Read Online Curse of the Fae King by Kryssie Fortune - Free Book Online
Authors: Kryssie Fortune
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voice. “Curses can be broken. Can’t the Witch Council help? Even someone like my mo—”
“No one can bloody help,” he snapped. “Do you think I haven’t tried? The most powerful Witch in existence cursed my father when he proposed. Elves’ blood, couldn’t she just have said no? Then she upped sticks and vanished, and no other Witch is strong enough to break her spell. I’ll bloody kill her if I can ever get my hands on her.”
“Leo, I’m so, so sorry. Whatever your wicked Witch did, no one should live under a curse.” She laid her hand on his arm, unshed tears lending a soft shimmer to her eyes. Her quick sympathy helped shove his sexual predator back into its cage, but his time was running out all too fast.
Pacing, unable to look her in the eyes, he snarled, “Too damn right. Enough distractions. Back to the Elves. They have an overlord, Mordred, not a king, but they probably have exactly what they deserve. They’re a cruel race, and the way they treat their women is a bloody disgrace. One of their overlord’s titles is Lord of Arthington—and the director of the People’s Defense League is Mordred Arthington. It’s too much of a coincidence for them not to be one and the same. Some say he’s mad to be so open about his actions, and while he won his title by being the most brutal Elf out there, he wields so much dark power that no one dare contest him.”
“And this Elf overlord” she asked, “the one who mistreats women, has my mother? Goddess, what I wouldn’t give for a magic arsenal right now.”
He shrugged as he tucked his knife into the scabbard he wore gunslinger-style at his hip. Once he’d carefully recoiled his bullwhip, he told her, “Sorry, no magic weapons, so you’ll have to make do with me. I suspect Mordred gave the People’s Defense League Fairy dust to help them take your mother. It’s the rarest commodity, which means she holds considerable value in their eyes. They must have peppered your herb farm with it. That explains why I can’t use my powers, and our dragon can’t flash back home and fetch help.”
“So the overlord has dark magic, and I’ve got…” Meena looked at him, then at Lipstick. Fear spread across her face.
Aware she was scared and hurting, he went to put his arms around her. Fool that he was, he’d forgotten how worried she was about her mother. He should have chosen his words with more care.
Rather than rest against him, she shoved him off and shook her head. “This gets weirder by the minute. Isn’t Fairy dust what Peter Pan used to make humans fly?”
“No,” Leonidas snapped. He hated that her smile was brittle and forced, the sort that didn’t crinkle around her eyes. He could only give her his honesty, but not his heart. Truthfully, she’d stolen it already.
“Yeah, it is,” she persisted. “Peter Pan shook Tinker Bell over Wendy’s head or something. Haven’t you ever watched Disney? Okay, cultural differences apart, the Elves have taken my mother prisoner. Tell me what they’ve done that could sap her powers.”
He reverted to grandee mode, all quiet dignity and control. “The Fae are almost immortal, but sometimes accidents happen. We bury our dead, but if someone disturbs their grave and grinds their bones, then you’ve got Fairy dust. Otherworld species absorb it through the skin, and it nullifies their magic. It takes effect instantly and takes two or three days to work its way out of our systems. Just for the record, that means this attraction you feel for me is real, not the result of my magic.”
“Real? Not magic?” she repeated, stunned.
Before he answered, her hand crept into his. Her shy smile and downcast eyes promised mischief—and if he wasn’t mistaken, sex. She pouted at him over her shoulder like a 1960s sex kitten, and led him toward a copse of nearby trees. “Well, in that case…”
Leonidas grinned like a surprised schoolboy. He hadn’t expected this. Meena desired him even though
“No one can bloody help,” he snapped. “Do you think I haven’t tried? The most powerful Witch in existence cursed my father when he proposed. Elves’ blood, couldn’t she just have said no? Then she upped sticks and vanished, and no other Witch is strong enough to break her spell. I’ll bloody kill her if I can ever get my hands on her.”
“Leo, I’m so, so sorry. Whatever your wicked Witch did, no one should live under a curse.” She laid her hand on his arm, unshed tears lending a soft shimmer to her eyes. Her quick sympathy helped shove his sexual predator back into its cage, but his time was running out all too fast.
Pacing, unable to look her in the eyes, he snarled, “Too damn right. Enough distractions. Back to the Elves. They have an overlord, Mordred, not a king, but they probably have exactly what they deserve. They’re a cruel race, and the way they treat their women is a bloody disgrace. One of their overlord’s titles is Lord of Arthington—and the director of the People’s Defense League is Mordred Arthington. It’s too much of a coincidence for them not to be one and the same. Some say he’s mad to be so open about his actions, and while he won his title by being the most brutal Elf out there, he wields so much dark power that no one dare contest him.”
“And this Elf overlord” she asked, “the one who mistreats women, has my mother? Goddess, what I wouldn’t give for a magic arsenal right now.”
He shrugged as he tucked his knife into the scabbard he wore gunslinger-style at his hip. Once he’d carefully recoiled his bullwhip, he told her, “Sorry, no magic weapons, so you’ll have to make do with me. I suspect Mordred gave the People’s Defense League Fairy dust to help them take your mother. It’s the rarest commodity, which means she holds considerable value in their eyes. They must have peppered your herb farm with it. That explains why I can’t use my powers, and our dragon can’t flash back home and fetch help.”
“So the overlord has dark magic, and I’ve got…” Meena looked at him, then at Lipstick. Fear spread across her face.
Aware she was scared and hurting, he went to put his arms around her. Fool that he was, he’d forgotten how worried she was about her mother. He should have chosen his words with more care.
Rather than rest against him, she shoved him off and shook her head. “This gets weirder by the minute. Isn’t Fairy dust what Peter Pan used to make humans fly?”
“No,” Leonidas snapped. He hated that her smile was brittle and forced, the sort that didn’t crinkle around her eyes. He could only give her his honesty, but not his heart. Truthfully, she’d stolen it already.
“Yeah, it is,” she persisted. “Peter Pan shook Tinker Bell over Wendy’s head or something. Haven’t you ever watched Disney? Okay, cultural differences apart, the Elves have taken my mother prisoner. Tell me what they’ve done that could sap her powers.”
He reverted to grandee mode, all quiet dignity and control. “The Fae are almost immortal, but sometimes accidents happen. We bury our dead, but if someone disturbs their grave and grinds their bones, then you’ve got Fairy dust. Otherworld species absorb it through the skin, and it nullifies their magic. It takes effect instantly and takes two or three days to work its way out of our systems. Just for the record, that means this attraction you feel for me is real, not the result of my magic.”
“Real? Not magic?” she repeated, stunned.
Before he answered, her hand crept into his. Her shy smile and downcast eyes promised mischief—and if he wasn’t mistaken, sex. She pouted at him over her shoulder like a 1960s sex kitten, and led him toward a copse of nearby trees. “Well, in that case…”
Leonidas grinned like a surprised schoolboy. He hadn’t expected this. Meena desired him even though
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