by Renee George
With a leap, she jumped onto the nearest rock, which happened to put her in closer proximity to Lucien.
He stumbled back. “Stay.”
She smiled this time. “You can’t control me out of the water, nix.” Climbing nimbly, she made her way up the rocks to the ten-foot plateau where Lucien stood. Just as the sun had framed him earlier, the moonlight did much the same. His pale, almost white skin shone in the cascading light, casting clearly defined shadows into each groove between his muscles. Goddess have mercy.
His agitation made his skin sparkle as if filled with a million tiny stars, swirling like distant galaxies. He stepped back again, nearly to the edge. “Don’t touch me. You’re wet.”
The hard, protruding length of him strained upward, and Romy resisted the impulse to use the cliché “You say no, but your body says yes”. Instead, she replied, “I certainly am.”
“I’m a dangerous sprite, Romy.”
The way he said “dangerous” made her toes curl. “You certainly are.” She wiggled her eyebrows, hoping it came off more seduction and less Marx Brothers.
The sound of heavy footfalls along with loud, huffing breaths turned Romy’s attention toward the woods.
Out of the trees came a charging beast. Its arms were long and stretched out in front. Its legs bent at awkward angles as it ran straight at her.
She gasped and threw herself at Lucien.
He reached out to catch her but when the droplets from her skin hit him, he melted into a puddle. The sudden move landed her on her ass, her skin scraped by the unforgiving rock surface.
“Shit!” she shrieked.
The beast slowed but kept stalking toward her. It stopped at the base of the rocks and paced back and forth. Romy stared down at the creature. He had skin, human skin, golden-bronze, and his mane of blond hair flew back from his face and over his broad shoulders. The shape was that of a giant canine, but his silvery-blue eyes…
“Sol?”
It couldn’t be. He was elven, not some weird shape-shifting thing. At least he looked like an elf—tall, hairless, except for what grew on his head. While his ears weren’t pointy, she’d imagined it was a glamour he put on, like his golden skin. Besides, Mathias wouldn’t let a non-fae work in his greenhouse. He didn’t trust other-landers with his babies. Additionally, she’d smelled other were-creatures in town, and Sol definitely smelled of earthy fae.
The beast looked up at her and blinked. The eyes were definitely Sol’s. He blinked again. Some kind of recognition, she thought—until the beast opened his frightening jaws and roared. The sound echoed against the water and small bluffs.
Romy sensed that the smaller animals had long since departed from the area. She kicked herself for not noticing sooner.
“Sol,” she said again. The beast stopped pacing and leapt onto the lower rocks. His entire body tightened with predatory anticipation.
Romy’s heart raced in her throat. Her muscles trembled, cold with fright, until a slithering movement against her skin snapped her into awareness.
Lucien was coiling around her in a fluid wave.
It felt good. Too good, she realized. The slick glide of his liquid form caused a frisson of excitement and lust along her skin.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her gaze never leaving the creature below.
When the water reached her neck, Lucien’s voice spoke softly in her ear. “I’m trying to save you, you daft woman.”
“I’m completely capable of saving myself,” she said. However, when the beast lifted his forelegs into the air and his front paws smacked the stone ledge a few feet from legs, she slid back, taking comfort in Lucien’s fluid embrace.
Sol stared at her with a fierce intensity. His need and longing washed over her. Romy leaned forward, her confusion replaced by fascination, and reached out to touch his hair. It was silky and thick, just the way she’d imagined it.
Exhilaration welled in her chest. “Sol! It is you.”
Chapter Four
Lucien fought to keep his hold on Romy, to keep her from getting any nearer to the werewolf. Sol was a nice guy, mostly, but in this incarnation he rode on pure instinct, and Lucien worried that instinct might cause him to hurt Romy. Even if it wasn’t his intention.
To make matters worse, when she’d fallen, she cut herself and some of her blood had mingled with his liquid form, igniting Lucien with his own brand of lust and hunger. Both his and Sol’s cravings had the potential for disaster.
