Torrid Teasers Volume Four

by Anna Evans

  "Emily?” Catherine asked, feeling a clutch of fear in her heart as she imagined Emily damaged beyond repair by the Mutations who had invaded the lands of her clan. Poor Emily, she was too soft for their way of life, and far too sweet to be her mother's daughter.

  "You didn't know?” Aron said, his hard eyes softening slightly as he stood before her.

  "No,” Catherine said, pulling her coldness around her, refusing to take any comfort from this man, “Is she still alive?"

  "Emily, as far as I know, is fine. She and her new mate fled to the Pennsylvania territory. Caroline, on the other hand, was attacked while among humans and taken to a human hospital."

  "They haven't taken her to the labs,” Catherine said, refusing to believe that her willful eldest daughter was in the clutches of the United States government, doomed to be the subject of brutal experiments until they broke her spirit and eventually took her life. They had never been close, but Catherine wouldn't wish that fate on her worst enemy, let alone her own flesh.

  "No, they declared her dead, but she escaped. The papers in upstate New York are filled with theories about how her body disappeared. They suspect that her murderer stole the corpse, but my men saw her in your territory not two days past. She had a human man with her and was fleeing the Mutations. She escaped, but my men weren't able to track her,” Aron said.

  "Of course you weren't able to track her, she's my daughter,” Catherine said, feeling a slight easing in her heart now that she knew the princesses were both safe. No matter what Caroline might think, she did love her daughters, though she didn't always understand them.

  "My queen, what do you wish us to do?” Nicholas said, coming to her side and glaring down at King Aron. At least six foot three, Aron wasn't a man easily glared down upon. She hoped the sensation made him obscenely uncomfortable.

  "Stay here, Nicholas. Guard yourselves well. If I'm not back by sundown tomorrow, start slaughtering any wolf you can find,” Catherine said, reaching out to take Aron's arm.

  "That would be an act of war, Catherine,” Aron said with a small, but incredibly threatening smile.

  "So would taking me away in that iron bird and not returning me to my people before sundown tomorrow, Aron. We are in a time of great upheaval and there isn't time to waste appeasing petty debts."

  "Our law is not petty,” Aron said as he led her toward the entrance to the cave.

  "Fuck you, Aron.” Catherine sighed, tired of his games and dreading the flight before her too much to bother with watching her tongue. Besides, he would soon be deciding whose bed she would occupy for the night; it didn't bother her in the least if it was his own. In fact, she might enjoy taking out some of her frustrations on the king. He would usually be a little too civilized, too human for her tastes, but she was nothing if not a lover of wondrous variety.

  * * * *

  Aron watched the strong, arrogant beauty across from him crumble in around herself as the helicopter lifted off the ground. She had tucked those long, lean legs up to her chest and clutched them close to her with a strength that whitened her knuckles. Her heart-shaped face rested on her knees and her bright green eyes were closed tight. Her tanned skin had paled considerably, but that only made her bottom length auburn hair more striking and emphasized her eternal youthfulness. Though nearly three centuries old, she still looked a young thirty—a very young thirty at the moment.

  Queen Catherine had always been the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, shapeshifter or human, but for some reason. seeing her as terrified and defenseless as she was now made him want her even more. As his cock grew uncomfortably hard inside his pants, Aron wondered exactly what that said about him and decided whatever it was probably wasn't good. He didn't want to be an animal that was excited by fear, who was foolish enough to confuse the bloodlust of predator for prey with the lust for a beautiful woman in his bed.

  "Quit staring at me!” Catherine screamed over the noise of the helicopter's blades.

  "I don't see how you can know I'm staring at you when your eyes are closed!” Aron yelled back with a smile, glad to see some of her fight coming back, though he could do without the majority of her attitude. He wasn't into taming hellcats, especially not ones who could change into a mountain lion with teeth nearly as long as his forearm.

  "I can feel your eyes on me, all of you. I'll rip your throats out when we land if you don't direct your gazes elsewhere,” she screamed.

  Edward glared but averted his gaze while Ethan trembled in the seat next to her, suddenly very interested in his own lap. Aron struggled to contain a laugh at how easily she cowed his wolves, which became easier to do as he looked out the window and saw a trail of smoke rising from one of the mountains in his territory. He motioned for Edward to look and saw anger darken the other man's eyes when he noticed the smoke.

  The Mutations couldn't regulate their body temperature and had to use fire and the skins of other animals to stay warm. Considering it was fifteen degrees below zero outside, the chances were slim that human campers had set the fire. Now he would have to divide his men, keeping some to watch Catherine's while the rest went to deal with the Mutants. Not to fight them, necessarily; he didn't want any more innocents to die, but to track their movement and notify him immediately should they get too close to the main pack settlement. In the meantime, he hoped to discover the best way to deal with them.

  The Mutations that had taken over Catherine's territory had moved into the Green Mountains less than a week ago. They were horrific, yet intelligent beasts, permanently trapped between being a wolf and a man. Their plight would have been sad if they weren't incredibly violent and completely insane. They raped and tortured and killed almost every pure shapeshifter they captured and even the strongest warriors had been unable to stop them. The few victims to survive had spread the word that the Mutants were convinced the werewolves and shapeshifting cats of the northern territories could provide them with some sort of antidote, a tonic that would allow them to be both fully human and fully wolf.

