Naughty Cupid Trilogy

by Pillow Michelle M.

  For a moment, Rhiannon was sure she was dead--gone straight to a fiery eternity and here was the devil himself to greet her. The dark slash of his brows lowered over his narrowing gaze as he studied her. She shivered anew, her breath ragged. Only a devil could command the demons that chased her. Only a devil could make her chilled skin hot by just leaning near her. Only a devil would have such piercing eyes.

  “C-an yo-u un-derstan-d?” Ilar asked carefully in the old language all races knew. It had been a long time since he’d formed the words and they were stilted with the influence of neglect.

  Ilar frowned. He’d just come from bathing in the stream and hadn’t been given time to change. If she continued to stare at his midsection in unmaidenly invitation, her mouth working peculiarly, he’d be tempted to give her something to stare at. She continued to shiver and he sensed she wasn’t about to move.

  Rhiannon trembled, her limbs too weak to do anything else. His was an accent she didn’t readily recognize. His deep voice sounded monstrous--low and harsh, rumbling at her. So why was she waiting to hear it again? She’d heard horror stories about the dark heathen barbarians who lived far into the southern deserts. Maybe, he was one of those. Only, this wasn’t a desert. She’d been told deserts were nothing but leagues of yellow sand.

  Again she glanced over her shoulder to make sure the beasts were gone. They were, but she couldn’t relax. This forceful man before her terrified her nearly as much as the beasts. For a moment, she considered taking back to the stream.

  “Do you control the nietens?” she asked weakly.

  Ilar went rigid at the question. Nieten. The human word for beast. She was a mortal and she insulted his people with her narrow-minded slander. He hadn’t seen a mortal for over three hundred years--not since they closed the gateway between her world and his. A wave of disgust assaulted him. It would seem the humans hadn’t changed.

  “Why are yo-u here, mor-tal?” he spat, his eyes darkening to a near black. The language quickly came back in his anger.

  “Mortal?” She lifted her hand to her face, clearing her matted hair from her eyes to better study him.

  Ilar wasn’t prepared for her beauty. Even splattered and smeared in mud, she had some of the finest features he’d ever seen. Oh, this was bad. If the lycan guards were strained by her mere scent, they’d boil when they saw her attractiveness. This was very, very bad. Sniffing her again, his body hardened and his resolve weakened. No mortal he’d ever heard of emitted such a potent pheromone on their own. Black magic was definitely at work. But whose? And why?

  “Is that what your people call my kind, heathen?” she asked.

  Nieten? Heathen? Ilar thought with disgust. He was tempted to teach this little human a lesson in manners. He wondered what he should do with her. He didn’t really want to take her home with him, but he was afraid he might not have a choice. He couldn’t very well just leave her in the forest for the men to fight over.

  “You are from the Holy Land?” She looked up at him when he didn’t move to speak.

  “I am no-t,” he answered, not completely understanding what she meant by her question.

  “Oh,” Rhiannon sighed. Her body hurt and she wanted to weep. She was very aware of his inspection of her. She looked down, knowing she must appear dreadful. Seeing her wet gown, stained and ripped beyond repair, she shuddered violently. For a moment, she thought about falling to the stone and waiting for death. Seeing his severe brown gaze, she held back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to die by the devil’s side.

  “I think I have died,” Rhiannon said, truthfully. There was no other explanation for it. “I think you must be the devil.”

  At that, Ilar grinned, a slow curling expression that claimed his face--though it wasn’t pleasure that radiated there. Feeling a discontent amongst the lycan who lingered in the forest, he knew he had to get her out of the open air. Her scent was drifting downwind and the others were again picking up her trail. The mind link screamed with their discontent, echoing faintly in his head. If they came back, he wouldn’t wish to fight them all.

  “That,” he stated gruffly, watching her shake in fear of him. He leaned to grab her arm and hauled her back to her feet. “Is the first thing yo-u have said that makes any sense.”

  * * * *

  Cupid fumed from his perch on the tree, watching Ilar with the woman. Why wasn’t he trying to mate with her? Was the human too ugly for even his magic? No, that was impossible. Such old love magic made men blind to such things and all Ilar was supposed to see was his lust as it consumed him in madness.

