Chapter Four #3
My eyes widened at the idea of Iona with a vibrator “keeping her need to herself.” Then talking about it without turning a hair.
Yes, the Sidhe ladies of the court had been bold too, but my nose had warned me they weren’t really that aroused.
One or two lying lovers hadn’t done me any favors by telling everyone I fucked like an animal.
The gossip had been humiliating. On the other hand, court ladies had wanted the cachet of becoming mistress to the heir to the throne.
But Iona’s need was genuine. She wanted me, crown or no crown. That thought -- and the memories of vision-Iona proclaiming her love -- hit me like an aphrodisiac.
The glow in her eyes brightened even more.
I knew she was reacting to my arousal. “You aren’t a member of my department or a fairy civilian prone to gossip,” Iona said.
“We could be together without anybody throwing ‘conflict of interest’ in my face. I’m tired of denying what I need.
” The words sounded so naked, I stared at her, drinking her eager scent as my cock went hard.
Iona stopped and faced me, so I stopped too. “The question is,” she asked, “what do you need?”
You. The word seemed to roar into my consciousness.
Still not a good idea, my common sense protested.
Yes, it is, the sword countered, the sting of the sparks subsiding to an encouraging warmth. Remember the vision.
Brilliant eyes stared into mine, irises somewhere between green and gold, hot and lazy with passion.
I took a deep breath and admitted it. “I want you. I’m just afraid of getting distracted. Of failing you.” Of losing you when this is over… Stop that.
Her fingers curled around mine. “You won’t. You not only fought for me, you made the killer run like a little bitch. Between the two of us, we’ll take him out the next time he shows his face.” That gold-green glow brightened, then dimmed. “If you’re sure.”
Wait, what? She’s pulling back? Did I screw up? Is she playing a game? Then I remembered my father’s warning to make sure she didn’t use her power to influence me. “The fertility goddess thing?”
She gave me a stiff little nod. “Sometimes my power can influence men I want. Your need feels real to me, but I’ve sworn never to take advantage of desire that isn’t real.”
That concern decided me. “Oh, it’s real. It’s been a while for me too.”
Her eyes widened and I felt my cheeks heat at the incredulous expression on her face. “Why, for Cachamwri’s sake?”
I blinked, surprised she didn’t see the obvious. I looked away to scan the woods, my hand closing on Dragon’s Breath. For once, it didn’t pelt me with sparks. “I’m a werewolf.”
“You’re also a handsome prince. I’d think court ladies would swarm you like bees around a peach.”
“Were. Wolf. The kind of man you only bed for bragging rights. No Sidhe lord wants puppy grandchildren.” I ground my teeth. “They call me the King’s Dog behind my back, or so they think. They always underestimate my hearing.”
“The King’s Dog?” Her mouth dropped open in an outrage I found oddly warming.
“Yes. When my father steps down -- no time soon, Cachamwri willing -- I’m going to have a rebellion on my hands. It’s been brewing in one form or another since the nobles realized none of them could kill me in a duel.”
“A noble challenged the Prince of the Two Kingdoms?” She sounded genuinely scandalized.
“Not a noble -- seventeen nobles, and I challenged them. Not that I had a choice.”
“But… Why?”
“The aristocracy had hoped I’d die during my first Change, like twenty percent of werewolf kids.
When I didn’t, they started trying to take me out themselves.
I dueled seventeen assholes from the age of sixteen to twenty-one.
They couldn’t challenge me directly, so they had to get me to challenge them.
” I curled my lip. “Didn’t take them long to realize insulting my mother would do it.
Mom eventually broke them of that when she pounced on a nobleman she’d overheard plotting the next one.
It took three healers to save his life.”
Her brows snapped down. “Why didn’t your father just tell them to knock it off? Especially when you were a child.”
“If he had, he’d have implied he doubted I could defeat my tormentors. Which would be the kiss of death for a future king.”
“So he let you handle the murder attempts by yourself? Didn’t you have bodyguards?”
It occurred to me this wasn’t exactly the world’s most romantic conversation, and I snapped my teeth closed before I completely torpedoed the mood. “Never mind about all that. I’d rather concentrate on you, not teenage angst.”
“Childhood murder attempts aren’t exactly ‘angst.’ Angst is ‘I didn’t get to go to the prom with my crush,’ not ‘Grown-ass Sidhe noblemen tried to murder me for being a werewolf.’” Her gaze went distant and cold.
“I know that from personal experience.” She stopped in her tracks, staring at me, her jaw dropping.
I looked at her. “What?”
“We have more in common than I thought.”
