To Wed a Werewolf (3 page)

The strongest alpha wolf and hereditary king of the packs, he always kept his emotions on a short leash. Now he was on fire for a woman who used her body to make her suitors do her bidding. Greedy fairy, extracting extravagant gifts in exchange for sex, but once she surrendered to him, he’d shower her in jewels and gold.

His natural wolf growled its approval, wanting her content, happy, and naked. Like an asteroid burning up in the sun’s gravitational pull, he hurried back to the otherworld. The evening air felt chilly even through his tux. Goose bumps covered Sylvie’s arms, and her lips were almost blue. Elves’ blood, he’d been so busy feasting with his brother that he’d left her to freeze. What sort of protector was he, to treat her like that? Guilt rolled around his chest like a lead weight, crushing any joy from his day. His natural wolf—his furry, four-legged form—wanted to drop its ears and howl for her forgiveness. His primal wolf demanded blood and pain—but not hers. Never hers.

He’d failed a woman in his care, and no matter what her morals, she deserved better than a careless Lykae like him. Only he’d kill any other male that touched her.

Mine. Forever and to keep.

She glared when he draped a sheet around her like a sarong, and quickly built a fire. Neither of them spoke, but he could smell her arousal—meadowsweet overlaid with musk—and he wanted to stroke her slender curves until she purred. He rubbed his hands over her body, and as the sheet dropped to the floor his warming massage became a sexual demand that blazed through his balls.

Tonight he’d play with her, punish her, and bend her to his will. If that didn’t work, he’d tempt her delicious body into sensual surrender—bend her over the bed, more like—but he’d make her beg before he let her come. His sensitive Lykae nose smelled her fear, excitement, and frustration, and his natural wolf howled to fuck her into submission. His primal wolf growled and clawed at his chest. Desperate to claim her, it wanted out of its cage, but his human side knew he needed to master her first.

He loved the way she throbbed and moaned for his touch. He could torment her like this all night. He reclaimed his jacket and ran one finger slowly down her spine.

“Get off me.” She shuddered with delight. “And let me go. Please.”

“All in good time, sweetness”—he waved his plate of food before her face—“but everything comes with a price.”

“My brother will pay,” she answered quickly. “Just let me go.”

“Food first.” He offered her a ripe strawberry in the palm of his hand. “Besides, this is about our mutual pleasure. I don’t want you hungry or cold.”

“I’ll eat when I get home.” Despite her defiance, her eyes never left the sweet red temptation. Damn, it was another thing he offered that she couldn’t resist.

Caleb ran the strawberry over her lips, and her hunger won out over her bravado. Just as she was about to sink her teeth into the sweet fruit, he pulled it away and took a bite. Her glare condemned him more than any words, but he just laughed and offered her another. When she ate from his hand, the delicate touch of her lips on his palm made him crave her mouth on his cock. He’d never thought feeding a woman could be such a sensual treat.

His inner wolf growled when she turned her head away, but he stood back and studied her boyish hips and firm, round breasts. “Now you’ve eaten my strawberry, I should feast on yours.”

He watched her eyes widen in mock innocence; then she shook her head and tried to back away—not that she could when the rope held her wrists firmly in place. Caleb dropped to his knees before her, ran his hands up her inner thighs, and nudged them apart. She tried to keep them closed, but he shook his head and pushed them back open before he buried his tongue in her cunt. His natural wolf settled immediately, concentrating on pleasing its mate, but its hackles rose when she played innocent and tried to step out of reach.

He punished her with a resounding slap on her ass, but his natural wolf growled and tried to break free. Even his primal wolf form wanted to protect her—from himself. She squealed in surprise and excitement, but her panties were already damp with desire—for him. He laved her sweet-tasting pussy until she thrashed and writhed in her bonds, then shoved her panties aside with his tongue and sucked on her clit.

He lifted his head and growled, “Mine.”

Her eyes glazed, and her body trembled, but he backed off before she could come. She shivered at his every touch or lick, and her nipples had pearled into sweet strawberries just like the one he’d fed her—and Gods, he needed a taste. He loved how her hips undulated against him and her breath caught in her throat.

“Please,” she begged, “I can’t take any more. Just let me come.”

