“Perhaps you need more time to consider, or maybe I should continue our game. Maybe a little pain will heighten your pleasure.”
He pulled a knife from nowhere and cut the rope above her wrists. She’d hoped he meant to set her free, but he tossed her facedown on the bed. He lay atop her—a solid wall of muscle that pinned her to the mattress and made her feel like the filling in a bed-meets-Lykae sandwich. As she wriggled and squirmed beneath him, her nipples sank into the mattress; then he spread-eagled her arms and bound them to the bedposts.
“My brother will have your pelt for this,” Sylvie snarled, “and I’ll wear it like a goddamn cloak.”
His teeth snapped shut with an audible clatter. “I guarantee you’ll wear me, sweetness, but you’ll learn to mind me first.”
He sat on the bed and slid his legs beneath her slender body. With infinite patience, he positioned her across his lap, then ran a gentle hand over her panties. Okay, her wolf-man liked it kinky, but as long as he let her come, she could live with that. Nervous, eager, and helpless, she ground her hips against him.
“Tempting me, sweetness? Sorry, but your power games don’t work on me.”
A sudden slap on her ass sent pain shooting though her and heightened her need. She couldn’t enjoy this, could she? He hurt and humiliated her, but her body thrashed with desire, and her hips gyrated over his dick. Another sharp slap made her shudder, but her pride came to her rescue, and she never made a sound. A third made her bite her tongue until blood filled her mouth. She held her breath and waited, but how could she want this? Somehow she’d escape him; then her brother would kill him and serve up his entrails on a plate.
“Don’t be stubborn, sweetness. Just ask me to stop.”
She tensed and said nothing. Four, five, and six left her butt bruised and hurting, but seven started a tingling heat that spread over her ass and into her pussy. She wanted to hate him, but eight had her moaning. Nine made her hips rotate and hunt for his prick, and ten… Oh God, ten was an avalanche of pain that pushed her to the edge of something momentous and huge.
“Damn it, Sylvie.” He stopped abruptly; then he rubbed his hand over her butt, soothing where he’d just spanked, “You drive me insane.”
Insane? She felt the madness inside him, and while she knew he wanted her body, she didn’t understand why she wanted him just as badly—not after the way he insulted and humiliated her. Sex. It had to come down to sex.
She felt bereft when he slid his legs out from under her and walked away. And was that the door she’d heard close? Still facedown and helpless, she just couldn’t see. Damn it, she wanted him touching her body. Anyway. Anyhow. And as for the hunger he roused inside her…
His body would shame a centerfold, and his grin overflowed with mischief and devilment. He was so wolfish when he smiled, and she wanted to stay and play. For one crazy minute she considered giving in, but she was a modern woman, not some plaything for him to use and discard at will. Much as her body burned for his touch, people would die if she didn’t get free and get to Giles’s new bride.
* * * *
The tears on her cheeks had quenched the fire in his soul, but his brave fairy princess hadn’t made a sound. Caleb’s natural wolf bared its teeth and growled, furious he’d hurt her. His primal beast roared and clawed inside him. Tormented, his mind in a turmoil of doubt and desire, he slammed his fist into the wall. Sylvie turned him inside out with her emerald eyes, elegant, slender curves, and passionate response. Tonight he needed to run wild and free beneath the full moon—and his wolf wanted to run alongside her. In his imagination, he carried her into the moonlit meadow, shoved her to her knees, and took her from behind. When he thought about how she’d jiggle her hips and open her legs, eager to have him buried balls-deep inside her, his inner wolf bayed in approval.
He’d never rest until he sank his fangs into her shoulder and marked her so hard the whole otherworld knew she was his. His natural wolf urged him to claim her as his true-mate and his wife. Howling with mating frenzy, his primal wolf wanted to mark her and make her his. How she’d gone from whore to possible concubine to future wife amazed him, but now he needed to win her heart as well as her body. He just prayed it wasn’t too late.
