Curse of the Fae King (7 page)

Urgent needs pounded in his balls, and only Meena would satisfy them, but if he cared about her at all, he’d do the right thing and push her away.

Chapter Seven

Leonidas reveled in the way she relaxed into his embrace and sucked the tip of his tongue. He groaned when she moved still closer, straddled his thigh. Her hips rubbed hard against him and gave him an instant hard-on. Now he craved her bare flesh rubbing against his, skin-on-skin contact that would drive them both wild.

He forgot everything—his curse, the People’s Defense League, and the quest to save her mother—as she submitted completely. He wouldn’t do it. No way would he take her out here like an animal in heat—but Elves’ blood, he wanted to. He couldn’t offer her a future, and that hurt. All he could do was make their first time together so special she’d treasure the memory for as long as she lived. He certainly would. One woman out of thousands, she’d slipped through his defenses and crept into his heart. Elves’ blood, he didn’t know how he could ever let her go, but the beast inside him was an unfaithful, feckless creature he despised.

Slowly, gently, he withdrew his tongue and broke off their kiss. She moaned again, her hips still grinding against his thigh. Ecstasy that even his beast enjoyed. It reared up and demanded more. His balls pounded with need. His cock pulsed. Elves’ blood, he’d never wanted a woman more.

He nibbled her neck, then whispered in her ear. “You’ve paid the price, so I will explain about the Elves.”

Her disappointed pout made him smirk. He pulled her to a boulder and sat. When he tugged her onto his lap, a sudden flash of anger shone in her eyes. “You jackass. I can’t believe you made me kiss you when my mother’s in danger. Rein in the magical seduction, or just take your dragon and leave.”

Made her? Whatever simmered between them was genuine and real—an emotional storm that roared through him and supercharged his emotions. He’d kept his sexual predator locked in a cage of cold fury, but that drained his strongest emotions. His subjects called him unfeeling and aloof, but Meena warmed him, completed him. His Fae side wanted an impossible forever, but his beast wanted to bend her over the nearest boulder and fuck her until she couldn’t take any more.

Her eyes narrowed in stubborn refusal, but with her, he was up for any challenge. He loved her quick wits and caustic tongue. Elves’ blood, he loved everything about her.

When she’d moaned with desire, he’d almost spilled his seed. He knew he could fuck her right here, right now even if their prisoners were to recover and watch. She deserved silk sheets strewn with rose petals, not some windswept hillside on the North Yorkshire moors. He’d never wanted a woman so much, but he wanted her to have and to hold. Reluctant to add her to his beast’s mindless conquests, he rested his forehead against hers and inhaled her wild herb and heather perfume. With her buxom curves and handspan waist, she fulfilled his every sexual fantasy, but he wanted to sink his fangs in her neck and claim her hard. He felt as though a spring coiled around his heart, squeezing him until he thought he’d explode with longing and lust. Love even.

Anytime soon, his animal side would burst free, and he’d forget gentle passion. He’d pounce on her like a panther—uncontrollable and vicious—but he fought to contain the madness that drove his inner beast.

He held her so close his breath warmed her ear. “The Elves and the Fae are related, and we sometimes interbreed. It’s rare since our cultures have skirmished on and off since the civil war a couple of centuries back. Then a border dispute with the Lykae nation decimated their numbers, but believe me, they do still exist.”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” Meena snapped. “Okay, Elves are for real, whatever the Witches taught me. Now tell me about this Mordred Arthington. And why do you think he’s only masquerading as human?”

Leonidas’s voice dropped so low she had to move in closer so she could hear. “Don’t trust a word the Witches tell you. They’re despicable creatures who use their magic to ruin people’s lives. There’s a reason they’re reviled in human fairy tales.”

Intent on his lecture, Leonidas ignored the hot flush that stained Meena’s cheeks. Instead he shifted her off his lap and rose to his feet. His fists clenched with fury and frustration. “A bloody Witch ruined my father’s life. Now she’s doing the same to mine. Gods, I daren’t even sire children after the way she cursed our bloodline.”

When Meena answered, a glimmer of hope ran through her voice. “Curses can be broken. Can’t the Witch Council help? Even someone like my mo—”

“No one can bloody help,” he snapped. “Do you think I haven’t tried? The most powerful Witch in existence cursed my father when he proposed. Elves’ blood, couldn’t she just have said no? Then she upped sticks and vanished, and no other Witch is strong enough to break her spell. I’ll bloody kill her if I can ever get my hands on her.”

