SEDUCING THE SUN FAE
A FADA NOVEL BOOK 1
REBECCA RIVARD
Wild Hearts Press
THE FADA SHAPESHIFTER SERIES
Prepare to be ensnared…
The fada.
Shapeshifters created during Dionysus’s infamous bacchanals.
They’re ruthless, untamed—
and irresistible to the one person fated to be their mate.
Welcome to the world of the fada. Seducing the Sun Fae is the first in a series of three novels featuring the Rock Run river fada, a clan of river-based shapeshifters.
SEDUCING THE SUN FAE: A Fada Novel, Book 1
A Dark Shifter Alpha…
Dion, alpha of a shapeshifting river fada clan, has had enough. The sun fae queen has seduced many of his best warriors, leaving them fit for little but fishing and drinking wine, and draining life-energy from all his clan in the process. Then comes the final straw—she works her wiles on his youngest brother. It’s time to turn the tables on the shallow, pleasure-loving queen.
A Jaded Fae Queen…
Cleia is a two-hundred-year-old fae whose powerful glamour gets her any man she wants. But she’s bored. She wants something more—and all she knows is that the river fada men have it. So when she meets the big, untamed river shifter, she wants him instantly, even though something whispers this man is dangerous.
She all but orders him to her bed.
That’s just what Dion is counting on…
Contents
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
A Note from the Author
Copyright
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my family, from my parents to my husband to my children to my siblings, who have supported and encouraged my writing in ways too numerous to count. I love you all.
CHAPTER ONE
Dion’s breath hitched. Damn, the sun fae queen was hot—and not just because she, like all her people, carried a touch of the sun’s radiance within her.
No, her body was a feast for the senses: long and lithe, with nicely curved hips and breasts that would fill his hands perfectly—and he was a large man. The queen didn’t bother to conceal that taut, sexy body either. She was wearing a gauzy dress the color of ripe apricots, and as she and her entourage approached the stream where he lurked, the short skirt revealed flashes of smooth golden thighs.
His whole body heated despite his hiding place in the cool stream.
He scowled. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Queen Cleia, but he’d been careful not to get too close, knowing the woman used her looks as a weapon. He’d steeled himself to fight her attraction; the sun fae were famous for their allure, and their queen’s beauty was legendary. Cleia didn’t disappoint: exotically tilted eyes, pouty red lips and hair a gleaming river of sunshine. But he hadn’t bargained on his immediate, intense response.
The woman was pure, undiluted sex.
The queen strolled past, close enough that he could have reached up and dragged her into the stream with him. It was late May, and already the weather hinted at the summer heat to come. She paused to cool herself by lifting her hair. The movement raised her breasts as well, the nipples pressing against the apricot gauze.
He drew a slow breath, his gaze riveted on those tempting points, and she glanced in his direction. Quickly, he ducked beneath the surface so that she saw nothing but a shadowy undulation in the flowing stream.
Not that she couldn’t have sensed him if she tried. He had a Gift for blending into the waters and wetlands that were his natural habitat, but a woman such as her, his equal in power, could penetrate the illusion if she wished. But she believed herself safe on the lush, flower-filled grounds of her sprawling compound as she strolled with her companions, a regal, copper-haired woman nearly as lovely as herself and a pair of glowering blond guards.
The queen shrugged and turned back to her friend. Dion slipped between the cattails that edged the stream and lifted his head to watch her pass. Her scent filled his head, sweet and a bit tart, like a fresh-plucked orange.
She was close…so close. Close enough for him to see the vulnerable curve where her hair had fallen forward over one shoulder, exposing her nape and the delicate pointed ear of a pureblood fae.
His fingers flexed on the stream bed.
Not yet.
It would be easy to take her. He was a master of the quick, silent death. But it was too risky with her guards just steps away. If he was caught, his clan would be embroiled in a war, and weakened as they were, they just might lose.
Besides, killing a woman didn’t sit right—even a heartless bitch like Cleia. No, he had a better idea.
The two women continued past and he angled his body upstream after them. As he flowed into the dappled shade cast by a massive willow, Cleia threw back her head in amusement at something her companion said. Her rich laugh stroked over his body like a promise.
His cock hardened—but damn if his lips didn’t lift too. For the first time he understood that the allure of the woman was not simply in her unashamed sensuality.
He blinked and hardened his jaw. She would not hook him like a foolish young fish.
This was the bitch queen who’d lured so many of his warriors, used them, and then cast them aside. They returned home pale and worn out, some of their best years gone. And with each man she drained and sent back to him, the clan’s fishing grounds grew less fertile, the women more restless and unhappy, the children more prone to illness. Even their vineyards produced half of what they once had.
And it had been going on for twenty years.
Twenty fucking years.
But no more. He was going to end it. Queen Cleia had met her match. No more would she take his men to feed her royal ego. She’d revealed a weakness to young Tiago, and he intended to take advantage of it.
