The Dark Queen (The Dark Queens Book 5)

by Jovee Winters

  Fable wasn’t sure what she was nodding about, but she was nodding all the same.

  “And this,” he said, stepping so close into her sphere of space that not an inch of distance separated them now, “is where I’ll make love to you tonight. If you’ll let me.”

  “Yes,” she squeaked. “Yes, oh goddess yes.”

  ~*~

  Owiot

  She’d seen his darkest hour, witnessed the life he’d had to end, the life he’d loved then and even now, and Fable still wanted him.

  Her enthusiastic yes had almost completely undone him.

  Feeling the animal of the Great Spirit within him stir to life, he growled triumphantly and then proceeded to do to Fable as he’d dreamt of doing since the very first moment he’d seen her.

  “I love this dress on you,” he said, then dug his fingers into the square collar and with a firm yank ripped the fabric in two. Exposing a long vee of smooth, polished ebony skin to his greedy and voracious gaze.

  She gasped, chest heaving, causing her beautifully rounded breasts to rise and fall sharply.

  With a greedy groan, he cupped one breast in his large palm. Her skin was so soft, like the velvet touch of a rose petal. Her flesh puckered under his touch, and the constant heavy sway of her breaths was an erotic and hypnotizing sight. He squeezed delicately and then unable to resist the temptation of her any longer, he shrugged the tattered edge of her dress down to her waist with his free hand, exposing the fullness of her from the waist up.

  The contrast of them together, it was a sight to behold.

  He was mahogany. She was ebony. Reddish-brown and deepest black—like earth and sky when they met each night. Her nipples were even darker than the rest of her, and small disks the size of his thumb. Her stomach was flat, but toned muscle. Her neck was long, like a black swan’s—a thing of regal and majestic beauty.

  “My gods,” he whispered in reverent delight.

  She curled her finger beneath his jaw, forcing him to look into her golden, tawny eyes. Eyes that practically glowed in the moonlight.

  With the fae light dancing behind her, and the swaying blooms all around them, it was easy to imagine that Fable was little more than a mirage. An image he’d conjured up from the deepest depths of his heart to fill the void there for so long.

  But like fog over rolling waters, spirits always faded with the morning light, and he was terrified she’d do the same.

  “Will you leave me, Fable?” he asked without censure, without thought, both panicked and nervous to hear her response.

  She shook her head. “I’m here now, Owiot.”

  It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it would have to do for now. Sliding his hand down to where the fabric had bunched around her waist, he tugged at it, and she took the hint. She shimmied her hips as she helped him push it down. It slipped off her easily, puddling at her feet in a snow-white heap.

  Taking a measured step back, he drank in the sight of her. Nude beneath the moonlight, wearing only a smile and a wreath of white flowers, he suffered the strangest urge to grab her and never let go.

  “Stop thinking and just look at me, Starlight,” she said it softly, and the words carried on the jasmine scented breeze like the toll of bells.

  Then lifting her hands above her head, she began to sway. Her legs were long and lean, her center was neatly trimmed, and though he couldn’t wait to go exploring, he was entranced by the glide of her hips. Broader than her waist by several inches, she was a voluptuous woman, and his entire body ached to join with her.

  “Did you know?” she said, as she continued to sway. “That I am more than mere darkness?”

  Clearing his throat to try and clear the fog of lust from his brain long enough that he could concentrate on her words, he said, “No.”

  Her rose red lips tipped up at the corners. “I am. I am shadow too. I am the deepest depths of the ocean blue. Black as the night and mysterious as the void.”

  And then her swaying became more powerful, quicker. Until her form began to blur, to become echo images of herself, and then finally...she fractured apart into banding swirls of pearly grays and black.

  That shadow moved like a thought toward him, surrounding him in a tight embrace. He inhaled deeply, skin breaking out in a wash of heated need as he felt the flow and swell of her power, her presence move over him like massaging fingers. From the crown of his head to the tips of his feet.

