Curse of the Fae King (3 page)

Wasn’t she?

The Fae stood straight and tall—a Spanish grandee dripping masculine pride—and he completely ignored the miserable weather. She watched as a raindrop landed on his cheek and flowed toward his wide, sensual lips—lips she needed to lick and taste. His voice pushed her into a world where all she wanted was sex, sin, and the fulfillment of the sizzling desires he woke inside her, even when he bellowed like a bull on the rampage. Was she weak-kneed and gasping? Yeah, but she refused to be the pathetic I-just-can’t-help-myself little woman if he tried to seduce her again.

Meena tapped her foot and pointed at Lipstick. “Hello? Dragon? Herbs? A little control here, please. That’s my family’s income he’s gobbling.”

He stood there—all dignity and disdain. “I shall, of course, recompense you.”

Could his spine get any stiffer? Stuck-up, sexy Fae.

“With Fairy gold?” she snapped. “The sort that turns to dross when you’re not looking?”

He raised an eyebrow, stared down his nose. “Not mine.”

Lipstick snatched another mouthful of rosemary bush and let her shove him a couple of steps toward the house.

Frustrated, she snapped, “Keep your gold, and keep Lipstick out of our herb beds. My mother will fix everything in an instant.”

Lipstick crunched the top off another rosemary bush. He chewed with obvious satisfaction; then his tail shot out, wrapped around Meena’s waist, and lifted her off to the side. He eyed the remaining bushes hungrily, squatted on his haunches, and heaved a smoke-filled sigh. He clearly didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

“
My
dragon”—and yes, the haughty Fae did emphasize that
my
—“needs meat to grow. Since he refuses to stay in my stables, you must feed him.”

“Hello? Vegetarian here. Cheese and eggs only, topped off with lashings of veg and herbs.”

“Hello?” He mimicked her tone and pointed at his chest. “Carnivore here. And you accused
me
of starving my dragon.”

Even when he was sarcastic, his deep, testosterone-filled voice sent tingles running down her spine, but this time she’d stay strong and resist him. Maybe. When she breathed in his melted-chocolate essence, she wanted to strip off his leather waistcoat, unfasten his shirt, and taste his bare chest. Damn it, she was on to his tricksy voice and his enthralling presence. At least her brain was, but her body…

Her mouth dried as she imagined him in her bed, his fingers dancing across her clit.
Not going there, remember?
Finally she croaked, “Then flash back to Fairyland, and fetch him a dead animal or something. Remember, Mum’s militant in her refusal to touch meat.”

She looked around. Where was her mum anyway? The 4x4 was parked out front, and her mother was too well-mannered to ignore guests, even carnivorous ones.

Lipstick growled softly and wound his sinuous tail back around her waist.

Possessive dragon. Furious, lickable Fae. Mine.

Lipstick’s open devotion thrilled her, but she needed to take the Fae’s words with a pinch of salt. Glib compliments rolled off his tongue, all overlaid with the compulsion for her to open her legs and let him fuck her—but she wouldn’t let him fool her again. The sooner he flashed out of her life the better, only maybe she should kiss him first—just to check it wasn’t animal attraction that made her heart race. Her cunt ached at the thought. She lusted after this otherworld warrior like a bitch coming into heat. “I’ll say this slowly. Go fetch Lipstick a meat treat. Just don’t expect anyone else here to touch it.”

Furrows ridged Leonidas’s forehead, and his eyes glazed in concentration. Finally he admitted, “I cannot.”

Aware she’d missed something important, she stopped worrying about her herbs and asked, “Sorry. You can’t what?”

“Enough! No more games. What are you? And what have you done to me?” He roared so loudly the dragonet dropped its ears and backed away. Lipstick growled softly when Leonidas stepped closer to Meena and gripped her arm so hard she winced.
I can almost feel him crushing my bones.

Surprise turned her voice into a squeak. “Me? Let go, jackass. You’re hurting me. Seriously, have you considered anger management classes?”

His touch was rough—nothing like the sexual delight they’d shared on the cliffs—designed to crumble her sarcastic defenses. Instead it filled her with sexual need. She wanted to unfasten that tightly bound queue and run her fingers through his hair. In her dreams she’d rock her hips against his cock and feel the hard length of him press into her body. He thrilled her, fascinated her, and newly awakened desires overwhelmed her. She couldn’t breathe around him. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. If she were braver, she’d wipe the raindrops from his cheeks—with her tongue.