He’d seen all he needed. But he hesitated, curiously reluctant to leave.
When he realized he was waiting for another burst of laughter, he scowled and turned downstream in an abrupt movement that splashed water against the bank. The guards rushed in his direction, but already power was rippling over his skin, cool and refreshing as a summer storm. Limbs changed to fins and a tail, his gills grew more prominent, and scales formed a shimmering armor.
By the time the guards reached the stream all they saw was an enormous silver fish. They cursed angrily, guessing he was a river fada. A fae-ball whizzed past his head, searing the air in a fiery arc, but he flexed his tail and dove deep, heading back to his river.
Soon, whispered the water as it slid past his scales. Soon.
* * *
The way back took Dion across the Flats, a shallow area at the top of the Chesapeake Bay. As he swam, he considered the problem of Queen Cleia. The sun fae were at their weakest during the dark nights of the new moon. The moon had been full just last night, so for his plan to succeed he’d have to wait until early June, two weeks from now.
He turned up the Susquehanna River. From there it was a short swim to Rock Run Creek and home. As Dion entered the creek, a sentry in river-dolphin form g
reeted him with a whistle. Dion flicked a fin in the sentry’s direction and continued on his way to the Rock Run base. As he approached the entrance, he dove six fathoms down, arrowing through a narrow underwater passage to surface in a small grotto that appeared to be a dead-end. Even if human divers—or fae—made it this far, they’d never realize this was the base’s main entrance.
After shifting back to man, Dion slipped through a hidden door into the system of caves that made up the base, shook himself dry and pulled on the shorts he’d left on a shelf. As he headed for his quarters, Luis, his second-in-command, stepped out of the operations room and wished him a formal good evening.
“Boa noite, meu senhor.”
“Boa noite,” Dion returned. “Something wrong?”
Luis had been the fourth Rock Run warrior ensnared by Cleia. She’d kept him as her lover for a little more than a year. He’d returned more or less intact, but his subsequent mating had produced only one child in five years and he’d never regained his full strength. He’d always been wiry, but now he was gaunt, his cheeks bruised hollows in his face. The clan’s healers had done what they could but he was growing weaker by the month.
Somehow the queen was still draining his energy even years after his return. She had to be stopped.
“Perhaps,” Luis replied. “You know the new earth shifter alpha?”
“Lord Adric?” The Baltimore earth fada were longtime rivals of Rock Run who’d been locked for years in a bitter internal struggle for clan leadership. Apparently some young whelp—this Adric—had at last come out on top.
He wouldn’t last long—not if he were as young as people said. Unlike the river fada, who had an affinity for water animals, the earth people shifted to land-dwellers like wolves, cougars or deer, but in every fada clan, the predatory animals far outnumbered the non-predatory.
Adric didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hades. He’d be dead within months, murdered in a back alley or exhausted from fighting off challenges.
“Rodolfo saw Adric and a couple of his men on our land near the western border,” Luis said. “In animal form, but Rodolfo recognized their scent. The three of them spent about an hour scouting around—checking out the vineyards, looking over the local humans. He stayed with them until they left Rock Run territory, then came back to report.”
“He’s sure it was Adric?”
“Sim. He ran into him just last week at a bar in Baltimore.”
“Damn.” Dion’s heart sank. The last thing he needed right now was a clash with the Baltimore shifters. They’d been sniffing around Rock Run for years, waiting for a chance to grab a piece of it, but up until now the clan had been too big and powerful for them. “They must have heard we’re in trouble.”
His second nodded. “There’s no other explanation.”
“Someone must have talked, damn it. I thought I made it clear—”
“Someone always talks. They don’t mean to, but—” Luis shrugged. “And hell, if I were Adric, I’d pounce. As the new alpha, he needs something big to hold onto his followers. If he could grab a piece of our territory—or better yet, kick us out of here altogether—they’d crown him fucking king.”
Dion growled. “Not going to happen. I’ll slit his throat myself if I have to.”
“So what do you want to do about it?” Luis leaned against the wall as he awaited instructions. For a moment his shoulders slumped, exhaustion pinching his face, but at Dion’s sharp look, he pushed himself upright again.
Dion hesitated, tempted to tell the man to get some rest, but fearing he’d take it as an insult. He decided to let it go for now. “What have you done so far?”
“I ordered the sentries to double their patrols in that sector.”
“Good. Keep the double patrols for the next few days and inform the tenentes we’re on alert. Warn the locals as well.” The local humans were farmers and employees of the vineyards and winery, descendants of the people who’d emigrated with his parents from Portugal, and the clan took their protection seriously. “Notify me immediately if anything else happens. I don’t care what time it is, I want to know.”
“Of course.” Luis inclined his head and headed back into the operations room.
Dion turned toward his quarters. As the clan’s fortunes declined, he and his men had been forced to hire themselves out as mercenaries and assassins just to keep the women and children fed. It was a role all too easy for them to fill. Every fada male had a cold, ruthless animal inside of him—literally.