He’d been Sol’s lover for weeks. It had been a safe solution for Lucien. He needed to be intimate, needed intimacy to live. Most of all, he needed a partner who could survive him. Romy didn’t have any idea how dangerous it was to be around a grim in love.
But he couldn’t be in love. Impossible. He’d only recently met Romy, but the connection was undeniable. And what of Sol? Did he love him? Or was the werewolf merely an emotional placeholder? He’d been jealous of the way Sol had looked at Romy earlier at her house, but now, the idea of being with both of them stirred his cravings.
He wanted to be with both—but first, he needed to diffuse the real and immediate danger. Nothing could happen as long as Sol let his beast take the lead.
“Stay calm,” Lucien said to Romy.
She swatted at her lobe, her fingers passing through his watery lips. The touch caused ripples in his surface, and his tendrils searched out to cover more of her skin. He could feel her sickness, and instinctually he sought to heal the dying cells by pressing himself into her pores.
Romy moaned, and that sound nearly dropped Lucien back into a puddle beneath her.
“I can’t control myself when you do that.”
“Do what?”
Sol hadn’t moved since she’d touched him, but the low growl emanating from his throat made Lucien nervous. The wolf wanted to fuck her—and he wouldn’t care who he had to go through to make that happen.
If a spell had made them all feel this way, then the sex might end up being the equivalent of rape. Could someone under a love spell consent?
His tendrils covered more of Romy, finding their way to her pussy, slick with heat and throbbing desire. Sol’s gaze focused on him. The werewolf bared his sharp teeth and growled.
If Lucien tried to force the three of them to resist the Puck lust, someone would get hurt. Since Romy was already vulnerable with sickness, he wouldn’t risk her.
He soaked in the last of the water still clinging to Romy’s skin and hair. Absorbing it from her would be the only way for him to take form again. He cursed his lack of control. It had resulted in the drowning of his human wife, and he’d vowed he would never put himself in a position of being responsible for someone again. A shiver went through him, rippling against her skin. She groaned, sinking deeper into his hold.
The wolf’s paw stretched closer, a rumble building in his chest.
Lucien couldn’t think about Siobhan. Not now. Romy’s life was at stake.
He held her tight as she suddenly tried to move forward, squirming to get closer to Sol—to his beast.
“Don’t,” Lucien muttered. “Go slow. He has to shift before he comes to you. You have to encourage him to shift. Your body’s too vulnerable to take the force of a fully shifted were.”
“That would be bad,” Romy said dreamily, but her body language told Lucien that she didn’t really care. Finally, he soaked up all the lake water and took on a more semi-solid form behind her. Before he caught his bearings, Romy’s hand had already found its way behind her back and she cupped his balls, tugging, rolling them between her fingers.
Sol climbed over the top rock until he pressed his big chest against Romy’s with a chuffing noise, puffing heated air onto Lucien.
“Calm him,” the grim told her.
Romy nodded. “I don’t know how.”
“Talk to him. Caress his face. Make him feel more human, less animal,” he whispered. Though he had a hard time concentrating since she’d started stroking his cock with confident, smoot
h strokes. It also turned him on to see Sol in his shifted form. He hadn’t even known until this night that Sol was a werewolf. Lucien thought he looked magnificent with his golden skin stretched taut over his muscular animal frame.
Why had Sol kept this secret from him?
He whimpered as he drank in Sol’s beauty. With Romy stroking his cock as her ass pushed back against his balls, he didn’t know if he could hold on to his sanity long enough to get them through this without any serious injuries.
“Sol,” he heard Romy say. Her free hand cupped the werewolf’s muzzle. “Are you in there? Come out to me.”
She leaned forward and kissed his hairless cheek, a move Lucien thought both brave and stupid. The werewolf blinked again. Lucien saw the bone beneath his skin start to reshape. It was working!
“Keep it up, Rom…” His words trailed off as she flicked the head of his cock with her thumb. He leaned into her back and kissed her earlobe. “Keep that up and I’m not going to be able to help.”
