To Wed a Werewolf (2 page)

“You bastard,” she hissed, so embarrassed she wanted to hang her head and cry. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Not until you pay me first, sweetness. How did you know”—he nibbled on her earlobe and ran his finger over the back of her bra—“that red’s my favorite color?”

God, was he going to unfasten it? She already felt exposed and helpless, and after her years of teenage puppy fat she had so many body issues. And there went her best bra, ripped to pieces on the floor.

“Then I wish I’d worn black,” she spat back, but her nipples were swollen and her cleft wet. Outrage made her cheeks so hot she could feel herself blush, but her lips puckered and pouted. Just one kiss, something to show the desire was mutual, and she’d pant and beg for his touch. Only how could she find this sexy? How could she find him sexy?

He was an overbearing Lykae who insulted her over and over. So why did her breath come shallow and fast as his fingers inched back toward her breasts? She jerked against her bonds, desperate to cover herself; then his possessive growl reverberated just inches from her ear. That deep rumble sent tremors down her spine, and suddenly she burned for his touch.

Her small breasts fit perfectly in his hands, and when he worried her earlobe, he breathed, “Beautiful.”

Her? She was too thin, too serious, definitely too uptight—yet he called her beautiful. Shock waves of pleasure rolled over her, and when his huge body curled around hers, the soft wool of his tuxedo jacket warmed her near-naked skin. Helpless, but with a sense of safety and belonging, she lost herself in his caress.

Everything about him shouted security, strength, and wicked passion, but he’d tied her up and introduced her to wanton sensations the likes of which she’d never known. Insanity—he petted and stroked her until she was one step from insanity. Her hips undulated against him, rubbing circles against his erection. Again she was stunned at his size. And still his huge hands teased and squeezed her bare breasts. When his lips nuzzled her neck, she gave a sigh of near submission and leaned into his body. Then she remembered the war. She tried to wriggle out of his grip, and much as she wanted to stay here forever, she forced herself to whisper, “Please, you’ve got to let me go.”

He laughed, actually laughed at her breathless command. “Now, sweetness, I didn’t do anything except stroke what you offered.”

His hands skimmed gently over her body, petting her nipples, then massaging her sensitized clit through her panties. She writhed and squirmed as his touch sent her senses spiraling out of control. She wasn’t strong enough to tell him to keep his wandering hands to himself, and as delicious heat flooded her pussy, a low, pleasured moan slid from her throat. This dominant Lykae carried her beyond a world of magic and showed her something sparkling and pure.

She melted into a pool of passion and wondered if she’d finally found someone who’d fight to stay at her side. Her Lykae made her feel wanted, loved, and desired—all the things her fiancé hadn’t.

Nothing mattered anymore. Not the rope around her wrists, not that he’d kidnapped her. She wasn’t even sure he held her against her will. One kind word or a second gentle gesture and she’d be his.

Her Lykae pulled her so close his cock poked her spine. She’d never felt anything so good—or so damn big. He nipped and nuzzled her neck, then feathered his lips down her backbone. God, she ached to feel those soft, sensual lips pulsating against hers. He filled her with scorching heat, caressed and stroked her until wildfire started in her toes, then shot through her body. Her head thrashed, her hips gyrated, and she reveled in his every loving touch. She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, but her needs… Oh God, her needs.

Chapter Two

New longings pulsed through Sylvie, building her need until she almost came as she sagged in her bonds. After today her every bedroom fantasy would center on him. His touch. His strength. His overwhelming presence, and the way he made her body overheat with slow-burning desires.

Her heart whispered she should surrender and enjoy all the scandalous, sensual delights she’d always avoided and explore her newly discovered wanton side.

“I need to touch you,” she mewled. “Please.”

When he growled in her ear and pinched her nipple, she moaned and almost begged for more. She forgot about a political marriage or a broken betrothal—even forgot the incipient war. Her world narrowed to a dominant Lykae who tied her up and tantalized her with his warm breath and sensual touches. She thrashed and moaned, frenzied with feelings she didn’t understand, but bound and helpless all she could do was writhe and whimper, “More.”

