Yes, he’d been standing there staring at his reflection for nearly four hours. Scars now marred his back but other than that he should still be attractive to a human. The only opinion he cared about was Breena’s. Sweet Goddess, when had he ever been this nervous over anything? Well he couldn’t fly back yet and this war was long from over. Seeing Breena again would have to wait.
The delay was killing his good mood. A twenty-four hour erection would do that to a man. He rubbed one off last night, picturing her bare breasts beneath his mouth, but when the sun lifted into the sky so did his cock. He lifted the loincloth that now donned his hips. Sure enough, his thick dick was curved and reaching upward like a low cloud searching for the sky. He grabbed the base and tightly rubbed the entire length of his arousal. His hips jerked and pleasure swarmed through his balls.
Three rough knocks sounded on his door and he lowered the loincloth over his raging erection then answered. Before him stood Mord, his face grim, wings lowered.
“I was busy and did not get a chance to see how you fared.”
Mord was always too busy trying to solve every problem in the kingdom. “Brielle healed me up quite nicely.” Thame shifted so his big golden wings could be viewed. “She’s one hell of a healer. An amazing woman.” Who seemed to get sadder every time he saw her.
“She is.”
Thame gestured for the fairy to enter but he shook his head. Long blond hair feathered from the knot on his head.
“I must return. I was just concerned for you.”
“I am well. Ready to kill some trolls.” A small smile lingered on his face. There would be no mercy wiping the bastards from the face of earth.
Mord returned the violent grin. “The next time I see one, I’ll send him right to you.”
“Deal.” He nodded once. The other man walked off. Thame glanced longingly at the sky. The air was chilled today, clouds dotting the sky like a leaking canvas.
***
Breena stood in the doorway staring at the broken bed with a depression lingering. She was miserable at first but as the days passed, anger began to stir. Thame should have, at the very least, called. He knew where she lived, and it had been a full week without word. She truly missed him. The window in the room was in the process of being fixed. As of right now, it was a sheet of plastic over the gaping hole. Breena ripped the stuff loose and let the cooled evening air rush into the room. Her jeans and t-shirt were little resistance to the chill and goose bumps decorated her pale skin.
“Why so sad?” Gran whispered from the door.
“Not sad, just thinking.” She turned and faced the woman that raised her. “Do you think he’ll come back?”
“I told you not to let your eyes wander. He’s bad news.”
She was holding something back. Breena knew by the tone and the fact that Gran loved to gossip as much as she loved to knit. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Men are idiots.”
Breena snorted. “He’s different.” At least, she hoped he was. Gran’s eyes darted outside, and she frowned. With a quick check, she noted the rise in shadows but nothing else. “What’s wrong?”
She held up one finger and rushed from the room. In the distance, she locked doors and slammed windows shut then rushed into the kitchen. “Get away from the window!”
“Why? What’s going on?” Breena checked the shadows once more, but there was nothing out there.
“Iníon, you know the superstitious folklore around here about fairies, trolls and banshees.”
Breena nodded. “Of course.”
Gran revealed a box of salt and ripped off the plastic cover. “Well, they’re real, I’m part troll and they’re about to attack the house.”
Well, Gran had finally lost it. What would Breena do without her wit and blunt wisdom? “Listen Gran, we’ll take you to see the doc.” Her heart ached; this was her Gran, the woman who raised her. She couldn’t go nuts. She deserved a pedestal and anything desired.
She walked up to Breena and gently patted her cheek. “Duck.”
“Duck?”
“Duck.”
Breena watched with wide eyes as she threw the salt through the open window. It blew in the window and fell on the bushed outside like an attempt at snow. The sight would have been pretty if it wasn’t for the god-awful scream that pierced the night. The bush shivered and something ran from cover howling to the setting sun.
“Grab more salt and make sure everything is shut.”
Breena wanted to argue but she was still trying to unravel what just happened. Her feet were leaden as she moved to the kitchen and shoved open the cabinet. They always had a ton of salt in the house. Did Gran always fear trolls attacking? Seriously?
