by Alisa Woods
“Kill you?” Zephan’s malice-filled voice was close, but Leksander couldn’t see him anymore, not through his half-lidded eyes and the haze of pleasure crowding his brain. “I’m not killing you, dragon prince. I’m giving you a gift.”
Leksander struggled to understand, but then the vampire pulled harder, sucking out more blood, and that sent another squirt of venom through Leksander’s body, which responded with another convulsion of pleasure. To his horror, he came, his cock jerking and spurting and soiling his pants and his dignity. As the orgasm passed, Zephan’s words gained clarity.
Demon. He was infecting Leksander with demon. But that shouldn’t be possible, and in any event, his fae and dragon natures should be able to fight it off. Shouldn’t they? At least, eventually. He closed his eyes and focused, trying to ignore the waves of pleasure riding him hard, up and down his body, like every nerve ending was set alight by magic. Trying to ignore the biting erotic pain of the fae magic binding his wrists. Just focusing on the inky black demon seeping its way through his system… only it was slowly inching up his neck, pushing against his mind, making it angry and reactive and bitter. His dragon surged again, fighting a rearguard action to keep his mind from being taken over by the foreign invader.
Oh no.
Zephan’s chuckle made Leksander’s eyes pop open. The manic smile on the fae prince’s face made Leksander’s heart lurch. But the true panic didn’t sink in until he saw his own damn tail lash across the translucent crystalline floor.
“No!” Leksander cried, but all that came out was a growling scream and a bunch of dragonfire.
Zephan scuttled back to avoid the spill of blue fire, then he waved his hand in the air. The vampire still clinging to Leksander’s neck withdrew his needle-sharp teeth and slimy lips. The pleasure response to the venom faded, but the pain of his bindings remained. And the demon inside him seeped deeper and deeper into his mind, each tenuous hold shifting another part of his body to wyvern.
No. Fuck! No, no, no!
Leksander fought it as Zephan’s chuckle turned into an all-out laugh. The fae prince was wiping tears from his eyes as Leksander’s feet shifted to talons. His human legs grew into stout, silver-scaled dragon legs, straining the hold of the golden ropes on his wrists as he gained height. As the change inched higher up his body, he whipped his head back and forth trying to ward it off. Stay human, stay human, stay human! The chant had no effect. The wildness was inside him. Inside his head, deep in his heart, his elemental nature coming out. His cock, still rigid and engorged from the vampire’s venom, was the only part of him that would remain the same once his transition to wyvern was complete. He would lose his mind, turn feral, but his cock would be ready for the one thing that wyverns had evolved to do—rape and rape and rape again, until he impregnated a human woman with his seed.
Only Leksander wasn’t bonded with a mere human.
He had loved his angeling from nearly the moment they met. Erelah was the only woman for him… and his wyvern knew that. Even in this rough, knobbed, wild form of his dragon, there would be only one woman he would hunt down and try to force himself upon.
He fought against the encroaching darkness, but silver-scaled wings—not smooth, but rough and tarnished and lumped with brutal bones—sprouted from his back and spread wide, straining even harder against his bonds. His beast. His wyvern. It would be the last thing Erelah saw of him as he attacked her, driven wild, out of his mind.
His love for her would be deformed into an act of savagery.
One that wouldn’t break her body—she was too strong for that—but that would break her heart. Her pure True Love and her soul.
He was desperate to stop the change, but that very despair dropped him over the edge.
The rest of the transformation washed over him and drowned him in a sea of primal thoughts. Lust. Possession. The need to ravish. Carnal and raw and deep. He thrust against his bonds, the fae magic biting into his scaly skin and making him thrash even harder.
“Perfect. Just so perfect.” Zephan’s words were barely intelligible to Leksander’s fading rational mind, but he knew that tone. That smugness. It enraged his wyvern even more. He roared dragonfire. He clawed at the floor and lit the bed on fire.
“Yes, you want her, don’t you?” Zephan’s words were like magic fuel thrown on the raging fiery need inside him.
He roared again.
“Go get her.”
