Stranger in the Dark: An Erotic Retelling of Cupid and Psyche (3 page)

Humans, mundane humans, with not a whit of magic in their bones. I couldn’t understand how they had beat us. The war had been going well enough for me, at least: I never failed to slay my targets. Never failed to charm them, dazzle them into stripping down to the skin. With the armor gone they were naked and vulnerable. Cold iron plates rolling on the ground, and the enemy standing there naked, awaiting my favors. I lost count of how many fell to my assassin’s blade.

Now, I was wishing intently that
he
had been one of my victims. Gregor Carnell. Standing there with his legs apart, smiling smugly at the cowed Fae as he read out the treaty. He was a tall man, muscular, reeking of confidence. But still just a mundane human, a rat like the rest of them.

But the problem with having magic woven through your sinews, bubbling in your blood, is that oaths are forever. Unbreakable. Like cold iron. Now
words
, words can be twisted and turned until they mean the opposite of what you intended. Promises made of the right words can be slippery things. But they had it all inked out on a roll of parchment, and they’d gone over it with their scholars and scribes and linguists, parsing out every double meaning and ambiguity until there was no way out of those words.

Gregor’s voice echoed through the cold stone room. There were more humans, crowded like rats on all sides, listening to the declaration of our defeat. When he reached the part about exacting the tribute, he paused, and stared at me.

“Luel.” The sound of my name rung in my ears.

My allies on either side gripped my arms and brought me forward. I didn’t put up much resistance, with the cold iron shackles chilling me, draining me. I didn’t blame them  -- it wasn’t as if they’d chosen me. I was bound to the words of the treaty the same as the rest of them. But still I was angry, resentful that I had to be the sole slave of the filthy human ruler.
I
wasn’t the one who’d failed the Fae. I’d done well enough against the humans on my own.

And maybe that was why Gregor had chosen me.

“A tribute, as a symbol. A symbol of the subjugation of Fae.”

My allies pushed me forward into the hands of the humans. His lackeys caught me and forced me to my knees. I went down, weakly. He slid the toe of his boot beneath my chin, pushing up so that I was forced to look at him. The leather pressed against my throat, so warm compared to the clasp of cold iron. 

“Luel. You are bound to me now. ”

I was in no position to reply, my jaw stiff against his boot, his toe pressing into my vulnerable throat. I thought of all the throats I’d destroyed. I still had that, at least, the memory of my own victories. No shame could erase that.

He removed his foot, and my head tipped back down, facing his knees. But he wasn’t done kicking me around like a cur. I felt his sole pressing down on my scalp. My head met the ground, and he kept me there, pinned. I pushed back, but I was weak. Weak and powerless, with the cold iron sapping me. I tried not to think of how it would feel, when he took me this way. I was used to being in control; but to be spread and penetrated in this state…but he would have to take the chains off eventually. If he wanted me for a whore, then he’d never get to taste my full faerie essence with the chains binding me.

But he didn’t take me to his bedchamber. The Fae retreated from the chill city of iron and stone, the humans filtered out, the guards withdrew and stood at their posts.

He looked down at me, his white teeth bared in a grin.

“I like the way you kneel.” He said.

At that I straightened, looking up at him with sullen eyes.

“Would you like to kiss my boot, little pet?”

I might be his to keep, but there was nothing in the treaty about groveling. Instead I spat on his boot. He knelt, ignoring the splatter of my spit on his shoe, and caught my chin in his hand. His eyes were a piercing green, green as sorcery.

“Disobedience will be punished.” He said. “But I’m glad you gave me the chance to demonstrate.”

And he picked me up by the arm, dragging me through the arches, into the harsh light. He tossed me down in the dirt. I pressed my face to the ground. It wasn’t the good clean loam of the forest, but it was heavenly compared to the bitter bite of metal.

He gazed down at me. 

“Poor Luel.” He said, mockingly. “So proud. You’ll take your punishment hard.” He laughed. “Not to worry, though. I’ll have you eager to please before long.”

He lifted me up against the stake that was set in the square. 

“Faeries. Magical, eerie things.” He jerked my hands up and fixed my chained wrists to the head of the post. “People fear your kind, for they don’t know them.”

He pressed up against me, suddenly. His face loomed; I swallowed, staring at his strong jaw, his straight nose – anything but those glinting green eyes.

“But they’ll know you all too well when I’m done with you.”

His hands were gloved in leather. I felt the smooth rubbery touch against the dip of my waist. I shivered, reflexively.

“They’ll know you intimately.”

He fingered the airy cloth of my tunic. He tugged at it, gently, to let me know I wasn’t going to keep it for long.

Continue Reading The Fae Slave (Part I: Cold Iron).

About
Gwendolyn Wilde

The cursor throbs. I gnaw my lip. Thighs warmed by my laptop, I caress the keys, chasing those indecent thoughts across the page. Though I start shy, soon it's hard to stop: ideas swell, grow, come alive and urge me to release them through my tingling fingertips. Scenes of skin and lips and gasping, hot-blooded passion suck me in until I forget I'm just sitting here, writing.

And I hope my stories of sex, tension, and romance will come alive for you as well. If you enjoy tales of dominance and defiance, kidnapped maidens and mysterious rituals, hypnosis and sleepwalking, chains and cages...then
read on
.

Join Gwendolyn Wilde’s
mailing list
for New Releases

License Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of the author.

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

Mature Content

This work contains explicit sexual content, graphic language and scenes that may be considered offensive by some readers.

Cover art by Gwendolyn Wilde.

Cover image licensed through Fotolia, LLC.

First Edition January 2014