by Holly Bargo
Corinne nodded and watched Oriel glide toward the tall gate that separated the lily garden from the rest of the castle grounds. She picked up her book again and sat back down on the bench. She opened the book, but could not concentrate on the printed page. She looked around, taking in the beautiful flowers in their colorful profusion and the serene ponds with their sturdy pads topped by flowers emitting spicy fragrances. Bees and hummingbirds hovered over the blossoms. Butterflies fluttered their colorful wings as they hopped between plants in no discernible pattern. Overhead, a bird sang its trilling song from wherever it perched amid the petal-shedding tree.
It was a lovely cage, but a cage just the same.
She could not help but wonder whether Uberon would allow her more freedom and then cringed at the concept of being allowed anything.
“I am independent,” she whispered. “I am a thinking, rational person and not a prized pet to be kept on a leash.”
But the words did not sound so strident aloud as they did in her mind.
Corinne closed the book and set it down in her lap again. Had it really been only the night before she’d met the black and white unicorns in the heart of the Great Forest? What had Gus called it? Oh, yes, the Deepwood.
Separating the two syllables into their discrete words made her flush as a rush of lust surged through her body. Deep. Oh, how wonderful Uberon had felt when he’d sank so deeply inside her body! Wood. The memory of that massive erection sparked another shiver of desire.
“You have a dirty mind,” she chided herself.
But that didn’t quell her memory of the fiery passion he’d shown her, nor stop her from remembering the intense pleasure of it.
“I lived without it for most of my life. It’s no big deal to do so again.”
As though the reignition of her magic also lit the coals of her libido, she could not help but recall every touch, every kiss, every murmured word of praise and beauty. She felt her breasts grow full and heavy, the nipples tightening and pressing visibly against the cloth of her bodice. She felt her belly flutter and zings of pleasure streak down her thighs, which quivered with each bolt of sexy electricity. Heat pooled, as did moisture. She took a deep breath in yet one more effort to calm her flesh and caught the scent of her arousal, musky and rich.
I need you. The plea formed and broadcast before she could stop it. The aching honesty of it deepened her flush.
Do you accept me? came the reply, straight into her mind. It startled her.
Corinne examined the nuances of that response before answering. She felt the promise of it, the bone-deep devotion. Could she accept the same sacrifice as Oriel in exchange for undeniable pleasure and protection?
I won’t be kept in a cage.
She felt more than heard a low dark chuckle of triumph and knew he thought he’d won.
You’ll have as much freedom as I can allow.
Not good enough. No one tells me where or when I come and go. No one tells me with whom I may associate or not. No one treats me like a pampered dog.
You will accept my guidance.
But I make the decision whether to follow that guidance.
I require your obedience.
No. She caught herself before responding with something blatantly rude and offensive, like “Go fuck yourself” or “Over my dead body.”
Apparently, though, he caught the stifled rudeness and took offense anyway. I will command you.
Command all you want. I never promised obedience. I’m not your fucking submissive.
His dark chuckle rippled through her mind, dashing away those hazy imaginings of a spanking bench and St. Andrew’s cross.
Giving you pain is not my intention.
Good thing, because I’m not willing to do anything like that. It’s degrading.
A sudden sensation of fullness made her gasp and look down. Beneath the tranquil fabric of her skirt, her thighs quivered, but nothing visible accounted for the delicious feeling of something long and hard moving slowly in her body. She moaned and tilted her hips.
I give you pleasure, my sweet. And you will receive me with joy.
Her body tightened, nearly ready to melt beneath the heat of an orgasm, but then the invisible cock vanished as though it had never been and left her aching and yearning for release.
I return tonight. Beg me and I will fill you.
“That was a dirty trick,” she muttered and squirmed on the bench.
You are mine and I am yours. Any male who touches you will die at my hand.
You’re a frickin’ caveman.
Actually, he was older—far older—than any cave man, but he saw no need to belabor that point. He needed her to accept him. She’d not release her soul into his keeping otherwise, which left them both vulnerable.
