A Hunt So Wild and Cruel (Mythic Holidays, #1)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

With a loud clang, clang, the clock in the sitting room strikes midnight. Nothing moves as it rings out all twelve strokes. I’m frozen—I barely breathe. But as the last stroke dies, three towering shapes emerge from the blackness, as if the shadows are doorways for their passage.

We are three riders of the Wild Hunt—ghosts of Fae warriors, sent to you by the mercy of the god-stars, to grant you a chance for redemption.

“I already explained,” snaps Helix. “She is responsible for ordering the murder of the Fae in this land, and she treats her people unjustly. Unless she changes not only her ways, but her heart, her doom will come to pass, as Paemon has foreseen.” He looks at me again. “We are your only chance. Submit to the instruction and correction, or you will regret it.” I clench my teeth harder over the word “submit,” and pain shoots through one of my back molars. “I am the queen. I submit to

“Challenge accepted,” he says.

“Hello, brat,” Helix says softly, in his honeyed voice. “It’s time for your first lesson.”

I’m beginning to think that’s what you need, little queen—a good hard fuck by a man who knows how to deal with brats.”

“You need someone to take you beyond yourself, to seize control of your body and fuck you brainless. You need a man to bend you over and fill you up, to make you crave release so badly you forget your own name. You need someone to stroke those pretty lips until they open, and then thrust himself into your mouth and pump until you gag—yet you don’t protest, because you crave the taste of him. And after he spills his load down your throat, you look up at him, and all you can say, through the tears streaming down your cheeks, is ‘May I please have some more?’”

“A bit of harmless fun. I can get serious when I need to.” “Promise you won’t do it again.” He laughs. “I won’t swear any such thing.” “You must not do it again.” “You don’t control me, little queen.”

“I want you, you beautiful little brat. I want you so badly I can hardly breathe.”

I’ve become the thing I hate.”

I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. Maybe never. “Stop,” I choke out. “My stomach hurts—gods, don’t do anything else.” “But you’re so cute when you laugh.” He gives me a broad, sweet grin. “So damn fuckable.” “What?” “Did I say fuckable? I meant adorable.” He winks.

“You feel how you feel,” he says simply. “No one can tell you otherwise. You can pretend, but your emotions remain what they are. They have reasons and value, and they require no explanation or justification to anyone.”

“Lauriel.” Again the sternness in his tone, the note of command. “What?” I snap. “Don’t touch yourself.” My cheeks flame. I suppose I made it rather obvious what I was planning to do. “I’m just changing my clothes.” “I mean it. Tonight, pleasure is something you must earn. Disobey me in this, and I will have to punish you.”

“You know what I need,” I grit out. “Say it, love.” “I need to come. Make me come.” “That was an order.” He smacks my breasts lightly, and I gasp at the sting, the flare of pleasure. “Don’t command me. Ask me. Nicely. And remember that I love you.”

Why did no one ever tell me how much fun it is to make people’s lives better?

I can’t possibly give you anything better than this, ever.” “You already have, though,” he murmurs, cupping my chin. “Your very existence is a gift.” He tips my face up and leans down, kissing me tenderly. Fuck, I’m crying. “This isn’t us,” I breathe. “You and I—we’re not sweet like this.” “I won’t tell the others if you won’t.”

I sense their love—my kings, my husbands, these men who know my past and present, and whom I trust to walk with me into our shared future.