Curse of the Fae King (15 page)

By early evening, they spotted a column of weary Elves up ahead. Leonidas pulled Meena into the jungle. Meena figured it was because he knew the meat-eating flora wouldn’t mess with a plant killer like her.

Leonidas grinned as petals fell like confetti and greenery blackened around them. “We’ll use your newly developed powers to cut a second route. That way we can stay close and stay out of sight.”

Meena hated that her best skill was destroying plants. Despite the crappy turn her magic had taken, she smiled, “So what’s the plan?”

He fell back into Spanish grandee mode—stern, arrogant, and commanding. “Once they’ve bedded down for the night, I’ll sneak in and snatch your mother. Your plant-clearing prowess makes you too valuable to risk. You will stay safely in the camp.”

Furious that he thrust her into the poor-weak-woman role, she started to tell him,
My mother, my way
. He leaned toward her and caught her with her lips puckered and parted. His tongue swept into her mouth and gently caressed hers. When he pulled her hips up against his thighs, she moaned. Her resistance crumbled.
Back where I belong
, she thought,
but how will I cope when he moves on?
Her anger evaporated into passion and sensual desire, but so close to the Elves’ camp, they needed stealth more than sex.

When they broke apart, Leonidas rested a hand on each of her shoulders. “I’d never willingly leave you behind, but if the Elves discover your powers, they’ll never rest until they control you.”

The distant sound of the Elves setting up their camp drifted toward them. Meena winced when a woman’s scream cut through the air.

Leonidas shoved her behind him. “Was that your mother?”

The sound made her nerves jangle like when someone scraped their fingernails down a blackboard. Mouth dry, she rasped, “I don’t think so, but honestly, I’m not sure. Will they have other female prisoners?”

“The usual pets, drudges, and sex slaves,” he told her, “never partners or true-mates. They’re chattels, beaten or punished if they step out of line. I would not like to think of an independent woman like you in their hands.”

Another feminine scream, and Meena’s heart raced. The woman screamed again. An enraged masculine bellow followed. The plants stopped their constant rustling. Shoots of green and gold covered the ground at phenomenal speed, all heading toward fresh prey. Another high-pitched scream. Another angry roar.

Meena took off running. “No way am I letting the plants get her.”

Behind her, she heard Leonidas groan, the scrape of a rapier leaving its scabbard, and the soft sound of footsteps as he raced after her. A crack of a bullwhip. A flash of black leather thong. A tree snake cleaved in two by Leonidas’s lash. Even when she raced toward danger, he looked out for her.

Ahead, a woman—naked but for a few strategically placed strips of leather—struggled against the coils of an anaconda vine. The creeper tightened inexorably around her. Her face paled, and her lips tinged blue. Her arms, emaciated sticks, scrabbled at the plant fronds. Eyes wide, white, and vacant, she was dying—one slow breath at time.

A pitcher plant twined a thick stem around her ankles, ready to steal the anaconda vine’s prey. Before Meena’s deadly magic mojo reached her, a six-foot Elven warrior, all bulging muscles and bull-like neck, hacked his way from the jungle. He loomed over the semiconscious woman. “Careless bitch. Dropping my brother’s dinner like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, and the vine tightened again. The Elf lifted his blade high, letting it reflect the last rays of the setting sun, ready to make a killing stroke. His eyes—cold as ice cubes—studied the runaway’s situation. Then with a grin that chilled Meena’s blood, he brought his blade down on the anaconda vine. The woman tussled her way free of its coils, but sensing victory, the pitcher plant dragged her closer.

The Elf gloated as the greenery inched her toward its giant acid-filled trumpet. “The last woman I tossed in one of those took a day to stop screaming. The acid dissolves the flesh, then starts on the muscle and sinew. It’s a long, painful death since pitcher plants prefer to digest their prey while it’s still alive.”

“You scumbag.” Meena exploded from the undergrowth. Behind her cream anaconda vines dropped their petals. Mandrakes toppled like trees, crushing the barb-throwing orchids below them. The Elf warrior grinned when he realized he was under attack—from a woman. The Elf warrior sheathed his sword and reached for her. His hands landed like lead weights on her shoulders, and he shook her until she thought her head would leave her neck.

Furious, she jammed her fingers in his eyes and rammed her knee into his balls. The warrior bellowed like a freshly castrated bullock and dropped to the ground. Leonidas stood over him, his rapier point at the Elf’s exposed throat.

