What's Up, Buttercup? (Vexatious Valkyries Book 1)

by Jane Cousins

  “You believe you will have a say when the time comes? Come now, you are more savvy than that. You know how the Court works, the pressures that will be applied. They will appeal to your honour, your duty, and then they will alternate between pleading and brow beating you.”

  “Perhaps. But I have many cousins, and you appear to be in fine health. I have great faith that a handful of my relatives will mature over the next few centuries, and Court opinion will shift to support one of them, recognizing their abilities and ambitions.”

  “That may well turn out to be the truth, but here, now, our people look to you as the safety net for the future of the throne.” Laynn held up a hand to halt Galen’s protest. “Perception is everything when it comes to ruling and maintaining peace and prosperity. And being ruler is no bad thing. Money. Power. You would come to adjust… to love it all too quickly.”

  Fuck. Fuck. He was an idiot. First blindsided when the Knustabber condition was prematurely triggered. Now to discover his future was being co-opted by political machinations. He really must have had his head in the sand not to have heard the whispers or interpreted the smarmy looks that had greeted his rare visits at Court.

  Absently he registered a second of the Queen’s pet Shamans sidling up behind him. Where there was one, the other two were never far away. Their proximity made his skin crawl.

  Anger coursed through his veins like thick, polluting oil, threatening to smother and defeat him. He wanted no part in these silly political games. His life, his future… with Stephanie, was his own. He shifted his gaze to rest upon his Valkyrie, his inner Demon could be relied upon to twist the flooding rage into burning, seething desire. Yes, it was uncomfortable, but preferable to drowning in blind, senseless fury.

  He inhaled and exhaled slowly, his dark gaze resting on that bright blonde mane of hair. Damn, what he wouldn’t give to bury his hands in that silky waterfall.

  Laynn followed the direction of Galen’s gaze, misinterpreting where his attention was resting. “Yes, of course you are correct, my sweet Welst would certainly be considered your closest rival for the throne. All he needs is a few more years to mature, to come into his own. Then I’m sure the Court will recognise his potential and public opinion will shift to support his bid to be ruler.”

  Galen was barely registering what his aunt was saying, all his attention fixated upon Stephanie, watching as she smiled, laughed and chatted with the Pake. The foreigners clustered around her, bobbing and weaving almost in unison, soft melodic trills and whistles emanating from the group, as they imbibed large glasses of amber liquid.

  “He is my son. I know I am prejudiced, but you can see it, can’t you? That spark, that ability? Welst was born to be King.” Laynn shifted closer to Galen, giving him an unobstructed view of Stephanie, those long, long legs of hers in that black micro mini had him clenching his fists in need; to touch, stroke, explore. “Tall. Handsome. Intelligent. And so very witty… why, just the other day he said… well, whatever Welst said, I just laughed and laughed.”

  Galen could have refuted all of Laynn’s list when it came to Welst. Uppers in his shoes. Shoulder pads in his suit jacket. Not smart enough to stay out of Galen’s way. But he’d much rather stand here and tally up the exceedingly long list of ways he intended to worship one gorgeous Valkyrie warrior when he finally got her alone.

  Only four hundred years of court etiquette drummed into him by his parents had him locked in place, waiting for his aunt to release him from this conversation. His gaze narrowing as the Pake suddenly formed a conga line, bobbing, weaving and trilling their way out the nearest set of double doors onto the balcony. Stephanie laughed, tossing back her head, following on their heels. The idea of her being out of his line of sight was loathsome in the extreme, his inner Demon all but scratching up his soul in protest.

  He didn’t realise he was growling, the sound emanating from deep in the back of his throat until he sensed the Queen’s Bodyguards begin to crowd him, the tips of their swords all aimed at his throat.

  “Careful.” The Queen admonished sharply. “Galen? Galen?”

  It took all of his control to form words. “May… may I be… excused, Aunt? I have something that I must attend to.” Keep Stephanie in sight. Damn, if that moronic twit Welst took three more steps he would block Galen’s view of her. The urge to throttle his cousin until he was blue and lifeless, warred with this overwhelming urge to beat his chest and declare that Stephanie was his, and his alone. To sweep her up and carry her away to his lair.

