by Michele Hauf
"It is an interesting metal." Creed tapped the blade. "Almost iridescent."
Yes, but if Kai mentioned his faery theory Creed would have a conniption fit. "So how's Mom? I think she's upset with me over Kam's leaving."
"No, Kai, she's not. It's hard for her with Kam gone. She knows your sister needs to go out and discover the world, but she'd prefer her at home. Forever."
Kai smirked. "It was tough on Mom the day I moved out. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a daughter."
"Kambriel is not lost, just…seeking. You talk to her at all?"
"Nope." Though he wished she would call him once in a while to check in. He'd tried her cell phone half a dozen times over the past few months. Had she shut if off? "I only know she's in Paris. She's fine, dad. She needs the space. We've been a tight knit family. Give her some breathing room."
Creed nodded, but his eyes didn't convince Kai of his agreement. "You're keeping busy, I see. I hope you don't spend all your time in this dark little shed. How's your love life?"
Kai placed the blade on the rough-hewn work table behind him, hiding a smile with a tilt of his head.
"That good, eh?" His father could read him without seeing his face. "Is she werewolf or vampire?"
Hell. Wasn't like he and Rissa were an item, so he couldn't claim she was his. And he shouldn't. Even though parts of him felt like he already had.
"Just a new lover," he said, hoping his father would drop it. "Someone I met in town."
"I thought you'd gone through all the women in town?"
His father had been a Casanova in his heydays, too. Only that had been sometime in the medieval ages, or maybe it had been the decadent eighteenth century.
"Must be a vampire," Creed decided. "Not a lot of female werewolves in this neck of the woods who aren't already attached." He glanced to Kai. "No? A wolf? Really?"
"She's uh…faery," Kai muttered under his breath, and tossed his heavy leather work gloves to the table behind him.
"What did you say?" He could feel his father's rising anger at the back of his neck. There wasn't much Creed had punished him for as a child, but the man did have a temper about some things. "Kai? It sounded like you said she's a faery?"
The last breed his father would ever approve of him dating, let alone touching.
"She is, but we just met, and I've only been with her a few times, so it's probably nothing. Although…I feel as though she's behind my inspiration. Sort of my muse. Can you understand that—"
Shoved against the wall, his father slammed Kai's shoulders to the tin wall and bared his fangs. Stunned at the fang reveal, Kai lifted his chin, but did not retaliate with an equal show of dominance by growling. He was bigger and stronger than Creed, but also respectful.
"Haven't you been listening to me all these years?" Creed shoved Kai hard, and walked away, but turned back on him. "Faeries are out of the question. You walk a wide circle around their breed. You look away when they glance at you. You stay away!"
"Dad, she's—"
"She's what? Pretty? Sexy? Just another fuck in your endless cavalcade of fucks?"
Harsh words from a man he respected, but not undeserved.
"She's different, Dad." And how could he discount his muse?
Creed smacked his fist in a palm and shook his head. "Don't do this, Kai. Don't be a fool."
"There's nothing to that idiotic curse. It was made so long ago."
"Faeries never forget," Creed insisted. "A decade in the mortal realm is mere days in Faery." He kicked the base of the work table. "I thought you were smarter."
His father's disdain cut across his soul. Never had Creed shown such vitriol toward him. Kai slapped a hand over his pounding heart. "I don't know what to say. I'll…"
He wanted to see Rissa again. Needed to, as if his life—his very art—depended on tasting her kiss once again. But he didn't want his father's disdain.
"Tell me who she is?" Creed demanded.
"No. You'll go to her."
"Damn right I will."
"She's mine!"
Creed reared from Kai's sudden lunge. Kai realized he'd followed that statement with a growl. Never did he allow the animal side of him to show against his father. Had a few nights with the tiny faery changed him so remarkably that he could disrespect his father with such ease?
"This will kill your mother," Creed said.
"Dad, mom doesn't need to know. It was a few nights. I don't even know where she lives."
"You called her your muse."
