The Cursed Satyroi: Volume One Collection

by Rebekah Lewis

  Jacen trailed kisses down the side of London’s neck, stopping to explore a spot that made her body tremble at the brush of his lips. He licked it there again, chuckling when she spasmed beneath him from only a touch. She still had his horns in her grip, clinging for dear life to keep his lips on her body. The horns were cool to the touch, but hard and strong.

  “Rip my clothes off. Rip them and take me like I’m some maiden who has trespassed in your forest.”

  Jacen groaned against her neck and sat back to stare down at her. She released his horns as he ripped the holy fuck out of her cami. The chilled air hit her nipples, making them nearly painful from her arousal. His nostrils flared, and he took his sweet time licking and fondling her breasts, making London moan from the exquisite sensations. She wriggled against his groin and enjoyed the way his breathing hitched against her. Somehow she knew his control was barely in check. She wanted him to break loose with her. To give her everything he was holding back. If she would think she had dreamt this night, she might as well ensure the fantasy was as erotic as possible.

  “The bottoms. Don’t neglect the bottoms.” London rejoiced at the sound of ripping cotton, and her body responded by getting wetter between her legs. She arched against him, impatient.

  “Oh, I won’t neglect any bottoms.” Jacen sat up again and lifted her leg to remove the rag her pajama shorts had become and swatted her butt cheek. London gasped.

  “You spanked me!”

  Jacen ripped her panties and flipped her over to her stomach. He smacked her ass again, making the same spot sting before kneading the flesh there. He leaned over her so he could whisper, “You’ve been naughty...bossing a satyr around.” He tsked, and gave her another swat, this time the other cheek. “Methinks the fair maid needs to learn her lesson.”

  “Do your worst!” She cried and it earned her another swat, and then a squeeze. She was so wet she was almost embarrassed by it. Was it possible to be overly aroused?

  “You will rue the day, maiden.”

  London’s giggles were cut short when Jacen moved his right hand between her thighs, his palm sliding against the part of her aching for his touch. He ran his left hand up the length of her back, stopping at the base of her neck. Jacen lifted her by her pelvis, rubbing his fingers against her in the most delicious manner and causing her legs to tremble. With his other hand he ensured she kept her head against the mattress. She tried to arch against his hand, but he nipped her backside in a silent command to stay still. He’d taken her up on her knees at the very end of the bed, with her legs spread apart, but wouldn’t allow her to rise on her hands. He stood beside the bed, admiring her that way.

  “I’m going to stop holding you down. Behave.”

  She turned her head to tell him she’d behave when he did, but stopped short when she felt Jacen’s tongue slide between her folds, sinking as deep as it would go.

  Oh, Sweet Jesus!

  London’s hands clenched the sheets as his tongue assaulted her. Penetrating, retreating, sweeping down to pass over and around her clit and repeating until she was whimpering and writhing. London felt more exposed than ever in her life. In this position, the blunted tips of his ram horns pressed against the backs of her thighs. She should be repulsed, but she wasn’t.

  She loved every second of it.

  When London was on the brink, a jolt of pleasure coursed through her that was so intense she was sure she’d explode into a million pieces. Except, instead of finishing her off, Jacen backed away. The mattress shifted as he kneeled behind her, and then he placed a hand on her hip. He rubbed his cock against her, lubricating himself on the moisture he’d wrought from her moments before.

  “I was so close!” Her voice didn’t sound like her own; it had been raspy and breathless.

  “I know.” Jacen probed her opening with the tip of his shaft. “I wanted to feel you come around me as I push inside for the first time.”

  She shuddered. “I lied, you know.” Jacen stilled behind her. “I’m no longer a tender maiden. I haven’t been in years.”

  “I’m really glad to hear you say that.” He pushed a fraction of an inch inside, using both hands to hold her still as she attempted to shove herself backward. She wanted all of him.

  “Why does that make you glad?”

  “Because this is going to be a rough ride.”

  Jacen pushed all the way in, and true to his word her muscles contracted around him instantly. He pulled halfway out and pushed in again, thrusting his hips while not allowing hers to move. He pushed her shoulders back into the mattress as she attempted to raise onto her hands to meet him stroke for stroke. The position he wanted her in allowed him to go in deep, and the friction drew her orgasm out longer than she thought was humanly possible.

  Her post-orgasm flesh was extra sensitive, and the continuing thrusts—all the way in, half out, back to the hilt again—felt painfully good. Tears from blissful rapture formed in the corners of her eyes. She was lost, so lost, in the sensation that she barely registered her moans were half sobs. She didn’t know if she could take much more, but she wanted it. She wanted it all.

  London clawed the sheets, powerless as he drove on. Could she die from pleasure?

  Then Jacen slid one of his hands over her hip and down her stomach, and when he rubbed her over-sensitized clit, she screamed—actually screamed—his name as she came a second time. Her body bucked and writhed, and she felt it then, the tensing in his body, right before hot jets of his semen filled her and they were both panting and coming back to Earth.

  London sucked in a breath as Jacen pulled out of her. They lay on their sides, face to face, and he smiled smugly as he ran his knuckles across the fevered skin of London’s hip. She closed her eyes, totally content for the moment.

