Fairy Flavor (3 page)

friends before all else. He held his stance outside the bedchamber trying to

ignore the whispers from the lovers within. When the door opened, he already

made up his mind. He’d take any punishment for disobeying his king.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Brook graced his eyes.

“I didn’t know he was going to be such an idiot.” Her tone held pure

sympathy.

“I was being a king…and…a bit of an idiot.” Carrick held out his hand

and Wick gladly accepted. “How are the others?”

“Some bruises and wounds that will last less than a fortnight. We await

your orders. I do apologize for…”

“Wick…this woman is strange, attractive and smart. The decision on

both your parts were well thought.”

He nodded; saw Brook’s half smile at the half compliment. “Do you

need Brielle’s services?”

“I’m well.” Carrick turned to see Brook squeeze Wick’s shoulder and

scurry into the bedchamber. “I’ll return shortly. Do you want Wick to give you

a proper tour while I’m away?” He missed her touch already.

“Nope, I’ll wait for you.” She grinned as she said the words, and

Carrick left with a distinct bulge under his loincloth.

Blood and bandages, Brielle sighed. These boys always liked to play

rough. At two hundred and forty five years old, she’d seen enough war for two

lifetimes. She glided through the room of groaning men and several who held

particular body parts in agony.

“Who’s hurt the worst…” she asked quietly and waited for Flance to

direct her. She had a wonderful relationship with Bray and him. Most night the

three of them would relax and wait on the sunflowers for Mord to return from

duty. Some nights, she waited alone. True to his nature, Flance stood and

pointed at Thame. This man was more like her little brother than a handsome

fairy cursing as he sullied the furniture.

“You know me, can’t stay clean,” he said with a forced grin and shifted

so the gash under his arm was visible.

She clucked her tongue and kneeled before him. Her long fingers

stretched out. Her yellow and white wings flared. This was a superficial wound,

though he was bleeding a lot. Her abilities to heal were not as great as the

others in her family, but she was the last of her kin to exist. Brielle closed her

eyes and she pictured the wound. Slowly heat began to emanate from her

hands, her breathing slowed, her heart thumped loudly and the healing process

started. This power swirled from her being into his slashed skin. The flesh knit

together like a torn garment. Blood leaked profusely until the last strands were

secured. It would take a few days for the magic to hold.

“No heavy movements on that side for two days…”

He nodded, and she turned to the other fairies.

It was mainly a few bruises, but Wick was a bit bloody. His forearm

had a small slice that took only moments to heal. She sat beside him as he

spoke to Flance. Each telling their tale of events until the King arrived. She

smiled at Carrick, and motioned for him to sit down.

“I am well. Wick bled all over me.” The man in question snorted beside

her. Brielle waited for the men to leave; there would be a meeting to discuss

those war hungry trolls.

She was alone again, in the room that smelt of spilled blood. She

scrubbed her hand across a patch of white dress that was now marred by red.

The fight was over, the wounded healed and she stood to return home. It was

her little sanctuary on the edge of the kingdom. Her wings spread, her feet

lifted from the ground when her name was called. Mord stood in the doorframe

and the simple sight of him made her smile. “Hello, Love.”

“Is everyone well?”

She nodded and walked to him, tried to sway her hips and grab his

attention. Her excess display seemed to go unnoticed. He had so much on his

mind with the kingdom and their very existence it was no wonder he wasn’t

interested in making love. “They returned to the battlefield…”

Mord nodded, placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and walked back out

the door.

He meant well. She knew in her heart he was just preoccupied with so

much. That reasoning didn’t stop her core from weeping or her heart from

aching.

Brielle flew out the window and over the multitude of dome shaped

homes. She longed to live in a grand place such as the kings, but Mord wanted

to live on the outskirts for privacy. She would not blame him for their solitude,

some days, she couldn’t be happier. Their little abode was a collection of her

favorite items. There was a potted plant in every window. A porch made of

fragrant wood and a nice little rocking chair Mord had made for her with his

own hands. She landed on the creaking steps, and walked to her cozy spot in

the chair. There was always a book, sometimes many, around. She picked up

the hardcover she had snuck down here from the surface. The pages were

smooth beneath her fingertips and the spine unbroken despite her reading the

first eight pages

She sat beneath the full moon, reading a book with human

colloquialisms she didn’t understand. How can a man be hung? That would be

the death of the male not pleasure in the female.

It wasn’t a long wait. Eventually the sound of fluttering wings brought

her from the novel’s strange world. The blue sky held a few clouds and her

true love. He landed on the steps; his expression told of his mood, the pressure

had to be building for his exhaust to show. “Bad meeting…?”

Mord nodded and walked to her. His body sluggish, his hands fisted.

“He won’t listen to me…”

“The king?” Several arguments had recently rocked her man’s

relationship with the king. It was usually about their future, the lack of children.

The thought made her touch her own barren torso.

“He doesn’t think sometimes…we need to procreate. There has to be

more fairies born…” He paced the porch. “We should go up there and grab

some women. Just keep them down here until they can bare us some

offspring.”

The thought always made her stomach heave. How could he even think

such a thing? Even if it was for the future of their species, there had to be

another way. “He must have his reasons,” she muttered quietly, and he sat on

the top step, his hand covered his face.

He was such a handsome fairy. The moment they met she fell for his

charming personality and that silky blond hair. He looked like a winged Viking.

