Not your grandmother's fairy tale...
Rhiannon Kinsley’s life goes from boring to downright bizarre when a freak lightning bolt streaks through her window and strikes her laptop. To make matters even weirder, strange words and symbols start flashing across her computer screen and she starts hearing a mysterious voice in her head. Time to call the nice young men in the white coats! Then Cerne Silverwing, a strange yet sexy man, appears. He insists she is a faerie princess whose fate will determine his own. What a crock! Now she knows who really needs the white coats.
With the evil Dark Faerie minions threatening their kingdom, time is of the essence. Cerne has no choice but kidnap Rhiannon and bring her to Fey, a land where magic flows freely and unicorns flee the debauched. He’s performing a duty to his kingdom and nothing more—a duty that will save the kingdom and bring him his wings and the strengthened magical powers that come with them. He needs to unite with the princess as her consort or those wings will never grow. That would be the Faerie princess who grew up in the land of laptops and instant messages. The one he kidnapped. The one who's convinced they're both crazy.
Despite their differences, the two are thrust together to defeat the leather-clad, whip-wielding Dark Faerie Queen before she takes over their kingdom. Passion and peril aside, will Rhiannon and Cerne discover their true destiny?
Chapter the Third
She must have hit her head on the board when she dove in. It was the only explanation she could find for how she'd ended up in Cerne's arms again.
“I've died and gone to heaven, haven't I?” she asked, looking into his hazy jade eyes.
He pulled her close to his thick muscled body and swirled his tongue along her lips. “No, mo cridhe. You’re very much alive.”
“Are you some sort of magician or something?” Not that she was one to believe in magic, but he had appeared out of thin air on two separate occasions.
Cerne traced a fingertip against her nipple. “A magician of sorts,” he said with a lazy drawl. “Perhaps we could take our discussion indoors?”
The chill of the air on her back caused her skin to pebble. “It's getting cold anyway. I usually don't swim this late, but I've had a rather strange day.”
“We can discuss it inside, my sweet.” As he stood, beads of water dripped down the broad expanse of his chest and the hard ridges of his abdomen to his cock. He put the Greek Gods to shame. And his scent—male, woodsy, and erotic—it drove her mad with desire.
This isn't healthy. She needed to find a real man and put Mr. Fantasy in the back of her thoughts.
“You know, uhh... Cerne,” She began, scooping up the scrap of her bikini bottom. “This was fun and all, but we can't do this anymore.” Damn, she felt like a kid again, sending away her imaginary friend. Only she wasn't a kid, and this imaginary friend was a bona fide sex god.
“I don't understand. Did you not enjoy yourself?” He stepped from the pool, a frown etched across his face.
“Yes, I enjoyed myself.” Now she had to start explaining herself to this figment of her warped imagination? Priceless. “But, I've taken a vow to remain celibate until I meet the right man. An imaginary sex god doesn't quite qualify as Mr. Right.”
“I am most certainly real, and what I have to tell you is important.” He clapped his hands and in less than an instant he was dry. Damn, talk about magic!
He stalked toward his discarded clothing and began to dress. “Gods'teeth!” he exclaimed with frustration. He snapped his fingers and his outfit materialized on his magnificent body.
Darn, there goes my view. What did she expect though? She’d just told Mr. Fantasy to hit the road.
Rhiannon confiscated the swim top that lazily floated by and sighed. She pulled the bikini top down over her breasts and tied it behind her. This is going nowhere fast. She had less trouble getting rid of Bluto MacDuff, her crazy imaginary friend from her army brat days. As her parents and she moved from base to base, Bluto seemed the only thing that kept her sane.
“Bluto was your Faerie godparent.” Cerne said. “All human children have them. You didn't send him away. He left when you came of age.”
Super, he can read my mind too? How very imaginary friend like.
