by Unknown
He was no different than any other waken. But he’d never do it.
He loved his mate. In all their centuries together, he’d never once strayed.
He shook his hands as they started to itch, then burn in a most peculiar way.
MeLora’s lips curved. “Oh, Your Majesty. I’ve heard there’s a plot to overthrow the crown.” She rushed to him, locking her slender arms about his waist.
Darak frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Where did you hear this? And who wants my crown?”
And why did she look so triumphant? So deliciously tempting?
Damn, he had to have her. His body felt on fire for her.
MeLora tilted her head and licked her lips, then breathed in an unsteady voice, “Your son?”
Darak laughed. “Don’t be absurd. My son will inherit the crown anyway.” He rubbed his hands down the seams of his pants. Why did his skin itch so? It was driving him to madness. He couldn’t concentrate on what the sexy witch had to say to him.
“Not your elder son, Your Majesty…but your second-born…Talon.”
“No, I don’t believe that.” Darak shook his head in denial. “Talon would never—”
“Oh, but Your Majesty, I’ve heard that Prince Talon is very angry with you and the guild. He made his boasts about Droth and he plots to overthrow you, Sire. He speaks of separating Prince Stry’s soul from his body and sending his spirit into exile.” MeLora lowered her head, giving the impression of shyness. “I’m sorry, Majesty, but I’m afraid Prince Talon has been dabbling in the Black Arts. He craves power.” She gave a tremulous smile. “He wants the crown for himself.”
“Calm yourself, my dear. I think a glass of wine would perhaps soothe your nerves.”
She looked up, a smile on her lips. “Yes, of course. That would be perfect.”
Darak jerked as she slid her hand down his stomach, her fingers scant inches from his zipper. He cleared his throat a second time and wiped beads of sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “But of course, my dear. I want you to tell me everything you’ve heard.”
She slid her hand to the front of his trousers.
Darak’s heart raced as if he’d run a mile. Damn. Damn!
What was he to do?
He was hard as a warlock’s magic wand, and the witch damned well knew it.
She was teasing him.
His cock twitched—to hell with Talon and his plots to take his crown—he must have this witch. He’d been with Helayne for many centuries, more than he could even count or remember. He loved her. He did. But…
Damn, if this beauty didn’t excite him.
He glanced at his hands curiously. Heat rushed through them to the tips of his fingers. He felt feverish. His entire body tingled and burned. His mind raced frantically. He had to get out of here before he made an absolute fool of himself and tossed the pretty witch onto the sofa, flipped up her skirts, and rammed his cock inside her.
He turned away, headed to the bar. The witch dogged his steps, coming up beside him. She took the wine bottle from his trembling hands and set it down. Pouting, she walked her index and middle finger up his chest, pausing to glide her hand between the buttons on his shirt and toy with his chest hair.
With her free hand, she paused at the waistband of his trousers. Slowly, teasingly, she slid her fingertip up and down the zipper. He trembled. He should stop her, but his mind and body refused to cooperate with his silent commands. He liked the feel of her finger gliding up and down his cock.
“Ahh,” he groaned, as she traced the hard length of him through his trousers.
“Oh, Your Majesty,” she breathed. “You’re such a strong, handsome, virile man.” She gently massaged his manhood. “You do remember last night? And the past month we’ve shared? The nights we’ve spent together?”
“Last night?” Darak frowned.
What had he done to her last night?
What had he done with her the past month? He couldn’t remember.
“I want you to make me your queen.”
Darak moaned, swallowed hard. “I-I have a mate.”
“And she has slept with other wakens. She has lied and cheated.”
He couldn’t seem to move away from her.
He couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt. His lungs heaved.
His big body shook as MeLora continued stroking him through his pants.
“Helayne’s no longer important to you. You need me,” she whispered. “You’ve always needed me. I’m your true love.”