Meena helped the fallen woman to her feet. “Are you all right?”

Bruises covered the runaway’s torso, and she was so thin Meena could count her ribs.

“Run, or they’ll kill us both,” she panted as she grabbed Meena’s hand.

“Stay,” Leonidas growled. He switched his attention back to his prisoner and increased the pressure on his blade. “And you, what sort of warrior lets a woman defeat him?”

A trickle of blood already ran down the Elf’s neck, but Meena didn’t have the urge to lick or taste. Maybe if it had been Leonidas’s blood… No! Only true-mates bonded with blood and sex—not casual lovers without a future.

The Elf pressed his shoulders into the mud, anything to stop the rapier from skewering his artery. Apart from his barked command, Leonidas ignored both women and concentrated on the prisoner. “No one touches my woman. I should slit your throat, but I’ll give you one chance. Come on. Convince me to let you live.”

The Elf glowered at Meena. “That bitch attacked me when I wasn’t expecting it.”

Leonidas stared down his nose, all haughty arrogance and lethal intent. “Hardly convincing. This woman is my gift to Lord Mordred, and I promised to deliver her intact. I fucked her into submission, then made sure she could handle herself. And really? A tiny thing like her took an Elven warrior down? Your commander’s just going to love that.”

The Elf tried to bluster his way out of trouble. “I’m my brother’s chief spell caster. My magic enhances him in battle, and he’ll destroy anyone who touches me.”

“So this brother of yours hides behind your magic?” Leonidas grinned like a cat toying with a mouse. “Then it’s time someone destroyed a piece of shit like you.”

Wary of the sword point piercing his neck, the Elf stayed motionless in the mud. “Take my woman. She’s nigh on useless anyway, and I’ll swear by the Elf overlord’s sacred blood to be your most steadfast and loyal supporter. Just don’t kill me.”

Meena felt sick to her stomach. What did Leonidas mean,
“a gift for Lord Mordred”
? Her throat dried, and her knees almost gave way. He’d called her a treasure beyond price, but he’d never said her loved her. Maybe he meant to exchange her like an old car and get his hands on some of that gold he claimed she was worth. It certainly explained why he’d needed to bed her so urgently. Then her common sense kicked in. He’d wanted her to warm his bed long before she took up killing carnivorous plants—hadn’t he? But a small seed of doubt took root in her heart

Chapter Sixteen

Leonidas eased his blade off the Elf warrior’s neck. “I’ll take that vow, but only if you back it up with magic. I don’t fancy a knife in my back while I sleep.”

“By the overlord’s sacred blood,” the Elf swore, “I’m your man until you release me.”

The air shimmered briefly as the oath took hold; then Leonidas wiped his rapier on some dead vegetation. Once it was back in the scabbard, the Elf scrambled to his feet. “I’m Bryn, my liege.”

Leonidas ignored him. He turned to Meena and the runaway, his expression dripping disdain. “You, girl, lead my woman back to the camp. Bryn will follow, and I will bring up the rear.”

Meena sucked in a breath. He hardened his heart to her you-have-got-to-be joking glare and waited until she took the runaway’s hand. He couldn’t imagine her acting submissive, but he hoped she remembered his warnings.

When Meena tossed her curls back from her face, Leonidas wanted to bury his fist in them and drag her lips to his. She’d fought like a true warrior when she took down that Elf. Her bravery and determination delighted him, but her unplanned rescue might be the death of them. He’d have to tread carefully to get them out of this alive. Despite his stern face, his lips twitched as he landed the flat of his blade on her butt. “Go, woman, or I won’t fuck you tonight.”

He saw her head lift and wondered if she’d forgotten their earlier conversation. She needed to look downtrodden, not feisty and up for a fight. Then he realized that walking behind her like this gave him chance to ogle her curvaceous ass. Once she’d rushed off to rescue the runaway, he’d hastily reworked their plans. The Elf she defeated and the runaway gripping Meena’s hand had both seen her plant-killing prowess. He’d hoped to hide her powers, but her secret was out. His only hope of saving her and her mother was to walk straight into the eye of the hurricane. He just hadn’t told Meena yet.

The unemotional mask the Fae used to hide their feelings slipped back into place. His spine stiffened, and he schooled his features into harsh, disparaging lines. At least this way, they could search for Meena’s mother; then they’d grab her and make their escape.

