The Hellhound King

by Lori Devoti

  Raf stroked her back through her silk top. The expensive clothing seemed confining and cumbersome. She jerked her shirt over her head and reached for the waist of her pants. Raf stopped her, stared at her, then slowly reached out one hand and cupped her breast. His thumb wandered over its peak.

  His eyes lit as if on fire. She’d seen the red glow hellhounds’ eyes had when the bloodlust hit, but this was different—seductive rather than startling. She swayed toward him and he leaned down to catch her nipple between his teeth.

  He rolled the sensitive tip between his lips, and laved it with his tongue. Marina grabbed him by the shoulders to keep from falling. She wanted to touch him, to make him squirm as she did, but she didn’t want him to stop what he was doing, either.

  Her body tensed—ready for the pleasure, waiting for more. Eager…greedy. She arched her back and her head rolled to the side. His lips were hot on her skin…the heat radiated through her, warming her inside and out.

  She thrust her hips toward him, rubbed her pelvis against him, reminding him that silk still separated them. He ignored her, switching his mouth from one breast to the other.

  She groaned in a mix of frustration and pleasure, then hooked her thumbs in the tops of her pants and jerked them down. He smiled against her breast, but didn’t turn his attention away from what he was doing. With her body bare and free to press up against him, she didn’t mind—went about trailing her fingers down his stomach and toward his sex. She found his hardened flesh and ran her fingers lightly down its length. His lips paused and his fingers dug into her hips. She squirmed so the thatch of hair covering her sex brushed against him.

  He lapped at the tip of her breast once, then sucked it into his mouth, pulling hard—so hard a cry escaped her lips and her body clenched with need.

  She wrapped her fingers around his sex and ran her thumb over its tip, felt the bead of liquid that escaped—massaged it over the silky skin until she heard him cry and stiffen.

  Power roared through her. She had never felt this in control, and…she stared at Raf, saw he was looking at her, too, his eyes still glowing, simmering almost…she loved him for it. Loved him for trusting her and allowing her to be herself. She slipped her free arm up his shoulder and around his neck, then pulled his mouth back to hers.

  He leaned forward, lowering them both to the ground and slipped his thigh between hers. The floor was cold, but Raf was so warm she didn’t shiver, just clung to him.

  His lips moved to her neck. He nibbled her skin and whispered to her—told her he loved her, that he would never leave her, that nothing could make him.

  Her body tingled; for a second she thought he was shimmering them, but it was just her body’s reaction to his words, believing them.

  Her life of deception and being alone was over.

  He traced the length of her body with his palms. His skin barely grazed hers, but energy pulsed everywhere he touched. She shoved her hands into his hair and turned his ear toward her—whispered that she loved him in elfin. She knew he didn’t understand, but saying it was a relief, freeing.

  He pushed his upper body up on his forearms and stared down at her. “I love you, princess, no matter the language.” Then before she could respond, he thrust his length inside her.

  Marina gasped. The pressure was so sudden and intense, her body flushed. She clung to him, arched herself toward him and wrapped her legs around his waist. Fully inside her, he paused and caught her lips in another kiss…long and lingering.

  Heat built where they touched, inside and out. Power built—she could feel the magic swirling around them.

  “Do you feel it?” he asked.

  She nodded not sure if he meant the magic or the tension that threatened to explode inside her. She pushed her hips higher, pushed him even deeper.

  They let out ragged breaths, both fighting the need to continue, and reveling in the building pleasure. Then, finally, when she thought she could stand it no longer, he pulled back just an inch. She gasped and he pulled back further. She clawed at his sides, doing everything she could to keep a scream from ripping from her throat.

  With a smile, he pulled out fully, then thrust himself back in, and Marina clung to him, moved her hips with him, increasing their pace until her body began to quiver with unreleased tension. He drove deeper and harder and her body tightened more. The magic around them thickened to a cloud. She could see it, feel it, taste it—glowing, warm and sweet, like cotton candy that continued to spin and grow.

  He grabbed her hips, tilted her even higher, moved even deeper. Her breath caught and her heart pounded. Colors and heat swirled around them until they exploded into pure white light. Marina cried out and grasped at Raf’s back. He slid both arms under her, jerking her against him as he trembled with release. He held her like that until their orgasms had passed and their breath had slowed to rough pants, then he lowered them both to the ground, kept her cradled in his arms.

  Her head snuggled under his, she lay there listening to his heart beat against hers, feeling his heat mingling with hers, and knowing everything would be all right.

  There was pounding below—like someone ramming a log against a door. Raf trailed his fingers down Marina’s arm. “Sounds like company is coming.”

  She smiled up at him. “Uninvited guests, don’t you hate them?”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “I do.” Her scent of spring and flowers wrapped around him. Made him want to wrap his arms around her and stay right where they were.

  But…something cracked below…things were about to get difficult here, and they had the rest of their lives to spend wrapped in each others’ embrace.

  It was time to get out of Alfheim.

  He stood and pulled Marina to her feet beside him. “Are you ready to leave?” he asked.

  She nodded and wove her fingers between his.

