Naughty Cupid Trilogy

by Pillow Michelle M.

  Larus’s face fell and he grimaced. “Cupid.”

  Ilar frowned, remembering how he teased the smelly little varmint one night after drinking too much. The troll had been absolutely vile and refused to bathe. He kept popping back up, too, after they’d thrown him out a dozen times. Sheepishly, he said, “Yes, Cupid. I might have called him a rosy faced cherub.”

  Malak’s laughter only grew. Rhiannon watched in wonder, not knowing what they said in their growling speech. They weren’t paying attention to her and she slowly edged to her feet.

  “It’s you who insulted him, Ilar, so it’s you who must get him to lift this wretched curse,” Larus commanded with a growl of exasperation. “All this fuss over an insulted troll! Malak, you go with him to find Cupid. Make sure the little troll sees reason and make sure Ilar doesn’t anger him further. Ilar, hold off on mating until we know for sure that it will end this. I won’t have the enchantment becoming worse if the others grow to be jealous of your claim to her. Who knows what Cupid had in mind when he did this?”

  Ilar and Malak both nodded in understanding. Suddenly, Larus frowned. Rhiannon was making a run for it. Jerking his thumb, the King huffed in exasperation, “But first, Ilar, get her back in your chambers before more of her damned scent is brandished about!”

  Malak’s chuckling only grew by bounds as Ilar took off at a sprint to catch up to Rhiannon. Malak glanced at Larus. The King winked at him.

  “Yes, I know,” Malak said, waving the man away only to follow behind him as they each lifted an unconscious soldier over their shoulders. The lycans weren’t badly injured. They’d be sore, but they would live. The King led the way down to the prisons. “However, I’m not going to be the one to tell him there’s more between him and a human than the curse. Let him discover that one for himself.”

  * * * *

  Rhiannon heard heavy footfalls behind her. Letting loose a squeal, her bare feet pumped faster until her lungs nearly exploded with her effort to be free. The breeze whipped over her bare legs, coming through the part in her ripped gown. She didn’t care. All she knew was that she wanted to be free of this strange place.

  Seeing a side gate, Rhiannon ran for it. She tried to squeeze her body through the bars. It was too small, but it didn’t stop her from fitting her head through in an effort to get out.

  Ilar chuckled as he easily caught her. With a sigh, he dipped his hand into the iron bars and gently forced her head back inside. Rhiannon groaned at being captured and instantly moved to strike him.

  Ilar caught her hand in his. Knowing it was only a troll’s revenge that brought her to him, he relaxed. Trolls were very powerful, but they had no allegiance to mortals and only used their magic for self-gain or mischief. They wouldn’t open the portals to humankind, just so that the mortals may flood into their world.

  Naturally, when word spread of this trickery, Cupid would be in serious trouble with the other races. He risked too much for revenge. But, then, trolls weren’t known for their concern of consequences either.

  Rhiannon swung her other hand at him and Ilar caught that one just as easily. Smiling, he saw a rip revealed part of her cleavage to his eyes. His body lit with fire. She glared at him, her eyes hot and murderous.

  “Let me go,” Rhiannon said, fighting him. Her teeth snapped at his wrist, trying to bite him. He artfully pulled her head into the warm, protective fold of his chest. He held her to him. Her words were muffled by hard muscle, as she tried to scream, “I want to go home! You’re all crazy!”

  “Shhh,” Ilar soothed, trying to lead her back to the castle. She jerked in his arms, clawing and scratching violently to be free. He let her go, though her fighting didn’t hurt him. If anything, he was more aroused.

  “Do not tell me to be quiet!” she cried. “I tell you there was a little man who brought me here. He hit me over the head and brought me here. And he was just in your bedchamber and he smelled vile. That’s who you seek. Go find him. I’m through with all of this. I’m going home.”

  “How will you get there?” Ilar asked, with infinite patience. His eyes were devouring her legs, knowing that soon he would be able to stake claim to her. The danger had passed and Malak said the only way he knew to end her enchantment was to mate with her. Ilar licked his lips.

  “I’ll walk!” She tried to storm past him, making her way back into the bailey yard.