I have prepared our castle, carved of my own demesne where you may roam freely, and staffed for your every comfort. You have only to accept me and all that entails.
And just how big is this demesne?
You’ll never see walls barring your passage.
No walls, she thought. That sounded promising. She turned over his words. He’d once vowed never to lie to her. “You’ll never see walls” did not mean the absence of walls, she finally reasoned. Fencing, she concluded. He’d probably erected prison fencing topped by razor wire around his estate.
I’ll not confine you by such crude means. No fence will bar your passage.
She analyzed his words, his tone, and detected no falsehood. She felt the delicious swipe of his phantom thumbs over her sensitive breasts. Of course, nothing showed beyond her physical reaction.
“You don’t play fair.”
That dark, triumphant chuckle filled her mind again. Corinne shivered, though the air inside the walled garden was warm.
CHAPTER 9
Corinne, Oriel, and the Erlking had just sat down to supper when Uberon strode into the vast dining hall. His long black cloak unfurled behind him as though directed by computer generated imaging for best dramatic effect. His leather boots made no sound on the stone floor. His unbound hair flared behind him with as much drama as his cloak. Watching his approach, Corinne’s breath caught in her throat. She blinked. She’d forgotten he was so insanely handsome.
Then she gasped. As though in recognition of her soul-bonded mate, the tattoo of silver and gemstones in her skin suddenly flared with intense heat. A flicker of pain flashed across Uberon’s fierce expression as recognition and magic raced through the coordinating silver and jewels embedded in his hide.
“Sit and dine,” the Erlking invited, gesturing grandly with one hand and setting the heavy palm of his other on the delicate slope of Oriel’s shoulder.
“My thanks,” Uberon replied and took a seat next to Corinne. A servant rushed with a basin of water and towel. The mighty fae made quick use of them. “It’s been a long and arduous journey.”
Trying to be unobtrusive, Corinne inhaled. She frowned. Although he appeared not to have refreshed himself from at least a day’s hard travel, he certainly did not smell dirty or sweaty. He smelled of pine and moss and fresh air. How odd. The sidelong glance he gave her indicated without words that he knew what she did … and that it amused him.
Her body, of course, responded to his proximity and his scent with embarrassing clarity. She squirmed, just a little, and blushed at Oriel’s sly grin. She should have known that nothing she did would miss the uncanny awareness these people had.
Oriel clapped her hands and servants leaped into action, filling plates and goblets. Corinne glanced at Uberon who appeared to focus on his food and the conversation held with Gus, a conversation she missed because she’d allowed herself to be distracted.
Uberon’s hand on her thigh. Stroking. Squeezing. Moving slowly, inevitably upward. She took a hurried sip of water and glanced at Oriel, whose focus had also turned inward. No doubt because Gus was fondling her beneath the table. He seemed to do that a lot. And she seemed to enjoy it.
Distracted and unable to keep track
of time, Corinne looked up with dazed eyes at the invisible pulse that suddenly filled the air. Her eyes widened with realization when her gaze landed upon the flushed expression of satisfaction that curled her hostess’ lips. Suddenly, Corinne wanted that same satiated smile for herself. Envy sprouted and grew, and she decided that what was good for the gander was also good for the goose. She reached down and grasped the hard muscle on top of Uberon’s long thigh and squeezed.
“You play with fire, beloved.”
She opened the palm of her other hand and a flame sputtered into existence and danced on the bare skin. “That’s fire. Remember?”
She moved the hand beneath the table to the long, thick ridge of his arousal and stroked.
“Out,” Uberon barked.
Ordered from his own dining hall, the Erlking laughed and hoisted his mate over his shoulder. With a light smack on her posterior, he strode from the room as the servants disappeared. Before the doors had shut, Corinne found herself bent over the table with her skirts tossed over her hips.
Bending low over his mate, Uberon growled into her ear, “Will you receive me?”
