Curse of the Fae King (26 page)

He retreated to the corner and curled into a fetal potion—claws extended as his body trembled and shook. His resonant voice faded to a raspy whimper. “Meena. I need Meena.”

“Shush,” she soothed from across the room, “It’s me, Meena. I’m here.”

When he raised his hands to cover his ears, his talons tangled in his hair. “Not real. Not here. Betrayed you. Hurt you.”

Again, he tore at his chest, oblivious to the strands of his dark hair wrapped around his fingers.

Meena moved closer. “Stop that. How can I hold you if you’re going to bleed all over me?”

He scrambled up onto all fours and tilted his head to one side, sniffing, scenting, desiring the illusion. Not his Meena. Not his—but his beast didn’t care. It wanted her. Couldn’t survive without her. Its primitive instincts grew like flames, and his penis shot upright.

Betrayal. Wouldn’t fuck the not-Meena—but she smelled so good. He rose to his feet and stalked toward her. Her perfume! Hers! He scented it again, breathed in the illusion. His beast roared in possession and triumph.

Lightning fast, he pounced and threw her over his shoulder. Prey. Fuck his prey; then kill it. Make it sorry it pretended to be his Meena. He dumped her on a nest of ripped-up blankets behind the ruined bedstead.

His beast needed taste and scent, and this woman who hardened its cock reminded him of Meena. He needed to pound inside her, screw her until she begged for mercy, then screw her some more. Fuck her. Break her. He ripped her T-shirt, desperate to bare her flesh. His claws curled around her breasts. Too tight. Blood dripping from this not-Meena. The scent of her blood mingled with her heather and wild herbs almost destroyed him. He bent his head and tasted, just laved his tongue over her breasts. More. He needed more. He ripped her jeans and shredded them just like the bedding, but her red lace panties pleased the beast. He knelt astride her, his feet by her ears, his tongue flicking over her lace-covered cunt.

Pinned down by his bulk, she didn’t resist. He tasted the dampness filling her pussy, threw back his head in a possessive bellow. He tore off her panties with his teeth. He spread her legs and parted her feminine folds with his claws.

“That’s right,” Meena encouraged.

With a bellow, he fell on her cunt as though he wanted to devour her. Deep inside he did. He’d fuck her first.
Break her with passion. Screw her so hard she never gets up from the bedroom floor. Take everything she offers; then take more.

He rolled off her, then prodded at her until she turned onto her belly. The beast’s fangs hovered over her neck, and she shuddered
. That’s right. Scare the impostor. Terrify her; then break her with sex. Feed on her pleasure. Feed on her. Bite her
. With a satisfied roar, he sank his fangs in her shoulder and tasted her blood.

One muscular thigh shoved her legs open, and then he was inside her, pumping and thrusting so hard he roared. Her muffled gasp didn’t stop him. He thrust harder, bonding with her the way a werewolf bonds with its mate.

He fucked her hard. Deep. With animal intensity. Each thrust fed the beast’s needs and quieted the anger tearing his heart apart. The remnants of his humanity screamed,
it’s not Meena.

The beast didn’t care. Buried balls-deep inside her, it flicked its tongue over the puncture wound in her neck and reveled in the taste of her blood. Stunned by his violence, Meena lolled against him. Finally, she ran finger over her neck and gave a small, pleasured moan. When she found her voice, she whispered, “Yes. Fuck me harder. Take every part of me. I’m yours.”

The beast bellowed as it came inside her, but it kept right on pounding. Pushing. Thrusting. Endless thrusting that soothed its hunger but only hurt her.

MEENA GASPED AS he forced his way deeper. Normally Leonidas brought only pleasure, but the beast enjoyed her pain. With a deep breath, she opened her legs wider and raised her hips, matching that endless thrusting with thrusts of her own. Liquid heat shot through her pussy, and she shuddered as she came. Her body responded to Leonidas even when he was lost in the beast.

She felt him come inside her like an explosion of nuclear-charged sperm. She thought he’d rest then, but it wasn’t enough to sate the beast that possessed him. Part of her wondered if anything could. He was wild and untamed, a savage creature created by a Witch’s curse. Only, curses could be broken.

“That’s it,” she said in approval when the beast came again. He didn’t seem to hear her, just placed his palms on her back, sat up, and bayed. And damn if she didn’t want to howl right back. The Fae king wanted her so badly he couldn’t fuck another. His desire, his all-consuming need drove him, and he fulfilled her every dream. If he’d just let her rest a moment, she’d think of something to save him. Instead he fucked her some more.

