Kidnapped by the Fae: Paranormal Dark Fae Romance (Fae's Claim Book 5)

by Laxmi Hariharan

She jerks, pushes her swollen flesh into my mouth. I swipe my tongue across the turgid peak, then open my jaws and lock onto the mound, applying suction. She groans. The sound is so fucking hot. My balls throb. A pulse flares to life at my wrists, at the tips of my ears. My canines extend further. Fuck, I’m too close. Too fast. I raise my head peer into her flushed features.

  "That…" She swallows, "That was pretty good. I didn’t think I could take all of you inside."

  "Hmm."

  She frowns. "What?"

  "I had no doubt that you would…"

  She stiffens.

  "Eventually."

  Her jaw falls open, "What do you mean?"

  I allow my lips to curl in a satisfied smirk. Drag my fingers up the curve of her butt, then grind the heel of my hand into her clit.

  "Jesus." Her eyes roll back in her head.

  "Just getting started, babe."

  "Wha..." She shudders.

  "I am gonna fuck you now. Gonna tear into your luscious little cunt. Gonna bathe your insides in my cum. I am going to knot you, little Char."

  She gulps. "Hawke…"

  "You getting cold feet now?"

  She shakes her head. "It’s just…"

  I drop my chin until I am close enough to lick her lips. "You were saying?"

  She draws in a breath. "I’ve waited a long time for this."

  "I’m sorry—"

  "Don’t apologize."

  I raise an eyebrow and she firms her lips, "I… I mean… Don’t say you’re sorry."

  "As I was saying." I brush her lips with mine. "I’m sorry it started while I wasn’t aware, but whatever happens next, I promise you that I am fully present. I am here because I want this, Char. Even if this is the only time I give in to the lust that crawls between us."

  "What?"

  27

  "I want you to hurt me—"

  -From Charley's secret diary

  Charley

  Wait, what? The only time? What does he mean by that? Is he going to walk away from me after this? He can’t. "Hawke, I—"

  He kisses me.

  Typical. Shut the little woman up with a snog that steals my breath, whirls my senses in a bedlam of lust, need, want. Him. Only him. Damn him. I surge up against him.

  His massive shoulders bunch. His biceps flex. A growl rips from him, and then he lunges forward. He fills me up, stretches my channel. His dick bumps against my pelvis. Shockwaves of pleasure ricochet up my spine. I gasp and my head falls back. I open my mouth to scream but he’s already there. Of course, he is. He drinks from me, absorbs the noises that emerge from me.

  He pinches the swollen nub of my clit and liquid heat explodes in my lower belly. I can’t be coming again. So soon? My spine arches, confirming that I am, indeed. My thigh muscles bunch and my toes curl. The hair follicles on my scalp seem to open. The tingling sensation pours down my neck, down to my belly, where it melds with the heat that boils out. I am one big, gooey, melting mass of awareness. If this is how it is to orgasm with Hawke inside me every time, then hell, I don’t want to be in any other position.

  Even if it had started without my acquiescence? I shove the thought away, focus on my core, where his essence joins with mine.

  He tears his mouth from mine. "Look at me."

  I raise heavy eyelids to peer into his face.

  "Gonna fuck you now."

  "Eh?" I open my mouth as he pulls back, and I swear I can feel every ridge of his shaft. Once more, he stays poised at my swollen entrance. The sensations build again in my lower belly—pulling, stretching. My eyelids flutter.

  "No."

  I snap my gaze to attention. His amber eyes… They are golden again—flaring, burning, swashbuckling a path through my muddled thoughts.

  "You see me, Char?"

  I nod.

  "Watch me fuck you, sweetheart."

  Moisture instantly coats my pussy. His words… They are filthy. Nothing soft about this man. He fucks the way he walks. With authority. With absolute clarity. His focus on that elusive distance horizon. "Take me with you, Hawke."

  "That, I promise."

  He propels his hips forward and his balls slap against my butt-cheeks. He buries himself inside of me.

  His entire body tenses; his chest muscles swell. His shoulders, I swear, seem to grow larger. I glance up at him, stare into his eyes—the dark rolling clouds, the ebb and flow in those amber depths. He’s both grounded and wild. Sane and crazy with desire. He’s still holding back. He’s, "Mine."