She should mock him for using magic to seduce his way between her legs. Meena knew that…really. Only she couldn’t keep her gaze from those lips. Full, sensual, and stern—they enchanted her as much as his voice.

“Goth creature,” he roared again, “you will release me, or I’ll make you suffer in ways you didn’t believe possible.”

So much for my need to nibble on his sexy pointed ears or taste his lips.

Chapter Three

Meena surprised Leonidas with a swift kick to his shins and a twist of her shoulders. He dropped her arm and narrowed his eyes, but she quickly backed off. Lipstick growled and bared his teeth at the Fae. His scales lifted like hackles, and he tried for a deadly dragon’s roar.

Meena expected him to belch flames, but she giggled when only a smoke ring slipped out of his throat. The Fae’s eyes turned as black as Whitby jet. She could feel the fury coming off him in waves. His voice was menacing and low. “You enchant me, laugh at me, and corrupt my war dragon.”

“I guess Lipstick’s a lover, not a fighter,” Meena taunted. “And in case it escaped your attention, I don’t do magic, enchantments, or spells.”

The Fae’s frown deepened, and his intense glare singed her soul “You may not, but someone has drained my powers and trapped me here. Maybe this elusive mother of yours knows your sharp tongue keeps suitors at bay. Does she plan to make me mate you before she releases me?”

“Mate me?” Humiliation scalded Meena’s cheeks. No way would she spread her legs for this emerald-eyed Fae—not when he used magic to lower her resistance. He stood tall and arrogant—all lordly Fae and come-swoon-at-my-feet swagger.
Beg him to fuck them, more like
. But Meena was determined to stay strong and resist. Wasn’t she?

Her aggravating warrior moved behind her and whispered in her ear. “Despite the way you assaulted my shins, insulted me, and practically stole my dragon, it would not be a hardship.”

“Not a hardship?” she squealed. “Don’t you mean not happening? When I take a lover, it will be a man who cares about me, not some otherworld bully who enthralls me with his toe-tingling voice and stunning green eyes.”

“Let me love you.” Leonidas slipped from warrior to sexual virtuoso in an instant. Again, lightning flashed dark zigzags through his aura. His voice—a rich, sexy rumble—made her want to screw him until his eyes rolled back in his head.

No way. This time, she refused to fall victim to his spell. “Back off, jackass, and listen. So not happening.
Capisce
?”

He turned her to face him, and after a brief, puzzled look, his mesmerizing gaze held hers. “Let me stroke and squeeze your beautiful breasts until you purr louder than my dragon. You seethe with desires no human male can fulfill. Let me satisfy your most basic instincts, right here among the sweet-scented herbs. I’ll make you come over and over, maybe even impregnate you, then you will let me go.”

He held his breath as she swayed closer to his chest—then Lipstick growled and broke the sensual connection between them. Almost, almost, she could feel her defenses crumble.
Thank you, Hekate. I’m so glad you sent the dragon, honest—

Furious that he’d slipped past her barriers again, Meena landed a resounding slap on his cheek. Her glove softened the impact, but there was still a satisfying red mark on his skin. “If I wanted a man, I’d find one, but it wouldn’t be a loudmouthed, oversexed jackass who uses his magic to seduce me.”

LEONIDAS LOOKED HER over, his gaze condescending and slow. As King of the Fae, he should despise her for her insolence. Instead he found her…charming. This impudent woman wrapped in a crimson-lined cloak dazzled him. Her hood still protected her hair, but he remembered each rainbow-streaked curl from their first meeting on the cliff top.

He’d thought her hair shone like a dark raven’s wing painted with streaks of emerald. There’d been purple, blue, and red in the mix too. Back in the abbey graveyard, he’d wanted to sort and straighten each strand before tasted her tempting red lips. Like every immortal, she had fangs—not the savage, throat-tearing sort. More the tiny, sexy sort that he wanted her to scrape across his skin as she licked and nibbled at his body.

Scarlet kisses, she’d called her newly bought lipstick, and that was what he wanted from her. Scarlet kisses that set his toes tingling, then spread like wildfire into his balls. No matter how this Goth creature disparaged him, he was still the king of the Fairies—especially the oversexed ones. Soon he’d show her what a bonus that could be.

