Fae King's Hunger (Court of Bones and Ash Book 2)

by Layla Harper

  “Not quite sure.” I shrug, or try to shrug. “Something about how the next time we lay together you’d do more than touch.” Feeling sassy and oh so naughty, I bite my lip. “So far, I’m really not impressed.”

  He throws his head back and laughs, but when our eyes meet again, there’s a promise in their depths.

  Oh yeah, finally, my lady parts rejoice. The orc king is taking us for the ride of our lives. I only hope my fragile heart survives the aftermath when he’s gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rogar

  Kyra eagerly reaches for my tunic, her hands sure and swift, lifting the hem from my pants. I sit up, straddling her waist, and remove the shirt from my body. Her eyes take in my form, her scent thickening with arousal.

  My mate.

  My precious, precious càirdeil. No other female has looked upon my flesh with such longing, or with a hunger matching my own.

  I lean back and take in the smooth pale flesh she reveals as she disrobes and drops her tunic to the floor. Her chest rises in quick breaths, her luscious breasts peaked and awaiting my ministrations. I breathe her in, memorizing her form. The slight scar on her hip. The rosy hue of her nipples. The way her skin puckers as I draw a claw down her middle.

  “You are…” My throat aches. “Beautiful. There are no words to convey how beautiful you are to me.”

  Her skin flushes pink. “Then show me.”

  Beautiful and brazen and mine. By the ancestors, how blessed I am.

  I slide off her body and remove my pants. Her eyes never leave me. She takes in my hardness with a lusty appreciation that makes me nearly spill my seed. I kneel before her. My mouth waters in anticipation of the feast before me. I have waited an eternity to taste my càirdeil, and here she lies, spread out before me like the greatest gift. She is beautiful. With a growl, I drag my tongue along her folds, her taste the sweetest honey in all the realms.

  “Oh God,” she moans, shuddering as her knees fall open.

  I press my face between her legs, my mouth devouring her flesh. I lap, my tongue sliding deeper, circling the sensitive nub at the heart of her core. Her breath hitches. I suck and slide two fingers inside her, her walls clenching around my digits.

  Her hands fist into my hair, gripping, holding me captive right where she wants me. She grows wetter. Hotter. Her arousal saturates the air.

  “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  I would rather die than stop. I was made to pleasure this body. To love and protect this female. To give my mate all she could every want or need.

  Mine.

  She is mine.

  My restraint snaps. I roll her nipples between my fingers, matching the revolution to the rhythmic twirl of my tongue against her bud. Kyra writhes, her breaths growing more frantic. Wild. Her core clenches around my fingers. She lifts off the bed with a scream I swallow with a kiss, my hand caught between her legs.

  When she opens her eyes, she looks at me with awe.

  Pride races through my veins. I would kill to see this look. Again and again. For the rest of my life. And to prove to her how much I enjoyed loving her, I bring my fingers to my mouth, suck, then kiss her again, letting her taste herself on my tongue.

  She moans.

  So responsive, my mate. I roll onto my back so Kyra straddles me, her hot sheath grinding against my aching cock. I hiss.

  “I want you inside me.” She kisses me hard, taking and giving with equal measure.

  Ancestors help me. If she keeps this up, I will not last.

  Her sexy little mouth trails kisses down my chest, then latches on to my nipple. I clutch the sheets, willing my lungs to work, and squeeze my eyes shut. She takes me in her hand and positions me at the tip of her entrance. I suck in a breath.

  She lowers her body, painfully slow, lower and lower, impaling herself upon my shaft. Bloody moons, she feels so good. So tight. My eyes roll to the back of my head, my body trembling with the need to thrust.

  I hold still, waiting until she is completely seated. Until she is ready. My sharp breaths cut the air between us. She spreads her legs, sinking lower until her hot flesh kisses the base of mine.

  I expel a breath. Sweat pools along my forehead. And then she moves. Up. Down. Each wet slide of her core pulls a groan from my mouth.

