WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (6 page)

“What are cops?” Cerne asked with amusement. What did he think was so funny?

“Police officers, law enforcement?” She shook her head at Cerne's blank stare. “The fuzz?”

“Sorry, I haven't spent too much time on Earth.” Cerne grinned and traced a fingertip along her ass as she walked past him. If anyone else were to act in such an uncouth way, she would've castrated him onsite. However, the sensation from his fingertips caressing her buttocks sent shivers of heat and desire racing through her body. Unnerving, yet strangely exciting.

She stiffened, not wanting him to sense her attraction. “I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your hands off my backside,” she said curtly, and turned toward the kitchen. She needed a tall glass of something strong. Maybe drinking herself into a stupor would get rid of Mr. Dream Hunk. “I'm getting something to drink. Are you thirsty?”

Cerne appeared in the doorway, dimples furrowing deep in his cheeks. “I'm thirsty for you, Rhiannon. There’s so much I want to show you … teach you.” Rolling her eyes, she dragged out two glasses from the top cupboard and sat them on the counter with an unceremonious clank. She traced her finger along the wine rack and perused her meager selection.

“Well, I hate to let you down, but I'm not on tap tonight. You'll have to settle for wine instead.”

Aha!
She'd found the perfect choice. Rhiannon pulled out the bottle of Arbor Mist Blackberry Merlot and poured two tall glasses. She didn't need to impress anyone. After all, he was imaginary, right?

“Okay.” She thrust the glass into Cerne's hand. “Let's go in here.” She led him through the tiny dining area, past the hallway to the living room. Noticing the breeze whipping the drapes, Rhiannon shut the large bay windows and drew the curtains closed.

“Have a seat.” Rhiannon pointed toward the couch sitting directly across from the window.

She sipped her wine and waited for Cerne to sit.

Cerne roved around the room, examining her furnishings. He traced a finger along the burgundy end table and picked up the ceramic unicorn she'd painted in eighth grade. “Unicorns, although beautiful to look at, are rather vile beasts.” He set the figurine back down and took a seat. “Comfortable, but not as much as the palace.”

“So you're telling me you've seen a unicorn?” Rhiannon fumbled with her cell phone and sat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“I've seen a few.” He continued to peruse the living room. “How did you happen upon such a lovely home?”

“My parents left it to me when they died.”

Cerne turned to face her, his jade eyes glowing even in the dimness of the room. “Your parents are still alive.”

“Okay, that does it. I've had enough of this baloney.”
The nerve!
Rhiannon dug into her pocket and grabbed her phone. She flipped the earpiece up and prepared to dial 9-1-1.

Cerne plucked the phone from her hand. “My ten minutes are not up yet.” He flipped it shut and placed it on the back of the couch.

“Fine.” The sooner he finished, the sooner she could call 9-1-1 and have herself committed.

“Go ahead and talk.”

“I've come to retrieve you and bring you back.” Cerne took a sip of wine. He scrunched his nose and spat out the liquid. “Blech! What sort of vile concoction is this? I've tasted better swill from an ogre.”

“The best you can get for four dollars a bottle.” Rhiannon narrowed her eyes. “As you can see, I'm already home. So your job here is done.”

“This,” Cerne said, raising his arms and motioning around the room, “isn't your home. The White Plains is your home.”

“White Plains? If you think I'm moving back to New York, you're sorely mistaken.” Rhiannon wrinkled her nose. God, she hated New York. The years she spent at school were horrid. She had very few friends. No one took her work seriously, and she felt like an outsider.

Well, she'd shown those pompous assholes. She graduated
magna
cum laude
from NYU, took the first awesome-paying job offer that came her way and promptly moved to Phoenix. Her parents had followed shortly after. Then they were killed in a car accident.

Hobart and Johnson was now her life, her dream. She'd finally found a way to put her artistic ability to good use, as one of their top-level graphic designers. New York was her past. Hobart and Johnson was her present and, hopefully, her future.

“No, the White Plains isn't in New York, wherever that may be. It's here.” Cerne opened his hand and produced a giant blue globe. His fingers danced across it, activating a soft glow. He held the sphere out to Rhiannon.