“So you're the expert on faerie godparents too? Tell me this, if Bluto was a Faerie, why am I still on earth?” she asked, holding what remained of her bikini bottom in front of her. “How about making yourself useful and handing me a towel?” She pointed to the pink towel hanging on the fence.
“I'm an expert in all things Faerie. And, to answer your question,” he continued with a smile. “Bluto did notify us of your whereabouts. Alas, you kept moving, and Faerie godparents can only watch and guide children, not bring them into Fey—even if they belong there.”
Cerne lifted his hand and extended his finger toward the towel and motioned it. The towel rose from the fence and floated toward her like a magic carpet. Not to be outdone, he signaled the towel to fold itself. As if it were a weightless feather, the towel landed beside the pool ledge.
Maybe it was time to check the pool's pH level, because she was on some sort of trip and it wasn't the kind involving an airplane. Not wanting to dwell on whatever hallucinations she may or may not be having, she grabbed the magic towel and bounded from the pool. She wrapped the towel around her body and secured it with a quick twist.
“Thanks for the assistance.” She wrenched around toward the exit. “I did enjoy myself, but I need someone real to fool around with.” She stalked to the gate, opened it and stepped out of the pool area. Rhiannon slammed the gate shut, locked it and marched to the house. She turned her head for one final glance.
Cerne stood tall with his arms across his ripped chest. You must believe me. You are the White Faerie Princess and I've come to take you home.
“Oh, that’s right—I'm a princess. Where are my glass slippers and the magic pumpkin? Is it midnight yet?” She threw back her head and laughed. “I'm definitely calling Shady Acres, because one of us is crazy, for sure.”
“What’s Shady Acres?” he asked, joining her on the patio.
Rhiannon blinked. Didn't she just lock that gate? “A funny farm? The loony bin? Where they send people who are off their rockers.”
“I'm afraid I don't completely understand your human tongue yet.” He grinned. “Only when it's occupied elsewhere.”
“This is no time for jokes. I'm being serious. As soon as I get inside, I'm going to notify the authorities. Either way, one of us will be taken away in a straight jacket. From the looks of it, it’ll probably be me.” She shrugged at his bemused gaze. “It means I’m crazy.”
“You're not crazy. I just need a few minutes to explain.” He grabbed her hand in a firm yet gentle embrace. Tiny tingles of electricity raced across her skin. “Can you not feel the connection? I know I can.”
Against her better judgment, she spoke. “Okay, I'll give you ten minutes to explain whatever it is you think is so important.” She opened the sliding door and allowed him entrance. Mr. Magic would find a way in, anyway.
“Thank you, mo cridhe. Your trust is very important to me.”
Chuckling, she grabbed her denim shorts off the floor and pulled them on. “Just so you know, I don't trust you at all.”
She snatched her cell phone from the dining room table and stuffed it in her pocket. “One wrong move and I'll have the cops here in a heartbeat.”
“What are cops?” He asked with an amused smile. What did he think was so funny?
“Police officers, law enforcement?” She shook her head at his blank stare. “Po-po?”
“Sorry, I haven't spent too much time on earth.” He grinned and traced a fingertip along her ass as she walked past him. If anyone else were to act in such an uncouth way, she would've castrated them onsite. However, the sensation from his fingertips caressing her buttocks sent shivers of heat and desire racing through her body. Unnerving, yet strangely exciting.
She stiffened, not wanting him to sense her attraction. “I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your hands of my backside,” she said curtly and turned toward the kitchen. She needed a tall glass of something strong. Maybe drinking herself into a stupor would get rid of Mr. Dream Hunk. “I'm getting something to drink. Are you thirsty?”
He appeared in the doorway, dimples furrowing deep in his cheeks. “I'm thirsty for you, Rhiannon. There’s so much I want to show you... teach you.”
Rolling her eyes, she dragged out two glasses from the top cupboard and sat them on the counter with an unceremonious clank. She traced her finger along the wine rack and perused her meager selection.