She looked wicked, wanton, and desperate, so beautiful his resolve melted like ice cream on a sunny day. Surely his Fae princess would surrender soon. He was a warrior who understood the battle of the sexes—and he was an alpha wolf who never lost a fight.

Chapter Three

Sylvie shuddered and refused to look at her tormentor, but her body still ached for satisfaction. He confused her with kind deeds, filled her with hungry desires, then demanded the sort of submission no sane woman would give. Modern and freethinking, she made her own decisions—even if they were sometimes bad—and she definitely wasn’t some chattel to let him lay down the law. Only, this powerful Lykae touched her emotions in ways that made her feel desired and special. When his huge hands stroked and caressed her, he brought her to the edge of insanity, and deep down she never wanted this night to end.

“Please,” she moaned, “please.”

“What do you want? Tell me, sweetness, and if you say the right words, I’ll let you come.”

Almost, she submitted. Her body urged her toward total sensual surrender, but when she gave her heart, it would be to someone who treated it right. Then his fangs nipped at her ear. This masterful Lykae took her breath away, and if he only softened or wooed her with sweet, inviting words, they could share something beautiful and special. She needed him inside her, but he played a power game to gain ground.

“Get off me.” She crossed her ankles and swung in her bonds, but he dodged her halfhearted attempt to kick him.

“Come on, sweetness, swear to obey me in all things. You know you want to, and in return I’ll make you my chief concubine.”

Again she almost submitted, but she’d stay strong if it killed her—and the way he made her feel, it just might. Only how dare he assume her surrender was inevitable? Lykae women might be pushovers for his James Bond style of masculinity, but she wanted love and affection as well as dominance and delight.

Her pussy throbbed for him, but still she defied him. “I’m a Fae princess, and if my brother hasn’t already declared war over the way Giles disrespected our betrothal, he will over this. Does King Caleb know his security guards hold the Fae crown in such contempt?”

Mutual attraction sparked between them, but she dug deep to resist this dominant Lykae whose touch turned her soft and gooey inside. She groaned and turned her head, disdaining him with her actions when her body demanded she fuck him until dawn. The ache he’d built inside her left her hungry and eager, but her half brother would tear the limbs from his body if her imperious Lykae forced her to make any vows.

While her cunt cried out to submit, her brain screamed,
no!
She’d never lusted after a male before. Damn it, he fogged her brain with pleasure, then presented her with tough choices. Either she surrendered her principles and pride to get what she wanted or stayed strong and sane—only she needed to be fucked. Right here. Right now.

Seven years ago, Giles had knocked her teenage confidence when he’d refused to seal their alliance with a kiss. Today another Lykae loved her to the brink of sensual bliss, but he left her needy and burning to come. He dominated her, cared for her, and caressed all the sensitive places she stroked each night when she lay alone in her bed. God, she was so close to surrender, but if she caved in to her desires, she’d never want to let him go. What if he took what he wanted, then moved on like Giles?

Mr. Arrogance played her body like a pianist, stroking and caressing her until desire overrode common sense. She needed him inside her, pumping his cock deeper and deeper until she screamed his name. He wanted to control her like he would a dog, but maybe that was how Lykaes treated their females. Her half-human nature rebelled; then a softer, more yielding part of her writhed and panted,
Yes, please.

“Say it, sweetness, and I’ll make you come like never before.”

He assumed she possessed all the experience she lacked, but damn it, she’d never even dated in the human world—scared to fall for a mortal she’d outlive. Instead she’d immersed herself in medieval literature. She’d graduated from the University of East London with a PhD in acting, and lips that had never been kissed—unless you counted the coldhearted stage kisses that had left her disinterested and bored. Now she lusted over an arrogant Lykae with an athlete’s honed body and gray eyes that weighed her soul—and he clearly found it wanting.

Everything about him fired her up; then he crushed her with his contempt. Anger cleared her brain, and she realized that even if it was too late to stop the wedding, she could attend the reception and befriend the bride. Maybe a show of support would stop the incipient war.

“I need to speak with Prince Giles,” she begged, her voice a needy whimper.

He landed a light slap on her behind. “Now, sweetness, I don’t want to hear another man’s name on your lips. Still, give me your oath and accept me as your overlord, and I may permit it. Once they’re back from their honeymoon.”

“Flaming arrogant wolf.” She kicked out in fury. “Just cut me loose and go chew on a bone or something.”

