Lust (24 page)

“I did not love you that day in Glastonbury,” he whispered, “but I can say that I love you now.” She tried to speak, but he covered her lips with his fingers. “When you leave here tonight, you will not go to the masquerade as planned. You will feign a headache, and return to your home. And then,” he whispered, “you will cover your body with perfume, and lie in your bed awaiting me. I will come to you. Have you. Claim you.”

CROM STUDIED THE WOMAN IN THE SHADOWED
hall. Mary Lennox was a sensual creature who called to his baser desires. On the outside he was very much a Seelie Fey. On the inside, however, he was his dark counterpart. There was no denying that his father's blood ran inside him. Thick. Black. Hot.

Coyly, Mary looked up at him, her long, lush black lashes batting ingenuously. Behind the long lashes were dark blue eyes that were shining with anything but innocence.

She was completely different from her sisters. Nothing at all like them. He wondered if she knew it. If it bothered her. As she pressed back against the wall, deeper into the shadows where the darkness engulfed her, he knew that it didn't. She was what she was. Her own woman.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she murmured,
and the not-so-subtle huskiness of her voice called to his cock.

“Your sister. Where is she?”

She frowned, then brightened, pushing toward him with her voluptuous body. “Have you lost her already?”

He couldn't think when her breasts grazed his chest. He wanted to rut with her. Wanted to fuck her senseless, but he wanted Chastity more. Needed the virtues in his court—much more than he wanted Mary. But he was angry. Worried that his Unseelie enemies had gotten to her first, despite his careful warding and the spies he had planted in their home. Chastity and her sisters should have arrived at the masquerade.

“Do you really think that my sister can satisfy you?” Mary purred as she ran her palms up the breadth of his chest. “She's a frightened little kitten who would faint at the thoughts that are running through your mind at this very moment.”

Carelessly, he tossed out his plans and reached for her, wrapped his arm around her waist and pushed her back to the wall. “But you are not a kitten,” he said, cupping her lush breast in his palm. “You're a lynx with an appetite for prey.”

She smiled and allowed her hand to move down his chest, to cup his cock. “Just a certain type of kill.”

“You're not like them,” he murmured. “Not one bit.”

She laughed, her voice tinkling in the dark. “Lord, I hope not. Those pious, boring sisters of mine. They are
imprisoned by what they think they ought to be. I, on the other hand, long ago shed those chains that bound me.”

“You know what I am. What I want.”

She moved her body sinuously up against him. “A beautiful, golden fey,” she murmured, “who has a taste for mortal sins.”

“I want your sister.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, “but you want to fuck me.”

He slammed her up against the wall, his cock pressing between the juncture of her thighs. “Yes.”

“Then let us make a deal,” she murmured, cupping him. “You give me what I want. And I will give you what you want.”

He pulled at her bodice, but she stopped him. “As gorgeous as you are, you're not what I want.”

Crom froze and glared at her.
The little cock tease
.

“Give me my fey prince and I will ensure that Chastity will be yours.”

Crom's instinct was to snuff the life out of her, but then, his calculating Seelie mind began to shake free of the lust his Unseelie blood had used to cloud his judgment.

“You have one minute to explain yourself.”

She smiled, his cock still in her hand. Still hard. Still wanting to climb inside her and pound into her.

“You know that I am different from my sisters.”

He nodded. The truth was in her eyes. There was no innocence there. Only feminine calculation.

“I've known it for years. I am not one of them. Not a
virtue. But I want what is mine. I am promised to a fey prince named Rinion, and I want him.”

“I know of no prince by such a name.”

That was the truth. There was no fey at court called by such a name. But the Unseelie Court…that was entirely possible.

“I saw him. Speaking with my father. He bequeathed to my father riches, and in return he wanted me.”

“Then why are you not in his bed,” he inquired, “and instead in a dark corner with me?”

Her beautiful eyes turned mutinous. “That is something I would like to know. I should have been his at Beltane. But Father took us away, and he has not come to claim me. I thought perhaps he would come with you, but it is apparent that he did not.”

“You want your fey prince and in return for my securing him for you, you will ensure that Chastity will be mine.”

“I will do more than ensure it,” she whispered. “I will deliver her naked to you, if that is what you desire.”

He did. Naked and on her knees. A supplicant.
His
.