“Well, I hate to let you down, but I'm not on tap tonight. You'll have to settle for wine instead.”
Aha! She'd found the perfect choice. She pulled out the bottle of Arbor Mist Blackberry Merlot and poured two tall glasses. She didn't need to impress anyone. After all, he was imaginary, right?
“Okay.” she thrust the glass into his hand. “Let's go in here.”
She led him through the tiny dining area, past the hallway to living room. Noticing the breeze whipping the drapes, she shut the large bay windows and drew the curtains closed.
“Have a seat.” She pointed toward the couch sitting directly across from the window. She sipped her wine and waited for him to sit.
He roved around the room, examining her furnishings. He traced a finger along the mahogany end table and picked up the ceramic unicorn she'd painted in eighth grade.
“Unicorns, although beautiful to look at, are rather vile beasts.” He set the figurine back down and took a seat. “Comfortable, but not as much as the palace.”
“So you're telling me you've seen a unicorn?” She fumbled with her cell phone and sat on the opposite end of the sofa.
“I've seen a few.” He continued to peruse the living room. “How did you happen upon such a lovely home?”
“My parents left it to me when they died.”
He turned to face her, his jade eyes glowing even in the dimness of the room. “Your parents are still alive.”
“Okay, that does it. I've had enough of this baloney.”
He has his nerve! Rhiannon dug into her pocket and grabbed her phone. She flipped the earpiece up and prepared to dial 9-1-1.
Cerne plucked the phone from her hand. “My ten minutes are not up yet.” He flipped it shut and placed it on the back of the couch.
“Fine.” The sooner he finished, the sooner she could call 9-1-1 and have herself committed. “Go ahead and talk.”
“I've come to retrieve you and bring you back,” Cerne took a sip wine. He scrunched his nose and spit out the liquid. “Blech! What sort of vile concoction is this? I've tasted better swill from an ogre.”
“The best you can get for four dollars a bottle.” She narrowed her eyes. “As you can see, I'm already home. So your job here is done.”
“This,” He said, raising his arms and motioning around the room, “isn't your home. The White Plains is your home.”
“White Plains? If you think I'm moving back to New York, you're sorely mistaken.”
She wrinkled her nose. God, how she hated New York. The years she spent at school were horrid. She had very few friends. No one took her work seriously, and she felt like an outsider. Well, she'd shown those pompous assholes. She graduated magna cum laude from NYU, took the first awesome paying job offer that came her way and promptly moved to Phoenix. Her parents had followed shortly after. Then they were killed in a car accident.
Hobart and Johnson was now her life, her dream. She'd finally found a way to put her artistic ability to good use, as one of their top-level graphic designers. New York was her past. Hobart and Johnson was her present and, hopefully, her future.
“No, the White Plains isn't in New York, wherever that may be. It's here.” He opened his hand and produced a giant blue globe. His fingers danced across it, activating a soft glow. He held the sphere out to her.
She hesitated then took the warm object into her hand. Peering into the glassy ball, she watched the scene unfold. Faeries danced and floated around. Vibrant flowers of many colors sprinkled the valleys and white poppies dotted the plains. Bright rays of sunshine mingled with fluffy white clouds across the sky. Never had she witnessed a more beautiful place. Not even the butterfly exhibit at the Desert Botanical Gardens could compare to the magnificence displayed in the glowing orb.
He reached for the globe and clasped it in his hand. It shrank to the size of a small marble, and he placed it in the pocket of his strange pants.
“Wow, that’s awesome. I want one. Where'd you get it, Faeries 'R’ Us?”
“They aren’t found on Earth.” he huffed. “Only in the White Plains, in the Land of Fey—your true home.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’re Princess Rhiannon Nightwind, and it's time for you to return. Your mother needs you—your people need you.”
This guy is nuts.
“Let go of me. I'm calling the cops. I've had enough time to decide—you're the one who's crazy.” She fought against his hold and punched his chest.