  The lycan guards had been willing to fight to the death over her. Cupid had been giddy with excitement to see them come running from the bathing pool to track her down. When she cupped the water to her face, she must have sent her scent downstream to the bathing lycans. It all went according to plan--well, until Lord Ilar showed himself. Too bad the Commander sent the lycans off. It had been proving to be a great show.

  Cupid absently stuck a finger up his nose and dug about in the depths. Without stopping to think, he pushed the same finger into his tiny ear and poked it around. As he watched, Ilar pulled the woman up before him. When the bold lycan Commander roughly led the mortal away, Cupid’s happy grin widened. Maybe the philter worked after all. It looked as if Lord Ilar was going to take the ugly human home.

  Lightheaded with excitement, the troll hopped up and down, forgetting he perched high up on a tree branch. With a grunt of surprise, he fell back and tumbled heavily to the forest floor.

  Chapter Two

  Rhiannon gasped as the devilish man jerked her to her feet. Her knees gave as she tried to stand, and she dipped down before he jerked her harder. He didn’t give her time to collect herself before brusquely forcing her to walk beside him. Was he angry with her? If so, for what reason? She couldn’t tell by his blank expression.

  The grip tightened on her arm and he walked faster, leading her along the shoreline. Everything passed by, surreal and dreamlike. The trees were unchanging along the trail, more of the same odd red. The stream bent and curved in the ground.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice was frail, breathless.

  The handsome, half-naked stranger didn’t readily answer and, when the words finally came, they were abrasive. “I am taking yo-u from the forest. It is not safe for yo-u here.”

  Ilar studied the woman from the corner of his eye, as he dragged her along side of him. He gripped her slender arm, his hand like a manacle. She tripped, trying to keep up with his longer stride. The lycan guards were circling closer, coming back to see her. Gritting his teeth, he frowned as a waft of her potently erotic scent hit him full force. It would seem the magical enticement on her only increased with time. This was serious.

  “I want to go home,” Rhiannon told him, again tripping on her own feet as she tried to keep up. The rocks poked at her soles and it was hard to walk with sharp jabs digging into her flesh. She glanced at his bare feet. He didn’t seem to have the same problem. “I’m sure my father will reward you greatly for your kindness, Sir Knight, in returning me.”

  Rhiannon did her best not to stare at the man’s naked body wrapped indecently in the cloth. She saw his butt moving beneath the thin material, mesmerizing her and making her weak in a strange, new way. Below his sculpted navel, a thick protrusion moved with his body as he walked. She wondered at it, finally concluding it must be a knife.

  Rhiannon’s eyes burned where the dirt still gritted beneath her eyelids and it was getting harder to keep them open. The hand on her flexed, pulling her along as if she were a feather. Her attention was drawn to his grip. The man’s bicep was lean muscle--not too large and definitely not too small--as was the rest of him. His ease and power frightened her.

  “Please, may I go home now?” she begged softly, worn from her strange ordeal. At her feeble plea, the man stopped to study her. She tried to free her arm from his grasp, but he didn’t let her go. Rhiannon wasn’t sure how much farther she could walk. She�
�d never wanted to collapse upon the ground so badly in her life.

  Ilar frowned at her deceiving nature. Her wide eyes looked up at him with innocence. He doubted she was innocent. She was human, after all. Humans had tried to hunt his kind into extinction and all because of a few rogue wolves who’d developed a taste for human blood. The rest of them had been peaceful, hunting wild animals in the forest like their natural ancestors and only attacking humans when first provoked. It had been a bloody battle and Ilar had lost many friends. It wasn’t something he wanted to relive.

  In the end, it was decided the realms should be forever separated. The lycans weren’t the only ones to leave the world of mortals. The vampires, who were also hunted because of their ‘unnatural’ ways, had come with them. As did all things of magic--elves, fairies, even the goblins and trolls. They left the realm of humans, tired of being trapped and forced to use magic for mankind’s gain. Then it was believed that humans would kill themselves off. It wasn’t to be so. To everyone’s amazement, the humans thrived.

