Curse of the Fae King (18 page)

Leonidas stared up at her with those startling emerald-hued eyes—eyes she once thought shone with tenderness for her. Now she knew better, but at least his dick had hardened again. This time she straddled him, teasing the tip of his penis with her pussy. He closed his eyes and groaned. That was all it took for her to ease his cock inside her. She squeezed her inner muscles long and hard. Hekate, that felt good. Ecstatic even. She lifted her hips, her vagina tightening around him. Insatiable, she rose and fell as she rode his dick. Another internal squeeze, another masculine groan. He thrust inside her, and she came again. It still wasn’t enough.

She eyed the door and waited, wondering if she needed to invite one of the Elves to join their sexual games.

As if he read her mind, Leonidas rolled her beneath him. “No way, querida. You’re mine alone.”

Her Fae had stamina, she’d give him that—even if he was the biggest jackass she knew. He took her with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck—and she demanded more. He took her from behind while she quivered on all fours. He took her missionary-style and then laid her on the bed.

Meena turned on her side as he mantled her against him and tangled his legs with hers. Exhaustion overcame her sexual desires, and she slept in his arms.

Chapter Nineteen

Meena woke alone. She brimmed with anger, outrage, and…disappointment. Why did she never measure up? Even Leonidas had beaten her for daring to save the runaway’s life. At least she knew where she stood now. Yeah, over in the shadows, weeping over a man who thought it okay to abuse her.

Before she could worry over her ripped top—which kind of matched her ripped heart—the runaway slipped inside and squatted beside the bed. “Our master’s still angry at you. He said you could have bread, but he refused to waste good meat on a troublemaker like you. I’m sorry. At least we fashioned this for you while you slept.”

Hesitantly Meena wriggled into the bundle of leather straps the girl offered. While the bands supported her breasts, they barely covered her nipples. And as for the bottoms… Well, they made a thong bikini look big. Since the Elf commander had ruined every stitch of clothing she possessed, they’d have to do. Despite the way “our master” grated on her twenty-first-century values, she smiled at the runaway.

“I’m grateful for the clothes, and bread’s fine, thank you.”

“There’s some salve.” The other girl whispered so low Meena barely heard. “It will help soothe the soreness. Just don’t let the menfolk know you have it.”

“Honestly, I’m fine.” Meena sank her teeth into the stale hunk of bread. If Leonidas thought he could get around her by covertly supporting her vegetarian beliefs, he had another think coming. She’d expected to be sore in the most personal places, but she felt ready to take on the world—starting with Leonidas, her sexy, abusive, bullying Fae. The man she loved. The man she’d come close to hating last night.

She’d recovered from her drugged-up nymphomania now—but her butt still stung. Okay, time to put that humiliating interlude behind her and face a new day. Damn it, she’d trusted Leonidas, believed in him, and last night he’d shown her his true nature. She’d smile and pretend he’d broken her spirit, but once they found her mother, she’d be out of here so fast her footsteps would scorch the ground.

When she stepped into the dawn light, the Elf warriors grinned—their appraising looks another thing she blamed Leonidas for. He’d made her shriek with both passion and pain, and now she ran a gauntlet of oversexed Elves—all eager to hear her scream again. That or fuck her. She spotted Leonidas talking with the drudges, but he looked heavy eyed and weary.
Ha, he can’t keep up with a live wire like me. I hope he’s too sore to move.

She smiled her perkiest smile, the one that the Goth shop’s customers had loved—until she’d upset that young exhibitionist who thought it cool to strip off and play the Witch. She yawned, stretched her arms high over her head, then spread them wide. Elf warriors froze as their collective gaze fastened on her rounded double D breasts.

Although she ignored the leering Elves, she added a feminine sway to her walk. “Isn’t it just the most glorious morning? I know I’m going to enjoy the walk.”

Leonidas shot to her side and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t push me, woman.”

She looked away, still angry and hurting, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You want to walk? Very well.” His voice rang out, harsh and cold, calculated to warn off overeager Elves. “Then you will stay at my side as I lead the column.”

