by C. A. Storm
Nodding reluctantly, Sam swallowed. Suddenly, she was the one with dry lips and difficulty forming coherent words.
His expression turning fierce and possessive, Rik said, “Ms. Samantha Kelly, from the moment I heard your voice, I wanted you. When I saw your perfect ass and those freckles on your beautiful face, I dreamed of you. And from the moment we finally kissed…” he blinked, then actually gave a rueful laugh, “Fuck, that was just last night, wasn’t it?”
Shaking his head, he cleared his throat, “Baby, ma petite flamme, you’ve held my heart since the moment of your creation, I’m just the idiot that took forever to find you. Yes, I meant what I said, and I always will mean every word of it when I tell you, I. Love. You.”
Fighting back tears, Sam sniffled and pressed her fist against her lips as she took a deep, shaky breath. Closing her eyes, she dipped her head and managed a watery, “Ditto, kiddo.”
Rik barked a startling loud laugh that drew a giggle from Sam and glares from the Superskanks. Straightening her shoulders, meeting Rik’s still-concerned gaze, Sam gave him a grin and a wink, “Don’t worry, I got this, sweet cheeks. Now you be a good little knight in distress and let your damsel slay the evil witch and rescue you from certain doom…and later, we’ll have a little talk, because somehow, I know you’ve stuck your dick in that crazy skank more than once. There will be a reckoning!”
With a jaunty wave, Sam turned, walking away from him to face the Superskanks.
Chapter 32
She was walking away from him. Again. It was like that first moment Rik had laid eyes on her in his office. Fuck, had it only been less than a week? He’d only been able to claim her last night, and the bonding was still incomplete until she finished the ceremony—a choice he wanted her to make. No tricks, no coercion, but because she loved him as much as he loved her. And he did love her.
Yes, it was quick. Yes, it was too soon. But they had an eternity to get to know each other, and he wanted every damned second of it.
“Oh!” Sam exclaimed suddenly, drawing his attention up from where it had been fixed on that heart-shaped ass of hers. Flashing him a knowing look as she spun around and saw his expression, she ran back to him and leapt up, throwing her arms around his neck.
The mystical chains binding him prevented him from catching her, from moving his arms, but Rik leaned down into her as much as he could when she lifted her head up to seal her lips to his in a passionate, fiery kiss.
Cor-fucking-blimey, was all Rik could think as her kiss tore through him. His cock, always at half-mast from her presence alone, surged to full tumescence as it pressed against her warm body. He poured himself into that all-too-brief kiss, letting the taste of her sear away the bitter aftertaste of Evie’s lips until all that remained was the shining purity of Sam’s passion.
Letting her arms slide from his neck, Sam slid back down his body, drawing a muffled groan from his throat as he stared down into her passion-glazed eyes. Licking her lips, she grinned up at him then patted his chest, over his heart, as she said, “For luck!”
With a saucy wink, she took off her OSU ball cap and perched it on his head at a jaunty angle before she turned and sauntered away, a bounce to her step as she stripped off her heavy flannel shirt. Clad only in a tight tank top, with her jeans and hiking boots, that ponytail of wavy hair swaying along her spine, Rik might have drooled a bit. Just a little.
“Go get her, Sammy girl!” came a cheer from the small group of redheads Sam had been conversing with earlier, and now that Bertie and his huge wings weren’t blocking the view, Rik got his first glimpse of what was obviously her family. An older man, his military buzz cut doing little to hide the gray at his temples, pinned Rik with a steely, steady gaze that had Rik flinching in guilt. Those eyes said he knew Rik had debauched his daughter, and a reckoning was in the works.
Three other sets of eyes, all in varying shades of blue and gray, were fastened on Sam as her rowdy brothers loudly cheered for their baby sister. Rik also noted that Travis’s gaze was fixed on Sam, his face twisted in an expression of grief and acceptance that had Rik sighing.
I knew it. Well, that ship has sailed, mon petit chiot, Rik thought to himself smugly. She’s mine, all mine, and I don’t share.
Despite knowing for a fact that Travis and Sam had had a relationship, Rik was surprisingly unbothered by the thought of the two working together. He was more than secure enough in himself, and in his cara, that he could be gracious in victory. At least this time.
