by Terry Spear
The Winged Fae
The World of Fae, Book 3
by
Terry Spear
PUBLISHED BY:
Terry Spear
The Winged Fae
Copyright © 2011 by Terry Spear
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Discover more about Terry Spear at:
http://www.terryspear.com/
Dedication:
To those of us who have the ability to not take ourselves so seriously and enjoy being frivolous every once in a while, which plays into the heart of the fae!
Chapter 1
Niall released the door to the Tropics Ice Cream Shop in South Padre Island and headed outside into the humid warm breeze with only one thought: checking out the bathing beauties on the beach.
Until he spied a female winged fae boldly painting graffiti on a concrete block wall across the street. He stopped dead in his tracks.
Feeling a mixture of amusement and annoyance, he hated to admit he was highly intrigued as well. Frowning, he folded his arms and watched the winged fae paint broad, deliberate strokes on the Denkar fae’s wall. Actually the building belonged to humans, but when the fae were at South Padre Island, it—and everything else on the island—belonged to the Denkar.
Fae tended to be extremely territorial. Eons ago, they’d claimed this island way before humans had found it popular—except for maybe a passing pirate or two. The only reason the dark fae had even allowed humans to live here was because they provided an infinite amount of entertainment for the fae. Sun bathing beauties. Sugar white beaches. Clear aquamarine waters. But the best part? The human women.
Of course, a female human often visited the island hand–in–hand with some guy. The fae took an inordinate amount of pleasure in separating the woman from the man, as was their roguish nature. Sometimes a female fae did the same as she latched onto a human male, creating conflict between the man and his girlfriend. Such was the immortal life of the fae. They had to do something to entertain themselves.
Niall considered the blond winged fae’s clothes: a little black dress, gray–speckled tights and pink ballet slippers completing the impish outfit. She reminded him way more of a pixie or the legendary winged elf than a fae. Her blond hair was pulled back and a droopy pink satin ribbon was tied around her head, droopy because of the heat and humidity late that afternoon on the beachfront property.
So what was a royal winged fae from the house of Mabara doing on South Padre Island, painting graffiti on a Denkar fae’s block wall in broad daylight with her wings exposed?
She was gutsy. He’d give her that. Since his cousin Prince Deveron had slipped away with Alicia to avoid his mother’s royal guard fetching him home, Niall had the day off. No reason to watch Deveron’s back as his companion when Deveron was busy kissing Alicia somewhere else and no doubt wanted privacy.
Niall studied the fae’s wings. As clear as they were, she was close to nineteen years of age. In a few more years, she could make them appear invisible to anyone who chanced to see her, either when she was showing herself off to humans or when she was in the fae realm. But to visit the human world during the late afternoon, wings prominently displayed for any human to see…what was she thinking?
Worse, she was visiting a site her kind hadn’t claimed as their territory. And a royal Mabara fae at that. Rarely if ever did they leave the fae world before they could hide their wings.
Determining which fae house one of their kind came from was problematic at times, but not when they were winged and showed them off. Only four of the forty—two royal houses boasted royal winged fae, this one declaring the large raptor, the osprey, the symbol of their realm. Only the Mabara had wings with black lines crisscrossing it like a windowpane with delicate black edging.
Although she appeared cute and pixie–like, being a member of the Mabara’s house meant she could be extremely dangerous if riled. Not that any fae couldn’t be, and certainly his own kind—the lion fae—had a reputation as hunters, but the royal house of Mabara controlled the element of air.
The joke was that they could control air elementals, but couldn’t use the air to support their wings. Which had a lot to do with their kind having been so enamored with humans, they quit using their wings so they could move about like humans did. After centuries of disuse, their wings were no longer big enough or powerful enough to support them.
Pondering that she could call the wind to protect her or use it as an offensive weapon, Niall rubbed his chin. She didn’t appear to have any real weapons on her, not that he could tell from the skimpy clothing she was wearing. The Mabara specialty was casting windstorms over the sea, creating waves of devastating proportions, or initiating powerful swirling wind funnels on land, even straight–line winds that could take out windows and windshields and walls made of brick.
More subtly, they could create a poisonous dust and blow it into the face of their foe that would kill their enemy. Mabara sometimes employed the use of a less lethal cocktail resulting in a couple of days of paralysis or a sleeping potion, both which contributed to the worst hangover a fae could suffer.
Not that Niall had ever gotten himself into such a bind. But he’d read about a case where a cobra fae had tangled with a Mabara royal fae, who had subsequently grown smitten with him. The man had dumped her for a fellow female cobra fae, and the Mabara wench had blasted him with the sleeping powder. For weeks, he’d had a devil of a time waking for any length of time. The royal houses had been at odds with one another ever since. It didn’t take much for the fae kind to become sworn enemies.
Niall tried to figure out what strange symbols the girl was writing on the wall. But he couldn’t determine what she was trying to say. It had to be a message for his kind though. And not a good one.
If he didn’t put a stop to it, he would not be doing his duty to his people. He strode forth to take charge of the situation, and her.
