…right under the feet of a charging barbarian.
Daffi squeaked as nearly six feet of blue-painted, half-naked and utterly drool-worthy male appeared in the middle of the circle. He wore the tiniest mini-kilt in a tartan she’d never seen before, waving his… axe about as he looked around. Blond hair worthy of its own TV commercial swung around his shoulders like a cape and he had the cutest, tiniest pair of blue wings in the middle of seriously buff shoulder blades.
“Oh shit… not a fae,” she whimpered, ducking again as the dragon whirled around and roared at the fae warrior. Sure enough, in the middle of its back where she’d normally have expected reptilian wings were butterfly wings instead.
“Shitshitshit.” Not just a fae, but a fae and a fae dragon. “I am so getting fired for this.”
“Begone foul beast!” the fae bellowed, racing toward the dragon, axe raised over his head. The movement highlighted all the heavily carved muscles in the front of his body and all Daffi’s feminine instincts sighed happily. He even had those v-things at the sides of his hips and everything…
“Do something!” Garlick screamed as the dragon sent a gout of flame toward the fae and nearly fried the cat instead.
“Yes, right!” She snapped out of her daydream of having Mr. Tall, blond and winged’s babies and stood up.
“Mother’s might and crone’s wisdom,
Hold this beast from another kingdom,
Stop its rampage, the scaly brute,
Bind it tightly, tiny and cute.”
Sparkles of white magic shot through the air. The dragon surged toward the buff-fae, jaws wide open as the fairy guy swung for him with his massive axe… and completely missed. Not because his aim was off but because the dragon was now three inches long.
Spun around by the force of his swing, the fae recovered his balance with a look of confusion on his handsome face. He blinked at the tiny dragon, still roaring in its tiny little voice as it beat wings now larger than it.
“Sorcery!” he bellowed in triumph, thrusting his axe into the air with a grin. “The dragon is vanquished!”
Looking around, he caught sight of Daffi watching him with wide eyes and strode toward her. Her ovaries had a little meltdown at the size of his muscled thighs. Maiden, mother and crone… she’d climb him like a tree given half a chance.
He reached her. Then, to her utter astonishment, he knelt before her, his head bowed.
“My lady! I am Oberon, king of the fae.” He looked up and she was caught by the most amazing pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen.
He smiled, studying her with wonder. “Your beauty astounds me. I had not thought to be so fortunate in my bride.”
Her gaze wandered over shoulders broader than a barn. Surely fae weren’t supposed to be so… ripped? If so, all the movies had it wrong.
“Huh…” her brain caught up with reality. “Wait, what? Bride?”
Okay, she must have hit her head. Was probably lying behind the curtain still as the kids summoned all manner of nasties with their hybrid spell.
“Yes.” Oberon grinned and stood, taking her hand. “I promised my hand in marriage to whomever could defeat the beast. You will be my queen!”
Well… shit.
Oberon’s day had started early, with twittering handmaidens applying his war paint in preparation for the hunt and then chasing the foul beast that had plagued his kingdom. He was the best warrior in the lands, so it was his right to kill the creature and mount its head in his hall with all his other conquests. All would know of his prowess and magnificence. His halls were filled with proof of that.
His chest puffed up with pride as he looked at the tiny woman in front of him. She was small and petite... human, but no one was perfect... His gaze wandered over her—the strange-colored hair and the wide amber eyes in a delicate heart-shaped face. She was so beautiful it made his teeth ache.
And she had vanquished the dragon, so she was his, his promised bride. Her wide-eyed look of adoration stoked his male ego. She was awed by his awesomeness, as was right. She should be amazed by him, her husband-to-be. He would wow her with his prowess, in battle and then in bed.
Then she frowned.
“You promised your hand in marriage to anyone who defeated the dragon? What if a guy had killed it?”
Oberon pursed his lips for a second, not seeing the point of the question, and then shrugged. “My bride would have been a groom. Why?”
Pulling her closer abruptly, he bent her back over his arm. She went easily... well, she went with a small screech, clutching at his shoulders... but then he had her where he wanted her.
In his arms where she should be.
“But I am glad it’s you.” His gaze roved over her face. She fit so perfectly against him that he couldn’t wait to get her back to his castle and make her his queen. Then... the wedding night. “You will look glorious spread over my bed.”
“O...kay.” Her lips pursed as she pushed at his shoulders. She might as well have pushed at a cliff face. He didn’t intend to let her go. Ever.
“Gonna need you to back it up a few steps there, handsome,” she ordered, her expression unimpressed. “Or I’m gonna have to make you.”
His lips quirked at her little threat. Okay, so his queen-to-be wanted to play hard to get, did she? Love games he could play.
“Of course, my love,” he murmured, setting her on her feet and then beaming down at her. She was so tiny and delicate. He would have gowns made for her, beautiful gowns to highlight her delicate stature and a crown to match his.
“I will have my throne made larger,” he declared. He didn’t want her sitting on a separate one. That would be too far away. If she shared his, he could sit her in his lap
