He must have sensed her distress, because he came to a halt and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue forced its way into the orifice and their tongues slid against the other, seeking affirmation. Seeking that connection.
Both sighed, when everything settled into place. When fear and distress disappeared and was replaced with contentedness and togetherness.
"Fear not, my dearling. I will always come back to you.”
"Good,” she whispered, her voice laden with the pleasure he'd given to her in one kiss.
That alone had her primed for some action. She could tell from the sweat beading at his temples, that he shared her need but he shook his head and banked down the fires.
His control was tougher than hers, because she'd already broken. He could have lain her down on the soil with the itchy grass scratching her every inch and fucked her in the middle of nowhere, for all she cared. She was that hot, that quickly.
A shudder snaked its way down her spine and she whispered, "Can't we just fly to wherever we need to go?"
Again, he came to an abrupt halt.
"You would be willing?" he asked, stunned surprised lacing his words.
She frowned. "I wouldn't have asked if I weren't. I don't get why we haven't been flying from the very start.” She glared down at her ankles. "This grass itches.”
He was staring at her in a way that suggested one of two things. She'd grown two heads or. . . . for a moment, her mind was stuck on that thought. What was the opposite of growing two heads? Lost two heads?
Her thoughts were scattered, when he whispered, "You truly aren't repulsed. You weren't lying.”
Eyes widening in umbrage, Heather kicked his shin and yelped as pain shot through her toes. Hopping on one leg, she grabbed her foot and glared up at him. "No. I wasn't lying, thank you very much. Whatever I say, I tend to mean. That's how honesty works, isn't it?"
"My life has not been filled with honesty, Heather. You are more refreshing than a fountain of the purest water to a man dying of thirst.” He suddenly knelt to the ground and reached for her hand. Pressing his lips to her fingers, he looked up at her and whispered, "I am honored to be your mate.”
A little bewildered at the extreme reaction, Heather cupped his jaw with her free hand and in a voice as soft as his, murmured, "I am honored to be your mate too, Fade. Truly.”
His eyes closed and for a moment, his mouth worked but no words escaped. He nodded and slowly rose to a standing position. As he moved, his wings arched and flexed until they were fully spread and nearly twice his width.
Or perhaps that was an optical illusion. Just like the span of a human's arms was that same person's height, she felt sure the wing thing worked the same way.
All she knew, was that as soon as those feathers were out, her need burned within her again. Seeing them, scenting their essence. . . . it was like wafting cocaine in front of a coke head. She wanted more.
For a moment, Heather's head was filled with images of her riding his cock as they flew to wherever they were heading, but she said nothing as he held out his hands for her. She reached for them and did as bade, when he said, "Jump up and clasp my waist with your thighs.”
He proceeded to wrap his arms around her back like protective webbing as soon as her thighs gripped him and his wings began to waft back and forth. She groaned as his essence permeated her nostrils again but buried her face in this throat to hide her need. It was hardly a helpful position, for his scent was strong there too.
Urging herself to be silent and to stop being so damned horny, she felt the jolt as soon as they'd taken off and were flying. She could also tell they were hovering.
"Why aren't we moving?" she asked.
"So you can accustom yourself to the movement.”
She didn't reply, simply buried her face in his throat again and let him do what he had to do. When they took off for real, she merely tightened her grip on him. Not one part of her feared that he'd let her go or that he'd place her in any danger. She was safe within his arms. Safer than she'd ever been. He'd kill himself before he placed her in any danger, she knew that implicitly. Trust had already blossomed between them and was like a Summer's garden, already brimming with flowers.
Flying, the movement of sailing through the air, wasn't jerky as she'd expected. But smooth. In a way, that made more sense, for what were his wings but huge versions of a bird's? Bird flight wasn't jerky or awkward. They used the wind to soar higher and to drift lower. Fade did the same.
There was a chill in the air that told her they were high. She could have looked down, could have peeked over his shoulder, but Heather knew it would prod her motion sickness into kicking into gear.
Something she hadn't told him.
Before any journey, Heather took motion sickness tablets. Be it the subway or the car - she always felt ill, when she was within a vehicle that moved too fast for her insides to cope. It was why she walked everywhere. After her move to Pennsylvania, she'd bought a car and learned how to drive. When she was in control of the vehicle, the sickness wasn't so bad. But it was still there. Lying in wait to pounce.
So far, she'd not experienced any symptoms and wondered if it was because she was too horny to feel sick, or if it was because Fade's movements were soft and gentle. The brush of Mearth's sun against her head and back weren't too uncomfortable as the wind gushed against her and cooled her down.
In fact, as she processed it, Heather realized her body was enjoying the sensation.
However, she still felt no desire to look over his shoulder.
A stiff breeze whistled by her ear and even had she wanted to, it would have put paid to any conversation between the pair of them. Which was a shame. She wished she'd brought her earphones and MP3 player to while away the time, because they flew for hours. By the time her legs felt cramped, they were in the throes of a full-blown cramp. She'd gone way past pins and needles and numbness. In fact, as soon as he put her down, she knew she'd just collapse into a puddle of goo.