But as soon as he began to move in her direction, he was certain she must have smelled his scent, because she whipped around, her soft pink lips parting and her blond brows raised in surprise—which almost made him smile to see her reaction—particularly knowing he had the upper hand.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Niall asked sharply.
As soon as she turned to fully face him, she whipped a piccolo–looking wooden pipe out of a pocket that had been hidden from his sight. Poisoned fae dust.
He knew if he didn’t make a hasty retreat and vanish in the blink of an eye, he could be one dead dark fae.
***
Before Serena could stop what she was about to do, she’d blown the shimmering pink powder at the Denkar fae. Thank the goddess she had used the sleeping powder and not the one meant to take down an enemy—permanently. Although she had a reputation among the Mabara for creating the strongest sleeping concoction there was.
She didn’t go on deadly missions because she wasn’t even supposed to be visiting the human world, yet. Although she’d trained vigorously for the job. She always came prepared though. But she just couldn’t stay away from them. Humans were just too intriguing—their interesting fashions, their modern conveniences, their non–conformity—when her own kind were stuck in the past with unbending tradition.
She was ever thankful her mother had never learned of her forays into the human world or the queen would have assigned guards to watch Serena’s every move and ensured she didn’t go where she wasn’t supposed to. Like here.
She took a deep shuddering breath and cons
idered the sleeping lion fae.
Oh, what had she done?
He’d startled her; that was the problem. It was all his fault he was lying on the ground, looking rather cherub like, his blond hair curling about his ears, his bright blue eyes closed now, his masculine lips parted slightly as he slept the sleep of the dead.
Her heart hammering, she quickly looked about, didn’t seen any sign of any other Denkar fae, but now her own efforts to attract one to send a further message to their kind was for naught.
She saw two bare–chested guys wearing knee–length, black and white floral swimming trunks and brown leather sandals, watching her from across the street in front of a beach shop. Great. She’d gathered an audience of humans instead of the dark fae.
“Cute wings,” one guy said, giving her a thumb’s up, his rusty–colored hair wet and curly. He motioned to the fae sleeping on the pavement. “What did you do to him?”
The human wasn’t drawing any closer. Maybe because she had been painting graffiti on a building, and he didn’t want to get too close in case the cops saw her. Or maybe he was afraid of her because she’d put a guy to sleep who had tried to stop her from painting on the wall.
She ignored the human, trying to figure out what to do with the Denkar fae. Oh well, she’d goofed, but there wasn’t anything to do about it now. She turned around and finished painting her message to the dark fae.
Then she drew in close to the sleeping one and crouched next to him. She studied his long curly blond hair and his face. He had the same aristocratic look of the prince of the Denkar, same aquiline nose, same sturdy jaw as Crown Prince Deveron, except that this one was fair–haired while the other was dark. She wondered if they were related. She reached inside the fae’s blue and green floral shirt—noting he was wearing dark blue swim trunks, too, the style long like the humans’, his feet sporting a pair of navy flip–flops. Apparently he had been enjoying South Padre Island like any human would before he came across her.
That was what she regretted most about her wings—the inability to hide them and wear a bathing suit, while looking just like any other tourist on the beach. She longed to wear a hot pink bikini. Hot pink wasn’t part of her usual fare and so, it just appealed. And a bikini? Scathing. Her mother would have fits if she even knew what Serena secretly wished to wear in front of a population of humans—or worse, in front of the fae—in particular, the dark fae.
Serena’s fingers gingerly swept over the man’s bare chest beneath his floral shirt, and she felt a thick chain. Sucking in her breath, she feared what it was sure to reveal. She pulled out a medallion. A symbol of the lion etched on the gold indicated he was ranked below the crown prince. He had to be a close companion of the prince, which meant this one was royalty also. A duke or earl or baron, no doubt.
She studied his masculine lips. And thought just how much havoc she could wreak if she kissed him. Served him right for startling her so.
Without analyzing whether she should do it, and just because she could, she pressed her mouth against his and gently kissed his lips, meaning only to give a quick peck and that was it. But his lips were soft and warm and inviting, not at all like she’d thought they would be. Despite not wishing it, she felt a tingly heat growing deep in her belly. She’d never kissed a man before, oh a boy, indeed several, yes, but this was different. She felt…something awakening that she couldn’t quite fathom.
His lips curved up under hers and for a second, she thought he was awake, smiling at her kissing him. Her eyes widened as she pulled her mouth away from his. He hadn’t kissed back. He was still asleep; not that she expected him to be awake. Truly, if he had been, she would have shrieked with panic. No one woke from that drug for at least a couple of days unless the Denkar had discovered an antidote. And then it could be as much as two months for the victim to fully shake off the effects, sometimes even longer, depending on how much resistance the body could garner.
Her thoughts reverted to the kiss and immediately the human faery tale Sleeping Beauty and the prince giving the princess a kiss to wake her sprang to mind. Why ever did humans make up such nonsense anyway?
