Kian swept Bryanna up into his arms. Her small giggle tickled the skin of his neck and his gut tightened. He’d thought of taking her on the rug, but now he wanted to make every minute he’d be naked and tangled with her count. The night was short and it was all he was going to get.
He carried her out of the room and up to the second floor, taking the stairs two at a time.
In the bedroom, he placed her gently on the white sheets and backed away. She kicked off her slippers and crawled under the duvet. She frowned.
He was suddenly nervous, like he’d never made love to a woman before. Or worse, as if he’d never made love to this woman.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot the robe,” she said.
She untied her robe and spread it wide. He blew out a breath. The crests of her breasts rode high, the outline of her nipples pressing through the nearly transparent fabric of the white nightgown. He was rock hard and ready, and she clearly wanted him. And yet, he hesitated. Why?
The weight of responsibility settled deep into his gut. Bryanna waited for him on the bed. He loved her and he knew it and because of it everything was different. This felt like the first time, but it would be the last.
He made a decision. He would take his time. Go slow. This was going to be a night he carried for millennium in his aching heart. He wanted to remember it all. The fragile white nightgown, the look on her face, his trembling hands.
She scooted over and patted the bed, her lips tilted up in a wicked come-get-me grin. “I think you’ll need to come closer.”
Relief hit him hard and he relaxed.
Everything was fine, better than fine. He was about to make love to someone he desired, and she wanted him, too. He pushed off the nerves, pulled off his tall black boots, and grinned back. “Patience woman, I’ll be next to you for the rest of the night.”
The delighted ripple of her laugh eased the last of his tension. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, got into the bed and tugged at her robe. “This has to go.”
She twisted and turned, and he pulled the robe off. Her nightgown climbed her thighs, her sweet skin sliding against his and he shuddered. He still wasn’t over having his own skin, he wasn’t sure he’d ever take it for granted again. He caught her chin in his hand and held her still, kissing her as her smile drifted away and slow, serious sensuality crept in.
“That’s better,” he whispered against her mouth. He nipped at her lip, teasing a soft moan from her throat.
She opened her mouth and he kissed her again, his tongue skimming against the flavor of fine wine. His groin pulsed. He wanted to taste her and treasure her…prolong this moment, this kiss, before he lost all thought in plundering her body.
She shifted her hips. His cock nudged under the skirt of her nightgown and brushed between her thighs. All his control fled and the kiss grew savage.
He took, and she gave, their tongues dueling together, licking and stroking and pleasuring. He nuzzled her neck, along her collar bone, and headed down the slope of her cleavage, stopped by the thin fabric of her nightgown. He fisted the neck of the gown in both hands and tore, unable to take the time for her to slide the rest of it off. She gasped.
And the fierce exultation of her shock thrummed through him.
Her ripe breasts fell out. He sank his teeth into their peach-soft flesh. She sucked in air and arched back, her nipple skimming his lips. He sucked the peak into his mouth, working it until it stiffened into a hard nub. She gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into the muscles. He smiled against her skin as he worked, rolling and licking and torturing.
“Enough, Kian, enough,” she said, her breathing coming fast and hard.
He chuckled softly and moved to the other breast. His thumb brushed the wet peak he’d just left, and electricity shot through his cock.
Bryanna floundered under him. “Kian.”
Suddenly, he was done playing.
Serious now, he ripped the rest of the gown off and tossed it aside, staring at the slope of her breasts, the trace of ribs, down her slender waist to the rise of her belly and the dip of her sex.
He nibbled and tasted, pillaging her skin along the same path, marveling at the way she smelled of ripe oranges and spice and sex. When he reached the juncture of her thighs she was wet and spread out for his attention. He growled and dove in, working her clit with his tongue and lips. He sucked with just enough pressure, using skills honed on countless women to make this one never forget him for her entire life.
For he would never forget her.
Never forget the experience of Bryanna, thrashing from side to side, her fists wrapped in the sheets as he moved his fingers inside and brought her to ecstasy.
“Kian.” His name sounded garbled. She latched her hands in his hair, holding him there seconds longer, until she tugged him up, her hot emerald eyes begging him for more.
He moved over her and teased her with his cock, bumping against her center until she took him in her hand. She held him tight and he fought the spasm of pleasure back. Too early. He would not go yet.
She spread her folds with one hand, guiding him in with the other, and he slid into warm, wet, bliss.
Balanced on his elbows, he cradled her beloved face in his hands and rocked inside her. She opened her eyes…and he was lost.
This woman.
This woman moved him in ways he had no way to articulate, let alone understand. He, a man whose speeches had motivated armies and incited rebellion, had no words. Pleasure darkened her pupils until they almost took over her eyes. Her lids shut down, flushing blue with her screams, and still, he watched and moved inside her.
He held himself back until Bryanna had come…and come…and come again. When she opened her eyes he stared into them as long as he could. He came into her warmth and lost himself at the same time. Shuddering into the last throes of his orgasm he drowned in MacElvy green eyes, his world crashing down as he finally understood the truth of his mother’s prophecy.
