Curse of the Fae King (22 page)

Then his deep voice thundered through the door. “Mordred, I’ll fucking kill you for this!”

The runaway gathered up her gown, held it against her scrawny breasts—unripe cherries to Meena’s plump, juicy pears. She stared over Meena’s shoulder to where Mordred stood silently on the landing. Finally he nodded, and the girl scurried away down the back stairs.

Meena’s fangs shot out—long, pointed, and deadly—and she wanted blood. Runaway blood. Not to drink, but she’d watch it drain into the carpet until the scrawny bitch faded into darkness and pain…the same agony that suffocated Meena now. Her fingernails elongated into claws, ready to scratch out the runaway’s eyeballs. Only the girl hadn’t looked too happy. Maybe as a sex slave, she hadn’t had a choice in this. And Goddess, didn’t that just make Leonidas’s infidelity a million times worse?

Okay, maybe she wouldn’t rip out the runaway’s throat—not if she’d been forced into Leonidas’s bed. That’d be the bed Meena wanted to curl up in and burrow her face in the pillow. She needed to feel Leonidas’s warmth on the sheet as she breathed in his chocolate-and-chili essence. Anything to keep the scent of him close. His betrayal cut deep. Furious, hurt, and a little lost, she almost barged into his room and confronted him, but he’d made his feelings clear when he made his choice. And he hadn’t chosen her.

Her adrenaline rush faded into resignation and defeat. She hadn’t known she could fall in love so quickly or so completely. Like a fool, she’d placed her heart firmly in Leonidas’s hands. And the bastard tossed it around like he was bouncing a ball. She’d given everything she could, but he’d preferred that half-starved mouse to her.

After all they’d been through, she’d hoped she’d wormed her way into a small corner of his heart. Instead, the no-good, cheating toad tossed her in a dungeon and bedded a reluctant sex slave. She’d never forgive him for that. Whatever happened to
it isn’t you, it’s me
? Maybe kings just didn’t need to be that tactful.

Her claws curled into her palms, and she thought she’d throw up. Deep down, part of her still wanted to be his.
Stupid Witch mooning after a heartless Fairy. Breathe. Don’t let him make you pass out again
. I’ve got to learn to live
without him.

Her world shattered at his lies, but she still wanted to sink her fangs through his flesh and taste his deceitful Fae blood. Since he was a low-life reptile, it was probably cold—not warm and sweet or tempting.

She swallowed hard, but it didn’t stop the pain. Or the tears. Betrayal was a bitch. She’d learned that when the Witches rejected her. And now Leonidas reinforced the lesson. How stupid could one Witch get?
Always wanting to belong to people and places you shouldn’t.

From behind the door, Leo bellowed again. “Mordred, get your scheming ass in here.
Now
!”

“Lady Meena.” Mordred gently took her arm. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place for you to linger. My half brother downed too much ale last night—as usual—and he’s never at his best when he’s hung over.”

When it came to women, Leonidas was a big fat liar, but Meena hadn’t expected him to be a drunkard too. In her dreams, he was her hero—a larger-than-life warrior with emerald-hued eyes and muscles to sigh over. Instead she wept over him, and those dreams? Nightmares that hemmed her in like a steep-sided grave. Perhaps she’d eaten something that was off? Gorgonzola at bedtime maybe? What if she’d imagined all of this? Her Leo was everything she’d ever dreamed of, all rolled up in one muscular package. She wanted his hands on her breasts or his cock in her pussy.
Sweet Hekate, when did I become such a pushover? Why can’t he want me the way I want him? True-mate, my ass. I was just his easy lay.

All it took was a few glib compliments coupled with the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, and she’d lain back and opened her legs—repeatedly. A loveless marriage, based on mutual respect, looked better by the minute.

LEONIDAS EXPLODED FROM his room, his shirt open to the navel, his leather waistcoat dangling from one hand. “Hell fire, Mordred, what’s—”

He froze when he saw Meena, her hand resting lightly on Mordred’s arm. Then everything fell into place. His bastard half brother had hit him with a sleep spell and ordered the servants to strip him. Then they’d stuck him in bed with the naked runaway. And last night in a stupid act of bravado, he’d ordered that terrified, scrawny kid prepared for his bed. He still needed to convince Meena nothing had happened, but she’d just witnessed the scene Mordred staged. It wasn’t going to be easy. He’d crawl over broken glass to apologize, but her shoulders-down refusal to meet his gaze felt like he’d fisted her in the gut. Then she stood tall, lifted her head, and curled her lip in disdain.