Elves’ blood, he loved this verbal sparring with this— What did she call herself? Wannabe Vampire? Fae courtiers flattered and kowtowed to him, but this woman used her sarcasm the way his warriors used swords and arrows. Her quick wits recognized the magic in his voice, and she felt the darkness that whirled around him like a tornado. Her buxom curves and handspan waist enthralled him, but much as he wanted to stay at her side, he couldn’t. Not without becoming the very thing he despised.

If she really was the innocent she seemed, he’d deserved that slap and more. Elves’ blood, what had happened to his magic? He needed to function at full strength, flash back to the otherworld, and fuck somebody before his balls exploded. And as for his dick…

His rainbow-haired vixen might lack magical prowess, but she enchanted him just the same. He wanted to peel back her abrasive edges and reveal the flower he felt certain she hid within. She hated that, thanks to his curse, he’d add her to his long list of conquests and move on.
Another blasted notch on my bedpost. I’d sell my soul for one woman to love and keep. A woman with curvaceous hips that sway when she walks. A woman who exudes sexuality and almost begs to be fucked. A woman like her.

He couldn’t remember when a woman last saw through the shell of dark magic that surrounded him. Usually Fae were icy-cold creatures that kept themselves aloof from the world. Twenty-seven days out of twenty-eight, he did the same. The twenty-eighth day, he’d fuck any stranger in a skirt. This female with her ridiculous desire to turn Vampire and her total lack of magic had hidden depths he wanted to explore—and not just because of his curse.

She’d hate him when he left her and screwed someone else. How could she not, when he despised himself? His curse forced him to fuck a new woman every month. He could spend four weeks with his would-be Goth—a blink of an immortal’s eye—then he’d have to bed the next willing female who caught his eye. That, or turn feral. One day he’d find the Witch who’d cursed his bloodline, but it was as if the damn woman had vanished into a black hole. Even the Witch Council couldn’t find her.

For years, Leonidas had tried to persuade his father to stay faithful to his mother. The one time King Herodotus tried, the beast the curse planted inside him finally overwhelmed him. More beast than man, he’d screwed a stranger. After, he’d returned to his usual urbane self, but the woman hadn’t fared so well. Utterly drained and totally exhausted, she’d died in his arms—and her death had curdled every kind instinct inside him.

The Fae usually hid their animalistic natures beneath a layer of cool civility. The wild-eyed, befanged creature King Herodotus had become horrified the Fae court, but they’d hushed it up—his dirty secret. Of course. No one could know how far their king had fallen. The chamberlain became the king’s procurer and found him a fresh woman each month. Now Leonidas was stuck in the same predicament.

This tasty immortal mortal—maybe a druidess or a nymph—intrigued him with her intoxicating curves and sarcastic defenses. In his dreams, he’d slowly strip away her fears—along with her clothes—and discover the secrets she held inside. Preferably with his tongue and his cock. Time was running out for him, and soon he’d be desperate to find a willing woman. One who wasn’t all sparky nature and prickly retorts. One who didn’t have hazel eyes flecked with gold fire. One who appealed purely to his out-of-control cock.

He actually liked his sparky-natured Goth. Even her irreverence fascinated him. But because of his curse, he’d use her body to soothe the throbbing in his dick. He’d have to. Then once his magic returned, he’d vanish back to the otherworld—without her.

“
Querida
”—he used his deep, honeyed voice like a sensual weapon—“I can show you more pleasure in five minutes than you’ve known in your entire life.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “So can chocolate ice cream. Get real, or better yet, get lost. And take your damn dragon with you.”

“I already told you, I cannot.” Thanks to his curse, an uncontrolled beast—hedonistic, sexual, and savage—seethed within him. He’d do anything to keep it contained even if it meant fucking a million different women to stay sane. Then why was this one with her snarky tongue and mundane world mannerisms special? “My magic is blocked, and if neither you nor your missing mother trapped me, who did?”

Meena glanced around, her eyes wide and wild. “Missing? She’s probably in one of our polytunnels, persuading the autumn crocus to flower out of season and give up double their usual amount of saffron.”

His raised eyebrow told her to get real. “So busy she missed a hungry dragonet munching his way through her crops? And wouldn’t she come running when a whole border of herbs started dying?”

Meena stared at the purple-leaved sage in the border behind her. Even a non-gardener like Leonidas could see that where once-healthy new shoots had tipped the stems, now they’d wilted. “Mum would never let that happen. Come on, my rampant warrior”—she eyed his crotch like a beggar denied a feast—“wield that wicked sword of yours, and watch my back while I check out the house.”