Once Upon a Forbidden Desire, page 48
But that was the future, and this was now. And with each caress and kiss, I learned a little more about the man. Each question he answered in that gruff way of his gave me a new peek into his character, his soul. He’d had a hard life, being such a different shifter, but he had never thought himself lesser than the more common shifting forms. It had taken hard work to grow his pack, to lead them to where they were now. His eye was on the future, and everything he did was to safeguard it—not just for himself, but for all who lived under his alpha rule.
And then the bubble popped.
I was idling on the sofa, counting down the hours to midnight, when there was a great commotion—the man could roar—and a slamming of doors and the sounds of raised voices. Curious, I left my room and peeked down the great stairwell. Shifters ran back and forth, some shouting orders to others. I spied Tom, the one who usually stood guard at the end of the upper hallway, standing by the main door and made my way to him.
“What’s going on?” I asked, a little wary at all the sudden activity.
He turned to me, his face stricken. “Ah, Cori. You need to get back up to your room. Close the shutters and lock the windows.”
“Why?” I looked around in alarm. “Are we under attack?”
“We might be.”
“What happened? Why did Rheon shout?”
He rubbed the back of his head. “The Alpha … Well … We got news from his mate.”
My stomach sank. “Hawthorn?”
“Yes, she, ah, apparently agreed to marry another alpha. Lindor.”
The news left me dumbstruck. And then a lightness beyond anything I’d ever experienced filled me, buoying my spirits until I wanted to shout with joy. “She did?”
Tom nodded gravely. “Yes.”
His terse tone crushed my joyous relief. Dread took its place. “And Rheon just learned about it?”
“He’s gone to claim blood.”
“Shit.” Rheon’s pride wouldn’t let this insult pass—of course it wouldn’t. And if he went to confront another alpha over a mate … war would follow. I grabbed Tom’s arm and pulled him toward what I now knew was a garage. “We have to stop him. Let’s go.”
The look of horror on his face would’ve made me laugh in any other circumstance. “We can’t. I can’t go against his orders.”
“You’re not—I am. Show me where you keep the car keys.”
The garage held a couple of old Jeeps, a pickup truck, a few dirt bikes, and an ATV. I jumped into one of the Jeeps and got it started. I knew where Lindor’s pack lived—it wasn’t anywhere close. How the hell had Hawthorn made it that far? With any luck, I could intercept Rheon before he got anywhere near Lindor’s territory and started a war that would decimate both sides.
The drive was tortuous, the dirt road doing its best to waylay me into the trees. Once I reached the junction where Hawthorn and I had met Rheon for the first time, I made a sharp right turn that had me almost flying out of the car, and stomped on the accelerator. I prayed that Rheon was following the road for easier running rather than cutting through the forest, and the gods must’ve been listening because his massive form eventually appeared ahead of me. In the dawning evening, his shadows seemed to snag at the asphalt and the grass on the side of the road.
“Rheon,” I shouted once I was level with him. “Stop this nonsense!”
He paid me no attention, didn’t slow a bit.
So I rammed him with the Jeep.
He went flying into the trees. Wood snapped and cracked like thunder. I braked with a screech of tires and jumped out of the vehicle, heart in my throat.
“Rheon!”
His one-horned beast leaped from the trees to loom over me.
“Witchhhh! How daaaare youuuu?”
“The hell is wrong with you?” I demanded. “You can’t start a war over Hawthorn.”
He transformed in the blink of an eye. “The hell I can’t,” he roared. “She was promised to me.” He smacked his chest. “To me!”
“You don’t even know her. What do you care?”
“It’s a matter of principle! She is mine and she’ll be returned to me.”
I clenched my fists, wanting to punch him in the face so badly it hurt. “Oh, shut up! She’s found someone else. Deal with it! If you want a mate so bad, why don’t you ask me?”
He looked thunderstruck. “You?”
His expression only made me madder. So mad, the anger turned into a deep, agonizing stab of hurt in my heart. “Yes, me! The one you’ve been drooling over for the last three nights!”
I spun before he could see the tears in my eyes. Bah, who cared? I didn’t have a shifter’s pride, and thank God for that. I wiped my eyes and stomped my way back to the car. Before getting in, I glanced at him over my shoulder. He stood where I’d left him, eyes wide with confusion, as if I had disarmed him with the shock of my words.
Hate didn’t even begin to approach what I felt for him at that moment.
“You have so much pride,” I said, strangely calm, “and it’s all poured into the completely wrong thing. You don’t need to mate an alpha’s daughter to be a part of the shifter council. You’re an alpha in your own right, with a huge pack and a huge territory. Demand entrance. Put that pride where it counts, not on petty conflicts that will endanger your pack.”
Without another look, I got into the Jeep and drove home.
I had done my part. Good luck to him and his pack.
My family was glad to see me unharmed. They’d also heard about Hawthorn’s new mating—to the wrong guy. No war followed, and it didn’t take them long to stop asking me what had transpired at Rheon’s mansion, as the only thing I did for days was rant about the alphahole and his stupid pride and how I hoped he rammed his dumbass horn into a tree and got stuck there forever.
