Naughty Cupid Trilogy

by Pillow Michelle M.

  To her horror, he picked at his nose, only to lick his finger. Rhiannon gagged, flinching as bile rose in her throat.

  “Come with me, little sparrow, I’ll take you from here.” The man stood on the bed. With great effort, he walked over the soft mattress, wobbling on his short legs. His fat lips stretched wide, nearly encompassing his whole face. He jumped from the bed with little grace and waddled to the door. Waving his hand, he beckoned, “Come, before the beast gets back.”

  “I cannot go out there,” Rhiannon denied. “They want to kill me.”

  “Kill you?” Cupid asked in surprise, his eyes narrowing in wonder. He studied the woman before him, trying not to flinch at her clean smell and her ugly face. “Who would want to kill you?”

  “The lycans,” she explained. “They hate humans. I cannot go out there.”

  “The lycans?” Cupid exclaimed, feigning surprise at the very thought. “The lycans love humans, worship them like gods.”

  “But...?” Rhiannon’s brows furrowed in confusion. Her body still reeled from Ilar’s touch. Even now, she could feel his fingers on her, in her, bewildering her.

  “Ah,” Cupid said, nodding his head sadly. He hit his neck as a flea bit him. “The lycan that pretended to attack you, you mean. He drinks now with Lord Ilar. A merry game they think to play with you. Evil Lord Ilar. He thinks to keep a god captured in his chambers. He thinks you will bring him luck, human sparrow.”

  “What do you mean evil?” she asked, seeing the creature’s forlorn face. Ilar did have the look of a devil to him, but she never really thought of him as evil. She might have called him that, but she’d been sick with cold and never truly believed it.

  “He found you and means to make you his.” Cupid affected a frown.

  “He means to make me his... take me to his bed?” Rhiannon finished, her face becoming hard.

  “Aye, that,” Cupid said with a serious nod of his head. “That he does so he too will be worshiped by the lycans.” Cupid affected a pout. “He uses you, human. He told the wolf to attack you to make you stay inside, frightened. He means to keep you prisoner to his bed. He’s playing with you. It’s what the lycans sometimes do. Come on, I got you into this, I’ll get you out.”

  “Wait a minute,” Rhiannon said. “How can I trust you? You’re the one who scared me in my chamber. You hit me in the head and brought me here!”

  “No, no, my lady,” Cupid said. “A spell went wrong and you were brought to this world. I’ve come to take you back to yours. A mistake only, please lady sparrow, come. Let us be gone. Make haste before the devil comes back. His patience grows thin, ever so thin. Lord Ilar won’t be put off much longer!”

  * * * *

  “Ah, so the rumors are true!”

  Ilar frowned, swinging around on his heels in distraction to see who dared disrupt his rampage. Spying a dark face and wavy raven black hair nearly as long as his own, he frowned good-naturedly. “Malak, what brings you to this accursed place? Why are you not at Fenris?”

  “You send all your women to my door and expect me to stay away?” Malak grinned. His chest was bare as he never fastened his tunic over his shoulder, preferring to let it lay about his trim waist. Ilar was sure he did it to attract the women. It appeared to work, for he had an overabundance of females vying for his companionship.

  “I expected you to stay at Fenris and enjoy the gift,” Ilar said, grumpily.

  “Enjoy your present, I did.” Malak looked over his old friend’s face with amusement. Oh, he’d enjoyed the present aplenty. In fact, he still had the bite marks on his hip to prove it. However, he’d heard the rumors that Ilar locked a human woman in his chambers, and his guards he locked into prison. Malak just had to see for himself. “By the way, the men wished me to thank you. The women’s blood is stirred to boiling and they mate with them like mad and with little provoking or care. Never has my keep been so thoroughly sated. Alas, nothing is getting done for they are all abed...” Malak waved his hand absently. He shrugged, as if to say, but what can we do?

  Ilar grunted. At least someone was mating. The practice field was near empty as they approached it.

  “Pleasurable as it was to be given the most unusual forms of gratification at every turn, I couldn’t bring myself to stay away from such an intriguing occurrence. Will you let me see her?” Malak asked, getting straight to the point. A roguish smile lit on his tanned features. “If she’s as beautiful as they say, I will gladly take her as my lover. If you are not man enough to end this castle’s torment, I will do it.”

