Naughty Cupid Trilogy

by Pillow Michelle M.

  “Magic?” Rhiannon gasped weakly, before laughing. “No, it isn’t possible.”

  A sinister brow rose on his manly face. He did nothing to convince her.

  He’s way too handsome for his own good, Rhiannon thought cautiously. Unbidden, the feel of his mouth came back to her breast and her skin jumped at the memory. His eyes narrowed, as if he knew her thoughts. Rhiannon swallowed, mortified to be thinking them. What was wrong with her? She didn’t want a man, any man. She wanted freedom, freedom to run about her father’s keep.

  “Say I believe you,” she said, trying to bring their thoughts back to the problem at hand. “Why did you bring me here? What is it you want?”

  “I did not bring you,” he answered darkly. He put his hands on his hips, drawing her eyes to the slight bulge that still stood beneath the material of his tunic. “Nor did I invite you. Your kind is not welcomed here, mor-tal.”

  “My kind?” she gasped, confused. Eyeing him cautiously, she wasn’t sure she wanted her next questions answered. “Why do you keep speaking as if we’re different? What are you? Where have you taken me? What is this place?”

  Ilar smiled, coming up with an idea. Maybe if she looked at him with complete fear, he’d be able to tamp back his sexual craving for her, though the bloodlust would only serve to stir the hunter in him. It couldn’t hurt to try, though the way his body pulsated with need, he doubted anything would tame the sizzling lust. Ilar could well control the hunter. It was the man he was having a hard time reining in.

  With that in mind, he stalked toward her. A deadly expression settled on his face. He crawled on all fours onto the bed. When he was close to her, nearly coming above her slender body, he looked deeply into her eyes.

  “I’m Lord Ilar, Commander of the Lycans,” he said with a dark rumble that left her feeling faint and extremely fragile. “And you, my dear mor-tal, have just entered into the den of the man-beast.”

  Ilar didn’t care for the term man-beast, but it was one her kind would recognize.

  Rhiannon barely heard his words before his gaze filled with a liquid gold, slivering until the color completely overtook his eyes. His face elongated slightly, growing with fine dark hair. His mouth parted to show dangerously long, sharp teeth. Ilar didn’t shift himself completely, but only enough so she got his meaning. It didn’t take long for him to receive the scream he expected.

  Rhiannon yelled at the top of her lungs, violently pulling back from him. This creature is what had touched her so intimately? Those teeth had been latched to her breast? With a gasp, she fell off the side of the bed, landing on her tailbone in a bruising smack against the stone. Her scream turned into a groan of pain, but she didn’t stop as she crawled backwards, dragging the wool coverlet with her. Only stopping as her retreat was blocked by the stone of the wall, she froze, huddled as far from him as she could get. Her hand swept against the stone, looking for a weapon that was not there.

  “You cannot exist,” she said in denial, clutching the wool to her chest. But the truth was right there before her. It all added up--the nietens at the stream, the magical opening in the wall, the frightening voice in her tower bedchamber before she blacked out--how could she have forgotten that until now? Then, seeing his eyes, still shining with golden threat, she shivered. It was as he said. She was somehow in a world of magic. “This place cannot be real. It is not... possible. I must be mad. I’ve gone insane.”

  “Do you need me to demonstrate how real I can be?” he charged, standing from the bed to tower over her from the side. He lifted his hand to his shoulder and part of him hoped she’d say yes. She didn’t. Instead, she shook her head in furious denial.

  “No, I believe you,” she said, terrified.

  “Good.” He dropped his hand and let his face shift back to man, only keeping his eyes the same golden hue. “Believe this, mortal. I’m your master so long as you are here. If you even dare to disobey me, I will punish you. You will not leave this tower without my permission. Mark me, I will find who brought you here and I will discover why.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she blustered, refusing to be such a coward. She rediscovered her backbone at his arrogant tone. What had happened to her that she’d turned into such a weakling? Sitting taller, she didn’t get up from the floor. “I’m not afraid of your punishments, nieten! I do not recognize you as my master.”

