Dust of Dreams: Guardians of Light, Book 4

by Renee Wildes

  Across the sea was a good beginning.

  “You are the only one for me,” Benilo assured her.

  The faeries drew them in a whirling dance circle, spinning dizzily until Pryseis forgot all about air elementals trying to seduce her mate. All she had to do was look into the swirling depths of his starlit eyes, feel the warmth and desire in his soul. A desire clearly evident in his current unclothed state. She stumbled to a halt, breaking away from the circle. Benilo followed her, and the dancers spun about them in a cacophony of hopes, dreams and wishes like little bubbles of pure happiness.

  He drew her to him, tracing lazy circles on her back, on her hip. She felt his gaze on her breasts like a physical caress, and her skin flushed, her nipples tightened. “You tempt me, my love. I could almost take you here, in front of all and sundry.”

  “I had no idea my mate had such a brazen streak,” she teased.

  “I am not aroused by the thought of an audience avidly watching my technique,” he confessed. “But I am not sure I want to wait until we have privacy, either.” The wretched palace was too far away.

  “Well, I’m not that bold,” Pryseis said. “But I don’t want to wait, either.” She caught his hand, and together they ran for the palace. Hallar and Suri laughingly let them through, and they dashed across the clearing toward the palace with a stream of good-natured whistles and catcalls from the pack of trolls and faeries in their wake.

  He led her to down the glittering corridor to the gilded door to her suite of rooms, pinning her to it with a voracious kiss and eager hands.

  The moment she came up for air, she gasped, “There’s just one little thing.”

  “What is that?”

  She grinned her most evil grin. “I say ’tis my turn to return the favor.”

  About the Author

  To learn more about Renee Wildes, please visit www.reneewildes.net or her blog at reneewildes1.wordpress.com. Send an email to Renee Wildes at dr67tm66@yahoo.com or dr67tm66@gmail.com and join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Renee Wildes! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/reneewildesromancefantastique/

  Look for these titles by Renee Wildes

  Now Available:

  Duality

  Hedda’s Sword

  Lycan Tides

  Giving in to the lure of passion could lead to disaster.

  Lycan Tides

  © 2009 Renee Wildes

  Guardians of Light, Book Three

  Selkie princess Finora is all too familiar with betrayal. Betrayed by her curiosity, which led her from the sea. By her body, which yielded to a handsome human under the full moon. By the human, who hid her skin and took its location with him to his grave. After seven years of searching, she no longer believes in miracles.

  Trystan is a werewolf on a mission to find and return dragons to his homeland. He follows a slim lead westward across an unfamiliar sea. Gravely wounded in a pirate attack, his ship foundered in a storm and sinking fast, he comes face to face with the most unexpected rescuers—Finora and her two half-human children.

  Selkie and werewolf. Both creatures ruled by the moon. The attraction is instant, mutual, undeniable…and impossible. Trystan is destined to return to the mountains and Finora can’t leave the sea. Their only gift to each other is one night of searing passion—which could lead to the greatest betrayal of all…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Lycan Tides:

  What had she gotten herself into? Finora crossed her arms to hide her shaking hands and watched Trystan’s broad back lead the way into The Mermaid Pub. The tightness in her womb, the wet heat betwixt her thighs, shocked her. The full moon was last night. The burning need should have been over. She wasn’t supposed to respond to a male out of time. Of course, four years was a long time to go without. ’Twas the selkie way to indulge that part of their natures. ’Twas the easiest way to trap them, as she’d learned to her sorrow.

  Why now? Why him?

  Her lips still tingled from his kiss. She quivered at the thought of sharing her bed tonight, of limbs entwined and hot skin sliding against hot skin. What was it about Trystan that made him impossible to resist? She should have put her foot down and left him in town to find his own way. Was it because he wasn’t human, either, but a fellow creature of the moon?

  He was safer with her, away from eyes and questions. But was she safer with him? Ioain wasn’t the only one at risk for a broken heart. He’s not staying long. He has a mission to complete, then a family and home of his own to get back to. A family of his own… “I made a promise t’ someone back home, a promise t’ keep,” he’d stated.

