WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (20 page)

“My name is Kendra, madam.”

“Whatever.” With a wave of her hand, Viviane dismissed her.

Kendra lowered her head and padded off to the library. Good, thought Viviane, smiling to herself. She’d inspired the novice to educate herself. Now she needed to delve back into her problem. She wasn’t quite ready to give up Cerne as he was the best she’d been with since Bron.

Vivianne sucked in a deep breath. She’d sworn never to think about him again. She had her time for love, now all she wanted was pleasure. It was why she chose the life of a courtesan. But for some uncontrollable reason, she kept throwing herself at Cerne’s feet, like some fawning faerie.

What had she turned into?

A pitiful wretch, is what. You wouldn’t even be able to seduce your way out of Troll Woods.

Viviane shuddered at the thought. Trolls with their misshapen faces and straggly beards were given the short end of the stick when it came to looks. If she couldn’t seduce a troll, she had serious problems.

Perhaps you do have serious problems.

The only problem she had was listening to her overcritical thoughts. Ever since Cerne went gallivanting through his blasted portal, they had been relentless. “Let me rest, for the Gods’

sakes.”

No. I won’t… until you take care of business.

Viviane clenched her fists. When would this stop?

When the human bitch returns to Earth.

“She really wasn’t all that bad. She has a strong faerie spirit.” Viviane padded back and forth, fisting her hair with both hands.

Stupid bitch. You’re as weak as the others.

“Shut up!” She whipped her head back and forth. “Just shut the deities up!”
Is that any way to talk to yourself, Viviane?

“I’m a courtesan, why do I care if one of my customers finds a new toy. Plenty of men in the palace would pay for my pleasure.”

Do they make you scream as you climax?

Viviane wanted to scream now, to stop these silly thoughts. “The payment is better than the pleasure.”

You pathetic wretch. You make me ill.

It was as if someone or something had gotten inside her head somehow. She could control it now, but for how long. “The princess has much power. She and Cerne will mate at Beltane, and I can’t wait to see it.”

You imbecile. Now it’s time to learn your lesson.

With a burst of energy she had no idea she possessed, she found herself flung into the air and slammed against the wall.

Now be a good girl and do what you know you have to do.

Sliding down the wall, Viviane clenched her fists, drawing blood. “Where have I gone wrong?” Her eyes fluttered then she sank into the darkness.

~*~*~

Korrigan opened her eyes. The whore had a heart after all. She would have to try harder. She leaned back and drummed her fingers on the arm of her leather-bound throne.

She’d been able to manipulate her so well, until Rhiannon had to show up in the consort’s chamber. She’d have to increase her enchantment, but with their guards up it would be a challenge—a challenge she would succeed at. With her armies ready to march, time was of the essence.

The door to her chamber swung open. The guard came in and bowed before her feet.

“Rise.” Korrigan commanded. The young guard fidgeted, wringing his fingers. She loved instilling fear in men’s hearts.

He found his voice at last. “Your sister requests an audience.” Wonderful. Perhaps she was here to grovel for the return of her lover. Korrigan cackled. She would love to see Aine on her knees, begging for Sionnach to be returned to her. Then Korrigan would laugh at her. Perhaps a crack of the whip would put Aine in her place. “I haven’t anything better to do, I suppose. Send her in.”

The guard nodded, turned and floated out the door. Korrigan reached down for her favorite whip—the cat-o-nine-tails she used on Sionnach—and smiled. She would love cracking it across

her sister’s pretty face.

At the creak of the door, Korrigan glanced up. The dark-winged figure floated in on a cloud of grey mists. Korrigan blinked as the mists receded.

“Well, well. Look who finally broke down and got their wings.” Korrigan swished her whip in her hand and crossed her legs. “Was it painful to fuck someone else besides Sionnach?” Aine flicked her wings. Good, the slut was getting angry.

“I never lay with Sionnach.”

Korrigan threw back her head and cackled some more. “But in your dreams you did. They grew boring after a while.”

“I did not come here to talk of your pleasure-slave. I’m over it.” Aine raised her chin. “I came here to give my curtsey as a newly winged faerie. I’m your liege.” Korrigan took in her sister’s new appearance. Her sable curls cascaded down her head and her onyx eyes sparkled with the soft glow of the sconces. Her gown of simple black crepe accentuated her newly formed curves. The sleek wings sprung from her back with renewed strength and vitality. Korrigan crunched her fists. The bitch was pretty before, but now she was gorgeous.

