Fae High Summer Hunt

by Renee Michaels

  Most of the pixies there had already drunk their share. Their amorous personalities, combined with the summer’s fertility magic, heated the group until their moans of pleasure chimed through the warm breeze. Others nearby reacted to the intimacy, their clothes slipping off in their fervour.

  Yet another sign of how nature’s power innately affected the Seelie.

  The group she stood with were still chatting merrily amongst themselves, though their attention was beginning to drift to the playful fledgling orgy.

  Niamh slipped away into the forest, making sure no one saw her. She needed a break from the laughter and shallow niceties. Her face ached from the plastic smile she wore for the party. Once safely out of view, she leaned against a tree and let out a ragged breath. Her fake smile fell, and she stared into the sky between the leaves. If only she were home, away from the misery of joy she had to force. Warmth and happiness permeated the air around her, but a part buried within her retracted from those emotions, shying away from the silky caress. Most of the time, she wondered if she had something wrong with her. Darkness held solace for her while light made her aware of what she lacked.

  The snap of a branch startled her, and she peeked around the tree. No one was there. Thoughts about her inner darkness dissipated. Her shoulders tensed, and she strained her ears to hear more signs of movement. Another twig snapped behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  Before her stood a man in an elaborately decorated mask, which covered most of his face. A dark hood and cape cloaked the rest of him, making it impossible to distinguish any of his features. He was most definitely fae like her—he had that kind of aura. He must’ve hidden his wings beneath his grand cape.

  She looked him over with a frown. Why was he here, away from the party? Especially dressed as he was? I left the party behind to rest, not to give someone the opportunity to make my acquaintance in private. She sighed but forced herself to smile.

  A scream caught her attention from the party, turning her towards the sound, but the laughter that followed reassured her that everything was still safe.

  The foreboding man spun her to face him. He clasped his hands around her throat, and slammed her folded wings back against the tree. Her head bounced against the hard oak. She clawed at his glove-covered hands, trying to get him off her, trying to draw air into her lungs.

  He smashed her against the tree again, but his grip slipped slightly.

  “What do you want?” she squeaked, gulping in air.

  “You. That’s what I wanted.”

  She’d never heard this man’s voice before. How could he want her while she couldn’t figure out who he was? He must’ve used glamour so she wouldn’t recognise him.

  “You’ve never given me a chance. Now you’ll pay for your decision.”

  Then again, she’d turned away so many men she didn’t know whether she’d be able to place him, even without the glamour.

  Closing her eyes, she focused on her magic to help fend him off, but his tight grasp on her throat kept her from speaking the words needed to cast her spell. Weakness gripped her, and she began to feel more and more lightheaded. Her lungs burned from lack of oxygen.

  She dropped one hand, trying to grope for anything to use against him. If she couldn’t use her magic, she’d have to use physical force. Her hand brushed a snapped tree branch dangling from the tree, and she yanked it up then smacked him hard in the face, nearly causing him to lose the mask.

  He jerked away from her and brought his hands to his mask, to straighten it.

  With him distracted, she sidestepped him and ran, whispering a protection spell. If her wings hadn’t been restricted beneath her cloak, she’d have flown away. Branches slashed her face and she panted from the effort. She cursed herself for having left the party and the safety of the crowd.

  Behind her, the man growled in anger and gave chase, but as she neared the edge of the forest, he stopped. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw him lingering just within the woods, his hot gaze searing her.

  She stumbled as she forced her way deeper into the party. She wanted to be in the midst of people. Gasps erupted around her, and multiple hands pawed at her as her legs collapsed under her.

  Niamh lay on the soft grassy ground, trying to take in enough air, but her vision narrowed as if she were staring into a tunnel. She focused on not passing out. The balmy summer air felt suffocating, the life within it oppressive.

  Clanking metal signalled the guards nearing. She tried to get up. A hand clamped on her shoulder, helping her into a sitting position.

  “Don’t try to rise until my men can fortify the area…” The guard tilted her chin to the side, and his gaze raked over her neck. “Who did this?” He scanned the crowd around them.

  “Ma—” She could barely get out any words. “Masked…man.” She doubled over coughing and nearly fell back to the ground, but the court guard kept his hand on her, holding her upright.

  A voluptuous golden faerie darted into sight. Those around her dropped to their knees in reverence. Queen Titania took special interest in a few, specific members of her court, and whether by blessing or curse, Niamh happened to be one of the few.

  Niamh’s eyelids slid shut, her body weakened, and she passed out.

