by Nalini Singh
Liliana snapped her head toward the brownie. “So am I, Jissa.” She was the worst monster of all. “Tell Bard to release me.”
“I—” The small woman squared her shoulders. “No, we will protect you.”
“Then I’m sorry again, my friend.” Liliana bit down hard on her lower lip, spilling blood into her mouth. Power flowed through her, vibrant and strong for not having been woken in days.
Lashing out with it, she broke Bard’s hold, sent him swaying. She was gone before he could regain his footing, Jissa’s cry echoing in her ears. Slamming the door behind herself, she pulled down the brace to lock it. None too soon. Bard’s body crashed up against it a moment later, making the entire thing shake.
Knowing it would hold for now—hopefully giving Jissa enough time to stop Bard from attempting to follow—Liliana took a breath. “Where?” Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, until she wasn’t certain if she would hear the whispering ghosts.
A roar reverberated through the walls.
The feral power of it pushed her back a physical step before she shoved it off to run toward the sound as fast as her feet would carry her. The blood from her cut was beginning to slow, but she swiped a small ceremonial knife off the outer wall as she ran into the great hall, dropping it into the pocket of her green dress.
The hall was a place of splintering chaos.
Liliana couldn’t believe the carnage—the massive dining table lay tipped on its side, a huge crack running down the middle, while most of the chairs were nothing more than piles of jagged firewood. Stepping around them with care since she wore only soft green slippers, she searched for the author of the devastation.
“Micah?” Pushing aside an overturned chair, she almost stepped onto the broken shards of what might’ve been a water pitcher. That was when she noticed the weapons embedded in the walls.
There were at least ten, all of them—large and small—having been punched about three inches into solid stone. And they were lined up in two neat rows… as if they’d been released from some enormous catapult. Her heart was in her throat now, but she wouldn’t walk away, wouldn’t leave him to this. “Micah?”
A snarl.
Whipping around her head, she stumbled and fell back against a chair that was somehow still upright. Only her grip on it kept her from crashing to the floor, onto the shards waiting below. Using that hold to steady herself, she scanned the room again. Curtains lay torn off the huge windows, tapestries had been shredded from the walls, and furniture destroyed. There was no place to hide.
A low growl, that of a beast ready to attack.
Mercy.
Swallowing, Liliana dared look up at the one place she hadn’t searched. The ceiling.
He crouched along one massive beam, a great shaggy beast on four legs, his claws bigger than the sickles embedded in the wall. They flexed with each breath, his eyes trained on her. And those eyes, they were a murderous red, without any thought or sentience.
This, she understood on a scream of knowledge, was the realization of the spell her father had cast on the night Elden fell. It had caught Micah, tangled him in threads of darkest sorcery.
For how could a prince return if he was not a man at all?
She should have run. But her feet remained rooted to the black stone of the castle. She knew about feeling grotesque, about being alone. She wouldn’t abandon Micah now, when he was this monster her father had made him. “Hello,” she said, hiding her trembling hands behind her back. “Why are you up there?”
The huge creature cocked its head, its eyes continuing to swirl with menace, its claws flexing and unflexing on the thick beam. Curls of wood drifted to the floor, making it clear his claws were as sharp as any weapon. Fear thumped in her throat, and he growled, low and deep.
A predator would scent fear, would hunger for it.
Straightening her spine, she took a deep, quiet breath, and reached for the sorcery within, her mouth still touched with the metallic scent of iron. The power flooded her body, flowing through to inhabit every part of her, until she wasn’t simply Liliana with the ugly face and the hair so rough and hard. She was a blood sorceress who knew her own strength. “Come down,” she said, putting a subtle compulsion in the request. “I would admire you.”
A considering look.
“You would like to be admired, would you not?” she murmured with a smile. “You are a fierce creature.”
