Fairy Flavor (10 page)

“I have no quandaries about using human torture techniques. Or I could simply

fly you into the clouds and let you go.” He held his sword handle tighter, using

all his strength to keep from cutting its head off. It remained silent, its eyes

wide and its lips pressed tightly shut. “Where?” He raised the sword and

spread his wings.

“I don’t know…” It sputtered, cringed. “The female was here with us

last night but she must have escaped.”

Terror ate at his heart. She escaped into the damn Irish hillside with

who knows what creatures in her path. The sword lowered, meeting the

resistance of flesh and bone. He barely made a sound as he slumped over and

joined his comrades in death. “She’s out there…” Pain, unlike anything he ever

felt, centered on his soul. “Gather the others; take flights over the forest…” His

order was obeyed instantly; Thame nodded and jut off into the sky. Carrick

could only stare out the trees, somewhere his Brook ran and he prayed to the

goddess it wasn’t straight into danger.

****

followed this handsome stranger and passed a ton of trees. They all looked

alike, so she was lost. Over a thin stream, they continued before he released her

hand and slowed.

“We should be far enough away, so they can no longer track us by

smell.”

She felt oddly safer when his fingers twined with hers. “Where are we

going?”

“Until those things return to their hillside caves…it’s not safe for

anyone.” He knelt beside a tree and fumbled in the grass near a gathering of

flowers that gave her a mouth-watering view of his tight ass. “We’re heading

toward my home.”

In the sex Gods house with tables, couches and beds, that did not sound

like a good idea. Of course, all that meant nothing; he didn’t have any wings

like her fairy man. “Are we really that far from the fairies?”

“We are really that far from the fairy kingdom. There are a few fairies

not part of that realm.” He turned to her and produced the prettiest flower she

had ever seen. “It’s an Ainleog, my favorite.”

A beautiful light fragrance met her nose. Pink and white the petals

seemed fused together to create a shell of exquisiteness. She tried whole-

heartedly to keep from flinching or licking her lips or jumping him as he

placed it above her ear. The petals rested feather light in her blonde hair. Why

the hell did she want to lick this man? Brook frowned. She loved Carrick.

“What other fairies are out here? I thought they all lived in the kingdom.” A

good change of subject seemed like the best course of action.

“Ah, you’re new to our world.”

She nodded, casually stepped away from him. Proximity was a good

thing with this man and his damn sensuality.

“Fairies like me choose not to live in his kingdom.”

Okay, she was positive her mouth just dropped open. He was a fairy?

“…but you don’t have any wings.” She blurted, but it was the truth and if he

was a damned fairy, why didn’t he sprout wings?

His smile faltered. “No, I do not.” His eyes left hers. “Not all fairies are

born with wings.”

Why did such sadness wash over his gorgeous features? “There’s

nothing wrong with that, I mean, I don’t have any.” Wow, way to be lame,

Brook. She rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

“You don’t need them. You’re already magnificent.” He spoke the

words slowly, almost a whisper.

So, he’s stunning and romantic but he was no Carrick.

“We’re almost to my cottage.” Valen extended his hand and Brook held

her breath as skin stroked skin.

Focus, what was that saying, think about England when you’re horny.

Suddenly the words escaped her memory. She didn’t need a distraction for

long. The trees were, thankfully, not an endless maze and their looming

branches finally thinned out to reveal his home. She didn’t exactly know what

to expect from a wingless fairy but not this.

His home was on a high cliff. It was two stories of gorgeous

unrestricted views. The waves battered the rock below, the birds whistled

mercilessly. Wildflowers sporadically joined moss to create a lush, natural

yard. “It’s beautiful.” She smiled at the scene. It was gorgeous but this was not

her home with giant sunflowers and her fairy man.

“Valen is home!”

Two female voices yelled. Brook had a distinct feeling this would be a

bad revelation. The two women were, of course, tall gorgeous blondes. One

had blue eyes and the other brown. Their gaze was only for Valen. They were

thin enough for her to push over as they rushed daintily passed but she behaved

herself. Besides, they were both nearly naked, the gown material sheer and she

was not touching that. Their arms wrapped around him while their anxious lips

rubbed exposed skin on his neck and chest. Awkwardness crept up fast, and

Brook turned away. Suddenly the view was fascinating.

“Ladies, please. I want you to meet our new guest.”

She heard moans of disappointment and turned as Valen placed an arm

over each woman’s shoulder.

“This is Brook…”

The blonde with the blue eyes scrunched up her face. “What is she

doing here? Are we not pleasing you enough?” Both women looked startled by

the thought and stepped closer to their man.

Back to the scenery for her, she heard Valen murmur in their ears and

she added, “I’m just staying until I can return to the fairy kingdom safely…or

my fiancé finds me.” She said that last bit rather loudly.

“Well I don’t like her.” The brown-eyed woman spoke up.

“Enough!” Valen left their sides. “Brook is a guest, and you will each

act like civilized beings.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, which sent tingles

right between her legs. “This is Bridget…” He motioned to the blue eyed

woman.“…And Grace.” His eyes shifted to the brown eyed one. “They will

behave or return to the woods where I found them.”

“What, do you pick up strays?” Or was it the forest or those fucking

trolls. She glanced over at Valen who smiled brilliantly.

“Please…” He motioned to the front door that stood ajar.

Talk about choices. She now knew what it felt like to be stuck between

a rock and a hard place. Forest full of trolls or a charming wingless fairy? She

glanced at the forest, took a deep breath and turned toward the open door.

Carrick paced the bedchamber. They had searched for hours with

nothing accomplished. No tracks, no sign Brook was even in the area.

