All That's Magic
Copyright © November 2007, A. J. Cove 

Cover art by Mariya Krusheva © November 2007

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Amira Press.

ISBN: 978-1-934475-31-7

Amira Press, LLC

Baltimore, MD 21216

www.amirapress.com




Dedicaton
To my readers



Prologue
"Ms. Gibson, why did you create the Pleasure Bra and Panties?” A reporter for the Daily News shoved a mic under Sheila's nose, with an expectant look in her eyes.

How many times had she heard that before? Wasn't it obvious? Men just couldn't do the deed well enough or last long enough. A woman needed a man as much as she needed a migraine. “Well, as I'm sure you know, we women are very busy with life—our careers, our families. Sometimes, when the mood strikes, we aren't in a convenient place to get a little action. Am I right, ladies?"

She glanced around the small crowd of men and women surrounding her. There were nods and “I know that's right” from several directions.

"And let's face it,” she said, pausing for emphasis and running her fingertips along the outer edge of her blouse, “the pickings have become slim. We may not have a man to satisfy us when we come home at night."

This time the consensus was a depressing grunt. Sheila would have liked having someone in her life. She was often assessed in the media as being a man-hater, but she was far from it. Sure, she didn't trust a man as far as she could toss his lying, cheating backside, but she wanted one all the same. That hungry desire led her to the creation of her intimate undies, which women were snapping up as fast as their credit cards could be swiped. Of course, she couldn't tell them that. It would be opening up her vulnerabilities to the world. No, instead she purported herself to be the woman's woman, and the image was paying in the millions.

As Sheila twisted to field the next question, her attention was caught by a man at the back of the crowd, near the street. Although she was sure she'd never before seen the expressionless face peering out from the forest-green hooded cape, recognition shot through her. The feeling was unwelcome, and a tremor of fear shot down her spine. With effort, she focused again on the swarm of reporters.

Another stepped forward. “So what exactly does your bra and panties do, Ms. Gibson? What makes it so different from others? I mean it's got to be special at one hundred dollars a set."

She grinned, lifting a hand habitually to be sure her hair was in place along the sides of her face. “Oh yes, my friend, they are special. Inside each cup of the bra, and placed strategically along the panties, is what I like to call feelers. No, pinchers? Hmm, certainly caressers.” She paused again deliberately. There were lonely, horny women in the audience and glued to their TV set hoping Sheila really was offering something they'd never before experienced. And she was. “Let me say it like this, Mr. Sumner,” she said, recognizing the reporter most often found in her press conferences or dogging her steps wherever she went, Peter Sumner. “My little secrets stroke a woman in just the right place, between her legs. They tease her nipples to stimulate her body. But they go much further than what is on the market today. They're not vibrators. No, far superior to that.

"My little secrets reach out and gently tug at a woman's nipples, playing with them until she reaches that pinnacle of delight that we all wish to experience. To be mindful of your audience, sir, I will not go into detail of what happens in the panties."

"If you ask me, I'd say it's just plain wrong. To take the place of a real relationship is going too far.” An older woman spoke from the middle of the crowd, her voice contorted in anger, her graying hair escaping its confines at points around her head. “You're nothing but a hussy, miss."

Sheila was not perturbed. “I'm so sorry, ma'am. I cannot please everyone. I realize that. Tell you what—why don't you call my offices tomorrow morning, and I'll see what I can do for you?"

The woman's anger immediately subsided. Sheila smiled. Just as she suspected. The woman couldn't afford the high price. She'd struggled over the cost, but her marketing experts had assured her it was fair.

"Surely, you're worried about offending the men, Ms. Gibson. I've heard you have received death threats."

"One or two, but I'm not worried. Listen, this is for everyone. A man can enjoy watching his woman satisfy herself with my product. It makes for more interesting bedroom activity. I assure you, no one has ever been hurt from my products. Now, please, I must get back to work. Thank you all for your time."

* * * *
Like, hell, no one has ever been hurt by her products! Drake watched her in disgust, his anger threatening to overflow at her easy confidence. No, it was arrogance. She made out like she had just what every woman needed while sticking her greedy hands in their pockets and bleeding them dry. Just like her mother! He'd bring down her company, Bare Pleasures, one way or another. He had it all planned. She had it coming. As beautiful as Sheila Gibson was, with her thick black waves, unfashionably long, hanging midway down her back, and her voluptuous figure, he would resist her lure and make her pay.

As he watched her, someone blocked his view, and he stepped right to bring the evil witch into view again. He hit a solid force and turned to offer his apologies. The weirdo in the forest-green hoodie, made of a material too heavy for mid-summer, was fully absorbed in watching Sheila Gibson. The man muttered, “She's gone too far. Something must be done,” made Drake wonder just how many enemies Ms. Gibson had made.

Drake glanced at his enemy, then back at the man at his side. The stranger was gone.




Chapter One
Sheila stepped through the entrance to her two-story home and tugged her sunglasses off, while tossing her keys on the table in the entryway. It was great to be home. She loved her work, but home was a woman's sanctuary. With its Grecian decor—complete with cascading waterfall and Bohemian vases on hall tables just below period paintings—her home was becoming more and more interesting with each new purchase. Never had she intended to be so—what was the word ... greedy—but the lure of things was too strong. Besides, having the mother she had didn't lead to humility.

Her assistant stepped into the hall from the study, which Sheila used as a home office. “Sheila, you've had several calls. Beverly, at the office, forwarded some to me as well. Mr. Cantana..."

Sheila strolled ahead, knowing Mina would follow as she related the day's events since she'd left the house that morning. First, she'd get a snack from the kitchen and then have a nice long bubble bath to ease the tension from her muscles. Or perhaps she needed to get started on plans for her next creation. One couldn't rest on the last success for long. The competition was constantly nipping at her heels. She needed to stay several steps ahead. Then she chuckled. Who was she kidding? The competition would never catch up. Her dirty little secret kept the company her mother had passed into her hands in top place all over America and in several foreign markets as well.

Mina continued. “Also, your mother called four times. She would like you to call her back as soon as possible."

Sheila rolled her eyes. The only thing her mother wanted was to check up on her, to make sure she was not ruining the perfection that she'd been placed in charge of. She sighed. “I will return my mother's calls when I am ready. Not a moment before. Mina, I will be in the bath. Please do not disturb me under any circumstances."

Sheila strolled into her oversized bathroom with its high-powered jets shooting out of the sides of her whirlpool bath. She twisted on the water and then added a generous amount of scented oils. Anticipation grew as she removed her clothing. Absolutely nothing could beat the delicious luxury she enjoyed.

Dropping the last article of clothing on the floor, she dipped a toe in the bath water to test the temperature, but a sound behind her caught her attention. She stepped back and whirled around. The hooded figure stood silent before her.

With a gasp of annoyance and fear mingled, she snatched up her dress. Why hadn't she brought her bathrobe into the bathroom? Her clothing as she held it barely covering her nakedness, Sheila attempted bravado. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my bathroom?"

The man bowed respectfully. Sheila acknowledged his gesture with a nod of her head, but remained silent to await his answer. “I've come to warn you. You are in danger of being called to task on your present actions. You may not know, but punishment can be quite severe in these matters."

She frowned. “I haven't hurt anyone. And I don't have to live by your laws. You have no authority over me here in this city."

Dark eyes of which she wasn't sure of the exact color in the shadow of his hood, glared at her. “You are wrong. Our authority is universal. If it is determined that—"

"I don't want to hear it. You have no right to be in my house. Get out.” They were brave words, but in reality, she was shaking. She didn't know the extent of their power, just as this man said, but even if it didn't extend to here, there was no guarantee that would keep them from punishing her for her actions. No one was getting hurt. What was the big deal? “I am not hurting anyone,” she insisted again.

"That is where you are wrong. There are others who are hurt by your company.” Sheila thought she saw resentment and pain in his expression before he continued. “It has become a monopoly. It is time to stop. I am merely an emissary at this time. The next time I come, I may be delivering judgment. You do not want to risk that."

His words angered her. Sheila knew who she was. Her mother had never hidden that truth from her, and she'd been old enough to see some of what they'd run away from, the lies and cheating of her father. Not only would she not go back, she wasn't going to be pushed around by these people who'd turned a blind eye to her paternal parent's actions. She was not going to be bullied.

Sheila raised a hand, calling forth a power that was as much a part of her as breathing. A light ignited on her fingertips. Her pointed ears began to tingle with the accessing of her magic. “I said,” she began, increasing the blue fire dancing in her hands, “get out of my house."

The stranger was not intimidated by Sheila's display. He snapped his fingers dramatically, and a ball of his own magic appeared. With no hesitation, he flung his ball at her. A choked scream escaped her when the seemingly innocuous globe encircled her hand, effectively trapping her magic in place before snuffing the light out. This man was no amateur. It would not pay to tick him off.

"You have been warned.” In a puff of smoke, like a genie, she thought, he was gone.

"Show off,” she growled, then dropped her clothes on the floor and stepped heavily into her bath. Now more than ever, she needed a relaxing bath.

She leaned back in the bubbles, willing her muscles to relax and let the cares of the world roll away. She closed her eyes and practiced a technique she had used many times over the years to bring her mind to a place of peace. She pictured a meadow with colorful flowers in bloom. The sun was warm on her bare arms because she wore a sleeveless dress. Rather than run through the field as she'd done on previous visualizations, she strolled, breathing in the scent of the flowers, embracing all that the experience had to offer. As her emotions were soothed, she glanced around and found a narrow creek nearby. She moved to kneel at the water's edge and dip her fingers for a drink. For no reason, she laughed as her head came up, but the laughter died on her lips. Peace fled as quickly as it had come.

On the other side of the narrow waterway, which was not more than fifteen feet wide, was a creature as black as midnight. Its slick skin glistened in the sunlight, a pointed-tooth grin cracked its face. Sheila pushed up to stand, never taking her gaze from the thing. She lifted her hand at the ready to repel the thing, but it backed away and disappeared.

She sat up in her bath, her heart pounding. She pressed a hand to her chest, willing it to calm. First, the hooded stranger showing up in her bathroom, then the black creature. She needed to speak with her mother as soon as possible.

* * * *
Not at all soothed by her warm bath, Sheila padded barefoot into her room to the phone on her nightstand. “I might was well get this over with.” She sighed and punched in the number for her mother's Paris villa.

The phone was picked up on the first ring. “Sheila, my darling. How are you?"

The French accent her mother affected grated on her nerves. “Mother, drop the accent. You've been there all of four months."

"When in Paris, my dear..."

"Mother.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Never mind. I wanted to let you know that I just had a visit from an emissary.” She paused for her mother's response. None was immediate. “Mother, did you hear me? I've been warned about using my magic to create my line of panties and bras. I think we may have gone too far this time."

"Nonsense,” her mother insisted. Sheila could imagine the woman waving long, slender fingers, tipped in hot pink, in a dismissive gesture. “I have been warned many times myself over the years, ever since you were twelve or thirteen. The council did nothing then. They won't do anything now."

"I'm not so sure of that. This man was not some boy, still green in his position of doing the Faerie council's bidding. His magic was powerful. He easily quenched mine.” The memory of the man's magic snuffing out her own sent a fresh shiver down Sheila's back. She could only imagine what the Fae would do if she were charged with illegal use of her magic. Although she'd left Faeryland many years ago, stories still surfaced of the harsh treatment the council or even the Faerie king could mete out. Prison time would not be in the lap of luxury, that was for sure.

"Well, my dear, try to lie low for a while. If you don't draw attention to yourself, maybe they will forget that Bare Pleasures is all about magical products. We've cornered the market on sexy gidgets and gadgets. Besides, if you ask me, I think they're all jealous. That council is full of stodgy old Fae who can't get laid if they cast a charm spell on the women they are attracted to."

Sheila laughed out loud. “Mother!"

"Well, it's true. All except for one."

"Yes, Mother. I know, but this is really not something to dismiss so lightly. And I'm not exactly the type to lie low."

"What do you mean?"

She hesitated and then blurted. “I'm just back from a press conference. It went well. Sales are way up. The women are ecstatic over my newest creation."

"I've heard about your newest creation's success.” The pride in her mother's voice was apparent. “I made a great decision in making you the new head. And I couldn't be more thrilled that you have my naughty knack for coming up with new ways for women to be independent of men. Our erotic toys for women cannot be beat anywhere.” Her mother chuckled and said, as if she had a secret, “I've made sure of that."

"What does that mean? Mother, what have you done?” Sheila demanded.

"Never mind, darling. It's not important."

Sheila didn't believe her. “Well, you're right. I am empowering women to take back control of what happens in their bedrooms ... or anywhere else for that matter. My bra and panties can be worn anywhere. And the subtlety of it is so great that no one will know she's pleasuring herself."

Claudia Gibson chuckled. “That is if she doesn't cry out in ecstasy when she climaxes."

Sheila could not help but laugh at that. It was true. She'd come close to doing that herself on the occasions when she was testing her product. A woman did need to slip into an empty bathroom, a closet, or somewhere alone if she was going to pleasure herself in public. Well, depending on how she liked it. The thought of such wanton activity made Sheila want to go test out her new thong right then.

"Well, Mother, as much as I enjoy talking to you, I have a lot of work to do this evening. I will call you again next week or sooner if I have any news about the council's activities.” A shiver of fear coursed over her at the mention of the Fae. The warning, though unwelcome, could not be ignored. Her mother's advice was sound.

"Okay, darling. Just remember to lie low. I think that because of who we are, they will think twice about harassing us too much, but I don't want to push it. Our fortune was made quietly, out of the public's eye for the most part. And there are many who do not like our success. That cannot be helped."

Her mother was right. They couldn't help others being jealous, but to corner the market on intimate products for women using Faerie magic wasn't exactly fair either. No human could produce such perfection, and those who tried to figure out why her creation worked failed miserably. They all knew the mechanics of it shouldn't be possible, and that worried her. Someday, someone would confront her for the truth. If it wasn't the council, then it would be someone much more hostile. And she couldn't really blame them. Not for the first time, Sheila questioned her and her mother's actions. Bare Pleasures had been their way of dealing with her father's betrayal. Had they gone too far?

After a few more pleasantries with her mother, Sheila hung up the phone. A stress headache was coming on her thinking about what could happen if judgment was passed on Bare Pleasures, whether it was from the humans or the council. The relaxing night at home she had planned no longer held its appeal. She called out to Mina.

"Please make a reservation at my usual restaurant, Mina. I'm going to do some work in my study. No disturbances, please."

Mina nodded and exited. Sheila ignored her bedroom slippers at the side of her bed and strolled barefoot downstairs to her study. She carefully shut and locked the door behind her before stepping around her desk to the bookcase behind it. With a smile of excitement lighting her features, she shifted a few knickknacks in a preset order. With the soft whoosh of hydraulics, the bookshelf parted down the middle and slid back to reveal Sheila's secret “lab."

Inside was a simple desk on which set the computer that stored her plans for her creations. But the computer didn't outline how the products worked. No, that information was a highly guarded secret that she could not allow to get out to her competition. Faerie magic. Her competitors had no chance at all in matching her success.

At the long table running along the far wall, Sheila slid a plain pair of panties toward her. Actually made in plastic rather than metal, it amused her yet again that the inner workings of her pleasure panties did not really work. She bent over the garment, feeling excitement build inside at the enjoyment of creating yet another of the unique panties.




Chapter Two
Drake knotted his tie around his neck and tugged at the material to straighten it. As he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, he felt confident that the charcoal grey suit fit him to perfection. It just ought to since he'd spent the bulk of the money he had left for it.

"Son, reconsider this road you're on.” His grandfather appeared behind him, worry etching the hazel eyes. “Revenge is an ugly thing. It eats at you and sucks the life out of you until nothing's left."

Satisfied that he looked as well as he could, Drake pivoted on his heel. “Granddad, don't start again. You know why I'm doing this. That woman has ruined us and many others. It's time the Gibsons pay for their ruthlessness."

"That woman, as you call her, has done nothing to you."

"Well, her mother then. Still the sins of the mother—"

"Aren't those of the father?"

Drake threw up his hands and stepped around the old man to pick up his jacket from the bed. “In this case, it's the mother. She railroaded our business to the point that we had to declare bankruptcy, and the worse part about it is that we don't know how. Believe me, if I could pin my own bad luck in business and jobs lately on her, I would do it in a heartbeat."

A hand on his shoulder made him pause. “Son, that was many years ago when you were too young to know anything about the workings of business. And if I'm over it, so should you be."

"Granddad, you can't possibly be serious. Bare Pleasures has monopolized the market on any and all innovations for women. Your company Intimate Moments for Couples never stood a chance. Now it's all about the women. What happened to couples? What happened to the men?” The frustration and anger that always overtook him when he was discussing Sheila Gibson's company rose to a boiling point. How could his grandfather ever think he'd forgive or forget? His plan was going forward no matter what. “That company has ruined our reputation so that I cannot lift my head anywhere in this business. I have tried hundreds of companies to fund my projects, yet nobody wants anything to do with us. And the few who have shown interest, miraculously change their mind the next day, or even hours later. What the hell else am I to think but that they are continuing to ruin our opportunities? And you're telling me to forget about it? Yes, it's in the past, but it's still affecting my success today. Damn it, the most I can get is a clerk's position and not in the field I want."

"There was that delivery gig. Drake—"

"Our debts are piling up, I can barely afford to pay the rent on this microscopic apartment, let alone my lab space downtown, and I'm supposed to give it all up because revenge is too ugly? No, I'm sorry. I can't. I'm going down to that restaurant. I'm going to charm the hell out of that fraud, and I'm going to do to her as her mother did to my family."

The hurt disappointment was clear in his grandfather's eyes, but Drake ignored it. The old man may have forgiven and forgotten, but he did not. If he could help it, Bare Pleasures would be a memory before the end of the year. Sheila Gibson may not have had a personal hand in causing Jefferson Corbon to lose everything because she created gadgets that no scientific mind in the world could explain, but she sure as hell would feel the brunt of his attack. Besides, hadn't she just come out with a newer product that followed in the same steps as every other one from that company? There was absolutely no room for anyone when it came to Bare Pleasures. They'd seen to that. However, it would all change tonight whether his grandfather liked it or not.

Drake stepped out into the busy street in front of his apartment and turned south. He had no extra money to catch a cab and couldn't afford to keep a car. So, it was walking for him. It was something he was getting used to, and there were benefits. His legs had become quite toned, and with the sun turning his skin a satisfying shade of brown at his last outdoor job, he was happy with their appearance.

His source had informed him that Sheila intended to visit Chez Purcell on Fifth Avenue. It was a pricey and, in his opinion, pretentious restaurant. He'd had to dig deeper into his dwindling savings, but it would be worth it if he could manage to snag the enemy's attention. Drake wasn't vain. He knew his aquiline nose was a little too thin and that some may think his grey eyes were a bit too tiger-ish, but he didn't figure he was an anecdote either. Twenty-nine was a good age for him, still youthful yet experienced enough in the ways of the world to charm a lonely woman. Unless his years of pleasuring women had been all a wet dream, the new president of Bare Pleasures was definitely a lonely woman. He didn't care how many gadgets she created to please the female body. There was no substitute for the real thing.

A half hour later, just as he strode up to the entrance of the restaurant, he turned toward the street in time to see Sheila step from a Mercedes-Benz SL550 Roadster. Jealousy nearly ate him alive, until he focused on the woman uncurling her curvy figure from behind the wheel. She wore a skin tight black dress cut so low in the front and back, her creamy cleavage and the beginnings of her sexy rear were in view. Drake yanked at his pants to relieve some of the tightness in the crotch. Well, at least he'd enjoy taking her when that time came. He itched to skim his fingertips over her body.

He watched with interest as she turned to thank the valet who took her keys. Her smile was radiant, he admitted to himself. Her eyes captured him as if she'd tossed a net, and he was hard-pressed to focus his mind on his plan. He found himself wanting to stroke her long coal black hair, which she always wore over her ears. Upon occasion, he'd even seen her tug at the locks, as if she was making sure to keep her ears hidden. Drake smiled to himself. He didn't believe for a moment a woman that hot had ears that didn't match the perfection. Another interesting thing to discover about her.

Remembering that this was his enemy, and before she could spot him, he ducked inside the restaurant to await their “chance encounter."

* * * *
So that he didn't stick out as a sore thumb, he'd snapped up something that fit in with the clothes the males wore in the restaurant. What he considered was a street walker's costume, he wore plain black slacks and a white crisp shirt. The tie at his neck squeezed too harshly on a neck his mother had insisted was as thick as a tree trunk, so he touched a finger to it with a dab of magic to hold it in place without the piece that wrapped around his throat. It would do for the short time he intended to be present in the restaurant.

He could not push his luck. The council members had not given him permission to make direct contact with the woman calling herself Sheila Gibson, so he could not repeat his earlier actions. If she complained to the wrong person, he would be in as much trouble as she was. An emissary did not overstep his bounds, especially in her case. He had to bide his time and wait for orders.

That, however, did not include him interfering with the plans of a certain man who was interested in Ms. Gibson. Making friends of not only Fae, but also other creatures secretly inhabiting the human world, had paid off. One of his friends had let him know of Drake Corbon's plans for Sheila. While he liked the idea of Drake ruining the Gibsons, he felt it interfered with the woman and her mother getting their just deserts, such as being punished for misuse of magic. That was his goal, and that would be accomplished, no matter what. Interference from a human would not be allowed.

His quarry was entering the restaurant now, looking like the cat that had swallowed the canary. So the human was confident that he would win the woman. Not if Dugan could help it. As he pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against and strolled toward Drake, Dugan searched his mind for the right spell. Ah yes, it came to him. Something to make the man lose interest, even forget all about his target. It wouldn't last long. That would take something more elaborate than he could do here in a public area, but just a tap should do the trick long enough to keep the man from his aim.

As if in slow motion, the two men passed each other along an aisle leading toward the door, straight through sets of tables. Briefly, before they were side by side, Dugan met Drake's eyes, and he saw the recognition in the other man's gaze. It did not worry him. He turned his head away and made sure to bump against Drake, while simultaneously touching a finger to the other man's arm. A spark of light lit the grey material and then was gone. The moment passed with a nod and a muttered apology. The deed was done.

* * * *
Chez Purcell was Sheila's favorite restaurant. The food was great, the prices were reasonable and the ambiance was just what she needed to unwind. Having confirmed her reservation, she strolled behind the host and headed toward her favorite spot. The windows overlooked the bay, with boats leisurely sailing in and out of port. She could lose herself in that scene while enjoying veal tenderloin medallions in the normande style—apple and cream sauce. Her mouth was watering just imagining it. She would allow François to choose her wine as always. He knew just what she would like.

Sheila's mind was so focused on her meal that she was not attending to where she was going. A solid chest—and solid everywhere else—slammed into her. She nearly fell, but the stranger's arms encircled her, dragging her to the warmth of his body. Her breasts crushed into his suit jacket, and she could feel his fingertips against the bare skin of her back. Lightning shot through her, making her knees give, yet his strong arms held her in place.

Aware that the man was as hard as a rock against her stomach, for even in high heels the top of her head reached only just beneath his chin, heat rose in Sheila's cheeks. Swallowing, she glanced up at him.

"Um, sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going.” She was expecting him to gush, recognizing her face. Instead, there was a slight apologetic air about the man without recognition or interest.

"No harm done.” His voice was smooth and deep. Chills raced over her exposed flesh. He continued. “If you feel you can stand, I'll let you go."

Now her face did flame. The man didn't recognize her, and wasn't interested at all. His erection must be for some other woman—probably his date, which Sheila must be ticking off if the woman saw how she stood molded against the man.

She pulled herself from his embrace, feeling oddly bereft at the loss of the pleasurable contact. The man was hot, with a linebacker's shoulders fitted snug in his suit jacket. The coal black hair, tussled boyishly about his head, set off eyes so pale they could have come from a wild animal rather than a human. His full lips and square jaw made Sheila want to jump back into his arms, but he was already turning away.

"Have a good evening,” he mumbled as he sidestepped her and continued on his way.

Sheila looked back to watch him walk as the cologne he wore permeated her breathing space. She inhaled it, experiencing again the feel of being in his arms. There was without a doubt no substitution for the real thing. Veal and the bay outside the windows was forgotten. The most important thing at that moment was discovering just who this delicious stranger was and convincing him that she was all that should be on his menu for the evening.




Chapter Three
Finagling an invite to the stranger's table for dinner had almost been humiliating. Normally, she would never have given a man the power to reject her. Men wielded too much authority as it was in the world, that and the fact that they couldn't keep their private parts in check. But she wasn't looking to love this beautiful specimen of manhood. She only wanted to be pleasured by him a while. Her emotions could stay tucked away, safe from the other thing inherent in men—that of breaking one's heart. No, she could handle things just fine.

"And your name is?” she queried him, staring into those amazing eyes.

"Drake Corbon.” He paused as if waiting for her to comment on his name.

She didn't. The name Corbon rang a bell, but Sheila wasn't going to ask too many questions about it. That would provoke him to do the same, and since he obviously did not watch TV or read a business newspaper, he didn't recognize hers. She wanted to keep it that way. Most men were intimidated by who she was or were angry about her creation of products that allowed women to be self-sufficient in the bedroom. It didn't allow for many of her own forays there with the opposite sex, which was a shame.

"So what do you do, Drake?” She offered him her most seductive smile, placing one hand beneath her chin and leaning forward. She knew the cut of her dress was appealing. The delicate material, along with its snug fit had always done the trick to make her feel attractive. Besides that, the black hid problem areas despite how much it revealed.

To her annoyance, the grey eyes did not waver from her face. “I work in a bookstore at the moment."

She waited for him to elaborate, to say that he owned a chain of them, or maybe that he was the district manager. When had she become so snooty? Still, he couldn't mean what it sounded like he meant. “Um, that's nice."

She thought she saw a flash of irritation, but then it was gone. He smiled, revealing even white teeth. “I'm splurging tonight. My birthday. My grandfather and I celebrated earlier, taking in a game, but since he was tired, I came out alone."

"Oh, happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Your grandfather?” She closed her eyes a moment, remembering her father, back home. The last time she'd seen him was when she was twelve. She longed to see him again, but that was out of the question. With effort, she suppressed the memories. “Do you have any other family? Sisters or brothers?"

"No, I'm an only child. How about you?” His question seemed flat, like he could care less, but the friendly smile never wavered from his lips. Maybe he had no interest in her at all. Perhaps he preferred blondes.

"I'm one of many.” It was hard keeping the bitterness out of her tone. She rushed ahead to cut off any more questions about her family. “But my family is somewhat estranged. In a way, I guess you could say I'm an only child also."

He shrugged. After nearly an hour and a half, Sheila gave up. While Drake was all that was friendly and kind, somehow he appeared dead inside, or maybe angry. Yet, that seemed impossible since he didn't recognize her name. Then again, maybe he did and wanted to see if the rumors were true, that she was a man-hater. Could he be pretending? Why did he even bother allowing her to sit down if he wasn't interested?

She stood, pushing back her chair. “I'm sorry to have bothered you, Drake. I hope that your birthday is wonderful and that you have many more. I think that maybe I was a little too forward by inviting myself to your table. Good evening."

Pivoting on her heel, she took a step away from the table only to be stopped by his hand. He stood, swung her to face him, and then pressed himself against her. When his lips came down on hers, it was like a fire lit in her belly. Her knees went weak again, her lips parted, and Drake drove deep inside with his tongue.

They were in the middle of a classy restaurant where this type of behavior wasn't tolerated, but Sheila didn't care one bit. She lifted her hands to lock them behind his neck, while pushing up to the tips of her toes. The hard bulge pressed into her belly could not be mistaken this time. He did want her.

After several moments, Drake pulled back to rest his hands on her shoulders. “That dress."

Like a giddy fool, Sheila grinned up at him. “Yes?"

"You might as well be naked."

She pouted. What was coming over her? “You don't like it?"

"Be serious.” He chuckled. “I said, you might as well be naked, didn't I?"

His meaning became crystal clear. It was an invitation to his bed. Okay, use your brain, Sheila. This man wasn't on the same financial level as she was. He could be no more than a gold digger. She didn't know him from Adam. Sleeping with a man on the first date—and really this couldn't even be called a date—was a bad idea.

"I don't know you.” Her protest was weak.

He leaned closer, allowing the warmth of his breath against her mouth and the scent of his cologne to sway her common sense. “Would you like to?"

"Be serious,” she whispered.

His fingers trailed a hot path down her back in the center of her spine. When he teased the curve of her bottom, even being so bold as to dip beneath the delicate material, hot lust had Sheila sagging against him, unable to put together a coherent thought. “Do you have magic?"

She squeaked, jerked from her daze by his words. “W-What do you mean?"

He captured her trembling lips in a quick kiss before answering. “I swear that when I first bumped into you, it was like I was coming out of a trance, like I was blind. So, what I want to know, pretty lady, is if you have put a spell on me."

Relief washed over her. She chuckled, “No, I didn't put a spell on you. Unless you want me to. Shall I make you my sex slave? Put you in handcuffs and force you to do my bidding?"

Lust flamed in his eyes at her words. Knowing how much he wanted her had Sheila nearly panting herself. She just hoped she wasn't truly playing with fire. As if he was really coming out of a trance, Drake pulled back from her and glanced around the room. “Come on. Let's get out of here."

* * * *
Her convertible was not roomy enough to accommodate two adults making love, even with Sheila wedged firmly on Drake's lap in the passenger's seat. Her dress was hiked up around her waist, and his fingers were beneath the white scrap of lace that made up her thong panties. The touch of his fingers there tossed a bucket of cold water on Sheila's desires. The panties were her prototype for a skimpier pleasure panty. If Drake flipped the switch accidentally, she'd be reaching her peak before he could even get undressed.

She grasped his hands and pulled them away before the secret of her identity was revealed. “I think that maybe we shouldn't move so fast,” she told him as she slid off his lap. “I don't jump into bed with men the first time I lay eyes on them."

The grey eyes were still dark with desire. “That's too bad. I'm all worked up with nowhere to play."

His gaze indicated the erection as clear as the tenting of his pants. Sheila licked her lips. It was all she could do not to reach out and stroke him. In her mind's eye, she could see it bare, its protruding head making her want to taste him. Fanning herself and taking deep breaths, she twisted in her seat to face forward. Her hands shook as they gripped the steering wheel. What had she been thinking to drive to a secluded area, where no one was around to make love with a man she didn't know? Drake could be a killer, and no one would be the wiser should he decide to end her life back there in the waning light of the sun.

Uncomfortable with her thoughts and the pictures they projected to her mind, Sheila squirmed in her seat, at the same time trying to pull her short dress a little lower on her thighs. An instant later, she was battling a climax. In her wiggling about and yanking on her clothes, she'd done just what she feared Drake would do. She'd flipped the subtle switch on her panties. Right then, wispy little “fingers” were stroking her button while extending inside her already moist center.

"Oh my,” she squeaked.

Drake eyed her suspiciously. She squirmed, trying to find the switch in the dark without pulling her dress up. Too late she realized the best outfit to wear with this garment was one that could be accessed from the waist downward. The switch was meshed into the band of her panties where she couldn't reach unless she bared all again for Drake to see.

As she continued to fight her rising tide of pleasure, she glanced at the man next to her from the corner of her eye. He was staring. Slowly, a grin spread across his face. Sheila swallowed and twisted to face her fate.

"I know who you are,” he whispered. “Truth is, I've known for a while. But that's not important to you right now, is it, Sheila?"

She closed her eyes and bit down on her lip.

He leaned closer, reached for one of her knees and spread her legs wider. “Don't fight it. Give in to it while I watch."

She gasped, “I shouldn't.... no ... you...” A complete thought refused to come. She was panting hard. By spreading her legs, Drake had sent her into overdrive. His wanting to watch her was an unexpected turn-on.

"Stop fighting,” he commanded. Not pausing to ask permission, Drake slipped fingers inside the front of her dress to tweak her nipples. She hadn't been able to wear a pleasure bra with this dress, but her would-be lover's hands were doing all a woman could ask for. “Come for me."

"No,” she whimpered, but it was too late. She arched her back, lifted her heels as high as she could and screeched with pleasure as her orgasm shattered all control. Drake encircled her waist with his arms and covered her mouth with his, his tongue tangling with her own for long minutes.

When the pleasure of her release began to subside, normal thought returned. Sheila shoved Drake away from her, yanked up her dress to switch off the panties and straightened her clothing. “Get out."

"What?” He turned a confused look on her.

"You heard me.” She pressed the switch to unlock the car. “This was obviously some kind of trap to lure me into ... whatever, so just get out of my car."

He crossed his arms. “No."

"What?” Sheila couldn't believe he had the audacity to refuse. Since he'd known all along who she was, that he had ulterior motives was obvious. She didn't care what they were, but being a man, they had to be wrong. So he could get the hell out of her life now.

He wasn't budging. “Look, beautiful, I want you. That's a given. You're the hottest woman I've ever laid eyes on. But you already know you're hot, and a woman doesn't necessarily like hearing that from a man she's just met. It makes it sound like he just wants to sleep with her."

"Exactly,” she yelled.

He laughed, a cold sound. “Yes, exactly. That's all I want—to spread those sexy legs and ram myself as hard as I can inside you."

