by Alyssa Day
“Gladly.” He sent ball after ball of pure blue energy smashing into the hated box until it exploded into tiny shards of wood. Fiona and he watched from behind his energy shield as it burned and, after ensnaring the Fae in a web of glittering strands of power, he turned to his woman and kissed her senseless.
Declan burst into the room. “Hey, cut out the mushy stuff. Let’s get out of here. I feel waterlogged.”
Fiona rushed over to hug her brother, who hugged her back for a minute then squirmed out of her embrace.
“Are you safe? Maeve told me you were, but I didn’t believe her,” Fiona said, tears streaming down her face. “She—I can’t ever trust her again. They wouldn’t let me see you and I was so afraid.”
“I’m fine, Fee,” Declan said, blushing. “Tip-top. Let’s go, already. I marked the way out.”
“What a good idea,” a new voice said.
“Maeve. Where is Denal? Are you okay?” Fiona hesitated, but then started to go to her friend. Christophe held her back. Here, in this place, Maeve was not the woman Fiona had loved.
And yet the Fae princess’s face softened and she smiled. Maybe Christophe was wrong, but he still wasn’t taking the chance. Not with Fiona, not ever again.
“Only you would worry over my well-being, Fiona,” Maeve said. “So I will grant you another boon, neither repayment nor debt owed.”
With that, she waved a hand and Justice’s sword flew through the air and neatly beheaded Gideon. Fiona buried her face in Christophe’s shoulder in horror, but he inclined his head toward Maeve. “My thanks, my lady. That boon is one I happily accept, although I would have enjoyed doing it myself. Both for Fiona and for my parents.”
“Perhaps, for once, you do not have to be the dealer of death,” Maeve said. “Had you not rescued Fiona, he never would have given her up, and she is my friend, not a whore to be held captive as a sex slave,” she said, and the ice and thunder in her voice made him glad that he had not made her an enemy. On the floor, Gideon’s body and head dissolved into a fine sparkling dust and then vanished.
“He was rogue, my wicked, scheming brother,” she continued. “Running rampant, working out of the hierarchy in the Unseelie Court. A mere upstart trying to take over my line and curry favor with our queen, my lady mother.”
“So this is a family squabble,” Fiona said, raising her head. “All of this for that? I don’t believe it.”
“The world is in a state of unbalance since Anubisa, the vampire goddess, has been missing,” Maeve said. “The vampires are working on their own agendas. The gods are unhappy. Ragnarok is coming. Can’t you feel it, Atlantean? Do you really choose for your land to rise at a time so similar to the one that drove you beneath the waters?”
Christophe took a deep breath. “I hear the truth in your words. I may even agree with you in some part. But I have sworn an oath, and I must honor it. The Siren must be returned to Atlantis.”
“We of the Unseelie Court are not in opposition to your plans, Atlantean. We are fine allies to have, you will learn—or dangerous enemies. The Seelie Court will soon learn this, we hope, and our alliance will be completed. Now that Gideon is dead, that time may come sooner.”
“That I believe.”
Fiona shuddered. “I am so sorry, Maeve. I know your people are different, but to have to kill your own brother . . . I am so sorry.”
Maeve’s eyes glistened with something as she regarded her friend. Christophe would almost have sworn they were unshed tears. But she didn’t respond.
“Now what?” Christophe asked.
“I will study you and your methods through your warrior representative Denal for some while. Then we shall meet and determine what to do next. Strategy is like breath to the Fae, and we are more well-versed in . . . breathing . . . than most.”
Christophe bowed deeply. He could hear between her words to the truth beneath. Maeve would almost certainly be the next queen of the Unseelie Court. Now would be as good a time as any to begin an ambassadorial relationship.
Fiona took a few steps toward her old friend. “I don’t even know what to call you anymore, Your Highness.”
Maeve’s face lit up. “Call me your friend. That’s all I have ever asked.”
“I’m your friend, too. Always,” Fiona promised.
“And possibly a distant cousin,” Christophe murmured. “Seelie Court Fae. I wonder what Rhys na Garanwyn will have to say about that.”
“If he says anything unpleasant, please leave him to me,” Maeve said, her smile turning to something glittering and fearful.
“I will clear the Scarlet Ninja’s name,” Maeve continued. “Perhaps even make an extra donation to a few of your causes. Before the week is done, all shall know that the Scarlet Ninja saved England from a war.”
“Thank you, but I could only do that with a lot of help from Atlantis and from a Fae princess who used to borrow my lipstick,” Fiona said, smiling, but then she turned solemn. “The shifters he enthralled?”
