by Alisa Woods
“Oh no,” he sneered. “It will definitely be your sweet dreams.” He magically lowered her to the bed. Once her bare feet touched the cool white silk of the covering, the magic released her, and she collapsed naked on top of it.
She scrambled back on all fours, away from him. “Don’t touch me!” she hissed at him, gathering up the filmy white fabric to cover herself. She didn’t know what she could do to fight him off, but if nothing else, she would take a bite out of his damn pointy ears.
He flicked his fingers, and the white fabric she was clinging to disappeared. “You’ll be begging me to touch you soon enough.” Then he twitched his fingers again, and that magical force hauled her across the bed, her knees dragging on the now-bare, feather-soft mattress, until she was right in front of him, bare-chested and bending back, trying to keep her distance. Disgust choked her.
He smirked at her squirming. “There’s just enough human in you that I can’t kill you. And I can’t have you in a way that might, shall we say, damage you to any substantial degree. Not directly damage you, in any event. But I can have you writhing in pleasure with just a touch, so that will have to do, I suppose.” He flicked a glance at the screen above the bed. “When the naïve little dragon prince sees you begging for my cock, he’ll maybe think twice about whether you’re the one to carry his dragonling. And, sadly for him, his time is truly running out to find another female to con in fulfilling the treaty.”
“Fuck you,” she spat, still held in place by Zephan’s magical force. It kept her arms back and her body upright, splayed in front of him—otherwise, she’d go for clawing his eyes out before he could enact whatever fucked-up magic he was talking about. “Leonidas is too smart for that—he’d know you put me under some kind of spell.”
“Oh, yes, he’d know.” Zephan’s ice-cold eyes glittered with the softly glowing light from the walls. “He knows that half the seductive power of his bloodline comes from that trace amount of fae still running through his veins. But I’m a full-blooded fae, little witch. Trust me, when I say that both the prince and I will know exactly how much you’ll enjoy my touch.” His gaze dropped to her breasts. “Too bad, truly, that it has to be this way. I’d much prefer finding some artful way to make you unattractive or simply unavailable as a mate. Something that involved suffering for the prince would just be a bonus.” He arched an eyebrow as he studied her body, not at all seductive the way most men looked at her, but with a coldness like he planned to dissect her, not fuck her.
Then his words from before flashed up in her mind. I’d love to burn you like the last one.
She stared at him. “How old are you?”
The strangeness of her question brought his focus back up to her face. He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t worry, little witch, I’ll outlive both you and your prince.”
She had to steel herself against flinching away from him. “So you’re one of the immortals. The ones who live a long time. And all this is about the treaty. The one that’s been in effect forever.”
His eyes flashed. “For ten thousand years. Approximately. Not that I’m counting the minutes or anything.” But his voice was tight, and his gaze suddenly sharpened. “And not that it will matter to you once you’re dust.”
“So, you weren’t exactly born yesterday,” she continued on, ignoring him and enjoying the flash of annoyance that crossed his face. “Which means you must have been trying to stop this treaty from renewing for a long time. In some artful way. Some way that made the prince suffer.” His eyes narrowed, just a bit, but she saw it. Gotcha, you fucking asshole. “You’re responsible for Leonidas’s curse. The one I broke.”
It was just a guess, but the flash of anger in his eyes confirmed it 100%.
Suddenly, that magic holding her upright yanked her right up next to him. His hot breath was on her face, but he still wasn’t touching her. “It was child’s play to get that witch killed. The stupid little thing had fallen for him. It was only a matter of time before she convinced him to knock her up. And I couldn’t take that chance, now could I? She wasn’t a purebred like you, so she had even more human in her, but a little whisper in the right ear, and suddenly she was burning up in a fire even that beast of a dragon couldn’t save her from.”
Rosalyn’s stomach churned. “You’re the real beast.”
He smirked. “The trick was keeping her alive long enough to curse him. Poor thing died three times before he managed to show up.”
“You’re fucking sick,” Rosalyn spat in his face. “What are you going to do? Burn me, too? Rape me? Try to destroy Leonidas again?” She dared him with her eyes. “Well, go on. Let’s see what you’ve got. Because you know what I’ve got? Fucking True Love. And you don’t have anything that can compare to that.”
