She blushed. “Never mind. There’s more where that came from. Wow! It’s nice and warm in here. How can an open sleigh be heated up like this? It’s magical.”
Nick knew she was deflecting and suspected she just wanted to get off the subject of stripping. He let it slide and quirked an eyebrow at her silly statement. “Of course it’s magical.”
When Lilly looked at him and laughed, his heart rate shot up. Her laughter sounded like wind chimes in a rainstorm, exactly as he remembered it. Exactly the way it had rung in his memory all the years he’d been missing her.
Her hair looked fantastic, glittering red-gold even in moonlight. For a moment, his mind flashed back to when he was nineteen years old and that silky hair had drifted over his body as her mouth moved down on him. Nick took a deep breath, his erection fierce. As much as he wanted her right now, he needed to shelve his lecherous thoughts. She wasn’t ready for the need she stirred inside him. Nick removed his red Santa coat, since the magic in the sleigh meant he didn’t require it. Lilly following his lead wriggled out of Kris’s coat that she had been wearing. Both men removed their boots.
Kris up the sleeves of his white shirt showing more of his perennial golden tan. Judging by the way Lilly watched his blonde lover, she wanted him too. He loved the thought that she was attracted to both of them. He imagined her lying on her back, bra off, the rosy nipples of her large breasts erect and tight, Kris’s golden head bending down to suck on one.
“So does this thing actually fly? This sleigh?” She smiled at him innocently, unaware his cock strained against the confines of his Santa pants.
Nick managed a nod. “Is that going to frighten you? Because I know you’ve been through a lot today.”
She looked down at her lap and played with a little silver ring with a Celtic symbol on it that she wore. Her fingernails were painted a delicate pale pink. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper. “I can see now there are things in this world that I never could have imagined. I guess a part of me has always suspected magic was real. But I wasn’t ready to face it. I was so hurt and shocked the day I walked in on you and Kris making love, but the truth is…” She stopped and looked up at him. “The truth is that all these years I’ve thought about it off and on because it…aroused me—the sight of you two together. I wasn’t ready for it at that age.”
He swallowed, trying to stop himself from pouncing on her right that second. “We have plenty of time to talk about all of this later. But right now, I want you to grip on to the handle bar at your side and get ready. You’re about to experience what it’s like to fly in Santa’s sleigh.” She sucked in a breath of anticipation. He imagined her heart beating with excitement and smiled. He picked up the reins and stroked the butter-soft leather against his palm. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, her full lips parted in a smile that made his heart stutter.
“Hold on tight, then.”
She wriggled over to the side and held on to the handle bar, her eyes wide with wonder.
He slapped the reins and called out to the reindeer. “On Rudolph, on Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer, on Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!”
He heard Lilly’s gasp of amazement at the familiar words, and he chuckled to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lilly grit her teeth and grip the handle bar tighter as the reindeer reared and the sleigh lifted off the ground. The sleigh bells jingled, and the reindeer made soft snorting sounds. Beneath him, the sleigh bounced and rattled, and in front of him, the haunches of the reindeer rose and fell as they ascended, their heads bobbing and their hooves flashing. As always, he had a moment when he felt out of control of the animals, a moment of sheer beautiful terror.
Then everything settled into place. The snow-covered ground and gray buildings fell away, dropping gradually out of sight. Soon the whole city lay white and glittering beneath.
Zenia’s breath steamed in the frozen air as she took a proud survey of what had recently become her ship, Morrigan’s Revenge, a huge, handsome vessel moored in the harbor near the wintery mortal beach. Despite its vast size, it looked more delicate than it really was. The ship’s masts, rails and bulwarks had been exquisitely crafted by djinni from the darkest parts of the Fae Realm.
Zenia did not really care to know what materials her ship was made from, but most of the time, the vessel was the color of a bleached skull. The ship’s color could change, though. Sometimes she glowed a deathly blood red from within; at other times, she remained the color of ivory.
