Seduction's Call Read online

  Seduction’s Call

  Copyright © XXX 2012 by Dakota Trace

  Cover Art Copyright © XXX 2012: Dakota Trace

  All rights reserved

  Eirelander Publishing

  www.eirelander-publishing.com

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this story may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher/s.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Dedication

  To my bestest buddy, Ash, who lets me bounce ideas off her all the time. I couldn’t do this without your wonderful, if sometimes sarcastic, feedback.

  And to Dena, who without her input this book wouldn’t have happened. Thanks much for the impromptu lessons in fire-play!

  Chapter One

  Standing guard on the edge of Bilé’s Great Hall, Flannery Baghadur scanned the room, his eyes looking for any threat against the God of the Underworld. As the youngest son of Camulos, the God of War, he took his job as the head of Bilé’s personal guard seriously—perhaps too seriously if anyone asked his brother.

  But then again according to Kennet, I should be busy giving Dad grandkids and not off protecting his father-in-law. I swear, since he became TrueMated the fool thinks every man wants to be shackled to a female. Besides no woman needs to be at the mercy of my berserker side.

  Which is why his position at Bile’s side was a godsend. In battle, there were none more brutal than him except for perhaps his father. Not even his twin came close. Simply put, his duties to Bilé gave him a place to release his rage.

  He was just finishing his scan when he caught Bilé beckoning him from his ornate throne sitting on the raised dais. Making his way through the dancers, he ignored the heat of the stares from demonesses and banshee alike. He wasn’t here tonight to find a lover or even a submissive woman; he was on duty, and as such he wouldn’t play regardless of which woman approached him.

  Climbing the steps, he took his position behind Bilé, standing close enough to hear him, but far enough back he could see the entire room. At his side, perched on rocky outcrop, Jansen, his little fire demon snitch, awaited his command. His eyes briefly settled on a lone woman, a dark-haired banshee, sitting on one of the many benches at the edge of the crowd. The bored look on her face assured him that he wasn’t the only person who wished they were elsewhere.

  “How does my daughter fare, warrior?” Bilé didn’t bother to look directly at him, but continued to watch the crowd. Flannery wasn’t surprised by the question, considering he’d just returned from his father’s home in the human realm. He tore his gaze away from the woman to answer his lord’s question.

  “Good, your lordship. She's happy and keeping my brother on his toes. They shall be here in about an hour or so.”

  Bilé nodded his approval. “I can’t say I’m unhappy with the pairing.”

  Flannery moved away from the wall. “I can imagine so, considering you knew long before they met they were TrueMates.” A sudden thought struck him. “You don’t have any more daughters, do you?”

  Bilé cocked his head. “And if I did?”

  Flannery’s face hardened as his posture stiffened. “Then I would have to warn you I’m not in the market for a TrueMate. I heard about what my brother went through. Thanks but no thanks! I don’t need that particular frustration in my life.”

  A low laugh escaped the God of the Underworld. “While I do have the need of fresh blood for my armies, unfortunately I have only one daughter. Unless you’re into banshees…then I do happen to have a god-daughter who might suit you. Or if you swing that way, I have a son who’d probably give up his eye teeth to get his hands on you.”

  Flannery sighed, knowing exactly which son Bilé referred to. Belenos. The half godling, a product of Bilé’s relationship with one of his demoness concubines, hadn’t been discrete in his desire for him. With Belenos’s demon nature, he’d easily be able to withstand Flannery’s kink of fireplay, but the idea of touching a man left him cold. He wanted soft female flesh to play with. “Not even for a chance at your crown, your lordship.”

  Bilé chuckled. “Well, let me know if you change your mind and I’ll arrange it for you.”

  Flannery bit the inside of his mouth to keep his ire at bay. He could arrange his own sexual liaisons. The last thing he needed was a god’s interference. But manners dictated he be civil or lose his head. “Of course, you’ll be the first to know, but don’t hold your breath.” He relaxed against the brimstone, going silent. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over.