“Perhaps you need more time to consider, or maybe I should continue our game. Maybe a little pain will heighten your pleasure.”

He pulled a knife from nowhere and cut the rope above her wrists. She’d hoped he meant to set her free, but he tossed her facedown on the bed. He lay atop her—a solid wall of muscle that pinned her to the mattress and made her feel like the filling in a bed-meets-Lykae sandwich. As she wriggled and squirmed beneath him, her nipples sank into the mattress; then he spread-eagled her arms and bound them to the bedposts.

“My brother will have your pelt for this,” Sylvie snarled, “and I’ll wear it like a goddamn cloak.”

His teeth snapped shut with an audible clatter. “I guarantee you’ll wear me, sweetness, but you’ll learn to mind me first.”

He sat on the bed and slid his legs beneath her slender body. With infinite patience, he positioned her across his lap, then ran a gentle hand over her panties. Okay, her wolf-man liked it kinky, but as long as he let her come, she could live with that. Nervous, eager, and helpless, she ground her hips against him.

“Tempting me, sweetness? Sorry, but your power games don’t work on me.”

A sudden slap on her ass sent pain shooting though her and heightened her need. She couldn’t enjoy this, could she? He hurt and humiliated her, but her body thrashed with desire, and her hips gyrated over his dick. Another sharp slap made her shudder, but her pride came to her rescue, and she never made a sound. A third made her bite her tongue until blood filled her mouth. She held her breath and waited, but how could she want this? Somehow she’d escape him; then her brother would kill him and serve up his entrails on a plate.

“Don’t be stubborn, sweetness. Just ask me to stop.”

She tensed and said nothing. Four, five, and six left her butt bruised and hurting, but seven started a tingling heat that spread over her ass and into her pussy. She wanted to hate him, but eight had her moaning. Nine made her hips rotate and hunt for his prick, and ten… Oh God, ten was an avalanche of pain that pushed her to the edge of something momentous and huge.

“Damn it, Sylvie.” He stopped abruptly; then he rubbed his hand over her butt, soothing where he’d just spanked, “You drive me insane.”

Insane? She felt the madness inside him, and while she knew he wanted her body, she didn’t understand why she wanted him just as badly—not after the way he insulted and humiliated her. Sex. It had to come down to sex.

She felt bereft when he slid his legs out from under her and walked away. And was that the door she’d heard close? Still facedown and helpless, she just couldn’t see. Damn it, she wanted him touching her body. Anyway. Anyhow. And as for the hunger he roused inside her…

His body would shame a centerfold, and his grin overflowed with mischief and devilment. He was so wolfish when he smiled, and she wanted to stay and play. For one crazy minute she considered giving in, but she was a modern woman, not some plaything for him to use and discard at will. Much as her body burned for his touch, people would die if she didn’t get free and get to Giles’s new bride.

* * * *

The tears on her cheeks had quenched the fire in his soul, but his brave fairy princess hadn’t made a sound. Caleb’s natural wolf bared its teeth and growled, furious he’d hurt her. His primal beast roared and clawed inside him. Tormented, his mind in a turmoil of doubt and desire, he slammed his fist into the wall. Sylvie turned him inside out with her emerald eyes, elegant, slender curves, and passionate response. Tonight he needed to run wild and free beneath the full moon—and his wolf wanted to run alongside her. In his imagination, he carried her into the moonlit meadow, shoved her to her knees, and took her from behind. When he thought about how she’d jiggle her hips and open her legs, eager to have him buried balls-deep inside her, his inner wolf bayed in approval.

He’d never rest until he sank his fangs into her shoulder and marked her so hard the whole otherworld knew she was his. His natural wolf urged him to claim her as his true-mate and his wife. Howling with mating frenzy, his primal wolf wanted to mark her and make her his. How she’d gone from whore to possible concubine to future wife amazed him, but now he needed to win her heart as well as her body. He just prayed it wasn’t too late.

The scent of her arousal washed over him, overlaid with her fury and frustration. He swaggered back toward the door, proud he’d made his lusty fairy crave him so badly she boiled over with passion. If she’d only surrender, he’d fuck her hard, but her angry glare had cut through him like a silver bullet. He’d never felt so damn guilty in his life, and he hated that he’d hurt her when he wanted to show her only pleasure.