“It has been agreed,” Killian’s voice rang out clearly through the amphitheater, drawing all eyes to him, the duelists and their seconds, in the center of the stage.
Rik noted the crowd had grown exponentially in the last few minutes, with what was probably every supernatural present today at the Village to bear witness to the proceedings. Killian’s glamour had created the barrier around the stage, but it had spread as well, casting the Village in a hazy fog. The Unaware would simply ignore everything going on, mentally filling in the blanks with logical explanations to anything that may occur.
“Both duelists have agreed to the challenge terms. It is to be a physical confrontation, no weapons and no magic, a fight to either one is rendered unconscious or acknowledges submission,” Killian continued, his dark, rich voice no more than conversationally loud, yet reaching the ears of all present in the amphitheater.
“The prize is the hand of the Fair Lord, Rikard Sebastian Leon, with the loser forfeiting any claim upon his person henceforth, whilst the winner shall be able to claim him in matrimony, if they so desire.” Okay, there was a definite thread of amusement in the Lord of the Gray’s otherwise neutral tone. Or maybe it was the roar of the crowd, cheering and whooping it up like this was part of some play and not Rik’s very future at stake.
Hunh, so this is how those damsels in fairy tales must feel, Rik thought ruefully to himself. It fucking sucks stinking donkey dicks.
“Sam!” Rik hollered out, drawing her attention. It drew everyone’s attention, but Sam’s eyes were the only ones that mattered.
Giving her his best smile, Rik called out, “Once you kick her ass and we get married, remind me that if we have any little girls, they’re going to ninja school! This damsel in distress schtick sucks! And not in the happy fun way, either!”
The smile on her face, the cocky salute she gave him, was worth all of it. The embarrassment of being a piece of meat up for contention. The worry about Sam’s safety. The terror of losing her now that he had her. That beautiful smile would stay with him throughout the rest of his days.
Evie, of course, had to ruin it all with, “Don’t you mean our daughters, Rikard? Trust me, I’ll make sure they’re well trained in combat. Too bad your little Mortal can’t say the same.”
“Seriously?” Sam asked, appearing truly bewildered as she looked between Rik and Evie. “You stuck your dick in that? And it didn’t fall off? Don’t get me wrong, she’s like supermodel beautiful, all Amazonian princess and all…” She snapped her fingers, “It was the accent, wasn’t it? Chicks with British accents are hot. I’ll give you that one, but come on…even my manslut brothers wouldn’t touch that skank!”
And those lying liars, to a one, backed her up.
“Nope! Never,” Brian swore, his wide eyes pointedly not straying toward where Evie was standing in her sports bra and yoga pants, every inch of her athletic body in perfect display as she stood there with one hand on her hips.
Dillon was rubbing the back of his neck, looking at the ground and just shook his head, refusing to meet the eyes of either Evie or Sam.
With such a look of pure innocence on his face, Patrick said solemnly, “Not even if she was the last woman on Earth.”
See? Dirty, rotten liars, all three of them!
“As if I would touch any of them,” Evie sneered as she secured her hair in a knot, conveniently thrusting out her firm, high breasts to the appreciation of nearly every straight male in the audience.
Sam muttere
d something under her breath as she turned away to stalk to her corner. Whatever it was must have involved him somehow, because it drew a quick, startled glance from Killian and an explosive burst of laughter from Bertie that damn near caused the Keep overhead to shudder.
“Hey!” Mona hollered after the retreating redhead. “I slept with him!”
Throwing up her hands, Sam spun back around and pointed a damning finger at Mona as she gave Evie a wide-eyed look of exasperation as she shouted, “See? SEE? It’s not like Rik was choosy before he met me. I mean, is there a woman he hasn’t slept with that isn’t related to him?”
Wincing, realizing what she had shouted a few seconds too late, Sam cast Rik an apologetic look and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’
Rik ducked his head, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to keep from laughing. It was just too damned ridiculous for words. If it had been anyone else but him, he’d be laughing as hard as his so-called friends were. Fuck you, Clay…your day is coming, and I will so be there with a video camera to capture every moment of it!
