Prince of Pleasure (2 page)

She sighed. So many students were anymore.

She tried to take as many classes as she could to make her money stretch—since the cost was the same for her to take twelve or nineteen credit hours. Apparently full-time was full-time. And she would probably be closer to completion if she took interim courses and classes over the summer, but her passion demanded she give it her attention as well.

She didn’t fall into the habits of some who took up the torch of studying what most believed didn’t exist. No. Bigfoot and the Moth Man weren’t her thing. She took an altogether different path. One far less traveled.

Men who could shift into birds.

The “birdies” she was hunting.

History was littered with sightings and reports from eyewitnesses. Some labeled what they saw as angels or even demons. She believed the men were something else entirely. From what she’d pieced together, they were real and they weren’t gods or anything of the sort, but rather beings that had come and gone freely since the dawn of time.

She’d found patterns in the sightings. Narrowed down the best possible locations to perhaps catch a look at them herself and document proof of their existence. With her camera at the ready, she pushed deeper into the woods.

The bite of fall was in the air and Lucy was pleased she’d had the forethought to bundle up prior to heading out. Still, her cheeks and nose were cold. She ignored the discomfort and continued on. She’d get her proof and others would stop laughing at her.

She was no one’s joke.

The temperature dropped even more with each step she took deeper into the woods. She pulled her jacket tighter, thankful she’d paired it with one of her university sweatshirts. The
Rebs
logo was faded and worn—the mark of a well-loved article of clothing. She’d spent three comfy years donning it whenever she could—wearing it while studying for exams or when she noticed all her roommates were out on dates while she was back at the shared condo reading the latest and greatest on the newest chupacabra sightings. The sweatshirt was something of a security blanket for her. It was there for her when men weren’t. And it didn’t give a rat’s ass what size she was.

Unlike men.

Alice was right. She did need to find a guy. One who didn’t care that she wasn’t a stick figure. That she actually enjoyed eating and, unlike some of the girls she knew, didn’t rush to the bathroom to expel anything she ate.

“Fat chance I’m finding a prince charming who likes curves,” she mused, walking onward. Her sex-starved body would have to wait. She was a girl on a mission and she wasn’t stopping it for anything—not even the quest to get laid. Besides, the men she met never lived up to her idea of Prince Charming. They lacked something he had.

Wings.

She smiled as she thought about the birdman that had captured her attention when she was young. He’d been unbelievably handsome. Not to mention, he could fly.

What little girl wouldn’t grow up with a secret crush on him? Now a young woman, she found it hard to be bothered with human men. Not when she knew the truth of what was out there.

Soon, everyone would know about them.

A tiny pang of worry filled her gut. What if she’d imagined the birdmen? What if Pappy’s stories had been so vivid, so compelling to her that she’d allowed herself to think she’d seen a majestic creature with wings?

“No,” she said. “They’re real. I know it.
He’s
real.”

When she came to a clearing, she paused, staying to the tree line as she clicked off her flashlight and took a seat. This was it. The spot she could trace several sightings back to. She’d been here before, more than once. Nothing had come of it, but that didn’t matter. She knew in her gut this was where she needed to be.

Something rustled the leaves on the other side of the clearing. She brought her camera up and waited. Excitement churned in her stomach, heightening her senses. She watched, positive this was the moment she’d spent years waiting for. The smell of pine needles increased to the point that it was sickening.

Another rustle of leaves sounded.

She put her finger over the button to snap a picture, fully prepared to have her moment. When a raccoon wandered out from the other side of the clearing, her heart sank. She let out a breath she’d been unaware she was holding and then pulled her finger away from the button on her camera.

Darn.

She’d been so sure.

“What do we have here?” a deep voice asked from behind her, startling her, making her drop her camera as she spun around. The camera went off, as did its flash, illuminating two rather large males, each shirtless, wearing leather bottoms and boots that were unlike any boots she’d ever seen. She bent, grabbing her camera and clutching it to her.

Lucy took a step backwards and lost her footing, her legs going out from under her as one of the muscle-bound men reached for her with an unearthly quickness. There was a loud fluttering sound accompanied by a blur of black that seemed to wall up behind the men.

No. Not a wall
, she thought, her mind racing.

Wings.

She gasped, stunned she’d been successful to such a degree. Not only that, seeing them again in the flesh meant she’d not been crazy, she’d not hallucinated or allowed an overactive imagination to guide her.

They were real.

She had thought she’d obtain grainy photos of something birdman-like moving far off in the distance. But here they were; birdmen, up close and personal.

Birdmen with huge black wings that were wider than the men were tall. It took her a second to catch up with what was happening and who the men were. She’d been expecting something more bird-like and less guys-who-live-at-the-gym types, but she’d take anything. “You’re them!”

“Sure, wench,” one said snidely, his accent thicker than the other. “I will be whatever you want me to be.”

“Grab her!” the other shouted.

The man seized hold of her arm roughly and discomfort found her quickly.

“Ouch! I only want a picture,” she said, the ground suddenly moving out from under her. Lucy’s camera dropped free of her grasp and crashed to the unforgiving ground with a sickening thud that echoed deep in her chest. That camera had cost her nearly six months’ worth of tips, and she’d been so excited when she’d bought it two years back. Now it was in pieces, appearing to get farther and farther from her.

No. It’s not moving
, she thought.
I am.

For a split second, she didn’t understand what was happening. When the realization hit her, she was pretty sure she screamed, yet she couldn’t hear a sound as she was whisked high into the skies by the very birdmen she’d wanted picture proof of.

Her thoughts didn’t instantly go to panic or even elation that her adoptive caregivers had been right, as had she. Her focus settled on one undeniable fact.