Ignoring Lucien’s warning, Romy kissed Sol’s other cheek. “Come out for me. Be with me.”
Sol’s paws flattened into palms—his nails were thick and pointy, his fingers elongated, but no longer that of an animal. He roared as his body straightened and lengthened to near human.
“I’ve done what I can.” Lucien kissed her shoulder, brushing her hair to one side. “I can’t do any more. I should go.” He tried to pull away, to get distance between them, but Romy wouldn’t let him go.
“No,” she said, firming her grip. “You’re mine. You’re both mine.”
Lucien closed his eyes, his body wanting all of her and his mind wishing like hell he could resist. If someone had spelled Romy with a Puck curse, Lucien didn’t have the strength to fight a love so powerful.
There would be regret when the magic wore off, he understood from experience, and it was a regret he was certain Romy might not recover from.
But maybe, just maybe, he might help her forget once the magic ran its course.
A low keening moan echoed against the rocks, and Romy realized the sound came from her own throat. She wanted them inside her, one or both—at this point she didn’t care. The men were life, a renewal. With the two of them, she felt as if she might live forever. The sensation amazed her, and Romy was frantic to hold on to the feeling.
She reached out and yanked Sol, who had mostly shifted back to human form, closer. The werewolf didn’t wait for further invitation. He was on Romy, flipping her beneath him and pushing his cock into her snug pussy from behind.
She groaned at the pain and he stopped, hovering on the brink of going too deep.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the words sounding forced between gritted teeth.
Lucien grabbed her by the hair at the top of her head, tugging, distracting her from the pain of Sol’s cock stretching her wide.
Romy tilted her chin up, noting Lucien was in human form again also, and watched his green eyes dilate. A flutter low in her stomach told her she would come soon.
“You need to relax or this won’t be pleasant,” Lucien said.
“It’s already pleasant,” she murmured, her body adjusting to Sol’s girth and length. “Fuck me,” she told the werewolf, looking briefly over her shoulder. “I’m ready. So ready.” She dipped her mouth down to Lucien’s cock, licking the head, savoring the droplets of pre-cum on her tongue before swallowing him completely.
Sol buried himself deep upon her command. Passionate groans and growls sent chills of shivering goodness over her skin. Lucien gripped her shoulders and pulled her up on all fours, his cock popping from between her lips. He turned around and slid head-first beneath her, the coolness of his breath tickling her stomach. He put his hands on her hips, using them for leverage as his lips connected with her throbbing nub.
Moving on instinct, with Sol’s cock filling her pussy while Lucien licked and sucked her tender clit, Romy rocked backward then forward to meet Sol’s thrusts. She took Lucien’s shaft once again between her lips, taking him into her mouth…deeper…into her throat, swallowing hard. The sensation of both men filling her throwing Romy into ecstasy overdrive.
She could feel the rise of an orgasm swelling through her with a pulsing ache. It started like the slow burn of a dynamite fuse, the anticipation almost as delicious as the bang, she thought—until BANG!
She gave a strangled cry as her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave. Her vision dimmed and her tongue tingled with numbness, but she didn’t forget about Lucien as she worked his shaft with her hand and mouth, sucking him faster and more firmly, her tongue dancing along his veins. Her intention to bring him pleasure started another slow burn between her legs and she freed her mouth briefly.
“Oh Goddess, yes. Again. Yes!”
Chapter Five
Sol had followed Lucien’s song to the lake, but he hadn’t been the only one. When he’d seen both Lucien and Romy naked on the rocks, it was as if his beast had said, “Fuck you and your secrets. We have to stake our claim!”
The change had been instantaneous, and now, as he thrust his cock into Romy’s hot pussy, he thanked the gods his beast had impulse issues.
Her slick sex wrapped around him like a warm glove, squeezing and pulsing against his shaft. To add to the sensation, he could feel Lucien’s tongue moving back and forth from her clit to his balls. A liquid finger worked itself into his ass, and the combination of fucking and sucking and having his ass played with in the process drove Sol to the edge of ecstasy.
