Caged: A Fae Fantasy Romance (Fae Magic Book 4)

by Jessica Aspen

  “What now?”

  “Put the barrier back in place.”

  She raised the barrier and it snapped into place. The portal was once again a rectangular door with the howling mists contained inside. The power from the little dragon subsided, as if it were a wave rushing back to the ocean at low tide. Inside the bubble, the mists howled and screamed, fists forming, beating at the membrane of her power, pushing it out.

  Her stomach clenched in fear. “It’s getting out!”

  “Shut it down,” the dragon roared.

  Chapter Twenty

  Doyle readied his power, just in case he needed to rescue Siobhan. Her face was tight with focus. He felt her gather her Gift and aim it at the mists and the portal snapped out of existence.

  He sat back on his haunches, wrapped his tail behind him, and smiled at his pupil. “Very good.” She flinched and he closed his mouth, suddenly aware of how his gaping jaws and jagged teeth must appear to Siobhan.

  “I did it!” Her eyes sparkled. “I forced that miserable mist right back where it belonged.”

  The scent of her excitement rose off her skin like heat after sex. It was catching. Even in his dragon form, she enticed him. And that was a bad sign.

  Apparently his quick dip in icy water had done nothing to take care of the issue. She was a distracting handful, and right now he didn’t need distracting.

  She was almost spinning across the cave in her success. “Thank you! I can’t wait to tell Doyle. Do you know where he went? When he’ll be back?”

  Damn. He’d never had cause to be jealous of himself before, but right now, he was. The humanoid form that he took so he could get around the caves easier was the one she wanted. Not his dragon form that he was so proud of. It was humbling. And dragons never liked to be humbled.

  “Doyle is running some errands for me,” he said. “He should return soon.”

  “I’ll wait for him in the library. I need to practice my shielding anyway and that’s as good a spot as any.” She bounced to the door, and he followed, her success lighting up her face like the light of a star.

  She was so beautiful. He longed to share her excitement with her, but it wasn’t wise.

  She paused, hand on the latch, and turned back. Her face was serious. “Lord Atavantador, you’ve made it plain that you don’t owe me anything, but this—” she waved her hand at the room, indicating the spot where he’d erected the bubble “—this was so much more than I ever expected. My lord, thank you.” She bowed and he nodded his head back at her.

  Then she left. Leaving him with her name, and so much more, unsaid on his tongue.

  It was ridiculous. It was insane.

  He wanted to call her back and have her shine at him some more. He hadn’t realized how dull his existence had become—waiting for the egg to hatch, unable to do anything to speed up the process. Now, she’d changed his day to day. She’d become the light in the cave. And he wanted more.

  From the other side of the closed door he heard her laugh of delight. She was still celebrating, but she didn’t want to celebrate with him. She was turned on like a torch for Doyle. And the frustrating thing was—he was Doyle.

  Doyle Atavantador, dragon lord and guardian of the last ice dragon egg. Former knight, and possibly the last male ice dragon left in the universe. He was one of the most powerful beings on her backward world, and yet here he sat on his own treasure trove, jealous of himself.

  She had no idea that her flash of arousal, the smell of her skin were far more visceral to him in this form than in the humanoid form. It wasn’t just his sense of smell. It was his keen perception of her magic, her aura. Even the vibrations of her emotions sang to his senses. He wanted to lap it up. To swim in her success. But all she saw was a dragon with teeth and scales, more than ten times her size.

  He growled way back in the depths of his throat.

  By the old one’s claws, he wanted to shift into his other form and celebrate with her, to experience the focus of her pleasure, full force.

  He should leave her alone. She was nothing but a distraction from his plans for Maeve, the egg, Siobhan’s own brother marching ever closer to the Winter Palace.

  But the lure of her sweet scent still hung in the air.

  He shifted. In this form, that could physically mate with her, the pheromones hit him hard.

