To Wed a Werewolf Read online

  TO WED A WEREWOLF

  Kryssie Fortune

  www.loose-id.com

  To Wed a Werewolf

  Copyright © June 2013 by Kryssie Fortune

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  eISBN 9781623003999

  Editor: Kierstin Cherry

  Cover Artist: Dar Albert

  Published in the United States of America

  Loose Id LLC

  PO Box 809

  San Francisco CA 94104-0809

  www.loose-id.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * *

  DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Dedication

  This is for my wonderful husband. He’s supported me through life-threatening heart surgery and encourages me to chase my dreams.

  Chapter One

  “I told you”—a huge hand landed on each of Sylvie’s shoulders—“you’re not welcome here.”

  The damn security guard had already turned her away twice, but he definitely looked good in a tux. She could get a neck ache staring up at his towering wall of muscle and menace, but she liked the way his blond hair curled over his collar. His broad shoulders and long, lean physique made her heart beat a machine-gun rhythm, but his clear gray eyes narrowed when he realized she’d sneaked back again.

  Although her breasts perked up and demanded his attention, the attraction certainly wasn’t mutual. Maybe she shouldn’t have crept in with the caterers, but he’d left her no choice. Why did he have to be huge, imposing, and so sexy he made her mouth water? Damn it, she was lusting after another Lykae, and people’s lives were at stake here.

  Desperate to speak to the bride or groom, she grabbed a tray of drinks from a side table and slammed it into his stomach. Wine splattered the walls. Glasses shattered as they crashed onto the marble floor. The Lykae growled in annoyance, but the tray bounced off him like it had hit a brick wall.

  “Violent little thing, aren’t you?” He never flinched. “But I’m definitely up for the fight.”

  He stalked toward her, his eyes—dirty ice diamonds—condemned her, and she quickly dropped her gaze.

  Great! Now I’m staring at his dick. But it’s definitely worth a second look.

  His brows drew together in a frown so fierce her courage shriveled inside her. Arms wrapped around her chest, she backed off, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

  “Hey, lady,” one of the caterers called, “get back in the dining room and finish setting up your tables.”

  “She’s fired,” the security guard snarled. “And step up your security, or your firm won’t work here again.”

  His clenched jaw and angry glower sent the caterer running. That left Sylvie trapped and alone with a furious Lykae. God, what if he turned? Would he rip out her throat? So scared she could hardly breathe, she stared anywhere except at him; then he stepped closer and invaded her personal space. One swift, graceful move and she hung over his shoulder like captured prey. An inch or so lower and she could bite his spectacular butt. When he flashed them into the otherworld, she struggled not to barf all over it.

  The transition always made her stomach churn. Once her nausea settled, she screamed the high-pitched shriek only a fairy in distress could manage.

  “That”—he stroked one hand over her bottom as she squirmed and kicked—“hurt my ears.”

  “Good,” she snapped, and screamed again.

  Whack! The gentle pressure became a full-on slap that made her bottom burn.

  “Be quiet or I’ll spank you again. The wedding’s in two hours, and I don’t have time to deal with a troublesome bitch like you.”

  God, that slap made her ass throb—and there he went insulting her again. What was it that attracted her to arrogant Lykae men? And why did they treat her as a second-class citizen? Story of her life, really.

  Even her Fae father had walked away and left her human mother to work two jobs to keep Sylvie clothed and fed. Then the day she turned seventeen, her half brother had arrived on her doorstep and told her she was a Fae princess. She’d told him to get real, but he had been. He introduced her to the otherworld—a place so beautiful it made her gasp, but so violent it scared her witless. Ever since, she’d dreamed of someone strong and special, someone who’d always put her first.

  “You don’t understand.” She beat her fists on Mr. Arrogance’s back. “I have to speak to Giles.”

  “I just bet you do, but news flash, sweetness, you have to get past me first.” He shoved her into a bare room, empty but for a cast-iron bed. “Don’t worry, princess. I promise we’ll play later.”

  She tried to dodge around him, but he moved with Lykae swiftness, blocking her way and looking her over like she was a fine meal.

  What the hell happens if he bites me? Will I turn all wolfy too?

  He backed her against the wall, placed one hand on either side of her shoulders, and leaned in closer. His woodland-fresh essence hit her; then his gaze focused on her lips. He pressed his body against her, and she suddenly understood the expression “hung like a stallion.”

  His grin was all predatory wolf and playful masculinity. Her body tensed with excitement. Anticipation made her breath catch as he lowered his mouth toward hers. Eyes wide, heart racing, she parted her lips for his kiss. Then he spun her around, shoved her, aching breasts first, against the wall, and locked one arm around her neck in a sleeper hold.

  Damn it, she thought just before she lost consciousness. What do I need to do to get a Lykae to kiss me?

