by Sarina Dorie
The grandson with the bird beak stepped back into the circle. He crossed his arms and sulked like a petulant child.
Thatch’s gaze swept over me, flitting over the vines holding me in place and the tear down my dress before returning to his queen.
His voice remained calm, collected. “I will consent if you give us privacy.”
She patted his head. “No, pet. You’ve lost that privilege.”
“Your Majesty, please consider my words.” Thatch spoke with such deference I might have believed he was a loyal servant. “It would be to your advantage to have fewer witnesses who might speak of this knowledge to your enemies. And it would be to our advantage to be able to concentrate on the task at hand without this.” He managed to encapsulate his disdain for the crowd of courtiers with a jab of his chin in their direction.
“My subjects are loyal. They will see to it that you perform the task at hand without interference.” The points of her teeth caught in the light. “Treachery would cost them their lives.”
“Please, not here. Not like this.” The calm had left his voice. “Leave us, and we’ll do this for you. Just give us some privacy.”
“So you can come up with a plan? So you can escape like before? I think not.”
“I don’t want an audience.” More quietly he said, “I can’t do this with everyone watching. I’ve never been able to perform as you wished before your courtiers. The Fae Fertility Paradox requires magic. My pleasure must burst forth at the same time as Clarissa’s so that I don’t burn her.”
He understood how the Fae Fertility Paradox worked? He knew how to orgasm without burning someone—without burning me?
More secrets.
The trench of lies was a growing chasm between us.
I was so angry, it took me a moment for his secret to sink in. This was fertility magic. Any Witchkin or Fae could rut together like animals. Not everyone could use sexual pleasure to gather enough electrical power to harness the powers of creation. The revelation of this knowledge alighted hope in my heart. We could do this. I could save him.
I could understand his shame and his reasons, even if I disagreed with his act of dishonesty. Now that the truth was out, he would have no reason to keep secrets from me any longer.
“I forgive you,” I said.
His gaze flickered to the queen. “Please, not here.”
The queen cackled. “Fortunately I have an idea to help relieve you of your inhibitions.”
His eyes went wide. “No.”
She nodded to the guards.
One of them kicked Thatch from behind so that he fell to his knees. I gasped. The other grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.
She crouched down and unfastened his belt under the straitjacket. He tried to struggle back from her, but the guards held him.
“Must I arouse you too?” she asked in a voice as cloying as honey. “Or will you be still for me like a good boy?”
I didn’t want to look. This was too disturbing. I closed my eyes and turned my head away. Fabric rustled and metal jangled. It sounded like they were unbuckling his straitjacket.
She purred. “How much jorogumo venom did Princess Quenylda use to torture you when you were imprisoned in the dungeon of the Silver Court? A drop? Two drops?”
I opened one eye. She held up a vial. I couldn’t see much else with her body blocking him from view.
His response was too quiet to hear.
“Only three drops?” She uncorked the vial. “This isn’t jorogumo venom. It’s Passion’s Kiss. One drop is ten times stronger than jorogumo venom. Mortals fall into a frenzy at the mere smell.” She inhaled deeply. She glanced over her shoulder at me, mischief in her eyes. “A drop of this might assist with your inhibitions.”
She shifted to the side, the view of him clear. The guards held his arms back hard enough that the muscles in his chest were taut. Bruises and scratches marred his ribs. His belt buckle hung loose, but he still had his pants on.
He locked eyes with me and swallowed. He mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
She yanked back the waist of his pants and poured the potion onto his crotch. Her laughter echoed through the forest like thunder.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Queen of Hearts
“No!” I screamed.
I had seen what three drops of jorogumo venom did. This was supposed to be ten times more potent, and she’d poured the entire vial onto him.
The results were instantaneous. Felix Thatch shuddered. His eyes rolled back in his head. The guards fought to hold him as convulsions racked his body. This would be torture for anyone, but for someone whose weakness was pleasure, this had to be worse. The cure to his torment would weaken him. I didn’t know whether he would be able to control the lightning of his affinity or think clearly enough to monitor mine.
I struggled against the vines, but they held me in place. I tried to use electrical magic to overpower the Fae enchantment, but the spark of lightning inside me fizzled out. All I could feel was fear. Helplessly I watched him suffer.
Thatch choked and foamed at the mouth. He tore away from the guards, but they grabbed hold of him again. His grandmother drew back.
The tattoos on his chest and arms glowed white and then turned black. They flashed and oscillated like the skin of an octopus in heat. He burst free from the guards and rolled onto the ground.
I knew the torment of jorogumo venom and how it had made me mad with wanting. I couldn’t imagine what this was like.
“Please, stop this. He’s your grandson. You’ll kill him,” I screamed at the queen.
“I must admit, he is more intoxicated than I’d counted on. It’s possible I used a smidge too much.” She tapped her talons against her chin. “He’s dangerous like this, no? Do you like dangerous men?”
He crawled forward, his eyes locked on to mine. His fingers dug into the mulch of leaves and twigs so deep he left gouges in the earth. The whites of his eyes turned red with blood. His pupils dilated until the gray of his eyes was gone.
