by Alisa Woods
“Just like Cara.” Her eyes narrowed.
“I didn’t mean…” He didn’t know what he meant.
“I am not your dead mate, Lucian.” Her face was pinking up, almost turning red with her anger, which struck a cold, dead fear through Lucian’s heart.
“No, my love, you’re not.” His voice was a chastened whisper.
Her fists were balled up, and she looked ready to pummel him. And she was biting her lip hard, as if she had words to say, but was holding them back.
“Whatever you have to say, my treasure… say it.” He braced himself.
She chewed on her lip some more.
He waited.
Finally, she said, “Do you know why Cara died?”
He blinked. It was possibly the last thing he expected out of her mouth. “I… I killed her…” He couldn’t breathe. Was this what she feared? That he would repeat that horror with her? “Arabella. I’d sooner fall on an angel blade than… I would never…”
But she waved him off. “Of course not. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying do you know? What really killed her?”
For the second time, he wondered if the fever had taken her mind when it left. He just stared at her.
“It was Zephan.” The biting cold of her voice speared right through him.
“What?” he sputtered. “Arabella, I was there. I lived through—”
“No.” She clambered up on her knees, her hands gripping his shoulders for support as she balanced on the bed, face to face, holding him prisoner with her intense gaze. “You tried to save her. But the thing that was killing her—the wound in her soul—that was caused by Zephan. I love you, Lucian Smoke, but I have something I have to tell you. You have to understand this.”
He just nodded because he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Zephan seduced Cara.”
“What?” He drew back, but her hands were locked hard on his shoulders, not letting him go. “That’s not possible…” But the trickle of recognition was already worming its way into his mind. Cara had changed—before the fever, before the baby tried to fight its way out of her body—something had happened, and she had fallen into a terrible despair. All along, Lucian had believed that was the point at which she had begun to doubt his love for her, despite his fervent reassurances. He never knew why. He never knew what triggered it.
“I’m sorry,” Arabella was saying, again and again. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you. I don’t know how exactly it happened, but Zephan raped her. That fucking mental rape thing he does where he makes you want it. It’s fucking horrible, and it wasn’t her fault. Believe me, I know that. But afterward, I’m sure it just flat-out destroyed her, from the inside out. That was his intent with it. He didn’t want to fuck her. He may be a fae prince, but he’s just like every other abusive rapist I’ve seen in my practice—he wanted to hurt her. Control her. And he did it in the most devastating way possible. I’m sure she felt like she couldn’t tell you—that’s just how rape victims are. It messes with your head. I’ve seen it so many times. And that… that’s what triggered her doubts. That’s what killed her, Lucian.”
The horror of it truly seized him. “I failed to protect her.” All the pain was coming surging back. All the dark horror of it. “I failed to keep the fae from her.”
“No.” She gripped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You failed to keep the fae from me as well. He’s fucking powerful, Lucian. You couldn’t have stopped him. And now, with me, he’s been doing everything he can to drive us apart. But you know what? He failed.”
Lucian blinked, still being pulled into that blackness he fell into after Cara died. “He failed?”
Arabella spoke through gritted teeth. “He tried to seduce me—fucking twice with his mental games and his glamour—and I was able to resist. Able to see through it, somehow. I don’t know how… except I know that my love for you is real. This whole thing about True Love? I believe in that like you can’t even imagine, because I’ve seen it work. Felt it, Lucian. Even now, even as the dragonfire was consuming me, do you know what stopped it?”
“What?” He was held captive by her words.
“Love.” She said it fiercely, like a quiet battle cry. “My love for you and this baby of ours has a magic all its own—a powerful magic—and that love reached inside me and quenched that fire. You and Leonidas helped, but I had to make that final leap myself. And I could because my love for you is True, through and through. That’s why it worked. Don’t you see?”
He was nodding with her words—because of course, they made sense. True Love was a force unto itself, but when bound to the magic of the treaty, it carried a fae level of magical power. But he was struck mute by what she was saying. How could he have not seen this before?
“You are mine, Lucian Smoke. I’ve known it from the beginning. I don’t love you for what you do, but for who you are. This broken, noble man—a person so good, he’d rather fall on an angel blade than cause me any pain. I didn’t even know someone like you could exist. But now that I do, I’ve claimed you for my own, and I am never letting you go. Now knock off this business of doubting my love for you! That’s never going to change, and you’re stuck with me.”
Tears threatened his eyes, and his hands had minds of their own, sliding fast up into her hair and pulling her face to him. He kissed her, again and again, and with such need, such love, that he felt he might die just from the completeness of it. It wrecked him, body and soul, and he dared to hope, for the very first time, that this might actually be his life. He might truly have won her.
That she might live after all.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered against her cheek as he brushed his lips there, across her jaw, down her neck…
“Well, you have me anyway,” she said with a light laugh in her voice that made his heart soar.
“Not the way I want,” he said, a huskiness in his voice speaking his meaning for him.
“Oh?” she asked, tipping her head back to give him better access to her neck, where his gentle kisses were quickly turning more fervent as he tasted her and nipped at her delicious body. “How do you want me?”
