Chapter One

“Goddamn, I hate these fucking cum shot posers!”  Millie tapped a spiked heel against the concrete.  Loud music thumped not too far from where she and a half a dozen others stood waiting for admittance to the club.  “Move it you fucking asshole! They’re playing Combichrist!”

Some in the line looked at her oddly, wondering no doubt if her elongated ears were the real thing or if she were a human trying to pass as a Fae.  That was the usual response wherever she went when she was on Mortal Earth.  It grew tiring but using glamour to appear human was equally as draining.  Tonight, she was just herself. Millie the Fae. 

Most humans didn’t even understand the differences in the Fae races.  They’d naturally assumed that all fae were the same, despite some of the more obvious differences such as painted lips, skin tones or hair color. 

Tonight she was on a mission to relax before work, Goddamnit.

The rest of the crowd dressed in similar dark clothing, guys in tight black pants, leather belts with silver studs, buckles or even rings and boots that came various lengths up the calf. Chests were covered in either black dress shirts, tank tops or no shirts.  Some had wild hair or shaved heads, they stood waiting for the line to move so they could get into Dallas’s hottest gothic club on a Thursday.  Hell, some guys even wore dresses.

Millie looked towards the bouncer who knew her by name.  She shot him an annoyed glare but he shrugged and continued checking IDs.  She huffed in the man’s direction crossing her arms beneath her ample cleavage comfortably and tapping a black leather spiked heel against the pavement as she tried to be patient with the line.

“Shut up, bitch!  The song just started.  And you know the DJ tonight plays an extended set of his stuff,” a large hand clapped onto her nearly bare ass. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Millie started to turn around with her fist cocked.  She spun around on one pointed heel, her short skirt whipping about her and started to throw a punch into the very large body of Virus, a six foot five, three hundred and fifty pound wolf who was built like a brick shithouse.  He grinned, baring fangs and smoothing a hand over his dyed black hair before readjusting his ponytail.  His shirt hung loosely off large shoulders before he folded his oversized arms over his chest.  His face was clean shaved and his large green eyes sparkled even in the darkness.  His lupine scent, earth and gravel hit her before she’d turned around fully. 

“Hi,” he beamed and winked at Millie before smoothing a hand over his hair. 

Millie dropped her hand and wrapped her arms around the wolf.  “You’re a shit,” she whispered against his chest.  His body was warm compared to hers, but it figured.  It was winter outside and she hadn’t had the brains to put on warm clothes.  Dressed in a tight corset that pushed her more than ample breasts up close to her chin, her arms were left uncovered other than a faded gold band with an inscription in Gaelic she could not read.

       Her skirt barely covered her ass, which Virus promptly fondled, earning him a dirty look.

“Stockings tonight, and I assume a garter?  Millie what are you doing out tonight?  Your father would be furious if he found you in the mortal realm dressed like this.”

“Oh, like you care what my father thinks,” she slapped him in the shoulder leaned into his warmth.  He’d been a friend of the family for years, saving Millie from one stupid Fae court incident after another.  “And why did you dye your hair again?  Wolves didn’t need to do that, did they?”

“I do care,” he winked and nudged her hips with his. 

She felt his very large bulge press into her.  The thought of cock touching her right now was enough to set her nerves on fire.  “It’s not happening.  We aren’t compatible, Virus.”  She smirked. 

Lifting a hand to his forehead, he tilted his head back in mock despair and let out a sigh.  “Oh Millie, when?  Why can’t you love me?”  He snickered.

She scoffed. 

Finally, as they walked forward, he looked her straight in the eyes.  “I dyed my hair because I don’t have the magickal ability to change it like the fae do.  We’re born with one coat of hair that matches our fur.  And I grew tired of light brown.”

A wind blew, causing chills to race up Millie’s spine. She generally felt safe around Virus, but there were some things even a six foot five wolf could not protect her from. 

The line moved quickly, putting Millie and Virus closer to the door.  Once inside, she flashed her ID and a pouty smile before getting waved past the cash register.  “But your eyes are so pretty,” she shot around the corner and inside the building. 

Virus groaned and reached for her, but Millie slipped out of reach and into the darkness, taking a sharp left the bar area.

Red velvet drapes hung, separating the register from the two bars.  One to her right was busy with patrons standing around blathering about nonsensically while the bar in front of her was fairly empty.  A few patrons sat on the plush red couches to her left nursing drinks and watching the crowd.  One man in particular looked at Millie with a hungry look.  She shot him a flippant look and walked towards the bar in front of her. 