Darak nodded. He seemed to have lost his voice along with his will to resist her. He clenched his teeth and threw back his head. He flinched, but could find no words of objection when she unzipped his trousers and freed him. His manhood sprang forward, hard and thick. His body trembled violently. His belly tightened and clenched with aching need.
She stroked the length of his hard cock, bringing him to fever pitch, bringing him to the edge of climax, and then over the teetering rim of it. She lowered her head, taking his cock deep in her mouth, sipping and licking, catching every drop of his seed. “Mmmm. You taste delicious, Your Majesty.”
Merciful, gods! But she was sweet. He’d never climaxed this fast, this urgently.
She smiled, her lips teasing as she licked the last drop of moisture from the head of his cock. “I’ll take that glass of wine now, Your Majesty.” She laughed softly, invitingly. “And then I’ll take care of your little friend here again. He still looks hungry. And why not? Beltane is fast approaching.”
Darak zipped his pants with unsteady hands. He gave her a sheepish look, nodding his head. “Yes, of course. It must be the pull of Beltane heating my blood. I’ve never been unfaithful—” He patted her arm, awkwardly, breaking off his words. Of course that wasn’t true. He’d been fucking MeLora for the past month. Even now, she carried his son. He massaged her belly, the small mound he’d planted in her womb a few nights ago. “Our son,” he whispered, smiling.
Oh, but she pleased him.
She was young, beautiful, and sexy, and worthy of being his queen. He wanted this child they’d created together more than any child he’d fathered. Yes. MeLora must become his queen.
She leaned against him, allowed her hand to rise to the back of his head. Bringing his lips close to hers, she whispered, “You want me, Your Majesty.” She tossed her head, flirting, provocative. “Your one desire is to make me your queen.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “Yes,” he answered thickly. “I want you for my queen.”
MeLora arched a brow at his slurred words. He sounded as if he’d already had too much wine to drink. She brought his mouth to hers. “Soon,” she promised. “Soon, I will give you a fine son who will inherit your kingdom.”
Darak shook. His breath lodged in his throat as MeLora’s tongue slid inside his mouth, teasing and stroking. An odd tingling rolled across his tongue and hit the back of his throat, burning, scalding his bloodstream.
He gasped and tried to free his mouth, but MeLora’s tongue stroked deeply, coating his throat with liquid fire. His eyes watered as she suddenly released his mouth. He stared at her through a blur of tears, amazed at how beautiful she was. His MeLora. His true love. His only love.
He felt maddened with lust as need spiraled hotly through his groin. She was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
MeLora sighed longingly, trailed her fingers down his zipper and cupped his sac. Her lips curved in a luscious pout. “Oh, my. You are an eager fellow.”
“Ah,” Darak moaned.
He couldn’t wait much longer to make her his own. The violence of his need was like something sharp and wild clawing at his mind. The urgency to mate punched its way into his gut, slammed into his mind with explosive force. No more waiting. There’d be no more waiting. He had to have her. Now.
“Take off your clothes, my love.”
MeLora smiled, pleased with the effect she had on the king. “First, a glass of wine.”
Darak gave a brief nod and stepped ba
ck, his hands shaking violently.
What had she done to him?
It was as if she’d placed some type of magical spell on him, and it wouldn’t go away.
He was on fire, burning with need.
MeLora pressed a flute of blood red wine into his hands. “Drink, my love, and all will be well. I promise you.”
Darak took a deep swallow.
A pleased smile crossed MeLora’s lips. With that drink of wine, the king had just sealed his fate. Of course, he’d been done for the moment she pressed his hands against her breasts. Once he’d touched her gown and absorbed the residue of powder sprinkled on it, he’d belonged to her. It had been the first step of creating his lust for her.
Sighing with satisfaction, she held up her glass. “To our future, my love. May it be…productive. Your greatest desire this night is to make me your queen. Drink up, Your Majesty.”
Darak obeyed, raising the glass to his mouth. He swallowed the red wine in one smooth gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his brows drawing together with a deep frown. “My queen? You are my queen, my love.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. And your only wish is to please me. I carry your son. Your other sons no longer matter. Helayne no longer matters. Only I hold the key to your heart.”