She sat back on her haunches, frowning at him as he gave her the barest of smiles, his eyes still shut tight. She hadn’t meant to give him anything pleasant to dream about. Annoyed with him for causing her to shoot him with the sleeping powder in the first place, she hit him in the shoulder with the flat of her hand. He frowned. He shouldn’t have startled her.
She glanced back at the human males. They were both watching her with intrigue, but neither ventured any closer. “Cowards,” she said under her breath.
If she took the Denkar with her, she could hide him for a couple of days, at least until he woke.
Or not. Where would she hide him but in her own kingdom? And if anyone found out, there would be the devil to pay. Both for her and for him.
She should leave him here. Let the Denkar find him. But they’d know that one of her kind had done this to him once they analyzed the shimmering pink dust on his hair and skin and clothes.
She glanced back at the wall. Well, the message couldn’t be any clearer.
“Niall!” a woman called out, her voice sweet but worried at the same time. Commanding, too, as if she expected the fae to suddenly appear and bow down to her.
Serena whipped her head around and saw Ritasia, the Denkar princess, Deveron’s sister, headed for a shop sporting beach wear, beach towels, and other touristy nick–nacks. The woman’s dark hair was swept up into curls over her head, her eyes dark as midnight, while she wore typical royal attire—shimmering peach silk gowns flowing in the muggy breeze with every step she took, gold sandals, and a string of pearls woven into her hair. But no one could see her like the fae could as the princess moved about invisible to humans.
Uh–oh. Not good. Serena had meant for a lowly Denkar fae to discover her. Not all these lofty royals. She could twist a non–royal around her will, if he was not of the royal house. But the royal fae? Really not good.
As soon as the princess saw Serena with one dead–looking Denkar fae, Ritasia would call on her mother, Queen Irenis, and well, curses, Serena would be done for. This was not at all how she had planned this.
Ritasia hadn’t spied Serena yet, thank the goddess. But she was tracking his faery dust trail to the beach–ware shop and would soon see just where Serena crouched beside the sleeping fae. Since Serena was visible to humans, she couldn’t just blink out and vanish. Not unless no one was watching. Since the two men were still studying her, she couldn’t use fae travel in front of them.
Dash it all anyway. She scrambled to her feet and instantly caught Ritasia’s eye. Oh well, it was sure to happen. The fae’s dark eyes widened. Yep, no winged fae would be caught dead on Denkar—claimed territory.
Nor would they knock out a Denkar, royal or otherwise, without paying the consequences. She smiled a little.
Princess Ritasias’s gaze quickly shifted to the sleeping fae, and Serena imagined that the man was Niall, the one who Ritasia was searching for. The woman’s mouth dropped open.
Time to make a hasty retreat.
Serena stalked off to the edge of the building, whipped around it, and intended to vanish, but a whole group of teens wearing shorts and T–shirts were standing there talking. They gaped at her. The wings made people do that sometimes. She usually only appeared at Renaissance fairs where lots of humans ran around dressed as faux fairies wearing fur tails—who knew why—although she speculated some were going for an elf look. Though she was fairly certain no self–respecting elf would wear furry tails either. Must have been the humans’ fanciful notions.
She loved to trick–or–treat for goodies at Halloween, wearing her wings. Woe to the human who wouldn’t give her some really good treats—chocolates were her favorite. No pennies. No hard, sticky candy. Chocolates. The rich dark variety. Milk chocolate was pretty good, too. And mint chocolate, her absolute favorite.
And no apples. Whoever heard of eating
anything healthy for Halloween? It was a time to be decadent.
One of the male teens drew close, staring at Serena’s wings. “Wow, those are too cool. They look real.” She could see in his fascinated expression that he wanted to feel one of her wings. He reached out to touch one.
She tried to couch her anger so that the golden ring didn’t glow around her eyes, a sure way to tell a fae was pissed. “Hands off, buster,” she quickly said, sidestepping his grasping fingers.
It wasn’t like he could hurt her wings or anything. But it was just too…personal. It would be like him trying to kiss her, or stroking her arm, when she didn’t even know the dude.
“Back off,” she said, when one of the other males crowded her.
“What’s wrong? Think you’re too good for us?”
Oh, yeah, she did. But she was more concerned about getting out of everyone’s sight so she could vanish before Ritasia called for the royal guard and Serena was clamped in faery irons—the special kind that prevented fae travel.
She tried to move around the teens, but they encircled her, touching her wings, ignoring her protests, and the fact that her eyes were glowing. The golden aura reflected off a girl’s nearly black eyes as she stared open mouthed at Serena’s eyes.
“Wow, look at the contacts she’s wearing. Where did you get those? I gotta have me some of those. Take them out. Let me see them,” the girl said.
The humans were ordering her about? A royal fae? She was supposed to play with them, not the other way around!
Fingers traced her back where the slits of her dress fit comfortably around her wings and hid the fact they were permanently attached to her body. At home, they normally wore backless dresses to more easily accommodate their wings. But in the human world, she couldn’t chance them seeing her like that.