Checking her watch, she noted it was only ten fifteen, mortal time.  The thing with mortals keeping time always amused Millie, because the Fae didn’t bother.  Time seemed pointless when you lived for hundreds of years.  Smells and sights became ways of tracking or remembering past memories until even those faded. 

After seeing so much death and gore in her life, Millie made it a point to start living the way she wanted to, not how her parents dictated.  The life of a warrior of the Sidhe required discipline, tons of boring education and focus. 

Not spending time in the mortal realm at the gothic club looking for a good fuck.

Millie didn’t necessarily care where it came from either, as long as she came a few times and came hard. What she wouldn’t give for a nice hard body that was just a little smaller than Virus, and a lot deadlier. 

Someone with a dangerous streak that involved whips, chains and knives in their bedroom toy collection.  Virus was a big brute and one hell of a body guard for his pack, but he was soft in bed.  Romantic.  Sweet. Caring.

Things that didn’t belong in her bedroom.  Not since Vincent fucked her heart over.

Bastard.

Millie gritted her teeth until Shar appeared before her. “Whatcha want tonight hon?”  Shar had the most beautiful curly red hair parted down the center that framed a sweet face and equally persuasive emerald eyes.  Her bust had been emphasized by her tight black skull and cross bones T-shirt that rode up above her belly just slightly. She was a knife expert and had been bartending in the mortal realm for the last forty years so she could easily handle thugs and ruffians.  Millie always liked the tattoo of the Phoenix that Shar had on her left shoulder. 

“More Combichrist, and a whiskey sour. The Fae whiskey,” she shouted over the thundering electronic body music bass.  The smell of clove cigarettes wafted towards her and she knew she’d been spotted by another of Virus’s entourage. 

Trevor, also freakishly tall sauntered up behind her, setting a hand on her shoulder before blowing a cloud of smoke above her head.  His shaved face gleamed with sweat.  She’d seen him naked on more than one occasion and the memory of her body dancing against his made sweat or something sweeter drip between her panty-less thighs.  Nevermind the fact that the fae were forbidden from mating with the wolves despite the desire to have them on the side of the Unseelie court during their cold war with the Seelie kingdom. 

Millie hated thinking about the idea that her current employers would someday attempt to wipe out the Seelie court and all its’ natural beauty.  The entire war was based on a fear that had no foundation in reality as far as she was concerned.  While coming to Earth to find Prince Faolan was a minor annoyance, why the hell couldn’t she have a little fun too? 

Energy seeped into her, calming her from the stresses of the day.  Millie turned and was greeted to purple and green spiked hair that stood up a foot taller than Trevor, silver eyes and a smile that could light up an entire room if he hadn’t been so threateningly huge.  “Hi,” she shook her chest in his direction.  “What’s cookin’?”

“You, obviously,” Trevor took another puff off his cigarette.  Dressed in form fitting leather pants, boots and no shirt, his ample chest and bulging muscles rippled gracefully with each movement.  “What’s new?”

“Nothing,” she took the drink from Shar and slapped a bill on the bar.  “Just out for a night on the town.”

“On Earth?”  Trevor cocked a manicured brow.  “I figured things would be more exciting in Faery.”

Millie sipped her drink, enjoying the slight burn from the fae whiskey.  She nodded.  “Not at all.  The same bullshit politics are continuing in the court about waging war with the Seelie for final domination and they’re,” she sighed heavily, “sending someone in to persuade the shifter community to join us.”

Trevor nodded. “Who are they sending in?”

She wiped her brow, moving dark red and purple curls out of her eyes.  From her right, she saw the main dance floor, packed with bodies swaying and moving to the beat of the Combichrist mix that the DJ had started ten minutes ago. The beat of the music pounded loudly against her chest, drowning out the noise from earlier in the day.  

Millie knocked back her drink and ordered another. 

“Oh,” he nodded, slapping down money for her drink.  “I see.  So you’re supposed to talk to the unreachable Prince Faolan?”

“Shit yeah,” she nodded and took the drink handed to her.  She started to knock it back, but Trevor put his hand over the rim of her glass. 

“Sip it.  Then let’s dance.  I hear they’ll play Covenant next.”

“Stalker?”  Her eyebrows rose. 

He nodded, reaching to touch her.  “Yeah.  After Combichrist.”

Millie felt instant peace at the connection.  Her heart rate slowed, her pulse became audible in her own ears over the heavy bass beat.  Her nerves calmed as the alcohol’s warmth spread throughout her body, making her feel warm at first, then cool before her body temperature returned to normal.  She felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders momentarily. 

Millie didn’t understand why the wolves in this pack made her feel tranquil but she accepted it without question. 

