Stolen Princess

by Nikki Jefford

  What a sore loser—before he’d even lost the game. I couldn’t believe I’d ever been intimidated by him. At least he still had enough wits to see where the game was headed. I wanted to beat him. No, I had to beat him, and I needed my victory to be undeniable.

  “Very well, Jhaeros,” I said, pronouncing his name disdainfully. I sat up straighter on the settee. “How many cocktails would you say I should drink to make this a fair game?”

  Jhaeros’s jaw dropped slightly and eyes widened. He closed his mouth and shook his head.

  “I apologize. I would never insist on such a thing, especially not from a lady.”

  “Too late,” I said. “Would you be so kind as to fetch me a drink?”

  Jhaeros glanced over his shoulder at the open door but didn’t move. He wrung his fingers in his lap.

  I tapped my foot over the plush carpet. “I’m not making another move until you fetch me a drink.”

  “It’s my turn,” Jhaeros noted.

  “Then take it and go so we can get on with our game.”

  “You have a very pert tongue for a lady,” Jhaeros grumbled.

  “And you are excessively stubborn.” Not to mention uptight and proud. Clearly the scotch wasn’t working. Even his tux looked stiff—every shirt button fastened all the way up to his neck and the strong jaw above the starched collar. He didn’t appear drunk in the slightest. Taking little sips of scotch since his arrival wasn’t enough to get him to loosen up.

  Jhaeros moved a shrub, trying to break mine up, and then stood.

  “As the lady requests, I will return shortly with liquid refreshments. What would you like?”

  A wicked grin spread over my lips.

  “I’d like the succubus’s signature drink. It’s called Party in Your Mouth.”

  Jhaeros winced, eyes squinting as he did. I had to bite my tongue to hold back a laugh. I wished I could be there to hear him order the beverage—say the name aloud—but imagining it still brought enough cruel satisfaction to tide me over.

  I looked Jhaeros in the eyes and raised my eyebrows in challenge before remembering he would not be able to see them raised behind the mask. Still, Jhaeros recognized the dare in my voice.

  He nodded once before walking briskly from the room.

  My chest heaved, not with the expected relief, but disappointment. What if he didn’t return? I felt like a cat who’d lost the mouse she’d only just begun to play with. Jhaeros’s retreat seemed to suck the warmth right out of the room.

  A hush settled around me. Even the fire stopped crackling. I glanced several times at the campaigne board, but the static pieces were as comforting as the silence.

  My foot tapped against the carpet, impatient once more, eager for his return. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t even blame alcohol. I’d told him I wanted to be left alone, but I’d been lying. I’d spent the past fifteen months alone—surrounded by Fae, always guarding my words. My moods. My heart.

  When Jhaeros returned, my traitorous heart leaped with relief. Loneliness was a sickness, and even the presence of my sister’s ex-admirer eased the ache inside my chest.

  He looked like a waiter with the silver tray he carried filled with drinks. How much of a threat did he think I was? I supposed I ought to feel flattered.

  Jhaeros set the tray down beside the campaigne board and plucked the stem of a martini glass, lifting the familiar pink cocktail with the candied rim.

  “For you,” he said, handing me the drink.

  “Is this the—” I started to ask as I took it from him.

  “Yes,” Jhaeros said quickly, gnashing his teeth together.

  I smiled sweetly, lashes fluttering.

  He cleared his throat. “I took the liberty of ordering a Twenty-Four Karat Gold and several different wines.”

  I glanced at the tray, taking in all the drinks.

  “And the three glasses of scotch?”

  “For me,” Jhaeros said. “It’s only fair.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try one of these?” I asked, lifting my pink cocktail.

  Jhaeros grimaced.

  “I’ll stick to scotch.”

  “You really ought to try something different one day,” I said, nodding at the drinks. But Jhaeros’s eyes latched on to my lips then traveled south, resting on the soft swells of my bosom, pushed up by the corset.

  His eyes dilated and only months of practice helped me maintain my composure. I’d never seen lust in Jhaeros’s gaze, not even when he’d doted on Shalendra. He’d pampered her as though she were a favored child. The raw look he leveled me with now was one of a male who wanted not only to give, but to set propriety aside and take his own satisfaction.

