Seduced by the Fae Page 11

  My Fae genes are more dominant, so I have all the outward appearance of a Fae male—ears extending, canines elongating when experiencing high emotion. The Fae Corps has tried their best to modify our behavior by teaching us techniques to control the outward signs of stress. None of which have worked. The only way I can relieve tension? Pain. And it’s not the kind inflicted on me either.

  It’s the sound of a woman groaning, screaming, begging…no, not just a woman. Her. Her whines. Her moans, her asking me to take her, to let her come, to fuck her. And I hadn’t. I’d held out, allowing her the relief she’d asked for, but not seeking my own. And I am paying the price.

  Every part of me aches.

  My chest hurts, and it’s not just from the wounds recently inflicted on me. The fledgling mating bond writhes against my rib cage, reminding me of what I’ve done.

  I’ve initiated the mating connection, and does she realize what that means? How long before the bond locks into place, becoming permanent in the way of mates? Is this what I want? I raise my hands, not surprised to see they are trembling. It’s why I had dropped the dishes in the first place. “Fuck.”

  I kick the pan on the floor, sending it crashing against the wall. I drop into myself, looking for that curl of telekinetic energy that will reaffirm what I am—a powerful Fae male.

  The man who had been unable to stop her from being kidnapped. I'd saved her, only to claim her.

  I'd knotted her, and she had withstood every one of my demands.

  She had submitted beautifully, but she hadn't hidden just how different the entire experience had been for her. How often can I subject her to my perversions? I had asked her to trust me...fact is, I don't trust myself to hold back the next time.

  Every time I look at her the need to protect her overwhelms me.

  If something were to happen to her, I'd never forgive myself. It's why I need to do the right thing and return her before the mating bond locks into place.

  I should take her back with me and walk away.

  I’ll make sure to bury myself in my world of singular focus—the surgery, the missions with the Fae Corps, and the occasional pain-slut who’ll weep for me, in whose tears I’ll find redemption. Not. I’ll never find the peace I crave. The sense of completion that had swept over me when I had knotted her, balls deep in her with my dick extended and locked behind her pelvic bone and filling her up with my cum, even as I bit down on her neck and tasted her blood and claimed her over and over again.

  Once more. Just once more can I taste her?

  “Doc?”

  I stiffen. Every muscle in my body goes on alert.

  She shuffles closer and the mating bond twangs. The damn thing writhes under my rib cage.

  “Nolan?”

  Her voice is closer, just behind me. If I turn, I’ll see her face, those beautiful eyes, those plump lips that I want to caress, right before I plunge my tongue into her mouth and sip of her essence. Absorb her into myself, meld with her, fluid bond with her all over again when I make her climax, then bury my dick balls deep in her.

  “You okay?”

  Her voice is soft; a tinge of worry laces it. She shouldn’t care for me. That will only make it all worse when I break the bond between us, when I leave her.

  My jaw tics, my shoulders bunch. “Stay away, Red.”

  The scent of dragon smoke rends the air.

  Fuck.

  Her presence excites that hidden part of me that has always been buried deep inside. The tips of my ears tingle, and I am sure if I had a mirror my reflection would throw back an image of an out-of-his-mind-with-lust male. Control? Ha, what’s that? When she’s around, I want nothing except to slap her butt, then stuff her asshole with my dick, fill her to the brim, and make her come again. Is that the way out? To bring her to climax, satisfy myself, but not knot her again? Not complete this compulsion to seal the mating bond I initiated? I scowl.

  “Are you hurting?”

  I chuckle, “You have no idea.”

  “I can help, you know.”

  “No.” I set my jaw.

  “You’re so stubborn.” She walks around me to pull out a fresh saucepan.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making us breakfast…or is that lunch?” She glances through the window to look outside. It’s dull, gloomy, and dark clouds cover the sun. Wonderful. Just the kind of weather I like.

  “I told you I was going to feed you and I’ll do it, woman.”

