There was too much truth in Giles’s words for Caleb to deny them, but he’d hurt Sylvie because of his brother’s lies. “And what about the Fae princess?”
“You wouldn’t believe it today, but back then she was a podgy creature with wild hair, big eyes, and no social graces. I wouldn’t have gone near her with a barge pole. Besides, I like my women experienced. I couldn’t even make myself kiss her to seal the deal, but since she’s obviously recovered from all that misplaced emotion and excessive teenage angst, there’s no real harm done.”
No harm? Caleb—a leader renowned for his wisdom and fair-handed justice—had condemned Sylvie because of his brother’s cruel lies. Bile soured his throat, mindless anger washed away his hold on humanity, and his primal wolf howled for his brother’s blood.
He’d tormented Sylvie until she stood on a sexual brink, accused of using her delicate body to drive men crazy; then he’d treated her worse than he would a whore. Now he realized that the thought of her warming his brother’s bed had pushed him into temporary madness, and Giles’s lies turned him incandescent with rage. If he gave in to the fury inside him, he’d claw out Giles’s heart and rip out his throat.
Concentrate on Sylvie. Find a way to stay sane.
At least their sex had been good—but then he remembered her pained gasp when he penetrated her. Elves’ blood, had she been a freaking virgin? He was the one with hundreds of bedmates, but Sylvie had turned his animal passion into something burning and bright. Dazzled him even. He’d forgotten everything except his need to be inside her, when he should have put her needs first. He’d driven her inexperienced body into a sensual frenzy, and when her desires drove her beyond the edge of reason, he’d used her…badly. Then to cap things off nicely, he’d accused her of wanting another payoff before he left her naked and imprisoned in his hunting lodge. Damn it, what was the use in being a king if he couldn’t do a blasted thing right around his true-mate?
“L-look,” Giles stammered, “I never went back to the damned Fae court, and as far as King Leonidas is concerned, me and Sylvie are still betrothed. Why do you think I wanted to get married in the mundane world? We both know the Fae never willingly leave their kingdom, so what happens on earth stays on earth. Okay?”
Caleb’s savage primal form raged to the fore. Eight feet of fur, fangs, and fury towered over Giles—and it wanted blood.
“And when”—Caleb roared—“did you decide to screw over the entire werewolf nation?”
Giles’s eyes widened, but rather than go toe-to-toe with the Lykae king, he scuttled backward across the ground like a crab. His beta nature turned his words into a whimper. “Caleb, please, I’m a lover not a fighter. You’re the alpha warrior Father chose to lead the nation, and I’m the beta disappointment he despised. Daphne deserves the best, and I honestly didn’t think the fairies would give a damn about some ancient betrothal neither of us wanted.”
“Traitor!” Caleb’s beast snarled. “You broke moon-kissed vows. The Fae could call in the other nations—the vampires, ogres, and witches—and they’d bloody decimate us over this. Traitors die hard. And they deserve to.”
Giles almost wept. “Brother. You’re my loving brother. Remember?”
The beast wanted to bite and claw, to break bones and bathe in blood. Caleb almost surrendered to his primitive instincts and let his primal beast take full control, but he might never find his way back.
Concentrate on Sylvie. Keep control. Don’t take Giles’s throat.
A fierce inner battle raged inside him, and while his fury still drove him, he shoved his inner beast back into its cage.
“I should kill you now,” he growled—gentler, but still in primal wolf form, “especially since I gave you an out. Give me one good reason not to gut you and send your entrails to the Fae king as a peace offering.”
Giles turned green beneath his spray tan. “Perhaps, because it would be messy? I ballsed up, but Daphne won’t let me do anything stupid again, and Sylvie’s been a trouper the way she pretended she didn’t give a damn.”
For the first time, Caleb wondered if his brother had broken Sylvie’s heart. What if she preferred Giles’s easy charm over Caleb’s ferocity and carefully considered emotions? Furious, confused, and mourning for the love he thought he’d lost, he tipped back his head and howled at the moon.
WRAPPED UP IN their fears, disappointments, and fury, neither brother noticed a dark shadow detach itself from a nearby oak and drift back to the hotel’s bright lights and laughter. Ron Drayton had stayed carefully downwind, and his spying had paid dividends. He grinned like a shark and pulled out his cell phone. “The plan’s changed. The thing my cousin married is a waste of space, but if we acquire his brother, we’ve got the king of the Lykae nation.”
