WingsOfDesire-AriannaSkye (15 page)

Cerne smirked. “Very well. Maeve sent me to fetch you,
mo cridhe
. Onora is still abed and will be so for another day or so, despite her pleadings.” He rose from the settee and stalked toward her bed. “You begin your magic lessons this morning. Maeve awaits us in the Magic Chambers.”

“How many rooms does the palace have? I’m going to get lost, for sure.” Here she thought she’d seen the entire palace, save for the royal chambers where mommy and daddy resided. Now there were more?

“I lost count at one thousand and twenty-eight.” Cerne took her hand in his. He looked into her eyes and a sparkle of mischief filled his gaze. “You are ravishing in the morning,
mo cridhe
.

I can see myself falling into your eyes every morning.” Rhiannon saw the struggle in his words, as if he were forcing himself to speak them. What gives? Apparently the faerie men were just as daft as the human ones. DNA obviously didn’t

discriminate against species.

“That is one of the most pathetic excuses for a pick-up line I’ve had the misfortune to hear.” She’d not let this man—this incredibly hot man who was agile with his tongue—know he’d almost gotten the best of her.

“What is a pick-up line?” Cerne asked, with an arch of his brow. “Again, your human lingo is foreign to me.”

“A come-on?” How else could she describe it? “A compliment with the intention of getting into someone’s bed?”

“I don’t need a pick-up line for that.” Cerne’s lips curved into a devious smirk. “My tongue and fingers do fine all by themselves.”

Rhiannon shook her head. “I love your confidence.” She meant it to be sarcastic but knew, in her heart, she was being serious. It was part of his charm.

“Is that all you love,
mo cridhe
?” Cerne lowered his mouth and traced a hot tongue along her neck. He pressed his hips into hers, letting her feel the stiff rigidness of his erection.

Rhiannon whimpered, wrapping her arms about his neck. Her fingers locked in his hair, stroking each tendril.

“That answers my question. I cannot wait until Beltane.” Rhiannon nibbled her lip. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to wait either. Just being around Cerne and all his masculine glory sent her body into fits of desire. She hadn’t been turned on this much in—forever. Not even when she was a kid and tried to watch the Spice Channel through the squiggly lines. Not even when she’d discovered Internet porn.

“What’s on your mind, my sweet?” Cerne asked, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. Rhiannon loved his eyes, searching, sexy, sultry. She could stare at them for days on end and never grow bored.

Rhiannon’s lips curved into a playful grin. “Inquiring minds want to know.” Cerne shook his head. “I should kill Maeve for teaching you how to control your psi abilities.” A mirthful chuckle burst from his mouth. “Nonetheless, I’ve been told the perusal of one’s thoughts can be even more enticing.”

“I’ll leave you to that thought,
leannan
.” She traced a finger down the front of his tunic.

“But I believe we’ve got an appointment with Maeve.” She swished the skirts of her way-too-transparent gossamer negligee. “I don’t think she

wants me meeting the wizard dressed like this.” With a brazenness she only just discovered, she dropped the gown to the floor.

A look of surprise washed over Cerne’s face. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed,” she replied, with all the innocence she could muster. “Could you fetch me a gown?” She pointed to the wardrobe behind her.

She knew Cerne couldn’t take his eyes off her. Still feeling the heat of his gaze burning into her back, Rhiannon smiled. She swayed her hips back and forth, as if she were dancing along with an unheard song. There was no doubt in her mind now. Cerne was definitely the man she’d been waiting for.

Cerne’s cock throbbed. He could not ignore the energy sizzling between them. The way she was acting, he knew she felt it too. If she continued, he’d end up bending her over the divan and slamming himself into her hot channel right that instant.

Now wasn’t the time for such thoughts, he chastised himself. With a reluctant sigh, he turned to the wardrobe and ripped it open. Cerne grabbed the first gown his hand came in contact with, an azure crepe which would no doubt accentuate all her delectable curves. Ah deities, he cursed to himself. He’d have an easier time clothing an ogre or a troll. He thrust the gown back into the wardrobe and chose a flowing iridescent silver one instead.

He watched her move her hips back and forth like a seasoned courtesan. Had he not touched her, he’d think she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She turned her head to gaze at him, her emerald eyes sparkling mischievously. She flashed him a seductive gaze. The sooner he got her dressed, the better. Or he’d spill himself in his breeches.