When the blood eventually returned to her extremities, and pain returned with it, Fade would owe her about five orgasms.
That number increased as the journey seemed to be without surcease.
Gradually, however, she felt the change of motion and realized they were descending. He was riding the headwinds and his wings were no longer moving but were held taut. The soaring motion was a peculiar one. It made her stomach flip about but it provided such a sensation of freedom, that her body couldn't reject it and make her sick.
When they eventually landed, Heather heard Fade's panting breaths and immediately, felt guilty.
She'd been inwardly complaining about a numb ass and Fade had been doing all the work.
She did what any woman in love with a fool of a man did, she berated him. "What the hell did you think you were doing? Have you ever flown that long before? You're exhausted.”
Heather leaned back to glare at him and glared all the more at the slight smile on his weary face. He looked worse than he'd sounded, which was almost impossible. In the darkening light, she could see little but that twitch of his lips and the look of exhaustion written into every line of his face.
Now the wind had stopped battering them, she could feel the shivers running through him and felt like hitting him all the more. If she could have done, she'd have jumped down but her legs wouldn't let her.
"Help me down, Fade. I'm making it worse for you, but my legs are stuck in this position.” That he didn't argue told her how tired he was and together, they managed to separate themselves. Immediately, as she'd predicted, she fell to the ground. What she hadn't predicted, was that he did too. Albeit, in a controlled way.
They lay on the ground, each groaning at their own aches, but Heather swiftly noticed that this was a different grass. It didn't itch or prickle, but was smooth. Almost like moss. Far more comfortable, in Heather's opinion and it led to the belief that they'd crossed from one land into another. For the length of time they'd taken, they could have cro
ssed into another world.
She would complain, but at the same time, if he hadn't have flown, they'd have had to walk such a distance. Christ, she far preferred this option to that.
"Where are we? And where was the market?" Why she hadn't asked before, Heather didn't know. As soon as they'd set foot on Mearth, she'd been like a kid in a candy store. Mouth agape, wandering around like a fool.
"Jender. Were in Halstor.”
His pants had settled down now, but the briskness of his retort told her he was still winded.
"Why couldn't we stop before? Did we have to travel all this way?"
"Halstorn troops were marching towards Jender. Wasn't safe to stop.”
His words were almost drowned out by the sounds of metal clanking against metal. To Heather, it sounded like a clash of swords. But Fade didn't attempt to sit up, which meant two things. Either he was too exhausted to even bother fighting, or he knew what the noise was.
Fade was the sort who'd fight until his last breath, so she relaxed and remained slumped against the floor not even bothering to sit up and face the people nearing them. Soon, they were surrounded by a fifteen strong guard. In the dimness of the setting sun, she could just make out the letter 'J' that was printed in an almost calligraphic typography and the decorative swirls told her without much thought that they were in her parents' castle. 'J' surely stood for Jender?
It was the only logical assumption, considering Fade hadn't made one move to try and defend the pair of them.
That had to be, because they were safe.
"Rise and declare thy right to be within the Jenderian Palace keep.”
Fade's tone was almost bored, but Heather knew it was really weariness. Her anxiety for him overweighed any thoughts about finally meeting her parents. "I am Fade of Haden. True heir to the Dark Throne. This is my wife, my mate and Princess, Lady Heather of Jender.”
"Your lies and your enemy blood will send the pair of you to the Tower.” the guard retorted. "Lady Heather has been dead these past two decades. How dare you come here and add to our beloved King and Queen's grief.”
"As a Prince of Mearth, I demand the right to an audience with King Henrik.”
In the dark of the night, it was impossible to discern the guards' reaction to this. However, they heard whispers and then an, "Alright. But it shall have to be in the morning. Ain't no one allowed to bother their Majesties once they've retired to their chambers. You shall have to come with us and we'll hand you over to the Palace Guardian.”
To Heather, he whispered, "Considering your father has to be nearing his one hundred and fiftieth year, one has to congratulate his staying power.” Immediately understanding what he meant and blushing like a prepubescent teenager at the thought of her parents having sex, it took a few seconds for her father's age to settle in her brain. Before she even had the chance to freak out about that, Fade began speaking to the guard, "I shall be sure to inform their Majesties of my treatment, as soon as I visit with them.”
He grunted as he curled upward and jumped to his feet. He bent down and helped her stand. Even though her extremities had had time to return to normal, she gasped as soon as her weight hit her legs and stumbled. Fade caught her but one of the guards also stepped towards her to keep her upright.
"Mother Mearth.” he gasped out.
Hearing his cry, the guards spun around and his words were repeated a dozen times by the men surrounding them.
"It's her.”
"It's the wee Princess.”
"Mother Mearth protect us.”
"Mother Mearth be thanked.”
"She looks just like the Queen.”
Upon this last uttering, the entire group dropped to their knees in a bow so low their foreheads touched the ground.
Unsure of what to do, she looked at Fade, who merely smiled. He needed rest and soon and in what she hoped was a regal tone, murmured, "Thank you for your kind words, men. But could you please show us to this Palace Guardian? We are both sorely in need of rest.”