“Taste you,” she begged in the hope he’d hear her. Maybe if she surrounded his cock with her lips and drew him into the warmth of her mouth, his beast would recede. Leonidas had certainly liked it when she did that before.

“Screw you,” he rumbled, more animal than man. Was he cursing her? Or did he mean to bed her again? She was willing, eager even, but her cunt was starting to get sore. She couldn’t move, couldn’t persuade him to stop and think. His humanity had evaporated into animal instinct and sexual need. Okay, since he wouldn’t listen, that just left her magic.
Think, Meena, think, or you won’t get out of here alive. Not that I’m really living if I’m not with him.

Another deep breath, and she unfurled a tendril of power inside her. Her new abilities let her absorb the power of carnivorous jungles and fire-casting Elves. Sweet Goddess,
that has to include curses. Doesn’t it?
Above her, the beast continued its pounding assault on her cunt. Hips writhing in willing response, she tasted the sour magic of his curse. It flowed through her like swamp sludge, thick, dark, and disgusting.

She heard a dragon mewl from outside the window. When she turned her head and looked, Lipstick swooped and soared as he crooned his approval. A connection clicked in her brain. The dragon would ground her as she flushed away Leonidas’s curse. Another taste of dark magic, another nauseous cramp in her stomach.

Her hips rose and fell as her pussy pulsed around Leonidas’s dick. This endless pleasuring would wear her out, but she thrust back and drained off more his curse. Another writhe of her hips. More dark magic that sickened her soul. Then Lipstick soared past the window again, her familiar’s presence cleansing the putrid power the curse poured inside her.

Another thrust. Another beastly roar—quieter maybe?

Finally Meena opened herself fully to the twisted power of her mother’s curse. It tasted familiar like the lemon and piss of betrayal, but she pulled it inside her and wrapped it in her newly discovered magic. Like an unwanted gift, she passed it on to Lipstick.

Above her, the beast shuddered and moaned.

Then that honey-sweet voice she knew and loved demanded, “Meena? Elves’ blood, Meena. What have I done? Have I hurt you?” Leonidas collapsed around her, his cock still rocking gently in her pussy as he laid his head alongside hers. “Damn it, woman, speak to me. Please.”

Weary, she lifted her hand and stroked his hair. “Hi.”

He leaped back as if his cock was on fire, but she felt bereft when he broke that intimate connection. Too weary to move, she lay facedown in the nest of blankets. Her voice cracked as she asked, “Is the curse broken?”

He ran his fingers gently down her back. “The beast’s gone, my one and only love—but it hurt you.”

“I’ll survive,” she muttered, but her eyes closed, and her body went limp.

She didn’t know how long she slept in Leonidas’s arms, but when she woke, she breathed in his chocolate-and-chili essence. Like the man himself, it crept into her heart and warmed every part of her. She snuggled closer, but she didn’t know what to say. Finally she managed “Hello.”

Faux casual, he stroked the curls back from her cheek. “Hi. Is this just a random visit, or are you planning to stay?”

“It depends.” She buried her face against his chest to hide her embarrassed flush, but her heart felt…hopeful. “Am I invited?”

His arms tensed, and he held her so close she thought he’d never let her go. “Invited? No. Needed. Commanded. Loved. Adored. Necessary. Yes. I’d rather live as a beast than live without you. I won’t survive if you leave me again. Damn it, woman, wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

She lifted her head and gave him a cautious glance. “I’m still a Witch, and Leo, I’m a Witch that doesn’t share well.”

His voice was a honeyed caress that flooded her pussy with need. “And I was a prejudiced fool. This last month, I sent emissaries to the Witch Council, and they’re considering an alliance. Oh, and did I mention there’s this curvy rainbow-haired Witch I can’t live without?”

She giggled and planted a kiss on the side of his neck. Hekate, those veins of his pulsed with forbidden fruit. Her fangs lengthened, but embarrassed, she turned away.

He stroked the spot on her shoulder where he’d bitten her. “I’m glad this has healed. Meena, love, my beast almost turned werewolf in his need to claim you and mark you as his. Mine. He’s gone now, banished by the most powerful Witch in the kingdoms, and once your pretty little pussy’s not so sore, I’ll think of a suitable reward. Don’t hide your face from me, love. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

She blushed as she showed him her fangs. “Leo, I think I need to bite you back.”