  “You aren’t tapping out yet are you?”

  Her eyes snapped open. He couldn’t possibly be ready for more. Men didn’t...they couldn’t...she wouldn’t be able to handle it!

  Opening her mouth to protest, she was answered by his kiss. Her body tingled with awareness, knowing then what it hadn’t known before: the glorious sex drive of a satyr. How could any woman ever willingly give this up? They weren’t given the choice.

  Jacen rolled onto his back and pulled her across him. He was hard again, and he stretched languidly. “I know you’re probably thinking you couldn’t possibly be up for more, but you will be. Ride me. Start slowly and let the need carry you the rest of the way.”

  How could she resist? It took her a few tries to find the right leverage, but soon she was lowering herself onto him. She moved painfully slowly, as the tenderness of her body had not yet faded. London enjoyed the way his fists clenched the sheets as hers had not long before. Was he doing it from the pleasure, or was he leashing the beast of himself from picking up the pace?

  Before long her speed grew frantic, and her legs were weak from pleasure, making it difficult for London to keep the control in her court. As though he sensed her difficulties, Jacen sat up with her, and rolled her onto her back, taking control of the act. He kissed her as she came and followed her into ecstasy.

  Chapter Five

  Jacen barely slept through the early morning hours. Instead, he’d been content to lay there holding London as she snored. After they’d finally settled down to rest, he’d told her all about Pan and Dionysus, the curse, and his life as a veritable bodyguard for Vander on the island of Dia. She had listened intently, asking questions where questions made the most sense. London then told him about her classes at SCAD, her job in the library, and her love of the horror genre and how it brought her to The Aegean Inn. When she finally drifting off, Jacen let her sleep. She needed her rest after all they’d done together.

  Shortly after sunrise, Jacen rolled out of bed and collected his panpipes. A simple little instrument, but enchanted by magic. He blew into them, playing the cords to make him appear as a human during the day. When he heard a knock at the door, he donned his robe and slid the panpipes into the pocke
t. He had to keep them close at hand to retain the glamour. Vander stood in the hall. His former prince was always astute, and his gaze narrowed on the sleeping mortal in Jacen’s bed. Vander motioned for him to follow, so Jacen shut the door behind him and obeyed.

  “What are you doing? We heard you for hours. Calix had to entertain Beatrice while Orestes watched the lobby, wearing a hoodie. Which doesn’t hide horns very well, by the way. Luckily no guests came downstairs.”

  “I’m keeping her, Vander.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m keeping her.”

  Calix came down the stairs in time to hear the exchange. “What’s this then? Jacen gets to have a girlfriend?”

  “Keeping her will only make it worse when we have to wipe her memory in a few years. She’s not immortal. She will form a dependency.” Vander ignored Calix.

  “I need her. It’s strange, but I wonder if...I wonder if it’s love. There is something between us I’ve not felt with anyone.”

  Vander’s lips formed a hard line across his face. He wasn’t impressed. Jacen was asking to go against everything they put into place to avoid attachments for a relationship with an expiration date attached. But what use was immortality if he didn’t allow himself to live, to feel things, to mourn people when time caught up with them?

  “Um...what?” London was in the doorway, eyes as big as a frightened doe.

  “I felt it the moment we met yesterday.” Jacen faced her. “I brushed it off as desire, but after last night...” When she rode him slowly, so sweetly, she bound his heart to hers. He couldn’t wipe her memory. He couldn’t let her go.

  “She’s not a nymph, Jay.” Calix mumbled, “It’s infatuation.”

  Jacen glared at him.” I know she isn’t a nymph! I could give a rat’s ass about a nymph for all the good they have done me. I don’t want one, I want her. It’s more than lust, but I need more than a weekend to know. I’ve never asked for anything from any of you, but I am asking for this. That is, of course, if she wants the same.”

  London had wrapped herself in one of his bed sheets, the dark blue bringing out the color of her eyes: the precise color of the Aegean. Of the ocean surrounding his home. She brought him back to a time when he was human, being with her. She exited the bedroom and strolled over to him, stopping once she was at his side. Jacen wrapped his arms around her, the delicate treasure that was too good for him to keep.

  “I would like to see where things can go from here,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “Are you sure? You’re not just saying it because you are afraid of your memories being tampered with?”

  London shuddered, but she shook her head. “I admit the memory thing does freak me out. But no, if I didn’t want this I wouldn’t have slept with you, and having my memories changed would be welcome. Also, it would seem you are in need of a new receptionist...” She let the last part linger.

  Vander stared at her, mouth agape. “Well, we are, but...” He looked to Jacen and then back to London. “Fine.”

  “Pardon?” Jacen asked.

  “Keep her. But the moment, I mean the moment, this goes south...she’s getting wiped. We have to protect ourselves here.” To London he added, “It’s nothing personal.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for giving us a chance.”

  Calix perked up. “He’s gonna share her, right?”

  “I’m not sharing her.” Jacen bit out.

  “Aww.”

  “Shut up, idiot.” Vander knocked Calix in the back of the head. “Let’s leave them to discuss this decision and ensure it is mutual.”

