Curse of the Fae King (Scattered Siblings)

by Kryssie Fortune

  “Your word’s worth nothing,” Meena rumbled in her power-infused voice. “If your men ever touch an unwilling woman again, I’ll send plagues and sickness across your land.”

  She floated up the stairs and locked herself in her chamber. It was time for tough choices, but no matter what direction her life, she’d take it alone. She’d never felt so lost.

  The air fizzed with magic, and her father flashed into the room. “You’re floating, child. I always knew I had a powerful daughter, but you look like Sigourney Weaver, my 1980’s heartthrob, when she appeared in Ghostbusters.”

  “Out of date and out of fashion, that’s me.” She sniffed.

  He laughed and held out his arms. “No, you’re a Witch crackling with power—but you look like you need a hug. Come here.”

  She sobbed against his chest. Finally, tears still pouring down her cheeks, she lifted her head and asked, “How come you’re here? And why now?”

  He stroked her hair back down around her shoulders. “Because I couldn’t stay away any longer, and my Spidey senses told me it was time. Your mother will go ballistic, though, when she finds out I’m here.”

  Meena giggled between her tears “Spidey senses? Come on, you just spent twenty-three years in prison. How did you see that film?”

  “Comic book freak here.” Her father grinned. “Actually, anything written down, I devour. Before the Elves imprisoned me, I couldn’t sleep without reading first. I even had a starring role in a Gothic novel, remember? But Bram Stoker was always a bit of an idiot. Anyway, Vampires sense things sometimes, and when I woke this morning, I knew you needed me.”

  She couldn’t imagine her newly acquired father reading comic books, but at least he came to comfort her when she hit rock bottom. She daren’t trust him—not after everyone betrayed her. “I can’t stay here, not now Mordred’s shown his true colors.”

  Her father shrugged. “That’s the other reason I’m here. My informants in the Fae court say your Leonidas has turned feral. Meena, I’m sorry, but it’s your mother’s fault.”

  “I’ll kill her,” Meena said, enraged.

  She’d done everything to rescue her mother, but her loyalty had cost her dearly. Not only had her mother lied to her for years, but thanks to Elizbetta’s out-of-control curse, happiness was forever out of Meena’s grasp. Thanks, Mum—it’s good to know you care…honest. Her parents might be reunited, but she still mourned for Leonidas. Every night as she fingered herself to climax, she wept for the love she’d lost.

  Her father held her at arm’s length. “Don’t judge her too harshly. Separation from your true-mate’s always painful. Twenty-three years apart almost broke the pair of us. The previous Fae king robbed her of her true-mate, and the curse was her way of stopping him from finding his—then Leonidas inherited the curse, and he wants no one but you. My informants in the Fae palace tell me his beast howls in constant pain. As he prowls his room, he calls your name. If you want, I’ll take you to the Fae palace, but it’s magically protected, so I can’t get you inside.”

  Meena hissed in a breath. “Just get me there. I guarantee nothing and no one will keep us apart.”

  * * * *

  Meena walked around the dark granite walls a second time. There wasn’t a way into the palace unless the Fae dropped that heavy iron drawbridge. The Fae council had forbidden anyone to enter or leave. A few hardy petitioners camped around the gate, but they’d been there for days. No way would she join them.

  Maybe she could float across the way she’d floated up to her suite in Mordred’s palace, but honestly she wasn’t sure how she’d managed that. She needed to flash inside—but she hadn’t mastered that skill either. So much for being Superwitch. More like Useless Witch, but for Leonidas, she’d give it a go—maybe.

  Then, after a moment’s thought, she summoned Lipstick.

  Seconds later, the dragon landed at her side. Meena patted his scarlet scales. “Okay, boy, I’m the dumb one here. You tried to tell me Leonidas needed me, and I didn’t listen. Can you get me inside?”

  Just that easily she was in the practice courts, and this once, she didn’t complain when Lipstick licked her cheeks and wound his tail around her legs.

  “Hey, Lipstick, is that woman bothering you?” a stable hand called. The dragon’s growl sent him skittering away.

  “Just leaving.” Meena slipped free of Lipstick’s tail and ran across the courtyard. Unlike her father, she didn’t need Spidey senses to tell her something was wrong. Solemn courtiers ignored her as they slow marched around the castle like mourners at a funeral. The silence choked her. Then an animal roar—deep, raspy, and primal—shattered the unnatural quiet.