Sheila tried not to show how his words had her panting. The wetness between her legs, which had slowed, felt like it was flowing again. She bit into her bottom lip.

"But that's what you wanted too, and don't you deny it. I run into a hot woman in a restaurant—on my birthday, no less—and her body gives me an erection so tight it's painful. What was I supposed to do upon finding she was none other than the head of that sex gadgets company? My hard-on didn't give a rat's ass who you were. I did what I had to do to get you."

His words angered her. They proved he was no different than her estimation of men. They were after one thing and one thing only. If they had to lie, they would to get a woman in bed. But then, he knew she felt that way. Yet, he'd admitted it. He openly admitted to being the dog she thought all men were. And he was right. She did only want sex from him. They were two consenting adults, aware of what they were getting into. But that was no reason to give him what he wanted right away.

"Fine. But I still don't jump into bed on the first date.” At his look, she rushed ahead. “What we just did doesn't count. There wasn't consummation."

He looked amused.

"If you want me in your bed, you'll have to date me a few times first—maybe even a couple of months.” She waited for his reaction, expecting a protest or anger.

He grinned, which transformed his face from the sexy lover she craved to an innocent boy. Surprisingly, it drew her to him just the same. “Okay, deal. But give me a couple weeks. I have to get a second job or something to put together enough to take you out."

Sheila wondered if this was a mistake, but looking into the pale eyes, her heart sped up with longing. She retrieved her purse from the floor of the car and pulled a business card from it. “Here, call my office in the morning. My assistant will find you something that pays enough for you to work only one job."

He pressed his lips together, nodded, and took the card.




Chapter Four
The man, small of stature, with short tight curls haloing his head, drummed long, thin fingers on the table top. Apparently assessing the mood of the elders, his beady eyes darted back and forth among the company.

Pushing back his forest-green hood from his head, the emissary stepped into view of all. “I have come to report, gentleman ... and lady.” He nodded to the elegant woman seated at the end of the table. She inclined her head regally, as if she were in some way superior to all present. He knew that was not the case. She was an elder, but not senior to the others.

Halo Hair waved him to a seat, and he took the empty one next to the lady. No one needed to tell him the subject of the conversation. It was obvious by the resentment, the bickering and the disagreement all around. Most, if not all, felt something should be done, but no one knew what, given the identity of the woman in question. Absolutely no one wanted to go against the Faerie king's wishes.

"Quiet, everyone! Report, please, Dugan,” called one of the others.

He nodded. “I have observed ... um, I believe she is calling herself Sheila. I have observed Sheila and found that she is indeed using her magic to produce the, er, garments that are so popular among human women."

Before he could continue, there was a general uproar, everyone speaking at once. Fists pounded the aged wood of the table, demanding justice. “This is an outrage,” declared Halo Hair.

"Agreed,” the lady spoke up. “It is against our laws to use magic for gain in this vulgar way. When I think of all the sexual toys she and her mother have produced using our sacred words, I feel ill."

"You would, considering you don't get any yourself! But then whose fault is that, I ask you? I'll tell you. Your own!” Dugan didn't have personal dealings with the elder who shouted that insult, but he did have trouble suppressing his feelings on the matter.

"Now, now,” the oldest said. “There should not be insults among us, brothers and sister. We need to decide what to do about this situation, whether punishment is due."

Another called out, “We already know punishment is due. But no one wants to go against the Faerie king."

Dugan cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir. I agree that we have to be careful, but surely, you all agree that something must be done. This has been going on for years, escalating with each new product this company produces. In fact, the daughter has gone beyond anything the mother has ever created."

"Fortunately, or unfortunately in this case, son, we're a patient and forgiving people. We have delayed in the hope that the situation would work itself out in time. No need to rush, long life and all that. But I do understand there's more at stake now. Is that right, Dugan?"

"Sir,” he affirmed. He stretched out a hand before him, his fingers curved toward the ceiling. Green lightening began in his palm to grow until it was the size of a beach ball, balanced on his fingertips. The transparent center became cloudy, then swirled to form the image of a man's head and shoulders. “This is Drake Corbon. He has launched a campaign of revenge against Sheila."

"But why? What has she done to him personally?” the elder queried.

Dugan willed the picture to change to that of Corbon's grandfather. “Her mother publicly humiliated him. You remember, the incident that set off our investigations."

"Why that's—"

"Yes, sir.” Dugan interrupted him. He did not want to rehash all that had passed in the interest of those present. They all knew the history of this particular man.

The elder seemed to understand immediately. “Quite."

Dugan continued with his report. “Corbon's professional life has been affected. He cannot gain the respect he deserves in the invention industry because of that incident and his own aptitude for bad luck. The two of them, he and his grandfather, have lived in straightened circumstances since the bankruptcy."

The lady harrumphed. “That's painting it on a little thick, don't you think, Dugan? If he is so brilliant, then he should be able to get a decent job just as anyone else can. We cannot get involved in the lives of every person who refuses to work for what they want."

Dugan frowned, deciding not to address her feelings on the matter. “With all due respect, lady, Corbon has worked very hard most of his life. He is a gifted inventor and has created many useful gadgets. However, he is met with prejudice, and as I said, bad luck at every turn. While I have not found the evidence yet, I suspect that Sheila's mother is still blocking success in that family."

This pronouncement caused another uproar. Arms waved in the air, temperatures rose, and nothing was being decided. Dugan released the magic that allowed them to view Corbon and sat back in his chair.

"Order!” The table rose without hands touching it and slammed down with a bang. The room grew quiet. The eldest spoke, “We cannot allow these lawbreakers to manipulate a young man's life until he is ruined. Now, we agree that punishment needs to be determined. The question is what punishment. Dugan, you may go. When we have come to a final decision, we will contact you. In the meantime, keep an eye on developments. Report if necessary."

Dugan stood, bowed, and left the room in a flash of light.

* * * *
Dugan stood watching Sheila and Drake laugh over lunch at what had seemed to become their favorite restaurant, Chez Purcell. No matter what he had tried, his attempts were foiled. Had he known better, he would have thought that Sheila herself was breaking the spells he'd cast on Drake to keep him disinterested in the woman. But he knew that his magic was more developed than hers, him being a trained emissary of the high council. So how was she doing it? Or how was Drake so impervious to his interference in their relationship? Was the sexual attraction between the two that strong that every time they touched, nothing could bind either of them? The thought of it frustrated him more. And he was out of ideas.

As Dugan continued to watch their happy laughter and easy camaraderie, an idea came to mind. He glanced around him, seeing that no one noticed him. Uttering the spell he'd learned back in the academy, he felt the first changes in his body begin. Moments later, he was a woman—a very voluptuous woman with long hair, curvy figure and clothes that left little to the imagination. Now to end this farce of a relationship so that Sheila's real punishment can begin.

* * * *
"You're determined to charm me, aren't you?” Sheila tilted her head to one side as she studied Drake. He was so handsome, and she could get lost in his eyes. If she wasn't careful, she could even fall in love with him. That would be the biggest mistake of her life. “I honestly thought you would have run off by now. Men who only want sex don't stick around long when they don't get it."

Drake chuckled. “Well, it's only been a week, and you are my new boss."

"Yes, but we've gone out together every night this week. You must be feeling desperation by now."

The grey eyes darkened as his gaze dropped to her cleavage. “I'm beginning to think maybe you want me to walk out on you. Is that why you've been wearing clothing that barely covers your ... um ... charms?"

Sheila burst out laughing. “I like being sexy at all times. It's not necessarily for a man's attention. But yes, I did notice your eyes straying from my face very often. I thought maybe you were about to explode any day now. Me not giving away the milk and all."

He grunted. “Ugh, can we dispense with the cheesy expressions, please?"

She winked at him. This was bad. She was really getting into Drake. He was charming and funny, considerate. She'd told the truth in saying he hadn't removed his eyes long from her breasts or her rear, but it had turned her on all the more. If Drake was likely to burst because of his pent-up sexual desires, then so was she. Her wait rule was getting old fast.

And then she figured she was right to be cautious. Everyone held back their true colors during the initial dates. She eyed Drake again across the table as he speared a piece of broccoli on his plate. This man was still mostly a stranger, though she had enjoyed watching him charm everyone in her office, including herself. He could be hiding something, a personality flaw somewhere. She hated being suspicious, but that's what came of having a lying, cheating father.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Sheila blinked and then smiled. “I thought we weren't using the cheesy expressions anymore."

"You weren't. I—"

Before he could finish, a woman fell into his lap. Sheila's eyes widened in shock at the woman's scantily clad figure. Her breasts nearly spilled over top the hot pink halter she wore. Her impossibly flat belly was bared revealing a pierced navel. The sweet look of apology in the big blue eyes was not fooling Sheila, but the lust in Drake's had her shoving back her chair to stand.

"Oops, I'm sorry,” heavily made-up lips pouted. “I think I may have had a little too much to drink at our office party."

Drake smiled down at her. “That's okay. No harm done."

Anger surged in Sheila's chest. “I hope I'm not disturbing the two of you with my presence.” She glared at the mesmerized man who she'd just been mentally praising on his character. What a joke that was. He behaved just as any of them did when fresh meat fell into their laps, though this was a literal case. When Drake was scooting the woman to her feet, Sheila stopped him. “Don't bother. I'm leaving."

She tossed down her napkin, gathered her purse, and stomped down the sidewalk. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them away. How she had enjoyed eating lunch outside the cafe with Drake. But it wouldn't happen again. His true self couldn't be hidden. If she wanted a man, she needed to stick to a quick bedding and then cut if off. Feelings got in the way when one dated. She learned her lesson.

Before she could slide into her car, someone grabbed her arm. It was Drake. “Sheila, wait. Look, I don't know where that woman came from, or where she went for that matter. I don't want her. I want you."

She slid her sunglasses on her nose. “Too late, Mr. Corbon. I'd suggest going to find her. She looked just slutty enough to give it to you right away, maybe even right there in front of the cafe."

"Would you listen to reason, woman?” he growled. “So what she was beautiful. I'm a human being, and even you would be tempted to look if it was a man falling in your lap. That doesn't change how I feel about you."

"How you feel?” She laughed. “We have not been seeing each other long enough to feel anything other than lust. Just forget it. This was a mistake anyway, and with you working for me—"

His mouth covered hers. Sheila struggled against his hold, but Drake tightened it, dragging her closer. She felt him grow hard, but nearly cried out thinking it was for the woman at the cafe. His kiss trailed to her neck then down to her shoulder, while he explored her body with his hands. This was the second time they were on display in public. Before she could rail at him again or continue her fight, now against her own desires as well as his, she heard a familiar click.

Pulling back from Drake, she saw Peter Sumner. Damn! She glared at hi, and would have made his film overexpose or his camera break, except as he spun to run away, Drake turned her head to kiss her again. When the tip of his tongue teased hers, all thought of reporters left her mind to enjoy his touch.




Chapter Five
Sheila battled her fear. So what she used her magic to command success. She was making life bearable for many women who had no one to love them. For the women whose husbands, boyfriends or significant others made a habit of cheating and got away with it. Never mind who they hurt in the process, what lives were ruined. Never mind that they abused the power they had, and the woman had to make due with what was left over or worse—flee her home in the middle of the night!

Realizing that her mind was wandering to the past, she snapped it back. She did not want to think of that night when she was twelve. It meant only more pain, more awareness of all she'd loss. She and her mother would never return to Faeryland, and with their company's activities, she wasn't surprised to see an emissary hanging about. She'd seen him at the press conference and again a few days later when she'd been so happy thinking of her coming affair with Drake.

Of course, now that she wasn't so sure there would be an affair after what Drake had pulled the day before, maybe the only thing she needed to worry about was the emissary's orders regarding her. The hooded figure with pale face and eyes that saw through her disguise made her tremble with fear of what he could do.

As she stood at the window in her plush office, she ran fingers through the thick strands of her hair, her habit for all these years to be sure that her secret remained. With a sigh, she pressed a finger through the curtain of her hair to the sensitive flesh of her ear. Tracing the curve upward, she came to the telltale point. Fae. If anyone found out that she used her powers for financial gain—and the presence of the emissary meant they had—she would be facing charges. Who knew why they were delaying, why the emissary had simply warned her and watched her now. But then, from all her mother had told her over the years, the council was famous for dragging its feet. Maybe they would never do anything to her at all.

Still, it had been a bad move to do the press conference. But something inside her hoped that he would be monitoring human TV, her father. Although why he should, she didn't know. She wanted him to see her success, see how she grew up to be a woman to be reckoned with. If anyone should be punished, it should be him. But that would never happen.

Shaking herself, she moved to the door and flung it open. Another look to see how Drake was doing couldn't hurt. The man was the stuff for a female wet dream. After she'd left him at his apartment the day before when they'd argued, she'd gone home to test the panties again. This time, her mind had been full of Drake Corbon, and pleasure knew no bounds in the process. Since he was a man, and she would not give the credit to his gender, she decided to market the thong panties as going the extra mile beyond the bikini style. The women would snap it up, and she'd be looking at another best seller.

She soon spotted Drake at a copier, jacket stripped off, tie eschew. A small crowd of women surrounded him. Sheila cleared her throat, and an opening presented itself. “Ladies, don't you have something to do?"

Drake turned a charming smile on her. “Sorry, Sheila. The copier jammed, and a couple of the ladies asked me to take a look."

Sheila pretended that grin did nothing to her insides and did not make her knees unsteady. He wore the same suit he'd worn on their first date. She'd have to do something about getting him more clothes. Almost a chuckle escaped. How the tables were turned. She was actually looking at Drake as if he were a kept man—her kept man. If she decided to keep him. He would serve a purpose, and she would keep her heart under lock and key.

"I'm sure that's not necessary,” she told him, hands on her hips. “All of these women know to call our repairman for that."

The women scattered.

"And from the look of things, you aren't doing anything to the machine.” She cocked an eyebrow at him as he leaned a hip against the side of the contraption. Visions of what he looked like out of the suit danced in her head. She wrestled them down.

A whirring sound came from the copier. Sheila wondered if he'd broken it with his fiddling. Before she could command him to leave it alone, something flat and metallic slid from the compressed innards of the machine, like a ticket being dispensed. Sheila gasped, at a loss to what it was.

"Are you impressed?” Drake asked, bending to retrieve the gadget. She stepped closer, her nostrils assailed by his delicious scent. He twisted to give her a look. “See these buttons, that screen?"

She nodded.

"It's an assessor. I can put this puppy in any machine I program it for, and it will assess the problem and suggest the solution."

Her eyes widened. “I am impressed. And how long does it take for it to work?"

"Less than five minutes,” he announced proudly.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, an act that sent shivers down her spine and made her want to visit the ladies room with her pleasure thongs. “You should patent that quick."

"Why before you steal it?” His words were hard, less so than his voice. She could not have heard him right.

"What?"

"I-I ... nothing. Sorry, I feel grumpy since I haven't had my lunch yet.” He glanced down at his watch. “It's after two."

Watching him a moment longer, she then hooked her arm through his. “Well, in that case, we should go. I'm famished. My treat."

She felt his hesitation, but pulled him along anyway. He wouldn't be able to get away without causing a scene, and she was in the mood for some Chinese. This would be a good time for him to charm her to get into her bed and make up for the day before. While she pretended that she was going to hold out long to give him the privilege, the thought of making love with Drake was too much. It had been years since she'd been intimate with anyone. Letting him get away would be a big mistake. Only after she'd teased him into a nice big hard-on a few times, would she climb up on it, and give herself and him the ride of their lives. In the meantime, she had to figure out how such a fascinating and obviously intelligent man could be so poor and without prospects.

* * * *
Fool! He'd almost blown it with Sheila. Drake needed to be more careful. He had never imagined she'd be so much fun or so hard to resist. Not that he wanted to resist her. It might take a man stronger than he was to keep his hands off of her body. Had she told him that along with not jumping into her bed, he also would not be allowed to enjoy her hot kisses and strokes of that luscious body, she would have dropped him long before now. Keeping his hands to himself was impossible where she was concerned.

Then he'd nearly blown his whole plan by letting that slut get him riled when she fell into his lap. He was a man, damn it, of course he liked what he saw. But that didn't mean he was going to give in to it. All of his adult life, Drake had chosen his bed partners carefully. The women were ones he was physically attracted to, whether they were drop dead gorgeous or not, and they were always intelligent. He didn't go in for the empty-headed women who were all breasts. But he wouldn't be a man if he didn't glance now and then.

But something about that woman seemed false, and she couldn't have come at a worse time. She'd disappeared almost as if she'd performed some kind of magic. And just when Sheila was beginning to warm to him. He'd seen it in her eyes, that dreamy look. It was that of a woman falling in love. Now that look was transformed to suspicion, distrust. It angered him that in a matter of moments, he was thrust back to the first night like they'd just met. No matter. He would just have to work harder and keep a sharper lookout for foils to his plan. No more wandering eyes. It was time to step up his game plan.

* * * *
Lunch with Sheila on a daily basis was great, but Drake needed a more romantic setting. So, he convinced her, nights later, to stroll along the boardwalk parallel to the bay. At ten p.m., the crowds had thinned significantly, and he had hope that no one would disturb them.

"Okay, Mr. Corbon, you got me out here. Now it's time to confess. What's up with you?” Sheila's green eyes arrested him, and he found it hard to look away.

Drake stiffened. “What do you mean?"

She stopped walking and turned to face the water. Her enjoyment of watching it, being near it, was apparent in the serenity of her face. “Well, you're obviously brilliant. So why are you poor? Forgive my bluntness. No offense."

For a moment, Drake considered lying, but sticking close to the truth meant not tripping oneself up later. “Well, we did have a family business once, but well, you know how business is. There's always someone who's better. As for my present circumstances, if I can catch a break, everything would be great. It just seems like no matter which way I turn, something blocks me. I tell you if I believed in curses, I'd say I was cursed big time."

She gasped. “Cursed?"

He looked at her. “Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense."

She laughed nervously. “Of course not.” Something told Drake she was lying. Now why would a beautiful and successful businesswoman like Sheila Gibson believe in magic? While he had personally taken apart every one of her products to find the secret, nothing made any sense. If it were not so fantastic, he would say she had magic of her own. He laughed silently. That was ridiculous.

"I have an idea.” He took her hand and ran down to the opening in the walkway that led to the water. At this point, there was actually a small beach which ran very close to the street. A narrow patch of sand made up the shore before the water.

Sheila laughed. “What are you doing, Drake?"

"Going for a swim.” He stopped and began removing his clothes. As he lifted his T-shirt over his head, he heard her gasp. Satisfaction surged through him. Sheila wanted him, and the knowledge turned him on even more. “Are you too chicken to join me, Ms. Gibson?"

"The beach is closed, you nut. You'll get yourself arrested."

He ignored her warning and began strolling into the surf. Before long, he heard her splashing in behind him. To not turn around to take in that sexy body now naked took willpower. He grew stiff just thinking about it.

When he was immersed up to his waist to hide his reaction to her, Drake turned to face Sheila. He nearly fell backward beneath the waves when she threw herself into his arms. “I want you and you know it."

"Did I ever deny it?” He slid a hand around behind her, reveling in the feel of her firm breasts pressed against his bare skin. Sliding a hand down her spine, Drake pulled her into him by cupping her rear. His manhood lengthened as he slid it between her legs. An ache started in his loins to be inside her. “Let me take you now, Sheila,” he murmured against her lips.

"I-It's too soon.” Her voice wavered, and her continued delay frustrated him. He fought with his anger, wanting to be extra careful not to blow it with her. But Sheila had been running the show the entire time they were seeing each other. He was a man, damn it. He needed a little of his own back.

He leaned away from her, watching her face and noting the nervousness there. He knew she was just afraid to fall hard for him, but he'd do everything in his power to be sure that happened. Even if it meant seducing the headstrong businesswoman. He ran a hand down between their bodies, stroking her belly. The water lapped at her navel, and he followed with feather touches that teased her. When she tilted back her head and closed her eyes, he ran his hand up higher to brush at her nipples. The little buds stood erect, craving his touch.

She was so beautiful. Her creamy, smooth skin made him desperate to taste her, to stick his tongue in all the places that would make her cry out his name. For now, he settled on her soft breasts. Leaning down, he planted kisses on the quivering mounds, followed by flicks of his tongue.

"Drake...” He nearly came at her sweet cry of his name. Wanting to hear it again, he sucked harder at her nipple, flicking while the peak was held captive inside his mouth. Sheila whined. Her knees gave, and he tightened his grip on her waist.

"You want me now, Sheila,” he told her firmly.

"Drake, I..."

For all of a second, Drake considered charming her into letting this be the night. He struggled to cling to his gentleman role, but he wanted her now. His body couldn't hold out any longer. She wanted it as much as he did, so why wait?

While he still teased her breasts, he slid his hand down between her legs. Even in the water, he felt her slick wetness. She was so ready for him. He pushed two fingers inside her and stroked in and out. Triumph spread through him when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pumped her hips so that she slid up and down his digits. He used his thumb to rub against her swollen nub.

He lifted his head. “You want me now, don't you, baby?” His question was more of a demand. He felt her tremble in response.

"Yes,” she gasped. “Please, yes, Drake. Now."

Drake pulled his fingers free, then lifted Sheila so that her legs wrapped around his waist. He eased back and felt his shaft head press against her warm entrance. Glorious waves of pleasure began as he slid only an inch into her. Sheila clenched against his waist in anticipation. As amazing as the feeling of entering this incredible woman was, Drake felt almost bereft when he was snatched back away from her and dragged beneath the waves, waves that had suddenly become violent.




Chapter Six
Sheila stared in shocked horror when Drake went under. Something was dragging him deeper into the water. She saw him pushing hard to stay above the surface and knew his lungs must be burning from lack of oxygen. When his head rose above the water once more, she began running as fast as the water and sand would allow, toward him. He choked and sputtered. “Sheila, get out of the water!"

She shook her head as if he could see. “No, take my hand, Drake. Take my hand."

He went down again. Fear tightened in her chest. Visually, she frantically searched the depths when he disappeared, for any clue that would let her know what was happening. These waters were not known for shark attacks. She couldn't imagine what it could be, but her soon to be lover was in trouble. She needed to do something, anything.

Feeling like a fool for not thinking of it sooner, knowing what she was, Sheila raised her hand and flicked her fingers toward the choppy waves like one would to flick something from the fingertips. The water blew backward from her, almost parting with the intensity of the force. Immediately, she caught sight of Drake, still struggling. With a twist of her wrist and closing of her fingers into a fist, her magic took hold of him, and she pulled backward. The resistance was at first impossible. Then she felt whatever held him give. Drake shot up from the depths to barrel into her, knocking her over.

Sheila wrapped an arm about him, and together they struggled toward the shore. Exhausted, they collapsed, holding each other in a tight embrace while Drake struggled to catch his breath. Sheila cradled Drake's head against her chest, hating the hurt she felt at almost losing him. For no reason she could think of, she glanced down at his feet. Tiny sparkles glittered on one ankle. “What the hell?” she muttered.

Drake lifted his head. “What is it?"

She pulled him back against her, afraid he might see. “Nothing, baby. I was just wondering what that was, a shark or something I guess."

He didn't answer, and Sheila was glad, for she was convinced with the evidence around his ankle. Someone with magic had tried to drown Drake. That person obviously didn't want their relationship to move forward, though she couldn't imagine what faerie or other magical creature would do such a thing. It was against their laws to hurt humans. She pressed closer to him, closing her eyes. She didn't want to think of her own activities, realizing that facing her own crimes meant admitting that others too might ignore the rules and try to hurt the man she was drawn to more every day.

* * * *
Sheila woke the next morning and eased out from under Drake's arm. Regret washed over her that they still hadn't been intimate, well not all the way. A few fondles and some finger and tongue action didn't count. She was sexually frustrated, but after their scare, neither had been in the mood.

She sat on the edge of Drake's lumpy bed and glanced around the sparsely furnished room. He had so little compared to her, but she'd seen him look genuinely happy and content at times. She couldn't imagine accepting such a life. When he'd suggested they come here to his small apartment, it took everything in her not to balk, but she had wanted to be with him, even if they just held each other. And she wasn't ready yet to bring him to her own home. That would be like opening herself to him, and that just wasn't happening any time soon.

As quiet and quick as she could, she dressed. She had a date with a certain parent, though her mother didn't know it. Sheila planned to step through a portal to Paris to confront her mother. If the woman was meddling in her love life, Sheila would put her in her place. This wouldn't be the first time her mother had tried to sabotage a relationship Sheila had with a man. Just because Claudia had written off men didn't mean her daughter had.

Locating a pen and paper, she scratched Drake a note and then let herself out. She tiptoed on bare feet, holding her shoes in her hand, and exited the apartment before Drake's grandfather spotted her. A half hour later, she was in her own shower and preparing mentally for her confrontation with her mother.

* * * *
Sheila knew that on the other side of the doorway, she could step through into her mother's villa. Before stepping over the magical threshold, she took a deep breath, gathering her strength to deal with the woman who couldn't have moved to Paris soon enough.

The house was quiet. “Mother? Mother, where are you?"

She strolled through the lavishly appointed rooms, thinking she recognized her own sense of style and not liking the knowledge. Claudia was not the kind of woman to be nominated mother of the year.

Her mother strolled in from a room at the back. “Oh, Sheila, dear. What are you doing here?"

"I'll ask the questions, Mother,” Sheila told her, her arms folded across her chest.

Her mother's green eyes widened. “Don't sound like some detective on a TV show, Sheila. It's beneath you. You're much more intelligent than that.” Claudia moved to a table against the wall and began trimming the flowers in a vase atop it.

Sheila joined her. “You're right, Mother. I am intelligent. Enough to know that someone is meddling in my love life."

She frowned, not entirely sure the look of surprise on her mother's face was genuine. Claudia had made no secret of the fact that she felt a woman would get along in life entirely without a man, that Sheila herself should follow this philosophy. She understood her mother had been deeply hurt all those years ago, and she sympathized, even shunned falling in love because of it. But that didn't mean she should not take a lover. That was asking too much.

"Don't give me that look, Mother. You already know that last night, someone used magic to attack my friend, Drake. He was almost drowned. I don't understand why you can't let me lead my own life."

Her mother stopped fiddling with the flowers and turned to face her. “First, I am not the one casting spells to drown your man though it does sound like a good idea if you really are seeing one. Second, I do not interfere in your life, dear. I only make suggestions."

"Strong suggestions."

"Oh, pish posh,” her mother tutted. She wiggled her fingers and suddenly all the flowers, which were curling and turning brown, came back to life. “Ah, much better. Now, about your problem."

"I wouldn't have a problem, if you'd leave me be."

Her mother started to walk away and then stopped. “Where were you that your friend almost drowned?"

Sheila sighed. “As if that has anything to do with it. We were at the beach. And if you didn't do it, then who did?"

"Well you did mention that emissary visiting you. I told you to lie low, Sheila, darling, but you refuse to heed your poor mother's warnings.” She continued out of the room with Sheila following close behind. “If they have decided on your fate for breaking their archaic rules, then what can we do?"

"My fate!” Holding her temper was getting increasingly difficult. “You are the one who started this company. All because of—"

Her mother shrieked, “Don't say it. Sheelagh Magee of the Emerald Isle Faeries, don't you dare say that name in this house."

Sheila paused, staring at her mother in bewilderment. After a beat, she spoke. “I thought we were never again using our real names. Isn't that what you said? A lot of good it does us when faeries can track us anytime they want. He can track us ... if he wanted to."

The realization that her mother had started to cry was a shock. Sheila rushed across the space between the two of them to wrap her arms around her mother. After all this time, she still loves the bastard, Sheila thought angrily. “It's okay, Mother. He's not worth it. Don't cry."

They moved to the couch and sat down close together, still embracing. Sheila stroked her mother's hair soothingly. She sighed, allowing the memories she'd suppressed so long to return. He was the king, an unworthy king, but still the ruler of the Faeries.

Her mother seemed to follow her thoughts. “I guess I always thought that the leader of our people should have set a better example. The king would never philander as the young Faerie men do sometimes. What cloud was I born on? And when the truth finally came out ... and I learned that someone I'd trusted..."

"You're not making sense. I know you found out that I have half-siblings out there somewhere."

"Maybe hundreds,” her mother growled in disgust, the tears gone.

"But who is the friend, and what did you learn about her?"

"Him.” Claudia clamped a hand over her mouth. “Never mind, darling. Thank you for comforting me in my time of weakness. I'm better now.” She stood, apparently chipper again. “So, I feel that it must be your emissary that's doing this to you."

Sheila sighed, knowing she would get no more information out of her mother. “He is not my emissary. He works for the high council of faeries. And I know he would not do this, mother. They are very strict and by the book. Emissaries don't act unless they have orders."

"Then perhaps he has them. Now, darling, if you'll excuse me, I have an engagement to attend.” With those words, Claudia smiled pleasantly, snapped her fingers, and was gone from the room in a blink. Sheila huffed, having solved nothing of the reason why someone didn't want her and Drake together.

* * * *
Dugan stepped in the study of the elder Corbon and waited politely for his presence to be noticed. As he studied Drake Corbin's grandfather, bent over a task at his desk, Dugan wondered at how the man had aged. Wrinkles around his eyes and mouth told of his advanced years, and Dugan felt a sense of pity for the man. Being human must be the worst fate a person could be born into.

"Are you going to stand there gawking at me all day, or are you going to speak your piece?” Corbon's voice was deeper, scratchy.

Dugan stepped forward, “Uh, yes. I was waiting for you to acknowledge me ... out of respect."

Corbon cast an unfriendly glare on the faerie. “Well, I assume you have something important to tell me?” And then he stiffened. “The Faerie king?"

"He is well,” Dugan assured him. “I have come for a different matter. I..."

"Spit it out, man. What is it?” Dugan knew that Jefferson Corbon did not particularly favor Faeries as he once did many years ago. Much had happened to sour him in regard to their race. It was a shame, since they had learned much from the old man. His inventions, toys mostly, had delighted many Fae children and even some adult Faeries. He had been full of life, happy to share the wonders of the human world and the Faeries had been equally forthcoming. Now that ease was gone from the sad eyes.

"It's about your grandson, Drake,” Dugan began.

"What about him?"

"Do you know that he is dating none other than Lady Sheelagh Magee, the Faerie king's daughter?"

Corbon's gaze shifted away from his face. “I have heard."

"Heard?” Dugan knew immediately that the man had more than heard. Corbon and his grandson had always been close, from all accounts. And with Corbon's feelings about Faeries, Dugan couldn't imagine that he was happy with the situation. “Surely you have more feeling on the matter than that. Why haven't you put a stop to it? Lady Magee is not ... she is..."

Grey eyes rested on his face. “Be careful what you say, son. She is still your leader's daughter. I imagine that is what has kept her from any ruling coming down on her head for her activities."

Dugan knew frustration was plain on his face. “Yes, well, I have pushed for the council to act, but you know how they are. Old Faeries set in their ways.” Seeing the look of consternation on the old man's face, he rushed ahead. “They are reluctant to act."

"And you don't like that.” Corbon ran a hand over his chin, already rough with a five o'clock shadow at two in the afternoon. “Now why would you be so set on this woman being punished?"

"That's not important,” Dugan assured him. “What is important is that I believe that her mother is casting failure spells on your grandson and her daughter, from what I can tell, is well aware of it.” It was a lie. As far as Dugan could tell from watching Drake and Sheila, the princess still did not know who Drake really was, that her mother had ruined his grandfather.

Corbon gasped in shock. “That can't be. Then why would she go along with seeing him? I know he plans to ... uh ... nothing. If she knows this, then why would she see him?"

"I don't know all the answers just yet, but I suspect she wants to ensure that he keeps failing. I know that your grandson follows in your skills of invention. So why can he not catch a break?"

"Our reputation was ruined by Queen Claudia,” Corbon defended.

Dugan turned away in disgust. “That was years ago. Do you really want me to believe that after all this time, there is not someone, anyone, who will give your grandson a chance? No, there is more at work here. When I find the proof, the queen and princess will be punished, no matter who they are. It is against our laws to work against humans so viciously."

Corbon, who had stood at Dugan's pronouncement, now sank slowly into his seat. “If what you're saying is true, it can't be ignored. I need to talk to Drake as soon as possible."

Dugan shook his head. “That may not work. Then what are you prepared to do? I think something drastic must be done before it is too late and he begins to fall for the conniving woman. I think that you and I can put our heads together to come to a solution."

"Oh, is that what you're getting to?"

"Is that so bad? You were a frequent visitor to Faeryland once. I understand that it can be hard to go back after events. But that was in the past. You really should move on, you know."

Corbon frowned, a look of dislike in his eyes. “Move on? Hm, I was just telling my grandson that not long ago. And don't tell me you understand because you don't. A young man like you would not have been old enough to have seen all that went on."

"With respect, sir,” Dugan's eyes narrowed, “I am one hundred and forty-five. I assure you, I was around. However, you are right. I do not have first hand knowledge. I've been briefed by the council and others in my investigations. I believe your help is the best policy at this time."

The old man leaned back in his seat, a look of serenity settling over his features. “I don't know you personally, but I get the feeling that I am a last resort, that you do not like humans any more than I like Faeries at this point. Am I right? Never mind, don't answer. The question is, what do you think I can do to help in your quest to break up my grandson and the Faerie princess?"