When Romy screamed out her second orgasm, her voluptuous body convulsing beneath him, her pussy pulsing around his cock, Sol roared. He climaxed with her, his body jerking forward as the heat of his orgasm tore from his groin. Lucien’s shouts of pleasure soon followed as he bucked and shuddered beneath them.
The three of them collapsed in a heap, with Lucien pinned at the bottom. He turned liquid once again and covered both Sol and Romy with his magical form. “Sleep,” Lucien whispered. “Sleep, dream…and forget.”
Sol rolled beside them, bathing his skin in moonlight. An unnatural fatigue settled over him, his eyes growing heavier by the second. He gazed at Romy’s body lying between him and the nix, back to a solid shape now, but couldn’t manage to keep his eyes open long enough to truly appreciate the sight.
He worried about the consequences of showing his true self to Romy and Lucien. He worried that he’d ruined his life here in Fortunate.
But his last thought before he drifted into a deep sleep was, Even if I lose everything, tonight was worth it.
Lucien wasn’t certain how well his magic would work—if it worked at all. He’d been out of practice for a long time, but he hoped it would at least take some of the edge off the love spell.
If only he could forget.
He’d vowed to never love again, not a real love, after his wife had died, and tonight he’d betrayed that promise.
What made him feel even worse was how good that betrayal felt.
The effect of the love spell hadn’t been confined to just Romy. He loved Sol. Maybe he’d loved Sol for a while, but the spell had allowed him to admit it. It didn’t matter. The three of them were impossible, and hopefully in the morning things would got back to normal—whatever that meant for a hairless werewolf, a plant-killing dryad and a water sprite who couldn’t stay solid when he was in water.
* * * * *
Romy woke up, head pounding, body aching, vision blurred, and mind more than a little foggy. A shiver sent her hand reaching out automatically for a blanket. Instead of her favorite quilt, Romy ended up with a handful of dry grass.
“Shit.” Careful to avoid making the headache worse, Romy propped up on one elbow. She looked around.
Not only was she lying outside on dead grass, she was naked.
“Double shit.”
She struggled to remember how she’d arrived in the middle of the woods. And how she’d managed to end up passed out without any clothes.
Music. She vaguely r
ecalled hearing music.
A butterfly landed on her shoulder. Romy puffed a breath of air at the insect and the butterfly flickered its wings, but didn’t fly away. Another one landed, then another, then more. Their tiny legs stilled against her skin as if waiting for something.
“My clothes,” she suddenly said to the hundred or so creatures that were now covering her entire body. With thought alone, she transformed them back into her panties, bra, tank top and jeans. She gazed at her bare feet. “Where are my shoes?”
Twenty or so butterflies landed on her feet and morphed into sandals.
“Thank you.”
Okay, so now she knew that sometime during the night, she’d removed her own clothing and they’d turned into butterflies. Unsettling, yes, but it was something.
Romy stood up and dusted her jeans. Her legs wobbled unsteadily. The part of her that had been in dire need of relief seemed to be relieved. “What the hell happened last night?”
A moan sounded from several feet away in the tree line. She approached the noise carefully. Two bare feet stuck out from behind a bush.
“Hello,” she whispered.
The moaning became an unintelligible mumbling, but the voice was familiar.
“Sol?”
“Hmmm,” he responded. “Jeezus.”
Romy’s held breath slipped away from her. “It is you!” The accusation sounded familiar to her ears.
Sol’s expression, naked for an instant—along with the rest of him—betrayed an almost belligerent embarrassment. His nonchalant facade instantly snapped back into place. “Dude, where’s my clothes?”
Romy was about to tell him he looked nothing like Ashton Kutcher, but damn and double damn, she had to admit the man was fi-ine—all sinew and muscle, with little to no hair on his body except for his golden mane. “You watch too many bad movies if that’s your best line.”