When he came to the queen, he clawed at the hem of her gown, feathers spraying the air and raining down on him. He was senseless, like a feral beast. He tried to crawl his way up her long legs.
She easily kicked him off. “Are you so stupefied by Passion’s Kiss, you cannot wait for the object of your affection? Pity.”
He rolled on the ground, screaming. He pulled at his hair and punched himself. I wanted to go to him, to help him. I struggled against the vines.
“Let me go. Let me help him,” I said.
“Are you sure you don’t need assistance loosening your inhibitions?” She examined the vial. “There might be a drop left.”
“I don’t need help,” I said.
She looked me up and down. “No. I don’t suppose you do. But I’ve changed my mind about him having you. He’s too savage like this. He’ll tear you apart. Let him take out some of his madness on someone else first.” She scanned the crowd.
“No.” I could help him. He wouldn’t want to hurt someone for her amusement.
“Where is Odette?” the Raven Queen stared at the tree where she’d been resting before.
She was gone. I didn’t blame her. One never knew when an unpredictable tyrant would lash out.
“Where is my granddaughter? Where is Princess Odette?” the queen demanded.
Her eyes locked on to a shadow slinking through the crowd. The light of a hundred fireflies swarmed among the trees, converging above the shadow. Even with the luminescence shining on the creatures of the crowd, the shadow didn’t brighten.
Queen Morgaine frowned, and she pointed her finger at the figure. The glamour of shadows lifted. Odette stepped back. Creatures retreated from her.
“I require a service from you,” the Raven Queen said.
“He’s my brother.” Her eyes reflected the horror I also felt.
A woman in the wide skirts of a ballgown shoved Odette forwar
d.
“No. This is wrong,” I said.
Odette dug her feet into the ground, but the crowd shoved her forward until she was pushed onto the ground next to her convulsing brother. He took hold of her broken wing, yanking at feathers, and tearing them off.
Odette screamed. “Why? Your Highness? I have served you loyally. What have I done to deserve such mistreatment?”
“Nothing,” the queen said with such dispassion it chilled me to the core.
She did this because she could.
I loathed her more than ever. I hated to think about what Odette and Felix Thatch’s childhoods had been like with the Raven Queen raising them. It was up to me to save them both.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my awareness. I tried to push him away from his sister, to nudge him in my direction, but I couldn’t tell whether he felt anything in his madness or my mental abilities were that scattered.
When that didn’t work, I called his name. “Felix Thatch, I’m over here. Come over here.”
He didn’t answer.
Odette shoved Thatch away, but he was stronger than her. He clawed at her hair and fell on top of her. She shrieked and fought him off. She elbowed him hard enough in the face to send him flying back.
If this was a game to the queen, I needed to figure out how it served her. Was this to funnel off his excess energy before having me? Was it for sheer amusement? Or was there more she hoped to gain?
Odette’s nose was bleeding. She wiped at the blood and incanted words, but he struck her in the mouth before she could finish.
I turned myself inward. I tried to recall how I had generated enough power to kill Quenylda, even though I hadn’t been aroused. I had done it quickly and efficiently. There had been times Thatch had helped me charge my magic without arousal. He’d told me to imagine a kind touch such as my mom’s arms around me in a motherly embrace. That was now a bittersweet emotion, too sorrowful to lend me power.
The spark inside me was so small. I made the flames of magic dance in my core, a dervish to churn up the generator dormant within. I imagined the love that had been in his eyes when he’d hugged me earlier, the pleading in his voice for me to stay away from the Raven Court just before he’d kissed me. I loved him so much it hurt. I would have done anything for him to ease his torment.
My heart and soul fused into my magic and became one. The magic inside me wasn’t great, but enough of it crackled under my skin that I repelled the vines. I pushed myself from the tree.
Creatures that had been creeping closer to get a better view leapt back.
The Raven Queen stepped out of my path. “Ah, you have freed yourself. You’re stronger than I gave you credit for. Very well, then. Leave if you wish. I won’t stop you.” She turned back to her grandchildren, morbid delight shining in her eyes.
I could have run at that instant. My husband would have told me to do so. Another part of me considered lunging for the queen to knock her down. I didn’t have much electrical energy, but enough to block her magic perhaps.
She knew I wouldn’t strike her, though. If she had thought I had the energy to hurt her, she wouldn’t have allowed me to go free. She wouldn’t have turned her back on me. Like most Fae, she couldn’t feel love or understand the concept, but that didn’t stop her from using it to predict my actions. She knew I had sacrificed myself for him once, and I would again.
There was no need for her to twist the knife, but she did so anyway.
The queen waved me off, not even looking at me. “Ma chère, there’s one woman here who holds the antidote to his madness. We shall see whether it is Odette.”
There was only one real choice for me at that instant, and it was to save the man I loved.
I struggled forward, tripping over the shreds of my courtly gown. Thatch growled like some kind of bestial creature. He appeared to be beating Odette and himself more than sexually assaulting her. I didn’t know whether it was his way of trying to stay in control of himself with pain magic or this was foreplay for one with a pain affinity.
