Fey Born

by R. Garland Gray

  “You are not Lana,” he stated dully. “You are not my bride. I am not fooled. Why are you here, fey born?”

  “Keegan, what have they done to you that you doona recognize me?”

  His eyes turned murky. “They clipped me.”

  Tears spilled down her flushed cheeks. “I know,” she said in an agonized whisper just before a horse’s delicate muzzle pressed to her temple.

  “Lightning,” Lana choked, barely able to respond to the animal. Reaching up, she touched a smooth forehead. “You must forgive me.” She smiled sadly. “I have no apples drizzled in honey for you.” She kissed the soft muzzle and quietly pushed the stallion away. “Please, not now.”

  Her guardian mate stared at his sea-etched cuff on her wrist. He wet his lips, his face deathly white.

  Lana held on to her hopes and slowly removed the cuff from her wrist. “I believe this belongs to you.” Reaching out as if she gentled a spooked horse, she removed her dragonfly cuff from his thick wrist. “Methinks the sea cuff looks better here on your wrist,” she encouraged. She fit the sea cuff back over his right wrist where it expanded to a perfect fit, where it belonged.

  Without thought, she slipped the dragonfly cuff back up her arm where it fit perfectly, too.

  His gaze slowly dipped to the remaining dragonfly cuff on his other wrist, and he reached for it.

  “No need for that, my love.” She gestured. “You wear it for now.”

  Dark eyelashes lifted and Lana found herself gazing into a fierce storm of want and bitterness.

  “Lana?”

  “Aye, aye, ‘tis me, Keegan.” Her heart and chest felt tight. She saw he was looking at her jaw, where he made the mating bite of claim upon her.

  She pulled her hair away and tilted her face. The physical sign might be gone, but the scent of his claim remained on her flesh, as it always would.

  His jaw tightened with an undefined emotion. “Forgive me,” he murmured and shifted back on one knee, putting distance between them. Bowing his head once again, he folded his right hand across his chest. “How may I serve you, claíomh host?”

  He withdrew into himself, a forced separation, barely existing. Lana curled her fingers into her lap. “I am not a sword,” she whispered achingly.

  “Nay, you are not,” he agreed.

  She lifted her hand to touch him and then dropped it back in her lap. “This is not how it is supposed to be.”

  He stared at her, a translucency marring the perfection of his features.

  The noise of the morning roared in her head. She felt her heart shrinking into nothingness.

  He inclined his head. “How may I serve you, claíomh host?” He repeated his request in a low tone with no telltale sign of emotion.

  Pale morning light fell across his face while his words echoed in her mind. How may I serve you?

  She gripped her hands tightly in her lap, nails digging into flesh. “Well, you can take off those torn breeches for one thing and make love to me in the waters,” she said it quickly, said it on impulse, and waited.

  His beautiful eyes widened in surprise.

  She fought too hard to have a normal life, a life with him. She could think of nothing else, wanted nothing else, and fought back a foolish burst of tears.

  He continued to watch her steadily.

  Valor taught her self-confidence and it was time she tapped into it. She absolutely refused to give up and let him withdraw into vagueness.

  Lana rocked back on her feet and stood, the sorceress’s strong and rebellious bloodline flowing hotly in her veins. “The day feels warm. These clothes are clammy and I have traveled far,” she stated in the tone of a spoiled faery queen.

  She looked toward the tiny loch. “The waters look inviting. Do you not think so, Keegan?” She began to undo the wet laces of her tunic, her fingers shaking at her unaccustomed boldness. She waited until her breasts nearly spilled out in his face before turning away and heading down the grassy slope toward the crystal waters of the loch.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she heard him follow.

  Lana shrugged out of her clammy tunic. With a flip of her hand, she tossed the tunic over her shoulder, and heard it smack a large chest. Stopping near one of the few granite boulders dotting the shore, she leaned against it and removed her boots and breeches.

  Two perfectly formed male feet took a position in front of her.

  Lana lifted her head, straightened, and drew back. Her passion melted at the sight of the fury reflected in his eyes.