  When it was just the two of them alone in his room again, London asked, “Do you really want me here, or was it because you didn’t want to wipe my memory of last night?”

  “London,” he swooped her up into his arms and took her back in his room, “I have never wished more that I was an ordinary man than I did the moment I met you. If you think you can handle a lover who can only go out on the town with you during the day, it would be an honor to see where these feelings lead.” He placed her back in his bed and joined her there, amazed he’d been given more time with her.

  “But how do I know I am safe, my memories...”

  “I won’t let them. None of us has ever tried keeping a permanent lover before. It’s new to them and there will be adjustments. We have time to figure it out—what we have.”

  “But, the dependency...”

  “That was more of an issue because they were employees we slept with, but we weren’t in a relationship. They functioned away from us fine, but around us only cared about sex. In a relationship, I don’t think it will be a horrible problem to have. And who knows, maybe we can find a solution in the meantime.”

  London sucked on her lower lip and was silent for several minutes. “You could go out on Halloween. I bet you’d win all the costume contests.”

  “Does that mean you will stay with me?”

  “I think I might try it.” Then the corner of her mouth quirked up in a grin. “I kind of miss your horns in your human form. I almost didn’t notice the difference.”

  “I can bring them back at any time. It’s a mere glamour. I’m always horny.”

  She giggled. “It doesn’t matter to me which form you take. Truth be told, I felt an instant attraction to you as well. I can’t say if it is lust or love or curiosity. Not yet, though it makes me really happy to know I’m not the only one experiencing it.” London arched her back and stretched, reminding him she was naked under the sheet. “But until we figure it out, ride me hard, satyr.”

  Jacen could scarcely believe he had her to himself, for however long it was.

  It was enough. Nymphs, be damned.

  Under the Satyr Moon

  Book Two

  Dedication

  For Sybil Miller

  If I could put into words how much I miss you,

  there would be no end and no beginning to this novel.

  Mere words could never be enough, and no one can ever replace you.

  I love you, Mema.

  Acknowledgements

  To my friends, family, and my betas—you know who you are—thank you for believing in me and helping me shape this book into the version you hold in your hands.

  To the wonderful Alianne Donnelly, who said, and I paraphrase, “Maybe put Pegasus in that scene.” Well, you created a monster because not only did I put Pegasus into that scene, but he took over half the story and became a secondary character. Honestly, though, thank you. He’s one of my favorite aspects of the book. P.S. finish writing Wolfen because I kinda need to read that, like, yesterday. ;)

  To My editor, Leona. Thank you for suffering the Ariston Curse with me. It was a bumpy, painful, stressful, tear-filled, and bloody path to get here, but here we are. *hugs*

  To Ariston… At times you were just plain spiteful, and you wonder why I let bad things happen to you? Payback, my dear. For all the suffering you caused me, I projected it on to you.

  And, of course, most importantly, to my readers. You rock!

  Prologue

  Along the boundaries of Thespiae, Greece. Boeotia, 567 A.D.

  Everything fell to ruin. Through time and hardship, even the strongest stone became weathered. Reshaped, eroded by the elements, nothing left behind but dust. Yet, some things cheated the natural order of world, at least on the surface—even immortality lacked perfection. Hearts could be broken. Spirits crushed. The heavy weight of emotions could whittle away as well as any physical force, but the damage occurred on the inside. Unseen by most, yet felt forever by the one who bore the scars.

  Chilled rain stung Ariston’s face as he pulled back his cowl, which did nothing to protect him from the torrential downpour. The land he’d known in his childhood held only mere traces of familiarity. His home was gone, the house no longer anything more than a pile of rubble on an abandoned hilltop. No livestock grazed on the land surrounding it. Perhaps if he’d returned home sooner, but he hadn’t. Shame had
kept him away, as well as fear of what his accursed state would bring upon his family. Returning before would have been selfish. However, as he stood there, with the last remaining signs of his human life deteriorated and fading, the guilt overwhelmed him.

  Years became as irrelevant as minutes when no longer markers of the countdown to a death which never came. They were no longer important, not really. Ariston’s life had become nothing more than a cycle of fucking and hiding. Of retreating to the dark woods at night because he couldn’t remain in human form past sunset, and then spending the day struggling not to give into his desires. Which was a joke, considering his desires always won in the end. Some days he wondered why he fought against the need, why he didn’t give in and let the curse have him fully. His humanity often became a larger burden on that account.

  Ariston kneeled in the spot where the hearth had once stood. The crumbled rocks were scattered, caked with filth and overgrown in places with plant life, marking the extent of its disuse. Rain soaked the stones, cleansing them of their history, all the while reminding him his past could never be scrubbed clean as long as he lived. Like the stones at his feet, his memory accumulated filth while pieces of his soul chipped away to leave him misshapen and no longer whole. Since death wasn’t an option, the only way to adapt involved moving forward and never looking back.

  The curse had snatched away everything he’d known within a single moment. His life, his happiness, his feeling of belonging. Gone. All of it. Not that he’d thought much of any of those things when he’d had them. He could have been someone. A husband. A father...