Page 23 of Yearning For Her

Lachlan grinned, displaying straight, white teeth that were predatory despite appearing so human. “You’re not looking so good at the moment are you, Kian?”

A growl nearly escaped Kian’s throat. “Bit of a dry spell lately.”

Those sharp gray eyes, still holding their amusement, looked past Kian, sweeping over the crowd. “Oh? How unfortunate. This city has proven bountiful for me.”

Grasping the sides of his coat, Kian stepped back, breaking Lachlan’s loose hold. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

He stepped past the other fae, only to be stopped by Lachlan’s hand against his chest.

The dark-haired incubus leaned close. His scent, a blend of oiled leather, spice, and musk, washed over Kian. “By right, Pale One, I could claim you. By right, I could demand your loyalty, your obedience. And by might, I could take it.”

Kian held himself still, battling the violent urges lingering within him, battling his discomfort, battling the seed of fear that had taken root in his gut. Fae of all sorts were resistant to the charm of incubi and succubae, but not immune. And Lachlan’s charm was the most potent Kian had ever encountered.

He’d resisted it before. How long would he last now? How quickly would Kian’s willpower crumble under the weight of that magic, especially while he was so drained?

“When I brought you to the Americas all those years ago, it was not so you could run free like a wild beast,” Lachlan continued. “You were meant to be at my side, to stand with this realm’s new king. To serve as my right hand.”

“I prefer our current arrangement, in which you fuck off and let me be,” Kian said.

Lachlan’s fingers flexed, claws pricking Kian’s chest. “Such disrespect. Being in the mortal realm does not excuse you from honoring your betters, Pale One. It does not protect you from the consequences of your insults.”

Kian turned his face toward Lachlan’s. “Forgive me, Hollow Prince. I’m just a bit moody when I’m hungry.”

The other fae scowled, and crimson heat sparked in his eyes. The magic pulsing from him quaked, rocking Kian to his core.

Kian clenched his jaw. His heart thumped, and his insides twisted. He could still taste the female from earlier, and her smell lingered in his nose, layered beneath Lachlan’s powerful scent. The humans in the club continued dancing, drinking, and talking, pumping their desire into the air.

All that sustenance surrounding him and yet completely out of reach. All Lachlan’s magic bearing down on him, reminding him of his current weakness.

“I’ve so many other uses for that clever tongue of yours,” Lachlan said, voice husky and eyes darkening as they dropped to Kian’s mouth. “I’m not unsympathetic to your plight, Pale One, despite your disrespect. I have quite a collection, and I’m willing to share. Any type of mortal you could imagine, all obedient. They’ll do anything I command. All you must do is ask it of me.”

Amongst the fae, nothing was offered freely, nothing was given without a price. There was no help, only trade. And the more desperate one was, the more lopsided the exchange tended to be.

Lachlan, who styled himself king of the mortal realm, had asked a great deal of Kian in the past. How much more could he possibly want now?

Everything. He wants everything.

Pleasure had always been Kian’s food of choice. Invigorating and sweet, and so, so easy to draw from mortals in little bursts. But not all his kind preferred pleasure. Some feasted upon darker things. Some gorged themselves by inflicting suffering.

Kian smiled. “Afraid I’ll have to pass, Lachlan. Our tastes simply aren’t compatible, and I’m sure the mortals in your collection have already been soured by the fear you wrench from them.”

“Yes, I recall your objections.” Lachlan’s eyes searched Kian’s. “Yet look at us now, Pale One. Who stands strong as an oak, and who dangles, weak as a leaf dying on the branch? What good have your foolish morals done you?”

“As much good as your ambitions have done you, Hollow Prince. Tell me, how fares your kingdom?”

A shadow fell over Lachlan’s features, turning the mirth lingering in his eyes into something far more sinister. “Sometimes I wonder, Pale One, if you desire my wrath. If you crave my retribution. Seek me out when you are ready to learn the error of your ways.” He patted Kian’s chest with a gentleness that bristled with threat. “Until then, remember the accord. Watch for my mark, for those mortals who bear it are mine and mine alone. I look forward to our inevitable lessons.”

Kian quirked a brow. “Do you mean to teach me how to live in delusion, Lachlan?”

Lachlan eased back, sweeping his gaze over Kian from top to bottom, and smirked. “No. You’ve always demonstrated a particular talent for that.” He slapped Kian on the shoulder. “Happy hunting, Kian. I’m certain your luck will improve eventually.”

Then Lachlan withdrew, slipping into the crowd. The power Kian sensed from him didn’t diminish. Why would it have? Lachlan was undoubtedly making use of his charm, gathering mortals to himself like moths to a flame.

Kian’s ragged breaths clawed in and out of his lungs, and the knot inside him grew tighter and heavier. What the fuck was wrong with him? How distracted was he that he’d missed the approach of a fae like Lachlan, who was strong enough—and arrogant enough—to flaunt his power? It was especially troubling to have not immediately recognized the unique signature of that magic, which he’d grown all too familiar with over the long years he’d spent in the mortal realm. He should’ve sensed Lachlan from a fucking mile away.

Lachlan claimed that royal blood flowed in his veins, that he was the bastard offspring of a fae prince and a succubus. No one knew the truth, though given the raw strength of Lachlan’s magic, Kian was inclined to believe the story.

Now that Lachlan had moved on, everything else came back to Kian—the pounding music, the lust and abandon of the mortal revelers, the stench of alcohol, sweat, and a hundred different perfumes and colognes.

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