  * * * * *

  Braelyn fidgeted and rubbed her fingers over the buttery leather of her dress. Sitting on one of the benches pressed up against the wall of the great hall, she was out of place here in the Underworld. Inwardly, she longed for the quiet moors of her home where temptation didn’t exist.

  As the eldest daughter of the renowned banshee, Aislin, Braelyn knew she should logically prefer mist over the burning radiance of the Underworld. Fire was known to kill banshees and she was no exception despite her godly blood. As I found out when I gave into temptation to touch a candle during one of my soul-collecting missions.

  While the warmth of fire drew her like a moth, the resulting death was no different for any of her kind. Fire killed them far easier than it did humans. Even the slightest brush of flame could kill the immortal banshee.

  I have to remember that. Despite my desires, this loud boisterous world isn’t for me. It will tempt me to my death, or at least that’s what Mother says. Alas, not even she can decline a royal decree from Bilé. He requested our presence at this gathering.

  Thankfully he has dimmed the brimstone which would kill us, and without the temptation of the searing heat, the Underworld is a rather dull if not macabre place. If it weren’t for the golden godling hovering behind Bilé, I’d be tempted to slip away.

  Dressed in the standard fare of Bilé’s Guard, the man was off limits to everyone – even her, the daughter of a banshee and god. A mere brush of fingers over any part of his strong body could result in an instant death because every member of the Guard was a trained killer that reacted quickly and most times without thought.

  Licking her lips, she still couldn't help but stare despite the perceived danger rolling off him. Standing with his back to the wall, the man’s gaze never quit moving. She had barely been able to breathe earlier when it had focused on her. Dear Goddess, he’s beautiful.

  His intense countenance, long blond hair tied back from his face, along with those piercing blue eyes, rocked her to her core. The broadness of his shoulders and chest tapering down to his slim hips attested to his placement as one of Bilé’s personal guard. And she, who never wanted a particular man before, wanted him. She sighed as he moved forward to talk to Bilé. “He’s beautiful, daughter.”

  Hearing the echo of her thoughts made Braelyn jump. Looking up at her mother who was now standing next to her, she winced. Aislin must’ve come from the banquet line while she’d been watching the dancers. “Excuse me?”

  A gentle look of knowing settled over Aislin’s delicate features. With her long silvery mane held back by a wreath of ivy, wearing a slender sheath of softened red leather, Aislin looked stunning while only appearing a few years older than her daughter.

  She placed a hand on Braelyn’s arm as she settled down on the bench next to her daughter. “You may fool many with your serene expression, daughter, but I can feel your attraction to the young man protecting Bilé.”

  When Aislin leaned closer, pretending t
o press a kiss against Braelyn’s temple, the young banshee stiffened. Her mother’s forthcoming words sent chills of trepidation down her spine.

  “As can our Lord. He’s requested a meeting with you after the banquet.” After giving her what Braelyn was sure was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze, her mother released her arm and stood. “I told him you’d be honored.” She smoothed her hands down her dress. “Now, do our family proud, sweetheart. This opportunity only comes once a millennia. Don’t waste it.” Then she disappeared into the crowd of demons.

  Disbelief and anxiety swirled around her. The need to run, to hide, was strong. Braelyn wanted nothing to do with the God of the Underworld. Trying to cope with the reality of the upcoming meeting, she continued to sit and stare blankly into space. That was until a plate was shoved under her nose.

  “You haven’t eaten a thing this evening, òinseach.” Like honeyed molasses, the voice flowed over Braelyn’s senses, despite the Gaelic insult it spoke. Swallowing hard, she looked up at the man she’d been admiring earlier.

  Close up, he was even more magnificent than she’d thought. A small scar, silvered with time, graced his right check. Idly, she wondered how he’d gotten such a mark. Lifting her hand to touch it, she jerked her hand back as he shoved the plate of food at her.

