To Love a Shifter: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set (35 page)

The sounds of Misty’s pleasures fed his own. Releasing her nipple, he turned his head to the other side so he could suck her other nipple. As he took it in his mouth, he tightened his hands around her butt so that he could grind his cock into her more deeply.

“Oh, God.” She could only hang on to the headboard with all her might as her body started to jerk wildly.

Domenico released her nipple and, without stopping his forceful thrusts, he went on his knees, lifting her hips in the air.

“Mine,” he grated.

Her body had lost all sense of gravity, its weight dependent on Domenico’s cock and his hands around her hips.

When his fingers tightened around her hips, his cock pulling out and teasing the entrance of her sex, she sobbed out, “Yours. Oh God, I’m yours.”

Domenico pulled out one last time and when he sank his cock back into her, he pinched her clit at the same time.

Misty screamed as she came, and her legs tightened around his hips reflexively as her back arched. Her arms fell at the strength of her orgasm but Domenico was there to catch her. He lowered her back to the bed, his cock still pulsing inside her. He started to move again, and she whimpered, her body stirring back into life as his movements became fast and frenzied.

“Come again,” he growled.

She whimpered.

He increased his tempo, knowing his orgasm was just moments away. One hand pinning her arms over her head, Domenico reached down with his other hand until he found Misty’s tender nub of flesh, which strained for his touch.

“Come!” He pressed her clit down as hard as he could while he filled her cunt with his cock.

Misty’s body responded to his command and she sobbed as she came again at the same time he did, Domenico’s hips bucking over hers at the strength of his own release.

When she woke up, the other side of the bed was empty. The room was quiet and bathed in sunlight streaming from the windows, with the curtains pulled to the side. She pushed herself up, searching the room for Domenico as she did. And that was when she saw it.

Pulling the sheets with her to wrap around her body, Misty padded towards the coffee table, her heart beating madly.

A note was attached to the scroll and she took it with shaky hands.

My love, I do not want to make this harder for you.

If you truly want us to cut ties, then I shall affix my signature after yours has dried.