She wanted him pounding inside her, needed the satisfaction only he could give, and damn it, her panties were already warm and wet. He growled and walked around her, eating her up with his gaze before he flashed that wicked, wolfish grin that turned her inside out. When he cupped her cheek in his huge hand, she whimpered, “Please.”

“What do you want?” he rasped.

“You. I want you inside me.”

Pressure built in her clit, an aching promise of all the pleasure to come. If he didn’t bring her to climax soon, she’d scream. A brief, tantalizing touch of his lips against hers made her moan, and she yearned to nestle against his solid chest.

Then he raised two fingers to his forehead in a mocking salute. “Laters, sweetheart.”

And he walked out the door.

Lost in a fog of desire, she moaned, “Come back.”

He left me needy and aching—just walked out the damn door. What the hell is it with me and Lykae men?

Her body tingled from head to toe, and residual sparks of desire throbbed through her clit. Panting and desperate, she needed the sexual release he’d denied her, but hands fastened overhead, she couldn’t bring on the climax she craved.

He’d humiliated her, teased her until she thought she’d go insane; then the bastard walked away and left her desperate for more. Her body seethed with sensual hunger, and every stroke of his huge hands had made her want to wrap her arms around him and cling forever.

Stupid fairy princess, falling for the beast who abused her, but with him, her body blossomed into damp heat and liquid longings. The biggest, most awesome wolf she’d ever seen kindled a bonfire of desires inside her, then left her to burn.

Slowly, her body calmed and her thoughts cleared, but while rivers of passion—hot, steamy, and desperate—still pulsed through her veins, embarrassment and shame flooded her soul. She’d failed to find Giles, failed to stop the wedding, and failed to stop the war—plus, her body was on fire for a frustrating, high-handed Lykae.

Once she got loose, she’d make Mr. Arrogance pay for this.

* * * *

Caleb stood in the marble hall as hot and needy as the fairy he’d frustrated. A smile played around his lips when he thought how she’d mistaken him—the king of the combined Lykae packs—for a security guard. If he didn’t know better, he’d believe her innocent act, but seven years ago she’d entangled his brother, Giles, in her web.

The border disputes had almost boiled over into all-out war, but the Lykae king—Caleb and Giles’s father—negotiated a marriage between his younger, beta-natured son and the Fae king’s half sister. The Fae had demanded advantageous trade treaties, and in return the Lykae gained the sole use of the disputed border territories for their packs—but along the way they lost their old king. An Elven assassin’s arrow pumped deadly toxins into him as he’d inspected their new lands.

Caleb inherited the throne, and Giles came home full of tales of how his bride to be had tormented him with her body but demanded gold and jewels before she let him into her bed. Caleb had reimbursed his brother, then led the Lykae to victory against the Elves—but he’d despised Sylvie ever since.

Then, rather than honor the agreement immediately, the Fae king packed his half sister off to the human world to finish her studies.

A year ago Giles admitted he’d fallen for Daphne Drayton—up-and-coming Hollywood starlet—and he needed out of the engagement. Resigned to pulling his beta brother out of yet another scrape, Caleb sent him off to the Fae court with a chest filled with treasures and bribes. He hadn’t expected Giles to dismiss his bodyguard and continue on alone. Later, Giles had told him he thought the military presence sent the wrong message to the Fae.

That his younger, beta brother should venture into the Fae court alone didn’t sit well with Caleb. For a while, he’d suspected Giles had embroiled the Lykae and Fae in another of his crack-brained schemes. Caleb had even put the border towns’ militia on alert, but the Fae never renewed their claim on the disputed territories.

Giles returned alone, but Caleb had expected a Fae delegation to arrive to renegotiate the seven-year-old treaties. When they didn’t, Caleb admitted his brother had managed the whole situation single-handedly, but Giles turned down the ambassadorial role his negotiating skills deserved.

He said he wanted to concentrate on the love of his life—the half-human, half-Lykae Daphne. Then the fairy princess turned up to embarrass Giles at his wedding and expected the Lykae nation to pour more gold into her greedy little hands.

As King Caleb mingled with the wedding guests, his thoughts lingered on his beautiful captive all tied up in his otherworld hunting lodge. His Fae princess was a slender, delicate beauty with a body that could turn a saint to a sinner. She certainly tempted him. His natural wolf wanted to cherish and protect—but her wrists had bled because of him. His Lykae instinct almost took him to his knees in protest, and the need he’d built in her rebounded though him. She oozed sex and sensuality, and she was damn well going to be his alone. No sharing. Ever.