  The word drips from my lips.

  His nostrils flare. He lowers his head until the breath from his lips warms my cheek.

  "Again."

  I blink.

  "Say it again."

  "You’re mine, Hawke. However much you deny it, however much you try to run away from it, even if you punish me for it, I don’t care. You belong to me, only to—"

  He pumps his hips and his cock extends, expanding my poor channel—throbbing, pulsing, filling me up, stuffing me full with his turgid flesh. He peels back his lips; his canines drop. I stare. Fear ripples up my spine.

  "Hawke."

  "Too late, Char. I can’t stop myself."

  He drops his head, buries his teeth in the curve where my shoulder meets my neck. Pain ignites in my head and white flashes go off somewhere behind my eyes. I open my mouth and scream. The sound bounces off of the walls, slams into me. He raises his head; blood drips from his mouth, trails down his chin, and drops onto the valley between my breasts. His face fills my line of sight; his cock thickens inside of me, extends further. He pumps his hips, and his dick slides inside so deep, I am sure he’s sliced me in half.

  His knot slots into place at the opening of my channel.

  Gusts of heat vibrate out from the contact; the now familiar trembling races up my legs. The melting sensation seems to turn in on itself, growing, feeding on the intensity radiating from this man. His dominance vibrates off of him, slams into my chest. I gasp; my lungs burn. His presence holds me captive as he presses his lips close to mine and growls. "Come for me, little Char."

  The climax whips over me. Stars, geometric patterns—What the hell? —flashes of white and pink explode across my sight. Then darkness pulls me down.

  When I snap my eyelids open next, his features are frozen. His jaw is hard. "Hawke?"

  He doesn’t respond.

  "You okay?" I clear my throat.

  He simply watches me.

  I raise my arm and cry out. Pain grips my shoulder. Shit. I reach across with my other hand to locate the bite mark that graces my skin. "Oh hell!" I search his features. "Does this mean…?" I swallow. A burning sensation flares somewhere behind my rib cage. "Hawke… Did you…?"

  "I mated you."

  What does that mean for us? For me? My heart hammers; my pulse rate ratchets up. "Now… Now what do we do?"

  He pulls out of me, and I flinch. Our joined-up liquids ooze down my inner thigh.

  He shoves away, sits on the side of the bed, his shoulders hunched.

  I scramble up, though every part of me protests. My thighs ache and my bones seem too brittle for my body. One little touch and I’ll break.

  I reach for him and he pulls away.

  My heart twists; tears flood my eyes. "Hawke."

  He rises to his feet. "Forget this happened."

  What the—?

  He stalks toward the open bathroom door.

  "Don’t you walk away from me."

  He straightens his back. "What’s done is done. If we don’t consolidate the mating bond, it will fade."

  "But I don’t want that."

  "I do."

  "You don’t mean it."

  He pauses inside the bathroom. "Trust me; you’re better off without me."

  28

  Hawke

  I’d walked out of there. I had turned away from my mate… No, I could not go through with this. It had been a moment of weakness. I’d woken to find myself sheathed in her heat, her scent in my nostri
ls, her gaze on me, pleading with me, and I couldn’t have stopped myself, not if I had wanted to. But of course, I hadn’t wanted to.

  I'd called Tristan for backup, then I had walked into the bathroom, and straight into a cold shower. I’d stood there until the flow had reduced to a trickle. Fact is, I had been delaying. I’d hoped that if I had stayed away long enough, she’d be gone by the time I came out. Since when had I turned into such an asshole? Oh, wait, that part comes naturally to me—but toward Charley? I’d turned off the shower, dried myself, and stalked out to find that she was gone.

  And so were my clothes. Had she taken them out of spite? Maybe she thought I’d come after her to get them. I’d walked to the closet, pulled out the spare clothes. Pants—too short, shirt—too tight across my chest. Socks and shoes—a size too small. I’d gone barefoot.

  At least my wounds had healed. I’d reached inside of myself and the telekinetic energy had flared. I had not yet been up to teleporting myself and her, but there enough power inside of me that I could transport myself.

  I’d walked out of the house as Tristan had teleported in.