  “Trystan, wait.”

  He turned at the doorway, a question in those piercing blue eyes.

  Stars, those eyes…

  “The someone back home whom you promised. Is it a woman? Are you married?”

  “A woman? Aye. But a wife?” He shook his head and smiled. “Nay, lass. Were I bound t’ another, I’d no’ be stayin’ with ye an’ the littles. ’Tis no’ me way. Me folk back home have but one mate. There’s no one awaitin’ me return.”

  One mate per male? In her world the strongest bulls got the most cows. A bull could have many cows in his household, but each cow answered to but one bull. A pang struck her. Acourse being stuck on land, with Bran gone, she’d had an uncommon spell of freedom. None to answer to, making her own decisions. A small rebellious part of her—the part that had caused her to disregard her sire’s warnings so long ago—reveled in that freedom. Even as she yearned for the sea itself, she dreaded going back to the harem, to being just one of many in her sire’s household, until he shipped her off to some other bull.

  Why her heart flipped at Trystan’s unbound status she didn’t know. ’Twas of no consequence to her. “You’ve never taken a wife?”

  His eyes twinkled. “I’ve been asked. But I’ve ne’er been tempted t’ say aye.”

  Stop talking now. You’re making a fool of your— “What? You mean to tell me your women do the choosing? And they ask?” Finora knew her jaw was surely hanging down around her knees, but she couldn’t seem to close her mouth.

  “The clans are each ruled by a headwoman. The women govern an’ each decides who they wish t’ take as a mate an’ father their bairns. Doth a mon piss her off enough, a lass is free t’ release him an’ choose another.”

  “What do the men do?”

  He shrugged. “Whate’er we’re good at. We hunt, scout, craft, defend. Those o’ us that be guardians, though,” a shadow crossed his face, “are sworn t’ the clans as a whole. That be above any bond t’ one woman. There’s no’ many women who relish the thought o’ a mon that oft disappears for days, weeks or months at a time on clan business, or can be slain in battle.”

  “Is that what this is?” Finora asked. “This quest of yours? Clan business?”

  His eyes sobered. “Nay, lass. ’Twas a promise t’ a guardian queen, who wished t’ know if she be the last o’ her kind.”

  She sensed a holding back in those words, like there was something he could have added but didn’t. One thing was clear to her, however: Trystan was an honorable man, with his own ironclad code of conduct. She could trust him. She moved around him, brushed against his arm as she opened the Mermaid’s door and went back inside.

  The children sat at the table with Giles and Jan, Niadh and Storm sprawled at their feet. Ealga perched on the back of Braeca’s chair. Giles handed Trystan the half-finished whiskey Trystan had set down when he’d stepped outside for their talk. “Would you like something?” Giles asked Finora.

  The whiskey was too tempting. She needed a clear head. “Just cider,” she replied. Tess unloaded her tray at the next table.

  Giles waved Tess over and gave her Finora’s request.

  Finora sat down in the empty chair betwixt her two children. “Were the scones good?”

  Ioain nodded. “Can we bwing some home?”

  “Please, Mama?” Braeca added, pleading in her big brown eyes. />
  Finora laughed. “Very well. Enough with those cow eyes, poppet!” When the other woman brought her the cider, she said, “Tess, I think I’ll need a dozen of those cranberry scones to take home with us.”

  “I’ll wrap them now,” Tess replied.

  Trystan held out a hand and Ealga returned to his shoulder. He slouched against the wall, savoring his drink. “They make this back home. Me uncle Cormag’s a master. His has a unique nutty flavor an’ his barrels’re stamped with an acorn.”

  Finora stared at Trystan, the wild Arcadian mountain man, from his long, grizzled grey hair to his muscled legs. She couldn’t help herself. The tattoo down the left side of his face made him look so fierce, but all she could recall was the hot desire in his eyes and the feel of those strong arms around her, holding her close. She wasn’t the only one staring at the way his broad shoulders filled out his shirt. Catching herself at it made her frown. Ridiculous to feel possessive over a stranger. She had no claim on him.

