Blood Prince: A Standalone Fantasy Romance

by Celia Aaron

  She moaned as I moved the fabric aside and delved a finger inside her. Gods, she was tight. Her sheath could milk my cock until I cried out for mercy. And she would laugh wantonly as she used to, taking her pleasures and giving me even more. Gods, she drove me wild. Even now, after being separated by an eternity, she was everything I wanted.

  I drew my fingers out and reached even farther, massaging her clit with her own wetness. It was already swollen and in need of my attentions. She undulated on top of me as I stroked her mouth with my tongue and her clit with my fingers. Her magic swirled in the air around us, and my skin tingled with electricity. She neared the edge, about to cascade into a release. But I would not let her come so easily.

  I removed my fingers, causing her to dig her fingernails into me in frustration. I savored her raw emotion and flipped her on her back. Ripping the teddy from her, I shredded the thin fabric easily. She was bare to me. The peaks of her nipples pointed to the heavens as she spread her legs. I slid down her body, the scent of her arousal drawing me toward the fair hair at the junction of her thighs. When I saw the pink of her lips, I held back a groan. My cock strained against the fabric of my shorts, but I denied it, would not sate it until I had my fill of her tender flesh.

  I nuzzled her thigh, enjoying the shimmer of her magic that lit the air around us. Her powers were barely leashed. I wanted to send her out of control, not giving a damn what the consequences were. I feasted on her, letting my tongue stroke her with abandon.

  Elena

  I had given myself over to instinct—a slave to its needs. The weak protests in my mind had long since dissolved under the insistence of his kiss. And now my thoughts were filled with only one thing—Paris. He nestled between my thighs, his gaze on my innermost flesh and a ravenous glint in his eyes. I had never allowed a male to get this close to me, this intimate. And I should have bolted from the room, but I didn’t.

  His fangs had grown into lethally sharp tips. But, gods, the sight made me hot, made me want him more than I’d ever wanted anything. When he licked me, I couldn’t hold back the moan that reverberated through the room. When he didn’t stop, I cried out his name.

  His tongue sped its pace, licking me as if he wanted to taste every last bit of me. And I wanted him to. I kept my hands in his hair as my body arched, spread wide before him. He sank a finger deeply into me and reached the other hand up to caress my breast. He sucked at my tender flesh, and the sensation made me writhe. Increasing his speed, he made my mind go blank, focused solely on him pushing me to the brink. The tension grew until my need blotted out everything else. When I felt the tip of his fang graze the nub at my center, the tension broke and I went over the edge, falling and cascading into the deep waters beneath. I cried out as I came, the release invading my every thought, every breath.

  He gave me a few more appreciative licks and kissed up my stomach, sampling each nipple before returning to my mouth. I tasted myself on his tongue, the heady flavor of our entwined bodies. As he positioned his shaft at my entrance, I dug my nails into his back.

  Gods, was this happening?

  He released my mouth and rose on his elbows. His fangs were in full view. Their razor edges made my breath hitch before I looked into his eyes, alight with the passion that burned inside him, burned for me. Trust. He let out a deep growl, and he ground his hardness against me. I thrust in answer, high on the sensation of his body.

  He scraped the tips of his fangs over the pink mark on my neck, making my nerve endings tingle all over my body. I should be afraid. Instead, I felt powerful. Dominant. I needed him inside me, his fangs and his length imbedded deeply. Reaching down, I freed his shaft from his boxers. The tip was wet, and I swiped my thumb around its head, feeling its smooth, hard length. He groaned at my touch, a deep sound of wanting. His mouth joined with the smooth skin of my throat, teasing me, promising to take my vein but not telling when. Gods, the pleasure.

  But then I felt something burning at my back. Something wasn’t right. I stilled. Then I realized it. Menelaus’s mark. It was on fire.

  Paris

  I sensed the change in her and felt the threat. I rose from the bed and scoured the crag beneath us, looking for any sign of danger. There, in the early morning light, shadows moved, climbing upward. More demons than I had ever seen were now amassing on my doorstep. It was the horde come for Menelaus’s prize.