His pale face gained color as she spoke. Then he growled in bone-chilling kind of way that made her instantly regret taunting him. What kind of idiot was she? But it was true—she loved Leonidas, and she knew that had power. Magical power. The kind that even immortals couldn’t destroy. Because if Zephan could steal away Rosalyn’s love for Leonidas… he would have done it already.
He curled a lip in disgust. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Then his hand was on her cheek, finally touching her skin-to-skin, and the revulsion was so horrific, she reflexively yanked her head back, out of his reach.
A perplexed look crossed his face.
She glared at him, leaning away as far his invisible magical hold would allow. “You make me sick.” She meant it as an insult, but he was literally making her sick—her stomach was heaving in the wake of that single touch to her cheek.
“This shouldn’t… this can’t be happening.” Anger and a kind of fear warred on his face, but he reached for her again, this time roughly grabbing her breast. A magical spark leaped between them as he held onto her, his grip growing stronger as the sparking increased. It churned her stomach like it was literally being turned inside out. She couldn’t help gagging on the bile heaved up into the back of her throat.
He dropped his hold on her and stepped back, wide-eyed.
The sensation of disgust immediately abated. She swallowed down the revulsion, but she didn’t understand it any more than Zephan seemed to. Whenever Leonidas touched her—with his magical fae blood mixed in with his dragon nature—his touch sparked literal pleasure. Magical pleasure. It was insanely hot, and part of what made the idea of him being with anyone else almost unthinkable. Yet somehow, with Zephan—a full-blooded fae—it was the opposite.
“This isn’t right,” he muttered, his gaze wandering all over the icy palace that was his bedroom.
Icy palace… Rosalyn looked around at the towering, translucent walls. “This is the Winter Court, isn’t it?”
His gaze whipped back to her.
That was it. “And Leonidas is descended from the Summer Court. He has Summer magic. You have Winter.” She laughed, which had to seem insane, given she was still suspended by magic, naked on his bed. Then she smirked at him. “You know, when Leonidas makes love to me, it’s fucking hot. That Summer magic gives the best damn orgasms.”
“Shut up!” he roared, and suddenly she was flung back on the bed, released from his magical hold and sprawling naked. Then he stalked around the side of the bed, fury on his face like nothing she’d ever seen. She cowered reflexively away from him, but she was certain that if he could kill her, she’d already be ash. “You fucking witches are nothing but trouble.” He was spitting mad now, and she had no idea what he would do, but apparently raping her would not work.
That thought brought the smile back to her face. “You bet we are, asshole.”
He shook a little, like his rage could barely be contained in his body any longer. But when he spoke, his voice was ice cold. “Maybe I can’t kill you. Nor ruin you in a way that might destroy this insipid love you and the prince have. But I’ve worked too long for this, and you’re right about one thing, you stupid little witch.”
He flicked his fingers at her, and suddenly she was clothe
“The fae live a very long time,” he growled. “And time is one thing your prince does not have.” Then he waved a hand at the big silver screen over the bed. It flashed to life and showed the bathtub in the room where he had kidnapped her. The cream-colored suit was still hung up, but the white mating gown was clenched in Leonidas’s hands. He was staring at it and slowly shaking his head.
“Leonidas!” Rosalyn screamed, but he didn’t turn. Didn’t seem to hear her at all. When she turned to ask Zephan what the hell this was, he had disappeared. She called out to Leonidas again, but the screen was like a magical one-way mirror.
Her heart ached as Leonidas slowly let the mating gown slip from his fingers.
Then he turned and walked away.
“He took her.” Leonidas could hear the despair in his own words.
“You can’t be sure,” Leksander was saying, but his voice barely pierced the buzzing that filled Leonidas’s head.
He lost her. He had her—minutes away from claiming her, if that was what she wanted—and he’d let her slip through his fingers. No… not slipped away. Stolen. He hadn’t gotten the wards up fast enough, and someone had taken her. That someone could only be the asshole fae prince who’d been taunting and tormenting the House of Smoke in just about every way imaginable.
