Fairy Unbroken (2 page)

A
lot would be solved if the fairy population hadn’t dwindled so quickly. Nine
fairies remained and the theory they could have offspring with humans had not
yet been determined to be fact. He settled on the edge of the bed, his head
buried in his hands, and long black hair slithered from his braid and feathered
around his face.

What
would he do if they did start producing? Little human fairy hybrids running
around might very well be the death of him. He would have to leave and find a
home where he’d spend the remainder of his life alone. That sounded as bad as
dealing with the humans. He stood on shaky legs and grabbed the sword from the
side of the bed, strapped a sheath around his waist, and then planted the sword
against his hip. He placed two knives on the opposite side and returned to the
sun-caressed balcony.

Sleep
was unobtainable.

The
patrols were long and lonely. He had no problem with either. Since Thame had
been attacked and nearly killed by the trolls, they’d taken up a more defensive
stance. Each fairy warrior was alert despite the slow mist that began to fall.
Water was not their friend. It slowed their speed, and if it rained hard
enough, flying was out of the question. That’s why Keyn found his friend Wick
huddled under the nearest tree just outside their kingdom.

“Only
a fool stands in the rain,” Wick muttered. His green wings fluttered.

“Only
a fool is afraid of rain on his back,” Keyn replied. If the trolls wanted to
take him, let them try. He’d slaughter every last one of them. Today he was in
no mood to be challenged.

Apparently
the trolls thought otherwise. They attacked just as the rain reached its crest.
Big fat drops fell from the sky like dull arrows. They landed heavily on his
wings and each slither of the water made a quiver rack his body. He didn’t like
anything touching his wings. The trolls, ugly with beady eyes and thick almost
lizard-like skin, rushed from the surrounding trees. Keyn ground his teeth and
released his sword. “No mercy,” he whispered and ran toward them.

****

Trillian
glanced out the window. The rain fell like God dumped a bucket on the world.
Long streams of water rushed down the windows of her home as she sat protected
and dry behind them. Her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. The steam rose to
add fragrance to the air. She was beyond tired and mentally exhausted. Trillian
worked seven days a week and it was finally taking its toll. She couldn’t
sleep, weight dropped from her hips, and the only joy she found now was
painting. A wet cough sounded from the other room and Trillian heard the creak
of floorboards. Her brother shuffled from the doorway with a black blanket
around his shoulders. He looked worse than she felt. “You should be sleeping.”
Cameron’s dark hair was ashen, his cheeks sunken, and his already pale skin was
ghost-like. She stood, placed the mug on the window sill, and helped him to the
couch.

“I
should be helping.” His words were whispers followed by a hacking cough.

Tears
once again began to form. This was her older brother, the only family she had
left, and he was dying. The doctors couldn’t figure out what caused his body to
wither. The new specialist was the cause of her exhaustion. She had extra
shifts at the bar and even used the college money she saved for his health.
Trillian would give the very clothes on her back to get him healthy again. She
missed his smile and his teasing.

“I
feel useless.” He frowned and sat on the couch.

“You’re
just sick. Once the docs figure it out, you’ll be good as new and going back to
the army.” He was a United States Marine and she was so proud of his
accomplishments. The day he returned here on leave, she noticed his lack of
color. His motions were slow, not at all like the strong man he had become.

“Think
I’ll stay awhile,” he murmured, his lids falling to cover his bright green
eyes.

“You’re
going to that hospital in
Dublin
today, so they can run those tests. Your lazy butt’s going to be gone for a few
days. Maybe then I can get some cleaning done.” She spoke with what she hoped
was a playful tone. In truth, she was being torn apart, her heart crushed and
kicked by this sickness that no one seemed to be able to cure.

****

Keyn
watched her, hidden in the shadows as rain soaked his body. Fat drops fell like
a thousand tears. He welcomed each one. Nothing would get him to move. His
woman was at the window, her eyes glancing over the yard but she didn’t see
him. She looked so sad, her lips were downturned, and the skin around her eyes
was red. Had she been crying? Why did he care? He looked away briefly, confused
by the damned emotions that plagued him.

 
A part of him wanted to press his face against
the window and finally show himself to her. Would she run away screaming? Would
she be curious? Thoughts were rampant as she stood and stretched her hands to
the ceiling. Moments later the front door to her home opened and she pulled a
hood over her head. Some tendrils escaped and were attacked by the rain. She
was running, moving fast toward his position. Did she see him? He held his
breath, prepared a thousand different speeches in his head, but alas, she
veered to the right.

She
headed toward the small building made of wood with a single petite window. He
ran, shaking the water from his wings, to that glass pane. She stood at the
door, her hood still up and her fists balled. Then she let out this
heart-wrenching scream. Keyn jumped and goose bumps broke out over his skin.
Had his woman gone mad?

She
began to move then, grabbing the nearest canvas and throwing it across the
small space of the room. He heard the shredding material even over the drumming
of rainfall. Another half-finished painting followed the first. She was in a
frenzy, hurling not just the painting but also the brushes, a broom, cans of
paint. Anything that she could lift, she did. It all landed in a messy pile and
then her knees gave way. She buried her face in her hands and her body
shuddered.

She
was crying. Keyn took a step forward, pressed one hand against the glass. He
couldn’t take his eyes away from her. There was no doubt she was in pain. Her
heart must ache and he knew exactly how that felt.

She
then looked up and he finally saw the color of her eyes.

Chapter Two

She
had green eyes. They were gorgeous, like sun hitting the hills but when they
widened, reality came crashing in. She could see him. He jumped back as she
rushed to her feet. In moments, he took to the sky, the wind rushing by his
dark wings and thick erection. He couldn’t get her eyes out of his mind. They
were breathtaking. Keyn didn’t look back even though he heard the rustling of
the door opening. She was probably calling the human authorities about a
prowler, or worse, a Peeping Tom. Yes, he was both, but he would never admit it
aloud. She was after all, a human.