Dugan grinned and sat down in the chair situated opposite Corbon. “First, my name is Dugan. I'm an emissary of the high council of Faeries. And I have a plan."

* * * *
Drake slammed down the phone, then picked the receiver and base up, and slung it across the cubicle. The long chord attached snatched it back to land in a heap at his feet. Frustration, anger, hopelessness all vied for center stage in his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sank down in his chair with his eyes closed.

"Are you okay, Drake?"

He didn't recognize the voice and didn't bother looking up to see who it was. “Fine! I mean, yes, thanks. You know, one of those days.” The thought came to him that he should glance up and smile at the woman to assure her he was fine, but the effort to charm was too much to handle at the moment.

When he continued to ignore the person standing in the entry way to his cube, she finally walked away. Drake slumped over his cookie-cutter desk, the chilled surface cooling his hot forehead, but not his temper. With a vicious shove at his chair, he stood and stomped out to the aisle, turned left and headed straight for Sheila's office. From thirty feet away, he saw that her door was closed with a sign taped against the wood saying “Do Not Disturb."

She would be disturbed, damn it. He didn't care who was in there. As he neared the door, something in the aisle in an L from the one he was marching along caught his eye. He turned his head, but didn't see more than a dark shadow dart around the corner. A creepy feeling came over him, a sense of evil nearby. He shook himself and continued on.

Outside her door, he stopped. What was he going to do or say? That yet another potential investor had turned him down for his new styled dong, and it was all her fault? Even though it was. Nothing, absolutely nothing could compare to the pleasure tools Sheila produced. Yet, no one had been able to prove she was stealing secrets from others or, for that matter, how the hell her products out performed even similar creations. How?

Jealousy and hatred now vied in his stomach. Anger set fire to the whole mess. He pushed open the door too hard. It slammed against the wall behind it. He knew he should smile, make an excuse, but none came to mind, and his face was chiseled into a frown. She and the two ladies, one being Mina, her assistant, looked up from the documents they had been studying. Sheila stopped mid-speech.

A step before opening the door, he thought his annoyance could rise no higher, but it did. At the fact that she looked so hot, so beautiful and self-assured as usual. Her long shapely legs were highlighted in ultra sheer black stockings. His hands itched to reach beneath her mid-thigh length skirt to remove the silky covering. His fingers would seek her warm honey there, which he was confident he could have flowing with just a brush of his tongue.

"Drake, is something wrong?” Sheila called his attention back to her face.

He didn't answer. When he stood unmoving from the entry, she excused the others. She strolled across the room, pulled him farther in and closed the door behind the ladies.

"Now, what's wrong with you? I announced I'd be in a meeting all morning, not to be disturbed."

Drake cut her off abruptly. He lifted a hand to her slender throat and pushed her back against the wall. When she bumped against it, she gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. Seeking what he had longed for in the doorway, he slid a hand beneath her skirt to find her stocking only extended to the top of her thighs. He yanked down on one, deliberately snagging his fingers in the delicate material. All the while, he never wavered from staring into her eyes, seeing the slight fear at his handling of her.

But her breathing had quickened. She was getting excited. He wanted more. He wanted her to pay for his poverty, right here, right now. With one hand tilting up her chin so that he would have access to her creamy throat, he ran his tongue along the sensitive skin. The other hand slid around to her sexy ass, and he dragged her against him so that she could feel what she did to him, how she made him want her just by existing. His anger had not cooled.

With vengeance, he covered her mouth with his own, sucking at her bottom lip and nipping it lightly. She moaned against him, her body trembling, her voice shaky as she drew back. “Drake, I don't understand."

They stood at an impasse, her watching him, he her. Charm her. He said it to himself, but his body wouldn't comply. The emotion he felt had him in a vise he was not escaping for the time being.

Suddenly, comprehension dawned on her face. His expression hadn't changed, lips tightened, brows drawn low, he moved a hand to lean above her against the wall. She slid down the cool flat surface to her knees, in front of him. When she unbuttoned his pants and slid his zipper down, he was ready for her mouth and more. Coming once could never be enough.

She kissed the tip of his thick rod, laving it with her tongue as she watched him through desire-laden eyes. He tangled his hand in her hair and pushed slightly. “Take it in.” It was a simple command, and she obeyed. His mind shattered at the sensation. “Sheila."

He wanted to push deeper, but didn't want to hurt her mouth. Not her mouth, but maybe her heart, her livelihood. Anger still boiled while his desire grew. He felt his balls lift and tighten. She was going to drink him, and he would make her take it all. Every drop. It would be the start of her punishment. Yet, the way she moaned and ran her tongue over his glistening staff, he didn't think she considered it punishment. She savored him in her mouth, and watching her reaction brought him to a head.

Drake pounded a fist against the wall once, then tightened his hand in her hair, before he emptied himself inside Sheila's mouth. He didn't have to demand she drink all of his juices. She sucked and stroked him, making his knees buckle with the sheer pleasure.

She drew back, smiling up at him. “More, baby?"

"Much more.” He slid down to the floor, ready to push her down on the carpet to plant himself deep inside her. Again, he reached beneath her skirt and tugged at her panties. Just when the pink lace was half uncovering her triangle of curls, the fire alarm sounded. He paused.

An announcement came over the building loud speaker. “A fire has been reported in the building. This is not a drill. Please exit the building immediately.” Emergency lights flashed, and a siren blared that could not be ignored.

Someone pounded on the door. “Sheila, Drake. Let's go. Fire. Now!"

As Drake sagged against her, Sheila threw back her head laughing. “Par for the course, huh? We can't win for losing."

Drake sighed and stood, pulling Sheila up with him. At least his anger had cooled. He still felt sexually frustrated, but coming once was better than nothing. He watched her mouth curve into a smile. Those lips...

"If I didn't know better, I'd say someone was out to get us.” He laughed as they moved out into the hallway.

He would have commented on her expression and the fact that she'd gone pale as she looked at him, except that he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. The black thing was back, and it stood next to the fire alarm as if it wanted Drake to see it. He blinked. It was short and thin with black skin, pointed ears and large eyes. Fear that he was seeing a demon locked his voice in his chest before he could push out words.

"What is that?” he gasped.

Sheila turned to follow his gaze, but the thing disappeared quicker than it did before. Drake looked back at Sheila to gauge her reaction. She looked nervous but shook her head. “I didn't see anything."

"Never mind. Let's get out of here."




Chapter Seven
Drake put the finishing touches on his latest invention before he was ready to leave for work. The evaluator would work even better with a camera installed to take pictures of the internal components of machines. It was a way for the repairman to double check the diagnostics, as well as save time on taking apart the machine. Now, if he could get the light to work in synch with the camera, it would be perfect.

"Whatcha got there, Drake?” His grandfather startled him.

Drake jumped, and his finger flicked against the light settings, switching them to high. The camera's light came on so bright, it nearly blinded them. The beam was instantly hot, and Drake covered his eyes quickly to save his retinas from damage. “Close your eyes, Granddad. Damn, I really overdid this thing."

He chuckled when disaster was averted and his grandfather clapped him on the back. “That thing is like the sun. You might want to rethink giving it to an investor with the light installed. Might have you being sued for blinding a guy. Not that he would get a dime, since we don't have any money.” His grandfather chuckled good-naturedly while Drake gritted his teeth at the setback and the truth of his grandfather's words.

"You're right. I'll get to it later.” He slipped the contraption in his pocket to tinker with sometime at work.

* * * *
Peter Sumner inched along a hall in Sheila Gibson's office building, hoping no one would notice his presence. He was determined to get something of interest on the lady entrepreneur. Everyone and his brother were clamoring to be the one to uncover her secrets. Pete was no different. If there was dirt, it was here, and he would dig it up.

Hearing voices around the corner, he hurried along the corridor and ducked inside what turned out to be a closet. With the door open a crack, he watched a group of employees stroll by, chatting over the latest fashion magazine. When their voices faded in the distance, he eased out on tiptoe. As he rounded a corner, he stopped short. A woman with long flowing red hair and incredibly beautiful eyes with long sooty lashes was moving toward him. He hightailed it back to the closet, pulling the door closed in time to see her pass.

Finding his interest piqued, he crept along behind her, hoping to find out what she was up to. Somehow from her clandestine stance as she moved almost on air, made him feel she wasn't supposed to be there either. On the top floor of the building, where he knew Sheila's office lay, he lost sight of the beautiful woman. He had had to hide again when more employees approached.

Quickly, he pulled the floor layout, which he had bribed a guard to give him, from his pocket. Sheila's office was just two rows away, against the outer wall. He stuffed the floor plan away and hurried along. Again, he was brought to a halt by the shock of what he saw.

A creature as black as night and small with pointed ears and large eyes was crouched near the fire alarm. The pain of fear tightened in Pete's chest so hard, he grabbed at it, struggling to drag in a breath. His heart pounded in his ears making it hard to hear, not allowing him to know that someone was coming up behind him until a hand came down on his shoulder.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Sumner,” the woman said. He wasn't sure who she was exactly, but her face was familiar as someone who worked for Sheila Gibson.

He smiled, hoping to charm her. “Ah, the beautiful—"

"Save it, mister. You're leaving now."

She dragged him along behind her, and when Pete looked back to where he'd seen the creature, it was gone. His fear had not lessened in the least.

* * * *
Drake crouched stealthily up behind Sheila, hoping she wouldn't notice him coming before he grabbed her. The thick sheet of hair hung forward to hide her face as she bent over a document in her hand. He slid his hands around her waist and muttered, “Boo!"

Sheila jumped with a squeak. “Drake, stop it. Behave.” He was satisfied to see the flush in her cheeks and the pleasure that was evident in her eyes. He didn't deny that he desired this beautiful woman, and he held an extra tight reign on his heart so that he didn't fall in love with her. He could though. Looking into those green eyes made him want to dive in and get lost in her embrace, to know what it would be like to have them truly belong to each other.

He drew her back against him and slid a hand around to her belly. He would have headed south had she not slapped his hand. “Don't be a spoilsport, Sheila."

She laughed. “I'm not. This is the office, Drake. We can't do this here."

"Why not? You're the boss, and we had a little action before.” He tried again, but she still resisted him. “Damn, woman, do you know how frustrated I am? Every time we've tried to make love, something happens. Even when we don't and we're just having lunch or dinner, something happens. It's driving me crazy."

A shadow passed over her face. He wondered what that look could mean. Was she sabotaging their relationship somehow? Surely not. All that he'd learned about Sheila before approaching her, told him she kept herself aloof from men. For a second, he wondered if she was a virgin, then scratched that idea. A woman of thirty-something was not a virgin, and certainly not one as sexy as Sheila Gibson. That he would not believe.

"So, why are we at this impasse, Sheila? Are you still doubtful of me? I have stuck around for a while now. I've let you decide on the pace of our relationship."

She frowned. “You've let me?"

"Yes, I've let you. But no more."

Did he see a flash of hurt in her eyes? “So what does that mean? You're leaving? Not seeing me anymore?"

"Don't be silly. Let's go,” he demanded before stepping back to take one of her hands.

She fell into step beside him as he crossed her office. “Where are we going?"

"You'll see.” Drake had determined that the only way to handle things at this point was to take them into his own hands. He had gone slow, allowed Sheila to call the shots, though that was not in his nature. Now, he realized that wasn't the best course of action with this woman. Besides that, his shaft was aching on a daily basis, wanting her.

Earlier in the week, Drake had located a closet that when he saw it, had made him think it was the perfect place for a rendezvous with Sheila. It was spacious, clean, and best of all, away from the parade of ladies who found reasons to pass by his desk on a daily basis. Their activity in Sheila's office didn't go well, maybe the closet would do better.

With determination, Drake twisted the knob in one hand while clutching Sheila's squirming one in the other. He glanced up and down the hall to be sure the coast was clear and then darted inside, dragging Sheila with him.

She remained defiant. “I can't believe you expect me to participate in this scheme, Drake. I mean if we do this, it will only lead to this kind of thing happening all the time here. You must know sexual awareness is higher in the type of business I run. I have to rule with a firm hand."

Drake laughed as he snapped the door closed. “Is that right? Well, Ms. Gibson, I am about to rule you. I will accept no more of your putting me off, making me wait. Right here, right now, we're going all the way.” He knew his expression was stern, though he couldn't suppress the amusement he felt at the shock on hers. The president of a renowned corporation built exclusively for women would never stoop to being told what to do, least of all the sexy vixen before him. A thrill passed through Drake knowing how much he was going to enjoy dominating her.

For the time being, he put away his plan of making Sheila love him, only to steal her secret and expose her to the world. At that moment, it was the women versus the men. He and she were the representatives of their entire sexes. It was winner take all.

Something about the gleam in her eyes, told him that Sheila knew the terms, and was more than up for the challenge. As if to confirm his suspicion, she said, “I warn you, Mr. Corbon, I have never been bested by a man. And that's not happening today."

He took a step closer to her, using his height as intimidation. “Is that right?” His gaze dropped to her full breasts, the soft swell in view through the deep V of her blouse. He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips in anticipation of tasting the erect nipples. Reaching out, he undid one button of her blouse, making the opening wider, but he didn't touch her, not with his body and not with his fingers.

His gaze returned to her face to gauge her reaction. His sweet woman was already trembling, but she fought it to his annoyance. “You know what I think, Sheila?"

"No, what?” She had gone still, her breathing so shallow he wondered if she was holding her breath.

He undid another button. “I think that you want a man who will force you."

She wrinkled her nose. “Force me? Why would I want that? Why would anyone?"

With a grin, he ran a fingertip along the rim of her blouse, still not touching her, tracing from her collar, down to the top button, and then up to the other side. He lifted the finger as if he intended to trace her soft pink lips in the same manner, but didn't. A single pant. She was more bothered than she liked to let on.

He continued to explain to her what she wanted. “I've approached my seduction of you all wrong."

He saw the surprise and annoyance, but kept speaking as if he had not.

"Even a strong, independent woman wants an even stronger man, one that knows exactly how to please her, in and out of the bed. She may not admit it to anyone, but she wants him to take charge. So I apologize, my dear Sheila. I should have taken charge long before now."

Anger sparked in her eyes.

"You see, what I should have done.” He paused and rested a hand on each of her shoulders, before swinging her to face the wall while he stood behind her. “What I should have done was remove your clothing, snatched off those damn pleasure panties.” He leaned in close so that his warm breath teased her earlobe. “And buried my thick shaft as deep into your tight, wet opening as I could—again and again."

She gasped when he ran a hand up the side of her thigh until his fingers lifted her skirt and snagged on her panties. He knew without looking that they were the pleasure panties. It increased his craving to wonder just how often she activated them. How many times a day did she lock her office door and let their sensual fingers fuck her until she had to suppress a scream of ecstasy?

He was jealous of their ability to have her so often. It should be him inside her, him making her scream. With her skirt pushed up to her waist, Drake leaned back to take in the rounded curve of her ass. It was bare, and he marveled that she wore a thong. He could kiss whoever had first invented the things because he was ready to come just looking at her in them.

Getting his mind back on his seduction of her, on his control took concentrated effort. He looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were parted. She wanted it, was so ready. He smiled with satisfaction.

Drake pressed close to her with his knees slightly bent so that she could feel her effect on his body. Her soft whimper told him just who was in charge. “Lest you think I'm not fully aware of what a woman like you needs, Sheila, let me make it plainer. As I said, a woman like you wants to be dominated. You need me to spank you when you've been naughty.” He punctuated his words by drawing back to land a smack across her ass. She cried out and moaned.

"Drake..."

He rubbed her reddening flesh, then smacked it again.

She bit down on a small scream.

"Maybe I'm mistaken,” he told her, knowing it wasn't true. “Perhaps I should just leave this closet and let you get back to work.” He made as if he intended to do so.

"Drake!” This time her cry was desperate as she swung to face him. “You can't just leave me. I..."

The mighty Sheila Gibson, he thought. She was as helpless as a child, needing his touch, his body. He narrowed his eyes on her, feeling the old resentment for a moment. She had taken everything from him, from his family. He should punish her far more than an enjoyable spanking, but his physical needs wouldn't allow for that. He was hungry for her.

He moved back to stand in front of her, while she stood trembling next to the wall. “Put your hands behind your back,” he commanded.

Her eyes widened, but she complied. Drake tossed up her dress roughly, angry with himself as much as her. He twined the delicate material of her panties in his fingers and tore them away. She gasped.

"Drake, that was—"

"Quiet!"

She fell silent. He snatched up her chin and covered her lips with his, darting his tongue inside her mouth. While he drove fingers into the hot wetness between her legs, he sucked on her bottom lip. When she bucked against him and began to moan, he pulled back. The desperate look for more gratified his anger.

"What do you want, Sheila? Tell me,” he demanded.

She frowned, resentment in her glare. “You told me to be quiet."

He chuckled. “I'm surprised you are giving into me so quickly.” He knew he was making her angry, and he didn't want her desires to cool. Drake pushed his fingers back inside her and stroked in and out slowly. Watching the emotion flit across her face, he increased his speed.

"No, don't,” she panted.

"What do you want?” he asked again.

"I..."

"Tell me.” He would make her say it, though the quivering of her thighs sang their own tune. Sheila wanted him on his knees, with his face buried between her luscious legs, and if she didn't tell him so soon, he'd do it anyway. His tongue was on fire for a taste of her.

To admit it, to give up control to him was costing her. He wondered how she'd make him pay for it later. Her lips opened and closed a few times before she finally spoke. “I want you to eat me, Drake. Please ... eat me."

He grinned. “With pleasure."

Drake slipped down to his knees and ran his hands down the outside of Sheila's thighs, then up the insides. While he wanted to continue to tease her, now that her dark curls were so close to his mouth, he couldn't resist. He leaned closer, drawing in a deep breath. Her pungent scent caused his rod to tighten and twitch. Pushing her legs a little wider, he positioned his shoulders between them while bracing her with his hands on her ass.

One swipe of his tongue inside her creamy juices and he was lost. He buried his tongue inside her, lapping at the sweet goodness of her essence. He was barely aware of her moans of pleasure, caught up as he was in her taste. His nose teased her erect nub as he delved deeper, parting her folds to drive in farther. Soon the only sounds to be heard were his hungry sucking at Sheila's treasure and her pleading for him never to stop.

How could he stop, addicted as he was to the spicy flavor. He ran the tip of his tongue over her tightened bud, leaning back only long enough to marvel at the pretty pinkness of it, puckered for him and him alone. When he drove his tongue again inside her, he knew Sheila was ready to climax.

Her breathing increased, she squeezed his head between her thighs and he could barely hold on to her with her wild bucking against him. Not to coming along with her, and soil his pants, was a struggle. For a moment, he thought of ripping open his pants and driving his rod deep into her pulsating opening, but he resisted. This was to seal her to him, to make her his. It was about showing her who her daddy was, and he loved every delicious minute of it.

Seconds later, she came, hard and loud. Drake could care less who outside the closet could hear what they were doing. He kept a firm hold of her as she rode high on the waves of passion, squirming and struggling against losing her control. With one last swipe, he freed her and stood in front of her.

A twinge of guilt hit him when he saw the tears on her face, but she wiped them away quickly before turning her back. He watched her straighten her skirt and then bend to retrieve her ruined panties from the floor.

"I-I have to get back to work,” she whispered. He knew she was regretting letting him take her to the heights he had, spanking her and her enjoying it.

"Really? Hm. And I think we should go back to your place and finish what we started."

She looked at him in surprise, even appeared to be considering his offer, until his cell phone rang. He thought about ignoring the damn thing and then removed it from his pocket. “Granddad” flashed on the caller ID.




Chapter Eight
Sheila moved to stand next to Drake, at the foot of his grandfather's hospital bed. She slid her fingers between his and held on in an effort to comfort him in some small way. “I'm so sorry about this, Drake."

He nodded, his lips compressed and anguish in his eyes as he watched his grandfather lying unmoving. The old man looked so frail, yet his breaths were deep and peaceful. Had he not been hooked up to so many monitors, she would think he was simply taking a rest.

"I thought you said it was him calling you on your cell phone,” she wondered aloud.

"I thought it was, but when I answered, it was someone I didn't know. He told me my grandfather was in serious condition at Mercy General. The man didn't identify himself, but I assume he was a paramedic.” Drake's voice filled with pain. “Sheila, he can't die. I-He's all I have."

Sheila wrapped her arms around the man who had been so strong, so positive since she had first met him. She could admit that him being male, she still didn't fully trust him, but he was still a human being. And people hurt when their loved ones were threatened. “No one at all? I could make the calls if you want to stay here."

He shook his head. “No, I wasn't exaggerating. There is no one else. I never knew my father, and my mother ditched me with Granddad when I was three. I haven't seen her since. So, no. There's just the two of us."

She turned her attention again to the man in the bed. “What did they say is wrong?"

Drake pulled from her hold and ran his hands through his hair, before pacing to the window. When he spoke, his back was to her. “They don't know. He just collapsed. It's fortunate that someone must have come across him in time. The doctors will run tests, but it looks like he's dropped into a coma."

A glint at the old man's ear. It was gone so quickly that she couldn't be sure she saw it in the first place. One thing that Sheila had learned very early in her life, being a Faerie was that Faerie magic gave off telltale signs of its presence. While the human eye was likely to miss the signs, Faeries did not. And more often than not, that sign was present at the ears for some unknown reason.

She moved around the bed until she was at the left side, close to the elder Corbon's head. Though Drake still faced the window, she bent down over the man to have a closer look. While she concentrated on him, the glint came again. She gasped. It was true. Someone had cast a spell on Jefferson Corbon and put him in a coma. The shock left her breathless.

Drake heard her intake of breath. “What is it? Is there a change?"

Sheila straightened. “Uh, no. I was just so struck by how much the two of you look alike. The family resemblance is uncanny."

The hope in his eyes faded. “Oh, yes. I look like my mother I'm told, who also took after Granddad in features.

Sheila searched her mind, wondering how she'd do a counter spell with Drake in the room. She couldn't imagine asking him to go and get her a glass of water at a time like this, and she was not going to reveal her secret to him. As far as she could tell, his grandfather was in stable condition and whoever created the spell hadn't intended for him to die or he would already be dead. So what was the motive? She refused to believe it was another ploy in separating her and Drake.

Yet, if it were part of the plot, then a Faerie was out to get her. If it wasn't Claudia, then it had to be the emissary. Something told her he did not have the orders to punish her, so he'd taken it into his own hands. But why? She'd done nothing to him personally. She didn't remember ever setting eyes on him before, nor did he look familiar.

Because the old man looked safe enough for now, she decided to wait for her chance to break the spell. Seeing a mask of misery on her lover's face, she thought it might be better to get him talking. It would help take his mind off things.

"So have you considered hiring someone to find your father or your mother? I would guess you have some curiosity about why she left and who he is?” Goodness, was she helping at all? No more positive subject came to mind.

Drake didn't seem to notice that the topic was a weighty one. “Yes, I've considered it. But I happen to know from a letter I found in my grandfather's desk when I was fourteen that my mother had been writing him, demanding money to help take care of me. Around the time I turned three, she found out he'd lost everything, and rather than do what she needed to take care of the two of us, she thought she'd add me to his mounting problems."

She patted his arm. “I'm sure he didn't think of you as a problem."

For the first time in the last two hours, Drake smiled. “No, he was ... is like a father to me. Back then, I cried myself to sleep every night missing my mother. Granddad held me the entire time, telling me everything would be alright. Eventually, her memory faded. I can't remember how she looks."

Sheila thought that sounded so tragic. As much as her mother got on her last nerve, she would be devastated if she ever lost her. Claudia and she were not as close as a mother and daughter should be, or rather as Sheila dreamed they could be, but they still loved one another. Sheila didn't doubt that her mother cared about her. Her father was another story.

She was surprised when, in the midst of his own sadness, Drake asked after her family life. “What about your parents? Are they still around?"

She hesitated. “My mother is. Like you, I haven't seen my father in many years. That is a complicated story, one that I may share one day. Suffice it to say, he's not the fatherly type, more interested in his own life than mine. Always has been and always will be."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged.

After a while, Sheila became aware that Drake seemed agitated. He shifted from one foot to the other and tapped one hand against his leg.

"What's wrong?” she asked.

He looked embarrassed and then smiled again. It warmed her. “I don't want to leave him, but I really have to use the john."

She laughed. “Go. I'll watch over him. I promise."

Drake looked into her eyes and must have seen her sincerity. He nodded once and darted from the room. Sheila breathed a sigh of relief. Now was her chance. Drake having to go was good fortune.

When Sheila stepped close to the old man's side again, the flash of magic at his ear more obvious. She reached out to tap the side of his face with her finger and allowed magic to gather in the first joint. Nothing happened. She frowned. Apparently, whoever had cast the spell went to extra trouble. If it were a simple spell, it should have dissipated at her touch on the point of origin. She didn't have much time to figure it out.

She closed her eyes, concentrating and willing herself to remember all the spells she knew. No counter sleeping spell came to mind. Mentally, she went back to her house, to the lab behind her bookcase. Inside that room, even deeper into a recess she had hollowed out was the book she'd taken from her father's book room ages ago. It was a book of spells. For years, she'd thought he would come after them, if only to get his book back. It had been a ploy to make her father follow, being young and innocent, and hoping against hope that he would come. His presence would then convince her mother he loved them both, and a reunion would be inevitable. That day never came. And as she grew older, Sheila realized the man loved his lifestyle more than he loved his daughter.

The old tome with Celtic markings on the cover and spine came to mind, and she mentally flipped through the pages, seeing the subjects—Make A Person Fall in Love With You, Shrink Your Enemy, Break A Sleeping Spell. That was it. She struggled to remember the words. It was difficult being that they were not in English. Suddenly, understanding broke.

Sheila reached out and laid a hand on Jefferson Corbon's forehead. She uttered the magical words, fascinated as curls of blue and purple Faerie dust sprung up around her hand and expanded down over the human's body. It pooled as if someone had dumped it specifically in the corners of his closed eyes.

When the lids began to flutter, they blinked away the dust, and it faded from view. Sheila smiled down into eyes there were identical to Drake's. She caught her breath.

"Hello,” she said tentatively.

He remained silent, watching her a minute.

She tried again. “Are you okay, Mr. Corbon?"

His brow furrowed. “I know what you are."

Maybe she had misheard. Perhaps he had said, “I know who you are.” After all, she didn't suppose Drake had kept it a secret that they were dating from the man who'd raised him.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I am Drake's ... um, girlfriend, I guess you would call it. We've been seeing each other a few weeks now. I'm so glad you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"I said,” he intoned carefully, so that she would not misunderstand, “I know what you are. You are a Faerie, and I don't want your kind dating my grandson."

Sheila was dumfounded. How could he know and what did he have against Faeries? She had no idea how to approach this, but if she wanted to keep Drake from finding out her secret, she'd better handle it quickly. “Sir, I would rather Drake not know that I am a Faerie, and I can't imagine how you know that I am."

"We're agreed,” he grumbled, trying to sit up. She reached out to press him back down, but he smacked away her hands. “I'm not an invalid as we both know."

"What do you have against Faeries?” she queried.

At first, she thought he didn't intend to answer, his attention seeming to be caught by the sunlight dancing in the windowsill. It reminded her of the times that the young Fae shrunk themselves to dance on sunlight. Could Jefferson Corbon know about that? No, that was impossible. He was a human, after all.

"That's not your concern."

She was becoming frustrated. “Well you must know someone put a sleeping spell on you? Did you come into contact with another Faerie, or some other magical being?"

The evasive look on his face told her what she wanted to know. Mr. Jefferson Corbon had been a willing participant in the spell, if she didn't miss her guess. The knowledge angered her even more.

He positioned himself upright, his back against the raised bed. “Where's my grandson? I know he would not miss being here with me."

"He'll be back in a moment."

"Good. I think you should leave, young lady. And don't bother calling my son again, if you don't mind."

She gasped at his rudeness. Somehow the aged face was not of someone cruel, but kindly. “What do you have against me personally?"

"Ask your mother."

Drake pushed open the door and exclaimed in relief at seeing his grandfather awake.




Chapter Nine
Mina snapped closed the address book in front of her after synching it with Sheila's schedule. If Her Royal Highness didn't have all her ducks in a row, it wouldn't be Mina's fault, she thought snidely. She shoved back the chair in Sheila's study and stood. Gathering a stack of mail to go out, she stepped into the hall.

She cried out and looked up after crashing into an unmovable chest. “Dugan!” Mina's eyes widened in delight, and she threw her arms around his neck.

He bent down, grasped her waist and lifted her for a kiss on the cheek. “How are you, little sister?"

"I'm good. What are you doing here? If Sheila saw you, she would freak out,” the diminutive Faerie told him.

Dugan wrinkled his nose, “Ugh, you've already been here too long. You're picking up human slang. If I knew any better, I'd send you home to Faeryland immediately."

She pouted. “I like it here. Don't send me back yet. I have been very useful to you. I told you about the press conference and about Sheila's dating Jefferson Corbon's grandson. I'm sure I can dig up more dirt on her. Just be patient."

Her older brother walked away from her, irritation and a complete lack of patience plain on his face. Mina knew her brother better than anyone. He had a very high moral code. If the council wasn't tying his hands, he'd have already dealt with their errant princess. She cringed at that thought. One so unworthy should not be a princess. Jealousy, not for the first time, reared its head inside her. She struggled against her feelings of resentment.

Dugan stopped pacing. “Yes, you have been helpful to me, Mina. But I think you're too close to this. I worry that your hatred of her will eat away at you and make you someone that neither I nor you recognize. You're still a young Faerie with your whole life ahead of you. I don't want you soured with bitterness because of these circumstances."

"It's a little too late for that,” she told him, hands on her hips. “I don't like her. I probably never will."

"Is she mean to you? I know that royals can get absorbed in their own needs and desires and forget about those that serve them. If she's hurt you in any way, no matter what the council says, she will be punished. By me."

Mina considered her brother's words. How many times when they were children did her brother come to her defense, when kids at school picked on her for her small size? They had teased saying Mina was the result of a shrink spell gone wrong. It was Dugan who had snapped them all into squirrels or rabbits or some other small creature while Mina had chased them. Every one of her bullies had run in fear, and for a moment, she was the tall one. How she loved him for sticking up for her. Later, when Dugan had landed a position as emissary for the high council, well, that had made Mina's chest swell with pride. They were no longer second-class citizens, open to being made fun of, and Mina was to be respected because of the position her brother held. Life had improved tremendously.

Mina rushed to reassure her brother. She didn't want him to lose his prestigious position, not on her account. “No, no. She's never been mean to me. She's always polite, though cold, if you ask me. Or do I mean distant? Sheila seems like the type of woman that keeps everything inside, never lets you see what's going on in there."

Dugan nodded. “Just like her father."

Mina's lips tightened.

Her brother changed the subject.

"Right now I'm trying to figure out what to do next. Sheila is trickier than I thought. She saw through my sleep spell on Corbon and broke it. Drake seems closer to her than ever before since she was there by his side, and as far as he knows, his grandfather came out of an unexplainable coma. I feel like everything I try fails."

Mina wrapped an arm about his waist, her short arm not quite making it all the way around her thickly built sibling. “Don't worry, you'll think of something. So I guess changing yourself into a woman to lure him away didn't work?"

He shook his head. “No. To be fair, Sheila is extremely beautiful. Her figure..."

Mina scowled.

Dugan cleared his throat. “Well, it didn't work. She forgave his lapse, probably because she doesn't care about him. She only cares for herself, and she feels Drake can give her what she wants."

"What's that?” Mina didn't remember the Corbons having anything left. Sheila's mother had wiped them out, and from what Dugan had confided, she continued to do so. “If the man had anything a greedy bitch like Sheila could want, it wasn't too obvious."

A rumble of laughter rose in Dugan's throat. “Did I not say you are very young? What does a woman want from a man if she's already got all that money can buy and the magic to take what she doesn't have?"

Mina's eyes grew wide. “Sex."

"Exactly. She wants him to fulfill whatever fantasies she has. I have been successful in stopping them from consummating their mutual desires, but I don't know how long that will last if I don't break them up.” He moved to a side table and began sorting out the contents of his pockets on it. He removed a five-inch box with swirls in rainbow colors moving on it. It was a message container. He handed it to Mina. “This is from Mother. She misses you."

Mina rolled her eyes. “I've been gone all of a minute,” she grumbled, though she'd been gone for a year. She didn't blame her mother for missing her. She had no one really and must be lonely. With Dugan traveling for his job, and now Mina gone, the house must seem very empty. She promised herself she would send a message back as soon as she could. Of course, she'd have to go out to produce it. Sheila would sense the residual magic and question her. It was better to keep the princess in the dark about Mina being a Faerie.

Mina placed the message box inside her sweater pocket and looked at her brother again. “I don't get why you're trying to break them up in the first place. What does it have to do with her being punished for her crimes?"

"It has everything to do with it. As I said, I believe her mother is still blocking the Corbons's success. And while I haven't yet proved it—her mother's magic is more advanced than mine—I will eventually. I think that Sheila knows what her mother is doing and that she condones it. That's why I think just as Drake wants revenge for what they've done to his family, Sheila and her mother are continuing to work against the Corbons. What's driving me insane is, why do they hate the Corbons so much? I've combed the historical records. I can find nothing of importance."