  “Suns above, you feel so tight.” My eyes lock on her face. I lose myself to the sensation of my female riding my cock. Like a moon goddess, her pale skin glows in the dark. She throws her head back, her loose dark hair brushing my legs. Her hands cup her breasts, rolling the nipples between slender fingers. Soft mewls escape her mouth, coiling the tension building at the base of my shaft.

  I grip her hips and thrust up, meeting her momentum drive for drive. Nothing could ever feel this good. This right. I curl my torso off the mattress and drag her mouth to mine. My tongue seeks hers, paralleling the mating of our bodies as my thumb strokes her nub.

  Her movements become frantic. Her tight sheath clenches my cock, milking my release until I am consumed by an ecstasy I cannot hold back. The bond clicks, cementing into my soul. Pleasure swells, multiplying until it erupts and I roar her name, my hips jerking beneath her.

  Kyra falls onto my chest, her heart thudding against mine, our breaths heaving as one.

  I wrap my arms tightly around her and press a kiss against her cheek. In Elvish, I whisper, “Were that you were already mine, my queen.” I stroke her back, my fingers trailing over her luscious curves. “You would sit upon my throne and rule at my side. Forever.” For I cannot imagine living another day without her.

  Kyra lifts her head and rest her chin on my chest. “What language is that?”

  “My mother’s tongue.”

  She cuddles against me, her eyelids fluttering closed. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Aye, it is.” I brush hair off her face. The bond surges with contentment. Smiling, I squeeze her to me and press my lips to her head.

  Do not leave me, female. By the ancestors, stay.

  * * *

  Pounding at the door jars me awake.

  I grab my weapon and hop to my feet, moving stealthily toward the sound. Kyra stirs but continues to sleep through the noise.

  “Rogar,” Gauron whispers.

  I open the door.

  “Riders approach.”

  “The Hunt?”

  He nods. “Yurag has saddled the horses. We must go. Now.”

  I grab my boots and gently shake Kyra awake. “Female.”

  While I dress, she stirs and stretches her lithe body, then jolts. “What’s happening?”

  I hand her the tunic and her pants. “We do not have much time. Dress quickly. We must ride.”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” She throws on her shirt while I gather the remainder of our things. I open the window. The horses are at the back of the building. Gauron and the others are on the ground awaiting our arrival.

  “We’re going out through the window?” Kyra hops, shoving her feet into her boots. Her hair is disheveled, her tunic unbuttoned.

  “No.” Although we should. It would be easier to escape undetected. I fasten her cloak and mine around her shoulders and tie the clasp.

  “Okay.” She lets out a breath. “It’s them, isn’t it?” Her face pales.

  I hug her to me and kiss her tenderly. “You are safe. I will let no harm befall you. Now we must go.” I grab her hand and lead her out of the room. The hallway is silent. We descend the stairs and cut through the tavern’s dining room, where Yurag awaits by the kitchen door.

  “We’ll do what we can to diffuse her scent,” he says, holding the door open.

  I nod and pull Kyra through the kitchen to the building’s back door.

  Yurag follows. He hands me a sack. “May the ancestors bless you, old friend.”

  I clap my fist over my heart. “And you, my brother. Many thanks. Should you find yourself in Drengskador, there is a place of welcome awaiting you and yours. Always.”

  We exit the tavern into the gloom of
perpetual night. I lift Kyra onto the horse and hand her the sack.

  Gray pads over and nudges my leg. “It’s good to see you too.”

  I mount the horse, and we ride the last leg of our journey to the Doors of Argomar like we are being chased by a band of wild wargs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kyra

  “We must leave the horses here. The rest of the journey is to be completed by foot.” Lorien passes his horse’s lead to one of the winter court guards manning the entrance to the Doors of Argomar.

  Rogar dismounts and then reaches up to help me down, setting me on my feet gently.

  “We will impede the Hunt for as long as we can,” Lorien says.

  Rogar nods, then hands him a scroll I didn’t know he carried. “If I fail to return, our treaty with winter stands.”

  The parchment disappears into a pocket inside the elf’s cloak. “I will ensure your mandate reaches the proper channels.”