He
landed on the outskirts of the kingdom. Keyn walked wearily toward the palace.
The rain still drenched him in its tears. His hair was plastered to his back,
heavy against his red and black wings. The doors to the palace were already
open and he stepped through just as thunder rumbled above. King Carrick had
called a meeting and Keyn reluctantly had to make an appearance. He walked the
halls lined with portraits of former kings and their families. It seemed like
so long ago that the kingdom had once been buzzing with his species. The short
walk gave his wings a much-needed rest but they were still damp. He frowned as
he turned into the designated room.

Instantly
his skin prickled and a shiver worked its way up his body. Humans were here.
His pulse hitched, hands fisted. His hatred for them seemed to grow more every
day. All the humans were in the large glass room that he was supposed to enter.
With focus on each breath, he settled for leaning against the doorframe. Though
his body appeared relaxed and carefree, sweat beaded his skin. Besides the
humans, nearly every fairy left in existence was in the room. It looked like he
stumbled into the middle of a rainbow with all the wings fluttering. Green and
yellow wings belonged to Wick, Mord was sky blue, and Brielle’s white wings
stood out like an angel in their presence. Mord and Brielle had been mates for
years but they were obviously drifting apart. Keyn noticed it by the way
Brielle leaned into the tall warrior and Mord stood stiff. Flance’s brown wings
were beside Bray’s red and brown wings. They were hugging and their hands were
roaming each other’s bodies. Those two were like rabbits on crack.

Thame
stood closest, his wings bright gold with the slight tint of red along the
edges. The coloring was the effect of having his wings cut off by the trolls a
few weeks ago. Thank the Goddess for Brielle’s healing abilities or else they’d
all be in trouble. He stood next to his human mate, Breena. She seemed to
brighten up his mood and then there was Abigail. The child who used to play
with him was now an old woman, grandmother to Breena.

The
room was packed. The glass walls and ceilings did nothing to open the space
when there were this many occupants. There was also one fairy missing.

“Where’s
Whisper?” If the moody fairy did not have to come, why should he?

Thame
turned to face him while his arm rested around Breena’s shoulders. “You know
the blue freak. He does what he wants.” There was a small grin on his face at
the quip.

Though
his lips parted, Keyn didn’t respond. He felt human eyes shift to look at him.
His wings fluttered nervously and a quick look told him it was the queen
herself. The floor was suddenly the most interesting thing on the planet and he
was quite content to stare at it for the duration of the meeting.

“Fairies
and humans of my kingdom.” King Carrick stood and addressed them. He gripped
Queen Brook’s hand. “I gather you here to share the most spectacular news in a
very long time. The Goddess has blessed us.” A smile grew on his face. It was
wide enough to show a line of even white teeth. “Brook is with child.”

The
entire room seemed to gasp at once. Keyn could hardly control the wave of
nausea that swept him. That was it then. His time in the fairy kingdom was
coming to an end. He couldn’t possibly stay here once the air began to fill
with human-fairy offspring. A collection of cheers rang out and they moved as a
giant wave to congratulate the king and queen. Keyn took that opportunity to
back out of the room. He rushed down the corridor, cursing his wet wings, and
stepped outside the palace.

“Keyn.”
A voice filtered from the darkness.

It
was the blue freak, Whisper.

“What?”
He stepped out into the rain. It began to batter his skin with harsh pecks of
high velocity water.

“It’s
a child?” His usually raspy voice had a concerned undertone that stopped Keyn
in his tracks.

“Yeah.
They found a cure for the population problem,” Keyn muttered, barely audible as
lighting lit the sky then a sizzle of thunder. Whisper was quiet. The shadow
that hid his form was still.

“We
have another problem.”

Of
course, and at the moment, he could give a fuck whatever the problem was. He
remained silent, catching sight of black wings flickering in the darkness.

“The
trolls are on the move. They’re searching for something.” The words were
followed by a burst of light and the gloomy sound of thunder.

Chapter Three

The world faded away. Keyn knew the
trees that surrounded him were a dream but he couldn’t shake them. He was on
his back, the cold seeping into his bare skin as the stars above twinkled. How
could they watch this? How could they settle themselves in the sky and witness
this?

He tried so hard to wake up.

The voices whispered in the darkness
that surrounded his prison. Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes but he
fought them. For how long he didn’t know. He would try as he always did to fight
this recurring nightmare. Not that it mattered. His will was wasted. The men
were coming closer. The familiar crush of leaves beneath heavy feet. Intense
breathing accompanied a dark shadow approaching. Keyn couldn’t look. He turned
his head away from the dream man and fisted his hands. He was unable to move,
helpless as that warm masculine hand traveled along his forearm. Goose bumps
rose, decorated his pale skin, and that unwanted touch moved lower.

“Please.” He knew begging was a
useless action but the words slipped from his parted lips. Will this torture
never cease? “Stop this!” he yelled, but the words were merely a whisper as
that hand groped between his legs.

Keyn
awoke with a jerk. He sat up and gasped. His lungs filled with oxygen as tears
began to trickle down his cheeks. Keyn’s eye’s focused on the door as his heart
leapt against his chest wall. Shudders racked his body something fierce. It
took all his strength and what was left of his will to bring his breathing back
to normal. His pulse soon followed and Keyn wiped away the evidence of tears
that remained on his face. Disgusting, a grown fairy crying over a dream. He’d
been overwhelmed with tears every single time the nightmare invaded and it
seemed that would never change.