9781618851307WitchsBrewShayNC (27 page)

She slid her hand to the front of his trousers.

Darak’s heart raced as if he’d run a mile. Damn.
Damn!

What
was he to do?

He
was hard as a warlock’s magic wand, and the witch damned well knew it.

She
was teasing him.

His
cock twitched—to hell with Talon and his plots to take his crown—he must have
this witch. He’d been with Helayne for many centuries, more than he could even
count or remember. He loved her. He did. But…

Damn,
if this beauty didn’t excite him.

He
glanced at his hands curiously. Heat rushed through them to the tips of his
fingers. He felt feverish. His entire body tingled and burned. His mind raced
frantically. He had to get out of here before he made an absolute fool of
himself and tossed the pretty witch onto the sofa, flipped up her skirts, and
rammed his cock inside her.

He
turned away, headed to the bar. The witch dogged his steps, coming up beside
him. She took the wine bottle from his trembling hands and set it down.
Pouting, she walked her index and middle finger up his chest, pausing to glide
her hand between the buttons on his shirt and toy with his chest hair.

With her free hand, she paused at the waistband of his
trousers. Slowly, teasingly, she slid her fingertip up and down the zipper. He
trembled. He should stop her, but his mind and body refused to cooperate with
his silent commands. He liked the feel of her finger gliding up and down his
cock.

“Ahh,” he groaned, as she traced the hard length of him
through his trousers.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” she breathed. “You’re such a strong,
handsome, virile man.” She gently massaged his manhood. “You do remember last
night? And the past month we’ve shared? The nights we’ve spent together?”

“Last night?” Darak frowned.

What had he done to her last night?

What had he done with her the past month? He couldn’t
remember.

“I want you to make me your queen.”

Darak
moaned, swallowed hard. “I-I have a mate.”

“And
she has slept with other
wakens
. She has lied and cheated.”

He
couldn’t seem to move away from her.

He
couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt. His lungs heaved.

His
big body shook as MeLora continued stroking him through his pants.

“Helayne’s
no longer important to you. You need me,” she whispered. “You’ve always needed
me. I’m your true love.”

Darak nodded. He seemed to have lost his voice along with
his will to resist her. He clenched his teeth and threw back his head. He
flinched, but could find no words of objection when she unzipped his trousers
and freed him. His manhood sprang forward, hard and thick. His body trembled
violently. His belly tightened and clenched with aching need.

She stroked the length of his hard cock, bringing him to
fever pitch, bringing him to the edge of climax, and then over the teetering
rim of it. She lowered her head, taking his cock deep in her mouth, sipping and
licking, catching every drop of his seed. “Mmmm. You taste delicious, Your
Majesty.”

Merciful,
gods! But she was sweet. He’d never climaxed this fast, this urgently.

She smiled, her lips teasing as she licked the last drop
of moisture from the head of his cock. “I’ll take that glass of wine now, Your
Majesty.” She laughed softly, invitingly. “And then I’ll take care of your
little friend here again. He still looks hungry. And why not? Beltane
is
fast
approaching.”

Darak
zipped his pants with unsteady hands. He gave her a sheepish look, nodding his
head. “Yes, of course. It must be the pull of Beltane heating my blood. I’ve
never been unfaithful—” He patted her arm, awkwardly, breaking off his words.
Of course that wasn’t true. He’d been fucking MeLora for the past month. Even
now, she carried his son. He massaged her belly, the small mound he’d planted
in her womb a few nights ago. “Our son,” he whispered, smiling.

Oh,
but she pleased him.

She was young, beautiful, and sexy, and worthy of being
his queen. He wanted this child they’d created together more than any child
he’d fathered. Yes. MeLora must become his queen.

She
leaned against him, allowed her hand to rise to the back of his head. Bringing
his lips close to hers, she whispered, “You want me, Your Majesty.” She tossed
her head, flirting, provocative. “Your one desire is to make me your queen.”

A
slow smile curved his lips. “Yes,” he answered thickly. “I want you for my
queen.”

MeLora arched a brow at his slurred words. He sounded as
if he’d already had too much wine to drink. She brought his mouth to hers.
“Soon,” she promised. “Soon, I will give you a fine son who will inherit your kingdom.”