  “Of course. Go, Galen, do what needs to be done.”

  He was in motion before his aunt was done speaking. Hopefully she would forgive his disrespect.

  Like a battering ram, Galen pushed his way through the remaining party-goers, his long legs pumping fast. Uncaring of the disgruntled looks he was receiving as Demons scurried to get out of his way in time or risk a collision. Grrr, the seething, furious desire racing through his veins was all but tearing him apart. He was finding it difficult to think, reason.

  One last shred of sanity remained, demanding he pay attention, understand that something was wrong with him. But then Stephanie turned, and those ocean blue eyes locked onto him, and fiery, insistent hunger swamped him and he could think no more.

  * * *

  Amusement at the antics of the Pake, as they congaed and bobbed their way around the balcony, knocking back more mead between high kicks evaporated in a heartbeat. Instincts on high alert, Stephanie whirled to face the incoming threat.

  Freyja, the sight of an intent Galen steamrollering his way across the room liquefied things low in her body. It was heady stuff, that determined, wild-eyed… possessive gleam in his midnight dark eyes, all but freezing her in place. The intensity of his stare made her heart race and things lower in her body heat up instantly to furnace level.

  Galen’s black hair fell carelessly over his forehead. The dark shadow of his well past five o’clock shadow heightening the aura of unkempt sexiness that the Demon exuded. So delightfully at odds with his navy trousers, boots and that expensive checked shirt that he so casually wore.

  Damn, suddenly Galen looked broader, taller… dangerous. To be the target of such intense focus… her knees felt weird, weak. As if they were going to collapse beneath her. If only there were a seat nearby, or a strong, muscular, dark-eyed Demon to cling to.

  Say what now?

  That bizarre unfamiliar feeling was enough to snap Stephanie out of her trance long enough to note that Galen wasn’t alone in his approach. Several steps behind him, but lagging, were four Palace Guards escorting… no, they were chasing him, their swords out. And more Guards were closing in on Galen’s position from several of the exit points, intent upon intercepting him.

  It was weird. Galen appeared unaware of their presence, or just uncaring. Shit, had he said something to piss off his aunt? Were they both about to get thrown in the dungeon?

  Surprisingly, Prince Welst actually had some sense of self-preservation. An innate hindbrain survival instinct kicking in, warning him of a predator’s approach. Glancing up reluctantly from Stephanie’s bodacious bosom, terror gripped him at the sight of Galen headed his way. The squeak of fear he issued was far from manly. And the fact that he took three steps sideways, in order to use Stephanie as a human shield, did not do his masculinity quota any favours. “Fucking hell. He’s going to kill me.” Panic and fear drenched his declaration.

  Suddenly everything made sense. Welst’s reaction. The Guards pursuing Galen. They thought he had turned, devolved, gone full on mindless stabby. Idiots. If he had, the room would have been littered with bodies, the walls and ceilings painted in blood. There was dark intent on Galen’s face, and though Welst thought he looked murderous, Stephanie only saw furious, seething want and need. All that intensity directed at her. Oh, my. Thank you Freyja. Banging boots time. Only one little problem.

  She was going to have to defuse this situation and fast. If she didn’t, and Galen, in his current state of mind
, was actually forced to confront a squadron of nervous but determined Guards, then who knows, that might be the trigger that did send him full on Berserker. Stephanie went with her instincts, stepping forward to meet that wall of fast moving muscle.

  Galen swept Stephanie up into his arms, her long legs wrapping around his waist, her hands coming up to clasp his shoulders. He kept going, shoving aside some idiot that was in his way. All he wanted, all he knew was that he needed to be alone with Stephanie. To strip her, kiss her, touch, taste and fuck her.

  If you’d asked him his own name at the moment, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer, his inner Demon was riding that close to the surface. The only thing they both could agree upon was their Valkyrie was essential to their survival.

  Stephanie had to bite back a smile as she watched Welst hit the balcony door with a thud, lose his balance and slump to the floor in a graceless heap. Idiot, not smart enough to get out of Galen’s way. “Sorry.” She so wasn’t, but she was pretty sure social convention required that she make some inane attempt at an apology. “Galen must need me to take an urgent memo… or dictation. He just gets so focused on work sometimes.”

