Dark Kiss: A Reverse Harem Fairy Romance (The Twilight Court Book 12)

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Dark Kiss: A Reverse Harem Fairy Romance (The Twilight Court Book 12) Page 12

by Amy Sumida


  Memories spun through my head with race car speed, clicking into place and painting a picture as descriptive as the one over the mantle. Drostan happening on Killian, Raza, and me in that restaurant in St. Louis, his offer to put us up during our investigation, how he knew where to find the Alp Luachras, his fucking girlfriend! Oh, dear God. Drostan had set up Verisande. The memory of her at the art museum surfaced. The way she had looked at Drostan. The conversation I'd heard when I'd first approached them.

  “Don't worry, I have it all under control,” Verisande had said to him.

  Oh, Goddess, the way she had stared at him when he killed her—a look of utter shock and betrayal.

  “Why?” the last word she said whispered through my mind.

  I didn't have to ask why. I saw it all clearly now. Drostan had led us around by our noses, giving us scraps to chase while he had Verisande do his dirty work. We hadn't found Verisande's research because it wasn't her research. Drostan had made Newt, Verisande only altered it, probably at his command.

  Which meant that Drostan had formulated the drug that made me love him. What had that guy called it? Dark Kiss.

  “You motherfucker!” I screamed, losing my shit. “You gave me that drug. The drug that made me want you. That made me love you. You tried to rape me!”

  “I did not!” Drostan snarled. “I know you want me, Seren. I saw the way you watched me with Verisande. I just had to get past your resistance. It was only a little push.”

  “A little push?” I kept shrieking. “You tortured me. That drug nearly tore apart my mind. And you lied to me, over and over. You tried to make me believe that the Goddess called us together. You fucking piece of shit! You've betrayed Danu as well as me. You evil motherfucker. I'm sick just thinking about what I did with you. All your sweet words, trying to convince me to eat. It was only so you could drug me again. Fuck!” My breath caught as my image of him came crashing down, only to surge up into a new one. A dirty, nasty, evil one. “I admired you. I cared about you.”

  “You more than admire me, and you fucking know it!” Drostan stalked closer, his whole demeanor shifting into one of cruel power and careless entitlement.

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered. “I kept going over it again and again in my head, wondering why a bunch of witches would want to torture my husbands with videos of us. But it wasn't about them. It wasn't about getting nasty footage. You never sent them any videos, did you? You gave me that drug just to get me to fuck you.”

  “Of course, I didn't send them footage of us,” he said gently, his hand reaching out to me. “I wouldn't do that to you.”

  “You wouldn't . . .” I gaped at him. “No, you'd just abduct me and play prisoner beside me to get me into bed. You're despicable. Reprehensible.” Then I recalled his discovery of the charges on the credit card statements and the way he'd been the one to catch the man lacing the sugar with Newt. “You led us to that coffeehouse and then led me to that parking lot. It was all a trap. That man recognized me because of you. You were the traitor!”

  “Seren, calm down,” Drostan said firmly. “You're still recovering, and I don't want you to hurt yourself.”

  “Oh, wow.” I shook my head at him. “You don't want me to hurt myself. You waited fifteen days as I starved. Over two weeks before you finally gave up on drugging me again.”

  “I couldn't let you fall into a coma,” he said in an adoring tone.

  “Don't!” I held up a hand and pointed at him. “Don't you dare profess to love me, you sick fuck!”

  “I do,” Drostan said urgently. “So much that I would do anything to have you. Can't you see? I've gone to such great lengths to have you.”

  “This was not about me,” I snarled. “I'm not that vain that I would believe that. You didn't create Newt just to lure me to St. Louis. Not after a five-minute conversation with me in Seelie.”

  “No, I didn't,” he admitted. “I created Newt to make money. And then you fell into my lap, and I saw another path to power.”

  “Capture the Queen and you win the game,” I quoted his minion.

  Despicable men have minions. I've learned that by watching movies with my kids.

  “I won't just win the game, I'll rule the realms,” Drostan whispered maliciously. “Earth and Fairy will bow to my demands. And when I perfect Newt, I will control them both as well.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “But then I got to know you, Seren,” his tone softened. “I got to see what has drawn so many people to you—what makes men sacrifice their pride to be with you. You are vibrant, loyal, and valiant. You give of yourself without thought and fight like a demon to defend those who can't defend themselves. You're cunning but never cruel, compassionate but never weak. You baffle me and fascinate me, you beautiful, vicious, kind-hearted thing. I must have you.”

  “You've got me under your control.” I waved my arms out to my sides to indicate how powerless I was. “Congratulations, Drostan. But you will never have me. You've made certain of that now.”

  “We'll see, my love,” Drostan said ominously. “I've been working on the composition of Dark Kiss while you were starving yourself. “I think you might enjoy the new version.”

  “I'll starve myself again,” I vowed. “I'd rather go into a coma than let you touch me, you disgusting prick.”

  “Oh, that won't be necessary.” He went to the door and pressed a button on an intercom there. “Bal?”

  “Boss?” came the voice of the man who'd escorted me to Drostan.

  “The Queen is ready for her Dark Kiss.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I lifted a brow. “How did you get witches to help you?”