  Ilar knew a few portals between the realms remained. But, until now, no human had ever found a way to cross over them. From what he understood, it should have been impossible. The doors on the mortal side were locked with the strong magic and charms of all immortal races. The only way was for one from the magical realm to go through and bring her back. But to what end? Who would ignore the pact of the covenants that protected them from human greed for the last three hundred years? There was nothing to be gained by it.

  “How did yo-u come to be here?” he asked, unable to stop the question. Her pheromone scent reeled him in, tempting him to step toward her. Ilar had the strangest urge to kiss the muddied she-creature and mate with her like a wild animal. He wondered what she’d do if he ripped the linen from his waist and threw her to the ground. He resisted, disgusted that he could even feel such lust for a human. His breathing became hard, flaring his nostrils as he fought for control.

  “I do not know where here is,” Rhiannon said.

  Ilar’s long hair had dried, blowing over his shoulders to reach for her. His gaze narrowed in on her mouth. Her eyes darted back and forth, revealing how nervous she was at his attention, and she again tried to jerk her arm free. He squeezed her harder, stopping when she cried out in pain.

  “Mm.” He began walking once more, taking a furious pace. He heard the restless howls of the lycans in his brain. They drew closer, unhampered by the thought of their leader’s wrath. It was like they were mindless with lust. Sniffing her again, Ilar frowned. He could definitely see why. Her pull was ten times stronger than a cart full of naked lycan females in heat.

  Ilar took the long way around to Lycaon, going toward the back entrance of the castle. It wouldn’t do to parade this walking enticement through the front gate. If the men of their kind wanted to mate with her, the women of his kind would surely want to kill her. Competition was fierce for they were a fierce people and, with her strange curse, she’d be in for it from both sexes.

  Maybe, I should just let them kill her and be done with it, he thought. It was a tempting idea. Even as he considered it, he knew he couldn’t. He was the Commander of the Lycan Guard. It was his duty to discover who sent her and why. If she was killed, he wouldn’t get the answers he needed. If the humans had found a way to cross over, they needed to know. It could be disastrous for their realm. And if someone plotted against the lycan, then he needed to know that as well.

  Rhiannon tripped behind him in silence. Her bare feet rubbed raw against the rough texture of the forest floor. Twigs and seeds stabbed up into her tender flesh until she was bleeding. The breeze hit her wet gown, making her stiff with cold. Seeing the man’s rising anger, she thought better than to complain. She thought of running, but something told her he would catch her. He knew this forest. She didn’t. Besides, there were beasts much more frightening looming within the trees.

  Suddenly, the forest changed, growing darker as they came upon a gray wall of uneven stone blocks. It was colder in the shade, causing her to shake violently. Ilar stopped, letting her go. She fell into the wall, her face near a trail of vines that grew over the crevices, sprouting little blue flower buds over the surface.

  Rhiannon gripped the wall to hold herself up. Her lids dipped over her eyes. She ripped absently at the vines seeking support. Her feet pulsated and her head felt strange, as if a swelling grew from the back of it. Gingerly, she felt into her muddied locks. There was definitely a bump the size of a robin’s egg. She flinched, as she pressed into it, turning to the strange man in curiosity. “Who are you?”

  Ilar felt along the wall. Fitting his finger into a notch, he murmured an incantation and waited as the wall parted to let him through. Rhiannon gasped as the stone melted apart like liquid. She stumbled away from him, eyeing him and then the wall warily. She wobbled on her feet. Her wide eyes looked at him as if he were going to ravish her.

  “I thought we already established I was the devil.” Ilar smirked. If it had been any other situation, he would have enjoyed putting a bit of fear into her, as he played along with the little ‘game’ she set before him. The lycan liked to play such games--anything to excite the blood and race the heart. Detecting the slight tensing of her shoulders, and knowing she was going to run from him before she even took a step, he frowned and shot forward to grasp her arm.

