King of the Wilds: Rosethorn Valley Fae #3 Page 10

  Miranda watching in horror as the forest all around them drained of color. Trees went gray and then black before collapsing into cold ash, the grass curled up as if burning from invisible flames, birds dropped from the sky as black smoke billowed overhead.

  Bron’s muscles rippled and strained, like he was attempting to lift the Earth itself. A groan of pain escaped him, the sheer anguish of it chilling Miranda to her core.

  “What’s happening to him?” Miranda asked, knowing that she didn’t really want an answer.

  “Bron gets his power from the living world,” Tristan explained, the light in his hands growing brighter by the second. “And right now, he is calling on all of it to bolster us.”

  Bron was consuming the very life of the forest to summon the strength to defeat his brother.

  And it was working.

  Cullen Ward shuddered but could not move.

  Dorian drew a fresh cloak of inky midnight closely around him.

  Sara ran forward, mirror outstretched, her voice strong and true.

  “Go back into the mirror’s hold

  Back into the faerie fold

  Where your cruel ways are understood,

  And leave this mortal world to Good.”

  Bron collapsed like a ragdoll from the effort of burning up the life force of the forest to harness its energy.

  Miranda felt the last surge of his power flow through her.

  “Surrender,” she shouted, and Cullen could not help but obey.

  He floated toward Sara. Just before he reached her, he looked into the mirror and his features shifted from anger to what Miranda swore was happiness. He let go completely and shrank into a living shadow that was sucked into the mirror shard with an audible pop.

  There was a moment of stunned silence.

  Then the friends began to cheer. Tristan lifted Tabitha and spun her around in his arms.

  Only Miranda seemed to notice that one voice was missing from the chorus.

  She ventured to where Bron had knelt a moment ago, but there was no sign he had ever been there.

  “Bron,” she screamed into the ashen remains of the forest.

  But without living trees, she could see a hundred yards in every direction.

  And Bron was nowhere to be found.

  “Oh, gods,” she heard Dorian murmur.

  “Miranda,” Sara said softly, placing her hands on her shoulders.

  “Bron,” Miranda screamed again, unable to help herself.

  But there was only silence. Not even the birds cried back to her.

  They searched the scarred trees, but Miranda’s wild king seemed to have disappeared as if he had never existed at all.

  It’s my fault. If my power to compel were greater, he wouldn’t have had to sacrifice himself…

  Sirens in the distance roused her from the wreckage of her mind.

  “They’re coming because of the smoke,” Tabitha cried. “We have to put the mirror back together before they get here.”

  Miranda stood, frozen in place, unwilling to stop the search.

  “We’ll find him soon,” Sara said comfortingly. “But we can’t have let all this happen in vain.”

  Miranda allowed herself to be led into the mansion.

  She watched as her friends placed the last shard.

  Tabitha approached the glass, pressed both palms to it and closed her eyes.

  For a moment it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Then the surface of the mirror stopped showing a reflection. The glass swirled like water.

  Miranda saw the fachan, the kelpie, the will o’ the wisps, and other monsters she didn’t recognize. She saw Cullen Ward, still smiling as he fell deeper and deeper into the mirror.

  Desperately, she searched for Bron. What if he had been sucked into the mirror somehow? Would she ever find him again?

  But if he was in the mirror, she did not see him.

  Light emanated from Tristan’s whole body and Dorian pulled inky midnight around the mirror itself.

  There was a sound like a gong and Miranda realized it was the grandfather clock in the foyer. It struck the hour over and over.

  Surely, she miscounted, because she swore it counted out thirteen hours.

  “You are whole again,” Miranda whispered.

  Then the room suddenly went quiet.

  Dorian lifted midnight, Tristan extinguished his light.

  And the five of them were standing in front of a beautiful antique mirror. There wasn’t a crack on it. It was perfectly lovely, and perfectly normal.

  “We have to go,” Tabitha said.

  They all ran for their cars.

  Miranda pulled down the driveway alone and headed for Tarker’s Hollow. She didn’t particularly want to go to the Inn, but she wasn’t sure where else she could go.

  She was truly alone.

  Her whole body felt hollowed out and empty.

  Bron…

  Her phone rang and she answered with the car speaker.

  “Miranda Cannon,” she said automatically.

  “You’re coming to my place,” Tabitha said firmly. “We’ve got about a hundred spare bedrooms and you’re not leaving Rosethorn Valley until we find Bron.”

  “Thank you,” Miranda said softly, trying not to cry. “Thank you so much.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Tabitha said gruffly. “Now get over here. We’ve got to figure out what happened to your guy.”

  “I’m on my way,” Miranda said, smiling through her tears.

  22

  Miranda - Later

  Ten months after that fateful day, Miranda stood in the circle of forest that had been invisibly burned down in the deadly battle with the notorious fae king who used to be her boss.