"Are you sure you went back far enough?"

Dugan considered her words. “What do you mean?"

Mina grinned, enjoying the thought that maybe she knew something her brother didn't. “Sheila told me she came here when she was twelve. I always thought that she meant earth years twelve, but suppose she came when she was a twelve year old Faerie. That's many more years in the past. Maybe you are not looking back far enough."

The emissary dismissed this idea out of turn. “Impossible. Jefferson Corbon is sixty in human years. If it was that far back, don't you think he would have been a child and not old enough to have a business to be ruined?"

Mina's face fell, disappointment settling in. “Damn, and I thought I had something."

Her brother raised an eyebrow at her for her language, but she ignored him. Dugan turned toward the door as if he was about to leave the house that way. Mina knew he would not. He appeared suddenly in a room and left it in the same fashion. Using the front door would raise too much suspicion. “Well, I think I have another plan brewing, so keep your eyes and ears open, little sister. Please be sure to stay on top of Sheila's schedule over the next few weeks. I want to know each and every time she plans to meet with Corbon and her activities with her company."

Mina agreed, then an idea occurred to her. “Dugan, could the Corbons be Faeries and we not know it?"

* * * *
Her mother was avoiding her. For years, Sheila had suspected Claudia Gibson of tapping into her thoughts periodically to stick her nose where it didn't belong. She had found it difficult to prove for sure, but a certain feeling of unrest would come over her when it happened. That feeling had been present just that morning when she rose. She remembered thinking about visiting her mother, and what excuse the stubborn woman would give when Sheila demanded to know what was so special about Jefferson Corbon and his grandson.

Later, when Sheila slipped over to Paris again, her mother had not been there. Sheila waited for hours, and her mother was a no show. Later, in the evening, Sheila returned again to find the house empty except for the cook, an old Faerie from Dublin. Mrs. O'Connor assured Sheila she hadn't seen Claudia since morning when she'd rushed in, gave clipped commands not to be located and then left the room in a cloud of magical dust.

"Witch!” Sheila grunted, angry.

She tapped her foot and chewed a fingernail as she sat in her study to contemplate the situation. What should her next move be? If she didn't figure out what exactly was going on, she'd never enjoy something sensual with Drake. Then again, maybe it wasn't worth it at all. Maybe if there was old family history there that she didn't know about, then it might be better to choose another man. There were plenty. While she thoroughly enjoyed her panties, having Drake's mouth between her legs licking up her flowing juices was something she wanted to experience again and again. Her panties could not simulate a man's warm, wet tongue.

She squirmed in her chair just thinking about it. When he had stood, she'd seen the reaction eating her had caused. She had vivid visions of Drake ramming his rod inside her, stretching her around his erection. Eyes closed, she pressed a hand down against her moist panties, beneath her skirt. If that man was not inside her soon, she'd lose it. And that spanking! Never did she fantasize about a man spanking her, didn't even think it was something she'd enjoy. Sheila Gibson liked to control her world and every detail in it. But when Drake had lifted her skirt and smacked her hard on her ass, she'd nearly come.

She stroked herself, remembering. She wanted more. She wanted Drake to command her, to give her experiences she had never had. What a surprise to find out that she was not the one in charge of their relationship, just because she was the one with the money. Drake was still a man, and men liked to be in charge. “Maybe I should let him be. Just in the bedroom."

It was time to confront the emissary and make him back off, before she got so desperate she fucked Drake in the middle of the office in front of everyone.

* * * *
Sheila trembled outside the Faerie council's headquarters, half hidden behind one of the majestic oaks that were common to the land between worlds. The council preferred not to inhabit Faeryland or the human world, claiming to be completely impartial in their duties to keep the balance of magic. The more she thought of it, the more Sheila was convinced that the emissary was abusing his power. Everyone knew the council was slow in coming to a decision. If they had truly decided on her fate, then her punishment would be dealt out. They would be direct in letting her know that her actions would not be tolerated any further. It was the one advantage of being the Faerie king's daughter. They were even slower about punishing her. That meant the emissary had a personal grudge, and she wanted to know what was going on.

So, she had decided to catch him on his way out of a meeting with the council. That the council had regularly scheduled meetings about the happenings on multiple worlds was also common knowledge. Catching the emissary alone was preferable to marching into the great hall demanding to see him. She was not that crazy.

Sheila peeked out from behind the tree for the thousandth time, seeing no one resembling the man who had appeared in her bathroom. She sighed and twisted around until her back was pressed against the bark with her eyes closed in defeat. This was a bust.

"Looking for me?” a voice said inches from her.

Her eyes popped open, and she let out a small squeak. The emissary was planted feet apart, arms across his chest, in front of her. The amusement in his eyes at scaring her was plain. Her stomach turned with dislike. This was the person trying to ruin her. “What do you want with me?"

"Is that what you came all this way to ask? Risking an arrest outside the council headquarters?” He was cocky, sure of his authority. She hated him.

"I came here to ask why you are trying to break up my relationship with Drake Corbon. I know the council didn't tell you to do it. They're notoriously slow at decision making, especially when it comes to a royal. So what's your angle?” she demanded.

"Angle?” He appeared to consider her choice of words. “No angle. I am simply prepared to destroy you—pure and simple."




Chapter Ten
Bring your child to work day. Drake was reveling in it. Not that he had a child. But that he loved kids. What pleased him like nothing else was to have them laughing and having fun with his inventions. One of them was a robotic parrot. He didn't know now why he'd made the thing a parrot. It seemed as good a form as any. Its sleek silver body, glinting in the artificial lighting of the office, had mesmerized every person under five feet and many who were taller.

The only person that didn't seem to be impressed was Sheila. She'd been distant lately, not taking his calls, avoiding him at the office. Twice he had tried cornering her to take her into the closet again, but she had been bordering on rude when she sidestepped him to continue on her way. Who was he kidding? Sheila had tried kneeing him in the groin, and when that didn't work, she'd slapped his face. The groin he protected automatically. The face he let go. Something was obviously bothering her, and he was letting her stew ... for now. His patience was running low. That woman wanted him as much as he wanted her. Drake may have been used to having doors slammed in his face professionally, but the women he wanted very often put out. He was determined that Sheila would be the same, especially after he'd seen the tightening of her nipples and the shortening of her breath when he placed his hands on her hips at their last hallway episode.

No, he wasn't giving up so easily. Not by a long shot.

Her door opened, and Drake let his gaze drop to the five-year-old playing at his feet with his parrot robot. He couldn't help but grin at the little boy.

"Mr. Drake, what does it do?” the boy asked, eyes wide with wonder.

Drake stooped, fully aware of Sheila approaching. He could smell her sweet scent, a mixture of some exotic perfume and her own natural womanly scent. He hardened, remembering the taste of her.

"I'll show you, Timmy. XT, this is Timmy. Say hello,” Drake commanded.

"Hello, Timmy. Hello.” The parrot hopped up on the boy's shoulder. “You got anything to eat? I'm hungry."

Timmy chuckled. “You can't eat, silly bird. You're a robot."

"Am not,” came the tinny reply.

A lighthearted argument broke out between the two, and Drake cut it short after a few minutes by demonstrating to Timmy all the other abilities XL had besides talking. With the boy's attention riveted on the toy, Drake knew his mother wouldn't need to worry over him for a long time while getting her own work done. Drake stood and turned to face Sheila.

"Hello,” he said softly.

He had begun to wonder if hell would freeze over before she spoke to him, Sheila said simply, “I need to talk to you. In my office.” She swung on her heels and marched away. The stiffness in her bearing told him it would not be good news. He hoped she wasn't going to fire him. The opportunity to work for Bare Pleasures had been profitable. He was finally getting caught up on bills and even had some money saved. Drake suspected he was being overpaid as a lowly clerk, but he wasn't going to complain about it.

He stepped inside her office and closed the door. “What's this about? Are you firing me?"

She had sat down behind her wide mahogany desk, with her palms pressed flat against the shiny surface. At his words, she stiffened. “I ... suppose ... in a manner of speaking, I am."

Drake's heart sank. He remained silent to let her continue.

"I think that it's best that we don't see each other anymore. I'm very busy with my company since my mother has chosen to put me fully in charge. At first, I felt I could handle a personal life and the company, but this takes an adjustment, so one has to go for now."

He leaned back against the closed door and folded his arms across his chest. “Bullshit."

She gasped. “What?"

"You heard me.” Drake pushed away from the door and strolled toward her. He tried to remain calm, but inside, he was angry. She didn't get to play games with him all this time, tease him with her fantastic body, and then drop him cold. “What the hell is your problem, Sheila? You hate men? You're scared? What?"

Her face reddened. “I suggest you watch yourself, Drake, or you'll find yourself out of a job as well."

"It gets you off, doesn't it? Huh? Making everyone bow to your wants, your demands? No one could live up to your high expectations, but that's how you like it, isn't it?” He knew he was ranting, making little sense, but he couldn't believe the disappointment he felt, the sadness at losing her. As soon as that thought materialized in his mind, he crushed it.

Sheila stood, her eyes blazing. “Get out! Just get out of here, Drake. Pack your things. I don't ever want to see you again."

He bowed before her, a mocking expression on his face. “With pleasure, my lady.” He didn't know why she jumped at that and didn't care. He pivoted, strolled to the door, wrenched it open until it crashed against the wall, and walked out.

* * * *
Sheila sank down in her seat again and nodded toward one of the ladies who stepped forward to close her door. As soon as the knob clicked into place, tears streamed from her eyes as if they were on a release switch. She laid her head against her arms on the desk and cried noisily for a long time. Stupid! She had handled everything wrong. She had been her usual coldhearted self, dismissed him as if it had all been a fun game, but it was time to put away the toys and go home.

But what choice did she have? The emissary had been clear of his intentions. He would destroy her if she and her mother did not stay away from the Carbons. The infuriating man still would not come forward with the history of the families, and she wasn't completely sure he knew all there was to know. That was something for her to discuss with her mother the moment she caught up with her.

Either way, the man had laid out his terms. Break up with Drake Corbon or suffer the consequences. Even when she had tried to stand up against him, it meant nothing. The emissary—this time she'd learned his name was Dugan—had demonstrated his ability yet again, snuffing out her attempt to toss a ball of her fury at his damn head. He'd countered easily, even pinned her to the tree trunk in silken cords.

Thinking about her humiliation, and the ever-present fear of being called to account for her business practices, Sheila backed down. Even now, she wondered for the first time if she should walk away from it. After all, this whole thing had started, at least for her, as attempt to get her father's attention. She could not say the same for her mother.

As she observed Drake with the children, especially Timmy, who watched him with trusting eyes as he demonstrated the use of his invention, Sheila remembered her desperate love for her father when she was so young. The Faerie king could do no wrong then, though he seemed to make a habit of disappointing her.

One particular incident stood out in her mind. It had been just six months before she and her mother had left Faeryland. Sheila remembered the event specifically because she was the age she needed to be to go with her father on his journey to several other worlds—the land of dragons, the land of the unicorns, Ogre Land, and many more. She had rushed into his sitting room dressed in her riding clothes, excited on the morning he was prepared to go.

"Father, I'm ready,” she announced.

The man she saw as a giant in the worlds of males, looked up from studying a map to pin her with great pale blue eyes, clouded with annoyance for interrupting. “What do you mean, child. What are you ready for?"

Sheila had always wondered if her father would have liked her more if she were a boy. She'd gone through phases when she'd done everything to appear as he would want her, even chopping off her long hair. It had only managed to make him angrier. “I'm ready for the trip across the worlds, sir,” she told him shyly.

"And what makes you think you're going?” he demanded.

"I-you said I could go as soon as I reached the year of the pixie. Sir, I did this year, in August.” She drew herself up taller, trying to be braver in the face of his displeasure. “I have my bags packed, and I've already kissed Mother goodbye."

"You don't have the skills to go on this trip, Sheelagh. I will be hunting the red dragon on one world, running with the unicorns on another. It's too dangerous for you. When you're older—"

"No!” she screamed. “You said I could go this year. I've been practicing with my bow and arrow. I'm better than all of the boys."

The look of distaste was plain. “And you think that's a good thing? No, I'm sorry. I'm taking Conleth."

Sheila gasped at his admission. Conleth, her cousin, was a good two years younger. “No, Father, please. I promise I won't be a liability. Just try me. I can help you. I know I can.” She struggled not to cry. Her father would consider tears a weakness.

Instead of answering her, the powerful Faerie king called out words in the Gaelic tongue. Immediately, Sheila's mother appeared in the room. Realizing that her husband had, with magic, dragged her from wherever she had been, Claudia put her hands on her hips. “Really, darling, is it necessary to just jerk me around at your whim? I was canning with Grandmother."

The Faerie king slammed a fist against the desk in front of him. “Don't argue with me, Claudia. I've called you to get Sheelagh. She was under the false impression that I would take her with me on my trip. She looks about to cry. Take her."

His words hurt even more. Sheila bit down on her bottom lip, willing the tears away. No matter what she did, she knew now that this hard-hearted man would never love her. She could not be strong enough or change herself enough to please him or earn his love. He had no love to give. Six months later, when her mother informed her they were leaving her father and Faeryland forever, Sheila hadn't argued.

* * * *
Feeling depressed, she just wanted to go home, drop in her bed fully dressed and sleep until December, Sheila trudged out to her car in the parking lot. Tears filled her eyes yet again at the prospect of spending another night alone in bed. Using her product, did not appeal whatsoever.

The sun had long since gone down, Sheila having pored over numbers late into the night. It was now nine-thirty and the parking lot was empty except for her car. She paused and looked around. Feeling nervous, she hurriedly dug in her purse for her car key. Normally, she was not afraid of the dark or of any human attacking her in the darkness, but knowing there were more than unsavory humans dogging her steps made her jumpy. She couldn't be too careful.

As she pulled open the door, a voice came suddenly from behind her. “Turn around."

Sheila froze. She prepared to use her magic against her would-be assailant, and spun to face him. He was dressed all in black, his face covered with a mask, allowing only his eyes and mouth to be seen. Her heart skipped a beat. Damn, she had almost broken his ribs by sending him flying across the lot. That move would have also revealed her secret to the one person she didn't want to know what she was.

She frowned, remembering that she'd already dropped Drake. “Drake, we broke up, remember? It's late, and I'm tired."

She saw him pause in surprise that she knew who he was. “Well, it makes this whole thing simpler since you know who I am.” He pulled the mask off. “Now, go around and get in on the other side."

"I don't think so.” Sheila crossed her arms and held her ground.

The look on Drake's face was complete impatience. “You have two choices, Sheila. You can get your ass in that car on your own, or I will pick you up and put you there myself!"

Sheila gaped. Except for the time inside the closet, which was special, Drake had never presumed to command her. She didn't know how to take it, how to treat this phenomenon. One thing was for sure, she wasn't putting up with his attitude. Her mood was shot. “Look, Drake, why don't we talk in the morning, when I am in a frame of mind to deal with whatever scheme you've hatched to convince me to date you.” She yawned, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Goodnight."

Before she could place one foot inside the car, Drake's hands came around her waist. He hooked an arm about her and lifted her from her feet. Even as she struggled, kicking at his shins, hearing his grunts of pain, she knew it was doing no good. Unless she was prepared to use her magic, she was just another woman being manhandled. As such, she would lose.

"Bastard!” she spat when he'd slammed the door in her face after tucking her inside. She watched him fairly skip around the front of the vehicle and slip behind the steering wheel. “I don't know what you think you're doing, but kidnapping is a federal offense."

He made no effort to respond.

"Did you hear me?” she shouted.

"The whole city heard you,” he muttered as he shifted into gear. “Now, sit back and relax. We have a long drive ahead of us."




Chapter Eleven
Drake asked himself repeatedly if he was doing the right thing. He knew Sheila wanted him, craved him as he did her. But whatever her reasons, she was without a doubt scared to move forward. He'd seen the fear in her when she dropped him. He'd slammed out, vowing never to set eyes on the infuriating woman again. Her pretty box could dry up and wither away for all he cared.

But the moment he was out of the building and strolling along the street, his mind was filled with visions of her naked, her scent seducing him like he'd never been seduced before. He grew hard thinking of her long, luscious legs and how they'd feel wrapped around his waste as he pummeled her tight opening. It angered him all the more knowing that chance was lost.

Then the closer he got to home, Drake realized this was not the end. He wouldn't let it be. He retraced his steps, even watched the building from across the street in a coffee house. Suddenly, he remembered an offer one of his new friends at Bare Pleasures had given him. A single phone call, some other simple prep work and he was ready for his stubborn lover. Sheila Gibson would not know what hit her.

"Just where the hell are you taking me, Drake Corbon?” Sheila demanded for the umpteenth time.

"You'll see,” was his continued answer.

She let out a scream, pounding her fists on the dash. “Stop this car! I want to get out. You can't do this to me.” When she began to cry, Drake thought he would be ill with remorse. He checked his mirrors and pulled to the side of the road.

"Don't, Sheila. Please don't cry.” He reached out to take her in his arms.

He was reaching for air because the tears had instantly dried, Sheila had leapt from the vehicle and was running down the highway.

"Shit! Conniving little...” He threw the car in park and jumped out to chase her. Even in high heels, she was fast. He had to exert extra effort to catch up. When he did, he threw his arms around her and lifted her off her feet for the second time that night. She screamed.

"Put me down!"

"No, get back in the car."

"Never."

"Sheila, would you stop with the dramatics. You and I know what you want, and that's me,” he snapped. “Now, be a good girl and I'll please you even before we get there.” While she was wedged against his body, he slid a hand down between her legs, finding her hot and wet.

"I don't want you! Get over yourself."

He chuckled against her ear. “Funny, your body is giving me a completely different story."

She struggled against him and her own desires. Drake stroked her slowly. He felt the mechanism that was her pleasure panties built into the material. The first thing he'd do when they arrived at their destination was to rip them off her. He would pleasure her over and over again until she couldn't stand the sight of her invention, until nothing would do for her except his mouth, his hands, his stiff shaft.

When she calmed down, fighting a trembling moan, Drake swung her back to face the car, still holding on to her. “Now, you will get back in the car, and you will behave yourself, or you will be punished."

He felt her quake. He knew her body was on fire. Right then, Drake was sure she was remembering the time in the closet when he spanked her, or rather gave her a few slaps on her rear. Tonight, he would give her a full spanking. Before midnight, he would have his little tiger tamed. The anticipation had him tugging at his pants.

Drake couldn't get to the cabin fast enough. From the corner of his eye, he watched Sheila. She curled in her seat, twisted away from him. He reached toward her, but she knocked away his hand. “We're here."

Sheila sat up. “Where?"

He grinned and cast a mysterious look at her. “Here. Now sit still until I get there. He chuckled, knowing she'd spring out of the car, which she did. Tonight was going to be fun, and Sheila, whether she knew it or not, was going to make it every bit of an experience they'd never forget.

The cabin was small, having only one bedroom, a tiny living area that was dominated by a wide brick fireplace, and a square of cooking-dining space next to that. Despite its size, Drake was excited about the possibilities. The obligatory bearskin rug would be perfect for their trysts. Then he frowned at the white fur, wondering how many people before had had sexual encounters on it. A thick comforter would be better, with a roaring fire since the night had grown cool there in the mountains.

He glanced at Sheila again, who stood in the center of the floor, her arms wrapped about her in defense. Having no luggage to bring in, he closed the door and locked it. With no appetite for anything other than the sexy creature in front of him, he figured now was as good a time as any to begin the seduction.

He stepped up behind her, placing a thumb and forefinger on the zipper of her skirt. “Do you like it, Sheila?"

She waved her hand. “Does it matter? Are we here for the entire weekend or just the night? I have work to do.” She tried to step away, but he pulled her back against him. Anger rose in his chest.

Drake caught at her zipper again. This time he yanked it downward, not caring if he damaged the delicate material. Sheila squirmed against him, but he held on until his fingers curled around the pleasure panties. Annoyance made him tear them from her slender frame. “You will not wear these again in my presence."

She gasped. “Drake, stop it. You have no right."

He swung her to face him, locking her hips against him with his hands on her ass. “You belong to me. If I tell you not to wear those damn panties, you don't. If you do, you will be punished, and I'll rip them off you."

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. He saw a flash of fear and excitement. Just what he expected. Sheila secretly craved the role of a submissive, and Drake was not above giving it to her. “Y-You don't rule me."

"No?” He lowered his head so that their mouths touched only an instant. Her lips quivered beneath his. She was desperately hungry, but he would make her wait. Punishment for treating him as if he was beneath her.

He stuck his tongue inside her mouth, teased hers, then pulled back again. He did it twice more until she moaned in frustration. Drake slid a hand up beneath her blouse and captured her breast. Her nipple was already hard, waiting for his fingers to knead it, make it tighter. Sliding out again to grasp the thin material of her blouse, he yanked it open. Buttons flew, but he didn't care.

Sheila gasped. “I won't have anything to wear home."

"Good.” When he had finished undressing her, she wore nothing but the high-heeled black sandals she'd worn to work that day. He nodded toward the couch behind them. “Lean over it."

She stared at him for a few moments. Drake could only imagine what thoughts were going through her mind. He saw her hesitate about giving in to his will. He was fully ready to insist, knowing she'd like all that he planned for them, but he also wanted her to give in to him. Making her come wouldn't take much. Dropping his gaze to the dark curls at her apex, he would bet anything that she was already dripping wet, but he wasn't going to reach for it just yet.

Sheila rolled her eyes at him, compressed her lips, and strolled to the couch. She bent over it, her ass so high he got a delicious view of her pink treasure. Drake licked his lips. He couldn't wait to feast, but wouldn't until he'd spanked her.

"Are you ready for me?” Before she could answer, Drake smacked her ass. Sheila cried out and moaned. She pushed her rear out to him, offering it. Drake stroked it gently to soothe the sting, then smacked it again.

"Drake,” she whined.

"Poor sweet Sheila,” he crooned. “Do you want more, baby?"

She seemed to hesitate. He smacked her soft rear again. This time, when he stroked her, he slid his hand down between her legs. In an instant, he was gasping over her back, fighting not to come. Drake planted a soft kiss against her back, breathing in her aromatic scent.

"I had a plan,” he whispered. “A plan to make you obey me and bring you to your knees for all this time of waiting for you and because you dropped me.” He kissed down her back to her rear. He kissed each rounded cheek and then slid fingers around between her legs. He slid fingers slowly inside her moist tunnel, gratified by her groan. “I was going to make you beg for me to put my dick inside you, Sheila. What a fool."

She trembled, moving back against his stroke. “W-Why?"

He didn't want to admit the truth to her, but no lie came to mind. “Because I can't. Don't get me wrong. I could come all night after spanking you, making you do as I say. It's a real turn-on, trust me.” He pulled his fingers free and licked the juices he had come to love from her. “But I need you right now."

He stood suddenly, pulled her up to face him, and wrapped her legs around him. He carried her toward the bedroom and placed her gently on the bed. While he observed her lying and watching him, he undressed. He noted the look of excitement in her eyes when he revealed his reaction to her perfect body.

"You like what you see?"

She smirked. “You know I do."

"Maybe I should take you quickly before something happens to stop it.” He had been joking, but a shadow crossed her features, and she glanced around the room fearfully. Oh no. He wasn't losing his chance by some freak accident, something that stopped them from consummating their attraction. Tonight was the night, and he decided to believe his determination made it the night, which kept him from dominating her longer, for it could not be that he was falling for the woman who had been the bane of his existence.

Rather than examine the feelings, he climbed between her legs. Her sweetness called to him to drink, but with the hesitance in her eyes and the very real threat of them not finishing what they started, he didn't want to delay. Drake lifted her legs and placed himself squarely between them. Holding her attention with a piercing gaze, he thrust quickly and deep inside her.

"No,” he told her when she would have closed her eyes at the pleasure. “Look at me. Feel me inside you."

"Drake,” she moaned.

"You want all of it?"

"Yes, please."

He had gotten what he wanted after all. Sheila pleaded for more as he thrust into her again and again, each time driving deeper and wanting to fill her until he burst. He could not hold back his own groans of desperate need, of the intense satisfaction of being inside her warm channel.

Drake watched her struggle not to close her eyes each time he drove into her. When he added the pleasure of tweaking first one puckered nipple and then the other, it was clear that she was losing control. Suddenly, he wanted only to please her, to give her all the satisfaction she could possibly stand He wanted to make her come over and over again.

Gripping the backs of her thighs, Drake lifted her ass off the bed. He quickened his tempo, watching as his slick wet shaft drove in between her pink folds. Not to coming took monumental effort. But this was for Sheila. When her head thrashed against the pillow, her fingers curled into the sheets, he knew she was close to climaxing. He flipped both her legs to the side, placed a hand across her belly to force her body tight against him, and then he banged her against him harder.

She felt so good, he wanted to be lost in her forever. Disgusted with himself for his softness just because of their pairing, he drove the thoughts from his mind with each stroke. But it was too much. He couldn't hold back any longer. Drake released his seed inside Sheila just as she screamed her own explosion, and he gasp for breath at the loss of his control.

"Sheila..."

Their bodies reeled and bucked together. Drake swung her back to face him, grasped her hips, and pulled her tight as he lay flat against her. Their tongues met before their lips touched, and Drake gave as much as he took, his plans long forgotten.

When the passion eased, after several more rounds, he rolled to her side and took her with him to hold against his chest. Exhausted, he put all analytical thoughts from his mind and gave in to sleep.




Chapter Twelve
Sheila pressed more comfortably into Drake's arms and coughed. She coughed again, swallowing this time to wet her throat. It didn't help. Not fully awake, she whimpered against the pain and sucked at her cheeks to try to induce some moisture in her mouth. That didn't work either. Finally, when her nostrils began to sting with the acrid smell of something burning, she woke and opened her eyes.

Flames surrounded the bed. The furniture, the walls, even the ceiling was on fire. Panic rose in her chest. She flipped to face Drake and shook him violently. “Drake, wake up. We've got to get out of here. Drake!"

He came alert slowly. Sheila hated to think what would have happened had she not roused him sooner. “What?” His eyes widened when he took in the site. “What happened? We've got to get out of here."

"I know!” Sheila pushed back the comforter that had been covering them and at the same time noticed Drake's clothing turning to ashes on the floor. She dragged the comforter up around their shoulders as Drake drew her to his side.

"We'll have to jump across to the doorway and hope the comforter doesn't catch,” Drake advised. She nodded.

By the time they reached the main room, they found the rest of the cabin was in the same state of rapid destruction. Worse, a heavy beam had fallen to block the door. “This can't be happening!” Sheila screamed. If they didn't get out soon, they would not get out with their lives.

Sheila looked at Drake as he searched the room for an alternate route. To Sheila it looked like a deliberate sabotage, not to kill them but to force her hand. A glimpse of a figure outside the cabin told her she was right. From the height and build, it must be Dugan. How she hated him at that moment.

The fire was closing in. “If I try smashing through over there,” Drake began.

"You'll be killed,” Sheila finished for him. She sighed with tears in her eyes despite the little moisture in the air. She lifted her hand, uttered the words every Faerie learned from the beginning of coming into their magic—words to stop floods, to put out fires, and to produce winds. What she needed was produced in a second. A wind powerful enough to blow out the fires around them formed from the palm of her hand and grew as it came into contact with the fire. Within record time, the entire cabin was dark and silent, every spark extinguished.

She knew when Drake's shocked mind came to terms with what he had seen. He dropped his arm from around her and stepped a few feet away. Resigned to having to tell him the truth, she whispered, “Light,” and an oil lamp appeared in her hand to illuminate his troubled face.

She saw that the two of them were both naked still, and she conjured clothing too.

Drake ran a hand through his hair, his grey eyes wide, “And you are?"

"A Faerie."

"And that's how...” His voice was weak, trailing off.

"I produced my pleasure panties, breaking the laws of physics."

The ride home was as silent as a tomb.

* * * *
Drake did not return to the office on Monday, but then Sheila hadn't expected him to. She had called on Saturday and Sunday several times, to no answer. So Dugan had gotten what he wanted. She and Drake were officially over.

After work Monday evening, Sheila left the office as down in the dumps as she'd been on Friday. She hoped that Drake had taken care of the details for the cabin in the mountains and was hopeful his friend would understand. During one of her many calls to his home, she had left a message to say that she would pay all damages and for rebuilding. Even that had not made him call back.

Not knowing what else to do, she traveled to the council headquarters again. She wanted to run Dugan to ground, and just maybe she would report what he had to not only risk her life, but that of an innocent human. He would lose his position as emissary, but he should have thought of that before trying to set them alight.

When she stepped from the portal, clothed in a scarlet shirt dress that extended down to mid-calf, with matching pumps, she knew she looked more chipper than she felt. Her spirit felt crushed, and not even the knowledge that she was one of the richest women in the country gave her satisfaction. Who cares that she'd done with her clever creations what many men had never done. The Faerie king had never noticed, and even if he did, it would mean absolutely nothing. She shook her head as she strolled purposefully toward the great stone building. Why did she act as if she were a young sprite out to prove herself to her parent?

As she neared the entrance, she passed a young woman who gave her a look of strong dislike. Sheila didn't think she recognized the almost pint-sized Faerie with large violet eyes, but then she didn't visit often the middle world or Faeryland for that matter. With a nod, Sheila continued on her way.

Just as she put out a hand to the knob of the building, someone grasped her arm. She swung around, startled, but her surprise quickly reformed to anger. It was Dugan. “Get your hands off of me. I'm going in there and telling the council members what you did."

He crossed his arms, amusement lighting the pale depths of his eyes. “Just what do you think I did?"

"Think? I don't think. I know because I saw you outside the window.” She was practically yelling, and Dugan took her arm again and dragged her over to the tree where they'd spoken before. The wide bark shielded them from the entrance to the council headquarters.

"So, you saw me through a window. Hmm, interesting. Just what was it that you were doing?"

Sheila stared at him aghast. His attitude was more laid back, relaxed. Suspicion rose inside her. If she didn't know better, she'd think the man had a cat-in-the-cream expression on his face. He looked like he'd gotten what he wanted all along. That could only mean the council had ruled against her. She began to tremble, and Dugan nodded as if he guessed her thoughts.

"I was just coming to see you,” he said with satisfaction. “Thanks for saving me the trouble."

Sheila paled, feeling like her legs would give out at any second. A chair appeared to her left suddenly, and she sank into it, marveling at Dugan's ability to be kind only after he'd gotten what he wanted. “I don't understand. What did you do, rush back here and tell them Drake and I made love in the mountains? I bet you left out the part about the fire,” she grumbled.

He stiffened. “What fire?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Dugan. I know you set that fire. I saw you outside the window. I can't believe you would risk a human's life like that. It took some effort to wake Drake.” She struggled to calm herself, anger threatening to choke her. “You know that humans are more fragile, and really, if I had not awakened when I did, we'd both be dead and you'd be brought up on worse charges than what you'll face when I tell the council about the fire!"

She glared at him. Her strength had returned enough that she could stand and fling the chair away from her. Slowly, enlightenment dawned on his face and then fear. Good, he could suffer as she did. Sheila pivoted on her heel and marched back toward the building. Dugan caught up, uttered a familiar phrase, and before she knew what was happening, he shoved her into a conjured doorway. In a flash of light, she was back in her study.

When she would have opened the portal again to return, Dugan was faster. He lifted two hands together in front of her, and before the words he said registered on her heated mind, a ball of magic shot forward, striking her in the chest. She stumbled backward against the desk behind her.

"Sheelagh Magee of the Emerald Isle Faeries, under order of the Council of Faeries, for your crimes of misuse of magic, you are hereby sentenced to fifty years without the use of your magic.” Dugan pronounced the words like a death toll. Sheila let out a soft scream of terror. A Faerie being stripped of her power was akin to a being naked in public for all the world to see.

She would become an object of ridicule to every magical creature in the human world, and even beyond. Setting out to impress her father initially, she'd only managed to shame him. The Faerie king would be a laughing stock, which was exactly why the council had delayed so long to come to a decision. In hindsight, she realized none of it was worth it.

Tears wet her face as she sagged heavily against the desk and dragged herself around it to sit down. “What will I do now? With my magic gone, I am open to anything, any attack. I might as well be mortal like a human."

"That's your own fault, isn't it?” Dugan told her unfeelingly. “But don't worry. It has been determined that as the king's daughter, you still need to be protected. That will be provided. However, you will not have any contact with Faeryland. You are to live here, among those you have fleeced."

"What?” Sheila screeched. “You can't do that. You don't understand what it means to lose my magic, to my business."

"Again, your fault.” With that pronouncement, Dugan disappeared.

* * * *
Dugan appeared in his mother's home, where he knew his sister was hiding. “Mina, come here!” he barked. She didn't appear.

He took the stairs two at a time to her room and stomped along the narrow hall while his boots echoed on the aged wood floor. The last room on the right was Mina's. He also knew she hated returning to their childhood home. His sister much preferred the lavish environment that Sheila provided, something that would soon dissolve if he didn't miss his guess. Mina would hate to return home, since another Faerie would be assigned to watch over the princess.

