To Wed a Werewolf

by Kryssie Fortune

  “Your Lykae prince might think he’s above the law,” King Leonidas snapped, “but he went too far when he broke his moon-kissed vows. He was dumb enough to think that if he got married in the mundane world, I’d not hear of it. We Fae might not like to mingle with the other races, especially the humans, but I’m not without my spies. We’ll avenge the insult to the crown, reclaim the border territories I ceded as a betrothal bond, and toss his body at your feet.”

  He didn’t just diss her whole life—did he? Yeah, he did. How else could she take “especially the humans”? He really did mean humans. Like her.

  No wonder her half brother had ignored her until she was seventeen—old enough to marry another species and form a political alliance. Damn, would anyone ever put her first? More specifically, why hadn’t King Caleb cared enough to keep her, even if it was only a few weeks of casual sex?

  “Back up.” Sylvie absently patted the red-scaled wyvern as it sniffed around her. “There’s no insult. I didn’t want Giles any more than he wanted me. Thanks to your insistence on a long engagement, we grew up and decided we wouldn’t suit. I even danced at his wedding.”

  “And now you’ll dance on his grave. My ambassador delivered the ultimatum yesterday, and after the traditional three days’ grace, we attack. Dismissed, gentlemen”—he took Sylvie’s arm—“whilst I catch up with my little sister.”

  “Leo,” Sylvie begged, “don’t do this. I owe King Caleb my life.”

  “Swear it under a truth spell.”

  “I will,” she promised, “as long as you cast it when we’re alone.”

  * * * *

  An hour later, the Fae king paced the chamber, angrier than before. “He bloody near raped you, and yet you plead for his miserable life.”

  “I was willing,” she protested, “both times. I love him, Leo, but he doesn’t feel the same about me.”

  “So he leaves you, possibly pregnant, and sends you home to me. Damn it, Sylvie, it’s either war or a wedding—and your fiancé obviously preferred another.”

  Way to go, Leo. Rub it in that I’m only second-class, why don’t you? “Please, just stop and think a minute. I don’t want people to die over this.”

  “Don’t argue.” He waved her protests aside. “My mind’s made up.”

  Her magic faded along with any hope of a happy future. Normally, she moved quietly around the Fae court, staying in shadows or hugging the cold stone walls. Okay, she sometimes heard things like “half-blood” and “lowly human,” but she pretended they weren’t about her.

  Loving Caleb made her stronger, but her sorrow consumed her. Food was so tasteless she couldn’t eat, and come night, bed was the last place she wanted to be—not if she was there without Caleb. She dozed in and out of erotic dreams, and every time she woke, tears coursed down her cheeks.

  Somehow her arrogant Lykae lover—and yes, she loved the way that sounded—had crept into her heart and her soul. He’d never promised her a future, just used her body for their mutual delight, but she longed for him to touch her again.

  In the morning, the War dragons still roared in the stables, and armor-clad warriors strode purposefully about the court. Even her brother’s pet wyverns growled and bristled, ready to fight alongside the Fae. Women huddled in groups and chanted healing spells to store in stasis and release on the wounded. The three days’ grace was up, and today King Leonidas would make his first strike on the Lykae territories.

  An armed guard marched into the chamber and bowed to his king. “Sire, King Caleb and his elite guard have set up camp in the meadow beyond the drawbridge. Our warriors have the camp surrounded, but the Lykae king’s demanding an audience, and he says he’s brought you a prisoner as a peace offering.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Please, Sylvie offered a silent prayer, let him have come for me.

  Footsteps and a clattering of weapons announced the wolves’ arrival; then one of the Lykae guards hurled a bruised and broken Ron onto the floor. Caleb stepped forward, his bare arms, black leather jerkin, and trousers adding to his air of controlled menace. Crossed swords hung down his back, and he towered over Lykae and Fae alike.

  “Greetings, King Leonidas.” Caleb’s face was stern, and his voice sounded so cold she actually shivered. “This scum has something to tell you.”

  “It wasn’t just me.” One of Ron’s legs stuck out at an unnatural angle, and he cradled his broken wrist to his chest. “The People’s Defense League made me do it, but I swear I’d have protected the girl.”

