Leksander was jolted awake by a searing pain.
Two pains to be precise—one in each wrist. He jerked away from the source as he tried to pry open his eyes, but whatever clamped on his wrists wasn’t letting go. His arms were outstretched to either side, held tight. His head pounded, and his vision swam. The world around him seemed one giant white blur, both too bright and indistinct.
But the soft, menacing chuckle in front of him was all too familiar.
“Zephan,” Leksander spat, squinting and blinking to finally bring the wretched fae prince—the one who had menaced his House and his brothers, endlessly trying to stop the treaty from renewing—into view. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He thrashed against his restraints, but now he could see they were golden, glowing ropes with one end cinched and burning his wrists and the other tied to bedposts, one at the head and the other at the foot of the bed. He was standing at the side, bound to the bed but not actually in it. The rest of Zephan’s icy winter fae palace became clear—the jagged corners of translucent crystal, the undulating walls, the tall, tall cavern that towered above them.
“Come now, dragon prince,” Zephan taunted him, his voice full of arrogance. “I didn’t think you were that stupid.” His ice blue eyes, nearly clear, sparkled even more in the white brilliance of the light coming from the walls.
“You can’t kill me,” Leksander said, teeth gritted against the pain. “The treaty forbids it.” Which was true, and Zephan knew it, so… what? He was just getting off on torturing Leksander? He had to admit that was well within Zephan’s track record with the House of Smoke. Or really, Zephan’s attitude toward any sentient being.
“Yes, yes… the treaty…” The fae smirked and sauntered closer to where Leksander was bound to the bed. He was just within striking range… Leksander gripped hold of the golden fae rope, roaring through the pain but using his hold as leverage to kick both legs toward Zephan, trying to land a square jab to his chest.
He missed… and more searing pain cut through his wrists as they bore his full weight. He tried desperately to shift to his dragon form, but something about his restraints cut off access to his magic.
Zephan was laughing. “Oh, do try that again.”
Leksander growled and got his feet under him, relieving some of the pain but not all. It was a wonder the cords didn’t cut right through his wrists, but they seemed calibrated to deliver searing pain but not slice through his flesh at any substantial rate. Either that or his dragon and fae healing powers were keeping it at bay.
Zephan was still smirking. “It’s a wonder I didn’t think of this sooner, purely as entertainment. The treaty is gloriously specific and yet beautifully Spartan. I may not kill you, dragon prince, but oh, everything short of that is certainly fair game. So long as you recover. Eventually.”
“You are really fucked in the head, Zephan.”
The humor in Zephan’s eyes faded, but the cruel smile remained. “No. I’m quite rational. You, on the other hand…” A demonic glimmer came back as he twirled a finger in the air.
Leksander frowned, trying to parse what the hell this madman-fae was doing, when a man appeared next to Zephan, dressed all in black and very pale. Not, not a man… Leksander caught the iron stench of blood. Vampire.
A race of fear went through him. Given enough time, a vampire might kill him, especially if Leksander was bound and unable to fend him off. Lucian had nearly gone out that way when he was trying to end his life. But the treaty should still protect him—
The disgusting creature slinked closer, his eyes full-black. Hungry. It flicked a look to Zephan, obviously waiting for his signal.
“You cannot direct my death either, Zephan!” Leksander’s voice was hiking up. Had the crazy fae found another loophole? He’d already infected Rosalyn with a demon via vampire bite…
Holy shit.
“Ah, yes. I was hoping to see that look on your face,” Zephan sneered. “Before the demon took you.”
“You can’t…” He struggled against his restraints, but they just seared more pain through him. “A demon won’t...” Kill him. But Zephan didn’t mean to kill him. What the hell was happening? Leksander watched with wide eyes as the vampire slinked closer. It was a male, scrawny and pale like they all were, and it licked its lips as it climbed on the bed behind Leksander where he couldn’t see it. Fuck. He struggled again, but he wasn’t getting anywhere with that.
Zephan chuckled, a long and low sound. “My brilliance amazes me sometimes.”
“Whatever you think this is…” Leksander couldn’t help jerking away from the slimy-cool feel of the vampire’s fingers on the back of his neck. “It isn’t going to work.”
“Oh, it’s definitely going to work.” Zephan edged closer. “And that taste of angel on you… well, that will only hasten your demise. I have to thank you for doing your part to help out with that.”
Demise? What was he talking about? The blessing from Markos? Zephan was fucking mental, but this made little sense. The angel blessing was supposed to protect him. How could it—
His head was yanked to the side by the hair, and suddenly, twin pinpricks of pain sunk into his neck. Fucking hell! He thrashed against the vampire’s hold for a second, but then the venom seeped into his body and took hold… and a flush of pleasure ran through him… it was so strong, even the pain of his restraints turned perversely into pleasure. His body convulsed, his cock grew rock hard, and a moan bubbled up from deep in his chest. A vague and shrinking part of his rational mind was horrified at what was happening.