* * * *
Still unable to forgive his brother, Caleb hung back as Sylvie stood among a knot of wedding guests on the hotel’s steps and waved the bride and groom off. He had apologies to offer and promises to make—anything to earn her forgiveness and win her heart. He just needed Daphne’s human cousin to leave Sylvie’s side.
“Daphne made a glowing bride.” Sylvie smiled at Ron. “You must be proud of her.”
Gods, Caleb would do anything to have her smile like that for him. If the damned human laid a hand on her, he’d lose it.
Ron balled his fists and stared over Sylvie’s head. His self-satisfied smirk made Caleb want to pound him into the floor, but he refused to spoil his brother’s wedding by brawling with the guests. Bad enough that he’d already blacked Giles’s eye.
In a calculated gesture designed to enrage Caleb, Ron rested his hand on Sylvie’s arm. “I love my cousin to pieces, but she’s married a freaking dog. I hate these weirdos, but they’re not as bloody superior as they think. Giles is a wastrel, but his brother’s a monster.”
Sylvie glued on her smile when she spotted Caleb—but her voice reverberated with fury. “For goodness’ sake, lay off with the dog thing. I agree Caleb’s harder to stomach than Giles. He’s an arrogant bully, and I’ll be glad to see the back of him. I only came to support Daphne.”
Hard to stomach? Caleb supposed he deserved that, but at least she didn’t call him a monster. She’d made him hot and hard, tempted him without even knowing the power she wielded, but he’d behaved like an asshole. Her reaction broadsided him. He’d planned to woo her with jewels and flowers, then fuck her until she forgave him, but her words flowed over him like acid.
He spotted his second in command, Joel Blackheart, with a giggling Megan in the foyer. Thanks to Daphne that girl and Ron already knew too much, and Caleb would have to do something about that soon—but not today.
Two steps inside and he thrust the medallion at Joel. “Here. Put this somewhere safe.”
Caleb didn’t wait for a response, just rushed back to the door, but Ron had already ushered Sylvie into a taxi and climbed in beside her.
“One day, that Caleb will get his,” Ron promised. “Meanwhile, where did you say you left your car? Just give the driver the instructions and we’ll drop you off.”
Caleb growled from the shadows, ready to rip out the human’s throat, but Sylvie had already accepted Ron’s invitation. It almost killed him that she left him without a backward glance.
Bloody independent fairy! Doesn’t she know she’s mine?
He watched the car turn out of the hotel’s drive. He constantly got things wrong around her. She needed soft touches and gentle loving, not some wild beast plunging inside her. Like a fool, he’d insulted and belittled her; then he’d expected her to hang around until he apologized—seduced her more like—but her abrupt departure scuttled his carefully considered plans. He ran his fingers through his blond hair and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his gut. What if he lost her? Elves’ blood, he needed to track her down and court her, but apart from their mind-blowing sex, he’d behaved like a dumbed-down version of his brother.
The urge to transform into his primal beast tore through him, but the top-hatted concierge was too damn close. Too many humans had learned about the Lykae today, and he refused to make that mess any worse. Instead, Caleb stuck his hands in his pockets to hide his claws and sauntered off down the road. Once clear of human eyes, eight feet of werewolf shimmered into being—all flat-out fury, fangs, fur, and claws—and with an impossibly deep growl, Caleb raced off into the woods.
He’d judged Sylvie on Giles’s lies, and twice he’d turned her away from the wedding without giving her a chance to explain. His true-mate was beautiful, brave, and determined. Rather than give up she’d hidden her vehicle in the woods, fronted up at the hotel, and slipped inside with the caterers. Now she was letting another man drive her back to her car.
Caleb’s two-legged primal beast blended powerful wolf and arrogant warrior—a fearsome mix of instinct, wisdom, and superhuman strength. His blood boiled, and pressure built inside him. The full moon filled him with mating heat. His woman was out there—without him. He sped through the trees, moving faster than the human eye could follow, but a new sense of purpose drove him. He was the hunter, and Sylvie was his prey.
He was born to do this—to track her and claim her—and the chase filled him with joy. The taxi pulled up alongside Sylvie’s ancient sedan, and once Ron had paid it off, he rubbed his fingers down Sylvie’s arm in a possessive gesture that made Caleb’s primal wolf howl with rage.
Elves’ blood, does the fool human really want to lose a limb?