His grin widened, and his shoulders shot back. “Thank the Fae gods for that. Even cursed into beast form, I knew you were mine. I initiated a blood exchange, a binding, but you need to complete the ritual with hot sex, multiple orgasms, and biting.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Fae palace glowed with the light of a thousand candles. Flowers filled every corner and cranny of the Great Hall. Huge fires burned in the fireplaces, one warming each side of the room. Two scarlet thrones decorated with Lipstick’s recently shed scales stood on a raised dais. Beside them, a marble table held a ribbon of plaited rosebuds. A string quartet, more mundane earth than otherworld, played on the minstrel’s gallery to welcome the guests.

Resplendent in emerald and gold, Leonidas waited anxiously for his bride. He heard Elizbetta stage-whisper to her husband, “I knew it would turn out like this. Foresight’s both a curse and a blessing.”

The Vampire king laughed—all pure white teeth and no hint of fangs—“I’m so glad I bonded with a Witch. Elizbetta, I adore everything about our daughter, especially her mother. Later, I will show you just how much.”

Mordred grinned at Leonidas’s side. “Relax, bro. I’m the one who should be tense. Your Witch threatened my person, my position, and my kingdom when she realized the truth. Honestly, I didn’t know I’d hurt either of you so badly, but I’m glad I’m forgiven. And I’m doubly grateful for the supplies you sent.”

They both knew he wasn’t really forgiven, but today was as much about diplomacy as it was about ceremony. The deep bond Leonidas once shared with his half brother still felt strained—stretched to the breaking point even—but he managed a smile. “Meena’s reestablished her links with the Witches, and an army of green-fingered Witches is poised to invade your land. They’ll make your farms thrive, but they’ll only help your women. Your warriors will have their work cut out to woo the women they once mistreated.”

From the minstrel’s gallery, a choir lifted their voices in song. The hall doors opened, and Leonidas’s breath caught in his throat as his bride walked toward him. Flowers bedecked her free-flowing curls. Her dress, like his bride, had Gothic leanings. The corset top shimmered with a fortune of fire opals, but it was the way it clung to her generous curves that entranced him. The skirt—floor-length layers of rainbow gauze—floated around her ankles. Every man in the room would desire his woman, and his shoulders shot back with pride that she was his.

Later, he’d unhook that top and explore her lush curves, or maybe he’d make her keep it on while he stripped back the gauze and revealed her shapely legs. Elves’ blood, he’d do both. Her smile filled the room with warmth, and even his hidebound Fae courtiers smiled back. He’d never seen his chamberlain do anything but glower, and it surprised him the man’s face didn’t crack.

If he wasn’t so nervous, Leonidas would have laughed at the changes she’d already wrought. He ran his finger around the inside of his collar; then he forgot everything but Meena. When she finally reached his side, he offered his hand. Together they climbed the red-carpet-covered steps onto the dais. Hands entwined, they took their seats. The singing stopped, and the soft trill of harp strings provided a backdrop to their handfasting.

Meena’s parents stepped forward and wrapped the ribbon of thornless rosebuds once around Leonidas’s and Meena’s wrists. Mordred followed and made the second twist of the ribbon. Sylvie and Caleb, the Lykae king and queen, came next, followed by representatives of every magical kingdom. Soon the ribbon of rosebuds covered the newlyweds’ hands and reached up their arms. With a flash of green magic, Elizbetta made the flowers bloom, and the heady, sensual scent of damask roses filled the room.

Bound to his bride, Leonidas led Meena to the doorway, and a cohort of dragons flew past, Lipstick in the lead. When the massive war dragon saw the doors open, he spread his magnificent scarlet wings, then swooped and soared in complex somersaults and dives. The guests applauded, and the party started in earnest. Every species intermingled to celebrate the Fae king’s wedding, and dance music filled the hall.

In keeping with Fae tradition, Leonidas cradled Meena in his arms and carried her to their chambers. “Well, my little Witch, there’s no getting away from me now.”

With a theatrical leer, he used his free hand to unlace her corset-topped dress. It fell at her feet like a rippling, rainbow-hued sea. She stood naked before him, her luscious breasts bared for his pleasure. He bent his head and took one nipple between his lips, sucking gently. Her squeal of approval only made him hungrier for her.

Delicious, sensual heat filled him as she went on tiptoe and chewed on his earlobe. Damn, she almost made him come on the spot. If she didn’t stop that, he’d never make it across the room to the bed. Cock as hard as iron, he rushed to the silk-covered four-poster. Desperate to be inside her, he half put her down, half dropped her onto the mattress. Too late, he realized he was still fully clothed. His eager expression faded, and he tugged one-handed at his fly.