  * * * *

  Sylvie’s sore arms and aching head woke her. She forced her eyes open, but the world seemed blurry and unclear. She’d no idea where she was or how long she’d been unconscious. Gradually her vision refocused, and she realized she stood in a bleak room—medieval even—her wrists bound in thick rope that looped around the rafters. No wonder her arms throbbed, but if she stood tall, she could relieve the strain.

  The room was dirty and neglected, but clean sheets covered the bed. Spiderwebs hung like curtains over the windows. Something flapped sedately past, its golden scales a stark contrast to the green sky, bloodied prey dangling from its beak. A wyvern swooped from nowhere, its claws sinking into the carrion eater’s flesh, and they plummeted downward. Their battle screams echoed through her prison, then ended in a roar of triumph. The blue-scaled wyvern zoomed past the window as it shot off with its stolen prey.

  Her Lykae had left her alone and vulnerable, but even if she escaped her bonds, how could she survive out there? And why was
her magic always just beyond her grasp? Then she remembered. Mr. Arrogance had brought her here. As she struggled to free her wrists, she prayed he came back after the wedding.

  Oh God, the wedding! The war!

  She’d failed, and now the entire Fae Nation would pay the price. How could she have been so stupid?

  She swung like an acrobat on the rope, but her bonds stayed intact and her wrists burned and bled. Desperate, more scared than she’d thought possible, she screamed that bloodcurdling banshee shriek that carried for miles—but no hero rushed to her rescue.

  She’d no idea how long she hung there. Eventually the door opened, and Mr. Arrogance swaggered back, his every movement making his muscles ripple beneath his tux.

  He was one breathtaking, blond he-man, the stuff of any girl’s fantasy, but he’d never look at a skinny thing like her. Her stick-thin body, coffee-colored hair, and clear green eyes could never compete with the curvaceous Lykae ladies she’d seen back at the wedding hotel. Better to forget this jaw-dropping piece of masculinity and creep back to her half brother’s court—not that he wanted her for more than a political pawn.

  Her dominant Lykae stared at her, eyes stern gray mirrors void of any emotion, and his wolfish grin made her wonder if she was his dinner. Then she remembered his promise to play later, and no matter how she much she wanted to fight him, a delicious tingle spread through her pussy. Damn it, this was no time to give in to her body’s cravings, not when she had a wedding to stop—or better yet, postpone—and an interspecies war to prevent.

  “Had time to reconsider?” He smirked.

  “Are they married,” she demanded, “or is there still time?”

  “Persistent little beggar, aren’t you?”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “Oh, sweetness,” he mocked, “I understand all too well, but if you’re determined to play your sex games, you should play them with me.”

  She spluttered in fury and outrage, so angry her words came out incoherent and mixed. He sniffed, stared at the dried blood on her arms, and marched out of the room.

  Oh great! Now he’s left me again, and what did he mean about sex games?

  She hadn’t… She couldn’t… She didn’t play sex games… But her nipples pearled at the thought. He was a conceited, overbearing Lykae—a jumped-up security guard whose unexpected sexual kinks made her want to stay. Way out of my league. I’ve got to get my mind out of the gutter and get out of here.

  She needed to find Giles and persuade him to stop the wedding, at least until she’d smoothed things over with her half brother, but her treacherous body screamed for this security guard’s touch. She shuddered, confused and excited by a cocksure male who tied her up and tempted her with the promise of hot sex—something she’d always avoided. Then he was back, a damp sponge in his hands.

  “Hold still, and let me clean your wrists.”

  He matched his actions to his words, but she refused to squeal as the antiseptic crept into her wounds. Her half brother—Leonidas, King of the Fae—would have healed her with a spell, but Lykaes were all about strength, speed, and loyalty, not magic and myth. If she’d only mastered her own powers, she’d be out of here in a flash—although those sex games he promised might have tempted her to play.

  She’d expected violence from her autocratic Lykae, but he was gentle, almost kind. Damn, she wanted to stay angry and defy him, but his soft touch and caring gesture knocked the fight out of her. When he moved behind her, he stood so close his breath flowed like a summer breeze over her neck.

  “I don’t like you in black,” he growled.

  She wanted to tell him she didn’t give a damn, but his deep, rasping voice just inches from her ear was an intimate caress that soothed her soul. When he wrapped his powerful arms around her, she loved the way his muscles rippled and bulged. He was wolfish, sexy, and domineering, but he made her feel truly alive at last.

  He flicked out a claw and split her little black dress from top to bottom. Another two slashes at the shoulders, and her dress dissolved into a pile of rags on the floor. Sylvie hated displaying her body and never wore a bikini to the beach. Hell, with few girlfriends and no prospect of a love life, she rarely visited the beach at all.

  “You bastard,” she hissed, so embarrassed she wanted to hang her head and cry. “You’ll pay for that.”

  “Not until you pay me first, sweetness. How did you know”—he nibbled on her earlobe and ran his finger over the back of her bra—“that red’s my favorite color?”