After the way he’d abused her, she’d rather step into a cage of cobras. His eyes narrowed and darkened into angry pits. Nothing of the sensual lover who had seduced his way between her legs remained. Last night, he’d taught her more about pain than pleasure. She smiled and pretended to accept his subtle plea for forgiveness. He’d hurt and humiliated her, then threatened to pass her around like a whore. Worse—thanks to the randy rat potion, she’d have let him. Despite her misgivings, she took her place by his side as they began the day’s march. Goddess, this would be a long trip.

By noon, Mordred’s stronghold loomed on the horizon like a Norman motte-and-bailey castle. The stronghold dominated the skyline, its black stones dark blots on the green landscape. As they drew nearer, she could make out crenellations atop the walls and arrow slits in the sides. Finally, she could see how strong stone walls held back the jungle of anaconda vines, sundew plants, and oversize mandrakes.

An hour’s march later, and Leonidas led the column over the moat, Meena at his side. The spiral-leaved waterweeds choked the moat, tendrils seething as they searched for their next victim.

Hekate, I hope this Mordred doesn’t feed his prisoners to them.

* * * *

Leonidas kept his face stern and unyielding as the column trudged through the barbican gate. He felt a fluttering of magic rekindle inside him and knew his power was returning. Elves’ blood, he’d relinquish it forever if Meena only gave him a genuine smile. His heart had almost stopped beating when that drudge had told him how the drug made Meena’s pain worse. She’d suffered more than he expected or wanted, and he’d never forgive himself for that.

She barely spoke, her usual snarky tongue stilled into soft-spoken answers, but only if he asked direct questions. Otherwise she stayed silent—eyes downcast, lips pursed into a narrow line. He just wished he’d had a chance to explain his actions—and he still needed to tell her about Mordred.

He dragged his feet as he crossed the courtyard. He dismissed his men, grabbed Meena’s hand, and pulled her inside the tower. Two guards with steel helmets and halberds barred the door.

“You camp outside with your troop,” one snarled.

The second growled. “No one enters Lord Mordred’s chambers without a direct invitation.”

The first one grinned. “But if you think getting in’s hard, try making it out alive.”

Leonidas’s icy stare knocked the starch from their spines, but they still blocked his way. He drew himself up to his full six-feet-six height. “Tell Lord Mordred that keeping Leonidas, King of the Fae, waiting is an insult to the entire Fae race.”

“King of the Fae? Really?” Meena gaped. “That’s one hell of a secret you kept there. So, jackass, do you have any other surprises in store?”

So much for his woman turning stiff and formal. Her snarky-tongued comment delighted him after their long silent march—but the guards had different ideas.

“Silence!” the first bellowed.

The second glowered and fingered his knife. “Speak when you are spoken to, or lose your tongue.”

Meena edged closer to Leonidas, but the confrontation ended when the Great Hall’s doors swung open. A slender warrior stood before them. He could have passed for Leonidas’s double but for the deep scar that ran from his left eye to his lips. “Leo, you’ve finally come to swear allegiance.”

Leonidas shook his head. “I’ll form an alliance, Mordred, but you know the conditions.”

“And you, my brother”—the overlord shook his head—“know I can’t meet them yet. Still it’s good to see you, and you’ve brought the Witch’s spawn. We can use her to make her mother break the curse.”

MEENA STARED FROM one to the other and realized they shared the same face. Except for the scar, they looked more twins than brothers. This connection with her mother’s kidnapper was another secret Leonidas hadn’t shared, along with his lineage and his penchant for beating on helpless women.

Her voice reverberated with betrayal. “King of the Fae’s bad enough. Your entire race has their heads shoved up their butts. Then, guess what, Mordred’s your brother. What did you think? That I was too stupid or too loved up to notice?”

That earned her a dark look from the overlord, but Meena felt detached as though she watched through the wrong end of a telescope. The two men—leaders of their respective nations—embraced, their obvious affection sidelining her.

Then Leonidas broke free and wrapped his arms round her waist. “Mordred, meet Meena. She’s one hell of a woman, and she kills carnivorous plants.”

That’s it then
. She’d wanted to mean something special to her Fae—their bloody king for goodness’ sake—but he couldn’t see beyond her plant-killing mojo. Okay, she was finally back in the otherworld—but the best her lover could say about her was she killed a few weeds.

That’s some life skill I’ve got going on there, really.