  “Rhian,” Ilar said, reaching his hand to stop her. He grabbed her and pulled her back. “It’s not safe yet. We need to get you inside.”

  “Not safe?” she asked, disbelieving. “What is wrong with you beasts? I think I’ll be much safer out there in the wilderness than locked in here with you.”

  “Cupid has put an enchantment on you,” Ilar explained. “It makes our kind crazy. Once the enchantment is gone, the threat will be gone.”

  “What are you saying?” Rhiannon shook, torn between anger and desire. Oh, but he was handsome to behold. Her body stung with embarrassment from their last meeting. Even seeing his body shift from wolf to man couldn’t lessen her longing for him. If anything, it made it worse. Oh, she was a wicked, wicked woman!

  “You are under a... a love spell. That is why they attack you. They seek to mate with you. Once the spell is gone, the attraction will end. Now, please Rhian, come inside where it’s safe.” Ilar kept his voice gentle. “If I let you beyond these walls, they will hunt you in the forest. You have no choice in this. If you wish to live, you will follow me.”

  Rhiannon felt her heart stop beating. Her eyes moistened slightly with tears as she looked at him, reading the truth in his eyes. He’d only kissed her because of a spell. He didn’t truly want her. Taking a hasty step toward the castle, she walked, keeping a furious pace so that he only saw her back. She wouldn’t let him see her pain at his admission. When they reached the stairwell leading to his tower, she asked softly, “You know how to end this enchantment?”

  Ilar looked over her body, staring boldly at her hips. They swayed back and forth before his vision, a hypnotic seduction to his senses. “Yes, I think I do. Malak, ah, he is the man you--”

  “Ah-ha, yes, I know,” she hastened, not wanting to think of the naked man she’d pressed firmly to her breast. The memory only mortified her.

  “Malak and I will go to find Cupid. We’ll confirm that he’s the cause of this curse and see if he cannot lift it from you.”

  Rhiannon reached his door and pushed it open. Wearily, she walked inside. She kept her back to him, going to the window to stare out of the narrow slit. She didn’t turn to him, refusing to let him see the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

  “Rhian, I must have your promise that you will stay in here until I get back.” He reached his hand to lightly touch her shoulder. She shivered and he assumed she was still shaken from her experience in the bailey yard. Ilar didn’t want to think what would have happened to her if he’d not heard her cry.

  “You have it,” she answered, having no wish to be attacked again. He ran his fingers down her arm and she knew he only touched her because of the enchantment. “And I’ll remind you of yours, Ilar. Now that the danger is passing, you will bring me home.”

  “I never promised to bring you home,” he said. “I only promised to protect you.”

  Her jaw rose and she pulled away.

  “But, if it’s what you wish, I’ll find a way to bring you home, Rhian. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “It is what I wish.”

  Ilar paused, watching the back of her head. The others still howled in agony and he knew he had to find Cupid to end it. But he didn’t want to leave her.

  “I’ll send you food and a new gown,” he said, before walking out the door.

  Rhiannon didn’t move until she heard the key hitting in the latch to lock her in. Tears poured out from her eyes, blinding her with a sob. She gripped the hard stone, falling down the side of the wall. Her hands slid down with her body and she hit the stone floor in misery. Ilar only wanted her because of a s
pell and all she could think to do was weep.

  * * * *

  “You should have seen her.” Cupid sighed with longing, as he looked across the campfire to the other trolls. Their beady eyes stared back at him, reflecting the fire like miniature fireflies. Their wrinkled skin looked much like Cupid’s though their noses were smaller and their ears perhaps a bit larger. “She was the loveliest mortal I’ve ever seen.”

  Cupid closed his eyes dreamily, knowing he had the others’ rapt attention as he spoke of his beloved temptress.

  “Agrona,” Cupid moaned, stopping to light his long, gnarled pipe with a burning stick from the campfire. “Agrona, the name of legends. She has the loveliest three hairs growing out of her mole. Ah, so perfect, my temptress, my swamp bottom vision of toadstool exquisiteness. I’ll be going back for her.”

  “Three,” a pudgy troll grunted. His face looked as if someone had squished it down and together. His nose folded up over his lips. He nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a lucky count for hairs on a mole.”

