Curse of the Fae King (21 page)

“You know,” Mordred taunted, “if my true-mate was a curvy little beauty like her, I’d shower her in jewels and silks. She’d have the finest suite in the tower, and I’d never let her think I’d slept with anyone else.”

Leonidas ran his hands over his hair and groaned. Had he really threatened to bed the runaway? And had Meena thought he would? She’d languished in a dungeon while he’d drunk himself senseless. How could he convince her he wanted no one but her—especially when his curse would force him to screw some faceless female in four weeks’ time? For a cool-headed Fae, he’d really messed up. Despite the chill morning air, sweat shone on his brow. Fists clenched as hard as his cock, he snarled. “Damn it, Mord, I’m a dick.”

Mordred’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Runs in the family, bro. Dad was the biggest dick in the universe. If my mother hadn’t been the previous overlord’s sister, he’d have thrown me on the midden with the rest of his bastards. You’re too softhearted, tracking them down and providing for any that still lived. Survival of the fittest and all that, Leo. Anyway, back to my archives. About six months ago, I came across this.”

Leonidas dragged it across the table and started to read. The words drew him in, and finally—red-cheeked and furious—he glared at Mordred. “Swear this is true.”

Mordred nodded. “On my life. That’s why I offered a bounty on Elizabeth Sybil and her daughter.”

Leonidas expended more magic, a truth spell that verified both the ledger and his brother’s words. That book destroyed more of his preconceptions, but he still stated clearly, “Meena’s mine. Give me the women. Keep the Vampire.”

“They’re bargaining chips. Apparently our father had the hots for your true-mate’s mother, but she stayed loyal to her Vampire. No one expected the cool, calm Fae king to be ruled by his balls. Look, it says right here he wanted to put you and your mother aside so he could make her his queen. When Elizbetta discovered the truth, she cursed him, and by default, you. After that, he bedded a new woman every month, but he never found the love she shared with her true-mate.”

Leonidas understood the origins of the curse now, but not why it had passed down to him. Hope blossomed inside him. If Meena loved him as much as he loved her, surely her mother would break the curse, and they could be bonded fully—but last night he’d behaved…badly. He’d grovel if that was what it took. Anything to earn her forgiveness. Then another issue popped up on his agenda. “An army of Vampire Elves? Come on, Mord, get real.”

Mordred tossed back a tankard of ale. “I don’t like it any more than you, but those bloody plants are killing us, and our magic’s almost gone. My uncle really was a dumb bastard—cruel too—and not just because he needed to be to survive. He only had one good idea in his life. He wanted the Elves to turn Vampire, but the Vampire king would rather starve in my dungeon than save my race.”

The Vampire king? He’d been missing for the past couple of decades—maybe longer. The Vampires wouldn’t rest until their monarch returned. If they discovered Mordred’s scheme, they’d be the ones who wiped the Elves from the otherworld.

Leonidas had never heard anything so stupid—or so desperate—in his life, but he offered another solution. “My Meena can kill the plants—permanently. She’s sexy as hell, but she’s walking weed killer. Get her on your side, and your problem’s solved.”

Mordred lolled back in his chair and quietly gathered the remnants of his magic. “Remember what I said about me being a ruthless bastard?” He hurled a sleep spell at his half brother. “Well, if what you say is true, I’ll marry the girl myself.”

* * * *

Meena felt broken inside, as downtrodden as any Elf drudge. Those guards had dumped her in this silver-and-blue suite, looked her over with lust in their eyes, and told her to expect their overlord soon.

This room was light and airy, a complete contrast to last night’s cell. A magic-fueled fire burned in the hearth, and a side table held a tray of bread and cheese. Best of all, a claw-footed bath filled with warm water stood before the fireplace, and a change of clothes lay on the sofa.

Too cautious to bare all immediately, she dragged heavy chairs behind both doors. A quick scrub later, and she decided she hated clothes without Lycra. Was a bit of elastane too much to ask? Rather than wear that old-fashioned white gown and leave her tits unsupported, she decided to stick with her leather halter and thong shorts. At least she wouldn’t tangle her feet in the hem and fall at Mordred’s feet. Besides, even a Goth wannabe had her pride. Why look like the bride of Dracula when she was really his daughter?

