The Faerie's Honeymoon (6 page)

“Please don’t object,” Darius said. “There’s a saying in Resurrection that demons have a nature only God could love.”

“That’s not exactly friendly.”

“Perhaps, but there’s more than a grain of truth in it. I’ve done too few good deeds in my life. I’m sure I’m in need of brownie points, as you humans say.”

Belle was saved from saying something stupid by the rat-tat-tat of approaching drums.

“The parade is coming,” Darius said, twisting toward the north end of the avenue. “The first fire truck is turning onto Fifth.”

A fire truck
was
leading the procession, rolling with a float’s slow grandeur up the center of the traffic lanes. Music that was a cross between Bollywood and the Caribbean boomed from its big speakers, the hip-shaking beat seconded by the live drummers. Side lights strobed in time to the rhythm, adding to the liveliness. The pumper wasn’t red like she was used to, but high gloss lime-green with black tiger stripes. A silvery-gold ladder lay flat across its long roof, likely made of the same alloy as her expensive hotel bed. Perhaps most eye-catching, perched on the rungs of the ladder were eight very agile male firefighters in partial rescue gear. The Chippendale-like routine they performed gained considerable appeal from their very well formed chests being bare.

Belle was glad her husband wasn’t close enough to register her pulse’s first few seconds’ of reaction.

Laboring under no such inhibitions, the crowd on either side of Fifth went wild. They began tossing flowers to the firemen, who caught them without missing a step, then tucked them down the front of their fireproof trousers. Belle supposed whoever caught the most flowers would boast the biggest bulge. They did seem to be competing with each other to have blooms thrown at them.

To her astonishment, two started doing backflips from rung to rung.

“They’re weretigers,” she realized, internally going
duh
. “That’s why their balance can’t be shaken.”

“They are,” Darius confirmed. “Many tiger shifters go into firefighting. Striped cats practically run the RFD.”

The big hook and ladder was followed by two similarly painted paramedic vehicles. Female emergency rescue employees danced on the roof of these. Their gyrations and dress were as provocative as their male counterparts, leading Belle to conclude tigers weren’t shy. Like her husband, the shapeshifters seemed to be hot-blooded, their scanty dress not bothering them at all. The women weren’t collecting flowers, but lobbing what looked like tiny liquor bottles to the crowd. They must have had a great softball team. Belle noticed none of them threw like girls.

“Hot sauce,” Darius explained. “Tigers like spicy food. If you catch one, it’s supposed to bring you good luck for the coming year.”

Too excited not to, Belle squirmed out of her chair to lean over the balustrade. “Can I toss the firemen a flower? Would they be able to catch it from up here?”

“Wait till they start astral projecting their tiger forms. If the cat is powerful enough, you can hand one right to his spirit double.”

“
No
,” Belle said, turning to the demon in enchanted amazement. “They can
astral project their tiger forms
?”

Darius grinned at her delight. This was so fun! All she needed was her husband to join her for the moment to be perfect. She turned her gaze to where she’d left him, grateful for the heels that let her stretch above the crowd.

She spotted him beside another faerie, proud of herself for knowing the man was one. When Duvall saw her, she waved both arms, happiness bubbling in her like champagne fizz.

Come here
, she mouthed and
I love you
after that.

He smiled and moved toward her, his face lighting up in a mirror of all her warm feelings. She saw his beautiful soul then, as surely as if she had a gargoyle’s ability. He had so much love in him, so much intelligence and passion. Focused on him, she barely noticed a murmur start among the partiers by the bar. A blur cut the crowd in front of them in half, black and white like paint bleeding through the air. Simultaneously - or so it seemed to her - Darius jumped up from their table, knocking it over with a crash.

Something hard struck Belle in the center of her chest.

The sturdy balustrade cracked as she flew through it.
Well, that’s lucky
, some extremely stupid part of her thought.
Whatever hit me could have broken bones
. An instant later she remembered they were going to break anyway. Five stories and a concrete pavement surely added up to that.