  “Bah!” another, longer troll returned. His dirty brown pants stank to high heaven, much to his companions’ envy. “I think six is a sight more attractive.”

  Malak and Ilar glanced at each other, rolling their eyes. It hadn’t taken long for them to sniff out Cupid’s location. The odor he and his fellow trolls emitted leaked downwind for leagues. By the time they reached the little campfire it was well into the evening.

  The lycans easily saw through the darkness as if it was daylight. Their eyes flashed with golden slivers. The moon was half full, shining the most exquisite silver over the land. The giant orb would shift its colors with the magic of seasons, but the silver moon always lasted the longest.

  Cupid was lost in daydreams of his mortal goddess when the shadows of Malak and Ilar fell over him. The other trolls gasped, running to hide as the two lycan men stood daringly behind Cupid.

  “Where...?” Cupid began, not finished talking about his temptress. He was just about to tell him about her one eyebrow and her pustules.

  “Cupid,” Ilar stated, a deep frown in his voice.

  Cupid squealed like a pig, jumping to his feet to run away. Ilar tilted his head to Malak. Malak leapt into the air, landing gracefully before the troll. Cupid whined, sitting back, his dirty bottom thumping onto the ground. Taking the pipe from his mouth, he grumbled, “What is it you want, lycan? This is a private fire. No room for you to sit.”

  “You know why I’m here,” Ilar stated with meaning. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the offensive little man.

  “Do I now?” Cupid grumbled. Taking his pipe, he poked it into the air. “I suppose you’d be wantin’ to apologize for insulting me. Well, I have no use for your apologies. Begone, lycan.”

  “Cupid!” Ilar said, his voice lowering to a growl.

  “Oh, very well.” Suddenly, the troll smiled a wide grin on his long lips. Gloating he said, “It is I that set the mortal in your midst! It is I who enchanted all of Lycaon! And it is I who have proven my magical worth! Never shall you doubt me again, Lord Ilar.”

  “End it,” Ilar commanded, his voice darkening with threat. Malak stood quietly, listening.

  “I cannot end it,” Cupid beamed, smoking on his pipe, very pleased with himself. Ilar leaned over and lifted him off the ground by the back of his neck. He grunted in surprise. His little legs pumped in the air as he tried to get free and his pipe fell to the ground, cracking. Yelling in protest, he said, “Only you can end it! You, Ilar, must mate yourself to the mortal woman. That’s how the curse goes away. Now, set me down afore I take offense. You do not want to be upsettin’ me again, lycan.”

  Ilar growled for effect and set the troll back down. Instantly, he knew that the little varmint spoke the truth. He detected it just beneath his foul odor. Turning, he motioned his head toward Malak. Malak leapt back over the fire to follow him.

  “Ha!” Cupid yelled behind them. The other trolls crawled out of hiding, coming from under mossy leaves and rotted tree bark. “I have my revenge, lycan! You will mate the ugly mortal or your kind will suffer!”

  The other trolls cackled in pleasure at Cupid’s cunning, taking their seats back around the campfire. Cupid kept a wary ear pricked in Ilar’s direction, as he continued on with this narrative of womanly perfection.

  Ilar and Malak walked from the troll campsite in silence. When the trolls were out of earshot, Malak grinned into the night. Ilar returned the look with a heated one of his own.

  “Yes, Lord Ilar, you will have to mate the ugly mortal,” Malak said, teasing.

  Ilar’s eyes lit with passion. “Yes. That I most certainly will. Duty demands it.”

  Their bodies shifted into lycan form. Before turning to run, they grabbed their tunics between their teeth. Then, tearing along to the countryside at a full sprint, the two wolves raced back to Lycaon.

  Chapter Six

  It was late when Ilar made it back to Lycaon. He stopped to bathe the travel dust from his body in the stream, wanting to go to Rhiannon fresh. As they entered the castle, Malak, knowing his friend’s eagerness to tend to his ‘duty,’ offered to go to Larus and explain what they had learned.

  Ilar took to the tower steps two at a time, a grin spread unabashedly over his dark features. He couldn’t help it. His body sung with sweet anticipation. Rhiannon’s face danced within his brain, tempting him, teasing him, beckoning him. Her lips haunted his mouth and the intimate feel of her moist fire still burned into his hand. This time there would be no stopping. He would have her.