The scent of her arousal washed over him, overlaid with her fury and frustration. He swaggered back toward the door, proud he’d made his lusty fairy crave him so badly she boiled over with passion. If she’d only surrender, he’d fuck her hard, but her angry glare had cut through him like a silver bullet. He’d never felt so damn guilty in his life, and he hated that he’d hurt her when he wanted to show her only pleasure.
She was his to protect and cherish, the true-mate he’d never expected to have. Once he’d dreamed of finding the one woman who completed his soul, but his first teenage romance had put paid to that. He’d turned cold and hard, a warrior who possessed a certain harsh charm. The colder he became, the more women wanted to be the one who thawed his heart, but he’d rejected them all. After he’d bedded them, of course.
He claimed to feel nothing, but a secret part of his heart wanted to find the one. And he wasn’t just talking hot sex here. Part of him craved the love and laughter he’d share with his true-mate, but no one had ever affected him like Sylvie.
Her? His true-mate? Damn it. No way! Not someone like her—only his mating instinct screamed she was his.
His queen should be caring and proud, not some hooker looking for the next payoff. When Sylvie had turned up at his brother’s wedding, Caleb had been so angry he’d given in to his most basic instincts, and he hadn’t cared if he hurt or humiliated her along the way. Okay, he’d only been with her a short time, but he knew he wanted to keep her—once she learned her place. He hated that she used her body to tempt lovers into her bed, then made them pay—exactly as she had Giles. Cold hard cash meant the world to her, but once she submitted, Caleb was rich enough to satisfy even her money-grubbing ways. Whatever she was, he had to possess her, to love her until she was too sore to walk, but he wanted more. He wanted her heart. His natural wolf gave an I-told-you-so yelp and receded. Now that he’d accepted her as his true-mate, even his primal beast stilled.
Maybe he should forget the surrender and take her over and over, win her body, then stake his claim on her life. Earlier, it had amused him to let her think he was a security guard, but now he needed every ace he held in his hand. Perhaps his wealth and position would win her, but if he didn’t shift that pained, betrayed look from her eyes, he’d never face himself in a mirror again.
He fisted his cock, ready to claim the release he’d denied her, but he’d already come once while she was a seething mass of unfulfilled need. He’d deliberately turned the tactics she’d used on his brother against her in the hopes that if he left her hot, horny, and hungry for him, she’d agree to be solely his. Now his mating instinct had kicked in and he wanted so much more—he wanted this delicate half-Fae beauty for his queen.
He snarled and stayed close to the door, but for the first time in two centuries, he didn’t know what to do. Worse, once she thought him out of earshot, she wept in earnest. He’d brought her to this with his so-called wisdom and justice. Now her every sob cut through him like a sword. He should be at his brother’s wedding, lending Giles the support he deserved, but his slender Fae princess needed him more.
He clenched his fists in frustration, but he was back at her side in an instant. “Gods, sweetness, don’t cry like this.”
She sobbed harder and turned her face from him, her rejection piercing his heart like a nail. He ran his hands down her spine, a tender caress meant to comfort and soothe. He hated how she trembled beneath him, and damn it, her beautiful little bottom glowed through the red lace of her panties. He’d never meant to spank her so hard. His primal beast growled and paced inside him, furious that he’d turned its fierceness on her. His natural wolf howled its need to love, protect, and cherish, but as always Caleb the Cold clamped down on his emotions. Caleb the Confused and Conflict
ed, more like.
He snarled as he clawed through her bonds, and when he gathered her in his arms, she curled against his chest like a tearful kitten. He ruled his territory with an iron fist, but his passion for truth and justice won his packs’ hearts. He won every battle tournament—even when he fought masked and disguised—but his quick wits and humor kept the unruly Lykae nation in order. Then this tiny woman confounded him with her tears.
Her utter misery tore him apart. Unused to caring for a woman’s sensibilities, all he could do was hold her and whisper soft words. Elves’ blood, he’d do anything to win her trust so he could woo her with hot sex and expensive jewels.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands, and when he pulled her lips to his, his need to conquer and control crumbled. Her delicate beauty needed gentle touches and careful handling, but he’d tied her up and tormented her—left her body aching with need. Fuck it, he’d even stripped her with his claws.