"I…" He never lied to his father. Lies were for cowards. "She is. That sword was forged because of her. And I will see her again. I have to."
"Then make it your last." Creed strode toward the shop door and kicked it open. Sunlight burst across his face and he reactively blocked it with a hand. "Or I will." He marched off.
"Stupid curse," Kai muttered. "It's not real. I'm not in love."
And he would see her again tonight, because it felt too good to fall into Rissa's arms. So good, he'd risk pissing off some faery who had a death wish for him.
***
Kicking off his boots by the door and shucking off his overalls, Kai wandered naked through the kitchen. Taking out a few items from the fridge to make a shake, he tossed frozen fruits in a blender, along with protein powder and some fresh spinach. Hitting the low blend button, he let it run a minute. He didn't bother to pour the shake in a glass, drinking it straight from the pitcher. That hit the spot. And he only spilled a few drops down his bare chest. He swiped it off, wincing, because his bicep was sore. Hell, he'd lost himself in work for days if he'd not noticed how exhausted he'd become until now.
But the waning energy was worth it. It was a marvel to him that he'd been working so steadily on the blade. It was as if something had come over him.
"Inspiration," he said. "Gotta love her."
And thinking of his muse… After he showered and did some yoga to stretch out his achy muscles, he'd go in search of more inspiration.
"Rissa," he muttered, then slammed the pitcher onto the counter with a clank.
His father's angry warning vied with his conscience—and won. "Nope. Done with her. Off limits. Nada. Non."
Maybe.
Dashing up the stairs, he padded into the shower, and blasted the hot water over his body and dipped his head into the stream. Groaning at the pleasure of it, Kai spent the next twenty minutes thinking about sex with Rissa. Her body slicking against his skin, her lips moving over his muscles and his cock.
Her pretty violet eyes winked at him and her giggle made his erection even harder. Reaching down, he commandeered the main blade. A squeeze and he imagined it was Rissa's hand, her hair wisping about it as she breathed hotly upon him. His hand moved faster. Rissa's hips shifted and swayed above him. He anticipated her sweet, hot folds encompassing him and could feel it…the heat of her, the soft squeezing goodness as he lost himself inside his unattainable muse.
***
It hadn't been easy locating the faery's home. Werewolves had a crazy sense of smell, so Kai drove through the small suburban town that edged the Twin Cities with his windows down and his senses dialed up to eleven. Only took half an hour of cruising to pinpoint her little white house, fronted by a froth of white and maroon peonies.
He knocked and Rissa answered immediately. Blessed Luna, she wore pink. The barely-there dress hugged her body and emphasized her tiny breasts and smooth stomach and the vee at the junction of her legs. And she wore barely-there pink sandals sporting a jewel between her biggest and next toe. He'd not before noticed how cute and tantalizing those precious little toes were…
Malakai almost lost it looking at her. Right there. Shot the wad in his pants. But he held it together, and offered her the bouquet of pink roses he'd picked up in the flower shop half a block away.
Rissa took them, sniffed, and tilted the bouquet against one shoulder, granting him a come-on kittenish snarl. "So…you want me to coo over the flowers, and beg you to fuck m
e?"
Now he did groan, and eased a hand over his erection because it strained against his loose jeans—which were no longer loose.
"Thought so." She winked and set the flowers on the counter, not bothering to free them from the ribbon binding or find a vase with water to preserve them. "Come inside, big boy. No kilt?” she commented on his blue jeans and thin sweater as he followed her through the living room and down the hallway.
She aimed for the bedroom.
“I only play the warrior on weekends," Kai said. "This weekend I have off."
"You're not really Irish, are you?"
"Far from it. My father is French and my mother American."
"That accounts for your gorgeous bone structure. You've European features. Manly and bold. Is fighting an angry Scotsman your only job?"
Small talk? Fine. He could dig it. Man did not survive by sex alone. Mostly.
"When not performing I’m a swordsmith.”
“Isn’t that someone who works with iron and steel?”