Gran yelled and she ran to the door was a bottle of salt in each hand. What she saw next had her mouth flopping open. This short ugly thing tried to leap through the window. It screamed, grabbed its pocked face the moment Gran threw salt at it. “What the fook!”
“Watch your mouth, Iníon!” she scolded and grabbed the bottle in her left hand. A window broke; she heard the familiar crash of shattering glass and turned in time to see a short blur with sharp teeth run through the kitchen and down the hall. “Well, fook me.” Gran exclaimed and Breena couldn’t agree more.
***
Thame stared straight at the big petals of the giant sunflower. His wings were proudly displayed and fully healed, but now came the true test. The first flight and that sunflower looked an awfully high climb. In the past, he never doubted himself. There was no point starting it now. He forced his wings to move.
It was similar to moving fingers or toes in synchrony. Just the thought sent his wings into motion and his feet lifted off the ground. There was a slight sting in his back but nothing he couldn’t handle. His eyes remained on the yellow petal edge, and it slowly inched closer. Sweat began to bead his forehead. His hands clenched into fists and a throbbing began in his temple. He surpassed even his high expectations and passed the flower. Pushing harder and flying higher, he finally reached the thin transparent barrier that separated the two worlds. Thame landed on the surface in a patch of three leaf clovers. Blood rushed through his veins as his quick breath began to ease.
“Impressive.” Mord spoke from beneath the willow tree. His blond hair loose and the ends curled without restraint.
Thame nodded, his back stiff from disuse. However, his feet were steady as he shuffled forward and sat beside him. That took more out of him than he would ever admit.
“Looks like cold weather is on its way.”
He glanced at the muddled blue sky. Winter was always mild here but the group of gray clouds did give off an ominous feel. “I like the snow. It’s easier to track.” It always made the hum of the distant ocean muffled and enhanced the natural sounds around them. “Where’s Brielle? She’d love this view.” The sun began to fall toward the horizon.
“Home. I just came here to think.” He turned toward Thame. “I’m trying to convince King Carrick that we need to take more drastic measures. The queen is not yet with child.”
“What measures?”
“We can’t wait for the women to stumble upon us. We should go out, gather those that can see us and return them here. They could have a wonderful life here with us.” Mord shook his head in disgust. “We’re dying out and the King is only thinking with his heart.”
Thame frowned. “I think when the time is right, we will find our female match.”
“That’s not good enough.” His voice rose then his shoulder slouched as if he was defeated in a major battle. “How long will we have to wait? Five years or twenty or one hundred?”
“I don’t think it will be that long. Finding the Queen has started a chain reaction, it seems.”
“What do you mean?”
Thame hesitated. He was not the sharing type but it would be known soon enough. “I found my female, I think.”
“The woman that saved you?”
Thame squinted. “How are you awar
e of that?”
“Wick gossips like a woman.”
Thame snorted. Wick did indeed. “First the king, now me, I do believe soon the others will follow.”
“...and what of Brielle and me? Or Flance and Bray?”
“That I do not know.” Would their connection become stronger when the others began to mate? Would anything help them create a child? “Nothing but time will tell.”
Mord shook his head, looking as lost as a child in the forest. “I must return...”
Thame simply nodded and watched the fairy fly down and out of sight. Mord was taking the whole kingdom on his shoulders. No wonder the man was stressed and ignoring Brielle. Once things settled down with Breena, he’d address that issue. Brielle was like a sister to him and her unhappiness dulled her glow. He wanted her as happy as she could possibly be. She deserved it.
There was a swift blur of blue and Thame knew it was Whisper but on instinct, he extracted the sword from his hip. It was the best move he ever made.
“Watch your back!” The words were deep and growly.
While Whisper leapt into the surrounding forest, a troll charged its hideous hide toward him. He was about to find out if revenge was sweet.
