Cruel Enchantment

by Bast, Anya

  He didn’t drop her wrist or refute her words. He held her gaze steadily, a muscle working in his jaw.

  Her heart thudded and the playful smile she wore faded. Clearing her throat, she finished, “Anyway, I’m healing up fine. I feel much better than I did this morning.”

  “You’ll have more scars, according to the doctor.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “Won’t be the first set.” She pulled away from him and went in to take a shower.

  When she came back out, scrubbed clean, dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater and feeling refreshed, it was to a dinner laid out for two.

  “Nice,” she said, walking over on bare feet, her damp hair loose around her shoulders. “Salmon with roasted veggies and potatoes.”

  “How’s your stomach?” Aeric asked, lounging in a nearby chair.

  Despite her bravado, she’d been appalled when she’d unwound the bandage around her midsection. Lars had always focused on her stomach for some reason. She shook the memories out of her head. “Better. Just a couple more marks to add to the loveliness of my person.” She touched her midsection and gave a small laugh. “I think they add character.”

  Aeric rose and walked over to her. He splayed his hand over her abdomen and her breath caught. The warmth of his palm bled through the fabric of her sweater, but it was no match for the warmth in his eyes. “Nothing they could ever do to you could make you less attractive.”

  Then he went down on his knees, pushed the hem of her sweater up and laid his lips to her fresh bandage, and slowly kissed every one of her older scars that showed.

  Her insides turned to jelly at the tender touch of his lips to her skin and the symbolism behind it. He dragged his mouth across her belly button and his warm breath whispered over her skin, raising goose bumps along her arms and legs.

  His fingers found the button and zipper of her jeans and undid them. Slowly he eased them down over her hips and pulled them off, leaving her in only her cotton panties and sweater. Then her panties were gone, too. Still moving slowly, he slipped them down her legs and off, his hand trailing in their wake.

  He pulled her hips to his face and his tongue snaked out to lap her clit. Her head fell back on a moan and her hands tightened in his hair. Ripples of pleasure echoed through her veins. Oh, Danu, yes, she wanted this.

  She sank down onto her knees on the rug beneath them so she could look him in the eyes. They were dark, the pupils dilated from his arousal. His face wore that hungry expression she liked so much when it was directed at her.

  He lifted her sweater up and over her head, letting it drop to the floor. She wore no bra. Now she was nude and he was still fully dressed, a thing that needed to be remedied. Holding his gaze, she reached out and tugged the hem of his black T-shirt up. He let her pull it over his head, leaving that delicious, muscular expanse of his chest bare to her eyes and to her hands.

  Slowly she caressed his warm skin, moving from the swell of his biceps down his nipples and over the hard ridges of his abs, all the way to the button of his jeans. His hand moved to cover hers and she was on her back in a flash, her hands reached over her head and pinned gently to the floor. His jean-covered knee forced her thighs to part and rasped against her sensitive sex, making her shudder in need.

  He didn’t move. He only stared down at her, as though seeing her for the first time. Her nipples hardened in the cool air of the room and from the sharp arousal building in her belly. His chest lightly rubbed against her breasts as he moved, making her sex clench with need.

  “So now do you believe me about everything?” Her voice came out a little breathless from the pounding of her heart. “That I never intended to go back to work for the Summer Queen, that my intentions where the key is concerned are good? That I’m not a liar?” She swallowed. “About anything.”

  “Yes, I believe you.” He paused. “About everything.”

  “And it only took being threatened by the Summer Queen and almost dying to make that happen.”

  “Let me make it up to you.” He lowered his head and kissed her under her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed and she melted.

  “I might let you,” she murmured with a small smile. “Maybe.”

  “I want you. I need you, Emmaline.” He moved to her mouth and nipped her lower lip gently. She shivered with pleasure.

  “So, take me,” she murmured. “I’m yours if you would just stop treating me like a breakable doll.”

