Bloodline (8 page)

Cunt
. “That would be you, my love.”
I could strangle her. One day, I
will
strangle her
. The thought soothed him.

“I want snow for the coronation ball.” She stomped her foot and pushed her bottom lip forward in an attempt at a mischievous pout.

Moron
. He thought about stomping on her head and cheered up.

“Then you shall have snow.” He pulled her into his arms.

“All night long?”

“Yes, my sweet. Maybe you should wear a fur.” He glanced at the wolf.

Maryse had begged him for a pet, and it had to be better than anyone else’s. By coincidence, a wolf-shifter had been captured in Highland Forest who seemed unable to shift into her human form. Of course, the silver collar ensured that was definitely no longer possible, but he hadn’t thought Maryse’s interest in a pet would last this long.

“Not my Wolfie. She’s cute. I love her. Just as I love you.” She ran her fingers over his crotch and giggled. “You’re always so happy to see me.”

“You’re so delicious.” It was the thought of forcing snow down her throat until she suffocated, or strangling her with the wolf’s intestines that made him hard. They’d be slippery, so it would be a challenge, though one he’d enjoy. The wolf backed away as though it could sense what he was thinking.

“Forget the wolf,” Maryse whispered. “She’s no trouble, and she keeps me warm when you’re not in my bed. Talking of bed…want to try and make a baby?”

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure.”

Actually there were many things that would give him more pleasure, but he needed an heir, and he wouldn’t get one of those fucking a guy. Duty before pleasure. Mostly. He unfastened her dress, and she let it drop to the floor. She was naked beneath, and he made sure he looked ecstatic. But when she moved to his back, and he heard her exclamation, he tensed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I thought you spent the day with the vampire?”

“I did.” He went over to the mirror, saw his skin was clear of any mark, and swallowed hard.
Fuck
. “The idiot messed it up. I had to get rid of it.”

She widened her eyes. “You managed to do that even with the addition to the ink?”

“The incompetent fool hadn’t added enough.”

“If he’s no good, we should find someone else.”

“I’ll give him another chance.”

Maryse wrapped her arms around him. “You’re too kindhearted.”

“So I’ve been told.”
By liars
. He sniggered.

He picked her up, tossed her facedown onto the bed, and leaped on top of her. She squirmed and giggled beneath him as he unfastened his pants. Not looking at her face helped him stay hard, but his mind churned.

The day had gone downhill from the moment he’d found the pair in his bedchamber. It was a miracle he hadn’t killed them both. He’d thought about it. He freed his cock and pulled Maryse up by the hips. Fortunately, she was already wet because he had no patience for foreplay. He thrust deep inside her with a grunt.

“That feels so good,” she said with a low groan.

“As do you.”

He refused to let his life im-fucking-plode. He had to find a way to make the tattoo stay in place or get rid of the unicorn blood. There was no way any more could be found, which meant he had an excuse for not having the tattoo. Unless one of the Elders who didn’t like him managed to find more. The trouble was he couldn’t be sure that wouldn’t happen.

Plus, he needed to dispose of the vampire, deal with Micah and his family, get hold of and destroy the bill of sale, and crush anyone who dared to challenge him.

“Not so hard,” Maryse cried.

Yeah, it was going to be hard.
Oh right
. He smothered his laugh. She was talking about the way he was fucking her.
Tough
. He increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, trying to picture Micah underneath him. It was a risk keeping him around, but it wasn’t as if he could communicate with anyone and he was so…enticing. Few faeries had dark hair. When he finally shoved his cock into Micah, it would be almost like fucking himself. He imagined a threesome with the vampire, and lust pooled in his gut. Maryse squealed, and his desire waned.
Fuck.

Seven months ago his mother had gone into the fade. It had been a shock to lose her before her time, and he missed her every single day. Faeries rarely became sick, and doctors called from all over the kingdom and from the other three lands of the faerie world had been unable to explain her failing power. It was only after she died that his father, overwhelmed with grief, had told him it was their fault. His and his father’s.

My fucking father
. Fury hardened his cock.

The explanation had staggered him. His father had been born mortal, brought from the other side with two other children by
his
father, as replacements for his dead offspring. He’d wanted to know how they’d died, what had happened, but his father hadn’t known.

