Curse of the Fae King (Scattered Siblings)

by Kryssie Fortune

  Finally he lifted his chin in that sexy, arrogant way of his and spun on his heel. His face fell into the impassive mask the Fae used to cover their feelings—so cold she swore the temperature dropped a couple of degrees. Her apology died on her lips, and she expected him to take his dragon and leave. Instead he picked up the spilled groceries and dumped them by the sink. She straightened the chairs and cleaned up the spills. While the room soon appeared back to normal, her life was still messed up and strange. Lonely even.

  Lipstick stood in the doorway and eyed the broken eggs. His tongue shot out like a snake’s, but he mewled and backed off. He edged closer to Meena and rubbed his cheek against her hip, and mewled again.

  Absently, she fondled his ear. “Go for it, greedy guts.”

  Her smile was brittle, ready to splinter into an ocean of tears, but the dragonet wailed again. She turned toward him, a flash of temper in her eyes. “Do you ever stop eating? And is it my imagination, or have you put on a ton of weight?”

  “Dragonets grow exponentially.” Leonidas patted Lipstick’s neck. “The more you feed them, the quicker they grow. And you, my beautiful scarlet dragon, will be the biggest and the best. Tell me where I can obtain fresh meat for him.”

  Leonidas stood, his spine as stiff as his king-size hard-on, his controlled manner a cool contrast to her stormy emotions.

  Ashamed of her outburst, she took a deep breath. “Sorry, I’ve no right to take my anger out on either of you. I guess I’m a bit strung out here. I suppose I could do a supermarket run, but I’m a strict vegetarian. Are you sure eggs and cheese won’t do?”

  Leonidas’s soft laugh sent her sex drive up a gear. “Sorry, querida, but he needs a couple of bullocks or maybe three or four sheep.”

  “Fine.” She grabbed the 4x4’s keys. “I’ll max out my credit card to buy your dragon the very things I detest. Just promise that when I get back, you’ll help me find my mum.”

  “In the otherworld I have both power and position. I will pay your debts. And yes.” He rolled his eyes. “My gold will remain good in either realm. Perhaps, I will pay you in fire opals instead. They flash with the same golden sparks I see so often in your eyes.”

  There he went with that silver tongue again. Fire opals indeed! He’d compared her nondescript hazel eyes to the rarest of otherworld jewels. So much for cold and uncaring. Confusing, seductive Fae.

  She fed Lipstick the rest of the eggs, then pushed and prodded him into the back of the 4x4. Thanks to his high-protein diet, he barely fit. Leonidas slid into the passenger seat. He slammed the door, opened it, then closed it again. “My half sister, Sylvie, drives a beat-up sedan, but this is sturdier. I approve of your vehicle.”

  His approval shouldn’t matter, but it did. She hummed under her breath as they hit the road. She knew from her childhood that machinery didn’t work in the otherworld. When she’d first arrived in the human world, the cars and electronic gadgets the humans loved had confused her for years. How come he couldn’t follow her idiomatic speech, but he took twenty-first-century technologies in his stride?

  Chapter Five

  Leonidas’s presence filled the car’s confined space. She wanted to reach out and pat his knee or stroke his thigh. Hold it right there. Don’t move my hand higher. Keep my eyes on the road.

  A mile and a half later, the tractor and trailer blindsided them. The 4x4’s side panel crumpled, and the rear window shattered. Splinters of glass covered the backseat. Meena screamed and twisted in her seat. Lipstick growled his anger. Leonidas grabbed the handle of his bullwhip, ready to teach the other driver the rules of the road.

  The tractor’s gears whined as it plowed forward and shoved them off the road. The 4x4 crashed through the carpet of heather toward the Hole of Horcum—a natural amphitheater, six hundred yards deep and half a mile across. Meena fought the steering wheel. No use. She pumped the brake. Not working. They hurtled down the hillside at breakneck speed.

  Rocks crumpled the fender. She made another lunge at the foot brake. Another desperate attempt to change gear. Still they gained speed. They ricocheted off massive boulders. Trees whizzed past the windows. The fall tossed them around like cocktails in a shaker. Then the world dropped away, and they were airborne. Meena screamed. Lipstick bellowed. Leonidas flung his arm in front of Meena to stop her from jerking forward and head butting the windscreen. They landed with a thump that stalled the engine and shattered the front axle. It sank into the earth like an anchor and plowed them to a standstill.

