KARA WILLS
Copyright © 2009
Prologue
Ireland, 1809
Women.
His weakness. His passion.
Ultimately, it brought about his curse.
The hour was late. No moon hung from the dark carpet of sky. No diamonds set in the backdrop of night.
The village streets sang with life and vibrancy—they always did—despite the chill that whispered of danger. The streetlamps flickered and glowed with its ominous firelight. Pubs were loud and vivacious with riled customers, frustrated gamblers and heady drunks. Ales and cheap whiskey scented the storefronts. Village whores played on the streets, sifting through the maze of sex-primed pub men to make their minimal wages at any cost.
His guilty pleasure. Human women. He loved their company. Loved their trades. Loved their imperfections. Talaenian women painted a portrait of perfection. Each female looked frighteningly like the next. He loved the diversity of humans, and preferred humans over his own kind any night of the week.
That very reason brought him to the village on this particular eve. An aching hunger to ravish a human woman—or four, as it turned out—with pleasures hard to come by. And, of course, their willingness to give him pleasure in return.
“Good sir. ’Tis the likes of men, such as yourself, that bring sin upon us,” one of his luscious companions whispered against his ear. Her large bosoms pressed into his arm against the constraints of her bodice. Her slender fingers rolled circles over his chest as another woman’s tongue traced the cuts of his abdomen. Two lovely younglings kissed one another at the foot of the inn’s bed, tantalizing his desires as they torturously undressed one another. Sweet goddess. How the world changed every few decades. Women now were not nearly as conservative and reformed as only a century before.
He reached up to touch the woman who just whispered against his ear. She giggled with a hint of innocence, but her eyes glowed with the knowledge of a superior lover. A ruin in the minds of society, but she held much promise for a man during the night.
The two younglings turned their attention upon him. One tugged at his trousers. The other dipped her head to taste him just as the woman lapping his abdomen went for him. The two collided in a twill of tongues around his erection. He dropped his head against the pillows and groaned. His mind swirled with the onset of ecstasy, thoughts incomplete. No thoughts made sense. He gave into the pleasure, taking his hunger to the neck of the lover at his head. He kissed her neck, suckled here, nipped there. His hands tore into her dress, loosening the laces of her stays enough to reach her heavy breasts and knead his fingers against the fleshy mounds. He groped and squeezed as the two women kissed each other with him caught between their feverish battle. He blindly searched for the hem of the woman’s skirts, who moaned in response to his rough approach. She lifted her breasts to his face and he eagerly tugged on one pearled nipple with his teeth. Pleasure. Sin. Bliss. All at his beck and call. Four fallen angels taking to him like starved children. And he felt mindless in their company. He felt tongues and fingers, moist heat and heavy breasts.
A fierce explosion of thunder shook the old inn.
Lightning lit up the sky just beyond the windows. He saw the white lash against his closed eyelids, a gargle, a gasp. The twined tongues about his staff stiffened, then left him cold. His eyes peeled open, half expecting to see one of the women climbing over him.
“A devil!” the woman at his side growled. She stared at him through wide eyes before she slumped against him. She lay there, her face beside his, staring at him, eyes distant and dead.
The flames in the fireplace jumped. Their radiant curls licked high into the chimney. Blue and purple ribbons lashed out at him then drew back into the hearth. Another shriek of thunder rattled the walls and the electric glow of lightning cast ominous shadows along the crevices of the room. He closed his eyes tight and willed the woman at his side to be nothing more than a bad dream.
They remained. He felt the weight of their bodies lying around him. He felt the heat of the woman at his side as Death led her from the living. All four of them. Never had a room been filled with such horror as he felt now. The weight of fear pressed heavily against his chest. Slowly, he pushed up on his elbows. His eyes locked with the near-naked figures slumped at his waist. Each one with eyes trained on him in terror and hatred. They accused him in death. They marked him a guilty man with their silence.
