Tressa's Treasures (The King's Jewel Book 1)

by Gordon, Belinda M

  Heat radiated out from my wrist where he held me until my entire body felt flushed. I stretched my foot to test for the bottom and found the water was shallow there; I stood and the water barely came to my breasts. My senses tingled, intensely aware of my nakedness and the closeness of his body.

  He reached out and gently ran his fingers through my hair pushing it back to unmask my face. He gasped and I ducked my head, feebly attempting to cover myself. He wouldn't allow me to hide. He lifted my chin, met my eyes, and smiled.

  "Don't hide. You're safe with me." His eyes explored my face, fingers tracing a line from my forehead, circling around my eyes, and then following the wet tracks down my cheek.

  He stroked the points of my ears before moving his hand to caress the length of my neck as he took a deep, shaking breath. When he exhaled, the outflow of air was so ragged it seemed painful.

  "My god." He took another faltering breath. "You're beautiful."

  "You will never again see me or anyone like me as you did before now." My tears returned. "I've made you a target. You must leave Pine Ridge as quickly as you can. Tell no one what you can see."

  "Damn it, woman," he hissed, his anger mixed with lust. "I'm telling you: neither of us is going anywhere."

  He was right. Perhaps it was without logic, for some would say I barely knew him, but I knew I loved him. And I trusted him—with my life, and with his. The time for doubt had passed.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tightly against him as if overwhelmed by need. He groaned as my naked body met his. The touch of his flesh destroyed my defenses. I pressed my body along his length and lifted my face to his.

  A curse escaped his lips just before he brought them down on mine. His kiss was hard, almost brutal, as though he were punishing me... or perhaps himself. Then a frenzied longing swept away the anger.

  The water lapped around us as we tore at each other, frantic to explore each other's bodies. Our need for release was such that neither of us had the patience for long caresses. I reached up, locked my fingers behind his neck, and wrapped my legs around him. He lifted my bottom and let me down as he entered me. Almost instantly, unable to hold back even if we had wanted to, we both exploded.

  We stayed locked together as he kissed me thoroughly. Then we started again, this time going slower, taking the time to enjoy the details of each other’s bodies, prolonging the buildup until at last, we came to another explosive conclusion.

  Later, in the small hours of the morning, we lay together in my bed. Alexander leaned against the headboard comparing his hands, which he held out before him.

  He closed his right hand into a fist and then opened it again, stretching his fingers wide. He touched each finger to his thumb in turn, testing their dexterity. It looked as fragile as it had before the bracelet: the scar still wrapped around the center of his palm and ran up his forearm, and the muscles around the scar still appeared atrophied. However, I noted with pride, his arm and hand were strong, functioning as well as they had before the injury.

  He rolled to his side, supporting his head in his hand and staring at me as he had been doing all night. He ran his fingers down a lock of my hair, watching the curls flatten as he stretched it out and bounce back when he released it.

  "It's amazing. Your hair looks like fine-spun copper, but it's as soft as silk." He leaned forward and kissed me. "You never told me what you are," he scolded.

  "As if I could have," I said with mock defensiveness. "It isn't as though you've given me the time."

  "Hmmm," he wore a satisfied smile. "Yes, I guess that's true... Tell me now."

  He continued to play with my hair as I tried to find the right words to explain. His expression grew concerned when I had taken too long.

  "You're not afraid, are you? I promise it will be okay."

  "No, it's not that. I've never tried to explain to anyone who I am, so I'm not sure where to begin. I can tell you that I am a Sidhe of the Tuatha Dé Danann, but I don't know if that would mean anything to you."

  "No, I'm afraid it doesn't." He rolled onto his back, rearranging me until I was curled on my side with my head resting on his shoulder. Perhaps he suspected it would be easier for me to continue if we weren’t looking at each other. Whether or not he’d planned it, avoiding eye contact did indeed make it easier.

  "Some people call us faeries, or the 'Good People'. 'The Others'."

