Fairy Unbroken (3 page)

Keyn
shoved the thin blanket from around his hips. His black and red wings stretched
to their full length and then he rushed out his balcony doors. The morning air
was cool against his bare skin as he spiraled into the sky. The sun had risen
hours ago and he stopped the upward takeoff as he reached the highest treetop.
His gaze followed the slow ascent of the bright sun. Here, the world was right,
a far-away planet below his feet and the endless sky before him.

Here,
he was safe.

Keyn
didn’t stare long. He inhaled the fresh air of
Ireland
and began to fly slowly to
her house. He felt this need, a compulsion, to see her again. She helped
settled his soul after the nightmares. It was risky with their last encounter
but he’d hide better this time.

The
moment he saw the thatched roof a subtle breeze swept past his wings. With it
came the distinct rotting smell of trolls and a layer of fresh blood. His heart
quickened, as did his wings. What if they found her? What if they knew she was
his mate? Dread sunk deep into his heart like claws as he flew faster toward
her home. Keyn hovered over her backyard and scanned the ground. Her canvas was
on the ground, knocked carelessly off its easel. Paint was splashed across
brown grass and imprinted in the thick red substance were footprints. None of
them were human. Anger tore across his features and he bared his teeth before
swooping down. Keyn might not want her but there was no way he’d let the trolls
take her.

He
inhaled deeply, catching the acrid sent of fear and the sweet scent of woman.
He pulled both his daggers free as he rushed forward. Here, in the soft dirt of
the woods, he could make out footprints. Small and human, they were deep as if
she were running. The overly large marks of troll feet were right on her trail.
Keyn growled. Anger boiled and the beast he hid so well scratched at the
surface of his composure. He dodged between trees. Dead branches that had not
survived a mild winter scratched at his skin. Noise broke through his rage.
Clashing metal. Angry screams. A fight.

 
He was gaining on them.

****

Trillian
didn’t even try to understand the fact that these things were attacking her.
She didn’t know or care what they were. There was no way in fucking hell she
was going to stop fighting. She has been and always would be a survivor. The
one with scaly skin and pointy teeth snarled at her. Trillian snarled right
back and swung the sword that she had stolen. The damn weapon weighed a ton and
she completely missed. The thing’s huge bare foot stomped on the blade and the
handle slid right from her fingers. “Fuck you,” she yelled and used her balled
fist to punch it in the face. There was no nose, only two holes, so she
couldn’t break it. She must have stunned the fucker because it stumbled back
with wide eyes.

With
no time to waste, Trillian spun and took off. She would not die in some damn
forest with fucked-up creatures chasing her. Not while her brother was still
sick and the earth still rotated. Her eyes locked on a thick log. If she
switched course slightly, she’d be able to grab it while running. She didn’t
skip a beat and reached for the weapon. It was sturdy in her hands and not as
heavy as the sword.

A fucking sword! Really?

Her
lungs puffed air erratically through parted lips, but she knew if it came down
to endurance, she was as good as safe. All her jogging would finally pay off.
Something latched onto her right leg and oxygen rushed out of her lungs in a
scream as the ground came speeding up toward her. Sharp teeth ripped into the
skin of her leg. The screams were accompanied by two hard smacks of the log
into thick skull. The thing released and she kicked it farther away.

She
scrambled to get her feet beneath her and more ground between them. All she
managed was to stand. Then Trillian come face to face with a motherfucking man
in a loincloth with huge red and black wings sticking out of his back. Shock
didn’t begin to cover it. Her gasp was drowned out by the guy’s roar and the
screeching of those things behind her. Wingman charged past her and she was not
waiting around to find out what the fuck was going on. Or to fully appreciate
the guy in the loincloth. Trillian pressed her soles into the soft dirt and
took off. There was definitely something worse than the devil chasing her.

Fresh
morning air filled her lungs and birds chirped musically at her wild run, which
soon became a controlled jog. The massive tree trunks were beginning to blend
and their sprouting leaves blocked the sun. A breeze tickled the leaves and
sent that bright sun winking between branches. Trillian had one very disturbing
thought—where the hell was she? She spun in a tight circle and tried to gain a
sense of direction. Nothing looked familiar.

She
fought that nasty thought and started running again. There was nothing but
trees and a few scattered bushes that looked like critters of all sizes lived
under them. A noise sounded behind her, the crunching of twigs or branches.
Whatever. She wasn’t waiting around to find out. Sunlight filtered in and out
of her path as she surged through the undergrowth. The trees around her seemed
to thin out. She could see ahead more clearing and caught sight of a grass
field with rolling hills decorating the horizon. Hope spurred her on. Her speed
increased. She’d make it.

She’d
survive this bullshit.

A
hand wrapped around her arm. Her eyes widened and her lips parted to gasp as
she was tugged around. Trillian was scared to her very core of her soul. It was
wingman. He was real and hovering above the ground while his eyes seared into
hers. Those were the same eyes that glared at her while she had her little
tantrum in the shed. This freak of nature was her Peeping Tom. He was covered
in splatters of blood and she could hardly breathe as he released her arm. The
man wiped his hand against his loincloth. A fucking loincloth? Trillian fell to
her knees. This couldn’t be happening. Was he going to kill her? Was he an
angel of death? Why was the pulse between her legs as strong as the one in her
chest?

She
stared up, unable to speak as the world around her dulled. The winged man
reached for her just as her consciousness faded.

For
the first time in her entire life, Trillian fainted.