“Very well. But I will need one more assurance on your part.”

“Yes?”

“Once you are in Rinion's bed, you will become my spy at his court. You will report to me anything you might see or hear.”

“Just get me my prince, and I will be anything you want.”

“We have an accord,” he said with satisfaction.

“My father owns a bawdy house,” she said. “A silent part owner, of course, but an owner nonetheless. He was to meet with someone there tonight.”

“And how do you know this?” he asked suspiciously.

“I make it my business to know.” Her eyes flashed. “Father was careless with his correspondence. I found the missive balled up.”

“You're a resourceful little thing.”

“I will be of use to you once you place me in the Unseelie Court. I assure you I have many skills that will be rather useful.”

“I am sure. But back to this house?”

“The Nymph and the Satyr.”

She squeezed him—hard, then released him and slid out from beneath him. He watched her go, smiling to himself.

He had achieved much more than he thought he would. He would have Mary's assistance with Chastity, but more than that, he would have a spy at his brother's court. But there was one troubling matter that he would need to think upon. Mary Lennox was not a virtue. So where was Lennox hiding the fourth?

 

Outside the bawdy house, Thane carefully lifted Chastity into the carriage. Niall had placed her and Lennox, along with her sisters, under a light sleeping spell. It would be gone by the time they reached their home.

He didn't want to give her up. His time with her had been too short. He'd left things unfinished. They needed
to talk. He needed to tell her of her purpose. To convince her that what they had was real.

Slamming the carriage door shut, Avery snapped the reins. He would take them home safely. Kian was back inside, locked in his room. His sin was eating at him, and he did not trust himself to say goodbye.

“You look forlorn.”

Thane glanced at Niall. “I cannot help but sense that something ominous draws near.”

“She will come to our court, have no fear.”

“I haven't told her how we need her. She'll be upset when she learns of it, and I fear that Crom will tell her before I can. Surprisingly, he hasn't already.”

“That is because he needs her, too, and he does not wish her to know it. He's playing the same game as us, wooing her to his court.”

“I'm not playing at it,” Thane said. Niall stepped back and studied him.

“Hundreds of years old and you've never felt this way about any woman. A few days with this one little mortal and you are swept away.”

Thane blushed, thankful for the darkness of the alley. Niall was right. How had it happened so soon?

“I hope it happens for me the same way.” Niall chuck led. “Now, back to the house. We have work to do. A trap to set for the Seelie.”

Thane watched as Niall stepped into the shadows, and reentered the bawdy house. He had no wish to go back there. He wanted to go to Chastity. To take her in his
arms and assure her that everything was going to be all right.

Grudgingly he followed his king back to the house. Then he smelled it, the cloying stench of Seelie.

“Show yourself, Crom,” he ordered as he drew his sword from his scabbard. The faery metal sang in the quiet as he slowly turned around. “I know you're here.”

A rat scurrying along the slime-coated cobbles drew his gaze to a darkened corner where a drunken sailor, passed out, was propped up in an alcove. Able to see the most trivial detail in the dark, Thane scanned the blackness for the Seelie bastard.

There was no visible sign of his enemy.

Besides being devoid of Crom, the alley was utterly silent, as if every creature of the night were holding its breath, waiting for the confrontation they felt building in the thick air.

The Seelie was near, he felt him, concealed amongst the sifting shadows and the dark outlines of the ramshackle homes of Spitalfields.

“I know you're here, Crom,” he repeated, circling around, searching through the murkiness of the poorly lit alley. “I can smell you. Coward.” He snapped when there was no answer.

Suddenly, something reached out from the darkness and thrust him against the wall. A hand clasped around his neck and tightened, squeezing and crushing the bones of his throat.

“Here I am,” a voice hissed in his ear. Tightening his fingers around his throat, Crom pressed closer and
growled low in his ear. “You didn't think you were the only one who could use magic to change your shape, did you?”

Thane struggled to breathe, but Crom held on tighter. “While you were murmuring in her ear,
Prince Thane,
” he mocked, “did you happen to whisper the reason you need her so badly?”