  “Since when does the woman have to be pretty for you to mate with her?” Ilar grumbled, knowing Malak teased him. Malak hardly took anything seriously. “I seem to recall you mated with a dwarf once.”

  “Ah, she was a small elf, not a dwarf,” Malak broke in, forcing a scowl.

  Ilar chuckled, despite his black mood. He glanced around the clean bailey yard. Soldiers walked over the battlements, their eyes stretching out over the distance. A cool breeze whipped over the bailey, refreshing in the hotter sunlight.

  “Believe me,” Ilar said roughly, shaking his head. “Even you will want none of this wench. She’s an enchanted mortal.”

  * * * *

  Rhiannon followed the troll out of the bedchamber and down the tower steps. Her limbs shook with fear at what she might find. She hoped the strange little being was right, that the lycans didn’t wish to harm her. But, really, what other choice did she have than to follow him? Ilar didn’t seem to know how to get her home and this was the creature that had brought her from her realm. Though he was disgusting, his words sounded sincere.

  Besides, hadn’t Ilar already told her he planned on publicly making her his whore? Her face furrowed in anger to discover that he was staying true to his word. He was using her for his own gain. It hurt that his touch was nothing more than a play for power, when she herself felt him branded on every corner of her soul.

  The smelly troll glanced over his shoulder to watch her as he led her through the barren hall. She tried to smile, but he turned back too quickly. Rhiannon looked around, eyeing the clean keep. Banners hung down over the walls and, except for a few changes, it looked very much like the castles back home.

  Well, except for him, she thought, eyeing the troll.

  Waving his hand, the creature tried to speed their progression as he hopped and ran at the same time to the bailey yard. Rhiannon glanced over the empty yard she hardly remembered passing through on her way inside the castle. It was eerie in its quiet, as if abandoned. Leading her to the battlements, the troll looked up and grinned in mischief.

  Frightened that Ilar might come along and discover her, she crept closer to the troll. Smelling his disgusting scent, she thought better of it and backed away once more. She frowned to see he’d stopped. She followed his eyes up the battlements.

  “Why do you stop?” she asked, frantic. She tried to find what he looked for.

  Cupid shivered as he impatiently waved a hand to keep her quiet. He was having a hard time stomaching her clean smell and her fresh, rosy looks. They made him nauseous. It was obvious Agrona had gotten the beauty in that family. Edging along the wall, he listened, barely making a sound.

  Rhiannon froze as she detected swift movement along the battlements, blurring against the purplish skyline. A man leapt from the high wall, landing gracefully before her on both feet. The fall should have hurt him, but he crouched only slightly before standing tall. His eyes blazed with golden heat as he looked her over, his gaze all too possessive for a stranger. Rhiannon turned, intent on running.

  “Hold!” the troll ordered. He clapped his hands lightly. Rhiannon obeyed, stiffening to her place on the ground. The man’s eyes rolled over her, his nose lifting to the air to sniff at her. She glanced at the troll. He grinned, nearly teeming with pleasure to see the lycan. He leaned over and grabbed a stick as he sidled next to her. Placing the stick in her hand, he said, “Throw this and order him to fetch for you.”

  Rh
iannon slowly drew the stick up, readying a throw. Before she could even let go, two more lycan men hopped down from the wall, turning to face her. Their eyes were the same, possessive and flaming, glittering in a molten gold. She swallowed, shaking.

  “Throw it!” Cupid ordered with a hiss. The men’s eyes didn’t turn to the little man. All they saw was Rhiannon.

  Rhiannon tossed the stick over their heads. They didn’t move, merely watched her as the stick landed far behind them. Their eyes narrowed. Weakly, she whispered, “Fetch?”

  The men turned from her, taking off at a full run to do as she bid. Rhiannon took a deep breath, relieved that they headed away from her.

  “See!” the troll declared. He did a little jig in his humor, watching the men run around like trained mongrels. “They don’t hate you. They worship you! Worship you like a goddess!”

  Rhiannon swallowed, suddenly growing nervous at the troll’s smile that curled from ear to ear. He enjoyed this way too much and didn’t look as if he had any intention of leaving the castle. Her mouth opened to speak, when she heard a noise. Turning to the men, she saw them fighting over the stick. One man punched the other as he tried to grab it up. As the man rolled from the blow, his body shifted into wolf form, coming up on all fours. Instantly, the other two shifted to wolf, snarling, snapping, biting. She flinched as the smallest lycan was caught up in the largest one’s jaws.