She blinked, her stunned brain taking in a quick image of the roof she’d left. A man clung to the gaping hole in the railing, watching her helpless body soar into the air. He wore a black and white tuxedo and was very pale except for a dark burn scar. The avidity of his expression suggested he’d been her attacker.

That’s the flame-eyed fellow who jostled me on the Pocket State Building
. This brief thought was all she had time for. After that, she plummeted in earnest and mercifully couldn’t think at all.

Chapter Five

DUVALL
reacted on instinct. What his kind did or didn’t do in public was irrelevant. He saw the vampire attack and took action.

He knew he was too late even as he put on his faerie speed. The baluster was down. Belle was flying through the air amidst a cloud of powder from its cracked stone. Five stories up. With a fire truck or a concrete pavement to break her fall. And maybe people on a concrete pavement - which would upset Belle if she injured them.

Too horrified to laugh at the absurdity of worrying about that, he leaped into the gulf after her.

His wings exploded through his clothes, manifesting too quickly for the garments to finish dissolving. People gasped, above and below, his light show attracting attention. They screamed when they saw Belle falling. Duvall didn’t need his wings to fly, didn’t flap them like people expected. They let him spread out his power more precisely, let him change the laws of physics in his vicinity.

Belle wasn’t close enough to change them in hers. The third floor rushed by him, the second by her. Her eyes were half closed, her arms flung out, her expression almost peaceful. The feathery snow fell much slower than she did.

Duvall prayed to a deity he was something of a stranger to.

There
, he thought to the power inside him, seeing with a laser focus where she’d hit and break in pieces. Between the streetlamp and the right front tire of the next paramedic van. Where rose petals lay in an asphalt crack. Duvall narrowed his will.

Put me under her
.

He
blinked
- as if he’d created an instant portal in mid air. He was on his back. Her weight hit him with the force of a speeding car, and even his resilient lungs temporarily collapsed. Using his magic to absorb it, he’d taken all the damage he could on himself.

“Medic,” he croaked the instant he was able.

Belle wasn’t breathing. He didn’t know about her heart. He only knew his own didn’t want to break forever.

A weretiger in a flowered bikini top and blue scrub pants rushed to them and knelt. “Sir,” she said. “Are you all right?”

“Her,” he corrected. “Help my wife.”

Strange white spots danced before his eyes, the pain of impact beginning to kick in. He was going to pass out. He must have hit his skull hard.

“Give me a shot,” he ordered the nearby tigers, most of whom were EMTs. They were checking Belle over, seeing if she was safe to move. “I need adrenaline.”

“Sir ...”

“Someone attacked her. Vampire. Could still be hunting her.”

A male EMT met his eyes, decided he was more useful conscious, and moved immediately at were speed. Metal pricked him between his ribs, the angle odd but what was available. Duvall gasped as the drug hit his heart.

“Breathe,” said the paramedic. “Let the first rush pass.”

He tried to breathe, but they were rolling Belle off his body onto a stretcher. They’d put a collar around her neck, though he saw her spinal energy flowing as it should.

Watch for danger
, he reminded himself. He looked up the building, murmuring a quick spell to enhance vision. Up on the terrace, the demon Darius struggled with the fang who’d attacked Belle. It was a kids’ debate come to life. Who was stronger: Superdemon or Supervamp? He tried to send Darius power, but for the moment and despite the shot of adrenaline, his magic wouldn’t stop healing him. The fight blurred in and out of his view of the building’s edge. Sensibly, if frustratingly, the combatants’ audience didn’t intervene. The vamp was faster, which spurred alarm, but Darius got him in a chokehold. Given how much bigger the Spink was, that meant the battle was over. Darius forced the vamp to his knees, holding him immobilized from behind.

Don’t kill him
, Duvall thought as hard as he could.
I need to know what this is about. And
you
don’t want to violate your parole.

He didn’t know if the demon heard. The effort of sending the thought was too much for him. A migraine spiked through his brain as badly as if he’d told a whopper of a lie. The EMT who’d given him the shot rolled him onto his side when he moaned. It was close, but Duvall managed not to throw up.

“Hold still,” the tiger said. “If you look this pale after half a minute, I’m putting you in your own ambulance, instead of with your sweetheart.”

