by Dani Harper
“She’s all right, you know,” a silky voice whispered in his ear.
Lurien whirled to find himself face-to-face with a lioness. The mask was exceptionally realistic, right down to a muzzle wrinkled back to expose long bared fangs. Ever the hunter, he admired the big cats that still roamed the human world and wished that such felines lived in the Nine Realms. Automatically he scanned the rest of the costume—and discovered that the leonine fur was not a garment at all. Rather it was a whisper-thin pelt that blushed over a completely naked female body. Golden nipples peeked shamelessly from the fine, soft fur that defined rather than covered rounded breasts. The only marking on her tawny pelt was a long narrow stripe of palest gold that ran all the way from her delicate throat to the enticing female cleft between her long, shapely legs.
He wrested his gaze back to the lioness’s face, and one of her amber eyes winked at him wickedly. “Aurddolen,” he acknowledged, finding that his voice betrayed him. His attempt at disapproval came out mixed with amusement—and interest.
“Come, I’ll show you the one you seek.” Aurddolen linked her arm with his and guided him through the jostling throng of revelers to the tightly packed dance floor. Here, the dragon-woman-turned-lioness stopped. “See?” she half shouted to him.
He didn’t see, not at all. Where the dancing was at its most feverish, the Lord of the Wild Hunt studied the crowd—and finally focused in on a tall fae dressed as a terrifying warth. As the unlikely creature stepped lively to the tune, the tip of a diagonal scar across its throat became visible for a mere eyeblink. It was enough to identify Trahern, one of the men he’d assigned to the queen’s side. And only Lurien knew that the scar was from a long ago battle with a real warth.
Quickly, he discerned Iago, Wren, and Nodin—and even as he continued to search for Gwenhidw, Lurien made a mental note to commend Nodin later (with much jesting) for his unlikely mermaid costume. Finally a monstrous black horse cleared some of the dancers in front of Lurien with a burst of flame from its nostrils. The nightmare creature with glowing yellow eyes was a pwca, and several of them had accompanied their envoy to the palace. It seemed to be having a fine time. Festive flowers, copper bells, and silver ribbons had been braided into its long mane, and sparks flew from its sharp silver hooves as it danced nimbly . . .
Gwenhidw!
Thankfully, a lifetime spent stalking prey made him shout her name only in his mind. As if she’d heard him just the same, however, she wheeled and insolently flicked him in the head with her long tail. Before he could protest, Aurddolen seized his arm and dragged him into the crowd.
“I told you she was fine,” she shouted into his ear. “You’ll only draw attention to her if you stay.” She grinned then and raised her mask so that her lovely and unconventional features were revealed in the shadow of the lioness’s teeth. As a wild tune began, she grasped his hands and playfully whirled him away.
Lurien didn’t dance as a rule, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how. He knew this tune and its implications. It was part music, part sexual enchantment, and lovers often used it to excite each other. The charmed song was a long one, building slowly from something light and merry to a final frenzied culmination—and at that point there would be many uninhibited couplings in the midst of the dance floor. No one would think twice of that, of course, particularly if they had visited the ever-salacious Court.
So Aurddolen thinks to play with the Lord of the Wild Hunt?
Lurien closed his gloved hands over hers, and their gazes locked. It was satisfying to see her sudden understanding that she had just lost control of this encounter, and before she could think, he spun her swiftly across the floor. With grace and power, he ably threaded them both through the pulsing crowd, and as the music demanded more, he made bracelets of his strong hands and slid them over her wrists and all the way up her slender arms. Manacled thus, she could neither escape nor strike him should she wish. Aurddolen didn’t appear to want to do either one, so far at least, but he found himself with an urgent craving. He pulled her close and bent his head to her ear. “Unfasten my tunic,” he said, in a low resonant tone he knew a draigddynion could hear despite the background noise. “I would have us skin to skin.”
Her eyes widened, and her pupils swelled from narrow catlike slits to round black moons. Only the barest glimmer of amber iris was visible, as if eclipsed by desire. As the throbbing beat and anxious keening music intensified, she brought her hands up with difficulty—he wasn’t foolish enough to let her go—and slowly undid the rich black leather that covered his chest.
She spread his open tunic wide, splaying her hands across his muscles as she did so, and he wanted more. As the music pounded faster, the dance brought their bodies close, closer. Her golden nipples, her soft breasts, the fine velvety fur she had cloaked herself in—all brushed over his skin and electrified it. He leaned into her so that his own nipples could be lightly caressed by hers, and his cock immediately reared within in its leather confines, fighting to be free like a stallion fought its bridle.
Enough, thought Lurien. He flexed his magic like a well-toned muscle, willing both he and Aurddolen far from the sights and sounds of the writhing crowd.
The palace had many gardens, but unlike most, this one was private. It was one of the few that was neither manicured nor maintained but instead permitted to grow as wild as it wished. Lurien had claimed it long ago as a personal sanctuary, a place to come and think, or simply to compose himself when life at the palace irritated him beyond all bounds. He was coming here a lot lately . . .
