Mordred paced the room in a show of reluctance. Finally he turned back to Meena. “I’m sorry. He’s still shut in his chambers with that scrawny woman he chose over you.”
Scrawny? Hekate, Mordred got that right. How could Leonidas prefer that flat-chested little mouse to her with her generous curves? Maybe she gave him the one thing Meena couldn’t—total submission. “Okay, Mordred, you’ve got my full attention.”
He cut her more bread and cheese and settled by the table. “Come, eat. Lady Meena, I’m truly sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but my half brother’s love life is legendary. He’s cursed to love a new woman every month, but every day wouldn’t be enough for him. He’s the worst kind of user—but when you’re a king, women daren’t refuse to warm your bed.”
No. Not Leonidas. He’d never treat a woman like that. Then she thought of the way he’d beaten and abused her poor butt that night in the hut. Maybe he got off on fear and pain, but his apology had seemed genuine and his reasons sound. Now that she’d calmed down, she knew he’d acted the only way he could—hadn’t he? After a night in the dungeons, she wasn’t as sure now.
He’d seduced her with his deep, sensual voice, twisted everything with his lies, and he’d refused to rest until he screwed her. Then once they linked up with the Elves, he’d hurt and abused her. He’d even ordered her tossed in jail, but her stubborn heart didn’t believe he forced anyone into his bed. Seduced them? Yeah, she could believe that. After all, she’d willingly opened her legs and welcomed his cock inside her with pleasured moans.
Stupid emotions, making me weak and tearful. Goddess, he’d chosen the runaway over her—bedded her too. Meena took a deep breath and turned to Mordred. “He really doesn’t like me much. Does he?”
Meena hadn’t known she was crying until Mordred wiped the tears from her cheeks. She blinked madly as he turned away—as if he wanted to change the subject.
Finally, he turned back. “My half brother likes anything in a skirt, jeans, or scraps of strategically placed leather—at least until a new woman catches his eye.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Meena crumbled. The cold feeling around her heart suddenly felt like an iceberg, crushing her chest and making it hard to breathe. Despair flooded her soul. Nothing mattered without him, and the endless string of surprises was more than she could take—but she refused to black out again. “Okay. Your half brother doesn’t want anything to do with me, but you obviously do. Spill it.”
Mordred’s eyes narrowed at her tone. For a moment, he looked as though he’d strike her, but then he moved closer and took her hand. “Very well, Lady Meena; I’ll be blunt. People tell me I don’t have a heart, so I won’t insult you with declarations of undying love. Instead I can give you all the loyalty and respect Leonidas doesn’t. I know you liked him, so perhaps in time, you could like me.”
“Hold on there, buster.” Meena pulled her hand free. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
Mordred reclaimed her hand, then dropped to one knee. “Marry me, Lady Meena, and save my people. Give me your word, and as an act of good faith, I’ll free your parents immediately.”
Her heart belonged to Leonidas, but last night he’d stomped all over it. Much as she loved Whitby, she didn’t really belong there. The Witches had banished her—even put a price on her head. She barely knew her father, but she didn’t want to be a Vampire princess. She’d wanted a future with Leonidas, but he wanted…anything in a skirt. For one night only.
If she stayed here, she could rid the Elf kingdom of its carnivorous plants. Mordred didn’t measure up as husband material—not if she compared him to Leonidas—but at least he’d been honest with her. She felt like a gypsy, always traveling, never putting down roots. If she married Mordred, she could build a future.
Since she couldn’t have Leonidas, she’d settle for a home and eventually children. “If I agree, can we postpone the wedding night for a while? Give us chance to get to know each other first?”
Rather than embrace her, he raised her fingers to his lips. “I’ll wait until you feel ready, but one day I would like an heir. My Elves don’t approve of love or marriage. I’m afraid the law insists we wait at least six weeks before we wed. We’ll marry the day after the cooling-off period’s over. Meanwhile, order whatever you need for your trousseau. This suite is yours until after the wedding, and I’ll have the adjoining rooms readied for your parents. I assume they’ll stay for the ceremony? If they can’t, they’re free to visit anytime.”
