WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (36 page)

BOOK: WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye
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“She looked dark to me, with those black wings and abysmal dark eyes. That makes her our enemy.” Cerne gritted his teeth. “We need to get moving.”

“Cerne, you should trust Maeve’s judgment. She’s rarely wrong when it concerns auras and the minds of others,” Belenus said.

“It could be a trap, too,” Cerne growled. He’d seen the dark-curled faerie before, on Korrigan’s side in the vision Titania had shown he and Oberon. “It’s Korrigan’s sister. I never forget a face.”

Maeve crossed her arms. “We’ll need to leave the horses here, you realize. That will leave them exposed.”

“I’ll go with Cerne,” Belenus said, stepping forward. “You can stay and watch over the horses.”

“What?” Maeve’s peridot eyes sparked green fire. “I won’t allow you to travel unprotected.”

“I have the knowledge of your love to protect me. Our princess is in danger. Two faerie men—even if one is wingless—can handle one Dark Faerie.”

“But what if it’s a trap? I can’t risk losing you.” Maeve shook her head and clenched her fists. “I should go. My magic is stronger. Cerne can stay and watch our camp.”

“I do not think so. It’s my life-mate that faerie holds. I have more right to fight for her.” Maeve folded her hands and rubbed her palms together as she paced back and forth. She turned to Belenus and pointed at him. “If you die, I’ll personally travel to the afterlife to kick your delicious arse.”

“Is that a promise, my love?” Belenus batted his eyelashes.

Maeve shook her head. “Oh, believe me, it’s
not
a promise at all.”

“Oh, yes. I love it when you talk dirty.”

Cerne rolled his eyes. “Let’s keep the romantic talk down until Rhiannon is safely ensconced back in her royal chambers, and you two are safely ensconced in yours—far away from us.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, Cerne.” Maeve gave him an affectionate punch to his shoulder blade. “I’m fine with you and Bel following the faerie. Just be careful. Please?” Belenus lowered his lips to Maeve’s and gave her a soft kiss. “Everything will be fine.

Cerne and I can handle it.”

Maeve kissed him back. “Very well. Off with you two...before I change my mind.”

~*~*~


Rach-air-muin!

Rhiannon blinked. Whatever Aine said did not sound pleasant. “What’s wrong?” Aine whipped her head around, sending her black curls flying in the wind. “We are being followed.”

“Fuck!” Rhiannon said the word in Faerie, deciperhing Aine’s curse.

Aine blushed. “I’m sorry...I’ve taught you a rather vile word, haven’t I?”

“I seem to be picking up the language rather fine on my own. So the blame needs to be put on me—all by my lonesome.” Rhiannon shrugged

Aine bit her lip. “I’m worried, Rhiannon. I’m afraid your people won’t trust me.”

“I trust you. My mom—mother—will trust you too.”

“Korrigan said she had a minion within the palace walls, but I don’t know much more than that. After the incident with Sionnach, she didn’t keep me notified about her plans. I only know that Tynan was providing her information.”

Tynan?
“He’s the guy whose dragon I charbroiled, right?” There was that nagging again in her brain that wouldn’t go away. Perhaps if she concentrated, she would think of something.

“Yes. He’s awfully charming...especially where ladies are concerned.” Aine wrinkled her nose. “He’s a bit too golden for my taste.”

His name is Tynan. He’s very handsome.

Rhiannon’s heart fell into her stomach, remembering words that had been spoken to her in the garden. Why hadn’t she remembered earlier? Then again, when you have a two-ton dragon breathing fire down your neck, you really aren’t thinking all that clearly.

“We need to get back to the castle. I know who the minion is.”

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

Rhiannon. Can you hear me?
His voice echoed in her ear and a warm breath teased her neck. The spicy, woodsy scent she’d grown to love teased the air. Rhiannon gasped.

“Shh. I hear something.”

Aine raised her eyebrow. “I only hear the flutter of my wings.”

“I can hear Cerne in my mind!”

“They couldn’t have crossed the divide already.” Aine took a deep breath. “That’s where we’re heading now. Don’t look down. It’s rather frightening.” Rhiannon gazed down despite Aine’s warning to see they floated above a deep rift in the land. The gap was dark and foreboding as swirls of grayish-black fog swirled in the jagged crack in the earth. Apparently faeries hadn’t dealt much with reverse psychology. Oh well, Rhiannon thought. Thank goodness, she wasn’t afraid of heights. It was actually quite fascinating, to say the least.

“Should I try to mind-talk with Cerne?”

Aine gnawed her lip. “I would refrain for now. It could be another of Korrigan’s traps.”

