“Yes, they are expecting you. Your mother said she tried to call you. I informed her that you’d lost you cell phone and that it was best to save any conversation for when you arrive in Ireland.” Julian’s deep voice was softened by his accent.
From the corner of her eyes, Wendy openly studied Julian. Emma had told her that he’d been a Gladiator in Rome. It was hard to imagine the stunning man covered in blood, fighting for his life.
A leather journal rested on his leg. He scanned it and jotted down notes. Wendy peeked at the writing. It was in Italian or some other language she couldn’t read.
“Who’s going to keep the key?” Wendy asked him, many of her questions starting to come through the fog.
For the first time in the closed in space, Julian met her gaze. A searing current sizzled through her. Her eyes widened in shock. His eyes didn’t waiver from hers. Self-conscious, her eyes widened.
Catching himself, Julian looked down. “I apologize. I can usually keep my reactions under control. It’s quite difficult around a female Fae. You see, the Fae recruited some of the original Protectors by feeding them Fae blood, bonding them to the females in order to safeguard their women after a war between them and the demons left their male ranks almost completely depleted. The male Fae were never meant to be warriors. With their slight build, they made better archers than hand-to-hand combatants. Therefore, even after hundreds of years, we are still drawn to you, to bond and protect you.”
“How many Fae are there compared to Protectors? I thought that there are only a few of you guys.”
Julian seemed to hesitate, not sure how to answer her question. “Fae are plentiful. One Protector was assigned to a group of female Fae, perhaps ten or twenty.”
“Whoa, so you had like harems. I mean, isn’t that what you meant by ‘bond and protect’?” Wendy screeched, her brows lifting. “I mean did you guys you know…take care of business?”
Julian wasn’t discomfited by her question; instead, he frowned in thought. “Yes, I suppose for a while it was a harem type of environment. Although the Fae can only reproduce with another of their kind. For that reason, the few remaining Fae males were bred with females for larger size. Some Protectors remained with the Fae to train the new generation of male Fae to be warriors.”
Julian’s lips curved at the corners. “Centuries later, the only thing that remains between a Protector and Fae is our inability to keep from feeling a lure toward the female of your kind.”
Was that what attracted Kieran to her? That she was Fae? Why he’d been unable to stop himself from making love to her even though he was engaged?
“So, what about the key?”
“You are the keeper of the key. You must guard it for life. Your grandmother passed it on to you. I don’t know why she didn’t talk to you about it before she died. Hopefully, your mother will have the answers.”
“Oh, no, I’m not keeping it. I’m not about to spend the rest of my life being chased by demons that are trying to get it,” Wendy stuttered, her hand automatically touching the locket. “Can’t I give it to someone that’s been a bona fide Fae all their life and can deal with it better?”
Julian’s brow crinkled as he pondered her question. “You are a true Fae, Gwendolyn. As far as passing your duties on to another, I believe that question better be asked of the Queen.”
“There’s a Queen?”
“Yes, the Fae have always been ruled by a Queen. Queen Aine is your ruler’s name. She’s been ruler of the Tuatha De Danaan for hundreds of years.”
“Oookay,” Wendy replied. “So I have to meet this woman?”
Julian shrugged. He held up a finger and answered his cell phone. He spoke in Italian, so Wendy couldn’t understand his side of conversation. But she could see him tense, his voice clipped. Whatever the call was about, it didn’t make him happy. When he disconnected without a good-bye or ciao or whatever Italians said, he took a deep breath before jotting more notes in his journal. His pen strokes were fast and choppy.
“Your job has to be tough, being the leader of all the Protectors,” Wendy told him, studying his profile. “Do you ever take a day off?”
Julian stopped writing mid-stroke. With raised eyebrows, he looked at her. His lips slowly curled into a smile. Wendy lost her ability to breathe. The man was astoundingly gorgeous.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before,” he told her. “Everyone has a lot in life. I accept mine. To answer your question, no, I have never taken a day off.”
When they arrived at the airport, Julian escorted her from the limo to a waiting sleek silver jet. Once she stood at the top of the stairs, Wendy looked over her shoulder toward the Atlanta skyline and hesitated. Was her life about to change forever?
At Julian’s prompt, she entered the airplane.
The interior was plush, almost entirely dark blue. Two smartly dressed attendants waited just inside the door. Their eyes barely lighted on her then looking past, their smiles widened when Julian stepped in after her. Wendy rolled her eyes.
Yes, the guy was a walking billboard for the perfect man. And women probably threw themselves at him on a minute-by-minute basis. But still, it had to get annoying for him.
Once they were seated and belted, the plane promptly began to taxi. Unlike mere mortals, who had to wait for their turn to take off, Julian probably had his own separate runway.
“We requested the first available take off. Private planes use a separate runway, but sometimes, we have to wait. Today, it seems the timing is perfect. What is a billboard?” Julian lifted an eyebrow and waited for her to reply.
She knew her face burned bright red by the heat on her cheeks. Of course, he can read minds! Duh! Biting her lip, she tried to come up with an explanation.