  “That is not a secret I'm willing to share yet.”

  “I may not have my magic, but I'm still an extinguisher, Drostan,” I growled. “You're not getting that shit into me again.”

  He only grinned, his smile resembling that of the demon in his painting.

  Sweet Danu, I still couldn't believe it. I had stood up for this traitor! I had believed in him. Given him my sympathy and friendship. I had trusted him. And he had played me and everyone else. Even now, the Councils didn't know it was Drostan behind this; they thought he was a prisoner along with me. I felt sick.

  “Did you really love her or was that lie too?” I whispered.

  “Who?”

  “Verisande!”

  Drostan snorted. “She was useful and a good fuck. The woman was inventive, I'll give her that.”

  I gaped at him. How could someone so heartless think he was in love with me? “She trusted you, and you murdered her.”

  “Murdered?” Drostan scowled. “She wasn't supposed to hurt you! She knew I valued you, and yet she threatened you. I wasn't going to let that happen.”

  “What was your plan?” I went calm, knowing that I'd need to be rational to get through this. “Verisande was going to take both of us and then what? Would I have found myself here, in the same situation I'm in now?”

  “A similar one.” He shrugged. “But Verisande changed things, and I'm nothing if not flexible. I went with it. It made me look better in your eyes anyway.”

  “Well, all of that esteem is gone now,” I growled. “I couldn't think less of you.”

  “I see that.” Drostan sighed, his face shifting into expressions I'd never seen him wear before.

  It was like looking at a stranger. Which I suppose was exactly what I was doing.

  Drostan's minion, Bal, came into the room with two other men, all three smirking like lechers.

  “Do not hurt her,” Drostan ordered firmly.

  “No, of course not,” Bal said with an evil grin. “We wouldn't hurt your queen.” He waved the men forward, and I settled into a fighting stance.

  “Too bad for you, I don't have the same limitations,” I growled.

  I brought my heel down on the first man's kneecap and spun into the second while the first was howling. It had been a while since I'd trained in hand-to-hand combat, but that sh
it never leaves you, not when you've practiced it since you were five. I cracked an elbow into the second man's face, my left hand supporting the fist of my striking arm and putting more strength behind the blow. He went stumbling back, blood pouring down his chin.

  Bal's smirk shifted into a sneer and a low growl rumbled past his lips. He leapt for me.

  “I said, don't hurt her!” Drostan shouted.

  Bal rolled at the last second, tumbling into my legs. As I struggled to get up, he blew into my face. Golden sparkles filled the air, falling around me like glitter. I gaped at him. When I dream-dusted someone, I had to blow across my palm, bringing up the magic that waited within my skin. But this witch had the dust on his very lips. Except it wasn't working. His wicked grin faltered when I remained awake. I started to smile, then I headbutted him.

  Bal cried out and lurched back, his nose gushing blood.

  “Fascinating,” Drostan murmured as I faced off with his rallying minions. “It must be a side-effect of Quell; it shields her magic but also protects her against other magic, just like a containment field. You're going to have to tranquilize her the old fashioned way. One moment.” Drostan left the room as if walking out of a cocktail party.

  Quell? Great, he had snazzy names for all his drugs. Meanwhile, the three minions closed in around me. But they stopped about five feet away. Out of my range, just making sure I didn't bolt. They were waiting for Drostan to fetch the tranquilizer. Well, fuck that.

  I dove for Bal because he was the biggest threat. He grunted as I collided with his stomach, and we hit the floor hard. Rolling, we made an impossible target for the other men. They could only edge around us as I knocked Bal's head into the floor. He snarled and grabbed my throat.

  “Enough!” Drostan shouted. “Just hold her down, don't hurt her! You two, get in there and help him restrain her!”

  The other two men jumped into the fray even as I rolled with Bal. We became one big huddle of hurt, but they managed to get me pinned at last. The three of them held me down as Drostan inserted a needle in my arm.

  As I fell unconscious, I caught Drostan's gaze. “I'm going to fucking kill you.”

  His wide, electric-blue eyes were the last thing I saw before darkness took me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I woke up in that medieval bed. Moaning softly, I came awake, my gaze sliding over the carved wood panel above me, then trailing down the green bed-curtains to the velvet comforter. Someone's hand slid over my belly and then they nuzzled my cheek. I turned, body warm and liquid, to find Drostan beside me. Bare-chested and beneath the covers with me. He turned on his side to face me, and his erection brushed my thigh. So, he wasn't just bare-chested.

  I settled into his embrace. I was naked too, and my body quivered as it molded to his. My sex ached with need and my mind was consumed with love for him, drenched in it. I knew what Drostan had done, it was all right there in my head, and yet I didn't care. I wanted him. Loved him desperately. I could forgive him anything.

  “Drostan,” I whispered urgently.

  “Seren,” he groaned. “Oh, Seren, at last.”

  Drostan kissed me, his tongue delving into my mouth with languid movements, pulling passion from me. I writhed, my body arching against his, providing the perfect cradle for his hard shaft. Intoxicated with love, my left hand pressed over his heart as my right roamed his perfect body, smoothing over solid muscles, gliding over his ass, and finally coming to rest on his cock. I groaned into his kiss as I took it in hand and started stroking him.