“Maybe she’s just… taking a break,” Cinaed said, warily. “Maybe she’s run off somewhere to think, and she’ll be back soon. I can search the woods.”
The three of them were standing in the throne room, just like the one in the keep in Seattle, except this one was the original not the replica. Ancient oil paintings of previous kings and queens of the House of Smoke hung along the walls, interspersed with crushed velvet tapestries spun by the finest looms of the time, embroidered with gold thread to show the dragon crest of their House. Leksander and Cinaed stood at full alert in front of the thrones; Leonidas paced in front of the dais, slowly, in a daze.
He lost her. “Zephan’s going to kill her.” The horror of that thought struck him full in the face, and he stopped dead on the coarse-woven tapestry that served as a rug over the gray slate floor.
“You don’t know that,” Leksander insisted.
Leonidas stared at him. How could his brother deny the obvious? “Zephan’s been after us from the beginning,” he said, incredulous that Leksander couldn’t see this. “He took Lucian’s mate. He’s been stalking the women from the WildLove post with his fucking vampires—” Leonidas narrowed his eyes. “The vampires. Has Lucian tied him to that? Do we have evidence? If we did, we could take it to the Summer Court—”
Leksander cut him off by holding up a hand. “Lucian doesn’t have anything. The vamps are all terrified of the Winter Court. They’re not talking.”
Leonidas threw his hands out in frustration. “Well, let’s haul their asses into the Summer Court and get a ruling!”
“They’re not going to—”
“We have to try!” Leonidas roared, and the dragonfire burned on the way out. It drifted past his brother’s head, not intended to hurt him, just venting Leonidas’s anger. Leonidas strode over to his brother and shook his curled-up fists in front of his face. “He. Will. Kill. Her. Fuck, Leksander! She could already be dead.”
Leksander carefully placed one hand on Leonidas’s shoulder. “First of all, she’s not dead. Did you feel it, my brother? She loves you. You’re tied together through magic space. If she’d died, you would feel it.”
Leonidas shook his head, rapid and short. “No, that’s not right. I didn’t feel it with Meridi.”
“She wasn’t dead.” Leksander let the weight of that word fall heavy in the room. “Not when you found her.”
Leonidas flinched under the memory, but Leksander was right. And when Meridi did die, he’d sure as hell felt it then. But that could have been the curse.
Leksander squeezed his shoulder. “So, Rosalyn’s not dead, all right? Second, he can’t kill her. She’s protected by the treaty.”
Leonidas shook his head again. “She’s a purebred witch, not human. Who the fuck knows how he’ll interpret that. And even if he doesn’t kill her… my brother…” He couldn’t force the words out.
Leksander just nodded. “I know. Zephan’s a horror show, even for a fae. We need to get her out of there. I just don’t think the Summer Court is going to help with this.”
Leonidas stepped back, shaking off Leksander’s hold on him. “The Summer Queen came to our House. She showed an interest. When has that ever happened in ten thousand years?”
“Never,” his brother admitted.
“So I’m going to fucking call her up and get her to fix this.” Leonidas glared at his brother. “Don’t try to stop me.”
Leksander put up his hands in surrender and stepped back.
Cinaed gave him a pinched look and said nothing.
Leonidas closed his eyes and clasped his hand together, fully extending his arms in front of him. He summoned his runes and the fae magic they represented. He could feel them scuttling along his skin, piling up around his wrists and the backs of his hands, pooling their power. He focused on vibrating that power, making it sing through magical space while envisioning the elegant and ethereal Queen of the Summer Court. It was made easier because he’d seen her recently when she came to the keep in Seattle to present her gift for baby Larik.
It wasn’t as easy as placing a long-distance phone call. Leonidas had done nothing like this before, although his brother Lucian had, precisely once. Leonidas had no idea if he was doing it correctly, but it did feel like his call was ringing for a long damn time with no answer. What if they didn’t respond? He’d already dropped the wards before in his attempt to find Rosalyn, so that wasn’t stopping the fae from answering. He was about to give up when a popping sound, like a slight shift in air pressure, preceded a rustle of something in front of him in the throne room.