His waistcoat slid through his fingers and pooled on the floor next to his boots. He couldn’t find the right words, couldn’t make himself speak. Even his hand moved in slow motion when he ran it through his unbound hair. Then, with a jerky lack of attention, he pulled his shirt edges together and started to fasten it up wrong.

Finally he managed to string a sentence together. “Meena, forgive me.”

He winced when she leaned on his half brother’s arm. “Lord Mordred asked me to become his wife, and I have accepted. We’re on our way to free my parents, so if you’ll excuse us, I won’t keep you from your…amusements.”

His jaw dropped when she swept down the grand staircase and into the Great Hall.
Elves’ blood, she’d make me a magnificent queen
. His heart screamed for him to punch his half brother senseless. His head wondered what was the point. Convinced he’d betrayed her, Meena had turned away. The stark look in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his immortal life—a life he didn’t want if it didn’t include her. Even if she forgave him, it could only be a temporary fix.

By the end of the month, his beast would need placating with mindless sex and a new woman’s body. His fate, his curse, was to hurt Meena over and over, so better to let her go now.

He returned to his apartments, face grim, head down as he stared at the mosaic floor. When he closed the door behind him, he closed it on the best thing in his life.

Suddenly he grinned.

He might be down, but he definitely wasn’t out—not if he convinced Elizbetta to lift her curse. She might take some persuading, and he prayed Meena didn’t marry his half brother first. And after the stunt that Mordred just pulled, he’d gladly make her a widow.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“You will marry me, then.” Mordred’s tone was more a command than a query.

Leonidas just slammed the door on Meena’s hopes and dreams, but she supposed it was inevitable once he learned she was a Witch. That didn’t make it hurt any less—and he still didn’t know she was half-Vampire. A failed Witch couldn’t compare with cool-blooded Fae maidens—and she just bet they were naturally thin. No diets in the Fae court, just a king who forced unwilling women into his bed.

One smile from his stern, kissable lips, and she’d forgive him everything.

There were no tears, no tantrums. She refused to weep for an oversexed user like him—besides, if she let one tear fall, she’d cry for centuries. She even kept the wobble out of her voice. “If I could change the way I feel for Leonidas, I would. It’s like he’s ingrained in every cell in my body, but he made his feelings pretty clear when he thrust his sex slave in my face.”

Mordred’s smile was gentle, a soothing balm that flowed over the wound Leonidas gouged in her heart. Meena considered a moment. Nothing about Mordred made her mouth water, and her cunt didn’t flood with desire at the sound of his voice. After years of watching her mother weep for her father, she’d always thought falling in love was overrated. It made you crave things so badly you’d bleed for them, then left you stranded in an ocean of tears. Marriage with Mordred would be a walk in the park compared to that. “If you swear to show me the same loyalty and respect I will give you, then yes, Lord Mordred, I will marry you.”

She’d done it—made a commitment to a stranger who shared Leonidas’s face, except for the scar of course. He’d be a constant reminder of the man she’d loved and lost, but she’d tied her future to his. Maybe as her presence destroyed the invasive plants, she could build a new life here. Her new mission statement: help feed the Elves and introduce them to women’s lib. She wasn’t Germaine Greer burning her bra, not with her lush figure, but she couldn’t stand by and watch the women suffer. Heartbroken or not, she refused to be either Mordred’s pet or his sex slave. “Just promise me that ours will be a marriage of equals. No lies or dishonesty between us.”

A slight flush reddened Mordred’s cheeks as he raised her fingers to his lips. “Total honesty and total respect, I promise. Drop your barriers, and let me seal our pact with my magic.”

The familiar tingle swirled around them, reminding Meena of a true-mate’s bond—another thing she’d lost. Or maybe another thing she’d never had. No real home. No powers—except an inbuilt ability to clear an overgrown jungle and wither plants. Worst of all, no Leonidas. She’d loved the Witch homelands and her childhood friends. Then she’d loved Leonidas. It crushed her how everyone she cared for turned against her so easily.

“Meena,” Mordred told her, “it would be my pleasure to show you around your new home.”

“My parents,” she persisted.