  Fumbling, she barely managed to save the plate from dumping. “Thank you.” She continued to stare up at him.

  A low growl rumbled free from his throat. He crossed his long arms over his chest. “You’re staring again. Do I have something on my face?”

  “No, but your scar…it has me curious.” She reached up to touch it once more, her curiosity overriding her common sense.

  “Unbelievable! You dare touch a member of Bilé’s personal guard? Not just once but twice? Hasn’t anyone ever warned you, little banshee, about the dangers of that? I could kill you in the blink of an eye.” He scowled.

  “But you won’t. I’m no threat and it’s not like I tried to sneak up on you with a nefarious plan.”

  A low grumble escaped him. “You really are an òinseach. Finish your meal; I’ll be back later to escort you to Bilé’s private chambers.” He turned to move away.

  Lifting her hand, she panicked. She didn’t want him to leave, at least not until she found out his name. “Wait!”

  He paused, glared at her over his shoulder. Finally he sighed. “What?”

  “What do I call you?”

  He stared blankly before answering. “Nothing. You call me nothing.”

  She cocked her head, loving the man’s gruff fumbling. “Odd, I think I at least deserve to know the name of the man who’s called me an idiot.” She rubbed her chin, thinking. “Or did you mean harlot?”

  At his shocked expression, she continued. “You see òinseach could mean either. It’s all about the context. While my wanting to touch you could be considered the act of a harlot, you called me that before I tried.” She studied him with care. “Alas, then you must’ve called me it at first because you thought me an idiot, and then again later because I was too forward.” She gave him a small smile.

  He studied her with apprehension. ”You speak Gaelic?”

  She nodded. “I apologize if I was too forward. Although, I do find it quite interesting how the Gaelic language has so many different meanings for one word. It must be a plus for you.”

  She played with the fork resting on the edge of the plate but continued to talk, oblivious to his shock. “While I speak six languages, I’m most comfortable speaking Gaelic, French, and English. How many do you…” Just as she moved to spear a dainty morsel on her plate, he interrupted.

  “Enough, woman! I am the head of the guard. The only reason I came over is because Bilé ordered me to see to your needs, but it did not include listening to you prattle on about nonsense.” His command boomed through the room as his hands clenched at his sides. Around them everyone grew quiet. Ignoring the obvious onlookers, he scowled down at her. “So you will eat every scrap of food on your plate by the time I return from my perimeter check, or I shall force it down your throat.” He spun on his heel and left without delay, giving Braelyn a brief but enticing view of his taut backside.

  She gave a deep sigh of appreciation before sobering. Goddess, what am I going to do? What could the God of the Underworld possibly want with me and why do I think it has something to do with the godling who just left? Why else would he assign such a man to protect me?

  Chapter Two

  Striding back towards the dais after he’d completed his perimeter check, Flannery seethed, still pissed that the misty scent of the girl refused to leave his nose, tempting him to want things he shouldn’t.

  Babysitting a beautiful young banshee shouldn’t have even been on his list of duties to Bilé, and definitely wasn’t his idea of a good time. The things I let myself get talked into and I can’t even blame my brother this time. Nope, this time it’s all me. I had to up and join his protective detail. I’m a warrior, dammit! Tugging his flask of his ambrosia-laced wine from his pocket, he took a quick swig of it then pocketed it again.

  “Why such a face, young Flannery? Braelyn isn't giving you more trouble than you bargained for, is she?” Bilé’s well modulated tone was like fingernails over a chalkboard. Flannery paused to scowl at him. “I’m a warrior, not a babysitter.”

  The corner of Bilé’s mouth twitched. “Just consider yourself a member of your topside Royal Protection squad. The court believes she’s my god-daughter and nothing more. If it gets out I want to meet with her, danger will rise. You know how unsettled the court is at the moment after Rancin’s last attack. In addition I’ve tried to keep my actual relationship to Braelyn a secret. If they think they can use my niece against me, then her life may very well be in danger.”