  Below, flames roared through the streets of Pyli. The town would soon be destroyed, nothing more than a pile of ash and embers. I cursed, bitterness rising in me and replacing the honeyed taste of Elena on my tongue. She had already jumped from the bed, dressed quickly, and was throwing clothes and items into a pack she’d found in the closet.

  “They don’t know our exact location, or they would have been on us already.”

  “Agreed.” Her voice no longer had even a hint of its earlier heat.

  “Meet me when you’re ready.” I dashed to my room and began packing a similar bag. “Daphne!” I called out as I collected gear.

  I yanked a weapons stash from under my bed.

  Pulling on a gray T-shirt and some jeans, I cursed Menelaus in three different languages.

  Daphne rushed through the door, her pointed ears at sharp attention. “Demons! They’re coming!”

  “I know. We have to run. You ready?”

  “Yes. We can go to my people.”

  I shook my head. “You know I would never risk you or them.”

  Daphne and the nymphs of the Woodlands were brave, but they were not hardened warriors. Menelaus would overrun them and bathe in their blood.

  Her eyes welled with tears, distorting the friendly golden flecks dotting the chocolate irises. “Pyli’s on fire. Where can we go?”

  “Fuck!” I kicked the foot of the bed, the wood exploding and sending splinters flying. There was nowhere else. I had no home, and now, thanks to my duplicity with Artemis, neither did Elena. We had no protection, no benefactor to see us through the coming storm.

  Elena appeared in the doorway, dressed in some of Daphne’s tight-fitting leathers that hugged her hips and a black T-shirt. Her hair was whipped back into a high ponytail, and the air near her shimmered with that otherworldly glow.

  “Got a plan?” Elena was calm as she bent down to raid my trove of weapons and magic ingredients, loading up her pack.

  “The portal in Pyli is probably destroyed. We have to run.” Letting Menelaus take her again was not an option.

  Daphne dug a sparkling ocarina from her bag and played a loud, intricate tune. I knew the sound. The glittering magic shot from the small instrument and out through the windowed ceiling. Daphne was summoning Zirga, her winged horse and the last of its kind. It answered only to the nymphs, having freed itself from the chains of Olympus long ago. I had a weakness for anything that was the last in its line, even though Zirga had already made her contempt for me known. I rubbed my chest, remembering a vicious hoofprint and broken ribs. Even so. “Daphne, you can’t get her mixed up in this. She could be killed.”

  “Zirga decides what she will and won’t do, who can ride her and who can’t. Besides, you have any other ideas?” Daphne put her hands on her hips, still fighting back her tears.

  I glanced back down at the demons quickly scaling the sheer cliff wall. It was only a matter of time before we were overrun.

  “The nearest portal is in the Bloodkeep?” Elena asked.

  I nodded. “But we’ll never reach it. Desmerada will make sure of that.”

  “She’s the demons’ number one enemy. Menelaus would never go there, right?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Not unless he wanted his head on a pike right next to mine. It doesn’t matter, Elena; we can’t make it to that portal. It’s impossible.”

  Elena straightened and shouldered her pack before unsheathing the Olympian short sword at her waist. “We’re going to the Bloodkeep.”

  A chill ran through me at the ice in her tone. She was a warrior, ready to deal death to her enemies, no matter who
or where they were. The shimmer around her intensified, electricity crackling in the air.

  She kicked her chin up. “And we aren’t going there to run. We go to take it.”

  The three of us hurried through the home. I paused only to snag the white queen from its stand. Outside the front doors, a magnificent pegasus, inky black with wings of the purest silver, stood waiting.

  I scanned the perimeter but heard only the breeze soughing through the trees. The demons had not made it this far yet.

  The beast nuzzled Daphne as Elena approached. “Zirga, I’d like you to meet Elena.”

  Zirga’s wings shook slightly as if waving a greeting, and she nickered lightly. Elena reached out her hand slowly. I tensed, readying for Zirga’s temper. But the creature placed her midnight nose against Elena’s palm and looked at her with a steady silver gaze. Elena calmed the unpredictable beast—a feat I’d never been able to master.