Brielle moved and knelt beside him, her hands on his shoulders. It had been so

long since they joined. Their honeymoon had been the first and only time she

felt a man within her. She was alone so often, if the need arose she’d simply

please herself. Her fingers began to massage his tense muscles; Mord brushed

her away and stood.

“He lives by his heart, and in a few decades, there will be no fairies

remaining.”

“Don’t say that, Mord. If all works out with Brook…”

“The science proves it will work, they will create a child, but that will

only be one life!”

“…And what of me…of us?” Her heart sank. “Will you have me spread

my legs for a human just to procreate? I want a little baby with you, love.”

Brielle wanted a boy with his hair and a girl with her wings. She wanted to

give birth, to watch their first step and hear their first words. She wanted

memories of Mord playing with two little children, smiling; she longed to see

him happy and smiling as he had so long ago. She wanted a family with the

man that held her heart.

“It’s not about us…” He threw his hands into the air. “There are more

important things than us…I have duties to attend to.” He flew away, as he

always did when she mentioned their lack of children or whenever she pushed

him toward sex.

Did he just not desire her? Was she that hideous or was she not good at

pleasing him? He seemed satisfied by their first union, but maybe that was an

act to make her feel accepted. Brielle covered her face with her hands. Mord

was all she had, and if he didn’t love her, how could anyone else? She wiped

the tears with her fingers. She was silly, being all emotional when the trolls

were attacking and there might be a new queen. Shame on her for thinking so

selfishly.

She stood, cleared her throat and returned to her lone rocking chair.

Mord was right; they needed to protect the species from extinction. She opened

her book and returned to the glorious world of her romance novel.

****

that murder trial she’d juried for hadn’t compared. After all this craziness,

Brook still wanted some rock hard cock. She planned to look all sexy and

irresistible when Carrick returned. This urge to be with him was disconcerting.

She’d only known the fairy for a damn day, but what a fairy he was.

Wick had stopped by with a tray of food. She sat quickly on the small

balcony off his room, looking around this bright and wondrous kingdom.

Could she really call this home? She snorted and bit into a flaky piece of fish.

Sure, stay here with someone she barely knew and eat dinner alone for eternity.

She stuffed another big piece of fish in her mouth.

“You’re even pretty frowning when you eat.”

Talk about bad timing. Carrick stood in the doorframe wearing a

scrumptious loincloth with a familiar bulge. She chewed fast, nodding her head

like an idiot as he sat beside her. “Hi,” she mumbled and sipped the water that

tasted a bit like champagne; at least she thought it was water. “I didn’t know

when you’d be back, or I would have waited.”

He leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her jaw. “Did you want to

go for a tour of the kingdom now?”

“No.” She grinned, staring away from the picturesque sunset. “Right

now, all I want…is you.”

****

didn’t budge. He was absolutely mesmerized. She placed the sweetest kiss on

his forehead. It did more than excite his libido, it filled his heart with

something more, something he dared not examine now.

Brook placed her hands on his chest and found his lips. The kiss was

like coming home, sweet, tender and slightly naughty. Her tongue teased his,

created an allure his cock couldn’t oppose. He watched the sun setting as she

knelt before him. Her lips pressed against his throat. They parted so her tongue

dragged along his flesh straight for his flat nipple.

Her mouth discovered just how sensitive he was, inflicting sensual

havoc over his body. She kept discovering the perfect spots to provoke by

exploring with her fingertips. Just above his belly button, and apparently the

side of his hip was receptive to her touch. Her hands were on his thighs, and he

groaned. Did she finally make up her mind?

Brook pulled the cords that kept his raging manhood at bay, the flimsy

cloth jerked apart and her hands were orgasmic torture. She gripped his

erection and brought it firmly into sight. He was hard enough to spear a damn

tree and there she was dragging her fingertips over the length.

****

she want to be his queen? His body began to shake, and he hoped she didn’t

noticed. All her attention was on his cock. She caressed the head with her

fingernails, scrapped down to his base and cupped his balls. Pleasure shot

through his body, and replaced nervousness with ecstasy.

He waited, disappointment settled in his gut like a stone. Brook moved

away, stood tall and licked his jaw. That terrible feeling of failure didn’t last

long, as her shirt lifted over her head and revealed those breasts. Carrick leaned

forward, grabbed her hips and pulled her close to taste those little pink buds.

His mouth collapsed over one, sucked dangerously hard. Hands in his hair

urged him on, as she looked skyward and moaned.

****

opened her eyes and felt a fine mist fall. It covered her bare skin as she turned

from Carrick and pulled her pants down. They slowly slipped over her hips and

down her thighs. He caved when they reached her ankles, his hands gripped

her ass cheeks and squeezed. His palm rubbed against the tender flesh as she

bent further over and glanced out at his kingdom. He was kissing each globe,

running his tongue along her panty seam.

In one smooth move, he tugged them down. Brook kicked away the

useless clothing; the mist now covered her entire body as he stood behind her.

His hands gripped her breasts; his legs separated hers as she was ushered to the

end of the balcony. The railing was so cold against her skin, but that fell into

the backdrop.

What she did noticed was Wick, fluttering higher toward their exposed

position. Her eyes widened, she clasped Carrick’s arms and tried to turn. There

was no time, he’d see everything and embarrassment turned her pink.

“Carrick!” She tried to her best scolding voice and turned to face the other

fairy just as he reached their position.

“Sir…”

“What is it, Wick?”

She cringed, held the moan as Carrick’s lips fell onto her neck. His