His long blond hair was pulled back away from his sculpted face, revealing slightly pointed ears. His green wings framed him from behind, contrasting with the dark blue of his garb. Neiva’s gaze travelled the length of his body, from his broad shoulders to the muscled legs encased in his tight trousers. Heat raced through her body. Sweet Lady, she needed him. Stubborn man.
“Princess,” he acknowledged with a nod. The coldness of his greeting warred with the heat of his gaze as it swept over her body. Under its scrutiny, her nipples pebbled beneath her thin dress, and desire softened and moistened the folds between her thighs.
“Rhys, we need to talk.” She cursed the breathlessness of her voice.
His clear green eyes narrowed. “I believe we have already discussed everything we need to.”
“Not to my satisfaction.” She stepped close to him and lowered her voice. “Rhys, you cannot keep denying the bond between us. We are true mates. You heard the Song of Souls, the same as I have. How can you deny me?”
He leaned down and Neiva inhaled the clean, earthy scent clinging to him.
“We have been over this. We are not true mates. You are a youth, I am an elder. My loyalty belongs to your father and I am not about to betray that.”
“So you betray me instead?” she hissed. Anger swept hotly through her.
“I betray no one. I looked in the Waters and I have no true mate in this lifetime.”
“I saw you in the Waters, Rhys. You are my true mate. And you cannot deny that you heard the Song when you were with me.”
“I heard nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Neiva,” he warned in a low growl.
“Liar,” she repeated.
He grasped her arm and pulled her to the side. “You were a child when you looked into the Waters. You mistook who you saw.”
She pushed the consuming anger down and stared into his eyes. “You keep telling yourself that. I’ll not bother you with this again. Live with the fact that you denied your true mate.”
She pulled free and hurried away from him.
Rhys watched her walk away, cursing himself as his body hardened at the sight of her lush ass swaying beneath her clinging gown.
Loyalty to Kaelen and lust for his daughter warred within him. And it was just lust. The Waters had foretold that he had no true mate.
“Rhys.”
His King’s voice echoed in his head.
“Yes, my King.”
“Please come to stand with Abagail and me as we make an announcement.”
“Of course.”
He made his way to the platform that held Kaelen and Abagail. Regret coursed through him as he saw his King and Queen. Always he’d believed not having a true mate was a blessing. Until recently. He wanted a woman to share his life with. Nothing held him back from taking a mate. Not everyone had a true mate to bond with. Often one chose a partner based on attraction and common interests. Yet no woman interested Rhys, save one. His gaze found Neiva. She, too, was making her way to her parents. Kaelen had called to her as well, he assumed.
He approached the couple and knelt before them. Touching his fingers to his lips, he then clasped his hand over his heart. A show of loyalty.
“Stand, my friend. Be at my side as my mate and I share wonderful news.”
Rhys moved to the right of his King and glanced sideways at Neiva who stood at the left of her mother. Her silver-blue eyes met his for a moment, flashing with anger before looking away.
“Welcome, my people,” Kaelen addressed the gathering. “The Queen and I have joyous news to share.”
All attention turned to those on the platform.
“My Queen is to give me another child,” he announced. “My daughter has seen that it is a son. Soon you will have a Prince.”
Happiness swelled within Rhys as murmurs swept through the Great Hall. He turned and quickly embraced his friend.
“This is truly joyous news, Kaelen. Many blessings upon you and your family.”
Kaelen clapped him several times on the back before stepping back. Rhys’ heart contracted at the happiness radiating from his King. Lucky bastard.
Turning, he smiled at his Queen. “Abagail, you are well?”
She gave him a small smile and hugged him quickly. “Quite well, thank you.”
“Blessings to you, my Queen.”
A stream of people lined up to congratulate the royal family. He released Abagail and moved on, finding himself standing before Neiva.
“Blessings to you and your family, Princess.”
She stiffened when he wrapped his arms around her. “Release me,” she whispered.
“I’m showing my respect and joy at your family’s news,” he protested as she pushed at his chest.
“Don’t bother.”
He leaned down until his nose nearly touched hers. “You are acting like the child you are.”
“Fuck you.”
He jerked back. “Princess.”
“Move on, Rhys. You’re holding up the procession.”
She refused to look him in the eye, turning to smile at the man behind him.
Gritting his teeth, he strode away. Damn her. Why couldn’t she see that a relationship wasn’t meant? It was merely lust on both parts. It had to be.
Chapter Two
Neiva’s face ached from the smile she kept pasted on. Hurt and anger raged through her. Damn him. Damn her for letting him affect her so. Well, no more. She’d move on. Find a male more suited to her. If Rhys refused to acknowledge what was between them, she’d look elsewhere. Hell if she’d beg him. She was the King’s daughter—she begged no one.
Her duties done, she wandered the crowd, careful to avoid Rhys.
“Princess Neiva, you look lovely this eve.”
She turned towards the handsome man addressing her. She recognised him as one of her father’s council members.
“Gareth, how are you?”
“I’m well. And you?”
“Quite well. Especially after my parents’ announcement.”
“I am overjoyed for your family, for our people.” He reached and grasped her hand. “I wondered if you would dance with me, Princess?”