Wrenching open the door, which often swelled to the point of sticking, Dugan surveyed the room for his younger sibling. The neat little bed in the corner, the small white dresser and the narrow wardrobe looked undisturbed. He began to close the door, when an idea came to him. He swung the door wide again and strolled across the room to the dresser. An ornate music box in the center was the only object on top. When he flipped it open, there sat Mina, having shrunk herself to fit in the tiny space atop the red felt. She hopped off the carousel when it began to spin and play music.

Dugan pointed to the floor at his side. “Here, now!"

Obediently, Mina materialized at her full height in front of him. The expression on her face was belligerent. “I know what you're going to say, Dugan. But I did what you know you wanted to do. She had to be forced into revealing herself."

"That's where you're wrong, Mina. You should not have taken this into your own hands, and if that human had died ... if the princess had died ... I don't know what either of us would have done. I know it would kill Mother. You'd be facing charges that would most likely mean your own execution."

She gasped, her face paling. Dugan put out a hand to steady her when she seemed faint. “I did it for you,” she said in a small whisper.

Dugan frowned, shaking his head. “Somehow I don't think you had me on your mind in the least. And it was all for nothing."

At first staring at the floor, chastised, she looked up at his words. “What do you mean?"

He took her by the shoulders and moved her toward the bedroom door. “I mean the council has ruled finally. Sheila has had her powers revoked for fifty years. Now, unless I miss my guess, that will have strong consequences, starting with the loss of everything she built under false pretenses."

Mina squeaked, much like Sheila had earlier. Dugan knew he'd been right in his judging of his sister's desire for the finer things in life. When had Faeries become so interested in material possessions? For centuries, his people had been happy living simple lives. Their houses were still primarily made of wood from the trees they lived respectfully among. As he thought on it, he had to conclude that it was the influence of the human world, where there was much to temp a Faerie. If Dugan had it his way, that world would be off limits, but his power didn't extend to such a decision.

"Now, little sister, you will return to Sheila's house as her assistant and help her to wrap up loose ends."

She bulked. “Why should I do that? Like you said, she's about to lose anything. She won't be able to afford me."

He grumbled, “Because you will avoid suspicion that way, especially since you took it upon yourself to set that cabin on fire! Now go!"




Chapter Thirteen
Drake placed the phone in its cradle and dropped onto the living room sofa. He couldn't believe it. Things were changing so fast. His old friend, Peter Sumner, had gotten the latest scoop on Sheila, as he always seemed to. The shit was hitting the fan hard. Customers were calling left and right to demand refunds of their panties and bras because the mechanisms suddenly stopped working. For the last three days, his former lover hadn't left her home even though reporters flooded the front lawn, and collectors were converging on her home.

Pete had told him that the little assistant had been seen leaving late at night when there were no crowds and returning with bags. He assumed it was groceries. So Sheila was holing up for the time being, but how long would that last? If she couldn't pay her creditors and had to return the money for every one of her customers, where would that leave the house? Probably up for auction.

He told himself he couldn't care less, was even glad that this worked out better than his initial plan, but somehow there was a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He stood, paced to the bedroom, and looked at himself in the mirror. He needed a shower and a shave. “That's what you get, you fool. You let her get next to you with those sensual curves, that sexy smile and those eyes. Eyes that I had longed to drown in on more than one occasion."

But that was over now that he learned how she had done it all. Magic. A Faerie? It seemed impossible. Those kind of creatures didn't exist in the real world. Even though he'd seen that whirlwind come from her palm and had heard those strange words she'd uttered, he'd been reluctant to tell Pete what really happened out at the cabin. His old friend would have laughed and probably gone so far as to print in his newspaper that the great Sheila Gibson had driven her beau to insanity. No, he would keep his experience to himself. And whatever Sheila was, well, she was not his woman any longer.

The best thing for Drake Corbon to do was to jump on the horse again. A sexy woman in his bed that he felt absolutely nothing for would drive away thoughts of Ms. Gibson soon enough.

He moved back to the living room to pick up the phone, when it rang. He frowned at the delay, but answered. “Hello?"

"Mr. Drake Corbon?"

"Yes."

"Great, I'm so glad I caught you. Listen, this is Jamison Danvers over at Danvers and Associates. One of my partners showed me the prototype you left with him. The robotic diagnostic card?"

Excitement and hope rose inside Drake. “Yes, I demonstrated it for him a few months ago. He had said then he wasn't interested, but I wanted to give him time to think it over. I have since made another, more sophisticated version."

"Uh-huh. Well, listen, how do you feel about creating several hundred thousand more?"

Drake sank to the floor, the phone still clutched to his ear. Had he heard right? “I'm not adverse to it, but I'd need a manufacturer and the cost of materials..."

"You let me worry about that. Come by my office tomorrow at, say, ten. We'll discuss the details. And Drake."

"Yes?"

"Please, under no circumstances, sign with someone else. I promise you that I will match anything they offer."

The words almost seemed like Greek to him. Drake could barely comprehend that this was really happening and he wasn't dreaming. How long had he waited for this day? How many times had he felt like giving up? “You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Danvers. I have no other offers on the table."

"Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow then.” The man hung up without waiting for Drake to respond.

Heaven. This was pure heaven, to finally have hope that his work would be recognized. It couldn't have come at a more opportune time. Before he could process what it all would mean for him and his grandfather, the phone rang a second time. Drake was floored again when another offer came in, and then another and another. Each executive promised Drake he would beat any other offer. Yes, this was definitely heaven.

When the phone wouldn't stop ringing, Drake removed it from the hook. Who would have thought that after years of having doors slammed in his face, companies would all be falling over each other to get their hands on his inventions? It was inconceivable. What had changed in all that time? He laughed aloud considering it.

"Hey, what's so funny?” His grandfather walked in the door, a smile spreading across his face. “I'm not complaining, mind you. You've been looking down in the dumps these last few days."

Drake hadn't shared with his grandfather what had happened between him and Sheila. Somehow he didn't want to make the old man look at him funny when he admitted his ex-girlfriend was a Faerie. The elder Corbon meant everything to him, and he had stood by Drake throughout his many failures. He didn't want the only family he had left in the world, to think he was nuts.

He leapt up from the floor and rushed to greet his elder. “Granddad, you'll never guess what's happened. The phone has been ringing off the hook with companies making me offers. I finally had to take it off the hook to get a break. Can you believe it? After so many years of nothing. I'm in shock."

His grandfather whooped, a very undignified and completely enjoyable action. “That's great, Drake. I knew if she—” He stopped.

Drake stopped dancing around and turned to look the older man in the eye. “You knew if she what? Who?” Something didn't seem quite right, and he became more sure of it when his grandfather became twitchy and wouldn't meet his gaze. “Granddad, out with it."

The man became agitated. “Nothing, Drake. It's nothing. I know, let's go out to dinner and celebrate. My treat."

Drake wouldn't be put off. He blocked his grandfather from hurrying out of the room and crossed his arms in front his chest. He was prepared to wait forever for an answer. Even as he wondered if his grandfather was alluding to Sheila having something to do with his bad luck over the years, he knew it couldn't be true. She hadn't known who he was. As he thought that, he remembered her saying when they met that his name sounded familiar. Could she have been playing him as he was her? The warm looks she gave him could have been manufactured.

His stomach dropped at the thoughts floating through his mind. His grandfather indicated the worn leather armchair across from the sofa. Drake sank into it to await an explanation, one he was sure he didn't want to hear.

Taking in a deep breath, Jefferson Corbon started slowly. “You know of Claudia Gibson?"

Drake nodded. “I haven't met her, but you've been telling me for years about how she destroyed your business, and you even told me how her daughter had taken over. That's why I went after Sheila in the first place, remember?"

"I remember, and I advised you against it, son. A woman's heart is nothing to play with.” A knowing look came into the older man's eyes. “Neither is your own."

Raising a hand to his mouth and coughing a few times, Drake tried to cover his discomfiture. This wasn't about his brief sexual encounter with Sheila, he hoped.

As if he'd read Drake's mind, Jefferson continued. “This isn't exactly about your relationship with Sheila, but rather my relationship with Claudia."

Drake's eyes widened, and he gasped in shock. Nothing his grandfather had told him previously made him think that there was any more than what he had said. Claudia and her daughter had been presented as money-grubbing women who would do anything and run roughshod over anyone to get more of it. So it went deeper than that? He had to admit, his curiosity was peaked.

Jefferson's eyes took on a far away look. “Claudia Gibson was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on. From the first time I saw her, I loved her with all my heart. Too bad she was already slated to marry my best friend."

"What? Granddad, I'm so sorry. So what happened? Did you have an affair with her?” Drake wanted the man to get to the point, where it would lead to destroying his life.

His grandfather turned a dark scowl on him. “Of course not. I'm an honorable man.” Drake could almost see the ruffled feathers and felt ashamed. The older man continued. “I didn't cheat, but he did. The ki—uh ... my best friend. Who he is isn't as important as the fact that I didn't want her hurt by finding out what he was up to."

Drake nodded, not daring to interrupt again with questions. His grandfather would share as he felt able to. He'd just have to be patient, though curiosity was almost making him itch.

"It was like the man had no self-control, like he was two different people. I could sit and fish with him, or even on the Grand Tour, I could hunt all over the worlds, and have a great time with him. Then he'd see a woman that interested him and he was off chasing her. It was like he had no conscience at all."

Jefferson ran a hand over his face as if he wanted to block the images. “And I'd have to come home and see Claudia's sweet face, so trusting, so in love with him! It was eating me up inside, every time."

Drake couldn't help but interject. “Granddad, you said ‘worlds.’ You mean all over the world, right?"

His grandfather chose to ignore the question. “One day she decided to come right out and ask me about it, whether the last trip had been with me, because she'd found evidence to the contrary. Drake, I looked her dead in the eyes and lied. I told her he was with me. I covered for that lying, cheating, son of a bitch!"

Drake's eyes widened. He'd never heard his grandfather swear. It was almost comical, but he sensed now was not the time to laugh. Obviously, his grandfather was reexperiencing painful memories, regrets. How well Drake knew what regret felt like, what it tasted like. It was sour in his stomach and bitter in his mouth. Even with that discomfort, there was the yearning for what he couldn't have. He wondered if his grandfather still loved Claudia, even after all she'd done to him, but he hesitated to ask.

"So she found out that you lied?” Drake asked.

He shook his head. “No, not at first. She suffered with him for years longer. Then the day came when she couldn't ignore the truth."

"What happened?"

"One of his women showed up at her door, saying that Claudia's husband had made all kinds of promises to her. She was angry and hurt, fully believing that this man would leave Claudia for her. So I did what I had to do."

"What was that, Granddad?"

"I helped Claudia to escape,” he said simply.

"Escape. Interesting word choice.” Drake was sure there was plenty his grandfather was leaving out of this story, but he didn't push just yet.

"It was later that she found out the truth of my involvement in covering her husband's activities for years. She had considered me a friend, though I longed for so much more. Foolish of me to think that I deserved her after what I did. And it was foolish of me to think there was a possibly after she left him. I was very selfish."

Drake stood and moved to stand next to his grandfather, resting a hand on his shoulder. “In my book, sir, you are too good for Claudia Gibson. You are kind and giving. You have to be after putting up with my sorry behind all these years."

His grandfather smiled, a little of the pain and loneliness ebbing from his face. “Thank you, Drake. I would not trade our years together for anything or anyone."

Mulling it over, something still didn't seem to add up for Drake. He thought of his grandfather's age, sixty. Sure, he could have had Drake's father young, but his grandfather had said he watched for years while Claudia suffered at the hands of her philandering husband. “Granddad, just how old were you when all this happened? And another thing—"

"It's getting late. Let's get ready for dinner.” His grandfather surged to his feet, obviously not prepared to share anymore. Drake sighed in frustration, wondering if he'd ever get the full story.




Chapter Fourteen
Sheila slipped into a pair of old jeans and pulled a sweater down over her head. It was her least favorite, the brown one with fringe around the sleeve ends. Her mother had given it to her for Christmas one year, purchased from some backend shop. Probably before the woman had learned a bit more about style. Sheila had no idea why she hung on to it, but now she donned the hideous thing as a form of punishment.

Having been holed up in her house for days, the cool night called to her. She needed to escape her gilded prison, although she expected to be permanently ousted soon enough. Everything was falling down around her, and worse still, she had not been able to contact her mother. Calling her on the phone didn't work, and she sure as hell couldn't snap through a portal to Paris. It seemed that she was on her own. Well, at least Mina had stuck by her, helping to pack. Sheila had kept a stash of cash in a wall safe for emergencies. It alone was what fed her and Mina while she tried to figure out what she was going to do.

She moved silently to the terrace doors, opened them, and stepped out into the night. A gate at the back of her property let out into a small wooded area with a narrow stream running through it. If she followed the path there, it would lead all the way down to the park, a couple miles away. At least in the night, there were no reporters to harass her with questions or creditors to demand money.

The moon was high, the shadows long. Only after Sheila was well away from her home did she remember that she could no longer protect herself with her magic. She was just like every other woman out alone at night. Yet, she continued on, needing to exercise away her thoughts of defeat more than ensuring her safety.

When she entered the park, a breeze stirred her hair, blowing it across her face. Sheila brushed it away in time to see someone on the trail ahead of her. She stopped, fear tightening her stomach muscles. This was a bad idea. She wanted to return the way she had come, but stood frozen, afraid to turn her back on the person who was obviously a man.

She took a step backward, hoping she wouldn't call attention to herself. The man stood still, with his back to her staring up at the full moon. Thoughts of snapping a twig on the path flashed through her mind like what always happened in the movies. But she didn't make a sound. For no apparent reason, the man turned and froze seeing her behind him. Of course, she would have to be standing under a light, while he was in the shadows.

Her panic grew. She opened her mouth to warn the man to leave her alone or else, but no words came out. It was just as well, being that she didn't know what would follow the “else."

"Sheila?” His voice was pitched low, but she knew it immediately.

"Drake."

She waited while he strolled slowly toward her. Waiting to see his handsome face come into the light was torment. She hadn't spoken to him since the night he drove himself to his home and slipped out of her car without a word.

He stopped before her, towering above her. For long moments he said nothing, only watched her, his face giving away nothing of what he was thinking. Finally, he spoke. “You shouldn't be out here alone."

"I—"

"What am I thinking?” He slapped his forehead. “If anyone tries to hurt you, you'll just zap them with a tornado from your hand."

"I can't do that anymore.” She tried not to sound so self-pitying.

Drake's eyes narrowed on her face. She saw the disbelief and couldn't blame him. Her life had been one long lie. Why should he believe she was telling the truth now? Why should he care one way or another?

"What do you mean by that?"

She sighed, not wanting to hear the words out loud again. They already echoed repeatedly in her mind since Dugan had first proclaimed them. “The High Council of Faeries, a group that rules from the middle world, working to control the balance of magic in all worlds, has finally ruled against me. Their punishment is that I lose all magic for fifty years."

"Fifty years! You'll be an old woman by then.” He gasped.

Sheila smiled despite her situation. “We age much slower. I'll hardly look any different than I do now."

Drake gaped at her as if she had two heads. Sheila stood still under his hot gaze, accepting her fate. Only in hindsight did she see what a selfish life she had led, cheating many others who may have had success in life had she not monopolized the market in women's intimate products. It wasn't right, and she had to live with the consequences of her actions.

"Worlds. You said worlds.” Drake was no longer seeing her, but seemed to be looking through her as he remembered something. “Granddad said worlds. I know it."

She wrinkled her nose, clueless to what he was talking about. “Yes, worlds. Faeryland, where I come from, is not the only other world besides the human one. There are millions, home to creatures you've never heard of, not to mention seen.” Her own eyes glazed over. “I have always dreamed of going on the Grand Tour, but I never did."

"Grand Tour? Oh! What a dolt I am.” Drake slapped his forehead again, causing Sheila to worry that he was losing it. She should be angry that he had walked out on her when he found out what she was, but her body had cried out for him for days. Seeing him now made her remember what it felt like to be in his arms, to kiss his lips.

Again he seemed to read her mind. The excitement of some unknown discovery he had at her mention of the Grand Tour, died out of his eyes to be replaced by desire. Sheila knew when he drew her against him that he had missed their time together.

"I assume this is why we were constantly interrupted from our activities? You being under investigation?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I suppose so. I was wrong about Dugan. He was just doing his job, I guess."

"Dugan?"

"The emissary, the one who was gathering evidence against me to bring to the council. I suppose the council didn't want me to get involved with a human while I was under suspicion of misuse of magic.” She paused, noting that his mouth had come down closer to hers. She willed it closer, while having no power to make it do so other than feminine allure. “There's no law against Faeries and humans mixing."

Drake's mouth came down over hers and they kissed for long silent moments. He trailed fiery pecks down across her cheek to her neck and breathed deeply as if he was inhaling her scent. A tremor coursed through her.

With apparent effort, he stepped back and let his hands fall to his sides. “I admit that I want you as much as ever. Visions of you writhing beneath me as I drive inside you, dance in my head all night, every night. But I can't forget what you did. I haven't pulled all the bits of information I have in my mind together yet, but I'm thinking it's not a coincidence that my luck changed when yours did."

Sheila reached out to him but let her hand fall away when he stiffened against her. “I didn't do anything against you, Drake. I didn't use my magic against anyone."

"My grandfather begs to differ."

"What does that mean? He has nothing to do with this.” Now she was being blamed for his lack of success? Her self-esteem hadn't sunk that low, to blame herself for things she didn't do.

Still, she saw the anger growing in him at her denial. “Granddad is sure your mother had something to do with this, with me."

"What are you talking about?” Her mind was beginning to spin. “Look, I know you're upset about me lying and growing my business with magic, but it's just as low to blame my mother for your own failures."

She thought he would hit her. He clenched his hands at his sides, his brows furrowed and his lips tightened. He took a deliberate step backward, away from her. “Solve one mystery for me,” he demanded.

"Yes?"

"Are you a full-blood Faerie? Meaning are both your parents Fae?"

It seemed like a stupid question to ask when she'd basically just told him he was a loser and that her family couldn't change it.

"Yes, both my parents are full-blooded Fae. And before you ask, yes I'm sure. But why would you ask that?” Not paying attention to his answer, Sheila looked around alarm. No person was present. At least, no human person.

She'd lost her powers and along with them, her ability to see into other dimensions. Normally, living among humans, she had tuned it all out, except when she detected magic. But what she knew was near wasn't exactly magic. It was evil. And the way she knew, she wished she didn't.

Drake suddenly held his nose. “What's that foul smell?"

Sheila didn't answer. She took his hand and dragged him along behind her as she hurried back the way she came. “Move, Drake. Please. Our lives depend on it."

"What are you talking about?” He lagged behind, not sensing the danger. This was another of those pesky rules Sheila had been taught as a young Fae, especially as a royal Fae. Smell the scent of a dark Faerie, get the hell out of there. She knew she was a sitting duck with no magic to defend herself or the human in her charge for the moment.

Drake pulled his hand free and wouldn't take another step unless she explained. Sheila whirled this way and that, examining every shadow in fear. The nasty beast could spring out at any second. “Drake, remember I said there are creatures on different worlds?” When he nodded, she continued, still eyeing the bushes. “That smell is from a dark Faerie. They don't always smell that bad, unfortunately, or you'd always know they were around. But it's still unmistakable when it is. And if a dark Faerie catches a Fae alone, it will attempt to kidnap or kill her. If she has no powers to protect herself or the stupid human with her...” She glared.

He caught her point and took her arm as they walked swiftly toward her home. “So this dark Faerie is really out here? You're not just pulling my chain?"

"No, I'm not. I wish I was. The dark Faeries and the good have not been the best of friends ever since ... well, never mind. That's neither here nor there. We just need to get out of the darkness.” She picked up her step, only to be hit hard with a “fresh” breeze of the Faerie smell ahead of them instead of behind. It was like sour apples and rotten egg all in one. Her stomach turned in protest.

"Where do you think you're going, princess?” The evil spoke from the shadows. Sheila couldn't tell which way it came from, but soon didn't need to guess. The Faerie appeared in front of them, in all his menacing ugliness. He offered a sharp-toothed smile. “Let's not have a lot of trouble, shall we, princess? Just come with me, and I won't hurt your human toy."

Sheila heard Drake grunt in protest. Being the gallant that she had always suspected he was, he stepped in front of her. “Get out of here. You're not taking Sheila anywhere."

The dark Faerie snarled. “Fool. Human!” It was an insult to call him human, Sheila knew, but something that would work better on a non-human. She'd always known dark Faeries were stupid. “Give me the princess and I will let you live."

Damn! 

"Princess?” Drake's gaze darted to Sheila's face. She tried to give the impression that she didn't know what the dark Faerie was talking about with just a look. She had the feeling Drake wasn't going to be fooled any longer. “I said get out of here.” Drake bent quickly to pick up a heavy stick near their feet. Sheila tried not to groan at its inadequacy.

The dark Faerie trudged closer. “Everyone knows you have no magic to defend yourself now.” He was ignoring Drake as if he was not a threat. And he wasn't, Sheila knew. Dark Faerie magic was powerful and was wielded viciously.

"Be a good girl, and don't give me trouble,” the stinky creature coaxed, lifting a hand in readiness to cast a spell.

Nervous, Sheila clutched at the necklace she was in the habit of wearing. It was an onyx stone wrapped in a tiny leather pouch with a leather strap to go around her neck. Her father had given it to her when she was a young Fae, the only gift he'd ever given her that her mother hadn't arranged first.

She couldn't imagine that as a princess, she wouldn't still be put under guard, especially without her powers, so where was her protector? Was it Dugan? Maybe he wanted her to get caught or be killed. Maybe he did have a grudge against her. As soon as she thought it, she dismissed it. Emissaries for the council did not double as babysitters. It was considered a lower level job. So where was her damn protection?

When Drake saw the shadow crawl up from the ogre's hands, like a black hole set to swallow them, he turned and clutched Sheila to his side. She pressed in close and held on, at the least savoring her last moments in her lover's arms. She clutched tighter to her necklace, craving home, wishing she'd never left in the first place. Or set out to prove to her father that she was worth his notice.




Chapter Fifteen
"Hello,” the violet-eyed Faerie said.

The protector turned and faced the woman behind him. He narrowed his eyes on the woman he knew to be Mina, the emissary Dugan's sister, lately working as the princess’ assistant. At her coy look up at him, he felt stirrings in his trousers. “Hello yourself."

Mina gave a great sigh, something that caught the protector's attention as he watched her breasts rise and fall. She batted long sooty lashes at him. “I've been so bored lately, what with her business closing down. None of my regular duties even exist anymore. And we've finished all the packing.” She ran long thin fingers along his arm, sending a chill of delight over him. “Will you keep me company for a while?"

The protector shifted from one foot to the other nervously. He glanced up at the mansion behind them. “I am supposed to stand guard and watch over her. Without out her magic..."

Mina pouted. “She's not going anywhere. It's late. Besides, I've already cast a protection spell around her bedroom. Nothing will get in there. Come and play with me."

Still he hesitated. His instructions had been clear, and hadn't he been told by the emissary, Dugan, whom he idolized and dreamed of one day holding the same position that the older Faerie held, that Mina was not to be revealed as being a Faerie? If she had cast a spell, maybe she had already revealed her true self, and there was no need to keep her secret.

He worried. “I'm not sure, I mean, I was told..."

"You were told, you were told. My brother told me about you. You are by the book all the way.” Her eyes flashed up at him. He was not sure what it meant. “He told me you'll never work for the council playing it safe all the time."

His eyes widened. “H-He said that?” Disappointment was bitter inside his stomach. He ran a hand through his hair and paced back and forth across the deck in front of the terrace doors. “I have to do what it takes to be promoted. I just have to."

Mina moved closer to him, her breasts pressing into his chest. He grew hard, wanting much more. She offered him a knowing smile. “You can get promoted, but you've got to loosen up. Take some risks."

"Making love to you is hardly a risk that will get me a more prestigious job,” he chuckled, though shakily. “Perhaps I should go up to check on her.” He started toward the doors.

"No!"

He stopped, surprised at Mina's outburst.

She blinked. Did he see tears? “She can be cruel sometimes. It hasn't been easy to work with her for all this time, but I try very hard to abide by her rules and hope that I can get through each day."

The protector turned back and drew Mina into his arms. “What has she done to you? Tell me, or tell your brother. We will protect you. She will be punished further for cruelty to a young Fae."

Mina frowned. “I'm not that young. Anyway, it doesn't matter. One of Sheila's rules is not to be disturbed under any circumstances when she's turned in for the night. If you or I go up there and she wakes up, there'll be hell to pay. Remember, she's still the king's daughter."

Her words made sense if the princess truly was difficult. After all, her father was a hot-headed Faerie. It stood to reason that she could take after the man. The protector didn't want to get Mina in trouble.

"Fine, I won't disturb her. I don't want to get you in hot water.” He smiled down at Mina. When had she grown up—and out—so well?

* * * *
Mina smirked over the shoulder of the protector as she pulled him with her into the shadows. She had convinced him just in time too, since she spotted Sheila stepping quietly out onto the terrace and then heading for the back gate. It had always been Mina's intention to leave her boss open to be kidnapped. In fact, she laughed silently, one dark Faerie in particular had been happy to make a deal when Mina had offered to distract the protector. Sheila going for a walk was all the better. The dark Faerie could easily track her and catch her alone.

"All the better for me to get what I want,” she muttered.

"Hmm?” The protector looked up from fondling her breasts. “What did you say, baby?"

She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, with an insincere smile painted on her face. “Oh, nothing. Just enjoying your touch."

* * * *
Sheila seemed to materialize from nothing and tumbled down on top of Drake. He winced as her elbow jabbed him in the stomach. She rolled off him onto dried grass, the blades of which poked at her tender heel.

Drake sat up, his eyes widening at their surroundings. “Where in hell are we?"

"Not in hell. I'm not sure where, but not the human world.” She stood, peering up at the sky. She pointed. “It's daylight, and I'm thinking that's not our sun."

He turned to look, and they both marveled at the purplish oval gracing the morning sky. Sheila saw the look of extreme annoyance come into his eyes. “Tell me you can get us back, Sheila!"

"I'm sorry. I can't."

He spun away from her, swinging his arms violently in the air and at his sides. “Damn it, are you just fucking destined to ruin my life?"

She gasped. “What's that supposed to mean?"

He faced her again. “Meaning your mother thanked my grandfather for helping her leave your father by destroying his business."

"T-That's a lie. And-And impossible too.” She shook her head, not getting why he would choose now to accuse her and her mother for his screwed-up life. “We are not responsible for your failures."

His face turned, red and Sheila backpedaled away from him. She had no ability to protect herself and felt naked against his anger. Drake continued to advance on her, anger flashing in his eyes. “My grandfather, Jefferson Corbon, was best friends with your father. They often traveled around together. But on some occasions, your father asked my grandfather to cover for him when he wanted to have an affair. For some insane reason, my grandfather did."

Sheila paused. Could what he was saying be true? Drake was right that her father was unfaithful, and now that she thought on it, she did always think that the name Corbon sounded familiar. She had been twelve years old. Why would she not remember her father's friend? Still, the timing was wrong.

"Drake, think reasonably. I came to the human world almost one hundred years ago. There is no way your grandfather was the man my father was friends with, if he's human. He is human isn't he?"

This information caught him off guard. “I—"

"Hey! Hey, you!"

Both Drake and Sheila turned toward the gravelly voice that was calling from somewhere nearby. Instead of seeing a person, Sheila's heart dropped to find a beast stretching up toward the purple-hued sky. Terror closed her throat as the beast advanced on them. She took Drake's hand, and they turned in the opposite direction at a run. The field that had appeared so small now seemed to stretch for miles. Too far away was the opening into a lush forest. If they could make it, maybe the creature would think twice about following them into it.

Just as the dragon shot a burst of fire toward them, they darted into the trees. Sheila turned to see if a fire had ignited the forest, only to find that the trees repelled the attack. Not even a leaf caught afire. Immediately, she knew where they were. “Oh no, Drake. This is not good. This is not good at all."

Drake encircled her, his anger at her forgotten for the moment. He pulled her deeper into the trees, out of sight of the hunting beast behind them. “What is it, Sheila?"

"You were right. My father went on the Grand Tour ever so often,” she began.

He nodded. “Yes, you mentioned that."

"The Grand Tour included traveling to different worlds, accessible only by magical creatures. When I was young, I read everything I could get my hands on about it.” She paused at the sound of the beast crashing against the trees to force a way in after them. Drake took her hand to move them deeper. “I read everything I could on the worlds my father intended to visit. He had a map he used to plot out the trips. I learned about the creatures that lived on each world. And I'm sure you can figure out already, that this is the world of the dragons."

"Dragons?” Drake shook his head in disbelief. “If I didn't see all this with my own two eyes, I would swear you were lying.” He pointed back toward the field. “That ... That dragon had to be twenty stories high."

Despite the warmth of the air, Sheila shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “Some are bigger, some are smaller."

"Some are bigger than that?” Drake's eyes grew round. Sheila wondered if his mind could handle all he was experiencing in such a short time.

"I'm not sure. Maybe he's the biggest.” She hoped so. Her mind wasn't doing so well either. What's more, she had no idea of how they'd gotten there unless that dark Faerie had sent them, to pick them up later after he'd demanded a ransom. That was a possibility. She closed her eyes and willed it all away, but she could still hear the dragon thrashing at the edge of the woods. Was it only her imagination that made her remember that the dragons here considered Faeries and humans snack food? It was too much.

"Sheila, open your eyes,” Drake commanded.

She shook her head. “I can't face this."

He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “You can. If I faced years of doors slammed in my face, of people ridiculing my inventions, and of feeling like I couldn't take care of my grandfather, then you can face this. You're a Faerie, used to magical creatures. Now pull yourself together so we can figure a way off of this world."

"How can we do that?” she screamed. “You don't understand, Drake. It takes magic to come here and magic to leave. I don't have any magic. I already told you that."

Drake shook his head. “No, I'm not accepting that. There's always a way."

She frowned and headed toward a large rock to sit down on. “Well, you find it then because I have no ideas. What's becoming of my home, my things while I'm here?"

He marched over to her and shook her. “Your things, you selfish woman! Your stupid things? Forever, I have waited for the opportunities that I have set up back home. Besides that, I can only imagine the worry my grandfather will feel when I am not there in the morning. Yet, all you can think about is yourself."

Sheila bowed her head. “I'm sorry. You're right. I am selfish. It was that selfishness that led me to this mess. I thought I wasn't hurting anyone. What an illusion. And I don't know where my mother has gone off to. Maybe selfishness runs in my family, and I'm just doomed."

He shook her again. “This isn't the time for a pity party or dramatics. We have to get out of here.” He paused when a tree somewhere crashed to the ground. Sheila trembled. “Sheila, how do we get out of here?"

"I don't know. My memory is fuzzy. I don't know why. It's like someone took away some of it, so I wouldn't remember certain things. Like your grandfather, although I still think it couldn't have been him. Maybe I haven't been in the human world as long as I think."

"Another time,” Drake commanded. He paused, thinking. “Listen, you said your father carried a map to the worlds. I used to watch sci-fi and fantasy flicks. There were sometimes portals to different dimensions. If a person knew the location of the portal, they could travel between worlds. Is that true in this reality?"

Sheila brightened. “Oh my goodness, Drake. That's it! There are portals. Why didn't I think of it before? With Faerie magic, a Faerie can pull up a portal in certain locations, like in doorways. Don't ask me why. But there are older portals, ones that are situated at certain longitude and latitudes. They are constant, and if I am not mistaken, they can be accessed using the Gaelic tongue, not magic!"

Drake let out a whoop of joy. “Great! We'll be home soon."

"There's only one problem,” she muttered.

"What's that?"

"I don't know the location of any old portals."




Chapter Sixteen
"Your Majesty ... uh, there is someone here to see you.” The page who interrupted his studies looked sufficiently terrified. Ennis, King of the Faeries, did not deign to give the man more than a glance before he returned his attention to the book he studied.

"Your Majesty?” the man insisted.

Ennis sighed and closed the book. “You realize you are playing with your life, don't you, page?"

The man visibly trembled. “I-I-I—"

"Speak!” Ennis took particular pleasure in raising his voice enough that it echoed along the high ceilings, rattled the windows. So much power in one word gave him chills of excitement.

The page dropped to the floor as if shot. Ennis wondered if he'd hurt himself. He muttered into the floor with lips that must be pressed against the cold marble. “Majesty, it is Her Highness, the queen."

All thought, all pride and satisfaction in who he was and how he intimated others, fled from him, leaving him an empty shell at just those words. His wife. After almost one hundred years, she had returned home. He had told himself years ago that he wouldn't chase after her. He was the king after all. She needed to understand he had to sow his wild oats. It was his right, his privilege. And none of that argument changed the fact that she was home, that he ached to set his gaze on her again, to touch her alabaster skin, to kiss her and make love to her.

"Send her in.” His voice hadn't wavered, had it?

"Yes, sir.” The page dragged himself up from the floor and backed out.

Immediately, Ennis conjured a mirror to check his face. He frowned. He looked older, lines creased the corners of his eyes. There was nothing he could do. He was old and ugly. She would have to live with it.

She swept in, thin as ever, hair grown longer and redder, he saw. He breathed deep, taking in her scent. She was still beautiful. He schooled his features, held in check his emotions. “What are you doing here, Claudia? I thought you were off enjoying the human world. Hmm, back so soon?"