  At that Ilar chuckled, very aroused by her outburst. Letting his eyes darken back to a devilish brown, he said enigmatically, “You should be frightened, mortal. Though I find much amusement in your show of strength, it does not change things.”

  “What are you going to do? Beat me?” she spat venomously. “I have no fear of death or pain. Say what you will, but I will not cower before you!”

  “It would be more convincing if you were not huddled on the floor,” he informed her.

  She tried to stand, but merely ended up staring up at him.

  “Who said anything about my punishment being one of pain?” He stepped toward her, knowing the moment his meaning sunk in.

  Rhiannon’s eyes widened. Her mouth gaped and she recoiled. “You would dare to ravish me? But, it won’t work. You are a... a beast! We cannot possibly--oh.”

  His low chuckle stopped her words. The look in his eyes said that their coupling most definitely could work. To her shame, she remembered that it had in fact been working. He pursed his lips together, clucking in disapproval of her words. In a tone so wickedly soft, he said, “When I take you it will not be rape, mortal. I will touch you in ways that will easily bend you to my resolve. You will crawl around on your knees for me. You will long for me, beg for me. You will beg to have this beast inside you. You will publicly be branded as my lover.”

  “You mean your whore.” The fire had dried his hair straight and she had the strangest urge to touch the flowing locks, wrapping them around her wrists as a way to control him. “I’ll never submit to you in such a way, nieten. Send me home. I have no wish to be here. My presence can be of no advantage to you. Send me home or I will make you sorry.”

  “Do not raise challenges you do not wish met,” he warned. “Unlike you, mortal, we lycans thrive on challenge.”

  “Quit calling me mortal, beast. My name is Lady Rhiannon of Weilshire. You will treat me according to my station!”

  “You have no power here, mortal,” he dismissed her claim easily. “Nor does your human ranking matter. You would do very well to remember that in the future.”

  Rhiannon grumbled under her breath. He was right, of course. She didn’t have any power in this strange place and she was far too weak from her ordeal to come up with a proper plan of action. She had to think. She had to be smart. Yelling at the man-beast wasn’t very smart.

  Ilar saw her head drop slightly. The battle was over for now and he wanted nothing more than to get far away from her tempting presence. Already his body sought a release he couldn’t claim. He might threaten, but he couldn’t mate with her without careful consideration of the consequences. Once the news of her presence got out, he’d have a lot of explaining to do. He only hoped he could come up with the right answers.

  Ilar leaned over to grab a pair of his boots. Without a backward glance, he left her cowering alone in the bedchamber. Cursing bitterly, he slammed the door and locked it resolutely behind him.

  Chapter Three

  “What is this infernal racket?” King Larus yelled, glaring past the giant circular pit of flames that lit the council hall. He sat atop a long stone table, rubbing wearily at his temples. His eyes bore into Lord Ilar. Slowly, he lowered his arm to lie along his crossed legs.

  Ilar’s mouth pulled up at the side. He knew that the elected King sometimes chose to hide out in the council hall when he had a lot on his mind. The hall was dead silent. They were the only two in the room. What Larus was referring to was the restlessness searing through their brains. The mind link was now overflowing with discontent. Through the growling, he’d heard the King’s faint call to him.


  “You haven’t smelled her?” Ilar inquired, wryly, answering in the more comfortable fit of their shared language. His body still churned with the aftereffects of his encounter with the delectably soft--ugh--with the infuriating mortal.

  “Smelled...?” Larus began, only to scowl. He gave a dark look, furrowing his brows, as he roared, “Is that what this is about? A female? I will have the entire guard hanged by their front paws for this nonsense! No female could be worth such insanity. I don’t care if she’s in heat and dripping pheromone.”

  Ilar nodded, unable to help his grin. His mind turned to the mud-covered maiden in his bedchamber. Even now when he was away from her, he felt her lingering temptation. He had half a mind to join in the others’ howling. He held firm, staying quiet.

  “Where is she now?” Larus grumbled. “Naked, out on the exercise field, doing a dance of seduction?”