“Is she -”

“She’s breathing on her own, sir. Only broke a couple ribs. If you let yourself recover, you’ll be able to heal them.”

It wasn’t in his nature to take orders, but Duvall lay where he was until he felt able to sit up. He didn’t even complain when the medic had the temerity to stroke his wings soothingly.

~

“Belle,” someone said. “Time to open your eyes.”

Belle didn’t want to. She ached all over and also felt strangely buzzed. Whatever she’d been drinking, she was certain she ought to sleep it off.

“Belle,” the voice repeated. This time, she recognized it as her husband’s. Groaning, she opened her eyes.

She was in a private hospital room - a nice one, with soft blue walls. Duvall sat beside her, hunched forward in an uncomfortable looking chair. Darius’s giant form blocked the doorway, his expression so steely it seemed angry. Blood spotted the front of his ruffled tuxedo shirt, his bow tie hanging bedraggled around his immense neck. When she looked back at Duvall, his outfit was pristine.

This struck her as wrong. Hadn’t she seen it in tatters not long ago?

“I feel terrible,” she croaked.

Duvall covered her hand and smiled. “I healed you. You’re probably over-juiced.”

“I fell ...”

“Yes. A vampire attacked you, but Darius subdued him. The police have arrested him.”

The demon let out a low snarling noise, implying he had his own idea how justice should have been served.

“I recognized him,” Belle said slowly. “The pale tall man. He followed us up the Pocket State Building. Darius snapped at him for bumping me. But that can’t be why he pushed me off the roof.”

“It isn’t,” Duvall said. “He was among the paparazzi I ordered away from the hotel. He lost his anti-burn charm in the chaos, and his face was seared by the sun. In spite of my warning, he decided to come back and try to photograph us again. When he passed through the Don’t Return barrier I’d set up, the magic interacted with his earlier injury. Instead of healing, his burn became permanent.”

“And that’s why he attacked me?”

“I’m afraid so. Vampires are vain about their looks, and they resent fae superiority more than most races. Because this vampire couldn’t take me on directly, he targeted someone I care about.” Duvall rubbed her nearer hand between both of his. “I’m sorry, Belle. My arrogance prevented me from considering we’d face an enemy less powerful than myself. I wasn’t on guard as I should have been.”

He seemed very concerned about this, as did Darius when she glanced at him. For a moment, she flashed back to falling but fought the unsettling memory off.

“You saved me,” she reminded her husband. “Darius caught the guy, and you -” Another flash came to her, this one of Duvall bulleting down the building like a skydiver. His clothes were shredded, his wings a Disney dream on acid. She blinked to get her brain into gear again. “You caught me. Somehow you threw yourself between me and the street.”

“I knew I’d survive the fall. I wouldn’t have survived losing you.”

The matter of factness with which he said this shocked her. She met his dark magic eyes, her fingers tightening around his. She didn’t protest his devotion. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. He was what he was, and he felt what he felt. Sometimes his emotions were simpler than hers. That didn’t make them wrong.

“I’m glad you didn’t lose me,” she said.

He smiled faintly, and Darius cleared his throat.

“I would beg forgiveness,” he said, “of both of you. You hired me to protect your wife. I should have stopped the fang long before he reached her.”

His words were ritualistic, his eyes cast down. Belle wondered what the punishment for his lapse would have been in the dimension he came from. More than a slap on the wrist, she guessed.

“You are forgiven,” Duvall said, his tone equally formal. “I cannot punish you for a failure I also was guilty of.”

“Sire,” the demon acknowledged gratefully. When he bowed deeply from the waist, he seemed to fill half the room.

“Well,” Belle said, “now that we’ve got that squared away, do you think we could go back to the hotel? I’d much rather finish recuperating in my fancy bed.”

Duvall bent to kiss her forehead, seeming to understand her words were meant to cut the tension. “Beloved,” he said, a slight laugh in it.

For his pride’s sake, Belle pretended not to see the tears in his eyes.

