Rise of the Lost Prince (12 page)

“Oh,” she muttered in a breathy
sound, her elegant fingers white-knuckling the edge of the countertop.

“Good God,” he grumbled before
swirling his tongue around and around the pert bump of her clit.

If he’d thought to have a quick
taste then leave on patrol, he was crazy. One taste just wouldn’t be enough. He
had to have her. All of her. Licking. Lapping. Tasting. Touching. Grinding.
Pounding. Yes. He had to be inside of her.

 
Not yet
,
he told himself, listening to her breath coming faster as he lightly bit and
tugged on her excited nub. He flicked her little clit in rapid succession, then
sucked.

“Petúr. Oh, God.”

That’s what he wanted—his name on
her lips. He rubbed two of his fingers into her feminine juices, barely pumping
one into her body, testing and teasing. Another pant, followed by a mew of
satisfaction escaped her. When he added the second finger, he stretched her.
She was a small woman.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.

“Never, baby. Never stop.”

Deeper.
He knew she
needed him to give deeper penetration.

Working her little clit with his
tongue, he slid those two fingers up that exquisitely tight channel, feeling
her squeeze and pulse around his long digits, then…. He stilled. Every muscle
in his body going rigid. He didn’t remove his fingers, but kept them from
pressing forward, pulled his head back, and stared up at her until those blue
eyes opened and she glanced down at him.

“You’re a virgin?”

“I-I,” she stuttered. Her body
going rigid as well. “Yes.”

Chapter Ten

Bell couldn’t sleep, so she
aimlessly roamed the castle. This place was huge and the ‘awesome sauce’ kind
of awesome.
However cool though, she was bored with a
capital B. She was used to working nights, closing up at the bar, and going
home to eat cold pizza while watching late night TV. With all the lost boys
gone, out on their nightly darkling patrol, except for Tera and Byte held up in
their control center, and Wyndi of course, who’d gone to bed hours ago, she
felt lonely.

She made a popping sound with her
lips, swinging her arms. Loneliness led to that pang of being homesick. Not for
her crap apartment, but for her real home.

“Maybe I should bug the twins,”
she muttered, already strolling into the control center. As soon as she stepped
foot over the threshold, she froze. Byte wasn’t there, but Tera was playing God
of War on a PS3, only he wasn’t using the controller.

“How are you doing that?” she
asked, coming to his side, sincerely curious.

The game stopped and the
PlayStation® powered down. Tera smiled wide as he looked at her with his
mismatched eyes. “My mind.”

Bell studied him. “You were
running the game, strategizing, and playing by using the power of your mind?”

Tera nodded.

“Impressive mind multi-tasking,”
she uttered.

“Tera,” Byte called, coming in
with a huge bowl of popcorn. “Oh, hey, Bell. Fancy meeting you here at this
hour.” He eyed her. “Nice socks.”

She glanced down to see her
rainbow toe socks. “Thanks.”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed though?”

“Can’t sleep,” she offered,
turning her attention to him. “Tera was just saying he was controlling that
PlayStation® with his mind.” She pointed to it. “And you? Can you control
electronics with your mind as well?”

“Yep.” Byte plopped down in his
chair, placing the way-after-midnight snack on the console table.

She tilted her head, considering.
“Can you two communicate telepathically?”

Both of them nodded, but it was
Tera who said, “Only with each other. Why?”

“I don’t know.” She flitted over
to take a look at the wall poster of…
Brittany
Spears?
She blinked, then twirled around to face them. “I suppose I find
you both fascinating.”

“Why thank you, luv,” said Byte,
winking at her.

Tera tilted his head in his
twin’s direction. “Yeah. What he said.”

She smiled. “Do you mind if I
hang out with you guys for a while?”

Tera jumped up. “We’d love the
company.” He rolled his chair to her. “Go on. Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

Bell sat, and Tera rolled her up
to the console, facing the wall of monitors, he standing behind her, hands on
the headrest of the chair.

“So, luv,” said Byte. “Since you
showed us yours, we’ll show you ours.”

She laughed. “What?”

“Some of your memories. And some
of ours.” He waggled his finger at her. “Get your fairy mind out of the
gutter.”

The dark screens, which hadn’t
been on, powered up.

Bell’s eyes widened. “You can do
that? Show me some of your memories?”

Tera nodded, grabbing up a hand full
of popcorn. “Sure can.” He and Byte stared ahead, and there, on the three
monitors in front of her, she saw Petúr as a boy, his inhumanly beautiful face
smudged with dirt, walking along what appeared to be railroad tracks, with his
hands tucked into his pockets.

“That’s the first time we saw
him,” said Byte.

****

Petúr sat atop the roof of the
Lighthouse Inn and scrubbed a palm down his face. Part of him felt like a
complete and total shit-heel for leaving Wyndi the way he did, totally
unsatisfied, and ticked off at him when he extricated himself from her and
covered her delectable body with the damp towel he practically tore from her
when she’d come out of the bath.

Part of him was relieved he’d
done the right thing. Part of him still burned like a house-a-fire.

“Virgin,” he muttered to himself.
What was he supposed to do? He didn’t expect her to be untouched. A little
inexperienced, yeah, but being completely inexperienced threw him for a loop.
“What do I do with a virgin?”

He shook his head. Apparently,
he’d been reduced to talking to himself, and, well, okay he obviously knew what
to do with her, but he’d never been with a woman who’d never been with a man
before.

Pride washed over him with the
thought he would be her first, followed by the soul deep conviction he’d be her
last and only. A deep fiery possessiveness struck with that. No other would
ever touch her. Taste her. Have her.

“Mine,” he grumbled low in his
throat, picturing her spread and glistening for him. Only him.

