The earth stopped rumbling. The fissure stopped splitting open but remained as a scar upon the Mountain King’s created world.
Before her eyes, the power dimmed within him. His eyes returned to normal, though wide and panicked.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice shaken.
“I don’t think you were here for a bit,” she replied. Morgan chose her words, so she didn’t startle him even more. “Have you lost control before, Mountain King?”
His eyes widened even further and then, suddenly, he disappeared. Morgan was left to clean up the pieces of distraught faeries and plants who needed saving. And though she wanted to track down the king and yell at him for all he had done, she knew where her place was.
Morgan the witch became Morgan the healer for the afternoon.
11
Morgan wiped the sweat off her brow and looked at the mess she’d somehow cleaned up.
Over a hundred plants were repotted and put into new homes. Some pots were clay, others were plastic. She didn’t know where the faeries had gotten them, nor did she care all that much. If they stole, they stole.
She had put some faeries to work. Some were potting plants. They ended the day just as covered in dirt as she was. The others watched stoically and commented when one of the plants needed something.
Morgan had never channeled as much power as she had this afternoon. Every ounce of magic she’d taken from the king was poured into the greenery. The faeries then carted the greenery off to their new homes.
Some pots were bigger than the faeries carrying them, but no one complained. If there was anything she could say about these creatures, they didn’t mind hard work.
Yet another recent development she hadn’t realized about their kind.
She leaned back on her haunches and nodded at the mud faerie who hadn’t left her side the entire afternoon. “I think we did a splendid job, don’t you?”
“Good,” it squeaked. The large blue eyes blinked up at her, narrowed, and then focused in on the dirt coating her clothing. “Gross.”
“Me?” Morgan placed a muddy hand against her chest. “Gross?”
“Yes.”
If the creature had a nose, it would have sniffed the air around her and wrinkled the appendage.
Morgan felt disgusting. Sweat stuck the back of her shirt to her skin, and mud stuck the front to her chest. She’d suffered through a lot of revolting situations in her life, but never had she felt as though she’d taken a bath in a pig pen.
And she’d spent the night in a few pig pens. She never came out looking like this.
She heaved a sigh and nodded. “You know, I think you’re right. There wouldn’t be a bath nearby, would there?”
The faerie blinked. “Pond?”
She imagined the dirt and mud in a pond, not to mention the little creature’s home. She’d turn it filthy in seconds, and then how would the faerie see?
Morgan decided she’d rather know the faerie made it home safe without her ruining its home for a few days. “Is there running water anywhere? Like a stream?”
The faerie thought for a ridiculously long amount of time.
Morgan was about to give up on the idea and tromp back to her dirty nest. Then another passing faerie spoke up. This one had dragonfly wings the length of Morgan’s arm on its back. “There’s a mountain spring in the caves. I’m sure the king wouldn’t mind if you freshened up in there.”
“The caves?”
Morgan followed the creature’s point to a small hole in the wall of mountains she hadn’t noticed. It was barely big enough for the faeries to fit through, but she might squeeze in if she tried.
She shrugged. “All right, then. Anything to be clean, I suppose.”
With a pat to the mud faerie’s head, she started off toward the cave system. She hadn’t been in one for years. The last had been in the 1940s when she found herself on the ocean side of Ireland hunting a troll.
Well, her coven had been hunting the troll. She had been more interested in the creature’s treasure trove, rumored to contain a rare, poisonous plant.
Her coven had cursed the troll into a toad. She’d taken the plant while they were all busy.
It was a win-win situation. They didn’t want her there, neither did they believe a green witch would be much use. She had healed their wounds before she left, though, and that had given her enough respect to stay within the coven for a couple months more.
Someday, she would leave the coven all together and not feel a bit of guilt for it. They were ungrateful wretches.
Morgan clambered through the small segment of stone. She had to get down on her hands and knees, but could see the caves beyond opened up at least ten feet high. At least she wouldn’t be squeezed by the earth.
Standing up straight, she placed her hands on her hips and listened for the sound of water. Maybe she could find a cave system like this back home once she freed herself from the faerie’s clutches. Then the coven wouldn’t be able to find her. She could still raise plants in here, although none of the ones in her cottage. They needed the sun.
Morgan picked up on a telltale trickling sound and made a sharp right. She clambered down into the abyss, noting spears of light coming from the ceiling. The mountain was hollow, it seemed. And much of the light came from the top where the Mountain King had allowed a few holes to remain.
Did the faeries use this place often? The stones were carved almost into steps, so she could believe this was a place where they bathed.
She hoped there wouldn’t be any faeries in here. They were already so fascinated with the human world, she feared what they would do if they saw her without clothing.
Faeries poking and prodding her naked body wasn’t on her to-do list today.
Though, she had to admit they were all cute. And she wasn’t the person to admit anything was cute. She looked at babies and wondered how anyone took care of one. Human larva frightened her.
