by Alisa Woods
Did the Summer Fae want her too?
She knew way too little about the politics of the immortal realm. And now her life hung in the balance. But the worst was how he ended the call. What he said about her. It made her try to shrink even further into the wavy corners of the wall. Alvara seemed alarmed as well, as if the king raping Charlotte would somehow loosen her hold on him. Even though Alvara had just made him come, as soon as the call ended, the king was sporting a king-sized boner once again. Holy crap, these fae were like sex machines. They went at it again—the king and Alvara—only he was bending her over the throne, and Charlotte wasn’t so sure Alvara was the one with the power this time. She moaned and groaned at all the right times, and told the king over and over what a wonderfully, splendidly, tremendously huge cock he had… but there was a certain savagery this time around that felt all too familiar to Charlotte.
And made small tears of fear leak from the corners of her eyes.
Tajael was trying to rescue her. She had to believe that. And according to everything she’d heard, the king couldn’t actually kill her. But Craig hadn’t killed her, either.
He’d just destroyed her soul.
And now… now she was just getting it back… and this beast from another dimension was going to steal it from her again? Fear and panic and a volcanic anger was climbing up her throat and choking her, even as she shrank down to the floor, trying to become a tiny mouse the king would forget. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be some way she could escape. She knew it was hopeless to fight him, but if it came to it… if he imprisoned her in a cage of fear the way Craig did… could she end it? Could she take her own life? Was there even a way to do that here in this ice palace?
She shut her eyes tight.
The grunting and moaning from the king and Alvara seemed to go on forever.
No. She’d survived horrors before. She would survive this. She would wait, give Tajael time to come for her. If he could—if there was any possible way—he would. And if he never came… only then would she consider the worst.
Finally, the grunting and wet slapping of bodies crescendoed into a growling moan from the king. And then they were done. At least with the sex—they argued more, mostly because Alvara wanted to stay, and he wanted her to go. Finally, he won out, and she winked away through one of those inter-dimensional doorways that Tajael and his kind could simply open and go as they pleased.
She kept her eyes down, but it didn’t matter.
And invisible force grabbed her and lifted her off her feet. She yelped in surprise and then steeled herself against showing the fear she knew had to be in her eyes. She couldn’t move, her arms trapped to her sides, but she floated slowly across the room to hover in front of the king, now sitting on his throne. He had to be sated, right? He’d had, like, two major orgasms back-to-back. He couldn’t possibly be ready for more. And a strength and endurance mere mortals cannot match. Tajael’s words haunted her now. She was sure he didn’t mean sexual endurance, but didn’t he also say the fae had stolen their magic from the angels? That they all possessed the same dimensional energy in their blood? And the fae had already proven themselves to be horny in the extreme.
The king was examining her, head to foot like she was an interesting possession he was figuring out how best to use. It made her shudder, but she kept her lips sealed shut.
“I have to wonder why my son found such perverse delight in your kind,” he mused, almost to himself. “Was it just to fuck with the House of Smoke? He was truly obsessed with that. Or was there some special pleasure in having such a weak creature mewling for you?”
The invisible force that held her floating pulled her closer to him. He stood up from his throne—he was tall, but since she was suspended, they were face-to-face. He was strikingly beautiful in a cruel way—like the glittering eyes enjoyed the pain of others, his gaunt face was used to smiling in pleasure taken, not given. His fingers trailed along her cheek, making her shudder anew.
“I lied to Alvara,” he whispered, his smirk even more mean. “I could have the shadow angels kill you. Make it seem an accident. Or turn you into something else. We almost succeeded with the vampire.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Oh, yes, I know all about you, Charlotte Netherman.” He sighed. “But Elyon is a coward. My son was struck down by the light angels, but Elyon won’t go after them. Not until he restores his numbers. Not until Seattle is overrun. I say, why wait? Why not wipe out the light angels now, while they’re weak? Why not gather all the dark angels and rise up? They could take the light. And in the process, avenge my son. But Elyon has no allegiance to any but his own.”
He let his slightly-crazed gaze fall from her face to her chest and then lower. “And then there’s you.” He lifted his gaze to her face again. “The human who dared come to the gods.” He licked his lips and reached out to roughly grab her breast.
She flinched but refused to cry out.
“I cannot kill you,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. “But I can break you, little human. Make you a slave to your own desires. You’ll ride my cock and be glad for it.”
He released her breast, and the force holding her lowered her to the ground, then pushed her down further, forcing her to her knees. Oh God. You’ll survive this. You’ll survive this. It was a mantra playing in her head. The king’s cock was already growing hard—she could hardly miss it, right in front of her face—but it was still covered by his loose-fitting pants, a kind of medieval wear. He stroked her cheek then grabbed her hair and forced her to look up at him.
“Any fae I wish will get on their knees before me,” he mused. “They’ll suck my cock and pretend to love it, but with you humans…” He stroked her cheek, and a flush of heat ran from his thumb, down across her body, and straight between her legs. She gasped. And ached. Suddenly, she was hot with desire, her eyes half closed. She licked her own lips, envisioning the king’s cock and how badly she wanted it in her mouth.