Kai thought he heard her audibly shiver. “Same things. I forge weaponry. Swords mostly, but I’ve fashioned a few medieval maces and some scimitars.”
“I suspected you might have a crafty side. Hmm…" Her smile fell, and Kai wondered if she might cry. What a sudden and weird change of emotion. "Imagine. You, having all that close contact with iron. Huh.”
Ah. Now he understood what she was thinking. Iron was a faery's bane.
As a faery should be your bane?
Ignoring his intrusive inner voice, Kai hooked his thumbs at his waistband. He would never force cold iron on her to harm or persuade. That would be cruel. But he wasn't so stupid that he wouldn't wield it against a faery if necessary.
Rissa strode to the huge window hung with white sheers. Moonlight glowed in her hair. With a mere crook of her finger, Kai joined her side. Her thigh pressed against his, and he slid his hand over her leg, toying with the hem of her short dress. "I like this color on you."
He drew a hand up higher and slid it around until she squeezed her thighs over his fingers, stopping him from landing the prize. "So tell me about your work," she said. "Have you been busy lately?"
"Uh…" He'd thought that conversation over and now sex was on the menu. But if she wanted to chat he wasn't so much the Casanova that he couldn't cater to a woman's desire for connection beyond skin on skin. "Actually, since I met you I've been a demon over the forge. You're my muse, Rissa. You like that?" He bent to kiss her jaw and licked up to her earlobe. "Mm, you taste good, sugar cube."
"Your muse," she said on a gasp. "Sure. I, uh…oh, Kai…"
***
It was too late to stop it. The universe had spun their fates into motion. And she didn't want to stop the whirl because it felt too damn good when she was with Malakai. But continuing their relationship would challenge her heart. For the first time since the Unseelie king had cursed her, Rissa knew she would regret every moment of pleasure she shared with this valiant wolf.
Malakai Saint-Pierre would, indeed, break her. But not until she had broken him beyond repair.
A wistful shiver made Rissa rub her arms briskly. Romance hadn’t been on her radar for years. Since Malrick had cursed her, sex had become a necessary task. She did the deed because she had to, and usually didn't feel any emotion when walking away from a man's bed. Up until now, sex had been a means to stay alive. Literally.
But things had changed. She could no longer keep her heart out of the equation.
So why did Kai switch all her emotional buttons to ‘on’? There had to be more to it than his good looks. He was a sexy man, even when not kilted, bare-chested, and wielding a sword. Eroticism wavered from him as if a pheromone. He had a way of moving like a panther—or rather, a wolf—that screamed for all women to turn and watch. His dark hair shone under the moonlight with glints of blue, opposite to her natural silver-white hair. A long face and nose, and high forehead gave him an intelligent yet kind demeanor. And bright gray eyes always looked right at her, not beyond or through her.
That was it. Kai connected when he looked at her.
It was rare mortals were so bold and comfortable with eye contact, unless they purposely meant to flirt. Their lives were so busy and superficial when they did slow down to converse it was with reluctant eye contact and incomplete attention. Yet Kai, though she knew he was focused on one thing—getting sexual satisfaction—seemed to genuinely connect with her.
Her kind had a good relationship with werewolves. On the other hand, it could be simply that he could not resist her vampiric allure.
That was it. He could never have true feelings toward her. It was the curse, nothing but.
"Much as I fear iron," she said, "I'd like to see you working over the forge some day."
He nuzzled against her neck and whispered, "It's hard, sweaty work." "Now I'm more curious. You, hard and sweaty?"
He tugged her up against his long, firm body and planted a kiss on her mouth. He tasted like everything she felt she must deny herself. The man's hands moved over her hips and lifted her from the ground to crush her breasts against his wide chest. Rissa wiggled her toes and purred into the kiss.
"Hard and sweaty will come soon enough," he said.
"You're already hard, Casanova."
Opposite the imposing warrior, tonight the man wore casual jeans, a loose sweater and scuffed Vans tennis shoes. His hair had been tugged into a loose ponytail, which further emphasized his long, lean face and those dark brows and intense eyes.
