Fae King's Temptation (Court of Bones and Ash Book 1)

by Layla Harper

  “One I intend to expose.” I fear the goblin king is but a pawn in a much larger scheme.

  My friend’s face blanches. “Tell me you aren’t thinking of—”

  “I am.” There is more than my life at stake. The lives of thousands of orcs are at risk.

  “Rogar, if you activate the slave mark, you’ll be hard-pressed to prove your innocence to the council.”

  “They would have to catch me first.”

  Gauron pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ll be accused of violating the treaty. They’ll never believe you had no part in smuggling the mortal into Alfhemir.”

  “I am aware of the consequences.” For centuries, I have dodged the nefarious plots of the winter and autumn realms seated at my northern and western borders. And from the far east, I continue to evade the machinations of the spring and summer courts, both jealous of the favor the high queen has bestowed upon my people and me. A millennium before my birth, orcs were hated for their brutality, and now that we have amended our ways, we are hated for our nobility. I cannot win.

  “Without activating the mark’s magic, we will never learn how the mortal crossed into Drengskador. She is intelligent.” And surprisingly attractive for a human—an observation I fail to share with Gauron. “She may know something that will help us track our true enemy.”

  “It isn’t a risk worth taking, my king. Eliminate the threat. Without the human, the council can’t pin this travesty on our backs, which leaves you free to hunt the true villain.”

  “The human is an innocent caught in the same web we are.” I clasp a hand over Gauron’s tense shoulder. “Murder is not the answer, my friend. History has taught us this lesson. Our only solution is to get this mortal to the high queen before the hounds catch her scent.”

  “The hounds… Flaming gonads.”

  “My sentiments exactly.” The journey to the high queen’s castle is a precarious crossing, one made ten times worse with a human woman in tow and the hunt latched to her scent. I turn my attention to the woods. “Return to the stronghold. Have supplies for the journey brought to the red caves. You or Khao. Trust no one else, including my guard.” The six highly trained orcs comprising the king’s guard may have believed my lie—that Kyra is a goblin glamoured to look human—but the less they know about her true identity, the better.

  “You mean to hide the human’s existence from Aelinor?”

  I run my hand over my face.

  Aelinor.

  She will have my balls if I shield her from this. “You, Khao, and Aelinor only.”

  My friend smirks.

  “And, Gauron, bring a disguise to cloak the human’s form until I reach the norn.”

  His eyebrows pitch skyward. “You intend to seek out the witch? Alone? My king—”

  “I have no choice.” Not as long as the mark bears witness upon the female’s hand. “Do what you must to barter with the mage. The border wards must be fortified before the next attack.”

  “They wouldn’t dare to attack us anew.”

  “Do not be so quick to discount our enemy’s tenacity. Our boundaries with winter will be targeted.” If they have not already.

  A sound rumbles from Gauron’s throat. He fists his hands on his hips. “And what am I to tell our people when they inquire about their king’s whereabouts?”

  “You are a clever orc.” I wink. “I have no doubt you will think of something. Now off with you. I have a human to fetch.”

  “Careful, my king. I have a bad feeling about this situation.”

  “As do I.”

  Gauron salutes me, then mounts his warg, setting off for the stronghold on Silver Hill.

  I inhale and let the human’s rich floral scent fill my nose. Blood surges through my veins. My orc senses spring to life, triggering the urge to hunt, to give chase—to overpower my prey and force submission.

  Drawing a deep breath into my lungs, I curb the instinct and mount my warg. The beast snorts, the thick muscles of his back tensing beneath my body.

  “Easy, Gray.” I bend down and brush my hand against his coarse fur. “Easy now.” I prompt the warg into the woods, sniffing the air as I go. The human moves deeper into the forest. I taste her name on my tongue.

  Kyra.

  My mouth curves into a wide smile. She is no match for me. I know these lands like the beating of my heart. The impulse to hop off my warg and run free through the trees like the animal I am tempts me. Orcs are gifted with speed and endurance. No mortal—or elf—can outrun me. Yet I hold back. Her scent drives my senses wild, stripping away my restraint. I am too close to the edge to trust my instincts, so I remain atop Gray, stealthily guiding him deeper into the forest at a quick clip.

