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CHAPTER 2

LUCAS

As I fly toward the Summer Court army, I can’t vanquish thoughts of Yvette, the beautiful dark-haired human female I just encountered on the road. Her sweet scent beckoned me, and her trembling excited me in ways that are still making my pants tight.

Longing. When I looked at her, I’d felt longing . The first carnal desires I’ve experienced for a female in ages.

Why didn’t I take her?

I growl as my frustration builds. I wanted her. I wanted her very much, and I could’ve taken her without consequence. Warden Valloc might’ve written her a letter of protection, but the warden answers to me. I’m a Summer Court prince, and though I’m a few centuries younger than him, I outrank him. He also happens to be a distant cousin of mine, and it was I who appointed him as Warden of Trevos. I gave him that power . I can rescind any of his orders or cancel any ridiculous letters of protection at any time. That half-fae, half-human female he mated with probably convinced him to draft the letter anyway. It’s no secret he’s treated the humans with a bit more softness since entering that mating union.

Jealousy surges within me, hot and pulsing. I try to tamp it down, but it continues spreading, until I feel ready to commit a thousand brutal murders.

Fucking fires, I’m jealous of my cousin. Jealous because he found his fated mate. Jealous because he has a fated mate, and I never will.

Long ago, before I was even born, a human mage cursed my family’s bloodline. The mage proclaimed that all my father’s offspring would never know a true fated mate, a damning sentence of loneliness that might very well affect the future of the Summer Court.

And so, my two older brothers haven’t taken mates yet, and neither have I, nor have we produced any children. Claiming a random fae female, or even arranging to claim a specific one, won’t work well and my father knows it. Unlike humans and orcs, our people don’t enter arranged marriages. It’s completely unheard of.

Arranged marriages would never work well for the simple fact that we all have fated mates. Or at least, we’re all supposed to. But not my brothers, and not me. We’re doomed.

Cursed to a life of loneliness.

Even if one of us produced an illegitimate child outside the bounds of a true mating union, it would cause a great upheaval in the Summer Court. Most of my people would refuse to follow a bastard-born ruler.

I think of the recent missive my father sent and shake my head. I still can’t believe the order he’d given me. An order that he also apparently gave my two older brothers.

He’d commanded all of us to mate with humans.

Not just mate but also hold human marriage ceremonies to add some extra legitimacy to the unions.

It’s his hope that perhaps our people will be convinced to follow a half-fae, half-human ruler one day. In all likelihood, it would be my oldest brother’s firstborn. Considering that fae typically live for thousands of years, my father believes the eldest half-fae, half-human grandchild will have adequate time to win over all the Summer Court lords.

It's a scenario that’s thousands of years in the future, and yet we must plan for it. I don’t envy my father the burden of this curse, nor do I envy my mother the guilt I know she still feels because of it. The mage who cursed her offspring was once in love with her, and in his fury over discovering she’d met her fated mate, he’d traveled to the Summer Court to place his curse, even knowing my father would hunt him down and kill him.

I peer across the mountainous landscape, my wings beating steadily in the cold winter breeze as I continue hovering in the sky. I summon a wave of summer to keep out the chill while I consider my next move.

Dare I take Yvette for mine?

My father’s order wasn’t specific. According to the letter, any human female would do. I would imagine my brothers are trying to find human females from royal families, but I’m not so vain.

I’m also the youngest fucking son and it’s doubtful my offspring would ever rule over what’s left of the Summer Court.

Ussha has continued spreading from the four fae courts at a rapid pace, an event our priestesses say heralds the dawn of a new age of total fae rule over the realm. The spread of ussha has caused many of our people to migrate from crowded fae courts to more rural areas once solely occupied by humans and orcs. It’s certainly possible that the four courts will have completely fallen by the time my brothers’ children, or my children, find themselves parentless.

Will my oldest brother’s heir even want to bother inheriting the crown of a fallen court? I think of the former fae courts, the courts that came before Summer, Spring, Autumn, and Winter. The Unseelie and Seelie courts. Those two courts, the first fae courts, are no more. My mother was once a Seelie queen, the very last Seelie queen, and the court she grew up in and later inherited is gone. Buried under volcanic ash by the gods themselves in an act of vengeance, or so our priestesses say.