"Trust me, Ennis, I would not be here if I could help it.” She held her nose high, her shoulders back. Ennis considered what she would do if he crossed the small room to the door where she hovered and forced a kiss on her. Would she like it? Maybe he would try later.

"Then what do you want, hag?” He was deliberately cruel.

She gave no indication that she had heard his insult or for that matter cared at all about what he had to say. “I am here about our daughter. Sheelagh."

He frowned. “As if we had another?"

"One can't be too sure. Maybe you had forgotten who you had with whom.” Her snide comment hit its mark, but two could play the game of putting on an uncaring front.

"What about Sheelagh? Is she pregnant?"

The queen sneered. “Thank goodness, I left when I did, so that I would be the one to raise her and not you. She is nothing like you. She would never dream of sleeping with every two-bit Faerie that flashed the goods to her."

He shrugged and examined his nails. “Then what, Claudia. I haven't got all day."

In a rush, she blurted it out. “Since you failed to protect her, and for that matter me, the council has ruled against us and taken our magic. You would not believe what it took for me to get here, the finagling I had to do with magical creatures I just happen to know who live in the human world.” She dragged in a deep breath. “Anyway, I'm here because I don't know who else could help at this point. Sheelagh has been missing for two weeks. And I want to know what you're going to do to find my baby girl!"

* * * *
Two weeks. Three hundred thirty-six hours in this God-forsaken world, where they were at the bottom of the food chain, and everything that moved was their natural enemy. Sheila hadn't been kidding when she said the dragons loved the flavor of humans and Faeries. Worse, they talked and licked their lips when they were anticipating roasting the two of them.

As if that weren't enough, he and she were at each other's throats as well, every new argument making Drake glad they had broken it off when they did. Their incompatibility was obvious. “Do you have to be so damn snappy, Sheila? All I asked is if you have remembered any more about this world. Maybe a landmark or something."

She stood, brushing a hand over her thighs as if she brushed him off. “And I told you, back off! I don't know any more than you do."

"We've been hiking for miles. This damn world is nothing but trees, rocks, hills, and endless plains,” he grumbled for the hundredth time, now getting on his own nerves. “You seem so lackadaisical about it all, like you don't care if you ever find the portal. Makes me think this is all some kind of plot to keep me from the business proposals I received."

"What? The whole world—or rather worlds!—does not revolve around you, Drake Corbon.” He saw the intense anger in her eyes, but couldn't bring himself to believe it wasn't an act. She spun on her heel and stomped out of the alcove they occupied.

"Sheila, get back here,” he yelled, rushing after her. He followed her up the mountainside for a little way and then collided with her back when she stopped short. He was about to chastise her again, when he realized she was trembling. Drake looked up in the direction where she stared.

The black Faerie was back. It stood in front of an open portal at the top of the mountainside they had been climbing for the last few days. Had they only known, escape was just a few hundred feet higher, they would not have stopped the night before to rest. As if they were frozen, Drake stood with the fingers of both hands wrapped around Sheila's upper arms. Staring up at the black creature, she pressed back against him.

It began to laugh, a hideous, evil sound. Then something that looked like dark brown toothpicks rained down on them. One caught in Sheila's arm, and she brushed it away. Drake pulled her behind him and they backed down the rocky path carefully. Seconds later, a dragon arced up over the crest of the mountain and flew straight down, swallowing the dark Faerie in one gulp.

Drake turned and grabbed Sheila's hand on a run down the mountainside. The creature was massive, and it was likely the four-foot Faerie had only been a teaser. He and Sheila would not be next. They hurled themselves inside their shallow alcove and dragged wide leaves over the opening to shield them from their predator. It was a flimsy hideout, but nothing else had presented itself in their times of need.

For hours, the dragon roared on the top of the mountain, blocking the portal location. Even into the night, it screeched. Late, when it grew quiet, Drake crept out to check, but it lay stretched out in the same position. They were now in a waiting game.

As Drake lay wide awake next to Sheila, he thought of their time on this world. Too many times, more than one dragon hunted them, but the dragons usually ended up fighting each other over who got to feast on the tiny delicacy. And Drake was getting really tired of it.

Rain began to fall in torrents. On nights like this, they lay in the shallow alcoves between the odd-smelling leaves, which had proved to be the only plant that covered their scent, so that the dragons couldn't hunt them.

After a few minutes thinking about it, Drake curved his body against Sheila's to keep her warm while he watched her sleep.

She tossed and turned. Her jogging pants and top were somewhat tattered after their recent experiences. Drake wondered what she had on under them, since she'd always worn the pleasure panties.

"We won't get past this,” he whispered into the night, knowing his voice didn't carry to her ear though his mouth was only inches away. They'd grown used to the rain, falling in huge drops that drowned out all other sounds. The heavy drops were the reason they couldn't travel while it rained. The dragon on the mountain was an unwelcome bonus. Sheila had nearly drowned that first day.

Drake leaned down to kiss her shoulder, slid a hand along her hip. He hardened and his hips of their own accord pressed closer to her from behind. “I want you so bad, Sheila, it hurts. But I could never trust you. And you'll never trust me."

She had figured it out soon after he had admitted what his grandfather told him about her mother. He'd been in it to make her pay. They had argued for days, and then fell into the silent treatment, before arguing all over again. Now, he needed to be inside her.

He shook her awake. “Sheila.

She came awake slowly, murmuring softly at being disturbed. Drake slid his hand around to her stomach and then lower. He waited for her to tell him she didn't want it, that he should stop, but she didn't.

Not able to wait another minute, he slid her pants off her hips to find she wasn't wearing any panties at all. The knowledge excited him more. When her pants were off, he eased a hand beneath her and held on to both her hips, lifting her up an inch so that he could slide a leg beneath her. Finding her already wet, he guided his erection into her moist box, plunging deep with every inch. Pleasure exploded across his consciousness, the first he'd had in days.

Her gentle moans drove him. He pulled her back each time to meet his thrusts, so that he bumped against her rounded ass repeatedly. The intoxicating sensation of bouncing against her luscious body was enough to make him come too soon. He couldn't get enough. It took concentration not to release. Drake wanted her to be satisfied before he was. He told himself he didn't care, that it was purely selfish. Every man enjoyed the satisfaction of bringing a woman to her knees with his dick. He was no different. It didn't go further than that.

She suddenly shuddered against him, her moan becoming more of a mewl. She bucked and rocked her hips so that their bodies ground together in an intimate dance. There was no way he could hold on any longer. He had to come. “Damn, Sheila. I'm coming."

"Come,” she demanded. “Please, Drake."

He reached up to wrap an arm across her breasts, flattening her body against him. His breath caught in his throat. It was too late, he had to come. An explosion ripped through his body, leaving him weak and sated. He clung tighter to her, kissing her neck. For minutes he was too spent to count, she whimpered, moving slowly against him. Again and again her body shuddered, and he knew she had come not once but many times.

When she was finally calm, he tightened his hold. She rested a hand on his, and he tried not to notice the tears dripping down from her eyes to his hand. After a while, she was calmer.

"I don't know what to do, Drake.” She said softly. “We've traveled miles. If that dragon never leaves, or if he does and I can't get that portal back open ... We have to face the fact that we might die here, unless someone comes to this world."

A light of hope sprung up in him. “So people do come here to visit? I mean other than that evil Faerie who was chasing us?"

She shook her head. “No, only on the Grand Tour. It lasts about five years, but only happens every thirty. If we've missed it—and I hate that I never kept up with it—then we could be here a very long time."

"If we survive being eaten and that dragon goes away, I'm hopeful that you'll get the portal open.” He lied. His hope was thin. If she didn't get that portal open, and there was no way to know for sure until they could reach it being that her memory wasn't intact, then they'd have to wait. He was already in his thirties. Waiting another thirty years would make him practically an old man. And from what Sheila had said, she wouldn't change much. He would, being human. For some reason, the thought of not getting his dick up, rose in his mind. Before that humiliation occurred, they had to escape. Of course, it was also another affirmation that a Faerie and a human didn't belong together.

Where had his magicless, life of near-poverty go? It seemed like heaven now.

* * * *
In the morning, the dragon was gone, probably to hunt easier food. Back on the rough trail, Drake hoisted himself up across another boulder and reached behind him to help Sheila up. When she became unsteady, he drew her close. Her breathing was labored and her normally, somewhat pale skin was even paler. Beads of sweat lay on her upper lip and along her hairline. Now and again, she trembled for no apparent reason. The day was warm, but not overly so. Something was wrong.

"Sheila, what's wrong with you?” He studied her eyes, wondering if they appeared darker. “Are you feeling sick?"

She offered a thin smile and shook her head slightly, but the movement threw off her balance again. In the next instant, she collapsed completely in his arms. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body went into convulsions. Drake lifted her and moved as quickly as he could to flatter ground. He lay her in a patch of grass, and glanced around to be sure no dragons were nearby.

They had taken the precaution of rubbing what they now called the “anti-dragon plant” on their bodies to enable safer travel to higher ground. Now, as he opened Sheila's jacket to give her air, he realized they had made a grave error. Clusters of tiny greenish bumps dotted her delicate skin. The plant was poisonous to Faeries. Drake had no idea how to help her.

"Is there anything else that can come against us?” he shouted wearily into the sky.

A rumble and a flash of light came from the last bit of incline over which they had been trying to climb. Spotting another of the alcoves they'd called home for the last few weeks, Drake hid Sheila inside it and covered her with his shirt while he went to investigate.

Before he could reach the top, a man taller than he was by several inches and broader of shoulder, with long straight black hair, nearly sent him back down the mountain. The arrogant air of being all important, the odd clothes, the pointed ears sticking out from his large head—Drake had discovered Sheila's ears days ago—all told him that this must be Sheila's father, or at least a close relative.

"Where is she?” he demanded. An extended hand toward Drake was not for shaking, he surmised, but for wringing his neck should anything have happened to Sheila. He swallowed hard.

"She's ill, sir. I think it might be the anti-dragon plant.” Drake explained, as he led the way.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see a frown of confusion on the man's face. “I don't know what nonsense you're talking about. Where's my daughter?"

Drake stepped aside while the man squeezed into the narrow space. He was big and bulky, but he handled Sheila with the gentle hands of a man who had missed his child. How could he have let her go and stayed away for so long?

"Is she going to be okay?” If anything, Sheila looked paler, which made him worry. He searched his mind for folklore about Faeries. Don't they have healing power? “Can you heal her?"

The man ignored him. “Sheelagh, come on, girl. Open your eyes."

Sheila's eyes fluttered and then she opened them for a moment, the beautiful green still dark. “Father?"

Worry knotted Drake's stomach. “Something is wrong with her, sir. We rubbed a plant on our skin because we found out the dragons can't smell us. But I think it made her ill."

Sheila's father looked up at him, a harsh look in his eyes. “You will address me as Your Majesty and nothing else. And if you weren't such a fool, you'd know that this is not a plant poison as it's been made to look. It is black magic. Sheelagh has been poisoned all right, and if we do not find the right cure quickly, she will die."




Chapter Seventeen
"Mina, why have you done this?” Dugan tore at his hair, fearful, shocked and appalled at his sister's actions. “The princess may die. You hired an evil Faerie to come after her? Why would you go to such extremes? The council had taken her powers. That was enough. She'd fallen from grace. It was guaranteed that the humans would ridicule her, even avoid her. But this."

She scowled at him, annoyed that he wouldn't allow her to get a word in. But he was tired of her screw-ups and covering for her. It wasn't her fault that bitch princess deserved everything that came against her.

"No, you're right. I don't want to hear any more excuses. I've had it. Your interference with matters that I am taking care of is at an end! Do you hear me, Mina?"

She pouted, crossing her arms and stomping her foot. “I hear you."

Dugan nodded, touched a hand to his temple, and disappeared. Mina growled in anger. Whatever she could do to throw a monkey wrench into Sheila's life, she would do it. She swung on her heel on the porch of her mother's home and was surprised to see Drake just down the road. She grinned. Things were looking up already. She glanced down at her top and squeezed open a few buttons to show more cleavage. A man was a man, human or Faerie. She smiled.

Mina appeared alongside Drake as he strolled. She'd always thought he was a handsome man with his pale eyes and handsome face. The bulging muscles were a real turn-on, but when he had returned from the dragon world, he looked like a ragged mess. He didn't look much better now, apparently having sat at the princess's side ever since they had returned a few days ago. She was no better, and neither was he.

"Hello, Drake."

He glanced up, eyes vacant. “Do I know you?"

She smiled. “It's me, Mina.” She'd hesitated to tell him she was the assistant who had worked for Sheila. The king had actually assigned Mina to care for his daughter, something she resented. It had been his magic that kept her plain, human-like, even disguising her violet eyes and pointed ears. She could not very well have told him no. Mina had been there, day in and day out, holding back her hatred of the princess, her actions of spying for her brother. She didn't regret anything she did, even conspiring with the evil Faerie. And she wouldn't regret seducing Sheila's boyfriend.

Drake's eyes widened. “Mina? But I thought you were human. How many times have I seen your ears when you had your hair pulled back?"

She tapped his arm, before wrapping her hands around it to accidentally rub her breasts against him. “You noticed me? And here I thought your attention was all on Sheila."

He looked embarrassed, not the reaction she had been going for. “I worked at the office, remember? I met everyone there. I would remember the person who worked closest with Sheila, being that you worked both there and in her home."

"Oh."

He attempted to remove his arm from her grip, bur Mina held on. “I was just returning to the cabin my grandfather and I have been sharing. I will be going back to the human world to wrap up some things and then I'll be right back. Sheila still isn't doing too well."

Mina ignored the reference to her rival. “Oh you're not staying at the big house? Tsk, the royal family has always been rather snooty, you know. Very unfriendly people, if you ask me. Drake, you're welcome to stay with my family. We have an extra room since my brother moved out and stays in the middle world most of the time."

"Thank you. That's very kind of you, but I don't expect to stay long. Only until I know Sheila's okay.” He paused, a sad look coming over him. Mina hated that she couldn't tap into his thoughts. Her ability had not progressed as far as that. “You don't like our world? Or is it that you don't like Faeries period?"

"To be honest with you, I haven't had that great of an experience with your kind. For that matter, neither has my grandfather. He is eager to leave as well."

She cast him a knowing look. “Especially since the king is pointedly ignoring him, not allowing him within fifty feet of his home. I'm surprised he allowed his old friend to come back into Faeryland. I mean everyone knows—"

"Have a good day, Mina.” Drake walked away, leaving her standing there.

Mina grumbled, clenching her fists at her side. How the hell did I blow that? Tomorrow, she would do better, with a new plan.

* * * *
"Granddad?” Drake called when he entered. The rustic cabin was situated at the end of the long street leading up to Sheila's childhood home. “Are you in?"

His grandfather strolled into the small living room from the back. “Where else would I be? Nowhere to go, and nothing to do in this town. That is if you don't have magic and you're in the doghouse with the king."

"I'm sorry."

Jefferson waved an arm in the air. “I'm getting used to it. It has been nice at least seeing the faces of my old friends. None will talk with me more than a second. They're scared of incurring the king's wrath."

Drake sighed and dropped his sketch book on the table. “Oh well, I've gathered more than enough of his wrath to go around. I don't think the king likes me either. The only reason I'm tolerated is because of Sheila. She gets restless sometimes and calls for me.” He squirmed in his chair. “I think she just feels guilty about what her family's done to ours."

The old man looked tired, older. “And yet, I see hope that it's more than that in your eyes.” He shook his head. “Don't give in to it, son. Fight. Fight with all your strength. Falling in love with a Faerie is guaranteed heartbreak."

"I can't believe the king still won't talk to you. And now that Claudia seems to have moved back home, she's avoiding you too?” Drake didn't miss the change in his grandfather's expression. “Granddad, when are you going to explain to me just how you can be friends with a Faerie king that must be hundreds of years old?"

Jefferson hesitated and then moved to a window to glance out beyond the pale yellow curtains. After a few minutes of silence, he let go of the wisp of fabric and swung to face Drake again. “It was on one of his trips. Ironically, an evil Faerie attacked him in the human world when he had wandered from his guards. I was out hunting at the time and happened on him. What was I going to do? Here was some strange creature with pointed ears, sick and dying."

"You weren't shocked?"

"Of course I was.” His grandfather shrugged. “I saved his life that day, and we somehow became friends, regardless of his penchant for thinking the worlds revolve around him."

Drake smiled even with his weariness and internal fears.

"Ennis invited me on the next Grand Tour, which was only a couple years away. We had an incredible time. And as it happens on one of those worlds, we found a creature with amazing powers and elixirs. She gave me what I call the Fountain of Youth in a bottle. It didn't make me stay young forever. It slowed my aging process. So, you see, that's why I can be friends with a centuries old Faerie king."

Drake saw the shadow that crossed his grandfather's face. Even after all the years they had been separated, the old man still missed his friend. But there was such bad blood between the families, it seemed impossible to repair. When he had first arrived in Faeryland, the thought had crossed Drake's mind that maybe the rifts could be repaired by the circumstances of Sheila's health. Many families and friends had drawn closer in the midst of tragedy. That just wasn't the case in dealing with a pompous king like Ennis. It was his way or no way. Although the two would deny it to the day they died, Sheila and her mother had a similar outlook. His summation was that Faeries were naturally arrogant people. Anyone who didn't recognize and accept it found themselves on the outside looking in.

Drake felt more an outsider every day. While he wanted to be there to ensure himself that the elder Faerie attending her would find the cure in time, Drake wondered if he should just leave this place as his grandfather did years ago, and wipe the memory from his mind the best he could by moving on with his life.

He made up his mind. “Granddad, I'm going home tomorrow. There's nothing here for me. Somehow, if I can reschedule with the companies that had interest in my inventions, we can live comfortable lives from here on out. We won't need the Faeries at all."

"Good. I believe you've made the right decision, son."

Drake didn't feel so confident. “I hope so. Do you still love her, Granddad?"

His grandfather clapped him on the shoulder with a grin spreading across his face. “I'll tell you that, Drake, when you tell me honestly what you feel about Sheila."

"Let's pack."

"That's what I thought.” Jefferson chuckled.

* * * *
"He what?” Sheila's head was spinning, and her stomach felt like it was so empty the front was touching the back. The residual effect of being flat on her back, for what seemed like ages, in pain and in delirium, was still confusing her mind. “Please explain, Mother."

Claudia patted her hand, a soothing smile on her face as she sat at Sheila's bedside. “I wouldn't have told you if I thought it would upset you so much, Sheila, dear. I just thought you should know so that you realize you need to move on. Now, there is that nice Fae two neighborhoods over—"

"I can't believe you're trying to match-make. You, of all people.” She gave her mother a hard look. “You are back with him, aren't you?” she accused.

Her mother stood and fiddled with the flowers on her dresser that Drake had left. It was a human sentiment to leave them. She ignored the flutter and pain in her heart.

"Now, dear, we're talking about you, not me. I'm concerned about your health."

Sheila crossed her arms, struggling against the feelings that threatened to erupt at any second. “First, I am cured, mother, so don't worry yourself. Second, please explain to me why Drake left Faeryland before he knew I was well, and with my ex-assistant, Mina!"

Her mother continued to fiddle with the flowers until petals were falling from them. Sheila curled her hands around the heavy blankets that covered her. Her strength still hadn't returned yet and she found it hard to stop shivering. Now to find out that Drake had abandoned her after all they had endured in the land of the dragons—and with Mina—was too much. It had already come as a shock that her assistant had been a Faerie all along, one that she hadn't sensed at all in her home. That was unusual in itself. She suspected something havey-cavey, but she would speak about that with the king, along with some other issues on her mind.

"Well, dear, now you see that Drake wasn't the best catch for you. And that assistant, well, I think you need to ask your father about her.” The look of disgust, even hate, on her mother's face was shocking.

"What about Mina, Mother?” Sheila said slowly. “Tell me."

Claudia patted her hand again and then moved to the door. She stopped, turned back and blew a kiss to Sheila. She felt it physically on her cheek. Magic. “When you speak with your father, Sheila, ask him about missing memories.” With that cryptic message hanging in the air, her mother left the room, the heavy wooden door clicking closed behind her.




Chapter Eighteen
Ennis shelved a book in his study and stretched out his aching muscles. He turned back to his desk to stare down at the framed picture of Claudia and Sheelagh he had on the top right corner. He knew his headstrong daughter had been doing everything she could to get in to speak with him, but he had put her off. In his own home, he'd taken to skulking about. He cast an invisibility spell to hide in plain sight when she walked by. He ate in his study or his room with a locked door she couldn't pick. It was a good thing she was without her magic abilities or he would have had to face her sooner. This whole business was making him grumpier than usual. And worse, the council was harassing him to send her back to the human world to live out her punishment. He hated admitting he didn't want to lose her again.

He slumped in his chair, wondering how he would speak with her without revealing too much or anything that would upset her. As he thought it over, a shift in the air of the room caught his attention. He glanced toward the door to see a large hand materialize from nothing. Its fingers opened and out dropped Sheelagh. She landed on her rear and looked up at him with a grin. “Hello, Father."

Ennis put on his game face. “Sheelagh! What are you doing? How did you get in here?"

She stood, brushing off her clothes. “I convinced a young Faerie who needed practice in transportation to test his ability on me. I told him where to drop me."

"Are you insane, girl? You could have been killed."

She frowned. “Gosh, Father. I didn't know you cared.” She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and flopped down in his guest chair. “Now, you and I need to have a talk, and there will be no more hiding out. Neither of us is leaving until we do."

He sighed, scratching at his beard and thinking. There were a million and one things he would rather be doing—like convincing his wife to share his bed again. He thought it was enough that she was back, but he wanted her body beneath him. He sighed, dreaming of it.

"Father!"

Ennis snapped to attention. “Yes. What can I do for you, Sheelagh?"

"You know what you can do for me.” She glared at him. “Let's start with why I feel like parts of my memory are missing. And then we can move to what this necklace you gave me when I was a child is?"

"You were always a headstrong child, Sheelagh. I'll give that to you. Shouldn't be a surprise really. You take after me.” He reached a hand out to touch her face, but she moved away. Fire still lit her eyes. He considered that he had mellowed some over the last hundred years, but he still ruled with an iron fist. Mostly. But nights had become increasingly lonely. It was easier to be lost in a book. “Fine then. I took part of your memory to help you to survive in the human world. Your mother knew about it and agreed. You cried nonstop before you left."

"But ... but I remember. I wanted to leave, was glad. You didn't take me on the Grand Tour with you, so I hated you.” The confusion on her face was plain. “That was real, wasn't it? And Drake's grandfather told him that he had arranged to take Mother with him to the human world to get away from you."

Ennis slammed his fist down his desk. “Don't mention that man!"

She stood. “Oh no you don't. You're not getting out of this conversation by throwing a fit. I'm not a child anymore, and I'm not going to be intimidated. Now tell me the truth, Father."

He watched her, his anger simmering. Being bullied by his own offspring. He had to wonder if her mother had taught her any sense of respect for her elders. Tugging at his beard again, he answered her questions. “Do you think you snuck out of here, right under my nose, Sheelagh? No, I knew. Your mother was glad to storm in, telling me of her plans because of my ... indiscretions."

Before she could comment on his word choice, he rushed on.

"We came to an agreement. The human was never allowed back here if he helped my wife to leave me. When you cried to stay, I took part of your memory, made you remember only what you felt for me when I didn't take you on the Tour. And I gave you the necklace to bring you home when you were ready, just in case you couldn't find your way."

* * * *
Sheila sank into her chair slowly, amazed at her father's words. Could it be true? Could he truly have made her feel what she did? It wasn't unheard of. Her own mother could reach into her mind and read her thoughts. It stood to reason that the powerful Faerie king could wipe her thoughts clear as he chose.

A chill slid down her spine at the thought that someone could invade her mentally and take what they wanted. She would have no strength to stop it.

"Before you get all scared that anyone can strip your mind, I had the power and the right as your father and guardian. Now that you are a mature Fae, it would be harder, and you would know of the manipulation. Well, if you had use of your magic."

She frowned. “I want to blame you for all that has happened to me."

"I know."

She sighed, knowing it was pointless. The past was done. There was only the future, and it wasn't looking so great. She wanted to go back and make different choices. “Why didn't I come home when I activated the necklace?"

"You went to what you remembered clearest. You longed to visit the dragon world with me on the Tour, so that's where you were transported."

She rolled her eyes, remembering that unpleasant experience, to say the least. “Remind me never to ask for that particular visit again. Last question,” she said. “About Mina."

"Sorry, sweetheart. Time's up. I'm a busy man.” He stood, and with that, he was gone."

"Coward!” she shouted into the empty room.

* * * *
She was being forced back to the human world. No appeal, even from the king, could help her. Sheila had to serve sentence where she had committed the crime. Within the week, she was ready to return, with suitcases of clothing her father had arranged and money that could be spent where she was going which he had somehow gathered. At least she wouldn't have to be a homeless person, living off the charity of others.

Sheila had cut her long hair and had one of the female Fairies set it in cute ringlets that covered her ears. With sunglasses, and maybe a purchase of colored contacts when she got back, along with a move to a different city, she hoped to keep a low profile. Since Drake had not contacted her and had left with Mina, she figured she was on her own. The knowledge that she could leave so easily without a backward glance hurt.

"Well, I'm leaving,” she announced as if her parents didn't know. Claudia and Ennis stood before her, her mother smiling while her father frowned. Sheila was beginning to suspect he wasn't all bad. Sure, he had apparently cheated repeatedly on her mother, even fathered other children, but that was between them. If her mother was foolish enough to go back to him, then Sheila couldn't change it. Although, she suspected it was only because she didn't want to live in the human world with no powers. There in Faeryland, she could command servants and get whatever she wanted. “I don't get why I have to return and you get to stay here, Mother."

"Oh, dear.” Her mother waved a hand. “It was all we could get the council to give in to. They are insistent that we do the time. And your father pushed to be allowed to give you all you needed so you wouldn't starve while you're there. Just go on with your life, sweetie. You'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, but you're strong and resourceful."

Doubts assailed her. From the beginning, her mother had taught her to use her powers to her own advantage. She had created the pleasure panties and bra using her magic. What would she create now that she had no power? She didn't even know how to pull a needle and thread, let alone run a sewing machine. She knew nothing of fashion or going the slow route. Even the connections she had made in the business would not be useable since all bridges had been burned in the crumble of Bare Pleasures.

"Sheelagh, you will not worry,” her father commanded, as if that would settle things. “I will send a more responsible Faerie with you, one who will protect you. He is not allowed to use his magic to help you in your day-to-day life, only to keep you from harm. However, you are my daughter. I know you will do well."

He pulled her into a bear hug that nearly crushed her ribs. Sheila only wished the stubborn man had deemed to tell her more about the Corbons and about Mina when he had returned the memories he had taken from her all those years ago. Somehow, she suspected that not everything had been returned. There was a vague feeling like she did know Mina previously, but nothing firm would come to mind. When she had begun to get a headache from the strain, she let it go.

Soon Sheila stepped up to the portal to transport herself and her guard through to the human world. She hugged her father and mother one last time, then stepped through.

The sun, the smog, the noise of traffic permeated the air. Sheila slid her glasses up onto her face and took a deep breath. She had to admit, she missed it. Clutching her bags closer, she swung to face the guard. “I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. What is it?” She smiled.

"Niall, princess.” He gave a slight bow.

Sheila crinkled her nose. “Well, Niall, you better get used to calling me Sheila, not princess. I'll keep the variation on my real name, but think of a new last one later. That reminds me, what am I going to do about identification? I need a job. My father's money won't last forever."

She continued to mull over the problem as she made arrangements to rent a two bedroom apartment which had been converted from a motel room. It was cheap and definitely not what she was used to, but at least it was clean. When she set down her bags, she turned to Niall. “I have to get a two-bedroom to accommodate you. That's extra expense. I think you need to pay me rent.” The demand was nitpicky, but she didn't have much of a choice.

"Of course, yes.” He conjured a few pieces of gold and held out his hand to her. Sheila laughed.

"That's not going to work. We would bring too much attention to ourselves if I started handing out gold pieces. I guess you could get a job too?"

Niall's eyes widened, and he put a hand up to cover convulsive coughing. Sheila suppressed a laugh. As far as this male Faerie was concerned, he already had a job with the royal guard in Faeryland. She knew from her returned memories that the royal guard were made up of men and women whose greatest ambition was to serve the king and their homeland. They were not curious about other lands where creatures of all types roamed. Faeryland was everything. Remembering that made her look more closely at Niall.

He was tall, very tall with wide shoulders, almost as impressive as Drake's. A cleft chin, a neat mustache, and smoldering green eyes made the man perfect for a girl's fantasies. Sheila sighed thinking of her former lover. She swallowed the anger and hurt and moved to unpack her things.

"Princess."

Sheila grunted, tossing a blouse she had just pulled out on the bed. “Didn't I tell you, Niall, not to call me that? Call me Sheila.” She spoke her name as she spun around. Niall stood behind her, concentrated magic in his palm and aimed at her. “N-Niall, what are you doing?"

He frowned. “Something foolish. I'll probably regret it, but I happen to be in love with someone who wants to see you gone."

"Gone,” she screamed. “Have you looked around this damn apartment, Niall? I am gone. I have no power, no prestige. I am starting at the bottom of the barrel again, with no magic. How much more gone could I be.... Unless, you mean dead?” Her stomach dropped.

The ball of magic extended and grew in his hand. He raised it, then bent back his arm as if he was ready to launch it at her. “Forgive me, princess."




Chapter Nineteen
Drake opened his eyes and slid to the edge of the bed slowly to keep from waking the woman at his side. A fresh wave of disgust and anger at his actions washed over him. He couldn't believe he was in this position, here in this house.

He dressed quickly and slipped out into the hallway, padding barefoot to the study on the first floor. He had found the secret room on the first day. Her computer was there, even a pair of her pleasure thongs. Seeing them, pressing them against his nose, and remembering her scent, the softness of her skin had nearly ended him.

He crossed to the panel initiating the opening to the room and shifted the knickknacks. The bookshelf parted, and he slipped inside, closing it behind him. He hadn't told Mina about the room. At least he could keep that secret for Sheila.

On that first day, when he had discovered the room, he had also discovered something even more interesting. It sat in a small compartment, also hidden, in the wall behind the desk. Drake removed the book and smoothed his hand across the tattered cover. A Faerie's Guide to Spells.

"She must have learned how she could use her magic to make those panties from this book,” he mused.

The first few pages were historical data and how Faeries first become aware of their powers, at the age of nine. He remembered marveling that a young Faerie wasn't born manipulating their power, that they had to learn just as a human baby learned to walk and talk. Interesting.

Drake flipped to his favorite spell, page eighty-one. Locate Another Person. If he were a Faerie, he would use this spell to find Sheila, secretly. He would go where she was and just watch her. Mina wouldn't have to know about it. Sheila could be safe.

"But you're not a Faerie, Drake. All you can do is fantasize about the woman you can't have. Ever.” He closed his eyes, giving in to self-pity for all of thirty seconds. With effort, he closed the book and stuffed it back inside its hiding place.

The buzz in his pocket startled him. He reached in and pulled out his cell. A frown creased his forehead. “Damn it! Hello?"

"Hi, baby. Where did you get to?” Mina's coo only managed to annoy him.

"Knock it off, Mina. We're not lovers, and no matter how many times you sneak into my bed, nothing will happen. I'm not interested.” He switched the phone to his other ear and checked the spy window to be sure the study was empty before he exited the secret room. “You got what you wanted. The house, money. All without breaking Faerie rules on magic use. So, just enjoy it, and leave me the fuck alone."

He heard her break something. A flash of magic unless he missed his guess. “You just remember what I told you, Drake. That dark Faerie wasn't the only one in existence. You want your little girlfriend to stay safe, you stay with me.” She giggled. “Be my sugar daddy."

He gagged in disgust. “I remember the deal I made with you. But how can I be sure she recovered? For all I know, she could already be dead.” He choked on the words.

"Where are you?"

"In the study.” The room had become his sanctuary. Mina wasn't welcome there. “I'll come to where you are. The morning room? Strawberry tarts?"

"You got it, baby."

He rolled his eyes and continued out of the room. Was the house really that big that they had to communicate by phone? And if she called him “baby” once more ... well, what could he really do? She was a Faerie who could zap him into a frog or something. He didn't suppose it worked like that, but after seeing what that black-skinned Faerie had done to Sheila, he wasn't going to push Mina too far.

Her skin had become so pale, so translucent. She had grown so weak that even her breathing was labored. On his last visit before he left, she had clung to his hand, barely alert. “Drake, I'm sorry. I should have been looking out for you in the dragon world. And look at me, I let myself get poisoned. I cheated people, stole food from your mouth."

He shushed her, carrying her hand to his lips to plant a kiss on it. “Don't, Sheila. You are not well. You don't know what you're saying. We were in that situation together.” There was nothing he could say to soothe her worry. The thought of dying might have made her feel guilty for all that she had done, how her life had seemed worthless.