Something woke Bryanna. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
She was cocooned in Kian’s embrace, her back nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped around her as he held her in his sleep. The room was dark, lit only by the remains of the fire. If she ignored he was a prince of the Black Court, ignored he was committed to his own cause, ignored his ruthlessness……if she forgot everything important to her except for him, then she could stay. Here. Wrapped up in an illusion of love, and warmth, and safety.
She could practice her Gift and research spells, until she and her magic were strong enough to lift his curse, and he would be in his true form forever.
And then he would love her.
But even as his warm breath tickled a stray hair by her ear, and his hand brushed the side of her breast, she knew she was leaving. She savored the feel of him wrapped around her. His long legs entwined with hers. The sense of safety and security she felt in this warm, idyllic moment. But it couldn’t last. All she could do was pretend this was real. Later, when she had to get dressed and leave, she would hold this feeling tight in her heart.
She shifted away, intent on getting up and checking on her dress, drying next to the hearth.
Kian’s arm tightened around her waist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured against her neck.
She shivered.
“I wanted to check on my dress and add another piece of wood to the fire.” She pulled away, but he didn’t let go.
“Leave them. There will be time in the morning.”
Anxiety swelled in her throat, and she strained against the steel of his muscles caged around her waist. Maybe he would go back on his promise and force her to stay. For a moment, it was almost tempting. If he forced her to stay, she wouldn’t have to leave. Wouldn’t have to face the forest alone. Maybe she’d be happy as his prisoner, his sexual and magical slave.
But as soon as she thought it, she rejected it. She’d never be happy thinking he only wanted
her for her Gift and her body. And she didn’t have the luxury of thinking only of herself, anyway. “I should get up.” She pushed at his arm.
“There isn’t long before the dawn. Please stay with me until the light comes.” At the vulnerability in his voice, she stopped struggling. He nuzzled the back of her neck.
“How long until the sun rises?” she asked. She reached behind her and stroked his thigh. Against the cheeks of her ass, his arousal grew.
“Soon.” He reached up, moved the hair away from her neck, and breathed warmth on her skin.
She shuddered.
“Very soon,” he said.
She stroked her fingers along his thigh, working her way to his groin. “Do we have time?”
“If we hurry.” He kissed her neck, and the sweet syrup of desire trickled down her spine. Her pelvis softened, and she rubbed her hips back against his swollen cock. The end was near but she’d steal these last few moments of darkness.
From the shadowy, far corner of the room, a low masculine voice interrupted, “Well, isn’t this cozy. May I join you?”
“Fuck!” Kian was out of the bed and reaching for his sword before she could react. Finally her brain got her body moving and she squealed and dove for the blanket, pulling it high around her breasts, looking across the room at her satchel and the last of her defensive spells, far out of reach.
The shadow stepped to the end of the bed. Bryanna switched on the bedside lamp and blinked at the slender man dressed all in black leather and smirking at Kian. Moonlight pale skin and shockingly black hair swung carelessly over dark eyes so black as to seem not to have pupils. He was one of the most beautiful young men she had ever seen, but the evil in his smile chilled her skin.
His hands rested casually on his hips, and he cocked a brow at Kian standing nude and ready to fight. “So this is what you’ve been doing while your men rot in prison.” A cold smile flirted with his lips.
“Who are you?” Bryanna asked, trying to scoop her robe up off the floor while staying covered by the blanket.
“I’m your worst nightmare, lassie.”
The flat truth of his statement iced down her spine.
Kian gestured with his sword, keeping the point aimed low at the man’s gut. “Solanum, what business have you here?”
“Have you forgotten your men so quickly then? It’s only been a decade and a half, a blink of the eye for the fae.” He moved in closer and leaned on the headboard and sneered. “Unless you’re living in the queen’s dungeons.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Kian said. “You were never one of mine.”
“Ah, but I serve one who was.”
Confusion crossed Kian’s face. “You served the huntsman. The queen had him executed.”
“Now I serve his son.”
“Logan?” Kian’s sword point wavered.
“Yes, Your Highness, and while you’ve been dallying with pretty wenches he’s been lost in the oubliette.”
“He’s in the oubliette? Still?”
Solanum’s humorless laugh made Bryanna shiver. “No thanks to you, he’s been out this year, running from the queen and searching for you high and low.”
In an instant, Solanum moved from his position at the foot of the bed to Bryanna’s side. He hooked his finger in the blanket and yanked it down, spilling out her breasts. “And while I can see the pleasures this one has for a man such as yourself, I do not think Logan will understand fifteen years of abandonment while you fuck the servants.”
“Don’t!” Bryanna pushed his hand away.
Deep within his black eyes, she caught a flash of red. Time slowed. Kian didn’t move…and she couldn’t. Solanum caught her chin in his hands and stared into her eyes. He shook his head. He brought his finger to his lips, winked, and whispered, “shhh.”
And time resumed.
He let her go and laughed. Kian started moving again, his face hard.
Solanum turned. “Ah, you like this one,” he said. “I can see why.” He waggled a brow at Kian. “A little protective, aren’t you, laddie?”
Kian whipped around the foot of the bed. He was coming in fast, when he stopped and his face spasmed. The tip of his sword dropped. His muscles seized, and strained, and a horrible sound came from deep inside his throat.
