Hand on her hip, she looked up at him. “I don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”
He laughed.
Firefox took a spot on Wyndi’s left flank and nodded at her. Then Tera and Byte, who were both wearing black and white referee uniforms, came to stand in the middle of the group. What is this, the line up for some bizarro game of fairy dodge ball? She almost broke a snort at the thought.
Petúr swooped down from his spot overhead. Sweet. A tingle shot the length of her spine watching him land in a crouch by Tera before standing. God. He was impressive.
“We only have a few days until tourist season officially begins,” Petúr said, hands at his sides, feet spread apart in a battle stance. “Grapple and the darklings will be out in full force when the townies roll into Oceanport.” He glanced over to Bell, then to Wyndi. “You two need to know how to fight, and win against the darklings.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” Wyndi said, her voice hitting the octave of ain’t-no-way-in-Hades shrill.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not.”
“But we’re not big, burly warrior types.”
“You don’t need to be. You just need to be fast, smart, and know how to take down a darkling.”
Wyndi looked from man to man, then back at Petúr. They were all stone-face serious. “Let me guess. This,” she said doing the whole Vanna White impression with her arm to encompass everyone. “Is Down a Darkling 101?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah!” said Bell, completely stoked, hopping from foot to foot, not unlike a boxer in a ring. “Let’s get this party started.”
All the men, including Petúr broke out into laughter.
“Way to be bloodthirsty, little bit,” Vibe said, high fiving her.
Wyndi definitely wasn’t as enthusiastic when Vapor put his arm around her shoulders and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
Her gaze shot to Petúr when he… growled? Yes. He actually growled in a teeth baring event.
“Vape!” he snapped. “Arm.”
She probably shouldn’t be so thrilled about his possessiveness, but she was over the moon happy about it.
Grinning, Vapor removed his arm from her, hands up. Mea culpa. “Just giving some encouragement, big guy. Settle down.”
Wyndi wondered why most of the men called Petúr ‘big guy.’ He was big, and totally imposing, but they were, too.
“Now,” Petúr said, voice and features smoothing out. “All of us have been fighting together as a unit for years, and while we have learned what to expect from each other, and complement each other in a tussle with the dark ones, each of us have different styles of fighting.” His sharp gaze homed in on Wyndi. “I want you to watch and learn from your team mates. You have ten minutes to absorb as much as you can, then round one begins.”
“Wait. Hang on,” Wyndi said. “Only ten minutes?”
“You have to be able to think on your feet, learn from your opponents and adjust quickly. When you have darklings coming at you, they won’t give you time to consider your options. Understand?”
She nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I guess.”
Petúr narrowed his gaze on Firefox, then over to Vapor. “Don’t hold back.”
“Won’t,” said Vapor.
Fire flickered from the tips of Firefox’s fingers. “You’re ass is ash, Vape.”
“Bring it, fire boy.” Vapor conjured a ball of swirling water in the palm of his hand.
“Hey,” Wyndi said in a whiny protest. “The human here doesn’t have any neat tricks to pull out of her hat.”
“Don’t need them, Wyndi,” said Petúr. He crooked his fingers at her. “Come stand by me.”
“Okay,” she muttered, going over to him, shoulders slumped.
“Pay attention to them,” he said. “Watch their moves and counter moves.”
“I will.”
Petúr glanced over his right shoulder. “You too, Bell. Keep your attention trained on Vapor and Firefox.”
“Got it,” she said.
****
Wyndi wanted to groan when she stepped out of the cooling bath. Her muscles, and even muscles she didn’t even know she possessed, were a little bit looser coming out of the water than going in, nonetheless they still protested the movement.
She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders. She’d been knocked on her ass more times than she had fingers and toes, and never made it remotely close to having a kill shot. On the other hand, petite, sweet-looking Bell, with her long blonde ponytail and hot pink form-fitting jogging suit, had her fake blade to the throat of more than one opponent during the training session, teeth bared, snarling as she did.
Efficiently wrapping a towel around her, she muttered, “Face it, Darlingheart. You suck at this warrior business.”