Mordred summoned a page. “The Elf troop that arrived yesterday are to let the Vampire drink from them, on the condition he doesn’t drain them. Once he’s fed, let the Witch into his cell. Tell them, one bruise on either of the prisoners, and they’ll lose body parts.”

“You swore to free them,” Meena snapped.

Mordred’s smile turned sheepish and sad. “So I will, Lady Meena, but not quite yet. I need to recharge my magic, but remember, I’m trusting you not to let your parents change your mind.”

She owed him the truth. After all, that was what he’d given her. “Honestly, Mordred, I can’t return to the coven’s homelands, I don’t really fit in the mortal world, and even the Fae king’s rejected me. I’m some sort of witchy-Vampire hybrid who belongs nowhere.”

Mordred shook his head. “You belong here now. I won’t have you return to the dungeons, though. You deserve so much more than that, and I regret the way I let my brother influence me. Let your father feed. My magic will recharge soon, and I’ll cast a sleep spell on your parents. I’ll have them carried up to your quarters, and you can explain how things have changed. Believe me, it’s better than having a vengeful Vampire on the rampage.”

In a world where magic gradually slipped from the Elves’ grasp, Mordred’s words made sense. His pride in his home touched her. His willingness to share it with her made her think their marriage might work after all. She’d never belonged anywhere, yet the Elf overlord offered her a chance to put down roots. For that alone, she’d give him her loyalty. “Then I should love to see your home. Lead on, and show me everything.”

“And, Lady Meena”—he smiled his most charming smile—“feel free to change anything you wish.”

The only thing she wanted to change was her bridegroom, but she’d already made her commitment.

* * * *

Leonidas sat on his bed and cursed. Had he really once told Meena that the only thing worse than a Vampire was a Witch? Yes, that moron had definitely been him, but it seemed his true-mate was both—and he couldn’t love her more. He’d given her so many reasons to keep her origins secret. Then when she tried to explain why she’d stayed silent, like an idiot he’d refused to listen.

He’d swim through shark-infested waters to have her hear him out—only she didn’t want to know him now. Turnabout sucked, but there had to be a way for him to win her and claim the future he craved. Maybe his salvation languished in Mordred’s dungeon. Elizbetta cursed him, but if she unjinxed him, he could claim Meena as his true-mate.

He’d be free to mantle her with his body and take her as she knelt on all fours. When she surrendered completely, he’d run his tongue over that blue vein in her neck and fondle her pendulous breasts. She’d tremble beneath him, and he’d sink his fangs through her flesh. She’d be his forever, and he’d be hers—bonded until the end of time.

Hope crept into his heart like the last wisp of smoke from a dying fire. His spirits lightened, and when he paced he room, a half smile played about his lips. Once he told Elizbetta how much he adored Meena, surely she’d put her daughter’s happiness before her quest for vengeance. What mother wouldn’t? Okay, he was still down, but he definitely wasn’t out.

A quick check of his weapons, and he hurried to the dungeon. Guards barred his way, weapons at the ready. Leonidas’s hastily cast sleep spell easily negated their menace. The door was heavy and the dungeons gloomy. Meena must hate him for condemning her to a night in this place. As his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness, he studied the emaciated Vampire and the black-haired Witch—Meena’s mother. If they were in daylight, he’d see the green streaks in her hair that proclaimed her a plant specialist. Elizbetta had turned immortal in her early twenties, and she could easily pass for Meena’s sister.

Elizbetta spotted him and snarled. “If your men hurt my daughter, I’ll hex you until your limbs wither and your eyesight fails. Don’t get too attached to your tongue, boy. That’s next on my list.”

Leonidas braced himself against her scorn, ready to beg if that was what it took. Then he realized she mistook him for Mordred. He stepped closer and let her see his unscarred face. “Lady Elizbetta, I am Fae, not Elf, and your daughter means the world to me. Mordred swore to move her to comfortable quarters, and he’ll personally punish anyone who hurts her—after I get through with them of course.”

“Fae? Elf? Who gives a damn?” Elizbetta spat at his feet. “You’re all liars and deceivers. I’ll damn you and that scar-faced bastard to the deepest depths of hell. Keep your hands off my daughter, boy, or lose them.”

Hatred blazed in her eyes, and even the stick-thin Vampire gave a disgusted groan. Leonidas’s inbuilt Fae dignity kept his anger under control—just. To claim his true-mate, he needed this woman’s support—but she’d cursed him, spat at him, and threatened him. And she was the one in the cell.