Trevor lowered his hand from her shoulder to her hip and opened his palm.  For a wolf, he was not the dominating type she’d normally dealt with.  Nor was he like what her people had said of Prince Faolan. 

He was sweet and kind, a little too caring at times for her style.  One or two nights of passionate sex was all she could handle with him since he could not play as rough as she liked. She needed the rough contact as did most Unseelie fae. 

Prince Faolan had the reputation of being the brutal and often aggressive leader of a group of wolves known as Protectors.  In Faery, they weren’t understood or talked about except in secret.  Prince Faolan’s subjects were said to have been involved in dealings with both courts depending on which side offered them the better deal.  It seemed that nothing the Unseelie could offer his group as of yet could satisfy them. 

He set a hand on his hip.  “Faolan’s not the bad guy everyone thinks he is, Millie.  Remember, you live in a world were court politics differ vastly from our own pack politics.  It reminds me of Victorian times, at least what I’ve heard of Faery.”

She nodded.  “And I’ve been around long enough to say that’s a valid comparison.  But…” she took another sip of the drink offered to her, “things in Unseelie are just so different.”

He nodded.  “Yeah, I can imagine.  I’ve never been to Faery and have no intentions of ever leaving Earth right now.  I’m happy here.”  He smiled.

She tilted her head.  “I know.  And I know the information I’ve been fed about him is probably a bunch of shit, but I won’t know until I meet him.  Have you met him?”

Trevor nodded.  In passing.  We’ve dealt with different packs.  Just remember, Millie.  The Protectors are not all blood thirsty killers who stalk the Fae.  They’re misunderstood even among the wolves, but we respect their authority for a reason.”

“Mmhmm.  What reason is that?”  She raised an eyebrow. 

He waved a finger in front of her face.  “I cannot tell you.”  Grinning, he offered her his hand again. 

Millie took his hand and was led to the dance floor.  Several tables sat to her right along with large red booths and more velvet curtains which separated some of the tables.  In front of her was a pole and staircase that led to the second story where several couches and a few high backed leather chairs had been placed before wrought iron railing.  To Millie’s left was the stage, complete with hanging crucifix.  A few bodies swayed on the dance floor but it was still early.  She wondered why DJ Angry Johnny was playing the Combichrist set early, but a tug on her arm made her forget.

Her body started swaying in tune with the music, seductively, hips undulated and large hands slid down her figure.  Trevor’s hands gripped her possessively the way they always did, fingers digging into her hips before his head lowered and their cheeks brushed. 

Trevor drove his pelvis into her hips, his eyes focused on hers.

Millie’s mouth opened in an O with each little bit of contact from Trevor.  His thick cock nudging her where she wanted most, making her body cry out, her pussy weep and clit throb.  Her fingers dug into his waist, nails running up and down his bare skin.  She smelled blood, knew he did too. 

He looked down at her with mock annoyance.

“It’ll heal when you transform,” she grinned and winked.

“Or you could take me home and give me some fae loving,” he swayed and watched her.

The beat of the song slowed and disappeared, leaving only a keyboard howl.  Millie spun away and bent over, her hair falling at the sides of her face as her arms spread out, fingers opened.  Slowly, Millie sank to her knees, her head lifting, gazing up at the crucifix as Trevor circled her body and the beat picked up.  When the bass kicked in, Millie exploded upward, standing to her full height behind Trevor.

His hands returned to her sexy swaying hips, her ass nudging against his crotch.

A smile crept over her lips as she thought back on how he’d like to bury his thick, thick cock in her ass then cum all over her breasts again.

Not tonight.  “I’m not interested in having the Fae Lust infect you, Trevor.” 

The song ended and Millie stopped dancing long enough to catch her breath.  Glancing back at Trevor, she wondered why she couldn’t take him back to Faery and fuck him.

He was a wolf.  And they were not allowed in Faery due to the stance many had taken against the fae.  The wolves in the forests of Europe had slaughtered many of the wee folk out of confusion and fear of those they could not understand.  The Unseelie court had lost many fae over the last several centuries due to the wolves’ misdoings.  So may in fact that the Unseelie had outlawed relationships with wolves and practically banned them from their city-state. 

Of course, Millie had her few relationships that she kept secretive but they were few and far between. 

In America, the Fae were just another race as were the wolves, but each race kept their magic toned down. 

It seemed that humans were somewhat accepting of both races, mostly because the humans had never really seen the darker side of anything other than their own nature.  They have their cruelty with bombs and destruction, but it’s nothing like the backstabbing done in Faery for royalty gains. 

Fingers nudging up her sides beneath her top brought her back to reality.  Spinning around, she saw Trevor standing, a lustful grin on his face. 