  Caleb hauled Ron upright, shook him until his teeth rattled, and flung him back down at the Fae king’s feet. “Respect, boy. You will talk about Princess Sylvie with nothing but respect.”

  Ron groveled on the floor before the Fae king’s throne. “King Leonidas, I wanted the werewolves dead for the way they defiled my cousin, but your sister was never at risk.”

  “He threw me in a cage with a Lykae in primal form,” Sylvie snapped. “Of course I was at risk.”

  Even the Fae’s hardened warriors gasped at that. The chief spell caster readied her magic to attack, and the other women instinctively sent a healing spell washing over Sylvie. Better safe than sorry, she supposed. Not that it could fix her shattered heart. Only she couldn’t let them hurt Caleb.

  “Stop this! King Caleb protected me even in his primal form.”

  She’d always felt safe and secure with Caleb, and it had never entered her head to be scared of his wolf, but the Fae—a race known for their cool heads and cold steel—clearly feared his primal form.

  And damn it, would a smile or warm look kill Caleb? She certainly didn’t top his agenda, but the way he kept his attention so firmly on her half brother crushed her. She wanted to wave or blow him a kiss—anything to make him concentrate all that wolfish intensity on her—but she’d only ever be second-class to him. He’d probably moved on to another of his women. The pity of it was, she’d never want any other man.

  Joel Blackheart towered over Ron, but he spoke with a civilized good humor that made the human pale. “Tell him, Ronald. Or we’ll have to talk again later, and if I remember rightly, your friend didn’t survive our last conversation.”

  “There’s this organization I found online,” Ron sobbed. “The People’s Defense League. They know humans are the superior species and want to keep our bloodlines pure. They paid me to destroy my cousin’s fiancé, but I thought I’d go one better and kill the Lykae king.” He shot an accusing glance at Caleb. “I never regretted anything more in my life.”

  “How pure?” Leonidas cut to the heart of the matter.

  “They hate all the otherworld species,” Ron sniveled, “and want them all obliterated. Since I failed my mission, they’ll kill me too.”

  “Then I suggest”—the Fae King’s smile radiated contempt—“you return this scum to his human masters.”

  “Agreed,” Caleb said promptly.

  “They’ll kill me,” Ron wailed.

  “I expect so.” King Leonidas nodded. “But that’s not an otherworld issue, is it?”

  Caleb kept his eyes firmly on the Fae king. “Then, the only other subject up for negotiation is the way my idiot brother broke his betrothal and almost took our nations to war.”

  What about me? Sylvie wanted to scream, but even though her heart almost stopped beating, she refused to show her pain. Tears would come later, but right now she needed to stay strong to get through this. She didn’t rate a mention or even a smile. What a fool she’d been to fall for the Lykae king’s charms, but her heart still belonged to him, whether he wanted it or not. Right now, it looked like he didn’t. Her throat constricted with sorrow, and her stomach churned. She could live with that, but the pain in her heart was…overwhelming.

  “Your brother broke his betrothal vows when he jilted my sister and ignored the treaty. A treaty my people have kept with no little cost to ourselves. He insulted the whole Fae nation in his belief that we’d never discover the truth. Caleb the Cold, you are not wel
come here, and since there can no longer be a wedding, there will be a war.”

  Caleb’s smile was cold and calculating like a cat playing with its prey. “Then,” he announced, his eyes as arctic as his voice, “I’ll marry the girl myself.”

  Sylvie gasped. Talk about a reluctant proposal, and if she didn’t agree, it meant war.

  “Done,” Leonidas agreed. “But I won’t be put off with another endless betrothal. You’ll marry in three hours at sunset. Sylvie, my dear, go make yourself ready.”

  * * * *

  Caleb the Cold paced his tented pavilion and cursed. Sylvie hadn’t spared him a glance, let alone a smile, and when her brother had announced her wedding, she’d turned so pale Caleb had thought she’d pass out. She stood up to him, challenged him, and even loved him in his primal form. Her courage amazed him, but when negotiations turned to their forthcoming marriage, he’d seen nothing but pain in her eyes. His natural wolf whined that when she’d fucked him in that cage, she’d only done what she needed to survive.