“Did I give you permission to travel to Earth?”

Aine took a deep breath. “Since when do I need permission to travel to the human world?” Since you turned my pleasure-slave’s glances away from me, Korrigan seethed to herself.

“Since you betrayed my trust.”

“I never betrayed you!” Aine’s eyes glistened with tears. So much for her being stronger. “I love you, sister.”

Korrigan flicked her whip in her hand. “What did I tell you about love, Aine?”

“But don’t you want to be loved?” Aine asked in a hushed tone.

“I’d rather be feared than loved. That way you don’t have any surprises.” How many times did she have to tell this halfwit that love was a sign of weakness? She’d not put her guard down—not again—not ever. “Do you fear me, Aine?”

Aine stood before her in stony silence. She’d become too proud for her own good. Without a bat of an eyelash, Korrigan raised her whip and flicked it. Smiling, she enjoyed the singing of the whip through the air and the cracking as it slashed across the smooth flesh of Aine’s cheek.

Aine winced, but the tears Korrigan expected did not come. She lifted her hand to her cheek,

tracing the long red gash with her finger. “Not anymore.” She puffed out her chest.

“Well, you should.” Korrigan cracked her whip again, this time marking Aine’s creamy-white shoulder. “Now be gone.”

“As you wish.” Aine turned, flapped her wings and floated into the mists.

Korrigan gritted her teeth. How dare she get so proud and defiant! She hadn’t even cried out in pain as the whip cut into her skin.
Damn her and her ingenious idea of getting her wings!
And damn her for growing a backbone. Korrigan liked her better when she was a cowering waif of a girl.

But now wasn’t the time to reflect on her harebrained sister. She had a battle to win.

“Fergus!” she shouted.

In an instant Fergus materialized before her and bowed. “Yes, My Queen?” She flicked her whip as her eyes flashed. “Inform Generals Gwawl and Llwyd to ready their troops. We prepare for battle.”

Fergus nodded. “It will be done.”

“Very well. Be gone then.” She snapped her fingers, sending Fergus off, and then cracked her knuckles. Everything was falling into place. The White Plains would be crushed and no one would be able to stop her, thanks to her one secret weapon. She threw her head back and cackled.

Soon—very soon—all of Fey would be hers.

Maeve and Rhiannon turned the corner and continued down the hall.

“Your Highness,” came Onora’s soft voice from behind them. “Councilwoman?” Both Rhiannon and Maeve turned. With a graceful bow, Onora smiled.

“Are you feeling better?” Rhiannon took the girl into her arms and hugged her.

Onora nodded. “Thanks to you and Coun...Maeve’s quick thinking, I’m able to run about the castle again.”

Rhiannon grinned. “It was all Maeve’s doing. All I did was run around gathering things for her.”

Onora took Rhiannon’s hands in hers. “Without you running about, I might not be standing here right now.” Her green eyes glinted in the light of the sconces that lined the hall.

Maeve patted Onora’s head. “I’m glad you’re back bustling about. Are you eager to return to the princess’s service?”

Onora gave an eager nod. “May I?”

A huge smile swept across Maeve’s face. “Of course! How about readying Rhiannon’s chamber for the erotic massage lesson?”

Onora’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to!”

“I appreciate your assistance, Onora,” Rhiannon added.

“You're welcome, Your Highness.” Onora bowed and twisted around. With eager feet, she rushed down the hall toward the princess’s chambers.

“I’m happy she’s well,” Rhiannon said, as she and Maeve proceeded toward the Queen’s chambers. “I was scared when I saw her collapse in the garden. I like Onora.” Maeve nodded. “I’m glad you’re warming up to Fey.” She ran her finger through Rhiannon’s curls, an act of trust and friendship.

What would these faeries think when she decided to return to her duties on Earth. She decided not to press the issue. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Thanks for giving us a chance.” Maeve smiled as they came to a stop at a pair of golden etched doors. They were the most magnificent doors Rhiannon had ever seen. “Here we are.”

Maeve clapped her hands. Warm azure light bathed them as the doors swung open at her command. Silver and gold sparkles surrounded them as they entered the antechamber.

“Hello, my princess.”

