Prince of Flight

by Mandy M. Roth

  As he withdrew one of the many sheathed swords, she swallowed hard and reached in, grabbing a short sword. “I noticed guns weren’t the most effective weapons of choice against them a long time ago.”

  “So you amassed a weapons collection?” he asked, shock in his voice.

  “Sort of. This is a small sample of it. My apartment has a stash, a few locations around town have some. I have some in other cities and towns.”

  He stared at her, his expression blank.

  She bit her inner lip. “This makes me look crazy, doesn’t it?”

  “Makes you prepared,” he said, grabbed her, and kissed her before stepping back. “Now, find a place to hide while we handle the vultures.”

  She jerked. He was going to make her run and hide? She had a weapons stash that might save their asses and he wanted her to be a damsel in distress? She held her short sword tighter and rushed out behind him, ignoring his request. She wasn’t about to let the vultures win.

  Keonae and Sachin opened the main door and were out before she could reach them. She was just about to exit as well when Lazar spun and caught her.

  “Stay. At best they will kill you,” he said, his voice deep.

  She struggled against his hold. “Listen, I get you guys have some backwards views on women, but I’ve been fighting and running from these things for most of my life. I’m not going to let them hurt the people I love.”

  “And these people you love would be?” he asked.

  Her nostrils flared. “Keon. Fine. I love Keon. Now move it, bird boy.”

  He laughed, but didn’t get out of her way. Instead, he grabbed her, lifted her, and then tossed her backwards into the air. Her stomach dropped and she nearly screamed, but strong arms caught her and eased her to her feet. She twisted in Rossi’s arms.

  “What the hell?”

  He pointed to his brother on the floor. “He is trying to heal. Have you buckets for water? That may help.”

  She wanted to run out and fight, but one look at Aeson said he needed her more at the moment. “The employee bathroom has a crappy stand-up shower in it. It’s old and right now it’s packed with boxes of paperwork because it’s an extra space, and I don’t think the owner is much on housekeeping. I’m pretty sure the water works. We could clean him there.”

  Rossi bent and lifted his brother, looking strained, which said a lot about how much bird guys must weigh. She glanced to the doorway. Lazar was nowhere to be seen.

  “Come. They will do what needs to be done,” said Rossi. “We shall assist Aeson. He has a mate and young ones. His loss would be felt greatly.”

  “Sure, guilt me into helping,” she mumbled, following behind him like a trained puppy.

  *

  Keonae spun, weapon in hand, countering the oncoming blow. He barely registered the reverberation, his mind on a singular mission—protect Lark. He twisted, scoring a direct hit, the steel of his sword pressing through the flesh of his enemy with ease that was a testament to the sharp blade and his continued training.

  As that enemy fell, he charged another and another, cutting through them as quickly. He wouldn’t risk giving them time to get to Lark. The battle continued and Keonae realized the sheer number of the enemy far exceeded that which he’d seen in previous skirmishes. He glanced in Sachin’s direction to find him engaged in a sword fight as well. Lazar no longer held a sword and was fighting hand-to-hand style with his opponents.

  A vulture moved behind Lazar and Keonae bent, grabbing a discarded weapon and throwing it end over end at the vulture about to attack Lazar from behind. The sword burrowed deep into the enemy’s chest and the man fell away as Lazar caught sight of him. Lazar nodded his thanks and kept fighting.

  While it was three against many, they didn’t stop or falter. Each knew the stakes. Kill or be killed. And none wanted to fall at the hands of the vultures. Keonae glanced to his side and caught sight of a group of vultures making their way into the bar. He tried to go for them but found himself locked in a sword fight against three opponents.

  Sachin and Lazar were occupied as well. Keonae’s gut tightened. Rossi would be left to defend Lark. If his baby brother failed, Keonae’s mate would be in danger, possibly even killed.

  Unacceptable!