The rigging was the very hue of mortal blood itself, and her three fine sails were black. Slaves worked on the ship, dark elementals of the earth that her mother’s elemental fire power had enslaved—gnomes and dwarves, kobolds dressed as sailors smoking pipes, and vicious, bloodthirsty little Redcaps. She hated the ugly, jagged, yellow teeth of these earth elementals.
By the Dark Path! Why didn’t these fools use glamourie to make themselves less ugly, the way she herself did?
But really, it mattered not. They all worked for Zenia now, and that was what was important. She was coming into her promised power at last! Her mother had tired of the tasks involved in being queen. And soon, with a bit more work and a touch of luck, Zenia would be queen of all of the Fae Realm, ruling even the Light parts of her world with a viselike grip.
And before she became queen, she wanted all the light fae to know that the end of their reign was at hand. She wanted those fae and half fae who had foiled her plans in the past to kneel, small and shivering and helpless, before her. Zenia would pull power from them and feed off their fear. She wanted them to know they were doomed long before doom descended on them. The sense of her growing power thrilled her. Her mother’s elemental fire seeped into her bones.
Zenia watched four of her winged attendants heave a heavy iron casket onto their shoulders. Her birdmen slaves were her favorites because they were sexy and glorious, with the heads of peregrine falcons and the muscular, bronzed bodies of men. Their torsos glistened with sweat in the moonlight, their muscles straining as they carried the iron trunk up the beach and toward the ship. Zenia would never touch the casket herself. She’d have a trusted birdman retrieve whatever she wanted from it. Zenia had earned her other title of the Secret One for a reason. She was no fool. She knew the power of iron to drain fae of all magic, which was exactly why she stored her treasures within an iron vessel—so no other fae could get their greedy mitts on her gold and gems.
Once, the casket had held a human body. Now it held only treasure, fairy gold and jewels of all shapes and colors and sizes, jewelry that contained magic that mortals and half fae should never have.
The mortal beach stretched out for miles, deserted and wild. The wind blew like a bellows, making the sea choppy. Snow mixed with the sand. But Zenia, as a Daughter of Fire, was impervious to cold.
This was a strange time of year in both the mortal world and the Light parts of the Fae Realm. Zenia had watched the half-fae Lillian Rudolph in her silver scrying bowl enough times to know that half fae were as silly about Christmas as any full-blood mortal. Every year, mortals and half mortals alike were always bizarrely excited about Christmas. Zenia sneered. She thought of the date she’d once had with Kris Noelle. They’d been to see a movie: The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.
The Grinch had the right idea about this stupid holiday.
Pity she didn’t have the type of power that could match Santa Claus. Nevertheless, with a bit of luck, she’d be able to steal Christmas from her enemies when she took over the Realm, and especially from her nasty little half sister.
A bit of luck and a bit of help. Zenia smiled as she eyed the strong bodies of her sexy slaves. Truthfully, birdmen were difficult creatures to understand. They might have been magical creatures if they’d made the sane choice, but instead, they invariably chose the path of cold iron. They all had warrior hearts and loved to fight with sword and dagger. Some fought for the light fae, but most, like her own army, fought for the Dark.
> She’d dragged her birdmen from the darkest corners of the Fae Realm with her magic, and some of them hated her for it. Especially the one named Rurik. He hated her, hated to be her slave sexually as well as menially. She could see it in his eyes, but that only made her enjoy her power over him all the more.
“Hurry, slaves!” Zenia demanded. She sniffed deeply so she could smell their fear. How she relished it. It was the best aphrodisiac. The way their hearts sped up and their blood pumped like freight trains in their big, masculine bodies. No matter how large and muscular they were, they knew her magic was more powerful than their brawn could ever be. None of them ever disobeyed her will. She never gave them enough freedom to disobey. Not even Rurik, that sniveling, resentment-filled coward.
Brock, on the other hand, was a loyal slave she could trust without doubt, and she enjoyed making use of him in many ways too.
The Secret One curved her lips in a faint smile. It was a relief to have at least one clever slave on whom she could rely to understand what was needed, without having to explain every cursed detail to him. Brock got her.