She hesitated, then took the warm object into her hand. Peering into the glassy ball, she watched the scene unfold. Faeries danced and floated around. Vibrant flowers of many colors sprinkled the valleys and white poppies dotted the plains. Bright rays of sunshine mingled with fluffy white clouds across the sky. Never had she witnessed a more beautiful place. Not even the butterfly exhibit at the Desert Botanical Gardens could compare to the magnificence displayed in the glowing orb.

Cerne reached for the globe and clasped it in his hand. It shrank to the size of a small marble, and he placed it in the pocket of his strange pants.

“Wow, that’s awesome. I want one. Where'd you get it? Faeries 'R’ Us?”

“They aren’t found on Earth.” Cerne huffed. “Only in the White Plains, in the Land of Fey—your true home.” He grabbed Rhiannon by the shoulders. “You’re Princess Rhiannon

Nightwind, and it's time for you to return. Your mother needs you—your people need you.”
This guy is nuts.
“Let go of me. I'm calling the cops. I've had enough time to decide—you're the one who's crazy.” She fought against his hold and punched his chest.

“You’re Princess of the White Faerie folk.” His jade eyes searched hers. “Just hear me out.”

“Why do you keep saying I’m a faerie?” Rhiannon burst out in peals of laughter. “Okay, I get it. I'm on
Candid Camera
and it’s all a big practical joke. Did Lara put you up to this?”

“It's no joke,
leannan
. I'm your chosen consort and will be your life-mate. We are destined to be together, but you must return before Korrigan and her minions take over.” This man, despite his strange outfit, didn't look one bit like a faerie. Heck, she didn't look like one either. “If we're faeries, where the hell are our wings?” Cerne pointed toward the seat. “Sit down. I still have five minutes left to explain. Faeries are not born with wings. We gain our wings when we are joined by faerie magic. The royal faerie joining occurs at Beltane. Please just sit and read.” He pulled out a folded piece of crinkled paper and placed it in her hand.

With a reluctant breath, she took it and sat back down. Perusing the yellowed, faded parchment, she recognized the weird language she was strangely becoming accustomed to.

My Dearest Daughter Rhiannon,

If you are reading this, then we have found you. It is of utmost importance that you return to
your people. My health is fading fast. Without a queen, the kingdom will be thrown into chaos
and the Dark Faeries will take over. Death and destruction will ensue. Without you, The White
Plains is in danger. Please return home.

Blessings,

Your loving mother always, Titania

Rhiannon laughed harder. Did he truly expect her to buy into this ridiculous story? “Queen Titania? Can you get any more cliché? I suppose King Oberon is her husband?” She handed the fake letter back to Cerne, if that was even his real name.

His green eyes lit up. “You've heard of them?”

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “Who hasn't? William Shakespeare immortalized them. But why I'm explaining this to you is beyond me.”

Cerne grinned. “Oh, that's right. Mr. Shakespeare caught Queen Titania and Prince Oberon on their honeymoon. He was one of the most influential humans the White Faerie folk have

known. A wonderful person, or so I've been told.”

"Okay, where are the hidden cameras? This is getting old really fast.” Rhiannon tapped her foot. "I know you expect me to believe you because you're some super-hot sex-god, but I think you'd better go—before I call the police.” Reaching across the sofa, she grabbed her cell phone.

Cerne caught her hand in his and gave her a heated gaze. "I didn't want to resort to this,” he said, his voice thick and heady. "But I've run out of options.” He pulled her against his hard-muscled body. With his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her chin.

Clenching her fists, she bit her lip. Tingling numbness filled her every pore. She attempted to pull herself from his embrace, but her body wouldn’t cooperate.

"Let me go! You're frightening me."

"It's for your own good and the good of your people, my sweet.” He traced a finger lightly over her lips. "Soon you'll understand.” He lowered his lips to hers and gently nibbled. Coaxing her mouth open, his tongue swirled with hungry strokes along hers.

She moaned softly as her traitorous tongue danced with his. Lessening his grip on her arm, he allowed her to press closer and rub her bikini-clad breasts against the hard ridges of his chest.

Her nipples pebbled against the spandex of her swim top.

Stupid nipples.

She twisted her fingers in his dark mane, pulling him closer. Heedless of what she knew was right, she intensified the kiss. He hoisted her up onto his lap, letting her straddle the rock-hard erection that filled his trousers. Grinding her hips against his, she reached down to unfasten and untie the garment.