  Aelinor, Gauron, Sersha, Rowena, and Ilearis follow behind us as Rogar takes us down a narrow path. “The Doors are located inside a cave on the beach. There is a steep climb.”

  We hustle. No one speaks, urgency spurring us to get to the Doors before the Hunt finds us. We’d ridden through the woods like a band of prison escapees. And poor Gray. Upon reaching the winter outpost, Rogar sent him back to Drengskador. The giant wolf didn’t take the order well. He’d howled his disappointment for several miles until the sound of his anguished growls faded from hearing.

  Gravel crunches under my boots. We reach the edge of a cliff where a steep stone stairway has been carved into the side. It’s barely two feet wide, jagged, uneven, and completely open to the fierce wind whipping from the Sea of Storms. We’d have to descend single file.

  Crap. If the portal doesn’t kill us, the three-hundred-foot drop will. “That’s got to be something like two hundred fifty steps.”

  Rogar pauses and looks over his shoulder. “Perhaps. I can carry you.”

  “No! That’s crazy.” Then we’d both die.

  He touches my face. “Stay close to the cliff’s edge, and mind the wind. Hold on to me if you must.”

  My stomach threatens to empty. “I won’t look down. Let’s just get this over with.”

  He kisses me. “The first step is always the hardest.”

  “Oh, by the spirits,” Aelinor bellows. “Will you two descend already?”

  Rogar shoots her an annoyed look. He takes my hand and leads me to the fringe. “You can do this, my sweet.”

  I swallow and follow him down. The wind barrels against my chest, winnowing against my cloak. My heart thunders in my ears, drowning out the roaring wind and choking what little air manages to escape into my throat. I can’t hyperventilate. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. I focus on the positioning of my boot on a level part of the step. Gravel slides off the edge, falling into oblivion.

  Rogar turns back. “Female?”

  I nod slightly because I can’t talk. We’re ten steps in, and my body’s physical reaction to the stress only worsens instead of getting better.

  We go down another ten steps. Followed by another ten. Slowly, my heartbeat eases, the pounding against my chest wall lessening.

  Until a gust of wind nearly knocks me on my ass.

  I gasp and claw my nails into the side of the cliff. “I can’t do this. Oh my God, I can’t do this.” I’m going to slip. I’m going to fall to my death. “I can’t do this.”

  “We are now a quarter of the way down,” Rowena says from behind, the wind whistling through her words. “It is too late to turn back. You would endanger us all. Besides, do not give the she-elf cause to call you coward.”

  The she-elf snarls.

  I clench my teeth. Rowena’s right. She’s 100 percent right.

  I focus on Rogar’s broad shoulders, his agile steps. He makes the descent look effortless. Pausing, he glances my way, giving me a proud, reassuring wink that spawns a cluster of butterflies in my stomach.

  Courage surges inside me. I take the next step and then the next, focusing on my breathing until we’re ten feet shy of the shore. Relief courses through my body, and when I reach that last slab, I kneel on the sandy beach. I never understood why people kissed the ground after an arduous journey, but boy oh boy, do I now.

  Rogar helps me to my feet. We wait for Sersha and Gauron to join our little posse on the beach.

  “The cave is just beyond,” Rogar tells us. “We will enter the portal in equal groupings.”

  “Why not all together?” I ask.

  “The magic is unstable,” Rowena explains. “We believe we have a better chance of arriving to Argomar with the portal transporting a smaller magical signature.”

  Rogar rubs a finger across my wrinkled forehead. “All living beings, whether they can wield magic or not, carry a signature.”

  “Our life force,” Rowena adds. Standing beside her adoptive mother, Ilearis watches me with her strange eyes.

  I nod. “Okay. That makes sense. Sort of like dispersing weight on a scale.”

  “That is not a bad analogy, human.” Sersha stretches her back.

  “We’ve tarried enough.” Gauron unsheathes his sword and makes his way across the beach.

  The massive cave is set into the cliff’s face. We jog over the sandy terrain, leaving a trail of footprints behind. The tide is rolling in, and I cross my fingers that it will wash away the evidence of our existence before the Hunt arrives.

