by Kiki Howell
She tilted her head back at him. “But you’re from a court.”
“That doesn’t stop people from being assholes. In fact, it’s the opposite.”
“But my fa—friend said that bloodlines were everything in the courts. And since it’s hard for pureblooded fae to have children...” She let her sentence trail off.
He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Normally, yeah. But I was defective. I was given up to the White Queen’s special orphanage when I was three.”
He didn’t remember his mother or father at all, only the loneliness, the fear, the bone-aching, mind-numbing pain that had been his constant companion since he’d been able to talk. He’d never asked who his parents were, and he doubted Whisky would tell him, anyway. But he knew that she knew.
That woman knew fucking everything that went on in the court.
“Special orphanage?”
“It’s where kids with really strong gifts are sent, if their parents can’t handle them or don’t want them. If the gift turns out to be uncontrollable, or too dangerous, then the child is ‘decommissioned’.”
“They’re what?”
“You know what I mean. They’re killed.”
“But the fae laws—”
“Only apply to the parents. When they hand their children over, they don’t know if they’re going to make it or not. If the kids do survive – and trust me, the palace wants them to – then they become property of the queen for a time of service, then are sent back to their families. So the parents aren’t knowingly involved in their children’s deaths. If they are decommissioned, then a note is sent to the families after. It’s a neat little work-around.”
And he was still paying off his fucking debt to the queen. The more powerful and useful the ability, the longer the term of service. Ever since he’d turned twenty, he’d been in the queen’s employ. Although ‘employ’ made it sound like he had a choice and was actually paid for his work.
“So you were raised in an orphanage. Was it terrible?” Those apricot eyes mesmerized him.
Normally, he wouldn’t speak of his past. But then, she knew what his magic was like. If anyone was ever going to understand, it would be her. And once he had his gift back, he would explain to her the necessity of keeping her mouth shut about him. It would keep both him – and her – alive.
“It was what it was. I don’t know any different. I’m sure for some people it would have been bad, but for others, it might have even been an improvement.”
Considering he had no memories from before – aside from pain – he figured it was a blessing he knew no different. If he’d actually had parents who had loved him, going to that place would have been an ordeal. As it was, they’d tortured him at the orphanage until he’d learned how to control his ability. But if he was honest, he didn’t know how else they could have made him step into line.
“What about you?” He smoothed her hair back. “What was your childhood like?”
“It was...difficult.”
His jaw clenched. Someone had hurt her. He would find out who the prick was, and they’d have a little ‘chat’. He wasn’t above doing freelance wet work.
“I was my father’s bastard,” she continued. “So I was only tolerated. I got along with my youngest sister well enough, until she learned to hate me, too.”
“And they didn’t know what you were?”
She shook her head slightly. “I didn’t either, not until I turned twenty-one.”
“So, I’m taking it your father isn’t an Incubus.”
Incubi weren’t extinct, nor could they change shape, not the way the Succubi could. He didn’t know why that was the case, it just was. It did mean that they weren’t hunted down, though, and that was a crucial difference.
“No. I don’t know who my mother was. A former mistress, I heard, but my father had a lot of those, and most of them vanished after he got tired of them. It could have been any of them.”
Vanished? What kind of guy was her father?
A royal asshole, that’s who.
“So if she’s now dead, that means you’re possibly the last of your kind.”
Thorne gave a small, half-grin. “Well, a halfbreed version of one. I’m part-Sídhe.”
He stared at the skin of her arm. He’d thought the hue was just golden before, but now he could see the metallic flecks in it. All halfbreed Sídhe’s tended to have metallic skin: gold, silver or bronze.
“Does it bother you?” she asked.
“What?”
“That I’m a halfbreed? Considering you’re pure Sídhe.”
“No, I’m Tuatha de Danann.”
She reared back. “What?”
He ran a hand over his hair self-consciously. Tuatha de Danann tended to have different coloring – dark eyes, darker hair. But he was what he was. His kind were mostly found in the courts, and all the queens bar one were Tuatha de Danann.
“Is that a bad thing?”
Thorne shut her eyes and settled her cheek against his chest. “I don’t know. But I thought you were Sídhe. Maybe that’s why my feeding went wrong.”
Feeding? He frowned. He didn’t like thinking that he’d just been a snack to her. “So I was dinner?” He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so sharp.
She wiggled against him. “Mmm. And the tastiest of my life.”
Chapter Ten
“IF SEX WERE A SPORT, I’d be the all-time Olympic champion.”
– Lori Hardcastle
Conrad had stayed with her the past three days, watching daytime television and complaining at the quality of human-made shows. But he bitched more about the fae programs: “Fae Knights: The True Story? Who gives a shit about them?”
Apparently a lot of humans did. It was one of the highest-rating shows on television. The host, a fae woman named Oleander D’Arc, gushed over the fae participants, but she clearly had favorites. The female knights didn’t really get much of a look-in, but the males? She looked like she’d drop to her knees and give them blowjobs on the spot, if only they asked.