Darak shook. His breath lodged in his throat as MeLora’s
tongue slid inside his mouth, teasing and stroking. An odd tingling rolled
across his tongue and hit the back of his throat, burning, scalding his
bloodstream.

He gasped and tried to free his mouth, but MeLora’s tongue
stroked deeply, coating his throat with liquid fire. His eyes watered as she
suddenly released his mouth. He stared at her through a blur of tears, amazed
at how beautiful she was. His MeLora. His true love. His only love.

He felt maddened with lust as need spiraled hotly through
his groin. She was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

MeLora
sighed longingly, trailed her fingers down his zipper and cupped his sac. Her
lips curved in a luscious pout. “Oh, my. You are an eager fellow.”

“Ah,” Darak moaned.

He couldn’t wait much longer to make her his own. The
violence of his need was like something sharp and wild clawing at his mind. The
urgency to mate punched its way into his gut, slammed into his mind with
explosive force. No more waiting. There’d be no more waiting. He had to have
her. Now.

“Take off your clothes, my love.”

MeLora
smiled, pleased with the effect she had on the king. “First, a glass of wine.”

Darak
gave a brief nod and stepped back, his hands shaking violently.

What
had she done to him?

It
was as if she’d placed some type of magical spell on him, and it wouldn’t go
away.

He
was on fire, burning with need.

MeLora
pressed a flute of blood red wine into his hands. “Drink, my love, and all will
be well. I promise you.”

Darak
took a deep swallow.

A
pleased smile crossed MeLora’s lips. With that drink of wine, the king had just
sealed his fate. Of course, he’d been done for the moment she pressed his hands
against her breasts. Once he’d touched her gown and absorbed the residue of
powder sprinkled on it, he’d belonged to her. It had been the first step of
creating his lust for her.

Sighing
with satisfaction, she held up her glass. “To our future, my love. May it be…productive.
Your greatest desire this night is to make me your queen. Drink up, Your
Majesty.”

Darak
obeyed, raising the glass to his mouth. He swallowed the red wine in one smooth
gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his brows drawing together
with a deep frown. “My queen? You
are
my queen, my love.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. And your only wish is to please me. I
carry your son. Your other sons no longer matter. Helayne no longer matters.
Only I hold the key to your heart.”

Darak
scowled. “No. We cannot have a child. My mate. My queen—” He doubled over
groaning as sharp spasms stabbed like hot knives at his manhood. “Gods,” he
yelled, cupping his testicles as liquid fire seared them. “What have you done
to me?”

When
he straightened back up, a dewy film lined his flushed face. Beads of sweat
dotted his upper lip and brows. He shuddered violently. His cock ached. His
body burned with urgent desire.

MeLora stood there waiting like a praying mantis.
“Understand me, Your Majesty. I don’t give a shit about Helayne or her sons and
neither do you. You have planted your seed in my belly and that’s what matters.
Our son. You love me and our child. You want me. Now.”

MeLora eyed him. Darak’s once sparkling green eyes lost
their fierce brilliance and changed to a dull, flat black. He didn’t attempt to
conceal the rigid bulge in his pants. Instead, he slowly lowered the zipper and
released his straining manhood.

“Of course, my love,” he replied. “You belong to me now.”

MeLora strolled across the room to the door. There, she
instructed the guard outside the door that they were not to be disturbed for
any reason, by order of the king. She turned slowly, chanted softly and placed
a spell on the door so no one could enter. “Ah, my love. I see you are more
than ready to mate with me.”

“Always,
MeLora. I’m always ready for you.”

MeLora’s lips twisted into the semblance of a smile, smug
satisfaction flowing through her veins.
Wakens
were so predictable. Give
them a feel of tits, a little aphrodisiac, and they went wild.

King Darak reminded her of another from her past who’d
been easy to seduce and lure away from his mate.

What was his name? Ah, yes. John Connor, Elsbeth Winslow’s
mate.

How could she possibly forget her first conquest? He’d
been so easy, but then
illumrofs
were no challenge for those who
possessed magical skills.

And why was Elsbeth suddenly rearing up from the past?
Tormenting her?