Marry a human. Fucking fires, I’ve been commanded to marry a human. A human! Humans hold no power, no magic. What use will a mating union with a human bring other than creating children who will never inherit the throne of the Summer Court?

I release another growl and curse my father’s name. I could understand him ordering my oldest brother, Axton, to marry a human, but why me? I’m the youngest, and the possibility of my potential offspring inheriting the Summer Court throne is next to nil. For that to happen, my father and brothers, as well as my brothers’ children, would have to perish long before the final days of the Summer Court. Given how powerful my father and brothers are, it’s a near impossibility.

What’s not impossible, however, is the final breath of the Summer Court within my lifetime. It’s going to happen. I can feel it in my bones.

Not for the first time, I wonder if there’s a way to break the fucking curse. Gods know my father has spared no expense in the endeavor, but the high priestesses from all four courts say it cannot be achieved. They say the gods won’t assign or create fated mates for us, that our window of opportunity has long passed.

Yvette. I should take her. I should claim her. I should force her to marry me. Why not? I’m a Summer Court prince and the only fae I answer to is my own father who ordered me to marry a human, any human, in the first place. Warden Valloc can shove that letter of protection up his ass for all I care.

I fly in Yvette’s direction for a while, and as I near the area where I last saw her, a high-pitched scream pierces the sun-drenched afternoon. I slow my flight path and listen carefully. More screams rend the air. A female’s screams.

A human female’s screams.

Fury ignites and worry invades my senses because… what if it’s her ? The sudden prospect of any harm visiting Yvette leaves me both angry and… feeling something else that’s strangely akin to sorrow.

But that doesn’t make sense.

I scarcely know her, and there’s no way in fuck she’s my fated mate. Because I don’t have one.

I soar toward the area where I last saw her, following the continued screams as my anxiety deepens and my rage burns hot. If Yvette is indeed the female who’s screaming, I intend to tear her tormentor from limb to limb. I intend to make them pay.

At last, I spot movement on the ground. Over a dozen human males have Yvette surrounded, and two more males are manhandling her, trying to secure rope around her wrists. At least I think it’s Yvette. Tall and slender with dark hair, from my current vantage point, it looks like her. My anger heightens and I bolt in her direction. I fly as though I’m in the midst of battle and it’s life or death.

That’s the level of urgency I feel as I witness one of the male’s kick her legs out from beneath her. Fuck, no. My gut twists when that same man crawls atop her and lifts his hand as though preparing to strike her. Meanwhile, she reaches for a knife that’s laying in the dirt, though her fingers can’t quite grasp it.

I roar my rage and land on the scene in a blast of summer power that knocks the males to the ground and leaves them disoriented, including the man who’d been on top of Yvette. Shouts echo on the mountainside, and there’s a flurry of confusion as I approach the small dark-haired female on the ground.

My heart nearly stops. It’s indeed Yvette, and she’s hurt. Her lip is swollen and bleeding, and there are scratches on her face. I lift her in my arms and hold her close. She trembles and peers at me in disbelief, though I can’t help but wonder if she’ll see me as her savior or just another monster.

When I first began to look for her, it was with the intention of forcing her to become my bride. I never imagined hearing her screams and seeing her hurt would provoke such tender emotion within me. I glance at the human men who have us surrounded. All are now brandishing weapons. Knives, mostly, though one holds a sword and another grips an ax.

I also notice a nearby wagon that holds a large iron cage. It’s filled with dirty, frightened-looking humans. A growl rumbles from me as I refocus my attention on the men. Flesh traders. I continue growling as I bare my teeth at the men and turn in a slow circle, making eye contact with each of them. Most go pale and retreat a few steps.

“Gentlemen, do you honestly believe you stand a chance against me?” I flare my wings wider to remind them that I’m highborn. They don’t know I’m a Summer Court prince, but my wings are evidence enough that I’m highborn and therefore among the most powerful fae in existence.