And did that overlord just out her as a Witch? At least Leonidas didn’t seem to have noticed. No wonder he’d told her,
“No promises. No future.”
Not when he was King of the Fae. Even if he’d wanted her, he was so far above her that if she reached out to him, she’d overbalance and fall into a deep pit of despair. Damn, did nothing ever go right for her?

What if his apologies had been for real? Suppose he’d truly needed to make her scream to secure his position. To keep her safe. Better he spanked her than kill someone else, but couldn’t he have whispered an explanation? Then came the real question. Would she have shrieked like that if he’d asked? Probably not. She’d been so lost in her need for sensual pleasure she’d have ignored him—just as she had all day.

Stupid, useless Witch. Wasting the last precious hours at his side.

Even her mother had called her headstrong and stubborn, but her straight-talking, get-in-there-first attitude covered her fear of rejection. She backed it up with a sarcastic tongue and a gung-ho attitude, but that lost, vulnerable girl who fled the otherworld still trembled inside her. Then that dog-breathed bully died because she couldn’t act submissive.

Given the choice between his life or the runaway’s, she’d choose the runaway every time. Without thinking, she’d elected herself judge and jury, and then she’d forced Leonidas to act as her executioner. Maybe if she’d just kept quiet, they could have found some middle ground.

Although given that Leonidas hated everything witchy and weird—her included—probably not.

She chewed on her bottom lip and wished she’d been honest with him from the start.
Damn it, when has he been honest with me? What with his being the Fae king, the overlord’s brother, and all.

She saw the instant Mordred’s words registered with Leonidas—but he refused to condemn her unheard. He pulled her closer. “Witch’s spawn? You couldn’t be more wrong. Meena’s a druid or a sprite, but she doesn’t like to talk about her past. Apparently the Witches put a price on her head because they thought she lacked any powers. Mord, she’s a walking miracle. I don’t understand how they could have been so wrong.”

Okay, it was time to man up and reveal all. Confused and uncertain, she leaned into his embrace and breathed in his spicy chocolate essence. For the last time maybe.

Mordred looked her over like she’d crawled out from under a stone. “Is that what she told you? Leo, my brother, she’s a liar as well as a Witch. Worse, her mother’s the one that cursed our father and by default, you.”

Meena hadn’t realized it was so cold in here. Arms wrapped tightly around her chest—unsure if it was for comfort or warmth—she stepped back and shook her head. Blinking hard, she couldn’t meet Leonidas’s gaze. Tears in her eyes, she knew whatever she said it would be too little, too late. Voice cracking with emotion, she admitted, “Mum wouldn’t know a curse if one hit her in the face. Leo, I’m sorry, but like me, she was born and bred a Witch.”

He dropped his arm from around her waist and shook his head. He condemned her with his emerald-hued gaze, and without a word, he moved away from her side.

Then it hit her. He might never hold her again. He’d risked his life for her, taken her side when he didn’t have to, and what did she do in return? She lied and deceived him when all she really wanted was to love him until the universe ceased to exist. “Leo, I’m so sorry.”

The world moved in slow motion as if everything was a dream. Tears poured down her cheeks, but she lacked the energy to lift her hand and wipe them away. She wanted to tell him nothing mattered except him, but he turned away. Her eyes brimmed with sorrow, and her face turned whiter than winter’s deepest snow.

Mordred’s eyes darkened—coal-black orbs that carried the weight of the world—but his smile was crocodile cruel. “Your mother cursed my brother and his bloodline, but that wasn’t enough for a bitch like you. Whatever game you think you’re playing, you’ll regret it—if you live long enough.”

Leonidas moved between them, but his closed-down expression and curled lip crushed her. Finally, he ran his the back of his hand down her cheek in a silent plea for her to retract her words. Seconds stretched into hours. When she shook her head and said nothing, he spun on his heel and walked away.

Nausea swamped her, and although she despised the way he’d treated her last night, she’d done something a million times worse. She’d deceived him from the moment they’d met, and now she suffered for it. It hurt, but she could no more deny her origins than she could stop her heart beating—and it beat for him alone. Finally she found her voice. “I might be a Witch, but I’m a really bad one.”

“Elves’ blood!” Leonidas bellowed. “There’s no such thing as a good one.”