Panic clenched at him with icy fingers, springing him from the bed. He pulled up his trousers as he shuffled backwards, away from the scene that lay before him. His eyes beheld the impossible. His mind could not fathom the horror of it. Never, in all his years of bed play, had this ever happened. Oh, sweet goddess, what has happened?
Four women. Dead.
As he stared in estranged disbelief, he questioned himself again and again. He had been mindless in pleasure, but his power remained leashed. Had he created this? Had he become so engulfed in his pleasure that he somehow released a lashing of power upon these innocents?
No. It wasn’t him. He did not cause—
A rumble of thunder sparked a new spray of lightning bolts upon the earth. His thoughts silenced, panic overwhelming. What am I to do?
The fire leaped in the fireplace again. The flames extended into the room, hellish arms grappling for him. They subsided just as quickly. This time, the fireplace grew dark. The flames withered into embers, then nothing more than a soot-gray curl of smoke.
“What have you done, Shaye?”
The female voice pierced him like hot iron stakes. His attention spun to the woman who stood in the shadows of the room across the way. Amber orbs observed him, then turned towards the display contorted over the bed like a madman’s sculpture of Dante’s presumptuous Hell.
“Daeanna, there is an explanation for this. I am not capable of committing such an act,” he muttered. The angelic woman turned to him, a cross grin pursed against her lips. Her eyes glowed with the fire she stole from the room. Her gold-spun hair rippled against an unseen breeze, curling around her waist and her arms. She slowly approached him, her sheath of golden silk hugging the beauty and perfection of her body. She held herself every inch a princess, daughter to Dagda—the man who would execute him personally for bringing death upon these four innocent humans.
“Surely you can explain how four human women end up dead in your pleasure bed. Shaye, this is serious. Our laws will condemn you and your punishment will be death at sunrise.”
Shaye shook his head. He lowered his eyes to the hands held in front of him. Hands that loved the feel of flesh. Hands that caressed and stroked. Hands that could never bring such a heinous demise upon four innocent souls. He abided all the laws of Fae. Talaenians held humans with great respect and regard, more so than their Tuatha de Danann cousins. He had power, and great power at that. Pleasure could never bring forth such a negative energy. Could it? The more he tried to remember, the harder he tried to think about the moments preceding this catastrophe, the faster they faded in a haze. His thoughts slipped and he could not grasp them tightly enough to hold on to them.
“Thinking will not help you now, Shaye. An impetuous crime has been committed. Dagda will be calling for your attention in Court. Best come with me. Perhaps…I can propose a tempting bargain. After all, our king is my father. And my father will hear my argument.”
“I will not be held in your debt for a crime I could not have possibly committed,” Shaye murmured uncertainly. He combed his fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t me.”
“Lest you devise a suitable explanation, you will face the wrath of my father for all Court to witness. Come. We haven’t much time.”
Chapter 1
New Jersey, Present Day
Sunlight pours through the emerald leaves over her head like liquid amber, sensuous arms cocooning around her. Warming her. Protecting her. The air smells of sweet flowers and crisp water, the earth beneath her feet, soft, velvety. Beauty surrounds her. Magic. Her lips curl in a permanent smile that brings forth her inner joy in a quiet giggle. Beauty. Magic. She feels the stories come alive. She hears the harmonious melodies of ancient lore. She sees the work of those who produce the fruits of the land. Untainted by humans.
Magic.
There is something in the air around her that speaks that single word in the elements. No voice, but a feeling. She is being watched. Observed. It warms her further. Warms her to know she stands in a land filled with culture and myths and there is no doubting any of it. All is real.
And she is given this special insight to the truth. She stands in the thralls of trust…
“Hey, girl. I think you need a larger coffee.”
Moira’s attention broke away from the marbled tabletop and lifted to her friend. Rae Hathaway dropped two plates with pastries on the table next to the caramel macchiato Moira cupped between her finger tips. She took a seat next to Moira and handed her a fork. Moira thanked her.