  Meena’s hands shook. A desperate glance in the mirror, and she saw her cheeks were as white as her mother’s magic. Somehow she forced a shaky smile. “Hekate and her hounds, I thought we’d had it. Are you okay? Hey, Lipstick, give me a growl or something. Please?”

  Lipstick mewled his displeasure, but Leonidas flexed his powerful muscles—as if checking everything was in working order. She wanted to nestle against his chest, run her fingers down his biceps, and stroke his chest. Okay, given half a chance, she’d stroke her hand over his navel. In her dreams, she headed farther south and explored his groin. My mum’s life might be in danger, and still I want to run my fingers up the seam of his cock. Taste it maybe.

  The rat-fink Fae must be using his magic again. “Rein it in, jackass. If you’ve the strength to make me want you so badly, you’re fine.”

  His lips twitched, and although he didn’t smile, his eyes danced with mischief. “I am. Now I understand your need for a sturdy vehicle. I believe my half sister drives better than you.”

  If looks could kill, Meena’s would have withered him on the spot. “Give a girl a break here. That tractor didn’t even try to swerve away. We’re lucky we weren’t killed outright, and you know it.”

  “Very well.” He gave an autocratic nod—all Spanish grandee and stern face—but she sensed the laughter he held inside. “I will concede that this was the tractor driver’s fault, but—”

  He stopped abruptly and stared into the cracked side mirror. Meena followed his gaze, then checked the rearview. She saw a flash of sunlight on steel.

  Leonidas frowned, kicked the car door open. “Someone’s coming, and if the tractor was a deliberate attack, you should take Lipstick and stay out of sight. I will deal with them.”

  She didn’t argue with his barked orders, just scrambled out the car and forced the rear hatch open. “How big can one cute little dragonet get? For goodness’ sake, Lipstick, flatten your ears and slide your head out. If you uncurl slowly, it shouldn’t be too hard. If you’d eaten anymore, I’d have needed a shoehorn.”

  Two men broke cover, handguns at the ready. They half ran, half slid down the steep hillside. Meena’s eyes widened. None of this made sense. She wasn’t Daphne Drayton or Angelina Jolie. And this was real life, not some Hollywood action movie.

  As a witchy reject, she’d always avoided anything otherworldly. And this was why. Maybe the Witch Council had finally found her, but wouldn’t they come after her with magic, not guns?

  Dagger in one hand, bullwhip in the other, Leonidas started up the hillside. His every movement was a symphony of strength and steel, his primal masculinity as enthralling as his voice.

  A gunman fired wildly, sending bullets ricocheting off the car. Leonidas dodged and ducked like the hero of a TV cop show. Another round of bullets, and splinters flew off the nearest granite boulder. Meena whimpered and cowered behind the car. More bullets, and then silence while their attackers reloaded. Leonidas strode up the hillside—a natural-born hunter stalking his prey.

  Lipstick keened quietly and used his massive bulk to shove Meena behind a boulder. She slumped against it, glad of a moment to catch her breath. “Come on, boy. Curl up back here, out of sight.”

  The young dragon spread his wings and roared. Fire shot from his throat. He soared over boulders and into battle. Bullets bounced off his scarlet scales with a flashes of light and quiet pops. His wings beat an uncertain rhythm, and then he soared up the hillside and wrapped his claws around the forem
ost gunman. Three wingbeats later, and he dropped his captive at Meena’s feet.

  The gunman landed with a force that made Meena wince. He groaned at the impact, tried to pick himself up, then slumped back down. Unsure if he was faking, she kicked his ribs, hard. When he didn’t react, she used the strap of her bag to fasten his hands behind his back. Lipstick glided gracefully to the earth and sat beside him like a self-satisfied cat.

  “Clever boy.” She scratched his ears. “And truly magnificent when you spread your wings like that.”

  A growl rumbled through him—almost a didn’t-I-do-good purr—then he curled up to lay at her feet. And he’d grown again.