So why did she feel as if she were missing something? That Malakai Saint-Pierre was more than what her eye saw. Intuition told her only that he was wolf, nothing about his personal nature, and that frustrated because usually Rissa was intuitive about people. And since when did she care? He was a means to survival.
You know he's more than that.
"Mind if I get you more comfortable?" he asked, toying with the ribbon at the vee in her dress neckline.
"By all means, do as you please." Because to argue with her conscience wouldn't serve her the pleasures he was intent on giving.
The man landed on his knees before her. His big gray eyes stared up at her, pleadingly, and Rissa nodded.
Curling her tongue out to dash across her lips, she cooed as his wide, warm hands glided up her thigh, slipping the silk hem higher. His tongue followed the slow path, then redirected downward, and ventured past her knee and toward her calf. There it tickled as his hot tongue limned her flesh.
Suddenly she was airborne and she landed on the bed. Kai crawled over her, tugging down her sleeves and suckling at her breasts. He was hungry, intent on taking what he wanted.
But he stopped abruptly, and punched the bed near her head. "Damn it! You're going to kill me."
Rissa's mouth fell open. How could he know? Did he know about her curse?
"I can't fall in love with you," he said tightly. "I won't."
She didn't know what to say. Did he think love was something he needed to worry about? Because if so, wow. And yet… Ah, hell, if he fell in love with her she could never forgive herself.
Because truly, she knew she was killing him.
But she couldn't deny herself his flesh and his kisses and his hot, hard cock. She needed it. Her vampiric nature demanded she fulfill those wicked desires.
"I need you to know something," he said, gasping as if from exertion. It was the first time she'd noticed signs of him weakening because of being with her. "I need you, Rissa. I want you. I think of you all the time. You've gotten into my head and my body, and you're there when I'm working on the sword, and when I'm sleeping or eating. But there's the curse."
She swallowed, not prepared to confess her curse right now. How had he guessed?
"I was cursed at birth," he said. He bowed his forehead to her breast. A too-quick kiss left her wanting. "A faery helped my mother conceive because she was wolf and my father vampire."
Rissa knew werewolves could not conceive a vampire's child. And w
oe to any who agreed to a boon with a faery.
"The boon was never paid, for complicated reasons that arose during the birth. So the faery instead cursed me and my twin sister. If we ever fell in love with a faery we'd have to ransom our heart." She felt him swallow against her breast. "Literally."
"Oh, Kai." She spread her fingers through his hair and hugged him closer. He did not know about her curse. Whew. And yet, he lived under an equally devastating curse.
Love her? No, she wouldn't allow that to happen.
And yet, she could not stop herself from pulling him on top of her. It was unthinkable not to. Spreading her legs, Rissa welcomed her werewolf warrior into her body and he closed his eyes and began to thrust inside her. It was a means to avoiding the conversation they should have had. The one that would involve her confession—a difficult tale.
Instead, to save his life, she'd have to leave him, and never look back.
Abandoning Kai would bring her death, unless she could find another lover. But she didn't want another lover.
Truly, he had broken her.
***
Rissa nuzzled her nose against the pillow, smiling at Kai's manly scent. He wasn't in bed, and now she picked up the aroma of eggs and toast. Pulling on a robe, she wandered into the kitchen, feeling the giddy energy sex with Kai had restored to her being. As he stood plating food at the counter, she stretched her arms about his torso and snuggled her face into his hair. He growled and tilted his head back to nuzzle against hers.
She'd planned to leave, but she couldn't leave her own home. So she must make him leave. And he would want to. She'd become his muse. Nothing could keep him from his art.
"I made you breakfast," he said. "I already ate. Didn't want to head home until you were awake. I have a new idea for some final touches to the sword."
"Go," she said, knowing the creativity that flowed through him was not something he or she could fight.
"Rissa…" He sighed heavily. The man's hands were wide and sun-browned as he clasped them before his face and bowed his forehead to them. "About the curse—"