“Leo, I’m so, so sorry. Whatever your wicked Witch did, no one should live under a curse.” She laid her hand on his arm, unshed tears lending a soft shimmer to her eyes. Her quick sympathy helped shove his sexual predator back into its cage, but his time was running out all too fast.

Pacing, unable to look her in the eyes, he snarled, “Too damn right. Enough distractions. Back to the Elves. They have an overlord, Mordred, not a king, but they probably have exactly what they deserve. They’re a cruel race, and the way they treat their women is a bloody disgrace. One of their overlord’s titles is Lord of Arthington—and the director of the People’s Defense League is Mordred Arthington. It’s too much of a coincidence for them not to be one and the same. Some say he’s mad to be so open about his actions, and while he won his title by being the most brutal Elf out there, he wields so much dark power that no one dare contest him.”

“And this Elf overlord” she asked, “the one who mistreats women, has my mother? Goddess, what I wouldn’t give for a magic arsenal right now.”

He shrugged as he tucked his knife into the scabbard he wore gunslinger-style at his hip. Once he’d carefully recoiled his bullwhip, he told her, “Sorry, no magic weapons, so you’ll have to make do with me. I suspect Mordred gave the People’s Defense League Fairy dust to help them take your mother. It’s the rarest commodity, which means she holds considerable value in their eyes. They must have peppered your herb farm with it. That explains why I can’t use my powers, and our dragon can’t flash back home and fetch help.”

“So the overlord has dark magic, and I’ve got…” Meena looked at him, then at Lipstick. Fear spread across her face.

Aware she was scared and hurting, he went to put his arms around her. Fool that he was, he’d forgotten how worried she was about her mother. He should have chosen his words with more care.

Rather than rest against him, she shoved him off and shook her head. “This gets weirder by the minute. Isn’t Fairy dust what Peter Pan used to make humans fly?”

“No,” Leonidas snapped. He hated that her smile was brittle and forced, the sort that didn’t crinkle around her eyes. He could only give her his honesty, but not his heart. Truthfully, she’d stolen it already.

“Yeah, it is,” she persisted. “Peter Pan shook Tinker Bell over Wendy’s head or something. Haven’t you ever watched Disney? Okay, cultural differences apart, the Elves have taken my mother prisoner. Tell me what they’ve done that could sap her powers.”

He reverted to grandee mode, all quiet dignity and control. “The Fae are almost immortal, but sometimes accidents happen. We bury our dead, but if someone disturbs their grave and grinds their bones, then you’ve got Fairy dust. Otherworld species absorb it through the skin, and it nullifies their magic. It takes effect instantly and takes two or three days to work its way out of our systems. Just for the record, that means this attraction you feel for me is real, not the result of my magic.”

“Real? Not magic?” she repeated, stunned.

Before he answered, her hand crept into his. Her shy smile and downcast eyes promised mischief—and if he wasn’t mistaken, sex. She pouted at him over her shoulder like a 1960s sex kitten, and led him toward a copse of nearby trees. “Well, in that case…”

Leonidas grinned like a surprised schoolboy. He hadn’t expected this. Meena desired him even though he’d lost his magic, and by the Elves’ blood, he desired her. He hated that he’d have to fuck her to keep his curse at bay, and for once his beast demanded something more than casual sex. Warrior and king, he usually kept his emotions in check, but with Meena he could be himself—except his curse drove him as much as his heart.

He’d make their four weeks together the best month of both of their lives, but when the time came for him to move on, her loss would leave him dead inside. Afterward he’d hunt down the Witch who’d cursed his family, and then he’d do whatever it took to make her break her spell. Elves’ blood, he’d even hurt a woman if it kept his true-mate safe.
True-mate?
Even the word rocked him to the core.
She couldn’t be, could she? No way. She can’t be the woman who completes my soul. My one and only love. My true-mate
. Now he’d found her, living without her was impossible. Not that he wanted to, but his curse left him no choice. He tried to imagine her as his queen. Three hours ago, he’d have sworn the Fae court would overwhelm a sprite or druid with as little magic as her. Now he wondered if her smart mouth and quick wits might be exactly what his hidebound courtiers needed. Then his impatient woman gave his hand a small tug.