Darak scowled. “No. We cannot have a child. My mate. My queen—” He doubled over groaning as sharp spasms stabbed like hot knives at his manhood. “Gods,” he yelled, cupping his testicles as liquid fire seared them. “What have you done to me?”
When he straightened back up, a dewy film lined his flushed face. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and brows. He shuddered violently. His cock ached. His body burned with urgent desire.
MeLora stood there waiting like a praying mantis. “Understand me, Your Majesty. I don’t give a shit about Helayne or her sons and neither do you. You have planted your seed in my belly and that’s what matters. Our son. You love me and our child. You want me. Now.”
MeLora eyed him. Darak’s once sparkling green eyes lost their fierce brilliance and changed to a dull, flat black. He didn’t attempt to conceal the rigid bulge in his pants. Instead, he slowly lowered the zipper and released his straining manhood.
“Of course, my love,” he replied. “You belong to me now.”
MeLora strolled across the room to the door. There, she instructed the guard outside the door that they were not to be disturbed for any reason, by order of the king. She turned slowly, chanted softly and placed a spell on the door so no one could enter. “Ah, my love. I see you are more than ready to mate with me.”
“Always, MeLora. I’m always ready for you.”
MeLora’s lips twisted into the semblance of a smile, smug satisfaction flowing through her veins. Wakens were so predictable. Give them a feel of tits, a little aphrodisiac, and they went wild.
King Darak reminded her of another from her past who’d been easy to seduce and lure away from his mate.
What was his name? Ah, yes. John Connor, Elsbeth Winslow’s mate.
How could she possibly forget her first conquest? He’d been so easy, but then illumrofs were no challenge for those who possessed magical skills.
And why was Elsbeth suddenly rearing up from the past? Tormenting her?
What she’d done to that witch and her family happened centuries ago. She’d mostly forgotten about them. Now, it seemed, the Winslow name popped into her life constantly. Bah! She had better things to do at this moment than to worry about ghosts from her past.
MeLora smiled, watching the potion do its work and spread like an evil beast through King Darak. Her whispered words worked their evil on the king’s vulnerable mind. As the Black Magick poison burned through Darak’s bloodstream, his eyes continued to darken.
Already her thoughts had replaced his own.
Her tongue, coated with a special drug, had seared his bloodstream with the first stroke inside his mouth. Her magic had instantly started to crowd his mind with suggestions, likes and dislikes, and false memories.
The love he’d once felt for his family now belonged to her.
As his clothes fell away, she closed her fingers around the tip of his jutting manhood. “My, my, Majesty, just look at what we have here.”
She kissed his mouth. He trembled with urgent need, moaning as his lips closed over hers with raw hunger. Oh, yes. He was hers to command. “I want to feel you deep inside me, Your Majesty,” she whispered against his mouth.
“As you desire,” he replied. “As you desire, My Queen. We have all night.”
The sun was just rising in the early dawn, brushing away the final strokes of darkness and rushing in the morning, when Darak pressed a deep kiss against MeLora’s mouth and shuddered.
“You have given me an intense night of pleasure, my darling,” he groaned against her throat. Lifting his head, he grinned smugly. “I’m pleased with you, my love. Our son lies snug in your womb.” His gaze turned hard and he stole another long kiss. “Take very good care of my son, MeLora. He’s the heir to my throne, the future King of Ru-Noc.”
MeLora gave Darak a self-satisfied grin as she dressed. “What of your queen?”
“Who?” Darak asked, looking up from zipping his trousers. “Oh. You speak of Helayne? Forget that cheating bitch. You’re my queen now. She’s dead to me.”
“Then please me by giving Helayne to Black Drayke.” MeLora arched a fine brow. “He would have made his request for her tonight, but you and I were busy. When I return this evening, I’ll bring him to the palace. You’ll give Helayne to him.”