With as sure steps as he could manage, he approached his princess. “As much as I would love to stay here and partake in whatever seductions you have planned, you’re expected to meet Maeve and Ethelred.” Breathing a dejected huff, he threw the gown over her shoulders. “Now get dressed,
mo cridhe
.”

Rhiannon sucked in a breath of air, her eyes flickering something akin to frustration. “What the hell? Did I do something wrong?”

Yes. You’re too blasted alluring this early in the morning. “No, nothing at all. But the wizard does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Whatever,” Rhiannon said with an exasperated sigh. She slid her arms through the armholes and tied the gown snug around her.

“Lovely gown.” Even lovelier woman wearing it.

She gazed into the mirror, fumbling with her auburn curls. She placed pin after pin in her hair, but was having no luck.

“Need some assistance,
mo cridhe
?”

“No!” She threw a silver pin on the vanity in front of her. “I can manage fine on my own.” Cerne sighed. Women, even those who resided on Earth, were complex creatures. No matter how hard the men tried, everything they did was always wrong. “Call if you need me.” Cerne flopped onto the chaise.

“Sure.” Rhiannon tapped her finger to her head. Her curls twirled about each other as pins floated about her head, attaching themselves to her hair. “What the heck?” Cerne gaped in shock as magic swirled about her, pinning and coifing her hair. Rhiannon’s mouth was equally as wide, watching the spectacle in the glassy surface of the mirror. “How’d you do that?” he asked.

Rhiannon shrugged as the last pin found a curl. “I don’t know!” Cerne racked his mind for answers. She’d tapped into some excess energy from the night before, as if she had an imp hidden behind her back. She ate an enchanted tart for breakfast.

“You haven’t met the wizard yet. You shouldn’t know how to do that.” Rhiannon shrugged. “Oh, well. It just saved me from a bad hair day.” She patted her curls.

Cerne chuckled. Her human euphemisms always tugged at his heart. “I have a slight idea what a bad hair day is, and I guarantee we faeries never get them.”

“Obviously.” Rhiannon grinned. “I’m really starting to like this place. No bad hair days, beautiful scents and—” she gave him a look from head to toe “—a view to die for. Hell, I’d kill for it too, for that matter.”

“You flatter me, Your Highness.” More than flatter, actually, but he needed to curb his desire. “Ethelred is expecting us though.” He pushed open the door. “Ladies first.” Rhiannon nodded and padded out the door. “Lead the way.”

“Take my arm.” Cerne thrust his arm out toward her. He wanted all the palace folk to see the princess’s and his arms locked together. It would show the union of their souls was almost complete.

Rhiannon raised an eyebrow. “Possessive little consort, aren’t you?” Cerne shrugged. “It’s part of the protocol, my dear.” He turned to Rhiannon and lifted her

chin to meet her gaze. “It shows the royal union is eminent and we are serious with our ventures.”

“Well, that’s fascinating,” Rhiannon replied, throwing her head back in laughter. “Sure beats a tattoo on my forehead.”

Cerne laughed. “Only trolls do such barbaric things.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Cerne chuckled. “I wish I was. Trolls are disgusting creatures with no respect for others, as well as themselves.”

“Glad I ended up with a faerie instead of a troll.” Cerne smirked. “Me too.” He brushed his hand lightly against her thigh. He would’ve rubbed somewhere else, had Radan Evenspring not crossed their path.

“Your Highness, Lord Silverwing.” The High Councilman bowed, awaiting Rhiannon’s acknowledgement.

Rhiannon stood stony, almost impervious to the High Councilman’s presence. She stifled a yawn and closed her eyes. Radan, with his fists clenched, continued to bow in stoic silence.

She closed her eyes then opened them, blinking. “Oh, High Councilman, I apologize. I spaced out. You may rise.”

With a perplexed gaze, Radan rose. “If I may speak, Your Highness?”

“Sure. Don’t hold your tongue on my account.” Rhiannon crossed her arms. There was no doubting her royal bearing. She exuded hauteur, yet not so much she let it go to her head.

“I came to seek out Lord Silverwing. A situation requires his attention.” Cerne raised an eyebrow. “I’m to attend the princess’s faerie magic lesson.”

“This is regarding your brother, my lord.”

“My brother? Is everything all right?”

Radan rubbed his chin. “We should discuss this privately.”

“Rhiannon is our princess. Whatever you need to say can be said in front of her.” Radan took a deep breath. “Very well. Follow me.” He led them down the corridor to the council chambers and then snapped his fingers, allowing the doors to swing open. “We might as well notify the elders, as well.” He clapped his hands, producing six glowing globes.

