Taking her by the wrists, he lifted her from the ferns so that she sat in his lap, his cock slipping deeper within her. Honey crossed her ankles behind him, reveling at how his member nudged her innermost spot, how it stretched her and made her feel full. She pressed her breasts tightly against his hot skin.

  “I have,” he closed his eyes, composing himself, “waited so long to have you.”

  Instinctively, Honey moved against him, urging a deep growl from Roahre. He slid his hands along her sides and squeezed the cheeks of her ass. Slowly, he moved her upward and back down again and again. Gasping, Honey let her head fall back, but cried out in ecstasy when his mouth latched onto a nipple, his tongue flicking the hard, erect peak.

  “Roahre,” she whispered.

  He shifted, straightening his legs so that they were slightly bent at the knees, his cock grazing the opening to her womb.

  “Oh!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling her head against his shoulder.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head slightly. “No, the feeling is overwhelming yet beautiful.”

  Chuckling, Roahre moved her hips more quickly. She met each of his thrusts, moaning each moment his cock bumped against her deepest recesses. Tightness began building within her, and, moving faster, harder, she reached for a seemingly unattainable release. Their gazes locked, and Honey uttered a startled gasp as Roahre’s eyes began glowing brighter and shimmers of pale green light swirled across his skin. The sensation within Honey continued to grow, urging her higher and higher. She looked down at their joined bodies, at her pale blonde mound pressed tightly to his loins, her ample breasts swaying slightly, her body moving rhythmically with Roahre, both of them seeking release.

  White sparkles danced across her skin, melding and twirling with the green shimmers skittering along Roahre’s body. Her gaze flew up to meet his.

  “It’s our magic, my love,” he gasped. “Let it happen.”

  He moved her hips harder, plunging deeply into her core. Honey whimpered and gave in to the delirious sensations. She rode her husband like a steed between her legs, the tightness in her loins sending her to spectacular heights. Her breasts began tingling, and when Roahre’s mouth claimed the other one this time, the thunder and power crested within Honey, shattering her world. She gasped as a bright flash filled their foliage cave, but as the waves of delightful sensation washed through her, she rode him faster, urging him to spill his seed. Roahre cried out and stiffened. He crushed her to him, and she felt the hot warmth of his life fluid splash against her womb, filling her up.

  Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through Honey. She lay back, allowing him to coax free the last few drops of his essence. He leaned forward, collapsing upon her body, their heavy breathing as one.

  Part Two

  Beautiful Raya watches closely. Her power has been exercised, her deceit unknown...

  Even a goddess can be a bitch.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Honey gave up trying to get her mother to answer her. Amberon sat in a hand-carved rocker, staring through the window dressings with unseeing eyes. Light poured through the fabric and dappled the hardwood floor with pale ovals. Colorful streamers and cloth lanterns decorated the rafters. Bouquets of garden flowers woven into chains hung draped from table edges and over doorways. A huge feast had been out on the table in the special meal room, the half-eaten roasted ducks on a platter in the table’s center.

  Next to the hearth, Zoirah and Penelope sat with mending projects in their laps. They gaped at Roahre, their sewing forgotten. From upstairs, Honey heard faint stirrings and muffled footsteps as her other sisters prepared to come down for breakfast and early morning chores.

  Slowly, her mother stood and angrily swiped at the tears wetting her cheeks.

  “Mother?” Honey implored. “Please, talk to us.”

  “I have nothing to say to you, daughter,” her mother replied, her voice strained. “You worry me to death, and finally, near dawn, you show up with this…” She shot Roahre a baleful look. “This changeling, this…wretched imposter! And you expect me to be grateful? You even missed your birthday celebration! We have all worked so hard for days to give you a special dinner—but it is all for naught!” She snatched a cup from a stand and flung it against the hearthstones. The vessel popped apart in three pieces, and Penelope uttered a startled cry. Tea splattered the hearth, dripping on the floor. “What will I say to Jorgus?” Amberon railed. “To Kaedric? How will I pay Jorgus back what I have already spent to settle our debts?”