  He roared, attacking with blind rage and fury. What felt like an eternity passed before he had dispatched of the enemy outside and was able to run to the bar. He crashed through the back door, hitting the wall with more momentum than he’d planned. Ignoring the pain, he pushed onward, his intent to get to Lark.

  “Oh shit!”

  Keonae’s gut tightened at the sound of Rossi’s voice. He ran into the open area of the bar and stopped in his tracks when he found Lark standing there, holding two short swords, one in each hand, her long hair over one shoulder, her posture perfect as she stood over fallen vultures.

  Blood pooled around the enemy and inched its way toward Lark’s feet. She didn’t budge. She glanced over her shoulder. “You’re okay!”

  He looked to Rossi, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Had his brother not been, who had killed the enemy?

  Rossi pointed to Lark. “Your woman kicked their asses.”

  Keonae moved to her at a run and jerked her away from the puddle of blood. He put himself between her and the enemy even though rational thought dictated they were dead and would not rise and attack her. It didn’t matter. He wanted her safe.

  He removed the swords from her hands and gave her a stern look. “You were to allow my brother to protect you.”

  She huffed. “Well, next time I’m about to be attacked I’ll be sure to wait for him to assist.”

  Keonae nodded, pleased she understood his orders. “Good.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Keonae glanced around. “Is this a time one would normally joke?”

  “I’m totally into a complete Neanderthal.”

  Lazar and Sachin appeared, holding Aeson up between them. Aeson’s color was returning somewhat. That was a good sign. It meant his wounds were healing.

  “We should go,” said Sachin. “There may be more coming.”

  “Go where?” asked Lark.

  Keonae drew her closer. “You are coming home with me.”

  “Wait, you’re returning to the kingdom?” asked Rossi.

  Keonae replied. “Yes, and I am bringing my woman.”

  “What if I don’t want to go?”

  He stared hard at her.

  She buckled. “Fine. I want to go. Don’t look so menacing.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lark stared around the dimly lit chamber. It was like something from a fantasy novel. It felt as if she’d traveled back in time and that any minute someone would lead her to the famed round table. In awe, she touched one of the thick wood tables near the door. On one sat a tray of fresh fruits and a decanter of wine. Several of the fruits were unlike any she’d ever seen before and she wondered if they were native to the realm. Two goblets were near. They looked like something from medieval times beautifully engraved with rare jewels around the sides. Her inner child wanted to use them and pretend to be royalty.

  Gulping, she remembered the man with her actually was royalty. Her quiet biker boy was really an ass-kicking, bird-shifting prince who just happened to be selected by gods she’d never heard of to be hers and hers alone. It was a lot to soak in.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I thought you said this was your room.”

  Keonae raked his gaze over her slowly. “It is.”

  “But it doesn’t look like it’s been used in years. It looks fresh, like it’s never been left to dust or sit.”

  Keonae trailed a finger down the back of her arm lightly, causing a shiver to race through her. “It has not been used, but the castle staff sees to its upkeep.”

  “And the food and wine?” she questioned, leaning back against him, trying to focus on all the questions bubbling in her brain. The realm was new to her. Being in a castle wasn’t something sh
e’d experienced before, either. Especially not a functional, picture-perfect one. She wanted to savor it all, soak it all in. Sadly, it had been too dark to see anything on the flight here.

  Flight.

  She nearly laughed.

  Flying had always been something done on a plane to her. But not now. Now she knew what it was like to be held by a powerful man as he soared high in the skies, his grip on her tight, yet not painful. She’d worried she be too much weight for him to fly with. That worry was silly now, especially considering the ease with which Keonae had done so.

  She sank back against him, knowing the feel of his front pressed to her back by heart now—as it had been the way they’d flown here. He rubbed her arms fully.

  “You are still cold,” he said matter-of-factly.

  It had been extremely cold on their journey. The men didn’t seem to notice the bite of it, but she had. Thankfully, Keonae seemed to be a portable heater, radiating heat the entire flight.

  She shivered again. “A little.”

  He breathed against her ear, his body tight against the back of hers. “But you are shaking.”