But before you do, allow me to tell you again that I am deeply sorry for all the pain I have caused you in the past. I love you. More than anything in this world.

~~~

From the building across the hotel, Domenico watched Misty cry, sinking into the floor as she held his note to her chest. And then she was gone, leaving an hour later with no signs of whether she had indeed chosen to cut ties.

Domenico went back to the hotel suite, her scent still strong in the room, a scent he had craved for so long. He inhaled it sharply, wishing he could have it with him all the time so that he wouldn’t feel so empty when she was not at his side.

The scroll was on the table, with a new note attached. He picked it up, his heart aching when he felt the wet spots, caused by Misty’s tears.

I’m sorry.

He dropped to his knees. It was over.

The High Circle was insane
, Lysander Allard thought. He stood at the edge of the chamber, next to one of the windows. The High Circle’s chamber fittingly resided in the topmost room of the tower, allowing its members to gaze upon the entire realm even from their throne-like seats.

He had one of those precious seats, the right to which he had won with cunning not typical for his race. 

In a soft drawling voice that betrayed none of his incredulity and impatience, Lysander said, “This girl – Misty Wall – is married to a Lyccan. How do we know she is not merely a pawn of their race and would indeed fight for our rights?” He didn’t want a quarrel with Milo as he deeply respected the older man. But what Milo was suggesting just didn’t make sense, and damn if he was just going to stop by and let a mortal girl hold the fate of their race in her hands.

Thankfully, Milo didn’t appear offended at all by his question. But then, Lysander knew that the other man was also one of the few who saw past his many deliberate affectations and understood that the safety of their race was of the utmost importance to him.

“I understand your concern, Lysander, but I assure you that there is nothing for you to fear. This was not revealed to the High Circle, but one of the terms set in our earlier pact with the Lyccans was for Misty to cut ties with the Moretti heir apparent.”

Shock reverberated through the High Circle.

“At the request of Misty herself.”

This time, they were not just shocked. They were
aghast.
Even Lysander didn’t believe he had heard Milo correctly. What woman in her right mind would willingly shun marriage to Domenico Moretti? The man was not just any Lyccan royal. If the rumors and the legends were to be believed, Moretti was supposedly destined to unite all Lyccan packs under one rule.

“And why would she choose to follow us?” Lysander didn’t see which of the High Circle had asked the question, but he was interested to hear the answer to it as well. She must have an ulterior motive.

Milo answered shortly, “Heartbreak.”

More gasps and mutters filled the chamber.

“Moretti himself would be the first to admit that she had been of great help to him in uniting warring packs. She can do something similar for our race. Most of us have spent our entire lives within this realm. Even though a long time has passed since the Great War, we all still bear its scars.”

Aware of the gazes that strayed to him, Lysander maintained an impassive face at the mention of the event that decimated his entire family. Once there had been hundreds of Allards---a family known for its proud and noble ancestry. Their courage was a legend among their kind, but it was that courage that also pushed them to be the frontline of defense for the Faeries. It meant that they had been the first to die, too.

He had been the youngest in the family when the war started, and when it ended he was the only one left. If not for the High Circle taking Lysander in, the grief would have driven him insane.

Milo continued, “We distrust humans and I know there are some who still harbor great bitterness for the lack of help we received in the past war. If we send one of our own, the past may color his or her judgment and prevent the Alliance from being fulfilled.”

Milo looked at each member of the High Circle one by one, demanding all of their attention. “All the races
need
this Alliance to survive. We know so little of our enemies, but it is clear to us all that something – someone - powerful is leading them, one that’s utterly evil. Our true enemy wears the face of a vampire, but we all know it can’t be.”

Lysander knew Milo was speaking the truth. Vampires were ruled by their thirst for blood, and only something more powerful could prevent them from succumbing to their base and greedy desires. Something more powerful and
more evil,
and Lysander knew it was the latter that troubled them all.

What kind of creature could be more evil than vampires?

Whatever it was, Lysander understood that the Alliance would indeed be necessary to defeat it. Even so, he was still skeptical of the mortal’s ability to represent them in such an important occasion. “She needs to have someone to guide her about the rules of our world---” He stopped speaking at the smile that Milo gave him.

He always had the deepest respect for Milo although many of the older High Circle members despised the other man for his homosexuality. Lysander didn’t give a fuck about it. Milo had more than proven his worth in the battlefield, his courage unequalled, and that was all that mattered to him.

In a voice that rivaled Lysander’s with its smoothness, which instantly put him on guard, Milo said, “I have already considered that, Lysander, which is why I think you – as the one closest of age to Misty – would get along best with her. Together, the two of you will make the best pair for representing our race.”

~~~

Misty jerked in her seat with a gasp, causing Daryl, seated next to her, to gasp as well. The sounds echoed throughout the cavernous hallway, where they had been waiting for the High Circle’s summons for over half an hour.

“What is it?” Daryl demanded, jumping to his feet, his eyes darting nervously around. Nowadays, most of the Faeries were jittery as their race’s impending formal alliance with Lyccans and Caros had become public knowledge.

She slowly shook her head, unable to pinpoint exactly what had made her cry out as if someone had stabbed her. One minute she was all right, and then the next moment she wasn’t, as if half of her soul had been torn away.

Domenico.
It had to be him. Did it mean he had read her letter? Tears stung her eyes at the thought.

“Misty?”

She lied, “Somebody walked over my grave or something.”

Daryl returned to his seat. “Oh.” A hesitant expression crossed his face as he turned to her. “Maybe…it’s done?”

“What’s done?” She frowned when she saw how Daryl looked like he suddenly wanted to take his words back. “I don’t understand---”

“The cutting of ties, Misty,” Daryl said softly. “Maybe
it’s
done.”

Her senses went numb as the full import of Daryl’s words sank in.

Just then, the huge twenty-foot doors in front of them finally opened, pushed by a pair of uniformed guards. Magenta, the only member of the High Circle whom Misty knew personally aside from Milo, came out with a kind smile on her wrinkly old face.