She glared at him and blew out a breath. “It’s rude to read others’ thoughts.” He at least had the decency to look abashed. “But since you asked, a billboard is an advertisement, those big displays by the interstate.”
“I see.” His brow furrowed, and lips formed a tight line. He had no idea what she’d just explained.
Thankfully, the plane had reached cruising altitude, so the attendants were immediately at Julian’s side with a hot, wet towel for his hands, a drink, and pillow.
It was some time later that one of them finally acknowledged her and asked if she needed a beverage. By the attendant’s curt speech, she was not pleased at having to take her focus away from Julian, even if only for a moment.
“I would like a fizzy drink and a pillow, and some chocolate would be nice.” When the woman started to walk away, Wendy called her back, “Oh, and a blanket please.” She stuck out her tongue at the woman’s retreating back.
Julian met her eyes for a moment his expression blank. He began to jot more notes in the ever-present journal.
Wendy stared out the window as the jet descended onto the runway in Dublin. The sight of the lush green country always made her content. Today, however, her mood remained the same. The sadness did not lift. Even after sleeping for most of the flight, she felt groggy and tired. What I need is a shower and a big comfortable bed.
She glanced at Julian. He was looking out the window. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers tapping on the cover of his security blanket. Did the man ever let that journal go? He must have sensed her watching him because he stopped tapping. “It’s late here. We’ll check into a hotel. Clothes and other necessities have already been delivered for you, as well as a passport and money.”
Wendy was speechless. How had he done it? Probably while she slept. Maybe he’d sent emails to someone in Ireland. With his kind of money, anything was possible, she supposed. The thought of a hot shower and a warm bed lifted her spirits. Only a bit.
The airplane landed smoothly, and they began to disembark. Tomorrow, she’d face her parents, get answers, and find out exactly who or what she was.
One thing was sure, she’d come home. Ireland was home now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The grey sky and drizzle of the next day matched Wendy’s state of mind perfectly.
Once in bed, she’d allowed heart wrenching sobs free rein for hours, until too tired to continue. Not only were dozens of questions tumbling through her head, but she also couldn’t stop thinking about Kieran. Between missing him terribly and feeling hurt and angry with him for keeping his engagement from her, she hadn’t been able to rest. What did Kieran feel for her? Did he ask about her when he woke? Probably not. Surrounded by his friends, he would move on to his normal life. Well, except for the part where he’d be married soon.
She’d showered and dressed, slipping into tan corduroy slacks and a plush sweater, both a very expensive designer brand. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Remarkably, the clothes fit her perfectly, and the sweater’s emerald green brought out the color of her eyes. She turned her head sideways, studying her ears. An elf, that’s what she looked like, not a fairy or Fae or whatever she was.
A rap at the door brought her back to the reality of what the day held. She opened the door to a refreshed Julian, who was dressed in dark slacks and a grey, long-sleeve sweater over a blue shirt. His eyes searched her face for a few moments before entering.
Her heart thumped against her ribs, and her breathing became hitched. Wendy tried to be discreet, inhaling deeply and slowly as they drove to her parents’ home. She felt ridiculous to be so nervous. This was her family, for God’s sake.
Today, however, she would be seeing them through different eyes, looking for signs of what they were, what she was.
The car ambled down the bumpy road. The green countryside they passed barely caught her attention. Julian’s cell phone rang, and his crisp Italian filled the space as he spoke.
When his hand reached over and squeezed hers, she realized she had been wringing her hands. The unexpected gesture touched her. She felt so alone right now.
It was ridiculous to feel so lonely when she was about to be surrounded by her family. If she were honest, she’d admit that it was Kieran she missed. Being away from him was what made her feel so empty and alone. How long before she would be able to take a breath and not think about him? Tears sprung to her eyes.
Never. She’d love him forever, and she’d miss him always.
As the car wound down the curvy road to her parents’ large home in a small town just south of Dublin, Wendy stared blankly out the front window. No sooner had the car come to a stop than the front door opened and her parents stepped out onto the front porch.
Julian and the driver got out and greeted them, but Wendy couldn’t move. Finally, when the driver opened her door and put his hand out to help her out, was she able to force herself to exit the limo.
Her mother was already rounding the car, her arms outstretched, a mixture of expectancy and dread on her face. Wendy hardly straightened before she was pulled into a fierce embrace.
The anxiety of the last hours faded, and she kissed her mother’s cheek and greeted her with a sincere smile. Arms around each other’s waists, they went toward the house. Once inside the doorway, Wendy’s father greeted her with the same concerned look. “Are you all right Wendy?” His Irish accent had become stronger since his return.
On seeing him, Wendy began to cry, and every emotion she had held back since leaving Atlanta slammed into her. By the time her father took her into his arms, she was sobbing uncontrollably. He soothed her and rubbed her back, allowing her to cry.
Wendy wanted to stop crying. She didn’t like making a scene in front of Julian, but the harder she tried, the more she cried, until she finally became too exhausted to continue.
Her father pulled her to the couch, and she pressed her face against his solid chest, glad for the comfort and safety that his large body afforded her. His deep voice rumbled under her ear when he spoke to Julian. “Perhaps we need to wait and allow Wendy to get some rest before we talk.”
