To Ilyssa’s amazement, Alaric needed no special attention to awaken his arousal. She could feel his erection brush her thigh as he tugged her breeches down around her knees.
The prince coaxed her to bend forward, hands braced against the cool stone wall. She felt him caress her ass, and then the head of his cock nudged between her folds, seeking entrance. She had to press her lips together and swallow back a cry of ecstasy when he pushed inside her. His prick felt enormous, definitely longer than any of the other men who had fucked her over the years. Alaric held onto her hips and thrust into her. The staccato rhythm of their flesh coming together matched the racing of her pulse.
She pushed back into him. “Faster!” she urged breathlessly, and he complied.
The air inside the small hut grew warmer with the heat radiating from their bodies. Alaric leaned in over Ilyssa’s back. His arms circled her, his hands finding her swinging breasts and gathering them up again, her hard nipples stabbing into his palms.
“Yes, yes!” Ilyssa panted. She could feel her orgasm gathering, bubbling deep within her like the hot springs.
Alaric mouthed around her ear, and his low, lusty growls launched her into a powerful climax. After a few more strokes, he pulled out abruptly and finished himself over her lower back.
“That,” Ilyssa said, once she caught her breath and could speak again, “was incredible.” She reached down for her trousers and pulled them up as she righted herself. “I think it might even be the best I’ve had in quite a while.”
She turned to face him. His eyes seemed to burn brighter than before. Like Ilyssa, he had removed his shirt and had opened his breeches but left them and his boots on. She took a moment to admire his physique. Broad shoulders tapered into a long torso and narrow hips, chest and arms well-defined and covered in sleek dark hair. Glancing down, she got her first look at his cock, and it was every bit as impressive to behold as it had been to feel it inside her, hard and pulsing.
“I agree,” Alaric said. He pulled up his trousers. “I’ve never been with a Human before.”
Ilyssa looked up at him and scoffed. “I guess now you know what you Werewolves have been missing.”
She retrieved her blouse from the floor and put it on. “So – are we good, now?” She didn’t want to dwell on the sex or how fantastic it had been. They still had important business to attend, but before that she would have to see if Kristof and Barto had made it back with that cart; she and Alaric would need it to get to the meeting with this mysterious Werewolf woman from Emberi.
“Yes. You have my scent on you, now. Any Werewolves we encounter will know without a doubt that you are with me, a trusted companion.”
“Good.”
Dressed once more, Ilyssa started for the exit, body still humming from their hot and hasty coupling. She found herself thinking about the things Alaric had said as he took her, and then afterwards. So much for not dwelling on it, she chastised herself. Still, I wonder if he’d be interested in having another go when – no. Don’t even think about it. Focus on the mission.
“We should get moving, now. We still have a lot to do and very little time left if we’re going to make it.”
She opened the door only to find Marten on the other side, his hand raised in preparation to knock. Equally startled, they pulled back and stared at each other.
“Oh,” Ilyssa said, doing her best to recover and appear collected, and not like a woman who had just engaged in some of the wildest sex she had ever experienced in her life. “What’s going on?”
“Kristof and Barto are back,” Marten said. “Kristof asked where you were, and that’s when we all realized that no one had seen you since before supper. I figured you might still be here, guarding the prisoner, so I thought I’d come back and offer to resume watch while you go meet with them.”
He eyed her, a bewildered look on his face. “Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”
“I’m fine,” Ilyssa said, and brushed her hair off her neck. “Prince Alaric and I have just been talking. Small, windowless spaces tend to warm up when you’ve got two people sitting around inside, engaged in…heated discussions.”
Marten nodded. He motioned to her head. “I see your hair’s come undone, too,” he said. “You were wearing it up, earlier.”
“Where did Kristof say he wanted to meet?” Ilyssa asked, before Marten could point out any other telltale signs of her intimate romp with their esteemed guest.
“Barto’s hut.”
“All right. I’ll head over there, now.” Ilyssa turned and motioned to Alaric, who stepped up beside her. “He’s coming with me.”