  From the moment they met, he’d toyed with her emotions, and he couldn’t regret his behavior more. His savage primal form had never looked at a woman, but it had wanted. Too big to fit inside a human, it had still craved sexual satisfaction—just like his other two forms. Lost in his beast, he’d plunged inside Sylvie. He’d taken his pleasure but given her only pain. Damn, he’d rather have taken a knife to his balls than hurt her.

  No wonder she refused to look at him. If she did, what would she see? A monster who hurt her physically and emotionally? A beast too violent to be loved? She hated him now, but not as much as he hated himself. Without her, survival was…overrated.

  His primal wolf clawed at its chest and yowled in sorrow. It needed to claim her in the most primitive way; then it’d cherish, protect, and provide. Inside him, his natural beast flattened its ears and went to its belly. His human form mourned everything he’d lost. Everything he’d thrown away because of Giles’s lies. He loved his true-mate with every fiber of his body, but he’d failed her over and over.

  She was alone and hurting, and he didn’t know how to make things right. He was screwed if she really loved Giles. Or worse, had she found someone else, someone she preferred to him? She’d hate him twice over. Once for hurting her so badly and once for tying her future to his. He’d already manipulated King Leonidas until he demanded the wedding Caleb desired. Even for Sylvie’s sake, he couldn’t get out of it now.

  Marrying her wasn’t hard for him, but it was clearly a shocker for her. Her wedding day should be one of the best days of her life, and she’d looked like she’d lost her best friend. He’d give anything for five minutes at her side and a chance to promise whatever it took ease her mind. And maybe he was hallucinating, but he thought he could smell her meadowsweet perfume.

  “Caleb”—Joel Blackheart ushered Sylvie inside—“you’ve got a visitor.”

  His second in command barely hid a snicker as he left them alone.

  “I had to come,” Sylvie whispered, “and apologize. I know you never wanted this marriage, but damn it, you couldn’t even look at me. I know there’s a treaty and war and everything, but once we’ve gone through the motions, I won’t interfere with your pleasures. Caleb, I promise I’ll try to be a conformable wife.”

  He smelled her distress and, thank Gods, her attraction. Whatever was going on in her mixed-up brain, she was already wet with need. He wanted to throw back his head and howl in triumph, but he smiled a wicked, wolfy grin and dragged her into his arms. She made a halfhearted protest, but the ruthless way he claimed her lips—demanding, delicious, devouring—made her melt against him. When he cupped her slender ass, he pulled her hips so close his erection pressed against her belly.

  “I think”—he groaned between kisses—“you’ll be nothing but trouble. You’ll haunt my every daytime thought and exhaust me every night. Every time I look at you, I want to go to my knees and thank the Gods for giving me the most perfect of true-mates, but as Lykae king, I couldn’t let your brother see how much I need you. Sylvie, you’re my Achilles’ heel, but I needed those treaties to stand without losing my people in a pointless war. This way, your brother thinks he’s pulled a fast one, and the packs will envy me my beautiful Fae wife, but Sylvie, conformable? It must have a different meaning to the Fae.”

  “Every night?” she whispered, her eyes going wide. “But what about all those other women you bragged about? Don’t they have any say?”

  “Let’s see. One”—he stole a kiss—“did any of them stand up to me and try to stop Giles’s wedding? Two”—he swept his tongue between her lips and explored her mouth—“did any of them care enough to love me in my primal form? Even the female Lykae back down when I transform, but not you. And finally three”—no kiss this time, just a stare straight into her eyes that kindled a fire deep in her heart—“I can’t live without you. Look, sweetness, I know I messed things up from the start, and if I could change things, I would. I didn’t dare come for you until I knew I could keep you safe, but Ron’s loser friends are in for some surprises. I swear I’ll make you happy. I’ll do anything, give you everything I possess, and maybe in time you’ll love me back.”

  She stared directly into his eyes. “I already do. Perhaps from now on I should call you Caleb the Cute and Cuddly.”

  Sylvie wrapped her arms around him and puckered up for another kiss, but he landed a playful swat on her butt. Caleb caught her midgasp, mouth open, and his tongue swept between her lips. Their kiss lasted so long Sylvie’s knees turned weak, and still she pouted for more.