  “Can’t you stop them?” Rhiannon asked, not wanting to be the cause of a brawl. She looked for the troll. To her horror, she saw that he was gone. Panting, she heard a growl and turned to watch the fight. Two wolves lay unmoving on the ground. The third and largest lycan guard was coming for her, his large paws hitting onto the ground in heavy thuds. Rhiannon screamed, backing away. Her back hit upon the battlements. She was trapped.

  The wolf tossed the stick from his mouth to her feet, barking, snapping his hideously frightening jaw at her. His eyes were completely shifted to yellow, eerie as they looked her over. The fur along his spine stood on end, waiting for her movement of approval.

  Rhiannon didn’t know what the lycan wanted from her. She gasped weakly for air. Tears streamed down her pale face. She clutched desperately to the stone wall as she looked for her guide. The troll was nowhere to be found.

  Its chest heaving, the lycan edged closer. Rhiannon closed her eyes tight, bracing herself for the impact of the wolf’s bite. A nose nudged into her thighs. She whimpered, chewing her lips to keep from screaming.

  The wolf inhaled deeply, as it panted hot, steamy breaths into her thighs. His throat rumbled in pleasure, almost euphoric. He tried to bury his nose deeper into her, edging her thighs apart so that he could rub intimately into her.

  “Ilar,” Rhiannon whimpered, automatically wishing he was there to save her. Why did she have to listen to the smelly little troll? She struck her hand into the wolf’s head, knocking him from between her legs.

  The wolf growled in loud outrage. She tried to run. He snapped at her, his teeth biting into her gown. The material tore as she fell.

  * * * *

  Ilar’s eyes narrowed. He stopped speaking in mid-sentence, hearing a familiar voice crying out his name. Without thought, he shifted, flesh molding into a dark brown coat, as he took off across the bailey on all fours. His dark blue tunic fell from his body as he moved. Malak, not to be left out of the fray, was right behind him clad only in his raven black fur.

  “Ilar!” Rhiannon shouted. He followed the sound, picking up her scent as he raced across the yard.

  Eyes turned to follow the wolves as they moved. Larus held up his hand, keeping the others at bay as he alone ran after them. The King stayed in his human form, jogging several paces behind to assess the situation.

  Ilar’s eyes narrowed to see the lycan pawing at Rhiannon’s dress, ripping it as he tried to strip her from her clothes. She was on her stomach, her fingers clawing at the dirt as she tried to escape. Lunging forward, Ilar dug his paws into the wolf’s side, knocking him over. They squared off, growling.

  Rhiannon gasped as the powerful weight was thrust from her body. Scurrying to her hands and knees, she crawled away from the fighting wolves. Suddenly, she stopped, seeing two wide black paws blocking her path. She jumped back, but to her surprise, the wolf didn’t attack her. Its golden eyes narrowed and his head lowered as he came forward, sniffing at her lightly. She gasped, her arms lifting weakly to push him back.

  Malak sniffed the woman, detecting what it was that made her so irresistible. Seeing her fear, he affectionately licked the side of her face. She jolted in surprise. Malak grinned. No doubt, Ilar wouldn’t be too pleased by his affectionate play. The thought only spurred his mischievous self on.

  Rhiannon felt the black wolf nudging and licking her, his tail wagging for attention. Absently, she pet him as she realized he meant no harm. She looked at the fray. The two wolves snapped at each other, growling and barking. Suddenly, her attacker ran off, snarling and growling even as he retreated.

  Seeing the dark brown wolf turning to her, she hugged the friendly black one around the neck, burrowing behind the protective fold of its warm body. She dug her hands into his fur coat, clutching it to her chest in her nervousness. Suddenly, the dark brown wolf’s golden eyes shifted to a familiar devilish brown. Rhiannon squeezed tighter to her companion, as Ilar’s skin cleared before her. His long locks again grew free down his tanned back and shoulders. The swarthy power of him amazed her as his body strained. Before her eyes, he changed and molded into his exquisitely naked human form.

