by A. K. Koonce
I normally wouldn’t either, but these men are Krave’s family. And if he trusts them . . . then I do, too, I guess.
I should. I . . . I do.
“I’m a big girl, faehole,” I whisper to Zaviar with a slow, teasing smile.
His features never change, though.
The warmth of his smooth chest skims against mine, and all I feel for several seconds is the weight of his breath against my neck as he leans in nice and close. I feel him everywhere in this moment.
In places I probably shouldn’t.
“If he fucking touches you, I’ll rip his demon wings off and use them as an ugly fucking umbrella, Crow.” His rasping words race down my neck and shiver right through my core.
Nasty threats like that probably shouldn’t turn me on.
You need religion, child, Catherine chirps from the back of my mind.
His chin tilts a fraction of an inch, and I feel the softness of his lips against my throat for a single breath before he abruptly lets go and strides back across the room toward Damien.
I swallow hard and try to blink through all the feelings swirling chaotically inside myself.
Without looking back, I slink into the shadows like they’re my favorite soothing lullaby.
The inside of the house seems much larger than it appeared on the outside. We trial up several flights of stairs before coming to a long dark corridor. Ryhs strides into one of the room and I linger there at the doorway.
The room is pretty with a sea glass wall on the far side. Shimmering ocean water sparkles from outside, casting beautiful colors across the dimly lit room.
He’s quiet as he flings open the closet. It’s mostly empty but he continues to search through it for me.
I linger in the safe space of the doorframe.
I’ve never been afraid of men. Especially demons. When you grow up royal, it’s ingrained in your mind to feel fearless and untouchable.
Unlike my brother, I trained with a secret group all my life to ensure I really am as impervious as my father liked to believe his crown made us.
But I’m also not an idiot, and I won’t put myself in danger simply for a T-shirt and jeans.
As I’m keeping a firm gaze on Rhys, an enormous man sidesteps past me, his fluid strides soundless as he brushes past, his chest skimming my arm. His long golden hair hangs down the hard lines of his back between oil slick wings that hold my attention.
“This is Maverick,” Rhys murmurs the introduction of his friend as he continues searching the closet.
“Who’s the girl?” Maverick’s voice is a dark rumble and he pauses at Rhys’ side, leaning against the wall as he watches me. His brown eyes take in my bra and panties and makes them feel like they’re growing smaller by the second. I fold my arms casually, but it only draws his attention to my breasts.
Why the fuck am I always in my underwear? There has to be a better way of making a first impression, right?
“She’s Krave’s mate,” Rhys says firmly without looking our way, and Maverick’s attention snaps to his friend.
“Princely Krave?” he asks, a hesitant smile pulling at his lips.
“Krave’s here,” Rhys confirms with a glint in his gaze.
Happiness lights up the man’s face with a manic smile. Maverick backtracks without giving me a second glance. With pounding, rushed steps, he’s striding down the stairs and into an eruption of laughter and chatter that sounds like a lifetime of happiness has been paused until this very moment.
My heart falls as well as my features. This is where Krave belongs.
I think realizing he doesn’t belong with me makes it harder for me to imagine giving him up. I can tell him to go away a thousand times, but I guess I always knew I’d ask him to come back to me. I never imagined him being anywhere else but with me.
It hurts to think about.
“You love him?” Rhys asks suddenly, his gaze hard and unrelenting.
My head rears up with that terrifying question.
In his fist, silky purple material is wrinkled between his fingers. He doesn’t hand them over. He waits with hard features for me to answer what I am sure is one of many questions.
“I mean, he’s my mate. I care about him. Of course, I do . . .” A long pent-up breath pushes from my lungs.
“And those other fucks? You love them?” His harshness isn’t something that can be smoothed out with a right answer.
“If I love all four of them, then that’s none of your business. I’m not going to play your games just to cover my ass with one of your shirts for a few hours.”
Rhys’s eyes narrow on me, and the space in the room seems to be dissolving the longer I stand here with him.
“Are you mated with all four of them or just Krave?” He asks like I’m wasting his time, but I’m so thrown off by his question that genuine confusion slips into my tone.
“All four of them?”
Four is a lot! A whole lot of exhausting testosterone. A lot of bickering. A lot of . . .
A lot of sex, I bet. That’s not super terrible, I suppose . . .
“You’re friends with an incubus, an iron blood, a half-demon, and some kind of fucking cupid boy, and you haven’t paused to wonder why all four of these men are mysteriously in your life?”
“You’re overthinking things. I’m not blessed with too many absurdly attractive men. I just have really bad luck. Bad things like these men just happen to me for no reason.”
His eyebrow arches so hard, I can almost hear it saying righhhtt all by its pretentious self.
A heavy sigh exhales from his lips, and he slowly hands over the soft purple material. When I reach for it, he doesn’t release it, and we’re connected by the thin fabric while he glares down on me so hard, I can feel the hellishness within him radiating into me with each passing second.
“Krave is loyal to those he loves,” he says.
That’s a joke.
I bite my tongue instead of telling him who Krave’s handler is and who the incubus is truly loyal to.