“You can’t…” he ground out between teeth now clenched in pleasure, not pain. “You can’t kill me.” Dying this way, in an endless spasm of pleasure while being drained of his magical healing blood… it sent a cold, slinking dark fear seeping through his body.
A fear that seemed to gain shape and clarity as the vampire took long, deep pulls from his neck. The inky blackness coated Leksander’s heart like tar, and his dragon surged, fighting against it in a frenzy of magic that just got more and more wild. The angel inside him—the blessing from Markos—it couldn’t attack the darkness directly, but it was egging on his dragon nature to engage in the fight.
“Kill you?” Zephan’s malice-filled voice was close, but Leksander couldn’t see him anymore, not through his half-lidded eyes and the haze of pleasure crowding his brain. “I’m not killing you, dragon prince. I’m giving you a gift.”
Leksander struggled to understand, but then the vampire pulled harder, sucking out more blood, and that sent another squirt of venom through Leksander’s body, which responded with another convulsion of pleasure. To his horror, he came, his cock jerking and spurting and soiling his pants and his dignity. As the orgasm passed, Zephan’s words gained clarity.
Demon. He was infecting Leksander with demon. But that shouldn’t be possible, and in any event, his fae and dragon natures should be able to fight it off. Shouldn’t they? At least, eventually. He closed his eyes and focused, trying to ignore the waves of pleasure riding him hard, up and down his body, like every nerve ending was set alight by magic. Trying to ignore the biting erotic pain of the fae magic binding his wrists. Just focusing on the inky black demon seeping its way through his system… only it was slowly inching up his neck, pushing against his mind, making it angry and reactive and bitter. His dragon surged again, fighting a rearguard action to keep his mind from being taken over by the foreign invader.
Oh no.
Zephan’s chuckle made Leksander’s eyes pop open. The manic smile on the fae prince’s face made Leksander’s heart lurch. But the true panic didn’t sink in until he saw his own damn tail lash across the translucent crystalline floor.
“No!” Leksander cried, but all that came out was a growling scream and a bunch of dragonfire.
Zephan scuttled back to avoid the spill of blue fire, then he waved his hand in the air. The vampire still clinging to Leksander’s neck withdrew his needle-sharp teeth and slimy lips. The pleasure response to the venom faded, but the pain of his bindings remained. And the demon inside him seeped deeper and deeper into his mind, each tenuous hold shifting another part of his body to wyvern.
No. Fuck! No, no, no!
Leksander fought it as Zephan’s chuckle turned into an all-out laugh. The fae prince was wiping tears from his eyes as Leksander’s feet shifted to talons. His human legs grew into stout, silver-scaled dragon legs, straining the hold of the golden ropes on his wrists as he gained height. As the change inched higher up his body, he whipped his head back and forth trying to ward it off. Stay human, stay human, stay human! The chant had no effect. The wildness was inside him. Inside his head, deep in his heart, his elemental nature coming out. His cock, still rigid and engorged from the vampire’s venom, was the only part of him that would remain the same once his transition to wyvern was complete. He would lose his mind, turn feral, but his cock would be ready for the one thing that wyverns had evolved to do—rape and rape and rape again, until he impregnated a human woman with his seed.
Only Leksander wasn’t bonded with a mere human.
He had loved his angeling from nearly the moment they met. Erelah was the only woman for him… and his wyvern knew that. Even in this rough, knobbed, wild form of his dragon, there would be only one woman he would hunt down and try to force himself upon.
He fought against the encroaching darkness, but silver-scaled wings—not smooth, but rough and tarnished and lumped with brutal bones—sprouted from his back and spread wide, straining even harder against his bonds. His beast. His wyvern. It would be the last thing Erelah saw of him as he attacked her, driven wild, out of his mind.
His love for her would be deformed into an act of savagery.
One that wouldn’t break her body—she was too strong for that—but that would break her heart. Her pure True Love and her soul.
He was desperate to stop the change, but that very despair dropped him over the edge.
The rest of the transformation washed over him and drowned him in a sea of primal thoughts. Lust. Possession. The need to ravish. Carnal and raw and deep. He thrust against his bonds, the fae magic biting into his scaly skin and making him thrash even harder.
“Perfect. Just so perfect.” Zephan’s words were barely intelligible to Leksander’s fading rational mind, but he knew that tone. That smugness. It enraged his wyvern even more. He roared dragonfire. He clawed at the floor and lit the bed on fire.
“Yes, you want her, don’t you?” Zephan’s words were like magic fuel thrown on the raging fiery need inside him.
He roared again.
“Go get her.”
Suddenly, his bonds were loosed. His wyvern lunged for the fae, determined to shred every last fiber of that beast before he claimed his mate, but the creature just grabbed hold of him and wrenched him with a power that stunned him. Lights flashed and dazed him. A squeeze of something tormented his body for a split moment. Then they were returned to the bright sunshine, flying high above the mountains and trees and ravines below.
The fae disappeared, leaving him momentarily disoriented.
Then he saw it… the keep.
His mate was there.
He roared a cloud of dragonfire then charged through it, heading straight for the woman he would ravish until she spawned him a dragonling.