Dracula’s daughter? No way, but she had to face facts. Her dad could turn others Vampire, and only the Vampire king could do that. Her mother named her Wilhelmina just like the heroine in Bram Stoker’s book. She’d even made their home in Whitby—the town where myth and legend merged with facts. Everything made a sick sort of sense. If Meena’s suspicions had to be true, she’d apparently gone from failed Witch to Vampire princess in an instant. Life was just full of surprises lately.

Leonidas hated her witchy origins, but if she really was a Vampire princess, he’d freak—again. Honestly she was pretty freaked out herself.

A knock on the door, and she crashed back to earth. Princesses were ethereal creatures, not witchy rejects with what? Weed-killing powers. And who the hell knocked on a prisoner’s door? There was only one way to find out.

She stuffed a hunk of bread into her mouth and removed the chair from behind the door. At first glance, she thought it was Leonidas. Then she saw the deep scar etched down her visitor’s face. Disappointment swamped her like an unexpected rain shower, but she tapped her foot and demanded, “Yes?”

Mordred bowed slightly and clicked his heels. “Lady Meena, I came to apologize for my half brother’s actions. Usually he’s the most controlled of men, and his emotional outburst last night was…surprising.”

Meena refused to play games with her captor, not after he’d tortured her father for years. “Cut the crap, and tell me what you’re after.”

“Straight talking as well as powerful,” Mordred purred.

Meena almost slammed the door in his face, but maybe like every storybook villain, he’d let slip some vital information if she got him talking. She walked back in the room and cut another slice from the loaf.

When he followed her inside, he raised an eyebrow at the chair blocking the other door; then his gaze took in the discarded dress. “I’m sorry you didn’t like the clothes I provided. However, you look quite charming in that bundle of straps that pass for a top and shorts.”

She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. For all his smooth talking, he wanted something—probably her fabled ability to kill a few plants. “Hello? Dungeon? My mother and my father? Set them free, and I’ll listen.”

Mordred cut a slice of cheese. “Here. I love a woman who knows how to bargain. Very well, Lady Meena. The Elves need your magic, or we’ll die out. You need your parents alive and well. Work with me, and I’ll free them.”

She knew better than to trust an Elf, especially their overlord—but after her long march and her imprisonment, that cheese looked good. No point in starving, not if she planned to get her family out of here. Untrusting, she gingerly accepted his offering. “Back that up, buster. Where’s Leonidas, and what does he have to say about this?”

Mordred paced the room in a show of reluctance. Finally he turned back to Meena. “I’m sorry. He’s still shut in his chambers with that scrawny woman he chose over you.”

Scrawny? Hekate, Mordred got that right. How could Leonidas prefer that flat-chested little mouse to her with her generous curves? Maybe she gave him the one thing Meena couldn’t—total submission. “Okay, Mordred, you’ve got my full attention.”

He cut her more bread and cheese and settled by the table. “Come, eat. Lady Meena, I’m truly sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but my half brother’s love life is legendary. He’s cursed to love a new woman every month, but every day wouldn’t be enough for him. He’s the worst kind of user—but when you’re a king, women daren’t refuse to warm your bed.”

No. Not Leonidas. He’d never treat a woman like that. Then she thought of the way he’d beaten and abused her poor butt that night in the hut. Maybe he got off on fear and pain, but his apology had seemed genuine and his reasons sound. Now that she’d calmed down, she knew he’d acted the only way he could—hadn’t he? After a night in the dungeons, she wasn’t as sure now.

He’d seduced her with his deep, sensual voice, twisted everything with his lies, and he’d refused to rest until he screwed her. Then once they linked up with the Elves, he’d hurt and abused her. He’d even ordered her tossed in jail, but her stubborn heart didn’t believe he forced anyone into his bed. Seduced them? Yeah, she could believe that. After all, she’d willingly opened her legs and welcomed his cock inside her with pleasured moans.

Stupid emotions, making me weak and tearful
. Goddess, he’d chosen the runaway over her—bedded her too. Meena took a deep breath and turned to Mordred. “He really doesn’t like me much. Does he?”

Meena hadn’t known she was crying until Mordred wiped the tears from her cheeks. She blinked madly as he turned away—as if he wanted to change the subject.