  “Mother, please!” Honey took a step toward her, but her Roahre put a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

  “Now both my nephew and my youngest daughter are gone from me.” Amberon walked over to the hearth, her skirts whispering like spirit voices, and busied herself with adding logs to the fire. She stirred and stoked, as if tending the fire kept her anger under control. “I realize now that my intuition and speculation have been correct all along,” she said, her words so quiet they carried the effect of a stinging slap. She did not turn around, but continued jabbing at the glowing bed of coals. “King Roahre, you stole my nephew and allowed me to believe you had returned Shandon after I had completed my end of the bargain. I made your magical wreaths of wild roses! I kept my word! But it was all a lie—an ugly, monstrous deception!”

  “Why would you choose to be with him, Honey?” Maybelle asked.

  A lump lodged in Honey’s throat. Words escaped her, and hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Her mother turned, facing them. She pointed at Roahre and shrieked, “Because he is in her blood!”

  “Go get your things,” Roahre said gently and placed a comforting hand upon the small of Honey’s back. “I shall wait outside for you.”

  “I am sorry, Mother.” The knot in Honey’s throat threatened to suffocate her. Tears clouded her vision. Looking through them, she ascended the stairs, her skirts brushing the flower chains wrapped around the banister poles. In their shared bedroom, Ishen and Bella questioned Honey, but she could not answer through her sobs, and although she had known all along what her mother’s reaction would be, the pain in her heart literally choked her with its force. Once she had gathered her best dress and dearest keepsakes, she returned downstairs with her sisters trailing behind her. Cries of dismay and anguish filled the living area as Zoirah and Penelope relayed the morning’s events.

  Remembering the rune, Honey pulled it from her skirt pocket. She looked down at the bone piece, Raya’s mark stark against its ivory color. Two tears fell into the palm of her hand, wetting the rune.

  Callan peered into her sister’s hand and gasped. The others gathered round to see.

  “Mother,” Honey croaked miserably. “I can show you Shandon.”

  “‘Tis true, Mother,” Ishen said in awe.

  The others echoed her statement.

  Looking into her palm, Honey saw Shandon sitting in a flowering courtyard, reading aloud to a small gathering of fair-haired children. He turned a page in a leather-bound book and resumed reading. The dim, ethereal light glimmered in his pale hair and dimples appeared on either side of his mouth whenever he smiled.

  “I do not want to see more Fae glamour,” Amberon snarled from her spot at the hearth. “Be gone from me, traitorous daughter!”

  Everyone except her mother followed Honey outside where Roahre waited for her. They gathered on the stoop, watching as he helped Honey astride her horse and fastened her belongings across the animal’s rump. Glumly, she looked at her sisters, some fair like her mother, some dark like their father had been, their rough dresses in various hues of green, blue or brown, their hair bound, braided or twisted on their heads, tears streaming down their pink cheeks.

  “Please stay with us, Honey,” Bella pleaded her voice thick with tears. “You know nothing of that changeling or his people!”

  “I know more than you could ever understand, dear sister,” Honey replied, wiping moisture from her cheeks. “He has been in my dreams and I love him.”

  “But he stole our cousin!” Callan pointed an accusing finger at Roahre.

  “But I am also bound by destiny, and since I have made my choice, I must honor it as well as our goddess, Raya, who favors the Fae. You have all just seen Shandon in Raya’s rune,” Honey said, “and he is quite happy. You have a married sister now too, and several nieces and nephews that you shall never know if you do not open your minds…and your hearts.” She drew in a deep, calming breath. “I could not face a lifetime with Kaedric, especially when I do not love him. He is no more than the Beautiful Boring Oaf.”

  “Well said, my love,” Roahre whispered at her side. He squeezed her knee and then turned to walk over to his Fae steed. He swung up into the saddle and picked up the reins.

  “What will Mother do?” Ishen cried. “She has already paid some of our debts with your marriage coin. Now she owes Jorgus too.”

  “Here,” Roahre said as he rummaged in a saddlebag. He produced a leather pouch and tossed it to Ishen. It landed in Ishen’s hands, and the clink and rattle of money rang out on the morning breeze. “There should be enough to pay Jorgus back as well as money to pay your remaining debts and needs.”