  “She likes you.” Daphne jerked a thumb at me. “Him—not so much.”

  “Can he ride her?” The trepidation in Elena’s words struck at my heart. Yesterday, she ran from me. Now, she didn’t want to leave me.

  Daphne stroked near Zirga’s ears and whispered to her. The creature shook her head, her dark mane waving as if in deep disagreement with whatever Daphne said. I doubted even Daphne could persuade Zirga to fly me to safety.

  “We don’t have time; they’re almost here.” I brandished a set of daggers and bared my fangs. “You two go. I can hold them off.”

  “No. We aren’t leaving you.” Elena summoned fire into each palm and readied herself.

  “You have no choice.” Parting from her tore me to pieces, but I couldn’t let her fall into enemy hands. She would fight, no doubt, and be punished even more for it. And she could never harm Menelaus, never fight back against the demon. That bargain had been struck long ago.

  Before we could argue further, Daphne clapped her hands in triumph. “She’ll do it!”

  Zirga turned away, snorting her disapproval.

  “Thank the gods.” Elena doused her hexes and beamed at the reluctant pegasus.

  Not wasting another second, I easily lifted Elena to the beast’s back and held out my hand for Daphne.

  A tear slid down the nymph’s olive cheek as she took a step back. “She can’t carry all three of us.”

  I stepped to her, ready to throw her across Zirga’s back if necessary. “Then the two of you must go.” I would not leave her.

  Daphne smiled through her tears. “I’m a nymph, remember? No male, mortal or immortal, will ever be fast enough to catch me.”

  Before I could seize her, she threw me her hefty pack and tore through the trees toward the distant lowlands. Her fey-like feet barely touched the ground as she blurred out of sight.

  Chasing after her was pointless. Daphne was right—a sure-footed nymph was notoriously difficult to capture, especially if a male was on her trail. And I couldn’t leave Elena’s side, not with danger so close.

  As I turned back to Zirga, a thundering sound shook the mountain beneath me. Elena was aglow with power and had reduced one corner of my home to a smoking void. A hapless demon’s arm fell on the ground in front of me, and several pained shrieks cut through the air.

  My eyebrows shot to my hairline.

  She glanced at me, a tempest in her eyes, and shrugged. “What?”

  I couldn’t stow my smile. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”

  The woods were now whispering with footsteps, enemies seeping through the shadows, just beyond view. Even her magic could not destroy them all.

  I ran to Zirga, slung the packs across her back, and jumped on.

  “Go!” I yelled.

  She took a few steps and stretched her silver wings. Elena tightened her grip around my waist, pressing into my back and digging her nails into my stomach. Zirga broke into a gallop and, with a few more flaps of her wings, sent us shooting out over the house. Hundreds of spiderlike demons crawled along the eaves, invading the cloaking magic and causing the spell to flicker. Glass shattered as they burst through ceilings and windows.

  Elena held out her hand and summoned a ball of black flame. Intense magic, nothing on earth or in the Underworld could compare to her raw power. She hurled the vicious hex at the structure beneath, shattering my home in an explosion of fire, sending it and the demons plummeting to the valley floor. The cacophony of screams and splintering wood seemed to rattle the air as we soared away, Zirga’s wings pushing us farther into the lightening sky.

  Far below us on the mountainside, a voice cried out with pure rage. Only one word lofted to my ears—Helen—until it was cut off by the boom of my home crashing into the stone below.

  I urged Zirga on toward the misty forests surrounding the Bloodkeep. The Darkwood was a black mark on the horizon, the light swallowed by the dense trees. The creatures that lived within were equally dark, having grown in abundance after the line of Priam no longer kept the sinister nature of the wood in check. No one dared enter the forest anymore, but I steered Zirga straight toward it. The spires of the Bloodkeep were barely visible in the distance, threatening from afar. Going there meant my certain death at Desmerada’s hands. But the closer we were to Bloodkeep, the safer Elena was from Menelaus. It was a risk I was willing to take.

  “It’s better now,” Elena cried in my ear over the roar of the wind. “The mark. It no longer burns.”

