by Kailin Gow
“What are you doing?” I stepped back, flushing scarlet. “Don’t you touch me, Fey!”
But Alistair leaned in, his gaze fixed upon mine, his stare unnerving in the intensity of what he was trying to communicate to me. “Careful,” he hissed, through clenched teeth, taking a single, deliberate step towards me.
“What do you want!?
“Shh!”
“What’s going on?”
“They’re all around us, now,” Alistair whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear. “You can’t see them, but they’re here?”
“Here? What are you talking about? Who’s here?”
“They’re going to take it off you – they can’t suspect I have it. You need to give it to me – create a diversion. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe.” His fingers found my pocket…
“Trust me!”
“Trust you?” I pulled away in shock. “What the…”
“I’ll keep you safe, Logan…” his words had become desperate, pleading, almost seductive. Begging me to trust him, to give into him, to surrender…
I felt it then, a rush of pleasure so profound it almost caused me to moan out loud. The feel – smooth, soft, satiny – of fingers running up and down my body. Gentle caresses from an invisible hand – or hundreds of invisible fingers – all roaming all over me, tantalizing my muscles, causing shivers to extend up and down my spine. These were the careful, practiced hands of women who knew what desire was and how best to slake it; I cried aloud at the pleasure their soft touch gave my aching back, my taut and tensed stomach, my thighs.
And then the panic kicked in. The fear of something unknown, something invisible – these mysterious hands that began to roam up and down my body. “Hey?” I called out. “What’s going on? What are you doing?” I tried to swat them away, but to no avail. And then the voices began to call out one after another, their lilting tones soothing, my mind swimming in the caressing sounds that echoed across the forest.
“Oh my!” one high-pitched voice called out, crooning as fingers traced lines up and down my body. “He is a treat! Feel his muscles, won’t you? Feel how hard they are, so smooth. A real treat for the hands.”
“A real treat for the eyes, too,” laughed another voice, and I could feel cool breath against my face although I could see no lips.
I felt as if I were surrounded – voices and hands reaching out at me, pawing at me, pushing me down onto a patch of soft grass. Then they began to straddle me, slide atop me, laughing and giggling as I felt them press their soft womanly bodies against me. Their laughter rang in my ears, and I couldn’t resist a moan of extreme pleasure as they began to rub themselves up and down my body. There must easily have been five of them, if not more – ten hands, one hundred fingers, exploring the contours of my body. One of them removed my shirt, another was unzipping my trousers.
Fear mingled with desire; my pleasure vied with my common sense, and at last my sense of self-preservation triumphed over the incredible waves of ecstasy that rode through my body, cresting through me.
“I could do this all day and night with this one,” one of the voices cried as I felt fingers touching my thighs, tracing lines along my abdomen.
“Alistair!” I called. “Where are you? Come back – don’t leave me here with them.”
“Your friend is gone,” a woman’s voice – deeper this time – spoke in my ear. “Might as well. We’re only drawn towards men, not her.”
“Her?” My mouth fell open. “What are you talking about? Alistair is no girl!”
I sat up, pushing invisible hands and invisible fingers out of my way. “Alistair?”
But the figure who turned towards me was not Alistair at all. The red hair had turned blonde; the caramel eyes were bright green.
I should have known. The Sorceress had the power to take on any form, to become anyone’s shadow, bring out the insecurities of those around them. I’d seen this happen before. I should have guessed at the way Alistair picked at my fears about Wolf magic – the real Alistair would never have been so suspicious.
But I hadn’t guessed – not until now.
Clariss stood before me, grinning. And the Wolfstone was cradled in her hands.
Chapter 17
“Clariss?” I gaped, aghast, as I took a step towards her. This wasn’t the serpent I had left in the woods – nor the ugly old crone Alistair had revealed to me as the personification of Clariss’ inner self. This Clariss was the one I remembered from my high school days – the beautiful, impossibly, terrifyingly beautiful Clariss – at once magnetic and chilling. The Clariss I had never loved – for her cruelty to others and her selfishness was far more off-putting than any deformation of face and feature – but I could not deny that I had desired her, although my longing paled in comparison to my longing for Breena. “Clariss, give that back. It has nothing to do with you.”