“Naked at the edge of my bed,” he said hoarsely. He magicked away her clothes and his, and then lifted her bottom, gentle with her rounded belly between them, but determined to tip her back and move her into a position where he could take her as quickly as possible. His need to be inside her had never been so urgent.
She grasped hold of his shoulders as he laid her back. Then she captured his gaze with those brilliant green eyes. “Don’t hold back, Lucian Smoke.”
He groaned his need for her, sliding her hips to the edge of the bed and kneeling to line his already rock-hard cock up with her entrance. His hands found her skin—one gentle on the mound of her belly, the other gripping her hip hard for when he would take her. But he knew that she wasn’t just asking him to take her hard, the way she liked… she was asking him not to hold back his heart from her any longer.
And that was a thing that he—finally and with heart-lifting abandon—felt he could give.
Completely.
Lucian was poised to thrust that big, gorgeous cock of his inside her…
…and hesitating.
She was about to let loose some very determined cursing about this not being the time nor place for his teasing, but the words he whispered stopped her complaints before they could get out.
“I’ll never doubt your love again,” he said. “And I’ll never hold back. You own me completely, Arabella Sharp. I am yours.”
Then, kneeling at the side of the bed, holding her legs up with his ridiculously strong arms, he thrust into her, filling her suddenly and completely. With the baby getting so big, she could hardly do much but lie back and enjoy it. Which she did—thoroughly. This mated sex thing was impossibly erotic. Every stroke sparked magical pleasure along the length of him inside her. Every momentary contact—his hands gripping her hips, his cock sliding deep, hi
s body banging on her sensitive nub—sparked electric pleasure-inducing magic. He’d just started and already the first orgasm was tightening, coiling deep inside her and building toward a blessed release. One she was desperate for after the harrowing events of the afternoon.
Surviving a near-death experience was impossibly making the sex even better—not that she ever wanted to repeat any of the first part.
Lucian was groaning and grunting and pounding her hard, just as she liked it. Now that her body was immortal, it was as if she craved the full measure of whatever he could dish out—harder thrusting, deeper angles, bites that stopped just short of leaving marks. Somehow the rougher sex was even more erotic knowing how gentle and loving Lucian truly was. It was all for her. All for her pleasure. And now that he truly wasn’t holding back anymore, his fervent thrusts and groans were rocketing her toward release. Then his thumb found her nub and started flicking. She shrieked with the pleasure-sparked surge that set off, and then she came so hard, it lifted her bottom off the bed to meet his continuing thrusts. Her body convulsed with pleasure, and she just bucked with it, lost in what he was giving her—himself. Completely and totally.
This was what she had risked everything for.
This was what her life would be like forever—whether five minutes or five hundred years, this bliss of owning Lucian Smoke’s heart completely was hers.
She was barely past the crest of her orgasm before Lucian was pulling out of her body. She made a sound of disappointment. “I swear, if you tease me, Lucian—”
He stood before her with his cock glistening wet and swollen and hard. Definitely ready for more. “On your hands and knees.” His voice was hoarse with need.
A thrill coursed through her with the command in his voice. She scrambled to obey and was barely in position before he was slamming into her again. His groan was almost as satisfying as his cock… which somehow seemed to have grown larger. Or perhaps it was just the abandon with which he was burying it deep inside her. Or the magic sparking there. Or maybe even the pregnancy flushing her body with all kinds of heightened sensitivity. Whatever it was, she was already about to come again.
“God, Lucian!” she gasped, nearly pitching forward with how hard he was taking her. But his hands held her securely enough—she wasn’t going anywhere but deep into Orgasm Land again.
His only response was more grunting and a more fevered pitch to his thrusting. She cried out as her orgasm pulsed around his cock, shuddering under the onslaught, sparking a pleasure that left her light-headed. As the aftershocks raced along her body, he kept thrusting. Then he groaned and pulled out. He climbed past her on the bed to sit at the head of it, his cock still glorious and tall and erect for her.
All for her.
Even though he’d already made her come twice, her mouth still watered at the sight of him.
He held out his hand to her. “Ride me,” he commanded. “I want your body where I can reach it.”
Another giddy flush of pleasure ran through her with his words. She climbed across the bed to him and lifted up on her knees. Getting in position required a bit of balancing with her belly between them, but with his help, she was soon sinking down on his shaft.
“Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.
She loved that she brought him pleasure. That alone almost tripped her to the edge again. Instead, she started pumping, lifting then sinking on his gorgeously thick cock. He helped her along for a moment with hands on both her hips, then he slid one between her legs, flicking her nub.
“Oh God,” she gasped. It was like electric shocks right on the verge of painful, they were so good. “Holy fuck.” She pumped him faster.
“I know just what you like,” he whispered, then dipped his head to lap at her breasts bouncing near his face. “Just what you need. Every bit of you belongs to me, and I’m going to pleasure you like no man ever has.”
“You do that…” she panted as she bounced and impaled herself on his cock. “…every single time.”
He grinned and slipped a hand to the back of her head, capturing her in a kiss that forced her to slow her frenetic pace. But the hand between her legs moved even faster, his magic-sparked fingertips delivering exquisite torture-pleasure.