“Where were you? Vegas? Fiji? Back in Ireland?” Rae teased, brushing away a wispy lock of raven hair from her eyes. “Damn, girl, you need to take me away with you.”
“I offered to take you to Ireland last month, but you declined. To chase after Tristan, might I add.” Moira lifted a brow at her friend before stabbing into her pound cake. With the cake at her lips, she added, “Apparently, it wasn’t worth missing the trip, huh?”
“Tristan has his eyes on you. He made that abundantly clear before I told him I accepted the idea of being a one-night stand.”
Moira coughed, hardly able to hold her cake in her mouth at this news. Rae shrugged. The corner of her mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. “I made sure the goods held up to standard. I would never allow you a man that is not worthy of your time, despite your ongoing childhood friendship with him. Not after that bastard Vick turned to Nellie for some lovin’. I still can’t believe that ass. Doesn’t he care about Chase?”
“Chase will be that much better without Vick’s influences. I don’t want my son turning into a womanizer.” Moira sighed. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her cheating ex. The man took the two weeks she spent in Ireland to lure another woman into her bed. She just happened to find out when she spoke with Chase. Her poor four-year-old didn’t know what to make of the strange woman he saw his father making strange noises with. Well, Moira helped give Vick a head start out the door. She thanked God for the rain that day. It gave her an extra boost of satisfaction as each piece of Armani and Ralph Lauren became saturated with mud as it lay over the front yard until he returned home from work.
“How’s Chase doing? I don’t see much of him now that he’s in school, doing all his little boy things,” Rae said, picking apart the cinnamon roll with her acrylic nails.
“He’s fine. Once in a while, he asks me where Vick is then it’s forgotten. I’ve been trying to keep his mind off the incident. Vick never could handle a kid well. His patience was not the most impressive.”
“He’s just a bastard ass that needs to eat some swamp scum and pray he doesn’t die from it.” Rae scowled. Her dark eyes glared at Moira from beneath thick lashes. “If I ever hear you talking about taking him back, I’ll feed you the swamp scum personally.”
“First time, shame on him. Second, shame on me. I learned my lesson, on all accounts. I just wish I had the nerve to toss him out years ago.”
“Tristan will be happy to take your mind off things.”
“Tristan is a great friend.”
“So am I.”
“And I would never date you, Rae,” Moira stated. She smiled again. Rae laughed.
“Girl, you’re not my type. Besides, you and Tristan would be so cute together. Chase gets along with him, and he loves Chase. I mean, what could possibly be wrong? You and Vick played on the teeter-totter for a while. I’ve seen the way you look at Tristan now and again. There’s no harm in dabbling.”
“Dabbling? I don’t have time to dabble in anything. I have my son. I have my job and school. Tell me when I have time to dabble.”
“Let Tristan tutor you,” Rae suggested. She popped a piece of the slain roll in her mouth. Moira wiped her fingers on a napkin and took a sip of her coffee. The initial sip shocked her with the strength of espresso, but it felt good going down. The jolt to her nerves helped shake the stresses of her breakup from her mind, for the moment.
“I can’t get involved with anyone right now. I need to worry about other things, like my mortgage. I may have to sell the house. I can’t pull it on my own. Vick was the bread winner while I went back to school. And I won’t ask my mother to help me out. Besides, the house is a little big for Chase and me.”
“Well, perhaps if you get a guy in there, it’ll be just the right size.”
Moira shook her head and sat back in the chair. She took another bite of her cake. Beyond the comforting aroma of brewing coffee and tinted windows of the coffee shop, the rain splattered over the pavement. Cars sped through puddles on the road beyond. The clouds, swollen and gray, showed no sign of breaking for the sun. Moira glanced at her watch. Ten minutes to go until she needed to return to work, and she dreaded the passage of the short time. She took up a position at Macy’s to cover the costs she incurred from Vick’s absence. Boring and monotonous, it paid little and worked through to her nerves, but Chase’s welfare remained her priority, whatever the cost to her. At least her mother offered her hand in watching Chase when he wasn’t in school.