  Closing her eyes briefly, she lifted an arm over her head, touching his scruffy cheek. “I think I’m nervous.”

  “You fear me?” He ran his fingertips down her inner exposed arm.

  “No. Not at all.” She turned in his arms and met his gaze. “Keon, you saved my life and you brought me here, to your realm.”

  He blinked. “It is your realm too. You are of a shifter line.”

  She wasn’t explaining it very well and she knew as much. She tried again. “Keonae, you made it very clear what I am to you.”

  He touched her hip. “You are my mate.”

  “Right, and you saved me and brought me here—to your bedroom in another realm,” she stressed, wondering if he’d get the hint.

  “If my chambers within the castle are not to your liking, we can journey to my secondary home here. I have not been there in a very long time, but have been told it too is kept up in the event I have use of it,” he said, his attention on her chest, not their conversation.

  She laughed softly. “I’m trying to say that I’m nervous about what I know is about to happen. The claiming Lazar joked about on the way here.”

  Keonae’s brows met. “You are afraid of being claimed fully by me?”

  “I don’t exactly understand what it entails, so a little, yes,” she admitted.

  The sides of his lips curved upward. “Pleasure, ta’konima. Nothing but pleasure. I assure you.”

  She let out a breath she’d been unaware she’d been holding. Well, at least that part was out of the way. Though her nerves didn’t settle. She’d been with men before. Lark wouldn’t venture so far as to label herself experienced, but she wasn’t a blushing virgin. Still, Keonae wasn’t like other men. There was a primal rawness to him that warned her that joining with him would be unlike anything she’d done before.

  He cupped her face, his lips brushing over hers. “I have sent word for my bathing chambers to be readied for you and me, if you want for me to join you.”

  “You have your own bathing chambers?” she questioned, unsure why she was surprised. The guy was a frigging prince after all.

  “I do.”

  She paused. “We should check on Aeson again. Those doctor guys seemed a little sketchy.”

  He grinned. “They are healers and they are well-trained in how to assist him. He is in good hands.”

  “Are you sure? The one guy lit a bundle of herbs and started to chant. I don’t think that is exactly cutting-edge medicine.”

  His response was a kiss. A toe-curling, back-bending one that made her moan into his mouth. She ran her hands over his bare chest, happy he’d not covered it when they’d landed. He slowed their kiss as his muscles tightened under the weight of her touch. She knew why. He wanted to hide himself from her.

  She pushed on him hard, her intention to knock a little sense into him. He stumbled backwards and hit the huge wooden door. His eyes widened and then stark possessiveness shone from their depths. It was on the tip of her tongue to scold him for wanting to shy away from her, but her body picked then to respond to his silent plea for more.

  She went at him, her mouth finding his, her hands roaming over his muscles and his scars. Damn, but the man would soon realize she thought he was perfect if she had to hit him over the head with one of those swords he was so fond of.

  Keonae tugged at her shirt, and she broke the kiss long enough to remove it. He grabbed her bra and tore it from her body as if it were no more than tissue paper between them. Her already cold nipples were erect and his gaze fixed upon them. She shook her head, kissing her way down his neck then his torso until she reached the top of his jeans.

  He tried to step forward and pull her upward. Lark shook her head and used her strength to keep him pinned to the door, strongly suspecting he was allowing her the small victory. She’d seen him in action. He was strong enough to move her.

  She opened his jeans and smiled at the sight of his cock barely contained within them. It had dug at her back and butt the entire flight to the castle, so she already knew it would be big. Seeing it up close and personal was something altogether different.

  “Oh wow,” she whispered, kissing a line to the patch of well-kept hair at his cock base.

  Keonae stiffened and hit the door with one hand, his palm splayed there on the wood. She feared he’d break the thing down and they’d end up on their asses in the open hallway for all to see.

  “Lark,” he said, his voice low, his cock bobbing before her lips. She lowered his jeans more, freeing him fully.