He began to strut along the wooden beam, this monster who was as arrogant as Micah. She was amazed at the grace of him when those knotted muscles, those overgrown shoulders too big for the rest of his body, should’ve left him unable to move. But move he did, with a power that said he could crush her with but a thought. Now, he used that power to jump into the air, twisting around to clamp his claws into the wall at the apex of his lunge.
He walked down that wall as if he were walking across the floor, using his claws to slice into the stone, his mouth open in a lazy yawn to reveal rows of teeth the gleaming ebony shade of the castle itself. Each and every tooth was razored to a lethal point—the same as the spines along the line of his back, black as jet.
“You are strong,” she said, using her blood magic to imbue her words with shimmering intensity. “And so very large.” That last slipped out past her veneer of confidence. For this terrible creature who was Micah stood taller than her, though he was on four legs, each of his paws so massive as to be able to annihilate her face with a single swat.
He growled, but didn’t spring for her throat.
Burying her nervousness with sheer will, she said, “Let me admire you.” Again, she threaded compulsion, silken and seductive, through the words—blood sorcery to combat blood sorcery.
Those swirling red eyes followed her every move as she shifted to lay a hand on his mane. “It’s softer than my hair,” she murmured without stopping to think about it. “I’m jealous.”
A huffing growl that sounded almost like laughter. It made her smile, chuckle into his mane as she drew her fingers through the thick brown of it. “So glorious,” she said, admiring him in truth in spite of her fear, because he was a creature who demanded respect. “Though I do wish you’d sit down—it would make it easier for me to pet you.”
He bared his teeth at her, an aristocrat who was not to be given orders.
She bowed her head at once, understanding that any defiance would likely lead to that head rolling off her shoulders. “Please, my lord. I am only a small thing.”
A low snarling sound drifted along the air currents, but he folded himself down at last, his massive head coming to her abdomen. “Thank you.” She began to stroke him again. “You are strong, indeed, to break that table.”
Turning that head with its too-large jaw to look at where the table had been cleaved almost in half, the beast huffed out an agreement.
“Yes,” she said, entangling him in fine, fine tendrils of persuasion. Micah the man would’ve caught her. Micah the cursed beast didn’t appear to understand the subtleties of magic. “Should you not rest after such an action? Every great warrior must rest.”
He angled his head and looked at her with eyes of bloodred. It should’ve made her afraid, but there was something in them… “I will tell you a story,” she whispered, “of three princes and a princess who once summoned a unicorn.”
The beast shifted forward to lay its head on forearms lumpy with muscle.
“So the heirs,” she said, picking up the story from where she’d stopped it the day of the bath, for she knew her Micah existed within this beast, “made their way to the Stone Circle. They were arguing about the best incantation to use when Breena produced an ancient book she’d taken from the library before they set off on their adventure—she was said to mutter that her brothers had likely never seen the inside of the place.”
A deep, rumbling sound. Agreement, perhaps.
“In this book, there was a very old, near-forgotten spell. Later it came to be known that scores of sorcerers had tried to
work this spell, and failed. Most believed it to be nothing but a chimera.”
A pricked ear.
“As you know, my lord,” she murmured, stroking his back—being careful to avoid those spines she was certain would take off the skin on her hand, “a chimera is a mythical beast. It doesn’t exist except in the imagination. So sorcerers call those spells which they do not believe will ever work, but which people insist on trying, chimeras.” She’d always liked that little whimsy. “And this chimera had survived centuries.”
The beast’s eyes closed, but its large black ears remained alert.
“It required a certain level of innate magic, and a simple calling,” she continued. “Nicolai, oldest and strongest, attempted it first—without success.”
A snort that might’ve been a snore.
She checked but he’d opened one eye, was awake and listening. “Breena went next, for they thought perhaps the unicorn would prefer a woman. Nothing. Finally Dayn tried it, certain his brother and sister had done it wrong. Nothing. That was when Micah demanded a turn.