  So much had happened since, but if she closed her eyes, she could still see Bron as clear as day, kneeling on the blackened ground, burning his beloved forest, the source of his power, to save her realm.

  Miranda and her friends had done all they could to find him, exhausting both magic and mortal methods. But there was no trace of the King of the Wilds.

  But Miranda hadn’t given up. She never would.

  Nothing just disappears…

  She surveyed the land with grim satisfaction.

  Cullen Ward had surprised her one more time.

  When the board decided he had been missing long enough they unsealed his living directive.

  Everyone at Dolor Enterprises was shocked to find that Cullen Ward had left his empire in the hands of his executive assistant, Miranda Cannon.

  It had been up to Miranda to oversee all operations at Dolor as well as to allocate and maintain his assets.

  The first thing she had done was to stop the development of the lab in Rosethorn Valley.

  “Mr. Ward had a vision for this project that he never shared with us,” she had lied to the board. “To try to continue would be irresponsible.”

  Somehow, she had no problem convincing them.

  But she had seen Ward’s notes, scrawled in the leather-bound journal in his safe.

  The one-time King of Order had learned that pain increased his powers.

  He’d posed as one of Dorian’s fae creatures, in order to get him in enough trouble to be imprisoned in the midnight loop, but not before he’d made a deal, securing his own release from the mirror prison.

  Once Dorian was taken care of, Tristan and Bron weren’t far behind.

  With his brothers out of the way, he was free to pursue his own unsavory machinations, and build his empire of pain.

  The lab at Rosethorn Valley would have experimented on innocent animals, their suffering giving him an endless power source.

  And the psychological pain this knowledge would have caused the residents of the little borough when they learned about the animal experiments would only have added to his strength.

  Cullen Ward wanted to own this world.

  And then he wanted to destroy it with its own agony.

  He had truly
become the King of Pain.

  This knowledge made it very easy for Miranda to send the bulk of his fortune toward charity.

  After all, he had a lot of cruelty to make up for. She was certain he had caused plenty of pain that she would never know about.

  Under Miranda’s direction, a small fortune had gone to humane shelters across the country. The foundation she formed also gave generously to veterans’ funds, elder care, food banks, conservation programs and medical and arts foundations. It gave money to dig wells and educate children in places where books and water were scarce.

  And at last, the purchase of the mansion and the land it was built on was finalized, and then it was donated to the Rosethorn Valley Historical Society.

  Miranda stopped when it was clear there was enough left in Mr. Ward’s funds for him to be wealthy, but not dangerously so, if he ever returned. Enough for her actions to be unusual, but not completely suspicious.

  But she knew he was never coming back.

  The months of researching and giving had been incredibly rewarding as well as a lot of hard work. Each moment of helping others gave her some small respite from the agony of missing Bron. He loved living things - it would have warmed his heart to know she was doing his work as best she could in his absence.

  Miranda knew it was time to move on from the part of her life dictated by Cullen Ward.

  But it was impossible to see a future without Bron in it.

  She looked over the ruined land.

  The historical society had held a huge fundraiser to replant the whole area. Tiny trees dotted the landscape. One day they would grow strong and tall again and flowers would bloom once more.

  It was beginning to look a little better already. Months of rain and sunshine were doing their work.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling as though she might fly apart with the pain of missing her king.

  “Oh, Bron,” she whispered. “The only person I’ve ever really wanted to compel is you. Please. Come back to me.”

  There was a murmur in the air, and she sensed movement before her.

  Miranda’s lips parted in wonder as she saw tender shoots of grass poking up from the muddy ground.

  The little trees burst with leaves before her eyes, and the foliage surrounding the scarred land began to blossom with beautiful flowers.

  It was as if the earth itself were coming alive around her, springtime moving in fast forward, filling the air with the lush scent of flowers and new life.

  She caught a glimpse of a giant stag, leaping among the new growth, then dashing out of sight.

  “Bron,” she breathed.

  She turned, barely daring to hope.

  “Miranda,” he said, smiling down at her with twinkling eyes.

  His big body was naked and perfect. He was so beautiful she couldn’t speak.

  Instead she fell into his arms, weeping.

  “I’m here, my queen,” he said into her hair.

  “Where did you go?” she sobbed. “Why did you leave me?”

  “I would never leave you,” he told her. “But I depleted my powers. I had to sleep again.”

  “You were hibernating?” she asked in wonder.

  “I guess you could say that,” he said. “Life is reborn in the springtime. Though sometimes it gets a little help.”

  “I compelled you,” she said, realizing.

  “You compelled me,” he agreed. “And I’m glad. I was ready to come home.”

  “I could have done that at any time,” she moaned.

  “No,” he told her. “It wouldn’t have worked until spring, until the wilds were ready to return.”

  “Please don’t ever do that again,” she said, relishing the feeling of his strong arms around her, wishing he would never let her go.

  “I have no plan to be even an inch away from you, ever again,” he declared.

  She went up on her toes and pressed kisses to his cheeks and eyelids.