Suddenly, his bonds were loosed. His wyvern lunged for the fae, determined to shred every last fiber of that beast before he claimed his mate, but the creature just grabbed hold of him and wrenched him with a power that stunned him. Lights flashed and dazed him. A squeeze of something tormented his body for a split moment. Then they were returned to the bright sunshine, flying high above the mountains and trees and ravines below.
The fae disappeared, leaving him momentarily disoriented.
Then he saw it… the keep.
His mate was there.
He roared a cloud of dragonfire then charged through it, heading straight for the woman he would ravish until she spawned him a dragonling.
Erelah turned in a circle so Rosalyn could see the back of her dress.
“I left room for wings,” Erelah said, facing the screen again. Once she remembered the oversized screen in Leksander’s bedroom could be used for communication—given his brother Lucian had interrupted their lovemaking that way—she had put it to good use.
“Too many frills,” Rosalyn said, her eyes squinty and roaming over the latest rendition of Erelah’s mating gown. This one had cascades of ruffles spiraling down from her shoulder to the floor where the extra fabric pooled. It was highly useless as clothing, but Erelah figured it would only last a few moments on her body once Leksander returned.
“But you said the last one was too plain.” Erelah heard the frustration in her own voice. “I fear I don’t understand this garment’s purpose.”
Rosalyn gave her an exasperated look. Baby Thorn was asleep in the nursery, and she appeared to be standing in the main room of their lair. “Its purpose is to make Leksander want to rip it off in a dragon-heated burst of lust!”
“I think he would wish that no matter—”
“Erelah!”
Erelah pursed her lips. “I am… not being helpful. Please forgive me.”
Rosalyn sighed. “You’re gorgeous, Erelah. You could stand there naked, and that’s all you would need. But you want something that will mark this night as something special. Because it is.”
Erelah frowned and stepped away from the screen to conjure a new dress. She magicked away the one with ruffles and thought hard. What would mark their mating as special? Unique? The beginning of a pairing that might save the world. She conjured a white toga, only this wasn’t the simple kind most angelings and angels wore, nor the tighter-bound one for the training room, but rather the most formal attire in the Dominion. It was the garment she wore when she took her vow of Chastity… and now she would make a vow of a different kind.
Erelah stepped back in front of the screen, and Rosalyn’s wide-eyed expression told her she’d made the proper choice. Due to an angeling’s high body temperature and lack of a need for modesty, the dress was by nature very revealing. A single length of white fabric draped around the back of her neck and fell down her front, covering her breasts, but just barely. A golden chain that encircled her waist held them in place while a second chain around her hips trapped them there. From the golden chain at her hips draped the fabric of the skirt, which consisted mostly of a drop in fabric in front and back, barely covering her sex and leaving her exposed underneath. Her legs and arms were bare except for a golden band around each upper arm and two more encircling each of her ankles.
“You look like a goddess,” Rosalyn breathed.
Erelah frowned. “It is not meant to be profane. It is the formal wear of—”
“Erelah, it’s perfect.” Rosalyn beamed, and that set Erelah’s heart at ease.
“Now
, to await my mate’s return.” Erelah frowned again.
“Yeah, I seriously don’t know what’s taking them so long. I thought they were just going to call in the angelings and—” She cut off and looked off-screen. Erelah heard a male voice calling her name. “In here!” Rosalyn replied with a loud whisper. “The baby’s sleeping!”
“Sorry,” came Leonidas’s voice, closer. “Do you know where—” He stopped as he came on screen and caught sight of Erelah in her formal attire. “Holy shit.” His eyes went wide.
Rosalyn grinned. “I know, right?”
Leonidas’s gaze raked over her body once more. “Okay, honey,” he said to Rosalyn. “I think you need one of those.”
Rosalyn backhanded Leonidas on the chest, but she did not seem offended, judging by the smirk on her face. Leonidas flinched—far more than was necessary from the blow—then grinned at her and pulled her in for a fast kiss on the cheek.
