Master of the Moon

by Angela Knight

“I’m not surprised,” Thompson said, giving her the good ol’ boy grin she’d come to loathe. “The good ones always use Verdaville as a stepping-stone to something bigger.”

  Diana concealed her smile with an effort. Yeah, she supposed Queen of the Sidhe definitely qualified as something bigger.

  Simmering with a deep, gnawing rage, Jim London shoved open the door of his Atlanta apartment and strode inside. The muscles at the base of his neck were knotted with the tension that had only coiled tighter since he’d learned Tony Shay had been murdered.

  Tony had been his best friend since their shared boyhood running wild in the Georgia woods. They’d gotten together for a little impromptu hunting just last month. The hysterical call from Tony’s mother with the news had knocked Jim for a loop.

  It was hard to believe. His laughing, red-haired buddy, murdered. What was worse, the local police department was stonewalling Mary Shay’s inquiries into her son’s death, which was why she’d called on Jim for backup. Tony’s father was dead, and his mother had nobody else to turn to.

  So Jim had gone to get Mrs. Shay and driven her to Clarkston to find out what the hell was going on. The Clarkston police chief had been, if anything, even more rude and obstructionist in person than he’d been on the phone. He’d told Mary her son had been involved in drug running and his Colombian associates had butchered him.

  But that was bullshit. No way was Tony involved in drugs. He was Direkind, for God’s sake. The very idea he’d traffic in poison was an insult.

  There was something dirty going on, and Jim was going to find out what.

  His mind working feverishly, Jim stalked to the refrigerator for a beer, then headed into the living room while he pulled the tab.

  He rounded the corner just in time to see a whirling pool of light appear in the middle of the room.

  Holy hell! Jim thought, recognizing the spill of glowing magic from his grandfather’s old tales, It’s a dimensional gate! Instinctively, he jumped back, dropping the beer as he fell into a combat crouch.

  But before he could shift to Dire Wolf form, Diana stepped out of the light, wearing a sunny grin of welcome. “Jim! Finally!”

  He froze, stunned, as his sister flung herself into his arms. “Diana! What the hell?” Jim demanded as a tall, long-haired blond stepped out of the gate behind her, his expression indulgent.

  She drew back. There was a trace of nerves in the silver eyes so like his own. “I hope you don’t mind us dropping by, but I tried to call and you didn’t answer. I’ve already told the rest of the family, and I just couldn’t wait another minute. Finally I told Llyr to just cast a location spell to take us to you.”

  “Llyr?” Jim’s jaw fell. He looked up at the tall blond, who wore a perfectly ordinary gray suit. “King Llyr Galatyn?”

  The Sidhe smiled with a regal dip of the head. “The same.”

  Jim’s eyes widened as he looked at his sister, remembering their conversation a few days ago. At the time, she’d admitted she’d broken her Burning Moon celibacy with the Sidhe king. And judging by the way Llyr was looking at her now…“You’re kidding me.”

  Diana grinned, but the nerves didn’t fade from her eyes. “Nope. We’re getting married.”

  “But…” His jaw worked as he struggled to process the situation. “But you’re a werewolf! You can’t have children with a Sidhe, Diana!”

  “She can now,” Llyr said, stepping forward to rest a possessive hand on her shoulders. “Cachamwri cast a spell on her to make it possible.” His smile at her was fond and proud. “He was very impressed with her.”

  Jim staggered to the couch and sat down, staring at her helplessly. “You impressed the Dragon God? How the hell did you do that?”

  “It’s kind of a long story.” Pausing, Diana took a deep breath. “And there’s something else. He made me immortal.”

  “Immortal. And queen of the fairies.” As he stared at her in dumbfounded astonishment, Jim saw a flash of something vulnerable in Diana’s eyes, a shadow of mingled grief and regret. He realized suddenly what she was thinking: she’d never grow old, but her family would.

  Jim had no intention of allowing that concern to darken her happiness. With a whoop, he sprang from the couch and snatched her off her feet, spinning with her until she dissolved into giggles. “I told you! I told you he wouldn’t be able to resist you.”

  “And you were right,” Llyr said softly.

