Naughty Cupid Trilogy

by Pillow Michelle M.

  Ilar swallowed. His eyes rolled in his head as he thought about her. “I will be fine. I just need a moment to recuperate. She took me off guard. I will not let it happen again. Besides, someone has to keep watch over her.”

  “You do not look well,” Larus put forth. Indeed, his friend was looking a little gray. “Are you sure I shouldn’t send another to tend her?”

  Ilar scowled, not liking the idea of another being in her presence, another tempted to kiss her, another tempted to touch her soft body. Growling a bit too harshly, he stated, “No. I will tend to her. She’s my responsibility.”

  Larus was taken aback by the swift possessiveness that came with the statement. Slowly, he nodded his head. “All right, it will be as you wish. But, if I think she’s affecting your judgment, I’ll lock you away with the others.”

  Ilar nodded, not answering. He couldn’t. His mind was beginning to drift to the key he kept in his tunic. It’d be so easy to go back up there and claim her. The temptation was great. Surely it would end this madness if he just...

  It was unthinkable.

  “I have sent the unmated women away to Fenris. They aggravated the men with their bloodlust. I sent word to Malak that he was to receive them and watch them.” Larus sighed. Ilar didn’t seem to be listening. His head was turned to the ceiling in the direction of the mortal.

  To the King’s surprise, Ilar answered, “Very wise. Malak will undoubtedly be happy to have his court overrun with women. For a man who does not wish for a lifemate, he sure takes pleasure in having women about him.”

  “We could send him this woman,” Larus mused, teasing. He was rewarded with a dark, overprotective snarl. The King’s brows furrowed. He’d seen some of the other men. They didn’t have that same gleam to their eyes. With the others, it was pure, hot, animalistic lust that boiled them. With Ilar, it appeared to be something more. Larus frowned. Maybe being in close proximity to the human was having a harder effect on the Commander.

  “I wouldn’t risk taking her back out in the open,” Ilar answered instead, never realizing Larus was joking. He again stared at the ceiling. Hearing a new wave of anguish invading his pounding head, he added, “You had better put them into separate cells, lest they take it to mind to battle.”

  Larus nodded in silent agreement.

  Sighing heavily as a wave of yearning washed over him anew, Ilar grumbled to the King, “I am going to the practice field. I need to burn off this energy.”

  Larus watched his friend storm away, twitching angrily as he moved. Swallowing, he tried to use the mind link to call to the mated guards to start rounding up the affected ones. The mind link was full of lustful howls and he cursed. Striding across the main hall of the castle, Larus went to find them for himself.

  * * * *

  Rhiannon eyed the empty tray with satisfaction. She had finished off every last bite of food and her stomach thanked her repeatedly with contented purrs and gurgles of pleasure. She’d been famished, more so than she’d realized. Taking up a wooden goblet, she finished the last of the sweet berry wine as well.

  Her stomach filled, she yawned, stretching her hands over her head. From the looks of the dark purple sky outside, it had to be getting later in the day. She studied the large bed, debating only a little, before crawling onto its thick inviting folds. The fresh bedding was warm from the fireplace and she nestled contentedly beneath the coverlet and linens, burrowing into the downy mattress. Within moments, she was fast asleep.

  * * * *

  Cupid’s wrinkled troll face lit with pleasure to see the havoc he wrought on all of Lycaon. Ah, revenge had never been sweeter. His body pumped, eager for the day he could reveal to Lord Ilar that it was he who entranced the entire Lycan Guard, bringing them to their knees with burning lust.

  Seeing the howling men being dragged off to the prisons, he did a little jig of glee, dancing unnoticed over the tower wall. The lycan fought viciously amongst themselves and even Ilar had to break up his fair share of the battles.

  Lord Ilar wasn’t immune to the human. He detected the Commander’s dark look from across the bailey yard. The potion worked so much better than planned. Rubbing his hands together, Cupid chuckled. It wouldn’t be long until Ilar mated himself to the disgusting mortal. Then the spell would be broken and Ilar would see what he had done!

  Cupid laughed louder, a delighted sound. His squat legs pumped faster beneath his dirt covered breeches. All of a sudden, he stubbed his toe on a jutted rock and tripped off the wall. Tumbling head over feet, the troll landed hard on his stomach and banged his overlarge nose.