He pulled her hands away. "No,
leannan
. I just want to kiss. The joining must occur at Beltane—in Fey.”

"I'm not going to Fey—”

He reclaimed her lips. Intoxicating warmth spread throughout her body while he licked, sucked and nibbled. She gasped in pleasure and let his tongue probe the cavern of her mouth again. Light as a feather, she sighed in deep contentment. By God, was she floating? Closing her eyes, Rhiannon allowed him have his way with her.

"I'm sorry,” he breathed against her lips. "It was the only way.”

"What—” Her eyes flickered as spots danced before them—until darkness took over.

~*~*~

Cerne brushed an auburn strand from Rhiannon's cheek. He wasn't sure how much time he had before the portal sucked him back to Fey. He hated using faerie dust in such a way, but it was his only remaining option. He traced a fingertip across Rhiannon's kiss-swollen lips. How he wished they could've continued their little affaire, but he knew she was under the enchantment of the dust Maeve insisted he carry along. He never expected that he’d actually use it, but Rhiannon just wouldn’t listen. His worse fear was confirmed—the princess was tainted.

He had no choice now. The elders demanded he retrieve her. So, retrieve her he would. He'd done their bidding. Was it his fault she'd been amongst the humans for too long?

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. Perhaps bringing her to the White Palace, would sway her mind.

He would set up a meeting with Queen Titania and Prince Oberon. She bore a striking resemblance to the Queen. Mayhap that would convince her.

He scooped up her sleeping form with gentle hands and stood, looking down at her face, peaceful and relaxed. He brushed his lips across hers and ran a finger through a red curl that traced her rosy cheek. Cerne proceeded to the hallway and took a right, into the room where he'd activated the portal.

The portal window, what she referred to as a computer, sat on her desk awaiting his command.

“By the grace of the faerie Gods, open.” He pressed his hand against the dark screen. It flashed and then emitted a soft blue glow. The energy from the light enveloped them, sucking them into the portal. Cerne closed his eyes, allowing the portal winds to direct him back to his royal apartments.

As the portal winds waned, Cerne opened his eyes. He stood in front of his mirror, holding his future queen. Rhiannon stirred in his arms and murmured in his ear. She let out a breathy sigh and wrapped her arms about his neck. How could he have forgotten? The dust's effects did not last as long on faerie folk. She couldn’t remain here, as his rooms were off limits to the princess.

Even after their joining, these chambers would be restricted, prepared for the next prince consort.

Perhaps he should contact Maeve?

He lowered her to the settee and placed a silk coverlet over her body, smoothing her curls.

As if reading his mind, Maeve arrived in her customary ball of bright light. “Already

thinking of me, consort?” She slinked toward him in her gauzy rose gossamer. Her flaxen hair adorned with braids framed her pale face and her eyes sparkled a vivid green.

“No.” Cerne pointed to the divan. “I've done your bidding. She's tainted, so you’ll have a lot of work to do.”

“Excellent.” Noticing Rhiannon's unconscious state, she added, “I'm glad I had the foresight to make you bring the dust. A little goes a long way, no?” She traced a finger against the outline of his chest.

Cerne grabbed her hand and lowered it to her side. “What would Bel think if he knew you were here, trying to seduce the consort?”
More importantly, what would Rhiannon think?

“Bel would want to join in, of course.” Maeve chuckled. “I noticed you stealing glances at the princess, Cerne. I can see your loyalties lie with the kingdom. You'll make an excellent prince consort. The yester-elders chose well.”

“I suppose they did.” Cerne glanced back at Rhiannon. “What do we do with her?”

“I'll bring her to the Royal Princess's chambers, of course. Having her here would cause a scandal.” She fluttered her wings and floated toward the divan where the sleeping princess stirred. “May I?”

“Do I have any choice?”

“No.” Maeve grinned, turned to the princess and traced a fingertip down Rhiannon's bare stomach. Watching Maeve's examination sent an unexplained wave of jealousy coursing through his veins.

“Do all humans wear such scant garb?” Maeve asked, reaching for the tie at the back of Rhiannon's swim top.

“Only when they swim, or sleep. Sometimes less.” Cerne crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Maeve reached to tug at the skimpy bottoms hiding Rhiannon's hidden treasures.