Gulping, she nodded and wriggled her hips.
He ground his groin against her, the rub of fabric rough against her heated skin. “I need your words.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
Somehow in that brief second, he’d managed to free himself from the confines of his trousers. He plunged inside her before the hiss of her acceptance faded into the air. Corinne squealed at the sudden invasion and then moaned as he started thrusting. He grasped one of her hands and drew it forward, then reached to do the same to the other. He held both in his grip as his other hand clamped over her bare hip to hold her right where he wanted her as he rocked in and out of her body. She mewled at the slap of his scrotum against her sensitive, swollen clitoris. With a growl, he pressed even more deeply into her, his cock rubbing against that internal bundle of nerves that intensified the pleasure. The hand at her hip loosened and slid around to strum her clit like a master guitarist with his favorite instrument. Corinne keened, the sound high and thin as she contracted around him and under him.
As climax crashed through his mate’s body, the silver chased into her skin and the black diamonds flared with arcane brilliance. His lips peeled back with savage satisfaction at the sight as he continued to pound into her and drive her back to orgasm with ruthless determination.
“You’re mine,” he growled in the High Tongue of his distant youth. “Only mine. Always mine.”
His nostrils flared as he took in the scent of her hot passion spilling over his cock and then running down her legs. He reveled in the fragrance of the sweet, sweet sweat that misted her flushed skin. He ground himself as deeply inside her as he could go, relishing the stranglehold of the hot, wet silk of her inner passage and the incoherent cries of pleasure she could not stifle. Soon, too soon, he burned with the need for release.
“Who owns you?” he snarled into her ear as his hips beat a rapid tattoo against the pliant flesh of her ass.
“Uberon!” she wailed as he pinched her clitoris and sent her soaring into dark brilliance. The clutch and ripple of her body cracked his steely control and he shattered, too, erupting in a fiery flash of burning black diamonds and glowing silver.
Corinne sagged, every muscle melted into useless goo. A whimper slid from her throat even as her mate slid from her body. She lay bent over the table in a postcoital daze that permitted neither organized thought or coordinated movement as Uberon stroked her backside, his fingers slipping through the wet folds of her sex and causing her to shudder helplessly at the sensation. She felt him lean over her, saw the shadow of his body before feeling the featherlight stroke of his fingertips along the back of her neck.
“Can you stand?” he whispered as his fingers toyed with the fine hairs at her nape.
“I don’t think so,” she groaned.
“No matter, beloved.” His soft, satisfied chuckle gusted past her ear as she felt her skirts being drawn back over her hips and backside. “I can carry you.”
With an ease that Corinne really didn’t want to contemplate, he turned her over and cradled her against his broad chest. She felt the edge of a leather strap and realized that he still wore his cloak. Of course, she still wore her dress. And slippers.
Her head lolled against his shoulder as he covered the distance from the dining hall to her room with strong, sure steps.
“Never doubt me,” he commanded. “I am yours as much as you are mine.”
“You abandoned me,” she muttered.
“Augustus agreed to your care while I secured our new home,” he explained, an odd gesture for one who had not needed to explain himself in too many millennia to contemplate.
“So, that’s his name, Augustus,” Corinne murmured.
“That’s one of his names,” Uberon corrected.
“What are your other names?”
His lips curled in a small smile, because his clever mate immediately made the connection. “It has been so long that none except the Erlking and the archivist remember my family names. They only know Uberon and that is all you need to know.”
She sighed, deciding not to pick that fight. She also decided there was no way she was going to call him something like “master” or “your Majesty.”
“Nor would I demand it of you,” he said, catching her thoughts. “You are mine to serve, mine to honor, mine to cherish.”
The old-fashioned sentiment of his words warmed her heart.
“Mine to fuck.”
The crude words sent a thrill of pleasure through her body. Her nipples peaked and her core heated. Embarrassed by her body’s blatant reaction to the male’s overwhelming sexuality, Corinne buried her face against his shoulder.