  Chapter Four

  The affected lycans were put into the prisons. Ilar didn’t have a choice. He’d broken up their fights all evening. Some had even been so bold as to challenge him for his position. It wasn’t a challenge he could refuse, but he could put it off until a later date. Hopefully, the foolish men would retract their words and Ilar wouldn’t be forced to rip their throats from their necks.

  Those who hadn’t smelled the human were unaltered, but the disturbance in the mind link made the remaining men boorish and short of temper. They didn’t relish imprisoning their comrades to accommodate a mere human. There were several who even went so far as to suggest they kill the mortal intruder and be done with it. Ilar only stayed their intent by saying that the curse was so strong the others might want her even in death. The idea was so distasteful that the call to arms was immediately withdrawn.

  As he made his way resignedly to his bedchamber, Ilar knew he was a glutton for punishment. He should spend the night alone in one of the guest rooms, but he didn’t want to chance there being an attack on the mortal while he slept. The only way to ensure Rhiannon’s safety throughout the night was to be by her side. It was going to be pure hell.

  To his surprise, she was already asleep on his bed when he came into the room. Her lips were parted in rest. He instantly remembered their soft texture against his mouth. She looked like an angel, her long golden curls twisting around her oval face, spilling softly over her shoulders and breasts, off the side of the bed. She still wore the green tunic gown and it hugged to her curves, tangling with the bedcovers she’d thrown from her body. Her bare feet hung off the side of the bed.

  All of a sudden, he frowned. Stalking noiselessly around the bed, he looked at her feet. The soles were bruised almost purple and several angry scratches puckered along the bottoms. How had he not noticed it before? Seeing an angry gash on her arch, curling around the side, he knew she must have gotten the injury as he dragged her to Lycaon from the stream. She hadn’t complained once. Eyeing her with grudging respect, he realized she was much tougher than he had been willing to give her credit for.

  Going to his trunk, he searched the contents for a salve. He rarely used the healing cream and had a hard time finding it. Finally, discovering a fisyk at the bottom corner, he pulled it out. Grabbing a chair, he moved it to the side of the bed and sat by her feet.

  With a light finger, he stroked the cream over her wounds. Her foot twitched slightly at the touch, but she didn’t awaken. Ilar concentrated on his task, being extra sensitive of the deeper gashes. When he finished his painstaking care, he glanced at her. Her blue eyes were open, staring at him in sleepy puzzlement.

  He frowned at being caught. Lifting the small jar, he stated, “It will help.”

  Rhiannon glanced at her feet and slowly drew them back on the bed, away from him. She hadn’t forgotten their last meeting. The proof of it was still marred on her bottom lip. Swallowing, as if frightened more by his tenderness than his gruff ways, she said weakly, “Thank you.”

  Ilar didn’t like her softening tone and quickly stood. Throwing the jar unceremoniously on top of his clothing, he shut the lid. “Do not read too much into it. You are my prisoner and I’m duty bound to make sure you stay relatively healthy.”

  “Prisoner,” she repeated, her mind seeming to linger on that one word. The pleasure faded from her features to be replaced by ire. She rolled he
r eyes heavenward at him. Turning on the bed, so her back faced him, she stated, “Well, if you are done, get out of my prison. I want to sleep.”

  “This is my chamber,” he said carefully.

  It took a moment for his words to enter her troubled mind. When they did, she shot up on the bed. Looking him over, she clutched the covers to her chest as if he meant to attack that very instant.

  “You cannot sleep here,” she denied. Then, lacking any better defense, she added, “It is not... proper.”

  “Again, mortal,” he mused, delighting in the way her face darkened in anger at the word mortal. “You have no say here. And propriety does not concern masters and their prisoners. I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter.”

  “W-well,” she stammered weakly.

  To her horror, he unclasped the brooch on his shoulder and swung the draping tunic off his body. The material slid to the floor, leaving him completely naked. Her eyes instantly took in his firm butt.