“Already released. Please extend my apologies to the families of the ones he killed. We will extend monetary reparation, for what little that does to help. Lucinda, the alpha you rescued with your sacrifice, will heal.”
“How do you know—”
“I have my ways.” Maeve said. “How do you think I always knew where to find the hot guys in school?”
“The hot guys found you,” Fiona said, smiling a little. “Thank you for what you said about the shifters. I’ll tell Lucinda.”
Maeve laughed. “Never thank a Fae, or you will become beholden. You can send me more Chanel for a solstice gift to pay this small debt.”
With that, Maeve led them to the way out of the Summer Lands. In a short time, Fiona, Christophe, and Declan were standing on the steps outside of Fairsby Manor, dazed, as Hopkins and the Atlanteans rushed toward them. The sun shone brightly overhead. Christophe gave Justice his sword and the two exchanged nods.
“What in the name of all the gods happened to you?” Bastien demanded. “You were in there for more than two weeks.”
Declan blushed a fiery red. “Um—”
The Atlanteans stared at him, fascinated.
“Nymphs,” Christophe said dryly.
“Ohhhh. Nymphs,” Brennan said. “So will we be going back in around nine months from now on another rescue mission?”
“What?” Fiona rounded on her brother, but then her cheeks flamed red as she realized. “Oh. Ohhhhh.”
Declan hung his head, his cheeks as hot as his sister’s. “Trust me, sis. You don’t want to know the details.”
Justice bowed to Fiona. “My sword, my lady? Did it help?”
“Yes, Just holding it made me braver.”
“I doubt that’s even possible,” Christophe said.
“Can we go home now?” Declan asked. “I really need to go home now.”
“How about we go home now?” Christophe opened a portal, and this time it flared to brilliant life as soon as he called. Interesting, that.
“And never say the word nymph again?” Declan pleaded.
Christophe always claimed, later, that it was one of the others who started laughing first.
Chapter 40
Campbell Manor
When all the tales had been told, the experiences recounted, and the promises made to Declan that he would never, ever, tell anybody else, especially Hopkins or Fiona, the exact details about finding Declan with the nymphs, Christophe knew it was time to go. His friends had gone through a portal hours earlier, but he had been content to sit, holding Fiona as dusk’s shadows claimed the corners of the room.
“I need to return to Atlantis and report in,” he finally said, unable to put it off any longer. He opened his hand and they both looked at the Siren, so innocent and quiet in his hand. “This must be restored to the Trident immediately.”
“You didn’t give it to the others to return,” Fiona said softly. “Why?”
“It’s something I need to do. This mission, from beginning
to end. Does that make any sense?”
She kissed him, hard. “It makes a great deal of sense. So call the portal and get it over with, and then come back to me.”
“I’ve never made love to you in your office,” he said, putting the Siren on her desk and filling his hands with her breasts, which were infinitely more pleasant to hold.
“Oh, that is a terrible oversight,” she agreed. She wiggled out of his arms and crossed to the door, locked it, and then turned around to face him.
“What exactly are you going to do about it?”
He leapt across the space separating them and pinned her to the door with his body. “I believe there was a debt owed,” he said solemnly.
“A debt?”
“A spanking.”
Her mouth fell open. “Oh, no, you’re not going to spank me.”
He nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “Oh, yes. Naked.”
She tried to answer, but her mouth got tangled up trying to tell him all the ways he was not going to spank her. He finally gave in and started laughing and she glared at him.
“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, partner,” she threatened him.
“Gladly.” He bent his head and kissed her as if his very life depended on taking her mouth right that moment. Perhaps it did. All he knew was he had to have her. Now.
“On your desk?” he suggested, his voice raspy with desire and a primal need. “On the sofa?”
“How about in the air? On swirling water?” She flashed a wicked smile. “I’m always up for something different.”
He started laughing, and then he called to water. “Yes, my naughty love. Let’s play.”
In seconds, she was naked, her body gleaming in the sunlight pouring through the windows. It was a matter of a thought for him to dispense with his own clothes, and then he lifted her into the air and sent ribbons of water playing around her luscious body. She gasped at the chill and then cried out when he concentrated harder and directed tiny fingers of cool water to toy with every inch of her skin.
“That’s not fair,” she said, gasping.
“Neither is this,” he said, and he let go of her—with his hands. The ribbons of water held her, trapped, in the air, with her arms and legs spread out at her sides. He stepped in closer to her body and licked droplets of water from each tight nipple and then licked his way down her body. Just when he reached the pale blond curls between her thighs, he stopped and straightened before walking around behind her.
“A spanking, naked,” he repeated. He rubbed her lovely, lovely ass with one hand.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, turning to glare at him over her shoulder.
“Ask me not to,” he challenged.