Finally, he turned back. “My half brother likes anything in a skirt, jeans, or scraps of strategically placed leather—at least until a new woman catches his eye.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Meena crumbled. The cold feeling around her heart suddenly felt like an iceberg, crushing her chest and making it hard to breathe. Despair flooded her soul. Nothing mattered without him, and the endless string of surprises was more than she could take—but she refused to black out again. “Okay. Your half brother doesn’t want anything to do with me, but you obviously do. Spill it.”

Mordred’s eyes narrowed at her tone. For a moment, he looked as though he’d strike her, but then he moved closer and took her hand. “Very well, Lady Meena; I’ll be blunt. People tell me I don’t have a heart, so I won’t insult you with declarations of undying love. Instead I can give you all the loyalty and respect Leonidas doesn’t. I know you liked him, so perhaps in time, you could like me.”

“Hold on there, buster.” Meena pulled her hand free. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Mordred reclaimed her hand, then dropped to one knee. “Marry me, Lady Meena, and save my people. Give me your word, and as an act of good faith, I’ll free your parents immediately.”

Her heart belonged to Leonidas, but last night he’d stomped all over it. Much as she loved Whitby, she didn’t really belong there. The Witches had banished her—even put a price on her head. She barely knew her father, but she didn’t want to be a Vampire princess. She’d wanted a future with Leonidas, but he wanted…anything in a skirt. For one night only.

If she stayed here, she could rid the Elf kingdom of its carnivorous plants. Mordred didn’t measure up as husband material—not if she compared him to Leonidas—but at least he’d been honest with her. She felt like a gypsy, always traveling, never putting down roots. If she married Mordred, she could build a future.

Since she couldn’t have Leonidas, she’d settle for a home and eventually children. “If I agree, can we postpone the wedding night for a while? Give us chance to get to know each other first?”

Rather than embrace her, he raised her fingers to his lips. “I’ll wait until you feel ready, but one day I would like an heir. My Elves don’t approve of love or marriage. I’m afraid the law insists we wait at least six weeks before we wed. We’ll marry the day after the cooling-off period’s over. Meanwhile, order whatever you need for your trousseau. This suite is yours until after the wedding, and I’ll have the adjoining rooms readied for your parents. I assume they’ll stay for the ceremony? If they can’t, they’re free to visit anytime.”

Sadly, Meena relinquished her dreams—but that left her empty inside. She needed to forget Leonidas and accepted that companionship and family would have to compensate for love. Inwardly she wept for Leonidas—only he’d tired of her already. That meant, even drugged into a sexual frenzy, she’d failed at the steaming passion thing too.

Love is pain and misery—Leonidas taught me that
. Once, she’d believed adversity made her stronger.
Stupid Witch, I can’t even get that right
. Trouble undermined your foundations and made even the toughest heart crumble. She clung to Mordred’s arm like a lifeline. “Can I think about it? Please?”

Mordred agreed instantly, then sank elegantly in the chair opposite, one ankle crossed over the other leg’s knee. Moments later, Leonidas’s furious bellow echoed up the stairs. Meena was on her feet in an instant, ready to race to his side. Then she remembered he didn’t want her. Embarrassed at showing her weakness before Mordred, she cut another slice of cheese. Eating it choked her.

Did Mordred just smile? Surely not, but he did offer her his arm and led her toward the door. “You should discuss your future with your mother. Meanwhile, consider this. My country needs a strong feminine influence, and I swear I’ll never treat you as badly as my half brother.”

Only he was talking to himself.

Meena couldn’t stay any longer. Leonidas was angry, maybe hurting, and she had to know he was safe. She bolted out the door and down the stairs. The leather straps that almost covered her nipples chafed at her boobs. She didn’t care that she was barefoot or that her hair curled in damp multicolored spirals around her shoulders. Nothing mattered except that Leonidas was in trouble, and she belonged at his side.

She heard Mordred descend the stairs behind her, not that she waited. She skidded to a halt on a wide minstrel’s gallery, unsure which way to turn. A door swung open, and someone shoved a naked woman through it. The runaway stood—exposed, frightened, and tearful—her gaze darting wildly as she searched for somewhere to hide. A moment later her mud-colored gown flew after her. And the thrower’s hands were oh so familiar. Hands that had toyed with Meena’s curls and caressed her breasts. Hands that had loved her into multiple orgasms. Surely Leonidas hadn’t… He wouldn’t… Oh shit, he had.