  But as the mortal’s scent thickens and mixes with the rush of fear and panic, my blood pounds harder and I spur the beast forward, faster and faster, until I spot her lithe body weaving through the trees.

  She glances over her shoulder, blue eyes wide.

  I jump off Gray’s back, hurling through the air to land several feet ahead of her on the path.

  Shrieking, she skids to a stop. Her eyes dart to the forest behind me, then to the left. She springs to the right.

  I block.

  “Do not run,” I growl. “I will give chase. You cannot outrun me.” Although a part of me wishes she would try.

  Drawn to the heaving of her chest, I take in her form. She lacks the thick muscle our females bear, but she is tall and strong, her body pleasing to the eye. Long dark hair is bound behind her head, loose and unbraided. Her skin is fair, much fairer than ours, and thinner based on the pebbling of her flesh. With each inhale, her breasts push against the shiny black fabric molded to her limbs. Her words draw my gaze to plump pink lips, but it is the mark’s dark magic I feel stroking my skin like a lover’s caress.

  I stalk her.

  She steps back. Extends her hands. Mutters something in the strange language I do not yet understand. Nothing she says or does will stop me now. I have but one course of action.

  I grab her wrist, locking my long fingers around her soft flesh, firm but gentle.

  Struggling against my hold, she strikes my chest with her free hand, the blows wild but impressive, battering against my neck and shoulders. This female has mettle. It is a pity she is human.

  Bracing myself against the magic’s call, I drag my tongue across the mark. The forbidden magic tastes foul. It coats my throat and slithers down my throat.

  But her taste?

  Divine.

  I do not stop at her hand. Moving past the mark, I drag my tongue along the inside of her wrist and up the delicate skin of her inner arm. Her breath hitches in her throat, stirring the blood in my cock. A wave of heat flushes my body from the inside out. My skin shimmers, a green tint rippling across my exposed flesh.

  I drop her hand and stumble back.

  No.

  No.

  It cannot be.

  By the ancestors, it cannot be.

  A weight sinks into my chest. This human cannot be my fated mate. My càirdeil. The fates would not be so cruel. They would not bind me to the one creature I can never have.

  Would they?

  I increase the distance between us, my mind scrambling for an answer. How can this be? After the Reckoning, the high queen stripped all traces of magic from our race, which eradicated the mate bond from our blood. Yet here I stand feeling the tether to my soul.

  “Oh my God.” Panting, Kyra keels over and clutches her stomach. “What the hell did you do to me?”

  I am breathing hard too. Swallowing back the nausea roaring through my system, I say, “I activated the mark’s magic.”

  “You could have given me some kind of warning, you big jerk.” Her head snaps up. “Wait. What? What did you just say?”

  Her scent teases me. I straighten. “I said I activated the slave mark.”

  “You… you activated the slave mark?” She frowns, her dark brows crumpling as she considers the mark. “How is it I kn
ow what you’re saying?”

  I gesture to the symbol. “My saliva activated the magic. It allows communication to occur between slave and master.”

  “You can understand me?” She speaks as if to herself. Then her eyes narrow. “Hold on a second. I am not your slave.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then take it off.”

  “I cannot.”

  Despite her obvious fear of me, she steps forward. “You can’t, or you won’t?” She flashes me the back of her hand. “Are you responsible for this? For what happened to me?”

  “No. I had no part in your abduction. I do not know who authorized the goblin attack, nor do I have the power to relieve you of the mark carved into your flesh.”

  Her mouth drops open. “Goblins? Those green guys were goblins and not dwarfs?”

  I snort. This human has much to learn.

  Kyra touches her mouth with the tips of her fingers. Her skin is ashen. “Goblins aren’t real,” she mutters softly to herself. “Neither are dwarfs for that matter. None of this is possible.” She looks around as if taking in her surroundings for the first time. Confusion plays across her face. “Where am I?”