“You don’t suck.” She jumped, catching a glimpse of her bathroom intruder standing not too far behind her in the half fogged mirror. “You just need more practice.”
“Jeez! You scared the crap out of me, Petúr.”
“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I wanted to tuck you in for the night properly before I head out on patrol.”
She spun around. “You’re leaving me here?”
He bobbed his head. “I have to go.”
“But—”
He stopped her protest when he picked her up, sat her backside down on the cool marble countertop, stepped between her legs, and kissed her.
As their tongues danced, heat infused every inch of her skin.
“Wyndi,” he said, sounding on the verge of breathless, his voice almost gravelly, kissing down the column of her neck. She shivered. He sucked on her earlobe. Nuzzled his nose into the hollow behind her ear. Licked. Sucked her flesh.
“Petúr. Oh….”
She couldn’t form any more coherent words.
Tongue sliding lower, he sucked once more, hard enough to leave a mark, she was sure. She didn’t care. Her fingers tangled into his hair, the moment he twined his fingers into hers and tugged her head back with restrained force, exposing her throat.
“I love how you taste,” he said, licking the pulse of her. “And how you smell.” He kissed. Licked. Breathed her in. A hunger started low in her quivering belly. “I need more.”
She managed to utter, “Yes.” She too needed… “More. Please, more.”
Air hit her exposed skin, and she was exposed, the towel wrenched away, and Petúr wasting no time, lapping, laving, sucking at her pearled nipples, squeezing her breasts together, and burrowing his nose within the cleavage. Her eyelids closed.
When the tip of his tongue dipped into her navel, she jerked at the sensation, her hand and nails pressing into the material covering his wide shoulder. She was mindless. Burning. On fire. She licked her lips.
His big hands were on her hips, scooting her forward. “Wyndi. Put your heels on the counter and spread your thighs for me.”
Her eyelids fluttered open. “Huh?”
His expression was ravenous. A shudder racked her.
“Put your heels on the counter,” he said.
She knew she was blushing, and probably the color of fire truck red. She was naked. And….
“Please. Do it.”
She bit at the inside of her cheek. She wanted to give him everything he desired.
Wyndi pushed back the embarrassment and put her heels on the counter, knees bent up, slowly opening her thighs, seeing the dark pupils in his eyes pulse and hearing his low, hungry groan.
Had he ever seen anything so mind-blowingly beautiful as this woman, completely bared to him, her tender pink flesh glistening and spread for his pleasure? Petúr’s dick was so hard he hurt, yet there was satisfaction in the ache.
“You’re perfect,” he said, going to his knees to worship her.
“I—”
Her moan, when he placed his tongue to her sex, spurred him on.
L-i-c-k…. One long swipe of his tongue from o
pening to clit had him tasting sweet heaven. Her nectar was just as delicious as her scent.
“Oh,” she muttered in a breathy sound, her elegant fingers white-knuckling the edge of the countertop.
“Good God,” he grumbled before swirling his tongue around and around the pert bump of her clit.
If he’d thought to have a quick taste then leave on patrol, he was crazy. One taste just wouldn’t be enough. He had to have her. All of her. Licking. Lapping. Tasting. Touching. Grinding. Pounding. Yes. He had to be inside of her.
Not yet, he told himself, listening to her breath coming faster as he lightly bit and tugged on her excited nub. He flicked her little clit in rapid succession, then sucked.
“Petúr. Oh, God.”
That’s what he wanted—his name on her lips. He rubbed two of his fingers into her feminine juices, barely pumping one into her body, testing and teasing. Another pant, followed by a mew of satisfaction escaped her. When he added the second finger, he stretched her. She was a small woman.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded.
“Never, baby. Never stop.”
Deeper. He knew she needed him to give deeper penetration.
Working her little clit with his tongue, he slid those two fingers up that exquisitely tight channel, feeling her squeeze and pulse around his long digits, then…. He stilled. Every muscle in his body going rigid. He didn’t remove his fingers, but kept them from pressing forward, pulled his head back, and stared up at her until those blue eyes opened and she glanced down at him.