  * * * *

  Arms crossed over his chest, Doyle Kearney stood before Titania, Queen of the Seelie Court. She’d hired him before, to assist her during times when she either hadn’t quite been sure about her own guards, or she’d felt his talents were better suited. She hadn’t specified, and he hadn’t pried, especially since she wasn’t the type of woman to one questioned or, worse yet, turned down.

  “How may I be of service, Your Highness?” he said. She wasn’t his queen, but when dealing with royalty, formality was safer.

  “You will be guarding a lady of my court.” Titania watched him intently as if looking for his reply. He knew better than to think she was considering his opinion. Naturally, she expected him to say yes.

  His spine stiffened, but he refrained from giving much of a reaction. It just might be the time he tried his luck and turned her down. He wasn’t a bodyguard. He was a warrior, a mercenary. If Titania had needed his protection, that would’ve been a different matter. She was a queen. She had status. He’d have had to use his skill and training to help her.

  He was not a nanny.

  She held up a hand to silence his impending refusal. “This lady was nearly killed at the Midsummer’s Eve festivities. Someone wants her dead, but she is a valuable girl. There’s something different about her. Special.” She pursed her lips and snapped her fingers. A pixie flew into the room with a letter, which it handed to Doyle.

  “What’s this?” He frowned.

  “Your payment for this special assignment, if you choose to accept it, will be a favour from me. This favour will have its boundaries, of course.” She smiled at him pleasantly, knowingly.

  A favour from the Seelie Queen was a hefty reward. He knew something like that would come in handy, especially with the questions he had regarding his parentage.

  Both of his parents had cast him off to be raised by humans who hadn’t realised his differences until he’d come into his power. But when that had happened, his adoptive parents had begun to fear him.

  He’d been on his own until he’d found some Unseelie warriors who’d taken him in and had trained him to fight. After a few years, the group had fallen apart when their tyrant leader was murdered. One of the warriors had done the deed, but no one had dared admit to it.

  “You’re quiet, even with such a reward?” Queen Titania’s sharp words broke into his thoughts. Even though the Seelie were the lighter court, they were still not to be messed with—especially not their queen.

  “Forgive me, Your Highness. I give thought to all potential employment I undertake. I just—”

  “You had thoughts of declining.” She frowned at him, her disappointment marring some of that golden beauty.

  “This i
sn’t quite my kind of work. I’m surprised you would choose me for this.” Even as he spoke, he still wasn’t entirely keen on accepting this proposal.

  “I’ve chosen you for a good reason.” The queen snapped her fingers again. This time the door opened behind him.

  He kept his gaze on Queen Titania even though he wanted to look. Everything in him that was a warrior demanded him to stay fully aware. He kept his other senses alert, and instead of hearing the heavy footsteps of her guard, the soft swish of fabric and dainty footfalls pattered through the chamber.

  He turned his head slightly to see a golden goddess whose beauty rivalled even the queen’s, although he’d never speak those words aloud. Defacing that perfection were horrible bruises upon her pale, delicate throat. Anger boiled in his veins. His jaw tensed, and he averted his gaze before his reaction became apparent.

  Moments ago, he’d been determined to turn the job down without a second thought despite the queen’s displeasure, but now…now he wasn’t so sure he could. He couldn’t just sit back and let whoever had tried to take this woman’s life succeed, but he wouldn’t dare allow feelings to play any role in this. The girl was a noble.

  Neither sympathy nor any other emotion would distract him from his goal. He was a professional.

  Distant pain threatened to well up. Nobles. They couldn’t be trusted. His parents had supposedly been nobility, too proud of their titles and power to consider what would happen to him. Now he skirted both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. Neither claimed him, but both used his talents. He’d been a by-product of a Seelie mingling with an Unseelie. Very, very few could claim that same hell.

  “Doyle Kearney, I’d like you to meet Lady Niamh McNamara. She’ll be under your protection.”

  Lady McNamara gasped. “Your Highness, I don’t see how this is necessary.” She turned her gaze to him, suspicion darkening her eyes.

  “Do you need a mirror, child?” the queen said. She hadn’t lost her temper. Yet. But he knew Titania didn’t like her will questioned. And both he and Lady McNamara were doing such. The queen glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow and pursing her lips in question.

  Doyle knew when to concede. He bowed at the waist. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

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  About the Author

  Renee Michaels lives in sunny south Florida. She started to write as a creative outlet during her husband’s extended illness. Now she can’t imagine doing anything else.

  She has books published with Liquid Silver Books, Red Rose Publishing, Samhain Publishing and Secret Cravings Publishing, and a full-length. She contributed a story to the anthology Carnal Machines, published by Cleis Press, which won a gold medal at the Ippy Awards.

  Email: reneemichaelsauthor@yahoo.com

  Renee loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

  Also by Renee Michaels

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