Curse of the Fae King (9 page)

“You will?” she asked. “I mean, dream on.”

He’s still planning to leave, then. That’s it, my luscious Leo, ditch me now that I’ve given my all.

The list of people who’d rejected her just kept getting bigger, what with her father leaving—dying?—the Witch Council putting a bounty on her head, and all. Now she could add her Fae warrior to the list of people who found her…lacking.

He’d already wormed his way into her life, and he filled her thoughts completely. Nothing mattered but being with him.
Remember, he’s leaving soon
. Sweet Hekate, did her lip just wobble? Rather than let him see her tears, she pinned on the bright practiced smile she used with awkward customers, and swallowed hard.
So much for strong and independent
. Her heart might as well stop beating when he left. He’d offered to come back in summer—
come back, for the Goddess’s sake
—and kiss her on the sand.

She wanted something permanent between them—but he thought he could flash in and out of her life whenever he wanted a bit on the side. Maybe with him, she could be tempted, and to hell with her self-respect.

He stroked his hand up her thigh—a soft caress that made her melt inside. As they trundled along the seashore, she felt as if each wave broke inside her. He moved his hand higher, and before she could brush him off, he distracted her with soft-spoken words. “Carnivorous plants and savage predators threaten to overrun Prodia, the Fae kingdom. We clear our lands with dragon fire and magic, but it’s a constant battle since the plants grow almost as fast as we kill them.”

“You need a green-fingered Witch to encourage the good stuff. Someone like…” Curse it, she’d almost admitted her species, and she already knew how much he hated the covens.

“No Witches,” he answered curtly. “Ever.”

Back to her forced customer-service smile. “Come on. They can’t be that bad.”

“You do not know them the way I do,” he snapped, all haughty male—the kind that brooked no argument or questions.

She should tell him her origins, but every moment with him was precious. What if he turned that sneering lip and contemptuous gaze on her? Okay, her mother knew a few spells, but white Witches never did any harm. If they did, it rebounded on them.

Meena hated how, thanks to her lack of magic, she straddled two realities but belonged in neither. She craved roots and acceptance, but she should face facts and forget the Fae who’d stolen her heart. “Okay. I get you don’t like Witches. Tell me about the Fae kingdom instead.”

When he answered, he spoke with passion, commitment, and concern. “Carnivorous plants choke our crops. They provide cover for the tree snakes and rats, but I’ve heard the rodents in your world are small creatures that creep about in silence. Our rats roar as loud as our dragons, and they’re as big as the car our prisoners wrecked. The tree snakes are thicker than a man’s thighs, and they slip though the plants unseen. They swallow their prey whole, and what crops survive, the wild creatures plunder. Feeding my people is always a priority. If we could clear the carnivorous plant life, we could manage the flesh-eating animals, but the damned weeds have overrun everything, and they defy our attempts to obliterate them.”

“Let me at them.” Meena grinned and turned the tractor back inland. “My mother says I can kill anything she can grow. Usually by neglect. I mean there has to be more to life than remembering to water a plant. I’m better at the tax returns and financial planning than I am at growing herbs.”

The sun hung over the horizon, one orange balloon almost ready to set. They pulled up near a rambling stone farmhouse that had seen better days. Parts of the roof had fallen in, and broken rafters pointed at the sky like fingers. The lower floor looked surprisingly solid, but why was there a patch of dug-over earth alongside the path?

Meena turned to look at the prisoner. “What were you digging for?”

Her thoughts lingered on dead bodies and ground-up corpses. She stared at the freshly turned earth. No way. That couldn’t be her mum’s grave. Could it?

“Potatoes. I’m about ready to plant my first earlies.” Fred, the prisoner who liked to garden, answered absently, his gaze fixed on Lipstick.

Leonidas smiled like a crocodile—all teeth and deathly menace. “If you survive that long.”

“Look, mate,” Fred whimpered, “I’m helping all I can.”

Lipstick puffed out smoke rings as he chuffed awake. The prisoners exchanged a terrified glance, and Fred paled.

Leonidas handed Meena down from the tractor. “We either march up to the front door and fight our way in, or climb in through a window. My warrior nature demands we assault the front door, but my sensible side says we break in like thieves. We lost the element of surprise when we chugged up in a tractor, but since I have you to protect, let’s go in through the window.”

