“Let me help you forget your troubles, if only for a short time. There is naught to be done right now.” Tania’s long lashes fell heavy over her eyes. The come-hither look always got him, causing instant arousal to hasten his heartbeat and infuse his blood.
His shaft hard, Hugh reached for her, not caring that they were in the great hall of the Silver Palace. The sparkling walls seemed to dance with light as Tania lifted off the floor to join her mouth to his. Her lips parted in ready acceptance.
Reaching for her, Hugh felt her naked waist and drew back in mild surprise. Her clothing had changed from the gown to a sleek, midriff baring affair. It pulled tight to her breasts, hardly covering them. As always, her hair flowed about her shoulders the perfect frame to her lovely face. The skirt split slowly up the middle, revealing her long legs. Her bare feet didn’t touch the ground. Once, when Hugh asked her why she never wore shoes, she said she liked feeling nature on her feet.
He groaned in arousal as his gaze traveled up her legs, following the splitting skirt to her exposed thighs and then higher to the teasing peek of her naked sex. His faery queen knew how to tease him, how to seduce his eyes and stir his body. At first, her revealing gowns bothered him when she wore them in front of others, but he’d since learned that faeries were not so modest as human women and it was a trait he could well appreciate.
The waist of the skirt revealed her navel, the small divot in her flesh making him lick his lips. He took a step forward, but she fluttered back, moving toward their thrones. The thin bodice clung to her budded nipples, the material becoming all the sheerer as he stared.
“It has been awhile since we had this hall to ourselves,” Tania said.
Hugh pulled at his tunic, nearly ripping it in his haste to rid himself of clothes. His wing bent and he stretched it, unconsciously lifting his feet off the floor as he walked through the air to reach his wife. He tossed the tunic aside. Tania reached the throne, her playful smile full of promise as she sat.
“Kneel before me, my king.” She parted her thighs. The skirt clung to her hips, but the slit allowed him to see the wet folds of her sex as they sparkled like her wings.
Hugh obeyed, coming to his knees before her. He grabbed her thighs and jerked her roughly forward. His lips parted, eager to taste her yet again. Each time he wanted her, he found her body wet and ready for him, her desires enough to match his own. With a groan, he licked along her slit, twirling his tongue over the sweet bud he found within. She moaned, responding like she always did.
Sweet, pretty sounds escaped her as his intimate kiss deepened. Unable to resist, he reached between his own thighs, dipping his hand beneath the waistband of his breeches to grab his erection. His fist pumped to the rhythm of his tongue.
“I want more,” she commanded him.
Hugh broke away, the taste of her on his mouth as he pushed up from the floor. His lips captured hers, kissing her once more. Her tongue slid along the side of his, eliciting a moan. Running his hands along her waist, he jerked her top down to find her nipples were indeed hard. The material melted beneath his fingers only to disappear. Massaging her breast, he pinched the budded nipple.
Passionately, he drew his lips along her chin, nibbling lightly at her ear. Her breasts called to him and he couldn’t resist capturing one in his mouth, greedily sucking and biting the hard nipple. Their magic erupted, like falling stars showering around them, impassioning them even more.
Tania’s hands found his breeches, freeing him to her. He pressed her into the throne and she pushed at his arms. Her tone a breathless plea, she whispered, “Fly me into the air, my king.”
His heart beat fast, choking all words from his throat as he lifted her into the air. Her wings helped to carry them upwards, high off the stone palace floor. As if sensing her will, their bodies poofed with a shower of magic, their figures becoming small and light as they were but specks against the giant great hall ceiling.
Hugh caressed her legs, ripping the slit of her skirt so that it fell away. Her small hand wrapped around his arousal, stroking it so delicately that it made him ache for the tight sheathe of her sex. Impatient with the need to claim her, he gripped her ass, pressing her along the high wall near the curved arch of the silver ceiling.
He stroked a finger along her sex, testing the silken depths of her need for him. Her skin was soft velvet to his harder flesh and unable to resist, he thrust his finger in and out.