  The pressure at his cheek increased, and he knew she’d kissed him then, but she didn’t stop. She continued to pepper his jaw, his nose, his forehead, cheeks, and neck until he was gasping for breath from her phantom kisses.

  And all the while he felt her finger-like touch move all over him.

  As quickly as it had begun, her power snapped back, and she was form once more. A woman of night and shadow, smiling up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her lioness eyes.

  “Nice bum,” she said in a husky drawl.

  Frowning, he glanced down and then chuckled.

  It was only then that he realized her movements hadn’t been random at all, she’d undressed him and he’d never even noticed. His leggings had been tossed to who knew where. Away. Probably gone for good. But he didn’t care. He could fashion another.

  “Fable,” he said.

  “Yes, Owiot?”

  Her scent of flowers overwhelmed his senses. He wanted to take her; to drive into her as was his nature. With primal abandon and enthusiasm. But he didn’t dare until he got her consent. Deep down he’d always suspected that Aiyana’s leaving had had everything to do with his strong sexual appetites. In life he was gentle, thoughtful, and caring, but when it came to sex his desires were claiming and even sometimes crazed.

  “Can you accept me as I am?”

  Her gaze traveled slowly down, landing on his rock hard and painfully aching penis and remaining there for several long, tense seconds as her grin slowly grew wider and wider. Wetting her lips, she finally said, “Oh, I think I can handle whatever you’ve got to give me, male.”

  That was all he needed to know.

  Closing the scant distance between them, he yanked her to him. Owiot was a god, a god born of the sky god himself. A powerful and majestic spirit built of thunder and lightning.

  When he took her, the sky began to rumble.

  She gasped, but not with fear. Slamming her form tight to his, he hooked a foot behind her knee and twisted, causing them both to tumble to the ground. He shifted, to take the brunt of the fall.

  A startled laugh dropped off her tongue, but that laugh soon turned into a moan when he rolled her onto her back and cupped both her breasts in hand.

  “Oh goddess,” she whimpered.

  Lowering his head, he took one tight bud into his mouth, suckling and laving his tongue along the turgid bit of pebbled flesh. Her nails dug into his scalp as she began to writhe and moan beneath him.

  But he wasn’t done. He nipped at her nipple too. Biting down until he left a crescent mark, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to let her know she was with him. Hard enough to leave his mark, his imprint upon her.

  Her back bowed, and a keening noise crawled up her throat. “Owiot! More!”

  With an animal growl, he forced himself off the one breast, and onto the other. Her skin tasted of salt, soap, and perfume—an intoxicating combination that he wanted to lick and suckle at all night long.

  He could love on her breasts forever, but there was another area of her body that he wished to become more intimately familiar with.

  Moving over her body, and trapping her legs between his, he proceeded to move slowly down. Taking his time as he meandered closer and closer to the heated core of her femininity. He pressed kisses onto her stomach, her ribs, nipped and suckled at her sweet belly button.

  And the farther south he went, the more wild and jerky her movements became. Then he kissed her inner thigh, and she tensed up.

  “Holy Tartarus!” She grunted, halfway sitting as her stomach flexed a
nd her nails dug in deeper to his scalp.

  She took a fistful of his hair in hand and tugged.

  Her eyes were aglow with lust and desire. Her full lips looked swollen and bee stung, as though she’d been biting down hard on them.

  “You don’t waste any time, do you, big guy?”

  His only answer was a throaty chuckle. With a flick of his head, he jerked out of her grip, and spread her legs wide, exposing her to his greedy gaze.

  She was pink and flushed down there. He’d expected every inch of her to be as dark as the rest, so it was shocking—almost hypnotizing—to see such vivid color.

  “Fable, my Fable,” he murmured, incoherent with desire.

  She’d sat up and was resting her weight on her hands. Knowing exactly what he wanted, what he needed, she nodded.

  Moving one of her hands, she set it on the crown of his head and pushed gently. The sky exploded with lightning, streaking across the navy blue canvas with violent veins of silver and gold.