Like frogs, they all leapt as one into a standing position and they complied so quickly with her request, that Fade and she were encircled in their protective grouping and were shuffled into the palace.
She would have liked to have seen where she was going. But not only was it growing very dark, the grouping around them was so tight and the men were all so tall, that she could see very little.
By the time light surrounded them, the guards dispersed and saluted to a man in a similar uniform, but this one had more gold in the decoration around the 'J'. He sneered at the head guard, who was obviously informing the Palace Guardian of her heritage and then, she was on the receiving end of a lot of points and it was the Palace Guardian's turn to drop to the ground, nose and forehead pressed to the floor, ass in the air.
A little flushed at such a reaction, she whispered, "You can rise. We just want to rest.”
The Palace Guardian leapt to his feet and hurried over to her, his eyes eating at her face with a greed that unsettled her. "Princess Heather,” he breathed. "Welcome home.”
Clapping his hands together, a team of women and men appeared out of nowhere. All of them did the nose-to-the-ground-ass-to-the-air thing and then jumped up, when he clapped his hands again.
Heather didn't really have a chance to look around. She saw honey colored stone walls, large fireplaces filled with a profusion of flowers and paintings and statues in weird shapes and sizes. It looked like how she'd imagine a castle on Earth, but not.
Only as Fade reached for her arm and urged her onward, did Heather truly realize how tired she actually was. Some starch had returned to her legs, but they still wobbled and as they moved, the Palace Guardian - a man she thought was more like a butler - garbled on and on about something or other. While she felt guilty, she didn't process one word. Instead, she was concentrating on placing one foot before the other and not falling down to the ground. The latter terrified her more than anything. The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself and there had to be a hundred-strong crowd marching behind them.
Their steps echoed around the corridor and she blanked them out, relieved to the point of crying, when the Palace Guardian came to a halt before a door and opened it with a flourish.
Fade stepped into it and a second later, Heather did too. The Guardian entered, closed the door and bowed again.
The whole bowing thing was quickly growing tedious.
"Is there anything I can do for Your Royal Highnesses? Do you require water for bathing? Do you wish to dine?"
"No. Have a member of the guard stand outside our door,” Fade answered. "We might awaken early, earlier than breakfast and will want to eat then. We will also wish to bathe in the morning and I need some clothes and so does her Royal highness. If you could make the arrangements. . . .”
The Guardian nodded, something which probably gave him rug-burn on his nose and jumped up before disappearing.
The thought made her giggle and Fade cocked a brow. "What the fuck is all that bowing about? It's a wonder he didn't graze his nose just then.”
He shrugged. "It's the way here in Jender. Each kingdom has their own customs. I would imagine you grow accustomed to it, but I've heard about your parents. They don't seem the sort to need such strictures. My father, on the hand, loved all that pomp.” Fade shook his head. "There will be many changes in my kingdom, if he has indeed died.”
"What like?"
Fade scratched his forehead and then, proceeded to disrobe before her as he answered. She was hard pressed to concentrate as golden flesh was revealed to her hungry, if exhausted, gaze. "The serving maids were made to bare their breasts at all times and were little more than royal prostitutes, who had to make their services available to the men visiting the castle.” He grimaced. "I have always been ashamed of my father. And that is one of his least disturbing dictates.”
"Christ. What a creep.”
Another twitch of the lips. "I like this word. Creep. Yes. He was that.”
/>
As more of his flesh was revealed, Heather realized something. It was difficult to discern, because his golden skin just seemed to shimmer all the more, but she bit out, "You're sunburned.”
"A little,” Fade admitted with a shrug.
She glared at him. "We need some salve.”
"No. Don't be silly. It doesn't hurt. Does it look painful?"
She had to admit that unlike the human version, where the skin looked as though it had been cooked, his looked even healthier. He literally glowed.
Fuck, he was sexy.
She shook her head and he smiled placatingly. "I'm fine, dearling. Now, are you coming to bed? Or do you intend to hop in fully dressed?"
Heather flipped him the bird, to which he immediately laughed.
Chapter Nine
As she shucked off her high-tops and track pants, Heather couldn't deny how much she loved to hear him laugh. He did it so rarely, that it was so wonderful to hear the masculine sound of amusement.
She pulled of her track jacket and then her T-shirt and in her bra and panties, walked over to the enormous bed, into which he'd just climbed. "This room is a bit. . . .”
Over the top.
Gilt upon ornate, ornate upon gilt.
In a way, Fade suited the room. He blended in with all the gold. The walls were honey-colored, but they were adorned with almost room-long tapestries depicting, in gold and silver, battles and other various scenes.
A huge rug covered the entire floor and considering the room was larger than her entire house's floor plan, that was no mean feat. Four armchairs were grouped together around a small table on one side, a large desk with the ancient version of an office chair was against another wall, console tables littered the room weighed down with ornaments and objet d'art.
That this was her birthright, astounded her.
And it was only a guest suite.
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