  Her nerve and audacity evaporated into thin air.

  “What else would you have them cut off me?” he said savagely.

  Her hands flung to her face in a sob of misery. “Nay, Keegan,” she cried. “Doona say this to me.”

  “They have cut away the magical part of me, Lana. Would you have Valor castrate me as well?”

  She shook her head in horror. “Nay!” Her voice quivered. “I wish it had been me instead of you. I wish they had cut me!”

  Driven by painful heartache, she dashed toward the loch and away from the wrath in his face. The love they once shared was gone, and with it her hopes for a reunion.

  Their love was gone.

  Cut out of him.

  Lana splashed her way into the cool waters. Shivering uncontrollably, she half fell, half swam toward the center, the ground slipping out from under her feet. The surface had reached her breasts before strong hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

  With tear-stained cheeks, Lana stared up into a tempest of rage.

  Keegan stared down into his salvation.

  “Never!” he snarled with the force of controlled emotions, and spread his fingers across her delicate cheekbones, cupping her face. “Never say that to me, Lana.”

  “I wish they had cut me in punishment. It should have been me! I kissed you!”

  He shook his head. “Lana, you fed me when I hungered. Quenched the dryness in me. I knew what I was doing when I took your virgin sheath.”

  “Nay, Keegan!” Small hands grabbed his wrists. “My fault,” she sobbed. “My fault.”

  Her eyes were dull with hurt and shame. He felt the brokenness inside him expanding.

  “Nay,” he whispered.

  “You were weak and feverish, you dinna know what was happening.”

  He smiled gently. “I knew what I was doing, and a guardian is never weak, Lana.”

  He forced himself to release her then, and stepped back reluctantly. “The bottom falls away here.” He gestured to his right. “Please be careful or Valor will have to punish me again when you sink.”

  She lifted hollow eyes to him and his own gaze blurred. He looked away. “Why have you come?” he asked.

  He heard a small sniffle. “Valor released me, Keegan.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “Did you hear me, my love?”

  He heard her. The scars on his back began to itch.

  “Valor freed me, Keegan. I am free.”

  “Why?” The one word burst out of him like the torrent of an angry river. He looked back at her, made himself stand still, made himself continue to breathe.

  “Glenna wished to be returned to her beloved. She is the sorceress’s first granddaughter. You brought her to Derina to heal, remember?”

  “I remember,” he murmured.

  “Do you remember giving Derina your silver sea cuff? You asked her to give it to Glenna because you could not give it to me.”

  He nodded, a quaking spreading through his limbs.

  “Glenna dinna want the cuff, nor did she want the life you and I sacrificed to give her. What she wanted was to be returned to her beloved.”

  “The men of her time are all dead, Lana.”

  “Her beloved is Valor, Keegan. Valor is Glenna’s mate.”

  “The sacred feminine sword spirit?” he heard himself ask in astonishment, afraid to accept what that meant.

  “Aye, Valor is Glenna’s chosen mate. Love exists in many forms it see
ms, and I am most gladdened that it does. With the help of Derina and Blodenwedd, Glenna has returned to her beloved mate as I am attempting to return to mine.”

  He could not dare hope she wanted him as he was now, a broken and blemished creature.

  “Keegan?”

  He swallowed hard. “Aye.” His voice cracked.

  “Are you my beloved?” she asked softly.

  He could not respond.

  “I love you, Keegan.”

  He raked a trembling hand through his hair. “Valor has released you, Lana?”

  “Aye, my love.” Tears slipped down her flushed cheeks. “I would never have willingly put you in danger. You must believe me. I dinna know our mating would lead to such punishment and pain. Please, Keegan, can you ever forgive me?”

  The numbness inside him twisted. “There is nothing to forgive. I knew what I was doing.” He looked away. “I wanted you, and I took what I wanted.”

  “I have wanted you since first I saw you.”

  His gaze slid back to hers, and he felt a physical pain of longing.

  “Keegan? What is it? What tortures you so?”

