Authors: Mina Carter
Faery Wedding
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Faery Wedding
Mina Carter
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published By:
Etopia Press
P.O. Box 66
Medford, OR 97501
Faery Wedding
Copyright © 2011 by Mina Carter
ISBN: 978-1-936751-62-4
Edited by Jennifer Fitzpatrick
Cover by Mina Carter
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Etopia Press electronic publication: September 2011
Faery Wedding
Her wedding day. Supposedly the happiest day of her life, but all Asharra De Silve could think about was tearing the damn veil off of her head, stomping on the bouquet she held, and making a break for it right through the ornate doors of the chapel.
“Lady Asharra?” one of the attendants ventured in a nervous voice. The woman should be nervous. She was a distant cousin, one of the legions of family relying on Ash marrying today and getting the whole family out of the shit they’d gotten themselves into. Would have been nice if they’d
asked
her first rather than just frigging selling her to the highest bidder.
“Yes, Serazette?”
Ash clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth together with enough force to crack nuts. If she could have screamed she would have, but her crazy bloodlines ruled that one right out. A complex and convoluted race, the Fae were made up of many species. The Seelie and the Unseelie Courts partnered each other in a never ending, symbiotic dance. Some of Ash’s blood, from her father, came from the shadows of the Midnight Host. They were the darkest part of the Unseelie Court, where some of the nightmares couldn’t give voice to anything other than a whisper.
She turned in a rustle of silk to look at her bridesmaids. They were all tall and willowy, with the classic Sidhe beauty. Ash hid a bitter smile. They were all scared shit-less she might back out. If that happened then one of them was going up that aisle in her place, offered as a sacrifice at the wedding altar.
There was just one problem. Not one of them was a virgin, which ruled them out in the bride stakes. Lord Hunter, the groom, had imposed some fairly strict conditions in return for paying off her family’s debts.
Namely the hand of a virgin faery princess in marriage.
“Are you okay, my Lady? Do you want me to fetch Lord De Silve?”
Ash felt a small smile spread across her face. As far as her family knew, she was the only one able to meet the conditions.
Was
being the operative word. She hadn’t been a virgin since she was sixteen.
The smile became a smirk. After last night, she certainly wasn’t a virgin. Determined to have her own private ‘hen party’ she’d snuck out, headed to the nearest Last Call bar and ordered a drink that attracted the hottest fae guy she’d ever seen. One night of smoking hot sex later and there was certainly no first, second
or
third left for her new husband to claim.
She didn’t plan on telling her bridegroom that. What the arrogant bastard didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt him, and meanwhile she could savor her little rebellion. Use it to fortify her against the years until the old crony kicked the bucket. He was going to be a fossil, had to be. After all, he’d bought a virgin bride. Only an old sleaze incapable of getting a woman would do that, surely?
With her skills in illusion, and her newfound talent for acting, he’d never be able to tell the difference. His bride would blush prettily, be a bundle of nerves, and in the morning there would be blood on the sheets. Blood that was already concealed in the small vial within the heavy pendant nestled between her breasts. Thank the Lady for trans-dimensional jewellery. She could have hidden the kitchen sink in there, and no one would be any the wiser.
“No, thank you. Leave me now. I wish for some time alone before the ceremony.”
Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the fact it was an order. Unlike most brides, Ash had decided to walk down the aisle alone. No father, no family other than the bridesmaids trailing her like pathetic sheep. She didn’t want her family to accompany her. Not after the bastards had sold her to save their own worthless hides. Her father would ‘give’ her away, even in a ceremonial sense, over her dead body.
Ash turned to look out the window as the women dutifully filed out. The view of the gardens below soothed her as she waited for the knock on the door telling her it was time.
She could do this. She
had
to do this. There was no way out. She had to marry Lord Hunter, Keeper of the Black Plains. A man not just older than she was but
five hundred
years older.
The door opened behind her.
“Isn’t it bad enough I’m the damn virgin sacrifice? I thought I told you lot to go,” Ash snapped, as tension and anger at her situation made her temper short and her voice sharp.
Gods, in her wedding dress she was stunning.
Deverell, Lord Hunter, leaned against the doorframe and studied his bride. He’d left her early this morning whilst she slept. Spread naked over the bed, the silken sheets highlighted rather than concealed her perfect curves. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d had to do it though. If he stayed, he ran the risk of cracking and telling her everything.
If he did that, it would mean admitting he was the groom she was trying to deceive, and that he’d been deceiving her in return. He didn’t want to do that, not just yet. He wanted to see the look of joy on her face when she walked down the aisle, and he was waiting for her rather than the grumpy old lord she was expecting.
Still, he hadn’t been able to resist this one glance at her before the ceremony. As soon as she’d arrived the need to see her had built up until he couldn’t bear it anymore. It wasn’t done, and he wouldn’t have acted on it had he not seen the women filing out of the small chamber set aside for the Bride and her party. Knowing Ash was alone had galvanised him into action. Before he’d made a conscious decision, he was pushing open the door.
“Didn’t I tell you to g—”
When he didn’t respond to the first soft order, Ash turned around. Anger flared in her eyes and crackled in the witching around her. She was gorgeous when she was mad, so sexy it made his heart stop, and after today—no, after last night—she was all his. The need to touch her, claim her again, roared through him. Dev strode forward as the look of anger on her face was replaced by one of shock.
“Dev? What the hell are you doing here?”
He didn’t give her an answer. Instead, he caught her up in his arms and pinned her against the window behind her. He boosted her up a little. Her ass fit perfectly on the window ledge as the full skirts of her wedding gown billowed around them.
His lips crashed down on hers, demanding and taking as he ruthlessly prised her lips apart. Any finesse he possessed was gone, crushed under a tsunami of possessiveness and desire. He didn’t care that outside the room, a whole congregation of people were waiting for them. He didn’t care that she was in her wedding dress and he was crushing it as he parted her thighs to lodge his hips between hers. He didn’t care that she didn’t know her groom was already claiming her as his.
Again.
All that mattered was the heaven of her silken lips and soft mouth as he plundered them, and the lush curves he hauled up against his hard body. She was like a drug, an addiction he had no intention of fighting.
It all happened so fast. No sooner had Ash turned to berate whoever had decided to intrude on her last few moments of freedom, she recognized the tall form lounging in the doorway. It was a figure she’d know anywhere, even though this time yesterday she’d never seen him before in her life. After last night, every solid line of muscle, and look on his cruelly handsome face, were carefully locked away in her memory. That was last night, and this was today.
Her wedding day.
She tore her lips away from him. “No. Dev…we can’t do this.”
Without a pause, he started to kiss along her neck, seeking the spot behind and below her ear that made her squirm. His voice was a harsh rasp of need as he answered.
“Too late sweetheart, we are.”
His hands pulled at her full skirts, seeking her legs. He sighed against her lips as his callused palms found her silk covered ankles and stroked upward. Fire and ice swept through Ash’s body. She shouldn’t be doing this, not with her groom waiting for her in the next room—