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

by Layla Harper

  Trust no one, watch and listen, and always be ready to run.

  Smart Kyra never strayed from the rules.

  “How many years have you endured Earth?”

  Rogar’s voice snaps me from my mental censure. “Endured Earth? Are you asking me how old I am?” Is this interest? Desire warms my blood, and I can’t help but answer, “Old enough to not get you arrested.”

  The waggle of my brows triggers a confused arch of his.

  Clearly English does not translate well into Orcish. Or maybe I suck at flirting. “Relax, your lordship, I’m legal. I’ll be twenty-two in a couple of months.”

  The frown deepens. He nods and peers off into the distance.

  “Why? Are you surprised? Do I look older?” Suddenly I’m self-conscious. “How old do you think I am? Wait, how old are you?”

  His jaw muscle fires against the side of his cheek. “Older. Much older.”

  “Ten years older? Or are we talking decades?” In fairy tales, the fae are known to have long lifespans. Now I’m curious. “Well?”

  Rogar clears his throat. “Many centuries.”

  My mouth pops open. Centuries? “Like how many centuries?”

  “Five.”

  “F-Five?” Holy shitzel. “You’re five hundred years old? Damn, you look good.” I cover my mouth. I can’t believe I blurted the words out loud, but it’s true. He looks good. Mighty good. Heat flushes my cheeks, and I shrug. “You do. I figured you were older than me by maybe five, six, ten years, but four hundred seventy-eight years? That’s a doozy I did not see coming.”

  “Sleep now, female. We ride for Lithyr after you have rested.” Rogar doesn’t crack a smile, but there’s a playfulness to his expression I hadn’t noticed before. My commentary amuses him.

  “I’m too wired to sleep.” I tap the ground next to me. “Wanna talk?”

  “Is this not what we are doing?”

  “Where I come from, that phrase has a deeper meaning. Can I ask you a question?”

  He sinks his hulking frame onto the bedroll beside me and stretches one long leg. The other is bent, hands clasped low above his ankle. It’s a casual pose, and oh so manly. Everything about Rogar is manly—no, male. Very male. It’s so hard not to gawk, or to be completely overwhelmed by his nearness. All that solid muscle my hands can roam. And his scent makes me want to crawl all over his body like some wild, feral cat.

  “You can ask me anything,” he answers in that low rumble of a voice that kicks my libido up another notch.

  I sigh like a Disney princess, then shake myself out of the trance I’ve fallen into. “What’s Nagir? Twice now I’ve heard that term mentioned. It’s a place, right?”

  His face goes hard, and I immediately regret asking the question.

  “Don’t answer.” There’s anguish behind the stoic mask. I can feel it. “I overstepped. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

  He runs a hand across his face. “Nagir is a small village situated in the autumn kingdom. It sits at the mouth of an underground tunnel that runs through my country into winter.”

  I want to massage the muscles bunching at his shoulders. “You were involved in a skirmish?” The location sounds ripe for conflict.

  Rogar grinds his fist into his chest. “A mission.”

  “Like this one?”

  “Yes. I—” He lets out a ragged sigh. “I made a bad decision. An innocent paid the price.”

  “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t touch on Gauron’s role in this rescue gone wrong, and I don’t push. Not after seeing the pain the memory causes my hard-as-nails savior. “This doesn’t compare to your situation, but going for a run this morning was a bad decision. I missed my interview. I had plans, you know. The internship. Law school. It was all going to lead to an amazing position inside a well-respected law firm where I’d earn a kick-ass salary, work a bazillion hours, and buy a big house. Have money. The works. All of it mine, which meant no one could ever take it away from me.”

  I blow out a breath, my lips trilling. “Now? Now the Band-Aid’s been ripped off. I can’t unsee all of this. Even if your queen manages to open the portal, how can I ever go back to my old life knowing worlds other than my own exist? Knowing about all of this? About you?”

  I curl onto my side and tuck my hand beneath my cheek. We’re quiet for a moment, and I know he’s thinking about all I’ve divulged. I stare at his chest because I’m not sure I can handle seeing pity in his eyes. “Can I ask you another question?”