  Then she laid back, and he settled in to feast.

  Chapter 15

  Fable

  The man—god—was as gorgeous nude as he was dressed. His skin gleaming like polished cherry wood.

  His cock had been more than adequate in size and beautifully veiny and plump at the tip. His abdomen as hard as granite and both smooth and rippled as she’d wandered her fingers over him. With his long hair billowing behind him, she’d felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

  That was until he’d decided to start their night off between her thighs.

  When Owiot had asked for permission, she hadn’t exactly expected him to go down there so soon. She’d had plenty of lovers in her life, and eventually, they’d gotten around to oral intercourse, but never on the first time. It had always been something they’d had to work themselves up to.

  But this god was voracious and hungry, and she was more than glad to oblige.

  She curled her fingers into the long stalks of jeweled colored grass and stared up at the nighttime sky that looked ready to tear itself apart with its fury and waited for the first touch of him.

  Fable didn’t have to wait long.

  His hot tongue slid from top to bottom in one long, smooth, cat-like stroke.

  “Holy gods,” she squeaked, nearly dying from the electric caress of that velvety tongue.

  But then he was latching onto the jewel at the very center of her and sucking in hard as he swirled his tongue, and she swore that she’d suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

  The world was splintering apart around them, and she could have cared less if she’d died in it. All she knew was she would die without his mouth on her bringing her to a type of frenzied climax she’d never experienced in all of her days.

  “Owiot. Owiot!” she moaned his name incoherently over and over, tossing her head from side to side as she screwed her eyes shut and chased the little death threatening to kill her.

  But then he brought his thumb into play as well, and that was her undoing. She climaxed so violently and brutally that she shifted into shadow against her will, clinging tightly to his body with all her might, terrified and afraid that if she didn’t she’d never find herself whole again.

  When she finally felt safe enough to open her eyes, Owiot was grinning down at her, and lightly rubbing circles onto her back. He looked content, but she was far from it.

  With a hungry cry, she shoved against his chest, tossed him down and then said laughingly, “Did you really think you were done?”

  His eyes were wide but laughing. “What did you have in mind, my darkness?”

  “More. More. More.”

  She slammed her mouth down to his, violently, shivering as he accepted that aspect of her so easily. She clawed, bit, and knocked teeth with him, and he was right there with her. Raking his fingers down her spine, making her bow her back in almost pain but all of it mixed up with so much pleasure.

  His hot, hard length poked her in the arse, making her squirm with delicious need. He grunted, gripping her lower spine and holding her still.

  “Keep it up, my feral one, and I won’t last much longer.” He grunted.

  “Oh, but you will.” She singsonged. “You are a god after all.”

  He chuckled. “Not of fertility, even I have my limitati—”

  “Ssh.” She nuzzled his nose, then stole a kiss, swiping her tongue along the seam of his mouth until he automatically opened to her. “Too much talking,” she mumbled, before dipping in and tasting of the starlight he was made of.

  Kissing Owiot was like sucking in the cosmos. It was infinite and unfathomable—stars, and planets, and the never-ending delights of creation itself, a beautiful universe of chaos and shifting lights and colors. She was addicted to his taste.

  Needing him inside of her now, she rose up just slightly on her knees and then impaled herself.

  He howled. Literally tossed his head back, elongating his neck—causing the cords of his tendons to stand out—as he gave into his animal form. He did not shift into an animal, but he was more than merely human now.

  Owiot bristled with the divine. His skin glowed, his hair gleamed, his eyes burned, and he was all hers. Every last gorgeous inch of him.

  He broke away from her kiss then, staring her in the eyes and she felt herself falling, sliding into that tunnel of stars, but she wasn’t ready to lose herself just yet.

  Fable grabbed his head and forced his mouth to her left breast. Like the good boy he was, he knew exactly what she wanted and sucked her nipple into his moist heat.

  “Oh gods,” she groaned as his tongue swirled around and around, “I’m coming, Owiot. I’m coming.”