“It was so easy,” Clariss laughed – a long, throaty laugh – as she turned back to me. “It was so easy to distract you, you know,” she said. “All those tree sprites – I knew the second I led you into this wood that the tree sprites would be after you. You’re exactly their type. Hunky – with just the right amount of puppy-dog boyish charm. And those abs.” She smiled slowly. “I didn’t have to do much persuading to get them to help me. I just had to let them have a crack at that body of yours…” A flush of rosy color came to her cheeks.
“Tree sprites?” My mouth fell ajar. “Is that what they were?” I turned bright crimson at the memory of the pleasure they had afforded me; muscle memory reflexively caused me to relive the feeling of their fingers and mouths all over me. I looked down so that Clariss would not see me blush. Truly, those sprites were hard for any man to resist – and it was only by the tiniest margin that my own good sense had won out over the callings of my body.
“Yes,” said Clariss, nodding her head over to the clearing from which I had just stepped away from. I turned around to see in the place of those invisible voices five of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. They were completely naked – their hair – blonde, brown, red, and black, but uniformly shiny – long enough to cover their bare breasts. Only a few leaves, hastily tied together with twine, covered their lower parts. They were writhing in ecstatic desire against the trunks of trees – smiling at me, pouting in mock-rejection, their eyes beckoning me onwards to come with them.
For a moment temptation beckoned me back. If I were a lesser man, I thought to myself, I would forget all these troubles, all these responsibilities. I would let these five gorgeous women have their way with me and forget all about the Wolfstone. But I knew it was not to be. I was the Wolf Prince, a member of the Frost Fire league. I couldn’t let temptation get to me – not while I had to focus on getting the Wolfstone out of Clariss’ grasp.
And even if there weren’t an issue – what would Breena think? Surely she wouldn’t want me to act that way, either – especially not while I was still professing my desperate, hopeless love for her.
At the thought of Breena, I saw her once more in my mind’s eye. Beautiful – regal and powerful, and yet always so sweet and kind. Even as a Queen, Breena was as humble and sincere as she was when she was a princess in nobody’s eyes but my own.
My mental vision of her became clearer, stronger, more powerful, until it seemed as if Breena herself were standing before me, her wide eyes staring into my own with a look of such love and compassion it sent me reeling.
“Oh, Bree,” I heard myself saying, stumbling over the words, for my emotion seemed to choke me up, “I’ll stand by you in helping you to restore Feyland, no matter what the cost. I don’t want you to be scared any longer; I don’t want you to worry. I know how tired you are of being the strong one all the time. Let me be strong for you. No matter what happens, no matter what you choose, I will always protect you. I will always love you.” I couldn’t resist her; I couldn’t do anything but give into her beauty, and the power of that illusion. I kissed her, gathering her towards me, feeling her warm b
reasts and her lithe body in my arms, rejoicing in that momentary lie.
But when I opened my eyes, she was gone. The loveliness of the vision had vanished, leaving in its place another figure in my arms. A figure that filled me with repulsion along with bitter disappointment. Clariss. Again!
“Cheer up, lover,” she said. “I’m not so bad.”
She leaned in and kissed me again, but this time I pushed her away.
“How dare you?” I snarled.
“You think she’s so much better than me? You think she has so much that I don’t?” There was pain mingled with her fury. “I won’t even try to fight it,” she said. “It’s too strong. Strong enough that no amount of illusion can fool you for long.” She spat. “But one day, when you’re pining for that uptight little Princess of yours, you’ll realize that there was another woman who loved you. Who never tried to play you. Who never wanted you to wait until she was done with being in love with another before she’d even consider giving her heart to you…” She laughed with bitterness. “I will destroy that bond between the two of you – as a public service. Because you deserve better than being the laughingstock of Feyland! But now that I know how deep she’s gotten her claws into your heart – I know what I have to do.”