  “You are inquisitive.” A ghost of a smile whisks over his kissable lips.

  “I think your shaman’s brew makes me bold.”

  His laugh booms into the quiet, and I preen a little knowing I brought a teeny wisp of joy into this fierce warrior’s heart.

  “What is it, female?”

  I sit up. “Why does Aelinor look different than you and Gauron? Is it because she’s a shaman?”

  His shoulders relax visibly. “She carries the coloring of her race. Aelinor is my cousin.” At the shock on my face, he adds, “It is true. Her mother raised me.”

  Her mother is the autumn princess? “She’s an elf? Like a full-blooded elf?”

  Rogar nods.

  “And she left her realm to become a part of your court?”

  “My court?” He gives me a wry grin. “You could say that. War has divided the fae, but legends say we were all one at the onset, born of a princess of light and a prince of darkness, from whence all of Alfhemir came to be.”

  “Sounds romantic. Until the world screwed it all up, right? Making the elves the good guys and the orcs the bad?”

  “Seelie and Unseelie.” His gaze loses focus. “Blessed and unblessed. Light and shade.” He turns his dark head in my direction, eyes clear. “The incorporeal being… it truly did not hurt you?” There’s genuine concern in his voice. It tugs at the emptiness inside me I strive so hard to hide.

  “No. I’m fine.” My voice cracks. “I think drinking the brew before it arrived helped. Whatever she put in that drink allayed all my worries. All my fears. My tension. It was like someone numbed me from the inside out.”

  “I envy you that feeling.”

  “I wish I could share it with you.” I’m not a cold person, but I don’t normally go out of my way to console people. With Rogar, I want to sit on his lap, wrap my arms around him, and soothe him with my body. With my soul.

  We stare at one another, inches apart, our breaths sounding in the thick air between us.

  His gaze drops to my mouth.

  What would it be like to kiss this orc? This powerful being who’s laid his life on the line to protect me. To feel his lips? To have that mouth devour me? A shiver runs up my spine that has nothing to do with the cooling air.

  Rogar swallows, points to the cloak which has fallen off my shoulders. “You will catch a chill.”

  I can think of a hundred ways he can keep me warm, all of them naughty.

  “We have talked enough.”

  Mmhmm. No more talking. Totally agree. I wet my lips.

  He reaches for the thick fur collapsed on the ground behind me and lifts it back into place. His hand grazes my shoulder. This close, his scent is intoxicating. Heat shoots between my legs. He’s hasn’t even touched me and I’m already soaked and panting.

  “Lie down.” His voice thickens to a low rasp. “Sleep now.”

  I chance a look. The hunger in his eyes curls my toes. “Will you stay with me?”

  “Rest easy, Kyra. You are safe.”

  Kyra.

  Hiding my smile, I turn onto my side, my back to him, and cushion my face with my hands, curling my knees into my stomach. By the rustling behind me, he reclines against the bedroll. There is no way in hell I’ll fall asleep with us lying this close together. Not when all I can think about is that hot body spooning my back. His rock-hard cock pressed against my ass.

  My wild imagination places his hand on my hip. His palm caresses the outside of my leg in unhurried strokes, then slowly travels
up to my abdomen. My breath goes shallow as I imagine his hand sliding beneath my waistband, gliding over my stomach on a downward track, inch by inch, calloused fingers grazing sensitive skin on its way to where I desperately ache.

  I may have just moaned out loud.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. What the hell was in that tea?

  Releasing a slow breath through pursed lips, I stare into the darkness, listening intently to the unsteady pitch of his breathing. He can probably smell my arousal. Damn his stupid orc nose.

  It’s a long time before sleep finally claims me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rogar

  A warm weight settles on my chest.

  I awake and quickly throttle the urge to jump to my feet. I… fell asleep?

  Jatta.

  With deliberate precision, I inch my hand to the left and wrap my fingers around the dagger I have hidden. Gradually opening my eyes, I find my mate sprawled on my torso, her knee pressed against my erection and her lower leg wedged between my thighs.