The runaway was too scared to see through his ruse. The Elf was too stupid. Once they found Elizabeth Sybil, Meena’s skills would keep them alive until Leonidas’s magic returned. Alert for the smallest threat, he watched the two women move through the jungle. One shuffled along, shoulders slumped, gaze on the ground. The other stood tall and proud.
Elves’ blood, woman, can’t you at least pretend to be cowed?

The Elves’ camp spread out around another wayfarer’s hut, and a ring of fire blazed around it—a simple protection against the encroaching vegetation. Meena cleared a path through some sticky leaved sundew plants. Some had living prey—tree snakes and young rats—superglued to their leaves. Others had rotting corpses attached.

A bullock cart stood close by, a small sack of supplies leaning against the back of the driver’s seat. A gaunt bullock—brown mottled with dull purple, and twice earth size—lolled nearby, its hindquarters a mass of whip scars.

Elf warriors sat in quiet groups, some gaming, some tending their weapons. A knot of women—more haggard drudges than nubile sex slaves—huddled by the campfire. Their hair hung in limp hanks, and even from the distance, Leonidas could see their bones poke at their flesh. An air of defeat and despair hung over the camp.

Dead center, three Elves stood back to back, arms linked to form a circle. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, and their bodies slumped against one another as they fueled the protective campfires with magic rather than wood. Behind them, another group of Elves had stripped vines from another wayfarer’s hut. It dwarfed the one Leonidas and Meena had shared last night—two generous rooms, maybe three.

Heads turned as the seething jungle withered and parted.

Except for the pulse beating wildly in her neck, the runaway moved like an automaton as she led them to the fire’s edge. Leonidas constantly scanned for Meena’s mother. Finally, he decided the Elves had imprisoned her inside that wayfarer’s hut.

The spell casters briefly opened a pathway through their fire. The soldiers stared at the track Meena’s presence had made and broke into a frenzy of voluble, arm-waving excitement.

The noise drew their commander from the hut, but he had to stoop to pass beneath the door lintel. He straightened up slowly, and seven feet of battle-scarred muscle loomed toward them. “Why does that bitch still live?”

Bryn hung his head. “Forgive me, brother. These two defeated me in battle, then protected her. They took my pride, my fealty, and my woman.”

The commander moved faster than someone with his bulk should and slammed his fist into the defeated warrior’s face, staggering him to the ground. “I sent you to deal with one runaway slave. Rather than kill her, you end up as the sworn man of some unknown warrior. Brother or not, if I didn’t need your magic, I’d kill you myself.”

HEKATE, THE ELF commander was a man-mountain of muscle and scars—Goliath to Leonidas’s David—and Leonidas wasn’t in any way small. Meena wanted to run off home, but she couldn’t leave anyone, least of all her mother, at these Elves’ mercy. Not after the way Bryn had intended to give the runaway an acid bath in a pitcher plant.

Leonidas stayed slightly aside, his face a mask of unconcern, his body clearly at ease.

Time to turn all protective and bossy. Come on, Leo, do something. Please.

But still he stayed in aloof Fae mode—disdainful, disinterested, and proud. “I didn’t defeat him. My woman did. What sort of warriors do you train? When she was mine alone, I fucked her into submission; then I discovered she kills plants just by going near them. I’ve promised her to the overlord, but he wants her unbroken and unbruised. I think he’ll enjoy training her himself. Until then she’s mine to bed at will.”

Leonidas looked so cold and scathing—arrogant to the core. His crude words and promise to pass her on to her mother’s enemies rang with conviction. Maybe his soft touches and sweet seduction had flattened her defenses, but she wouldn’t change an instant of their time together. Until now. Her head pounded. Hunger rolled around her stomach, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She just wished she was home tucked up in bed with a bowl of chocolate ice cream and Leonidas at her side.

The Elf commander’s gaze fixed on her curves. “Give me the woman. You can keep my brother and the runaway bitch.”

He stalked toward Meena, cock stiff, gaze never leaving her breasts. The runaway released her hand and sidled behind Leonidas. The defeated Elf stayed on the ground and groaned, his split lip oozing blood from his brother’s assault. Even the most hardened troopers paused their dice games.

The drudges kept their heads down, but their eyes missed nothing. Meena lifted her chin and pretended to be brave, but this gargantuan Elf—with his rough demeanor and battle scars—terrified her.