To Wed a Werewolf (12 page)

She was alone and hurting, and he didn’t know how to make things right. He was screwed if she really loved Giles. Or worse, had she found someone else, someone she preferred to him? She’d hate him twice over. Once for hurting her so badly and once for tying her future to his. He’d already manipulated King Leonidas until he demanded the wedding Caleb desired. Even for Sylvie’s sake, he couldn’t get out of it now.

Marrying her wasn’t hard for him, but it was clearly a shocker for her. Her wedding day should be one of the best days of her life, and she’d looked like she’d lost her best friend. He’d give anything for five minutes at her side and a chance to promise whatever it took ease her mind. And maybe he was hallucinating, but he thought he could smell her meadowsweet perfume.

“Caleb”—Joel Blackheart ushered Sylvie inside—“you’ve got a visitor.”

His second in command barely hid a snicker as he left them alone.

“I had to come,” Sylvie whispered, “and apologize. I know you never wanted this marriage, but damn it, you couldn’t even look at me. I know there’s a treaty and war and everything, but once we’ve gone through the motions, I won’t interfere with your pleasures. Caleb, I promise I’ll try to be a conformable wife.”

He smelled her distress and, thank Gods, her attraction. Whatever was going on in her mixed-up brain, she was already wet with need. He wanted to throw back his head and howl in triumph, but he smiled a wicked, wolfy grin and dragged her into his arms. She made a halfhearted protest, but the ruthless way he claimed her lips—demanding, delicious, devouring—made her melt against him. When he cupped her slender ass, he pulled her hips so close his erection pressed against her belly.

“I think”—he groaned between kisses—“you’ll be nothing but trouble. You’ll haunt my every daytime thought and exhaust me every night. Every time I look at you, I want to go to my knees and thank the Gods for giving me the most perfect of true-mates, but as Lykae king, I couldn’t let your brother see how much I need you. Sylvie, you’re my Achilles’ heel, but I needed those treaties to stand without losing my people in a pointless war. This way, your brother thinks he’s pulled a fast one, and the packs will envy me my beautiful Fae wife, but Sylvie, conformable? It must have a different meaning to the Fae.”

“Every night?” she whispered, her eyes going wide. “But what about all those other women you bragged about? Don’t they have any say?”

“Let’s see. One”—he stole a kiss—“did any of them stand up to me and try to stop Giles’s wedding? Two”—he swept his tongue between her lips and explored her mouth—“did any of them care enough to love me in my primal form? Even the female Lykae back down when I transform, but not you. And finally three”—no kiss this time, just a stare straight into her eyes that kindled a fire deep in her heart—“I can’t live without you. Look, sweetness, I know I messed things up from the start, and if I could change things, I would. I didn’t dare come for you until I knew I could keep you safe, but Ron’s loser friends are in for some surprises. I swear I’ll make you happy. I’ll do anything, give you everything I possess, and maybe in time you’ll love me back.”

She stared directly into his eyes. “I already do. Perhaps from now on I should call you Caleb the Cute and Cuddly.”

Sylvie wrapped her arms around him and puckered up for another kiss, but he landed a playful swat on her butt. Caleb caught her midgasp, mouth open, and his tongue swept between her lips. Their kiss lasted so long Sylvie’s knees turned weak, and still she pouted for more.

“Don’t,” he groaned, “ever call me that in front of my men. Now go get ready for your wedding. Your husband-to-be’s very demanding, and he’s definitely not willing to wait.”

* * * *

“Your half brother sent this”—a courtier held out a gossamer dress—“and said you’d make a beautiful bride.”

Sylvie gave an excited laugh and waltzed the woman around the room. “I’m definitely a happy one, but I already know what I’m wearing. Tell Leonidas that I will marry in the meadow in the midst of the Lykae camp. The Wolves are coming in force, so he’d best make sure there’s extra ale and plenty of fresh meat.”

Two hours later in the warm light of the setting sun, she walked barefoot across the field. A wreath of wildflowers—the noncarnivorous type—adorned her coffee-colored locks, and a multihued gypsy dress showed off her slender curves.

Caleb looked stunning in his black tux, and this time he welcomed her with that wolfish smile that made her toes curl. His gaze fastened on her, lupine and so full of longing she felt a blush heat her cheeks. She loved the way he concentrated solely on her, blocking out everything and everybody as they exchanged their vows. God, he was one gorgeous male.
Mine to keep until the end of time
. He made her feel so treasured and loved, and then it hit her: she’d finally made the first team. Hell, with Caleb, she
was
the first team.