  Stephanie managed a wave and a casual smile as if this was an everyday occurrence. Her boss sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her off into the night. Yeah, nothing to see here but two workaholics dedicated to to the law. Night and day.

  Welst and the Guards, who were now bottle-necked at the balcony doorway, stared in wide eyed shock as Galen strode off carrying his distinctly cheerful looking prize.

  Walking further and further along the deserted balcony. It wasn’t long before dark shadows engulfed them. The only sounds to be heard, the quiet thrum of some nocturnal creature that lived in the looming palm-like trees and red ferny undergrowth three storeys below.

  Stephanie was excited, delighting in the feel of Galen’s muscular arms wrapped around her body so possessively. His large hands gripping her like manacles. And given her position, with her legs locked around his waist and her skirt rucked up, she couldn’t help but be conscious of the feel of his hard cock bumping and rubbing against her lace covered core with every step he took.

  Stephanie had been picked up many times in her long lifetime, but usually that experience was followed by being thrown to the ground, kicked and punched. Often followed up by an attempt to stab or behead her.

  Never had she been swept up by a man who exuded such intense passion from every pore, all focused upon her. It made her feel giddy and so very, very horny.

  Galen pressed his nose against her neck, inhaling, taking in Stephanie’s scent. His fingers clenching her even tighter in response. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Her breasts rubbing against his linen covered chest felt full, aching. Nipples rock hard, all but stabbing into his flesh. She couldn’t help but moan as he latched onto the side of her throat with his teeth, clamping down. His heated breath all but scalding Stephanie. Galen didn’t break the skin but damn, the man had left his mark on her.

  And Sweet Goddess above, if she thought she was revved up before, the idea of Galen leaving visible evidence of his need on her flesh? By the blood of her Ancestors. She needed this Demon to fuck her, now.

  She almost whimpered in relief when he finally stopped walking, depositing her butt on the wide stone balcony ledge, moving in to loom over her. The dim red light from the two moons overhead did little to dispel the dark shadows that surrounded them. The only movement coming from the gentle sway and rustle of the tall palm trees, several long sweeping leaves overhanging the balcony and adding even more shadows and privacy.

  Stephanie prayed with all her might that Galen wouldn’t suddenly stop, or want to talk. The Demon was a thinker, and Freyja forbid, he suddenly decided they needed to discuss their feelings or some such malarkey. But no, her prayers were answered as Galen’s hands gripped the lapels of her jacket and yanked. The lone button pinged off into the darkness. Her jacket stripped from her roughly. Praise be, she loved his eagerness. She was no wilting flower. The idea of the highly civilised Demon fucking her on a deserted balcony, Stephanie almost came then at the idea.

  Galen planted hot, heated kisses along her throat, nuzzling, sucking, nipping at her flesh as he lifted her slightly, shoving her rucked up skirt even higher. His fingers dipping low, gripping her soaked lace underwear, ripping it away with a swift tug.

  Damn the Demon, she couldn’t get any hotter but every move he made was fanning her desire ever higher. Then he speared her core with two thick fingers.

  Fuck, this might be love.

  Stephanie’s hands reached out blindly, gripping his shirt, pulling, three buttons tearing free to give her access to all that hard, muscular flesh. Her nails scoring upwards over his hardened nipples.

  Galen growled. The touch, feel, the taste of his Valkyrie. Her writhing on his fingers. Clutching at his bare flesh. He wanted more. Reaching up with a free hand to snap one strap of her black lacy top. Tugging it down swiftly, baring a high, full breast to his gaze. Yes. He palmed that breast, teasing her, his tongue flicking over her nipple before drawing it into his mouth, suckling for a moment before his teeth clamped down hard. Not breaking the skin, but driven by a savage, primal need to mark his Valkyrie.

  He adored the way Stephanie jerked upwards in his arms, either because of the love bite or because he’d just added a third finger, continuing to spear her core. Revelling in the liquid heat that coated his hand. Fucking hell. He pulled at her top, uncaring that the remaining strap broke, only interested in the beautiful second breast that he could now lave attention on with his lips, tongue and teeth.