“You’re a virgin?”
“I-I,” she stuttered. Her body going rigid as well. “Yes.”
Chapter Ten
Bell couldn’t sleep, so she aimlessly roamed the castle. This place was huge and the ‘awesome sauce’ kind of awesome. However cool though, she was bored with a capital B. She was used to working nights, closing up at the bar, and going home to eat cold pizza while watching late night TV. With all the lost boys gone, out on their nightly darkling patrol, except for Tera and Byte held up in their control center, and Wyndi of course, who’d gone to bed hours ago, she felt lonely.
She made a popping sound with her lips, swinging her arms. Loneliness led to that pang of being homesick. Not for her crap apartment, but for her real home.
“Maybe I should bug the twins,” she muttered, already strolling into the control center. As soon as she stepped foot over the threshold, she froze. Byte wasn’t there, but Tera was playing God of War on a PS3, only he wasn’t using the controller.
“How are you doing that?” she asked, coming to his side, sincerely curious.
The game stopped and the PlayStation® powered down. Tera smiled wide as he looked at her with his mismatched eyes. “My mind.”
Bell studied him. “You were running the game, strategizing, and playing by using the power of your mind?”
Tera nodded.
“Impressive mind multi-tasking,” she uttered.
“Tera,” Byte called, coming in with a huge bowl of popcorn. “Oh, hey, Bell. Fancy meeting you here at this hour.” He eyed her. “Nice socks.”
She glanced down to see her rainbow toe socks. “Thanks.”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed though?”
“Can’t sleep,” she offered, turning her attention to him. “Tera was just saying he was controlling that PlayStation® with his mind.” She pointed to it. “And you? Can you control electronics with your mind as well?”
“Yep.” Byte plopped down in his chair, placing the way-after-midnight snack on the console table.
She tilted her head, considering. “Can you two communicate telepathically?”
Both of them nodded, but it was Tera who said, “Only with each other. Why?”
“I don’t know.” She flitted over to take a look at the wall poster of… Brittany Spears? She blinked, then twirled around to face them. “I suppose I find you both fascinating.”
“Why thank you, luv,” said Byte, winking at her.
Tera tilted his head in his twin’s direction. “Yeah. What he said.”
She smiled. “Do you mind if I hang out with you guys for a while?”
Tera jumped up. “We’d love the company.” He rolled his chair to her. “Go on. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
Bell sat, and Tera rolled her up to the console, facing the wall of monitors, he standing behind her, hands on the headrest of the chair.
“So, luv,” said Byte. “Since you showed us yours, we’ll show you ours.”
She laughed. “What?”
“Some of your memories. And some of ours.” He waggled his finger at her. “Get your fairy mind out of the gutter.”
The dark screens, which hadn’t been on, powered up.
Bell’s eyes widened. “You can do that? Show me some of your memories?”
Tera nodded, grabbing up a hand full of popcorn. “Sure can.” He and Byte stared ahead, and there, on the three monitors in front of her, she saw Petúr as a boy, his inhumanly beautiful face smudged with dirt, walking along what appeared to be railroad tracks, with his hands tucked into his pockets.
“That’s the first time we saw him,” said Byte.
****
Petúr sat atop the roof of the Lighthouse Inn and scrubbed a palm down his face. Part of him felt like a complete and total shit-heel for leaving Wyndi the way he did, totally unsatisfied, and ticked off at him when he extricated himself from her and covered her delectable body with the damp towel he practically tore from her when she’d come out of the bath.
Part of him was relieved he’d done the right thing. Part of him still burned like a house-a-fire.
“Virgin,” he muttered to himself. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t expect her to be untouched. A little inexperienced, yeah, but being completely inexperienced threw him for a loop. “What do I do with a virgin?”
He shook his head. Apparently, he’d been reduced to talking to himself, and, well, okay he obviously knew what to do with her, but he’d never been with a woman who’d never been with a man before.
Pride washed over him with the thought he would be her first, followed by the soul deep conviction he’d be her last and only. A deep fiery possessiveness struck with that. No other would ever touch her. Taste her. Have her.