“Holy crap! You’re real and you’re douchebags!”

Prince Rossi lounged lazily on the mounds of pillows and fine linens, one leg propped upon a golden, overstuffed pillow, leaving him lying in a rather suggestive manner on the floor. He wore nothing more than his boots and trews, and his cock was already hard and wanting free from its material restraints. He was in need of release. His balls were tight and full, and his body was sore from a day spent conditioning in the training yard.

It was important to him and all males of his race that they keep their bodies in peak physical state. Each male was a honed fighting machine, bred from long bloodlines of brave and powerful warriors. The women of his kind were different. They were not normally warriors. They were also low in numbers.

Bird shifters were not weak. Each of them had a place in their society and was expected to contribute. The elderly of their race, who were rare as aging happened so slowly for their kind, were treated with great respect and cared for, wanting for nothing as they enjoyed their later cycles. The young were raised by their parents, but the villagers and townspeople came together to help as well.

Even he had to admit that despite his aversion to mating, he was pleased to see his kingdom had slowly started to see an increase in the birth rate. Their population had fallen dangerously low. Once, they’d been great in numbers, but those numbers had dwindled and the kingdom, and the realm for that matter, had seen a dramatic decrease in new births.

Much had changed in recent times, though—for the better.

A fledgling did not dare to disobey their mother’s rules when far from her line of sight, for the other women in the village would be sure to set the child in his place and then take him to his mother so that she may know of the wrong that was done.

His people were so different from the humans who seemed to be steadily invading the kingdom—one mating ceremony at a time.

He shuddered.

Mating and humans.

What could be worse?

Surely, there was no fate so grave as to compare to being shackled to a human mate for all eternity. The very thought nearly sent him spiraling into a frenzy. Yet, one of his brothers had done so, as had a man so close a friend that Rossi thought of him as a brother. Kabril and Sachin had taken humans for mates. Or rather, those strange bird gods who so many prayed to had deemed the two sets matches. Rossi flinched at the idea the meddlesome gods would get to him eventually. They’d been going in order of birth to date, so he felt confident they would not bother with him for some time yet.

At least Aeson, another of his brothers, had managed to find a woman who had some of the blood of their people in her veins.

Habit left Rossi reaching behind him slightly, his hand meeting with the cool metal of his sword. It was nestled carefully behind him, close to his body and easy to snatch hold of, should the need arise. And with the current state of the realm, one never knew when that moment might be.

The kingdom sat perched on the edge of all-out war. In recent weeks, Lazar, a trusted guard and advisor to the kingdom of Hawks—who also happened to be the rightful heir to the throne of the hawks’ sworn enemy—had claimed his mate and made it known that he would rise to the throne regardless what obstacles lay in his path, moving one step closer to going for what he’d been born to rule.

Rossi liked Lazar, despite Lazar being of the falcon’s lines. The man was strong and brave, and he would one day make a great leader—perhaps even helping to bring peace between the rival kingdoms. Before that day could come, the current king of the falcons, rumored to be in the throes of madness, gripped by
the stirring of the twisted
, would need to be removed from power. While he steadily lost favor with his people, he still had enough pull to retain his throne, and for now was ruling his kingdom with fear and extreme aggression.

Rossi could not imagine such a fate for the people of the hawks. They had always trusted in his family’s rule of their kingdom. None in his line had ever betrayed their own—or set their armies upon their own kind.

Unlike the king of the falcons.

Rossi tried to clear his mind of thoughts of war as he looked to the private entertainment he’d called for earlier in the evening. His cock twitched as he watched the women who filled the room dance and caress one another. They wore the customary garb of the women of the harems. Thin material covered their sex and their breasts. He could easily make out their nipples and he smiled as one of the woman began running her hands over another’s breasts.

These women had seen to his needs many times over the last several cycles. They knew his likes in the bedchamber and knew the level of kink he desired. He smiled, thinking on his last visit to the human realm. He’d had a memorable encounter there, in a club that catered to fantasies. There, Rossi had watched a group of women pleasuring a man. He found he liked watching others copulate. It turned him on, lighting a fire in his groin so that when he did seek out personal pleasure, he often came hard and fierce.

He wanted such an experience now. He wanted to watch these women being taken by another man before he joined in, fucking one senseless.

His wants were somewhat perverse, but he cared not. He clicked his fingers, gaining the attention of the women. “Dance.”

They shared a look with one another and some giggled as they began to do as they were bid. Rossi ran his hand over his leather-covered cock and found he was not as enraptured with their actions as he’d once been. Still, he permitted them to carry on, his thoughts drifting back to the coming war.

So much had happened in the last few full cycles, or years as he often heard humans refer to them, that it was simply a matter of time before war was declared and the small confrontations occurring on the borders between the kingdoms turned into full-scale battles.

Even the vultures were daring to show their faces within the boundaries of the hawks’ and the falcons’ lands. They were friend to none, enemy to all in the realm.

Sighing, Rossi continued to stroke his cock through his trews. Soon, he would order the women to service him so that several of the females could take turns sucking his cock. The idea of such acts had, at one point, left him near spilling his seed. No more. Now, the acts seemed to take longer and longer to bring him pleasure, and even that pleasure was not as great as he hoped it would be.

He watched as handmaidens danced in a circle in the center of the room, each trying to catch and keep his gaze upon them. Demanding wenches, if he did say so himself. They no longer had the attentions of the king, so they were particularly giving in the needs and wants of those in positions of power.

Such as Rossi.

They would suck him for hours and hours if he called for it. They would do whatever he wished of them. Harems were commonplace through the entire realm. Some even operated from taverns, giving pleasure to passing warriors.