“Hey, earth to Moira,” Rae interrupted. Moira raised her eyes to her friend’s. Rae’s hand covered her own in a sincere gesture. “I’m your best friend. I love you like a sister. I will do anything I can to help you out. Things will be just fine. If you need money, let me know. I can spare it.”
Rae, the daughter to a prominent cardio surgeon and an interior designer, took after her mother’s design creativity. She quickly followed in her extremely successful shoes. At twenty-eight, Rae had her own luxurious townhouse in the prestigious Montville, a brand new 5-series BMW and a wallet worth envying. Moira, well, she took a step back from her management position at a four-star restaurant to return to school, and retail.
Among all the trials of her life came her secret pleasure: Her love for stories, fiction and beauty. The gems that made up the rich culture of special places in the world, Ireland being her list topper.
“Nah. You know how I get with that stuff,” Moira finally said. She forced a grin. “I’ll keep your offer in mind, just in case.”
“Let me give you a hand this month. It’s the least I can do, really.”
Moira motioned to Rae’s destroyed cinnamon roll. She took a deep drink of her macchiato.
“You killed that thing. Would you like me to get you a fork?”
“It wasn’t as good as usual.”
“If you’re around tonight, stop by. I promised Chase we would watch movies and have popcorn and ice cream sundaes. For now, chat time is over. I need to get back to work.” Moira pushed back her chair and climbed to her feet. Rae sat back and crossed her arms over her chest as Moira gathered her purse and car keys. She shot Rae a full smile, though she didn’t quite feel so cheery. “I’m not allowing Vick to take Chase for a while. It’s bad enough the poor child doesn’t understand why his father brought another woman into the house.”
“I’ll be by. I think you need the break. Not just Chase.” Rae tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. Moira felt the scrutinizing gaze, but ignored her friend’s concern.
“I’ll be home after seven. See you later.”
Moira grabbed her macchiato and hurried out of the coffee shop. A sharp glance at her watch assured she would be late returning to work. A sudden tingle, beginning at the base of her neck and creeping along her spine, mocked her apprehension. Moira ran to her car, head ducked against the pelting rain. She slid into the cool interior and slammed the door shut. The tingle continued to spread the lower portions of her back and outwards through her body. She glanced through the ripples of water streaming down her windshield with nonchalance. The slant of her hatchback made it hard to see anything behind her.
When she looked out her passenger side window, the rain could not hide the massive figure that stood beside a sleek silver sports car across the parking lot. A man, dressed in dark clothing, and a deep, hooded jacket hid most of his face. She could not deny the intensity of his attention. Oddly enough, he seemed focused entirely on her. What she thought to be a tingle of her impending reprimand intensified as she stared at this stranger. Why someone would be interested in her confused and frightened her. Squinting against the rain that distorted the man, she tried to determine if he could be Vick. No. This man stood at least a foot taller than her ex, and Vick did not drive a silver sports car. Moira tried to see the plate on the car, only to be given a split second clear view of the shield that decorated the front of the car.
Ferrari?
“Who the hell are you?” Moira asked herself. The man’s head lifted slightly. Moira thought for the craziest moment he had heard her.
Impossible.
Shaking her head, she stabbed the key into the ignition of her car and pulled out of the parking lot as quick as possible. Her nerves trembled. Billions of terrifying thoughts plagued her. Could Vick be so angry with her that he hired someone to keep her every move under wraps? Is she being stalked? Is Chase safe?
As Moira came around the building to reach the main road, she slowed down and deliberately looked to where the silver car sat. The rain did not appear to disturb the man. He turned and faced her once again. His arms crossed over his chest and he leaned back on the car door. A distressed moan escaped Moira’s lips as she pressed down on the accelerator. She searched her purse for her cell, flipped it open and called Rae.