  “Are you sure you want this? Are you healed enough to handle it?” he growled near her ear. “It’s going to be hard and rough at first. I warned you. I want you too much for it to be any other way. At least . . . for the first time.”

  Danu, help her . . . the first time. “I’m healed enough and . . .” She licked her lips. “I want this.”

  His eyes seemed to go a shade darker.

  He let her wrists go and she put her hand to the button of his jeans again. This time he didn’t stop her when she undid it, along with the zipper. Reaching within, she found his wide, hard length and stroked him. He closed his eyes and groaned. He was as hard as a rock, so hard she wondered if it hurt.

  “Turn over and raise your hips,” he gritted out through a locked jaw. “Now.”

  She rolled to her stomach, which gave only a twinge of protest that quickly became lost in a flood of desire. He didn’t wait for her to position herself. Looping a hand under her, he lifted her rear to fit against his hard cock, forcing her up onto her knees with her thighs spread.

  He pushed his jeans down just enough to get his cock free and set the head to her slick opening. “Are you ready?”

  “Yeah,” she breathed, bracing her palms on the floor.

  He pushed the crown inside, widening her muscles and making her moan. Inch by inch, he worked all the way inside her, all the way to the root. She clawed the floor, her spine arching. Danu, he was huge, just like the rest of him. He completely dominated her, possessing every inch.

  Sliding a hand between her thighs from the front, he found her slick folds and rubbed his fingers through them, playing around the area where his cock was sunk so deeply inside her. She squirmed beneath him, moaning, her blood on fire. Gathering moisture, he found her clit, already swollen and sensitive, and petted her there.

  “Come for me, Emmaline,” he growled, giving her a couple of long, fast thrusts that made her see stars.

  She did. It washed over her body so completely her knees went weak and her fingers scrabbled at the floor. The muscles of her sex pulsed and rippled around his length, making him groan her name. He continued to stroke her right through the nearly painful sensitivity of postorgasm, until the first one stuttered out and then flared again. Another took her, pleasure racking her body until her throat felt hoarse from moaning.

  Then he gripped her hips, pulled her back up to her knees, and started to thrust. Fast. Hard. Deep. All consuming.

  Emmaline gasped and held on, understanding why he’d pushed her to come so fast. He’d needed her extra wet. Rough sex? Sweet Danu, this was it.

  The sound of their bodies coming together filled the air, accompanied by their labored breathing. The inward and outward thrust dragged the head of his cock over her G-spot every time and soon she was climaxing again, her fingers scratching for a hold in the rug she lay on.

  He swore low and groaned her name, his cock jumping deep inside her.

  They collapsed together on the rug, tangled in each other, his cock still buried inside her. They were both breathing heavily and covered with perspiration. Her body ached, but it was the good kind of ache, the kind that came with great sex.

  “Oh, Danu,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath.

  He kissed the top of her head and pulled her against him, his cock slipping free of her body. “I told you it would be that way.” He caressed her breasts, petting her nipples until she sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” She laughed. “I came three times.”

  He rolled her to her back and kissed her. “You
deserve better. You deserve to be put into a bed, touched slowly and softly, licked and kissed—savored. Not taken like an animal on the floor.”

  She shivered. “It all sounds good to me, Aeric.”

  He nuzzled her throat and his erection poked her stomach. “Fuck, Emmaline, I want you again.”

  She gave a satisfied-sounding, throaty laugh. “How is it possible that you even can?”

  He nipped her lower lip. “It’s a little extra gift I have. Most women don’t seem to mind.” His voice had a teasing lilt.

  “Oh, I didn’t say I minded.” She spread her thighs and pushed up at him, finding the head of his cock and forcing it to slip inside her. Pushing her hips upward, he sank into her again. She closed her eyes and her teeth sank into her lower lip. It felt right having him inside her.

  “I’ll have more control this time,” he murmured, nibbling at the place where her neck met her shoulder. He drew out and thrust back in so slowly she felt every single last inch of him from tip to root.