  Aron knew of no such antidote, but there were rumors flying all over the country and more than a few of them said that there was only one person who could stop these creatures, one woman who could possibly give them what they wanted. She sat across from him now, naked as the day she was born and looking far from the all-powerful queen.

  He knew better, however. That's why he had set a trap for her, one she would almost certainly fall prey to. Her lust was as legendary as her strength and he'd had little doubt she would take his men to her bed. He was only lucky they had failed to impress her enough to earn more intimate attention and he was free to enforce shapeshifter law. She could say what she wanted about disdaining the affections of wolves, but Aron knew from personal experience she was more than ready to spread her legs for a skilled lover of any shapeshifting tribe.

  He'd been a new king when he'd first met Catherine, still too awed by her beauty and presence to claim her for more than a night. But now, he had no choice. If she truly knew of a way to stop these creatures, he had to force her to take care of their mutual problem one way or another. If given the choice, he preferred to meet her on a battlefield of silk sheets. He was humble enough to admit that he might lose to her in battle, but he was also man enough to believe he might conquer her while she lay beneath him, legs spread and pussy filled with his need.

  Before the sun set tomorrow evening, he would know one way or another.

  * * * *

  Catherine hadn't been this ashamed since she was a very young woman, chastised by her father in front of the rest of their clan for venturing into a human settlement without covering her bare skin. It had been the early eighteen hundreds and a naked woman wandering the streets of town, no matter that she was barely an adolescent and not nearly as luscious to behold as she would be in her prime, was enough to cause a riot and later, a witch hunt. Her father had ensured she never made such a foolish mistake again, whipping her within an inch of her life and leaving her to sit in her
own tears and waste for over a week, all in plain view of the people she was one day to rule.

  It had been a difficult thing to live down, but Catherine expected this day to be even harder to forget.

  "Put me down,” she breathed, horrified that her voice still sounded weak and frightened.

  "Allow me to put you down when there will be somewhere comfortable for you to rest. My private rooms are only a few doors down,” Aron said, his voice as gentle as his strong arms around her, carrying her swiftly down a long hallway on the top floor of a building at least ten stories higher than any she had ever stood in.

  "I don't need your pity.” She gritted her teeth, grateful for the anger that surged through her, helping renew her strength. She didn't want Aron to treat her gently, didn't want to owe him anything more than the barest extent of what their law demanded.

  "It's empathy, Catherine, not pity or weakness. It's an admirable quality to be able to identify with another's hardship,” he said, that damned voice still filled with something very close to tenderness.

  "I understand empathy, Aron, I'm not a fool. I have a great deal of empathy for all the women of your tribe, all the poor bitches who hunger for the physical touch of their king and are denied again and again,” Catherine said, her voice filled with a sadness she almost didn't have to force. It was sad that the she-wolves were so poorly treated, though she never would have addressed the subject if not to rub Aron's pompous face in his pack's misery.

  "I have lovers, Catherine,” he said, his voice finally starting to grow cold, “but I prefer women who have the luxury of denying my advances, not weaker pack members who fear torture or worse were they to displease me."

  "Then why am I here, Aron? If you love a willing partner so much, why take someone to your bed who would rather rip your face open with her bare hands than touch her lips to yours?” Catherine said in her sweetest voice as Aron opened a massive set of doors at the end of the floor and carried her inside an elegantly furnished room, filled with things the humans found pleasing to sit upon. Give her the ground any day, thank you very much.

  "I do not wish to sit in some human's chair,” she said when Aron kept his lips pressed tightly together and made to put her gently on one of the overstuffed creations.

  "Very well, darling, we'll dispense with formality and get directly to your punishment,” Aron snapped, snatching her back into his arms with a decidedly less gentle grip and striding swiftly into a room much darker than the one they had left. There he threw her unceremoniously on a large bed and started to shrug out of his suit jacket and tie with a viciousness that gave her slight pause.

  "You can not take me with violence, it is against the law,” she warned when he ripped off his white shirt, buttons flying across the room as his powerful chest was revealed. She remembered that chest with its perfect covering of curly black hair—remembered it better than she would ever admit. He was beautiful, she would give him that much, a truly stunning male specimen, though far too willful as a lover. She adored aggressive play, but in the end, Catherine was the one who called the shots, all of them, and she didn't enjoy the idea of being at anyone's mercy, especially this infuriating man.

  "Catherine,” he said in a low husky voice that matched the heat in his stormy gray eyes. “I can promise you will be begging for me to fuck you long before I put my cock anywhere near your cunt."

  "You never used to use words like cunt, Aron, they offended you. Don't playact for my benefit,” she sneered, willing her heart not to beat faster as he crawled up onto the foot of the bed and began to stalk toward her, looking very much like the predator he was.

  "I'm going to do a lot of things for both of our benefit, Catherine, but none of it will be playful,” he said, advancing on her until she had to back up to the head of the bed or lengthen herself beneath him. She chose to go down with fire in her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her run from him. Once all that hard male flesh was on top of her, however, his hips pressing down into her own with enough pressure for her to feel both trapped and aroused, she wondered if she should have given ground, anything to stay in a dominant position for a few more minutes.