“Wow.” Rhiannon’s eyes brightened with awe. “What are those?” Radan lifted one of the shining globes. “Messenger orbs. They’ll be sent out to all the

council members. In a matter of a few minutes, we’ll have a full room. He flicked his fingers and the orbs went scattering in a thousand pieces.

“Wow! Sure beats annoying cell phones and iPads,” Rhiannon whispered to Cerne.

Cerne turned to Rhiannon and narrowed his gaze in bemusement. “I thought you loved your phone. It played some interesting music.”

“Actually, I hate my cell phone. The ring irritates me, and some days I just want to throw it against the wall.” Rhiannon grinned, a stunning smile that left him breathless.

“You fascinate me beyond words.” Cerne took her hand in his. “Maeve is right. You’ve come a long way.”

Rhiannon’s face fell. “Thanks, I think.” She bit her lip and an angry spark shot through her emerald eyes.

What in the deities had he done now?

I’ve come a long way? What the hell did that mean? Rhiannon bit her lip. Men! Even the faeries acted like jackasses when it came to making a compliment. She resisted the urge to break into a fit of laughter. She’d ended up in Middle Earth, and the men, albeit extremely hot, were just as jacked-up as those in the human world.

The arrival of Maeve and Belenus interrupted her thoughts. They both stepped from the amethyst mists and bowed to the High Councilman. Maeve turned to Rhiannon and Cerne and bowed, giving them both a surreptitious wink. Belenus followed Maeve’s action, sans the wink.

All this veneration went right to her head. It was too much. She couldn’t believe she’d accepted this role so easily. After all, she’d always seen herself as a follower, not a leader.

Rhiannon nodded at her friends. “You may rise.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Belenus said. “Has the High Councilman called a meeting?” Cerne nodded. “He has news and requested my presence as well.” Maeve nodded and took her seat. “It must be important.” High Councilman Evenspring nodded. “It is. But I’d like to wait until the others arrive to discuss it. I’ve also invited General Windstorm, since this directly affects him as well.”

“Korrigan?” Maeve asked, her lips hardening.

“Unfortunately, yes,” High Councilman Evenspring replied.

One by one, the council members appeared. Fiona Goldmoon, the youngest of the elders, smiled and bowed to Rhiannon. “My princess.” After Rhiannon’s acknowledgement, she took

the seat across from Maeve. As each elder arrived, the same protocol was followed. There were six council members, including the High Councilman. The only seat missing was the one waiting for General Windstorm.

“Arrogant jackass,” High Councilman Evenspring griped. “He doesn’t respect the elder council. He needs to—”

A loud whoosh reverberated through the Hall as a bright ball of amber light filled the corner.

The ball evaporated into a green mist to reveal a tall faerie with flowing blonde hair, wide muscular shoulders, and an impressive wingspan. He flicked his golden wings in obvious irritation and spat, “What is so important that you need to disturb the training of the guards?” He glared pointedly at High Councilman Evenspring and turned his gaze toward her. Mossy-green eyes examined her like a piece of meat on the auction block. “Have we opened the elder council to inexperienced faeries?”

Cerne’s lip remained still and his gaze looked as if it would burn. “Is that any way to welcome your princess?”

“I apologize, Your Highness. General Rowan Windstorm.” He bowed like he hadn’t bowed much in his life before.

Rhiannon shouldn’t fault the guy. He was a general after all. She remembered the generals she’d run across on the army bases. They were just as gruff and proud as him—some even worse! Yet none were as big and virile looking as this huge faerie half-bowing before her.

“Rise, General.” Rhiannon enjoyed this way too much. She took his hand in hers and shook it. “Shall we begin?”

General Windstorm took his seat to the left of Evenspring. Cerne pulled out the chair to the right and allowed Rhiannon to take a seat. He then sat to her right. Rhiannon bit her lip in trepidation.

Cerne took her hand and gave her an encouraging gaze. “You’ll do fine,
mo cridhe
,” he whispered in her ear. His breath hot and heavy on her skin left her electrified.

Oh, please, not here. Anywhere but here! Any time he came near, her body ignored her mind. Her heart raced and her breath caught. She could always try to pull up the memory of catching Sanders in the company pool wearing nothing but his tiny Speedo. Perhaps the thought of hairy, pasty white flab and flesh would help detract her desire. As vile as the memory was, it didn’t help. Cerne had just brushed his hand against her thigh. She gulped—rather loudly.