What she’d done to that witch and her family happened
centuries ago. She’d mostly forgotten about them. Now, it seemed, the Winslow
name popped into her life constantly. Bah! She had better things to do at this
moment than to worry about ghosts from her past.

MeLora
smiled, watching the potion do its work and spread like an evil beast through
King Darak. Her whispered words worked their evil on the king’s vulnerable
mind. As the Black Magick poison burned through Darak’s bloodstream, his eyes
continued to darken.

Already her thoughts had replaced his own.

Her tongue, coated with a special drug, had seared his
bloodstream with the first stroke inside his mouth. Her magic had instantly
started to crowd his mind with suggestions, likes and dislikes, and false
memories.

The
love he’d once felt for his family now belonged to her.

As his clothes fell away, she closed her fingers around
the tip of his jutting manhood. “My, my, Majesty, just look at what we have
here.”

She kissed his mouth. He trembled with urgent need,
moaning as his lips closed over hers with raw hunger. Oh, yes. He was hers to
command. “I want to feel you deep inside me, Your Majesty,” she whispered
against his mouth.

“As
you desire,” he replied. “As you desire, My Queen. We have all night.”

The sun was just rising in the early dawn, brushing away
the final strokes of darkness and rushing in the morning, when Darak pressed a
deep kiss against MeLora’s mouth and shuddered.

“You have given me an intense night of pleasure, my
darling,” he groaned against her throat. Lifting his head, he grinned smugly. “I’m
pleased with you, my love. Our son lies snug in your womb.” His gaze turned
hard and he stole another long kiss. “Take very good care of my son, MeLora. He’s
the heir to my throne, the future King of Ru-Noc.”

MeLora gave Darak a self-satisfied grin as she dressed.
“What of your queen?”

“Who?”
Darak asked, looking up from zipping his trousers. “Oh. You speak of Helayne?
Forget that cheating bitch. You’re my queen now. She’s dead to me.”

“Then
please me by giving Helayne to Black Drayke.” MeLora arched a fine brow. “He
would have made his request for her tonight, but you and I were busy. When I
return this evening, I’ll bring him to the palace. You’ll give Helayne to him.”

Darak
shrugged. “Do whatever you wish with her. Her fate no longer interests me.”

MeLora snickered. How easy it had been to take Helayne’s
crown, and her mate. She cupped her stomach, content. Black Drayke’s babe
rested in her womb and he’d inherit the throne. No one could prove this babe
did not belong to the king. There were witnesses who’d swear she’d been
sleeping with the king for at least a month, and that she’d just spent the
night in his arms. No one could take that from her.

“Get whatever it is you need and return to the palace
tonight,” Darak ordered. “Come to me. Do not disappoint me, MeLora. You belong
to me now, and I will have you at my side on the throne. And I will take you as
often as I desire.”

MeLora choked. This she hadn’t foreseen. “Ye-yes, Your
Majesty,” she stammered.

This,
she had not foreseen and was not pleased with. Pressing her mouth to his, she
allowed her lips to tremble. “I swear I’ll be here. Nothing could keep me away
from you, my love.”

She walked out of the room, but the smile on her mouth
quickly tightened with displeasure. How dare he give her orders. He was
her
slave. She belonged to no man. However, the king would not deny their child and
that did please her.

Sailing past the guards, fury burned a hole in her gut. So
the king thought to keep her?
Never.
She had her eyes set on another, but for now, she’d go along with his desires.

And she’d make damn certain Helayne was handed over to
Black Drayke tonight. That’d keep him happy for awhile. Poor Black Drayke, he
hadn’t been able to steal inside the palace this night because the handsome
Captain Koran T had disappeared. She’d have to spend the day soothing Black
Drayke’s ruffled ego. She’d reward him for his patience by granting him his
heart’s desire. And for the rest of his life, he’d try to satisfy it. For the
next few nights, she’d keep him busy seeing to the queen’s suffering.

Oh, yes. Queen Helayne’s days were numbered.
Pfft!
She wasn’t about to worry about that scrawny witch taking back the throne or
taking Darak from her. Just like that mealy-mouthed Elsbeth Winslow, Queen
Helayne would give up her husband without a struggle, once she realized he’d
mated with another.