Morgan picked her way up and over a stone before descending into an enormous cavern where a stream full of scalding water bubbled. The steam rose in curling tendrils, beckoning her forward for a bath.
Oh god, a real bath.
She unbuttoned her shirt with such speed, buttons flew off in all directions. Who cared? If she had to walk around with her bra only, she would.
The leather pants proved to be more of a problem, however. They stuck to her legs with a suction that rivaled a vacuum. Grunting, she plonked down on a stone and pulled hard enough to release the pants down to her shins.
Toeing off the boots, she pushed everything down onto the floor and left it there. She’d wash the clothing later, but for now, she wanted to get into that water.
Morgan reached behind her for the clasp of her black bra but hesitated at the last second. Maybe she was paranoid. The feeling of eyes on her back were all in her head, not that a certain faerie was lurking in the corner waiting for her to take all her clothes off.
Still, she left on her black underwear.
Wading into the steaming water, she let out a moan that was downright filthy as she sank down to her neck.
Who knew she would miss hot water so much? Actually, she knew. Morgan had gone much of her life without instant baths. She still had nightmares about heating buckets of water over a fire and pouring them into a basin tub.
The water was never hot by the time she got in it. Even magic didn’t fulfill the need the way modern day plumbing could.
She let her body float in the gentle moving water for a little while. Centering herself and her magic. All the power was hers and slowly building back up. Eventually, it would be a lake she could dip into again whenever she wanted to.
As she surveyed the waters of her power, she realized it might be a little while longer before she could use her own magic.
She didn’t want to give any more of herself to whatever creature she sacrificed to. Whether that was a demon or just the world at large, she didn’t want to give more. The magic would build from
her own mind if she was patient.
And that was the greatest difference between Morgan and the rest of the witches she knew. They weren’t good at waiting, whereas she would wait centuries if that’s what it took.
Her magic rewarded her for the patience. Morgan felt more connected to her power than the other witches. She could use it far more to her advantage, and for so much of a smaller cost.
Her soul was hers. And it would remain hers as long as she was patient.
A stone fell from somewhere to her right, tumbling down the stairs and plunking into the water with a harsh slap.
So, she hadn’t imagined those eyes after all.
She rolled in the water, placing her feet on the algae covered stones. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sank until the water touched her chin and eyed the only way into the stream.
Had the little mud faerie followed her? She’d have to lecture it on privacy. Or at least letting her know when it were in the same room. No one should be startled while bathing. It was rude.
But the person who stepped down the stairs wasn’t the mud faerie. It was the king, once again.
“What are you doing here?” she called out. “I thought you ran off to hide your face in shame.”
The words were a little harsh, but she was almost naked in the water. He shouldn’t be here. Her stomach twisted into a strange knot at his closeness, and she didn’t know if she wanted him in the water with her or so far away she forgot what he looked like.
The king made his way further down the stairs, then stumbled. He righted himself against the wall, but his shambling steps were wrong. Morgan was used to him moving with grace. He might be a sizeable man, but he was always controlled in his movements.
This wasn’t the king she had grown used to. This one stomped down the stairs, each heavy step selected with a gaze that didn’t look as though he knew where he was.
“Mountain King?” she called out.
He was close enough now for her to see the sweat dripping down his brow. He shook his head like a horse trying to flick a fly away from its face. “Liam,” he murmured.
Was that his name? What faerie would ever tell a human, let alone a witch, its name? She could use that against him with just the barest of thoughts.
Morgan opened her mouth to scold him. No sound escaped her lips.
He wasn’t feeling well. The droplets of sweat weren’t just on his face. They trickled down between the mountains of muscle on his chest. He was sick, or perhaps burning up with magic deep in his core.
Morgan swam close to the edge of the stream into one of the pools, carved from years of running water. “Come here.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. Green eyes caught on her form in the water and he shuffled closer. She wasn’t certain he had any idea who she was.
The Mountain King knelt by the edge of the water and reached out a hand for her. “Did the king send you?”
“King?”
“The King of Water.” He licked his lips, then swallowed.
Was his mouth dry? That was sometimes a sign of poison, although she couldn’t imagine who would try to poison the Mountain King.
Liam.
What a lovely name for a man so handsome.
“No,” she replied, reaching out with one hand and taking his. “The King of Water did not send me. Do they also call you the King of Earth?”
“All the kings have their names. Each of my counterparts. The four of us took the elementals when no one else would.” He licked his lips again. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple and disappeared into his beard.
“Are you feeling well, Liam?” She tried to pull her hand away from his, only to realize he clutched it like a lifeline. She tugged harder, but he still didn’t let go of her. “Liam, I need my hand back.”
“It’s inside me,” he muttered. “And sometimes I can’t control it.”
She stilled. “What’s inside you?”
“The magic. The voices. The need to do something about what’s going on in the human realm.”
Morgan focused her own power, sending it out between them to feel what he felt. The moment she dipped into the green magic pulsing through him, she was slapped back into her own body.
That power was strong. It didn’t want her anywhere near the Mountain King’s head.