The exquisite statuary was nearly overgrown by prowling vines. Riots of night-blooming flowers were attended by tiny white ystlumod, batlike creatures unseen during the day. Their trilling song was usually soothing, but Lurien didn’t even notice it this night. Instead, the enchanted tune from the party was still pulsing hard in his veins. He stripped off his gloves and shrugged out of his tunic, grateful to be rid of them. The cool night air was soothing to his feverish skin, but he did not wish to be free of the fire inside. Not yet.
“I like it here,” whispered Aurddolen, drawing her mask from her head. Her long tawny hair fell in a wild cascade of braids down her back, and she smiled broadly at him. “Shall I resume my usual skin, my Lord Lurien, or do you like the fur?” She chuckled: “I’m able to do feathers as well. A lesser known feature of the Draigddynion royal family.”
Feathers? That certainly presented some intriguing prospects . . . His mouth quirked as he reached out and stroked the side of her lovely face, running his fingers down her throat and around a velvety breast. Circling his hand over her hip and down her thigh, he imagined all that softness rubbing full-length against him. “Your pelt is alluring to the senses in every way, but I believe I find your true form most appealing.” His answer obviously pleased her, and he watched, fascinated, as the fur seemed to withdraw from sight. Once again she was covered in minute pearlescent scales of palest gold. The full moon gleamed from each and every one, and Lurien sucked in a breath at the exquisite beauty of her. But he planned to do far more than look.
And so did she. Aurddolen approached him with a subtle swagger that undulated the curves of her hips. She kept her eyes on his as she boldly unfastened his knife belt and threw it over her shoulder. She refused to free his shaft all at once, though. Instead she teased at it, brushing it with her fingertips, revealing it a fraction at a time. It swelled and strained toward her, and a quiver ran up and down Lurien’s spine. He very nearly moaned aloud as she breathed on its tip. It was too much and not enough all at once. Impatiently, he willed his leathers away completely. He stood naked, and the fiery heat of his proud cock was eased not at all by the cool air. Instead, his magic crackled within him and around him, and a sudden wind picked up and sent the ystlumod fleeing in fear.
A storm was coming, one that heeded only the Lord of the Wild Hunt. Lightning would strike the garden repeatedly this night—and still
the dragon woman was unafraid. With claws that were only partially retracted, her hand slid around his erection, gripping him hard as she worked his nipples first with her soft full lips and tongue, and then with her teeth. Lurien growled out her name and pressed her down to his cock. She laughed at him, then set her lovely mouth to work as he tangled his hands in her hair.
Thunder rumbled nearby as he fought to stop his hips from rocking. He rode the fine sharp edge of pleasure, and his breath hissed between his own teeth as hers scraped him. Merely watching the exotically featured woman made his pulse pound in his veins, and he was captivated by the utter perfection of her comely backside . . . He knew what he wanted then, what he wanted now. In a flash, he had pulled Aurddolen to her feet and turned her in his arms so that delicious ass was grinding into him. He held her tight with one powerful arm, then parted her legs with his knee, making it easy to slide a hand between them. His cock rubbed insistently against her hip, yet Lurien took his time exploring her wet heat. Pressing his fingers into her again and again, he began to splay them inside her, erotically stroking the soft walls of her core. The honeyed scent of her pheromones wafted upward, dizzying him and eroding his control.
She arched her back and thrust against his hand, wanting, seeking, aching for release. Aurddolen was no Tylwyth Teg, however. Her desires were as feral as the lioness she’d pretended to be—but he knew his timing had to be perfect. Nuzzling aside her heavy spill of braids, Lurien licked and kissed her nape until she shivered uncontrollably and he could feel her minute scales pebble against his skin. In the same moment that he thrust his cock deep, he sank his teeth into the back of her neck. Lightning strobed around them as she bucked in his arms, pumping her hips in a violent paroxysm of pleasure that set its own hard rhythm, until the whiplash of ecstasy ensnared him as well.
With a satisfied moan, Aurddolen sank to the ground, and he followed her. They lay side by side gazing up at the golden moon without really seeing it.
Finally, she leaned up on one elbow to grin at him. “Again!” she laughed.
“Definitely again.” His mouth quirked, and an abrupt downpour of rain soaked them both.
Startled, the dragon woman’s skin flared with strident patterns of green and blue. “Where did that come from?” she demanded of him. The clear night sky was still aglow with a lustrous full moon—but she could not look upward for the heavy pelting drops. He pointed at a small cloud, hidden from view by the overhanging trees.
“At least it’s warm,” she said grudgingly.
“And so are you,” he said, and reached for her, but she eluded him, leaping to sit astride his lap.
“You may control the storm, but I have powers of my own,” she said playfully, and drew a circle around one of his nipples with a single sharp claw. “I think I will begin with—”
The explosion heaved the ground beneath them, buffeted the air around them. It shook the foundations of the entire palace and the mountain upon which it stood the way a fierce terrier shakes its prey.
The vibrations hadn’t died away before Lurien was in a defensive crouch over Aurddolen, his long black hair spilling across his bare skin in thick wet ropes. He’d already called his silver hunting knife to his hand and held it at the ready while magic gathered in his other fist.