  Just a little bit more, one last swivel of her hips would get her there. He slammed his hips up just as she slammed down and then she could no longer fight it. This time, Owiot didn’t give her a choice. This time, he grabbed her face.

  “Look at me, darkness,” he grunted.

  And it was the tone of his voice that forced her to open her eyes. Because when he spoke she heard the eagle, the coyote, the crow, and the mountain lion shiver behind each word.

  She was fracturing, splintering into a thousand tiny pieces of herself, but he was right there to catch her. Even as she slid into that endless, yawning chasm of starlight, he was there. He was everywhere.

  And Fable knew, deep in her soul, that what they’d done tonight...there’d be no coming back from that. Ever.

  ~*~

  Owiot, was sadly, not a fertility god. He’d only managed to make love three more times before he’d been forced to collapse from exhaustion.

  Though she couldn’t really complain. Her body was nothing but jelly and ached in places it had not ached in for years, but only in the most glorious way, of course.

  They still lay in the field of night and flowers, curled around one another. The sky had settled back into a peaceful, quiet solitude full of ethereal white clouds.

  He was strumming her back, staring up and wearing a small smile.

  “Owiot,” she said after watching him in silence for ten minutes.

  Finally, he turned to her, and she returned his grin to see the starlight dancing through his milk chocolate eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “Why do they call you the god of children?”

  He chuckled. And the sound was nice.

  Actually, there wasn’t anything about her male that wasn’t nice. He had a sexy voice, a hypnotic voice, and smelled great. Amazing really. Like musk and wood smoke and earth and woodsy cologne mingled with something a little more exotic, though she wasn’t sure what. All she knew was she couldn’t get enough of him.

  Snorting, he shrugged, watching as she leaned up on an elbow to run her fingers across his smooth chest. No hair. None at all. Most men she’d been with had at least a little, some had a lot. But not Owiot. He even had very little leg hair. It was like all that hair had decided to grace the crown of his very gorgeous hair instead; she’d never seen a man with such thick head hair.r />
  God, she had it bad.

  “It was Aiyana’s doing.”

  Fable frowned. “Your wife? But I thought she was human. How was she able to give you a—”

  “No.” He shook his head. “She did not bestow the title upon me. She visited Mother Buffalo, who told her that I was the god of children.”

  She lifted a brow. “That’s it? Just like that. Oh, by the way, Aiyana, your lover, he’s the god of children. So go make babies.”

  He laughed heartily at her words, and she couldn’t help but chuckle too. She felt so carefree and easy with him, so unlike her normal self. This was a side of her few rarely were privileged to see, a side she thought she’d never reveal to another. The fact that the Evil Queen actually had a sense of humor would likely have rocked the Enchanted Forest to its very foundation and caused many to die of shock.

  “She wouldn’t go deep into details about it.” The laughter slowly faded from his eyes and his mood turned pensive.

  Fable sensed the shift in him immediately and stilled, wondering if she’d said or done something wrong.

  “I believe that in my heart, it was that conversation exactly with Mother Buffalo that caused Aiyana’s heart to turn from me.”

  He was staring broodily off into the distance, and the sadness that he always kept wrapped so closely to himself, began to disperse to the winds. And suddenly everything looked a little more sad, a little more gloomy and melancholy. The burden of carrying that emotion all alone, it must have been horrible for him. She couldn’t help but wonder if anyone at all during his life had ever helped share in the pain of it.

  “Look at me, Owiot,” she murmured, lightly trailing her finger along his chin, noticing for the first time that he had a silvery scar that ran from the base of his neck to the very tip of his chin.

  It was thin now, and not very wide, but based on its length alone she knew it had to have been extremely painful when he received the wound.

  He looked at her, holding none of his anguish back from her and all she could do was smile softly, letting him know she was here, and he wasn’t alone.

  They stared at one another for several long moments, neither speaking, simply content to be exposed and vulnerable to each other as they’d never been to anyone else before.