When he looked back to the screen, he still had an arm around Rosalyn’s waist. “So how is that my brother hasn’t completely torn that off you yet? And I need to speak to him for a moment.”
Erelah’s stomach tightened. “He is not here.”
Rosalyn frowned and pulled away from her mate. “What? Isn’t he with you?” she said to Leonidas.
His smirk vanished. “Wait a minute… I thought he wasn’t answering his phone because…” He gestured to Erelah through the screen.
She lurched forward as if she could reach through the screen and grab him by the shoulders. “Where is Leksander?” she demanded.
His mouth dropped open then snapped shut. “He should have been back long ago. Fuck!” He ran a hand through his hair, quickly, then fished into his pocket and pulled out a phone. “Goddammit.” He stabbed at the phone, dialing someone. “We put down most of the uprising, and I thought he might want to— Lucian! He’s not at the keep. No! I have no idea. Just get back here.” He swiped the phone closed and gave Erelah a pinched look.
It felt as though the inside of her had been hollowed out. Then her fear and panic swarmed into the hole and compressed down into a burning, angry need. “You must drop the wards around the lair!” she shouted at the screen, hands clenched. “I cannot search for him while trapped in this cage!”
“What? No. I’ll look for him, Erelah—”
“Let me out, Leonidas.”
He grimaced. “I’ll call on the angelings—” He was cut off by a loud thump.
Erelah jerked back from the screen and looked up. It had come from the ceiling—no, the roof! Leksander’s bedroom was at the top level of the keep.
“What the hell was that?” Rosalyn’s voice screeched.
The thump came again, only this time, Erelah could see the ceiling shake under its force. “Leonidas!” she shouted, not taking her eyes off the white plaster above her.
“What the fuck now,” he muttered, but he wasn’t talking to her. His hands were stabbing at the screen between them. “I’m bringing up the outside cameras. Just give me a… holy shit.”
Rosalyn’s hands were covering her mouth as if to hold in her horror.
Thump. It was louder and shook the floor. Cracks appeared above her. “What is it?” Erelah shouted at the screen. She needed her blade, but she’d long ago lost it. Where? Whatever infernal creature was trying to break into Leksander’s lair would be no match for it, if she only had it in her hand.
“Just… just hold tight, okay?” There was panic in Leonidas’s eyes. He was fumbling for the phone again.
She gritted her teeth as the pounding on the roof gave way to scratching… or at least the sound of scratching. As if something with claws were tearing its way into the lair.
Her blade. She needed it now. Erelah clasped her hands together, attempting to summon the energy required to create a new one, but there was no hope of that. It would take too long, and whatever was coming through the roof would be here in minutes. Or possibly seconds.
Then she remembered: the summer queen. The last time Erelah had her blade was just before she was captured by the queen and her red-haired henchman, Kalen. And an angel blade? That was something a fae would hold onto, if only to turn it on an angel in battle.
“Leonidas! Drop the wards!” she shouted at the screen.
He was yelling into the phone at his ear, but he turned to her and said, “Just hold tight, Erelah. We’re taking care of this.”
She squinted at him and was about to demand he tell her what was coming through the roof, but then plaster started raining down into the bedroom. Erelah backed away from the dustfall and looked up—a dragon was clawing its way through. It saw her and bellowed and spewed dragonfire, but all of it—including the dragon’s silver claws—were kept back by an invisible barrier. The wards. If Leonidas dropped them, there would be nothing holding the dragon back. But Erelah was angelkind and a fair match for the beast… only this was no ordinary beast. Silver-scaled but knobbed all over, this wasn’t the gracious dragon form of the House of Smoke that she’d seen so often with Leksander…
Leksander. His eyes were the same, pale and ice-blue, only wild as he screamed and clawed and tried to get at her.
“Wyvern,” she whispered. Oh no. She rushed forward, holding her hands up, reaching for the ceiling. “My love! I will save you!” The plaster dust coated her skin as he went into more of a frenzy.
“Erelah!” Rosalyn shouted from the screen.
“Get back!” Leonidas called to her. “Erelah, he’s not… it’s not him.”