What was the magic planning? It brewed something dark and dangerous deep in the recesses of this faerie’s mind. She’d gotten that much before it had slammed the door shut.
“Liam?” she tried again. “You need to get rid of some power. I’ve seen this before.”
“Get rid of the power?” The green magic pulsed through his vision again. The creature or magic or simply the earth looked out at her through his gaze. “I will get rid of no power, witch. Do not try to corrupt me.”
“I’m not trying to corrupt you, Liam. I’m trying to help you.” He seemed distracted by her body near the portals, so perhaps she could use that to her advantage.
Morgan yanked her hand out of his, aided by the slickness of her skin. She slapped both her hands against the stones and pulled herself out of the pool. Pleasurable things always tempted faeries.
Perhaps it was time to see if she could tempt the king.
Water poured down her body in rivers. It caught in the hollows of her collarbone and the divot of her bellybutton. Her bra was too thin to hide the pebbled peaks of her breasts, but that was the point. She wanted him to look at her. She wanted his attention on her and no one else.
Not even the power that overwhelmed him.
Liam’s eyes widened in surprise and then heated with so much lust she wasn’t certain she could bear it. He would sear her flesh from bone, just with a single touch.
For the first time in her life, the witch was not afraid of fire.
She reached out a hand, waiting for him to take it. “Liam, you need to use some of that magic.”
To his credit, he fought against the boiling in his head. He stepped away from her. The flinching response was almost as though he had seen something. Or predicted what he would do if he touched her.
“No,” he muttered. “No I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll hurt you. If I touch you like this, I don’t know what I could do.”
She understood that fear. Accidental murder was the worst sort of guilt. “I’m made of magic as well,” she replied. “Don’t you remember?”
“Your power isn’t as great as mine.”
“Perhaps not. But I can absorb your magic, Liam. Let me.” Although, the mere idea of it made her stomach surge up into her throat. She didn’t know how much she could take from him.
All that power inside him could set her on fire. Or perhaps he would use her as a conduit, controlling her like a puppet and fulfilling whatever whim he might have.
Morgan had to help him, though. No other option would suit. So, even without his permission, she pulled.
His head twitched to the side. Moss grew on his shoulders as magic surged in his body again.
It was reaching for her. All that green magic whispering how much it wanted to use her, to live inside her as it lived inside Liam. It desired her just as much as he did.
How strange to be desired by something without a body. But she could hear it in her head. Murmuring, crooning just to let it inside her.
Every inch of her body flushed. Sweat slicked her skin, not from some sickness. She wanted him. She wanted whatever lived inside him with so much need that her knees felt week.
“What is it that makes me desire you so?” she asked. “Is it just because you’re a faerie king? Is this what it’s like to be in the presence of all fae royalty?”
Liam shook his head and groaned, “No. No, it’s never like this.”
At least she wasn’t crazy. He felt it too.
Another ripple of power passed through them. A wave of pleasure so strong rolled over her body that her toes curled. Morgan tossed her head back in ecstasy. She’d never felt this before.
> Her entire body clenched. Deep between her legs, a pulse started like a heartbeat. The feeling burrowed deep into her soul. She could feel him in her head, in her magic, in her body.
Mouth open, she tried to control herself but couldn’t. Everything was wrong and right and so infinitely powerful.
“Liam,” she whispered, breathing shallowly. “What are you doing to me?”
She dropped her gaze to see he’d grown horns made of tree limbs. Moss grew on his shoulders and trailed down his chest. Flowers bloomed in his beard and leaves unfurled on the branch horns.
He wasn’t just a faerie, anymore. He was something more. A god made of earth and spring. He was life itself, bringing a new age with him she couldn’t even have dreamt.
He reached for her and smoothed his thumb over the peak of her cheekbone. “Morgan.”
“What are you doing?” she repeated, still trying to catch her breath.
“I don’t know.”
Liam tugged her closer until she could breathe in his exhalations. Pollen floated out of his lips. She inhaled every bit, bringing his magic deep into her lungs and even more into her body.
His sturdy arms curled around her back. He held her so tenderly and yet, she knew she couldn’t get out if she struggled.
Her thighs quaked as another wave pulsed through her. His heart beat against hers, ragged and thunderous. His sweat slicked her skin. She could feel every inch of him against her, warm and wet and wonderful.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he muttered. His lips were close enough so she could feel their heat. “You deserve better than this.”
“I said I wanted to help, didn’t I?” Morgan didn’t know what she was saying. She feared everything she would do if he continued. He would turn her into a puddle of woman at his feet and she would beg for more.
The magic in his gaze dimmed until it was just Liam, the faerie king she recognized. Clearing his throat, he released her and repeated, “You deserve better than this.”
He melted out of her arms. Leaving only the lingering scent of peat and loam to comfort her.
12
Morgan gathered her things and left the hot springs with a pressing question on her mind. He’d grown branch horns and moss on his shoulders... What was he?
King of the Mountains Page 9