  “Oh, fuck!” Drostan broke from our kiss to growl. “That's it, my love, now suck me. I want to feel those beautiful lips on my dick.”

  I kissed my way down his body, and he threw back the covers to watch me. Drostan laid back and drew me over him to settle between his legs. I knelt there and gazed dreamily up his sculpted torso to his stunning face. His eyes glowed as if lit from within and a wicked look flashed across his face. My heart stuttered—not with its beating but with love. But when I blinked down at the hard piece of flesh in my hand, my throat tightened. What was I doing?

  Drostan's hand went to the back of my head and pushed. “Go on, baby. Suck that big cock. Get it nice and wet before you ride it. You're dying too, aren't you? Aching for me. Just as I'm eager to feel that wet pussy around me. And to see those beautiful tits shaking as you fuck me.” He grinned and pulled his knees up. “Lick my balls and tongue my ass too. You know how I like that. But don't get too carried away or I'll come before I get inside you, and neither one of us want that.”

  His crude words and his reference to Verisande were like a mental splash of cold water. I jerked back, falling on my ass on the bunched covers, and stared at him in horror. I guess I should have been thankful that he was such a greedy lover, or he might have gone down on me first, and I might have been lost to lust.

  “Fuck!” Drostan snarled as he sat up. “No, Seren, not again.” He shoved me onto my back and held me down, knocking my legs apart. His cock moved into place.

  I screamed and bucked, concentrating on images of my husbands and calling on our love to save me once more. That glittering emotion burst through me, driving away the enchantment even faster this time. Drostan could tweak his Dark Kiss all he wanted, but my love was learning with each dose and countering his every move. Drostan snarled like a wild thing and held me down, kissing my neck even as I fought him. Surprisingly sharp teeth sank into my skin, and I screamed louder, knocking my chin into his head. At last, I managed to get a knee between Drostan's legs and brought it up, right into those balls he wanted me to lick.

  “Lick this, motherfucker!” I screamed and rolled away as he clutched himself and groaned.

  I got to my feet but instead of running, I dove back to punch him in the face. Blood sprayed, and I snarled in satisfaction. My magic was gone, but I was still a trained extinguisher. I was gonna kill this son of a bitch with my bare hands. I looked around and spotted a spiraled horn, propped on a display stand. Correction: my bare hands and a horn. Yeah, that'll do.

  I ran over and snatched up the horn, taking it off its stand with a sharp movement. Then I leapt back onto the bed and straddled Drostan. Using both hands, I lifted the horn above my head, point angled at his throat. But he bucked violently, throwing me to the floor. I scrambled and got a better grip on my makeshift weapon as he climbed off the bed, his expression savage. The blood dripping down his chin didn't help.

  “You're so fucking beautiful when you're angry,” Drostan declared.

  “And you're so fucking ugly now that I've seen your real face.” I dove at him.

  Drostan backhanded me, and I went flying. The breath huffed out of my lungs as my back hit the couch, and the horn skittered away. He was on me in a second and got me sprawled beneath him on the rug seconds after that. I screamed and thrashed, trying to knock my head into his and buck him off, but Drostan kept his face out of my reach as he held me down expertly—as if he raped women all the time. His cock nestled against my sex, and I went still with icy horror.

  “Go on then,” I snarled. “Take your pleasure and see how far that gets you with me.”

  Drostan went still, panting. He shuddered and lowered his face to mine. “I love you, Seren. I don't want to take anything from you. I can wait.” He kissed my cheek and got up, then held a hand down to me. Just like that, he was a different man, but I didn't trust it. Only an idiot would have.

  I scrambled up on my own and backed away from him. Drostan's hot gaze roamed my naked body, but then he turned and went to a door in the left wall. There were three doors set in that wall; one led to the corridor, one was partially open to show a glimpse of a bathroom, and then there was this one. He disappeared into the room beyond but returned a few moments later with a set of delicate lace underwear and a white, silk dress.

  Drostan held the garments out to me like an olive branch. “Why don't you have a nice hot shower and then get dressed, my love?” He waved toward the bathroom. “I'll have breakfast waiting
for you when you're done.”

  I snatched the clothes from Drostan and edged past him warily, then ran into the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it. I panted in relief, terrified tears trailing down my cheeks as I sank to the floor. Arms wrapped around my knees, I hung my head and sobbed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I showered and dressed. I had another cry in the shower, then pulled myself together. Showering had brought home just how much weight I'd lost. My fey immortality had helped me recover, but it hadn't brought back the weight. I wasn't emaciated, but I didn't look so good. I needed to get back to my fighting weight so I could kill Drostan.

  And yes, that was the plan. I didn't have much beyond that yet, but having a goal was a good start. I'd wait and watch until I found a way out of Drostan's prison and then, on my way out, I'd kill that motherfucker. I was an extinguisher and a queen, and I had just mentally approved an extinguishment order for Baron Drostan Dealan, to be executed as soon as possible with extreme prejudice, for crimes against humanity and fairykind as well as treason against the Seelie Throne.

 

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