  He handed her her clothes. While she pulled them on, he strode to the doorway and stared down the steps. The front door still held. He could hear yells coming from beyond it.

  Marina stepped beside him and grabbed his arm in both hands. “I’m ready.”

  After a short discussion, Marina led him to the stairs and a window that overlooked the bailey. It was only one flight below the tower—three flights from ground level.

  He shoved open the wooden shutters and placed his hand on the sill. “You trust me?” he asked.

  She smiled. “We’re past that question.”

  He lifted her onto the sill then wrapped his arm around her waist. She pressed her face against his. He pulled her closer, then dove from the window. They fell straight and fast in a nosedive toward the ground. Marina clung to him.

  There was a scream from below, and elves rushed to their weapons. Ky stood in the middle, her mouth in an O and her eyes wide.

  Marina’s hair wrapped around them, cloaking them from her sister’s view. The elves raised their bows, aimed their arrows. Ky lifted an arm, then dropped it.

  Arrows pelted toward them.

  His eyes glowing, Raf pressed a kiss to Marina’s ear and shimmered them both to her uncle’s mansion.

  Marina stumbled as she and Raf materialized, held on to him to keep from falling, then kept her body pressed against his just because she could. After a few seconds, however, their surroundings interfered with her contentment.

  They were in the mansion…or what was left of it. They were outside her room. She could see down the hall to the main entry. The front door was missing and there was daylight where there shouldn’t be. The roof had collapsed over the south wing.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Raf shook his head. “I’m not sure. When I was looking for your uncle, there was an explosion. I don’t know if the mansion was the target or just a casualty of some unrelated conflict.”

  Marina turned in a circle. Returning to the castle had opened up old wounds she didn’t realize existed, but seeing her uncle’s home like this…the house she’d thought of as home, really…it was just
as upsetting.

  She opened the door to her room and walked in. All the pictures had fallen from the walls and the plaster was fractured from floor to ceiling. She stooped to retrieve a photo. The silver-framed image was of Ky and Marina when they were children. There was a crack in the glass separating the two. Marina stared at it for a second, thinking how easy it would be to replace the glass.

  If only everything else could be healed as easily.

  “What has happened to Alfheim?” she murmured. She asked the question, but she knew the answer. The Paladin had told her the answer. The throne was causing all this, would, according to him, continue to wreak this destruction until she sat on it, agreed to be part of Alfheim. Ruled alone, without Raf.

  Raf stepped behind her, placed his hands on her upper arms and pulled her back against him. The warmth of his body should have been reassuring—but it wasn’t.

  It reminded her what else the Paladin had said…that Raf would betray her, or try. She didn’t believe him, but still she stepped forward, out of Raf’s embrace.

  Over her shoulder, he frowned. She shook herself. What the Paladin said didn’t matter. He was wrong. He had to be—about Raf and her destiny.

  She was leaving Alfheim with Raf; the throne be damned. It would just have to choose another. With her out of Alfheim, surely it would choose another.

  It would have to.

  She placed her hand on Raf’s face, then lifted herself on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. “Why are we here? I thought we were leaving.”

  He smiled, his eyes twinkling. “You think I should travel like this?”

  She glanced down; she’d forgotten he was naked. She moved her hands to his chest and splayed her fingers over his bare skin. “I don’t see why not.”

  His hand slipped behind her back and he tugged her against his body. She could feel his strength through the thin silk she wore.

  His lips found hers. She opened her mouth and curled her fingers into the hair on his chest. His tongue pushed against hers, but gently, lovingly. She wrapped her tongue around his, willed the kiss to go on, but he pulled back and placed his forehead against hers. She could feel his heart beating beneath her palm; her own beat with it—loud, almost desperate for him to continue.

  He breathed out and tugged her against him, into a hug. “Trust me, once we are out of Alfheim, I plan to spend more time unclothed than clothed, but for now I think pants at least might speed our escape.”

  While Raf went to his room to retrieve clothing, Marina wandered around hers gathering a few things. She left all but one change of clothing behind. She didn’t intend to ever wear silk again if she could help it, but she took keepsakes, including the photo of Ky and herself. She held it for a second considering the image, but never once thought of leaving the memento behind.

  Who was to say Ky was even to blame for her actions? Everything, all the madness, including her sister’s, might be nothing but the throne’s influence. Perhaps there was still hope, once Marina was gone and things had settled down, that the sister she’d known before would return. Marina put the photo into her bag and slipped the bag’s strap over her shoulder.

  Raf returned clothed and carrying a bag of his own. Marina looped her arm through his and was hit by a sense of overwhelming dread. She shuddered to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?” Raf dropped the bag and reached for her.

  She held out a hand, stopping him. “What…Do you feel that? The sense of unknown? Lostness?” She shuddered again.

  He glanced at the bag he’d dropped. “It’s the stone. I wrapped it in the net and put it in the bag. I thought the net would mute its magic—at least make it more tolerable, but it must not be working. Maybe it’s even worse if you can feel it from there.”

  “The stone?” She swallowed. Somehow she’d forgotten the stone, forgotten that Raf believed the stone was the key to finding out who murdered his family.

  “I’m taking it with us—someone, somewhere besides your uncle, must know the key. If not, after you are settled, I can come back and locate him.”