  Ah, fates. Not grinding against her is the sweetest torture.

  I release the weapon and commit the scene to memory. The lush sweep of her ass. Her arm stretched out over my shoulder. The gentle waft of her breath drumming against my neck. If she could see herself now, she’d shriek and spring off my body faster than a Baltish lynx.

  Grinning, I lift a lock of her silky hair to my nose. Earlier, I had lost myself to the heady scent of her arousal and nearly tasted those pouty lips. My exploration would not have stopped there. Not by a long shot. I would have licked and nipped every inch of her delectable body. The thought makes my cock throb. Somehow, I found the strength to restrain myself, but it was a close call. Too close. Even now, I cannot stop myself from curling my arm around her, letting my hand rest possessively on the curve of her waist.

  She stirs. Snuggling against me, Kyra tucks her hand beneath her chin, her knee shifting ever so slightly against my shaft. I bite back a groan not to wake her. Her face is relaxed and serene. So lovely. So completely at peace.

  A fierce drive to protect her surges.

  She is mine to guard. Mine to keep safe from all harm.

  Mine.

  Lying here, with my mate secure in my arms, I can almost forget who I am, my mind temporarily at ease. I am…

  Contented.

  Dare I think it?

  I spent my youth ignoring the bigotry of my aunt’s court, my young adulthood proving myself to the world, always one foot caught between two realms. Now I devote my later years to building a kingdom whose people tolerate my rule yet hail me as the black king of ash and bone.

  Releasing a breath, I lower my nose into my mate’s hair. I am weary. I long for…

  I smile and inhale her scent. Rich honey and dew-kissed blossoms.

  This.

  I long for this. Lazy mornings with the female who sets my blood on fire. If I could capture this moment, I would hoard it away like a precious gem whose beauty would put a smile on my face for the rest of my durably long days.

  This is foolishness, these thoughts I let invade my waking consciousness. They are a luxury I cannot entertain. There is no future between an orc and a human. Our laws are clear. The minute I claim her, I become an outlaw. A king stripped of crown and country. An orc exiled with no clan to champion. An elf bringing shame to his ancestors.

  But the knowledge doesn’t stop me from craving her touch. Her taste. I drop a kiss to her head and slowly extricate myself from her embrace, careful not to wake her. She moans softly, then turns onto her other side, folding her lean legs into her stomach.

  The pervasive darkness of the forest rankles my ire. Across the encampment, the horses have been saddled, and what remains of our camp has been swept, all signs of our stay expunged. Rolling to my feet, I search for Gauron and Aelinor. I cannot hear them, but I smell them nearby.

  Gauron dispenses a nod when I approach.

  “You should have woken me.”

  Aelinor slings her bow across her back, then adjusts the strap at her shoulder. “Oh, for the love of Ulda, Rogar, you needed the sleep. Besides,” she adds with a smirk, “if he had ventured to rouse you, I would’ve cut off his testicles.”

  “Good thing I enjoy listening to my king’s snores,” Gauron quips. “My future mate thanks you for your restraint, elf.”

  “I pity the female fool enough to fall for your drivel, orc.”

  These two will be the death of me. “Any sign of the mist?”

  Gauron shakes his head. “All has been quiet. Too quiet. We should make ready to ride.”

  “On that, we both agree,” Aelinor adds.

  “Very well.” To Aelinor, I say, “Check the female’s wounds. We will have to adjust our travel to account for her care.”

  “Consider it done, my lord.” Aelinor heads back into the encampment, where my mate stirs awake. Kyra yawns and inclines her body into a sitting position, then squints into the darkness, her hand moving to the spot on the bedroll where I had laid.

  Mine should be the first face she sees upon waking. It should be me tending her needs, not my cousin.

  “You seem distracted,” Gauron says. “Anything I need to know?”

  “No.” The omission does not sit well on my tongue. “I am anxious to be done with this mission. The sooner we get to Lithyr, the sooner I can focus on the business of ruling Drengskador.”

  Yet another half-truth, only this one weighs heavier than the last.