  He wasn’t aware of the world surrounding them. His mind all but shut down, only the feel of the Valkyrie in his arms, the wanting, the taking. His inner Demon so close to the surface, doubling down on the furious waves of emotion battering him. Passion. Desire. Craving Stephanie, driven by well deep hunger that had all but eradicated the smooth, suave Conflict Demon persona that he chose to reflect to the world.

  Grrr, his shirt, flung back over his shoulders by Stephanie, was hampering him. With a flex of his biceps the expensive linen split down the seams, hanging off him like fluttering flags. He was pleased to feel the tug on his belt, the parting of his trousers, his cock springing free. Yes, that’s what he really wanted, to be buried cock deep in his Valkyrie.

  Stephanie was close to coming, thanks to those three fingers spearing her. Breath coming in uneven pants as Galen teased and tasted her breasts. So very close. Freyja. Unbuckling his belt and trousers, wanting to see, touch, maybe taste all of him. An honour not often bestowed by a Valkyrie, but damn, if Galen kept this up he had earned a commensurate reward.

  Back arching, she opened her legs wider, letting him crowd in even closer. Wanting to be devoured by him. Come on… so very close.

  Galen lifted his head, the twin red moons reflected in those dark inky depths like headlights. Heavens, the Demon was gorgeous. Without thinking, Stephanie buried one hand in that silky midnight mane of his and pulled his face down, pressing her lips against his. Kissing him with everything she had, everything she couldn’t put into words. All the… feelings that were assailing her right now.

  Stephanie didn’t want to examine too closely her actions. Normally, when she was fucking some random dude, it was all about the fucking. Kissing? That was a much more intimate act. Yet here she was laying a lip lock on one dark, perplexing Demon. Revelling in the taste of him. Whiskey, heat and steely strength. The last time she’d kissed him had been back at the cavern, when she’d been drunk. That kiss had been hot, this one was inferno level scalding.

  Galen plundered those petal soft lips just as he was ravishing those shapely, toned curves with his hands and mouth. Ambrosia, honey and fire. Stephanie met and matched his demanding ways… yet, something… something in that kiss… something missing in that kiss stung. It was enough of a jolt that his inner Demon backed off a little bit in surprise and disappointment. Galen’s head cleared just
enough that he could suddenly string more than two thoughts together.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  He tore his lips from Stephanie’s, panting hard. Staring down at her. Really seeing her. Seeing the evidence of his rough assault. Swollen lips. Clothes all but torn off by his brutish hands. Two bite marks like beacons drawing his attention; one on the side of her neck and the other on her right breast. Finger shaped bruises already starting to form on her arms from his rough treatment.

  “Fuck.” He fought to get his breathing under control. Desperate hunger and need still riding him hard, but he stomped on those feelings resolutely. He had descended, all but teetering on the edge of going Berserker, but instead of succumbing, he had somehow channelled all that rage and anger into lust and desire for Stephanie. Using her selfishly to slake the consuming hunger that assailed him. All but mindless in his… assault of her.

  “Yes. Fuck.” Stephanie was so damn close to coming but Galen had suddenly frozen in place. “Fuck me now.” She frantically gripped his upper arms trying to will him to continue spearing her core but he, it seems, had different plans. Withdrawing his fingers abruptly. Leaving her feeling empty, unfulfilled and strangely exposed as his dark gaze travelled down over her body. “Galen?”

  “Hell, Stephanie…” Galen began to back away. “This should not have happened.”

  “Galen?” What the… she tried to hop off the ledge to halt him but was hampered by her rucked up skirt.

  “No. I’m no longer safe to be around. Fuck, I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  Stephanie watched as Galen disappeared into the shadows at all but a run. What in the flying fuck name of the Goddess above, had just happened? They’d been going at it hot and heavy. All systems go. A night of doing nothing but banging boots clearly on the cards and then, wham, everything had come to a screeching halt.

  Grrr, she wanted to scream, she was so damn frustrated, horny, and now confused. She’d been so close to achieving her goal of fucking the gorgeous Demon, only for it to all crumble to dust at the last second. He’d be the one to initiate it, for heaven’s sake, it wasn’t like she’d strong armed or tricked him.