“He’ll do anything for you. He’ll get himself imprisoned for you. He’ll die for you.” The weight of his words hits my chest, and it’s hard for me to think of a response to that. Luckily, he doesn’t wait for me to. “Don’t let him. Take care of him the way I know he’d take care of you. And don’t let your other mates lead him into danger, either.” He lets go of the clothing and strides out of the room.
“They’re not my mates,” I call after him.
He doesn’t respond.
He just leaves me there alone to change.
And to question all the things in my life that might be fate . . .
Or might just be coincidental bad luck.
19
Catherine the Queen
Aries
The clothes Rhys gave me turned out to be a casual silk dress. It flows flirty around my thighs and dips down at the top to tease the curve of my breasts. I have absolutely no idea what three demon men are doing with a cute dress like this, but I’m not complaining either.
I took the time to wash my face in a small bathroom across from the bedroom he left me in. When I start to climb down the dark stairwell, the laughter booming in the kitchen is still going strong.
“Of course, Clara hated you back then. You fucked her brother and never told her until after you’d fucked her!” Nix accuses, pointing a long finger in Krave’s face, which he ignores with a shake of his head.
“It was just a misunderstanding,” Krave defends with an airy wave of his hand. But damn, his defense could use a little work. He’s still smiling wide as he takes a long drink out of a clay cup.
His head is still tipped back, and his sharp Adam’s apple is still working as he catches sight of me. His tongue slides across his damp lips, his gaze slipping down my body with so much slowness I can feel his attention heating across my skin.
Damien leans against the square table at Krave’s side, and it’s hard for me to look at the two of them and not remembe
r the way the three of us were tangled up together.
I spot an empty seat between Rhys and Zaviar, but when I pass Krave, his glittering fingers slip over my hip, and he pulls me down onto his lap. I gasp from the surprising feel of his body colliding with mine. He waits with big dark eyes for my response. He takes charge when we do . . . other things together. He’s always hesitant to touch me any other time.
Because I always shove him away. I tell him to leave. I remind him that he’s unwanted.
I’m a fucking terrible mate to have.
But we’re both terrible mates.
If this is fate, Fate must be a cruel bitch to put us together and make us feel all the things we feel for one another: lust, hate, regret, and every dark thing in between.
For a single second, I pretend all those memories don’t lie in the spaces between his hard body and mine.
What if I wasn’t an exiled princess? And what if he wasn’t a spy for my father?
My head tips down, and sparks sting my lips when I graze them across his neck near his erratic black tattoos. I trail a slow heated path to his ear.
“I like seeing you here with your family, Krave.” I whisper those words just to him, and his breath falls heavier against my hair.
My lashes lift, and I couldn’t look away from the intensity of his eyes if I wanted to.
“I like you here with me,” he whispers back, his hand trailing low to brush his long, glinting fingers across my thigh. It’s just enough to send a tremble spiraling through me before he slides his palm right back up, taking the hem of my dress a little higher with him as he goes. “I like you here against me,” he says, running his nose along my jaw line. “And I fucking love your body against mine,” he rasps, pressing a slow kiss just below my ear. Every single time he’s ever touched me between my thighs slams through my head fast and hard.
“Stop. I haven’t had sex in two days. Stop with the table foreplay, Krave,” Nix says with a wide smile kissing his lips.
“Two days. Is that some kind of dry spell record for you, Phoenix?” Krave’s hands continue roaming all over my body and distracting me to no end.
Whatever Phoenix replies goes unheard as Krave’s fingers languidly slide beneath my dress. One. At. A. Time.
“That’s it,” Damien grips my hips and pulls me out of the incubus’s reach. I stand there between the two men as Damien glares and Krave smirks.
“Problem?” Krave asks with a knowing smile that’s just growing larger by the second.
As ridiculous as Krave always is, I, too, want to know what Damien’s problem is. He looks seething right now. Furious, like he might murder Krave and bury him in the red sand of the Torch to never be seen again.
“More importantly, what’s the token that ties your realm to the fae realm?” Ryke asks Rhys, ignoring Damien’s outburst entirely.
Ryke’s right. We’re here. We should get all the information we can while we’re here.
“So you’re not here just for a visit.” Maverick looks to each of us before settling his attention on Ryke.
No one speaks for a moment. I get the feeling Maverick wouldn’t offer up information unless Rhys approved it. And I’m not sure the other demon, Phoenix, even has information aside from updates on his cock, and that doesn’t seem to be very helpful at this time.
“The token was the buried remains of Hell Lord’s mate, his Queen,” Rhys finally says. The moment he says it, the calm inside me churns. Catherine quivers within me. “Her remains were burned and laid to rest in Voren. It was a peaceful burial. Was,” he repeats with disgusted emphasis.
“What happened to her?” Damien asks, his hands still holding my hips as he stands in front of me.
Rhys’s glaring gaze cuts to me like I personally pissed in his Cheerios this morning.
“The fae king of the Ashen Kingdom stole her remains. Hell Lord cursed him, and he cursed his own mate out of vengeance. He let the hateful king have what was left of his only love. And in return, the fae realm will always be open to the demons the fae king hated so much.”
The Ashen Kingdom . . .