  The smell of her arousal, the taste of her scent still hanging in the air, the residual heat from her body—it all rushed into him like a slap.

  And he wanted more.

  He bathed, a short cold shower that should have calmed him down, but instead had him nearly steaming from the reaction of cold on heat. He pulled jeans and a shirt out of a jeweled chest, resentful of the time it took to zip and buckle and pull the damn things on. While her face was still aglow with the light of success, he had to see her.

  Now.

  He followed the scent of her down the hall and around the corner to the row of chambers he’d claimed as his own, but were now all hers. She said she’d be in the library, but her scent stopped at the bedroom door. He hesitated, his confidence leaking away as if he were a green hatchling.

  Was this the right course of action? Should he walk away?

  His hand tightened around the ornate brass handle formed by the gnomes years ago. The metal dug into his palm. He could walk away...he should walk away. But the smell of her was strong in the air, and despite his age, his goals, and what he should do, he was still very much a male.

  And the woman on the other side of that door wanted him.

  He lifted the latch and let himself in. And stopped, struck full force by her beauty. She was wearing a new dress she must have bought at the market. The soft blue fabric clung to the curves of her breasts and hips. She’d let out her braids and her hair poured in a white cascade down her back. But it was when she looked up at him and her dark eyes caught fire that the spark in his chest flamed in response.

  “Doyle, you’re back. I have so much to tell you.”

  He’d thought he’d had a choice out in the hall, the choice to turn around and leave without touching this woman. But as she smiled at him, he knew—he’d never had any choice at all.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  At the sight of Doyle standing in her bedroom door, a wide uncontrollable smile stretched Siobhan’s lips. His cheeks were ruddy, as if he’d run to see her, and the deep crystals in his eyes sparkled white among the blue.

  Warmth rose up inside her. He was here. Finally. And she wanted to share everything with him—the surge of her Gift, the near miss with the portal, the way the dragon had kept her on track and supported her so that she was able to do it all by herself—everything. Even the way her body thrummed at the sight of him.

  Words tumbled out of her mouth, rushing one after another in her haste to share it all. “I did it, I controlled the mists. You should have seen me. Did you see the dragon? Did he tell you what we did?” She twisted her hands together feeling awkward and needy and excited, all at the same time. “I wish you’d been there.”

  “I’m sorry I left you earlier. It was a mistake.” He came into the room, his eyes never leaving hers. He pushed the door behind him and it shut with a heavy sound, enclosing them into the suddenly small space. “The temptation of your body is so much.” His pupils flared black and her body flushed with an answering heat.

  “I shouldn’t want you like this. You have five seconds to tell me no, and I’ll leave. But after that I’m going to forget all the reasons why we shouldn’t do this.” He took a few steps further into the room and she swore she could feel him on her skin, even though he hadn’t touched her at all. Her heartbeat sped up. “Five seconds and I’m going to strip you of that dress and take you—the way I’ve wanted to take you for far too long.”

  Everything she’d thought she wanted to say closed up in her throat.

  “One.” His bright blue eyes captured hers, pinning her so she couldn’t move. “Two.” He took the first step, and her brain scrambled f
or a reason why she should stop him—and came up with nothing. “Three, four, five.” He closed the space between them. “Any last words?”

  Finally something came out. “What took you so long?”

  He laughed, the throaty masculine sound stroking her skin like velvet.

  And then she was in his arms, being carried the short distance to the bed. He set her on her feet and brushed her hair back, nuzzling her neck. “You’re a vixen in a sheep’s clothing, my dear. I never saw you coming.”

  Tremors of need rushed through her and her knees went weak. She clutched at his arms for support. “You talk too much.” She found his mouth, brushing it softly with hers. And then the kiss went wild.

  It was everything their first kiss had been, and so much more. This kiss knew they weren’t going to stop, and the anticipation of what was next stoked heat through every touch of their tangling tongues.

  He stroked her back, his hands moving down to her ass, cupping her cheeks. He pulled her in right where she wanted to be, nestled against his groin.