Fred eased as far away as he could from Lipstick. “The place should be deserted since there’s just me and Bill. We live out back in the barn. Another shipment’s not due for a couple of weeks, and nobody’ll come around until then. See, I’m cooperating. Please, don’t let the dragon eat me.”

The second prisoner still glowered at Meena. “And for God’s sake, don’t let your crazy girlfriend cut off our balls. We chained the woman in the cellar, but honest, we didn’t hurt her. There’s some steps down from the back scullery.”

She pulled Leonidas’s knife from its sheaf and fixed her gaze on Fred’s groin. “Make a fuss, and I’ll slice you up for Lipstick.”

Eyes wide, the prisoners nodded.

“Stay here and guard them while I reconnoiter.” Leonidas stayed low, in the cover of the trees.

Arms across her chest, Meena blocked his way. “Always the chauvinist. Listen up, Leo; my mum’s going to want me. Sometimes—especially if an Elf, man, or monster has hurt her—a woman needs another woman.”

He appeared to think a moment. “For a fragile female without magic, you are amazingly brave. However, you will stay behind me, and if it comes to a fight, you find your mother and you run.”

Yeah that’d be her. A fragile female without magic—when she dreamed of being all witchy and strong. She gave him a look that would curdle milk but followed close behind. So did Lipstick.

No one challenged them as they slipped inside. A quick fridge raid, and she tossed the prisoners’ steak dinner to the ever-hungry dragon. “There you go, boy. Yuck, now I’ve got blood on my hands. No wonder I’m vegetarian.”

Leonidas stood behind her, his lips close to ear as he murmured, “Feeding my damn dragon again?”

A shudder rippled down her spine, electrifying her body into supercharged desires and making her pussy flood with need. She leaned back into his embrace, delighted by his solid, masculine strength. When he mantled his body around her and laved his tongue over her earlobe, she trembled—weak-kneed and desperate to be fucked.

“I thought he was our dragon,” she whispered back.

He chuckled and kissed his way down the side of her neck. “But he should have been solely mine. Then a mysterious lady swathed in an all-concealing black cloak and long black gloves stole his heart. And if I’m not careful, I think she might steal mine.”

How could a few soft-spoken worlds make her go soft and mushy inside? How could a real honest-to-the-Goddess Fae be the one man for a misfit like her? He boasted of his power and position in the otherworld, while she couldn’t even hold down a job. One day he’d find his mystical true-mate, and where would that leave her? She felt nauseated when she thought of him with another woman. Her brain told her to toughen up and move on, but her heart…

No promises, he’d said. Lifestyles too different—remember?

They listened for the sounds of habitation, but the place was eerily silent. Leonidas barricaded the door that led deeper into the house, then cautiously crept down into the cellar.

This house had stood for centuries, and during the Second World War’s air raids, someone had blocked off one corner of the cellar and tried to bombproof it. Whitewash peeled off the walls, and mildew splattered the brickwork. A stone bench no more than five feet long ran along the inside wall of the shelter. A metal ring had been hammered into the wall, and a short chain dangled from it, an open cuff on the end. A small piece of fabric, ripped from her mum’s favorite blouse, was the only sign Elizabeth Sybil had been here.

Meena’s shoulders shook, and tears filled her eyes. “Mum would have hated it down here. And just look at those chains.”

“We will find her.” Leonidas held her close and kissed her tears away. They were salty on his tongue. He stroked her hair and tried to find the right words to comfort her. “I promise that once my magic returns, I will summon the Fae legions, and we will flash over every inch of your planet.”

“Three days, Leo. You said it could take up to three days. God knows what they’ll have done to her by then.” She shivered, buried her head in his shoulder, and let his body heat warm her.

The air was musty. The place stank of damp and disuse. Leonidas wrinkled his nose and pulled her against him, her only solace in a dank, dark cell. He held her as if she mattered more than a casual fling. Okay, maybe that was wishful thinking, but the strength and steel of his warrior’s physique comforted her when she needed him most.

Finally they separated and searched their surroundings. There was no sign of her mother, and no clue as to where her captors had taken her. Leonidas’s frustration showed in his voice. “What is this stone room? Is it usual to have something like this in a cellar?”