  “Don’t,” he groaned, “ever call me that in front of my men. Now go get ready for your wedding. Your husband-to-be’s very demanding, and he’s definitely not willing to wait.”

  * * * *

  “Your half brother sent this”—a courtier held out a gossamer dress—“and said you’d make a beautiful bride.”

  Sylvie gave an excited laugh and waltzed the woman around the room. “I’m definitely a happy one, but I already know what I’m wearing. Tell Leonidas that I will marry in the meadow in the midst of the Lykae camp. The Wolves are coming in force, so he’d best make sure there’s extra ale and plenty of fresh meat.”

  Two hours later in the warm light of the setting sun, she walked barefoot across the field. A wreath of wildflowers—the noncarnivorous type—adorned her coffee-colored locks, and a multihued gypsy dress showed off her slender curves.

  Caleb looked stunning in his black tux, and this time he welcomed her with that wolfish smile that made her toes curl. His gaze fastened on her, lupine and so full of longing she felt a blush heat her cheeks. She loved the way he concentrated solely on her, blocking out everything and everybody as they exchanged their vows. God, he was one gorgeous male. Mine to keep until the end of time. He made her feel so treasured and loved, and then it hit her: she’d finally made the first team. Hell, with Caleb, she was the first team.

  Afterward, the wolves showed the Fae how to party—their playful nature even charming the aloof Fae. The species intermingled, Lykae ladies swamping Fae warriors with their ample charms while Fae spell casters danced with laughing Lykae males.

  Garlands of flowers and silken wall hangings transformed Caleb’s tented pavilion, and when he led her inside, Sylvie couldn’t keep her hands off her new husband. Tonight he came to her in human form, and she had to admit she was relieved.

  He pulled her close, his breath warming the sensitive spot on the back of her neck. “Let me love you. Let me claim you so the whole world knows you’re mine.”

  “Yes, please,” she breathed, pulse racing, “but I want all those other women to know you’re mine.”

  He took her hand and laid it over his heart, “I know it, in here, and that’s what matters. You’ve got five minutes; then I’m coming for you. You can run, little rabbit, but you won’t get far.”

  Sylvie took off like the rabbit he’d called her, knowing he’d revel in the chase, and when he caught her, he’d cl
aim her with hot sex and sharp fangs. She skittered through the trees, confident that Fae enchantments kept predatory plants and wild animals at bay. One of her brother’s half-wild wyverns hopped across her path like a velociraptor from Jurassic Park, but she kept running—faster and faster until she reached a moonlit grove at the side of a bubbling stream.

  “Mine,” Caleb growled as he took primal beast form and pounced, “forever and always.”

  He gathered her close, rolled midair, and landed with her cradled to his chest. Love and desire shimmered in tangible waves between them, and as he bared her breasts, he wriggled from under her and went to his knees. “I’ve caught you, and now it’s time for my reward.”

  As her dress fell on the riverbank, he drank her in with his gaze and growled that rumbling, raspy sound she adored. When she ran a shy hand through his fur, he bent his head and ripped off her underwear with his teeth.

  “Wicked, sexy Lykae,” she murmured, “and you’re all mine.”

  “And you, my fairy princess, are definitely mine.”

  Back in human form, he suckled on her nipples until she went wild for him, ripping his elegant clothes to better explore his body. God, she needed his dick pounding inside her as he claimed her as his true-mate and bound them together for all time.

  Her fierce Lykae warrior carried her to a mossy bank and carefully laid her on the softest spot he could see. Frantic with desire, she laughed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and nestled closer as he fingered her clit.

  “You made a beautiful bride. And while I prefer you naked, I love you any way at all.”

  His words sucker punched her, and she came on the spot. When he rested his hands on her shoulders, she dropped to her knees. He moved behind her, mantled his body around hers, and gently pushed her down to all fours. Helpless beneath him, she opened her legs and rocked her hips in invitation. Then he was inside her, pumping hard and fast. Deep, satisfied tremors started in her cunt and spread like an earthquake through her eager body—and he hadn’t bitten her yet.