Just as quickly, the desire vanished, replaced by a cold dread.
The king chuckled. “Ah, yes. With you, my fae blood is an elixir. My magic stirs you. You’ll be begging for more.”
No, she vowed. But her heart was quivering with fear. This was just like the vampire and his pleasure-giving venom. She was powerless to that, and she knew she’d be powerless to this. But that just made it more horrible.
When the king drew down his pants, exposing his rigid cock, she turned her face away.
He chuckled again, brushing it against her face. “Yes, I can see the appeal. The will broken. The resistance shattered. And then the true pleasure you’ll feel when you’re completely under my spell.” He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, and the desire surged back. Before she could stop herself, her lips were seeking his cock. It was so massive and bobbed so near her face, but she was bound by his magic, and it was hard to work free, to get the right angle. She struggled against her restraints, reaching for it with her tongue—
Once again the desire cut off like a switch.
She whipped her face away again. The desire to retch was strong. She might have managed it if the magic weren’t holding her so tightly.
The king laughed outright this time. “It just gets better and better.” He gripped her hair, forcing her to look up at him again. “I’ve destroyed your lab. Your light angels are weakened. And while you’re discovering the pleasure of my bed, you won’t be building any more of those devices, will you? Zephan was right about the menace you are to the immortal realm. Your ever-curious minds. Always building new things. Going places you shouldn’t. While I’m pleasuring you, breaking your mind with your own desire, I’ll also be stopping your technology. Two pleasures at once. And then, eventually, once the light angels have been worn sufficiently down, I’ll make the dark angels see their time has come. Then, together, we’ll wipe out all the angels of light and the humans they have such a pathetic love for.”
She believed it. Every word. This evil, evil m
an—this terrible fae—would do all of this and more. Why? Not because of vengeance for his son. Not because he feared humans. She knew his kind… he was just like Craig. And there was only one reason a man like this does the things he does.
Because he can.
Tears, hot and angry, sprung from her eyes.
“Oh, no, my dear,” he said, his voice a slithering knife through her heart. “You’re going to love it.” Then he took hold of both her cheeks in his hands, and that hot desire surged through her as if it would melt her from the inside. She gasped with the power of it, and as her mouth opened, he moved to shove his cock inside. She was ready for it—craved it—
Then suddenly he wasn’t there.
He simply vanished… and with him not only the horrible desire but the magic that bound her. She tumbled forward onto hands and knees. She looked up to see Tajael—Tajael!—grappling with the king, his angel blade sticking out of the king’s shoulder. The king roared and flung Tajael off, slamming him into a wall so hard, it shook. Tajael slid down and seemed stunned. No! Then, suddenly, the room was filled—angelings with white wings, angelings with dark wings, people with no wings that had to be fae because they were hurling blasts of energy around. Charlotte stayed down, huddled low on the floor, but the melee was so fierce, she couldn’t crawl away, even for the safety of the near wall. Or so she could find Tajael. She tried to peer between the tumbling bodies, the slashing of blades, the terrific warrior cries making the walls reverberate as they got louder and louder—
Suddenly, a shadow angeling reached down and grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up from the floor, leaping and flying above the fight, which was mostly confined to the floor. Dozens of angelings—light and shadow—were flying up and then diving back down into the scrum.
Charlotte tried to fight against the one who had snatched her by grabbing at his head—he was holding her around the waist, her back to his chest—but when she looked down, she was afraid he might drop her, and she’d just die that way.
“You’re all right,” the shadow angeling shouted to be heard over the noise. “Be calm.”
Be calm. “Fuck off!” She struggled again. The king was horrible enough, who knew what a shadow angeling had in store for her?
The angeling chuckled, but he was just hovering above the fight like he was looking for something. Then suddenly, they were diving back down. She couldn’t help the shriek—not that it could be heard above the rampant angelsong—then he set her down near one of the walls and released her. She almost ran—in any direction really—but another strong pair of hands grabbed her arms.
She resisted until she realized—it was Tajael.
“Thank you, Asa,” he said to the one who brought her. “I’ll take her from here.”
The dark angeling took off, arcing over the fighting crowd, then plunging down again, blade first.
Her mouth hung open as Tajael twisted away from her… and in a flash of light and that squeezing feeling that traveling has, she was back in her office.
All the breath went out of her. She threw her arms around Tajael and held on with a desperate need—he had saved her. Oh my god, he had saved her and brought her back… through the blurry tears of joy, the true state of the office registered in her brain.
She slowly released him and stared open-mouthed at the destruction.
There was nothing but char where the lab used to be. Half the office was burnt, the other half ripped and ruined. Everything was soaked in water, which made no sense until she realized the automatic sprinklers must have gone off at some point.
“Are you all right?” Tajael asked, and the panic in his voice drew her back.