  She took the tip of him into her mouth and stared up at his face through hooded lashes. His long, thick and hard cock was more than she could fully take with her mouth, so she added her hands, wrapping her fingers around his shaft, making him stiffen more.

  He shouted something in his native language, and from the looks of it, whatever he said meant he was enjoying himself. Pride welled and she took him as deep as she could in her mouth, her hands easing up and down the length of him, her saliva slicking his velvety-smooth erection. His hips began to thrust gently and she let him lead, fucking her mouth, her body on fire with need for him. She wanted to please him, make him come harder than he ever had before. She wanted him to know that to her he was the single, sexiest man she’d ever met and ever would meet.

  Keonae thumped the back his head against the door and shouted again, still saying things she didn’t understand but sensed were good. There was banging from the other side of the door and she paused her actions, keeping his cock in her mouth.

  “My lord?” asked a man from the hall. “Is all well, sir?”

  “Go…away,” ground out Keonae through clenched teeth, his hands finding the sides of her head before lacing through her hair. He pulled at her, pushing deeper into her mouth. “By the gods, woman. You are magik.”

  She raked her teeth over his shaft lightly, drawing a fierce growl from him. One moment she was bent before him, and the next he had her lifted in the air. He set her down for just a second, tearing off his boots and jeans, and then grabbing her. Lifting her, he stalked in the direction of the ornate bed. He plopped her onto the bed and she bounced up once and laughed.

  Keonae’s expression held no humor. Only lust. The man was about to take what was his and she couldn’t have been happier. He made short work of her shoes and jeans and then took forever drawing her panties down the length of her legs.

  “Keon,” she yelled, wanting him to move faster, to take her and claim her already.

  He bent his head, kissing the top of her mound. A thin strip of hair was all she kept there, and he kissed his way around it, exploring her, driving her mad with need.

  She bucked, wanting him to take her fully. The aggravating man slowed and had the nerve to chuckle against her inner thigh. With a huff, she propped herself on her elbows, glaring down at his head between her legs.

&n
bsp; He spread her thighs wide and buried his face there, sending her mind into a dither. She forgot about being angry with him for taking his time and teasing her. All that filled her head was bliss. Lark wasn’t sure how long he remained there. It felt as if hours had passed with him taking her so close to the edge of culmination and then easing back, taunting her, keeping her pleasure just out of reach.

  “K-Keonae,” she managed, her entire body spent as if she’d run a marathon rather than lying there writhing with passion.

  His lips glistened as he looked up at her. “Lark, do you accept me? All of me from now until the end of time?”

  What the hell kind of question was that? She wanted him buried deep in her and he was stopping to ask her something like that. With a grunt of frustration, she responded. “Of course I do, biker boy. Now fuck me.”

  “Not until you say you accept me.”

  She snarled.

  He grinned.

  Damn him.

  “I accept you,” she ground out.

  He bent his head and tweaked her swollen bud just right, sending her body crashing into her zenith. She shook, everything on her buzzing with pleasure as he rose up and positioned himself between her legs. Keonae met her gaze and then impaled her sweetly, driving himself balls deep, making her cry out as more pleasure racked her body. Numbness started in her toes and worked its way up, her body moving from numb to prickling pleasure to numb again.

  The man was trying to kill her with sex and he was close to succeeding. There was a buzzing and then it felt as if pure energy rushed from him to her and back again. Gasping, she clung to his arms, arching her back, the walls of her pussy clutching his cock. He jerked against her, and there was no mistaking his orgasm. He tossed his head back, shouting as he released in her, their bodies finding pleasure in one another yet again.

  Keonae shook slightly as he leaned down, his body fully on hers, yet not crushing her. He kissed her lips tenderly. “You are mine now, Lark. My mate. My wife.”

  She had done nothing but worry on their journey here, wondering what the claiming would entail, worried she’d let him down somehow. Now she couldn’t imagine not being tied to him. She touched the scars on his cheek and then kissed him there.