  Between the gold, the gems, and the fifteen-foot train, Diana’s wedding dress had to weigh seventy pounds at least. It was a good thing she was Direkind, or she would never have been able to survive the long hike across the throne room in it. The lightest thing about the entire costume was the wreath of roses she wore perched on her dark curls.

  Her father strode by her side, one warm hand covering the cold one she’d tucked into his arm. Giving away the bride wasn’t a Sidhe custom, but Diana had insisted. A tall, bearlike man with a craggy face, Andrew London looked handsome in his royal-blue court garb. Still, like her brother and grandfather, he’d flatly refused to wear hose. He hadn’t been any more thrilled about the snug trousers that were the only alternative, but at least he was athletic enough to carry them off.

  But the most dazzling man in the room was Llyr, who waited before the two thrones, dressed in a blinding white velvet doublet heavily encrusted with jewels. His white hose and thigh boots made the most of his incredible ass. The double crown of the two kingdoms rode his golden head. It probably weighed as much as her dress.

  A Sidhe Dragon Priest stood beside him, magnificent and alien in his scale armor in shimmering dark blue.

  The vaulting throne room around them was packed with Sidhe in full court finery. Magic snapped and shimmered everywhere she looked, particularly around the arrangements of candles and flowers that decorated the Sidhes’ seats. The smell of Sidhe roses was as rich and intoxicating as any drug.

  A dizzying number of breathtaking faces turned toward Diana as she marched down the aisle, three Sidhe ladies following behind to help her manage The Dress. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was surprised it wasn’t visible right through her jeweled bodice.

  As she neared the front of the throne room by her father’s side, she spotted the rest of her family: her mother, grandfather, and brother, all looking a little uncomfortable in their court garb.

  Marly London beamed in the scarlet gown Llyr had conjured for her, while Diana’s grandfather grinned like a Halloween pumpkin, surrounded by the Sidhe he’d been fascinated by since he was a boy. Brother Jim, tall and striking in navy blue, looked slightly grim and distracted. She resolved to hunt him down and find out what was bugging him as soon as she had a spare minute.

  Then at last they reached the throne, and her father presented her hand to Llyr. There was a suspicious gleam of moisture in the big werewolf’s eyes—along with a great deal of pride. Diana floated the rest of the way to Llyr’s side, dazzled by his golden Sidhe beauty.

  The ceremony itself passed in a blur as the Dragon Priest requested Cachamwri’s blessing on their union in rolling Sidhe phrases. Luckily, Diana now spoke the language thanks to a timely spell Llyr had cast on her and her family. She managed the expected responses without tripping over her own tongue, vowing to love and honor her royal husband. He returned the oath in a proud voice, the joy in his eyes making her heart draw tight in her chest.

  Finally Llyr honored the customs of both Sidhe and Western humans by sliding a wedding band on her finger and clasping a Sidhe bond bracelet around her wrist. Then it was her turn to work the gold band over his strong finger. The clasp of the bracelet gave her a little more trouble, but with some excruciating fumbling, she managed it.

  United at last, they shared a giddy grin before the priest leaned forward to prompt, “The crown!”

  Reminded, Diana sank hastily to her knees as a Sidhe page approached with a more delicate version of Llyr’s crown nestled on a velvet cushion.

  Llyr turned toward the audience. No one stirred or
coughed as he spoke in that beautiful voice of his. “I have asked Diana London to marry me because she has captured my heart. But I asked her to be my queen because I know she will serve you, my people, with courage, intelligence, and wisdom. You will come to love her as I have.”

  Her heart thundered like a bass drum as he turned and placed the crown over her head. It was much heavier than it looked.

  Then Llyr snatched her off her knees and into his arms. The entire crowd rose to their feet with a roar as he took her mouth in a kiss that seared her to her toes. Thousands of watching Sidhe or no, she kissed him back with all the joy and heat in her heart.

  Jim London hovered next to the Sidhe equivalent of the buffet table, holding a delicate plate piled high with tiny munchies, exchanging small talk with excruciatingly beautiful people, and counting the minutes until he could flee.

  Swear to God, he’d never been so damned uncomfortable in his life.