  She gasped from the ripples of pleasure invading every part of her body. “I like it when you have control.” Swallowing hard, she added, “And when you don’t.”

  He took her slowly this time, in long, measured thrusts. All the while he looked down at her, their gazes melded. Emotion threaded between them, making tendrils of warmth curl through her stomach and giving her a hope she’d abandoned hundreds of years ago. A hope she should crush under the boot heel of reality, yet she couldn’t.

  She just couldn’t.

  She wanted to nurture that spark of deep emotion that lay between them now. She wanted a fire. She wanted Aeric.

  He came again, her name spilling from his lips.

  EIGHTEEN

  EMMALINE sat on a chair with a sheet wound around her nude body, trying to salvage what was left of their now cold dinner. She had a bowl of fruit on her lap and nibbled grapes and strawberries while across from her Aeric sat in only his jeans, his chest and feet bare. He was working on the key with his head lowered in fierce concentration, the muscles of his chest flexing with his movement and his long, dark blond hair escaping from the knot at his nape.

  It was quite a nice sight. All in all, she couldn’t complain.

  He had forbidden her any clothes, which was fine by her, all the easier to acquiesce if he wanted to make love to her again. She was ready to engage in that particular activity all night long if she could.

  Despite the recent ordeal she’d undergone, a sense of almost kittenish bliss had overcome her. Maybe it was simply the afterglow of really great sex. Most likely it was the result of having Aeric’s attention so totally centered on her—positive attention this time. That was a nice change.

  Aeric was the sort of man who could make a woman feel like she was the most cherished person on the face of the earth. Under his furious and dangerous protection, no woman would ever fear. When he focused his attention on her, she was the center of the universe and nothing evil could ever touch her again.

  That was how she felt this night.

  Of course, there was the flip side of that coin, a side she was more than familiar with—one never wanted to be the object of Aeric’s ire. It was still like being the center of the universe, a universe of hurt. She knew that to be true since she’d so recently been the focus of his wrath.

  “Your forge. It’s secret, isn’t it?” She glanced at the old-fashioned tapestry—a huge rug that the fae were famous for weaving—that hid the doorway.

  He halted in his work and glanced up at her. Perspiration shone on his forehead, revealing the mental effort it took to weave magick into the key. “The Shadow King, Aodh Críostóir Ruadhán O’Dubhuir, he commissioned it for me. He wanted me to continue making weapons for him on the sly, in addition to using the public forge in another part of the Black Tower for making charmed iron restraints and swords for the Shadow Guard.”

  “Aislinn wouldn’t like it if she found out, would she?”

  “I don’t know.” He grinned. “Don’t aim to find out, either.”

  “Bad boy.”

  “Making these weapons is in my blood. I won’t give the forge up.”

  “I can understand that, I guess.”

  His gaze went to the crossbow. “Are you all right with that in here?”

  She stared at it for a moment before she answered. “I’m making my peace with it, with the things I did in my past. I pretended it wasn’t there for so long and now all that history has been dredged up. It feels like a wound in me. I can’t erase what happened so acceptance is my best option, I think. So, yeah, I’m all right with that in here. In a way, maybe the Summer Queen did me a favor by giving it back to me.”

  He gave a cold laugh. “Yeah, that bitch never does anyone but herself favors.”

  “That’s why she shouldn’t have that piece, Aeric.” Her voice had gone stony. She might feel all warm, sated, and kittenish, but the business of the key was deadly serious to her. After all, she was risking her life—multiple times—for it.

  His hands faltered on the key. “You know where I stand on that issue,” he said without looking up. “Your well-being is more important than which royal gets the piece. Don’t worry, when the time comes, if the Summer Queen shows any reluctance at turning it over for the greater good—”

  “There will be a war. A war between the courts like there was in Ireland. It might spill over into the fae races and then we’ll have an ordeal like the one that did us in during the sixteen hundreds.”

  He looked up at her. “We? Usually you say you when referring to the fae.”

  Her lips twisted. “I guess I’m making progress.”