Rhiannon craned her neck at the sound of his rich seductive voice. Just hearing the deep timbre sent shivers of excitement racing up her spine. “Hello, Cerne.” Cerne sat in a high-backed chair, wearing a long overcoat of sapphire. Crystals and gems sparkled from the shiny material. His gray breeches clung to him like a second skin. Glancing at the bulge in his pants, she was glad to know she wasn’t the only one affected in the room.

Cerne motioned to the settee. “Take a seat,
mo cridhe
, and a glass of wine.” He lifted his glass to his lips and sipped. He gazed at her over the rim, heating her insides. “Ah, the way wine should taste.”

Belenus, who sat in the chair across from Cerne, laughed. “I hear you have an affinity for ogre swill?”

Rhiannon sighed. “Fine. Humans don’t know how to make wine.” She grabbed a glass off the table and reached for the decanter of crimson liquid.

Cerne caught her hand. He clucked his tongue, wagging his finger. “The princess never serves herself.”

Rhiannon plumped down onto the plush divan. “Oh, really?” Cerne nodded. He rose from his chair, picked up the decanter and poured the ruddy liquid into the glass, swishing it against the crystal. With a seductive smile, he approached Rhiannon and sat next to her on the settee. “Turn to me,
mo cridhe
.” Rhiannon turned to face Cerne. What was he trying to do? With a smile, he held the glass up to her lips. She opened her mouth, patiently waiting. Cerne angled the glass, allowing some of the wine to splash on her lips and into her mouth. The sweet taste of elderberries and spices tingled along her tongue. It was like nothing she’d ever drunk before. She swished the liquid in her mouth, savoring the sweetness.

She swallowed the heavenly liquid. Warm and heady sensations filled her body. “What the heck is in that stuff?” Rhiannon asked. “It’s delicious.”

“Now do you see what I mean?” Cerne teased. With a sinful smile, he bent down and lapped a drop of wine from her lips. He stuck his finger in the glass, swirled it and pressed his digit to her lips.

Rhiannon’s heart thumped in her chest. Her tongue, of its own accord, darted out and licked the rosy liquid from his finger. “Is this proper behavior?” she breathed.

Maeve and Belenus chuckled. Rhiannon turned her gaze to where Maeve sat perched on Belenus’s knee. “There is nothing improper with a consort sharing wine with his princess.” Maeve reached for her glass of wine and splashed some onto her ample bosom.

Belenus allowed his tongue to attack her damp mounds, lapping up every drop of wine.

“Ahem.”

Heads turned to Radan Evenspring, whose face was etched with a stern expression.

Rhiannon blushed. “I apologize, High Councilman.”

Evenspring nodded. “The others should be here soon.” With an unceremonious plop, he took a seat in an empty chair. “Don’t quit enjoying your wine just because I’m here.” He reached for his own decanter and poured a glass. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his legs and took a swig of wine.

A gust of air blew in to the room, announcing the arrival of General Windstorm. He took in the surroundings, bowed to Rhiannon, and turned to Evenspring to offer a curt nod.

“What’s the deal with those two?” Rhiannon whispered to Cerne. She reached for her wine and took a sip.

Cerne shrugged. “I hate politics, really. But they both were vying for the High Councilman position.”

“Shouldn’t it go to an elder?”

Cerne nodded. “General Windstorm thought a military expert would aid the elder council in defeating Korrigan. The elder council did not agree. Radan was chosen.”

“That makes sense.” Rhiannon laughed to herself. No matter where you go, politics was sure to follow. Yippee! “You faeries are more like humans than you realize.” Cerne coughed on his wine. “Don’t let the others here you say that.”

“Certainly, we can’t injure their faerie pride, now can we?” Cerne chuckled and breathed a trail along her ear. “Are you ready?” Rhiannon shivered as flames of desire raced through her body. Having such thoughts before meeting your mother had to be taboo, even in Fey. “Ready for what?” she asked like a dolt.

“To meet your mother and father, of course.” Cerne pointed to the others who had just arrived. “The elder council has arrived. It’s time.”

Rhiannon felt like thwapping her forehead.
Duh!
She took a deep breath as nervousness started to creep in. “There’s no turning back now.” Cerne took her hand in his. “Have no fear, my princess.” Nothing to fear, indeed—except offending the White Faerie queen and king who may possibly be her real parents.

She nodded, and allowed him to help her rise. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.” How funny, Rhiannon thought, with an internal chuckle. That seemed to have become her mantra recently.