A glance at Aurddolen showed her wide-eyed but unhurt. “Get the traitors,” she hissed. “I will see to the queen.”
In answer, he shook his head—and a binding spell instantly shackled her with invisible chains. She would not be able to move from the spot.
“You cannot think I had anything to do with this? Lurien, you need my help!” she shouted in fury and frustration, but he barely heard as he raced in the direction of the blast. His leathers materialized on his body as he ran. The explosion hadn’t been the throne room . . . that much he knew. Lurien raced down a hallway at full speed, intending to cut across the central courtyard. Only well-honed instinct allowed him to stop in time.
Barely. The central courtyard, where the envoys had succeeded in putting aside their differences and learned to work together, no longer existed. A blackened crater surrounded by fallen or failing stone walls was all that was left, save for the nine arched doorways that led into the palace. All of the smaller samplau, the seedings from the Nine Realms that had been painstakingly readied to be sent, had been destroyed.
Lurien stood at the still-smoking edge of the pit. Looking across, he could see many of the guests gather at the doorways to peer at the disaster, some curious, most nervous. Was a traitor among them? He felt the presence of Gwenhidw at his elbow, no longer in the guise of a fearsome pwca, and sensed all four of his men close behind her. He was thankful for their diligence—he knew from experience just how difficult it could be to keep track of the woman. “Someone seeks to undo your work, Your Grace.”
“Someone always wants to undo that which is good. They will not succeed,” she said simply. “They have cost us time, perhaps, but fortunately time is quite flexible in this dimension.” Gwenhidw leaned over to view the depths of the hole. “Thank all the stars that we were not working here this night.”
“Obviously you should have more parties.” Lurien won a weak smile from her, and then she called out across the chasm to her guests for a return to the throne room—and the celebrations. The faces in the doorways slowly disappeared until only Lurien remained. The queen had also returned to the party, and he knew she would not resume her pwca disguise again. Instead, she would make a point of being seen by her people in hopes of allaying their fears. And also, Lurien knew, to thumb her nose at whoever dared to try to disrupt the peace and progress of the kingdom.
He drew a symbol in the air and waited for two of his hunters to come to his side.
“Go to the westernmost garden, the one grown wild. Arrest Aurddolen o’r Draigddynion at once. She is not to be released, even by order of the queen herself. Put my seal on the door.” He was glad he had that one little bit of power under fae law. As llaw dde, he could act directly to protect the monarch—even against her wishes.
Was Aurddolen deliberately distracting me? he wondered. Ensuring that I was not at Gwenhidw’s side when the plot was carried out? If so, the dragon woman must have been frustrated by the change of venue, with all the envoys at the throne room this night rather than in the courtyard. Lurien had detected no such feeling from her . . . and if he was wrong, she was going to hate him forever. Yet even she could not deny that most of the conspiracies over the centuries had involved the dragon people in one way or another.
As for himself, he would not trust Aurddolen again. He could not take the chance with Gwenhidw’s life at stake.
EIGHTEEN
I’ll have to be thanking Ranyon for fixing this. Caris loved the porch swing, even if they’d decided not to rock it in case Liam’s bruised head didn’t like the movement. She loved the entire sprawling porch with its sturdy roof. It was like a room without walls, where you could enjoy being out of doors while still feeling sheltered.
It was a sheltering place in which to speak of difficult things too. It had been hard for Liam, of course. What man was good at talking about disappointment and lost love? But he had managed to tell the tale through as honestly as he could. And he’d held her hand the entire time—for her sake or to steady himself? Perhaps both.
“What do you think went wrong?” she ventured at last.
“Hell, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked myself that. Maybe it was too easy,” he said. “We got together in high school, when we were just kids, and just kept on going. Maybe we got too comfortable.”
Caris frowned. “Why is being comfortable a bad thing? I should think a couple would cherish being at ease with one another.”
“I just meant that sometimes people stay together because it’s easier than being alone. Jade and I never had to worry about who we were going to sit with at lunch, or finding a date for the dance, or who w
e were going to hang out with on the weekend. We didn’t have to put any effort into it, you see?”
“That’s almost more like being friends or school chums, isn’t it? I mean, my cousin, Enid, lived two farms over and we played together whenever we could, but we weren’t really close. We didn’t even like each other all that much. It was simply convenient.”
“Convenient.” He said the word like it tasted bad. “That’s a helluva lot worse than comfortable, but maybe that’s what it boiled down to in the end. Although it didn’t start off that way. I was in love with her, I know that, and yet I also know that I didn’t put her first. Not ever. And what kind of love is that?”
“Maybe just an inexperienced love,” she said simply. “You’re so hard on yourself. You were young but you had good intentions. You didn’t use her and discard her. Instead you made plans to spend your whole life with her.” And just for a moment, Caris felt a twinge of envy and even a little jealousy toward a girl she didn’t even know.
He sighed. “What I really wanted was a marriage like Aunt Ruby and Uncle Conall have. You were talking about cherishing a minute ago? After all the years they’ve been together, they’re still crazy about each other. When I was growing up, I had no idea how much work love really was, didn’t realize how much work the two of them put into their relationship—I guess I thought it all just happened by magic.”