  Oh she was entertaining all right, but the effect she had on his senses was starting to wear on him. Too bad he didn’t have a current lover. He would have liked to slake his unexpected desires, easing the thick pain of his arousal inside a warm sheath. He looked the muddy temptress over, eyeing her slender waist. It would be so easy to take her. She was frail, trembling, and small. He bet her body would fit around him nicely, as he pressed her up against the bailey wall. Her fear called out to the hunter in him, but the man in him held back.

  “Come,” he ordered, exasperated beyond belief and not liking his fantasy one bit. He pulled her back to his chest, intent on keeping her close.

  Rhiannon drew a quick breath, holding it as his touch stung her with its force. She stiffened and a weak moan of surprise left her throat. His warmth soaked along her spine and her chilled skin eagerly drank of his heat. His hair whipped over her, hitting across her neck in silken threads. A dark lock caught between her panting lips. A shockwave of pleasure coursed throughout her at his nearness. She neared a swoon, welcoming the lightheaded feeling.

  “Stay by my side and try not to draw notice.” His gruff voice pulled her back to reality. By his tone, Rhiannon got the impression he didn’t think such a thing was possible. He thrust her to his side, looking her over with a sigh of disgust.

  Ilar stepped through the opening in the wall. She tried to pull away from him, apprehensively eyeing the doorway. He grumbled in annoyance, yanking her through it. Gasping, she called out in loud surprise.

  At the sound of her voice, the inhabitants turned to stare at them. Rhiannon gulped, staring back. She was glad her hair fell into her face because it hid her fear from view.

  They stood in a bailey yard before an enormous castle. The battlements circled around the bailey, disappearing in the distance. Square turrets were built in intervals along the outer face, standing tall as lookout towers. A stone house encased the gated entrance. The gate was up so people could walk through it freely. The place was grand, like no other she’d ever seen. Whoever ruled here was indeed very powerful. The wall grew shut behind her and she jolted in noisy alarm, letting loose a high-pitched gasp.

  “Yo-u call that not drawing notice?” Ilar grunted in displeasure. He was all too aware of the strange light falling over the men’s eyes as they looked at the mortal. He detected her fear easily and knew the natural hunter inside his fellow lycan would be stirred to greater degrees because of it.

  Thankfully, they were in the outer yard by the side gate where only a few of the guard stood watch. The men inquisitively eyed his almost naked state. Their nostrils flared, catching the woman’s scent, knowing h
e hadn’t taken her as his lover. Until she was claimed, she was open territory. Their eyes lit in instant battle, ready to fight mindlessly to obtain her.

  Rhiannon was unaware of the effect she had on the men. They all eyed her, the stranger in their midst, with a look akin to hunger. She gazed back, disturbed by them--and not only by their overbold stares. The men were indecently clad in a draping tunic that fell to the top of the knee. The large square pieces were arranged around the shoulders and held in place by a plain brooch. Some didn’t even have a brooch, just a wrapping of thick material. Arms and a shoulder were left bare, making no mistake that these men could part from their clothing at a moment’s notice. Calves were left naked, some cross-strapped with leather bands coming from short boots.

  “Are you Scots?” Rhiannon asked suddenly, having seen the tartans of the highlanders. These men’s tunics were of a plain color--ranging in earthy tones--and not the plaid patterns of the Scottish clans.

  She slowly crept closer to Ilar’s side, almost hugging herself to his arm when another of the men slowly smiled at her. It was a hard, wolf-like grin that grew leisurely over his features. His lips parted as if he would pounce atop her frail body and bite into her flesh.

  Ilar frowned. A burly guard aggressively stepped forward, as if to make a move for her. He lowered his jaw and silently warned him to back away. The man held rigid, watching the woman closely. Ilar led her past.

  “Stay close to my side if you value your life, human,” Ilar ordered darkly. Seeing a mated lycan, he telepathically urged him after his clothes by the stream. The man nodded, unaffected by the enchanted woman, and took off to do as he was bid. Ilar knew there was no point in trying to break through to the others with the woman so close at hand. They were beyond reason and the mind link was blocked because of it.