The music had changed, gone softer.  “I thought you said he was going to play Covenant!” She appeared to pout.

Trevor shrugged.  “Maybe in a few minutes.  We should go outside and catch a breath of fresh air. 

“Just let me get a drink first.”

“Sure.  I am glad that the fae are legendary drinkers but sometime we’ll have to go toe to toe.”

She laughed and followed him through the thickening crowd.  Some of the folks stared at the two of them, others gawked.  The difference was subtle, but noticeable to someone who was essentially a paid assassin.  Half irritated, she set a hand on Trevor’s rather muscular shoulders and followed him outside. 

A light rain began to fall on the deck, making the smooth wood slippery.  Millie bit back a curse as she nearly toppled to the floor from the slickness of the wood and her high heeled boot but Trevor caught her with one strong hand.

Hauling her to her feet, he pulled her into his arms.  The wind blew again but his body heat kept her very warm.  It almost felt as though he were in wolf form as she brushed against his skin and felt fur on him.  Looking at him, she realized that he was still shirtless but had grown an inch in height since they came outside.

“Why do you do that?”  She looked up at him.

“Do what?”  He ran his hands over her shoulders.

The roughness of his thumbs sent shivers over her skin.  “Grow an inch occasionally.”

“Oh that little trick?”  He grinned.  “It’s for intimidation purposes.  You know this place, Millie.  It’s a meat market and for the time you’re with me, I like to think of you as mine.”

The thought warmed her heart. “Still.”

“Still, nothing!  I need the height around here!”  He sank down to his knees, putting his head at level with her tits.

She smirked and slapped him across the shoulder again.  “Please.”

The look on his face changed to a stupid grin before he stood up to his full height, somewhere round 6’9. 

Millie looked at the crowd of people gathering around the bar on the upstairs deck and decided it was time for that drink.  “Yeah, we’ll go for that drinking game sometime soon.  I promise,” she licked her lips.

Trevor put a hand on her shoulder.  “Indeed.  By the way, do you even know where to find Prince Faolan?”

She shook her head.  “Nope, I don’t have a clue.  Any ideas where he could be?”

Trevor shook his head.  “He rarely gets out.  His duties come first.”

“Damnit.”  She snapped her fingers.  “How about where he lives?”

“Not far from here, only…”  He closed his eyes.  “About twenty five hundred miles from here.”

“Shit!” 

“I know, huh.  Now come on.  Let’s get you that drink.”

Prince Faolan was beyond pissed, he was enraged. He wanted to put his fist through a brick wall just to release the anger, or better yet someone else’s head through a wall.  Someone had drunk all his coffee, smoked all his cigars and drank his best wine. And none of it was the cheap shit, he’d only stocked his pantry with the best to be offered, gourmet coffee beans, Diamond Crown Maximums cigars, and even the rich full bodied port that had been older than he was, was gone. 

Well actually that had happened last week and he’d yet to send his charge to get more supplies, to many things had come up recently for him to worry about the small stuff. That was her job anyways.  Money was not tight, but the dark haired Hungarian had yet to tend to her chores. And damnit he needed his creature comforts.  She’d been so behind with the household needs, focusing instead on her attempt to get Faolan out of the house.

“You’ve been stuffy and in need of a good rutting like all pack animals,” Anya grumbled darkly, her hands set to her wide hips and her expression a shallow frown of displeasure. 

“You’re acting like an old fool sitting in your office all day working,” she busied herself moving around him and displacing the papers he was trying to finish up, “By the time I get dinner ready, you’re still working.” 

With a sigh,  she pulled the pen from his grip, set her hand on the back of his chair and half swiveled it around to face her, “Hardly eating a thing all day is not good.”

An attempt to turn back around and reach for his papers was met with a sound smack to the hand as she glared at him.

“All right, shit Anya.”  Faolan growled back in frustration finally giving up any effort or thoughts of more work.  “I get it.  I’ll go out.”

Her expression quickly changed, her dark brown eyes lighting up with joy and affection “You’re still a growing wolf and will need your strength,” Her Hungarian accent came out when she spoke sternly but she was still happy that he’d conceded.. 

“You’re a human, what would you know of strength?”  A growl edged his voice He glared at her, his eyes narrowing in a threatening manner…

“Enough to know that menacing look in your eyes is full of shit.”  She spat out, half tempted to hit him upside the back of the head. 

“You’re a Protector.  Whether you like it or not, your duty is to protect. But that doesn’t mean you have to neglect your own personal needs,” her hand settled once again firmly on his shoulder.  She leaned forward, the sweep of her dark hair falling over her shoulder and brushing his face as she offered him a small smile.