Sitting beside her until she slept again, Drake had first realized just how much he loved her. His thoughts ran to what they would do when they returned to the human world. He would try to secure deals for his inventions though he had missed every appointment. Sheila could stay home or start fresh. Even if she wanted to move to a new place to begin again, he was willing. He knew he was going back on what he had told his grandfather, but giving Sheila up was impossible.

With those thoughts, he slipped out of her bedroom, happy and peaceful in his plans for the future. They could begin again, and the sins of the past would be wiped clean. Everything would work out, he'd see to it. But then he had bumped into Mina outside Sheila's room. Never had he thought there was anything conniving in the woman until he saw those wide eyes and saccharin smile. She had plans of her own.

Mina ran a hand over his arm, as if she intended to entice him with her feminine wiles. “Hi, Drakey. I was looking for you."

Drake frowned, moving his arm from her touch. Suspicion curled in his gut. “It's Drake, and what do you have to discuss with me, Mina? I thought everything back in my world was straight? Is there some last bit of business I can assist with since Sheila's so ill?” He hoped that was it.

She tugged at his arm. “Not here in the hall. It's private. Meet me at the bridge down by the lake. I'll be waiting.” Someone around the corner spoke, and she jumped. Hurriedly, she blew him a kiss and disappeared, leaving him to wonder if she didn't want to be seen.

He had strolled many times along the lake, trying to work out the fear and worry he felt over Sheila's illness. He couldn't help but think it was his fault. If he had protected her better, had been aware of the dangers that surrounded them. But how could he be? It was a whole new experience for him, and from what Sheila had told him, it was new for her as well. They had been flying by the seat of their pants, fortunate to be alive.

As he walked down to the lake to meet Mina, he kept asking himself what she could possibly want. That look of desire in her eyes couldn't bode well. Yet, he found it hard to believe that she would come on to Sheila's boyfriend while she was fighting for her life. The woman had worked as her personal assistant, for Pete's sake. He didn't want to believe she would stoop so low. Then again, he knew next to nothing about her other than her former position.

Someone, he couldn't remember who, had mentioned that Mina was a few years younger than Sheila. Her brother was Dugan, an emissary for the council of Faeries. Drake had asked his grandfather what role the council played and what an emissary did. Dugan's job seemed interesting. If he weren't set on going back to the human world and making a name for himself now that he had the chance, he would have looked further into it. Not that he had been invited to stay in Faeryland. He was Jefferson Corbon's grandson. As such, he was not welcome. The king had only tolerated his visits to Sheila's sickbed because of her, and he better remember that, the king had warned him.

As he drew closer to the bridge, Drake saw Mina leaning negligently against the stone railing. Tossing bits of a leaf she held in her hand into the water, her long blonde hair lifted in wisps by the gentle breeze, the ethereal look she had was working for her. Still, Drake wasn't moved. His heart was with the beautiful princess whose side he just left.

"What is it you have to say, Mina?” he questioned immediately. There was no sense in beating about the bush. “I'd like to get back to Sheila. There's something important I want to say to her if she wakes again."

Mina fretted. “Is that so? Well, forget it."

Not in the mood for games, he made to turn away, but she grabbed his arm. He raised a brow at her touch, and she dropped her hand to her side again. “What I have to say is important too."

"Then get on with it."

She swung away from him to stare out at the rippling water. Her nails digging into the stone was the only indication that she was not as calm as she appeared. “Do you remember the dark Faerie? The creature that attacked you in the park and then followed you into the dragon world to poison Sheila?” She cast a mischievous glance his way.

"How could I forget?” He considered telling her about the other time he thought he saw it, but kept it to himself. It seemed pointless. She was getting at something.

"Well, let me tell you something about dark Faeries, Drake. They are the opposite of the rest of us, pure evil. Where we use our magic to heal, to grow things, to protect nature, they use theirs to destroy anything and everything. They were once good, even looked as beautiful as a young Fae.” She paused to strike a pose as if to demonstrate the beauty of the Faerie face and figure. Drake deliberately turned away and was satisfied to hear her grunt of annoyance. She went on. “With the evil deeds they do, their skin turns blacker and blacker. Soon the only resemblance to their former selves are the pointed ears and large eyes. Hazards of the job, I guess."

He sighed. “And you're telling me all of this because?"

"Because the dark Faerie hones his or her weapons of murder. She can still transform into beings that look beautiful for short periods of time. Long enough to fool an unsuspecting victim that he or she intends to kill."

He stiffened. “Are you trying to tell me that you are a dark Faerie?"

She laughed, a tinkling sound. “Don't be silly, Drake. Of course not. I'm not all bad.” She winked. “But I do know a dark Faerie ... or two. Seeing that the one was eaten.” She frowned at the words. “I hope that dragon got a horrible stomach ache."

Suddenly, Drake knew where this was all heading. It was a threat against Sheila, when she was at her weakest, without powers. But surely she would be safe in her father's home. “I know where you're going with this, Mina, and you can save your breath. Who knows what you have against Sheila, but from what I've seen, she's been nothing but good to you, even if she did misuse her magic."

The pleasant smile faded from the young Faerie's face, replaced with anger that turned her violet eyes almost as black as the hideous Faerie that attacked them. “You know nothing about it. You don't know what it's like when..."

"When what?” he demanded.

"Never mind. Just know that I have friends who are not the kind of Faeries you want to hang out with. They enjoy killing, and they'll do it at the snap of my fingers. I'm the only one that holds them back from attacking Sheila again."

Drake sneered, disbelief clear in his expression. “What makes you think I'll believe that? You're young, a nobody. Sure your family might have limited influence, but not you. I've learned a little while I have been here. I see the class differences. You didn't come from an affluent background, and you're still not. That's why you were nothing more than an assistant to Sheila."

Drake knew when he was saying the words, he was just provoking her further. She had some personal grudge against Sheila, was probably even jealous of her, but he was not helping the matter by affirming that she was nobody special. He hoped to make her back down, forget whatever scheme she had hatched. No such luck.

"You forget who I am, Drake. A Faerie. With the ability to do this.” She grinned as she fired off punches of light to his gut. The first intense blow was like a hammering fist that then sent shocks of lightening throughout his body. “And this and this.” She kept sending them at him until he fell to his knees.

Gasping, he held up a hand. For a moment, he thought he saw guilt in her expression, but she hardened, and it was gone. She glanced around them to be sure no one was nearby and then uttered words in the tongue he had heard Sheila speak in the time of the fire. Suddenly, he could not control his limbs. He came to his feet and stood frozen in place. Drake fought to regain a will over his body. It was a losing battle. No wonder his grandfather wanted to keep him away from these manipulative creatures. They spouted about keeping harmony in nature while simultaneously taking whatever they wanted. When Mina spoke again, he had no choice but to listen silently.

"I am asking for your cooperation. I won't use my power against you, or hurt you as I just did. I will ensure that my friends will not hurt Sheila, but you must do me a favor as well."

She paused, waiting for him to respond. He found his mouth loosened. “And what's to stop me from going to the king, Sheila's father?"

Mina grinned, obviously having anticipated his question. “You can. Sure go ahead. But know this, the king will never let her leave Faeryland, no matter what the council rules. And you, favorite that you are—” she chuckled “—will be sent back to the human world without her. So sad."

"What is it that you want, Mina?"

"I thought you would never ask.” She clapped her hands, and spun around in a circle like a child. Obviously the prospect of getting whatever it was, gave her joy. She was almost as beautiful as Sheila, he realized. That her beauty had an ugly disposition and a conniving spirit was a shame. When she calmed, she explained. “I want you to go with me to the human world instead of Sheila. I want you to buy Sheila's house for me and let me live in the lap of luxury as the woman of the house."

Drake was dumbfounded. “Let me get this straight. You want me to leave Sheila here to go away with you, or you will get your dark Faerie friends to kill her. If I tell her father, he will make her stay here, and I still won't see her. If I am destined not to take her, then I choose telling her father about your plan. Don't have a good day."

He spun on his heel to walk away, but immediately plowed into another Faerie. Drake stopped and eyed the man before him. They were about the same height and coloring, dark brown hair. The only difference of course was the obvious Faerie features. “Hello.” The greeting was pleasant enough. Drake wondered if he had heard Mina's threat. Then maybe he would have a witness.

Before Drake could secure his ally, Mina tipped around him and linked arms with the man. “Oh Drake, meet my friend Niall. He would do anything for me, and he knows some cool tricks. Show him, Niall."

Drake stiffened. Again the weird language, and behind Drake, a portal opened. It didn't lead to the human world or dragon world as the portals he had seen previously when his grandfather had been brought to Faeryland or when he had come from the dragon world. This portal had only darkness on the other side. Cold, evil darkness. A mist crept from it as if to grab him and suck him into the depths. A distance away someone screamed, and it seemed he could hear clearly the warning that sounded all over Faeryland. “Hell is upon us!"

He learned later, it was the cry given to warn Faeryland if some dark force invaded their land. Each Faerie sensed the shift in their peaceful land, and was taught always to be ready. Without knowing all of their history, Drake knew what lay inside that pit was not something he wanted to experience, nor something to allow Sheila to experience.

Niall closed the portal to Drake's relief.

"So you see, Drake,” Mina affirmed his thoughts, “you have one choice only to make, because Sheila is not safe anywhere."




Chapter Twenty
"Niall, don't do this,” Sheila pleaded. “You seem like a decent Faerie. Please don't do this. I am serving my punishment for what I've done. And if I have hurt you or your family personally, then I am truly sorry. But, please, just let me start over and do things the right way this time."

He guided her to the portal that would take her to her new home. “I'm sorry, princess. I do this for the woman I love. I would do anything for her.” He shrugged as if that would excuse his actions.

Sheila resisted, tugging her arm from his grasp. “This is ridiculous. You can't toss away your life because of some woman. Who is it?"

He grinned and shook his head. “Sorry, princess. That I'm not prepared to share. Now, let's go."

Niall propelled her through the portal. Sheila expected the black pit of death and despair, of evil personified. Instead, she came upon a world of greenery, a forest, fields, hills. It was beautiful and not unlike Faeryland. For a moment, she thought it was the dragon world again and froze in fear just inside the portal. Then she remembered there was an unmistakable hint of sulphur in the air in the dragon world from the many fire-breathing dragons. Here, the air was clean. Maybe it wasn't all bad.

"What is this place called?” she wondered aloud.

"Nothing."

She frowned. “Nothing? What do you mean nothing?"

"Not Nothing. Nautheeng," Niall explained. This world is a void of nothing. As beautiful as any could be, but there is nothing other than plant life here, basic plants. Trees, grass. Limited fruits, some vegetables growing. No animals, no fish, no birds, no people. And to make it really interesting, or not, there is a field over this world. One cannot use magic to look into it, unless a portal is opened here. It is not on any known map."

Sheila cringed at the words, terrified. She was being cast out, to live a punishment alone, with no one to talk to or see or hear. Her magic had been taken away, so she wouldn't even be able to open a portal to escape. Then she remembered her necklace. Her father said it would take her home. Hope of getting home when Niall left her grew inside.

Niall walked back to the portal after shoving her well into Nautheeng. He paused at the doorway and then came back. He lifted his hand and snatched her necklace with a click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “For safe keeping,” he told her, and disappeared. The world was quiet.

* * * *
Sheila tossed and turned in the night, laying out beneath the stars because the weather never changed, the temperature never dropped. She was grateful that the sun set and rose, that she could at least stare up into the sky at the moon that matched the human world's. She could at one point hate Drake for abandoning her and at the next ache for him.

"Why? Why did you leave me, Drake?"

She had thought in the midst of her delirium that she heard him tell her that he forgave her, that maybe they could have a life together when she was well. But maybe it had been the poison, her own wishful thinking. He would never forgive how she misused her magic. Maybe this limbo world was exactly what she deserved.

Tears filled her eyes as her body longed for him, just once more to taste his lips, to feel his muscled chest pressed against her breasts. The sensation of his thick length burrowing deep inside her was etched on her brain so fully that she could almost feel him gliding in and out of her. Sheila moaned, stroking her breasts and teasing the nipples that had gone rigid with longing for her lover's touch.

She slipped a hand down between her legs, her fingers parting her intimate folds easily since she was already wet with thoughts of him. She imagined his fingers entering her, his tongue tasting her. He loved the flavor of her juices as they flowed for him. Drake sucked at her button and lapped every drop she offered. Imagining made it almost real, and Sheila lifted her hips from the ground, pushing her fingers deeper, faster. If only her lover were there to satisfy the need she couldn't fill without him.

"Drake, please. I need you so much."

* * * *
It was hot. Drake was uncomfortable and sweaty. He had turned on the air conditioner despite the time of year, but still felt his pajama pants clinging to his thighs. He sat up in bed, grateful to find that, for once, Mina had stayed in her own bed tonight. More than once he wondered why she didn't just give Niall what he obviously wanted from her. Drake had the feeling she enjoyed stringing the lovesick Faerie along. One day, he didn't doubt, the man would wake up to how she used him, and Mina would find herself high and dry. How he wished that day were today.

As he stood, he noticed the hard-on he sported. No matter how many times he got himself off, his hunger for Sheila didn't dull. How he missed her lips, her body. He craved sinking himself deep inside her, feeling her warm sweetness settle around him until he felt like he would explode. Every day he was away from her, it hurt more.

He slipped through the darkness of the house, late, to the study. Without pausing, he closed the door and accessed the secret room. Again, as was his ritual, he pulled out the spell book and stared down at it. “Oh baby, what are you doing now? I feel like I'm losing my mind without you."

He laid his head against the cold leather cover and slid his hand inside his pants. With the image of Sheila's long sexy legs encased in those black stockings she'd worn at the office in his mind, he stroked along his dick, squeezing every time he came to the top. He jerked against his hand, wanting her warm mouth to be wrapped around him, sucking him until he came.

"Sheila."

She'd lick and tease him until he couldn't take it anymore. And when he was ready, his perfect woman would drink every last drop of his flow. He could almost feel her taking it deep into her throat while he tangled his fingers into her hair, guiding himself inside. How he wanted her, needed her. He cried out her name again and again when he came, shooting out but not dulling the ache. Not by any means.

Drake sat back, spent. His eyes closed and willed his breathing to slow, his heart rate to settle to its normal rhythm. So what he had come. The longing remained, and it felt like he was destined to spend the rest of his life in this perpetual unsatisfied state. At one point, he considered giving in to Mina. After all, she was beautiful. From what he had seen of her body outlined beneath one skimpy nightie after another, she was sexy. But he didn't want just any woman. One gorgeous body would not do as well as another. He wanted Sheila, as much as he felt like a five-year-old stomping his feet in a tantrum, damn it, only the woman he loved would do.

A flash of light sparked behind his lids. Assuming it was lightening and that a storm was brewing, he ignored it and didn't open his eyes. But the memory that there were no windows in the secret room brought him upright with a jolt. The book of spells had come alive, was in fact vibrating on the desktop. Flashes of light pulsed from inside the closed lid.

Drake pushed back his chair, keeping his eyes locked on the book. “What the hell?"

Then, as quickly as it came to life, the thing went still, no light and no movement. Drake pushed at it with a fingertip. Nothing happened. Across the room, what he recognized as a portal began to open. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the book and shoved it back in its hiding place.

When the portal was fully open, he was shocked to find that Dugan stepped from it. “Hello, Drake."

He nodded, keeping silent. What was the emissary doing here? Wasn't his work done?

The man seemed to read his mind. Maybe he was reading it. “My work never seems to be done. Well, not my work.” He frowned, annoyance plain. “This is actually something that should be done by one of the guards, but I guess it's sort of like one of your internal affairs type of situations, like when the police go bad."

Drake frowned. “What the hell are you talking about? And how did you know about this room?"

Dugan perched on the edge of the desk, completely calm. “The royal guard is under investigation because of one of their own. One named Niall was assigned to the princess and—"

"No! Not Niall.” Drake jumped to his feet. “You couldn't have been so stupid as to put him in charge of Sheila. Where is she? What happened?"

A ball of light flew across the room and settled over Drake's mouth, silencing him.

"Now, as I was saying, Niall was put in charge of the princess, but he and she have gone missing. They transported to a new city of Sheila's choosing, but have since disappeared from our radar. When I cast a spell to find Sheila, it led me here. Imagine my disappointment to find you instead of our princess."

A cold chill rippled over Drake's flesh. Fear gripped his heart. He remembered the abyss that Niall had opened with darkness and evil abounding. If he had been so cruel as to put her in there, she could already be dead. No, he wouldn't believe she was dead. Somehow he knew she wasn't. He pointed to his mouth, and Dugan released him.

"I was assured she would be okay, that if I just did what I was told nothing would happen to Sheila. She reneged on her promise, and for that she'll pay."

Dugan flicked up an eyebrow, silently questioning him. Again the impressiveness of the position came through to Drake. The life of a Faerie must be an interesting one. Well, when the woman he loved wasn't in danger.

"Mina came to me and said she was the one behind the dark Faerie attack, that she would have another attack Sheila if I didn't leave her and come to the human world to give her all that she lost. Money, this house."

Disbelief colored Dugan's face. Too late Drake remembered the man was Mina's brother. Shit.

Drake folded his arms across his chest. “I can see you don't believe me. But are you telling me you were unaware of where your sister went? That she was living here with me?"

"I knew. I could not admire how you walked out on the princess whom you seemed to love when you were there, but then live with my sister. She's grown, and I let her make her own decisions, but I intended to warm her against the likes of your type of human. I have seen how human men use women."

Drake stood and walked around the desk. “Well, I don't give a shit whether you believe me or not. I'm going to choke the living daylights out of your sister and force her to tell me what Niall did with Sheila. He was the one doing her bidding, opening dark portals in Faeryland to show me his power. I was threatened with them throwing Sheila in there if I didn't cooperate. Now it looks like they did something anyway.” Drake opened the door and stepped through to the study. “You can stay here thinking your sister is innocent, while I find out what really happened."




Chapter Twenty-One
Drake stormed into Mina's bedroom and flicked on the light. The bed was empty, fully made like she hadn't been there. As he stood wondering what to do next, Dugan pushed past him and walked over to touch the bed. He turned.

"A magic trail. Dark magic.” The look of worry on his face touched Drake, but not enough to make him care if something had happened to Mina. He wanted to know about Sheila.

"What does that mean? Dark magic? Hers or someone else? Where's Sheila, and can you track her?"

Drake knew his many questions weren't appreciated, but he didn't give a rat's ass. He had no magic, no training for hunting or tracking, but he'd give everything to find her wherever she was.

A new portal opened at Dugan's words. “Rest assured, I will locate my sister and the princess. It's what I do. And while it's not a part of my responsibility to let you know, I will keep you informed."

Drake stepped forward and grabbed the Faerie's arm. “Like hell you will. I'm going wherever you go. I want to see for myself that Sheila's fine."

His hold was shaken off, and an unseen force pushed him backward away from the opening. “You will only get in the way. Stay here. I'll be in touch.” The portal closed.

Drake paced, ran his hands in his hair, and stubbed his bare foot on the end of Mina's bed. He uttered a curse and hopped over to the door while running his options through his mind. He could call his grandfather and see if he had any more insight into Faeries that might be of some help, but then he remembered that Jefferson was world-hopping. The Faerie king had relented somewhat in his hatred of Jefferson to send him away on the long-missed Grand Tour. Jefferson had a whole entourage of Faeries escorting him. Drake remembered laughing and thinking the king had only done it to get the man away from his wife now that they seemed to be patching things up.

One hundred years. He shook his head. How had he thought he and Sheila would make it together knowing she would outlive him by several lifetimes? It was highly unlikely that he would stumble on a long-life potion as his grandfather had done. But then he realized that however short their time together was, it was better than being forced to live apart from her.

He had made the wrong choice. He should have fought to stay with Sheila, alerted the guards, and done whatever it took to be by her side. Now she was off God knows where and maybe in danger, afraid and alone. Thoughts like that caused him too much pain, so he pushed them from his mind. Better to focus on what he could do.

The study was where he did all of his thinking. It would do in this time too. When he stepped into the room, instead of finding the peace he had come to expect, there was chaos. Energy lit every corner, lightning flying about as if it sought something. Drake turned to hurry out of the room, thinking he couldn't save Sheila if he were electrocuted, but the lightning was alive. It darted ahead of him and shocked the door until it slammed closed. A blackened spot was burned into the door where the lightning hit.

"What is going on?” he muse aloud.

A tremor spread across the floor, vibrating and shifting the wooden slats until they lay askew from how they had been originally arranged. The area rug beneath the desk began to burn on one side. Drake rushed forward to put out the fire by stamping it. Every time his foot came down, an electric shock tore up his leg. It was insane that his skin wasn't burning. When he saw that the flames simply reignited, he stopped. This wasn't natural. It was magic.

"What?” he shouted. “You are obviously trying to get my attention, so what is it?” Where had his normal life gone, the days when he worried over keeping his job and not having another freak accident that would cause him to get fired? He shook his head. “I am beginning to wonder if every part of my life has been some kind of lie, something interfering all along."

"What?” he called again.

Instead of an answer, the books on the shelf began falling to the floor. He suddenly remembered the book of spells, how it seemed to come to life when he was in the secret room earlier. He stumbled toward the shelf, sliding on the uneven floor slats.

"Whoa, what happened here?"

Drake stopped and spun around. “Pete? What are you doing here?"

His old friend, the reporter, grinned. “Hey, you know I smell a story a mile out. What is this, a poltergeist or something?"

"Or something.” Drake didn't need this all splashed all over the newspaper. “I think Sheila's in trouble, Pete. I don't want to see a word of this in the news, got it?"

He got a shrug for his pains. “So her badness finally caught up with her, huh? No surprise. Faeries don't stand for that kind of thing forever."

Drake froze. “What? How did you ... I mean..."

Pete laughed. “I've been trailing Ms. High-and-Mighty for years. I love studying all things magic, and when I stumbled upon a small story in an obscure magazine for the unexplainable about Claudia Gibson and her impossible products, I was intrigued. I started tailing them, watching their every move, every invention. I began to suspect magic was at work. I couldn't share it with anyone because who would believe me?"

Drake was at a loss for words.

"A few weeks ago, I was out jogging late and came across this thing. It was black and hideous, scary let me tell you. It was screaming as if it lost something. I inched closer to hear what it was saying, and I was shocked to hear it yell out ‘Sheelagh.’ This was real close to Sheila's house. I didn't think it was a coincidence."

Drake nodded, realizing that Pete must have missed the part where he and Sheila had been transported to the dragon world.

His friend continued. “Trust me, I ran home to jump on the Net. I was determined to find out what that thing was. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was—"

"A dark Faerie. I know.” Drake felt they had wasted enough time discussing how Pete found out about Sheila. He moved to the encasement and shoved debris and books aside to click open the panel. There was no time to explain everything. “What we need is inside here."

"Cool.” Pete shuffled across the floor and stepped over the pile to follow Drake. “Whoa, what's she got under the desk?"

Drake focused where Pete indicated. The secret room was in as much of a state of disorder as the study. The desk was rumbling, banging against the floor. He hurried across to it and had to force open the drawer in the wall. The book, as he expected, was brilliant with white light. “I'm thinking it wants me to do something."

"What is it?” Pete peered over his shoulder.

"It's a book of spells for Faeries,” Drake explained. “I don't know why the book wants me to use it. I'm not a Faerie. In the introduction, it says explicitly that only a Faerie can invoke the power found in here. I should know. I read it over and over while I dreamed that it brought me closer to Sheila."

Pete gave him funny look. “Are you sure you're not a Faerie? I mean you don't know who your father was, and your mother, well, she wasn't exactly around long enough to get to know. Maybe your grandfather left out a key ingredient to your family's past."

Drake laughed. “Don't be stupid, Pete. One of the things I learned while I was in-uh ... well, another thing I learned was that Faeries come into their power at the age of nine. I'm a long way from that age."

Pete was not ready to let go of his bone. “Come on man, consider it. If only one of your parents was a Faerie, then maybe just maybe your powers have lain dormant all this time. Maybe only now, when the woman you care about is in trouble, they come out."

Wonder filled Drake. Could he be right? Could he be in fact a Faerie? He tried to remember all that his grandfather had told him about his parents. His mother had been a spoiled princess-type herself. Living in the lap of luxury, caring nothing about anyone but herself and what she could squeeze out of her father, Jefferson. When she got pregnant by a man his grandfather never knew, she was assured that he would take care of everything. Drake knew that meant abortion. But his mother refused, and when she turned seventeen, she ran off with him when he was only one year old.

She called regularly to find out when her father would send her more money to take care of Drake. Then after a year of running the streets, she learned Jefferson had lost his wealth, and rather then take on responsibility for him, she dumped Drake on Jefferson permanently.

"She dumped me on Granddad when I was three,” Drake told Pete. “She didn't care at all about me, and I was stupid enough to repay him with resentment when I turned fifteen after he told me my history. But he stuck by me, saw me through it. Now we couldn't be closer."

"So what you're saying is Jefferson Corbon would never have lied to you about your heritage."

"Exactly."

Pete shrugged. “Okay, so what about what he doesn't know?"

"What do you mean?"

Pete spoke slowly, as if Drake were an idiot or a child. “Your mom never told Jefferson who your dad was. What if she knew he was a Faerie and she thought the old man would have thought she was insane if she told him the truth?"

Drake put the book on the desk in front of him and took the seat he had occupied earlier. The desk and floor immediately settled. The lights and the electric shocks stopped. The book had his attention. Now a spell would either work for him, or it wouldn't. The truth would be known, and hopefully, more importantly he would find Sheila. Please.

He flipped open to the page eighty-one, Locate Another Person. Drake ran his fingers over the raised calligraphy. “Close your eyes and picture the one you desire,” Drake began to read, while Pete peered over his shoulder.

"Where do you see that?"

Drake paused and sighed. “See what?"

"See that, what you're reading.” Pete indicated the two pages before them. “Where are you reading from about closing your eyes?"

"Look, Pete, this is serious. She could be in trouble, so stop fucking around,” Drake grumbled. “It's here. The first sentence, in parentheses."

That's funny, because all I see is symbols and pictures on that page, no English.” Pete leaned lower. “Correct me if I missed out on something in your life between third grade and now. When exactly did you learn to read weird symbols and make words out of it?"




Chapter Twenty-Two
"Mina! Did you think you could hide from me, that I wouldn't find you? I know your magic anywhere and can track you over the worlds."

She frowned, still feeling defiant of her brother and his damn skills. “I was not hiding, I was right here. And give it a rest, Dugan. Everyone knows how powerful you are. You never let us forget it,” she snapped. “Why don't you just let me live my life for a change?"

The look in her brother's eyes was one of shock. All her life, she had been guided by his instruction. She let him plan what to do to make sure the princess suffered for her actions, though he didn't know how deep her resentment had run. When his plan seemed too slow, she had begun her own attack, for her own agenda. It was no longer good enough for the princess to have her power taken. Mina wanted her to fall from grace too, to no longer be the darling of her father.

The fire had been ingenious to force the woman to reveal her true identity to her lover. Unfortunately, it had come too late. The man was already attached to her, maybe even loved her, to Mina's disgust. And when she had learned that there was a dark Faerie tracking Sheila, Mina thought that was perfect. She could make sure Sheila was unprotected.

It wouldn't be a big deal. Not even a dark Faerie was stupid enough to kill Sheila. It would negotiate for favors to release her after it took her captive. Who knew the creature would poison her? A miscalculation.

"Care to explain yourself, Mina?” her brother asked. “I'm waiting."

The words were a suggestion, his expression a demand. She pouted. “I didn't know the dark Faerie would poison her. I had heard—"

"You had heard? Where? The gossip mill, Mina? You are old enough to know better than that. You can't force people to feel a certain way about you, little sister. The worlds don't work that way. Now tell me what you've done with her."

She turned away, wringing her hands. “I don't know where she is."

He took her arm and shook her. “Stop playing games. You're in a lot of trouble. It is known that you had a hand in this, Mina. That means I'm off the case. I'm here as your brother. Now tell me where you had Niall take the princess."

Mina's eyes widened. He knew about Niall? But he had only been a part of scaring the human, Drake. What else had he done for her? His devotion was sickening, but it had been useful. Only a twinge of guilt assailed her for having used the man. “Niall only opened a dark portal when I was trying to scare Drake. That's all. I promise, Dugan, I didn't ask him to do anything else or to take the princess away. Why would I when I had most of what I wanted."

"Most?"

She twisted her hands again. “As you said, I'll never be seen differently. I resolved to live a life of luxury in the human world. My way of getting that, and spiting Sheila, was to have the man she wanted. I had Drake, so that was enough. It had to be."

The disbelief in her brother's eyes made her worry. If he thought she did something more, if the Faerie king did, she was in deep trouble. There would be nowhere to hide. Dugan's expression didn't bode well. “Niall took Sheila to the human world to continue her life without magic. Soon after, they both disappeared. I and many others have scoured the worlds to no avail. The princess is missing as well as Niall. If you know where they are, you need to tell me right now, else I cannot protect you from the king's wrath."

She searched her mind. Niall had a special ability to find things that didn't seem to exist before he pinpointed them. He and she had visited worlds no one knew were there. If he had sent Sheila to one of those worlds, she would be lost for the next fifty years. It was a plan she wish she had thought of herself. Maybe he had done it for her. Well, at least now it would just be her, no Sheila. She liked it that way and silently thanked Niall.

"I'm sorry, Dugan. I love you very much. And while I can't say I'm not happy she's gone, I can honestly say I had nothing to do with it. I don't know where Sheila is, nor Niall. He acted on his own and not on any order given from me."

As she completed the words, two emissaries appeared beside her brother. One stepped forward. “Mina Quinn, you are under arrest for conspiracy against the royal family and for kidnapping the princess, Sheelagh Magee of the Emerald Isle Faeries. You are hereby stripped of your magic and banished from Faeryland for eternity."

Mina's heart stopped. Fear choked the scream in her throat as she felt her powers draining from her body. The special ability of the Faerie to see the world in vivid colors no human eye could behold ebbed from her sight. Suddenly, though she still saw colors, they appeared lackluster. When she reached out to touch her brother's hand, her fingers slid through his as she was forced from her home forever.

* * * *
Drake uttered the last words, and nothing happened. No spark, no light. The electricity was gone, and everything remained the same. The only way he knew that all the light had happened in the first place was that the room remained in chaos. Other than that, it was as if he had imagined the whole experience. Visions of being cursed danced in his head for trying to invoke that which was not for him to access.

Faeries were very protective of what was theirs, and he had read in the book that they considered anyone who tried to use the spells and was not a Faerie to be a thief, punishable by their laws. Fear snaked along his spine. He flipped back to the introduction, below which was a warning that he read for Pete's benefit.

"Any being who uses this book of spells, not being a Faerie will be punished. He shall be sent to live his life in Nothing."

Pete frowned. “Nothing? You mean he'll cease to exist?"

Drake shook his head. “No, not Nothing. Nautheeng."

* * * *
Sheila curled her arms around herself and folded her body as tightly together as she could. Not to keep out the cold or elements. There was no cold, just as there was no warmth. Just sameness, day after day of sameness. She hugged herself to ward off the hurt and loneliness that attacked her soul. Lately, she had begun to think about just ending it all. It was the coward's way out, but what else did she have? Could she really spend fifty years with nothing to do, nothing to hold or see? There wasn't even anything to hear on this world.

A crack of thunder and a flash of light made her a liar.

She stood slowly, glancing toward the horizon where the sound had originated. All was calm again. Perhaps she was already losing it and the sound and light were figments of her imagination. With nothing to keep her where she was, she began the long trek toward where she thought the sound came from. Flat land, trees, a hill in the distance. Boredom overcame her as she walked, but she trudged on.

After a short while, she became aware of someone yelling. It can't be. Someone, here? Sheila took off running. Oh, thank all that was wholesome and good, she wouldn't be alone. Niall must have been wrong, or dropped her on the wrong world. Joy sprung up inside her, and she ran faster.

A man hove into view. From a distance, he looked to be confused and disoriented, staggering this way and that. He lifted his hands up toward his head and called out again. This time, Sheila heard him clearer and recognized the voice.

"Sheila!"

She began crying and laughing at the same time. “Drake!"

He spun around to face her seeming to freeze, and then with another shout, he took off toward her at a run. Just like in one of those sappy commercials she had seen on TV, they seemed to run toward each other in slow motion.

Drake drew her up in his arms, nearly crushing her ribs. As she fought to catch her breath, he rained kisses on her face, her forehead, her neck. “Oh, baby, I was so worried. Dugan told me you were missing."

He set her on her feet staring into her eyes and clumsily wiping away the strands of hair caught against her wet lashes. Sheila laughed aloud. “I have never been so happy to see anyone. How did you find me? When can we leave? I'm so tired of this stinking world."

He kissed her again before answering. “Well, as to that, I'm not sure if we'll ever leave here. Maybe no one will find us. How did you get here?"

"What do you mean?” She spoke at the same time he asked his last question. Sheila struggled to calm herself. Then she didn't care. As long as she could burrow against his chest, breathe in his scent and never be away from him again, everything was going to be okay.

Drake seemed to feel the same. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. They stood silent for awhile holding each other. Finally, Drake spoke again. “So, how do we get out of here? Where are the natives?"