Even Aunt Tilda paid me a visit. I told her about using her spell and almost getting stuck as a bear forever, and she had a good laugh. Then told me, that’ll teach you. No kidding. Then I proceeded to tell her all about Rheon, and she answered with an I’m sorry, honey, there are no spells for a broken heart.
That took the ranting sails out of me. Love? I mean, lust, sure. But love? Well, of course it was love, I reasoned as I fell into a deep pit of despair. Hadn’t I offered myself on a plate as his mate? And hadn’t he obviously not once thought about it?
I was rolling in that particular cloud of gloom and doom when my sister knocked on my door. We shared a unit in my family’s small apartment building.
“Mom wants to talk to you.”
Groaning, I separated myself from my bed and made my way to the living room. Mom stood there, a strange gleam in her eyes.
“Hello, Mom,” I said dutifully, giving her a quick hug.
“Cori,” she said, giving me a peck on the cheek. “Something has happened.”
I went on alert. “Someone’s hurt?”
“No, nothing like that.” I barely had time to exhale in relief before she spoke again. “We’ve received an interesting proposition. It involves you.”
“Oh?”
She pursed her lips. “An alpha has approached us with a deal. We would usually say no right away, but with the way you’ve been acting lately, we decided to give it a second thought.”
“W-what?”
A slight smile curved her lips, and then realization slammed into me. I ran to the window overlooking the entrance of the building and looked out. Rheon stood there in his human form, all tall and dangerous, dressed in an elegant black suit, facing my father.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “What does he want?”
“He says he’d like for us to be formal allies. The shifter council has agreed to give him a seat, and while they’ll never allow a witch to be part of it, he insists that through him, our wishes will be heard. We won’t be simply allies of convenience, but we’ll have full access to their decision-making. As long as his mate is a witch.”
I turned to Mom, almost speechless. “A witch mate? Me? He asked for me?”
She nodded. “Yes, you. And yes, he did.”
It was too much to make sense of. “But you’ve always said that it’s forbidden, that shifter blood and witch don’t mix.”
She scrunched her nose. “They don’t. If you have any children, they’ll be shifters, not witches, so we try to prevent these kinds of unions.”
“Then why …?”
“We’re not so heartless as to stop a love match, honey. Besides, this alliance will be good for us. It doesn’t hurt to have a foot in the council. And let’s be honest, love, you’re not that powerful. Your witch kids would’ve sucked.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
“Now, shoo. Go give him your answer.”
She didn’t need to tell me twice. Before leaving the room, I hugged her again. She laughed and pushed me toward the door.
I took the stairs two at a time and was out of breath by the time I made it outside the building. My father was scowling ferociously, but he gave me a nod and went inside, leaving us alone.
Rheon lifted his chin and looked at me down his impressively thick, ugly nose. “Cori. Are you ready to pack and come with me?”
I snorted a laugh. Having his ex-mate leave him for another hadn’t changed his arrogance in the least.
“That’s not the question I wish to hear. Why did you come?”
“For you.”
“Why me?”
He frowned, as if he didn’t understand it very well himself. “I have missed you these past days. I thought about your words, and how right you were. And I wondered what other words of wisdom I might miss by not having you by my side.”
“Wisdom, huh?”
Rheon nodded solemnly. “A strong leader needs a strong mate by his side. Since you’re not a very powerful witch, your wisdom must suffice.”
“Oh, you ass,” I cried, but my anger dissipated at the gleam of amusement in his eyes.
He extended a hand, and a note of hesitance entered his voice as he asked, “Will you come with me? Be my mate? Stay by my side no matter what and stop my pride from making monumental mistakes?”
I extended my arm. The moment my fingers touched his, he grasped my hand and pulled me into a tight embrace.
“Say yes,” he whispered into my ear, low and husky and all the things that robbed me of coherent thought.
“Yes,” I whispered. “But you’re still an ass.”
And then he was kissing me like his life depended on it, so deep our souls seemed to touch and vine around each other, knotting until nothing could tear them apart.
Later that night, as he tossed me onto his giant bed and came down on top of me, kissing and suckling everywhere, opening me to his touch, and entering me like he couldn’t get enough of me, I found I didn’t mind his domineering ways so much. He’d always be my ogre, my forbidden mate.
Mine.
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THE TROLL’S DAUGHTER
(The Troll’s Daughter)
DANI MORRISON
HOT
Astrid is the Troll King’s daughter, imprisoned by him for centuries in a crystalline cage. Then Jørn appears, offering ecstasy far beyond any she has ever known and a hope of escape. Can she trust that her lover’s wits are as agile as his tongue? Or are they hurtling toward death at the Troll King’s hand?
HE SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN HERE. He should have been on one of the wild goose chases ordered by her father. Yet there he was, not a figment of her imagination but a flesh and blood human man, something she hadn’t seen in centuries. He had set her aflame ever since the first time she let him see her in the gardens.
He was reckless then, when the moon was at its darkest and the men on land sang hymns she could hear from beneath the waves.