Shit. Video cameras.
Quickly raising his head, Rik cursed virulently at the sheer number of cell phones recording the proceedings. He would have slumped to the ground in defeat if not for the cursed chains holding him still.
As the challengers and their seconds once more moved to their respective corners, Killian strolled casually back to stand beside Rik.
“Your anam cara is certainly…an interesting woman,” he remarked in a low, thoughtful tone.
“Remind me again why the fuck you’re here?” Rik snarled, feeling a little less than pleased with the presence of the man who was his new Lord.
Killian actually sighed as he replied, “I suppose this is neither the time nor place to ask for your official bond of fealty.” With a shrug, he straightened his cufflinks and turned around to face the stage and audience.
Raising his hands, Killian called out, “Duelists, are you prepared?”
“Yes, My Lord,” Evie said formally, giving him a deep bow.
“Yep,” Sam called out as she bounced from foot-to-foot, shadow-boxing and looking both absolutely adorable and utterly unprepared to face a Sidhe in battle. She paused, glancing over at Killian, “Um, am I supposed to call you Lord or whatever, too?”
With a small, gracious smile, Killian shook his head, “No, dear Samantha, I am not your Lord nor am I your Liege.” There was a definite ‘yet’ amended to that.
“Very well!” Killian’s hands swept downward. “Begin!”
Chapter 33
“Begin!”
And it began!
At opposite ends of the stage, the two women slowly stalked toward one another. Evie moved with an athletic grace, strides eating up the distance as she raised fists in front of her pretty, smirking, Superskank face.
Sam just walked. What? There was a hundred feet separating them! She wasn’t scared, but she wasn’t exactly going to wind herself by rushing face-first into a swinging fist, either. Besides, without her glasses, while her ability to see supernatural magic or whatever was drastically improved, her normal vision wasn’t quite as good.
Having monocular vision could be a blessing and a curse! Near-sighted in one eye, far-sighted in the other, Sam could actually compensate on a normal day by doing the “Popeye Shuffle,” where she squinted one eye or the other, depending on where she was looking. She just didn’t normally, since her glasses not only gave her more regular vision, but also kept her from being distracted by all the things she saw.
She hadn’t been completely joking when she told Clara she could see dead people. Thankfully, true autonomous spirits were rare, most ghosts were just afterimages left by particularly strong emotional moments at death. Sadly, those were typically violent and/or heart-rending.
Right now, though, she was thankful for her Sight. Active magic had been forbidden by the deal made between her and Evie’s seconds, along with any traditional or untraditional weaponry. It was supposed to be just hand-to-hand, but Sam knew from her talks with her friends that a Sidhe’s natural abilities were far superior than those of a human. Evie could move faster, hit harder, and take more punishment than Sam could.
But, let’s be honest here. Sam didn’t trust the Superskanks, either of them, further than she could throw them. As her second, Bertie would be keeping an eye out for any illicit attacks, there to stop any outside magic from interfering, but the Fae were tricksy fuckers. When they made an oath, they kept to the word of their oaths, but not the spirit, and it was what went unsaid that the Fae found those loopholes that had given them such a deceitful reputation. Well, that and the fact they were all dishonest fuckers capable of weaving illusions so real, they might as well be fact instead of fantasy.
Evie reached the center of the stage first, a cocky grin on her face as she waited for Sam’s approach. As Sam drew nearer, the taller Sidhe woman began to slowly circle around her, forcing Sam to pause and turn to keep pace, to keep an eye out for any incoming attack. This, of course, was when Evie—like any good B-rated villain—began her taunts.
“I’m going to knock those freckles clear off your face,” Evie said in a menacing sneer.
Man, even tired insults did sound so much cooler when said with a preppy British accent! It was so unfair! No wonder Brits got all the good villain roles!
Sam rolled her eyes. “Old.”
“What?” Evie paused, looking confused for a moment as she eyed the shorter woman.
“Old. Old insult, old line, and let’s face it, if you’re a Sidhe, then you’re probably older than my grandmother’s grandmother’s underwear,” Sam said simply with a shrug, her hands raised defensively in front of her as she turned to keep Evie in her profile.