Afterward, the wolves showed the Fae how to party—their playful nature even charming the aloof Fae. The species intermingled, Lykae ladies swamping Fae warriors with their ample charms while Fae spell casters danced with laughing Lykae males.

Garlands of flowers and silken wall hangings transformed Caleb’s tented pavilion, and when he led her inside, Sylvie couldn’t keep her hands off her new husband. Tonight he came to her in human form, and she had to admit she was relieved.

He pulled her close, his breath warming the sensitive spot on the back of her neck. “Let me love you. Let me claim you so the whole world knows you’re mine.”

“Yes, please,” she breathed, pulse racing, “but I want all those other women to know you’re mine.”

He took her hand and laid it over his heart, “I know it, in here, and that’s what matters. You’ve got five minutes; then I’m coming for you. You can run, little rabbit, but you won’t get far.”

Sylvie took off like the rabbit he’d called her, knowing he’d revel in the chase, and when he caught her, he’d claim her with hot sex and sharp fangs. She skittered through the trees, confident that Fae enchantments kept predatory plants and wild animals at bay. One of her brother’s half-wild wyverns hopped across her path like a velociraptor from
Jurassic Park
, but she kept running—faster and faster until she reached a moonlit grove at the side of a bubbling stream.

“Mine,” Caleb growled as he took primal beast form and pounced, “forever and always.”

He gathered her close, rolled midair, and landed with her cradled to his chest. Love and desire shimmered in tangible waves between them, and as he bared her breasts, he wriggled from under her and went to his knees. “I’ve caught you, and now it’s time for my reward.”

As her dress fell on the riverbank, he drank her in with his gaze and growled that rumbling, raspy sound she adored. When she ran a shy hand through his fur, he bent his head and ripped off her underwear with his teeth.

“Wicked, sexy Lykae,” she murmured, “and you’re all mine.”

“And you, my fairy princess, are definitely mine.”

Back in human form, he suckled on her nipples until she went wild for him, ripping his elegant clothes to better explore his body. God, she needed his dick pounding inside her as he claimed her as his true-mate and bound them together for all time.

Her fierce Lykae warrior carried her to a mossy bank and carefully laid her on the softest spot he could see. Frantic with desire, she laughed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and nestled closer as he fingered her clit.

“You made a beautiful bride. And while I prefer you naked, I love you any way at all.”

His words sucker punched her, and she came on the spot. When he rested his hands on her shoulders, she dropped to her knees. He moved behind her, mantled his body around hers, and gently pushed her down to all fours. Helpless beneath him, she opened her legs and rocked her hips in invitation. Then he was inside her, pumping hard and fast. Deep, satisfied tremors started in her cunt and spread like an earthquake through her eager body—and he hadn’t bitten her yet.

His fangs scraped over her shoulder, sending tiny spurts of desire down her spine. His tongue laved a circle; then his fangs pierced her shoulder—a moment’s pain that crescendoed into a mountain of pleasure—and she came over and over. When she dug her fingernails into his forearms, she shuddered and shouted his name. He bellowed as though a hand grenade had detonated inside him, and semen exploded from his cock.

They lay in the moonlight, bodies still connected, exploring each other with small, intimate touches. Strengthened by multiple orgasms, Sylvie’s magic flared, and she stroked her hand over his neck.

Caleb groaned as his hand covered hers. “What the hell? Sweetness, Lykae are immune to magic, but judging by the heat your hand sent flickering through my neck, I’m pretty sure you just marked me back.”

Eyes shocked and wide, she tried to pull her hand away, but he held it tight, moved it to his lips, and kissed her palm.

“You’ve no idea how proud I am of your powers, or how delighted I am to wear your brand.”

She ran her hand over her mating mark; then she gingerly ran her fingers over his. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But I’m glad you did. You’re mine now.” His wolfish grin blossomed as he cradled her close to his chest. “And I’m totally yours.”

“Branded in love, forever and always,” she sighed, “and nothing will ever change that.”

Loose Id Titles by Kryssie Fortune

To Wed a Werewolf

Kryssie Fortune

I always said I had a book in me. Easy words, but I never picked up a pen. Then my heart valve broke. Prognosis shocking—operation amazing. With a new lease of life, I decided to reach for my dreams.

Thanks to Loose-Id, I’ve taken my first step on a writing career.

I have two grown up children of whom I’m inordinately proud and a husband I adore after almost 40 years of marriage. (Yes, I was definitely a child-bride.)

I’m fortunate enough to work for one of Britain’s biggest (and best) TV companies. If I’m not writing, I’m growing my own vegetables or Skyping. my adorable grandson in London.