I remembered the way she’d gone pale at the sight of that troll in the vision. “Your mother?”
“I see gossip travels,” Iona said with a smile that looked brittle as an eggshell. Her tone told me she really didn’t want to talk about it.
“All right,” I said. “Then let’s forget all that for the night. I just want to concentrate on yo --”
My sword blazed emerald light from its scabbard. Griffin!
The wind shifted, and the smell seemed to slap me in the face -- the strong, wild musk of big cat, mixed with the scent of feathers and carrion. And the reek of foreign magic. Dragon’s Breath spat, He’s here for her!
I grabbed for my power. Magic exploded around me as I shifted to Dire Wolf form.
An enraged shriek sounded, followed by the flap of great wings as if the thing was winging toward us.
I snatched Iona off her feet, ignoring her gasped, “Dearg! What is it?”
“Dragon’s Breath said there’s a griffin after us.” I ran, leaping in great bounds as I made for town and the nearest building. At least the tree canopy would make it harder for the son of a bitch to take us from the air.
Bones crunched as her green eyes bulged and her howl broke off into a breathless wheeze of terror and anguish…
No. Fuck no. I’ll rip that goddamn bird apart. He’s not getting her.
I conjured a shield as I ran to protect us both from an attack from the air. Its glow illuminated the woods we ran through -- and lit us up, but it couldn’t be helped. We’ll kill him, Dragon’s Breath hissed eagerly. Burn him. Eat the ashes.
Sometimes the blade could get a little creepy.
The rush of wings grew louder, and I shot a glance at the sky through the canopy. When I didn’t see one dragon-cursed thing, I lengthened my stride. I was fast in Dire Wolf form, but an attack from the air would be even faster. “We need to get behind wards. Is there anything close?”
“My house is that way,” Iona said, pointing through the trees with one hand as she gripped my neck with the other.
The sound of wings grew louder.
Magic exploded around us, insanely powerful. For an instant I thought it was an attack before I realized it was a second shield spell laid over my own, reinforcing it. “This’ll keep the bastard at a distance.” Iona’s tone sounded grim, tight with concentration.
“Where’s your place?
She gestured at what looked like a deer path through the trees. “Turn here.”
I obeyed, bounding. We shot up the tree-covered hillside. When we emerged from the woods, an enormous white Victorian lay just ahead, all pale gingerbread trim and black shutters. It seemed to glow in the moonlight.
“How good are your wards?”
“Pretty damn good,” she yelled back. “Maeve’s work, just in case Mom was ever dumb enough to tempt the mayor’s wrath.
” Iona gestured, and the wards around the house flared, then winked out just before we shot through them.
They blazed high again the minute we were inside, radiating malevolent threat like a magical nuclear meltdown.
I bounded up the Victorian’s wooden steps, only belatedly realizing that together we must weigh in the neighborhood of four hundred pounds -- all but a hundred and twenty of it werewolf me.
The sound of flapping wings grew louder, accompanied by an ear-ringing screech.
The house’s screen door swung open by itself, and I hunched as I darted through to avoid slamming my head against the door frame. As it was, I had to turn my shoulders sideways. My Dire Wolf form wasn’t exactly intended for mortal habitations.
I put Iona on her feet and drew Dragon’s Breath. Its power flooded the room with green light, the sword drooling emerald sparks like the bloodthirsty bastard it was. She is safe. Now we slay him.
“Let me out,” I told her. “I’ll take the bastard down.”
The griffin shrieked again, so shrill I winced. Judging by the sound, he was circling above the house.
“How do I get on the roof?” I asked. “I think I could lure him down and --”
“Did somebody give you wings when I wasn’t looking?
” Iona demanded. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to fight an invisible griffin from the roof -- in the dark.
” She opened a communication spell, and Vildra appeared in all her scaly dragon glory, sprawled in an enormous cavern.
“What?” the dragon demanded. “I’m trying to get some beauty rest for my call tomorrow. ”
“The griffin chased us home. He’s flying over my house.”
Red eyes narrowed and began to glow, irises pulling into slits. “Is he? Well, why don’t I give him a suitable welcome.” She peeled her lips off impressive teeth. “I liked Baareo, dammit. He was one of mine!”
And she was gone.
“She’s a little possessive.” Iona drew her baton and flicked her wrist. Magic pounded my senses as the telescoping weapon instantly became a sword. She eyed the ceiling as if she could see the griffin through it, her sword shedding a soft blue radiance.
“Just in case she needs backup.”
“Is there a roof access? One of those dormer windows would do. Breath wants a piece of him.”
Yessssssss.
The griffin shrieked again.