  Charley had silently marched out, a scarf tied around her neck. Of course, she’d had to cover the wounds I’d inflicted on her. My guts had churned, my stomach twisted. Damn it… What had I done? How could I put it right?

  Tristan had embraced her and he’d teleported them out first, without a word. I’d followed. Separately. That was two days ago. I’d made sure to keep out of her sight. Had confined myself to my bungalow in the Fae complex. Wandered from room to room, peered out of the windows… All because I miss her. Have been trying to get a glimpse of her. Pathetic motherfucker that I am.

  Now I raise the bottle of bourbon, chug it down. The liquid hits my stomach; a warm glow bathes me. I empty it, bend and roll the bottle toward the door. A foot stops it. I glance up and glower. "Fuck off, Tristan."

  "Now, now. Is that any way to greet your rescuer?"

  "Fuck off, bitch. I teleported here on my own steam."

  "Wish you hadn’t come."

  I frown. "The bloody hell you mean?"

  "You’ve been moping since you got back."

  "What-fucking-ever." I reach for the next bottle of bourbon; I’d lined them up next to my chair, full bottles on one side, empty ones to be rolled out of sight. I’m organized like that. I twist off the cap, raise it to my lips. Then I chug down a quarter of the alcohol. I don’t feel the burn this time. When I lower the bottle, some of the noise in my head has quietened. I can still feel my hands and legs though. Hmm. I raise the bottle and Tristan strides toward me. "You’ve had enough, asshole."

  "Fuck off."

  I swerve aside, raise the bottle. He twists his torso, grabs it from me. I spring up with a roar, rush toward him. He moves his body, thrusts out his leg. I stumble, then sprawl to the floor. Hit my chin with a thump that sends sparks flashing behind my eyes. "Fuck." I shake my head, glance up, and groan.

  Dante stands in the doorway.

  "Go away." I roll onto my back. Raise my eyes to the ceiling.

  He prowls over to me, "Get the fuck up."

  "Why?"

  "Because while you’ve been drinking yourself into a stupor, your woman is at the bar—"

  "She can do what she wants." I sit up, search the room for another bottle.

  "—gallivanting, drunk."

  "She’s old enough to chug down as much as liquor as she wants…" There. I lurch up to my feet. My knees knock together. Fuck, maybe I overdid it? I stagger to my seat, sink into it. That's better. I reach for another unopened bottle.

  "She’s dancing with two men."

  I tighten my grip on the neck of the bottle.

  "On a counter, while almost every male in the bar is eye-fucking her..."

  I snarl.

  "...as we speak. Likely she plans to go home with both of them."

  My fingers jerk.

  Tristan moves in, "She’s going to sleep with them together. She’s invited everyone at the bar to come to her place."

  "She did not." Pain explodes in my chest. She’s doing this to incite me. Clearly, she wants a reaction out of me. "She’ll never go through with it." I close my mouth around the cap of the bottle, then rip it off.

  "You sure?"

  Of course, not.

  Anger corrodes my gut. If she dares look at any of them. If any of them lays a finger on her… I’ll… I’ll kill them.

  "So, you going to do anything about it?"

  My muscles bunch. Get out of here. Go to her. Go. "Nope." I tilt the bottle up, chug down the liquid, which now tastes like piss. The fuck? Can’t even drink properly now?

  "Okay then." He turns to leave. Dante follows him.

  "Wait."

  Tristan pauses. Dante behind him.

  "Anything else you wanted to talk about?" I plant the bottle on the floor in front of me.

  Tristan shoots a glance at Dante.

  "Out with it." I frown. Are there four of them? I shake my head and my vision clears. Shit, maybe I have overdone it, after all, if there is such a thing. I’d done the right thing in walking away from her. She can get on with her life. Find another man to fuck. I growl. Okay, two. So, she can fuck the entire damn bar…the city. My chest hurts. My balls throb. This constant state of arousal that I’ve been in since returning isn’t helping any. Maybe I need fresh pussy? Perhaps I should go to the bar and find it, like she’s doing?

  "There is something we needed your help with."

  "Huh?" I stare between them. The hell is wrong? Dante’s muscles coil, and Tristan…? His forehead is furrowed. This asshole is the most easy-going man I know, so why does he look so pissed off?