He licked his lips, remembering
her taste, and the warmth of her untouched little pussy. She was pure, liquid
fire. Sweet fire, and she was his.

He went over the bathroom scene
in his mind. How he stopped himself from taking her, he didn’t know. All right,
maybe he did know. Petúr couldn’t very well have Wyndi’s first time happen in a
bathroom of all places. No. He’d plan something special. Romantic. Did he even
know how to do romantic? He cleared his throat. He’d figure it out.

He pictured them making out,
sitting atop one of his favorite bluffs which overlooked the sea. Her body
would tremble in his arms. Then for some reason his thoughts segued into having
her on his bed, back at the castle.

Slow. That was the ticket. He’d
go slow. Savor her. He’d make her come at least twice.
No. Three times
, he decided. Three would be the magic number before
entering her tight little body.

His cock stirred. He closed his
eyes and adjusted his shaft. “Settle down boy.”

“What in the hell are you doing?”

Petúr heaved a sigh, eyelids
cracking open. “I’m on lookout, Vibe.”

“No. You’re up here with your
mind and emotions pinging back and forth over the human.”

Turning to glower at his
brother-in-arms, he said, “Wyndi. Not human, or woman, but Wyndi.”

“Oh. Excuse me.” He made a show
of bowing his head. “Wyndi then.”

“Screw you.”

Vibe chuckled and popped a squat
beside Petúr. “Now there’s the guy we all know and love.”

They were quiet for a moment,
listening to the sounds of the night.

“Vibe?”

“Yeah?”

“I know this sounds crazy.”

He shut up and squeezed the back
of his tense neck with his hand, not sure if he could tell Vibe what Wyndi was
to him.

“What does?”

“I’m not human and Wyndi is which
worries me, because….”

God, he didn’t want to think the
words let alone speak them.

“Because humans age and die,”
said Vibe, saying what Petúr didn’t have the strength to.

“Yes. They die.” He paused,
experiencing a wrenching ache in his heart. He clenched his fists. “Vibe.” He
was going to come clean. “Impossible or not, Wyndi’s my mate.”

“I know.”

Petúr turned to look at his
rooftop companion. “You do?”

His friend and brother nodded.
“When I was in her head that night in the alley, I saw her connection to you.”

With an arch of his brow Petúr
found himself asking, “You saw a connection?”

“Yeah. She’s been dreaming of
you. It started when she was a little girl.”

“She told me of her dreams.”

“I followed the forward flow of
that dream-memory, breaking through some type of barrier, seeing the same mark
on her as you have on your chest.”

He touched the spot over his
heart. “She doesn’t carry my mark.”

Vibe slapped Petúr on the back.
“She will.”

“Are you saying you saw into the
future?”

“Well, brother, I guess only time
will tell.”

****

Two days.
That’s how long since Petúr last touched me
, Wyndi thought with
disgust while wiping sweat from her brow. Unless one considered being thrown
around like a ragdoll and landing on one’s butt during the marathon ‘kill-a-darkling’
training sessions true touching. Evidently, being a virgin turned him off. Why
he no longer wanted her, she had no earthly idea.

“No,” he said, bringing her
attention to the fore, hand slicing through the air, forehead crinkled. He
circled her, akin to a predatory bird. “You can’t go for the obvious kill. They
will expect that.” He stopped behind her. She felt his body heat and took in
his scent. The more he perspired, the more he smelt of fresh rain storms. She
closed her eyes and drifted in the sensation of him. “You can’t expect them to
just stand still either. Some can flash. Most use their magic to transform what
you see, trying to trick you or scare you. All of them use their shadow and
mist abilities to their advantage.” His booted foot kicked her feet apart,
jarring her. Her eyes flew open. “Like this.” He had one hand on her hip, the
other sliding up her side, over her shoulder, then latching onto her bare arm.
Heaven help her, her nipples were as hard as pebbles, pressing through her bra
and tank top. “They have to solidify to strike. When you see them in solid
form, bring the blade across and down like this.” He walked her through the
slashing/stab movement, pressing his hard body into her back.

Why wasn’t he as affected by her
as she was by him?

“Okay,” she huffed. “I’ve got
it.”

He let loose his hold on her.
Immediately, her body experienced a cool breeze.

Petúr stepped around her until he
stood unyielding in front of her now—a wall of man and muscle. “Again,” he
demanded. “Come at me again.”

Wyndi lunged for him. Petúr did a
counter move and knocked her on her ass. She just went ahead and lay on her back,
sprawled out, took in a deep breath and exhaled, attempting to blow strands of
her damp hair from her face.

“Wyndi?” Petúr’s voice sounded
worried.

“You’re pushing her too hard, big
guy,” said Dash, bending to give her a hand. “She’s not used to fighting.”

“The bastards will take advantage
of that.”

“Here. Let me help you up,” Dash
offered.

“No,” Petúr said. “I’ll help
her.”

“I’ll get up on my own,” she
huffed, rolling over to her stomach, then going to her hands and knees, feeling
her muscles shake, before standing, arms at her sides, feet spread, gaining her
center. “Again.”

Petúr smiled, and she tried, she
really tried not to let the perfection affect her, yet it did. “That’s my
girl.”

The perfection of the moment was
gone. He didn’t just call her a girl? Maybe that was the problem. He saw her as
a girl and not a woman. So, yeah she was only twenty-three, and he was
something like eighty-nine in human years according to him. But how could their
age difference truly count, when he was an ageless Fae and she was, well, not?

She’d been dancing around the
pissed-off mulberry bush all morning. Tired of being brushed off literally and
figuratively. Now, she was officially ticked.

“I’m not a girl.” She lunged.
“I’m a full grown woman.”