Dangerous Woods

Being the only werecat in a kingdom run by werewolves means a hard life for Laura. She is the King's favorite dancer, so it surprises everyone when she is given the role of emissary and sent away. It gives her the opportunity to learn of a life outside of the castle, and also endears her to the werewolf knights who guard her safety for the journeys.

Of all the knights, Sir Lucan is the only one who despises her openly, thinking her unfit for the role. She's inclined to agree with the alpha werewolf. She does not belong in the kingdom, let alone in a position of power.

She is on her last mission to the Kingdom of Feitrem, after which she is to take the King in her bed for the first time. Except things are not as they seem. The suicide mission leaves her alone and vulnerable, with no knights to escort her way…

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

“Ah, but do you remember how to dance for me?” he asks with an emphasis on the last two words.

Her eyes widen at the peculiar question. His fingers tighten on her chin, enough to draw blood from her delicate skin where his nails dig into them. From the corner of her eyes, she sees Sir Lucan baring his teeth in an almost snarl. “I have always danced for you, my King,” she answers carefully.

“Good girl,” he says. “Give me a kiss.” He does not wait for her to respond as he pulls her chin forward forcibly until his lips are on hers, fingers clenching hard on her jaw to pry her lips open so he can taste inside her mouth. His tongue seems to be everywhere at once, sliding over her teeth and around her tongue. She resists the urge to bite him, knowing that the repercussions of hurting the King would be swift and harsh. She obediently follows when he links an arm around her waist and pulls down to sit on his lap.

He tastes of grapes and burning alcohol. She goes slack in his arms, not wanting to displease the King. She lets out a distressed whimper that he mistakes for pleasure, his fingers hiking her skirt up, past her stockings, exposing lace garters that she wears beneath it. She reacts without thinking then, clenching the hem of her skirt and pulling it back down.

He chuckles and pulls away. “Shy little thing, aren't you?” he comments, the corner of his eyes wrinkling in amusement. “Have you let anyone touch you?”

She shakes her head, mortified that he is asking what he already knows. None of the dancers in his court is allowed to lay with another. Even the maids pity them sometimes, for their inability to even talk to another man without risking the King's ire. She is special in that regards, because she is a dancer who got away.

Perhaps, she should have run further. She thinks of the kiss that she's shared with Sir Lucan and swallows the lump in her throat. Something must have shown on her face because he asks, “Have you been a good girl for me, my dear?”

She flinches. “I've been good, my King,” she says looking down.

His fingers are tinted with red when he pinches her chin again. “Perhaps I should check you here, hmm? Would you prefer that?” He shifts her on his lap, dragging her legs open until she is straddling him on the throne. She puts her weight on her knees and doesn't rest on his lap, like he wants to. He wraps his arms around her small waist and pulls her to him.

She yelps, placing hands on either sides of his head to keep from falling forward completely. She dare not move when she feels his hands on her thighs beneath her skirt, nor when he unlaces the garter she wears to hold her stocking up. She feels his fingers on her bottom, clenching the soft flesh there and cupping her behind in front of all the men and dancers. She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears of humiliation. “Please, my King. I have not laid with anyone.”

He grins, pleased by her answer, and then pulls her forward to press another kiss on her closed lips. “Good girl,” he says and his fingers slide beneath her garments.

She hears a low snarl from the knights, and suddenly, she is released.

“Dance for me.”