Sylvie's the Lykae King's sister. Years ago, she became engaged to Giles, prince of the Lykae.
Sylvie will be glad to see the back of him. But if the Fae find out there'll will be an interspecies war.
She has to stop the wedding, but damn security
guard would let her into the building.
It’s not like she’s wearing anything to clash with the bride. Getting
drunk or sticking her finger in the wedding cake isn’t in her game plan. Neither is spilling red wine on the bride, but she was getting desperate here.
Maybe
playing “Bring Your Daughter To the
Slaughter” on the PA and drowning out the wedding march would do it. Or
would Queen’s “Another One Bites The
Dust” work
At least that way, she'd get people's attention.
She doesn’t mean any real harm, but she needs to delay things. It'd give her a chance to officially break things off with Giles. If the wedding goes ahead, the
Fae learn the truth they'll swoop in and attack the Lykae kingdom on their war dragons.
He probably knows she’ll leap in when the celebrant says, “Speak now or
forever hold your peace.”
Determined to make things run smoothly, the security guard kidnaps her
and does some interesting things with rope. Much as Sylvie’s attracted to him,
she needs to -
STOP THE DAMN WEDDING.
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Blurb
Sylvie's more human librarian than half-blood
Fae princess and she definitely prefers books to men. Then, she learns her
unwanted Lykae fiancée is marrying someone else. If she doesn't stop the
wedding, the Fae will resume the border war with the Werewolf nation. A
high-handed Lykae security guard blocks her every move, and when her plans go
awry, she's kidnapped, stripped, and bound for his pleasure.
Caleb the Cold, King of the Lykae, will do anything to make his younger brother's wedding special--even pretend he's a security guard and kidnap his brother's former fiancée. Punishing her is pure pleasure, until he realizes she's his mate. Now he needs to woo the woman he's tormented to the edge of madness, but is it too late to claim her heart, and make her his?
Caleb the Cold, King of the Lykae, will do anything to make his younger brother's wedding special--even pretend he's a security guard and kidnap his brother's former fiancée. Punishing her is pure pleasure, until he realizes she's his mate. Now he needs to woo the woman he's tormented to the edge of madness, but is it too late to claim her heart, and make her his?
Excerpt
“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.”
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.”
Copyright © Kryssie Fortune
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