  "You're a faery." His tone held no surprise, revulsion, or disbelief; only simple acceptance. "And what, exactly, is a faery?"

  "Hmmm. Do you know anything about angels?"

  He barked a startled laugh. "As much as anyone, I guess. You're an angel?" He sounded dubious.

  "Not exactly. The Sidhe are descendants of the Dominions—one of the nine choirs of angels."

  He sobered.

  "You're serious, aren't you?"

  I nodded.

  "Okay... Please explain that."

  "Let me back up a bit. You see, all angels are God's messengers, but it was the job of the Dominions to make God's plan for the universe known by communicating His commands to both angels and humans.

  "In the beginning, the nine choirs of angels roamed all of creation at will—the heavens, the earth, and everywhere in between. However, the Dominions began to spend much of their time interacting with the people here on earth.

  "The humans began to call these angels gods and goddesses. While the Dominions didn't promote this idea, they didn't discourage it either.

  "The Thrones—a choir closer to the Throne of God—were in charge of doling out justice and dictating the lower angels' access to God. They disapproved of what they called the Dominions' ‘sin of omission.’

  "The Thrones knew their God was a jealous God and would not stand for this behavior. They gave the Dominions an ultimatum: end their association with the people or lose all access to our Lord.

  "The Dominions had seen the terrible fate of the angels who had sided with Lucifer in his battle against God, and at once, they came to their senses. Now it's a rare thing for a Dominion to make himself known to a mortal."

  I took a deep breath; the heavy and burdensome nature of the story made me ill at ease. I fidgeted as I continued, anxious to have it told, to know his reaction.

  "The Sidhe are the result of the Dominions' physical relations with the people of earth. Neither fully human nor fully celestial, we are of the Otherworld. Free to live with our human relations if we wish, but unable to enter heaven until our physical self has passed away."

  I stopped speaking when his body went still beneath me. The silence in the room fed my anxiety; perhaps it had been too much too fast.

  "Making love to someone even part-angel seems wrong," he said at last.

  I laughed, relief replacing my concern. "You might think differently if you met any of my family." I patted his arm. "We’re several millenniums removed from the Dominions now. We've evolved into our own race."

  I felt him relax, comforted by my words.

  "Why do you look different now?" he asked.

  "This is the real me." I smiled wryly, insecure for a moment. "We use glamour to make ourselves blend in. I use gemstones, crystals—different elements of my jewelry—to anchor the magic. Most of us do, though there may be other ways."

  "What's changed? It has something to do with the bracelet, doesn't it?"

  "Aye. I have the gift of healing, but it requires at least a spark of my essence to knit the wounds back together. The glamour doesn't work on a human infused with a bit of fae essence.

  "I just—I wanted so much to help you. I thought I could avoid opening your eyes by using the bracelet. Obviously, I was wrong." I looked up at him, heart full of guilt.

  Shaking his head, he dismissed my regret. "You have to know—this is like a miracle to me." He opened and closed his hand, testing it again. "You said you have the gift of healing. Don't all the Sidhe?"

  "No, but most of us have a special gift. A talent. My grandmother sees auras, and my c
ousin Rosheen can tell when someone is lying."

  "Wow. That must be tiring; people tell lies all the time," Alexander said, amused. Then, his eyes narrowing, he asked, "Tressa, who are you so afraid of?"

  I sighed and laid my head back on his shoulder. I took his hand in mine. As I continued my story, I traced the line of his scar, musing that the path created a simple Celtic knot.

  "Long ago, the Sidhe divided into two factions: the Seelie court—my people—and the Unseelie Court. For centuries each court controlled equal shares of the Otherworld, but the Unseelie always fought to takeover.

  "The last war reduced them to rebel gangs fighting guerrilla warfare. The House of Mór is all that remains of the Unseelie Court. They have had a blood feud with the current royal family since Lucifer fell; they believe they are the true rulers of all of the Otherworld.”

  "Are they after all of the Seelie, or you in particular?"

  "Well, both. I'm part of the royal family, the House of Finna, so I’m a target twice over."