He’d been turned into a fish. One of her father’s not-so-cherished creations. It wasn’t uncommon for the Troll King to turn man into beast for his amusement, but she had seen through her father’s magic and recognized the strong arms and legs beneath the fins. A quick-shot of silver was replaced by muscle and the sun-spun hair associated with his people.
Her decision to bathe in front of him was impetuous, but she couldn’t help the way her nipples tightened at the thought of him watching or how a searing heat tore through her core to pool into a slick wetness that coated her thighs.
By the time she stepped out of the pool to pull her robe back on, she knew he would return. So he had, using the same fish disguise to sneak into her palace right as the full moon loomed.
“You finally made it to the grand hall,” she said, her words more confident than she actually felt. He was an intimidating specimen with blue tattoos that matched his eyes and metal beads woven into an expertly trimmed beard.
He was the kind of man she read about when she snuck into the forbidden sections of the palace library.
“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes roving over her barely clad form. There was nothing sheerer than dragonfly wing and spider silk, and she had been sure to wear a gown made of just those materials to welcome him into her home.
“Noble men usually introduce themselves first,” she replied.
He stepped forward and his hands twitched as though he wanted to reach for her, and she wished he would.
“Jørn … Jørn, son of Sævil.”
“How did you find me?”
“I believe it is customary to provide your name, now,” he said, taking another step forward, and she hoped he didn’t hear her breath hitch.
“Do you not know that I am the daughter of a king?”
His smile curled the corner of his full lips in a salacious and beautiful way. “Do most kings trap their daughters under the sea?”
“Only the ones who wish to keep their prized possessions away from servants and vagabonds.”
It had been too long since she had spoken to anyone besides the automatons created by the dwarves to be her servants. Were it not for her tutors, she might have forgotten the language of men all together.
Sharp blue eyes that were too clever for such a young face drifted down her body once again before meeting her own. “And what about a man who is both?”
“My father would kill such a man.”
He took another step, and she took one in kind, enough to press herself against him and feel the way his breath caught at her forwardness. She was the daughter of eternity, of earth and sky, and her crown weighed as much as a thousand men just like him. She would never allow herself to be simple prey.
“Astrid,” she said softly and reached forward to tug at one of the beads woven into his hair.
“That’s all?” her suitor replied, tilting his face downward to hover his lips above hers.
“You’ll need to earn the rest,” Astrid replied.
He smiled in a way she was sure had made a thousand other women purr with delight. “Show me how.”
She led him out of the hall, past the treasure trove of wonders that made up her home. The room of gold and emeralds where she played the flute. The grand library where knowledge pilfered from the world of gods and men were kept under lock and key by loyal house spirits.
Each chamber was a testament to the creature who had not only raised her but kept her prisoner.
Finally, they reached her personal bedchambers, rimmed in thick enchanted glass to allow a full view of the wine-dark expanse that surrounded them.
Spiraling leadlines crafted from the finest metals created mosaics of swirling blue green across her bedroom’s white stone floor. It was a beautiful prison, but a prison, nonetheless.
Astrid didn’t share in Jørn’s rapture at their surroundings, but she could understand why his eyes widened as he took in the sights.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time for him to absorb the supernatural kingdom he found himself in. She could no more keep him there than a mountain could keep a river in its embrace. Soon enough …
She shook her head to break the dark thoughts that threatened to mar their tryst. If only for a while, she could have him. She led him to the large bed at the head of the room.
Astrid shivered when he stopped behind her, and a rough hand skimmed up the front of her gown.
“Is this where you would like for me to prove my worth?” Jørn asked.
She wanted him to prove so much more than that. That she could still feel something besides the moon, the tides, and the trembling earth beneath her feet. That she could still hear more than whale call and maelstroms battering at her palace doors.
She wouldn’t tell him this, though. He didn’t need to know what desires lay inside her besides the physical ones she would have him slake now.
Astrid turned and wove her arms around his neck. Her blood sang through her veins when his large hands slid into the small of her back to pull her closer still.
“This will be one trial of many,” she said.
Jørn captured her lips with his and tumbled her down onto the pile of furs that lined her bed.
How long had it been since she’d last shared it? Astrid couldn’t remember her previous lover’s face, but she was certain she would remember Jørn pressing hungry kisses into her neck for the rest of her life.
An insistent hand gently molded one of her breasts into its palm. Astrid moaned when a thumb thrummed across her nipple, causing it to tighten even further.
Jørn’s chuckle reverberated against her skin, already sensitive to the slightest touch. Astrid’s fingers clutched at her gown, and she resisted the urge to clasp him to her.
“How long has it been for you … Your Highness?”
He pushed a thick thigh between her legs and up against her quickly moistening center.
“Not long enough that I would forgive mockery—ah!”
Whatever half-hearted threat she intended was lost when Jørn’s sharp canine sank into her nipple. Astrid’s fingers tangled in his thick locks and clutched him closer to her breasts while his tongue soothed the momentary sting.
She arched her back, entirely conscious of the way she rode his thigh in search of blissful friction, and was rewarded with deft fingers sliding the straps of her dressing gown down to present her full breasts to the air.