  I stalk to her and reach for the vessel, and she turns around at the same time. Her chin collides with my chest, her breasts flatten against my waist…she’s tiny. Just a handful. Just the way I like. I can maneuver her body into every position I want. Expose the parts of her I want to take, lick her, make her come, make her submit. My groin hardens. My dick leaps forward, and she squeaks.

  I lean back then bend my knees so I can peer into her eyes. “Are you blushing?”

  “No.” She swallows. "Jeez, can't a woman just be allowed to think without you getting all in her face about it?"

  Her gaze skitters away, only to come right back to my groin.

  Hmm. So she is as obsessed with my body as I am with hers. Thank fuck. It settles something inside of me, and it shouldn’t, not when this situation between us is temporary. I grab her shoulders, then jerk my chin over my shoulder. “Sit.”

  She sets her jaw, her lower lip thrust out. That sexy pout...I can't stop myself. I grab her and toss her over my shoulder.

  She yelps, “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure you obey me.” I slap her butt, on the right cheek, on the left, right, then left again.

  “Ouch, ouch. Please. Stop.”

  Blood thuds at my temples. The sound of her voice, her soft curves writhing against my harder body, brings out the contrast between our bodies. She fits me. She was made for me. Her scent saturates my senses, replacing the pain that coils in my chest. A pleasant numbness sweeps over me. The sound of my palm hitting her ass—through the fabric of the pants which have to go—heats my blood. The feel of her curves shifting, her flesh pulsing, her thighs twitching… This, this is what I crave.

  Being able to focus on something outside of myself, watching her react to my ministrations, seeing how she responds to me. Making her ache for me. This is what I want. I slap her butt one last time.

  “Nolan, ow, it hurts.”

  Need to gag her, too. After she eats.

  I stalk back to the table, hook my foot around a chair, and pull it out, then dump her on it.

  She grunts in pain, then turns those big green eyes on me. She opens her mouth, and I frown at her. She subsides. Not that she’s going to stay quiet for long, “You need to be taught a lesson, Red.”

  Her gaze widens.

  “Yeah, exactly that kind of a lesson." I prop my fists on my hips, "and it’s only going to get more painful the longer you take to learn to obey, you get me?”

  She bites her lower lip and my cock twitches. I want to feed her only one thing, and it’s not the food. Heat races through my blood. Best get her to eat before I lose track of the reason I’d let her out of the bedroom.

  I point at her. “Stay.”

  26

  Alice

  How can I refuse him when he’s back in that alpha-hole Dom mode?

  Maybe I am getting used to his commanding ways, because I lean my chin on my hand and prepare to enjoy myself. Watching him is no hardship. He’s a beautiful hunk of a man. I let my gaze run up those tight flanks, the roll of muscles that move as he stalks forward, that massive back with planes that undulate under his skin, which is surprisingly soft to touch. His sweatpants rise low on his hips, showing off that crazy ‘V’ shape of his. He hasn't bothered to pull on a T-shirt. Not that I am complaining or anything. I can't think of a better way to pass my time than by drinking in the sight of those massive shoulders which seem too massive for his trim waist. Those thighs…powerful and lethal weapons, built for speed, and he can use them to hold me down w
ith barely any effort.

  There's something primal, almost otherworldly about how he is built. He’s one heck of an alpha, and so far out of my league. I lean forward in my chair, "What am I doing here Doc?"

  Only when I hear my words do I realize I’ve spoken aloud.

  “No talking.” He snarls.

  Really? I huff out a breath.

  He glances over his shoulder, and I frown, entreating him with my eyes to just answer me for once.

  "Right now you are here to eat what I cook for you."

  I pout. Please, give me a little more credit okay?

  His gaze takes in my features, and the planes of his face seem to soften. “You know why you are here. I was hurt, I knew I was running out of power, and I needed to get you to safety. I chose the nearest location I could get to in the condition I was in.”

  “You are still in pain.”

  He glares at me, and the tightening of the skin around his eyes promises punishment for the fact that I did not shut up as he’d asked. I gulp, then press my lips together.