  I couldn't bring myself to tell him everything. Too many years of adulation for my station made me loath to admit that I was the King's Jewel. I dreaded the possibility that the affection in his eyes—which had nothing to do with hidden agendas—could turn into the bitter disappointment I saw in so many others' eyes. The longer I kept the prophecy out of this, I reasoned, the longer it would be before I had to face that pain.

  "The royal family?" Alexander asked.

  "My uncle is King Lomán the Third, King of the Otherworld."

  "And what exactly is the Otherworld?"

  "The Faery Realm. I was born there, in a place called Tír na nÓg, which means land of the young."

  "The land of the young," he repeated as though the translation bothered him. "Are you immortal?"

  "No. We’re part human, so we are susceptible to disease and mortal wounds, just as you are. We do, however, age slower and live longer. But we do grow older, as you can see with my grandmother."

  "Sure. I should have thought of that," he said.

  We fell silent for a while, and I thought perhaps he had fallen asleep. Eventually, he spoke up again.

  "Tressa, how old are you?"

  Human women, I have heard, often lie about their age as they get older. I lie about my age when I need to, if only to protect my anonymity. This didn't seem like the time to bother with human concerns. I laughed as I imagined his reaction to what I was about to say.

  "Oh no," he said. "This will be bad."

  I laughed even harder.

  "Xander, I'm sorry to tell you, but you've just been with a seventy year old."

  He flipped me over and pinned me down by rolling partially on top of me.

  "Hottest damned seventy year old I've ever laid eyes on. And what's with calling me Xander all of a sudden?"

  "I've decided Matt's right... you are a super hero." I batted my eyelashes for emphasis.

  His eyebrows went up suggestively.

  "Why don't we test out that theory..."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Later that morning, I left Alexander asleep in my bed and walked down to the glider with a cup of tea. I settled in, sipping the tea as I appreciated the clear blue sky and the backdrop of lush, green trees behind the lake.

  Beneath my calm façade, turmoil twisted inside me. I could not regret the decision I had made the night before, but I still worried about what would happen to Alexander if an Unseelie came after me here.

  I heard a fluttering by my ear and grinned.

  "Told you so! Told you so!" Brenna gloated.

  "Welcome back, Precious Brenna. When did you get here?" I asked, a bit concerned that Alexander and I had not been alone last night.

  "Not soon enough." Brenna flew in front of my nose, shaking a finger at me. "The wind is full of interesting noises."

  I decided to take the high road and ignore her.

  "Have your wee companions returned with you?"

  Brenna zigzagged over to sit on my shoulder, curling up along my neck.

  "Aye. Sleeping. Travelling hard."

  I knew her relaxed mood was probably a good sign, but I was too afraid of what she may have learned in the Otherworld to take it at face value.

  "Don't fall asleep now, Precious Brenna. You haven't told me what you learned."

  She roused herself and flew over to the tree. She found a branch she liked and settled down on it. She leaned her elbows on a leaf in front of her, resting her chin on her hands. She crossed her legs at her ankles and swung them back and forth.

  "Good news," she said. "Nothing at home about Unmentionables in human world. No reports of any Unmentionables trying to cross the border."

  I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

  "Anything else?"

  "Top bad guy spotted in Faery just a week ago."

  "Okay, that's good then." Perhaps, as long as we stayed here, I could relax about the danger to Alexander.

  "Bad news."

  "What bad news?" I asked, my nerves on edge again.

  "Strange things on the wind."

  "What kind of things?"

  The Pixie struggled to keep her eyes open. She barely managed to keep them at half mast.

  "Brenna, wake up," I said sharply. "Tell me what you heard."

  The Pixie shook herself and flew back to stand on my shoulder. She stretched up onto her tippy toes to speak directly in my ear.

  "Heard terrible word. Heard witch," she whispered. "Bad, bad word to have on the wind."

  She flew up to look behind me.

  "Pretty boy coming."

  I shook my head, wishing—not for the first time—that I could hold her still until we finished our conversation.