  “No, she’s locked safely away in my bedchamber,” Ilar answered.

  “You don’t say?” the King smiled roguishly. “You’ve claimed her then? Did my call bring you away from her? Pray tell, if that is the case, I will gladly send you to finish your task.”

  “No,” Ilar answered, his grin fading. He remembered all too well the feel of her soft body and the sweet taste of her breast, the slick, hot feel of her... oh, this was bad. He forced a deep breath. He also recalled her fear of him. Larus saw the Commander’s look and chuckled. Ilar continued, “I thought it better than anywhere else. At least there she’s locked away from causing mischief.”

  A particularly loud howling sounded, making them both flinch. This was getting to be too much. The mind link was normally reserved for communicating in lycan form, not laying thought to sexual frustration and obsession.

  “Ah, curse it all!” Larus snarled. His lean body leapt up from the table and he landed gracefully on his feet. His draping green tunic and cloak ruffled slightly as he moved. The gold embroidery around the edges weighed down the ends. “They break the mind link with this unrest. I won’t stand to have our communication disrupted. What if there was an emergency? All our lives would be put in danger. I called to you nigh fifteen minutes afore you answered.”

  Ilar turned to follow Larus as he moved to go through the side door. They came to a long empty stone passageway that would take them toward the weapons chamber. Torches burned in sconces along the wall, casting eerie shadows. The King was right, of course. Ilar had thought of the same thing.

  Larus’s lighter features lifted slightly with a small grin. Clapping his friend on the back, he stated, “It has been awhile since you had a lover, Ilar. Do us all a kindness and bind her to you. I would consider it a royal favor if you put an end to this noise. Once I can again think, we will further discuss this matter. I relieve you of your duty until this particular duty is done.”

  “I don’t think it’s wise for me to claim her. She—” Ilar began.

  “Ah,” Larus laughed. “You can’t tell me you don’t want her. She must be a true find if she has the whole Lycan Guard on edge. Pray, put us out of our misery afore I have a chance to smell her. Or order one of your men to do the deed. I care not, just—”

  “She’s human,” Ilar stated bluntly. His eyes narrowed.

  Larus skidded to a stop and for a long moment did not move. His face fell, all traces of amusement gone. “Human? Impossible. She cannot be full blood.” He turned to study his friend. “You’re positive? She’s not just an elfling-human half breed from the old days? You did not mistake her scent? It has been a long time since any of us have smelled the mortals.”

  “I’m sure. She’s mortal. Full blooded.” Ilar frowned, sharing a dark look with the King. His eyes glittered gold. He quietly told him everything that had happened, leaving out the ‘body-warming.’ “I believe someone has placed a curse upon her, making her irresistible to our kind. You should have seen the way the men fought over her when I found her near the bathing pool. Toa and Fal were ready to battle to the death to claim her. When I walked her inside, I was afraid I’d have to crush their skulls to keep them at bay. Whatever her reason for being here, it isn’t good.”

  “You are right, of course, Commander. This isn’t a good sign. It means one has dared to open the portals to the human world,” Larus said softly. “Do you think the vampires would be so bold?”

  “I have thought of them,” Ilar admitted. There was no love lost between the vampire clans and the lycans. “But there is no proof. I don’t think they would be so defiant of the race covenant.”

  “Does this human have a name?” Larus asked, thoughtful.

  “Lady Rhiannon of Weilshire,” Ilar answered, getting the cheerless curse he expected.

  “It had to be a human noble,” Larus said. His dark eyes narrowed in deep thought, sparking with gold. “Why couldn’t it have been a peasant? If I remember correctly, the humans put more stock into the lives of their nobles. I don’t suppose that has changed in the last three hundred years.”

  “I’d have great cause to think the mortals are very much the same.” Ilar frowned. “She seemed to believe her title would give her privilege.”

  “Is her family one of power? Is this something we need to be concerned about?”

  “Beyond her own self-importance, I cannot tell you.”