“We don’t want any trouble,” one of the men says. “Please, just let us be on our way. You don’t even have to give us back that female. You can keep her for yourself if you want. Consider her a gift. Just let us take our wagon and be on our way.” He makes a show of putting away his knife and gestures for his men to follow suit.

I watch with great amusement as all the men put their weapons away. Fools. The urge to savage them bloody rises within me, but so does the need to keep Yvette in my arms. I don’t want to put her down for even a second. Not until I tend to her wounds and verify her wellbeing.

“That’s quite generous of you,” I finally reply. “Of course, of course, you may be on your way. All of you. Go now. Go . Now .” As I summon a deadly glamour, I continue spinning in a slow circle as I repeatedly make eye contact with each flesh trader.

It doesn’t take long for the glamour to work. Of course it doesn’t. I am Prince Lucas of the Summer Court, and killing a human takes very little effort on my part. I prefer executing humans with my bare hands or using a weapon. I prefer spurting blood and pain. But in this case, death by glamour will have to suffice. Because I’m still averse to putting Yvette down.

Suddenly, one of the men bolts toward a nearby cliff that overlooks the valley. He doesn’t slow his pace. As he approaches the cliff’s edge, he runs faster. He runs straight off the mountainside and plunges to his death. My sensitive ears pick up the impact of his body hitting the rocky ground far below.

Yvette gasps and tries to escape my arms, but I hold her tighter and make shushing noises as I watch the remaining flesh traders take off for the cliff.

One by one, they run off the mountainside and plunge to their well-deserved deaths. Satisfaction brims inside me. Each splat of their bodies, a noise so soft from this distance that I doubt Yvette can hear it, is music to my ears.

Dead. Dead.

Dead.

After the last man jumps, I launch into the sky while still holding my future bride, then hover over the drop off. I intentionally keep Yvette’s face pressed to my chest as I observe the spread of broken bodies on the rocky surface below. For some reason, I find myself wanting to protect her from what she might feel is a gruesome sight.

How odd, this gentleness she’s calling up from within me.

“You glamoured them, didn’t you?” Her voice resonates with shock, and she clutches the front of my leather shirt, holding on tight as though fearing I might drop her.

I fly back to our previous spot for a soft landing that I hope doesn’t jar her senses. I’m used to taking off quickly and landing just as quickly, sometimes hard enough to crack the ground. But if I’m to transport this female, I must remember that she’s a human. I have no wish to inadvertently cause her harm.

“Yes,” I finally reply. “I glamoured them. I would’ve preferred bloody, hand-to-hand combat, but I’m so enamored by you, little human, that I couldn’t bear the thought of putting you down. I like having you in my arms.” While I taunted her during our first encounter, there’s no mockery in my voice this time.

But judging by the look of suspicion she shoots me, I suspect she doesn’t quite believe my words. She thinks I’m teasing her again. Not that I can blame her. I was rather descriptive earlier when I spoke about dragging her into the forest to ravish her.

“You’re hurt.” I eye her wounds, and the rage starts to return. Maybe I shouldn’t have given those flesh traders such easy deaths. A growl builds in my throat as I imagine tearing their limbs from their bodies and leaving them to bleed out on the road.

A few of the prisoners call out to us, pleading to be released. But I’m far too concerned with the pretty, dark-haired human female to deal with them yet.

Yvette draws in a shaky breath, touches her split lip, and winces. “The big one clocked me after I bit his hand.” She swallows hard and gives me another suspicious look. “Thank you for saving me. If, uh, you would be so kind as to put me down, I would like to go unlock the cage now. I imagine some of those people have been stuck inside for a while.” In a hushed voice, she adds, “They smell atrocious.”

I vanish my wings, then walk toward the tree line and turn to face the wagon. Still holding Yvette close, I perform a quick flourish with my hand, sending a beam of blue, tangling light to the lock. The door of the cage creaks open and the prisoners start pouring out. Some of them take off down the road, while others raid the front of the wagon for supplies. I send a final wave of tangling blue light to release the horses from their confinement.