“I’d be delighted.”
She allowed him to lead her to the large open floor and take her into his arms. Moving on, she reminded herself and focused on the man holding her.
Physically, he was quite pleasing. A large man, he towered several inches above her. Long brown hair flowed over his shoulders, the soft curls tickling her hands. Quite handsome and quite suitable, she decided. She knew him to be a good and honourable man from his involvement with her father.
His hands caressed low on her back below her wings, just above the curve of her ass. He pulled her close to him. Her stomach tightened as she felt his erection pulse against her stomach.
“I’ve been watching you,” he whispered. “Often I wondered if you were involved with any man.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into him.
“I’m involved with no one.”
His hands moved to rest on her ass and he pulled her tighter against him.
Regret filled Neiva. While she felt a pleasant warmth within her, it wasn’t a fraction of what she felt when around Rhys.
Gareth’s hand moved up to slid along the bottom of her thin wing. She shuddered at the touch. Her wings were so sensitive, it was as though he had glided his fingers along the soft folds of her sex.
“What in hell are you doing?”
Her body flamed as Rhys’ voice filled her head. He’d never used this intimate form of communication with her before. Had refused to.
“It is none of your concern,” she fired back.
“You would give yourself to a man you feel nothing for?”
“Again, it’s none of your concern.”
“Damn it all.”
“Get out of my head.”
She centred her attention on Gareth and his caressing hands on her ass, every once in a while sli
pping along her wings. She closed her eyes. Moisture pooled between her legs, softening the folds. Though part of her suspected it had more to do with Rhys’ voice in her head than Gareth’s attention. The man had a voice that could push even the coldest woman to orgasm—deep, warm…and arousing without any effort.
Though he didn’t speak to her anymore, she could feel his disapproval. He watched her. She could sense his gaze as surely as she could feel Gareth’s cock pressing against her. Anger at his rejection and sheer perverseness pushed her to tighten her arms around Gareth’s neck. Tentatively, she tasted the tan skin at the base of his neck. With a groan, he slid his cheek on the top of her head.
“Perhaps you’d join me for a stroll in the gardens, Princess?”
Nervousness jumpstarted her heart. She leaned back and reached up to cup his cheek. “I’d love to.”
Anticipation curled in her abdomen as he led her towards the arched doorway. She knew Gareth was an experienced lover—he would be kind and considerate. She liked him. She could be with him this way. The internal pep talk continued until Gareth halted. Neiva bumped into his suddenly still form.
“Good eve, Gareth. Princess.”
Annoyance tightened her jaw. Rhys stood in the doorway and blocked their path.
“Rhys, good eve to you,” Gareth greeted cheerfully.
Neiva refused to speak to him and lifted her chin defiantly at his expectant look.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but the Princess is needed elsewhere at the moment.” His low voice slid along her spine and she had to suppress a shudder.
“Really? And just where is that?” she demanded.
“Your father wishes a word with you.”
She shook her head. “If that were true, he’d have contacted me himself.”
“You’ve blocked everyone out of your mind. He couldn’t make his wishes known.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Move aside, Rhys. Let us pass.”
“Neiva, perhaps you should go talk to your father. We can take our walk later.” Gareth trailed his fingers down her arm. “I’ll wait.”
“It could take some time,” Rhys warned.
Gareth nodded. “Contact me tomorrow, then?”
Seeing as neither man was going to give in to her wants, she nodded. “Tomorrow then. I look forward to it.”
A need to anger Rhys pushed her forward. Wrapping her arms around Gareth’s neck, she captured his mouth. She poured everything she had into the assault. Sliding her tongue between his lips, she tasted him. She sighed into his mouth when his hands rested on her hips. A quick nip on his bottom lip followed by a sweep of her tongue, and she pulled away.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated hoarsely before turning and leaving the Great Hall.
“Very nice, Princess. Did you practice that on the back of your hand?”
She glared at him. “My father doesn’t want to speak to me, does he?”
“No.” He shrugged. “But if he knew what you planned to do, he would.”
She choked on the bitter laugh. “Hardly. Our people are highly sexual. The fact that I don’t have a stream of lovers is more concerning to the population than anything I was to do with Gareth.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched as he regarded her. “You are far removed from the general population, Princess. You need to take more care than most.”
She moved closer to him, his scent tormenting her. “You just stopped me because you can’t stand to see me with anyone else.”
He shook his head.
She rushed to continue. “You’re a liar. Not only to me, but to yourself. I’ll not sit quietly by and wait for you to come to your senses. I’ve wasted too much time with that already. Stay away from me.”
With a fling of her wrist, she flashed from the Great Hall to her residence. Tears burned her eyes as she strode into her bedroom. With a thought, her wings retracted neatly. Damn him. What a stubborn male. Air swirled through the room, lifting her hair from her shoulders. Green and blue lights danced through the air as Rhys flashed before her.
“Stubborn female,” he growled, advancing towards her.
Although she trembled, she stood her ground. Fear didn’t quake her—it was pure desire. And she cursed herself for that.
Unable to look at him, she closed her eyes. “Rhys, leave. Please.”
