“He”? Not Meena then? Maybe once Leonidas’s thoughts cleared, things wouldn’t seem so bad. Mordred didn’t need his true-mate, just wanted another prisoner to work a few spells or something. Leonidas would do whatever he could to stop the Elves from starving as long as Meena stayed safe and well. “That damn Witch is my true-mate. Whatever I said or did last night, I won’t let anyone hurt her. Not even you. I haven’t told her my feelings since I’ve nothing but pain to give her. If I don’t fuck someone else in twenty-six days’ time, I’ll turn feral, and women might die as a result.”
Mordred’s jaw dropped, and he sat back to consider while his half brother headed off to find a pump.
* * * *
Meena paced her cell. Her fists opened and closed as if she wanted to strangle someone. The Fae king perhaps? She loved Leonidas completely, but he’d turned on her like a panther bringing down prey. And why did the Elves want her anyway? Her father looked like he hadn’t eaten since King Herodotus betrayed him. Judging by the length of his hair and beard, he’d been stuck down here for years. “Okay, Mum. You’re the one with the visions. How the hell do we get out of here?”
Her mother’s voice cracked. “It’s a bit hazy, love. Something’s changed. My vision’s shifting, and nothing’s clear anymore.”
Suddenly angry at the woman she’d come here to save, Meena snapped, “Some plan you’ve got there, Mum. Maybe it’s the way you cursed Leonidas, Herodotus’s son. I get that you hated the whole family, but why pass it down to him?”
“I didn’t,” her mother answered, “or at least I didn’t mean to. I just wanted Herodotus to suffer the same sort of hell he put me through when he separated me from your father. The curse stops him finding his true-mate—ever. Well, he might find her, but I planted an insatiable beast inside him. No woman will bond with him when he needs to fuck someone new each month. If he doesn’t, his beast takes over, and he becomes everything the Fae despise.”
Meena had dreamed of being Leonidas’s one and only love, but thanks to her mother’s curse, that could never happen. She wasn’t his—and even if she was, she’d have to share him. Whoever made up that nonsense about half a loaf being better than no bread had been stupid or half-starved. Just like she was starved for Leonidas’s love and affection—not that he’d offered it anyway. Hekate, that hurt like he’d twisted his rapier in her heart. Her mother had ruined his life. No wonder he’d been so furious last night.
Meena had abandoned everyone and everything she loved once, and she’d survived—barely. After all that happened, the pain of leaving her homeland seemed such a little thing compared to the agony that scorched her heart. She ached for Leonidas’s pain too. How lonely and hopeless his life must be. No wonder he hated Witches, and now, half-naked and locked in Mordred’s dungeon, she understood why. “Back to your curse, Mum. Leonidas doesn’t deserve it. Set him free.”
Elizbetta spat in the slop bucket in the corner. “After the way his family betrayed your father? No way. Let him suffer for what they did to my Vlad. If I could, I’d curse the whole Fae nation, along with the Elves.”
This woman with her hard edges and bitter words was nothing like the peaceful herbalist Meena knew and loved. Maybe a twenty-three-year separation from your true-mate did that to you. No wonder her mum cried herself to sleep so often, but would it hurt to have told Meena the truth? But then she hadn’t been exactly up front and honest with Leonidas. Fear, love, and anger were terrible emotions—life wrecking even.
For the first time, she envied the Fae their cold demeanor and their frozen hearts. It didn’t help that Leonidas’s easy grin and dimples warmed her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. He hadn’t seemed so cold to her.
She hugged her chest for warmth, but there was nothing submissive about the tilt of her chin. “I love Leonidas. He’d a good man who doesn’t deserve your curse.”
“So good he threw you in the dungeons? No, Meena, I wouldn’t help even if I could.” Elizbetta fumed as she paced her cell.
Meena didn’t know whether to weep or throw up. “What do you mean? Even if you could?”
Elizbetta grinned with cruel satisfaction. “My hormones were raging when I cursed the Fae king, but I never cursed his bloodline. Somehow my magic mingled with my emotions, and the curse took on a life of its own. I can’t take it back, not that I’d ever want to.”
