Lust. Charlotte Featherstone

eyes.

      “I fear that you all will die old maids,” Mary admonished. “You put too much stock in what you should be instead of what you could be.”

      “Have you not listened to anything Father has told us?” Prue asked, censure in her voice.

      “I don’t believe in Father’s absurd stories about a faery queen bequeathing to him daughters who bore the virtues. It’s nonsense.”

      Mary had never been a believer. But then, her sister felt unrestrained joy and mirth. She felt desire when a male caller came to tea, or when a rogue asked her to dance. Mary had experienced things that her other three sisters never had. Life.

      Perhaps if Mary had been forced to live the life of a true virtue, Chastity mused, she would find herself believing in faery tales—or at the very least the frightening ones.

      “If you three would allow yourself to leave the estate, you might find a suitor. It is your eccentric natures that make others suspicious, nothing more. Smile, flirt, flash a bit of ankle or bosom for once, you might be surprised what it will induce.”

      “You are far too liberal in your dealings with others,” Prue cautioned. “It is better to be temperate and even.”

      “And boring as the devil,” Mary returned. It was a direct hit. But Prue bore it well as she always did.

      “Come now, we’re sisters,” Mercy whispered, linking her arms with Prue and Mary. “What is there left, if not kindness between us?”

      “I’m only trying to help,” Mary sniffed. “For I have no wish to see you all end up as old maids, and I for one will not sit in my tower room becoming one with you. Tonight I am going to the green, and I am having a dance and a meat pie, and I’m going to go a-Maying as all other young ladies do. There is no harm in it, Prudence,” Mary snapped, “so you may put away your pinched lips and your disapproving frown. Now, who is coming with me?”

      Her question was met with absolute silence. “As I thought. You three are utterly hopeless.”

      The twigs cracked beneath the horses’ hooves as they emerged from the edge of the woods. Before them, sunlight filtered through the leaves that whispered around them. The hounds they brought sniffed the air, their ears alert, their dark, obsidian eyes watching the humans as they prepared for the Beltane festival.

      Niall’s words seemed to whisper all around them. Some by sin rise, and some by virtue fall …

      “Do you believe him? Our king’s belief that our curse will end once we find these virtues?”

      Thane shrugged at Kian’s question as he watched the approach of four women down the path. Niall, while king of the Dark Fey, was also his half brother. As the eldest, Niall had always seemed awe inspiring to Thane, who was younger by five years. He had never had occasion to doubt Niall, nor had his older brother ever been proven wrong. They had very little to go on in regards to the curse, so why not trust in Niall and his vision?

      “Seems a great folly to put any stock in the Bard’s words,” Rinion grumbled. “He’s only a human after all.”

      “Shakespeare,” Avery grunted. “I only cared for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But then, I’m partial to Titania.”

      “To fucking the mortal actress who plays Titania,” Kian corrected.

      Thane raised his hand to silence their banter. Pointing to the women, he commanded silence, then waved his hand, concealing their presence with faery glamour. If the women were to look their way, they would see only the iridescent glimmer of a sunbeam sparkling through the trees.

      Convinced they could not be seen or heard, Thane turned to his companions. “Niall would not have sent us here if he supposed it was foolishness. Every one hundred years, the virtues are born into the mortal realm. They have been born. And they are of age. Our king believes that this is the only way to break his mother’s curse on our court.”

      “Do you think the time is right?” Avery asked as he reined in his black steed to a halt. The women were close and the faery mount could smell their presence. “It’s only been six months since we were here to bury Irian’s woman.”

      “And you stole that maid from the village,” Kian snapped.

      Damn him, Kian was intent on starting something with Avery. Thane sent his twin a hard glare, which Kian naturally returned.

      Like Niall, Thane’s twin was a fey prince, possessed with the cardinal sin of envy. Thane could see the jealousy in his brother’s eyes as he glared at Avery, who harbored the sin of gluttony. Of the seven of them, Avery and Kian were most opposed. As Envy, Kian coveted everything Avery had. And as the host of gluttony, Avery always had more, acquired more and strove for more, which made Kian’s jealousy deepen and simmer. It was a never-ending circle of gluttony and envy, and the inability to ever be satisfied.

      Cursed since birth, Thane had always lamented his fate. However, in times like this, he realized that to be consumed by lust was a gift, as opposed to always needing to have what others had, or always needing more. At least lust could be satiated.

      “She was a luscious armful, that one,” Avery said with a leer as he recalled the maid he had taken from the village. “Many bountiful pleasures to be had in that tasty morsel. I would have shared her, but then she preferred to be devoured whole by someone well versed in pleasure, not jealousy.” He laughed, taunting Kian.

      Thane brought his horse to stand between them. “Enough. We needn’t have dissent between us. We are here for our souls, for the survival of our court. Petty jealousy and taunts have no place now.”

      Kian glared at him, opened his mouth to say something, but Thane cut his twin off. “We can wait no longer. We must find, and possess, our virtues. Put your considerable skills into seduction, not barbs and insults.”

      “I feel it’s time. It’s been six months in Faery, nearly three mortal years since we have seen the virtues,” Rinion, the harbinger of vanity announced. “They were nearly grown then. By now they’re of a suitable age to seduce. No, I agree with Thane. It’s time. As Niall said, we can wait no longer. The curse must be broken. And there is always the chance that our Seelie enemies might also be looking for them. We need to get to them first.”

      Thane felt his body twitch as the sound of female voices drifted over to them, caressing his skin. His sin, Lust, reared its head, heating his blood. His gaze fixed on the sight of the four young women, dressed in richly embroidered silk gowns, passing them by. He knew instantly who they were. The Lennox girls. Their virtues.

      Thane had no difficulty in recognizing his virtue. Chastity. The opposite of his sin called to him like gin called to a drunkard. She was a vision as she walked by him, completely unaware of his and the other princes’ presence in the woods that ran alongside the path.

      It amazed him that a virtue could be a dichotomy. He expected Chastity Lennox to be a pinched-faced maid in a fragile, bony body. But Chastity was not fragile, nor pinched-face. Her face was ethereal, glowing of innocence, but her body … He cast his covetous gaze over her luscious form and felt himself swell. Her body was not chaste in the least. Her curves invited the most licentious of thoughts, the most amoral of all pleasures. What he and his sin could do with that delightful body had him sweating beneath his silk jabot and embroidered waistcoat and jacket.

      Chastity Lennox, he realized, was going to be a delicious reward. He could not wait to touch her, to feel her in his arms. He could not wait to corrupt her.

      Thane shoved his sin aside. Lust was a separate entity, housed within his body. A knowing need that grew hungry and powerful when aroused. A need that was always desiring sex and pleasure. Anything triggered the sin inside him, a bonny face, ample chest or a coy smile. Hell, a stiff breeze had been known to stir the sin within him.

      Most times Thane could subdue it—somewhat. But as a Dark Fey, his natural inclination was toward the pleasures of the flesh. Which, of course, only pleased Lust. Lust very rarely