“Tell me you’ve decided to play hookie and spend some time with me,” she greeted on the second ring.
“Look out the window and tell me if someone is there with a silver car,” Moira said with a rush of breath. Her heart raced. Waves of rushing blood crashed against her eardrums. Weakness spread throughout her body, her foot quivering against the pedal.
“There are about six silver cars in the parking lot.”
“Sports car.”
“Uh, yeah. Two. One is an Eclipse, the other looks like some sleek sucker of sorts.”
“What kind of car is it?”
“Girl, what has you caught up on that car? You sound paranoid. Ohh, don’t tell me Vick threatened you,” Rae groaned pointedly. Moira shook her head in response, but didn’t bother to vocalize her answer. The tires of her car skidded over a puddle of water and she pulled her trembling foot from the accelerator. The needle on her speedometer dropped from a dangerous fifty to thirty-five.
“Is there a man standing next to the car?”
“Umm…I don’t see…wait. No. No one is standing next to the car. There is someone inside, though.”
“Can you see him?”
“Moira, what the hell is going on? Do I need to go out there and beat this guy?”
The jingle of keys and the bustle of motion in her ear told her Rae prepared herself for a confrontation. The woman was fearless. When it boiled down to her closest friends, she willingly risked everything to give them peace of mind.
Moira laughed humorlessly. She turned into the mall.
“No, no. I think my imagination is getting the better of me. I thought the guy was watching me, but I’m a little edgy right now. I didn’t mean to startle—”
“It’s a Ferrari.”
“What?”
“You heard me. The guy’s driving a dream.”
“Is he leaving?”
“Like the wind.”
Moira didn’t say anything. She listened to Rae’s breath against the phone. A moment went by and the breathing accompanied the methodical pattering of rain.
“Hmm,” Rae murmured. Moira picked a parking spot close to the rear entrance beneath a light. Glancing about the area to make sure her boss wasn’t on a smoking break, she grabbed her umbrella from the back seat and readied it for her dash into the store. “He’s headed towards 80. Not towards the mall. Would you like me to see if I can follow him? My next appointment isn’t for an hour.”
“Don’t be silly, Rae. Like I said, it could’ve been my imagination. Don’t go getting yourself into trouble. I’ll see you later.”
Moira tucked her phone into her purse and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and relaxed her head against the seat. He was just a man. Perhaps, he had been waiting for someone and she just happened to come out of the coffee shop at the same time. She didn’t know anyone with a Ferrari. She didn’t know anyone that had the stature of the man she had seen. She mentally assured herself that he was nothing more than a coincidence. The snowballing of events in her life finally seemed to turn against her, burning her out.
“Get yourself back on track. Chase is depending on you,” Moira whispered to herself. With a final deep breath, she prepared herself to return to work.
* * * *
Soaked, head to toe. Sopping wet, right to the bone.
It didn’t matter. He found her.
It had taken nearly a month to locate her. She consumed his every waking moment. She became his obsession, his goal, since that fateful afternoon in Ireland.
Sitting in the heated interior of his car, cruising down 80 at a leisurely pace, he called his sister.
“Brother,” the sweet soft voice greeted.
“Ri, I’ve located her. New Jersey.”
“Are you sure she is whom you claim? Keep in mind, she is human.”
“There is no doubt. She sensed my presence there.” He moved across the lanes and exited the highway. “Come out here. If you’re too weak to sift, I’ll pick you up from Newark Airport.”
“I will pack my belongings. Keep your phone close. I will contact you when I get a flight out of Shannon.”
“How is the weather on the isle?”
“Home sick, dear brother?”
He chuckled.
“Ahh, sweet sister, I have found a means of getting my life back. Nothing can deter me now. Not even home.” Guiding the luxurious car carefully along puddle-infested roads and around painful potholes, he added, “I purchased a townhouse in a lovely little town called Rockaway. I have a mountain view that is worth the breath it steals. There are two bedrooms, so worry naught your pretty little head over a place to stay. Once you arrive here, we’ll find a suitable car for you.”