Chapter Eight
Thame’s sword clashed with the blood-crusted blade of the troll. Dark flecks sprinkled the ground from the impact. It hissed with its fangs bared. He showed his own straight, white teeth and lifted the dagger from his belt. In seconds, the weapon broke through the rough skin of the trolls stomach. Warm blood gushed. It shrieked loudly, a high-pitched wail as he dragged the blade across its throat.
Thame would never be a victim again.
A line of trolls ran over the nearest hill, the grass was dotted with these ugly things and the weapons they wield. He roared, loud enough to alert the others and hopefully, instill some fear into the disgusting creatures.
The moment they reached the bottom of the small hill, two were met with a blur of blue and fell to their knees clasping their spurting necks. He was damn glad Whisper was on their side.
His sword rose, he kept the dagger at hip level as two approached him. He lunged, striking each with a weapon and left both of them bleeding. He twisted away from the jabs, nearly dancing on his toes to keep these two at bay. His back hindered every movement. It frustrated him to no end as he shifted and barely missed the tip of the enemy’s blade.
Pissed, Thame charged them. His sword connected with the one on the right, his dagger the left. He kicked to the left. When it hunched over, he used his sword to slash the left ones head clean off its shoulders. Then he spun, slammed the sword into a gut and jammed his dagger straight down into its curved back. It went down without a whimper. He turned to the others, ready to exact more fortifying revenge. There was no chance. Five trolls lay dead around him. He couldn’t help but think once again that Whisper was one scary son of a banshee. He turned, sword shifting into defensive stance.
The King stood at the edge of the mini battle, hands on his hips with Wick and Flance beside him. “It seems my rush to get here was for naught.”
“Blame the blue-headed freak.” Thame murmured and heard a snort from the nearest shadow.
“This one’s alive.” Flance had moved a few steps from the king’s side, kneeling down beside a pile of marred flesh.
Instantly, a sword was at its throat. Whisper growled and revealed two oddly pointed teeth. They looked like canine teeth. Why did he have fangs? “Wait!” If he had been a moment slower with the word, it would have been too late. Thame walked to the gasping troll as Whisper grudgingly removed the blade from its bleeding throat. He looked at King Carrick who nodded. “Why did you bother attacking us?” It wasn’t like the trolls to attack in such few numbers. They were cowards.
It shifted, made a move to slam sharp teeth into Thame’s leg. Moving no more than an inch before Whisper shoved a small but effective dagger through hits hand. It shrieked and tried to pull out the blade only to receive another in the other hand. This time it cried out but stilled.
“Why did you attack us?”
Its black eyes jerked to Whisper who shifted closer to the shadows. “Decoy...”
Thame had that bad feeling rise swiftly through his gut. “A decoy for what?” When it didn’t answer Whisper took a step closer. It sputtered and turned its attention fully to Thame.
“Already too late.” Blood dribbled from its deformed lips.
“You will explain or I’ll let him have you. “
It hissed once again, spittle mixing with the cascading blood. “By now, we have your woman.” Its words made Thame’s blood run cold. “Our mission here...success.”
“Sweet Goddess...Breena.” The words were quiet, pulled right from his aching, lonely soul. His heart thumped so loud in his ears he couldn’t hear the Kings orders. Thame lifted into the sky as the blur of blue finished off the dying troll. He heard two fairies behind him. Didn’t know who was brave enough to follow him into a battle or Goddess forbid, the aftermath of one. They were going after his woman, how did they even know about her? What if he didn’t arrive in time? Questions plagued his mind as he pushed himself harder than ever before. He had to get to Breena.
The sun settled into the horizon as he precariously flew across the Irish Sea. This was a terrifying ordeal flying over this much water with half his strength, but he focused on his innocent Breena. Abigail might expect trouble but how could she possibly defend against bloodthirsty trolls. He lowered in the sky, closer to the water. There was no strength to stay high with the others. He pushed forward as the darkness began to gather and hinder his sight.