  Farther up the hillside, Leonidas waited…and waited. Bullets sprayed wide to the left, churning the ground and chipping stone splinters from boulders. Meena sensed the danger swirling around Leonidas, but he stayed still and silent—brimming with deadly menace. Then the waiting was over. Leonidas’s dagger glinted in the sunshine. One deft flick of his wrist, and he sent the second gunman’s weapon spinning from his hand. Leonidas raced up the hillside and arrowed in on his prey. A crack of a whip and an all-too-human scream. The gunman froze, rabbit-in-the-headlights-style. Leonidas reeled him in.

  A bird screeched a warning to the local wildlife. The remaining gunman tensed his muscles and dived for the gun and the knife.

  Too late.

  Leonidas slammed into him, fist-first. They rolled back down the hillside in a tangle of arms, legs, and punches. Meena squinted into the March sunshine, but she couldn't see who had the upper hand. She scanned the hillside, checking that no more gunmen stalked them. Thank Hekate and her hounds, there was no one. Her gaze settled on Leonidas’s knife and the tractor driver’s gun where they lay on the ground.

  If she had magic, she’d draw them to her side or bend the local plants to her will. Instead she peered all around to find something nearer. Nothing. Okay, time to test the immortality thing—maybe. She needed her hands on that gun, so she ran, doubled in a crouch like one of those action heroines she’d though of earlier. She swept the weapons up in her hands and raced back to the shelter the boulder provided.

  Breathless, she took a moment to calm her nerves, but her hands kept right on shaking.

  When she peeped around the rock, she watched Leonidas slam his fist into the gunman’s face. “You dare attack my Meena? I should kill you for that.”

  Talk about a protective streak. And when did I become his? Not that I’m complaining, even if it’s only a temporary assignment.

  Deep down she knew things between them would end badly. That hadn’t stopped her from falling hard. Eventually, he’d flash off back to the otherworld, and leave her alone…again.

  Maybe it was time to live in the moment. If she kissed her way down his neck or nibbled at his square chin, would he groan and demand more? Sweet Goddess, she hoped so. Even in battle, he enthralled her until she ached to swap places with the gunman Leonidas pinned between his thighs. She’d probably wriggle and writhe just as desperately, but escape would be the last thing on her mind. Heat flooded her pussy, but her bone-deep need to fuck him wasn’t real. It couldn’t be, not when she barely knew him.

  Stupid girl, falling for a stuck-up, overbearing Fae.

  With him, she wanted to lie back, open her legs, and play the slut. Instead she strode toward them, Leonidas’s knife in her hand. “Let me have a turn.”

  He shook his head as if to deny her. “I’m the warrior here. It’s my right to kill him. Although there is something incredibly sexy about a woman who knows how to use a knife.”

  “My mother,” Meena insisted, “my kill. You know what a carnivore I am. You hold him down while I slice him up for Lipstick’s lunch.”

  Leonidas nodded slightly, his cheeks dimpling at her bluff.

  Dimples too? How sexy could one Fae warrior be?

  “That’s my dragon,” he snapped. “I’ll be the one to feed him. Hand me back my knife, and I’ll hack off this scumbag’s leg.”

  Their captive paled and tried to scrabble free. “If you feed me to your dragon, you’ll never know where we took the woman.”

  Meena held the blade high, angled to glint in the sun, but she kept her attention solely on Leonidas. “Possession’s nine-tenths of the law. I’ll keep the knife. You can have it back once I’ve cleaned his blood from the blade.”

  “No need for that,” the gunman whined.

  “He tried to kill me”—Leonidas narrowed his eyes at her—“and I’m a warrior with a fearsome reputation to protect. I should be the one to make the kill.”

  “Sexist,” she shot back. “Besides, I bet I could make him scream louder than you. Men are such babies about hurting another man’s balls.”

  “She’s at Lythe Farm near Sandsend!” the captive yelled.

  Leonidas’s grin was cold, calculating, and cruel, designed to show his fangs. “A knife in the eye works just as well, but we should make it a contest. You may make the first cut, but I will make him scream so loud your eardrums blister. When I win, I get to lick and taste you from head to toe.”

  She ignored the way her nipples pearled and her body thrummed with newly discovered need. “Dream on. I’ll win, and when I do, you will kneel at my feet.”