Meena sank back on the paillasse and stared at the ceiling. There was no way to free Leonidas, and he deserved so much more than a life lived alone. When they got out of here, she’d study every grimoire she could lay her hands on until she found a way to release him—but the most powerful ones were locked in the Witches’ Grand Library. No way would they let a reject like her into their sanctum. “Mum, if your vision’s returned, your magic must have. Why can’t you just whisk the three of us out of here?”
And when did it become “the three of us”? Meena didn’t want to be half-Vampire. She didn’t even want to be a Witch, not if it cost her Leonidas.
Elizbetta’s rage drained from her, leaving a defeated expression. “Sorry, love, I’m still recovering from all that Fairy dust, and your father’s too weak to protect us. We’re stuck here until I’m back to full strength, unless you can think of something?”
Meena sniffed, disgusted by her seemingly endless tears. What happened to a stiff upper lip and all that? “You said I could work with animals now my power’s unbound. Maybe I could summon a tree snake and have it bring us some pitcher plant seeds. You grow them, Mum, and when the acid’s dissolved the bars, I’ll kill them. We just need to stay clear of any spills.”
The Vampire rattled his chains to get her attention, then spoke his first ever words to his daughter. “Proud of you, Meena.”
Why did he have to go say that? She wanted to hate him and tell him he’d had no right to reject her. But he was proud of her. Just like Leonidas had been before she learned she was a Witch. Now he wanted anyone but her, even the scrawny runaway. She’d have to starve herself to get as thin as her.
Meena realized she’d messed up even before she was born. Her presence in Elizbetta’s womb twisted her mother’s powers. Her father had been imprisoned because her mum’s foresight deserted her, then her poor Leonidas lived with an unbreakable curse. Then her father said he was proud of her. It didn’t make their situation better, but she stood a little taller.
She spoke directly to her father. “Thanks, Dad.”
He inclined his head toward her.
Maybe they could forge a relationship after all, but she had unresolved issues to deal with first. With a quick smile for her mother, she asked, “Can either of you tell me what’s going down with the Elves? Why us?”
Her mother answered for him. “Your father’s the only Vampire that makes others like him. Most Vampires are born, but only my Vlad can create them. The Elves want him to make them into Vampires so they don’t starve. That would make the rest of the otherworld their prey. He’s held out over for almost twenty-three years, and now that your familiar’s unbound your powers, you can get us out of here.”
Meena stared at the Vampire and tried to imagine growing up with him in her life. She and her mum had missed so much, but she had a thousand questions. Like how could he make Vampires? Only Vlad Dracul, the missing Vampire king, could do that. And sweet Hekate, her father had been missing for almost twenty-three years. No doubt about it, her father was the missing Vampire king. Great, that made her princess of a race Leonidas despised.
Before she could say anything, the dungeon door opened with a creak, and two Elves pulled Meena from her cell. “Mordred’s ordered you bathed and made ready, wench. Behave, and you might survive his attentions. Maybe afterward you could play with us too.”
Her father went crazy, rattling his chains and growling his anger. Her mother wept and pleaded, but Meena felt too numb to care. Leonidas allowed this—and that was unforgivable, no matter how much she’d hurt him. Besides, hadn’t he punished her enough? She couldn’t help being b
orn a Witch, but he’d tossed her in the dungeons for it. And he bedded that scrawny runaway. Now he passed Meena off to his half brother—when her heart screamed she was his.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Leonidas returned to the Great Hall, his eyes shone with clear-headed intelligence, and he’d scraped his hair back into its usual neat queue. Despite the alcohol, his powers had returned while he slept, and thanks to a healing spell, his hangover had vanished. Even his clothes looked laundered and pressed.
“The wonders of Fae magic. Just look at you, hangover banished and clothes bandbox neat. What a waste of power,” Mordred mocked.
Leonidas’s hand dropped to his rapier hilt. His eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed. His voice flowed around the hall like an arctic wind whistling over frozen wastes. “No games, Mordred. I need Meena and some answers. And I need them now.”