  * * *

  We are hours into our journey when I smell them.

  Ravens.

  Shadows pass overhead. This is not an ordinary flock. I smell something else, and before my brain can register what exactly, I am racing ahead. Gauron is already turning his horse around to defend Kyra when the Baobhan Sith land, dropping to the ground one by one in a blockade of black feathers.

  “Protect her at all costs,” I yell to Aelinor, but every part of me is fixated on Kyra. Fear twists her expression into an ashen mask. Her mouth locks in terror, but not a sound escapes her.

  My little human has a warrior’s spirit.

  Eyes fierce, Aelinor pulls back on the reins. The steed rears and bolts in the opposite direction, escaping through an opening left in the sith’s net.

  One by one, the ravens begin shifting into their true forms. Their foul magic stings my skin. I jump off my horse, brandishing my sword.

  “Keep your mind clear, Gauron. They will use your sexual desires to incapacitate you. Think of battle. Think of vanquishing our greatest enemies. Think of anything but fucking.”

  “Not a problem. I have no desire to fornicate with the likes of them. What in the fires of summer are they doing here, anyway? We’re too far north. Too close to the iron mines.”

  “That I cannot answer.” All fae are sensitive to iron, but the Baobhan Sith especially so. Rumor has it even contact with iron-rich plants makes their skin erupts into itchy, pus-filled sores. The red mountains spear most of the western hemisphere, drenching heavy mineral deposits in our soil.

  Clearly this susceptibility is not affecting them at all this day. Standing before me is a coven of nine beautiful females, all naked, with honey-colored skin and long flowing hair in shades of onyx and red and a blond so pale it looks white.

  Colors and textures meant to snag a male’s gaze, luring him into thinking with his cock and not his brain. They are nine of the most vicious, fanged, black-clawed killers in all of Alfhemir, capable of slicing a male’s neck with a dainty claw to then feast on his blood while holding his still-beating heart in their hand.

  “They haven’t even bothered to hide their feet,” Gauron murmurs, sounding mildly disgusted. “I’m utterly offended.”

  I snort. “You would be, you mangy dog. Keep your wits about you.” The Baobhan Sith are known to seduce their prey, mostly males, with song and dance wearing beautiful green gowns that emphasize their ample cleavage while hiding their hoofed feet. Apparently, they have decided to forgo all pretense where Gauro
n and I are concerned.

  “Well, well, well,” one of them calls out seductively.

  I pivot slowly until I see to whom the voice belongs.

  “My sisters, look who we have before us.” The female stretches her neck, her red hair swishing. Each roll of her shoulders jiggles heavy breasts begging for our attention. “The mighty orc king, here, among us.”

  They know me?

  Hiding my shock, I keep my eyes pinned to the speaker’s face and my ears and nose tuned to everyone else. Gauron is at my back doing the same.

  “Hmm.” The sith laughs demurely while raking a black claw through her red hair. “How… fortuitous. For us.”

  Her sisters mimic her laughter, their voices ringing like an ominous chime.

  Had more than nine arrived? I initially counted twelve ravens. Maybe thirteen. Had the others pursued Kyra? My stomach knots.

  “And look,” another calls out. “He brought a friend.”

  “An ugly friend.”

  The laughter booms into a spine-chilling chorus.

  Gauron cracks what I think might be his neck.

  “Thank the ancestors they’re mean,” he growls under his breath. “This blasted forest has me twisted in knots. Smashing a head or two is just what the shaman ordered to relieve all of my pent-up frustration.”

  “Well, my friend, you have nine to choose from,” I whisper over my shoulder. “Pick wisely.”

  He chortles and points to the blond. “I’ll start with her. Clearly she got us confused. I’m not the ugly one.”

  I bark out a laugh. “In your dreams, little orc. Now try to keep up.”

  We launch into battle as the red-haired sith shrieks her war cry.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kyra

  With each jolt of the horse’s gallop, my heart lurches in my throat. I see myself launched off its back and trampled by its hooves. Of course, since I’m too scared to breathe, the odds are I’ll probably die of a stroke before I hit the ground.