  “You must discover where she came from and why, afore the other races blame us for her presence.” Larus sighed heavily. “Whoever did this could have known our mind link would be disrupted. I’ll close the gates and put the castle on alert until this is resolved. I’ll also speak to the men. Hopefully, when they know what is happening, they will be able to resist her siren’s pull. I’m sorry, my friend, but I leave her under your guard. She is your first responsibility. See that she stays out of trouble. Until we know why she’s here, we cannot let harm befall her.”

  Ilar nodded. He had feared that would be the case.

  “Let us just hope the effects of the spell will wear off once she has been locked away for awhile,” Larus said, again scowling as loud grunts sounded in his brain.

  With concentration they could quiet the noise, but it took a lot of energy to block it completely. It was energy the busy King couldn’t expend. Not to mention that doing so was dangerous. If there was a call to arms, they would need to hear it. They would just have to live with the noise for now.

  Ilar grimly nodded. He couldn’t ignore a royal decree. Lady Rhiannon, the human, was his responsibility.

  * * * *

  Rhiannon let loose a long breath of contentment as steam rose over her body. Staying true to his word, Ilar had sent a bath for her. What he forgot to mention was that it would be delivered by a horde of little winged fairies. She almost fainted when the door unlocked and a bath came flying into the bedchamber, seemingly unattended.

  The fairies had buzzed around her head, checking her out, wrinkling their naturally upturned noses in distaste at the wool coverlet she wore for clothes. They all wore beautiful gowns that glistened like stars. She couldn’t understand what they said but heard the words ‘human’ and ‘mortal’ a few times followed by impertinent giggles and hair pulls.

  Rhiannon was again locked inside the tower prison when the winged creatures left. The chamber wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was much better than her previous quarters in her father’s tower. She could not miss the irony that she had exchanged one tower prison for another. Only this time her jailer was much more intimidating.

  Judging from the trunks of male clothing, she guessed it was Ilar’s bedchamber she stayed in. She wondered innocently where he would spend the night, being as she now had his quarters. His threat of making her his whore still stung. However, after careful reflection, she thought that he just tried to scare her into submission. She had been rather waspish with him and he did save her from the man-beasts at the stream.

  Even if she was a mor-tal, as he so willingly spat, she was a noblewoman. Surely even this race, with their comforts so close to her own, would respect the position of a lady. If she did not d
well too long on the fact that she was in a magical world, in a place priests warned about, she could begin to think logically about her predicament. Besides, the whole ‘coming together’ probably wouldn’t work being as they were obviously made so differently.

  “It is not so hard to believe that I have come to a land of magic,” she said to herself. “I have known of its existence all my life. It is no more improbable than being taken prisoner by the Scots.”

  Perhaps after the layer of mud was cleansed from her skin and hair, he’d be better able to see her true ranking. Rhiannon smiled at the thought. Yes, once he was convinced she was truly a noblewoman, he would be honor bound to take her back home. It was a simple enough plan. She had never been accused of being anything but a lady.

  As the hot bath water soaked into her tired bones, she stopped to look around. The flames in the large fireplace burned brightly, casting the gray walls in a golden light. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. The room really was spacious, doubling as a sort of bower. Beautifully carved high backed chairs with plush cushioned seats were near a long slotted window. Next to the chairs was a carved table of dark wood. Strange rugs lined beneath the window, made from a type of wool. She imagined, being man-wolves, they wouldn’t favor using pelts to decorate their chambers.

  In the corner there was an old chest. It had a thick iron lock on the front. Curiosity piqued, she bit her lip trying to determine whether or not she could pick the latch. In the end, she decided it would be best not to pillage his belongings for the time being.

  Rolling back her head, she closed her eyes. Rhiannon wondered if her father knew she was missing yet. She hoped he didn’t worry too much. Agrona would undoubtedly be pleased to hear it.

  Rhiannon scrunched up her face, wondering if her sister had anything to do with her current situation. Then, deciding Agrona knew even less of the black arts than she did, she dismissed the idea. Agrona may not like her most days, but she would never hurt her.