Sometimes Dion felt uneasy at what hard bastards he and his warriors were turning into, but right now he was glad that ruthless streak had been fed, encouraged to develop.
Because if young Lord Adric proved to be a problem, Dion would have no qualms whatsoever with taking the S.O.B. out.
CHAPTER TWO
Two weeks later
Cleia stood on her balcony, sipping wine as the sun set over the stretch of bay separating her clan’s lands from the river fada’s. Color splashed across the sky in vivid oranges and pinks and purples. Despite the sunset’s beauty, she felt the familiar, bittersweet tug at seeing the source of her people’s power dip below the horizon for another day.
And tonight it was especially hard to watch the sun slide from view. Even though it was summer, the night of the new moon was always a little tricky for her, her energy at its lowest ebb. Thunderclouds raced across the sky, promising an even darker night. A frisson of alarm raised the tiny hairs on her nape. She frowned and opened her senses but detected only the familiar low hum of family, friends, trusted servants—and the big river fada awaiting her inside.
She glanced around one last time and headed back into her apartment.
Her newest lover was seated on the floor, an arm draped casually over his bent knee. A glass of wine dangled from one large, powerful hand.
She took the chair in front of him and regarded his hopeful face. She was two hundred years old and, thanks to her powerful glamour, could have any man—or woman—she wanted. This one was no different, although this afternoon she’d thought perhaps—
She’d been riding her sport bike, reveling in the energy of the sun-powered motor, wanting…something, she wasn’t sure what. She’d torn over the Susquehanna River bridge and headed onto a bumpy dirt road, her bodyguards close on her heels. She could feel their disapproval as she turned up a narrow path into the sparsely populated checkerboard of woods, vineyards and farms owned by the Rock Run fada—but today she just didn’t care.
She shot over a hill and had to swerve to miss the man planted in the center of the path. For a heart-stopping moment she fought for control of the bike before screeching to a halt a few feet beyond him.
She twisted around to look at him. The ass hadn’t even moved, save to turn around and face her.
The scold on her lips died as she took him in, big and broad and arrogant in jeans and a sleeveless shirt that strained over his heavily muscled chest. He had a mane of hair so black it was almost blue, a gray scarf tied around one large bicep and bare feet, a dead giveaway that he was a river fada. They wore minimal clothing, preferring to move freely through their watery habitat, and especially disliked shoes.
Not that she wouldn’t have known he was a river fada anyway. Not with that big body and Mediterranean features. But more than that, it was his screw-you attitude. She’d have bet a handful of her favorite jewels that if she’d ridden past, he’d have laughed and turned away—leaving her the one wondering.
Most fae considered the fada little better than animals. Descendants of Dionysus and his wild followers, they’d been created during the god’s infamous bacchanals, shapeshifters who were a mixed genetic bag of fae, human, animal and the god himself. Insular and clannish, they lived close to nature, shifting between their two-legged and animal forms and eschewing many of the comforts that pureblood fae took for granted. Even though Rock Run’s territory adjoined her own, Cleia rarely saw them except when she took one as a lover.
The other
fae were right: fada were raw and untamed, even primitive. But what they didn’t know was that primitive side, that wildness, made fada men the best lovers.
Excitement sparked low in her belly. Something whispered that this man was dangerous…and she was jaded enough to want him even more.
Curious now, she activated her glamour and swung off the bike. Her gaze ran over him as she stripped off her gloves, removed her helmet and shook out her hair in a practiced move.
The big fada met her appraising look with eyes the same silver-blue as the river in spring, their lightness startling against his olive skin. She blinked, and then recovered herself.
“Olá, Senhor,” she said in Portuguese, his clan’s preferred tongue.
“Bom dia, Cleia.”
No “Queen Cleia.” She raised a brow but let it pass. “You know who I am?”
“Of course.” The murmured reply was polite, but his gaze swept insolently down her body, clad in brown biker’s leathers and a soft yellow top, before returning to her face. He stared at her, bold and unapologetic.
Heat jolted through her. She gazed back, caught by those odd light eyes as surely as if he’d thrown a net over her. All her senses came alive. Her lips parted and her breath skidded in and out. Then Artan and Grady pulled up on either side of her and the river man shuttered his gaze.
Her fingers clenched on the gloves. He seemed somehow…less. But why should that bother her? She’d already decided she wanted him.
With a shrug, she’d amped up her glamour and beckoned him closer. “Come, ride with me.” It was an order and they both knew it.
He glanced at the guards and remained where he was. It was clear he was waiting for them to back off. She hesitated. But what could he do in the split second it would take Artan and Grady to get back to her?
“Stand back,” she ordered them. The two men grumbled under their breaths but did as she asked, wheeling their bikes to a spot several yards away. She turned back to the river fada and reached out a hand. “Come. Ride with me.”
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