“I’m… I’m okay.” And miraculously, she was.
His face was a picture of anguish. “Please tell me… I saw the way he had you. Please tell me he didn’t hurt you, my love.”
My love. He found her on her knees with another man—well, okay a fae, but still—and he was worried that she was hurt. She needed no greater proof that Tajael was a better man than any she’d ever known.
“He would have. If you hadn’t come for me. But I knew you would.”
Tajael’s head tipped back, eyes closed in relief, but he pulled her into his arms, regardless. He held her and held her and even as the office suddenly populated with dozens and dozens of angelings—both dark-winged and white—he kept his hold on her like he would never let her go.
Only when a shadow angel stepped up to them, did he finally ease up his tight hold, just enough to turn to see him.
“Thank you, again, Asa,” Tajael said.
It was the shadow angeling who had saved her. He had a tattoo on his chest like Tajael’s, only different.
“I believe everyone’s back,” Asa said, grimly, with just a glance at her. “At least, the ones who are coming back.”
Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat. All these angelings—dozens of them, maybe a hundred altogether—had risked their lives to save her. And some weren’t coming back.
Before she could say anything, Asa added, “We’re clearing out. Before it gets ugly.” Then he circled his finger in the air, and one-by-one, the shadow angelings flickered away, twisting through another interdimensional door to somewhere else. Only angelings of light remained, bruised and battered. Tending to the wounded. All hurt because they came for her.
“I should have said thank you,” she whispered to Tajael. “I should thank all of them.”
He still had a tight hold on her, as if afraid to let her go. “They were Warriors of the light today. All of them. Even the shadowkind.” He held her shoulders gently and peered into her eyes with wonder, like he still couldn’t believe she was standing before him. “It’s what we’re made for. Every one of them felt it. Everyone was a volunteer.”
“But where did they all come from?” she asked, still amazed.
“Markos’s angelings for the light,” he said. “Razael’s Regiment for the shadowkind. He’s an ally of sorts, Erelah’s father. You remember me telling you about her?”
Charlotte nodded. “And the shadow angel who snatched me out of the fight?”
Tajael smirked. “Asa. One of Razael’s top lieutenants. We’ve, well, worked together before. The angels themselves had to stay out of it. I didn’t understand it at first, but Razael explained. If the angels made a move against the Winter Court, it would have mobilized Elyon and his Regiment once more. Worse, he would have called on the other dark angels to unite behind him, to defend the Winter Court. The dark angels knew that if they came together, the Warrior Angels would come out of retirement. It would be the End of Times for certain. And those in shadow at the end… well, let’s say, they would rather live in darkness. There was only one thing that might bring the dark angels together… and that’s the light angels bringing the threat humanity to the immortal realm.”
“The threat of humanity…” She trailed off. But she knew.
He smiled. “You.” His smile dimmed. “And your technology.”
She looked at the glistening black ruin. Suddenly, she remembered. “Jimmy and Robert and Tomaz—?”
“They’re okay.”
Another angeling signaled to Tajael and gave him a nod from across the wreckage pile that was her equipment.
“Okay, it’s time to leave,” he said.
Her eyes went wide. She was still getting over the shock of it all. “Leave for where?”
He smiled again. “Home.”
Tajael couldn’t really relax until they were behind the wards.
The dragons had set up the magical barriers around Charlotte’s apartment that would keep out any immortal, and it was the one place in Seattle where he could be certain a shadow angeling—or Elyon himself—wouldn’t just pop in and kill them both in their sleep.
Not that he was sure Charlotte would allow him to sleep with her now.
She was showering—washing away the awful, she said. And he’d prepared food for her, even though he only knew how to run the
microwave because he’d seen her do it so often. Outside the wards, a legion of Markos’s angels stood watch. Tajael forbade Markos from talking to her about the dimensional drive. Or her experience at the Winter Court. Any of it. First, he had to make sure she was all right. Get her settled. Some food and some sleep.
The fate of the world could wait until morning.
When she came out of the bathroom, rosy-cheeked and smiling, he was certain he had never loved her more. Her hair was still wet, and a small angelsong filled him with the way it fell, dark and solid, across the shoulders of her t-shirt. Everything happens for a reason; and the reason is usually physics. He smiled at the shirt and talked while she ate, telling her how she was safe here, and they were setting up wards around the office to make that safe too—he would be there, along with a legion of other angelings, to raise and lower the wards for her experiments so they could continue.
She stopped mid-chew. “I don’t know.”
He frowned. “You don’t know what?”
“I don’t know if I should continue.” She dropped her gaze to the rest of her chicken pot pie, continuing to chew and scooping up more to put in her mouth.
He wanted her to eat.
He wanted her to decide what to do.
But he also desperately wanted her to continue her research. Not because it would change the world… because it would change her.
“Do you think Maxon will not fund the repairs?” he asked, carefully.
She still studied her dinner. “Oh, I’m sure he will. It’s his dream. One blown up lab won’t stop him.” She stirred the vegetables around.