My dress caught on something behind me. I wrenched myself free of the snag, the dress tearing off of me. I ran forward in my slip, striped knee-high stockings, and sneakers. The freedom of movement allowed me a running start, and I was able to ram myself between Felix and Odette Thatch. I slammed an elbow into his ribs before he could react.
He fell back to the ground, taking me with him. I felt Odette scrambling away. I attempted to funnel the spark of electricity from myself into him, to ease the aphrodisiac and lend him strength. The flashing black of his rune tattoos ceased and returned to white ink, though it resumed the strobe effect after only a few seconds.
I took his face in my hands and kissed him passionately. He pulled me closer, his fingers digging into my arms and clawing at my back. His hands were hot, his flesh flushed pink and feverish. The tattoos flashed more quickly. He squeezed me so tightly I could barely breathe.
I managed to wiggle away enough that I could fumble for his erection through his trousers. He moaned and shuddered.
The circle of Fae closed in around us, watching with lecherous eyes. One woman who resembled a panther in a ball gown rubbed herself suggestively against a tree. A spindly treelike goblin gave a new definition to the word “wood.”
I closed my eyes, trying to forget about our audience. I tried to sink into the sensation of his hands on my body. His lips were hard against mine, forceful. He bit my neck as though he were ravenous.
I twisted away, trying to push him back a few inches. “I need you to master yourself. Control your powers.” I imitated the firm teacher voice he often used when I had often been about to lose control in the past.
“I can’t.” He squeezed me to him again, his fingers digging into my hips so hard I knew I would be bruised later.
“You will,” I insisted. “Master your pain, and master your pleasure. You taught me to do this. You can do it too.”
“I can’t.” He buried his face in my hair. “I need your pain.” He tore at his pants.
The potion must have made its way to his bloodstream because he kissed me with such passion, I could taste the sweet magic in his saliva.
It was dark and threatened to pull me under, but I resisted.
He needed the magic of pain to orgasm just as I needed pleasure. That was how a Red affinity solved the Fae Fertility Paradox. I’d said as much before to the Raven Queen, but putting it into action was more difficult.
He broke away long enough to pant into my ear. “I need you. Right now.” He tasted me with his tongue, sucking on my lower lip hard enough that his pain-pleasure meter surged in him. His lips tingled with magic.
I pushed him back as hard as I could. “Lie down.” I kept one hand on him as I yanked his pants off. I raked my nails against his legs and felt the magic rippling over him. A spike of energy radiated from him and into me, making my insides flutter.
I crawled on top of him and straddled him, but I made sure his erection remained outside of me, sandwiched between my pelvis and his belly. I rocked against him, attempting to use friction to arouse myself.
We had to come at the same time. I wasn’t even close. It didn’t take much to make me want him, but it still took time. I needed gentle caresses and tenderness, the exact opposite of the beast he was.
He closed his eyes. His fingers dug into the earth, clawing trenches through the moss and dirt. Each breath he exhaled came out in a cloud of mist. The air around us was getting colder. Darkness was closing in. I did my best to ignore it. I kept my gaze locked on to him.
He shook in an effort to restrain himself. It didn’t excite me to use violence, but I knew he needed it. I slapped him across the face. He moaned. His flesh pulsed where it met mine. I struck him again, this time on the other cheek.
I knew he liked symmetry. He was an artist.
He gasped.
“Better?” I asked.
He nodded. The cuttlefish effect
on his skin slowed, and the tattoos ceased to flash. The ink returned to a white glow against the pink flush of his skin. That gave me hope he was gaining control—that I was helping him.
The Raven Queen had tried to bend us to her will, to hurt and humiliate us, but she hadn’t. Our love was an act of defiance.
I placed his hands on my thighs. His touch was firm and insistent, but not uncontrolled. He drank me in more slowly, gifting me with the tenderness I needed. He threaded his fingers through my hair, caressing my scalp and my neck. I melted against him.
The tension built in his muscles again. I bit him. He relaxed. After several minutes of this teeter-totter of pleasure and pain, I was ready for him. I closed my eyes as he filled me, trying to take refuge in the deliciousness of the moment. His muscles shook with restraint. I sat up and lowered myself onto him again.
“Hurt me,” he said.
I dug my fingers into his flesh. The guttural noise that came from him was half mewl and half growl. He arched into me and thrust so hard he nearly bucked me off of him. He grabbed onto my hips, and I cried out in surprise. There was pleasure in this moment, but there was also pain.
Mixed sensations were always the most difficult to separate and conquer. I struggled to accept the pleasure and numb the pain. He’d told me once before not to block the pain. If energy was numbed, it couldn’t be used for magic. I siphoned it into him. Greedily, he drank it up.
His eyes were pure black like when pain became his master, but his expression was his own. His eyebrows had drawn together, a crinkle on his forehead signaling his concern.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I can keep going. You’re doing great.” Today I felt like I was the teacher, and he was the student.
He thrust again. I unraveled the sensations and separated them like strands of thread to take what I needed and give him the rest. I was aware of the pain, even if I didn’t feel it hook its barbs into my nerves. The pain wicked away from me until the next thrust. I fell into rhythm with him, the repetition of this dance kept lively by an occasional interruption in the form of a kiss or slap. I could feel him drawing me in, using all the sensations building in his body and storing it.