“What are you talking about?” I reared up. “What do you plan to do with her? If you hurt her, Clariss, I swear by all the powers of Feyland that I’ll…”
But it was too late. She was gone.
Dazed, I turned and walked back to camp.
Barnaby was the first to spot me. “Where did you go?” Barnaby asked. “You just wandered off into the woods after the dragon’s attack?”
Alistair and Jeremy approached me. “Yeah, what happened?” Alistair looked utterly confused. “Where did you go?”
“Have some breakfast,” Jeremy shot in. “We’ve been cooking.”
I should have known to suspect Clariss from the second Alistair had started to condescend to the Wolf Fey. Looking at Alistair’s’ sweet, innocent expression, I knew he never could have cast the aspersions that Clariss had done.
Clariss…
She’d gotten me good, but not quite good enough. I reached into my pocket, where the Wolfstone was tucked safely.
Pretending to see Breena in Clariss had been difficult – but not so difficult that I couldn’t fool Clariss into thinking I’d been taken in, at least for a little while. My kiss had served my purpose – distracted her long enough for me to get the Stone back. Evidently, Clariss was made just as weak as other Fey by love.
I smiled inwardly as the knights presented me with a horse. It was determined – much to Cary’s chagrin – that Barnaby would ride atop him, while Alistair and Jeremy mounted magnificent steeds. Pan, meanwhile, hopped alongside my steed, his agile ways allowing him to keep up.
“Nay,” I said, reaching out a hand and pulling him up with one arm. “Sit behind me, on this horse.”
“Thank you,” Pan bowed low. “It’s not often we satyrs get to ride horses!”
“So,” Jeremy turned to me. “Where to, now, eh, Logan? Where does your quest take us?”
“Us?”
“Aye, us! What kind of Frost Fire Knights would we be if we allowed you to go on a dangerous quest without your fellow brethren?”
I smiled as I sniffed the air. The air smelled sweet like honey, at once tangy and warm, and entirely pleasurable. It was like nectar for my body, a strange and magnetic sense that I must follow that delicious scent, fulfill a hunger deep within me. The air itself seemed to call to me, to beckon me inwards.
“This way,” I said, confidence flooding through my body as I continued onwards, leading the gang.
I galloped forward, towards the source of the smell, before turning to look back. The others were still plodding along at a normal pace. Apparently they hadn’t smelled the same delectable scent as I had. I turned around to look at Pan, who was dozing on my shoulder, snoring his behorned head off. I smiled softly. If Pan had smelled what I had smelled, he would already have mentioned it – I knew all too well how susceptible he was to simple pleasures like a delicious meal. Anyone who smelled that scent would be rushing towards it, his stomach growling with delirious anticipation. It was the smell of fresh baked bread, of hot cinnamon rolls, straight from the oven – the smell that I always used to associate with Breena’s and my morning pre-school treats back in Oregon. How I missed that scent – the sweet, seductive scent of home!
How I missed home.
I hadn’t thought much of the mortal world since following Breena here. But now I felt a strange stirring, a strange longing for Oregon once again. Perhaps it was these strange memories that sent my thoughts down the twisting path.
The scent grew stronger and more alluring, and before I realized what I was doing I began to dig my heels into my steed’s sides, urging him onwards towards the source of this great feast. We passed through forests alive with fiery colors, red and gold, orange and yellow. Fruits and vegetables sprang forth from the vines and the earth.
“We’re in the Summer territory!” Pan exclaimed excitedly as he woke from his nap. “And not a minute too soon. I could use with a good long soak in a hot bath in some country inn.”
I scoffed. “I can agree with that – you need a good long bath, all right.” But even his pungent odor didn’t distract from the sweet smell that lured me onwards.
In the distance I could see the bright and shining spires of the Summer Palace a place that brought back so many memories – of me and Breena, the two of us together, of being by her side, fighting the war with her, of those happy moments during which we were engaged, of her kidnapping by Delano, of seeing her stabbed, dying, dead…
I thought I had left all those memories behind me when Breena left with Kian, but now they left me breathless, overcome by their power.