“Happy?” I ask Yvette. “They’re free.”

“Thank you.”

I carry her into the forest and take a seat on a fallen tree. She tries to slip off my lap, but I make a noise of disapproval and hold up a hand. Healing gold light swirls in the air and tingles up my arm. She stares at my palm with wide eyes.

“Are you trying to glamour me?” Worry enters her gaze, though she stills in my lap. Her bottom presses directly on my crotch, but given the circumstances, I try to ignore the blood that’s rushing to my cock. She’s injured, and I must tend to her wounds.

“No, little human, I’m not trying to glamour you.” I bring my face closer to hers. “I’m trying to heal you. Please, hold as still as possible and let the magic work.”

A gasp catches in her throat, but she obeys and remains unmoving on my lap. I watch as the golden light roams over her face. Within seconds, the scratches on her cheeks fade. Her split lip also mends.

“I…” Her voice trails off and she touches her face. “Wow, it doesn’t hurt anymore. My mouth doesn’t taste like blood anymore either.” She regards me with a look of deepening shock. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome.” I stroke a hand through her mussed hair, attempting to tame her locks. She’s no longer wearing the hat she had on earlier, and her hair must’ve gotten tangled as she fought the flesh traders. “I only wish I’d arrived before they got a chance to hurt you,” I add as I continue combing my fingers gently through her soft hair.

She starts to lean into my touch, only to jolt in my lap and attempt to slide to the ground. “I’m fine now. I can stand up. I can walk.”

Though I long to continue holding her on my lap, especially with her flailing around and grinding her bottom down on my shaft, I don’t wish to frighten her. So, I allow her to stand, though I remain ready to catch her should she become unsteady on her feet.

She glances toward the road. “I, uh, need to retrieve my pack. My hat and mittens, too. Oh, and my knife. If it’s all still there.”

“I would imagine one of the released prisoners has already swiped your belongings and run off. But you needn’t worry. I will help you. I won’t leave you alone on the mountain to fend for yourself without any supplies.”

She turns back to me, studying me with a shrewdness that most wouldn’t dare. Of course, she doesn’t know my identity. If she did, I imagine she would be cowering and perhaps pleading for mercy. Or maybe not. Despite her wariness in my presence, an undeniable air of bravery clings to her. It makes me curious about the importance of whatever errand she was running for her aunt.

“It’s very kind of you to offer to help me.” She steps back and brushes dust from the road off her cloak. Her hands eventually go still, and she squares her shoulders while giving me a direct look. “I must confess, I’m more than a bit shocked by your actions. You saved me from flesh traders, released their prisoners, the horses too, and healed my wounds. You’re a highborn fae and…” She shifts uncomfortably in place as her eyes dance around the forest.

“I’m a highborn fae and yet I saved over a dozen humans, including you. Ah, yes, I’m not living up to my people’s reputation as a proper monster.” I grin. “If you’d like, I could growl at you and threaten to eat your heart.” My joke falls flat and causes her to take another step back, and I immediately hold up my hands in a show of surrender. “Please, please, I was only teasing. Don’t go running off. I don’t have a taste for hearts. Well, actually, truth be told, I’ve never even tried a human heart. Please promise you won’t tell the other highborn fae. I have a reputation to uphold.” I waggle my eyebrows at her, and though she doesn’t smile or laugh, her eyes finally glimmer with the faintest hint of amusement.

“You’re clearly a highborn fae from the Summer Court.”

“Clearly.” I send her a wave of summer warmth infused with the scents of jasmine and honeysuckle. I also swirl a hand and suddenly the forest glimmers with thousands of fireflies.

She gasps and turns to observe the sight. After a moment, she faces me again and asks, “Who are you?”

“My name is Lucas.”

“Come on. You know what I mean. What’s your full, proper title? You seem to possess more magic than Warden Valloc, although I must admit he’s the only other fae with whom I’ve interacted.”

I rise to my feet and close the distance between us. “I am Prince Lucas Brossnin of the Summer Court.”