“More,” she commanded him.
Hugh obeyed, would always obey his queen. He gripped her hips firmly, angling himself as he pressed her into the wall. His feet dangled in the air, but his wings propelled him forward as he thrust. The great need he felt for her sped through his veins, drowning out all other thoughts and concerns.
Thrusting inside her warmth, he pumped his wings, holding her hips only to let go and let the pull of the ground force her body deep onto his. Never as a mortal did he imagine such feats as he’d done with his wife. Lights erupted around them, falling on the floor below.
Hugh withdrew, only to thrust once more. He controlled the pace, moving in and out, in and out, soaking in her soft sighs and whimpering moans. The tension built until he was desperate for release. Her breath caught and he felt her sex tighten around him, bringing her sweet climax. The pull of her muscles beckoned him to join and he did, spilling his seed deep inside her fragile body.
Tania’s cry joined his and he held her tight, keeping her pressed against the smooth palace ceiling. Here, in this moment, no other thing mattered. They were together, hidden from the world, hidden from the concerns of their rule, of their family. She was his haven and he clung to her, never wanting to let go.
Chapter Four
Fire Palace of the Damned, Kingdom of Hades
King Lucien didn’t move, hadn’t moved for some time. Fires burned bright and hot in his bedchamber—in the oversized fireplace, in basins, on candles and torches—but he did not feel the heat. Inside he was cold.
Light gauze hung from the ceiling, fluttering noiselessly around the room. The material was scorched from old flames, hanging like thick, old spider webs coated in ash. Though the material occasionally blew close to the flames, it did not catch fire. It only burned when he willed it to. The sheer cloth fluttered before his face, hiding Mia’s prone body from his gaze. He waited, not leaning to the side to see her.
Once, his bedchamber, indeed his whole Fire Palace, had held a dark beauty in its décor. He made it that way for her, for his nymph. He gave her every comfort, keeping her safe in his bedchamber. Whatever she needed, she was given and all he asked in return was her utter obedience. But then she betrayed him, and not just once, but several times. She freed two of his prized prisoners from the dungeons—Prince Ladon and William the Wizard. When he had Hugh and Tania in his grasp, she helped them escape. She warned Bellemare that his demons were coming. She even freed Sir Nicholas, not that it did much good. The man came crawling back, begging to have his soul extracted. Lucien took it, and gladly, because of Nicholas’ intimate knowledge of the Bellemare family.
The scorched material moved again, unveiling Mia’s unmoving form amongst the dark furs of his bed. The worst betrayal was when she kissed William the Wizard. Though much time had passed, he still felt the pain of it in the pit of his stomach. She betrayed him and it only made him want her more.
As she escaped, he’d been sure she’d leave with the man. He waited for her to go. To his surprise, she stayed. But by her own words, he knew she stayed out of fear and because he had her soul. She did not stay because that is what she wanted.
Lucien hadn’t wanted to be reminded of beauty’s treacherous face, her easy lies, so he let Anja take his nymph to the dungeons. When Mia was below, he had time to focus his energies into his kingdom. With each passing day, his obsession with her absence empowered him even as it tortured. He was the Damned King. He could have any women he wanted, by either seduction or force. And yet he held back, letting his own torment feed the evil power in
side him.
In his darkest hours, those he’d normally spend with his imprisoned lover, he’d almost ordered Anja to kill Mia and thus purge himself of her forever. He could not. The soothsayer predicted he was to have a son, a child that would lead his army of half-breeds into the mortal realm and conquer it. Mia would be the child’s mother.
“You didn’t leave with him.” Lucien’s voice was soft. “You didn’t leave with William. You could have tried, but you chose to stay with me.”
Mia didn’t answer, unable to hear him as he willed her to stay asleep. She looked thin from her ordeal down in the dungeons, but he knew Anja had not tortured her—at least physically. He’d ordered it so, using the excuse that if she was to carry his dark prince then she’d need to be unharmed.
“You could have tried to escape. Instead you came here to my bed. Does this mean you accept your fate?”