“But it seemed so real. His breath caused my neck to shiver and I swear I smelled him.”

“But Korrigan has the amulet.”

Rhiannon clenched her fists. She had never felt more certain in her life. “Look, Aine. I know you’re concerned about my safety and all, but what have we got to lose?”

“Our lives?”

“We totally kicked Tynan’s ass. We can do it again.” She glanced up at Aine. “Please?”

“I don’t want to be responsible for both Sionnach’s and your death.” The scar traveling down Aine’s cheek twitched again. Rhiannon had spent enough time with the faerie to realize she was battling tears.

“Number one, Sionnach isn’t dead. Number two, it’s a royal order. I demand as White Faerie princess you put me down.” Rhiannon looked beneath her. They were over what appeared to be the deepest part of the divide. “Umm...After we get to the other side.” Aine sighed. “Very well. You know as well as I that I cannot defy a royal order.”

“Actually, you probably can, since I’m not your princess.” Aine shrugged. “I’d rather have a White Faerie rule over me than my sister with her blackened heart.”

“I’m not too fond of ruling over people.” Rhiannon’s lips curved into a soft smile. “I’d like

to be a leader, not a ruler.”

“I wish the Dark Faeries had admirable rulers...leaders like you.” Rhiannon gazed up at Aine. “Oh, but they will.”

“When?” Aine fluttered her wings, increasing their altitude.

“When you take your sister’s place, of course.”

Aine shook her head. “I’m not sure I can handle that responsibility.” A gust of air pushed them up higher. Another cross-wind sent them sailing faster across the gap. “We are almost on the other side.”

Rhiannon gave Aine credit. She did have a knack for changing the subject. “What do you mean you can’t handle the responsibility? You stood up to Korrigan!”

“Her people are extremely loyal to her.” Aine fluttered her wings as they descended. “It would be hard for them to adjust. I’m not quite the same caliber of person as my sister.”
Thank the Gods for that.
“I think you’re mistaken, but we can talk about that later.” Rhiannon looked down to glance at the flat, dusty plains as they came into view. She couldn’t wait until her feet touched the ground of this parched, dusty land. If only she could’ve visited them before Korrigan had her way with them.

Aine flicked her wings and they began to descend. “I thought you were going to connect to your consort.” A soft smile crept to her lips.

“I wanted to make sure we were safe.”

“We are for now. I forgot to mention I prayed to the Goddesses and Gods for protection.

Sometimes I don’t think they are always listening, though.”

“I think they always listen. They can only grant so many prayers.” Rhiannon flung her hair from her face. “Here goes nothing.”

She closed her eyes and opened her mind, allowing her thoughts to travel to Cerne.
Cerne?

Do you hear me?

Aine flitted to the ground and steadied Rhiannon. “You’re now on White Faerie soil—even if my people have desecrated it.”

Rhiannon nodded, taking in the site of burned-out homes and blackened earth. These were her people. They needed her. She clenched her fists. She needed them too.

“Have you heard anything from your consort yet?” Aine scanned the area and the wreckage, her lip quivering. “Dear Gods, look what we’ve done.”

Rhiannon wrapped her arm around Aine and pulled her close. “You had no choice. Your sister controlled you. I can see your worth. My people will too.” She took a deep breath. “Why isn’t he saying anything else?”

“Mayhap we are out of his mind’s range. Give it a moment or two and try again.” Rhiannon nodded. Glancing up at the sky, she frowned. The clouds hanging over the Plains swirled and churned as more darkness coated the area. “I wish I could’ve seen it before your sister decided to take a flame-thrower to it.”

Aine shrugged. “The flame-throwers were not the only things used here. This was all done by Korrigan’s staff and her dragon riders.”

“Flame-throwers?”

Aine scratched her head. “I’m assuming the human flame-throwers are different than the faerie ones?”

“They are weapons used by humans in times of war.” Rhiannon sighed. “So what are faerie flame-throwers?”

“Faeries who call forth fire with their hands and throw it.”
Duh!
Why didn’t she think of that? “Damned Korrigan has her own little army, doesn’t she?” Rhiannon paced back and forth. She tried searching the horizon to scan the distance. “We need to get back to the castle, but you need to rest your wings. How long would it take to get back to the White Palace?”

Aine shrugged. “Little is an understatement, I’m afraid. And the palace is about a day’s flight with a weak-winged faerie such as me.”

“Weak-winged?” Rhiannon’s eyes boggled. “You who carried me across a huge crevice call yourself weak-winged? Have some self-confidence, Aine. There is nothing weak about you at all.”