Marten’s smile dropped away when he saw the lack of restraints on the Werewolf prince. Immediately, he reached for the flintlock tucked in his belt. Ilyssa’s hand shot out and latched onto his wrist to prevent him from drawing. He blinked at her.
“What’s going on, here?” he asked.
“I’ll explain once we get to Barto’s,” she said.
Chapter Four
As Ilyssa predicted, Kristof did not react favorably when she followed Marten into Barto’s hut, Alaric in tow. Both the huntsman and the tracker leapt to their feet, daggers drawn in defense when they saw the Werewolf prince.
“Calm yourselves, gentlemen,” Ilyssa said, holding up a hand. “He’s no threat to any of us.”
“Are you mad?” Kristof demanded. His pale blue eye widened when he got a better look at Alaric, and he spat a curse.
“Damn! You removed the collar, too. What dark magic did he use to convince you of that?”
“There’s no dark magic,” Ilyssa said. “We’ve been misled by the stories our parents told us to keep us afraid and mistrustful. If anything, they are the monsters for trying to pass their hatred on to us.” She motioned to the prince. “Alaric believes as we do. He was on his way to a secret meeting with someone from Emberi, hoping to find a means of bringing unity to our two races – not a reluctant tolerance of one another, but a bond of pure brotherhood where Humans and Werewolves are equal.”
She looked over at Barto, who had lowered his weapon as she spoke. “That’s why he was traveling alone last night. His title won’t protect him from charge of treason. He took a huge risk, on his own, putting his life in jeopardy for the sake of both races.”
She took a deep breath. “Which is why we have to help him.”
“Help him?” Marten’s pug nose wrinkled in consternation. “Help him to do what?”
“In just a few hours, he has to meet with his connection from Emberi for a very important exchange of information which will advance his plan to end the war before it begins.”
Ilyssa turned her attention back to Kristof, her closest friend. While he had always deferred to her, they still shared the duties of leadership when it came to making decisions for the tribe.
“He’s offered to give us protection from his father when he returns to Lobishome, along with provisions to see us through the winter.”
Kristof snorted. He thrust his chin at Alaric.
“How can he protect us?” he asked. “As soon as his father gets wind of his plans, he’ll be fleeing for the woods and spending the rest of his days scavenging – just like the rest of us.”
“It is a risk I am willing to take,” Alaric said, speaking for the first time.
He stepped up beside Ilyssa. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and immediately she felt another sharp tug low in her gut, wisps of arousal curling like smoke through her body with the lusty memory of being mounted and marked by him.
“When I told her of my plan, Ilyssa gave voice to concerns of my safety, believing in the possibility this may result in an act of betrayal. That’s when she offered to accompany me.”
“Did she, now?” Kristof clucked his tongue and shook his head. Hands hooked on hips, he looked at Ilyssa. “I was right – you are mad. Why would you agree to such a thing, without first consulting us?” he demanded.
“Because I have hope, too,” Ilyssa fired
back.
She stared at him, imploring. “How many times have we discussed this dream of peace, Kristof? We left our homes, our friends and families, and chose to live as outcasts rather than be a part of that ugly world.”
She jerked a thumb at Alaric. “He found a way to make a change, but he can’t do it alone. So, yes, I said I would go with him. And now I’m asking you to go with me – you, Barto, Marten, and anyone else from the tribe who’s up for some adventure.”
The three Human men did not respond right away. Finally, Marten shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, all right,” he said. “I’ll go.”
Ilyssa favored him with a smile. “Thank you, Marten.”
“Let me make sure I’m clear on this,” Barto said, stirring the air with one hand. “He has this meeting planned out; it’s someone from Emberi and they’re supposed to discuss a permanent truce between Humans and Werewolves…but you’re saying there’s the chance of an attack?”
She shrugged. “The possibility is there. I can’t explain why, but I’ve just got this feeling about it.”
Tossing his knife from hand to hand, Barto sniffed. “Well, I’ve never been one to question any woman’s ‘feelings.’” He examined the blade’s sharp edge.