  He said the horrific fear aloud; his breath caught and locked in his throat. “I am blemished, Lana.”

  Her lips curved in understanding.

  He searched her face. “I am blemished. Did you not hear what I said? I am blemished.”

  “I heard you, my love. Now, I can have you.” She lifted her hand and rested it gently on his chest. “You are a mighty guardian of the fey, and I a mere mortal. Do you not see? We are equal now. You are a bit less magical, and I a bit more.” She smiled. “You are not blemished, Keegan.”

  His skin tingled where she touched him, his heart swelling with a desperate hope.

  “I am the sorceress’s last blooded kin. Do you know what that means?”

  He could only nod. His mind seemed to have stopped working.

  “Valor asked me to give birth to her daughters of the sword. Our daughters, Keegan.” Her voice quivered with the emotions boiling in the cauldron inside him.

  “What better way to take retribution, my love, than to have the white blood of a powerful fey born guardian flowing in the veins of our children.”

  “I am no longer a guardian, Lana.”

  “You are First Guardian of the Waters,” she countered strongly. “I will not hear otherwise from you, or anyone.”

  “I have no wings,” he tried to explain, but she did not let him finish.

  “Let me see the scars, my love.”

  He froze. He did not wish her to see the brokenness of him, and stepped back reflexively, sending ripples through the water.

  “Nay, Keegan.” She reached for him. “Doona ever fear my rejection.”

  She walked around him.

  His hands clenched.

  Gentle hands pushed his hair aside, spilling it over the front of his left shoulder.

  He shut his eyes.

  Soft palms rested on his hips.

  He prepared for her reaction of horror, his spirit folding in upon itself into utter darkness and despair.

  And then…

  Supple breasts pressed into the curve of his back.

  Warm, soft lips kissed his mutilation.

  By the white moon!

  He gulped, an excruciating relief tightening his chest.

  “I love you,” she said against his scarred flesh. “These are battle scars of a war met with valor and victory. Doona ever hide them. You should be proud, for they are beautiful.”

  She pressed her soft mouth upon him again. There, where it had hurt and bled, first one side and then the other, her touch strangely quickening.

  He forced air out of his lungs. “Lana, stop, I am…”

  “No more pain, Keegan, only pleasure. Only pleasure will you feel here.”

  Her hands were tender on his flesh.

  Her tongue, sweet torture…

  Turning in her arms, Keegan captured her mouth with his, reclaiming his heart’s desire.

  “I love you,” he said feverishly against silken lips, needing her taste inside him. “I love you, Lana.” His hands buried in her tresses and he kissed her, inhaled her, and remembered all that she was.

  Lana’s heart soared with joy.

  She wrapped her arms around his corded neck and kissed him back, meeting his passion and drinking deeply of his excitement. He tasted of rainstorms and thunder, of sweet apples and crystal lochs, but most of all he tasted of their love.

  She could not get enough of him, and pressed closer.

  Her right leg brushed against a muscular thigh and she felt the pulse of his arousal against her stomach. She wished his wet breeches gone and curled her leg around his, moving up and riding his thigh.

  He moaned in her mouth and she took advantage, suckling his tongue, taking what he offered, what she needed to live and survive, him and only him.

  He shuddered and she thrilled to his response, thrilled in bringing him pleasure.

  In her brief joining with Valor, she received knowledge of many things, including the many ways in which to arouse a male. Her left hand locked around his nape for balance. She shifted sideways against him and boldly trailed her right hand down his chest. He was her one true love and suffered greatly for it. Never again would he know that kind of pain. She would make him forget all of it and fill his life with only joy and pleasure.

  The muscles of his stomach were firm and strained beneath her fingertips. While she feasted on his mouth, she played with the band of his breeches, dipping her fingers beneath, knuckles sliding against warm, pulsating flesh, reaching lower…

  Keegan’s breathing hitched with a wild hunger, his body pulsing with a demand to mate. Desire and urgency flooded his blood, storming and releasing intensities he thought were dead. Reaching under her arms, he lifted his fair bride out of the water, his mouth closing over the nipple of her left breast while he headed toward the shallows. With one arm locked around her for support, he used his free hand to mold her breast, fitting her better into his mouth. His tongue flicked across her sensitive nipple and she moaned soft and long. A knee jammed into his stomach, and he released her breast only to latch onto the other one.