  “Goddess, I want this,” she murmured into his mouth and took everything she needed from him and giving back everything she had to give—the excitement, the adrenaline—the weeks of not touching him that simmered under her skin.

  He moved off of her mouth, kissing trails down to the hollow of her neck, sending shivers cascading everywhere he touched. She bent her head back, his embrace the only thing keeping her upright, and reached for the zipper at the back of the dress.

  His hands were already there. “Let me.”

  She nodded, and the zipper slid smoothly down.

  The dress slid off of her shoulders to puddle on the floor, and he groaned. “Should I be flattered or worried that you were so confident of me that you have nothing on under this?”

  “Flattered, of course.” She knew the smile on her face was one of sleek confidence, even though until he’d walked in the door she hadn’t been sure at all.

  He laughed and pulled off his own shirt.

  She heard her own indrawn gasp and saw his answering smile. Tuathan men were typically slim and strong, like fencers or runners, but Doyle was built like he’d been lifting tree trunks his whole life. Everything from his neck to where his jeans cut off her examination was sculpted muscular beauty.

  She swallowed, wondering if everything he had was massive like this. But she didn’t have time to think about it. He pulled her on to the bed, lacing his hands in her hair and kissing her thoughts away like snow flurries blowing on a strong wind.

  She was lost to the sensations sweeping her body.

  His mouth was everywhere—tracing down her neck, sliding across her shoulders, sucking the sensitive spot in the crook of her elbow and making her jump.

  “Mmm, you like that.” He licked the spot again and she shuddered, sensation rushing all over her body and straight to her core.

  She might not remember that it had been a hundred years plus since a man had touched her, but her body knew. She nearly jumped off the bed. “Too much.” She tried to pull away from the exquisite torture, but he laughed and held her arm still, licking and sucking until she writhed. “Enough, enough.” She was wet and ready between her legs and they’d barely begun.

  “Whatever my lady wishes.” His face went serious and she trembled at the look in his eyes. He nibbled back up her arm and down, moving over to the side of her breast, watching every response she made with his exotic eyes.

  She sighed, sliding her nipple to his warm, wet mouth. He clamped down and she arched back. “Oh, Goddess, yes.” He let go and she made a small sound of protest, garnering a wicked grin from her lover.

  Her lover. She liked the sound of that.

  He flicked his tongue out, blindingly fast, flicking across the hardened nub. Erotic sensation rippled through her. How did he do that? Did she even want to know?

  No, she didn’t. She was beyond questioning, her body responding to each touch as if she hadn’t ever been touched before. Her nerves firing on all levels.

  He got up and stripped off his jeans. She heard them hit the floor and another wave of anticipation rushed through her. They were going to do this and she was so ready. He turned and she saw his back for the very first time. His spine was a ridge running high along the center of his back, raising out instead of pushing in. It hit her—he was so different from her. It intrigued her, but it raised questions too. She’d never heard of an elvatian with a raised spine and cat’s eyes.

  He came back to the bed and knelt between her thighs.

  “Wait.” She sat up. “I didn’t think. Not that it’s likely to happen, but what about babies?” Elvatian children were rare but she knew nothing about his species and the complications might be spectacular. “I can’t get pregnant right now. I have too much to do.” Going to war with an ice queen would be hard enough without morning sickness. Or a baby bump.

  He smiled. “My kind can’t have children with your kind. We’re just different enough for that. ” He ran his hands over her waist and along her belly, trailing down to the V between her legs. “But, we’re similar enough for this.” He stroked the outer edges of her folds.

  Her last piece of resistance dropped away. She wanted him, and there was nothing holding her back now.

  She half-sat up and brushed her lips against his, loving the feel of his hand between her legs. “Then what are we waiting for?”

  His gorgeous blue eyes, crystallized just like hers but with that intriguing slit pupil, lit up. “Just this.” And he kissed her all the way back down to the bed, the weight of his cock pressing against her center, rippling to her core.