Mordred rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. A scribe rushed in, banged a huge leather-bound ledger down on the table, and scurried away.
Mordred pulled a letter from inside the covers “Read this. I’ve had a half dozen of them over the last few months, offering supplies in exchange for my pretending to head up the People’s Defense League. Of course, I accepted, but I did some digging in the archives too and turned up an interesting entry in this ledger.”
Leonidas inched his rapier from its sheath, giving his half brother a glimpse of the Fae-forged blade. “Meena first. She’s under my protection. If anyone’s hurt her, they’ll die.”
The laughter died from Mordred’s eyes. “She’s fine, bro. I promise. Now, facts first, sex later. All right? I’ve ordered a room and a bath prepared for your woman, so relax. We’ve got things to discuss. Then she’s all yours.”
Nothing mattered more than Meena, and Leonidas had so many apologies to make. He’d fall at her feet and beg if that was what it took for her to forgive him, but he needed to inspect every inch of her. If the Elves had so much as bruised her soft, creamy flesh, they’d die. Painfully.
He’d wait until she’d eaten and bathed, hear his half brother out, and maybe by then she’d be less angry. Usually he just crooked a finger, and women came running. He hadn’t a clue how to court Meena. He wished he’d been kinder, but his dick ruled his heart whenever the month’s end approached. Then he thought of Meena lounging naked in a sweet-smelling bath, and a half smile played about his lips. Whatever his half brother had to say, he’d better say it quick.
“You know,” Mordred taunted, “if my true-mate was a curvy little beauty like her, I’d shower her in jewels and silks. She’d have the finest suite in the tower, and I’d never let her think I’d slept with anyone else.”
Leonidas ran his hands over his hair and groaned. Had he really threatened to bed the runaway? And had Meena thought he would? She’d languished in a dungeon while he’d drunk himself senseless. How could he convince her he wanted no one but her—especially when his curse would force him to screw some faceless female in four weeks’ time? For a cool-headed Fae, he’d really messed up. Despite the chill morning air, sweat shone on his brow. Fists clenched as hard as his cock, he snarled. “Damn it, Mord, I’m a dick.”
Mordred’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Runs in the family, bro. Dad was the biggest dick in the universe. If my mother hadn’t been the previous overlord’s sister, he’d have thrown me on the midden with the rest of his bastards. You’re too softhearted, tracking them down and providing for any that still lived. Survival of the fittest and all that, Leo. Anyway, back to my archives. About six months ago, I came across this.”
Leonidas dragged it across the table and started to read. The words drew him in, and finally—red-cheeked and furious—he glared at Mordred. “Swear this is true.”
Mordred nodded. “On my life. That’s why I offered a bounty on Elizabeth Sybil and her daughter.”
Leonidas expended more magic, a truth spell that verified both the ledger and his brother’s words. That book destroyed more of his preconceptions, but he still stated clearly, “Meena’s mine. Give me the women. Keep the Vampire.”
“They’re bargaining chips. Apparently our father had the hots for your true-mate’s mother, but she stayed loyal to her Vampire. No one expected the cool, calm Fae king to be ruled by his balls. Look, it says right here he wanted to put you and your mother aside so he could make her his queen. When Elizbetta discovered the truth, she cursed him, and by default, you. After that, he bedded a new woman every month, but he never found the love she shared with her true-mate.”
Leonidas understood the origins of the curse now, but not why it had passed down to him. Hope blossomed inside him. If Meena loved him as much as he loved her, surely her mother would break the curse, and they could be bonded fully—but last night he’d behaved…badly. He’d grovel if that was what it took. Anything to earn her forgiveness. Then another issue popped up on his agenda. “An army of Vampire Elves? Come on, Mord, get real.”
Mordred tossed back a tankard of ale. “I don’t like it any more than you, but those bloody plants are killing us, and our magic’s almost gone. My uncle really was a dumb bastard—cruel too—and not just because he needed to be to survive. He only had one good idea in his life. He wanted the Elves to turn Vampire, but the Vampire king would rather starve in my dungeon than save my race.”