  Lana flung her head back, gasping for air, absorbed by the hot wetness suckling at her breast. His tongue rasped over her nipple and she writhed uncontrollably in his embrace.

  When they came to the shore, he laid her down upon the grass, his mouth still suckling her, water licking her legs.

  He removed his dagger and breeches somehow. His mouth created a craving so intense her womb hurt. He nibbled the underside of her breast, her ribs, and downward…

  Lana buried her hands in his hair, pulling him back up, impatient and hungry for a full joining with her guardian mate.

  She shifted under him, her legs moving alongside his outer thighs.

  The hot length of him pressed against her inner thigh and she tilted her hips up invitingly. Her guardian mate needed no further invitation. His body moved above hers, a graceful predator, pinning her hips.

  His mouth lowered and nibbled at her jaw where he claimed her with a mating bite long ago. She arched under him, eager fingers digging into his shoulders.

  His warm mouth slid to her ear.

  “Claim me, Lana,” Keegan breathed roughly.

  “To you am I bound.” His beautiful mate said the Claim of Binding words, words he thought never to hear. “To honor. To twilight. To land.”

  In one swift thrust, he entered her, burying his thick root fully into her tightness. She gasped in pleasure at the sudden invasion of him, and Keegan gloried in the sound and feel of her.

  Hot.

  Liquid.

  Fire.

  He moved slowly for her benefit, her pleasure, his body listening and responding to the flow of hers, his beloved.

  In.

  Out.

  Slower.

  Deeper.

  Longer strokes…

  Lana wrapped her trembling l
egs around his moving hips and pulled his head down to kiss him, to inhale her love’s living breath. He was hard and hot within her, a surging of solid male stretching her with delicious pressure, consuming her.

  A tidal wave of craving washed over her, a building storm of want and need.

  The weight of him.

  The taste of him.

  The magic of him.

  His hips shifted to a different rhythm, a more urgent and untamed demand. Large hands wrapped around her bottom, tilting her hips further upward.

  Lana couldn’t breathe from the exquisite force moving between her thighs. The bright white turbulence growing within her womb began to unravel into a spiraling spasm and then, when she could no longer breathe from the fire and force of it…

  Keegan knew she was ready.

  Clenching his teeth, he thrust deeply into her and stopped. Closing his eyes, he melded with his mate in the way of the guardians, blood to blood, spirit to spirit, taking her over the cliffs, and into the wild hot rapture of a true guardian mating.

  He heard her cries of ecstasy and basked in them, the sweet sounds of her like music to his ears. With one final thrust, he sent his seed into her womb and laid his claim within her for always and the forever time.

  He belonged to her now.

  Eyes closed, his head slowly lowered to her shoulder of its own accord. Body trembling with blessed exhaustion, he slid, boneless, to her side.

  She gave him a calming within his spirit, a lost magic returned, and he would love and cherish her without end. Keegan snuggled in close, holding onto her, his most valuable and beloved bride.

  “I have given you a daughter, Lana,” he whispered huskily, and then slipped into slumber, a rest long overdue.

  Lana smiled and caressed the smoothness of his cheek. She, too, snuggled in close and closed her eyes. She had no doubt he gave her a daughter and would continue to do so, at her most frequent urging.

  EPILOGUE

  ANOTHER SPRING’S PROMISE RETURNED to the lands, sharing and savoring warmth with blooms of life in bright wild colors.

  Lana placed the Tara brooch back in her daughter’s wooden box for safekeeping and walked out of the cottage. She headed for the large rowan, which kept the back of their home in shade. Dense white flowers clustered upon upturned branches. She ran a hand along the jagged green-brown bark. The trunk was wide and thickened with age.