  Inside the cave, the temperature is several degrees cooler than outside. I squint, trying to see into the darkness. Rogar takes my hand and leads me down a narrow tunnel about ten feet beyond the cave’s entrance. We take a sharp left and walk several steps when the path opens into another cavern. Stalactites hang from the ceiling, along with weird dangling lights that cast an eerie glow over two pools of water several feet ahead.

  “Are those glowworms?” My mouth drops as I stare at the fascinating display with awe.

  “Stay here,” Rogar tells the others. He grabs my hand and leads me back to the outside cavern.

  “Wait, where are we going? What’s going on?”

  When we’re far enough away, he slows and comes to a stop. “There is something you must know before we cross the portal.”

  “Okay.” I’m not sure how much more stress my heart can handle in one day.

  He looks away, his expression grim. He wipes a hand across his jaw.

  “Now you’re really making me nervous.”

  He drags me into his arms and holds me tight. “You know I would do everything in my power to protect you.”

  I nod against his chest.

  “You were not the first human to cross into Alfhemir.”

  “What?” I shove away from his embrace. “What do you mean, I’m not the first human?” I thought I was the only human.

  “An attempt was made in Forvarra before you arrived. A male. He…” Rogar sighs. “He did not survive the crossing.”

  “He died?” I frown and try to make sense of what he’s not saying. “You think I might die if I enter the Doors? You tell me this now?” I’m not sure if I should be pissed or scared shitless.

  “It is a truth I do not wish to admit. But yes, the possibility exists, although I do not believe you will die. You survived the original crossing when the other did not, and you survived Rowena’s portal. But the Doors? The magic here is different. Older.”

  I pace. “You should have told me this before I climbed down two hundred fifty fucking steps.” I run my hands though my hair and pace some more before turning to face him. “It doesn’t matter. I have no choice. If I stay behind, the Hunt will find me and kill me anyway. Man, this sucks so bad.”

  Rogar wraps his arms around me. “I will be with you, female. Trust me.”

  “If something happens to me—”

  “Nothing will happen to you.”

  “If something happens to me, promise you’ll bury my body. Don’t leave me outside to be ravaged by vultures or whatever
scary creatures prowl around in this stupid realm.”

  Rogar holds my face, kisses me, and then captures me in his massive arms, his red gaze turning fierce. “Nothing will happen to you. Do you hear me?” His breath ruffles my hair. “You will survive the crossing, my càirdeil. If I have to chase after you into the Otherworld myself, you will survive.”

  When we return to the cavern, it’s with a ten-ton weight on my shoulders. Gauron, Sersha, and Aelinor are huddled in front of one of the pools of water.

  And then it all makes sense.

  “Oh no. The pools are the Doors.” I hate water. “Are you shitting me?”

  Rowena laughs. “Humans have such colorful language.”

  I press my fingers into my eye sockets. “We’re jumping into that? How deep is it? What if I can’t hold my breath long enough? I’m human, not fae. What if—”

  Rogar silences me with a kiss. “Hold your breath and hang on to me.” He scoops me into his arms and walks to the portal.

  I hear a splash and turn around in time to see Gauron and Sersha disappear. Rowena and Ilearis stand behind us, waiting to enter the portal.

  My vision dims.

  “Ready?”

  I grip Rogar’s neck. “No. I’m so not ready.”

  I suck in a breath.

  And he jumps.

  Ready for the next episode?

  Fae King’s Sacrifice is coming soon.

  Turn the page for a sneak peek of Chapter One.

  Fae King’s Sacrifice

  Chapter One (unedited)

  Rogar

  Kyra claws at my shoulders and wraps her legs around my waist.

  The frigid water drags me into its murky entrails, sealing us in a casket of pure black before hurling us into a free fall that is certain to be our doom. My hands tighten around her, locking her body to mine. In the dark, with our breaths held against the raging current, time stretches beside us like a taunting, menacing stowaway.

  Pressure builds in my lungs, followed by a burst of fear. My body is built to withstand abuse. I can remain in these icy-cold depths without air for a substantial period. But what of Kyra? Can her fragile human lungs hold out for much longer?