She was his to protect and cherish, the true-mate he’d never expected to have. Once he’d dreamed of finding the one woman who completed his soul, but his first teenage romance had put paid to that. He’d turned cold and hard, a warrior who possessed a certain harsh charm. The colder he became, the more women wanted to be the one who thawed his heart, but he’d rejected them all. After he’d bedded them, of course.
He claimed to feel nothing, but a secret part of his heart wanted to find
the one
. And he wasn’t just talking hot sex here. Part of him craved the love and laughter he’d share with his true-mate, but no one had ever affected him like Sylvie.
Her? His true-mate? Damn it. No way! Not someone like her—only his mating instinct screamed she was his.
His queen should be caring and proud, not some hooker looking for the next payoff. When Sylvie had turned up at his brother’s wedding, Caleb had been so angry he’d given in to his most basic instincts, and he hadn’t cared if he hurt or humiliated her along the way. Okay, he’d only been with her a short time, but he knew he wanted to keep her—once she learned her place. He hated that she used her body to tempt lovers into her bed, then made them pay—exactly as she had Giles. Cold hard cash meant the world to her, but once she submitted, Caleb was rich enough to satisfy even her money-grubbing ways. Whatever she was, he had to possess her, to love her until she was too sore to walk, but he wanted more. He wanted her heart. His natural wolf gave an I-told-you-so yelp and receded. Now that he’d accepted her as his true-mate, even his primal beast stilled.
Maybe he should forget the surrender and take her over and over, win her body, then stake his claim on her life. Earlier, it had amused him to let her think he was a security guard, but now he needed every ace he held in his hand. Perhaps his wealth and position would win her, but if he didn’t shift that pained, betrayed look from her eyes, he’d never face himself in a mirror again.
He fisted his cock, ready to claim the release he’d denied her, but he’d already come once while she was a seething mass of unfulfilled need. He’d deliberately turned the tactics she’d used on his brother against her in the hopes that if he left her hot, horny, and hungry for him, she’d agree to be solely his. Now his mating instinct had kicked in and he wanted so much more—he wanted this delicate half-Fae beauty for his queen.
He snarled and stayed close to the door, but for the first time in two centuries, he didn’t know what to do. Worse, once she thought him out of earshot, she wept in earnest. He’d brought her to this with his so-called wisdom and justice. Now her every sob cut through him like a sword. He should be at his brother’s wedding, lending Giles the support he deserved, but his slender Fae princess needed him more.
He clenched his fists in frustration, but he was back at her side in an instant. “Gods, sweetness, don’t cry like this.”
She sobbed harder and turned her face from him, her rejection piercing his heart like a nail. He ran his hands down her spine, a tender caress meant to comfort and soothe. He hated how she trembled beneath him, and damn it, her beautiful little bottom glowed through the red lace of her panties. He’d never meant to spank her so hard. His primal beast growled and paced inside him, furious that he’d turned its fierceness on her. His natural wolf howled its need to love, protect, and cherish, but as always Caleb the Cold clamped down on his emotions. Caleb the Confused and Conflicted, more like.
He snarled as he clawed through her bonds, and when he gathered her in his arms, she curled against his chest like a tearful kitten. He ruled his territory with an iron fist, but his passion for truth and justice won his packs’ hearts. He won every battle tournament—even when he fought masked and disguised—but his quick wits and humor kept the unruly Lykae nation in order. Then this tiny woman confounded him with her tears.
Her utter misery tore him apart. Unused to caring for a woman’s sensibilities, all he could do was hold her and whisper soft words. Elves’ blood, he’d do anything to win her trust so he could woo her with hot sex and expensive jewels.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands, and when he pulled her lips to his, his need to conquer and control crumbled. Her delicate beauty needed gentle touches and careful handling, but he’d tied her up and tormented her—left her body aching with need. Fuck it, he’d even stripped her with his claws.
Chapter Four
Liquid fire flowed through Sylvie’s veins. Her breasts felt heavy and cold, desperate for her Lykae’s caress, and her pussy tightened and pulsed with need. Common sense told her to fight him off and run, but her lips seemed superglued to his. And Gods, her Lykae could kiss, but why hadn’t her fiancé wanted her like this? Maybe there was something wrong with her—like her half-blood heritage—or maybe Lykaes just didn’t find her that attractive.