  Leonidas! And Hekate, he was hurting! She rushed up the central tower’s spiral stairs.

  A sentry hailed her. “Halt and state your business.”

  She tried to push past. “I’m here for the king.”

  The sentry stepped forward and blocked her way. “The two chosen are waiting outside his door. They’re to enter when he next sleeps. This is a difficult time for all concerned. I will not let you disturb them.”

  After all that had happened, no overzealous solider was going to stop her. With a wave of her hand, she turned his weapons to weeds—dead ones that drooped in his hands. As he stared in astonishment, she slipped past.

  Two women sat outside the door. One was expressionless, her face cold and her hair pulled tight into a lacquered coif. The other giggled and fidgeted. Both stared nervously at the closed door, but she shoved them aside when she tugged on the handle. Hekate, why doesn’t the damn thing open?

  The expressionless one sniffed, all affronted dignity and ice. “My duty is to save my king. The chamberlain chose us, and we will soothe him the next time his beast recedes.”

  The giggly one was brighter than she looked. She stared at Meena. “I don’t want to. You can have my place if you want.”

  “Done,” Meena agreed. “Get out of here, and don’t let me see you hanging out with Leonidas again.”

  “You can’t do that,” Cold Heart and Hair Lacquer protested.

  “Wanna bet?” Meena grinned. She drew on her power and fueled it with the anger inside her. Her feet left the ground, and her hair haloed upward—Ghostbusters-style. Absently she decided to introduce her dad to some new movies. Then she reached for the door.

  The sniffy, cold-faced woman announced. “I’m the one chosen, and I will save our king.”

  Tongues of flame flickered over Meena’s arms. Fireballs surrounded her hands. “Back off, sister. He’s taken.”

  All affronted dignity, the woman followed her giggly companion down the stairs. With a deep breath, Meena calmed her soul and drew her power back inside her. Then she pulled on the door again. When it didn’t open, her carefully controlled fireball melted the hinges, and the door toppled inward.

  The first thing that hit her was the cold. Leonidas must be freezing or too far gone for anyone to enter and light him a fire. The second thing she noticed was the mess. Someone had shredded the wall hangings. The bedding had been torn into tiny pieces. Remnants of fabric spread like confetti around the room. Feathers from the empty mattress floated through the air. Claw marks covered the wooden bedstead. Bits of broken wardrobe littered the floor. Leonidas’s clothes were flung everywhere.

  Leonidas lay curled on the floor in a corner. At first Meena thought he was sleeping, but when she approached, he reared up on all fours and growled, “Keep back.”

  His dark hair fell limply around his shoulders. Uncombed, it hung in hanks and tangles, but it was longer than she remembered. His torso was deliciously naked, but he’d clawed deep furrows across his chest. His leather pants had rips in the thighs and holes in the knees. Even his feet were bare. His deep LL Cool J voice was lost in his animal roar. “Get out!”

  Her poor Fae warrior, robbed of everything by her mother’s curse. She needed to reach him, to love him, but he stalked toward her, murder in his eyes.

  “Elves’ blood
,” Leonidas roared, “don’t you get it? If I fuck you, I won’t stop until you’re broken and bleeding. Dead even. Get out, and leave me alone.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Leonidas was lost in his beast. His world was composed of sensation and smells. The scent of heather and wild herbs washed over him—a familiar fragrance that haunted his dreams. No matter how little humanity he retained, he wanted only Meena. It hurt, somewhere in his gut, that this creature smelled like his true-mate. Anger and resentment rose inside him, feeding his beast and lengthening his canines into fangs.

  His beast wanted blood, and the imposter wearing his true-mate’s scent would either run screaming for mercy or die. The beast didn’t care which. It hungered for Meena, craved her on a cell-deep level. Even cursed to endless infidelity, it couldn’t get a cock stand for anyone but her. An animalistic bellow erupted from him, and he clawed at his chest. Meena, he needed Meena. Again, he breathed in her scent, letting it fill his lungs as he remembered every rainbow streak in her hair. He growled a warning, but this creature who smelled like Meena came closer.