“Still no word, Sir.” Mord entered, his body hunched with a distinct

limp. He was lucky he did not attain the worst wounds. “Wick has still not

opened his eyes.”

With a nod he returned to the balcony. He longed to see his friend

smile, hear any sarcastic comment, and if Wick did not survive this, the trolls

would suffer a serious population drop.

A scowl formed on his lips as he looked out over his lands She was in

trouble because he loved her. The trolls would not take a fairy, the bastards

took the future queen, and he feared her current condition. He couldn’t close

his eyes, as the images of Brook bound, bleeding and helpless assaulted him.

His eyes had crept closed twice and he had woken in a cold sweat. If they hurt

her, he would not stop until he slaughtered every troll in existence.

“You should sleep. I’ll wake you if any news…” Mord hovered around

the door. When he cringed in pain he sat upon the edge of the bed and wiped

the sweat that beaded his brow.

“I cannot…” There was no way.

“I must say, sir; she’s been a liability from the beginning.”

Carrick turned with a deadly stare. “You are my king, my friend and

your kingdom needs to be repopulated. If you search for many women instead

of just one…”

“Mord!” He’d heard this argument many times before. “Please…” He

washed a hand over his face. “Not now…” Mord nodded in his direction and

stood. There was no assistance offer, and the limp seemed to be under control

as he silently left the king.

****

up to a small, cozy kitchen. There was a quick walk through to an amazing

library. Jealousy seared through her as she stared at all of the well kept books

that graced dust free shelves. Weeks of reading material, by authors she knew

and some she didn’t recognize. She longed for a cup of tea and a few

uninterrupted hours in here.

Her eyes drifted over the titles as they walked toward a set of stairs. A

steady railing was under her hand and the view of Valen’s ass was not bad

either. The bathroom was a dream discovered with an insane bathtub she

planned to waste several hours within. Thankfully, he skipped Bridget, Grace’s

and his room. She didn’t even want to speculate about that arrangement.

Her room was a gold and white masterpiece. It left her speechless the

moment she walked in, or maybe it was a shirtless Valen on her bed. Brook

frowned, why did she keep thinking that? He showed her where the clothes

were. They would no doubt be tight if she was stuck borrowing from the

blonde bitches. He did the honors and picked out something for her. She

couldn’t have cared less as long as it was clean and not sheer.

After glancing out her massive window, he left her alone to dress and

prepare for dinner. She was not too crazy about the gold sundress, she was

more boots and dress pants type of girl. A meal, however, sounded wonderful.

She was bordering on famished.

Her clothes were now rather pitiful looking and she quickly peeled

them from her skin. Remembering to be a polite guest, she carried them over to

a corner and tucked them on a chair.

The mirror caught her eye as she turned back. She stood in her panties

with wind blow hair and noticed a change in her posture. It was straighter,

stronger. Had she changed so much in such a short time?

Brook purposely slumped as she walked back to her dress. The soft

material slipped over her head, the straps settled on her shoulders and glanced

at the window. It was the fifth or sixth glance now, hoping Carrick would

appear with his charming smile and a knock. She missed him so much, his

touch, his smile, God, did she miss his voice.

“Are you ready, yet?”

Brook couldn’t quite place which evil woman it was. “All right,” she

murmured and opened the door to an aggravated Bridget. Her blue eyes bore

holes into the pretty dress she wore. No more words were exchanged. That was

just fine with her; useless rhetoric could be saved for, well, never. She would

be out of here soon.

They both walked silently down the hall lined with tapestries. There

was a quick mental note to enjoy each one later. She shuffled down the steps in

flat shoes that matched the dress, through the library, and longed for nice glass

of wine. Then Brook went into the kitchen.

She stopped in the doorway and Valen had this strange, predatory gaze

that sent shivers up her spine. Again he was shirtless, which of course made

her mouth salivate, but that was easily blamed on the food. He wore tight blue

jeans, and dear lord, when he turned around she used sheer determination to

tear her eyes from his tight ass and focused solely on the chair before the table.

Brook attempted to look at the chair, and keep her gaze on the food.

Brook would keep her thoughts on hunger, not of the sexual nature.

Instantly, the art of swallowing Valen’s cock down her throat popped into

existence. She groaned, what a treacherous mind.

“Would you like wine?” his smooth voice rang out.

Yeah, being drunk and horny was always a great combination. “No

thank you, water will be fine.” Brook smiled, and scooted over as Bridget

settled beside her. Grace grabbed several bowls of food and proceeded to

occupy the other side. Valen settled across the table. She took a moment to

glance around as the girls decided to dive into their food.

It really was cozy. A big window portrayed the surrounding woods in a

gorgeous light that almost seemed to make the trees glow. Plaques with Irish

blessings were scattered on crème colored walls. She read one on a safe

journey and several with blessings from God. Did that mean Valen believed in

the human God and not the Goddess Carrick was always mentioning?

The utilities were stuffed into a small section, which left the rest of the

room with an open feeling. Her stomach protested, food was right there and

she had yet to touch it. Brook grabbed a thick biscuit, and ladled some stew

into her bowl. When her teeth sunk into that soft bread, she bit back a moan

The flavors mingled on her tongue and she wanted to shove the whole

thing into her mouth. She glanced around and took a bigger bite. The spoonful

of stew was even better. The broth was rich and the potatoes soft. “This is

amazing…” she said between mouthfuls.

Grace looked up and scrunched her face in suspicion, her mouth

crooked unattractively. “…thank you.”

There was no way her stomach would complain now. She ate until her

insides hurt and then managed to stuff one more perfect biscuit into her mouth.

She chewed with a sigh, watching the women stand and begin cleaning. Did