Oberon the Fifth used magic to make them look like his children and had kept them out of the public eye until they were older. During that time, they’d been taught what they needed to know and had gradually become more faerie. But not faerie enough for the eldest to rule as king without help. His mother had shared her power with his father, and with him, although he hadn’t realized. Just as well Oberon’s only sibling, a brother, had died. He grinned. His parents had fooled the court for many years, but the strain on his mother was intense and eventually, she’d died.

Maryse groaned beneath him, and he slid his hands under her breasts to pinch her nipples. He did it too hard. She yelped, and the wolf growled. Oberon bared his teeth at the snarling creature.
One week and you’re a fur wrap, mongrel.

“Sorry, my love.” He wasn’t. Her pain made his cock happy.

When he’d recovered from the shock of learning he’d been born to a mortal and a faerie, he’d been filled with a violent rage. It explained so much. All those times his teachers had accused him of not trying, the occasions when his magic went awry and he seemed inept and stupid. Hardly surprising he’d looked elsewhere for a way to assert his dominance, using brute force when other methods failed. Although he could see now that his parents had done what they could to disguise his mixed blood, he wasn’t pure fae and never would be. He resented them for it. He could forgive his mother but not his father.

No one could ever learn the truth. So he’d done the only sensible thing.

Killed his father.

Then no one knew apart from Cavan and the two mortals he’d thought of as Uncle Flint and Aunt April, though where they were, he had no idea. They’d rarely come to his father’s court, and after his father died, they’d disappeared. Neither had married, and neither had children, which was a good thing. As long as they weren’t in Faerieland, he’d thought he was safe, but then Micah and his sister had arrived with the Kewen and talk of a bill of sale. And now there was the issue of the fucking tattoo.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oberon!” Maryse wailed.

He tried to concentrate on making himself come. Rage helped. The burning in his gut increased in intensity, and tension coiled in the back of his skull. Maryse screamed and dragged him over the edge. He pumped his seed into her, willing the bitch to get pregnant.

As he slumped beside her, she curled into his arms and gave him a nervous smile. He wished he could trust her, but he couldn’t. Her father was king of East Land. He wouldn’t tolerate a half-blood for a son-in-law. Their marriage would be annulled, but once he was crowned, that couldn’t happen.

Oberon didn’t feel able to trust anyone. He only trusted Cavan because he had to. His gaze shifted to the wolf who lay with her head on her paws, staring at him. She wagged her tail. Once.
Stupid mutt.

* * * *

Inigo stared at the blood-covered finger Micah held out, and a hiss escaped. He slammed his hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he muttered through his fingers.

Micah smiled and kept his arm extended.

Inigo let his hand drop. “Really?”

It was unlike him to be considerate and give someone a chance to change their mind. He didn’t know what had come over him. He looked into Micah’s handsome face with those exquisite eyes and gulped.
Maybe I do.

He knelt by the bed and took hold of Micah’s arm. Lowering his head, he licked up from the heel of the faerie’s palm and along the finger, dragging his teeth over the nail before he let it out of his mouth.

Oh hell. That is so good.

This is such a mistake. Stop right now.

I can’t.

One lick could never be enough. It was like giving a woman a huge box of chocolates and expecting her to close the lid after she’d eaten just one, or expecting someone to switch off the porn channel when the participants were just getting to the good part. He sucked the blood from Micah’s fingers, one after another, as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“You taste…delicious. Sorry if that grosses you out. But you do.”

As Inigo began to lap his way up Micah’s arm, he noticed the cuts on the hand he’d licked were gone.

“Did you do that, or did I?” he whispered. “Maybe it was both of us.”

Micah tasted both delightful and frustrating. Impossible not to desire more. He wanted to press his face against Micah’s thigh and suck straight from his femoral artery, sink his fangs into his neck and feed on his jugular. Suck and suck and suck until he was floating in ecstasy.

None of which he should do. Obviously.

