by Conn, Claudy
He stopped, drew breath, and closed his eyes. “As it turned out, one of our hunters—one who wished me ill—had doubled back to Dravo. He was drunk, and he had long lusted after m’bride, and when he saw her in the village …” Morgan LeBlanc stopped and looked long at Royce before saying, “Evil has no gender, no race, no religion. Evil is—remember that, lass. This one’s soul had always been damaged, but that night he turned evil. He had with him what we call hobbles. They are magical. We designed them so that we could toss them onto a Dark Fae and keep it from shifting—or moving for that matter. The trouble is, they work on us as well. Never had reason to worry over that before.” He stopped again.
Royce stroked his hand, and said, “Don’t … this is too painful for you …”
“Aye, but ye must be told,” he answered and continued. “The brute waited his chance, and as he caught her in conversation—she wanted to know about me and Chance—he hobbled her and dragged her into the alley. M’lass … m’own dear lass, put up a fight. She scratched and bruised and beat at him as he tried to take her … and she screamed for help … and she called for me. We have a mind link, but I dinna get there in time …
“Villagers heard her scream and shifted to her at the moment the villain said, ‘If I canna have ye … no one else ever shall.’
“Chance and I arrived just as he pointed his Death Sword at her heart. I jumped him, but … his sword scratched her … it nicked her all the same …”
He stopped and collected himself. Royce knew he saw it all in his mind, fresh and awful to remember. Then he said, “Chance took to beating him while I tried to heal her, but even the scratch of a Death Sword … as you know, is fatal. It took her days to die … and we said our good-byes, and I managed to ease her pain … but lose her I did.”
Royce couldn’t speak because she was crying. She had seen the entire tale with her vivid imagination, and her heart broke for him. After all these centuries he still missed his wife.
He spoke quietly then. “Vengeance did little for me. Oh yes, Chance beat him till he coona move, and then I tortured him—ye need not hear those details, but I tortured him long before I put him to death. It did not heal me, and it did not bring her back, but it was necessary at the time.”
Royce felt her insides twist. “Oh sir, sir …”
He smiled sadly and wiped the tears from her cheek with a handkerchief he produced out of nowhere. He then put his arm around her. “There, there … ’twas a long time ago.”
“What are ye doing, Da, with m’woman in yer arms?” Chance demanded, looking none too happy as he stomped their way.
~ Eleven ~
“THERE YE ARE,” Morgan LeBlanc said with something of a smirk curving his lips. Royce saw with avid interest a bright look in his blue eyes and wondered about this father and son’s relationship.
“Aye, and there thee be …” Chance retorted, grinning, as he walked over. He put his hands on his father’s shoulders and shook them with great affection. He then took Royce’s hand, pulled her away from his da, and held her tightly against his side.
Royce was so intrigued with watching the two that she forgot to object to his possessive handling. She would have to do something about that, but not just at this moment, she decided. At any rate it felt so darned good to be pressed up against him.
Damn, she thought as she ran her gaze over Chance as inconspicuously as she could. He looked so buff in his lightweight gray tee and ragged blue jeans. His thick blond hair fell about in layered waves and framed his handsome face—styled so differently than his father, who wore his blond hair slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck. And then his eyes looked into hers, and she was filled with warm delight as that blue gaze of his was obviously alight with boyish happiness. Could she love him more than she did at that moment?
She watched as he conversed jovially with his father and sensed the respect and love they had for one another. She smiled sweetly when he touched his father’s shoulder and said gruffly, “I haven’t seen ye about in some days, Da …”
“I needed a quiet time to grieve alone for our girl. I will forever miss our Lana … but now, we must move forward. There are matters, new matters that must occupy our attention. Tell me, what news have ye of the devil bastard?”
Chance sighed heavily and began telling his father what they had been doing and what they knew of Pestale’s present whereabouts—which was zero.
His father looked at Royce and said, “And do ye have a scent of the villain, lass?”