I’m definitely overthinking it here. She wants me between her legs, and no way am I going to argue. I’m sure as hell not going to argue
. With a smile full of wicked intent, he swept Meena into his arms, then growled over his shoulder, “Lipstick, stay.”

He swore he heard a snicker in the dragon’s answering roar.

MEENA HATED that she hadn’t told Leonidas that her mother was a powerful Witch and renowned seer, not just some green-fingered sprite. Cowardice sucked. He hated Witches, and even though honestly, she wasn’t much of a Witch—more of a hanger-on—she owed him the truth. Another attempt to explain her origins. Another stolen kiss. Hekate, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, let alone speak when he kissed her like that. Without trying, he’d scrambled her brain. Made her crave things like hot sex.
No, not when my mum’s missing, but…

Now that she knew how much he despised Witches, maybe she should let him think she was a lesser creature after all. Proud as she was of her birthright, she couldn’t risk telling him how her magic had never materialized. Suppose he sided with the covens—the ones who’d banished her on pain of death. Maybe her lack of magic was worse than her origins. Better if she said nothing, but staying silent hurt.

Until this point, she’d fought the enchantment in his deep melted-chocolate voice. If this need that boiled through her blood was real, then it was time she put all that sexy stuff she read in magazines to the test. She wanted him inside her, and apparently not just because of his seductive magic. Only her mother…

Maybe it was his enthralling smile. Maybe it was the tenderness that shone in his emerald-hued eyes. Or maybe he made her feel like the person she was born to be. Treasured even. For now she’d concentrate on loving him and forget theirs was a temporary liaison at best. She needed him to screw her until she scratched her fingernails down his back and screamed with delight.

Earlier, she’d decided to live in the moment, and it was time she did just that. She wanted to experience every good thing she could with him. Whatever simmered between them was momentous and breathtaking. Overwhelming even. So yeah, she wouldn’t tell him she was a failed Witch—yet. Damn it, if he kept smiling at her like that, she wouldn’t tell him at all.

An insatiable hunger—urgent and overwhelming—consumed her from within. Her breasts ached for his touch. A fire started deep in her womb, then sizzled through her blood. She burned for a Fae warrior whose only promise was that he’d love her and leave her, but she’d never needed a man so completely. Hell, she’d never needed a man at all. Otherworld creatures condemned her or scorned her, but not Leonidas. No wonder she wanted to get down and dirty with him out here on the wild North Yorkshire moors.

She’d slid her hand into his and offered her body.
Be brave, Meena
. She needed to stay strong even though she deceived him—and she didn’t want her inexperience to show. Rejection would rip her soul to shreds.

Then Goddess be praised, Leo swept her into his arms and carried her into the privacy of a copse of trees.

Chapter Eight

Meena ached inside, and the only way to soothe her pain was for Leo to plunge his cock into her. She was finally going to have sex—the soul-stealing, heart-stirring kind—and she couldn’t have a more perfect partner. Leo was all about sensuality and desire, but his absolute honesty tore her apart. No promises, he’d said. Goddess, she wanted forever. She’d not think about how he intended to move on and discard her, but it was probably for the best. She could never join him in the otherworld—always supposing he asked—not when the Witch Council had put a price on her head.

Leonidas’s prowess in battle thrilled her, but his quick brain and corded muscles delighted her.
Sweet, protective Fae
. Just looking down at the way his cock bulged beneath his leather pants made her slick and wet. The new feelings he roused inside her—love, hunger, and hot, hot desire—felt different from anything she’d ever experienced before. More real. More everything. Hekate, she was so desperate and needy, she almost came in her panties.

He’d already told her they had no chance of a future—and as an otherworld reject, she accepted that. For now she’d take everything he offered and live in the moment. Fuck in the moment, more like. He made her feel everything on a primal level—filled her with savage desires that fed the passion that sparked between. Damn, just being near him was like being bathed in a fire so primeval she burned with new longings, lust, and love.

She should press on and rescue her mother. She knew that, really. Only, in a world full of kidnappers, gunmen, and power-hungry Elves, she needed this time-out in Leonidas’s arms. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function for the sensual hunger he created inside her.