Erelah rushed back to the screen and planted her hands on it, giving a furious look into the camera embedded there. “Leonidas Smoke. You will drop these wards or have the heavens to pay.”
He just looked at her like she was crazy.
“I need my blade!” she hissed. “And I cannot get it whilst trapped in a cage!”
Leonidas’s gaze whipped between her and Rosalyn, whose face was frozen with horror. He swallowed and hesitated, and she was about to threaten him with a full angel war if he did not obey her command, but then Rosalyn gave him a nod, and he said, “Okay.” He took a breath. “Get ready. And get the hell out of there as soon as they drop.”
She gave him a sharp nod and stepped back from the screen.
He closed his eyes, and Erelah could tell the moment the wards dropped—a great silver wyvern crashed through the ceiling to the bed below.
Erelah turned and twisted time and space just as Leksander’s wyvern leaped for her.
His bedroom disappeared… and suddenly she was in an entirely different bedroom.
The summer queen’s bedchamber.
Only the queen was bound to her bed with a dizzying number of leather straps that seemed strangely placed but held her imprisoned for the fae who was engaging in vigorous sex with her. So vigorously was he coupling with her, his hand at her throat, her legs held wide by the straps, that Erelah thought he might be killing her instead. But the moans of pleasure, and the fact that neither noticed her sudden arrival convinced her this was some form of sexual act, however strange.
She hurled a blast of energy at the red-haired fae, yanking him away from the queen’s bound form and hurling him across the bedchamber and tumbling across the grass. The queen was awkwardly splayed, but that wasn’t what restrained her from firing back at Erelah—she supposed it was mere shock and the interruption of their coupling.
Erelah held out her hands to show she would not attack further. “I am only here for my blade!” she rushed out.
The queen stared at her wide-eyed, mouth gaping. Her breasts—oddly on full display despite the myriad of black straps crisscrossing her body—were still heaving with the passion of their sex-making. The red-haired fae recovered from her attack and hurled himself between Erelah and the queen, a bodyguard to the last.
His penis was still erect, but the fury on his face was pure and righteous. “Back to die, angel bastard?” he spat then hurled a blast of fae power her way.
She was ready, leaping into the air and divin
g up high then cutting sharp to speed down, twisting to land both feet on his chest. That, and a boost of magical power right at the end, sent him sprawling again, tumbling over the queen’s immobile form and across the grassy lawn of the floor.
Erelah herself landed on the bed with the queen, standing tall and towering over her vulnerable form. “I am not here for a fight,” Erelah said, holding her hands up again to show her intent. “I have need of my blade. Leksander has gone wyvern.”
The queen’s fury diffused into confusion. In a wink, her restraints were released, and she stood on the bed, facing Erelah. The queen was still naked except for the leather straps, but she was no longer trapped by them. She held up a hand to stop her lover’s enraged charge from across the room. He seethed, chest heaving, but he stayed back.
“Wyvern?” the queen demanded. “And you mean to destroy him?”
“I mean to free him,” Erelah said. “It is not yet his time.” She didn’t know why she thought she could accomplish this, much less how, but she refused to give in to despair. Rosalyn brought Leonidas back from the curse of his wyvern form through the purity of her love. Erelah could do no less than at least attempt it herself. And perhaps Leksander’s wyvern could be pried from its hold on his mind if her blade were skillful enough.
The queen flicked her fingers at the red-haired fae, and he winked away in a pulse of light. A moment later, he returned with an angel blade—Erelah’s blade—in his hand. He gripped it hard, angrily, but she knew the moment it sang to her that it was hers.
The queen held up a hand to stop Erelah from going to it. “I believe in Leksander’s love for you, angeling. Do not betray it. Or me. Or there will be war such as you haven’t seen in your short time on this earth.”
“I have True Love of him,” Erelah hissed back, brushing aside the queen’s hand and hopping down from the bed to stalk over to the queen’s lover. “I would give my life to bring him back from that wretched form.” She stuck out her hand, demanding the blade.