“Not yet, but I think I soon may,” she answered with determination. These two men, now a part of her life, needed closure—justice, whatever one chose to call it, they needed it—which in essence meant they needed to destroy, not imprison Pestale. Her queen wanted Pestale captured, she knew, so where would her loyalty lie in this regard?
“Right then,” said his father. “Well … the morning moves on, and we must return to the manor! We have a very important guest arriving shortly.”
“A guest—an important guest?” Chance appeared surprised.
Royce made no remark to this, but she looked from father to son. Chance’s father was excited, but he obviously meant to keep it a secret until they returned to the house.
“Aye, coom then—she will arrive at any moment, and we must be there to greet her,” Chance’s father said as he rubbed his large hands together and started to lead them towards the house.
“Her—an important her?” Chance pursued the subject.
“Aye, then, coom … now … coom along—hurry.” He touched Chance’s shoulder, and since Chance had a hold of Royce, they shifted all three together to the large, bright, beautifully furnished receiving room of the manor house.
Chance exchanged a meaningful glance with Royce, who shrugged her shoulders; however, she knew more than she was letting on and was a touch nervous about it as well.
She had experienced a short flash that had given her this information, but she decided to keep quiet on the subject and allow it to play out naturally.
Chance sighed and moved over to the sideboard where coffee and food had been laid out on hotplates. He poured three cups, giving one first to Royce and then another to his da. As he sipped, he eyed his father and asked, “Who is this person?”
“Not just a person,” said his father, beaming proudly.
Suddenly the room was filled with a circular aura of gold dust, and Royce smiled with anticipation.
Chance’s eyes narrowed as dawning flitted across his face. His father went forward towards the gold dust.
Queen of the Seelie Fae Aaibhe stepped into the room.
She was stunning. Her white-gold hair fell in waves down her back to her waist. Her gown of sheer white and silver was embroidered with silver sparkles throughout and clung to her tall, provocative figure. Her manner was easy as she gave them all a soft smile of greeting.
Morgan LeBlanc inclined his handsome head and extended his hand. She allowed him a moment as he took her fingers to his lips. Her iridescent eyes smiled at him, and then she glided towards Royce.
Unceremoniously, Royce dove into her arms. “Forgive me, my Queen … but the Fallen Druid was not human when he was killed.”
The queen patted Royce’s head and answered sweetly, “I know, child … the Fallen Druid was scarcely human when I imprisoned him all tho—”
Royce drew back and looked at her as she unthinkingly cut her off. “Then … you aren’t here to send me into a mountain?”
The queen’s laugh was light and musical. “I am here to commend you and see for myself that you are healing …” She turned to Chance. “I know that you are responsible for her well being.” She inclined her beautiful head. “Thank you.”
She turned then and walked over to Chance’s father. “Morgan, you have a lovely home. The wonder is that I have never been here before.”
“We must repair that in the future,” Morgan said earnestly. “You must come often.”
She gave him a smile that
said nothing and yet did not say no. “Is that coffee you are all drinking?”
He gave her his arm and led her to a ladies chair. “I shall fetch it for you, Queen Aaibhe.”
“Morgan … we are way past formalities after all these years.”
“Indeed, Aaibhe … formality was never my strong suit,” he said and gave her a lingering look.
“Ah, but you have so many other … strong suits,” she answered sweetly.
Royce watched this exchange with interest. What was going on here? She looked at Chance, who looked dumbfounded and whose lips had parted to allow his lower lip to drop.
Aaibhe glanced across the room at Chance and Royce with a quick smile. Then a quiet, solemn expression came over her face as she said, “As it happens, I am also here because I have remembered something disturbing that you need to know.”
They waited for her to proceed.