“Oh, God, Lucian, yes, just like that, just like…” She was mumbling into his mouth, incoherent as the orgasm convulsed her again, ripping pleasure throughout her. Her body wracked against his, squeezing down on his cock as the rest of her lost the ability to hold herself up. He did it for her, holding her close, their baby-bump sandwiched between them as he wrenched aftershocks of pleasure out of her. When it had subsided a little, his grin was wide and self-satisfied.
“Three, by my count,” he said, a wicked glint in his eye.
“You’re counting?” she gasped, still not catching her breath.
“Oh yes.” He slipped his hands to her hips. “But now it’s my turn.”
Oh God, yes. “How do you want me?” She would give this man everything and anything he asked.
“Lean back. Let me see your breasts bounce as I take you.”
She did, although she wasn’t sure she could hold that position—but she needn’t have worried. He held her hip and the small of her back, supporting her… then he started thrusting up into her, deep and slow.
“So beautiful. So gorgeous. And all mine.” It was like a mantra he was repeating to himself, not words for her, but they flushed pleasure through her anyway.
He picked up the pace, his cock sliding deep and rubbing against her nub on the way in.
“Oh! Yes. Don’t stop,” she breathed as she tipped her head back and lost herself in the slow, strong, and deep way he was making love to her.
“Never,” he said, and it was a vow. But then he picked up the pace further, holding her fast with his hands as he thrust from below, piercing her body and soul with his pleasure-filled grunts and cries.
Just as he came, his hot seed spilling inside her, he let out a guttural groan that tipped her right over the edge again. They shook and ground together, endlessly drawing out the pleasure of their bodies.
Arabella was literally dizzy with their lovemaking.
She would need a rest, at least a few minutes.
Then she would go about pleasuring this man in all the ways she knew how. And any he cared to teach her. This gorgeous man had five hundred years of experience behind him, and she wanted to create five hundred more years of pleasure with him.
Now and forever.
Lucian had never seen the throne room so resplendent.
Then again, the House of Smoke had never received a True Angel before.
The dragons were restless, lining the edges of the throne room and waiting. Lucian stood stiffly at the front. His mother and father were seated on their thrones behind him, with his brothers flanking him on either side. Not that they expected any trouble from the angel, but even a halfling with an angel blade had the power to take out a dragon or demon or pretty much any supernatural creature. The powers of a True Angel were incomparably stronger. They were like the fae in that way—with powers both unknown and unknowable—and it wasn’t the first time Lucian compared the two in his mind. They were bitter enemies—the angels mostly on the side of good, the fae chaotic and indifferent and conjurers of demons—but Lucian was convinced they shared a common ancestry of sorts. As if the fae had somehow devolved from angelic ancestors. Maybe they were a rogue branch of the Dark Angels, the shadow class, the ones who had fallen so far that they’d turned against their better natures and made common cause with the demonic forces of the world. The True Angels avoided all contact with demons. He wasn’t sure what prevented them, but it seemed pretty absolute. Then again, Lucian didn’t pretend to know how the angel realm functioned. With the exception of the occasional fallen angel bedding a human and producing angelings—who at least served a decent purpose in hunting down demons—True Angels kept themselves apart from humanity.
And that was all Lucian needed to know.
They apparently liked to keep dragons waiting as well.
The House of Smoke had been receiving guests all week—mostly dragons and witches and the occasional vampire, all coming to pledge their fealty or celebrate the impending renewal of the treaty. Arabella was in the final week of her pregnancy, and he had her locked away in the other half of the keep, far from the busy traffic of the throne room and behind a heavy layer of wards on every side of his lair.
Not that he expected trouble. Not that he didn’t have a legion of his best dragons, in case trouble decided to be unexpected. But simply because he would take no chances with his mate and his soon-to-be-born son, the next prince of the House of Smoke.
He half expected Zephan to make some last-ditch attempt to stop the birth of his son, even if it would violate the treaty and his own sworn, magical binding oath. Lucian wouldn’t put it past the fae to find a way out of the magical shackles Zephan had voluntarily put on himself in exchange for his life.
A stirring at the back of the throne room near the door told him the angel must have arrived. Lucian would’ve reached out with his fae senses to confirm it, except reminding a True Angel of the fae blood running through his veins wasn’t the smartest move. Lucian wanted to keep this calm, cool, and over as quickly as possible.
The doors to the throne room creaked as they slowly drew open to reveal a male angel standing just outside.
A gasp went around the room.
The male had an unearthly beauty, even more so than the angelings Lucian had met before. He was taller than any normal human, and Lucian could already tell the angel would even tower over him. The angel’s long, flowing brown hair lifted in some kind of magical breeze as he slowly stepped into the room, sweeping a gaze across the assembled dragons of Lucian’s House. His broad white wings folded as he passed over the threshold and then expanded again to their full reach. The dragons stationed at the door flinched out of the way.
Lucian narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing this dramatic entrance. Was the angel just trying to demonstrate his power? Or was he simply as obtuse as every angeling Lucian had ever met?
