Read Online The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) by Jessica Aspen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jessica Aspen
Tags: fantasy romance series, paranormal romance trilogy, paranormal romance witches, elven romance, fairytale romance for adults, fantasy romance with sex
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touchable leather. Her fingers twitched with the need to stroke. She clenched them into white knuckled fists. Her nipples hardened.
What was wrong with her? She had to stand firm against his fae charm. She would have no bargaining power, no pride left, if she jumped his bones now.
She jerked back, hitting the headboard. Pain jolted the back of her head, but she wasn’t far enough away. Away from the temptation of black hair, touchable leather, and hard muscles inches from her fingertips. She could almost taste the smoky saltiness of his skin. Her mouth softened.
Scrambling off the bed, she tugged the blanket in frantic desperation to escape her own wanton desire. He leaned on his arm and raised his body up, letting her take the blanket, his eyebrow curved high in amusement. She wrapped the blanket in a tight shield around her nudity and arousal and prayed to the Goddess he hadn’t seen her hardened nipples and flushed skin.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Observing my new servant.” He reclined on the bed, a lazy smile playing on his lips as his gaze slid down the length of her body.
Her pulse jumped and she pulled the blanket tighter.
Despite his confidence, there was no way he could know the trail her sensual thoughts had taken down the skin of his throat. And along his long, leather-clad legs.
She raised her chin. “And here I thought this was some weird vacation.”
There could be no delusions now. This was no dream, no vacation. Reality was this hot, hot man lounging on her bed, regarding her from under a fall of perfect black hair with predatory eyes.
And she’d better remember that he was a predator. He was fae.
“I may be your servant for a year, but you’ve no right to enter my bedroom, damn it!” Her voice hitched, ruining her attempt at authority.
“Actually, this isn't your room,” he said, the soft, animal smile dropping from his lips. “And even if it were, I have every right. Indentured servants have little right to privacy.”
A hard, cold lump formed in her chest and expanded until she struggled for her next breath. “I can’t be hearing this right. An indentured servant? No such thing!” She stepped back. “That went out of style two hundred years ago.”
It hit her like a son-of-a-bitch that she was alone with him upstairs. She couldn't hear anybody else in the house. Who would come if she screamed?
“What sort of servitude did you think we bargained for last night? You indentured yourself to me for a year.” His tone was light, but his implacable eyes were steady as he lazed on the bed, a big cat in the sun deciding on his next move.
“No way.” Fragments of scattered homeschooling flashed in her head. “I know what happens to indentured servants and it’s not good. I will clean your house or wash your car, but I have rights. I will have all the rights a person has in this country!”
“And what country do you think you’re in?” He murmured, so low she had to take a reluctant step closer to hear his next words. “Do you think you’re anywhere close to home?”
Trina’s throat tightened, her saliva dried up into the Sahara. She had no clue. They could be anywhere in the world. Maybe not even in her world.
“Well then, where are we?” she squeaked out.
He stood up and stalked toward her, a small side braid glinting silver as it swung. “You might ask when we are as well, but it will do you no good.”
His ears seemed more pointed, his eyes sharper. The room, and all the oxygen in it, shrank with each step he took. He spoke in a low, assured voice that screamed he was up to no good. “You made a bargain with me, Alice. Too bad you didn't stop to read the contract. It clearly states you’re indentured to me for the period of one year and a day.”
“Stop calling me that! I have a name.”
“And?”
“It’s Trina. Trina MacElvy. No more of this Alice crap.”
“Well, Trina MacElvy, then this is something you should see.”
He snapped
What was wrong with her? She had to stand firm against his fae charm. She would have no bargaining power, no pride left, if she jumped his bones now.
She jerked back, hitting the headboard. Pain jolted the back of her head, but she wasn’t far enough away. Away from the temptation of black hair, touchable leather, and hard muscles inches from her fingertips. She could almost taste the smoky saltiness of his skin. Her mouth softened.
Scrambling off the bed, she tugged the blanket in frantic desperation to escape her own wanton desire. He leaned on his arm and raised his body up, letting her take the blanket, his eyebrow curved high in amusement. She wrapped the blanket in a tight shield around her nudity and arousal and prayed to the Goddess he hadn’t seen her hardened nipples and flushed skin.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Observing my new servant.” He reclined on the bed, a lazy smile playing on his lips as his gaze slid down the length of her body.
Her pulse jumped and she pulled the blanket tighter.
Despite his confidence, there was no way he could know the trail her sensual thoughts had taken down the skin of his throat. And along his long, leather-clad legs.
She raised her chin. “And here I thought this was some weird vacation.”
There could be no delusions now. This was no dream, no vacation. Reality was this hot, hot man lounging on her bed, regarding her from under a fall of perfect black hair with predatory eyes.
And she’d better remember that he was a predator. He was fae.
“I may be your servant for a year, but you’ve no right to enter my bedroom, damn it!” Her voice hitched, ruining her attempt at authority.
“Actually, this isn't your room,” he said, the soft, animal smile dropping from his lips. “And even if it were, I have every right. Indentured servants have little right to privacy.”
A hard, cold lump formed in her chest and expanded until she struggled for her next breath. “I can’t be hearing this right. An indentured servant? No such thing!” She stepped back. “That went out of style two hundred years ago.”
It hit her like a son-of-a-bitch that she was alone with him upstairs. She couldn't hear anybody else in the house. Who would come if she screamed?
“What sort of servitude did you think we bargained for last night? You indentured yourself to me for a year.” His tone was light, but his implacable eyes were steady as he lazed on the bed, a big cat in the sun deciding on his next move.
“No way.” Fragments of scattered homeschooling flashed in her head. “I know what happens to indentured servants and it’s not good. I will clean your house or wash your car, but I have rights. I will have all the rights a person has in this country!”
“And what country do you think you’re in?” He murmured, so low she had to take a reluctant step closer to hear his next words. “Do you think you’re anywhere close to home?”
Trina’s throat tightened, her saliva dried up into the Sahara. She had no clue. They could be anywhere in the world. Maybe not even in her world.
“Well then, where are we?” she squeaked out.
He stood up and stalked toward her, a small side braid glinting silver as it swung. “You might ask when we are as well, but it will do you no good.”
His ears seemed more pointed, his eyes sharper. The room, and all the oxygen in it, shrank with each step he took. He spoke in a low, assured voice that screamed he was up to no good. “You made a bargain with me, Alice. Too bad you didn't stop to read the contract. It clearly states you’re indentured to me for the period of one year and a day.”
“Stop calling me that! I have a name.”
“And?”
“It’s Trina. Trina MacElvy. No more of this Alice crap.”
“Well, Trina MacElvy, then this is something you should see.”
He snapped
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