“No.” It was her mother that spoke. “We need to talk now, to get this done. We’ve already waited too long.” Her mother’s voice cracked with emotion. “Wendy, darling, here drink this.” A cool glass was pushed into her hand.
She sat up and drank down the liquid. It was sherry, which surprised her and made her cough. “I agree with Mom. We do need to get this done.”
Wendy took the tissues that were offered, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.
Her brother sat across from her. He must have entered while she was crying. His smile was tight when he came over to give her a hug. Wendy hugged her twin brother. His presence at once made her feel better, stronger.
Guiles sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Hey, Sis.”
After everyone had settled into their chairs, they all waited to see who would speak first. Wendy studied her parents. How had she not noticed how young they both remained? Her father no longer wore a beard. He had probably only grown it to try to look older when he was living in Georgia. He wore his dark reddish hair a bit longer than he had in the U.S.; it was touching his collar. His green eyes met hers for a moment, and she noticed there were no wrinkles or lines of any kind around them.
Her mother’s fingernails tapped on the glass she held. She smoothed her hair back behind her ear with her other hand. “Wendy, as you know, your father and I have not been honest with you or Guiles. We never planned to go so long without telling you about our people, but the years just seemed to fly by, and it never seemed to be the right time to reveal the truth to you.”
Her father went and stood next to the chair where her mother sat and spoke next. “We planned to tell you during your planned visit this year. Guiles has known part of the truth for a few months, but we forbade him from telling you.”
Wendy glared at her brother. They’d never kept secrets from each other. When Guiles’ guilt-ridden eyes met hers, she squeezed his hand to reassure him. It was not his place to tell her, she understood.
Their father continued. “After Julian contacted us to inform us of the demon attack, we called and asked Guiles to come so that we could speak to the both of you together.” He looked at his wife, and they both turned to them. That they loved her, she had no doubt by the warmth of their expression.
“We’re so sorry,” her father continued and then looked at a loss for words.
Their mother picked up. “Where to start? I suppose, first of all, to let you know that we are not just Fae, we are royalty.”
Guiles narrowed his eyes. He stood and looked between his parents and Julian. “What? What do you mean, royalty?”
Her mother took a deep breath. “Sit down, Son. We are going to explain everything. First of all your grandmother was the Queen’s sister, so that makes you a Fae prince, and Wendy, you’re a Fae princess. We left and moved to America so that you could have a normal childhood. It takes so long for Fae to mature. Here in Ireland, Fae keep young ones hidden to not arouse suspicion of how long it takes for our children to grow up.”
“So that’s why we moved around so much as kids?” Wendy asked. “Why we didn’t go to public school until we were teenagers?”
“Yes,” her parents both said, nodding.
Her father continued, “We wanted you to have a normal life. You see, it takes almost twenty years for Fae children to reach the physical age of ten.”
Wendy and Guiles both stared at each other, both doing math in their heads but giving up when their father interrupted. “No need to try to figure it out. It gets complicated. Twenty years to reach ten in human years, another ten to reach about fifteen in human years. Though each Fae is different in reaching maturity. Sometimes, it takes another twenty to look twenty in human years.”
Wendy couldn’t take it any longer. “So how old are we? When were we born?”
“1950,” her mother replied, looking her directly in the eye.
“Holy shit!” Wendy exclaimed, “that means I am, we are…what?”
Guiles answered her, “Sixty-one.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he took her hand in hi
s briefly before standing up. “I need some air,” he told them before storming from the room.
“Well, that went well,” said her father, watching Guiles’ retreating back.
The rest of the day was a blur. Between learning all about the Fae, they ate and spent time fondly reminiscing about all the years they’d traveled around from town to town in America and Canada.
In the kitchen, now drinking tea as the sun set, they continued their discussion.
“How could we have not figured it out? I mean, so many things changed in those years.” Wendy shook her head, baffled.
“It’s not your fault,” her mother answered. “We kept you sheltered for as long as we could. For the first twenty years, you were babies and then younglings, which made it easy to keep the truth hidden. Then, as you grew up, we never allowed any modern conveniences. No televisions, and we stuck mostly to small country towns, slow to evolve.”
“One question,” Guiles got everyone’s attention “How long do we live?”
Julian put his cup down and picked up a cookie then answered his question, “You’re almost immortal. Most Fae live for at least eight hundred years.” He’d remained all day, seeming to feel comfortable around her family. It surprised Wendy to see him so relaxed.
“What about the key? Why do I have it?” Wendy asked.
Julian looked to her parents, but they remained silent, so he replied. “The key is passed down to the next generation. It usually remains in the same family. In the case of the Key of Peace, it has been entrusted to your bloodline for longer than we can calculate.”
“I tried to talk your grandmother out of passing the key to you,” her mother told her. “She said it was your destiny, that there was no choice in the matter. Now, you must be protected.”
“Yes,” her father replied, “as soon as possible. We must get her mated to a strong male so that she will have constant security.”
“Patrick would be a good choice. He is strong and a great warrior. He will make a good husband for her,” her mother chimed in.
Surrender: Immortal Protectors, Book 2 Page 16