It wasn’t long before they were at the Aran Islands. The water dropped off and land was once again beneath him. Even in the dark he could find her home. He aimed straight for it with his heart ready to burst with anxiety. Should he have told her the truth from the beginning? Should he have taken her with him?
The house was right there, sounds of screeching and screaming blended with the sound of scattering night creatures. “Breena!” he shouted her name as he neared. His heart beat wildly in his chest. His lungs gasped for air; his sword was ready to tear apart those who threatened his woman. He came to the front of the house and nearly fell to the ground at the sight.
Breena swung the bottle of salt like a sword, it rained on the creature that charged them baring its fangs. She used a pan to knock it upside the head as it screech in agony. Salt would never be just a seasoning again.
Gran was behind her, salting with equal vigor and spurting Irish words so fast that even Breena didn’t understand. Together they left a trail of screaming, dying trolls. That’s what they deserved. How dare they attack their house. She felt empowered, amazingly strong as she wacked another one in the head.
All that changed when one pulled a sword from its hip and screeched as it ran toward Gran. It was sheer instinct as she spun and stepped in front of Gran. She was ready to take the blow, tensed her body and mind for the pain, but it never came. Her eyes squinted and the troll had stopped mid-step, its eyes wide as it gaze behind her. She was almost afraid to look.
Gran threw a full bottle of Irish whiskey with a burning rag stuck through the narrow neck. The thing tried to dodge but she had one hell of a good aim. Glass shattered; fire swarmed every flammable surface on the troll as it fell back and charged out the window.
Nearly all the windows were shattered and Breena flung more salt in a wide arc. Who said women couldn’t kick some ass? She wanted to shout and then there was this strange noise. It was like a thousand birds had suddenly flew into the sky at once. Now what?
She turned, facing Gran’s back as a man came through the window. He slashed a sword and beheaded the nearest troll. She was awestruck, stunned as his orange and brown wings spread. He was beautiful and fierce at the same time. It was so hard to comprehend as she turned and sprayed more salt.
The trolls seemed to be scared of the winged man. The little bastards began to run away, scurrying like rats to f
lee the house. Another winged man came through the window before her, and she nearly pissed her jeans.
“Thame!” Her mouth dropped open. Giant, golden wings protruded from his back, his long hair was pulled behind his head and he handled a sword with deadly accuracy. A troll ran toward her and she shoved the salt toward it before using the handy frying pan to bonk it on the head.
“You know about trolls?” he shouted and seemed stunned by the revelation.
“Yes!” She swung the pan, missed and pulled back as it swiped a blade toward her. There was a wide arc that didn’t have a chance of reaching her but she used the opportunity to spray salt at it. When the creature screamed, she used the pan once more.
This time the handle snapped, and she was stuck holding the handle. It did the trick. The troll was down, and nothing else ran at her. She turned to Thame who killed the last troll and faced her. His handsome face was knitted with concern. His wings displayed beautiful with the night behind him. “Thame, what the fook are you?”
He opened his mouth to speak but another troll leapt through the window. Its mouth latched onto Thame’s leg, and he swung downward. His blade parted flesh on its arm but it quickly spun out of true harm’s way. He flipped backwards; his knees bent and sliced his sword just as he came down. It gouged through the things chest and went still as blood pooled beneath it.
Then there was silence.
Breena turned to Gran who had a wide grin on her face. She held the salt in one hand and another half-full bottle of whiskey. When she glanced back, Thame was before her. He looked intimidating with his wings spread. Wings for crying out loud! “Thame...what are you?” Her heart pounded from the fight for their lives and seeing him again. She would never have expected this though.
“I’m...a fairy.”
She was guessing here. “You don’t mean gay do you?” He lifted a brow and shook his head. “You’re a real fairy like out of the Irish legends?” He nodded and this time she was the speechless one. She wasn’t sure if she could process all this at once. Trolls and fairies existed. Who knew what else. She was never going outside after dark again or go anywhere without salt. “Why did they attack us?”
The Ravaged Fairy Page 8