Sadly, Meena relinquished her dreams—but that left her empty inside. She needed to forget Leonidas and accepted that companionship and family would have to compensate for love. Inwardly she wept for Leonidas—only he’d tired of her already. That meant, even drugged into a sexual frenzy, she’d failed at the steaming passion thing too.
Love is pain and misery—Leonidas taught me that. Once, she’d believed adversity made her stronger. Stupid Witch, I can’t even get that right. Trouble undermined your foundations and made even the toughest heart crumble. She clung to Mordred’s arm like a lifeline. “Can I think about it? Please?”
Mordred agreed instantly, then sank elegantly in the chair opposite, one ankle crossed over the other leg’s knee. Moments later, Leonidas’s furious bellow echoed up the stairs. Meena was on her feet in an instant, ready to race to his side. Then she remembered he didn’t want her. Embarrassed at showing her weakness before Mordred, she cut another slice of cheese. Eating it choked her.
Did Mordred just smile? Surely not, but he did offer her his arm and led her toward the door. “You should discuss your future with your mother. Meanwhile, consider this. My country needs a strong feminine influence, and I swear I’ll never treat you as badly as my half brother.”
Only he was talking to himself.
Meena couldn’t stay any longer. Leonidas was angry, maybe hurting, and she had to know he was safe. She bolted out the door and down the stairs. The leather straps that almost covered her nipples chafed at her boobs. She didn’t care that she was barefoot or that her hair curled in damp multicolored spirals around her shoulders. Nothing mattered except that Leonidas was in trouble, and she belonged at his side.
She heard Mordred descend the stairs behind her, not that she waited. She skidded to a halt on a wide minstrel’s gallery, unsure which way to turn. A door swung open, and someone shoved a naked woman through it. The runaway stood—exposed, frightened, and tearful—her gaze darting wildly as she searched for somewhere to hide. A moment later her mud-colored gown flew after her. And the thrower’s hands were oh so familiar. Hands that had toyed with Meena’s curls and caressed her breasts. Hands that had loved her into multiple orgasms. Surely Leonidas hadn’t… He wouldn’t… Oh shit, he had.
Then his deep voice thundered through the door. “Mordred, I’ll fucking kill you for this!”
The runaway gathered up her gown, held it against her scrawny breasts—unripe cherries to Meena’s plump, juicy pears. She stared over Meena’s shoulder to where Mordred stood silently on the landing. Finally he nodded, and the girl scurried away down the back stairs.
Meena’s fangs shot out—long, pointed, and deadly—and she wanted blood. Runaway blood. Not to drink, but she’d watch it drain into the carpet until the scrawny bitch faded into darkness and pain…the same agony that suffocated Meena now. Her fingernails elongated into claws, ready to scratch out the runaway’s eyeballs. Only the girl hadn’t looked too happy. Maybe as a sex slave, she hadn’t had a choice in this. And Goddess, didn’t that just make Leonidas’s infidelity a million times worse?
Okay, maybe she wouldn’t rip out the runaway’s throat—not if she’d been forced into Leonidas’s bed. That’d be the bed Meena wanted to curl up in and burrow her face in the pillow. She needed to feel Leonidas’s warmth on the sheet as she breathed in his chocolate-and-chili essence. Anything to keep the scent of him close. His betrayal cut deep. Furious, hurt, and a little lost, she almost barged into his room and confronted him, bu
t he’d made his feelings clear when he made his choice. And he hadn’t chosen her.
Her adrenaline rush faded into resignation and defeat. She hadn’t known she could fall in love so quickly or so completely. Like a fool, she’d placed her heart firmly in Leonidas’s hands. And the bastard tossed it around like he was bouncing a ball. She’d given everything she could, but he’d preferred that half-starved mouse to her.
After all they’d been through, she’d hoped she’d wormed her way into a small corner of his heart. Instead, the no-good, cheating toad tossed her in a dungeon and bedded a reluctant sex slave. She’d never forgive him for that. Whatever happened to it isn’t you, it’s me? Maybe kings just didn’t need to be that tactful.