“I’m always up for some danger, though.” Twirling the dagger on nimble fingers, he flipped it over and dropped it back into its sheath at his hip. “Count me in.”
Ilyssa grinned. She looked at Kristof again, eyeing him. “Well?” she prompted. “Can we count on you, too? Or would you like to discuss it with Lenora, first?”
She heard Barto snicker and glanced back in his direction. “Hey, he’s the one with the family. His life isn’t his own – he shares it with his wife and children. Routine highway raids are one thing; with this, we have no idea what we’re going into. Lenora should have a say.”
“Yeah, I know,” Barto said.
He reached over and pinched one of Kristof’s beefy arms, grinning when the huntsman batted him away as he would an annoying insect.
“And he knows I can never resist teasing him about it.”
“I’m inclined to agree with Ilyssa,” Alaric said, which got everyone’s attention. “She neglected to mention that at least one of the people we’ll be meeting with is also Werewolf. More than likely, there will be others, each one possessing strength and agility ten times greater than the most powerfully-built Human.”
He nodded to Kristof for emphasis. “When my kind attacks, it’s almost always in pack formation. If they saw you as a threat, they would set upon you and tear you apart in a matter of moments. Quite frankly, I would spare you and your family that horror.”
Barto let out honk of bemused laughter. “I believe he’s telling you to sit this one out, my friend.” He rubbed his chin, thoughtful. “I hate to admit it, but I think he’s right.”
Kristof glowered at the tracker. “I can hold my own in a fight against a Werewolf,” he muttered.
He grabbed the hem of his tunic and lifted it high enough to show five long, white scars cutting across his midsection. “Or have you forgotten that I once held the title of Champion?” He yanked his shirt down again. “I walked into that arena every day, willingly, knowing I might never walk out again. And I’m still here.”
“Again,” Ilyssa said, “that was before you came here and met Lenora.” She gazed up at Kristof. “I don’t doubt you could still take on a Werewolf, but I’m also going to side with Alaric on this one. I don’t want to be the one who has to come back and tell Lenora and your kids that you didn’t make it.”
Kristof’s eyes narrowed. Wordlessly, he brushed past Ilyssa as he stormed to the door.
“You were wrong when he said he used no dark magic.” He turned a baleful glare on Alaric. “With just a few words, he’s conjured a wall between us.”
With that, he ducked out of the hut, the wooden door rattling as it banged open and then swung shut again in his wake.
“Damn,” Ilyssa muttered. She thought about going after her friend, even started to take a step, but Alaric caught her arm.
“There isn’t time,” he said softly. Ilyssa looked up into his eyes and his lips thinned into a grim line. “We have to go.”
“I’ll go see if I can round up a few others to join us,” Barto said, immediately stepping up to take the position of Ilyssa’s second in command.
Before he had joined the tribe, he had served as a guardsman in one of the northern kingdoms; he could be a joker but when it came to missions, he acted with precision.
“We can follow behind by several paces, fanned out, and find positions downwind where we can watch and be ready for your signal if we’re needed.”
Ilyssa nodded. “The horse and cart you were supposed to retrieve from Lobishome – did you get it? Alaric and I will use it to ride in ahead. You, Marten, and the rest can ride in back until we’re almost there, then you can proceed the rest of the way on foot.”
“Right.” Barto tapped Marten and jerked his head in the direction of the door.
He looked at Ilyssa again. “Don’t let Kristof get to you. He’s angry right now, but he’ll come around. He forgets how many times he’s had to give the order to stand down.” The tracker gave her a wide, toothy grin. “He’ll be fine by the time we get back.”
“I know.” Ilyssa sucked in a deep breath and let it out again in a sigh. “All right – let’s get moving.”
Wearing a hooded cloak, her pistols tucked into the back of her belt, Alyssa soon found herself sitting on the hard bench of a rickety merchant’s wagon, holding the reins to a young but spirited draft horse. Barto, Marten, along with Gareth, Simm, and Velerie – the three Barto had recruited – rode in the back. Heavily armed and dressed in dark clothing, they had also masked their Human scents with a liberal application of horse dung. Ilyssa saw Alaric, seated beside her, press a finger under his nose more than once over the course of the ride. She grinned.