  And his baby sister was going to live like this?

  Oh, well. At least she and her king were madly in love. Jim had cornered the big Sidhe the day before the wedding and given him a thorough grilling. It was obvious Llyr was just as nuts about Diana as she was about him.

  Still, just in case, Jim had changed to Dire Wolf form for the king, ostensibly to demonstrate he’d be more than happy to serve as bodyguard if the need ever arose again. In fact, however, he was making sure Llyr knew it wasn’t a good idea to hurt Jim’s beloved baby sister. To his satisfaction, the king had looked thoroughly impressed. Apparently he’d seen Diana in Dire Wolf form, but Jim was a whole hell of a lot bigger.

  Point made.

  “Jim!” Diana’s happy shriek brought his head up the moment before she threw herself against him. He pulled her into a hug, aware that Llyr was standing just behind her.

  Sometime during the night, her dress had transformed into something a little lighter and less gem-encrusted, which was a good thing. Otherwise even Diana wouldn’t have been able to dance in it. That intimidating crown was gone, too, replaced by a delicate little coronet that circled her dark curls.

  Jim hugged her happily. “Hi there, Your Majesty. Are you tipsy?” There was more than a hint of alcohol on her breath.

  She gave him a glowing grin. Damn, it was good to see her so happy. “Heck, yeah. That Sidhe wine is really, really good.”

  “I noticed.” He’d had a few glasses of it himself. Good thing his werewolf constitution was up to processing just about anything.

  Suddenly her brilliant smile faded. “I heard about Tony. I’m really sorry.”

  Jim’s mouth tightened as he lifted his own glass and swallowed a mouthful of the wine. “Yeah. His mother…” He shook his head.

  Diana’s tipsy gaze suddenly sharpened. “I know that look. You’re planning something.”

  He forced a grin. “Who me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She exchanged a look with Llyr. “Yeah, right.”

  Jim protested his innocent intentions, more for form than anything else, but his sister wasn’t fooled.

  She knew him far too well.

  Diana made her way into the throne room with the exaggerated care of a woman who’d had one too many. Well, maybe more than one—she’d lost count. Now her nervous system was buzzing so loudly, she craved a moment of relative silence to herself.

  Well, she’d rather find Llyr and a nice, quiet bed, but when she’d toured the ballroom looking for him, he’d disappeared. Didn’t it figure? He’d been all over her all night, but the minute she wanted to disappear with him—poof!

  With a sigh, Diana she stopped in the doorway and stared down the long, lushly elegant room at the two imposing thrones at the end of it. One of those is mine. It was a mind-blowing thought.

  Unable to resist, she walked down the aisle to the thrones and stopped before them. Hers was slightly less massive that Llyr’s, but it was no less ornate. The back was worked with gleaming jeweled dragon shapes: flying, hunting, roaring with spread wings. It would have been damned uncomfortable to sit on, but luckily the parts that would actually make contact with her butt and back were thickly upholstered in red velvet.

  Deciding to try it out, Diana turned and sat down, settling back carefully.

  The throne was surprisingly comfortable, though to be honest, just getting off her aching feet was heavenly all by itself. She settled back with a sigh and closed her eyes.

  Just before she could sink into an exhausted doze, the double doors opened and shut. “Hello, Your Majesty.”

  Diana opened one eye and watched Llyr saunter down the aisle toward her, tall and male and thoroughly gorgeous. It was hard to believe she was married to such an incredible man. “Hello yourself, Your Majesty.”

  When he reached her, he went smoothly to one knee and lowered his head in a graceful bow. “How may your humble courtier serve you, Oh Queen?”

  She grinned. “I’d suggest something obscene, if three thousand people and my daddy weren’t next door.”

  Llyr lifted his head, opal eyes gleaming wickedly beneath his gold brows. “I would like to mention that this most excellent throne room has many intriguing features. Including a door that locks.”

  On cue, the double doors produced a muffled thunk, like a massive bolt sliding home.

  “You see?” Llyr’s lush mouth canted into a wicked grin as he slipped a hand under the hem of her skirt to close gently around her ankle.

  Diana let her head fall back with a sigh. “In that case, your queen does have a request.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Rub my feet.”