  God, was he going to unfasten it? She already felt exposed and helpless, and after her years of teenage puppy fat she had so many body issues. And there went her best bra, ripped to pieces on the floor.

  “Then I wish I’d worn black,” she spat back, but her nipples were swollen and her cleft wet. Outrage made her cheeks so hot she could feel herself blush, but her lips puckered and pouted. Just one kiss, something to show the desire was mutual, and she’d pant and beg for his touch. Only how could she find this sexy? How could she find him sexy?

  He was an overbearing Lykae who insulted her over and over. So why did her breath come shallow and fast as his fingers inched back toward her breasts? She jerked against her bonds, desperate to cover herself; then his possessive growl reverberated just inches from her ear. That deep rumble sent tremors down her spine, and suddenly she burned for his touch.

  Her small breasts fit perfectly in his hands, and when he worried her earlobe, he breathed, “Beautiful.”

  Her? She was too thin, too serious, definitely too uptight—yet he called her beautiful. Shock waves of pleasure rolled over her, and when his huge body curled around hers, the soft wool of his tuxedo jacket warmed her near-naked skin. Helpless, but with a sense of safety and belonging, she lost herself in his caress.

  Everything about him shouted security, strength, and wicked passion, but he’d tied her up and introduced her to wanton sensations the likes of which she’d never known. Insanity—he petted and stroked her until she was one step from insanity. Her hips undulated against him, rubbing circles against his erection. Again she was stunned at his size. And still his huge hands teased and squeezed her bare breasts. When his lips nuzzled her neck, she gave a sigh of near submission and leaned into his body. Then she remembered the war. She tried to wriggle out of his grip, and much as she wanted to stay here forever, she forced herself to whisper, “Please, you’ve got to let me go.”

  He laughed, actually laughed at her breathless command. “Now, sweetness, I didn’t do anything except stroke what you offered.”

  His hands skimmed gently over her body, petting her nipples, then massaging her sensitized clit through her panties. She writhed and squirmed as his touch sent her senses spiraling out of control. She wasn’t strong enough to tell him to keep his wandering hands to himself, and as delicious heat flooded her pussy, a low, pleasured moan slid from her throat. This dominant Lykae carried her beyond a world of magic and showed her something sparkling and pure.

  She melted into a pool of passion and wondered if she’d finally found someone who’d fight to stay at her side. Her Lykae made her feel wanted, loved, and desired—all the things her fiancé hadn’t.

  Nothing mattered anymore. Not the rope around her wrists, not that he’d kidnapped her. She wasn’t even sure he held her against her will. One kind word or a second gentle gesture and she’d be his.

  Her Lykae pulled her so close his cock poked her spine. She’d never felt anything so good—or so damn big. He nipped and nuzzled her neck, then feathered his lips down her backbone. God, she ached to feel those soft, sensual lips pulsating against hers. He filled her with scorching heat, caressed and stroked her until wildfire started in her toes, then shot through her body. Her head thrashed, her hips gyrated, and she reveled in his every loving touch. She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, but her needs… Oh God, her needs.

  Chapter Two

  New longings pulsed through Sylvie, building her need until she almost came as s
he sagged in her bonds. After today her every bedroom fantasy would center on him. His touch. His strength. His overwhelming presence, and the way he made her body overheat with slow-burning desires.

  Her heart whispered she should surrender and enjoy all the scandalous, sensual delights she’d always avoided and explore her newly discovered wanton side.

  “I need to touch you,” she mewled. “Please.”

  When he growled in her ear and pinched her nipple, she moaned and almost begged for more. She forgot about a political marriage or a broken betrothal—even forgot the incipient war. Her world narrowed to a dominant Lykae who tied her up and tantalized her with his warm breath and sensual touches. She thrashed and moaned, frenzied with feelings she didn’t understand, but bound and helpless all she could do was writhe and whimper, “More.”

  She wanted him pounding inside her, needed the satisfaction only he could give, and damn it, her panties were already warm and wet. He growled and walked around her, eating her up with his gaze before he flashed that wicked, wolfish grin that turned her inside out. When he cupped her cheek in his huge hand, she whimpered, “Please.”

  “What do you want?” he rasped.

  “You. I want you inside me.”

  Pressure built in her clit, an aching promise of all the pleasure to come. If he didn’t bring her to climax soon, she’d scream. A brief, tantalizing touch of his lips against hers made her moan, and she yearned to nestle against his solid chest.

  Then he raised two fingers to his forehead in a mocking salute. “Laters, sweetheart.”

  And he walked out the door.

  Lost in a fog of desire, she moaned, “Come back.”

  He left me needy and aching—just walked out the damn door. What the hell is it with me and Lykae men?

  Her body tingled from head to toe, and residual sparks of desire throbbed through her clit. Panting and desperate, she needed the sexual release he’d denied her, but hands fastened overhead, she couldn’t bring on the climax she craved.