Chapter Six

THEIR
return to the hotel was a reprise of their first entrance. Belle and her two protectors were greeted with a lot of bowing and “sir”-ing and profuse apologies for not barring the evil vampire from their shindig. Evidently, in Resurrection, being a faerie meant never having to apologize for bringing trouble along with you.

Belle kept her smile to herself, amused by how very on-the-same-page the hotel staff and Duvall were.

“Go away,” he finally snapped to the hovering manager and her crew. “I’ll call you if I decide you need scolding.”

They cleared out so quickly crickets should have been chirping in the lobby.

This was a change from their arrival, as was Duvall carrying her all the way to their room. She certainly felt well enough to stand up in an elevator, but after her brush with death, being held in his strong warm arms was just what the doctor ordered. Darius accompanied them, checking the suite before they entered and then taking up a bodyguard-ish stance in the hall. Duvall nodded at the demon, seeming reconciled with him.

He got Belle inside without having once set her down.

“That’s one way to get carried over the threshold,” Belle joked. “Guess I should have been careful what I wished for.”

“What?” Duvall asked, too jangled to follow her thoughts. Belle cut him a break on account of him having been as scared as her.

“Nothing,” she said, stroking him gently on the cheek.

He continued with her into the bedroom, removed her high heels, and set her sitting up on the bed. Someone from the hotel had made it. Two dew-fresh bouquets of violets rested on their pillows.

“Pretty,” Belle said, lifting one bunch to sniff.

“Those cost a hundred bucks a pop to charm. The hotel must be worried I’ll tell other faeries not to stay here.”

“
Could
they have known the vampire meant to attack me?”

“No,” he admitted. “Psychic screening is forbidden without permission, and he wasn’t carrying a weapon.” Shaking his head, he sat on the coverlet. “Vampires. Always want to think they’re big dogs.”

They were big dogs compared to her, but it didn’t seem strategic to remind him. In any case, she wanted to bring up something else.

“Duvall,” she said, “when I was falling -” He covered his face and groaned, so she paused to ease his hands down again. “I know that scared you, and maybe you’re not ready to talk about this yet, but I’ve been wondering: When I was falling, I saw your wings. I thought you had to be in Faerie for them to manifest.”

Duvall pressed his lips together as if only they could hold back the information he didn’t want to impart. Belle rubbed the hand he’d pressed flat atop his thigh. Having a husband who couldn’t lie was tricky, especially if you weren’t certain you wanted to hear the truth. Belle waited while he stared down at both their hands.

At last, he was ready to answer her. “There’s more than enough magic in Resurrection for my wings to come out.”

“You say that like it’s bad.”

He looked at her, his eyes as vulnerable as a child’s. “They’ve been trying to come out. I’ve been hiding them from you.”

Belle was momentarily speechless. Duvall picked up her hand and cradled it in his. Was this why he’d rushed through sex this morning? Because he’d been afraid his wings would emerge?

Maybe he read the question in her expression. “They’re harder to restrain during orgasm.”

“But why would you want to? Why would you think you couldn’t show that part of yourself to me?”

“Coming to Resurrection has been more of a shock for you than I anticipated.”

That answer caught her flatfooted, partly because she couldn’t deny it. Wanting to sit straighter, she pushed herself and her pillow higher against the bed’s silvery-gold headboard. “You thought my experience of a place where magic is real wouldn’t be a shock?”

“Since we’ve come here -” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Since I’ve gotten charged up again, you seem uneasy with what I can do. My wings are the essence of my magic. They embody and intensify my power. I didn’t feel confident you could accept them.”

If Belle had learned one thing since their arrival, it was that her faerie prince of a husband not feeling confident was a big deal. “I can accept them,” she assured him. “I love you. Given time, I can accept anything - including what a rock star I unwittingly married.”

She meant that last bit as a joke. Rather than laugh, Duvall’s face betrayed an internal struggle whose intensity she didn’t understand.

“They’re our nakedness,” he burst out.

Confessing this left him breathing harder and her confused. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t expose our wings except to the people we’re closest to, not even in Faerie. To be without clothes is nothing. To unfurl our wings is the same as baring our souls.”