Caleb’s primal beast demanded to bathe in Ron’s blood. With a growl that came from his boots, Caleb launched himself into the clearing and yanked Sylvie against his chest. “Mine. Touch her again, and die.”
He cradled Sylvie into his side, and he liked how she didn’t faint or pass out at his primal beast form. Okay, she looked kind of shell-shocked, but he’d deal with that after he got rid of Ron.
“I knew you liked her.” Ron smirked. “But bring it on, wolf-man.”
Sylvie elbowed her way between them. “Behave, both of you. And just for the record, King Caleb the Cold, I don’t belong to anyone—least of all a liar and deceiver like you.”
Strong, courageous mate. One I’ll be proud to claim as my queen.
“Seems the lady has more sense than my cousin.” Ron stood behind Sylvie as he fumbled around inside his pocket. “And she wants nothing to do with a dog.”
“Back away, human.” Caleb towered over him. “And bugger off.”
Ron finally found what he’d been searching for, stepped out to face Caleb, and Tasered him in the chest.
Chapter Seven
Caleb dropped like he’d been poleaxed, and his body flickered between primal beast, human, and true wolf forms.
“Told you he’d get what he deserves.” Ron pulled out his cell phone. “And I knew he’d come after you.”
Sylvie stepped back and leaned against the car. “What have you done?”
“Saved you, you silly cow, or did you want to fuck with that? Now stand still and be quiet while I talk to my friends.” Even drunk, Rom seemed dangerous. He keyed a preprogrammed number. “Subject acquired, but he’s tougher than I expected.”
“And,” Sylvie whispered, “he’ll kill you when the Taser charge wears off.”
Ron backhanded her. “I told you to keep quiet, or do we have to kill you too?”
Caleb saw tears mist her eyes, but she blinked them away and backed off. Gods, he needed to kiss her tears from her cheeks—right after he handed her Ron’s head on a plate.
A white van skidded to a halt beside them. Two human males jumped out, chained Caleb’s arms behind him, twisted the chain around his ankles, and pulled it tight.
Elves’ blood, the damn thing’s silver.
It locked him in primal form and burned red brands into his flesh. Pain crescendoed through him and drove his primal beast insane. His roars grew more animalistic as his humanity sank deeper inside him. He needed to kill, destroy, and maim. But whatever his form, he’d protect Sylvie.
He grasped the links, burning deep welts in his hands as he tugged at the chain, but silver was every Lykae’s Achilles’ heel. Pain spasmed through his limbs, building, burning, branding. He needed his freedom. He needed his true-mate safe, and he needed Ron and his cronies dead. Hog-tied and helpless, all he could do was flop like an out-of-water goldfish at Sylvie’s feet.
“Ron,” she groaned and rubbed her cheek, “please listen. He’s every bit the dog you call him, and you’ve no idea how much I despise him for the way he treated me earlier, but how can your chains hold a fully transformed werewolf?”
Caleb groaned. She despised him? No surprises there then, but once he got free, Ron would die a long, painful death for hurting his true-mate.
Ron helped his accomplices manhandle Caleb into the van. “They’re silver coated. According to the Internet, they lock a werewolf in his primal form, but that’s an improvement if you ask me.”
The chain burned his flesh like a branding iron, but he’d survive whatever Ron and his thugs planned. Then he’d teach them to respect his true-mate.
He needed Sylvie safe and well—naked and in his arms would be good too, but he’d already blown that. Was this pain in his chest the same one that made his discarded lovers weep and try to crawl back into his bed? Gods, he’d been such a louse.
“What happens now?” Sylvie asked. “What are you going to do with him?”
Ron brandished a solid silver butcher knife. “Maybe a little vivisection, or maybe we’ll have him stuffed and sell him to a freak show. The thing is, we can’t have any conscience-stricken little girls running back to the party and telling his friends.”
“Tell them?” Sylvie backed toward her sedan. “No way. Not after what the bastard did to me. I’m more likely to kick in his ribs.”
Ron’s mates snickered at her reaction, but Ron grabbed her chin and studied her face. “Tough talk, little one. So tell me just what he did.”
“He didn’t want more humans at the wedding than necessary, and he had his security men throw me out. I outsmarted him, and he hated it, so His Wolfishness over there kidnapped me. I had to climb out a second-floor window, balance along a narrow stone ledge, and shin down a vine that tried to crush the life out of me. That’s why I almost missed my best friend’s wedding.”