  She wrapped her arms around his back and held him to her, touching all along the muscles of his back. Her fingers trailed along the ridge of his spine, exploring the different bumps along the ridge. Delicious tremors of need raced through her as he rocked his hips against hers, rubbing the length of his cock against her center, back and forth. She moaned into his mouth, wet with need.

  He moved down and stroked her inner thighs, licking and sucking the hypersensitive area like he had the similar spot on her arm. She shook with urgency and arched against him.

  “More, I need more.”

  He moved to her center, sliding his tongue in and out of her folds, and then using his tongue he flicked her clit like he’d flicked her nipple. His finger continued to move until she bucked into his mouth and came, keening and grabbing fistfuls of sheet.

  This. This was what she’d wanted from him for so long. This release of, not just sexual tension, but all her worries temporarily set aside. For now, she couldn’t do anything about Bosco, or the Winter Queen, or even her own need to work on her magic. But right now she could enjoy this man. And that’s exactly what she planned to do.

  DOYLE FOUND HIMSELF facing the realization that his years of experience didn’t make any difference, he was still just as randy as a young beast. The taste of this woman’s pleasure in his mouth had his cock so hard he ached.

  He took his time moving up over Siobhan, letting himself enjoy the half-closed look of her eyes, the glow in her cheeks, and the tangle of her hair wrapped around her shoulders. She had the look of a woman well pleasured and it pleased him to no end. He moved over her and kissed her, loving sharing the taste of her in her own mouth.

  “Doyle, I’m ready.” She found his cock and wrapped her hand around it, working it back and forth.

  He shuddered, his head hanging down against her neck, breathing in her scent. “Ah, you do much more of that and I’ll be past ready.” He’d been waiting on her for weeks, fighting his own need and the needs of everyone around him. Now, she wanted him and he wanted her. For this moment, he was letting the weight of all of his responsibilities go.

  Settling between her thighs, he entered her. She took every inch of him in, her body stilling for just a moment as he filled her. He stared into her eyes. They were dark pools of heat, her pupils even darker rounds in the center. He started slow, wanting to draw this out, bu
t her hands were on his ass, urging him to go faster. He sped up, glorying in the feel of sliding in and out and feeling like he could fly like this forever, until the pressure of her need had her screaming and digging her nails. She came again and he was caught in the net of her passion. He let himself go and came shuddering into her.

  He rolled off and she crawled into his arms, snuggling into the space at his side as if she’d always been there. He squeezed her tight. “You were going to tell me something?”

  “Oh, I forgot.” She laughed and the vibration tickled the skin of his chest. “I was looking for you, but I found the dragon instead. I’ve been so scared to even talk to him, but it turned out fine. Not just fine, but amazing. He even helped me with the portal.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  How had he ever thought he could outrun this girl. He’d thought to leave her alone, but then she’d come seeking him out, smelling of arousal so strongly that even in his dragon form, he’d been affected. Now he watched her burble away about her success and it only made him want her more.

  She went on, telling him all about the scene that he’d already participated in as his alter ego. Her enthusiasm was catching and he found himself smiling at her description of her skills.

  “You should have seen me. Atavantador created a bubble for me to practice in and it worked.” Her eyes gleamed with black sparks in the firelight. “I didn’t think I could do it, but I did. I opened a portal and let the mists out. But the most amazing thing was when I pushed the mists back in. Now all I need to do is work on my shielding, because of course, he was there controlling it all with that bubble. But now that I’ve done it, I can see how it’s supposed to work.”

  He forbore telling her it was going to be more difficult than that. He’d overestimated her magical skills before. Now he understood how weak she’d actually been. Dragons were so much more powerful than even the kings and queens of the fae, but all of Siobhan’s world was ranked by power and she had been one of the least of her village. Less than a queen, less than a lord, less than the youngest page in one of the Tuathan courts.