Still no answer, but Lucien didn’t need one. She didn’t accept him, only the knowledge of his power over her. He had half her soul and she would be a fool to try and escape him. No matter where she went, he would find her. He would always find her.
“She is the reason why you have failed in the past. That nymph makes you weak. Let me take her back to the dungeons where she cannot distract you.”
Lucien had felt the evil behind him and when Anja spoke, he turned to look at her. “The faeries?”
She pouted a lip at his refusal to talk about Mia. “They are here. I had them delivered to the great hall. You should hear their moans, so much anguish.” Anja giggled, delighted by her own words. “The evil that Sir Nicholas left planted inside them has made their souls raw with pain.”
“Who would have thought the mortal would have done something right in innocently taking faeries to his bed?” Lucien chuckled. When he’d sent the demon to possess Nicholas, answering the man’s plea and helping him to kill his father, he never expected him to be more than a diversion. Lucien only knew of Nicholas because of his connection to the Bellemare family. And now, instead of trying to tempt them from afar, that single murder drew the Bellemare into the Immortal Realm. Juliana to Merrick, torturing the Unblessed King now from the stone prison Merrick tried to keep secret. Hugh to Feia, bitten by the living dead and unable to return to Bellemare. Now that the Bellemare family was connected to his world, they would not find their way out so easily.
“His touch has poisoned them,” Anja said. “All three will carry a seed of your demon army. Their wombs are ripe. We must act tonight and extract their souls before the evil kills them. We cannot let their souls escape in death. I have summonsed your most powerful warriors, those of the purest breeds, and have told them to ready their human temples. The children cannot be born in this world. The other kingdoms cannot know what we do. We will hide the children and their mothers in the mortal realm.”
“The others are busy with their war,” Lucien said. “They won’t sense the evil army until it is well upon them.”
“A war you instigated.” Anja clapped. “And now they’re all so sad and distracted. No one pays attention to us.”
“You are too kind, soothsayer.” Lucien arched a brow, strolling toward the child. “But you brought me Juliana’s knife. You helped to trap her in a realm of stone.”
“Aye, I did. And there she will wait until we are ready to steal the child from her.” The child giggled. “Soon my spirits will chase her to our dungeon and I will trap her there. But for now, they tease her, whispering naughty little things into her lonely ears.”
“The Unblessed King will not recover so easily from the loss.” Lucien grinned. “You are too cunning, evil seer.”
The child smiled, swaying back and forth on her feet, only to stop. Her face fell and she gave him a wry look. “You want something from me. Your compliments are too pretty.”
Lucien laughed. It took her long enough to catch on to his ploy.
“What?” She put her hand on her hips and tapped her toes in waiting. “What is it you want?”
“I want you to bring the crone to my hall. I want to meet her.”
“She only speaks to me.” Anja shook her head in denial.
“I want to meet her.”
“Why?”
“I wish to ask her something.”
“Ask me.” Anja pouted.
“But you’re only a child. I want the crone.”
Anja’s face wrinkled in anger, her skin reddening as her true nature began to show itself. Her silken hair began to harden, becoming brittle. “Are you saying I have not enough power?”
Lucien saw her impudence and released the tight hold he kept on the demon inside. His eyes filled with the darkness and he felt the crimson streaks burning their way through the black. Like the scorched embers of a dying fire, his flesh crackled to an ashen gray.
“I will speak to her,” Anja rushed, not giving him time to build his rage more. “I cannot promise she will come, but I will try to persuade her.”
“Wise decision. Now, let us go barter for the faery souls.” Lucien gave the seer a small smile. Though he wanted to, he did not look at Mia again as he left his chambers. Anja skipped behind him, humming a little tune only she knew the words to. “I wouldn’t want to keep the demon sires waiting.”
Juliana took a deep breath, shivering as she huddled against the protruding edge of the large, barren fireplace in the great hall of the Black Palace. The dark spirits were stirring, their shadowed bodies drifting over the land of stone as if searching for her. So long as she didn’t move, they wouldn’t find her.