  Ilar stretched his arms over his head. His tight, bronzed body flexed wickedly as his weight shifted, dimpling the cheek in the most roguish of ways. The muscles drew up along his spine as he moved. He grinned, instinctively knowing she would be watching as he gave her a little show.

  A creeping blush made Rhiannon turn away to hide beneath a veil of blonde curls. Belatedly, she finished, proving to Ilar that he’d been right--she definitely had been watching. “Yo-you cannot mean to sleep in the bed with me.”

  “This is my bed,” he stated easily. He turned to her, completely comfortable in his nakedness. He flung the covers back and made a move to crawl slowly in. Again, he kept his movements purposeful, stalking, flexing ever so slightly in all the right ways to draw her eyes where he wanted them. Her round gaze dutifully traveled where he wished it to, making their heated way over his form.

  Rhiannon gasped in noisy protest when he drew nearer, a grin on his parted lips. A strange tingling began on her skin. She tried to edge off the side, away from him.

  Ilar watched her tremble in the most modest way he had ever seen. He darted his hand out, keeping her from escaping the bed. He pulled her by her hips into his naked embrace.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, lowering his tone into a playful murmur. She instantly stiffened.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor,” she announced, but her words lacked conviction. “If you are not gentleman enough to... then… I...”

  His eyes dipped slowly over her and she knew he didn’t hear her words. The firm press of his muscles fitted along her side. The tunic gown offered little protection from his heat as he pulled her closer. He caressed his hands against her stomach in absent circles, moving intimately over her hip.

  Ilar let her feel his body along hers. Her protests faded completely until she merely stared at him, insensible. Her mouth worked as if it still spoke, but nothing came from her throat but a soft pant of feminine wonder.

  Ah, he thought, much better.

  Ilar continued to touch her, discovering her soft form with confident, expert hands. He moved his fingers boldly over her neck, her breasts, her hips and thighs. He cupped her cheek, traced the swoop of her throat, down the front of her chest. He wanted to kiss her, but held back, liking the way her eyes drifted closed in pleasure. A dreamy sigh whispered past her lips. He grabbed a fistful of her skirt, working the material up. When her thighs were exposed, he fitted his heavy erection along her leg, watching her closely for a reaction.

  Rhiannon’s eyes widened and she gasped for air, doing her best not to scream for help. He rocked his hips into her. She watched him, studied him, tried to read his mind to discover his thoughts. All she could do was feel him.

  Ilar growled, dipping his head close to her, as he let himself have the pleasure of sniffing her intoxicating smell. His engorged shaft rubbed lightly into her leg, desiring nothing more than to stroke into her slick depths. Instinctively, he knew she’d be ready for him.

  Leaning close to her ear, his breath sent waves of pleasure over her skin. He let his hand drift to a soft breast, rubbing it lightly through the cloth. His voice rumbled in a way that had melted many females before her. “I like touching you, Rhian, and I know you like it when I touch you.”

  Rhiannon stopped breathing and a fine shiver worked over her. Ilar licked ever so lightly at her earlobe. A weak sound escaped her. It felt too good to push him away, so she merely lay still, letting him have his way. His mouth lifted to hers. He edged his tongue, seductively firm and rough, into the part of her lips, his eyes looking directly into hers. Rhiannon whimpered. It felt like a stampede of wild horses ran over her chest, thundering and pounding where her heart should have been.

  Against her lips, he said, “Mm, I like tasting you. I want to taste all of you.”

  Rhiannon’s heart again stopped beating. Forget the horses. She was positive he had killed her with that last statement. He was the devil and she was dead, only this didn’t feel like eternal damnation.

  “Tell me you want to stay in my bed,” he urged, licking and kissing at her mouth as he spoke. “Say the words. Tell me you want me to taste you, touch you, feel you, claim you. Tell me to come inside you, Rhian.”

  Rhiannon wanted nothing more than to repeat his words back to him. Finding her last shred of dignity, she said, “No. I am a prisoner.”

  Ilar forced a grin, though his body stung with tight rejection. Instantly, he released her breast, leaving her with an unbearable ache. Rolling away from her, he declared boldly, as if it didn’t distress him to leave her, “So be it, Rhiannon. It will be as you wish.”