  He returned to his work. “I think we’ve learned from our mistakes. In any case, the Summer Queen can’t stand against all of Piefferburg. Goibhniu, even her own court would turn against her if she’d tried to prevent us from tearing down the warding.”

  Emmaline was doubtful. She chewed her lower lip. “Maybe. There are some who probably don’t want the walls to fall, though. Even if it’s a small number, they might stand with the Summer Queen.” She shook her head. “Damn it. I’m telling you, this has the makings of another war.”

  “Hey.” He looked up at her. “Let’s just get through this, okay? I’ll finish the key; you get the piece and bring it back here. Hell, we have no idea where the third piece even is. It’s too early to be thinking about fae wars and walls falling down.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Aeric laid the key and knife aside and answered it. Apparently he didn’t mind that she was dressed in only a sheet, making it clear that they’d been doing more in the room than just resting, but it made her uncomfortable—especially when she saw who it was standing outside in the hallway.

  Kieran.

  Emmaline stood, her body going taut with battle readiness. Damn it, a sheet wasn’t the best thing to fight in and doing it naked was not appealing at all.

  “Kieran.” Aeric blocked his way into the room. “Back off, man. Okay?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt her.”

  “Swear on the eyes of Danu?”

  The warrior nodded. “I swear.”

  Kieran entered the room, giving them both a once-over and a sneer.

  “Why?” Emmaline asked sharply.

  Kieran’s dark eyes found and held her gaze. “Why what?” he snapped.

  “Why haven’t you leapt over the couch and tried to kill me yet?” She clutched the sheet around her like it was armor. Her teeth were gritted. Fighting was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

  She remembered his twin brother, Diarmad Ailbhe Eòin Aimhrea. He’d been big, a warrior like Kieran. Broad shoulders, all muscles, same dark and brooding countenance. He’d been a nasty fuck. Diarmad had not just killed Seelie in the war; he’d ripped them apart and bathed in their blood. Not even women and children had been exempt from his cruelty.

  She’d taken him in the chest, the heart, actually, one snowy night deep in the fae woods of Ireland. He’d come
upon a family of brownies and was busy pulling them limb from limb. Blood had splashed bright red on the blanket of snow. Brownies were a gentle race, trooping fae. They had been completely vulnerable to that asshole. The memory still boiled her blood.

  Approaching quietly—unable to help most of the family at that point—she’d nocked a bolt in her crossbow and said his name. Diarmad had turned and she’d let fly. Clean. Easy. He died in the snow near his latest victim, the young daughter of the brownie family he’d been slaughtering.

  Of all the kills she’d made back then, she didn’t regret that one. Not that she was about to admit that to Kieran.

  Kieran bared his teeth at her. “The Shadow Queen has issued an edict that none of us are to touch you. I obey my queen at all cost.”

  “Unlike Diarmad?” The question slipped out in challenge and she instantly regretted it. Where, exactly, was her common sense? And why couldn’t she ever marshal her mouth?

  “My brother was not a good man. I’ve suffered, believe me, for his sins.” His voice lowered to a dangerous growl. “But he was still my brother. My twin. And you killed him.”

  “That does leave us in a bad place, doesn’t it? I guess we’ll never be having tea and crumpets.”

  “Emmaline, don’t goad him,” Aeric said.

  “I’m just trying to understand why Kieran wants me dead so much. His brother was a monster. Diarmad killed innocent Seelie and trooping fae just because he could, just because the Wild Hunt wouldn’t come for him because it was wartime. Yes, I killed your twin brother, Kieran, but he deserved it. If I hadn’t killed him, how many more innocents would have died at his hands? I know that you did not share his brutality. What did you think of your twin’s actions back then? Or did it not matter to you since he was killing Seelie and members of the so-called less-than-fae races?”

  “I was connected to him psychically. He nearly made me go insane. I almost killed him myself,” Kieran snarled at her. “Are you content that you made me admit that?”

  She drew a careful breath. “No, of course not.”