  A vein throbs at his temple.

  That can't be good. My throat closes. Guess my response didn't satisfy him, huh?

  “To answer your question" he grumbles, "I am almost recovered.”

  What a grouch. A brooding hunk of a man whom I want to throw my arms around and hug tightly. Don't think he'd appreciate that though, not in the mood he's in.

  He rubs his chest, then turns back to the task at hand. “I am getting stronger by the second.”

  Is he trying to convince himself? Is there something more I can do to help him? Something to take the edge off...that is, if he’d let me.

  “Stop thinking so loudly.”

  I start. Does the man have eyes at the back of his head or what?

  “Comes with being Fae, and then top it off with my shifter blood, I can promise you that I can track you without looking at you.”

  And then there’s the fledgling mating bond that connects us. The ball of heat twangs against my rib cage. I rub my chest.

  Does he have something similar to show at the other end of the connection? Almost as if my thinking of it had activated it, the pulsing warmth extends out.

  It zooms up my spine to my crown, then whooshes out of me, and I gasp.

  He stiffens, then turns around to stalk over to me. “What did you do?” He comes to a pause on the other side of the table.

  I shake my head, not daring to speak.

  His eyes glow, blue with tiny golden sparks, his pupils flash vertically…Oh! Wow. When he does that it means…he’s turned on, right?

  He leans across the table. I scoot back, but he’s too damn tall. Too fast. He lunges forward and grabs the nape of my neck. “Don't go around messing with stuff you don’t have any control over.”

  Right. If only he knew.

  I want to follow the fledgling mating bond to find his presence on the other side. I want to understand what it means to be joined to this man in such a unique way.

  As a human, I’ve only heard about what it means to be one half of a mated pair—to find your soul mate in the true sense, where you are connected on the psychic plane, where you are able to tune into the other person’s thoughts, can sense them like they are your other half, because that’s what they are. Because that’s what he is, the other part of me.

  The breath rushes out of me.

  I stare at him, unable to take my eyes off of him. Unable to fathom exactly what it is that I have stumbled upon. The truth. That’s what it is. I am his. His to command, to do with as he wants. I am his submissive. I lower my gaze and nod.

  I sense him stiffen. His gaze bores into me, but I don’t dare raise my eyes. How can I, after the enormity of what I have just realized? Why have I been fighting the inevitable all along? I was born to be bound to him. It is the logical conclusion of the chemistry that has been building up between us for so long. And I want this. I want him. I want everything he can do to me.

  I swallow down the cry that threatens to bubble up.

  Tension leaps off of him. His brow furrows.

  What is he thinking?

  Will he notice how much things have shifted for me? It isn’t about him, or his dominance, or how much he wants to control.

  This…this is about finding the nurturer in me.

  About coming to terms with that part of myself I have run away from for so long, that I have been scared to acknowledge. That I am submissive, but not to anyone else. I only want one Master. Him.

  I want him to be my world.

  Only to him will I surrender. I want to carry the child that would be the natural conclusion of our union. My womb shudders with the realization. It’s all so intrinsically linked. It isn’t about giving in, it’s about discovering what I truly want. Us.

  “You’ve gone pale, Red.”

  His voice washes over me. He flattens his palm over the nape of my neck and massages the skin there, brushing his fingers up and under my hair so it grazes my scalp. All of my nerve endings flare at once, and I shiver.

  I can’t speak, and not only because my alpha asked me to stay quiet. It’s because I don’t trust myself to make much sense. I tilt my head until my hair comes in contact with his arm and I rub up against it.

  Some of the tension drains out of him.

  Something in the language of my body must have reassured him, for he pulls his arm away and straightens. Turning, he crosses the floor back to the counter, and I hear the sound of him moving around. I stay where I am, trying to process everything. Why do my shoulders feel lighter? I rub my palms over my face. I seem to be coming out of some kind of hibernation, suddenly realizing my entire life so far has been me fighting against my true nature.