Zenia threw back her long, straight, blonde hair. Amazing how beautiful the glamourie made her hair. She gestured to Brock to come to her. At once, he left his companions and, like a showoff, spread his huge, sharply pointed wings and flew up the sandbank to her side, though he could easily have used his legs to walk the short distance. In the moonlight, the feathers on his wings shone a deep blue-black.
Brock worshiped her. He owed everything to her. She treated him much better than her other slaves, giving him all the choicest larks for his supper. For those less-loyal birdman, like Rurik, she sometimes caught or conjured only tiny rodents.
And she took Brock to her bed. Often. Brock’s scent was that of the blood of smaller birds he fed on, warm and spicy. Everything grew slippery and hot when the dark fae and birdman writhed together, tongues and fingers exploring each other’s flesh.
Now, her hands sought the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his chest, and the feathers on his falcon wings. Brock made a kaw kaw call from the back of his throat and brushed his beak against her hair. He touched her hips and slid his hands to her waist. His engorged length pressed against her pussy through the gauzy skirt of her dress. She put her hands upon his shoulders and pushed the beast down, down, until he lay with his back on the cold, wet snow and sand.
His harsh voice croaked, “Secret One, I live to serve you.”
She bent to her knees to place a wet kiss on the swollen crown of his cock, then slid up his body so she could whisper in his ear. “You have pleased me, Brock. You alone have been truly loyal.” Brock had helped her collect the fae treasures that had been in the possession of stupid, ignorant half fae, and now they lay in the iron trunk.
Zenia lifted her skirt and straddled Brock, but she left her panties on. Teasingly, she rubbed herself along the edge of his shaft so it abraded her clit through her satin thong. Brock let out a groan, and she giggled, heady with her power over him.
“With your help, Brock, I will retrieve the Blue Spirit Stone and bring it back to the Dark side of the Fae Realm, where it belongs. It will be me who wears the cuff bracelet and fae crown, and I will rule all of the Fae Realm.”
“But, Mistress,” Brock managed to pant as she slid her thong-covered snatch up and down the length of his cock, teasing him with the wetness that seeped through. “Mistress, what will you do about the redhead, the Promised One?”
Zenia stilled and gritted her teeth. “Don’t call the fool by that title. The stupid slut doesn’t even know her fae name. Lillian is completely ignorant. She knows nothing, and she will continue to know nothing.”
“Is she truly Orane’s daughter, then, this Lillian Rudolph?”
His curiosity obviously overrode his lust for her. She saw that in his eyes, and it angered and annoyed her. She pushed herself off him and got to her feet. He stood too, brushing snow from his feathers, and followed her as she paced up the beach.
“Forgive me, Mistress, but that is the rumor I hear. I’ve heard the earth fae and the air fae whisper. I keep my ears and eyes open at all times, as you have asked me to do.”
“Yes,” Zenia answered coldly. “Lillian Rudolph is a daughter of Orane. He gave her the name ‘Lillian, the Promised One’, before he tired of her mother and turned his back on them both, as is his usual habit. He thought at the time that she would be queen one day. He was mistaken. How he could think a foolish half-breed born of a mortal could ever become queen of the Fae Realm is unfathomable to me.”
The Secret One did not like to speak of her sylph father. Her heart hollowed when she thought of his coldness, of all the times she’d tried to impress him and failed. The very few times in her life that he’d praised her had left her with a heady euphoria, but generally, in her quest to inspire feelings of love or respect in her father, she’d been defeated time and again. His coldness stung her. It was difficult to accept she’d never been more to him than an object or possession, as important and valuable as a pretty vase of flowers or an embroidered cushion.
But no one would ever know she had such feelings. The only emotions she ever revealed were anger, hate and joy. She had complete control over what she thought of as her only real weakness, the desire to please a father who didn’t care.
No, try as she might, she could never deny, even to herself, how disinterested in her Orane actually was. Perhaps if she had been a male sprite or had less of her mother’s fiery nature, she could have captured his interest. Orane’s violent breakup with her mother meant he had even less time and interest in her than he had before. When he looked at her, Zenia suspected, he saw the ex-wife he now despised.