The bastard. He was going to go to Chastity. His resolve flared, despite the hold on his throat and lack of oxygen. Fingers searching, Thane reached for his belt and the small dirk he kept hidden there. Crom was still seething, still choking him, but Thane managed to pull the dirk free. With the hilt in his hand, he brought his arm up, arching outward, and swiped through the darkness, hoping to connect with Crom. The roar of pain echoing off the walls told him he had.

Crom's golden form appeared, hunched over, blood dripping down his arm. Thane wasted no time, and confronted the bastard.

“You'll leave her alone, if you want to live.”

With a laugh, Crom straightened and engaged him with his own sword. They parried, thrust and the anger and fear that ruled him swiftly overpowered Crom. With a shove, he threw Crom against the wall and placed the edge of his sword to his throat.

“She's mine,” he said harshly.
“Mine.”

“Let us see, Unseelie bastard.”

And then Crom was gone. Vanished into the night, and no doubt to Chastity's house.

Changing his shape, he turned into mist and headed for
Mayfair. He could not let Crom convince Chastity that he cared nothing for her. The Seelie would try to make her believe that Thane was out to use her. Perhaps in the beginning he was. But after tonight, he knew differently. The court might need her, but he needed her more.

I hear him, Diary, begging entrance. As I look up I see the mist on the window and know it is him. He has come, but I dare not let him in. I do not understand myself. What have I done? I've given myself, everything I am to him. Everything I believed myself to be is gone. I no longer know who—or what I am—save for a ruined woman.

My lover is a Dark Fey. Who wants me for what purpose? I dare not believe in his love. I dare not allow him in because I will only succumb. My head and body war with my heart. They want things that I cannot give in to. Not yet. There is more here than I understand. A reason why two rival courts would fight over me—a virgin mortal of no consequence.

He is gone now, and as I look to the window, I'm hollow. Empty. I am in love with a Dark Fey who cannot be trusted. I am ruined. Alone. Miserable. Love is not anything like I thought it would be. It is painful, frightening, and I would give anything to have never set eyes upon him or Crom. Indeed, I
wish I could take everything back and be as I once was, but then I'm left feeling even more miserable, because that would mean that I would never have felt passion.

Everything always comes back to that. To desire, to Thane. To his purpose in my life. And mine in his. Am I something to amuse him? Can I trust him?

Not tonight. But perhaps tomorrow when I can think clearly, when the scent of him is washed from body, and the memory of his body inside me is not so achingly familiar.

 

THANE HAD NOT ATTEMPTED TO COME BACK to her last night. She had slept fitfully, instinctively awaiting his arrival, but he had not come. And she had not dreamed of him. This morning as she spread jam on her toast, she recalled the events in the room with Thane. She had given him her virginity—a foolish thing to do—yet she could not stop thinking of it, or cease her body's clamor for more.

After their interlude, she had found herself coming to in their carriage. Prudence, Mercy and her father had been there, all four of them fast asleep. They awoke from their faery sleep bewitched.

Their father had been most perplexed, recalling very little of the events. But Chastity and her sisters recalled much more. Each of them had been taken to private chambers and introduced to a fey. Mercy had met with Kian, and Prue had met with a man called Avery—one she despised openly. Thane, of course, had been waiting for her.

Her mother had no recollection of them not arriving
at the ball. It was as if she remembered nothing past yesterday afternoon. Mary, on the other hand, seemed to recall perfectly. She kept sending her and Prue cryptic glances. Strangely, she held her tongue.

“Pass the tea,” her father grumbled. “My head aches,” he mumbled as he rubbed a thumb over his eye. “P'raps another cup will fix it.”

“I'm so sleepy,” her mother said around a yawn. “I vow I shall have to return to bed after breakfast.”

“I'll be joining you,” Papa mumbled before pouring himself another steaming cup of tea.

“But who will chaperone us on our ride with Lord Arawn?” Prue asked. Her eyes were wide and frightened, as if she feared not being able to see the golden Seelie.

“Your sister Mary can.”

Mary's eyes lit up. “Of course, Papa.”

Chastity didn't believe it was at all proper. Mary was only a few minutes older then the rest of them. She was hardly a spinster.

“Do you think that is at all proper, Papa?” Prue ad monished.

“It's that, or cancel the appointment,” he said impatiently. “And I'm inclined to send our regrets and be done with it.”

“No!” Prue gasped. “No, you can't.”