Meena sniffed back her tears. “My turn to give the history lesson. The Germans shelled Whitby in World War One, then bombed it in World War Two, and people built shelters like these. Don’t look so stunned. Whitby used to be a pretty important port back then. Even John Paul Jones, father of the American navy, once fought a sea battle at Flamborough Head—just down the coast from here.”

If she wasn’t so worried over her mother, she’d have grinned at the quizzical look he gave her, but she had nothing to laugh about.

He stroked her cheek, and when he spoke, his voice was tender. Amused even. “Again, you speak in words I do not understand. What matters is that they have moved your mother, but we will find her. I promise.”

“Alive or dead?” Meena snapped.

Being in this airless place depressed her, and she was glad when Leonidas ushered her back to the kitchen. Lipstick crooned his pleasure at their return, then sat and stared at the fridge like a hungry dog.

Meena gazed absently out the window, her gaze drawn to the path of dug-over earth. She didn’t want to think it could be— She wouldn’t think it, but what if… What if it was her mother’s grave?

Leonidas turned her around and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Our prisoners called her a hostage, so she has value in their eyes. They need her alive. We just need to find out where they’ve taken her and why. Let’s finish up in here. Then we will question our prisoners further.”

Chapter Ten

Leonidas would rather his enemies stuck a knife in his heart than see tears pour down Meena’s cheeks. He’d never felt so helpless or so damn frustrated. Just being near her gave him a hard-on. This wasn’t the time or the place, but he already needed to screw her again. Repeatedly. Usually he was a once-a-month love-’em-and-leave-’em guy. With Meena, his sexual appetite was insatiable.

He knew many ways to pleasure a woman, but none of the women he used to keep his curse at bay warmed his heart like Meena. The need to claim her as his true-mate boiled inside him like lava in a volcano, and his dick demanded action soon. When he remembered how her tight little pussy had pulsed around him, he needed to fuck her again. He wanted her whenever and wherever he could—maybe mewling like a kitten as she knelt on all fours, or with her breasts pushed up against the shower wall while he took her from behind. Perhaps he’d drive her crazy with his tongue until she thrashed beneath him and begged him to let her come.

Whatever his future held—and it wasn’t anything good—he was a slave for her smile. Besides, they still hadn’t found her mother. “It makes no sense for them to kill her, but the Elves will suffer for every tear they’ve made you cry.”

He wanted to caress her body until she purred, or better yet hummed under her breath. He really liked how she did that. Everything about her was unique and wonderful, but all he could do was hold her and let her sob out her fears. His hard-on tormented him with the need for something—someone—he couldn’t keep. Elves’ blood, even if he fucked her a million times, it wouldn’t be enough.

He needed to explore every curve and cranny of her body—maybe with his tongue—but most of all, he wanted her fingernails clawing at his back and her legs wrapped around his waist. Determined to protect and please her, he stroked her curls from her cheek. “We will find your mother. You stay here and see what you can salvage for Lipstick’s dinner while I do a sweep through the house.”

Again with the orders?
She pulled away, ready to declare her independence, but Lipstick nudged his cheek against her thigh and stared at the freezer. With an everyone-neglects-me sigh, he flopped on the floor at her feet. Meena shook her head and gave in. “Okay, since the pair of you are ganging up on me, I’ll stay. But, Leo, it’s strictly a one-off.”

While she rummaged in the cupboards, he checked out the half-ruined building, ready to rescue or kill as needed. He found nothing and no one, but he didn’t know how to tell his assertive, charming Goth.

When he returned to the kitchen, the young dragon was trying to devour a pile of frozen meat Meena had pulled from the chest freezer. “No, Lipstick, you can’t eat it until it’s thawed.”

The dragon tried to crunch his way through it, then roared his disgust. A blast of fire shot from Lipstick’s mouth. The iced-up pile of pork chops and steak melted instantly. Blood pooled on the floor. Another blast of dragon fire, and the meat blackened into charred bones and burned flesh. Not that Lipstick cared. His tail wagged like an excited dog’s as he gulped down the protein-rich feast.

“Looks like he found a way. I’m just glad the floor’s slate.” Leonidas laughed, but Meena’s brittle smile—along with the defeated slump of her shoulders—showed how much she hurt inside. He’d sell his soul to see her smile in genuine delight, but any chance of a relationship was way out of his reach. Fists clenched, he yearned for the future he couldn’t offer her. He’d trade his wealth and jewels for a future with Meena. She was the only treasure he needed to possess.