“I wish to go shopping for clothes. I miss the style of the day.”
“I will take you to the classiest shops around. We can take a trip into Manhattan, should you wish.”
“Mmm. New York.”
“Pack you belongings and catch a flight, Rihanna. I’ll speak with you soon.” He disconnected the call as he pulled into the garage and parked his car. His body thrummed with the electricity of a life he had long been without. He fought the urge to turn around and find the young woman at the mall. Slow, he reminded. Slow and precise.
The last thing he wanted was to frighten the woman to wit’s end and, sweet goddess, have her lost from him forever.
The rain-slurred image of the woman entered his mind’s eye. He had seen her clearly in the coffee shop. She had been dressed in black pants and a burgundy tunic sweater. With her hair pulled into a professional twist at the back of her head, curls escaped to brush against her pretty face. A month ago, she appeared the majestic picture of a strong, certain woman. Today, she appeared fragile and troubled. She sparked something acute within him, deep enough to inflict guilt with the knowledge of where he headed next.
“In the name of all that is Fae, the woman doesn’t know you exist, Shaye,” he muttered to himself. He clamped his hands over the steering wheel. She may not know you exist, but you know she is real, he argued. “Ah, bloody hell. One more night. Then, it’s over.”
With his decision made, he went into the house and changed into a dry pair of jeans and a leather jacket. After tonight, his life would change, forever.
* * * *
Tonight, she chose silk. Silk of the finest quality, sheer and a lovely shade of sunlight gold. A shade that enhanced the mystical beauty woven through her being. A sultry smile lifted her lush pink lips as she posed in front of the mirror.
Daeanna drank in the image of herself. No man could deny her. No man would ever wish to reject a night in her bed. How could they? Long, slender legs, full breasts, deep curves. Rich hair of golden hues. Amber eyes that could make a man fall to his knees and beg to be her slave. She stood as the epitome of perfection and sexual desire, the creation in men’s dreams. She was the very being they pined to have.
The knowledge that the one man she desired above all else rejected her not once, but twice, spouted anguish within her.
The knock on her door could not have come any sooner. She slipped the silken sleeve from one shoulder, her sheath dipping dangerously low over one of her succulent breasts.
“You may enter,” she granted, her voice heavy with a sexual prowess that always got her what she wanted. She moved fluidly to her chaise and lounged back in the plush red cushioning. The door to her chambers opened moments later, preceded by a faint air of frustration, both emotional as well as physical. Her heart leaped at the sight of her beautiful Fae. Her ultimate love. The one being women around the world swooned for.
Not all seemed as pleasant as she pretended, or imagined.
The kaleidoscope of color that filled his eyes threaded with the deepest of hatred. Black. Serpents of disgust. The cut of his strong jaw set with resentment. The sensuous mouth she thoroughly enjoyed tasting spoke silent promises of revenge. Her life, her god, hated her with no reserve. The passion that fed his hatred fed her dream of a possible change of heart.
Silence ensued as her eyes coursed over his body. Tailored black pants hugged the tight mound of his buttocks, but hid the strength in his long legs. He wore a charcoal grey, button-down shirt, which did little to conceal the muscular build of his chest and arms. His collar fell open at the neck to reveal the gold medallion she had given him, a small, circular medallion engraved with an ancient runic pledge. A pair of engraved cuffs hid beneath his shirt. They were always hidden. He wore them as if they shamed him.
He tipped his chin up and glared at her down the length of his sharp nose.
“My lovely Shaye. You have come to me this eve. I began to worry you would pass by my chambers without a visit.”
“Don’t play word games with me, you twisted witch.”
That stung, like jagged lightning bolts through her heart. Still, her lips curled in a challenging grin. No man would ever disrespect her. She is a princess to the Tuatha de Danann. Her father ruled over all Faerie persons. Not even the sinful man standing before her would lay a blow to her—as he just did—and walk away without punishment.