After Giles had walked away rather than seal their betrothal with a kiss, she’d been nervous to show her feelings around the self-contained Fae—and human men lacked the intensity she loved in this arrogant Lykae male. She twisted her fingers in his slightly too-long hair. Gradually as he petted and soothed her, she snuggled into his chest.
That’s all it took for him to reach out and curl one huge hand around her breast. His every touch made her moan and pant, but her needs were too much, her hunger too great. He’d made her want things she’d never imagined, and she needed him to fuck her, not frustrate her again.
Sylvie’s hips ground out an invitation. Her body unfurled from his chest like a rose coming into bloom, and she drew him down on the bed. She craved him deep inside her, but she’d never been with a man, especially not an oversexed, oversize Lykae. Truthfully, she’d never felt that special or needed, but with him she felt like the only woman in the world.
When she loosened his bow tie, his lips twitched into a smug, wolfish smile. She slipped her hands inside his dress shirt, and she loved the strength and steel in his pecs—but she’d expected coarse chest hair, not a soft, downy covering almost like fur.
She knew nothing about her captor except he made her want him so badly she ached inside. He could be a serial seducer, a perverted security guard who preyed on those weaker than himself, but she’d worry about those things later—after he’d fucked her until she was too weak to walk. For these few short minutes, she’d pretend he cared about more than punishing her for breaching his security lockdown, and love him with everything she had.
With a shy smile, she abandoned his chest and moved her hand down to his cock. He groaned and ground his dick into her fist. Okay, she had some power in the relationship after all—only it wasn’t really a relationship. She wished she’d devoured self-help books like her university roommate; then she’d know how to build everything she shared with Mr. Arrogance—his lusts and her longings—into something meaningful and good.
“You don’t have to do this,” Caleb whispered, “but I’d hate you to stop.”
He’d hate it, but twice he’d left her hanging in every sense of the word. He’d roused her passionate nature, loved her until she’d writhed and begged; then he’d dominated her with spanking and pain. Her butt throbbed, and she didn’t trust her randy-natured Lykae an inch. He took his weight on his elbows rather than crush her. As his lips claimed hers, she knew she was lost.
“I want this too.” She blushed. “But my half brother—”
“No
buts
.” He put his finger on her lips and nibbled her neck. “Just you and me, okay?”
“Okay.” She nodded.
He bent his head to her breasts and tongued one erect nipple while his fingers gently pinched the other. She arched her back for more, but he stroked his hand down her belly and into her panties. When he slid them down her thighs, her pussy overflowed with cream. Her blush spread from her cheeks to her toes, but she still opened her legs wider so he could lick and taste.
He groaned and told her, “You want this as much as I do.”
“Later,” Sylvie gasped when he laved her clit. “Lick me later. Fuck me now.”
He chuckled and kissed his way up her stomach and past her breasts. When his lips locked with hers, he rammed his cock inside her, ripping her hymen, and making her inhale with a gulp. White lightning shot through her in an explosion of power and heat. Her toes curled, her thighs clenched, and she bit back a squeal of pain. Her pussy tensed into a strangling steel band, then relaxed around him, but he filled her so completely she couldn’t breathe. When she could finally move, she matched him thrust for thrust. An excited tingle spread over her stomach and warmed her breasts. Her orgasm hit her like applause rippling through a theater; then it exploded into a standing ovation. Her magic unfurled inside her, an elusive thread she couldn’t quite grasp, but stronger, closer than ever before. Another thrust of her wolf-man’s hips and her magic thickened into a strand of spun silk. After another urgent thrust, she could almost wrap it around her hand—then he pulled out and sprayed semen all over the bed.
What the hell?
“I want you all to myself, sweetness, so let’s not get you pregnant yet.”
Try ever
. She didn’t want his babies, just his body for casual sex—only deep down, she wanted more. She wanted to be his. His wolfish grin was warm and infectious, and she liked the way he radiated all the confidence she lacked. When he loved her like this, she wanted forever—not that a Lykae would truly care for a half-blood Fae. Giles had already proven that.