Orane was a Son of Air, the coldest, most intellectual and emotionless of air sprites, a powerful king of that one element. But Zenia’s mother, Zenobia, was a Daughter of Fire, and that left Zenia with passion in her veins, desire and an aching hunger for power. She was no cold breath of an air sprite like her father. No flighty sylph. She was all fire, rage and passion, a fire elemental, a salamander at heart like her mother.
But if she could obtain more power, perhaps become stronger in magic than even Orane himself, he’d have to sit up and take notice. If she could show him the jewels she’d collected from half fae, if she could take the throne herself… Oh, that would impress him, surely.
Brock’s cawing refocused her in the moment. He had more questions in his eyes.
“Speak, then, slave.”
“Why have you not killed the Promised One?”
“By the Dark Path, I have tried to kill the sniveling mortal bitch any number of times!” The rage in her voice was enough to silence Brock and make him bow his head. “One never knows with a half-breed, half-fae bitch whether she’ll turn out to be mortal or immortal, but all signs indicate Lillian Rudolph is the latter. Little whore has come through every mishap unscathed.” Brock nodded, and Zenia set her mouth in a firm line. She did not need to tell him the rest.
She wasn’t too worried, though. She’d separated Lilly from two men who might have been her fated mates ten years ago, and they had never returned for her. One had even given her turquoise, the so-called Blue Spirit Stone, and even that gift had not brought Lilly into any permanent love connection with two fated mates, so all seemed safe in that regard. Zenia sighed and watched a feather blow across the wide expanse of white beach.
Brock cleared his throat, catching her attention. “Surely, Mistress, with your cleverness and power you can triumph over any half fae, whether she’s mortal or not.”
Zenia let a small grin spread across her face. As always, Brock had said just the right thing to cheer her up. That was why she valued him. Thoughts of the cruelty and pain she could inflict upon her half sister, even if she could not kill her, revived her sex drive. She pushed Brock to the ground again and sat on him.
A slow smile spread across her lips. “Mortals have more weaknesses than you can possibly imagine, Brock. Your mistress uses the emotio
ns of human and half-human fools against them. I use what they love the most, what they hate. I twist love like a knife in their hearts.”
The birdman quivered beneath her, and she realized she’d frightened him. “Do you know how I did that with Lillian?” She didn’t wait for the birdman to answer. Laughing, she threw back her head and smiled up at the gray winter sky. “Touch me.”
Brock slid his humanlike hands under her buttocks. With his claws retracted, they felt almost like a man’s hands. He massaged wide circles on her ass. He knew what she liked and began pulling the string of her red thong up and down. He pulled it tighter, and it brushed along her clit at the front and up her ass at the back. She intermittently gave little gasps of pleasure, but she didn’t stop talking about the subject which was, after all, of the utmost importance.
“I disguised myself in many different ways. I played with my little half sister in the mortal world since the day she was born.”
“You are a master of magical disguise, Mistress.”
Zenia slid her hand down and played it over his prick, moving the foreskin back and forth. He gave a sharp intake of breath that made her grin as she continued talking.
“It’s the fire blood in me, from my mother’s fire-sprite heritage. I used disguise to infiltrate her pathetic mortal life. The iron chest the other slaves carry on their shoulders once contained the body of Lillian Rudolph’s mortal mother.”
Zenia smiled, remembering how her own cleverness had stopped Orane from ever finding the daughter he had sired upon a mortal. “I separated Lillian from the mortal protection of her mother by means of the poison, antimony. My father was disgusted by the effects of the drug on his former lover. She was forever vomiting. Her skin turned yellow, and her hair fell out. He was so repelled he abandoned her completely.” Zenia laughed. “Cold fish, my father.”
She arched her back as Brock slid a thumb inside her drenched folds. He had nice, big thumbs. He added a finger to his thumb thrusting inside her core. A groan escaped, and she threw back her head and rode his digits.
Wicked Wonderland Page 5