  “Acorn whiskey’s rare,” Jan stated. “Hard t’ find, an’ too rich for the common purse.”

  “Soon we should be able t’ afford it. Cap’n’s lookin’ for ’nother ship,” Giles clarified. “We’ll be sailin’ ’gain in a few weeks.”

  Finora’s gaze slid to Trystan, who stared at the memorial wall, at all the names of those lost to Cilaniestra. “What is it?”

  “’Tis lucky I am t’ no’ be listed there. Thanks t’ him.” He saluted Storm with his cup.

  “Lighthaven Water Dogs. Mari breeds and trains them,” Finora told him. “They’ve gained a reputation all over Rhattany.”

  Braeca also stared at the wall. “My da’s on that wall.”

  “Aye, lass.” Trystan’s face softened. “I’m sorra for yer loss.”

  Oh, he was dangerous…

  “Is your da gone, too?”

  “No’ t’ me knowledge. But I’ve been gone from home for some months now.”

  “But ye’re old!” Braeca indicated his grey hair. “He must be ancient.”

  “Braeca!” Finora’s cheeks heated.

  Trystan laughed. “Well, I’m no’ as old as all that. Simply went grey early. They told me it makes me look wise.” He assumed a solemn expression that made the children giggle.

  Finora again sensed a holding back. Trystan shot her a sharp glance but said naught further.

  “Time to go home,” Finora said. “I don’t want to be climbing in the dark.” She stood, picked up the wrapped packet of scones and inclined her head to Giles and Jan. “Good night.” The children headed for the door, shadowed by the two canids. Finora followed with Trystan and Ealga bringing up the rear. She tried in vain to ignore his gaze. The back of her neck prickled with awareness.

  She stopped at Mari’s. Storm’s dam sprawled against Mari’s makeshift stand but lumbered to her feet at their approach. She looked to be near her time—swollen like a great furry whale. “I need a kira of frill and a half of red.” Finora reached down to rub the dog’s ears.

  Mari weighed out the two seaweeds. “Pups should be here next week,” she said to the Ioain and Braeca. “You two will have to come see them.”

  Ioain stared at his shoes. Finora paid Mari and tucked the wrapped packages under her arm. They continued up the cliffside path. The children sang a counting rhyme Mistress Greta had taught Braeca. Finora and Trystan followed in silence.

  “Finora!”

  Bree’s call stopped her in her tracks. “What’s wrong?”

  “Naught’s wrong,” the mermaid replied. “We’ve been scavenging the ship and I found something your new friend might wish to see.”

  Trystan placed a hand against her back. “What is it?”

  She turned around. “Bree’s found something she wants you to see. We’d best go down to the shore.” She shivered. That luring, elusive shore…

  Rumplestiltskin is not his name and this hunk’s no gnarled old goblin.

  Demon Lover

  © 2010 Bonnie Dee and Marie Treanor

  Fairytale Fantasies, Book 2

  In his quest to land her a rich husband, Gwyneth’s father has gone one step too far and bragged to the king’s steward. Now she faces an impossible task: spin a room full of straw into gold by morning, or their lives are forfeit. She despairs, until a black-garbed figure offers to solve her problem for a price. One kiss.

  He returns the second night, and the third. With each sensual encounter, the stakes escalate along with her attraction to her mysterious visitor. Then he claims the ultimate price—her child—and she realizes too late she’s made a deal with the king of the Underworld.

  From the moment he kisses her, Ragnorak knows Gwyneth’s child will be a worthy heir for his kingdom. But with each touch, he wants more. He wants her to be queen of his strangely beautiful world—and for her to want to stay. But that will mean giving her the ultimate weapon—the power of his name.

  Gwyneth has only three chances to drive her demon lover over the edge of bliss. But when the stakes suddenly shift, it’s Ragnorak who stands to lose everything…

  Warning: This book turns a well-known fairytale upside down, and involves hot sex with a villainous demon—or is he…?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Demon Lover:

  Once more Gwyneth waited in the room full of straw, desperate and alone, but with a sliver of hope which she hadn’t possessed the previous night. For now she knew there was someone who could give her the magic to perform the impossible task. But what could she do to summon him?