  A feeling of power hummed from my chest to my core. I could conquer this male if I wanted. Taunt, tease, and crush him. It would serve him right.

  But I wasn’t Shalendra.

  I turned my attention to my drink.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” I lifted the cocktail to my mouth and closed my lips around the rim, this time anticipating the pop and fizzle from the candied rim. I tipped the glass back, tasting lemon, lime, and cherry as the cool liquid rushed down my throat. I drank until only a quarter of the beverage remained. Then I set it down on the tray and nodded at it. “In case you decide you want to be more adventurous, I left some for you to taste.”

  As the words left my lips, Jhaeros’s eyes became hooded. He wasn’t looking at the drink. He was looking at me. He hadn’t stopped.

  A nervous thrill rushed through me.

  It was the alcohol, I told myself. I turned my attention to the campaigne board and made my move. I’d already planned it out before Jhaeros left to fetch the drinks.

  Jhaeros dragged his eyes away from me, his gaze flicking over the game pieces as though finding they’d gone dull. Despite his air of indifference, he executed a smart play, which made stealing another of his shrubs, six moves later, all the more satisfying.

  Jhaeros merely grunted when I snatched his shrub and dumped it in my growing pile of blackwood pieces.

  I polished off a glass of rosé wine, eager to show him I could beat him sober, drunk—even blindfolded. The last thought sent a warm wave between my thighs.

  “I may have met my match,” Jhaeros said before lifting his second glass of scotch and taking a large swig. He’d stopped sipping and started to really drink two moves ago.

  He kept glancing at me. Whereas it had unnerved me before, it emboldened me now. Not only did I want to beat him, I found myself wanting to show off.

  “I wish you would tell me your name and where you’re from.” His voice sounded husky. Unfamiliar. Very un-Jhaeros.

  I kept my eyes on the board, a feeling of recklessness coming over me. “Perhaps, like you, I am from Pinemist.”

  “No,” Jhaeros said, shaking his head. “I would remember you if you lived in Pinemist.”

  My hand, which hovered above the board, shook. Instead of moving a game piece, I grabbed the wine I’d been sipping and drank the remainder of the liquid down like a shot, then slammed the glass on the tray.

  Jhaeros leaned forward and twisted around to face me, brows furrowed.

  “Why do my words offend you?”

  “Perhaps it is not your words,” I suggested.

  His jaw slid to one side as he studied my profile.

  “Have we met before?” he asked. “Do I know you?”

  “Not at all, I assure you,” I retorted.

  He knew me as well as a vampire knew the sun.

  He swallowed.

  “Did someone hurt you in the past? A male?” His fingers fisted over his thighs and the emotion in his voice twisted through my stomach. Was that truly concern I detected in his voice?

  Cirrus had never hurt, nor forced himself on me. No, he’d made me a princess and treated me as such—offering me my heart’s desire so long as I remained by his side in Faerie.

  It was my family who had hurt me. My father. Shalendra. Their heartl
ess indifference.

  “No one hurt me. My mate treated me well.”

  “You are mated?” Jhaeros didn’t mask the disappointment from his voice. He slumped forward as though he’d been shoved from behind.

  “Widowed,” I corrected.

  His head perked up, but he managed a grave tone. “Please accept my condolences.”

  “Our time together was short—a union of convenience.” I shrugged and stared blindly at the game board.

  Firelight danced around the dim stone walls of the chamber and a gentle crackling emanated from the hearth.

  It felt like minutes ticked by as we sat side by side, suspended in time.

  Finally, Jhaeros cleared his throat gently. “Would it cheer you if I took a taste of the funny drink, the pink one?”

  I hadn’t thought anything could pep me up in that moment, but his offer felt like clouds parting and sunshine spilling in. A smile pulled up my cheeks. I turned in my seat, one knee connecting with Jhaeros’s thigh. I hadn’t noticed him inching closer.

  “Yes,” I said, “and it would delight me even more if you said its name.”

