His father had bequeathed him the throne, some staid advisors, and a copy of the Kama Sutra he’d collected on one of his infrequent visits to the mundane world. He’d told his son it helped him deal with the boredom of fucking countless strangers. Now Leonidas used it to vary the monotony of mindless sex. With Meena, he needed to work his way from cover to cover, and then they’d start at the beginning again. Yeah, that was one target I’ll happily meet.
“Foolish woman,” he chided softly. “Your mother’s kidnappers could have booby-trapped the barn, either with magic or human devices.”
She sighed and snuggled closer, her back resting against his chest. “Better to break them than run like a coward—then you used your body to shield me, even when you couldn’t access your magic. Dumb but brave, luscious Leo, and I definitely could get used to having you around. I guess that makes me the brains of the outfit. Don’t worry, you’re one brilliant piece of eye candy, and muscular enough to be the outfit’s brawn.”
At least “luscious Leo” was a step up from the “Fairy boy” she’d called him earlier. What he really wanted was for her to call him “Mine.” Because he was. And she should be his, forever and always. Clearly once she was well fucked and sated, she lost her sharp edges. He’d never expected her to feel the same. How could she, when he needed to sleep with strangers to stay sane?
Pushing his dreams and desires aside—just like always—he helped Meena to her feet. He hated how he’d taken her on a bed of dying plants, again. His woman deserved silk sheets or a sweet-smelling meadow, not wilted daises and brown grass. They dressed in silence, but if he spoke, he’d utter the words hidden in his heart. He wanted to see her in gossamer silks and decked in jewels. Instead she wore jeans that could have been painted on her ass and cute red pumps with skulls on them—a strange choice but something that was uniquely her.
“No one has left the barn to hunt us. We can check it out now, but I will lead the way.”
ANTICLIMACTIC OR WHAT? Not that she’d expected heartfelt declarations, but a girl could hope. And why did he always get to lead? Yeah, he was the warrior, yada, yada, yada. Superior, conceited Fae. Meena was surprised he didn’t beat his chest and fling her over his shoulder. Then again, caveman and possessive beat cool and uncaring any day.
He stalked toward the barn—all sleek muscles and taut buttocks—and since she could ogle his behind, she suddenly didn’t mind him going first. As he’d suspected, the barn was as deserted as the farmhouse. Once they’d checked out the living quarters, they stepped into a vast high-roofed space.
A mountain of cogs, gears, and connected machine parts almost reached the rafters. An elongated nuzzle was fixed to the front, and it pointed at a low, wide door set in a slab of rock. That stone was like nothing Meena had seen before, all red and purple flecks sparkling in a slice of darkest obsidian stone.
“What is this?” Leo demanded as he strode around the machine.
Meena stared the Heath Robinson machinery in wonder. Finally she tossed her rainbow curls over her shoulder and grinned. “Do I look like a physicist or an engineer? Honestly, I don’t have a clue, but I’d guess it opens that door.”
“One day, I’ll teach you to respect me.” He chuckled, clearly amused by her sparky tongue; then he ran his finger over the solid obsidian slice. “These markings feel like pencil marks etched into the stone, but it looks like a door.” When he shoulder charged it, it stood firm. “As a highly qualified non-engineer, can you tell me how we see what’s on the other side?”
“Maybe if you were brawny enough to smash your way through that stone doorway, we’d find out.” She smirked and blew him a kiss, then clambered up the side of the machine. “See? I knew you’d need my brains. I bet the big green button on the board by the seat is the On switch. Maybe this thing’s the key to your rock door. What sort of stone shines like black glass anyway? And how are those marks set in it?”
“The rarest kind, hewn from the heart of the Elves’ domain. Its beauty makes it almost as valuable as fire opals, and the Elves have the only workable fire opal mine. The colors in the stone sparkle like the colors in your hair.”
There he went with the compliments again. Goddess, a girl could get used to this. “At least it proves you were right about the Elves. Shall I try to turn it on, then?”
He appeared to think a moment, then answered carefully, “We should question the prisoners first. I suspect the red-and-purple-streaked door provides a portal between here and the Elven Lands. Even without my powers, I could pass for an Elf, but I won’t expose you to their ways.”