Chapter Four
Liquid fire flowed through Sylvie’s veins. Her breasts felt heavy and cold, desperate for her Lykae’s caress, and her pussy tightened and pulsed with need. Common sense told her to fight him off and run, but her lips seemed superglued to his. And Gods, her Lykae could kiss, but why hadn’t her fiancé wanted her like this? Maybe there was something wrong with her—like her half-blood heritage—or maybe Lykaes just didn’t find her that attractive.
After Giles had walked away rather than seal their betrothal with a kiss, she’d been nervous to show her feelings around the self-contained Fae—and human men lacked the intensity she loved in this arrogant Lykae male. She twisted her fingers in his slightly too-long hair. Gradually as he petted and soothed her, she snuggled into his chest.
That’s all it took for him to reach out and curl one huge hand around her breast. His every touch made her moan and pant, but her needs were too much, her hunger too great. He’d made her want things she’d never imagined, and she needed him to fuck her, not frustrate her again.
Sylvie’s hips ground out an invitation. Her body unfurled from his chest like a rose coming into bloom, and she drew him down on the bed. She craved him deep inside her, but she’d never been with a man, especially not an oversexed, oversize Lykae. Truthfully, she’d never felt that special or needed, but with him she felt like the only woman in the world.
When she loosened his bow tie, his lips twitched into a smug, wolfish smile. She slipped her hands inside his dress shirt, and she loved the strength and steel in his pecs—but she’d expected coarse chest hair, not a soft, downy covering almost like fur.
She knew nothing about her captor except he made her want him so badly she ached inside. He could be a serial seducer, a perverted security guard who preyed on those weaker than himself, but she’d worry about those things later—after he’d fucked her until she was too weak to walk. For these few short minutes, she’d pretend he cared about more than punishing her for breaching his security lockdown, and love him with everything she had.
With a shy smile, she abandoned his chest and moved her hand down to his cock. He groaned and ground his dick into her fist. Okay, she had some power in the relationship after all—only it wasn’t really a relationship. She wished she’d devoured self-help books like her university roommate; then she’d know how to build everything she shared with Mr. Arrogance—his lusts and her longings—into something meaningful and good.
“You don’t have to do this,” Caleb whispered, “but I’d hate you to stop.”
He’d hate it, but twice he’d left her hanging in every sense of the word. He’d roused her passionate nature, loved her until she’d writhed and begged; then he’d dominated her with spanking and pain. Her butt throbbed, and she didn’t trust her randy-natured Lykae an inch. He took his weight on his elbows rather than crush her. As his lips claimed hers, she knew she was lost.
“I want this too.” She blushed. “But my half brother—”
“No buts.” He put his finger on her lips and nibbled her neck. “Just you and me, okay?”
“Okay.” She nodded.
He bent his head to her breasts and tongued one erect nipple while his fingers gently pinched the other. She arched her back for more, but he stroked his hand down her belly and into her panties. When he slid them down her thighs, her pussy overflowed with cream. Her blush spread from her cheeks to her toes, but she still opened her legs wider so he could lick and taste.
He groaned and told her, “You want this as much as I do.”
“Later,” Sylvie gasped when he laved her clit. “Lick me later. Fuck me now.”
He chuckled and kissed his way up her stomach and past her breasts. When his lips locked with hers, he rammed his cock inside her, ripping her hymen, and making her inhale with a gulp. White lightning shot through her in an explosion of power and heat. Her toes curled, her thighs clenched, and she bit back a squeal of pain. Her pussy tensed into a strangling steel band, then relaxed around him, but he filled her so completely she couldn’t breathe. When she could finally move, she matched him thrust for thrust. An excited tingle spread over her stomach and warmed her breasts. Her orgasm hit her like applause rippling through a theater; then it exploded into a standing ovation. Her magic unfurled inside her, an elusive thread she couldn’t quite grasp, but stronger, closer than ever before. Another thrust of her wolf-man’s hips and her magic thickened into a strand of spun silk. After another urgent thrust, she could almost wrap it around her hand—then he pulled out and sprayed semen all over the bed.
What the hell?