Sheila led him to a copse of trees and when he sat on a stump, she slipped onto his lap. “We don't and there aren't any. This world is called Nautheeng. That means there's nothing here. It seems ideal at first glance, but then you realize there're no sounds, not even the rustle of leaves in a breeze. I don't have my magic so I can't open a portal. Please tell me someone knows we're here and we'll be rescued soon."

He shook his head. “Sorry, baby. The only person who knows I'm here is Peter, my best friend, and I'm not sure he knew where I said I was going. He couldn't read the book. I'm not even sure I know how I read it."

She frowned. “What book?"

He looked guilty and Sheila pinned him in place with a stare. He fidgeted. “Your book of spells.” He went on to explain to her just how he had gotten there, the phenomenon of being able to read the Celtic symbols in the book, a feat only a Faerie was able to do and was taught for years to do so. It annoyed her to realize that she herself had read that warning in her book many times before, yet she had not remembered Nautheeng. And how could Drake have used the book to come?

"I didn't exactly use the book,” he continued. “It cursed me for trying, meaning..."

"Meaning you're not a Faerie.” She smiled. “I could have told you that. We sense our own kind."

He flicked up an eyebrow. “Is that so? Then why didn't you know Mina was one?"

She swatted him for his impertinence. “Because my meddling father blocked parts of my memory, my discernment. It was his way of protecting me, though I'm not entirely sure he told me the truth on that. Why would he keep me from knowing Mina? She worked in my home and my company. Or maybe he was using her as a spy to keep tabs on me."

"You had the friendly Dugan for that,” Drake grumbled.

She laughed. That was true. So what was Mina's significance, and why did she hate her so much that she got her boyfriend to banish Sheila to this awful world? Leaning back against Drake, she considered all that had happened to her. Dugan was the emissary investigating her, and Mina turned out to be his sister. The king had kept Mina a secret from Sheila for over one hundred years.

She sat bolt upright. “Oh no. I know what's so special about Mina!"

"What?"

"I think she's one of my father's illegitimate children!"




Chapter Twenty-Three
A week. Drake and Sheila had been stuck in Nautheeng for a week, and no one had come. They were making the best of it. Sheila twisted her head and lifted her hand to toss away the last of her clothing, just as Drake slid down on top of her, kissing her neck. She giggled at the feathery touch, squirming beneath him.

"Oh yeah.” He groaned. “Do that."

She moved again, feeling him grow against her bare leg. “Umm, and I like that. You're making me wet, Drake."

He stroked her hair away from her face, staring down at her as if he was memorizing her. “You know I would never have left with Mina if I didn't think it would keep you safe, right?"

"Of course. I know. Now. I thought you had abandoned me, that you wouldn't forgive me for what I did. And then my mother went and made it worse by keeping you from success. Damn, Faeries are vengeful.” She chuckled. “I promise as soon as I can, I will demand that my parents make it up to you with so much money, you won't be able to spend it all."

He shook his head. “The only thing I want is you. Naked. Under me."

She flashed him a sexy smile. “Well, you've got that, mister. Now what?"

"The what is in the enjoyment."

She held him back. “Hold on. You didn't sleep with her, did you? And don't lie to me because I can tell. Well, I would be able to if I had my magic.” She sighed, feeling defeated. She was half herself without the aid that had been apart of her all her life. A Faerie's magic so often defined her. Not by the things she could obtain with it, but by its emittance. It was a part of her personality, her character. Sheila felt lost and confused. It was as if she was severely nearsighted and someone had smashed her glasses. She knew that whatever Drake said, she wouldn't know if it was the truth. She had relied too much on her magic to discern everything. She didn't know the nuances of a twitching nose or a blinking eyelid as some had claimed were the clues to tell if a person was lying. She was in the dark.

Drake settled a hand on either side of her face and held it gently to keep her attention on him. “I promise you, I did not sleep with her, nor did I have the desire to. My thoughts were on you and how I was going to live the rest of my days without you."

Sheila studied him for a few silent moments. “I believe you, and it's a good thing if she really is my sister. It's the only way to explain why she hates me, why she was out to get me."

Drake frowned. “I would think she would like to know you better when she found out, not try to kill you."

Sheila shivered, remembering the dark creature that had attacked them. She had no desire to encounter that thing again. And from what Drake had told her of the abyss opened by Niall, there was another world she'd live a million lifetimes without missing. “As the first born and legitimate, I am entitled to be called princess and am sole heir to the throne. Any illegitimate children basically get nothing, not even a fancy title. I'm guessing that didn't sit too well with Mina."

"And Dugan?"

"What about him?” Sheila began a slow trail along Drake's thighs, and curved around to his buttocks. Desire grew inside her. Her fingertips tingled against his skin. She moaned. It almost felt like the tingle when she ignited her magic.

Drake stilled her hands. “I can't think while you're doing that. I mean what about Dugan, being your brother. Wouldn't he have still inherited something, being male? I thought there was that whole male head thing still going in your world."

She kissed his shoulder and inched a hand between them so that she could stroke his thick staff. She lifted her hips to feel the head brush her warm center. Hunger leapt in her belly. “Dugan has a different father. That, I already knew. Now, no more talk, baby. I want you buried inside me."

A wide grin spread across Drake's face, and he reached down to take each of her legs behind the knee until he had them spread high and wide. Sheila threw back her head as he guided himself inside her, stroking deep and slow. His erection was bigger than she remembered. He filled her, stretched her until it ached. Still, she wanted more. She lifted her hips up to meet his thrust. “Faster, Drake."

"No, baby. Slow and easy or I'll come too soon.” He snaked his tongue inside her mouth. Sheila sucked at it, tasting the underside and pulling back long enough to nip at his lip. She pulled her hips back, hoping to tease him and didn't feel the ground beneath her. The passion was so great she was imagining they floated on clouds, their lovemaking lasting for all eternity.

"I liked it when you spanked me,” she admitted against his mouth.

"Misbehave and you'll get it again,” he promised.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and rode the waves of delight until she felt ready to explode. Drake seemed to sense her ready to climax, and he increased his rhythm into her. She wriggled beneath him, pushing hard and wanting all of him. Soon, they came together, crying out at the intense bliss of sexual fulfillment.

Slowly, she came down from her high and opened her eyes, which she didn't realize she had closed. Her rear bumped the ground, and she glanced around. Nothing around them had changed, but something was different. Drake pulled out of her and sat up. She felt the loss of intimacy and followed him to where he leaned against the stump. She never wanted to be far from him again.

"Drake, does it seem like something is different?” she asked, still examining their surroundings.

"Nope,” he muttered. “Then again, I haven't been this sated since the last time we made love. Is that what you mean?"

She laughed, swatting him. “You're such a man. Completely blind to cosmic shifts."

"Cosmic shifts, huh? Well, I'm flattered.” He grinned. “I had no idea making love to me would cause your universe to shift."

She swatted him again, playfully. “Not that. I mean ... I feel like...” She sat forward and spied a droopy plant nearby. “I feel like I can do this.” She pointed a finger at the plant, and a stream of light shot out from her finger to zip the flower. The little sagging blossom sprang to life. Sheila squealed and jumped to her feet. “My magic is back!"

Plant after plant was revitalized. Colors were brightened, the stump they had leaned against was reconnected to its fallen trunk and the leaves encouraged to grow. Sheila spun on her heel and shot an arrow of light into the sky that became a rainbow. A bolt of energy tumbled from her hands to shake the ground, giving it movement for the first time in what seemed like centuries.

"Stop!” Drake encircled her in his arms from behind. “I know you're excited, baby, but can you conjure a portal? Let's get the hell out of here before someone snatches your abilities back?"

"Oh yeah,” she laughed. A twist of her wrist, a snap of her fingers, and the magical words, and the portal opened to Faeryland. Before she forgot, she snapped them fully dressed. Drake, not wasting a second, lifted her and propelled her through, him close on her heels.

"Princess! It worked. The princess is back!"

Sheila looked around to see who had yelled, but Faeries and other creatures from other worlds scurried about, all excited and pulling at her and Drake, leading them to her father's home. Apparently, they had been missed. She cast Drake a look, and he shrugged.

As soon as they entered the house, Sheila was nearly knocked off her feet by her mother wrapping her arms around her. Sheila, though happy to see her mother, was attentive to one person other than Drake. Watching her, her father stood in his stiff, gruff way. She moved from her mother's embrace and stood before him.

"Father."

"Sheelagh. I am glad you realized I returned your magic. It was the only way we knew that would help you to find your way home."

She nodded, gave him a hug and thought better of drilling her paternal parent regarding his stepping out on her mother. She glanced over his shoulder to find Dugan standing nearby. She excused herself and joined him a little away from everyone else as they questioned Drake.

"Dugan, where is Mina? I want to talk to her,” she began.

"Save it, princess. She's gone.” Dugan gave her such a look of dislike, Sheila flinched. “You don't get it, do you?” he growled.

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Why don't you spell it out for me, because I'm not getting how you can look at me like I did something wrong and it was your bitch of a sister who had me sent to some forsaken world with nothing in it, to die alone. And she hired that dark Faerie to poison me. I could have died either way, so why should I be the one to feel bad?"

He reached out to take her arm. When a royal guard stepped closer to them, he released her and inclined his hand to an anteroom off her father's study. Sheila held her head up high and followed. When she crossed the threshold, nerves attacked. What if Dugan was in on his sister's plans and this was a trap? She hurried back toward the door, but he held up a hand.

"Relax, I'm not going to attack you or kidnap you."

"Then what do you want?"

He sighed. “I want you to get your head out of the clouds. I see that you know the truth about my sister, that the king is her father.” He shrugged. “Sorry for reading your thoughts. It comes with the job of interrogating people. But you can't see past your own desires. You can't see what kind of life my sister had to lead. She was on the outside, longing for the kind of relationship you had as a privilege of birth with our leader."

"I can't help who I am."

"You're right, you can't. But you can at least understand what she must have felt like. She's not allowed to come into this house because she's a shameful secret that pretty much everyone knows. Mina gets no inheritance, nothing. And the one time she hopes to get out of your shadow, to somehow try to capture your father's attention, it's taken away from her. He sends her with you, to be sure you're safe."

"I never thought of it. I never knew.” She did feel guilty, imagining how she would feel should the situation be reversed. Because of her father taking away parts of her memory, she did live through that hurt and longing, feeling she was unloved and unwanted. And she didn't have to imagine what she would do. She'd done it, broken Faerie laws in hopes of getting his attention, making him see her in a different light—as someone of worth and not just a useless female. “Where is she, Dugan?"

"She's been banished from Faeryland, stripped of her powers forever. That's the weight of the punishment for attacking the royal family. Your punishment, on the other hand, has been lifted as you know. Funny how fifty years seems like less than a month."

"Dugan, I—"

Suddenly, an evil permeated the room. The lights flickered and a portal opened, one from the dark realm. Sheila felt her heart drop as fear lodged in her throat. It took powerful magic and a bold spirit to dare attack inside her father's home. Before she could think what to do, Dugan shoved her behind him as the creature stepped from the opening. “Get out of here, Sheila,” Dugan commanded.

She stood frozen in fear, looking into the thing's creepy eyes. It advanced on them. She saw the wooden spikes in its hands, knew it intended to poison her again. Did Mina's hatred go so deeply? Sheila needed to apologize, to tell her she would do all in her power to force their father to look out for her, even make an attempt at building a relationship.

All around them, Sheila heard Faeries crying out warnings of the evil that invaded their land. She covered her ears at the screeches, while trying to reason with the creature. “Please, tell Mina I'm sorry. I will do whatever it takes to be sure the king looks out for her."

The thing cackled. “Stupid, stupid princess. I am not in league with Mina Quinn."

Dugan grabbed Sheila's arm and shoved her toward the door, while drawing his sword. A sword she had somehow never noticed him carrying. He pointed it at the dark Faerie's heart and shoved against skin so thick and resistant to the sword point, it did not pierce.

"Who is it?” Sheila yelled at the thing as it lifted the wooden spikes. “Who are you working for?"

The door opened and guards flooded the room. One of them wrapped an arm about Sheila and transported her out just as the creature was answering.




Chapter Twenty-Four
"No, wait!” Sheila cried, but it was too late. Her surroundings reformed to a large room she didn't remember seeing before when she had explored the entire house as a child. Heavy drapes covered the windows, blocking much of the sunlight. Bulky furniture from a previous era was arranged seemingly by a hand with no decorating skills whatsoever. When Sheila would have questioned the guard, he disappeared from the room. But just as quickly, her parents and Drake appeared, Drake being brought in by another guard.

Sheila hurried across the room and threw herself into his arms before she twisted to address her father. “What is going on, Father? There was another dark Faerie in the anteroom off your study. He said he was not in league with Mina. I'm beginning to think she didn't hire the first one."

Her father frowned. “Well that remains to be proved. My guards and Dugan are tracking it. We'll get to the truth soon enough.” He crossed to a desk, sat down, and rummaged through the drawers, for what she didn't know. He looked up when he found pen and paper. “In the meantime, I suggest you all get comfortable. We stay here until this creature is captured."

"What?” Sheila screeched. “I'm not staying here like a prisoner. I have things to do, and I want to participate in the search."

Claudia pulled Sheila from Drake's arms and led her to a couch. “Now, dear, calm down. I know how you don't like waiting on others to do things you could just as well do yourself, but unless you've suddenly grown more powerful than your father, you'll have to wait."

She glanced toward the door and saw that her mother was right. A glimpse into the unseen realm showed her that her father had locked down the room. Nothing was getting inside or out unless he released the hold. Not even a portal could be wedged open inside the room. “Damn it."

An hour slipped by as they sat, Sheila tapping her fingers, her mother knitting something, which was unlike her, her father writing and Drake looking the most content, his arms encircling Sheila. Sheila imagined what he had gone through in that room back at her house with all the weird phenomenon happening around him. Drake's life had gone from one disaster to another, nothing more interesting happening than having a book come to life.

Sheila had been doing some thinking on that book, and it wasn't unheard of that such things happened, magical items taking on a sort of life to protect those it belonged to. The book seemed to be aware that Drake would not know how to read the symbols, so it made it clear to him. It knew he would not have magic to invoke the spells, so it tricked him into violating Faerie law, which would make him punishable by sending him to where she herself was being punished. But how did the book know if no one else did?

She glanced up. “Father, how can an object of magic know where I was if you and the other Faeries didn't know? And Niall is able to conjure things that don't exist. How can the world I was on exist to be written in that book, but then not exist in order for Niall to conjure it?” She chuckled. “If that makes any sense at all."

The Faerie king nodded. “It makes perfect sense. The objects, like the necklace I gave you, are forged from magic itself. They don't just contain magic. They are magic. And it is bigger than you or I, even all connected to a level we cannot understand. When Niall created Nautheeng from magic, magic brought all other things in line, including a reference to the new planet in your book as a sort of failsafe."

She pondered it all some more. It still didn't make sense completely, but she accepted it. Some things just wouldn't be clear until one was old and decrepit, having experienced all that life had to offer. At least that was her theory. “One more question, Father.” When he inclined his head, she continued. “If Niall can do these amazing things, does that make him more powerful than you? Can you call worlds that don't exist?"

She knew she had gone too far as the words left her lips. The scowl creasing her father's brow was enough to make her fall silent for another hour and a half. When she couldn't take it anymore, she jumped to her feet and began to pace. Tingles crawled her scalp at wanting to be free from this ugly room. Sheila stopped by the fireplace, then whirled to face her mother. “Mother, you can't have decorated this place. You have more taste than this!"

Red suffused her mother's skin, and Sheila wondered if she had offended her, that she might have thought the room was pretty. She opened her mouth to apologize, but her mother cut her off. “It was my own way of getting back at your father one particular year. It was to be used as his study, and I wanted to make it as hideous as possible."

Sheila didn't need to know anymore. The year her father's sexual activities had come to light, no doubt. Sheila still didn't condone what he had done, and hoped with all her heart that that sort of thing was firmly in his past, but she had missed him so much, had wanted a relationship with him for so long, that she couldn't make herself hate him. She knew as she watched him with his head bent over his writing that she had never hated him.

Her gaze swung to Drake. Would they be the same? Would he do the things that the Faerie king did, or would he be a gentle and considerate man as his grandfather seemed to be? That was another situation she wanted to fix-the Faerie king's grudge against Jefferson Corbon. So many broken relationships. When this whole mess was resolved, she would insist on a family meeting to hash out everything—Corbon, her parents, Drake, Mina, Dugan, and anyone else who had been hurt by the foolish actions of a man too privileged for his own good.

Feeling satisfied by these thoughts, she turned back to the fireplace and bent to grab a poker to push at the dry wood there. She yawned with boredom, and then an echo sounded in her head, a voice calling to her.

"Sheelagh." 

Shock made her jump and look around. There was nothing to indicate a portal was open. She looked at Drake who was asleep, her father still writing, and her mother who had moved on to reading a magazine. None of them seemed to have heard the voice. She was beginning to think she was losing it.

"Sheelagh." 

Whomever it was knew her real name, was obviously a Faerie or magical creature to enter her mind. She considered telling her father, but then she knew he would put a stop to it, drive the person out of her mind to make her sit trapped in this room for who knew how long. An idea formed.

She shut her eyes and concentrated on the voice, mentally projecting her thoughts toward the person, wherever he or she was. "Can you hear me? Who are you?"

The voice came again. "Mina."

* * * *
Drake didn't know what woke him at that moment. Maybe it was residuals from that book in Sheila's study, the spell book determined to protect Sheila. But he felt that she was in trouble. It made no sense because when he leaned forward and glanced around, he clearly saw her sitting in front of the fireplace, staring down into a fire that wasn't there. He thought it weird that she had that glazed look in the one eye he could see, but didn't feel a need to investigate it.

That is, not until he was propelled from his chair, to land on the floor. He lifted his face and flipped over to glance at Claudia, but she was staring at him like he'd lost his mind. “Are you okay, Drake?” He saw the distaste. She still hadn't accepted that he was determined to be a part of Sheila's life as long as her daughter wanted him. And he really didn't care if she did.

He nodded and stood. “Yeah, I'm fine. Something ... nothing."

Drake glanced over at Sheila again. That feeling of something not right slithered over him. He flinched at the chill that ran up his spine, then walked toward her. He didn't know what the tightness in his chest was about. This was the woman he loved, the woman who had been with him through so much over the last few weeks, more than he thought he would endure in a lifetime. And as he reached out a hand to her shoulder, something told him the adventure wasn't over.

"Sheila, baby?” He spoke softly as his hand came down on her shoulder. He gasped, drawing back at the coldness of her body. “Sheila!"

Drake grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. She was stiff and felt as cold as ice. Her eyes stared up at him unseeing. Her sweet pink lips, which he had joyed in kissing on many occasions, were slightly apart and turning black. Please, no.

The king and Claudia rushed over. Her father lifted her from Drake's arms to his annoyance, and took her to the couch. A warm light lit the king's hand as he placed it on Sheila's forehead. Drake hovered. He was even more of an outcast with no power of his own. “What's wrong with her?” he demanded.

"Dark magic. Her mind has been imprisoned.” The king slammed a fist down on the table at the side of the couch, destroying it in one blow. “How could I have made this stupid mistake? I protected the room and didn't seal our minds to outside influences."

Drake took Sheila's cold hand in his, stroking the skin that had lost its softness and now felt rough like sandpaper. It was darkening even as they spoke. If he had to guess, it looked like she was becoming a dark Faerie, but surely that was impossible. “How can this happen to her? What is happening to her?"

It was Claudia who uttered the truth. “Someone who has studied dark magic to the point of disguising themselves as a light Faerie like us. Someone in our midst. At this point, I doubt that it was Mina, or at least that she acted alone.” Her voice caught. “If we don't do something, the light will be drained from Sheila, and she will be just a shell. The appearance she has looks like a dark Faerie, but it is only an illusion. A person gets like this by choice, and over time, not by coercion."

The king interjected. “This is not the time for explanations. We must do something. I will consult with the elders to find a way to her."

Drake frowned. “She's right here."

"You fool, she's not here,” the king barked at Drake's ignorance. “She is in another realm, most likely the dark realm where these creatures like to hide from the light. When I find out the words to open the portal, I will go and bring her back to her body."

With that brief explanation, the king bolted from the room, but as Drake looked down at Sheila, he saw her life fading. Trying to figure it out would take too long. He knew what he had to do. “Claudia, send me home."

Her eyes widened, “You would abandon her at a time like this? I thought you at least cared—"

"I don't have time for this. She's dying! Send me to her house in the human world. Now!"

Without another word, she flicked her wrist and muttered words, she sent him across dimensions. He came out of the portal flying across the foyer of Sheila's house to land against a wall.

He winced. “That's what I get for yelling at her."

Pete strolled from the study and broke into a shout of joy. “Drake! Man, I thought you must be dead. I've been back here every single day. I can't believe it. You're fine. Where have you been?"

Drake pulled himself upright then stood. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Now, where is that spell book?"

"Right where you left it,” Pete told him. “Surely you don't want to fool with that cursed thing again."

Drake shook his head as he retrieved the book from beneath crumbled plaster that had fallen from the ceiling. He flipped open to the Introduction. “Unless I miss my guess, this wonderful book is going to send me to Sheila again. And I think the words will be different this time.” He slid his finger down the page to the warning. He could still interpret the symbols, though it looked like the dramatics of the light show had happened before he got there. “Yeah, here it is. Any being who uses this book of spells, not being a Faerie, will be punished. He shall be sent to live his life in The Dark Realm. Bingo!"




Chapter Twenty-Five
With the same dramatic lightning and thunder, Drake was dropped on his ass in the middle of darkness. Each way he looked, there was nothing to see. He had expected something like hellfire and demons running around, or at least the black beasties that had been plaguing Sheila for some time. There was nothing.

The air was thick with heat, if it was air. He couldn't be sure if he was outside or inside. The stench made him wonder about the condition of his clothes once he left. As he pushed up to his feet, he heard a low growl somewhere nearby. Cold fear gripped him. What was he doing in the midst of all this? He was nobody, an inventor, at best an engineer. His mind was supposed to reject all this, prove it away with science.

But it was too late for all that. He had seen too much to turn back to his old blind existence, where humans didn't know of the magical realm existing all around them. It was too late because he loved a Faerie princess that he realized, as he took cautious steps forward in the pitch black, that he would die for.

"If it comes to it, I will,” he whispered to no one.

Yet, someone answered. “Aw, isn't that sweet? You would die for your little princess.” A cackle stopped him cold. A woman. She had read his mind because he was sure he didn't say out loud that he would die for Sheila.

"Where is she?” he demanded, as if a strong voice would intimate her.

She laughed again, just as he expected. Drake shuffled along with his arms straight out and his toes almost aching in his shoes, feeling like he was about to run smack into a wall. There seemed to be nothing but more darkness. Something shifted to his left and he turned that way, but saw nothing. Sheila had to be here. The book had not been wrong the first time.

Calling out had worked before, so he tried again. “Sheila!” He yelled it long and loud, and like a voice echoing as they did in ghost stories on TV, he heard her voice, faint, in answer. He began a slow jog along in the darkness, moving on blind faith. There could not be a more literal term at that point.

Suddenly, ahead there was a light. It was dim but it was there. Drake ran toward it. The sight of Sheila just a few feet away made him increase his speed. And the fact that he was moving so fast made his headlong crash into an invisible barrier that much more painful. He bounced off and landed on the floor, holding a bloodied nose.

"I'm so sorry, Drake,” she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Why would Father let you come to get me?"

He sat up and dug in his pocket for tissue he'd stuffed there earlier. “He didn't. I used the book again, baby. Sheila, your body is dying. You must figure out a way out of here. Can you use your magic still?"

She shook her head. “No, she's powerful. Too powerful. So many years she practiced, and no one knew it. The dark magic is not easily controlled, but the person who can wield it may have a chance against the Faerie King."

Drake began to understand. “So this wasn't about you. It was about going up against him. Someone wants revenge against your father? Let me guess an old lover?"

Sheila pressed her hands against the barrier and Drake pressed his in the same position. He imagined he felt her energy. If only it had turned out he really was a Faerie. If he had a sword like Dugan's ... Defeat settled over him.

Sheila explained what they were dealing with. “It's Dugan and Mina's mother. She's the one behind this."

He looked up. “What? Are you sure?"

"Yes. Worse, she's the Lady, the only Lady, on the High Council of Faeries. None of those powerful men of magic knew what she was up to. Not Dugan, and not even Mina in whose ear she was happy to plant bugs of hatred toward me. It was to throw off suspicion of her."

The facts had Drake's head spinning. “But why? I mean she had to know he wouldn't leave his wife for her. Men like him cheat, but they don't get a divorce. Ah, sorry, Sheila."

She shrugged. “Don't worry. I know what you mean. But the bad thing is my father apparently did tell her he would leave my mother for her. He let her fall for him and made her promises when she became pregnant with Mina."

"And he will pay with his filthy life!” came a bellowing voice from the darkness. Drake spun around in time to see a nasty black Faerie with skin that looked burned on change to a beautiful Faerie woman. Her hair was long and red, her eyes wide and violet like Mina's. Drake saw what the king had seen in her, knew that a foolish man led around by his dick could fall into making promises to get this woman. But he also had the feeling it was just an illusion. She must be as old or almost as old as the king. Beauty fades.

Drake stood and faced her. “Let Sheila go. Now."

She held up hands that shook dramatically. “Oh yes, master, right away.” She laughed and some of the beauty of her face faded. He saw the witch beneath, the woman who had been hurt by a man too full of himself. “No. I'm not letting our sweet princess go until Ennis comes. And then it will be him and me, no one else."

"And if he doesn't come?"

"He will."

"You don't know what you're doing, witch!” Drake shouted. “Her body is dying. You should have brought her here physically and not her essence if you were going to go through with holding her until the king shows. If she dies, you will not be able to rest because the king will hunt you down until you're dead. And I will be there at his side, believe me."

She laughed. “And why should I fear you? You're nothing. You were too stupid to figure out all these years that you were cursed with Faerie magic. All you had was a bunch of dumb little inventions that no one wanted."

Embarrassment at the truth of her words spread over him. He wanted to slink away and hide. What she said was right. He couldn't deny it. But behind him, trapped, was a woman who didn't care if he had not a scrap to his name. She loved him and wanted to be with him. He meant what he said. He would die for her.

The dark Faerie was still laughing, and he knew she was still reading his mind, thinking him pathetic in his sentiments. That's why he didn't think anything regarding his plan. He just did it.

He dug inside his pocket again, curling his fingers around the evaluator card. Every day he had intended to adjust the light on the card, but never got around to it. Now was the perfect time to burn out the retinas of a certain dark Faerie. He just hoped she didn't have some kind of resistance to the light. If she were susceptible to it, being that they were in almost pitch black except for the dim light he still wasn't sure about where it came from, the brighter light would be even more powerful.

Hoping against hope it would work, Drake held up his creation and depressed the light button. Seeing what he was doing, the dark Faerie had begun to laugh, until the impossibly bright light shown in her eyes, illuminating the entire area. He hadn't seen any other creatures, but he heard them scurry when the light went on. Now he understood why the very atmosphere changed to one of darkness whenever the creatures appeared. They were sensitive to light.

The witch screamed and covered her face. Blindly, she shot out bolts of magic toward Drake. He ducked and rolled to the side. When one of the shots disrupted the barrier holding Sheila in place, he hurried forward and grasped her in his arms. Before her attacker could capture them, Drake fairly dragged Sheila in the opposite direction.

"Can you open a portal, Sheila?” he gasped as he ran holding her.

She shook her head, her legs giving out constantly. “No. I don't know why but my magic isn't working without my body and spirit together. I've never been in this state, so I can only guess it's natural."

He pulled her more firmly to his side. “What's happening to you? Why can't you stand?"

Tears filled her eyes. “I feel like I'm losing solidity. Well, as solid as a spirit can be. Drake, I have to get back to my body, but I don't know how we'll get there."

In the middle of her worried declaration, a bolt of magic shot between them, nearly taking Drake's ear off. He glanced back to find Mina's evil parent hot on their trail. She held out her arms much as he'd done, and he knew she was blind. But in that state, he suspected her planned battle with the king of the Faeries would be little more than a joke. For a moment, he felt a supreme thrill that he, Drake Corbon, had overcome magic with nothing more than a thin little machine evaluator. If he weren't worried about the love of his life, his chest would have swelled with pride.

Before long, they came to a wall. Drake eased Sheila down to a sitting position and then searched the wall for an opening. Nothing. He turned back toward where they'd come to find the witch had caught up. She moved cautiously toward them, both hands illuminated with blue-green magic. He knew she was about to light up the place they were in. There was no doubt he and Sheila would be killed.

He stepped in front of Sheila, hoping to block most of the magic to give her more time. As he stood, his feet planted as firmly as he could make them, he felt Sheila slip her hand into his. He held on, a surge of love washing over him. He wanted nothing more than to forget their attacker and just take Sheila into his arms, but that would expose her further. So he willed her strength through the touch of their hands.

The magic grew.

"Sheila,” he whispered. “I love you with all my heart."

He saw her tears still falling. “I love you too. Drake, I've made so many mistakes. If I could take it all back, I would. I would make myself the poor woman with nothing to her name to make sure you had everything you needed. I would make sure my father acknowledged Mina, even if it meant giving up my birthright.” She sniffed. “This short time with you is more than I deserve, but I am thankful I had it."

"Touching,” the woman growled. “Now if I can't kill the Faerie king, I will kill his heart!"

The power struck. Ten thousand bolts of electric pain shot through Drake's body. His skin burned, his head felt like it was exploding, and he dropped to his knees. “Sheila,” he muttered, and then all was darkness.




Epilogue
Sheila heard the emcee call her name. She shook off her nerves and stepped up to the stage. With each placement of her four-inch heels on the stairs, she regretted wearing her own creation, the skin-tight black leather body suit. This sexy outfit that left little to the imagination with its stitching up the side of each thigh, across her belly and bare back, was for younger Faeries and human women. But how was she going to tell the president of her intimate apparel company, Bare Pleasures II, no? He is a slave driver, she thought with amusement.

Ah, well, at least BPII isn't his only holding or I'd be dealing with many more mechanical items. She laughed silently.

As soon as the fashion show was over, she kicked off her shoes and began unlacing the straps of her clothes to give her body a breather.

"I thought that was my job,” came a voice behind her.

She spun around to look into the eyes of her husband. “Drake, we need to talk about me wearing these crazy outfits,” she complained.

He laughed. “A deal is a deal, Mrs. Corbon. You made me go out there almost naked. The least you could do is wear that. Besides, the Angry Witch bodysuit is looking to be our best seller. You didn't want to disappoint the women ... or the men."

"I think you get off on it.” Sheila gave him an accusing look. “And it was cold out there. My nipples were hard."

"They're hard now.” He traced a finger down over the soft leather, the tip bumping her erect nipple before he pinched it. She gasped and moved closer to him. Drake grinned with satisfaction. “If you behave, maybe I'll even suck those sweet nipples of yours."

She cast him a dark look. “You never get enough."

"And you do?"

She laughed and threw herself fully in his arms. It was times like this, when they were at their most content, their happiest, that she was so grateful that her father had come just when he did. He had blocked most of the impact of Mina's mother's attack, sparing their lives. The evil witch had been banished to some obscure world with barely a few words from the king.

Sheila yawned. “I'm tired. Can we skip the after-party and go right home?"

Drake shrugged and snapped his fingers. In a blink of an eye, they were in their bedroom, reclining on their king-sized bed. She glanced down to find all of her clothes and his had been removed.

"You're a show-off with your new abilities, Drake.” She giggled.

He laughed. “Hey, when Magic itself appoints me as your permanent guardian, I take my duties very seriously. Besides, we were saying something about making babies, weren't we?"

His mouth came down on hers, and Sheila gave herself to this strange combination of human and magical being. Drake was something completely new, and she loved every minute of experiencing it with him.

* * * *
Mina slipped onto the banister in her new home and slid down the winding staircase at top speed. She smiled as she touched the wooden table in the hall with reverence. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would be able to live in this house, with her father and Sheila's mother. But Sheila had done all she could to make sure the relationship developed and grew. Now it was up to Mina and the king. Mina promised herself that she would make it work. She was given a chance to simply embrace who she was, without the poison her mother had planted in her mind.

She opened the door to her father's study without knocking and then froze in place when she realized what she had done. But she was greeted with his rare smile. “Come in, Mina. Tell me what you plan for the day."

She breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Today, Father—” she reveled in being able to call him that"—I am going to search again for Niall. I know he's out there. My mother didn't kill him. I just know it. And he doesn't deserve to be banished. I'll find him if it's the last thing I do, and bring him back to Faeryland."

"In that case, daughter, my resources are at your disposal.” He indicated his ceiling-high bookshelves, and Mina began her search in the magical tomes for the man whose only sin had been to love her.

THE END



About the Author
A.J. Cove opened books from the age of four and made up what she thought the story was about, though she couldn't read yet. From that time, she has been in love with books and reading.

After a stint of with reading only Harlequin romances at the age of thirteen, she realized she wanted to be a writer. By eighteen, she wrote short stories, and in a fit of inspiration, typed out two full-length novels within a matter of weeks.

Now that she's older, she's getting back out there. She enjoys writing most types of romance, including fantasy, science fiction, multi-racial and paranormal. You can visit with her at her website at www.ajcove.com.




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