Chapter Four

Keyn
wanted to scream. He had the woman, his mate, in his arms. She was light as a
feather but even unconscious her face was hardened. Her lips pressed tightly
together and were downturned. Was it a dream that plagued her or simply that
she was unconscious? He did not know and there was no time to find out. The
trolls were on the move. Keyn cradled the woman in his arms and took off into
the sky as the clatter of feet sounded behind him. More trolls approached. They
shot arrows into the sky and he weaved between them. He was nearly upon the
fairy kingdom and his heart swelled. Home was within reach and then he could
let go of this awful human. Surprisingly, his skin only crawled slightly. There
was only the occasional shiver of discomfort at such close proximity. The giant
willow tree was in sight. It was the landmark to the hidden world he called
home.

Keyn
swooped down. He came close enough to land but did not. It was just enough to
warn whoever was on guard. Keyn saw a flash of Whisper’s blue hair and knew the
hardened fairy would destroy the trolls. Whisper was a badass, the scariest of
all the warriors, and Keyn knew the trolls would not live to fight another day.
He passed the fragile barrier that kept their kingdom invisible to the human
eye. Well, most humans. There was this instinct to take the woman to his home,
to keep her protected in his arms. He quickly squashed it. They had a king for
a reason, a good righteous king, so Keyn headed for the palace. There were
giant sunflowers, big enough to hold two full beings, along with high towers
and colored dome roofs. The king and queen resided in the palace square in the
center of their vast and magnificent city.

He
landed with a thud and the golden fairy charged out the palace doors. “What
is...who the hell is that?”

Keyn
shrugged his question off. “Trolls. Whisper is dispatching them.” He went to
hand the woman over, happy to be rid of the feel of her skin, but Keyn found he
could not. He leaned over to dump her into Thame’s arms but stopped. A low
growl forced its way from his lips and Keyn was shocked to hear the sound.

Thame
instantly stepped back and lifted a brow. “Did you just growl at me?” A slight
grin played on his lips. “The only time a fairy growls...”
Is when they find their mate
. Keyn
knew the saying and quickly shook his head. “I was in a fight. My brain must be
injured.” The lie tasted foul on his tongue. He gathered the woman closer and
strode inside.
“I will help Whisper, not that he needs it. You take her to the king.”

Keyn
nodded and walked down the maze of corridors that led to the glass room. Here
the sun was unfiltered through walls of pristine glass. The view was the most
beautiful thing on earth. Keyn walked to the couch and placed the woman upon
it. She had yet to stir, and once again, he found himself reluctant to let her
go. He hovered, shifted a strand of dirty blonde hair from her face. She was
rather pretty, her skin flawless, her cheeks flushed, and her body trembled as
his fingertips made contact. Keyn stepped away, disturbed by these new
feelings. It should not matter if she was mate or enemy. She was a human. The
bane of his entire existence.

“Warriors
have been dispatched.” The voice was deep, regal. King Carrick of the fairy
kingdom strode through the room. The man was not just a king. He was a warrior
and a friend. Keyn bowed nonetheless and stepped farther away from the woman.

“The
troll’s will be eliminated by Whisper,” Keyn said. “I do not think there will
be any alive by the time the others arrive.”

Carrick
grinned. “He is scary with that blade.” He walked to the couch and leaned over
to stare at the woman.

Keyn
felt that growl rise up again, but this time he stopped it before it could pass
his lips. “They were chasing her,” he said quietly.

Thame
entered the room, his golden wings spread wide. He gave the woman a once-over
before collapsing on another chair. “No use. Whisper had all the fun.” He
grinned.

Wick
entered as well, his green hair mussed and his green wings folded against his
back. “Damn bastard. Besides making love to a generously bosomed female, the
only other thing to do is fight. Whisper takes all the action from us.” His
tone was in jest but he spotted a female matching his earlier description. “And
who is this?”

“Keyn
says the trolls were chasing her.”

Instantly,
Wick perked up. “Is she someone’s mate?”

Every
fairy had a woman, a mate, to call their own. With their numbers so few, they
now looked to humans for companionship and procreation. Keyn blocked the
knowledge out. He wanted nothing to do with these filthy, disgusting humans.

The
queen entered. Her gorgeous frame had filled out slightly as a child was
growing in her womb. She came through the door and went straight for Carrick,
grasping his hand with a loving smile before going to the human woman.

Keyn
was revolted by her presence. She was a good woman and made the kingdom proud
as their queen but Keyn could not deal with her human traits. His skin began to
crawl. Since he only wore a loincloth, they all did, those bumps were rather
obvious. A bead of sweat began to form and slowly slid down his back. Damn it,
he wanted to flee, but something, maybe the woman’s progress, kept him still.

“She
must be someone’s mate. Otherwise, the trolls would have no reason to attack
her. Where did this happen, Keyn? Perhaps they came across her by accident and
decided to capture her.”

“In
the woods,” he stated flatly. Keyn wasn’t sure how much to tell. This was his
king. He sighed. “In the woods by her home. Their attack makes sense as she is
a mate.” Keyn frowned. “She’s my woman.”

Chapter Five

The
room fell into a shocked silence. He did not even hear a single breath.

“With
our population dwindling and proof that it can be solved by human mates, you
dare to leave your known woman out there unprotected?” the king asked. He stood
to his full height as anger flashed in his eyes.

“I
do not mean to anger you.”
Carrick frowned. “You do anger me. We’re trying to survive, Keyn. I thought
you, all of you, understood the importance of mates.” He addressed the room
with that.

“The
Goddess may have picked her out for me, but I do not want this woman. She is a
human.”

“I
am too.” Queen Brook stood with a frown on her face. “What does that have to do
with love?”

Carrick
gently took her hand and shook his head. “Everyone leave us.” He glanced at
Brook. “Please.”

Brook
looked pissed. She glanced angrily at Keyn before leaving the room.

Great,
now he was stuck with the king
and
his mate angry. At least he wasn’t shaking at the queen’s presence. Carrick
spoke frankly, but softly. “Does the past still...hinder you?”