Darak shrugged. “Do whatever you wish with her. Her fate no longer interests me.”
MeLora snickered. How easy it had been to take Helayne’s crown, and her mate. She cupped her stomach, content. Black Drayke’s babe rested in her womb and he’d inherit the throne. No one could prove this babe did not belong to the king. There were witnesses who’d swear she’d been sleeping with the king for at least a month, and that she’d just spent the night in his arms. No one could take that from her.
“Get whatever it is you need and return to the palace tonight,” Darak ordered. “Come to me. Do not disappoint me, MeLora. You belong to me now, and I will have you at my side on the throne. And I will take you as often as I desire.”
MeLora choked. This she hadn’t foreseen. “Ye-yes, Your Majesty,” she stammered.
This, she had not foreseen and was not pleased with. Pressing her mouth to his, she allowed her lips to tremble. “I swear I’ll be here. Nothing could keep me away from you, my love.”
She walked out of the room, but the smile on her mouth quickly tightened with displeasure. How dare he give her orders. He was her slave. She belonged to no man. However, the king would not deny their child and that did please her.
Sailing past the guards, fury burned a hole in her gut. So the king thought to keep her? Never. She had her eyes set on another, but for now, she’d go along with his desires.
And she’d make damn certain Helayne was handed over to Black Drayke tonight. That’d keep him happy for awhile. Poor Black Drayke, he hadn’t been able to steal inside the palace this night because the handsome Captain Koran T had disappeared. She’d have to spend the day soothing Black Drayke’s ruffled ego. She’d reward him for his patience by granting him his heart’s desire. And for the rest of his life, he’d try to satisfy it. For the next few nights, she’d keep him busy seeing to the queen’s suffering.
Oh, yes. Queen Helayne’s days were numbered. Pfft! She wasn’t about to worry about that scrawny witch taking back the throne or taking Darak from her. Just like that mealy-mouthed Elsbeth Winslow, Queen Helayne would give up her husband without a struggle, once she realized he’d mated with another.
King Darak would see to Helayne’s destruction, just as John Connor had sent Elsbeth Winslow’s spirit into oblivion with very little prompting from her.
Black Drayke would gladly do the deed. The warlock thrived on stealing a witch’s soul.
And very soo
n, Prince Talon and Prince Stry would no longer matter. A smile curved her lips. She was just getting started. Ru-Noc belonged to her now. Soon, she would choose her own king—her own mate, and it would not be that tiresome Darak or Black Drayke.
As a lover, the king was adequate, but she wanted a young, handsome, virile waken for her mate. Someone like Prince Stry, Prince Talon, or even that deliciously handsome cousin of theirs, Sage would be perfect. Maybe she’d mate with all three of them.
She moved quickly down the corridors of the palace. First thing Monday morning, she’d pay a visit to Saylym Winslow and determine if she was a threat.
Then, she was going to search for a proper mate, one of her choosing.
Her motto from now on, ‘Long live, Queen MeLora.’
Chapter Sixteen
Burroughs was examined by Hathorne, Corwin, Sewall, and William Stoughton. One of the afflicted girls, Sarah Churchill, was also examined.
~ Salem Witch Trials
May 9, 1692
Page Entry…
Queen Shy-Ryn tried to love MeLora, but the child strongly resembled Kran, making it difficult for the queen’s heart to melt and accept her daughter. Unfortunately, MeLora also had the same cunning and petty nature as both Kran and her grandfather, Zoman.
When MeLora reached the age of thirteen, Queen Shy-Ryn, no longer willing to look upon the face of her daughter or watch MeLora’s cruelty toward the other children of Sanctuary, summoned her before the throne. As punishment for MeLora’s wicked ways, the queen declared her unfit to one day inherit the crown and cast MeLora from Sanctuary and from the Ru-Noc realm. Queen Shy-Ryn sent her daughter to live with Elsbeth and John in the mortal realm.
In MeLora’s place, the queen chose one of Elsbeth’s daughters as heir to the throne.