“The Dark King, as you might have heard … or not, experimented with time travel. You see, in making his human love and consort, Crystal … more Fae than human, something went wrong. The spell combined with the elixir produced an unexpected side effect. It left her … infertile. She wanted children. The Dark King believed if he went back in time, before he had given her the elixir, he could get her with child and then simply make both his consort and their child immortal.” She paused for a long moment and then said sadly, “I do not like conjecture. Guessing is a dangerous thing, but I shall venture this guess, for I have no way of knowing the truth. It is my belief that Pestale watched his father perform time travel experiments and learned the trick of it. It is my belief that when the Dark King, at both his beloved’s and my request, gave up the notion of reversing what had been done, Pestale stole the Dark King’s Time Relic, and I believe he has it now and plans to use it to go to a past where he will cause havoc if he attempts to alter it. He cannot co-exist in the past. He cannot live in both the Dark Realm and somewhere else at the same time. It will cause a fissure. We must either stop him or return him to the present by finding and removing the Time Relic from him.”
A lengthy discussion ensued and plans were made, but Royce was worried because she had gotten visions of Pestale, and in those visions he had been pleased with whatever it was that he had accomplished. She kept this to herself, for these visions were not written in stone. Things could change.
Afterwards, Aaibhe and Chance’s father began chatting quietly together. As Chance looked their way, he shook his head and whispered to Royce, “What is yer queen doing, flirting up my da?”
“I have the same question for you. What is your da doing, flirting with my queen?”
“I know he has always rather … admired her, and then after we fought the Dark Fae and Gais with Z and Dante last week, I saw the two of them in conversation, but this, lass—what is this?”
“I’m so hungry,” Royce answered, avoiding the question as she took up a plate and piled it high with eggs and potatoes and ketchup.
“Do ye put ketchup on everything?” Chance asked, eyeing her plateful that rivaled the size of his own.
“Yes, I acquired the taste when I met and stayed with a human family for a while.” She sighed. “I met them quite by chance when I was feeling particularly low. They needed a nanny … I helped them till they found one. I miss them—especially David.”
He chuckled and touched her nose. “You never cease to amaze me, lass …” He glanced at his father laughing and chatting up the Queen of the Seelie Fae and shook his head. “What the bloody hell is going on there?”
“Leave it alone—leave them alone. Your father is smiling, and my queen is very nearly acting like a schoolgirl. I like it,” Royce answered and plopped a forkful of potatoes into her mouth. “These are sooo good.”
Their meal was done, but as his father and the queen seemed steeped in conversation, Chance grinned and took Royce’s hand. “Come on … I want to show you one of my favorite spots in Dravo.” And without another word, he shifted them, but not before she grabbed a banana off the sideboard serving table.
They arrived at the peak of a green and tall mountain, tropical in its lush vegetation, palms, and colorful birds. It so reminded Royce of Faery.
He took her to the edge, and from that cliff they looked down at the valley. The view was mesmerizing.
“Isn’t this beautiful?” he whispered.
“Oh Chance—so incredibly lovely … yes, beautiful. Did the Milesians create Dravo?”
“Not in the sense your queen and Council created the Isles of Tir.” He grinned at her and kissed her fingers. “Faery was a dimension your queen and Council thought up and made almost as a small copy of Danu.” He shook his head. “We didn’t have quite that kind of power in those days. We were new to it all, but we understood that as immortals we simply could not as a nation manage amongst the humans—we no longer were human …” He sighed. “We went searching about for a dimension that could conform to our needs. And we discovered this lovely Realm. We called it Dravo, for m’mother’s maiden name. When we arrived here it was completely overgrown, and the only wildlife of any size were monkeys and tropical bird life. It was an easy enough task to bring in animals from the Human Realm and tame the land to suit our needs …”
He turned to her and stared at the peeled banana she had just put to her mouth. “Och lass, do ye know what ye do to me? By all that is, there are things I want to do to you … and if you like … you can have one more … lick of that banana before I spread it in places on yer body where I mean to nibble …”
She took a hurried bite of the banana, even as he slipped the straps of her summer dress off her bare shoulders. His moan of pleasure circled her heart and sped through her body, getting her hot and filling her with uncontrollable need.
