Bear Naked
The Wizard King
The Hob
When the Black Queen kidnaps one of the White Queen’s nephews, Robin Goodfellow is sent to ensure that the young prince safely returns to the bosom of his family. True to his role as Oberon’s Hobgoblin, he is ready for anything…except meeting his truebond, the very delicious, very
Michaela has dreamed about a flame-haired rogue named Robin Goodfellow since she was a little girl, but everyone knows Puck doesn’t really exist. In real life, it’s a dark-eyed man named Ringo who makes her heart beat faster.
She is closer to her dream man than she thinks, and nobody knows it better than Robin, who wears the guise of Ringo. But there’s competition for her love in the form of Lord Raven, who holds a secret that will rock the foundation of Robin’s world. As a Black Court delegate does the unthinkable, leaving an enraged, grief-stricken Robin hanging onto his humanity by a thread, only Michaela has the power to bring him back from the killing edge— if she survives.
“Hell and damnation. The man is becoming a master cock blocker.”
Robin Goodfellow strode briskly down the marble encased corridor, his boot heels clacking on the dark hardwood beneath his feet. Being summoned by his king mid-seduction was becoming more and more common. If Robin got interrupted one more time his balls were going to fall off from lack of use.
Not that they hadn’t been emptied recently. They had. Just not into a willing woman.
Whatever was going on, why he was having the most erotic dreams of a dark-haired lovely, Robin didn’t know, but he was willing to bet it had something to do with the sculpture Shane Joloun Dunne, a hybrid with the power to see the future, had created. It graced Robin’s private chambers, a taunting reminder that his bondmate was out there somewhere, waiting for him.
Ever since he’d placed it on his mantelpiece, he’d been dreaming of her. Dreaming and spending into his sheets.
Today, for the first time in months, he’d seduced someone, if only to get some damned relief. And even that was to be denied him as he answered his king’s summons.
He paused briefly at the door to the library, captivated by the sight of a dark head of hair with a rooster-like ruff peeking over the edge of his black leather wingchair. Why she insisted on wearing her headbands that way he didn’t know. Was it a sea nymph thing?
The moment she saw him she growled.
He bowed deeply, amused that such a homely face hid the heart of a lioness. “Lady Cassandra, how do you fare this fine day?”
Cassie grumbled and glared at him. She’d been with him for two months and had learned his ways. Surprisingly, like the Blackthorns and Dunnes, once she became used to him she was unafraid of him. “I thought he wasn’t going to come here!”
It was a shame, really, that she did not belong to him. Robin could see past the too-long, almost homely face to the sweet, determined strength she bore like a badge of honor. Her hissed indignation as she sank lower into her seat had him chuckling in earnest.
“I swear, Robin, if he sees me I’m doomed.” Bright turquoise eyes dominated her face, paler than usual.
“Hide then, if you must, but if you asked for sanctuary it would be granted.” Robin would give his word, if need be, and tie her to his house. Not a thing he did lightly, but since she’d saved a dear friend of his Robin owed her.
The Hob
She shot him a look so full of sorrow he tensed. “No. It wouldn’t.” She sank down in the chair. “I’ll just stay here, if you don’t mind.”
One day he would get her to tell him what was wrong, but he’d learned not to push. To hear a siren sing her sorrow was to have even the staunchest heart break in half. “Not at all. Shall I shut the door?”
He could barely see the negative shake of her head over the top of the chair. “No, but thanks anyway.”
“As you wish.” Robin left the room, puzzled once more by the mystery of his guest. She intrigued him in a way that few did, and he found himself loathe to leave her side, even at the behest of his king. He hated to admit it, but the woman’s dry wit and glowing smile had grown on him in the two months since she arrived, but Shane, acting as the Child of Dunne, had declared that Cassie was not to be his. Therefore, Robin was free to do as he wished despite her presence in his home, hence the pretty dryad who had just left his bed and home.
He’d served his lord for more centuries than he cared to count, and would continue to do so for centuries more, despite untimely interruptions and uncomfortably tight leather pants.
Still, having his fun interrupted had done nothing for his temper, something that showed in the formal bow and razor sharp grin he greeted his liege with at the front door.
He ignored the brief, indrawn breath behind him as he escorted Oberon past his library to his study. Cassie would disappear soon enough, eager to hide from the High King. Why she feared Oberon so was part of the mystery that surrounded her. Once more, he found himself intrigued, but he had little time to figure out the vagaries of the sea nymph. If Oberon had come to Robin rather than summoning him to the Gray Palace, the situation was not only dire but required the utmost discretion.
Robin closed the door, certain that Cassie would not dare eavesdrop on Robin and the High King. As to the dryad in his bedchamber, she was long gone, having used the portal therein for just such emergencies. Only Robin could activate that particular portal; not even Oberon could enter his bedchamber without an invitation.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, my lord?” Robin swept his long auburn hair behind him with an almost effeminate gesture, one that wouldn’t fool Oberon for a second. Anyone daft enough to think that the Hob was weak would get what they deserved, and Oberon had never been a dimwit.
“I need someone I trust to go to Philadelphia.” Oberon’s waist-length silver hair gleamed in the reflected moonlight coming in through the huge wall of windows that showcased the rugged, snow-covered Rocky Mountains. He’d chosen a truly inhospitable place to put his Gray Palace, and had allowed Robin to build his home beside it. Robin loved it, loved the view of the mountains and the lake, the freedom to run as he wished, when he wished, as did several of his people.
“You need me to check out those rumors we’ve been hearing?” Robin accepted the glass of cognac Oberon handed him. He swirled the glass in his hand slowly, warming the amber liquid. They’d made themselves at home in each other’s places far too long for him to be offended that Oberon had gotten into his liquor. Robin watched his liege through his lashes, observing the nearly imperceptible movements of frustration and annoyance that anyone not closely associated with his king would have missed.
“Titannia is up to something.” Oberon faced the windows once more, and Robin hid a wince at his arctic tone. Oberon had adored his ex-wife, been devastated when she’d betrayed him. Her duplicity had cost him, emotionally and politically. He’d lost a piece of himself when the gods severed their bond, and he was darker for the loss. “Gloriana’s nephew has been taken.”
Well. Titannia had certainly upped the ante this time. “Shall I retrieve him, sire?”
“No. Not yet. For one, we don’t know where she’s stashed him.”