“He forgets you.” The whisper tickled the back of her ear, causing her to bite her lip hard as the spirit glided past. It didn’t stop, not detecting her exact spot. She heard the whisper repeating as the shadows slipped away. A tear slid over her cheek.
“He doesn’t forget,” she mouthed, no sound coming as she thought the words in her head. “Hear me, Merrick. See me again. Bring me back to you. Bring me back.”
Merrick opened his eyes, sleep not coming as he felt Juliana all around him. The sweet smell of her body invaded his nose, tempting him with desire. When he cast the spell to bring her to his bed, he thought to do so to find comfort in her memory. Instead, the spell tormented him because it wasn’t real. It was a manifestation of his memory of her, an elusive peek at what he wanted most.
Still, as his thoughts turned, tempted by her familiar scent, the echoing of her soft voice in the back of his mind, he didn’t resist. Lying still so that the sensations could take hold, he waited for when the feel of her hands would join the other sensations.
His blood stirred with arousal. He didn’t fight the passion as his shaft grew heavy between his thighs, pressing against the coverlet on his bed. The moment he detected her scent, he’d willed the clothes to disappear from his body, leaving him naked. His limbs were sprawled on the large bed, waiting, eager.
Sensing Juliana’s fear, he called to it, urging her to come to him. He wanted her, always wanted her, and the knowledge that he couldn’t simply will her to appear before him irritated to no end. She was his and Merrick wanted her back. From the beginning, from the first time he saw her in the Mortal Realm, he’d been obsessed with her. He thought by bringing her to his palace, making her his queen, the obsession would leave him. It only became worse until he’d rather cut out his own heart than go on without her.
Obsession led to madness and the creatures of Valdis wouldn’t follow a mad king obsessed with a woman, a former human no less. The war with Tegwen raged on, demanding he be strong. There were many who would gladly relieve him of his throne, leaving Juliana trapped and the seat of unblessed power open. Only death would relinquish him of his crown and no matter how he tired of life, he didn’t wish for death. He must live for Juliana, for the hope that one day he’d have her before him once more. Whether, upon that reunion, he rung her neck or kissed her endlessly would remain to be seen.
“You promised to stay with me,” he whispered, as the gliding touch of her hand found his stomach
. At first it was light, like the subtle caress of a warm breeze, but as the stroke pushed upward, it became harder. Nails caught on his flesh, giving a bit of pain to his pleasure. He welcomed it, knowing in those hands was the same urgency his body felt.
Stay with me, Juliana. Stay.
“Stay,” Juliana urged Merrick, knowing instinctively that he couldn’t hear her, just as she couldn’t hear him. But it had to be his body that called to her. His hands hesitated before reaching up to touch her sides. The swell of her stomach hadn’t stopped his desire for her in the least. Whenever this happened, whenever his spirit called, she was pulled to their bedchamber to be with his ghostly image. Though transparent to look at, he was solid to touch and she did, eagerly running her hands over his thick muscles, soaking in what comfort she could. Once they found release, his image would fade and she’d be alone on the bed, dressed and aching for more time.
But she wouldn’t think about that now. Naked, Juliana straddled his thighs with her knees, looking down onto his transparent face. The soft fur of a coverlet separated them and she pressed her knees tight against him. These brief moments in his bed were all she had and she clung to them desperately.
“Merrick,” she whispered, wishing he could hear her. All he did was touch and she wondered if that was all he could do, or if he was indeed punishing her for trying to end the immortal war. Still, for all her doubt, she couldn’t refuse him.
Nothing else mattered in these sweet, short moments. The fear she felt of the spirits down in the hall disappeared. With him, even a ghostly him, she felt safe. Juliana ran her hands over his chest to his neck, moving up to stroke his achingly handsome face. Each delicately sunken curve, each perfect bend of flesh pulled at her heart. So much time had passed and yet, when she touched him, she could forget years. There was only Merrick and Juliana, two lovers, bound eternally.
Stone Queen Page 6