  She stood in the center of the room, sneezing as the chaff in the air tickled her nose, and examined the chamber from corner to corner. How had he entered the room? Did one of the great stone blocks which made up the walls and floor move aside to provide him entrance? And where exactly had he come from?

  She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Sir,” she called softly, “I beseech you to come to me again. I need your help. Please.”

  There was no answer. The dead silence was disturbed only by a tiny rustle, perhaps of a mouse brought in with one of the bales of straw.

  Gwyneth clasped her hands together. “I cannot do this alone. I need your magic. Please, I’ll do anything you require if only you will save me once more.”

  More silence. What if he didn’t come this time? Now that the king was convinced she could perform the task, he might take her refusal to accomplish it a second time as willful disobedience—perhaps treason. Could she convince him that her magic power was used up since the full moon of the fifth month was waning? She couldn’t be expected to produce gold again until another eighteen years had passed, according to her father’s bizarre claim.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and tears slipped from the corners to trickle down her cheeks. “Please, I need you,” she whispered.

  “Then you shall have me, my lady.” The voice murmuring near her ear, hot breath tickling her neck, nearly jolted her out of her skin. She started to whirl to face him and her shoulder slammed into his hard chest. He stood right behind her, as solid and immovable as a wall.

  One gloved finger reached out and caught the tear which had dripped nearly to her jaw. “Diamonds,” he murmured. “More beautiful than the green glass you wear around your neck.”

  Gwyneth automatically reached up to touch the elaborate emerald necklace that draped her throat. “You’re here,” was all she could manage to say.

  He dipped his hooded head slightly. “Your wish is my command, but as before, I will demand a payment.”

  What this time? Her heart pounded as she remembered the ravishing kiss last night, the way it had stolen her breath away and made her skin burn.

  “I have this necklace.” She fingered the cold, hard gems. “Although I don’t know how I would explain its loss to the king.”

  “Then you don’t really have the necklace if it doesn’t belong to you.” He stroked a hand down her arm from shoulder to wrist, and her flesh tingled. “But you have other jewels more precious than those. Rubies.” He touche
d her lips lightly with a fingertip. “Star sapphires.” He indicated her blue eyes. “And a single precious pearl.”

  One gloved hand slid down the front of her gown to cup her mound through the layers of silk and petticoats. He pressed hard with his finger on the very bud she had massaged earlier, and warmth bloomed from the sensitive spot.

  Gwyneth drew in a sharp breath.

  For a sizzling moment they remained locked together with his hand on her pussy the only point of contact, and then, abruptly, the demon stepped away from her. She felt the absence of his commanding presence which had made the air around her positively crackle with energy.

  She licked her lips before she spoke. “What would you have me give?”

  He looked around the room. “There’s more work to be done tonight.”

  It was true. The room was filled with nearly half as much straw as the previous night.

  “I would need more than a kiss this time.”

  Scissors of fear and excitement snipped through her mask of calm. “How much more?”

  “I want to touch you. Everywhere. And I want you to touch me.”

  Her excitement mounted. He would unmask, then. She would see his face at last. But then the other half of what he demanded struck her. He wanted to see and touch her body—naked. She’d never been naked in front of anyone in her entire life.

  At her hesitation, he added, “I will not have sex with you, nor will I force you to do anything you don’t enjoy. But I must have something for my trouble.”

  Gwyneth had no other options, and a deep-seated part of her wanted to know his touch and to have his gaze travel over her body. Just thinking about it set her afire all over again.

  “Very well. It’s a deal.”

  “Then you may begin to spin. I suggest you hurry, as there’s a great deal of work to be done and I demand some time at the end of the evening for myself.”

  Gwyneth gazed at the mountainous bales of straw and empty spindles waiting to be filled. Her fingers were already swollen and sore despite the balm one of the serving women had treated them with. The task before her seemed monumental—but at least not impossible now, she reminded herself as she cut the twine on the first bale of straw.