  “You’d do that? Put off getting your answers?” She swallowed a knot of guilt that formed in her throat. The Paladin had said she could use the stone. That as the throne’s pick it would answer for her. She should tell Raf…

  But she didn’t. She didn’t want to believe the stone would work for her, that everyone was right, that she was destined for the throne.

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Are you sure you need it? Isn’t there some other way?”

  He glanced at the bag, his expression darkening. “Perhaps. There’s almost always another way. But in this case, I have no idea how to find it. After my family was killed, I spent every second of my life searching for answers. I wouldn’t have resorted to dealing with the elf lords if I hadn’t.” He looked apologetic after stating the last, but she understood. No one outside of Alfheim chose to work with the light elves—not if they didn’t have to. Elves were…elves—arrogant and difficult, like a world of headstrong thoroughbred horses. And many of them looked down on every being who wasn’t an elf.

  She pressed her hands together and nodded. “We’ll bring it, then.” She held out her hand. Raf hesitated and suddenly it was important he give it to her—important she see that the Paladin was wrong.

  He frowned. “I’m used to it. Maybe if I hold it closer, lose the bag, it will focus on me.” He pulled out a box wrapped in the net they’d used to hang her uncle from the chandelier.

  She tamped down the moment of distrust and ran her fingers through a slit in the weave. “He cut it.”

  Raf’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I underestimated your uncle.”

  She shook her head. “We all did.” Her uncle was like a cockroach who wouldn’t die and couldn’t be trapped. “I wonder if Ky’s found him yet.”

  “Knowing Geir, he figured out some way to escape.”

  Marina nodded, but her attention was on the stone. Just looking at it made her knees shake with insecurity. Was she doing the right thing? How could she turn her back on Alfheim? Did Raf really love her or was the Paladin right?

  She curled her fingernails into her palm until little half-moon impressions were left on her skin. She had to ignore the questions—they weren’t hers. They were the stone’s or the throne’s or someone else’s. “How does it affect you?” she asked. Did he hear the same nagging doubts she did?

  He hesitated for a moment, then pressed his lips together. “Questions. Pounding questions.”

  Marina licked her lips, then forced her mouth into a smile and held out her hand. “Let me carry it.”

  He paused again. “It isn’t your burden.”

  “It’s elfin. I’m elfin. It won’t bother me as much.”

  A line formed between his brows. She could see doubt in his eyes. Her own doubts flared in response.

  Marina stepped closer. “Trust me. I can handle it.” She held her breath and willed him to hand her the stone. If he didn’t…

  His gaze seemed to pierce into her, like a laser cutting her apart and searching for truth. She pulled on her lifetime of training, kept her eyes wide, free of doubt.

  He hesitated again, then handed her the stone.

  The box was heavy; she pressed it against her stomach to keep from dropping it. He’d trusted her. She should be happy, but she wasn’t—felt as if she’d betrayed him.

  “Are you okay?” He reached as if to take the stone back.

  Marina stepped away and slung the net-wrapped box over her shoulder. “I’m fine. I just needed a second to…adjust.” Her smile was thin, another lie, but again he didn’t seem to question it.

  He trusted her, but could she trust him? She was about to find out.

  Chapter 21

  M arina convinced Raf to search the destroyed mansion—to make sure no servants had been left behind.

  While he was gone, she pulled out the box.

  She ran her hands over the lid. The wood was worn, unimpressive, but ins
ide the stone pulsed. It wanted her to open the lid, to show her its secrets.

  She clenched the wooden top. Raf had told her what Lord Sim had said, the danger of opening this lid…but somehow she knew it would be okay, that the stone wouldn’t hurt her.

  Which meant she also believed the legend—that she was meant to rule.

  She shoved the thought aside and lifted the lid.

  The room she occupied was dark. The stone glowed green. She waved her hand over it, waited for the pain. There was none. A peace settled over her instead. The questions stopped.

  She set the box on her lap and placed both hands on the stone. For a second, she felt nothing but the cool, hard rock beneath her palms. Then her eyes closed and she was somewhere else—standing in the castle, the throne room…

  Raf and the Paladin were there, as was the throne. On the wall behind them a scene played out, as the Paladin had shown her before. Alfheim was in chaos.

  She stood by the throne, knew she had been sitting on it. There was uncertainty in her eyes; she glanced at Raf—fear. She held out her hand to him, but he ignored her, stalked toward the Paladin. He was going to kill the elf; she could see the intent in his eyes.

  Power shot from her palms, curled up Raf’s chest and around his neck. With Raf completely contained. She smiled at the Paladin. “See, no problem.” She twitched one hand and sent Raf sailing into the wall.

  Then she settled down onto the throne.

  Marina jerked her hands away from the stone, sat blinking at it. Horror shuddered through her. The Paladin was right. If Marina took the throne, Raf would turn on her—or more accurately she would turn on him—attack him. Kill him?

  Her hands shook; she held them over the stone. She should touch it again, ask the stone to tell more. But she was afraid—afraid of what she might see, afraid she was destined to slip, to destroy the one being she loved and trusted.