“Where the hell is the Ashen Kingdom again?” Zaviar asks, turning his bright eyes on me.
I swallow hard as everything all comes together for the first time in my life. I never realized the remains were stolen by my father.
My father loved a demon. My sister is the outcome of that love. When his demon left, he loathed their kind more than any other. He cursed her name until she the day she died.
And even then, it seemed he never let her rest.
“Corva’s mother was a Queen of Hell . . .” I whisper in a voice so low it barely comes out. “The Ashen Kingdom is the Kingdom of Roses. It was once filled with an ashen curse because my father stole those ashy remains. Until my mother came.”
The ash is gone from my father’s kingdom. But the hate is still there.
Some things change.
And some never do.
20
Kravings
Aries
I’ve been calling a Queen of Hell a cunt for the last three years, and then wondering why I have such bad karma. Catherine the Cunt is Hell Lord’s mate.
Maybe I should have listened to Catherine every now and then.
You think? she chokes from the depths of my mind.
I roll my eyes at her as I walk into the bedroom Rhys escorts us to, the same one he led me to earlier. I’m still mid-eye roll when the door closes behind me, and I get another good look at the room from around Damien’s broad shoulders.
And karma rears her ugly head once more.
“Rhys, there’s only one bed in here,” I mumble as I turn back around to face a closed door.
No Rhys.
Myself and the four men pass a glance between us.
Springs squeak when Krave flops down hard on the white feather quilt, spreading his long arms wide across the mattress. “It’s a big bed, though. We’ll all fit if I snuggle. Between your thighs,” he adds in a whisper.
A growl hums through the room, and it takes me a second to realize it came from the demon at my side . . . the one I used to think was the sweet one.
“You don’t like the idea of me fucking your . . . oh, you two aren’t even friends, are you?” Krave leans up on his forearms to gives Damien a cruel, glinting smile.
“You talk too much.” Damien’s jaw clenches hard, but he keeps his gaze pinned on the arrogant incubus smirking up at him.
“I don’t talk enough,” Krave challenges. “In fact, I’d love to know, are you jealous of the idea of me making her cum, or her making me cum?”
Damien’s boots storm hard across the wooden floor, but Zaviar catches his arm before he pounces on the taunting incubus.
“That’s fucking enough,” Zaviar grinds out, his gaze sweeping over the two men.
Ryke sighs and shoves his hand over his short brown hair as he assesses how small this room really is.
“Fuck,” he drawls out.
“We just have to stay here until we have a plan,” Zaviar remind us. All of us.
“We just have to murder the Prince.” Damien’s flat words are thrown out without much thought, it seems, but Krave is nodding in agreement almost instantly.
“Yes. Exactly,” the incubus says, and now they’re both nodding.
What. The. Fuck.
“We’ll smoke into his room and slit his throat with his own crown,” Damien adds like a total fucking psychopath.
“Definitely,” Krave encourages, his hand lifting to stroke his long, glittering fingers down the lines of Damien’s stomach.
I arch a brow at the movement, and Zaviar and Ryke do the same, but no one says anything as Damien’s lips part with a breath.
And I see it the moment he feels the sparking magic of Krave’s touch.
“Smoke magic doesn’t work within castle walls,” I whisper, but it’s a perplexed sound that barely leaves my lips.
“We . . . we could hide his body under the treehouse
and let his bloody remains feed its roots.” Damien trembles as he watches Krave’s fingers slide lower down the thin trail of hair that disappears beneath his jeans.
Again. What. The. Fuck.
“That’s a good idea.” Krave nods once more, his eyes flashing wildly as he lowers the waist of Damien’s jeans.
“That’s a terrible fucking idea. My father would have all four of you on leashes before the end of the day. And a crown isn’t sharp enough to murder anyone,” I finally say because that shitty plan has higher ranking right now than even the fact that my mate is now stroking Damien’s cock.
And he’s hard. Holy faefuck, Damien’s hard!
Neither of them hear me. Ryke glances my way, but I can tell he’s not actually listening to anything anyone is saying.
Seriously, is a handjob more important than what I have to say right now?
It’s like men can’t hear when their dicks are out or something.
With a sigh, I stomp over beside them, and Zaviar slips right out of their space without a sound.
“Why would you even say that?” I try to cut into Damien’s line of sight, but he’s just as mesmerized by Krave’s ability to get his cock hard as . . . okay everyone in the room seems a little impressed, and I think we all need to reassess our priorities a little bit.
“I don’t know. I said it because . . . because I’d do anything to protect you, Aries,” Damien barely gets those words out before he groans, his head tipping back as Krave’s palm slides slowly over the head of Damien’s cock. The tattooed crown along his middle finger nearly touches the magical dusting staining his fingers. His long fingers make fluid strokes down Damien’s shaft, and my thighs shift as I scream the word Priority over and over again in my mind.
Why would Damien put himself in so much danger to protect me?
That kind of loyalty is only found in mat—oh no.
“Oh, no,” I whisper.
But that’s all I’m able to get out. Because Damien shoves his big hand through my hair and roughly pulls me toward him. A delicious growl hums from his lips to mine as he kisses me hard. Forcefully.