  “Still jumping at shadows, Daddy?” The melodious tones of his brother’s TrueMate, Jasmyn, drew Flannery’s attention from Bilé.

  A genuine smile graced Bilé’s face. He drew his beaming daughter into his arms. “Of course, pumpkin. There are many who would love to take my throne.” He nuzzled her dark hair before releasing her. “It’s been too long.”

  Stepping back, she was enveloped by her lover and mate, Kennet. The mischievous wink his brother gave him made Flannery twitch. I detest that damn wink. He’s up to something.

  Scanning the room, he didn’t see anything out of place. His attention turned once more upon the intriguing banshee Bilé had charged him with watching. It took most of his formidable self-control to keep from sprouting an erection when he spoke with her earlier, and now was no different.

  In the flickering light being tossed off by the huge torches set in the wall sconces, her creamy skin glistened. It's obvious she’s unused to the heat. The urge to track every droplet over her body filled him, to see more tiny beads form then trickle downward as he teased her with his fire…

  Pushing the thought away before he disgraced himself, he remembered his first taste of the humid air of the Underworld and how he’d sweated. Unfortunately that brought memories of his first glimpse of a master demon wielding fire cups on his bound lover. Intrigue had kept him rooted in place as the light flickered off the glass orbs clinging to a slender demoness’s body as her master moved them over her bound form. She’d arched and writhed in ecstasy as they slid across her sweat-sheened skin. Thus began my love affair with fire-cupping.

  A trickle of sweat ran down his own back as he caught a glimpse of Ramses, one of his lower lieutenants, watching Braelyn. A low growl built in his chest before he could stop it. Even if she’s interested in you, she’s a banshee and they don’t even allow fire in the same room with them, so get those thoughts out of your head, Flannery.

  He clenched his teeth as he looked to see if the little banshee was returning Ramses stare. His breath caught in his throat as she licked the trickling juices off the tines of her fork before stabbing another piece of sliced meat off the plate he’d given her. His damned cock stirred despite the fact he couldn’t have her. He wanted t
o groan. This is neither the time, nor the place to get a hard-on!

  “You okay, brother?” Kennet drew his attention back to the conversation around him. A huge ass-eating grin covered his twin’s face. “You look like you might be constipated or…” Kennet glanced around. “…some young thing has finally caught the all mighty Flannery’s attention.”

  Unbelievably, Flannery felt his face heat with embarrassment. Leave it to his twin – the one man he couldn’t hide anything from. The fool had hit a little too close to the truth for Flannery’s comfort. He shifted a bit, glaring at his brother. “Knock it off, you idiot.”

  Kennet’s lips parted as if he realized he’d been correct in source of Flannery’s distraction. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He leaned closer to Flannery. “Who is she?” He gave his best dog-boy expression and put his hands together. “Come on, dude. You can’t keep this from me. I may be mated but I’m not dead…” His muffled whoosh corresponded with his TrueMate’s well-placed elbow to his stomach. It was obvious she wasn’t impressed with his exaggerated begging.

  “Keep it up, Master, and you will be.” The sugary sweetness of Jasmyn’s verbal reply was at odds with the dark glare she gave Kennet. It made the rest of the men chuckle when her hands found her slender hips.

  Kennet had the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows at her, sweep her into his arms, and dip her. The loud smacking sounds he made had Flannery shaking his head.

  He shook his head. “Are you sure you want to be related to him, Bilé?”

  The god roared with laughter. “Seeing as they already mated, I don’t have much of a choice.” He wiped at his eyes. “Now, you on the other hand, I would like to add…are you sure I can’t adopt you?”

  Flannery snorted. “Not likely. I already have one self-appointed prick for a father, I don’t need another.” A huge, warm hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s nice to know what you really think about me, Son.”