  All sexy, sinful, and arrogant, Leonidas smirked. “Done. Just the right position to lap at your cu—”

  “Don’t go there.” Meena’s cheeks turned as scarlet as Lipstick’s scales. “We’ll work out the details when we’ve finished our foreplay. Hold him down while I cut off his cock.”

  As hard as their prisoner thrashed and squirmed, he couldn’t break free. Finally, he stared at Leonidas and begged. “Don’t let that madwoman near me. I’ll take you to the prisoner. I swear it, but please don’t let her castrate me.”

  Madwoman? Meena liked that, especially since her mother’s life might be on the line. Only, as a dyed-in-the-wool vegetarian, she hated blood. No way could she have cut into a living creature’s flesh. But their captive didn’t need to know that.

  “She’s locked in the cellars at Lythe Farm,” their captive squealed, “out near Sandsend, but the League gave us some dust that would rob her of her powers. We’re only supposed to hold her until the director arrives; then he’ll deal with her personally. Something about her being a hostage to make her husband behave.”

  “Liar!” Meena yelled. Her dad had rejected her before she was born—at least that was what the Witch Council told her. Before her exile, the senior Witches spoke of her parentage in hushed whispers, or turned away if they thought she’d overhear. Maybe there was a secret to uncover, but it wasn’t like she could just turn up and ask. Not if she wanted to keep breathing.

  Meena knew her mother mourned her father and wept whenever she heard his name. Her distress crucified Meena, and she’d never asked any of the questions that rattled around in her brain. The main one being, what if her mother had been forced to decide between her true-mate or her daughter? Talk about Hobson’s choice, but her mother had abandoned everything to raise her. Goddess, that was a guilt trip in the making.

  Confused and full of doubts, Meena couldn’t deal with the emotions the prisoner’s words sparked inside her. At least, not yet. There were too many unanswered questions, and she needed time to think. Either her father was dead, and their prisoner was a liar, or her father lived—but he’d rejected her and put her mother in an untenable position. No wonder Elizabeth Sybil wept whenever Meena mentioned her father.

  There’d be questions later, once she’d rescued her mother. The most important being Is my father still alive? Damn it, she didn’t even know his name. Her mother always wore a signet ring stamped with letter V. The initial of my dad’s first name? Sometimes, her mother’s eyes misted with tears as she closed her hand around it. When she thought no one was listening, she sighed and whispered, “V, V, Vla…”

  Her distress had swamped her daughter. Meena brimmed with hundreds of questions, but she’d never understood such utter sadness. The emotions Leo
nidas woke in her were a revelation. She wanted him, needed him, ached for him, and there wasn’t a moment she didn’t think about him. She hated that, just like her absentee father, he’d walk away. Her heart stuttered, and she knew that once he left, she’d never be whole again.

  Sorrow settled on her shoulders as thick and heavy as the cloak she’d worn earlier. She didn’t really matter to Leonidas, but that hadn’t stopped her from giving him her heart. Rather than crumble, she quivered with anger.

  Eyes blazing, she raised the knife and eyed the prisoner’s crotch. “Don’t lie. My father abandoned us before I was born, and he died soon after.”

  But did he, really? Meena would move heaven and earth to rescue her mother. Then she’d insist on answers to the questions she’d never dared to ask.

  Chapter Six

  Meena angled the knife so the sun reflected on the blade. The prisoner’s eyes widened. His arms twitched and his thighs trembled. Despite the cool March wind, he started to sweat and shake. He gulped and stared at Leonidas. “Please, you look like a reasonable man. Don’t let your crazy girlfriend cut off my balls. I swear that’s what they said. Then we got orders to bring in the rest of her family.”

  “Tell me about this director,” Leonidas demanded. “Convince me you’re telling the truth, and maybe I’ll find a way to control her. Although that challenge my woman issued has distinct possibilities—whether I win or lose.”

  The prisoner shuddered, crossed his ankles, and slammed his knees together. Tears flowed down his cheeks, and his voice cracked. “Mordred Arthington doesn’t want druids or sprites interbreeding with purebred humans like us. He’s plowed billions into the People’s Defense League to protect our superior bloodlines. He’ll banish the lot of you back to your otherworld—permanently. Just you wait and see.”