“It has been approved,” she told them with a beam.

“Thank the stars,” Daryl exclaimed as he exchanged air kisses with Magenta.

“Thank you for supporting my plea,” Misty said fervently, stepping forward to hug the older woman. Although Daryl’s partner, Milo, was one of the most powerful Faeries in the realm, he was also one of the youngest and more controversial members of the High Circle. His vote alone would not have swayed the elders into approving the alliance without Magenta’s help.

“It is for the good of our race as well, Misty,” Magenta answered. “However, the High Circle thinks it is best that our race is also co-represented by one of our own. I hope that is fine with you.”

She nodded quickly. “Of course.”

Magenta ushered them inside, saying, “From here on, you will be accompanied by one of our younger members.”

“Milo?” Daryl asked immediately.

The older woman waved one bejeweled hand in negation, the long silk bell-shaped sleeve of her amethyst-colored robes falling to her elbow. Like all members of the High Circle, Magenta was dressed in the traditional attire of Faeries, which - to Misty’s inexperienced eyes - appeared like a fusion of medieval and carnival, because of its Old World style and extremely shiny colors.

“Misty’s partner will be Lysander Allard,” Magenta answered with a pointed look.

She followed the other woman’s gaze, and her jaw immediately dropped at the sight of the boyish-looking…
giant
standing next to one of the marble pillars in the hall, speaking with another member of the High Circle.

She had heard of him of course. It was impossible not to when all the faeries looked up to him as some sort of living legend. But he was also infamous for his reclusive ways, which was why it was only Misty’s first time to see the man who was said to have killed a hundred vampires when he was still a boy.

He was tall – even taller than Domenico, perhaps by an inch or two. His hair was an interesting shade of black, one that gleamed violet under the light. His skin was pale, his body lean and obviously hard as his form-fitting white formal jacket and breeches proved. The most eye-catching part of his attire was the lace cuffs that peeked past the sleeves of his jacket, something Misty had only seen Tom Cruise wearing when he played the old-fashioned vampire
Lestat
in Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire.

Lysander turned partially towards them, allowing Misty a glimpse of his face just before he bid the other man goodbye with a deep bow.

Dark, perfectly sculpted brows, eyes the palest shade of lilac, cheekbones carved like a marble statue, and thin, equally perfectly shaped lips. That face was too beautiful for words.

“Be blessed,” the older man said before walking away.

She watched Lysander pull a lace fan out of nowhere. Every move he made was an execution of elegance, from the twist of his wrist to the snap of his ornately designed fan as it spread open with a flick of his long, thin fingers.

“He’s gay, right?” Misty blurted out.

Daryl smirked. “Oh, yes.” His answer dripped with sarcasm, but Misty wasn’t to know that, not until much, much later, when it was too late.

Misty’s words floated to Lysander’s ears, but he made not even the slightest indication that he heard the mortal speak. Only when he turned his back to them did Lysander allow a smile half playful and half dangerous to touch his lips. It completely transformed his face, revealing the rogue under the princely guise, the man who fucked so beautifully he made every Faerie woman cry tears of regret the moment he withdrew his cock from between a woman’s thighs.

He closed his eyes, savoring the innocent interest in the human’s eyes. There was nothing as delicious as taking a woman's innocence. Virginity was just one of its many forms. There were so many others, and the woman gazing at him with curious wonder had it in spades. Her aura defined purity itself, and it aroused Lysander like he had never been aroused before.

Misty Wall.

He would have so much fun with her.

~~~

Ten minutes later, and Misty was smiling sheepishly as Lysander Allard clucked his tongue while gazing at her chipped nails.

“I can’t keep them long since I have sword practice daily,” she explained. Her voice sounded a little breathless, and it made Misty cringe.
Gay, gay, gay,
she reminded herself. With Lysander standing too close to her, his head bent down as he took her other hand and gently touched her nails, it was impossible not to be a little overwhelmed by his looks.