  He swept her up in his arms and carried her through the field.

  Miranda watched the world spring to life all around them. Every place Bron’s feet touched the earth, greenery burst from the ground, spreading outward, covering the hillside in beauty.

  At last they reached the creek, where older trees still stretched their branches overhead like a ceiling.

  As the blossoms unfurled around them, so did her heart, seeking the radiance of her king.

  23

  Bron

  Bron held Miranda in his arms.

  Pleasure surged through his body. He had not only returned to the mortal realm, but he had been renewed - his powers were at their peak.

  His heart ached at the sorrow he’d caused her. He’d disappeared without a chance to tell her where he was, or if he would return. Even one cycle of the seasons must have seemed like an eternity.

  But he could see by the inky black vines, still dark against her pale finger, that her love for him had not faded.

  He placed her gently on the bank.

  “I am sorry that I frightened you,” he told her solemnly. “I want to know everything that happened while I was sleeping. But first I want to finish what we started the last time we were here.”

  “I want to be your queen,” she replied.

  The words washed away the ache in his heart with a wave of pure happiness. He bent to remove her clothing, feeling frantic to make her wish, and his need, a reality.

  At last she stood before him, naked and beautiful, her titian hair hanging in loose curls down her back.

  He lifted her in his arms again and carried her to the edge of the water where a soft bed of moss awaited.

  He closed his eyes and called to the trees, letting his renewed power flow freely.

  A whisper of branches told him they were doing his bidding, extending around them to form a beautiful shelter where he could claim his queen.

  But he had no eyes for the trees. He saw only Miranda, her bright hair fiery against the green of the moss, her arms extended, urging him close.

  He pressed his lips to hers and tasted eternity as her light moan pierced him with desire.

  He pulled away to gaze into her eyes. “I will love you forever, Miranda Cannon. Will you be my queen?”

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her delicate scent, memorizing the softness of her skin, the warmth of her pulse.

  But he could feel her nipples, stiff like buds against his chest, longing for his touch.

  She whimpered as he moved down to lick one into his mouth.

  He savored the delicate texture and the melody of her cries as he teased and lavished her nipples with attention.

  Miranda tangled her fingers in his hair, driving him wild with the delicious scrape of her nails against his scalp.

  He moved lower, pressing kisses against her warm belly as he nudged her thighs apart. He needed to taste her before he claimed her, needed it more than his next breath.

  Miranda froze as he pressed his mouth to her tender sex.

  He stroked her firmly with his tongue and the sounds she made were incredible. He lapped at her again and again, teasing her, exploring exactly what made her wiggle and scream with the most despair and delight.

  At last he felt her hips trembling with the need for satisfaction.

  He crawled up and caged her head in his arms, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “I need you, Miranda,” he groaned.

  “Please,” she whispered brokenly.

  24

  Miranda

  Miranda was pinned between the soft mossy bank and the exquisite hardness of her king.

  Sensation and emotion ripped through her, threatening to unhinge her mind.

  “I need you,” she whimpered.

  “Easy, my love,” he crooned.

  She felt him take himself in his hand, pressing hot steel against her opening.

  He was so large it should have been frightening, but she felt herself melt like butter aroun
d him, accepting him slowly and painlessly until at last he was fully seated.

  “Miranda.” It sounded like a prayer.

  “Please,” she begged again, as if she had forgotten any other word existed.

  Bron began to move, slowly.

  She felt the pleasure mounting as if it were unfurling from the ground, tender shoots exploding out of the earth, flying toward the heavens.

  She heard her own cries of ecstasy as if from outside of her body.

  “Miranda,” he groaned again, pounding into her faster, filling her again and again.

  Another climax took her and this time she saw flowers blooming behind her eyes.

  When he pushed her over the edge for a third time, she swore she heard birds singing a symphony.

  Bron cried out his own pleasure and she relished the feeling of his hot seed jetting into her, filling her with his love and renewal.

  When they were both sated, he curled himself around her, and they lay there in happy silence, breathing each other in.

  “I missed you,” she murmured at last.

  “I could tell,” he teased.

  He twined his fingers through hers, and she saw that each of them now had vines extending up their hands and encircling their wrists.

  “It’s real now,” she whispered.

  “Are you sorry?” he asked her.

  “No,” she said, horrified. “Are you?”

  He laughed and the happy sound of it seemed to reverberate in her blood. “I could never be sorry.”

  “I could stay here forever,” she told him. “But it doesn’t feel right not to make sure your brothers know you’re home.”

  “My brothers?” he scoffed.

  “Everyone has been searching for you for almost a year,” she scolded him. “You would think that if you can just go to sleep for months at a time, you might tell your family about it.”

  “They were really looking for me?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  “Look, I don’t know what sibling rivalry is like in your world,” she told him. “But it sounds terrifying. In this world, a lot of siblings recover from their rivalries as adults. And they find comfort in their unique shared history.”