  Ishen smiled her thanks. “What shall we say when Jorgus and Kaedric arrive within the hour for the wedding?”

  Honey snorted in disgust. “Give them their money back and tell them I love another.” She grinned at Callan. “Also, if it pleases you, tell Kaedric he kisses like a cow licks a salty rock.”

  “Wait!”

  Turning, Honey saw Zoirah step away from her sisters.

  In a low voice, Zoirah asked, “What about Nero?”

  Honey watched as her sister’s worried gaze moved from her to Roahre and back again. She glanced at her husband and offered him a pleading look.

  “I made you a promise, Zoirah,” Roahre answered. “I intend to keep it.”

  A weak smile touched Zoirah’s lips. “Thank you Shan—Roahre.”

  “Come with us.” Reaching out, Honey stroked a curl back from her sister’s face. “Forget Nero and his deception and come with us to live with the Green People.”

  “I—I can’t, Honey.” Her sister glanced back at their siblings still gathered on the front stoop. “I am the oldest, so I must remain here to help mother and see that our sisters are well.”

  “I will miss you the most,” Honey said, fighting tears again.

  “And I will miss you, Li’l One.” Laughing, Zoirah added, “Queen Honey Bee.”

  A chuckle escaped Honey, and she touched Zoirah’s cheek one last time.

  Chapter Ten

  The air shimmered around Roahreas he transformed into Shandon again. With a roguish grin, he glanced at her over his shoulder. Green lights of various hues swirled about his body, and like the ripple from a pebble tossed into placid water, the air shifted and the sparkles disappeared. With a sigh, Honey wondered if she’d ever grow accustomed to witnessing such magical displays. Worse yet, would she be able to cope with her own magic when it finally became more than faint tremors within her soul?

  They stopped at Didgi’s Tavern, which Nero was known to haunt regularly each night. Waiting outside, Honey watched the smoke twist from the tavern’s soot-stained chimney. Heavy of heart, she wished Zoirah had come with her but she knew her sister had done the right thing by staying behind.

  “Nero is not there,” Roahre said as he shut the big oaken door and strode across the dirt yard.

  “Now what do we do? Zoirah’s reputation is at stake.”

  “The barmaid told me Nero was here last night bragging about a stag seen at the edge of the woods and how he was going to kill it. Perhaps we will stumble upon him as we travel through the Great Woods.” Putting his foot in the stirrup, Roahre swung himself up into the saddle. “If we don’t find him soon, I will return and hunt him down.”

  They left the village, riding side by side into the wide, wind-rippling meadow. As they traversed through the tall grasses, the morning transformed into the brighter hours of early afternoon. Approaching the esoteric forest, Honey thought she saw a stag leap into its dark recesses. She squinted. Maybe she would get another glimpse of it. Perhaps Nero was nearby after all.

  Ahead, the snort of another horse reached them. A bay steed emerged, and looking closer, Honey discerned Nero riding it, a longbow strapped to his back and a quiver of arrows fastened to the saddle.

  Roahre nudged his steed forward and galloped the remaining distance. Following more slowly, Honey heard their angry voices before she even reached them.

  “Zoirah was not pure,” Nero said, a sneer upon his rugged face. His dark eyes gleamed. “I shall not take an impure woman to be my wife.”

  “You were heard bragging at Didgi’s Tavern about your plans to disgrace Zoirah and the family,” Roahre replied.

  “So what if I was?” Glancing at Honey, Nero returned his attention to Roahre. A smug smile appeared below his thick, black mustache. “Those women are whores, Shandon. They are known for going into Widow Keera’s home. Only women of ill repute go there.”

  “We go there to borrow books from the widow’s library!” Honey snapped, anger ripping through her.

  “Regardless,” Nero ignored her, “I will not marry Zoirah. She no longer pleases me.”

  Stiffening in the saddle, Roahre leaned toward Nero. “You will marry her, and you will be a good husband.”

  Seeing the odd light in her husband’s eyes, Honey experienced a moment of unease. Movement at the edge of the woods drew her attention and she gasped.