  Dante leans forward on the balls of his feet. "Some new information has come to light. We need to up the security in the city. I was hoping I could count on you."

  "You still can." I try to nod, but the entire room careens around me. Shit. I grab the arm of my chair. Sweet slicks my brow.

  "You sure about that, Hawke?"

  His face sways in front of my eyes.

  "Of…course." Why is my tongue so thick?

  "I’d give my life to protect this city and every one of its inhabitants," I slur. Especially her. Why do all my thoughts constantly home in on her? Why can’t I let go of her? Why? My head hurts; my heart stutters. The wounds from my last injury, when I had saved her, seem to burn. How strange—that’s not supposed to happen. We Fae heal fast. Almost as quickly as we fuck and move on. Except for the two in front of me, who’d found their mates. And of course, Doc.

  A shadow looms at the door. Dark hair, massive shoulders that block out the light. Not him. Not Dimitri, he can’t be here. The bastard killed my mother, wiped out my family that day. He should have killed me too, but he hadn’t. He’d spared me for something worse. He’d taken me back with him. Given me to his men.

  My fucking father abandoned me to my fate.

  If not for the Fae Corps who had rescued me, I wouldn't be alive.

  I’d do anything for them. Anything to avenge my family’s murder. I have to kill Dimitri, only I hadn’t recognized him the last time I’d seen him in the cell. Perhaps the trauma of everything he'd done to me had blocked the memory of him? A way to shield the child I'd been, from the worst of the past? I shake my head.

  He’d seemed familiar, but I’d put that down to the almost-encounters I’d had with him in the past. It was in that nightmare, when he’d lifted his head, that I’d seen his features clearly and all the pieces had clicked. And it had come to me after I had walked away from Charley. And every night since. Is it because I can’t bear the idea that I won’t have her in my life? Was the trauma of losing Charley enough to reveal the features of my enemy? Why now? Why are all of the different facets of my life coalescing around one undeniable common factor? Her… She is important to me, and yet, I walked away from her. Why? Why can’t I accept what is between us? Why do I have to fight it so hard?

  The shadow at the door grows bigger. He s
teps into the room and his features are illuminated.

  "You?"

  "No this is about you…you pussy-whipped, asinine, motherfucking crab who crawled out of a hole which I am sending you right back into."

  "Nolan." I wince.

  "That’s Doc to you, dipshit." Doc’s chest rumbles. He lowers his chin, prowls in, then kicks the door shut behind him.

  "We tried to warn you." Dante shakes his head.

  "We did our best," Tristan mutters.

  "What?" I glance between them.

  "Here, you twat, look at your impending death," Doc grits out through clenched teeth.

  I jerk my head up. My stomach protests and I taste bile on my tongue. Shit. I sink into the chair. My shirt sticks to my back.

  Doc stalks forward and the room seems to shake. What… No…that’s me. Why the hell is my body refusing to cooperate?

  He looms above me, raises his large fist. Damn. I’ve taken him down in a fight…once, in all the time we’ve sparred. And that was when I was stone-cold sober. Wasted as I am now, I don’t stand a chance. Nah, that’s thinking like a quitter. I can take him down again. You betcha, I can. I throw a punch. My fist seems to move in slow-mo. He blocks the punch and I wince. He raises his fist. I raise my chin. "You wanna…deck me…Doc?" My voice sounds slurred to my own ears.

  "Deck… Doc." I blink. "Hey, my words rhyme… Didja hear that? Doc? Dec?"

  "You’re as pissed as a fart."

  I snicker, "What does that mean?"

  "It means you're drunk out of your skull, you piece of shit." He swoops down, drags me to my feet. My legs bow under me. He yanks me up. "This what you’ve been reduced to? Drowning your sorrows in booze and tears. Didn’t take you for a quitter."

  "Yeah." I crack my neck. My joints protest.

  "Look at you." He growls.

  "Newsflash, asshole." I smirk, "I’ve seen myself many times."

  "But have you seen her?"

  "What?"

  "Have you opened your eyes and noticed her?"

  "Who are you talking about?"

  "You know who. Don’t pretend to me, you worm."

  "Since when did you become so concerned about my welfare?"