  "Your skin is still unbelievably soft,” he whispered into her neck, his hot breath making her shiver as he smoothed his hands down her arms until he caught her around the wrists and lifted both arms above her head.

  "Don't say that you won't play and then attempt to flatter me. It won't work,” she breathed, resisting the urge to twist beneath him, to try to free her hands from his strong grip while rubbing her breasts against his heated flesh.

  "Catherine, you can feel how much I want you. Do you think I get this hard for any woman in my bed?” he said, starting to grind his cock against her through his pants with slow, sensual thrusts that made her breath grow faster and her clit start to swell.

  Not trusting her voice, Catherine turned her head away from his mouth at her throat, away from the firm touch of his lips and the teasing dance of his tongue along her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut when he laughed softly, that typically masculine laugh of an alpha male, a kind of laughter she hadn't heard for nearly a hundred years, since her former husband had been declared an unfit mate by the clan and cast out of her life and her bed.

  "What are you doing?” Catherine asked, eyes flying open as the hands on her wrists were replaced by something cold and metallic.

  "Cuffing you to my bed,” Aron said with a small smile as he kissed the swells of her breasts, “they're ten percent silver, not enough to burn, but you won't be able to break them, so don't bruise that lovely skin by struggling."

  "I hate you, you arrogant pig,” she said. “You and your lies about the willing women in your bed—"

  "I said I didn't like abusing my position with lesser pack members, Catherine. You are lesser to me in no way, my equal or better in everything and you come here of your own free will. Do not think you can talk your way out of giving me what I want,” he roared into her face with such passion that she had to struggle not to show how startled, and aroused, she was suddenly becoming.

  "And what do you want?” she whispered, hating that a part of her wanted to lift her head and meet his lips with her own, to feel his tongue slipping past her teeth, claiming the interior of her mouth without direction, without her telling him how deep or how hard or when to stop bruising her lips with his.

  "I want what I've wanted since the first time I was in your bed. I want my turn to direct our pleasure, you submissive to me, begging me to make you come,” he whispered back, his eyes meeting hers without any of his usual shields, those misty eyes open and almost needy, showing her how very much he wanted this, and her.

  "Very well,” she said softly, her own eyes giving away more of her hunger than she would have liked, but she couldn't seem to help herself. She was already wet and throbbing between her thighs, her lips plump, swollen, and slickening with need. He had aroused her more with a few words, a few caresses, than five men had been able to do with half an hour of foreplay.

  "Very well, what?” he asked, hands smoothing down the sides of her body until he reached her full hips where his fingers dug into her flesh until she nearly winced under the pressure.

  "Very well, King Aron,” she said, unable to suppress a moan or keep her hips from lifting into his hardened sex, her traitorous body already craving his engorged organ pushing inside her.

  "That will do, Catherine,” he said, pressing her hips back down to the mattress and delivering a swift slap on the flesh of her right thigh, “but next time, you can call me Master."

  * * * *

  He was sweating by the time he finally allowed himself to lower his face between her thighs. Never had he dreamed what sweet, erotic torture it would be to teach Catherine to submit to him. He had thought she would fight him, but she had learned quickly how to please him, how to keep her body under control until he told her she could speak, moan, arch her breasts into his hungry mouth. He had assumed she would resist the e
xperience, but instead, she had embraced it fully and if her pussy was anything to judge by, Catherine was intensely aroused.

  "Open your legs, let me see my pussy,” he breathed, his voice hoarse with need and the effort to control himself. God how he wanted to mount her, to thrust inside all that slick heat until she clenched around him, until she clawed and scratched and screamed as she came on his cock, but he couldn't end his own torture without ending hers. And he wasn't quite finished with Catherine, not just yet.

  "Yes, Master,” she keened above him, her thighs shaking visibly with the effort not to writhe against the covers, not to twist and cross her legs in an effort to find release, to ease the aching of her hungry sex.

  "My pussy is wet,” he said, forcing himself to stop and swallow, to get control of his voice so that he didn't sound as if he were on the verge of weeping from the beauty of the violence of her need. And it was beautiful, her plump lips swollen and tender, her center weeping down her body, and her clit a hard, proud projection that he knew he could no longer resist.

  "Aron!” she screamed as he let his tongue touch, ever so lightly, upon that quivering button of flesh. “Oh God, please Aron, please."

  "Did I tell you to beg?” he asked, mentally cursing himself for starting this game. He didn't want to keep up his part of the bargain anymore. He wanted to unlock her cuffs and let her roll him underneath her, wanted to watch her claim her pleasure as she rode him with as much violence as she would give him. But he was never one to abandon his duty before a task was accomplished, especially such a deliciously torturous one as this was.

  "No, you didn't, no, but please,” she begged and he could hear the beginnings of tears in her voice, could see her arms straining against her bonds, fingers working as if she would somehow find a way to free herself and slide her hands down her own body, and plunge those long elegant fingers into her pussy until she brought herself to climax. The mere thought was almost his undoing.