  Jhaeros winced, which made me laugh. He muttered the name.

  I leaned in closer. “What was that?”

  Jhaeros lowered his gaze, staring down my gown. His eyes snapped up a second later after he realized he’d been ogling my bosom. Such a fuddy-duddy. I wasn’t some blushing virgin, and it wasn’t like dozens of other supernaturals hadn’t already taken a look.

  If I wanted, I could have him. I was sure of it. I could rouse Jhaeros until he loosened his grasp of propriety and had me on my back like an upended campaigne piece—a queen and king taking each other down. Game over. But for whom?

  Jhaeros glanced at the pink cocktail.

  “Party in Your Mouth,” he said with resignation, fiddling with the top button on his collar.

  “There. Was that so hard?” I teased, taking delight in his discomfort. “Now try it.”

  He leaned forward, his leg pressing against my gauzy skirt as he plucked the martini glass from the tray. He lifted the drink two inches from his nose and squinted at the rim.

  “What is this stuff?”

  “Try it,” I urged.

  As he lifted the rim to his full lips, I leaned closer to watch. Rather than drink, Jhaeros licked the rim. The sight of his tongue sweeping over the glass ignited fire in my belly. His eyes expanded as the candy crackled over his tongue. From this close, I could hear the tiny pops.

  Jhaeros’s mouth opened slightly. “What in tarnation—”

  Before he could say anything more, I launched myself into his lap and slammed my lips against his, taking the one thing I was certain he’d never given Shalendra—a kiss. A wild one. One that sizzled and popped as my tongue swirled around his while little explosions erupted in our mouths.

  I set my arms around his strong shoulders and wrapped my fingers around his neck, sitting sideways on his lap.

  Jhaeros gripped me by my hips, crushing his mouth against mine, invading my mouth with his tongue as I tasted him. All traces of the gallant male seemed to fizzle alongside the candy as Jhaeros pushed me on my back. He leaped to his feet and hastened to close the door, unbuttoning his collar as he went. On his return, he’d successfully unfastened the top four buttons on his white dress shirt. He ripped off his suit jacket and tossed it on the armchair, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

  I leaned back on my elbows and watched him tear open the fastening of his black suit pants. Once unhindered, he returned to the settee, keeping his bulge covered rather than expose himself to me. Ever the aristocratic elf.

  He sat between my legs and lifted my skirts up my legs. Before he had them at my waist, I sat up and climbed over his lap. I’d decided moments before that I would not be the captured queen. I had every intention of taking the king.

  With deft fingers, I reached through the opening of his pants, quickly finding his throbbing bulge—thick and long. I sucked in a breath of excitement. Jhaeros moaned as my fingers closed around him. Once I had him positioned, I lowered myself over him, sucking air in through my teeth when I was fully seated.

  “Jhaeros.” I moaned his name as though it was a breath I’d held in for decades.

  It was his undoing. The world tilted as Jhaeros flipped me onto my back and plunged into me with the full force of his powerful hips, penetrating deeper, reaching places within me that had never been stroked.

  I squirmed beneath him, wanting to regain my position on top, but the more I wiggled, the faster he pulsed. No match for his weight and determination, I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, lifting my hips to meet his.

  Jhaeros groaned with pleasure. He grabbed my head and crushed his lips against mine, fingers freeing the pins Penelo had so painstakingly positioned to secure my hair. Soft, loose curls tumbled over my bare shoulders until it was entirely unbound and free.

  I felt a mad desire to fling off my mask alongside the pins, if only to get more air on my flushed face.

  Jhaeros broke off the kiss with a moan, rocking into me like a pirate navigating the rough waves of a squall.

  “I have never seen such beauty,” he rasped by my ear, “nor felt such pleasure. I could spend a lifetime sinking into your depths and it would still not be enough.”

  Something warm loosened in my belly, like a fern unfurling. Joy filled me briefly then was quickly dashed away.

  My heartbeat quickened, not out of rapture but panic. I could not fall for Jhaeros Keasandoral, and I’d never intended for him to fall for me. Not that he had. He’d lost his mind for Lady Thezlina, not Shalendra’s inferior older sister. If he knew the true identity behind the mask, he wouldn’t worship my body with his own while waxing poetic.