Leonidas jerked open his eyes.
A red-headed male fae stood not ten feet from him. He was bare-chested with only a loose white shirt billowing at his sides, unbuttoned. Runes writhed across his chest, with one dancing on his cheek. His pointy fae ears stuck up above his iron-red hair, which was long and wild with a thin braid down each side. The scratches on his chest weren’t bleeding, but they were red like his hair —and there was the unmistakable scent of sex on him.
The man’s green eyes were sharp with anger. Or maybe annoyance for the interruption of whoever’s nails had dug those scratches. “The queen can’t be bothered with you, so I’m here. What do you want? Make it fast.”
Leonidas shut his gaping mouth. “Who are you? I requested an audience with the queen.”
“Yes, I know, stupid beast.” The half-dressed fae rolled his eyes. “As I said, she can’t be bothered with the likes of you. So state your business, quickly. If it’s a trifle, I can dispense with it. If not, you’re out of luck. And I’ll warn you not to disturb the queen again.”
Anger was boiling hot inside Leonidas. “Sorry, I disturbed your fuck—”
Leksander cut him off with a glare. “What my brother means is that the queen will be upset if you don’t bring her news that the treaty has been violated.”
“What?” The queen’s lover—because Leonidas was certain now—narrowed his eyes. “What game are you playing here, dragon?”
“This isn’t a fucking game,” Leonidas seethed. “Zephan, prince of the Winter Court? Maybe you’ve heard of him? He’s stolen my mate. And this is the second time he’s taken a mate from the House of Smoke. It needs to fucking stop.”
“He’s also targeting other human women,” Leksander added more coolly. “It’s a clear violation of the treaty. If your mistress wishes to ignore that, it will weaken her reign.”
“My queen is not weak.” The man’s green eyes flashed, and a hum of magical energy filled the throne room.
Leksander raised his hands in apology and tipped his head in acknowledgment. Far more calm than Leonidas could muster. Fucking fae and their tempers. The Winter Court was filled with stone cold madmen like Zephan, but the Summer Court wasn’t much better. Rumor was that they were more passionate—that was how the previous lusty Summer Queen had fallen for a dragon so long ago—but the Summer fae were just as erratic as the Winter.
“Then your queen will definitely be interested in what we have to say,” Leksander said evenly.
The fae’s expression pinched in, and he hesitated, but then he lifted his chin to Leonidas. “This one alone can come and make your case.”
Leonidas gave a quick nod of agreement and tried to rein in his anger. He half thought the man had picked him because Leonidas was too much of a hot-head and would be quickly sent away by the queen.
The fae stepped up and put his hand on Leonidas’s shoulder. “Be quick about this. Don’t waste my queen’s time.”
Leonidas wanted to knock away his hand and make a crack about how a dragon lover might be just what his queen really needed, but he held all that in. His emotions were a raw nerve this asshole fae was scraping, all because Rosalyn was in danger. Leonidas needed to keep his wits about him to have any hope of saving her from Zephan’s clutches.
Leksander gave him a solemn nod as if to say the same thing.
Then the throne room disappeared in a flash of light.
The Summer and Winter Courts existed in another dimension—a construct of energy and magic—and the realm was only accessible to fae and angels. Lowly humans, dragons, and witches needed a guide to open the trans-dimensional door and yank them through. Leonidas had never traveled that way, only heard tell of it, but the gut-wrenching twist in his stomach was unexpected… as was the carpet of grass under his boots when his eyes recovered from the blinding light of passage.
He lifted his head and blinked away the afterglow. They were in a throne room of sorts, but like none he’d ever seen. It was a forest and a room all rolled into one. Giant, gnarled twists of wood twined their way up to a canopy of branches and leaves that let in a filtered, magical glow. Leonidas knew better than to think it was sunshine, but the effect was there. The floor was tufts of grass mixed with pockets of tiny flowers, all laid over a springy moss. The fae who brought him was already striding ahead to the center of the room where an elaborate throne was made of twisted vines and garlands of flowers. In the center, perched lazily on a swing, was the Summer Queen.
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