Storm Warrior

without taking her iridescent eyes off the large dog before her.

“What a surprise you’ve given us.” Her voice struck Rhys’s sensitive ears like hundreds of tiny bells chiming at once. Alluring, yet there was an underlying menace, darkness lurking beneath the light. The sound danced up and down his spine, and it was all he could do not to shiver. As a dog, he could make no reply, but none was wanted. “The queen was most impressed by the news. No grim has ever escaped his collar, and certainly no barghest has ever traveled so far. It’s provided fascinating conversation throughout the court.”

That could be good or bad. The Tylwyth Teg were immortal beings, but the burden of living for endless millennia was tedium. It was one reason that the Fair Ones tended to play terrible pranks upon mortals. Like bored children, they sprang upon the unwary, seeking diversion. So it had been when a weary Celtic warrior turned reluctant gladiator had fought his way to freedom at last. Wounded and near death, pursued by his former captors, he’d blundered straight into the territory of the Tylwyth Teg in the steep hills northwest of Isca Silurum…

“We came to see how this was done,” Tyne chimed in. “And now it is apparent that a mortal has had a hand in this. A most unusual mortal, in that she has beckoned you and actually sought you out instead of avoiding you. Offered you food and dressed your wounds. Each unselfish deed has weakened the links of our spell, and now the spell is unmade. This has never happened, not in all the ages of time.” He smiled, and it was like the sun in the high arctic. Bright but without real warmth.

“You’ve upset the balance of things. While it’s true that harmony was restored when you purchased this woman’s mortal life with your immortal one,” continued Daeria, “we remain unsatisfied. And therein you have provided the court with a very great puzzle. We wish your continued servitude, yet this mortal has managed to purchase your life with her unusual devotion. You are hers. Of course, her enslavement would provide redress for her interference.”

Rhys knew the game. He’d seen it countless times. They were baiting him, hoping for a reaction. He dared not give them one, forced himself to appear disinterested, as if Morgan’s fate didn’t matter to him. The couple waited, but he simply stared at them steadily.

Tyne shrugged finally. “The queen—”

“The queen revealed that she knew this mortal’s ancestor of twenty generations past.” Daeria delivered this tidbit with relish, like someone revealing juicy gossip. “Some say they were friends and the queen permitted the woman to visit the faery court freely.”

“And leave as she chose,” said Tyne.

Rhys knew better than most how unusual that was. No human entered or left the royal court save by the will of the Fair Ones. He’d seen many hapless mortals there over the centuries, some invited, most captured. Like him, they were forced to provide service or amusement for the Tylwyth Teg. Few ever left. If there had once been a mortal woman who was an actual friend to the queen, he hadn’t noticed. But then, he only ever saw the powerful monarch when she was in the throne room. Most of the time she did not deign to grace the chattering court with her presence.

“I suppose it was because of her blood,” explained Daeria, ignoring the glare of her consort, who clearly wanted to tell some of the tale. “There was a silver thread of fae blood in her mortal veins and in all her female descendants since. Royal fae blood. Including the woman who has showed you such uncommon kindness.”

Tyne nodded. “That is true. Though she is mortal, she is of us.”

There was nothing he could do—even with a canine face, Rhys couldn’t hide his astonishment at such news. He saw pleasure spring behind their otherworldly eyes, pleasure in knowing that they had managed to surprise him. He could picture them returning to their hidden land beneath the Welsh hills, delighting all with the gossip they brought. That foolish warrior didn’t even know that the woman was fae…

No, but he did know that Morgan was nothing like the coldhearted creatures before him.

Tyne put his hand on Daeria’s arm, and she waved an irritated hand as if giving him permission to speak. He made a slight bow, not to her but to Rhys. “In deference to that bloodline and to an old friendship, the queen has made her appearance in the throne room for the first time since the king expired.”

The king had not expired, thought Rhys. Having witnessed death in every form possible, he knew that only the sick and the weak could be said to expire, releasing their last breath and having not the strength to take another. The king of the Fair Ones had not only resisted his death by iron blades in the hands of power-seeking traitors but had fought to purchase time for his wife to cast an enchantment that bound the murderers. He saved her life but died mere seconds before she could save his.

“Her Supreme Highness, Ruler of the Nine Realms, called upon the entire court to witness not one but two declarations. One, that Morgan Edwards is henceforth eithriedig—”

She had immunity? Rhys’s control nearly slipped again. She had been afforded an extremely rare protection—at least from those who dared not disobey their remaining monarch. His Morgan was essentially safeguarded from all faery malice, from simple pranks to spells and violence. With otherworldly threats thus removed, Rhys was confident that he could protect her from all else.

“The court was appalled. Such a valuable gift to be bestowed upon an insignificant mortal.” Daeria spoke the last word with a hiss of disgust.

Her companion frowned at her but continued. “The second declaration is that the Tylwyth Teg will relinquish our claim upon you, dark grim, until such time that this mortal woman relinquishes hers by the power of three. You are ours no more—”

“—until then,” finished Daeria, and there was no mistaking the threat.

The Fair Ones vanished, and Rhys was alone in the dark, relieved yet disturbed. Until then. Until a time when he no longer belonged to Morgan. The idea was surprisingly painful. He’d have to make sure that didn’t happen. He’d be a model dog, a devoted servant, a perfect animal companion and protector. She’d have no reason to ever make him leave.

FIVE

Morgan had gone to bed hoping for another visit from her fantasy lover and wasn’t disappointed. A dream whisked her away soon after her head touched the pillow, and she found herself walking the edge of a calm, silvery ocean. A bright moon shone high and full as a warm breeze licked along her naked skin. She dipped a toe into the water, then waded slowly into the shallows, the soft waves caressing her.

She saw him then—her familiar stranger, her lover—swimming toward her. Saw his powerfully muscled body emerge from the waves as he set foot in the shallows, saw the silvery droplets of seawater fly from his skin as he approached. Heat radiated from him as he enveloped her in his strong arms, and his mouth burned against her lips. An answering heat blossomed between her legs, and she wanted him to touch her there, please, please, please…

Instead, he feasted on her breasts. His powerful hands cupped and squeezed them while his clever mouth worked the eager nipples relentlessly. Her clit began to pulse in rhythm with the magic he was making, and she tangled her hands in his thick dark hair to hold him to her. Something deep within her began winding tighter and tighter, and she knew she’d shatter when it let loose—

Without any warning, the dream shifted and changed.

Morgan’s lover vanished abruptly, along with her pending orgasm. Damn it! She gritted her teeth with frustration as she found herself wandering long, darkened hallways through a house that resembled hers yet didn’t—when had it been so far to the kitchen? She wasn’t quite sure it was her own house until she entered the laundry room, wasn’t entirely certain she was still asleep even—until she saw her new dog communicating with glowing alien beings!

Good grief. It was almost a relief to have to slap the damn alarm clock off.

Morgan opened her eyes, contemplating her dreams for a few moments. She briefly considered getting out her favorite vibrator, but that mood was long gone, ruined by the bizarre visions of extraterrestrials among her baskets of dirty towels and jeans.