We were back where we had started – the Wolfstone had lured me here. Back to where we had begun. But why? How could Breena’s home help the Wolves regain their magic?
As the steed rode towards the gates of the Summer Palace, my eyes drifted upwards, towards the window. Towards where I saw a long head of glorious, tumbling chestnut hair – the face turned away.
But I knew the color of the hair all too well.
“Breena?” I whispered.
Chapter 18
I kicked my steed, my heels digging deep into the horse’s side, as I quickened my pace, my heart beating fast as I rode up to the very door of the Summer Palace. I didn’t even pay attention to the group of Summer maidens who were loitering on the stairs, fanning themselves in the heat.
“Oh, Logan!” one of them called. I recognized her – a sultry blonde called Merrifield. She blew me a flirtatious kiss. “Where are you going so quickly? Come stay with us a while!”
“Wait!” Another one called.
But flirtations hardly mattered to me now. Not when Breena was so, tantalizingly, close to me.
“Breena!” I called, feeling my chest expand with joy as I raced through the Great Hall and up the marble staircase that led to her study. “Breena, I’m here! I’ve come!”
I didn’t even knock. I was breaking all kinds of royal protocol, I was sure, but at this point in time it didn’t seem to matter. I couldn’t bring myself to care. Breena was here; she was nearby; that was all that mattered. I was wild with joy; ecstatic beyond measure. I wanted only to kiss her, to touch her, to hug her. Her proximity to me felt like the most important thing in the world. I needed her; I ached for her.
“Breena?” I swung the door open. “Breena!”
But the figure that turned to greet me, with long chestnut hair sloping down over his shoulders, was not Breena at all. While he retained plenty of Breena’s beauty – certainly, his regal charm matched Breena’s own – the distinction was unmistakable: this was not Breena at all, but Frank Flametail, the King of Summer, Breena’s father.
My face turning scarlet, I dropped to my knees, bowing low.
“Your Highness,” I stuttere
d, staring down at the marble floor. “I’m so sorry. I saw you in the window – I – I – I – mistook you for someone else. I thought you were…”
“Breena?” Luckily for me, Frank’s eyes were twinkling, and there was no hint of anger upon his face. Rather he looked kind, even charming, slightly amused at my mistake. “No, my boy, I’m very sorry to disappoint you, but you’re stuck with me instead.”
“It’s so nice to see you again, Logan,” a kindly voice made me whirl around to see its source – a slender woman behind me with long dark hair and bright, shining eyes. She was older, now, but her face still revealed an incredible beauty – one that had only increased with age as she had grown in confidence in strength. I was used to seeing her in sweatshirts, pashmina scarves, and jeans, but in the full regalia of the Fairy Kingdom Raine Malloy, Breena’s mother, cut a far more magnificent figure. Clad in a dress of apricot silk and peach satin, with a velvet brocade that gave way to lace at her neck, she looked every inch the Queen, just as her daughter was.
With a motion as effortless as gliding, Raine took her seat upon one of the three golden thrones in the room.
One for Raine…I thought. One for Frank Flametail. And one for Breena.
The ruling family of the Summer Kingdom, though only Breena and Kian – according to the laws of the final peace treaty – were considered Emperor and Empress of the United Fairy Kingdom. Better that the old Summer rulers stayed out of it, they had reasoned, to avoid conflict with Winter.
“I never would have guessed we would meet one another under these circumstances,” Raine continued, smiling softly. “I never would even have guessed that I would see Feyland again – or my Frank…”
She patted her husband’s arm as she turned towards him. I could see the love and happiness shining in her eyes. My heart ached in the knowledge of all that the two of them had suffered. They had been separated for years due to the machinations of the Summer King’s former wife, Redleaf the Summer Queen; Raine had risked her life to withstand the fairy kiss that might well have driven her insane. But their love story had a happy ending. The two of them had made their way back to one another – despite other spouses, other loves, other lives. Would Breena and I have the same happy ending? As I saw the way the Summer King and Queen looked at one another, my heart swelled up within my breast. Would I ever know that kind of happiness with another girl with auburn-tinted, chestnut hair?