“The feel of yer skin drives me wild …” He pulled her dress below her breasts and growled low in his throat as he cupped them. Then he bent his head to lick and suckle at her hard, yearning nipples.
Her head went back, and her body automatically pressed into his. She waited for him to take off her dress, but instead, his hands went under it and grabbed her butt as he said, “Take this pretty dress off. I want to see it drop to the ground at yer ankles. Let me look at you—here on m’mountain.” He stepped back to watch the show.
She eyed him saucily and did what he asked but asked, “And how many others have you brought here …?”
His nose formed a sneer, but it was one of passion. “No other, lass—ye be the first, and ye be the last …”
His eyes devoured her, and then he brought her in for that kiss that took and gave as his velvet tongue tangoed with hers. Tasting him sent her over the edge of passion. He was delicious. His words were thrilling. His touch sent shivers of lust through her. She wanted the moment to go on forever, but she was hungry for more of him, more moments.
He broke away from his kiss and held her naked, trim waist with his hands. His voice was low and husky as he murmured, “Now these lace things …” he pulled at her black lace thong. “Throw it aside … slowly. I don’t want anything covering that pretty little flaming nest of yers …” As he spoke he blinked off his clothes and stood in his sandals with his cock at attention and dripping with anticipation.
He is so damn sexy, she thought as she licked her lips and bent to remove the lace. Suddenly, and before she could finish, he turned feral and wild, taking the thong from her and flinging it aside with a low, hungry sound in his throat.
He went to his knees, and his eyes were dark with desire as he looked up and cupped her breasts. He was primal … she responded in kind and did a little grind towards his face. He grabbed her butt with one large hand, and with the other he dove a finger into the cleft between her thighs and played there until she squirmed with pleasure. Just as she thought she would explode, he withdrew his finger and began nibbling and licking, suckling at her lips and nub, and then she called out his name as he brought her to a rocketing explosion.
Before the shudders had ended he had taken the b
anana that had been dangling from her hand. He gently mashed it against her belly and then filled the cleft between her thighs. She groaned with the unexpected new sensation, but he was already pulling her down onto the blanket he had produced with a thought.
She lay back looking at him, never wanting to forget this time as he lifted up her knees and began eating the banana from her cleft. He licked, nibbled, and then surprised her by positioning his cock and shoving it inside only to withdraw it. He pulled her up by her elbows into sitting position and whispered, “Lick the tasty banana from my cock … lass … lick it now … taste us …”
She took the head of his huge dick and began sucking it, fisting it, and jerking it off in her mouth and marveling at his stamina, when she suddenly felt herself climaxing again. Her shudders went through her almost violently, and she held onto him. Even as she still trembled with ecstasy, he had her in his arms, turned her round, placed her on her hands and knees, and rammed into her hard, reveling in the sounds of pleasure that she made.
“Och lass—ye drive me wild … wild …” he groaned as she pumped backwards into him. He bent over her and felt her go off once again even as he released his seed. He groaned her name over and over. “Royce … m’own wee lass … och Royce … ye were made for me.”
~ Twelve ~
CHANCE HUGGED ROYCE close as they crossed the central hall to the front door. She went onto her toes and whispered something naughty in his ear; he laughed as he opened the front door wide.
Trevor stood there, fist up and ready to knock.
Royce saw Trevor’s expression as his gaze traveled from Chance’s arm wrapped around her to the smiles on their faces. She witnessed the sudden dawning light up in his bright eyes, and then he snorted. “Well, well … Chancemont LeBlanc … well, well!”
Chance eyed him threateningly. “Well, well, is it?”
“Oh then, come off it—we don’t have time for that.” He turned to Royce. “How are you feeling, Red? Fully recovered?” With that he snorted a laugh.