  Maybe that’s what happens when you are a lone human among Fae; you have nothing to benchmark yourself with except for the bloodthirsty Fae. And all the Fae women I know…they are fighters, physically much stronger than me, and I have been compelled to try to match up to them. All along I have been trying to be something I’m not, when the answer has always been inside of me. Philosophical much?

  I chuckle, and the sound is soft under my breath. But my alpha hears it.

  He brings a plate heaped with sandwiches—there must be at least ten on that plate—and sets it in front of himself. Then lifts my chair, with me still in it, and carries me around to set it down next to him. Right. Of course, he’s strong, but this…it takes the awareness of his power to new heights. I gulp and keep my gaze on the food. He snatches up one half of a sandwich and holds it to my mouth. I bite into it, and hmm, it tastes good. Tart and pungent and sweet all at the same time. I lick my lips and finally raise my eyes to his.

  “Good?” He takes a massive bite of the sandwich, then offers me the other half.

  I nibble on it. He coaxes me to eat a little more, then polishes off the rest of the food. Uh, okay, he has a big frame in which to pack it all away, but still…I seem to have underestimated his appetite and in more ways than one.

  He stands, carries the plate to the sink, then returns and lifts me in his arms. Should I protest? Nah. It's kinda nice to be carried. His touch is gentle as he cradles me.

  He walks out of the kitchen to the bedroom we’d left earlier, crossing to the bed, where he lays me down. “Scoot over, Red.”

  Huh? I stare. Doesn’t he want to, you know, fuck me now?

  “You need to get some sleep.” He nods toward my face.

  I frown.

  “You have dark circles under your eyes, and you look ready to keel over.”

  Well, thank you very much. I huff and move over.

  He gets into bed and pulls the covers over both of us. Then he closes the gap between us, scoops me up, and deposits me on his chest. What the…? Thud-thud-thud, the beat of his heart fills my ears.

  I rub my cheek against the cut planes of his beautiful chest.

  The heat of him cocoons me. Tension drains from my shoulders. I’ve felt his dominance, sensed his perusal as he monitored
my response to his ministrations, but this…the way he winds his arms around me and tucks my head under his chin, then runs his wide palm over my back, soothes me.

  There's something so incredibly sweet...and sexy to be cradled by this giant of a man. My breathing steadies and darkness pulls me under.

  A sound drifts over me. A strangled shout, and the terror in it. The pain cuts through me and my eyes fly open.

  It’s dark around me; the light coming in through the unshaded windows lights up the room with a dim glow. THUD-THUD-THUD, is that my heartbeat? No, not mine…it’s his.

  I straighten and almost slide off of his chest. I touch his shoulder, and my palm connects with moisture. He’s sweating, perspiration running down his throat, his chest. He mumbles under his breath, and I can’t understand the words.

  “Nyet. Otets. Nyet.” He’s speaking in Russian?

  He thrashes his head to the side, his throat cords flex, and his chest heaves. His biceps bulge as he grips the sheets.

  “Alpha?” I lean over him, unsure what to do.

  “No. Please.” He groans, and the sound rips through my heart.

  My chest hurts; the ball of heat in it twitches and shudders. Grief comes down the mating bond, barreling into me with such force I gasp. I can sense him...red, white, swirls of gray; all of it melds together and falls apart, then swoops down on me, and I scream out. Sweat slicks my palms, adrenaline laces my blood.

  “Don’t do this.” His biceps strain, his chest heaves.

  I touch his cheek. “Doc.”

  He shakes off my touch.

  Another guttural cry leaves his lips, and my heart stutters. I can’t just stand by while he's in anguish. There must be something I can do. Something. “Nolan.” I touch his shoulder.

  His eyes fly open, and I freeze.

  Vertical pupils glare at me.

  His nostrils flare. He tilts his head, and that’s when I notice his ears have extended. He peels back his lips, showing those sharp, pointed teeth, and I gulp. He looks like he is lost in a nightmare, caught up in whatever turmoil haunts him. I pull back my hand, and he snakes out his arm and grabs my wrist.