“You’re Princess of the White Faerie folk.” His jade eyes searched hers. “Just hear me out.”
“Why do you keep saying I’m a faerie princess?” She burst out in peals of laughter. “Okay, I get it. I'm on Candid Camera and it’s all a big practical joke. Who put you up to this?”
“It's no joke, leannan. I'm your chosen consort and will be your life-mate. We are destined to be together, but you must return before Lilith and her minions take over.”
This man, despite his strange outfit, didn't look one bit like a faerie. Heck, she didn't look like one either. “If we're faeries, where the hell are our wings?”
He pointed toward the seat. “Sit back down. I still have five minutes left to explain. Faeries are not born with wings. We gain our wings when we are joined by faerie magic. The royal faerie joining occurs at Beltane—May First on the human calendar. Please just sit and read.” He pulled out a folded piece of crinkled paper and placed it in her hand.
With a reluctant breath, she took it and sat back down. Perusing the yellowed faded parchment, she recognized the weird language she was strangely becoming accustomed to.
My Dearest Daughter Rhiannon,
If you are reading this, then we have found you. It is of utmost importance that you return to your people. My health is fading fast. Without a queen, the kingdom will be thrown into chaos and the Dark Faeries will take over. Death and destruction will ensue. Without you, The White Plains is in danger. Please return home.
Blessings,
Your loving mother always, Titania
Oh puhlease! She laughed even harder. Did he truly expect her to buy into this ridiculous story?
“Queen Titania? Can you get any more cliché? I suppose King Oberon is her husband?” She handed the fake letter back to Cerne, if that was even his real name.
His green eyes lit up. “You've heard of them?”
She rolled her eyes. “Who hasn't? William Shakespeare immortalized them. But why I'm explaining this to you is beyond me.”
Cerne grinned. “Oh that's right. Mr. Shakespeare caught Queen Titania and Prince Oberon on their honeymoon. He was one of the most influential humans the White Faerie folk have known. A wonderful person, or so I've been told.”
“Okay, where are the hidden cameras? This is getting old really fast.” She tapped her foot. “I know you expect me to believe you because you're some super hot sex-god, but I think you'd better go—before I call the police.” She reached across the sofa to grab her phone.
He caught her hand in his and gave her a heated gaze. “I didn't want to resort to this,” he said with a thick, heady voice. “But I've run out of options.” He pulled her against his hard muscled body. With his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her chin.
She clenched her fists and bit her lip. She attempted to pull herself from his embrace, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Tingling numbness filled her every pore.
“Let me go! You're frightening me.”
“It's for your own good and the good of your people, my sweet.” He traced a finger lightly over her lips. “Soon you'll understand. “
He lowered his lips to hers and gently nibbled. He coaxed her mouth open with his tongue and swirled with hungry strokes along hers. She moaned softly as her traitorous tongue danced with his. Lessening his grip on her arm, he allowed her to press closer and rub her bikini-clad breasts against the hard ridges of his chest.
Stupid nipples, she thought to herself as they pebbled against the spandex of the swim top.
She twisted her fingers in his dark mane, pulling him closer. Heedless of what she knew was right, she intensified the kiss. He hoisted her up onto his lap, letting her straddle the rock hard erection that filled his trousers. Grinding her hips against his, she reached down to unfasten and untie them.
He pulled her hands away. “No, leannan. I just want to kiss. The joining must occur at Beltane—in Fey.”
“I'm not going to this White Plain—”
He reclaimed her lips. Intoxicating warmth spread throughout her body while he licked, sucked and nibbled her. She gasped in pleasure and let his tongue to probe the cavern of her mouth again. Light as a feather, she sighed in deep contentment. By God, was she floating? Closing her eyes, she allowed him have his way with her.
“I'm sorry,” he breathed against her lips. “It was the only way.”
“What—” Her eyes flickered as spots danced before them—until darkness took over.