She tightened her mouth, refusing to speak the words. But a delicious gleam in her eyes told him she might not be as reluctant as she pretended.
“You only have to say one tiny word, my princess. Just say no.”
She stuck her tongue out at him but said nothing.
He grinned, and drawing his hand back just a little, lightly smacked her gloriously round ass. Fiona made a noise but it definitely wasn’t a no.
“A lady doesn’t enjoy having her bum smacked,” she said primly.
His heart sank to his feet. Now she would hate him. “Mi amara, I’m so sorry. I was just playing—”
“Lucky for you, I’m not a lady; I’m a ninja,” she said, cutting him off, that deliciously seductive smile back on her face. “Stop with the water. I want you inside me. Now.”
He did as she commanded and in seconds she was flat on her back on the sofa and he drove his cock so far inside her they both cried out. “You belong to me, forever and ever,” he said, barely able to speak through the knot in his throat.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. Always.”
“And I to you,” he added, plunging into her warm wet heat, over and over, until her body arched up into his and she screamed his name. Then, and only then, he gave in to his own release and collapsed on the sofa next to her. “Forever.”
Some time later, they managed to sit up and he pulled her on his lap and grinned. “So you like spankings?”
She glanced demurely up at him through her lashes. “How about I try it on you this time?” His cock jumped a little against her hip and she laughed. “You naughty, naughty man.”
“Oh, you have no idea the naughty ideas I have for you, Lady Fiona.”
“A true warrior would demonstrate,” she said primly.
And so he did.
It was nearly two hours later before he called the portal.
“I’ll return as soon as I can,” he told her.
“I know.”
He hugged her again, put the Siren in his pocket, and stepped through the portal, knowing that nothing would keep him from her.
* * *
“It’s still open, Lady Fiona,” Hopkins observed. “Seems like a sign to me.”
“When will you call me Fiona?”
“When you gather your nerve and go after him,” he said, handing her paint box and a parcel to her. “I’ll handle everything here. Please give this to the Atlantean, if you will.”
“You always do handle everything. I love you, you know. I’ll bring you to visit as soon as I can.” She hugged him tight, and then, gathering her courage in one hand and her paints in the other, she stepped through to Atlantis and landed right on top of the love of her life, knocking him to the grass.
One of the guards, choking suspiciously, held out a hand, and pulled her up when she took it. Christophe just lay there, sprawled in the grass, staring up at her with his mouth hanging open. Through their bond, she could feel his exquisite joy that she’d chosen to follow him.
“Thank you, Marcus,” she said.
“I really think I’m going to like you.”
“You know,” she said, puzzled, “when I’m around Atlanteans, I get that a lot.”
On the ground, Christophe started laughing. “Does this make me Lord Christophe?”
“In your dreams,” Marcus advised.
“Oh, no,” Christophe said, grinning that seductive, wicked smile. “My dreams are far more exciting than that.”
“Here,” she said, holding the package out to him. “This is for you. From Hopkins.”
Christophe opened it, still sitting on the ground, and then stared up at Fiona in astonishment. “Why on earth would Hopkins give me pajamas with barnyard animals on them?”
* * *
As they explored the gardens together later that day, Christophe suddenly lifted Fiona in the air and swung her around.
“Wait till our sons take up their first training swords,” he said, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “They will make us so proud. With magic plus might, they’ll be the toughest warriors ever to set foot—”
“Oh, no. My sons are not going to go around sword fighting. They’re going to be doctors. Or teachers. Or—”
“Daughters,” he said, wrapping a long strand of her hair around his fingers. “Beautiful, charming daughters, just like their mother. And the boys will be after them—wait. Damn boys. I’ll kill them. I’ll kill any boy who so much as—”
“Ouch! That hair is attached,” Fiona said, extracting it from his fingers. “Maybe before you get your pants in a twist over our future children, you could tell me more about just how we’re going to go about getting all of these sons or daughters?”
He bent down and lifted her into the air, then shouted out his joy and swung her around. “Maybe I could show you,” he said, bending to kiss her as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, right there on the path to the palace, in front of anybody who might care to pass by.
When they could finally breathe again, he pulled her a little ways off the path, into the palace gardens, and dropped to one knee. “I know this is the way they do things in your world,” he said, every ounce of the love he felt for her naked on his face. Exposed and vulnerable, just like his heart.
“Lady Fiona Campbell, will you spend
the rest of your life with me?”
Her answer shone like the bright Atlantean sun on her face and in her heart. “Oh, yes. Most definitely yes.”
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Document ID: 11586cd9-aa5f-4d2e-b84d-5b0f4b6693d5
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Document creation date: 10 September 2010
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