  “Wyldeland. On the border of my kingdom, Drengskador.”

  “That’s not a country I’ve heard of before.” She wraps her arms around her torso.

  “Drengskador is an orc kingdom in Alfhemir.”

  “Alfhemir?”

  I step closer and suppress the urge to inhale her sweet scent now soured by fear. “You are no longer upon the mortal plane, human. Someone has taken you across the portal between worlds against your wishes. Your life is in danger. You will accompany me to the high queen’s castle immediately.”

  Another blast of fear fills the space between us.

  “No.” Although she backs a few more steps away from me, she holds firm to my gaze. “No. You have to take me back. I have an interview with Professor Bradford scheduled for one o’clock this afternoon. My future depends on the outcome of this interview. Take me back. Right now.”

  I try to keep the pity from my voice. “There is no going back.”

  “You don’t understand.” The female begins pacing, left to right and back again. “If I don’t get this internship, then I won’t get the scholarship. You see? True, you might say I’ve put all my eggs into one basket—”

  Eggs? The magic speaks my language, but her words make no sense to me. Perhaps the mark is faulty?

  “—but it felt right, you know? And I’m determined to get into law school and make something of my life. I am not going to spend the next ten years slinging drinks or working for assholes like Rick Bessette. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a bartender if that’s what you want to do with your life. But I want more. I need more. That’s why you’re going to bring me back.”

  Kyra continues mumbling, then stops and marches forward, snapping her fingers. “Come on. Rogar, right?”

  My name on her tongue sends a shiver down my spine.

  She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “It was this way, right? Come on. I don’t know how long I was out, but I might still make it.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. She is as stubborn as an orc female. I do not know if I should be proud or curse the ancestors.

  “Look, I don’t have any money on me. But”—her brows pull taut, wrinkling the space between her brilliant blue eyes—“I-I can take out a loan. Seriously, I’ll pay you to lead me back. I’m trustworthy. I never go back on my word.”

  “And how do you propose we open the portal?” The magic would have ceased once she crossed over to Alfhemir. “Did you see the anchor? Was it visible?”

  “Well…” Frowning, she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what any of that means, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. Just… just get me to the ring, and I’ll figure out the rest.”

  A howl echoes through the realm.

  Kyra stills and peers up to the darkening sky. “What is that sound?”

  It is as I feared.

  The Wild Hunt.

  “Long ago, a treaty was brokered between our worlds which made the opening of a portal to Earth forbidden.” I scan the tree line to our left. “That sound is a declaration that the Wild Hunt has commenced. Its purpose is to seek out and punish those responsible for the breach.”

  “That’s good.” She takes a step back, increasing the distance between us. “Law enforcement should be involved.”

  I shake my head. “The Wild Hunt’s magic will beckon hunters of all species to participate, fae and non-fae alike, from all of Alfhemir. The pursuit will not cease until you are found.”

  “Me? Why? Why me?”

  From the vibrations I feel beneath my feet, we are moments away from being discovered by a squad traversing Wyldeland.

  “In Alfhemir, humans are outlawed.”

  “I did nothing wrong.” Kyra takes another step back. “I’m the victim here.”

  There is no time to waste.

  I charge.

  Chapter Six

  Kyra

  Before I can jump away, Rogar’s mammoth paws clutch my knees. He lifts me in the air and hefts me over his enormous shoulder like I weigh nothing. I clutch his clothes to keep from falling on my head.

  “Put me down!”

  The crazy alien ignores my cries. Slowing to a near stop, he shifts, jostling my hip against his head, then sways from side to side.

  I slide an inch closer to the ground and gasp. His thick muscles flex beneath my grip as I hang on. Using my arms to leverage my weight, I shove my upper body off his back, squirming and kicking my legs out in the process.

  He locks his arm behind my knees and slaps my butt. “Be still.”

  “Be still?” I sputter. “Are you kidding me?”