  "I hear him. Brenna, what else was on the wind?"

  ALEXANDER

  Tressa's bright coppery hair glinted like metal in the sunlight as I approached her spot by the lake. If I hadn’t seen it up close earlier, I never would have taken it for hair from this distance.

  "There you are," I called out as I drew near.

  After sliding onto the glider next to her, I studied how the sunlight affected her appearance. She looked like herself, but different: everything about her shone.

  Her irises danced like bold, green-blue faceted gemstones. Her lips were a rosy red. I ran a finger down the length of her forearm, admiring the soft smoothness of her skin, which had the added benefit of making her smile. Her skin, always alabaster, now had an iridescence to it.

  I couldn't explain why I didn't have a stronger reaction to finding out the truth about her. Maybe it had something to do with the Second Sight she had talked about yesterday, but I couldn't be happier to be with her.

  I leaned forward to kiss her when a translucent, toddler-like creature with dragonfly wings flew between us. The creature hovered, wings flapping, just in front of my face.

  I choked back a surprised yelp as I jumped off the glider, nearly tripping over a tree root.

  "Holy crap, Tressa! Ah... is this a friend of yours?"

  "Aye," Tressa said, laughing. "Xander, this is my Precious Brenna."

  The tiny girl put her hands over her mouth to cover her giggles.

  "So this is who you were speaking to the first time I met you here." I thought fast, trying to process all the things I had learned over the last twenty-four hours. "So Brenna is a Sidhe?"

  This was obviously wrong. Brenna spun around in front of me, hooting with laughter.

  "Silly pretty boy. Do I look like Sidhe? Need to check eyes." She continued laughing as she flew to the ground and landed with a somersault at the roots of the big tree.

  Who is she calling a pretty boy? I was already tired of this creature laughing at me.

  Two more like Brenna wandered out from a hole at the base of the tree, stretching and rubbing their eyes.

  "Brenna and her sisters are Pixies," Tressa explained.

  "And Pixies are another type of faery?" I asked.

  "Aye, but we prefer fae to faery."
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  "Okay, duly noted."

  I still hadn't gotten a kiss, and I went back to Tressa determined to get one. Then I remembered the Pixies and settled for a chaste, the-kids-are-around peck. To my surprise, Tressa snuggled into me and kissed me a second time.

  "Don't let them fool you. They’re fully-grown women. There's nothing childish about their mental capacity, just their behavior," she said.

  The Pixies were sprawled on the ground as though they had run a marathon. I tried to ignore them and talk to Tressa.

  "Speaking of children, I've been thinking. Before I bring Sophia back, I wanted to find out who's in charge of security on the estate."

  "Security?" Tressa asked. "Whatever do you mean?"

  "You keep telling me about this great danger around you. There must be some type of security in place to protect you from Unsee— "

  Before I could finish my thought, Tressa frantically grabbed my arm. "No," she cried.

  The three Pixies were in my face trying to cover my mouth with their hands. Their wings tickled as they brushed my cheeks and I struggled not to swat them away.

  "What did I do?" I asked once the Pixies had backed away.

  "You must be very careful what you say outside," Tressa said.

  I would have thought it was a joke if she hadn’t looked so serious.

  "Or even inside near an open window. Words—sounds—travel on the wind. We don't say things outside that could help our enemies locate us."

  I thought about this for a minute.

  "So what about talking about... your kind?"

  "Many humans talk about faeries, so that isn't as unusual. But even that we keep to a minimum," Tressa explained. "To answer your question, Shamus can tell you what you want to know. But give me a little time to bring him up to speed on... our situation." She grinned at me.

  "Okay, but I need to know if it's safe to bring Sophia back before the end of the week."

  "Sure and it's perfectly safe for the wee one. No fae—no matter who they are—would hurt a child. Children are prized above all else."

  Brenna, who sat on Tressa's shoulder with her sisters, unabashedly listening in on our conversation, tugged on a strand of Tressa's hair.