“Oh,” Belle said stupidly, her mind racing to put the pieces she had together. “Then when you dove after me with them fully out ...”

“I didn’t mind that. I needed to extend them so I could manage my power better. All that mattered was that I save you.” His brow furrowed, and he knuckled it. “Okay, I minded a little when the EMT petted them, but he was trying to calm me so I forgave him.”

Belle laughed in spite of the seriousness of the conversation. He totally was a prince sometimes.

“What?” he asked. “Why is that funny?”

“Um,” she said. “Maybe it’s better you don’t know.” She trailed her fingers down his cheek until some of the tension left its muscles. “I’m your beloved, right?”

“Yes,” he said warily.

“That means
I’m
one of the people you’re closest to.”

“Yes, but -”

Belle laid two fingers across his lips. “No ‘buts.’ You love me, and I love you. You can be ‘naked’ with me, just like I am with you.”

Duvall swallowed. “What if you don’t think my soul is beautiful?”

Her eyes filled with tears when his did.

“Everyone wonders that,” she said huskily, “whether they have wings to embody their soul or not. Yours is beautiful to me because it’s yours, and trust me when I say I’ve seen it already. I fell in love with it
and
you. You never have to worry about not being beautiful to me.”

One diamond droplet trickled over his lower lid, leaving a tiny trail of sparkles as it rolled down his cheek. He rubbed it away and looked straight at her. “I know I’m arrogant.”

“Nonetheless,” she said.

“And entitled.”

“Doesn’t change my opinion. I have flaws of my own, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He smiled. “It’s true you’re stubborn about having your way sometimes, but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

He meant this as no other man could have. Touched and amused, Belle cupped his face and kissed him.

The kiss was barely getting good before he drew back.

“You should rest,” he said, his gaze evading hers.

It took a second for her to realize what he was doing. “Oh no you don’t. You healed me up just fine. I only let you carry me from the car because it was comforting.”

Her husband expelled a long-suffering sigh. “You really want me to do this now?”

“Yes, I do. Don’t you know the best thing after falling off a horse is to get back on?”

“I didn’t fall off a horse.
You
fell five stories.”

“Which has nothing to do with why you’re feeling self-conscious.”

“Fine,” he huffed, rising to his feet. He shed his dinner jacket and tossed it onto a chair Marie Antoinette would have felt at home on. “I’ll change in the bathroom.”

Belle caught his hand before he could accomplish his escape. “Do it here. In front of me. I’ll make it easier any way I can.”

Duvall’s mouth twisted. “I don’t suppose blindfolding you again is an option.”

Belle grinned, shook her head, then thought of something that might help. “I’ll take my clothes off, okay? You can hang onto everything but your shirt. If you like, I’ll give you a massage to relax you.”

“Where would you massage me?” he asked sulkily, not ready to give in.

“Where would you like me to?” Belle responded with wagging brows.

He didn’t answer, just gave her what she supposed was a darkling look. Rather than wait for an explicit go-ahead, she swung off the bed and started tugging her party dress’s snug sparkly sleeves down her arms. Just as he’d done for his own tuxedo, Duvall had repaired her gown, which the paramedics had cut off her. The thing dipped so low front and back, its zipper didn’t begin until her waist. After Belle had her top half naked, she wriggled the dress around and slid the tab down herself.

Daringly, she’d gone double commando. Dropping the dress to the floor left her in nothing but real silk stockings and a lacy black garter belt.

Abruptly, Belle saw the advantage in not having dressed up much for him before. Though Duvall’s expression barely grew less sullen, a significant lurch of motion within his trousers said she was gaining ground. Her exposed nipples budded in reaction.

“You could leave those on,” he said grudgingly.

“These?” Belle slid her index fingers under the stretchy lace that strapped garter to stocking. “You’re sure they won’t get in your way?”

No doubt he knew she was teasing, but his Adam’s apple bobbed all the same. “I can work around them.”

He seemed to be planning strategies even then. His gaze was locked on the juncture of her labia, where her clitoris had begun to swell and swim in moisture. His attention made the knot of flesh throb harder, the ache stretching from it deep into her pussy. Belle pressed her thighs together, hoping it wouldn’t take too long to get him off the mark and ready for ravishing.