“Ready a bath,” the Unseelie king ordered in a crisp voice as he crossed the threshold of his mate’s chamber.
“Aye, your Majesty,” came Luthhir’s piping reply. “Shall I lay out a gown for later?”
“She won’t need it,” Uberon answered as he settled his mate onto the bed. “We leave in the morning.”
“What?” Corinne gasped in surprise. “But you just got back!”
“And I have carved a new kingdom from the Quol. I must return to defend it.”
“The Quol? A new kingdom?”
“The Quol?” Luthhir gasped. “Surely, the Quol is too dangerous for Lady Corinne?”
Uberon sent a hard glare toward the halfling who quailed beneath the fulminating glint of power. “Do you doubt my ability to protect my mate?”
“Of course not,” the halfling replied with haste. “You are, of course, the Unseelie king.”
Uberon’s lips drew back from his sharp teeth as he corrected, “No longer the Unseelie king, but the Quoliálfur king.”
“The Quoli are uncivilized,” Luthhir protested in a weak tone.
“And I have recruited a sizeable population from among the former Unseelie Court as well as some Daimónagi who decided not to stay after the fall of its fortress.” His smile sharpened. “I’ve rock trolls, djinni, pixies, and dwarves pledging their fealty to me, even a few intrepid humans, witchbreed, and gargoyles.”
“Did you get angels and mermaids, too?”
“No, but I have allied with a tribe of vodnicci. In exchange for clearing their waters of Quoli intrusion, they will swear fealty to me.”
“What do you offer them that no one else does?” Corinne whispered in awe, for in her weeks of intense study, no fae history had shown any ruler able to ally multiple races. The Daimónio Refstófae came close.
“Opportunity,” Uberon replied succinctly. “I allow them to make their own fates without regard to ancestry and they will serve me. They will fight and even die for me.”
Corinne blinked, realizing that the concept of social and economic mobility remained foreign to most of the fae and human realms in this strange world. She also noticed that Uberon made no mention whatsoever of democracy or voting. She pre
ssed her lips together so as not to question him in front of Luthhir. Already she understood that doing so caused offense and offered insult.
“The bath is ready, my lord.”
“Good. Leave us.”
“Aye, my lord. I shall bring a tray shortly.”
“Leave it over there,” Uberon ordered with a curt flick of his fingers.
The halfling servant nodded and departed as the former Unseelie king turned his intense focus upon his mate. He blinked and her clothes vanished in a wisp of smoke.
“In the water with you,” he said as he shrugged off his clothing.
Corinne’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. His expression said more clearly than words that he would override any objection—with brute force if he deemed it necessary. With a spark of defiance, she put an extra swing in her sway as she walked to the anteroom where Luthhir had filled the tub with hot water. As she sank into the steaming depths, Uberon suddenly manifested under her, gripping her thighs and guiding her downward progress so that she impaled herself on his erection. She yelped as he filled her and brought up his knees to spread her legs wide open and force her to lean back against his chest.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out as he lathered a washcloth and gently scrubbed her skin as though they merely shared the water and he was not buried deeply inside her body. His cock moved within her with the bodily shifting necessary to bathe until she began to writhe around his pulsing flesh. She gasped when he lifted her off and turned her around so they slid against each other, chest to chest while he washed her back and his chest. He tasted her skin as he bathed her, the washcloth following open-mouthed kisses and sumptuous strokes of his tongue. He pinched and rolled her nipples, soothing the tender peaks with the wet warmth of the freshly soaked washcloth. He held her when she convulsed in his arms. The hard muscles of his legs bulged as he rose to his feet and stepped from the tub with his mate cradled against him.
Corinne lay limp and helpless on a thick bath mat as he patted her skin dry with a soft, fluffy towel and keened when he showed her how well he multitasked, running the towel over his own skin as he feasted upon her sex until she convulsed again in unbearable pleasure.