  Meena took a step toward him. “Leo?”

  That voice! Could it really be her? His Meena? No! Illusion! That soft voice throbbing with concern was nothing but illusion—something conjured by his courtiers to keep him sane. The beast in him threw back his head and bellowed in misery and confusion. Her scent. Her voice. But she wouldn’t come for him—not after the way he’d behaved. Even if she did, he’d fucked her once, and his beast only did one-night stands. Damn it, if he couldn’t screw her, then he’d never screw anyone again.

  He retreated to the corner and curled into a fetal potion—claws extended as his body trembled and shook. His resonant voice faded to a raspy whimper. “Meena. I need Meena.”

  “Shush,” she soothed from across the room, “It’s me, Meena. I’m here.”

  When he raised his hands to cover his ears, his talons tangled in his hair. “Not real. Not here. Betrayed you. Hurt you.”

  Again, he tore at his chest, oblivious to the strands of his dark hair wrapped around his fingers.

  Meena moved closer. “Stop that. How can I hold you if you’re going to bleed all over me?”

  He scrambled up onto all fours and tilted his head to one side, sniffing, scenting, desiring the illusion. Not his Meena. Not his—but his beast didn’t care. It wanted her. Couldn’t survive without her. Its primitive instincts grew like flames, and his penis shot upright.

  Betrayal. Wouldn’t fuck the not-Meena—but she smelled so good. He rose to his feet and stalked toward her. Her perfume! Hers! He scented it again, breathed in the illusion. His beast roared in possession and triumph.

  Lightning fast, he pounced and threw her over his shoulder. Prey. Fuck his prey; then kill it. Make it sorry it pretended to be his Meena. He dumped her on a nest of ripped-up blankets behind the ruined bedstead.

  His beast needed taste and scent, and this woman who hardened its cock reminded him of Meena. He needed to pound inside her, screw her until she begged for mercy, then screw her some more. Fuck her. Break her. He ripped her T-shirt, desperate to bare her flesh. His claws curled around her breasts. Too tight. Blood dripping from this not-Meena. The scent of her blood mingled with her heather and wild herbs almost destroyed him. He bent his head and tasted, just laved his tongue over her breasts. More. He needed more. He ripped her jeans and shredded them just like the bedding, but her red lace panties pleased the beast. He knelt astride her, his feet by her ears, his tongue flicking over her lace-covered cunt.

  Pinned down by his bulk, she didn’t resist. He tasted the dampness filling her pussy, threw back his head in a possessive bellow. He tore off her panties with his teeth. He spread her legs and parted her feminine folds with his claws.

  “That’s right,” Meena encouraged.

  With a bellow, he fell on her cunt as though he wanted to devour her. Deep inside he did. He’d fuck her first. Break her with passion. Screw her so hard she never gets up from the bedroom floor. Take everything she offers; then take more.

  He rolled off her, then prodded at her until she turned onto her belly. The beast’s fangs hovered over her neck, and she shuddered. That’s right. Scare the impostor. Terrify her; then break her with sex. Feed on her pleasure. Feed on her. Bite her. With a satisfied roar, he sank his fangs in her shoulder and tasted her blood.

  One muscular thigh shoved her legs open, and then he was inside her, pumping and thrusting so hard he roared. Her muffled gasp didn’t stop him. He thrust harder, bonding with her the way a werewolf bonds with its mate.

  He fucked her hard. Deep. With animal intensity. Each thrust fed the beast’s needs and quieted the anger tearing his heart apart. The remnants of his humanity screamed, it’s not Meena.

  The beast didn’t care. Buried balls-deep inside her, it flicked its tongue over the puncture wound in her neck and reveled in the taste of her blood. Stunned by his violence, Meena lolled against him. Finally, she ran finger over her neck and gave a small, pleasured moan. When she found her voice, she whispered, “Yes. Fuck me harder. Take every part of me. I’m yours.”

  The beast bellowed as it came inside her, but it kept right on pounding. Pushing. Thrusting. Endless thrusting that soothed its hunger but only hurt her.

  MEENA GASPED AS he forced his way deeper. Normally Leonidas brought only pleasure, but the beast enjoyed her pain. With a deep breath, she opened her legs wider and raised her hips, matching that endless thrusting with thrusts of her own. Liquid heat shot through her pussy, and she shuddered as she came. Her body responded to Leonidas even when he was lost in the beast.