  I lowered my arms down his back to his rear, fingers digging in as I pulled him into me. Jhaeros answered my silent demand, pounding hard and fast until I was gasping for air, burning hot, breaking apart, and—like the once tidy curls pinned to my head—coming completely undone.

  With one final thrust, I shattered.

  Jhaeros’s head jerked back as he groaned out his release. I felt his warm tide rush into me, remaining behind even as he pulled out.

  Thankfully, Cirrus and I had never been able to produce children. Because Cirrus had so many siblings, I assumed I must be barren, though he wouldn’t have been the first of the Elmrays to be slipped toxins to render him impotent.

  Once Jhaeros had tucked himself in and refastened his pants, he pulled me gently into his lap and kissed my forehead. He brushed my hair away from my masked face and stared at me with such tenderness. Unbidden tears glossed over my eyes. I blinked them back, but it was too late.

  “Thezlina, what is the matter? Was it not good?” His brows sank into his thick lashes.

  Hearing him say that name brought more tears to my eyes. I shook my head, not trusting my voice to break.

  He stroked my back and waited patiently until I was able to speak.

  “It was—”

  His hand stilled.

  “Wonderful.” I said the last word breathlessly.

  I never dreamed I’d give myself to him. Never imagined it would be so beautiful. Never believed I’d want more. Want him the way he wanted Lady Thezlina.

  There’d be no winners tonight.

  Jhaeros tucked me against his chest and I allowed him to cradle me, pressing soft kisses to my head. I felt lulled by him, safe from all the monsters. Protected, if only for a moment. I rested my head against him, eyes fluttering closed, and breathed in pine and sandalwood—the scent of home.

  I felt weightless in his embrace and, without meaning to, I drifted off. I couldn’t have slept long, maybe ten minutes. Confusion clouded my mind like mist when I came to. Before opening my eyes, I remembered arriving at an enchanted castle. I was still there—in a room with Jhaeros.

  I no longer felt myself pressed against him; I was lying on my side on the settee.

  I pried m
y eyes apart slowly, afraid I’d find myself alone. But Jhaeros hadn’t left. He sat across from me on the armchair, his suit jacket snug over his broad shoulders and shirt buttons fastened up to his neck. He sat staring at me gravely—holding my golden mask loosely in his fingers.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.

  I was still dreaming, stuck in a nightmare. I nearly slapped my face feeling for the mask, even though I could see it clearly resting in Jhaeros’s lap.

  The lips that had devoured mine earlier were now pressed together in a grim line.

  “Aerith,” Jhaeros said, disbelief heavy in his voice.

  I scrambled up to a sitting position, hands brushing over my skirts to make sure I was fully covered. My heart thundered in my chest and anger flared in my head.

  “How dare you?” I demanded. “How dare you remove my mask while I was unconscious?”

  Jhaeros flinched at my choice of words.

  “I had to know who you were.”

  “You had no right,” I cried out, getting to my feet.

  He remained seated, jaw set, brown eyes lifting with me.

  “And what right had you to deceive me?” he asked in a deep, probing voice.

  “Deceive you?” I asked with a sneer, placing my hands on my hips. “I told you from the start I wanted to be left alone. I wore that mask for privacy—something you’re obviously incapable of respecting.”

  Jhaeros’s eyes narrowed. His eyes flicked down at the mask in his hands then back up to my face.

  “Does your father know you’re here?”

  I dropped my arms and laughed bitterly.

  “Who do you think insisted upon my attendance?”

  Jhaeros frowned. “Elred made you come—alone? Why?”

  “Why do you think? He wants me to find another mate to pay his bills.”

  Jhaeros’s eyes squeezed shut when he scowled. He got to his feet, gripping my mask.

  “I ought to pound him in the face for treating you this way.” The anger in Jhaeros’s voice sent a thrill of pleasure through me.

  I shook my head to clear it. The words “Jhaeros” and “pleasure” didn’t belong in the same universe, let alone sentence, together.