Aine’s lip formed a tired smile as she wrung her hands. “You’re too kind, methinks.”

“There is no such thing as too much kindness.” Rhiannon reached out and brushed another unruly lock from Aine’s face. “So you’ll have to get used to it.”

“I’ll certainly try, Your Highness.” She pulled at the tear in her dress. “Have you tried mind-talking again?”

Rhiannon shook her head. She’d been so caught up talking with Aine that she’d forgotten to try again. She closed her eyes and concentrated. The sooner she heard her life-mate’s voice, the

better. She never needed anyone the way she needed him. Earlier she would’ve been frightened, but now exhilaration coursed through her. If this was love, it totally rocked.

Cerne, can you hear me? I need you.

Rhiannon padded to an uprooted tree trunk and took a seat. Heedless of whatever manner of creature may dwell in these parts, not that many from the looks of things, she hiked up her tattered skirt and stretched her legs. She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to the Goddess, begging for Cerne to acknowledge her.

Alas, some prayers were not meant to be answered. After what seemed a lifetime, Rhiannon sighed. So much for praying. However, she hadn’t prayed much when she’d lived on Earth.

Maybe she was doing it wrong.

Aine took a seat next to her and huddled close. “Any luck?”

“Not yet.” Rhiannon exhaled a long breath when all she really wanted to do was scream—

scream so loud even Korrigan would shake in her thigh-high leather boots. “Maybe I should just give up.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Aine growled. She grabbed Rhiannon’s shoulders and twisted her around, black eyes sparking and a scowl etched her face. “I did not spend a good half-day’s time dragging you across the divide for no reason.”

Rhiannon dragged her fingers through her hair. The determination in Aine’s eyes tugged at her heartstrings. Thank the Goddesses and Gods she had a friend right now. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Aine.”

Tell the Dark Faerie bitch to get her hands off you.

Rhiannon gasped.
Cerne? Where are you?

Aine jumped, taking her hands from Rhiannon’s shoulders. “Did I hurt you?” Rhiannon shook her head. She pulled herself off the trunk and scanned the area. “Cerne is nearby.”

“Did he say anything?” Aine gazed up with hopeful eyes.

Rhiannon couldn’t bear to tell Aine the truth. “He said he’s on his way.”
Did she hurt you, mo cridhe? No one lays a hand on the princess.
The ice in his words sent a chill down her spine. This wasn’t going to be easy. Nothing involving Cerne ever proved simple.

She saved my life.
She spun around, trying to locate Cerne.
Where are you?

Look up.
His voice softened somewhat, but the edge still remained.

Rhiannon lifted her head skyward. Relief poured through her, until she recognized the anger blazing in Cerne’s eyes—anger directed at Aine.

Belenus fluttered his wings back and forth while he directed his landing, holding Cerne by the arms. In any other situation it would’ve been comical. However, the expression on Cerne’s face showed he was less than humored.

“She saved me from Korrigan,” Rhiannon said, as they touched the ground.

Cerne just growled in acknowledgement and strode toward Aine. Rhiannon reached out to grab his arm, but he pushed her away. She stumbled backwards into Belenus’s arms.

“There isn’t any compromising with a faerie male whose life-mate has been threatened,” Belenus warned.

“She poses no threat!” Oh, merciful Goddess, could this day get any worse? Rhiannon ripped herself from Belenus’s hands and rushed toward Cerne. “She’s just as much a victim as me.”

Cerne turned around to glare at her, his jade eyes sparking fires. “I’ll be the judge of that.” Were all faerie men this protective of their mates? It was unnerving, yet oddly erotic. How in the hell did his anger spark inside her a longing of desire? Energy began to radiate through her to every part of her body.

She took long strides toward Cerne, grabbed him by the chain of his mail, and hauled him around to face her. “What kind of welcome is that? ‘Hi, honey. I’m off to kick the ass of the woman who rescued you.’”

His glower sent more chills racing down her spine. “I don’t trust her, and from the looks of it, I don’t trust you either.”

“Trust this.” She fisted his mail and dragged him against her. Grabbing his hair and pulling him to her, she drank in his taste as her tongue traced along the hard lines of his lips. She smiled, feeling them soften against her novice touch. She traced each tendril of his hair, enjoying the silky waves as they danced across her fingertips. Rhiannon prodded his lips open, swirling her tongue through the warm cavern of his mouth. Her body molded to his and she brushed her breasts against the silver chains of his mail. How she wished his chest was bare so she could run the velvet tips of her nipples against the hardened steel of his ripped pecs.

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