Of course, that’s when the bitch started moving more swiftly, dancing the other direction for a step before she launched forward with a vicious right crosscut that would have hurt, if Sam hadn’t have side-stepped and countered with a short, quick jab to Evie’s kidneys.
The Sidhe’s breath stuttered as she leapt back out of reach, eyes glaring as she briefly touched her ribs where Sam’s fist had landed. The creamy flesh of Evie’s abdomen reddened and darkened, a purple bruise the exact size and shape of Sam’s fist rising up. Sadly, the Fae’s healing was already swiftly compensating, the bruise fading as quickly as it rose.
A cheer rose and fell on Sam’s side of the amphitheater, her group of supporters tiny but vocal, and loud enough to counter the jeers and taunts of the spectators rooting against the mere Mortal.
“Slay her, Evie!”
“Oooh, she’s tiny but mean! Get her, Red!”
“When are they going to tear off each other’s clothes?”
“Yeah! Let’s see some titties!”
Ugh. Men were the same, no matter what species.
Tuning out the crowd, Sam kept her focus on the now wary Sidhe. Sam knew her best bet was to just not get hit. Simpler in theory than in practice, but it was a good idea, regardless.
“So you’ve actually got some skill,” Evie said, narrowed eyes appraising Sam’s stance more seriously.
“Nah, just luck of the Irish, don’t ya know,” Sam retorted with a cheeky, and completely insincere, grin. Adopting a mocking, stereotypical Irish accent, Sam began her portion of the taunting segment of the fight.
“Och, me ancestors would be turnin’ o’er in their graves, they would, iffin’ I didna strike out at ya, ya limey bastard. Och, excuse me, I didna mean to be disrespectin’ yer ladyship, I’m sure your parents were properly wedded ‘ere they beget yer skanky arse.”
Okay, Sam might have been having a little bit too much fun, since she barely managed to not take a roundhouse kick straight upside her head.
Damn, the Sidhe-bitch is fast! Sam thought in reluctant admiration as she was forced to take the kick on her shoulder and it sent her staggering sideways.
Proving just how fast she was, Evie was suddenly at Sam’s back, strong arms wrapping around her upper shoulders, trapping he
r fists against her own chest, as the Sidhe’s other hand wrapped itself in her braid. With a sharp yank, Sam’s head was pulled back, exposing her throat as Evie put her lips against Sam’s ear.
“See, this is how it’s going to go,” Evie hissed softly into Sam’s ear. “You are going to disappear, fade away like air. I am going to become Lady of Clan Leon, and help guide them to their rightful destiny. There’s no place for a Mortal like you, not even as Rik’s houseslut.”
“SAM!” Rik’s voice was a ragged, angry scream as he struggled uselessly against his bindings.
Sam struggled, trapped in Evie’s strong hold, as she felt Evie’s hand release her hair and slide down to tap fingers against her ribcage. “Just to be on the safe side,” Evie said softly, thoughtfully, “I think it’s best if you left the picture entirely, don’t you?”
Razor sharp nails lightly, ever-so-easily, sliced through the thin fabric of Sam’s tank top and pressed into the flesh of her hip.
“You forgot something,” Sam muttered, just low enough to force Evie to lean in closer to hear her.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
Sam slammed her head hard against Evie’s face with enough force it staggered the other woman. A quick shift of her feet, and with her lower center of gravity—and the years of practice in McMAP from her father, Combat Jujitsu, Krav Maga, and Muay Thai practiced by all three of her older brothers, MMA fanatics the lot of them—Sam bodily threw the other woman over her hip and slammed her into the hard-packed ground. Here’s to having over-protective big brothers!
As Evie gaped, the wind exploding from her chest from the concussive force of the blow, Sam pressed her advantage. Her daddy didn’t raise no fool! Well, okay, maybe three of them, but Sam wasn’t one of them! Part of her wanted to seriously pummel the woman’s face into the ground, to destroy the threat, and for a brief, glorious moment, Sam seriously considered it. Overhead, the clouds roiled, thunder rolling in a cacophony underscoring the cries of the watching crowd.