Lost in a maelstrom of desire, she’d forgotten everything—contraception, warfare, and the way he’d insulted her from the moment they met—but now that she’d come hard, she could think again.
She flashed him her perkiest smile. “That was amazing, but I’ve still got things to do. My powers aren’t developed yet, but if you’ll flash us back to the human world, I’ll be on my way.”
“Mine,” he growled. “And you’re damn well staying that way.”
“Overpossessive or what? Listen, Mr. Arrogance, you might be sex on a stick, but I still need to get to that wedding.”
“Still after your payoff, sweetness? Stay here, and I’ll reward you with diamonds or rubies, maybe both.”
“Clothes, buster, I need clothes, not some sparkly stones.”
He raised his eyebrows and shook his head; then he dragged his tux back on and headed for the door. “I’ll be back when the wedding’s over, and I’ll bring you handfuls of those sparkly stones you disparage. Maybe, since you’ve been such a good girl, I’ll even bring you some clothes.”
He looked like a disheveled James Bond with his shirt neck open and his bow tie dangling from his hand—only he was still treating her like his whore. Maybe she shouldn’t have given in and opened her legs so easily, but no one had ever made her pant with sexual hunger before.
Then the smug bastard left her again.
Sylvie pulled on the door handle, but it was definitely locked. At least her hands were unbound, so maybe she could scramble out the window and find a way back to the human world. She stared out at a tropical rain forest, but she must be about seventy feet above the ground. She was locked in like Rapunzel in a tower—only she was a half-breed princess who couldn’t control her magic no matter how hard she tried. And her Prince Charming turned out to be a sexy, insensitive prick.
Wild things moved among the jungle of flowers and vines, and she’d already seen a wyvern attack a carrion eater for its prey. As she watched, an oversize daffodil—sky blue with a trumpet that stretched to almost two yards—shot out a tendril and dragged in remains of the wyvern’s prey. Damn it, even the plants were carnivorous here. No wonder she preferred her everyday human existence to a world teeming with violence and death—and that went double for the vicious Lykae packs and the aloof-natured Fae.
Part of her wanted to cower in the tower and wait for the big bad wolf-man to return, but with war looming, she needed to get proactive and get out of here. A narrow trail cut through the jungle of stems and vines, but she wasn’t sure she could traverse it without a machete, and she didn’t want to get eaten by an oversize, miscolored plant.
Call it cowardice, but she daren’t jump from this height. A thick vine covered in tiny white flowers twisted up the opposite corner of this out-of-the-way tower. At least the flowers weren’t big enough to eat her, and she figured she could scramble down its stalk.
The building was old-fashioned enough to have narrow ledges decorating the outside, but she couldn’t balance on that slender spur of stone. Could she? Even if she did, she’d still have to climb down the vine, but people’s lives were at risk here, so she had to give it a go.
She slipped her panties back on, ripped the bedsheet in two, and tossed the clean half out the window. Her heart pounded as she watched it flutter to the ground; then she tossed her strappy sandals out after it. Pity she hadn’t worn hobnailed boots, but she’d take whatever protection she could against those jungle vines. She just hoped she didn’t meet the oversize rodents. Since she couldn’t touch her magic, she hadn’t really grasped the immortality thing. What if she fell and found out she wasn’t? She tossed a wistful look at her shredded dress and bra, waited until her legs stopped shaking, then stepped out onto the ledge.
Her toes hung over the edge, and she clutched the window frame until her tremors stopped. The cold stone chilled her bare feet. The forest spun like a spiral that sucked her down, but she edged a step closer to the vine and let go of the window frame. Eyes screwed shut, she splayed her hands over the wall. It felt good to have something solid against her bare skin. She shuffled another step away from the relative safety of her room.
Fear paralyzed her, but she calmed herself by concentration on her Lykae lover and the way he swept her up in a tide of passion.
Oh God, did that vine rustle? Was that a stem shooting toward her?
A thick branch wound around her waist like an anaconda and swung her off the ledge. It held her, head down, dangling above the ground. She screamed her earsplitting banshee shriek; then another stem shot out, curled around her chest. Slowly its grip tightened and crushed the air from her lungs.