“Boring, Leo. This argument’s boring. My mother, my right to search for her. Okay?” Meena nonchalantly studied her nails, but her eyes flashed fury. No way would she let him leave her behind. “And is it me? Or is it awfully quiet outside? You don’t think Lipstick’s eaten the prisoners, do you?”
Chapter Twelve
The prisoners knew nothing, not even when Meena brandished Leo’s knife—although they admitted the door led to a land of limitless resources that helped fund their People’s Defense League.
“Limitless, my ass,” Leonidas murmured in Meena’s ear.
Determined to punish their prisoners for her mother’s suffering, she grinned up at him and raised her voice. “Can I kill them now? Pretty please with sugar on top?”
“Woman, behave.” Leonidas almost laughed. “I struck a deal with them. Safety in exchange for information, remember? Since Lipstick will not fit through that stone door, he will stay here and guard them. One step out of line, one attempt to run, and he will roast them—slowly. Dragons, like cats, play with their prey before they eat it.”
Lipstick’s disappointed growl terrified the prisoners into obedience. The dragon coiled his tail around Meena’s waist as he followed them into the barn. He went to his belly to fit inside, and his sinuous curves flowed around the machine.
“Just how big is he going to get?” Meena demanded as she stroked beneath his chin.
“He’s just about three-quarters size now.” Leonidas patted the dragon’s haunch. “But he’s already too big to fit through that portal.”
Lipstick rubbed his cheek against Meena the way a cat marks its owner, ran his rough tongue down her cheek, and yowled. Meena wiped her face on her sleeve and climbed back up the monster machine in the barn. Her fingers hovered over the green button. “Here we go.”
The door didn’t swing open. It didn’t rise like a portcullis. It simply vanished. Sword in hand, Leonidas moved toward the opening, but Lipstick growled and shoved him aside. The dragon belched a stream of fire into the otherworld, then rammed his bulk against the barn wall to let Leonidas pass. Like a clumsy, oversize puppy, he ricocheted into the top-heavy machine where Meena still sat. It swayed precariously. She jumped down and ran clear. The machine toppled outward and crashed through the outer wall.
Brickwork bulged outward. Cracks appeared near the top, then zigzagged down the plasterwork. An exposed beam shattered, and the roof gave an ominous creak.
Leonidas stepped through the doorway like a silent assassin. He scanned the scorched undergrowth, then hurried back and almost dragged Meena toward it. “Come. We need to hurry in case the barn collapses around us, or the portal closes.”
“Dumb dragon.” Meena stopped to give Lipstick’s ears a final stroke. “Be good, and don’t eat the prisoners. At least not unless you have to.”
Leonidas raised his eyebrow, but all he said was, “Vegetarian?”
Meena bent and whispered in Lipstick’s ear, “Okay, don’t eat them. Try to subsist on grass or something. Better yet, growl and look hungry; then they’ll be happy to feed you the contents of their freezers. Maybe you could even chomp through their bonds, but don’t let them leave. Now, go on, get out of here.”
Meena grinned, happy their dragon would be well fed while they explored the otherworld. And if their prisoners worried a little too much, they deserved everything they got.
Lipstick growled and ran hi
s tongue down her face. Leonidas laughed as she screwed up her face and wiped her sloppy cheek on her arm. He gave the dragon’s ear a farewell scratch and pulled Meena into the otherworld. “Now you see why the Fae bond with their war dragons. We feed and shelter them. In return, they protect us.”
“Then why did he breathe fire through the portal? What if my mother had been on the other side?” Meena snapped.
“You worry about nothing. Lipstick’s reactions are a million times quicker than ours. If he’d seen your mother, he’d have grasped her in his tail and dragged her to your side. Hurry now. We don’t know how long that door will stay open, and I’d hate it to rematerialize when we’re halfway through.”
* * * *
The clear green sky of the otherworld was the most welcome sight Meena had seen in years. Her flesh tingled where Lipstick had licked her, and her legs trembled as she stepped back into the world she’d once called home. The tangled jungle—all mysterious blues, off-whites, and brilliant golds—seethed with life. Stems shot out, trying to reclaim the land Lipstick had cleared, but as she stepped toward them, the plants fell back or died. Maybe some side effect of the dragon’s flame lingered, but no wonder the Fae and the Elves had trouble growing food.