  Ilar’s eyes found her, staring hard at her from his hands and knees as she hugged the wolf’s head tighter. His gaze lit with challenge. With a thunderous roar, he bellowed, “Malak!”

  Rhiannon stiffened to feel a shaking beneath her hands.

  “What? She’s the one holding me,” came a muffled voice full of manly innocence.

  Rhiannon gasped, feeling the stifled words as they were spoken directly into her breasts. She let go of the wolf, throwing her hands back and up, only to discover that it was a naked man she patted and pressed to her chest. She’d been stroking her hands over the hair covering the hot, strong flesh of his back.

  Malak didn’t instantly back away. His green eyes lit with mischief. He gave Rhiannon the most audacious grin she’d ever seen and nudged his head into her again, clucking her gently on the chin.

  “You must be Lady Rhiannon,” Malak murmured. Rhiannon’s cheeks turned a bright pink. He glanced to her breasts and said with a sultry groan, “It’s very nice to meet you, my lady.”

  Rhiannon fell back, her hands lifting helplessly higher, trembling as if she would push him away only to stop in confusion. All she managed was a feeble, “Uh-huh.”

  “Malak,” Ilar demanded in dark warning, a low growl sounding in the back of his throat. Malak seemed unconcerned.

  “Malak! Ilar!” The men turned as Larus threw their tunics at them from a distance. He stood by the two fallen wolves. Below in the prisons, the affected lycan guards howled into the mind link, hitting their bodies upon the bars as they tried to get free. Angrily, he demanded, “Stop fooling around!”

  Malak winked audaciously at Rhiannon as he backed away on all fours. Rhiannon just watched them all, helpless. She made a weak noise and didn’t move.

  Ilar shot to his feet, catching his tunic with one hand. He glared down at her and Rhiannon trembled, covering her bared legs the best she could with the torn skirt of her gown. Ilar whipped his tunic around his body. Malak did the same, only more leisurely. Rhiannon did her best not to look at either of the naked men. Not that her modesty mattered, as they appeared completely comfortable with her seeing them in all their glory.

  “What are you doing out?” Ilar asked, looking down at her. “I ordered you to stay inside!”

  “Little man,” she stuttered, weakly, trying to point where she last saw the troll.

  Ilar’s look cut her off. He eyed her as if she were insane. She trembled, gesturing weakly in confusion.
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  In their language so the mortal couldn’t understand him, Larus turned to Ilar, and ordered, “Two of our men are fallen because of this temptress and the others are thrashing themselves bloody against their prison bars! I don’t care what it is that brought her here. You get up to your bedchamber and mate with her. I’ll have no more of this! Even if it isn’t the way to break the enchantment, I think we have little choice at this time but to try.”

  Ilar swallowed. His eyes lit with fire as he looked over to Rhiannon. She stared at them, wide-eyed, frightened.

  Malak grinned sheepishly. “I think you should go mate with her, Ilar. It’s the only way to end this cruel jest.”

  Larus and Ilar studied him at the words.

  Suddenly, Larus frowned. He could get the barest hint of the mortal’s scent as it tried to stir into his blood. He kept upwind of her. “You are unmated, Malak, yet you are not affected by her?”

  Malak’s grin widened. Looking over at Rhiannon, he chuckled. “No, but she is beautiful enough to stir my blood. If you command me, I’ll gladly take her to my bed.”

  Ilar growled in low warning. Malak held up his hands, still chuckling.

  “However,” Malak continued, seeing he pushed Ilar too far. “The enchanted scent she carries is one I am immune to.”

  “You know what it is?” Ilar demanded.

  “Yes, I know,” Malak mused, drawing out his suspense with deviant pleasure. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Ilar.

  “By all the lycan, Malak!” Larus thundered, past the point of breaking. They all just wanted the howling in his head to stop. “Out with it!”

  “You didn’t, perhaps, happen to insult a troll, did you?” Malak asked, pointedly staring at Ilar.

  “What? Are you saying a troll did this to her?” Ilar said, skeptical.

  “Yes, it’s a troll’s philter that’s clouding her head,” Malak said, laughing. To him the situation was hilarious. “It’s nothing more than an abundance of pure pheromone. It’s why the unmated males of Lycaon are insane. I bested a troll once in sport and did get immunity to all troll magic. It was either that or his eldest daughter for prize. Until now, I’ve never had a need for it.”