“They’re a bit ripe,” she said, tipping her head to indicate the group in back.
“That,” the prince said, “is a gross understatement.” He glanced over his shoulder; Barto smiled and waved at him. Turning back around, Alaric grimaced.
“One whiff and they’re going to think we didn’t come with a single horse but an entire stable.”
Ilyssa laughed.
When they had come within a quarter mile of their destination, Barto and his team jumped down from the still-moving cart and vanished into the woods on either side of the road. The wagon continued to bounce along the pitted but well-traveled highway, wheels squeaking.
“There,” Alaric said, pointing to a dim light just before a bridge leading across a river.
Ilyssa squinted, able to make out at least six shapes in the glow. She pulled up on the reins and brought the cart to a stop. Alaric jumped down first and reached up to offer her his hand. Ilyssa arched an eyebrow at him and he smiled.
“The curse of good manners,” he explained. “A gentleman always helps a lady down from a coach.”
Normally, Ilyssa would respond with a quick quip about the ridiculousness of chivalry and being treated like a delicate flower based on her sex, but this time she decided to let it pass. I’ll have to educate him later, she thought, and for a moment she imagined him on his back beneath her while she demonstrated how very un-ladylike she could be.
A tall, willowy figure in a long cloak stepped forward. Long, pale hands reached up and lifted the hood to reveal a woman with a narrow face and hair that gleamed silver in the lantern’s light. Her eyes glowed a bright green.
“Prince Alaric?” Her voice had a low but refined timbre. “I am Karolyn of Emberi.”
“Lady Karolyn,” Alaric said, and bowed. “It is good to meet you at long last. I cannot begin to tell you how long I’ve anticipated this night.”
“As have I,” she replied, one corner of her mouth twitching upward but the rest of her face remaining smooth and still as alabaster. “When you told me of the prophecy, I knew right away something mu
st be done.”
“You said you had something in your possession which would rally your kingdom,” Alaric said. “Do you have it with you?”
“I do, indeed.” Karolyn twisted gracefully, motioning to one of her companions.
Ilyssa stood by, tense but curious. She could tell Werewolf from Human by their eyes, as the former’s tended to give off that strange luminescence in low light. Right now, she counted three Humans and three Werewolves, including the woman.
One of the Humans stepped forward and presented a box made of dark wood. Karolyn opened the lid. Ilyssa gasped when she saw what lay inside on a bed of blue silk.
“The Diadem of Akara!”
Up until that moment, Karolyn had not spared Ilyssa more than an imperious glance. Now, her head snapped around and her eyes burned like green fire.
“Yes,” she said.
She closed the box and turned fluidly, cloak brushing the ground as she moved toward Ilyssa.
“Interesting. How does one who keeps company with a prince of Lobishome recognize one of Emberi’s most ancient relics, which has been kept locked away for many centuries?”
Karolyn canted her head. Ilyssa watched her nostrils flare as she inhaled, no doubt picking up on Alaric’s scent…and then she stopped. A crease formed between her brows and her eyes widened.
“You,” she breathed.
Before Ilyssa could blink twice, Karolyn had pulled a dagger from beneath her cloak. The female Werewolf lunged at Ilyssa with a growl. Combat reflexes kicked in and Ilyssa dodged, going for her pistols even as she rolled away.
She heard Alaric shout, and the next thing she knew Barto and his team came charging out of the forest, brandishing their weapons. As the Werewolves morphed into their bipedal lupine forms, Barto hurled his knives and caught one of their human companions in the throat.
Ilyssa saw the two male Werewolves go straight for Alaric; as she watched, his features transformed from man to beast before he rushed forward to meet them head-on. She caught sight of Gareth with a sack of mandrake dust, ready to lob it at them.
The Wolf Prince´s True Mate: Alpha Male BBW Pregnancy Fantasy Romance Page 4