  He laughed, the sound rich and rolling, and flipped her skirts over her knee. She groaned in delicious anticipation as he pulled one foot into his lap, slipped off her shoe, and went to work massaging the ball with strong strokes of his fingers. Extravagant delight rose as he rubbed gentle circles over her instep and heel, then progressed to each toe. By the time he finished the other foot, she lay boneless with pleasure.

  Which was when he swept up her skirts, draped each knee over his shoulders, and bent to nibble her thighs.

  “Llyr!” She convulsed with a shout of laughter. “We can’t do that in here!”

  He looked up at her with a lift of a roguish brow. “You’ll find one of the more pleasant aspects of royalty is that we can indeed do ‘that’ in here.”

  With that, he buried his face right against her crotch.

  Diana arched her back as a wet, hot tongue traced between her folds. “Oh, God! I could have sworn—Llyr!—I had panties on a minute ago.”

  “You did.” His voice was muffled. Teeth nibbled outrageously. “I made them go away. In fact…”

  Cool air blew across her tightening nipples. She looked down and realized she was stark naked. Llyr, on the other hand, was still fully dressed—and fully occupied, as he slid a finger into her creaming sex.

  Diana threw back her head to gasp and realized there was something heavy on her head. Putting up a hand, she discovered he’d transported the double crown of the two kingdoms onto her head again. She had no idea how it was staying up there. Magic, apparently.

  Just then, a long, skillful tongue did something carnal and delightful to her cunt. Clinging to the arms of her throne, she admired her husband’s talent for a while, panting.

  He reached up a hand and captured one of her breasts for a soft, loving stroke, then pinched and rolled its tight nipple. The pleasure piled on top of what he was already doing like whipped cream on a sundae.

  Diana’s climax bubbled up in sweet, hot pulses. Hooking her heels against his back, she arched her spine and stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from yowling. The palace walls didn’t look particularly thin, but then, Llyr was really, really good.

  Several endless minutes of agonizing pleasure went by before she finally collapsed, her legs limp as noodles. Diana was still trying to recover when Llyr straightened, and she realized he was now deliciously naked. She didn’t even bother asking where his clothes had gone.<
br />
  The silken head of his cock pressed between her lips and entered in a slick, hard glide. Diana groaned in helpless delight. He felt so damn good.

  Llyr buried himself to the hilt and stopped, wanting to savor the stark, hot pleasure of being inside her again. Her silver eyes blinked up at her, deliciously dazed. Her nipples were taut little points. He grinned in satisfaction, then sobered a little as he stared down into her face.

  She was just so damned lovely, her mouth panting and flushed, her bright gaze so hot with need. He remembered how she’d looked walking down the aisle, so beautiful he’d felt a lump in his throat.

  Finally, after so many centuries and so many wives, he’d found a woman who more than matched him in wit, courage, and strength. And even after so short a time, he loved her as he’d never loved anyone in all his long life.

  Slowly, carefully, Llyr began to thrust. Her sex clamped around him like a wet velvet fist, massaging his ready cock with every slow plunge. She wrapped her thighs tighter over his shoulders and caught his forearms in her slim, pretty hands, bracing herself as he took her.

  A wildness rose in his blood, sudden and fierce as a storm. Goaded, Llyr began to drive, lunging hard against her. She gasped and threw back her head, arching her back and thrusting her pretty breasts in the air. His brain was flooded with her scent—sex, woman, and wild things, potent pheromones goading him on.

  Every breath he took shredded his control until he found himself mindless, grinding hard, working his thick cock in her sex, wringing every ounce of pleasure from every stroke he took.

  “Llyr!” Diana gasped, and convulsed, her face twisting with the savage pleasure of her climax. “Oh, God, I’m coming!”

  “Yes!” he panted. “Dragon’s Breath, yes!”

  Maddened, desperate, they lunged together, grinding their way through the last sweet pulsing explosion. He doubted he’d ever known anything so intense in his life.

  The throne room was silent except for panting gasps. Diana had wrapped arms and legs around Llyr, holding him as close as he could get to her. He tightened his own grip. He had no desire to be anywhere else.