“I can do anything I damn well please,” her father growled, then immediately softened. “Prue, dearest. My apologies. But you must understand that your mother and I are under the weather today, and if Mary does not
chaperone, then we will be forced to cancel the entire outing.”

Chastity rested a reassuring hand on Prue's leg. “Of course it will be fine if Mary accompanies us. We will take the town coach, and no one will be able to see if we have brought our maids or our sister.”

“I wanted to take the varouche,” her sister replied sourly. “It's going to be a lovely day.”

“Girls…” Their mother sighed. “Please. No more bickering. You will take the town coach and go with Mary, or you will not go at all.” She sighed again, let her head fall into her palm. “My word, I'm exhausted. I can't explain it.”

Mercy caught their gaze from across the table and mouthed the words
faery sleep
to them.

Strange. Only Mama and Papa seemed to be affected. The footman who was busy bringing silver dishes of bacon and eggs seemed rather awake and alert. And Mary did as well, and she had not been with them last night.
With the Dark Fey,
her mind whispered.

“Well, then, it is all settled,” Mary announced. “I will take my sisters on a ride in Hyde Park with Lord Arawn and Crom.”

“And I will take to my bed,” their mother murmured, rising from her chair.

“After you, m'dear.”

Chastity watched the retreating backs of her parents, her brow puckered in a frown. Something was wrong.

“Well, wasn't that convenient?” Mary smiled, one that
didn't quite reach her eyes. “They certainly know how to get what they want.”

“Who?” Chastity asked.

“Why, the fey, of course,” her sister replied. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a letter to write.”

Mary departed the room, leaving her three sisters behind. “You may be excused,” Chastity said to the two footmen who stood sentry at the dining room door.

Obeying her, the men took their leave. Now she was all alone with her sisters. “What the devil is going on here?” she demanded.

“Faery sleep,” Mercy said as she lifted her teacup to her mouth. “It's a common enough spell in the fey arsenal.”

“You cannot mean that they have sprinkled pixie dust over Mama's and Papa's heads,” Prue snorted. “For heaven's sake. Mama, thank the Lord, was not in that den of iniquity last night. She could not possibly be under their spell.”

“What makes you think this is an
Unseelie
spell?”

Prue visibly started, then narrowed her gaze upon Mercy. “Because the Dark Fey are cunning, immoral tricksters, that's why, and because we were forced into their brothel and made to spend hours with them, for their own amusement, and at the expense of our good names and reputations. Not to mention that of Papa's.”

“From my reading, that is not how the spell works. A fey must have either physical contact with the person they are putting under their spell, or be given that person's full name. Since none of the Dark Fey have even laid
eyes on our mother, it's impossible for them to be at the source of this.”

Chastity flicked her gaze to Mercy's. “The Seelie then.”

She nodded. “They have the same magical powers as their dark brethren. And they are not above using it to gain what they want.”

“And that's why Mary isn't affected, because the Seelie want us—the virtues.”

“I will not believe this,” Prue snapped, tossing her napkin aside and hastily shoving back her chair. “I won't believe it of them. The Seelie are from the golden court, and those monsters we encountered last night are from the dark court. If there is any malicious spell casting going on, it's their doing, not Arawn's—I mean, the Seelie's.”

Prue's face was splotched red. “Everything is so unbelievably strange. I cannot believe I am standing here debating which faery court has bespelled our house. I should not even believe in faeries.”

“Prue,” Mercy called as their sister stamped out of the breakfast room. “Please don't be angry with me.”

“And why are you always so nice?” Prue lashed out as she whirled around to confront them. “Why can't you see that the Dark Fey will ruin us? They will destroy everything we are.”

“That is my gift. Kindness. I do see the good in them. They could have whisked us off to their court last night, but they didn't.”

“I wonder why. Surely it is not because they possess
morals, Mercy. It is because it did not suit them. Why? I have no idea. But I will not stop till I understand why they want us. There is something going on here, something much stranger than us, and the fact that we are to belong to the fey. Can you not feel it? Of course not,” Prue scoffed, “because you are always trying to be kind and understanding. To search for the good. Well, I am telling you, Mercy Lennox, there is nothing good about the Dark Fey.”

The door banged shut, emphasizing Prudence's departure. Prudence, who had neither tempered nor restrained her vitriol.