“I want you all to myself, sweetness, so let’s not get you pregnant yet.”
Try ever. She didn’t want his babies, just his body for casual sex—only deep down, she wanted more. She wanted to be his. His wolfish grin was warm and infectious, and she liked the way he radiated all the confidence she lacked. When he loved her like this, she wanted forever—not that a Lykae would truly care for a half-blood Fae. Giles had already proven that.
Lost in a maelstrom of desire, she’d forgotten everything—contraception, warfare, and the way he’d insulted her from the moment they met—but now that she’d come hard, she could think again.
She flashed him her perkiest smile. “That was amazing, but I’ve still got things to do. My powers aren’t developed yet, but if you’ll flash us back to the human world, I’ll be on my way.”
“Mine,” he growled. “And you’re damn well staying that way.”
“Overpossessive or what? Listen, Mr. Arrogance, you might be sex on a stick, but I still need to get to that wedding.”
“Still after your payoff, sweetness? Stay here, and I’ll reward you with diamonds or rubies, maybe both.”
“Clothes, buster, I need clothes, not some sparkly stones.”
He raised his eyebrows and shook his head; then he dragged his tux back on and headed for the door. “I’ll be back when the wedding’s over, and I’ll bring you handfuls of those sparkly stones you disparage. Maybe, since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll even bring you some clothes.”
He looked like a disheveled James Bond with his shirt neck open and his bow tie dangling from his hand—only he was still treating her like his whore. Maybe she shouldn’t have given in and opened her legs so easily, but no one had ever made her pant with sexual hunger before.
Then the smug bastard left her again.
Sylvie pulled on the door handle, but it was definitely locked. At least her hands were unbound, so maybe she could scramble out the window and find a way back to the human world. She stared out at a tropical rain forest, but she must be about seventy feet above the ground. She was locked in like Rapunzel in a tower—only she was a half-breed princess who couldn’t control her magic no matter how hard she tried. And her Prince Charming turned out to be a sexy, insensitive prick.
Wild things moved among the jungle of flowers and vines, and she’d already seen a wyvern attack a carrion eater for its prey. As she watched, an oversize daffodil—sky blue with a trumpet that stretched to almost
two yards—shot out a tendril and dragged in remains of the wyvern’s prey. Damn it, even the plants were carnivorous here. No wonder she preferred her everyday human existence to a world teeming with violence and death—and that went double for the vicious Lykae packs and the aloof-natured Fae.
Part of her wanted to cower in the tower and wait for the big bad wolf-man to return, but with war looming, she needed to get proactive and get out of here. A narrow trail cut through the jungle of stems and vines, but she wasn’t sure she could traverse it without a machete, and she didn’t want to get eaten by an oversize, miscolored plant.
Call it cowardice, but she daren’t jump from this height. A thick vine covered in tiny white flowers twisted up the opposite corner of this out-of-the-way tower. At least the flowers weren’t big enough to eat her, and she figured she could scramble down its stalk.
The building was old-fashioned enough to have narrow ledges decorating the outside, but she couldn’t balance on that slender spur of stone. Could she? Even if she did, she’d still have to climb down the vine, but people’s lives were at risk here, so she had to give it a go.
She slipped her panties back on, ripped the bedsheet in two, and tossed the clean half out the window. Her heart pounded as she watched it flutter to the ground; then she tossed her strappy sandals out after it. Pity she hadn’t worn hobnailed boots, but she’d take whatever protection she could against those jungle vines. She just hoped she didn’t meet the oversize rodents. Since she couldn’t touch her magic, she hadn’t really grasped the immortality thing. What if she fell and found out she wasn’t? She tossed a wistful look at her shredded dress and bra, waited until her legs stopped shaking, then stepped out onto the ledge.
Her toes hung over the edge, and she clutched the window frame until her tremors stopped. The cold stone chilled her bare feet. The forest spun like a spiral that sucked her down, but she edged a step closer to the vine and let go of the window frame. Eyes screwed shut, she splayed her hands over the wall. It felt good to have something solid against her bare skin. She shuffled another step away from the relative safety of her room.
To Wed a Werewolf Page 3