He’d felt Sylvie’s wild desires and scented her arousal. Her eager response set his inner wolf howling to claim her. His human form needed her so badly he’d almost fucked her there and then.

The packs delighted in his leadership, and although they’d christened him “Caleb the Cold,” he burned for his brother’s cast-off lover. Gods, she was worth her weight in diamonds and rubies, but he needed to calm his out-of-control cock and clear his brain. The packs relied on his intelligence as much as his strength, and his duty was to keep peace in the Lykae clans, but his needs were wrapped up in a sensual fairy who drove him insane.

When it came to justice or battles, he’d always shoved his emotions aside, but with women he was all about charm, consideration, and sex. His steady stream of bedmates gave him temporary satisfaction but left him empty inside. Now his dick ached to possess his sexy little captive, but before he buried himself balls-deep inside her, he needed her to forgot about Giles and cleave only to him.

A gaggle of Lykae ladies, all perky bosoms and pearls, surrounded him as he watched Giles waltz his new bride around the dance floor.

“We’ve come to beg dances with our king.” One giggled and grabbed his arm.

A second vied for his attention. “And I brought you a glass of champagne.”

A third went on tiptoe and boldly rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, coating his jacket with her natural pheromones, but he growled and moved away. Just last night, he’d have laughed and flirted, then chosen one to grace his bed. Tonight, the only scent he wanted on him belonged to the fairy he’d trapped in his otherworld hunting lodge.

“Not in the mood, ladies,” he snapped.

“Not even if we come as a threesome?” the giggler asked.

Caleb glowered and walked off without a word. Damn it, his slutty fairy made him want commitment, but she had to submit to him first. Even his primal beast form roared for him to claim her, but she’d be terrified if she ever saw the creature he caged within.

The music died away, and Giles steered his new bride through a crowd of well-wishers to his brother’s side.

“Beautiful gown, Daphne.” Caleb nodded. He wished he’d worn looser trousers since his cock stood like a sword between his legs. Maybe if he kept moving, no one would notice.

“Thank you, sire.” She smiled. “And if I could be so bold as to beg a dance?”

Dance? When his boner ached like someone had hit him with a rock? But a king had duties to perform, so he gritted his teeth and danced with his brother’s bride. Elves’ blood, he hoped no one spotted his erection and thought he had a hard-on for his new sister-in-law.

He’d no idea what they talked about since his thoughts stayed with a near-naked fairy princess who trembled and moaned at his touch. He loved how, when her head thrashed to and fro, tendrils of choppy, bobbed hair splayed over her cheeks. When he thought of the way her eyelids drooped with heady passion, his cock throbbed beneath his tuxedo trousers.

Before the night was over, he’d turn the tables on his wanton fairy. Once she seethed with desperate need, she’d give in and accept him as her lord and master. Then, after she’d knelt at his feet and sucked his cock, he’d finally let her come.

He’d intended to torment her, fuck her, and send her on her way, but when her intoxicating, meadowsweet perfume had wrapped him up in tendrils of desire, he knew he could never let her go. Many former kings kept concubines, and once she accepted that she belonged to him, he’d do the same.

He made small talk with the guests, then maneuvered his way through the throng surrounding his brother and the bride.

“Don’t wear yourself out with all that dancing.” He slapped Giles on the back. “I think Daphne has plans for tonight.”

The bride blushed, but Giles leered. “So have I, and not just for tonight.”

Once the sit-down lunch and the photographer had finished, everyone enjoyed a few formal dances. In keeping with Lykae tradition, the wedding had started at lunchtime and the celebrations would go on into the small hours. The later it got, the wilder the party would become.

A few risqué comments later, Caleb pleaded state business and retired to his room. He fisted his cock, his needs as urgent as those he’d stoked in Sylvie, and when he pictured her with her eyes closed and her head thrashing, sperm exploded from his penis. Then he was back at the wedding, collecting a plate of canapés and fresh fruit to tempt his prisoner into sweet submission before he claimed her as his own.