharp elbow to the ribs, but instead was rewarded with a soft chuckle as she said, “Tell me more.”

The cool air played across her skin as she stood there, naked from the waist down with one of his hands holding her hip and the other fondling her breast. Stryker could feel not only his cock tightening but his heart racing. There was a thrill of anticipation but also exhilaration. How many times had he dreamed of holding her once more? As he continued to massage her breasts and nipples, his other hand slid down and brushed against her sex, his fingers tracing circles around the dampness between her legs as his other hand slipped under her bra. The scent of the bayou mixed with their sweat filled his nostrils as he leaned in closer to kiss and nip at her neck again.

Without warning, a single finger slipped inside her, just one and then another. Moaning again, she closed her eyes as he began to slip inside her, his fingers seeking and finding her sweet spot. He wondered when the last time had been where someone saw to her needs. “Let me take care of you Elyria,” he whispered in her ear.

His other hand teased just the edge of her nipple before pinching it gently. A shiver ran through her as he pulled back the other hand just a bit and added another finger, stretching her out and hitting that sweet spot deep inside her over and over again.

Elyria stifled a moan as she pressed back against him, desperate for more even as his thumb circled her clit faster and faster. His hips ground into hers now, giving her evidence of his need for her as well. He realized if he pushed much harder, he’d be poking her through his leather trousers.

"Fuck..." Stryker panted softly as he picked up the pace even more, each thrust of his fingers deeper than the last.

“Yes,” she sighed, bringing her arm down and leaning against the tree with her hands for support as he began to whisper dirty little nothings in French in her ear, making her even more aroused than before.

He reached down and pinched her clit before rubbing it gently, and he thought she might come right then and there. But he wasn’t ready for that. He pulled away slowly, trailing his wet fingertips across her clit and upward before unfastening his fly. Elyria gasped softly as the blunt head of his cock found her slit and teased her.

His cock pressed into her, hard and ready against her already aching entrance. He murmured sweet nothings in French as he slowly slid inside her. His stomach clenched at her tightness as he began to move in deep slow strokes. His lips trailed hot kisses along her neck, down her back, making her whole body shudder. As he picked up the pace, his hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her close with each thrust that pushed his cock deeper inside. She arched her back as he hit that spot inside her again and again. He could feel the orgasm building between them.

Elyria gasped as he grabbed her breast roughly, massaging the hardened nipple between his fingers. He bit down on her earlobe gently before whispering, "You feel so good. I’d forgotten… no that isn’t right. I’d convinced myself that it didn’t feel this good. I was wrong.”

She nodded frantically as he pulled out slightly then plunged back in deeper than before, bottoming out before waiting a moment. The feel of his beard scraping lightly against her neck made goosebumps break out over the rest of her skin.

He wrapped his hand in her hair and tugged, pulling her head backward as he ravaged her body, fucking her harder and faster.

“Who is mon amour ” he whispered.

“I am. Oh my god, I am,” she breathed.

He pulled her hair hard and slapped her ass as his hips pistoned into hers. He could tell she was close, so very, very close. He slid his hand down between their bodies again, pinching her clit hard just as he angled his hips upward and growled out, “ Donne-moi ca !”

Elyria cried out, stifling the sound by biting the bark of the tree. His world exploded into a cascade of colors as he followed moments later, moaning her name like a prayer as he spilled himself inside her. They collapsed together against the tree, panting and spent. He turned her around to face him and kissed her passionately.

"I promise you, I will never fail you again," he breathed against her lips before claiming them again.

They had barely put their clothing back into place before they heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Finnian rounded the corner to find them both armed and ready.

“Ah yes, didn’t mean to interrupt. Lirael is back. She thinks there’s something you should see… both of you.”