“Mine,” he grumbled low in his throat, picturing her spread and glistening for him. Only him.
He licked his lips, remembering her taste, and the warmth of her untouched little pussy. She was pure, liquid fire. Sweet fire, and she was his.
He went over the bathroom scene in his mind. How he stopped himself from taking her, he didn’t know. All right, maybe he did know. Petúr couldn’t very well have Wyndi’s first time happen in a bathroom of all places. No. He’d plan something special. Romantic. Did he even know how to do romantic? He cleared his throat. He’d figure it out.
He pictured them making out, sitting atop one of his favorite bluffs which overlooked the sea. Her body would tremble in his arms. Then for some reason his thoughts segued into having her on his bed, back at the castle.
Slow. That was the ticket. He’d go slow. Savor her. He’d make her come at least twice. No. Three times, he decided. Three would be the magic number before entering her tight little body.
His cock stirred. He closed his eyes and adjusted his shaft. “Settle down boy.”
“What in the hell are you doing?”
Petúr heaved a sigh, eyelids cracking open. “I’m on lookout, Vibe.”
“No. You’re up here with your mind and emotions pinging back and forth over the human.”
Turning to glower at his brother-in-arms, he said, “Wyndi. Not human, or woman, but Wyndi.”
“Oh. Excuse me.” He made a show of bowing his head. “Wyndi then.”
“Screw you.”
Vibe chuckled and popped a squat beside Petúr. “Now there’s the guy we all know and love.”
They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night.
“Vibe?
”
“Yeah?”
“I know this sounds crazy.”
He shut up and squeezed the back of his tense neck with his hand, not sure if he could tell Vibe what Wyndi was to him.
“What does?”
“I’m not human and Wyndi is which worries me, because….”
God, he didn’t want to think the words let alone speak them.
“Because humans age and die,” said Vibe, saying what Petúr didn’t have the strength to.
“Yes. They die.” He paused, experiencing a wrenching ache in his heart. He clenched his fists. “Vibe.” He was going to come clean. “Impossible or not, Wyndi’s my mate.”
“I know.”
Petúr turned to look at his rooftop companion. “You do?”
His friend and brother nodded. “When I was in her head that night in the alley, I saw her connection to you.”
With an arch of his brow Petúr found himself asking, “You saw a connection?”
“Yeah. She’s been dreaming of you. It started when she was a little girl.”
“She told me of her dreams.”
“I followed the forward flow of that dream-memory, breaking through some type of barrier, seeing the same mark on her as you have on your chest.”
He touched the spot over his heart. “She doesn’t carry my mark.”
Vibe slapped Petúr on the back. “She will.”
“Are you saying you saw into the future?”
“Well, brother, I guess only time will tell.”
****
Two days. That’s how long since Petúr last touched me, Wyndi thought with disgust while wiping sweat from her brow. Unless one considered being thrown around like a ragdoll and landing on one’s butt during the marathon ‘kill-a-darkling’ training sessions true touching. Evidently, being a virgin turned him off. Why he no longer wanted her, she had no earthly idea.
“No,” he said, bringing her attention to the fore, hand slicing through the air, forehead crinkled. He circled her, akin to a predatory bird. “You can’t go for the obvious kill. They will expect that.” He stopped behind her. She felt his body heat and took in his scent. The more he perspired, the more he smelt of fresh rain storms. She closed her eyes and drifted in the sensation of him. “You can’t expect them to just stand still either. Some can flash. Most use their magic to transform what you see, trying to trick you or scare you. All of them use their shadow and mist abilities to their advantage.” His booted foot kicked her feet apart, jarring her. Her eyes flew open. “Like this.” He had one hand on her hip, the other sliding up her side, over her shoulder, then latching onto her bare arm. Heaven help her, her nipples were as hard as pebbles, pressing through her bra and tank top. “They have to solidify to strike. When you see them in solid form, bring the blade across and down like this.” He walked her through the slashing/stab movement, pressing his hard body into her back.
Rise of the Lost Prince Page 8