  She felt him come inside her like an explosion of nuclear-charged sperm. She thought he’d rest then, but it wasn’t enough to sate the beast that possessed him. Part of her wondered if anything could. He was wild and untamed, a savage creature created by a Witch’s curse. Only, curses could be broken.

  “That’s it,” she said in approval when the beast came again. He didn’t seem to hear her, just placed his palms on her back, sat up, and bayed. And damn if she didn’t want to howl right back. The Fae king wanted her so badly he couldn’t fuck another. His desire, his all-consuming need drove him, and he fulfilled her every dream. If he’d just let her rest a moment, she’d think of something to save him. Instead he fucked her some more.

  “Taste you,” she begged in the hope he’d hear her. Maybe if she surrounded his cock with her lips and drew him into the warmth of her mouth, his beast would recede. Leonidas had certainly liked it when she did that before.

  “Screw you,” he rumbled, more animal than man. Was he cursing her? Or did he mean to bed her again? She was willing, eager even, but her cunt was starting to get sore. She couldn’t move, couldn’t persuade him to stop and think. His humanity had evaporated into animal instinct and sexual need. Okay, since he wouldn’t listen, that just left her magic. Think, Meena, think, or you won’t get out of here alive. Not that I’m really living if I’m not with him.

  Another deep breath, and she unfurled a tendril of power inside her. Her new abilities let her absorb the power of carnivorous jungles and fire-casting Elves. Sweet Goddess, that has to include curses. Doesn’t it? Above her, the beast continued its pounding assault on her cunt. Hips writhing in willing response, she tasted the sour magic of his curse. It flowed through her like swamp sludge, thick, dark, and disgusting.

  She heard a dragon mewl from outside the window. When she turned her head and looked, Lipstick swooped and soared as he crooned his approval. A connection clicked in her brain. The dragon would ground her as she flushed away Leonidas’s curse. Another taste of dark magic, another nauseous cramp in her stomach.

  Her hips rose and fell as her pussy pulsed around Leonidas’s dick. This endless pleasuring would wear her out, but she thrust back and drained off more his curse. Another writhe of her hips. More dark magic that sickened her soul. Then Lipstick soared past the window again, her familiar’s presence cleansing the putrid power the curse po
ured inside her.

  Another thrust. Another beastly roar—quieter maybe?

  Finally Meena opened herself fully to the twisted power of her mother’s curse. It tasted familiar like the lemon and piss of betrayal, but she pulled it inside her and wrapped it in her newly discovered magic. Like an unwanted gift, she passed it on to Lipstick.

  Above her, the beast shuddered and moaned.

  Then that honey-sweet voice she knew and loved demanded, “Meena? Elves’ blood, Meena. What have I done? Have I hurt you?” Leonidas collapsed around her, his cock still rocking gently in her pussy as he laid his head alongside hers. “Damn it, woman, speak to me. Please.”

  Weary, she lifted her hand and stroked his hair. “Hi.”

  He leaped back as if his cock was on fire, but she felt bereft when he broke that intimate connection. Too weary to move, she lay facedown in the nest of blankets. Her voice cracked as she asked, “Is the curse broken?”

  He ran his fingers gently down her back. “The beast’s gone, my one and only love—but it hurt you.”

  “I’ll survive,” she muttered, but her eyes closed, and her body went limp.

  She didn’t know how long she slept in Leonidas’s arms, but when she woke, she breathed in his chocolate-and-chili essence. Like the man himself, it crept into her heart and warmed every part of her. She snuggled closer, but she didn’t know what to say. Finally she managed “Hello.”

  Faux casual, he stroked the curls back from her cheek. “Hi. Is this just a random visit, or are you planning to stay?”

  “It depends.” She buried her face against his chest to hide her embarrassed flush, but her heart felt…hopeful. “Am I invited?”

  His arms tensed, and he held her so close she thought he’d never let her go. “Invited? No. Needed. Commanded. Loved. Adored. Necessary. Yes. I’d rather live as a beast than live without you. I won’t survive if you leave me again. Damn it, woman, wherever you go, I’ll follow.”