The Vampire king? He’d been missing for the past couple of decades—maybe longer. The Vampires wouldn’t rest until their monarch returned. If they discovered Mordred’s scheme, they’d be the ones who wiped the Elves from the otherworld.
Leonidas had never heard anything so stupid—or so desperate—in his life, but he offered another solution. “My Meena can kill the plants—permanently. She’s sexy as hell, but she’s walking weed killer. Get her on your side, and your problem’s solved.”
Mordred lolled back in his chair and quietly gathered the remnants of his magic. “Remember what I said about me being a ruthless bastard?” He hurled a sleep spell at his half brother. “Well, if what you say is true, I’ll marry the girl myself.”
* * * *
Meena felt broken inside, as downtrodden as any Elf drudge. Those guards had dumped her in this silver-and-blue suite, looked her over with lust in their eyes, and told her to expect their overlord soon.
This room was light and airy, a complete contrast to last night’s cell. A magic-fueled fire burned in the hearth, and a side table held a tray of bread and cheese. Best of all, a claw-footed bath filled with warm water stood before the fireplace, and a change of clothes lay on the sofa.
Too cautious to bare all immediately, she dragged heavy chairs behind both doors. A quick scrub later, and she decided she hated clothes without Lycra. Was a bit of elastane too much to ask? Rather than wear that old-fashioned white gown and leave her tits unsupported, she decided to stick with her leather halter and thong shorts. At least she wouldn’t tangle her feet in the hem and fall at Mordred’s feet. Besides, even a Goth wannabe had her pride. Why look like the bride of Dracula when she was really his daughter?
Dracula’s daughter? No way, but she had to face facts. Her dad could turn others Vampire, and only the Vampire king could do that. Her mother named her Wilhelmina just like the heroine in Bram Stoker’s book. She’d even made their home in Whitby—the town where myth and legend merged with facts. Everything made a sick sort of sense. If Meena’s suspicions had to be true, she’d apparently gone from failed Witch to Vampire princess in an instant. Life was just full of surprises lately.
Leonidas hated her witchy origins, but if she really was a Vampire princess, he’d freak—again. Honestly she was pretty freaked out herself.
A knock on the door, and she crashed back to earth. Princesses were ethereal creatures, not witchy rejects with what? Weed-killing powers. And who the hell knocked on a prisoner’s door? There was only one way to find out.
She stuffed a hunk of bread into her mouth and removed the chair from behind the door. At first glance, she thought it was Leonidas. Then she saw the deep
scar etched down her visitor’s face. Disappointment swamped her like an unexpected rain shower, but she tapped her foot and demanded, “Yes?”
Mordred bowed slightly and clicked his heels. “Lady Meena, I came to apologize for my half brother’s actions. Usually he’s the most controlled of men, and his emotional outburst last night was…surprising.”
Meena refused to play games with her captor, not after he’d tortured her father for years. “Cut the crap, and tell me what you’re after.”
“Straight talking as well as powerful,” Mordred purred.
Meena almost slammed the door in his face, but maybe like every storybook villain, he’d let slip some vital information if she got him talking. She walked back in the room and cut another slice from the loaf.
When he followed her inside, he raised an eyebrow at the chair blocking the other door; then his gaze took in the discarded dress. “I’m sorry you didn’t like the clothes I provided. However, you look quite charming in that bundle of straps that pass for a top and shorts.”
She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest. For all his smooth talking, he wanted something—probably her fabled ability to kill a few plants. “Hello? Dungeon? My mother and my father? Set them free, and I’ll listen.”
Mordred cut a slice of cheese. “Here. I love a woman who knows how to bargain. Very well, Lady Meena. The Elves need your magic, or we’ll die out. You need your parents alive and well. Work with me, and I’ll free them.”
She knew better than to trust an Elf, especially their overlord—but after her long march and her imprisonment, that cheese looked good. No point in starving, not if she planned to get her family out of here. Untrusting, she gingerly accepted his offering. “Back that up, buster. Where’s Leonidas, and what does he have to say about this?”
Curse of the Fae King (Scattered Siblings) Page 16