Her claws curled into her palms, and she thought she’d throw up. Deep down, part of her still wanted to be his. Stupid Witch mooning after a heartless Fairy. Breathe. Don’t let him make you pass out again. I’ve got to learn to live without him.
Her world shattered at his lies, but she still wanted to sink her fangs through his flesh and taste his deceitful Fae blood. Since he was a low-life reptile, it was probably cold—not warm and sweet or tempting.
She swallowed hard, but it didn’t stop the pain. Or the tears. Betrayal was a bitch. She’d learned that when the Witches rejected her. And now Leonidas reinforced the lesson. How stupid could one Witch get? Always wanting to belong to people and places you shouldn’t.
From behind the door, Leo bellowed again. “Mordred, get your scheming ass in here. Now!”
“Lady Meena.” Mordred gently took her arm. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place for you to linger. My half brother downed too much ale last night—as usual—and he’s never at his best when he’s hung over.”
When it came to women, Leonidas was a big fat liar, but Meena hadn’t expected him to be a drunkard too. In her dreams, he was her hero—a larger-than-life warrior with emerald-hued eyes and muscles to sigh over. Instead she wept over him, and those dreams? Nightmares that hemmed her in like a steep-sided grave. Perhaps she’d eaten something that was off? Gorgonzola at bedtime maybe? What if she’d imagined all of this? Her Leo was everything she’d ever dreamed of, all rolled up in one muscular package. She wanted his hands on her breasts or his cock in her pussy. Sweet Hekate, when did I become such a pushover? Why can’t he want me the way I want him? True-mate, my ass. I was just his easy lay.
All it took was a few glib compliments coupled with the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, and she’d lain back and opened her legs—repeatedly. A loveless marriage, based on mutual respect, looked better by the minute.
LEONIDAS EXPLODED FROM his room, his shirt open to the navel, his leather waistcoat dangling from one hand. “Hell fire, Mordred, what’s—”
He froze when he saw Meena, her hand resting lightly on Mordred’s arm. Then everything fell into place. His bastard half brother had hit him with a sleep spell and ordered the servants to strip him. Then they’d stuck him in bed with the naked runaway. And last night in a stupid act of bravado, he’d ordered that terrified, scrawny kid prepared for his bed. He still needed to convince Meena nothing had happened, but she’d just witnessed the scene Mordred staged. It wasn’t going to be easy. He’d crawl over broken glass to apologize, but her shoulders-down refusal to meet his gaze felt like he’d fisted her in the gut. Then she stood tall, lifted her head, and curled her lip in disdain.
His waistcoat slid through his fingers and pooled on the floor next to his boots. He couldn’t find the right words, couldn’t make himself speak. Even his hand moved in slow motion when he ran it through his unbound hair. Then, with a jerky lack of attention, he pulled his shirt edges together and started to fasten it up wrong.
Finally he managed to string a sentence together. “Meena, forgive me.”
He winced when she leaned on his half brother’s arm. “Lord Mordred asked me to become his wife, and I have accepted. We’re on our way to free my parents, so if you’ll excuse us, I won’t keep you from your…amusements.”
His jaw dropped when she swept down the grand staircase and into the Great Hall. Elves’ blood, she’d make me a magnificent queen. His heart screamed for him to punch his half brother senseless. His head wondered what was the point. Convinced he’d betrayed her, Meena had turned away. The stark look in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his immortal life—a life he didn’t want if it didn’t include her. Even if she forgave him, it could only be a temporary fix.
By the end of the month, his beast would need placating with mindless sex and a new woman’s body. His fate, his curse, was to hurt Meena over and over, so better to let her go now.
He returned to his apartments, face grim, head down as he stared at the mosaic floor. When he closed the door behind him, he closed it on the best thing in his life.
Suddenly he grinned.
He might be down, but he definitely wasn’t out—not if he convinced Elizbetta to lift her curse. She might take some persuading, and he prayed Meena didn’t marry his half brother first. And after the stunt that Mordred just pulled, he’d gladly make her a widow.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You will marry me, then.” Mordred’s tone was more a command than a query.