“Maybe I could help you with your shirt?” she said huskily.

“Stay where you are,” he refused, his fingers going to it himself. His tone wasn’t an order, but it streaked through her like it was. Belle’s already erect nipples went diamond hard.

Duvall’s attention zeroed in on them. He wet his lips, then looked into her eyes. His tuxedo shirt was pleated and hugged his chest perfectly. His fingers flipped open the collar button. “Grip the bedpost in your left hand.”

That
was an order, and meant to wind her up. Because she’d promised to make this easier on him, she obeyed without protest. And why wouldn’t she, when she enjoyed it so much?

“Good,” he praised, his shirt open to his diaphragm, his gaze blazing hot on hers. “Put your right hand on your pussy. Stretch your clit out and squeeze it for me.”

Fire flew into Belle’s face. Touching herself in front of him wasn’t something she had experience with.

“I need distracting,” he said when she hesitated. “I don’t want to be too nervous to do this.”

If he’d been lying, discomfort would have furrowed his brow.

“Please,” he added, and that settled it for her.

Belle dug between her lips, pulling her clit and hood out between two fingers and her thumb. Slippery as she was, she had to hold on snugly. “Do you want me to rub it?”

Her question came out breathy. Duvall had been flushed already, just as she was, but at the sound of her voice, fresh color washed into his cheeks. Both of them were getting amped up by this.

“If you need to rub yourself, go ahead,” he said gruffly. “I know it’s hard to wait sometimes.”

It was hard to wait, and she was extra excited. Belle really couldn’t refrain from doing what he’d given her permission for. His hands curled into fists as he watched her fingers move in small back and forth motions, massaging her clitoris from either side. Belle wasn’t prepared for the sensation’s intensity. Doing this in his presence felt illicit - and incredibly personal. She pulled the reddened button out farther, which strengthened what she was feeling and allowed him to see more. Duvall couldn’t tear his gaze away. Nervous or not, the distraction was working. His chest rose and fell as the last few buttons on his shirt magically released themselves. The zipper on his nice black trousers was distended, the outline of his cock stare-worthy.

Despite the pressure on the teeth, he didn’t open that.

“Whenever you’re ready for your massage, say the word,” she offered with a ragged laugh.

He wasn’t ready to be amused. He removed his cufflinks by hand, then freed his arms from the pristine white garment. His chest was a treat: layered muscles, tapered shape, with a line of dark hair diving past his navel as suggestive as an arrow. Though small, his nipples were as tight as hers.

Seeing them, it was Belle’s turn to swallow.

“I’m stepping closer,” he said, dark and low. “Please don’t stop what you’re doing.”

How could she stop? Every seductive inch of him got her hot, making her clit itch for more rubbing. He stepped close enough for their legs to touch: hers in the nice silk stockings, his in the smooth tuxedo pants. He’d magicked away his shoes, and his feet were bare. Until now she hadn’t noticed how elegantly shaped they were.

“Spread your legs apart,” he said raspily.

She gasped, because those four words were all it took for the cream gathering in her pussy to spill out of her copiously. When she parted her feet, it trickled down her inner thigh.

“God,” her husband bit out through clenched teeth. Her arousal always did it for him. A slow motion shudder rolled up his spine. When he dragged his eyes from the rivulet running down her flesh, his irises glowed gold with faerie fire. “Don’t let go of anything. I’m going to kiss you now.”

If she’d had his strength, her grip would have snapped the bedpost in two. She held it and her clitoris as he placed his lips lightly over hers. His tongue slid between, tickling the soft inner surfaces of her lips as both their breathing began to saw.

Duvall licked deeper and then retreated. “My shoulder blades are tingling,” he whispered against her mouth, “where my wings will come out.”

“I want to touch you there,” she whispered back.

He tilted his head, kissing her so deeply she couldn’t hold in her moan. Again, he pulled back an inch from her. “Do it lightly,” he said.

“I want you to turn around.”

“Belle ...”

“I want it all. I want to see the whole process.”