A narrow band of sunlight crept through a crack in the curtains and touched Bryanna’s hand.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Haddon closed the queen’s chamber door and rested his forehead on the wood. All was quiet on the other side. Good, the drugs had taken effect. She was getting more and more out of control with each stressor in her life and he’d resorted to giving her something to calm her down. Members of the court were grateful for her absence and turned to him increasingly often for decisions. No one wanted her to lose control. No one wanted the crone in charge.
He smiled and straightened up off the door. He was more than ready to make the next move, and take over the court. All the groundwork had been carefully laid, there would be little dissension when he took over. Thanks to Kian’s little uprising most of the ones who would protest were either dead, imprisoned, or he had something to hold over their heads.
As soon as Agrona married the prince and sucked down his powers—and before the queen was able to devour them—then, he’d make his move.
A high, nasal voice drifted through the corridor. “Things are getting out of control, Bosco.”
Haddon stiffened. He knew that voice. It was the queen’s old uncle. Near four thousand years old, a decrepit near cripple, he would never succeed to the throne. But he’d certainly make trouble if he could. Haddon opened his Gift and willed himself invisible. A rare talent and one he frequently put to good use.
Niall De Tuathan came around the corner. The old fae moved slowly, leaning heavily on his twisted, black walnut cane.
Holding his arm and supporting him was the queen’s fool. “Things have been out of control for a long time, Lord Niall,” Bosco said.
Haddon repressed his snort.
As if anyone would take Bosco seriously. Everyone knew he’d come up in the world as one of the White Queen’s cast-offs and now he moved from bed to bed for favors. The fool’s torn black-and-white tank showed off gleaming, sleek muscles and the nearly pure white skin of the north. Haddon had always admired his physique and unusual black eyes, but despite the masculine display, and artfully disarrayed white hair, Bosco only played with girls. He had enough backers at court that Haddon hadn’t pushed his suit. Yet. When he was king, Bosco might change his mind for a place at Haddon’s court. Survival changed many a man’s mind.
Old Niall’s steps wavered.
“Sit here, My Lord.” Bosco helped the old man to a bench tucked into an alcove.
“Thank you, young man.” Using his cane Niall levered himself down onto the bench. “Ah, much better.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’ll be fading off in a few years, mark my words, but I’ll not be going until the crown is secure.”
“The queen won’t be going anywhere soon.”
“I’ve seen much, and I’m telling you, boy, the queen is going around the bend. We need to find Kian.”
“No one has seen or heard of the prince for years.”
Niall leaned in close to Bosco’s ear. “He’s not dead. I have sources.” His stage whisper carried easily through the hall.
Haddon stiffened. No one was supposed to know anything about the prince. It was essential Kian remain hidden until he married Agrona and lost his powers for good.
“Kian.” Bosco snorted and curled his lip. “He’s not the ruling type. Hunting, wenching, dicing, but not ruling.”
“And that coming from a fool’s mouth.” Niall shook his head. “Tetch, tetch, boy. Of all people, you should know better. The sins of youth don’t always make the adult.”
“Kian may be many things, but he’s not here, and he’s not been seen since her majesty dealt with his little rebellion.” Bosco relaxed against the wall of the alcove and crossed his arms ove
r his chest. “I’ll believe Kian a leader when I see it.”
“Don’t underestimate my blood.” Niall’s lips pressed together.
“It’s a moot point anyway. He’s not here, and the queen’s fits are growing worse.”
“Aye, that’s the truth. I have someone working on finding the prince, but in the meantime, we might consider bringing in outside help.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Niall’s voice dropped into a true whisper. Haddon scooted as close as he dared. Nearly too close. His tunic brushed Bosco’s knee. The fool’s eyes widened, and he glanced around. Haddon held his breath. Bosco looked up and down the hall before he settled down, inclining his head close to the old man’s.
Haddon held his breath.
“I’m suggesting we contact someone I know close to the Golden King. If the queen gets much worse, we’ll need someone strong enough to take her down. Until the prince is found, Oberon is our best bet.”
Bosco darted frantic looks up and down the hall. He whispered furiously to the old man, “Lord Niall, I can’t believe you’re suggesting inviting his majesty here. He’s the queen’s enemy.”
“Desperate times, boy, desperate times. He hasn’t always been the family’s enemy. That started after the wars with the Fir Bolg, when we divided up the spoils. Before that, when we first explored the worlds, we were allies and friends.” Niall picked his cane back up and Bosco reached out, helping the old man to his feet. “My niece is falling apart and there’s no one to take her place. It’s time for some action, boy.”
Haddon clenched his fists. His collar seemed to tighten, strangling his breath, and his heart pounded so hard he almost missed Bosco’s reaction.
“Lord Haddon won’t like it, My Lord,” the young fool said.
“What he doesn’t know won’t rouse him to action. Lord Haddon.” Niall snorted. “I remember when he was naught but a snotty-nosed brat taking the princess’s punishments on his bare ass. How he worked his way from whipping boy to the ear closest to the throne just shows how far gone my niece has become. Time for some action. Yes, it’s past time.”
Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) Page 18