Fury billowed in his eyes. He knew the consequences of his words and didn’t give a damn.
“I speak no games. Your words are poison in my home, and I will not hear them.”
“You hear them every eve. You will continue to do so until you release me from this curse.”
“I saved your life that eve at the inn. My father wished for your head and I delivered you from Death.”
“Daeanna, do not attempt to reconcile with me.”
She watched him come over to her, each step slow, deliberate. She could feel her heart race as he came to her side. She may control whom he bedded, but he always held the upper hand during their intimacies.
He lifted one knee on the chaise beside her hip. Daeanna gazed up at him, all massive Fae. For decades, she had the pleasure of him in her bed. Nightly. And never could she tire of him.
“Take your hair down, sweetness,” she purred. Shaye lifted an angular brow then narrowed his eyes as he continued to pierce her with his gaze. He never looked below her eyes. Never lingered on her sweet lips or touched the curves of her body. Here she lay for him, and he never seemed to notice.
“`Tis not for you to enjoy.”
“You are for me to enjoy.” She sat up enough to touch the medallion resting on his chest. “All of you, as I please.”
“I do not conform to the wishes of any woman. You are no exception.”
“Ahh, but you do. I am the only woman you will ever conform to for pleasure.” She grabbed the medallion and pulled it, bringing Shaye’s face down to hers. His hands flew out, catching himself before falling on top of her. “I am the only woman who can give you pleasure.” Daeanna tipped her head and brushed her lips over his. She felt the muscles in his neck stiffen. A sense of gratification swept through her. She curled her leg around his, lifting her knee against his swollen groin. She teased him, rubbing the length of him. He glowered down on her as a grunt came from his throat. Drawing upon her most seductive tone, she cooed, “I feel you need me. Against my knee. Put your hands on me. Undress me like the lover I am to you and you may have your release.”
The rich chuckle that touched her ears did wonders throughout her body. She imagined his hands caressing her, admiring her body, exploring what she offered him.
Nothing more than a moment’s dream that made her sigh. Instead, she felt his hand shove her beautiful silk sheath up to her stomach. His fingers touched her only to open her legs to him. He took her wrists in one iron hand and pinned them over her head.
Then, she felt him. In a split second, his pants were unzipped, erection released, and he thrusted completely inside her. Her body yielded to him through the instantaneous sharp pain. She tried to free her hands, but he roughly reminded her he possessed the strength and she lay at his mercy. He showed no care to tend to her needs.
In minutes, he spurt his pent up frustration inside her. He left her body, released her wrists and straightened up on his feet. Daeanna opened her eyes and looked up at him. Shaye sneered.
“You filthy wench. Look at you. You wished for me to be bound to your bed, and your bed alone. Do you enjoy what I give you each eve? Do you thrash in the thralls of passion?” Shaye spat. He adjusted his belt and his sneer turned into a bitter smile. “Aye, you saved me from certain death of which the details remain a mystery. To condemn me to your demands. Still, you have no control over me. You, Daeanna, are not capable of bending another’s will to your likings. Remember, I am Talaenian. Humans are my cousins. My will is my own, and you will never be able to conform me. I denied you pleasure before that fateful eve. I denied you on two separate accounts. What would make you believe I would crawl to your side now?”
“You killed four innocent women, Shaye. Remember who I am to you. Your savior,” Daeanna scowled, her anger mounting to match Shaye’s. Slowly, she sat up on the chaise and situated her sheath. Shaye crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his feet apart. Despite his inferiority to her, he intimidated her. Shaye had all the features of a god. She has yet to cross another being who could match his look, his charm and his wit. “Perhaps I should deem you unworthy of saving. Do you wish to be placed before Court—before my father—and experience the wrath of Dagda?”
“Your threats are as hollow as your heart.” Shaye turned his back to her and left the room, leaving Daeanna seething on the edge of the chaise.
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