“You refuse to act as you should. As heir to this kingdom, you need to behave in an appropriate manner. Yet you waltz into that room in that gown.” His voice deepened. “Every man in that hall could nearly see through the damned thing.”
A light caress across her breast had her eyes flying open. “W-w-what are you doing?””
He circled one nipple with his fingertip. It pebbled beneath the thin material, begging for more. Heat streamed though her body.
“Every man saw your nipples beckoning to be touched and wondered what they tasted like.”
“Not every man,” she denied breathlessly.
“If you believe that, you are a fool.”
His hands trailed from her breasts down to settle on her hips, his fingers digging deliciously into her flesh. “They wondered. And they watched how your hips moved under this dress. How your long legs moved as you crossed the room. And every single one of them wondered what it would be like to be between them,” he ground out.
The folds of her sex swelled and became moist as his hands massaged. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably. It was a wonder she was still standing.
“I didn’t want any of them between my legs,” she insisted.
One hand snuck across her belly and descended to cup her intimately. She bit back a cry as his palm circled and put pressure on her sensitive clit.
“Yet you were going to allow that man the privilege?”
“Yes.” Slivers of heat darted from her throbbing heat to burrow deep in her belly.
“Why? When you deserve so much more?”
She shook her head and reached up to run her hands through his thick hair. Twisting the long strands around her fingers, she pulled until their noses nearly touched. Their breaths mingled as she stared into his green eyes and tried to find the right words. Why did he keep denying her? Why couldn’t he understand?
“I deserve my true mate,” she whispered.
She stood on tiptoe and brushed her mouth over his lips. Darting her tongue out, she traced the curve of his lower lip before teasing his mouth open. With a low groan, he accepted the kiss and slid his palm slowly over her folds. Neiva’s head spun as the silken fabric of her gown glided over her hot moistness.
She moved one hand from his hair, down his chest and beyond to cup his hardness.
Breaking away from his mouth, she gasped, “You want me. Don’t deny it.”
“By the Goddess, it isn’t a question of wanting. A man would be a fool not to want you.” He ran his hot tongue along the crease of her lips, punctuating his words.
“It’s more than physical, and you know it.” Disappointment coursed through her when he didn’t respond. He simply captured her mouth again. No gentle kiss this. It was a dual of tongues and a desperate plea for more.
He grasped the skirt of her gown and dragged it up to her waist.
Neiva’s head fell back and Rhys rained kisses down her neck as he cradled her sex, no barriers between them now.
Blessed Goddess, she felt exquisite. Though he’d guessed she wore no undergarments beneath the blue frock, the feel of her softness, heat and dampness radiating, caused his hand to tremble. Damn, he was acting like a damned youth enjoying a woman for the first time. It hardly helped that was exactly how he felt.
He ran his tongue along the hollow of her throat, savouring the moan he elicited deep in her throat.
“Lift your arms,” he demanded.
Her eyes slid shut as she complied. Though he could have flashed the clothes from her, he pulled the gown up and over her head, slowly revealing the lush body he had often fantasised about. Guilt rushed over him, but was shoved aside when she reached
down and unlaced his pants. His cock sprang out, eager to fill her hands. The first touch of her cool hands on the hot smoothness had him jerking his hips forward.
Music swelled in the air around them. Faint at first then growing louder and louder. Part of his mind screamed to walk away, to flash back to his dwelling and leave the princess alone as he’d intended.
Damn it all, why did she have to be so stubborn? Why’d she have to pursue another man so blatantly in front of him? Because you’d insisted you felt nothing for her, a voice in his head taunted. You lied.
“Wait,” he protested, yet didn’t pull away.
She shook her head as she unbuttoned his shirt. “I understand it will just be tonight, Rhys. You don’t want forever, then give me tonight.” She kissed the rough skin of his chest, her tongue darting out to taste him.
Rhys groaned. “You aren’t making this easy, Princess.”
“Goddess, I hope not.” She pulled the shirt off his shoulders and slid it down his arms to drop on the floor. Running her palms up his arms, she demanded, “Look at me, Rhys.”
There’s the Princess, he thought. He stared down into her eyes.
“Give me tonight.”
“You want more than that.”
“What I want and what I can have are two different things. I’m intelligent enough to realise that. I’ll take what I can get, Rhys. Give me something to remember if you insist on denying me the rest of my life.”
He tried to hold onto his anger, his resolve to leave her, but failed miserably. Her mouth was on his chest again, raining kisses down to his stomach. She knelt before him—his Princess—and he watched as she took his cock in hand, then in her mouth. Her hot, sweet mouth. His head fell back and he stared at the ceiling as she began to suck and stroke him.
The music—that fucking music—slid through the room and around them. He clenched his jaw, fought against everything in him not to say the words that went round and round his head. He would not bind himself to her. Not bind her to him. He didn’t care what she thought she saw in the Waters. Or that the Song of Souls sounded when she was near. He had no true mate. It was impossible. The Goddess would not pair him with his best friend’s daughter. Surely Fate would not be so cruel. And Kaelen would never allow it. Rhys would not mar that friendship or betray his King. Simple as that.
Waters of Fate Page 2