  Rhiannon closed her eyes tight as he spoke. She almost recanted, but then he grabbed the pillow from beneath her head and jerked it out from under her. She blinked in surprise.

  Ilar threw the pillow to the floor before the fire. Then, taking the coverlet, he did the same. Looking at her expectantly, he motioned to the floor.

  Rhiannon balked as she got his meaning. He was kicking her off the bed onto the floor! Angrily, she shot her darkest look at him and threw the remaining covers from her legs. Ilar smiled angelically in return and made a great show of spreading his limbs over the full length of the comfortable mattress. Not bothering to hide his still potent erection as it tangled in the covers, he heaved a pleasant sigh for her benefit.

  Rhiannon stormed from the bed, stopping furiously before the fire. Grabbing the coverlet, she wrapped it around her arms and made herself a place on the hard stone. Already her aching body begged her to return to the bed, but to do so would be to allow Ilar to touch her, to take her. That was something she couldn’t permit.

  “Good eve, Lady Rhian,” Ilar said softly, leaning up on his elbows to look at her. Her mouth pressed tightly in anger, refusing to answer. Her eyes stared at the ceiling rafters. Feigning a contented sigh, he lay down and murmured, “You know where I am if you change your mind.”

  Ilar swore he heard her mumble something about skinning him for a fur rug to decorate his chamber. He almost lost himself to laughter.

  * * * *

  “Arrrrgh! I’ll break through your door, Commander, if you don’t give me the woman! I want her. I want to claim her for myself.”

  Ilar’s eyes opened, hearing the growl resounding from outside the bedchamber door. His eyes narrowed, sensing his fellow lycan’s discontent. The growling sounded again, followed by a desperate pounding. Someone tried frantically to get inside his locked bedchamber.

  “Give her to me!” the voice roared. “I want her!”

  Rhiannon awoke from her place on the floor and shot up in fright, just in time to see Ilar leaping naked out of bed. She gasped at the sight of his powerful form and would have blushed if not for the continued yelling of whoever fought to get inside the chamber. She blinked, terrified, unable to understand what the man yelled. Soon the shouts turned to bestial growls.

  Ilar felt the man shifting as he struggled to get past the thick oak door to Rhiannon. His nostrils flaring, Ilar growled menacingly in return, using the min
d link to send the soldier warnings. It didn’t work. The young lycan was beyond hearing him. He was possessed by the smell of the human. To Ilar’s distress, he realized the lycan not only lusted to mate with her, but he lusted for her blood. If the young one got to Rhiannon, he would slaughter her as he mated with her.

  Realizing Ilar planned on unlocking the door to the intruder, Rhiannon jumped to her feet, “Ilar, no!”

  Too late.

  Ilar threw open the door, ready for the attack. The young soldier lunged over his shoulder, his wolf jaw snapping viciously as he tried to leap onto Rhiannon. She screamed and ran across the room in complete terror. The wolf growled, barking in displeasure.

  Ilar lifted his arm at the last minute to stop the young lycan’s progress. Striking him in the neck, he flung him backward out into the hall. Calling over his shoulder, as he went to grab the impertinent guard up, he ordered, “Rhian, lock the door behind me and open it for no one else!”

  Rhiannon didn’t have to be told twice. Scurrying to the door, she slammed it shut, seeing only a glimpse of Ilar’s naked form as he dragged the unconscious beast behind him by the tail.

  Shivering, she sat alongside the door, leaning her ear against the wood to listen for sounds. Her body was stiff from the night spent on the hard stone, but she didn’t feel it. The image of Ilar’s lunging form stayed with her. He had protected her.

  * * * *

  Ilar lifted the warrior onto his shoulder, adjusting the weight in irritation, as he stormed down his tower steps to the main hall. A group of lycans blinked to see their naked Commander carrying the unconscious guard, before turning guiltily away. They were the only ones in the main hall and Ilar strode straight for them.

  “What are you doing in here?” Ilar demanded. “Let me see your eyes. Has she affected you?”

  They frowned, confused. Ilar looked them over, sniffing them. They appeared unaltered.

  “Why was this man at my door?” Ilar demanded, bouncing the load on his shoulder with ease. The unconscious lycan’s weight was nothing to the Commander’s strength.