There was a lot of speculation on the show about the Dark Prince, the Black Queen’s son. No one knew who he was, but he served in the Night Court. It was obvious the hostess would cream her pants if she ever got to follow his quest, and Conrad was particularly irritated at mentions of the Night Court’s poster-boy.
“Fucker is in hiding. He’s worried someone will off him to get at mommy.”
Lori had deliberately taken Oleander’s side on the issue, just to annoy him. She loved when his pale eyes narrowed in annoyance – especially because he threatened the most delicious punishments. Not that he’d followed through on any of them.
But she hadn’t really been up for it, either. They’d learned that if she stayed in physical contact with him, his stolen magic would lie in wait, like his control seeped through to her. As soon as they were apart, the pain came back, albeit muted. When he left the room?
Absolute, soul-wrenching agony.
He’d only gone ten paces before she’d been whimpering. He hadn’t left her since.
She liked to think that it was because he didn’t want her to suffer, but she couldn’t really be sure. Even though they’d shared stories of their childhood – hers censored – and spoke almost all day, she didn’t really know that much about him. As in what he did for a job, what his role was in his court, what he did for fun. But she knew other things: his favorite pizza, the way he smirked when he was thinking, his favorite color. Small things, but for her, she’d never had those pieces of another’s puzzle before, aside from with Carol.
She looked over at him. He was asleep, sprawled across the bed like he owned it, just wearing a pair of boxer briefs. He had an erection, the plum-colored head peeking out from the waistband. God, she loved his body, all the hard planes and smooth muscles.
But what she needed right now? A shower.
It took a few moments for her to struggle out of bed. Standing at the edge of the mattress, her knees shook, but the
pain had vanished. Stretching out her arms, she arched backward, enjoying the lovely strain of working muscles.
Conrad’s power had gone.
Giddy with relief, she stumbled into the bathroom. She propped herself up against the cold tile wall, and turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to heat. Half a minute later, she was naked and under the spray, water soaking her aching body. She ran soapy hands over her waist and ribs – the weight she’d gained from her last feeding had been lost.
Shutting her eyes, she let her head fall under the spray, licking drops of water off her lips. Thank the gods that the power had left her when it did. She wasn’t sure how much longer Conrad would have been happy to stay with her, and she hadn’t wanted to keep that bloody ability. The teleportation one? Sure. The tiny burst of telekinesis she’d gotten from Todd? Yeah, that hadn’t been too bad, either.
But empathy with a side dish of agony? No, thanks.
“Is there room for two?”
Lori spun around and almost lost her footing. Conrad leaned in and supported her. His hand burned against her skin. The water plastered his white hair to his head, and his gray eyes were wicked. And he was gloriously naked, his cock standing proud.
“Uh, I don’t know if that’s a great idea,” she said, even though she was aching.
“You look like you could do with some Vitamin D.”
She must have looked confused, because he pumped his erection, gliding his hand up and down the length. Lori was suddenly drenched, and not from the shower.
He stepped into the stall then, crowding her up against the wall. He radiated heat, hotter than the water trickling over her sensitized skin. And his fist was still pumping. Her eyes locked on the movement.
“Mmm. Would feel better if it was you.” His voice was husky, sexy as hell.
Gods, she wanted his cock in her mouth, in her.
He stepped forward, leaning down over her, sheltering her from the waterfall. “We don’t have to fuck, but I will jerk off. You can watch.”
The image of him coming from his own stroking had her panting. Damn. What was it about this fae that had her boiling hot?
Pushing up on her toes, she kissed him, her tongue darting out, licking its way into his mouth. Mint and chocolate. She moaned as his arms enclosed her. He lifted her effortlessly, his cock wedged between them, a brand against her belly. Wrapping her legs around his hips pushed her sex against his erection, and the friction had her gasping. Perfect.
She kissed him harder. Gods, his taste. Lori had never had anything better. Her hands were greedy for him; stroking over his shoulders and back. He pulled away from the kiss, panting. “Fuck. I could just make out with you all day.”
“Less talk, more kissing.”
But his tongue was travelling a searing, wet path down her jaw and neck, toward her breasts. He pushed her back against the cold tiles, but the shock just added to the pleasure. He laved a nipple before he sucked it deep into his mouth. She threaded her fingers through his wet hair, holding his head there. He let go with a wet smack, then moved to the other breast, biting her, just hard enough to sting, then leaned back and blew on the flesh.
“Still not sure?” He was grinning up at her, his eyes wicked.
She arched, pressing her core against him. “What if I steal your power again?”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
She dropped her head forward, resting it against his chest. His heart was pounding, in time with hers. She kissed his hard pec. “It wasn’t fun.”
He swept her hair away from her neck. “Do you normally take a power more than once?”
“I don’t normally have sex with someone more than once.”
“Well, you’ve already fucked me, like, a dozen times.”
That made her laugh, which was extraordinary. For her, sex was about survival; but Conrad was making it fun.
He planted a kiss on her throat. “Look, I’m willing to be ridden like a pony, just so you can test it out.”
She smiled. “You are such a model of self-sacrifice.”
“I know.”