  He trembled as he reached into his tunic for the key. Unlocking the door, he crept inside, his eyes going first to the bed. Frowning, he saw she wasn’t there.

  “Rhian?” he called, stepping forward, his heart twisting in panic. A soft moan sounded on the floor and he was again able to smile. She was a stubborn one, he’d give her that.

  Coming forward, he saw her before the fireplace, wrapped in the blanket he’d thrown down there the night before. He never expected she’d sleep there again, especially since he hadn’t been in the bed. Ilar frowned. He wondered if that meant she still wanted nothing to do with his bed. Her body readily melted for him, but what of her mind? Did her mind still resist him? Did she still think him nothing more than a hideous beast unworthy of touching her?

  A whimper left her parted lips and she turned, uncomfortable. He slowly lowered himself to kneeling beside her. He cupped beneath her shoulders and legs, lifting her easily into his arms. She jolted slightly in surprise, but didn’t waken, as she nestled into the warmth of his chest. A soft moan left her parted lips.

  Ilar smiled slightly. She was always so chilled compared to him, so fragile and light. It made him want to protect her even more. It made him want to warm her.

  Ilar laid her gently on the bed. Rhiannon sighed in her sleep, snuggling into the soft mattress. When he pulled back, a small sound of protest left her throat and her hand stirred lazily in his direction.

  For a moment, he looked at her. He gently lifted his hand, moving over her sleep flushed cheek in a tender caress. He wanted this. He wanted it badly. It was his duty to seduce her. But he hesitated, wondering if it was what she would want if he left it to her to decide her fate.

  The fairies had brought her a new gown. This one was of a soft blue. Her cheeks were rosy against her pale skin, giving splendor to her sleeping features. Her curls, so glorious to behold and so soft to touch, strung haphazardly all around her face.

  Ilar kept his eyes steadily on her, as he slowly went around the bed. Stripping from his clothes, he let them fall onto the floor as he crawled next to her.

  “Rhian,” he said to her still face. Her breath came in even draws. Lowering for a kiss, he whispered to her mouth, “Rhian, wake up.”

  This time she moaned louder. Ilar’s lips brushed softly against hers. He found hold on her jaw, tilting her lips to better fit against his.

  Rhiannon blinked, feeling as if she were in a dream. Ilar traced her mouth with hi
s tongue, parting her lips to him. She moaned again, soft and light, coming more fully awake at the sensations coursing throughout her body. She lifted her hand from the mattress, tangling her fingers into his dampened hair.

  “Ilar?” she sighed, her voice still rough with sleep. Her knee rose to meet his hip, the gown keeping her from tossing the limb over him completely. His roaming hands did delightful things to her senses. His touch appeared to be everywhere at once. She made soft sounds in the back of her throat, whimpering ever so lightly as he continued his kisses. She twined her fingers into his long hair as she pressed along his arm, feeling his strength.

  Ilar groaned at her willingness. He deepened his kiss, growing more demanding as he tried to consume her with his need.

  “Take off your gown,” he murmured into her lips, already reaching his hands to pull up her skirt.

  Rhiannon made a soft noise, feeling the air stir by her thighs. When he had her legs bared, his arm scooped under her waist to lift her up. With a deft move that left her breathless, he pulled the gown over her head. Rhiannon gasped in awe of his quick strength and supernatural speed.

  Ilar laid her back down gently. A devilishly handsome grin curled on his mouth, as he looked deep into her eyes. Groaning, he said in hoarse approval, “Much better. Now I can feel all of you.”

  He stroked his fingers down her throat, moving them over her flesh. Ilar watched her response and let her see his. Dipping to taste a breast, he brought his body down to brush longingly against hers. He lapped at the creamy texture of her skin, loving her soft, fragile feel against his lips.

  Rhiannon found hold on his shoulder. She ran her fingers along his muscles, learning the feel of his greater strength, liking the way his body moved and flexed beneath her palms. His touch was addictive, his masculine body even more so. She wanted to explore all of him, every hot inch.