Nothing so wild or invasive grew in the covens’ territory. Witches came in castes—green, red, blue, purple, and yellow. The green Witches had green streaks in their hair. They controlled and loved nature. By and large, they were vegetarian. The yellow caste—the meat eaters with the natural blond-streaked hair—dealt with animal husbandry and health. They grazed their meat cattle on weed-free meadows, but her mother insisted she and Meena ate only vegetables, never meat.
Instinctively Meena reached up and stroked her rainbow curls. No other Witch had multicolored hair like hers. The red made her a warrior, the blue signified healing, and the purple was a supposed to be a badge of leadership. Yeah, right. Just like the green made her good with plants. She couldn’t even grow weeds!
Sweet Hekate, despite the out-of-control vegetation, it felt good to be home. Even the air smelled sweeter—untainted by man or machines. Tempting floral scents beckoned her into the jungle, and but for Leonidas’s grip on her arm, she might have succumbed to their lure. She and her Fae warrior stood on a rutted track that stretched arrow straight toward the horizon—a bare brown swath through a rustling sea of plants. Up ahead the vegetation had thrust exploratory tendrils over the well-trodden mud road, but they’d turned brown and died.
Leonidas surveyed the terrain, checking for animal life. “Remember what I said about the plants being carnivorous? Don’t leave the clearing, or they’ll home in on you.”
“What stops the plants encroaching on the pathway?” Meena looked down the trackway, then back at Leonidas. “I don’t understand.”
He took her hand in one of his and coiled the other around the handle of his bullwhip. “An ancient enchantment protects both the tracks and the wayfarers’ huts spaced along their way, but its strength and power are beyond us now. All the magic users, the Elves, Fae, sorcerers, and Witches came together and created a network of highways to connect the otherworld kingdoms. Then the Witches turned renegade, and now no other magic users will work with them. See, another reason to despise Witches. Oddly, this lethal jungle seems more rampant than last time I was here.”
“You’ve been on this road before? Why are we wasting time discussing plants when you know which way they took my mother?” She jerked his arm and set off down the trackway, but he didn’t follow.
“Meena, stop and think. The Fae Lands lie west, and the Elven Territories lie to the east. Mordred maintains a stronghold about two days’ march inside the border. You can see from the animal droppings and tire tracks that an ox cart passed this way recently. I suspect they used it to transport your mother.”
For once, Meena did as he suggested. “Okay, Leo, none of this makes sense. Why wouldn’t they just flash her to this stronghold? And why a machine to open the portal?”
“Everything smacks of humans, or beings without magic. Elves can’t cast strong spells, so perhaps they were conserving their strength, or maybe they’re up to something I don’t yet understand.”
Behind her, a cream-flowered anaconda vine filled the air with sweet perfume. She stopped and breathed in the scent of home, but the anaconda vine rustled, shot out a thick stem, and coiled around her waist. Normally the vines hoisted their prey high overhead and crushed the life out of them one slow inch at a time. Rotted corpses crumbled and fertilized their roots. Leo stepped toward her, ready to hack the stem to pieces with his sword. Before he reached her, the vine blackened where it touched her skin. A network of dark veins marbled its leaves. It wilted and died.
“Meena the plant killer, that’s me,” she scowled.
“Meena the survivor, more like,” he corrected.
She stared at the already decayed vine, horrified that her touch made it wither, but what did he mean “survivor”? Okay, she wasn’t a horticulturalist, but that vine’s reaction had been extreme. Whatever just happened was more to do with Lipstick’s fire and his spit on her cheek. It was nothing to do with her. “It was so pretty, and it smelled of marshmallow melting over an open fire. Why didn’t it kill me?”
He unwound the last tendrils of rotting plant from her waist. “Even a curvy sprite can make good fertilizer.”
There he went with the overweight thing again. She really wasn’t a porker, just a classic hourglass with the same vital statistics as Marilyn Monroe. By modern standards that meant she carried a few extra pounds. Did Fae women only come in tiny sizes?