He cupped her ass, titling her pelvis forward. His cock slipped through her folds, and she watched the thick head emerge. “Mmmm.”
“Wanna taste?”
She nodded. He slowly lowered her to her feet, and she wasted no time dropping to her knees. The tiles bit into her skin, but she didn’t care. She closed one of her hands around his length, and stroked. Leaning forward, she licked one of his smooth balls, before sucking his whole cock into her mouth.
“Oh god!”
She repeated the gesture, before pulling his shaft down and flicking her tongue over the crown. He tasted of soap and salt. Lori then sucked him deep, all the way back, until her chin hit his balls.
“Fuck!”
His hands cupped her head, and then she was withdrawing, running her tongue along the underside of his cock. She had a feeling she could get addicted to the sounds he made, his taste...the feel of him between her lips. Just him.
It might have been only seconds passed before he hauled her upright, spinning her around, pressing her breasts against the stall wall. Then he was pushing the head of his cock into her sex.
“So hot.”
He thrust deep. She cried out from the fullness, the oneness. He froze. “Does it hurt?”
“Only if you stop.”
And then he was moving, slow and purposeful. Each stroke left her gasping, and the pleasure kept building and building, until it was an inferno within her. He leaned into her and bit her, right where her shoulder met her neck.
She screamed. “I’m coming!”
He pulled out and spun her around, hiking her legs around his waist and fucked her harder, until the shapes of the tiles were imprinted into her back. He groaned as his pace increased, like he was out of control. His neck arched, muscles corded, and he shouted his release. A flood of energy slammed into her.
She arched back as his essence filled her, hot and intense. Lori could feel him in the power, within her, part of her. For the first time in her life, she knew nothing but happiness.
Chapter Eleven
“I TRIED TO WORK OUT if I had a best side. But who am I kidding? Everything’s my best side.”
– Conrad Death
Conrad sank down to the floor of the shower, his legs spread out on the tiles. “Holy shit.”
That had been even better than the first time. Or the tenth.
The water had long turned cold, but he barely noticed. That had been the best orgasm of his life. Period. Thorne looked down at him, her eyes glazed and her lips swollen. Her body was filling out as he watched, her breasts growing plumper, her hips swelling. She’d been sexy before, but now she was jaw-droppingly hot.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Mmm, good.” Her eyes focused on his spent cock, and the damn thing twitched.
No. We have places to be.
When he’d woken, and the familiar prison of his magic was back, he’d known that he had to go and finish this stupid mission. That Walker would be ready for him today was a bonus. Thank fuck for fortuitous timing. He would have been in deep water if he’d had to walk into the Count of Tears’ court without his ability.
Fake it till you make it.
Well, yeah. He totally would have bluffed his way out of there. But that wasn’t the point. Knowing he could make the White Queen’s former executioner scream like a baby did lend him a bit of extra confidence.
Thorne washed away the evidence of their union, and then turned the water off. “Up for round two?”
“I take it you feel no pain?” he asked.
She smiled. “None.”
“Great.” He stood. He wasn’t about to chance her ‘borrowing’ his ability if this round hadn’t done the job.
You were an idiot for fucking her this time.
But she’d been in the shower when he’d woken, water tracing her curves, and he had the willpower of a gnat where she was concer
ned. And she’d looked tired. He was happy to lend her a little bit of his lifeforce, provided his magic stayed put. Which it had.
Maybe her ability had wised up and worked out he was a really bad person to steal from.
He got to his feet, picked up a towel and handed it to her, before grabbing one for himself.
“So, no round two?”
Damn, she was adorable. All wide-apricot colored eyes over her towel, which didn’t cover any of the fun bits.
“Not today. I don’t want to risk it.”
She just sighed. “You’re right. Annoyingly.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m always right.”
Thorne snorted, but her eyes danced.
Conrad wasn’t used to this type of...camaraderie. He liked it. Drying himself quickly, he mused over his plans for the day. He didn’t really have much time to muck around. Walker was nothing if not punctual, the asshole.
He stepped into the bedroom and started dressing. Thorne followed him out. “I’m afraid I have to leave for a bit.”
Was that a flicker of pain on her face?
It hurt him like a gut punch.
Damn, he hadn’t had a physical reaction from his gift in years. Rubbing his sternum, he walked over to her, his pants unbuttoned and shirt untucked. He cupped her cheeks, holding her face still. “I will be back.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t like before. She thought he wouldn’t come back, that this was goodbye.
Like fuck this is goodbye.
He kissed her, swift and hard, to pass on his feelings. Lust. Admiration. Happiness. He’d be back, no doubt about it. It wasn’t every day that you had this kind of connection with someone, or the kind of sex they’d just had. He wasn’t a romantic, but he also wasn’t an idiot.
And he’d be a fool to ignore what had been growing between them over the past three days. He didn’t think he’d ever been so relaxed or happy, even though the room had begun to feel a little bit like a cage.
“See you later,” she said, but her eyes were shadowed.
He finished dressing, then fished his shoes out. As he opened the door, he looked back over his shoulder. “Count on it.”