  After the shock of being smacked subsides, I dig my fingers into his back. I’ll be damned if I let him manhandle me, giant alien dude or not. I open my mouth to tell him just that when a foul, musky stench—part skunk, part something else—assails my nose.

  Lifting my head, I wiggle some more until I can twist my torso to look behind me. A stream of amber fluid zigzags across the ground.

  Oh God. Is he… urinating?

  My gaze drops.

  Ack. I squeeze my eyes and whip my head around. I have no business looking at this guy’s disco stick. But in my defense, I had no warning. The last thing I expected to see when I turned around was that massive hand wrapped around an equally large alien…

  Yeah. No. Nope. Not going there.

  But I can’t exactly unsee it either. Leave it to me to run into an insane warrior with incontinence issues in the middle of Faerie.

  Rogar halts, probably to, ah, put himself back together. His grip around my legs tightens. “This cannot be helped,” he says gruffly.

  Huh? What can’t be helped?

  He releases his hold unexpectedly and dumps me onto the ground.

  My butt hits the dirt and I fall back, landing in a puddle. The noxious liquid soaks into my tights and the back of my hoodie. I screech and launch to my feet, wiping my wet hands against my thighs.

  Before I can puke or curse or kick him where it hurts, Rogar covers my mouth with his big hand and drags me a short distance, stopping near his wolf-creature. The wind ripples through the wolf’s gray fur, and this close, I see nothing resembling a dog. Nope. Standing five or six feet off the ground, this animal is all predator, right down to its webbed claws.

  A supersized wolf whose white-tipped ears extend beyond my collarbone.

  I jerk against the alien at my back.

  The animal lowers its monstrous head and retracts its lips, revealing scary teeth and a mouth I’m sure could swallow my head in two seconds flat.

  Holding my breath, I keep my hands glued to the sides of my body, afraid my nervous twitches will be seen as a threat against the beast or its master.

  The creature sniffs the air.

  Maybe my urine-scented clothing will convince him I
’m not a tasty snack. I cross my fingers. Nice wolfie.

  It snorts, then prowls around me to sit by its master’s left side.

  I exhale, a surge of relief flooding my stomach, but I’m not out of the woods yet. The giant wolf’s gold gaze latches onto mine like a warning before shifting somewhere behind me.

  Rogar reaches for his collar and removes his fur cloak with one hand. His other is still pressed firmly against my face. He shakes out the heavy cloak midair and arranges the fabric around my shoulders, pulling the large hood over my head.

  “Not a sound if you value your life, human.”

  My gaze darts back to the wolf-creature, who is watching me with intelligent eyes. I swear it understands every word Rogar speaks.

  Anger rises in my throat, but I bite my tongue. As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t get back to campus alone. I need his help. And despite the slap, the manhandling, and the dark, menacing vibes radiating from his massive, nonhuman body, he feels trustworthy.

  Which is probably why I’m going to die. My survival instincts suck.

  But what choice do I have?

  I nod.

  He moves the hand covering my mouth. The ground vibrates. The rumble I’d felt earlier morphs into a low, thunderous groan that sets my heart into a tailspin.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Keep your head down and stay behind me.” Rogar shoves me to his back. He sniffs the air, then growls, “Drows.”

  “Drows?” Shit, I’m like a parrot repeating foreign words, but what the heck are drows? I inhale but smell nothing but pine, wet leaves, and the stench coming off my clothes.

  Whatever it is, it’s something the gray wolf’s not too happy about. Its hackles rise, and its lupine body drops into an attack pose, ready for the apparent danger heading our way.

  The vibrations beneath my feet intensify. I whip my head to the right. A herd of six humongous boars comes into view, a cloud of dirt billowing at the rear. Six black-skinned riders sporting braided white hair and wiry bodies sit atop each of the ferocious beasts.

  I blink. This can’t be real.

  The first rider, a powerful bare-chested male dressed in leathers and strapped with weapons, slows his ride upon seeing us. His bloodred eyes narrow. He pulls away from the quintet, which I can clearly see is made up of three males and two females.