And why did he insist she was a sprite? Part of her wanted to pat her chest and proclaim, “Witch. I’m a Witch.” Well, she wasn’t, really. Witches performed spells and magic. Apparently she killed otherworld plants—with a little help from Lipstick. Not exactly a life skill going on here. Who wants dead leaves and withered flowers? Certainly not the customers at Elizabeth Sybil’s Herb Farm.
Once she found her mother and Leonidas left her—leaves me? Sweet Hekate, no!—she’d stick to facts and figures, and leave the green-fingered stuff to her mum. Of course, she’d have to get home safe first. With a bounty on her head, she needed to stay clear of the Witches. “Okay, since I’m clearly not cut out to be otherworld fertilizer, which way did they go? For once, I’ll willingly let you take the lead, but if we could stay away from the Witch homelands, I’d be really grateful.”
“I SWEAR TO the Fae Gods”—Leonidas briefly rested his palm over his heart—“that I’ll protect you from all things wicked and witchy. Those women and their dark magic corrupt everything good in our world. However, they live in the northern mountains on an almost unreachable plateau, and they've woven a shield of black spells around it to mask the roads and send travelers down routes that avoid the castle.”
The urge to love and protect his woman filled him. He wanted to hold her close and kiss away her fears, but a small guilty part of him admitted that when it came to Witches and curses, he couldn’t even look out for himself. For now he’d keep her away from the Witches’ homeland and guard her from the Elves. “Our journey takes us east, toward the sun, not north toward—what do those damn women call it? The Hallowed Land?”
“That or Athame Hollows.” Mena told him, then realized she’d said too much. As usual she took refuge behind her tongue. “Come on. We’ve got a long walk, and me without my sun cream.”
Behind them, the portal closed as abruptly as it opened. Leonidas studied the remnants of dead plant then stared at his true-mate. Damn it, he couldn’t let himself think of her like that.
Until now he’d thought her magic was…lacking. New possibilities opened before him, and just maybe she was a treasure beyond price. The anaconda vine’s delicate cream flowers had wilted, and their petals covered the ground like confetti. Every leaf blackened and drooped as the stems withered and died. Even the visible roots at the plant base crumbled, and the vine crashed down to earth. Nearby plants rustled a
nd put forth new stems and roots as they claimed the ground the anaconda vine had fertilized with its victims’ bones.
He remembered the withered sage back at the herb farm—and both times he’d fucked her, he thought he’d picked a spot with lush vegetation. Afterward he’d blamed his lust for blinding him to the dying plants and drooping bushes. He’d wanted to take her on mossy banks covered with flowers. Meena’s self-deprecating wit made her claim she killed the plants her mother nurtured. Suppose she really did?
He grabbed her hand and turned her toward him. “Wait. This track carefully avoids the plant life, but maybe the plant life would do as well to avoid us—well, you, at least.”
Meena shrugged. “They eat us, not the other way round. And rats as big as cars? Would you rather be eaten or crushed? Now there’s a decision I don’t need to make. We should get away from this tropical nightmare and hurry on after my mum. I don’t suppose there’s a horse somewhere that we can beg, steal, or borrow?”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Laughter shone in his eyes as he gazed down at her face. “No horse, querida. Besides, I do not approve of the way you would appropriate it even if there was one available.”
She gasped, but he caught her, lips parted, and slipped his tongue into her mouth. He kissed her with everything he had—his heart, his soul, and his sorrow. In response, she wrapped one leg around his thigh and rubbed her cunt against his leg. Their kiss stretched into minutes, an endless delight that gave him another damn cock stand.
When they finally came up for air, she asked, “So what happened to that wealth and position you boasted you had in the otherworld? Surely you could have paid for my horse in genuine Fairy gold. You know, the stuff you swear stays solid even when you turn your back.”
Perhaps this was the moment to admit he was the Fae king, but he loved how she teased him with sharp words. Even the sexual predator inside him craved more than just her body. It constantly tried to claw its way free so it could take her over and over. His Fae side loved her cheerful informality and dreaded her turning all correct and cold on him, so he stayed changed the subject instead. “I want to try something. Will you trust me?”
Curse of the Fae King (Scattered Siblings) Page 9