Leonidas just slammed the door on Meena’s hopes and dreams, but she supposed it was inevitable once he learned she was a Witch. That didn’t make it hurt any less—and he still didn’t know she was half-Vampire. A failed Witch couldn’t compare with cool-blooded Fae maidens—and she just bet they were naturally thin. No diets in the Fae court, just a king who forced unwilling women into his bed.
One smile from his stern, kissable lips, and she’d forgive him everything.
There were no tears, no tantrums. She refused to weep for an oversexed user like him—besides, if she let one tear fall, she’d cry for centuries. She even kept the wobble out of her voice. “If I could change the way I feel for Leonidas, I would. It’s like he’s ingrained in every cell in my body, but he made his feelings pretty clear when he thrust his sex slave in my face.”
Mordred’s smile was gentle, a soothing balm that flowed over the wound Leonidas gouged in her heart. Meena considered a moment. Nothing about Mordred made her mouth water, and her cunt didn’t flood with desire at the sound of his voice. After years of watching her mother weep for her father, she’d always thought falling in love was overrated. It made you crave things so badly you’d bleed for them, then left you stranded in an ocean of tears. Marriage with Mordred would be a walk in the park compared to that. “If you swear to show me the same loyalty and respect I will give you, then yes, Lord Mordred, I will marry you.”
She’d done it—made a commitment to a stranger who shared Leonidas’s face, except for the scar of course. He’d be a constant reminder of the man she’d loved and lost, but she’d tied her future to his. Maybe as her presence destroyed the invasive plants, she could build a new life here. Her new mission statement: help feed the Elves and introduce them to women’s lib. She wasn’t Germaine Greer burning her bra, not with her lush figure, but she couldn’t stand by and watch the women suffer. Heartbroken or not, she refused to be either Mordred’s pet or his sex slave. “Just promise me that ours will be a marriage of equals. No lies or dishonesty between us.”
A slight flush reddened Mordred’s cheeks as he raised her fingers to his lips. “Total honesty and total respect, I promise. Drop your barriers, and let me seal our pact with my magic.”
The familiar tingle swirled around them, reminding Meena of a true-mate’s bond—another thing she’d lost. Or maybe another thing she’d never had. No real home. No powers—except an inbuilt ability to clear an overgrown jungle and wither plants. Worst of all, no Leonidas. She’d loved the Witch homelands and her childhood friends. Then she’d loved Leonidas. It crushed her how everyone she cared for turned against her so easily.
“Meena,” Mordred told her, “it would be my pleasure to show you around your new home.”
“My parents,” she persisted.
&n
bsp; Mordred summoned a page. “The Elf troop that arrived yesterday are to let the Vampire drink from them, on the condition he doesn’t drain them. Once he’s fed, let the Witch into his cell. Tell them, one bruise on either of the prisoners, and they’ll lose body parts.”
“You swore to free them,” Meena snapped.
Mordred’s smile turned sheepish and sad. “So I will, Lady Meena, but not quite yet. I need to recharge my magic, but remember, I’m trusting you not to let your parents change your mind.”
She owed him the truth. After all, that was what he’d given her. “Honestly, Mordred, I can’t return to the coven’s homelands, I don’t really fit in the mortal world, and even the Fae king’s rejected me. I’m some sort of witchy-Vampire hybrid who belongs nowhere.”
Mordred shook his head. “You belong here now. I won’t have you return to the dungeons, though. You deserve so much more than that, and I regret the way I let my brother influence me. Let your father feed. My magic will recharge soon, and I’ll cast a sleep spell on your parents. I’ll have them carried up to your quarters, and you can explain how things have changed. Believe me, it’s better than having a vengeful Vampire on the rampage.”
In a world where magic gradually slipped from the Elves’ grasp, Mordred’s words made sense. His pride in his home touched her. His willingness to share it with her made her think their marriage might work after all. She’d never belonged anywhere, yet the Elf overlord offered her a chance to put down roots. For that alone, she’d give him her loyalty. “Then I should love to see your home. Lead on, and show me everything.”
“And, Lady Meena”—he smiled his most charming smile—“feel free to change anything you wish.”
The only thing she wanted to change was her bridegroom, but she’d already made her commitment.
Curse of the Fae King (Scattered Siblings) Page 17