“They smiled at him in that way of older siblings who are amused by a beloved younger brother. After all, he was so small he could only just read his letters, so how could he possibly summon a unicorn? It took him a long time to read aloud the entire incantation, but he owned his siblings’ hearts and so they did not halt or hurry him.”
No sound from the ensorcelled beast, but she knew he heard every word.
Folding down into a sitting position in front of him, she went to continue when those massive knotted forearms opened, swept her inside. Instead of fear, she felt only warmth as she laid her head against his neck and listened to the beat of his great heart. “The moment Micah finished speaking, there was a brilliant burst of light, so bright that for an instant they thought they had gone blind.
“However, when the sparks cleared, they found themselves host to a regal unicorn prince who was bemused by them, as such ancient beings are by the follies of youth.” The idea of Nicolai, the one they called the Dark Seducer, being considered a “youth,” had always made her laugh.
“You see, to call a unicorn, you must have the purest of hearts. All children are born thus, but each day as we grow, we gain small shadows. Not every shadow is bad. A strong man needs his shadows. On that day, only Micah was as he had been born. And so only Micah’s voice could reach the unicorn realm,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut.
Micah dreamed of unicorns noble and gracious, and of deep male laughter. He’d never had family, but in this dream, he ran after two tall men—they chuckled when he fell, and he didn’t like that, but he was stubborn, fought to get up. Then there was one of those men, pulling him up and brushing him off. All anger was forgotten as he ran in his brothers’ footsteps across the sand.
Nicolai scrambled down the dune first.
Micah wanted to race down after him, but his chest hurt and he stopped to gasp in a breath. But he wasn’t left behind. He never was. Grabbing him in his arms, Dayn swung him onto his back. They laughed when they reached the beach to find Nicolai fighting off a territorial red land crab, the water a warm lick of foam against their feet. It was a good day.
The thought lingered as he woke, as he became aware that he lay on the cold stone floor of the great hall in the Black Castle. He was naked, and that told him what had happened before he ever saw the fractured table, the splintered chairs. However, that wasn’t the most interesting thing about this waking.
He wasn’t alone.
Always before, he’d been alone. The day servants scattered at the first sign of the curse, while Bard and Jissa had strict instructions to bar their doors and keep their distance until he was a man once more. But today, he woke curled around a female body that had the most intriguing curves. Especially down where her bottom snuggled so prettily against the hardness of him.
He rubbed against her because it felt good. When she murmured but didn’t move away, he smiled and spread his fingers on her abdomen, holding her to him as he slid his thigh up between the silky skin of her own legs, pushing up the dress as he went. It would be better, he thought, if she was naked, too, but the stone floor was cold. Liliana wouldn’t enjoy that.
Her name was dawnlight in his mind, a signal that he was no longer lost. “Lily,” he said, rubbing against her again. “Wake up, Lily.”
“Mmm.” A husky sound that delighted him, pleased him. “Micah?” She tried to turn onto her back, was stopped by his embrace. “Micah.” Shock colored her tone this time, her thighs squeezing down on the one he’d insinuated in between.
Kissing her neck, he moved his free hand up to cup her breast. “You’re so soft, Lily. I wonder what it’d feel like if I lay on top of you.”
Her skin grew hot under his lips, her hand rising to grip the wrist of the hand on her breast. “We have to get up. The others could come in.”
Ignoring the husky order, he ran his thumb over her nipple through the material of the green dress he’d brought her. She tried to pull away. He growled low in his throat, held her to him. “Mine.”
“You’re no longer the beast, Micah.” Her hand tightened on his wrist. “Don’t try to trick me.”
Laughing, he played his thumb over her nipple again. “You like this, Lily. I can feel your dampness against my thigh.” He pressed that thigh harder against her. “My mouth waters—I think I want to taste you there.”
Chapter 17
A squeak escaped Liliana’s mouth. Biting down on it, she tugged away that teasing hand and scrambled up into a sitting position, surprised at her success. Then she turned…and felt every bit of air leave her body.
Micah was naked.