  Nero met Honey’s startled gaze, and with a perplexed frown, he twisted in the saddle to look behind him. “By the gods!” he barked, struggling to pull his longbow over his shoulders.

  A stag bounded from out of the forest. Its majestic head bore thick, sprawling antlers upon a sleek, muscled neck. The beast’s size left Honey speechless, and as it closed the distance between them, its hoof beats fell heavily upon the meadow floor. The stag leapt into the air and smashed into Nero, knocking him out of the saddle. A whinny burst from his horse and then it shied away, high-stepping toward the edge of the forest. Nero hit the ground, the impact hollow and dull. He uttered a startled “Oomph!” as the air whooshed out of his lungs. The creature landed agilely and reared, it’s great, antlered head held proudly, sunshine gleaming on its tines. It thrashed its forelegs in the air, and snorting, brought its cloven hooves down on the man’s chest—and stood still, pinning him firmly.

  “Sh…Shandon, help me!” Nero whispered from his place in the tall grass. His eyes bulged in their sockets, the dark irises looking like black pebbles pinned upon boiled eggs.

  “Silence!” the stag said, its brown eyes gleaming. The creature lowered its head, its nose a sword’s width from Nero’s face. The stag snorted, the sound reeking of anger and irritation.

  Honey gaped, and next to her, she heard her husband’s delighted laughter.

  The stag shook its head, antlers tipping left and right. Light shimmered along the tines, racing over the animal’s head, along its muscled body and slim, powerful legs. In a bright flash, the stag disappeared and Raya stood with her massive boot holding Nero to the ground.

  “You worthless dog,” the goddess hissed, her face a twisted mask of fury. “How dare you insult the queen’s people!” She shifted her weight forward, and Nero groaned in pain. “You are not worthy of such a woman as Zoirah, and because you have uttered false words against her, causing unwarranted heartache, you shall not speak again until you are able to force your mouth free.” Kneeling, Raya leaned over and placed a kiss upon Nero’s lips. He screamed in agony and thrashed as smoke billowed from around their faces. The odor of seared flesh drifted through the thick meadow grass, and gagging, Honey placed her sleeve over her nose.

  The goddess sat back on her heels. She regarded Nero for a moment in satisfaction. Standing, she turned and looked at Honey. “Welcome to the world of the Fae, young queen. All will be well. You shall see. Zoirah will meet someone special, someone who will love her for the valiant heart that beats beneath her ample bosom.” She looked at Roahre. “Your kingship, I bid you farewell for now. Love your wife and treat her wisely.” White lights swirled around the goddess’ body, and, with a rush of wild wind and a rumble of thunder, she disappeared.

  Slowly, whimpering in pain and fear, Nero rose to his feet. He staggered, his hands flying to the place his mouth had once resided.

  Honey clapped one hand over her own mouth, stifling her cry of horror and pity.

  Staring up at them, his dark eyes full of fear and bewilderment, Nero said, “Mmph!” He clawed at the angry red slash sealing his lips together in a mass of melted scar tissue. “Mmph!” he cried from deep within his throat.

  “Oh, Roahre!” Honey said, her gaze riveted on the mass of burned flesh.

  “Look away, Honey,” her husband said. “Raya has judged, and we must let it be so, or we shall face the consequences.”

  “But—”

  “Zoirah has been avenged, and my promise has been fulfilled.”

  They rode on, leaving Nero behind them, but Honey could not look away. She turned in the saddle, watching as Nero clawed at his face, blood dripping. He ran in circles, hysteria claiming him, his muffled cries growing more distraught with each passing moment. The man tripped, falling hard on the ground where he disappeared for a moment in the tall grass and wildflowers before struggling to his feet again. He stumbled toward his horse and fell against its sides, weeping harshly.

  Facing forward, Honey wiped angrily at the saltiness trailing her cheeks.

  “My queen has sympathy regardless of Nero’s sin,” Roahre stated as her horse caught up with his. “Shall you have sympathy for Kaedric as well?”

  “No, husband,” she said sullenly. “I care not for Kaedric or Nero, but I do have compassion for my fellow man.”

  “You must guard your heart, my love. If you do not, evil will notice your compassion and use it against you.”

 

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