  Distance—it was the only way to keep her safe. Safe from Menelaus—but we were flying straight into something that could turn out to be far more deadly.

  Chapter Eleven

  Helen

  Sparta

  1255 BC

  Leda knelt, her silvery ringlets sticking together in a blood-soaked mat on her head. A demon on each side kept her arms outstretched as Menelaus ran a blade over her skin, as if he were playing a violin of blood and bone. Her screams echoed through the royal chamber. The nobles in attendance stood silent. Their eyes burned with pleasure, thrilled at their king’s strength. To have kidnapped Zeus’s former lover? A triumph. To have her cowering before the great demon horde? A treasure.

  The demon nobles’ thirst for blood was well-known throughout the Underworld. Regents were chosen based solely on their ability to maintain their position at the top of the heap through violence, bloodshed, and fear.

  “Don’t, Helen. Just let him end me,” Leda pleaded.

  My tears scorched my face, the pain my mother was enduring far too much. “I have to, Mother. Please.”

  My brothers, Castor and Pollux, lay to Leda’s side, their eyes open and unseeing. Blood marred their once-handsome faces, and their lips had already taken on the dusky blue of death. Menelaus had slaughtered them the moment they’d tried to rescue me from the auction block. My tears for them mingled with the ones for my mother. I had none left to cry for myself.

  Menelaus made another deep cut at Leda’s elbow. Blood pooled beneath her and colored her fine gown a deep crimson. She had been dressed in the purest white with a regal purple robe for my wedding earlier in the morning. I had never seen her look so beautiful. The sight should have made me happy. But there was no sliver of joy to be found in my situation. Leda was a prisoner just as much as I was. Both bought, paid for, and enslaved by Menelaus. The gowns and glitz were only for show. Menelaus wanted to impress his horde, show his strength and wealth.

  And all had gone according to plan until Menelaus tried to touch me, to claim me after he’d forced me to wed him. I had incinerated him, melting his skin like candle wax, and almost set the palace afire with my magic. The only thing that stopped me were his skeletal hands at my throat, choking me into darkness. I awoke here, with my mother bleeding at my feet and an ultimatum in my lap.

  Menelaus turned to me. “I could do this for days, months, even years.” He licked Leda’s blood from his knife. “Only you can save her, Helen. Just say the word.”

  Menelaus approached me as I sat upon the dais. He’d forced me to watch my mother’s suffering for hours.
My resolve weakened with every cut, every blow, but Leda would not relent, would not allow me to give Menelaus what he so desperately desired.

  “My queen, do you not want to ease your mother’s suffering?” The demon king loomed close to me, his hot breath like the vapors of hell. “I appreciate your cruelty, I truly do. It warms my heart to see you enjoy the tortures of our enemies, those who would take you from me. But, if you consent, I will spare her. You have my word as your king and husband.”

  I wanted to give in, but Leda’s gaze was hard, telling me that it was better for Leda to die than for me to accept Menelaus’s terms. The blood from her arms still flowed in spurts, and a fine sheen of sweat shone on her face. Still, she would not allow me to raise a hand to save her. Despite my mother’s pleas, I could feel myself bending, almost breaking. The tears continued down my face as they had for the past several hours. I made no sound, only wept as my mother endured Menelaus’s torments.

  “Zeus will come for me and wipe you all into the mouth of Hades.” Leda tried to call down death as she fought against her captors. They did not move, just stood as if made of stone. Leda was so weak now.

  Mother, please.

  Menelaus backed away from me and put his blade to Leda’s throat. He looked to the ceiling and through the atrium that gave way to the sky above. “I see no Zeus coming for you. No assemblage of gods on your side.”

  He slipped the blade slowly along her skin, carving a trail of blood in its wake. Leda made no sound and held my gaze. My magic was screaming, demanding to be released, to destroy Menelaus and all in the room. But I couldn’t risk my mother.

  He nicked Leda’s jugular and sent blood pouring down the front of her dress. “The bloom is gone from you, whore. Zeus will not come for a haggard cow when he already had the milk when it was fresh.”