“It's not them,” Mercy murmured as she cast her gaze out the window. “I felt the good in him last night. There is good. He could have ravished me, but he didn't. I even would have let him, and sadly, wish he had tried.”

Smiling, Chastity reached for her sister's hand. “There is no need to explain yourself. I believe you. Prudence, on the other hand, cannot see past Lord Arawn. She is smitten, you see, and wants to believe that the Seelie are righteous and virtuous—like us.”

“They will prove themselves,” Mercy murmured. “I know they will.”

Mercy rose and left Chastity to her thoughts. Thane was a Dark Fey. There was no disguising how opposite he was in looks and manner to Crom. But despite his Unseelie blood, he had never hurt her, endangered her, forced her to do anything she had not wanted—at least on some conscious level—to experience. But his silence had hurt her. She still sensed that there was more going
on than what Thane had told her. He'd wanted her to believe that he neglected to tell her who and what he was because he'd been afraid that she would not accept him. But Chastity knew differently. There was a reason he was so driven to seduce her. It lay beyond his Unseelie desires.

“My lady?”

Chastity's concentration was broken by the arrival of a footman. In his hand was a gold box tied with a black satin ribbon.

He set the box before her. “This just arrived for you.”

“Thank you.”

Chastity waited for the footman to leave before she reached for the tail of the black ribbon and pulled. The bow unraveled, and she set it aside as she carefully opened the box. Inside, layers of black satin hid its contents.

Her heart was racing as her fingers scraped against a card. Pulling it from the satin, she turned it over to find it blank on either side. Strange. Brushing her thumb over the smooth surface, she gasped, squeaked and smiled all at once as the motion of her thumb caused black ink to appear.

It was signed
Always, Thane.

Thrusting her hand back into the box, Chastity pulled
out a silver chain with a black onyx and moonstone pendant hanging from it. The onyx caught the sunbeam, and the stone glistened and glowed, illuminating a little catch at the side.

Not a pendant after all, but a locket.

Prying it open, she revealed a perfumed waxed center. Bringing it to her nose, she inhaled deeply, her blood and body instantly warming to the scent—the essence of Thane. The heady concoction she had smelled in the maze. The one she always detected while in his presence. The very perfume that was even now sitting on her dressing table.

Slipping it over her head, she admired it, the way the pendant dropped low on her bosom. It was a stunning piece of jewelry, but she could not wear it.

You will wear it, and you will think of me
.

She heard Thane's command, and found herself with the necklace on. She could not refuse his command, and wondered if this was yet another faery spell.

 

At precisely half past four, Crom and Lord Arawn arrived at the Lennox home to collect Chastity, Prue and Mary, and the five of them were off by quarter to the hour.

The Seelie were nothing if not punctual, and mindful of such things as polite society. As the horses cantered down the street, Chastity found herself wondering about their court. Would it be full of politics and formalities? Despite it being the court of sunlight and gaiety, would it really be just a somber, stiff affair with a golden veneer?
And the Unseelie Court. Was it really only darkness and sin? Was there more to it than just a place designed for seduction and sensualities?

The horses cantered to the left, and the carriage swayed. So too did the locket that was nestled between her breasts. The air moved, stirring up the scent of the perfume. She had used the wax that afternoon, dipping her finger into it and sliding it along her wrists, behind her ears, down the cleft of her breasts. The heat from her skin had absorbed it and now her flesh shimmered where she had perfumed it. In the sunlight that shone through the carriage window, it reminded her of moonbeams on mist.

Silently, she watched out the window, her gaze averted from Crom, who sat on the bench across from her. He was content enough with her silence, preferring to stare at her instead. She had no idea what his thoughts were, and did not care. She had only agreed to come for Prue's sake, because her sister was so hopelessly ensnared by Arawn's golden beauty. But Chastity was not. She much preferred Thane's dark and mysterious aura. Somehow she had reconciled herself that he was not of her kind. He was a faery, a dark and sensual one. The truth hadn't turned her from him. She feared nothing could. He owned her heart now. In between possessing her mouth and body, he had invaded her soul. In the stolen moments of her dreams, when they had been alone in the garden, she had felt a growing closeness to him. It was desire, yes, but something more. A closeness of spirit. A glimpse of what was just beginning, and what happiness they might
find together, despite the fact she was a mortal and he a fey.