The faerie was too weak physically, and Inigo was too weak mentally to be sure he could stop. That had never been an issue until now, but he’d never tasted a faerie before, apart from that one sip of Cavan. Micah was almost irresistible, but for once in his selfish life he thought more of someone else than himself and made a promise not to feed from the faerie.
Yet
. Instead, he scuttled to the bottom of the bed and began to lick him from the feet up.

Which gave him another sort of problem.

His cock was already trying to find a way through his zipper. Now it redoubled its efforts to the point that it hurt. The need to fuck rampaged alongside the need to feed. Technically, he could manage without either. It wasn’t long ago he’d fed from his Grindr guy. He shouldn’t need blood again so soon. But then he’d never been in Faerieland before. Time was different here.

He kept his eyes shut as he licked, but it made no difference. He went as high as he dared on each leg, stopping before his tongue swiped Micah’s balls, and then concentrated on the faerie’s arms. He’d never licked anyone like this before, couldn’t remember being this turned on before. As he slid his tongue along the ridge of Micah’s collarbone, fingers threaded his hair. Inigo opened his eyes.

Huge mistake.

One look at Micah’s long, thick lashes and those dark green eyes, and the bottom fell out of his world. This was a day for firsts, because he’d never wanted to kiss anyone so much in his life.
Shit, what’s happening to me?
Keeping his lips closed, he ran his tongue over his fangs. They weren’t going to retract anytime soon. He’d freak the faerie out if he kissed him. Maybe he’d freak him out anyway. He licked Micah’s bloody cheek, the graze on his forehead, the cut on his chin, and the faerie’s breathing quickened. Fingers tightened in his hair, and a thumb stroked his ear.

Inigo slowly and carefully worked his way over Micah’s chest, following the curves and dips of his muscles, the lines of his ribs. Inigo’s mouth watered around the tight copper discs of Micah’s nipples, and when he fluttered his tongue against them, Micah bucked and clutched him harder. Inigo’s cock had begun to sulk. It had been years since he’d bothered with foreplay like this.

This isn’t foreplay. You’re cleaning him up.

Oh, yeah. I forgot.

But it was foreplay. Micah’s cock was as hard as his, reaching up over his stomach, the foreskin retracted, the smooth head shiny with precum, a lone silken thread dangling to his belly, and that blue star fully stretched out to remind him of the mess he was in. When Inigo tried to bypass temptation, Micah tugged him back by the hair.

Inigo laughed. “Have I missed a bit?”

The smile on the faerie’s face brought warmth to his undead heart.

“Let me do your back first.”
Be a saint before I’m a sinner.

Micah reached for the hem of Inigo’s T-shirt and tugged it up, making his wishes clear. Inigo peeled it off and tossed it aside.

“Okay?” he asked.

Micah pointed to Inigo’s pants.

“Turn over then.”

Micah cocked one eyebrow and pointed again. Inigo laughed. He stood, kicked off his shoes, and yanked down his dark jeans and boxers at the same time. Micah’s eyes widened as he stared at his cock.

“Wow, I seem to be hard. I wonder why.”

The faerie smiled and rolled over. When Inigo saw the wounds on his back, his gut churned. Micah had been brutally beaten and whipped, and Inigo wanted to do the same to Oberon. See how the wanker liked it. Though a little voice in his head wondered what Micah had done to deserve it. Something? Nothing? What did he know that Oberon wanted to keep a secret?

He climbed onto the bed and slurped the blood from Micah’s back, the taste zinging in his mouth, exciting his cells, fogging his head. Micah writhed beneath him as, inch after inch, Inigo licked and lapped and laved his skin. As he worked his way down Micah’s body, he was almost sidetracked by the faerie’s tight backside, but made himself continue down his legs.
Saving the best bits for last.

But when his fangs accidentally caught on Micah’s ankle, the faerie spun over and knocked him to the ground.

“Sensitive much?” Inigo climbed next to him on the narrow bed.

The faerie wrapped his arms around him and held him close. Inigo leaned in and brushed his lips across Micah’s, sweeping them back and forth over the seam of his mouth. His fangs were still out, but what the hell. The faerie’s mouth opened, and Inigo accepted the invitation. He slid his tongue over Micah’s and went exploring, running along the hard ridges of his teeth, stroking the soft palate, twisting his tongue around Micah’s.