And he was the most sensual creature she had ever seen—all tumbled hair of golden light, eyes of slumberous winter-green and a jutting arousal he fisted without shame. Her own hand flexed and she almost whimpered when he released himself to stand.
Snap out of it, Liliana.
Rising after him on the strength of the command issued by some small sensible part of herself, she tried to find the rest of her rational mind as he closed the distance between them to circle her like the beast he’d been not long ago.
She shivered when he stopped behind her, put his hands on her hips and squeezed. “Mmm.” A deep, rumbling sound as he—
“What are you doing?”
Ignoring her attempt at pushing away his hands, he continued to raise the skirts of her dress. The air was cool against her calves, the backs of her knees, moving ever higher. “Micah, we must stop,” she said, but it came out holding not the least bit of certainty.
“Why?” Kisses on her neck, wet and open and involving licks that made her melt from the inside out.
“It’s not d-decent.” The air had reached her thighs now. “We’re in the great hall.”
Continuing with his sinful game, Micah made no response, not until he said, “You aren’t wearing underthings.”
Red filling her cheeks, she went to tug away but he braceleted her waist with one muscular arm. “They’re drying,” she admitted.
“I’ll find them and throw them away,” he told her, biting her ear. “I like this.” Then he pressed his hotly aroused body against her bare curves.
She shuddered at the shock of feeling that hard ridge of flesh nestled so intimately against her, but Micah snarled in frustration. “You’re too short for this.”
Not sure what to say to that, she’d barely opened her mouth when he swung her up in his arms and made his way to a chair lying on its side, beside the table. Putting her down, he set it upright. Liliana’s befuddled brain took that long to figure out what he intended. “I think I better—oh!” He had her in his arms, his mouth on hers before she could finish the sentence.
His tongue pushed past her lips and, oh, it was a very naughty kind of a kiss but she couldn’t resist him, especially when he was so strong and warm and hard against her. His skin was like hot satin, his muscles fluid beneath the smooth heat. His jaw was a little rough,
making her wonder what that stubbled skin would feel like against her breasts.
The wickedness of her own thoughts scandalized her, but that didn’t stop her from sucking on his tongue. He liked that. His hands, those arrogant, wandering hands, told her so. A minute later, he was raising her dress again and she had no will to stop him.
So when he sat down in the chair and swiveled her around so her back faced his front, she went, feeling shameless and brazen and bad. Very, very bad. But Micah didn’t pull her down to the dark temptation of his lap. No, he stopped her between his legs. Then, tucking up her skirt into the thin belt that was part of the dress, he ran his hand over the lush curves she’d hated all her life.
Heat burned her cheeks and she wasn’t sure whether it was arousal or embarrassment. Whatever it was, it left her immobile, waiting on tenterhooks for his next touch.
A hot breath. “So soft, Lily.” His fingers sliding through her slick flesh, heading straight for the little nub that pulsed hot and tight.
“Micah!”
“This place gives you pleasure.” It was a satisfied statement. “Like this?” A rough flick.
Her knees crumpled.
Making a low, rumbling sound that seemed to be a remnant of the creature he’d been before they slept, he held her upright using an arm around her waist. His fingers rubbed, slid back, circled the entrance to her body with an exploring touch. Expecting a sensual intrusion, she was taken utterly by surprise when he arrowed his fingers through her intimate lips again, closing the rough pads of his fingers around the nub that made her boneless. “I want to put my mouth here, Lily.”
“Don’t. You. Dare.” She wouldn’t survive. Even the thought of it—that beautiful, sensual mouth on her most secret place, a place that he was caressing with a distinctly proprietary touch—made her so hot that her dress was suddenly too tight, her breasts feeling far bigger than she knew them to be.
“I will dare.” Continuing to hold her up with that strong arm around her waist, he moved his fingers back down to her slick and sensitive entrance, began to push in a little with one thick finger, halted at her cry. “Am I causing you hurt?”