“I keep hearing noises about the Fae wanting to take over this world and rule it, which can’t happen as you know,” Her features had sharpened in apparent dislike and anger.

Her cheek brushed against his.  Faolan sighed deeply, taking the offered solace and comfort in her simple touches, “I know.  The damned faeries need to get real lives like everyone else and learn to share.” 

Faolan leaned back in his office chair, let the soft groan of the leather fill his senses as he propped his feet up on his oak desk. Leaning back further and closed his eyes, he tried to let his thoughts drift away from troubles. 

“Noble duty and all,” She spoke quietly, smoothing a hand along his brow and trying to rid him of the deep furrow that had formed there. 

“Some days I just want to wish the world away.” He looked tired, worn in a way that hurt her heart. She knew more than anybody that he needed a good distraction, something to take the weight off his shoulder for a little while.

Anya pressed her lips tenderly to his temple before moving to stand beside him Kneeling down beside his outstretched legs, she looked up at him,  “I know, my prince. I know.” 

Her hand moved down to rested on his muscular thigh.

His hair stood on edge with the contact from her fingers, an electricity seemed to flow from her hand and into his body, alerting his senses to her presence and easing him all at the same time..  Something about her touch was comforting in a motherly way that made her off limits as someone to sate his primal desires.  He briefly remembered the day he found her, cold, dirty and hungry on the streets in San Francisco. 

She’d seen him for what he was a cold blooded killer but had bucked against him when he’d threatened to end her pathetic life.  He’d always wondered how she’d known, but had never bothered to ask her. Some days he wondered if she really was human after all, or there was a touch of something else inside her.  Her ‘feminine intuition’ was nothing short of amazing.

* * *

He bared his fangs and snarled, a sound no human throat should have been able to make.. 

She stood, dusted herself off brushing wisps of oily hair out of her wide and fearless eyes before walking up to him and brazenly punching him in the throat. 

The blow hurt, made him cough and sputter, spitting blood.  He glared angrily at her but stopped, taking a step back as he glanced over her.  One look at her and he realized she was trembling in what smelled like fear.  Even her breaths were nothing but labored pants. 

“Come at me again you pathetic bum,” she shouted in defiance.

Striding towards him in a mix of confidence and uncertainty, she hit him again in the chest, trying to provoke him further. 

The blow didn’t hurt nearly as much as being punched in the neck. For a human, she was strong.  She had a real spark in her.

“I know what you are,” she uttered breathlessly, falling to her knees.  “Just have mercy on me if you’re going to kill me.”

Her eyes closed, a silence falling around her as if she were preparing for death.

“Protectors don’t actually kill humans,” he spoke into the heavy silence, his voice rough and indifferent.

He wanted to smirk at the shocked expression, the widening of her eyes further as she raised her head to look at him through a curtain of dark hair. It was kind of amusing, toying with the woman, but something inside him seemed to soften at the horror in her eyes as he bared fangs again in a faint toothy grin.  

Hs race, the wolves had been chosen by some higher power to keep things in this world and others in check.  Protecting the humans from their own general stupidity he could not fully do, no one could. But his race of wolves was strong enough to hold their own against the Fae, other creatures, and some magicians. 

For hundreds of years they’d protected humanity, silently.  Keeping to themselves in the midst of the World Wars, .they’d had sleuths and assassins in place when Hitler had conquered much of Europe to keep the UnSeelie away from him.  Again when Hussein rose to power, the Protectors had been called into play. 

Prince Faolan didn’t know where his orders came from, other then the contact to the Goddess, but in truth he didn’t really care.  He knew his duty and accepted it for the greater good. It was his purpose and he didn’t need to seek for another.

Even if it meant dealing with the useless scum of human society, not that every human creature he found was completely undeserving of his efforts.

He looked down at the stranger in a crumpled heap on the ground. She’d fainted, her body reeking mostly of fatigue. 

Faolan actually felt pity for a human being.  It’d been so long since someone had challenged him in a fight they would obviously lose.  It made him laugh out loud before he picked her up and brought her home.

Slapping his collar on her, he’d claimed her as his. 

She took to his lifestyle almost instantly, picking up the slack at home. It’d taken him a good week to break her in at first, between his patrolling the streets to keep things in check and other duties. (You do mention later about the same look on Millie’s face that Anya had, so we know Anya was a pain in the ass at first too) Which included making sure he sated his lupine demand for lust on a regular basis; he was a highly sexual creature. 

She’d handled his finances, paid bills, kept the pantry stocked with groceries, fed him regularly and occasionally satisfied his physical needs, though the moments were few and far between and only in absolute necessity.

For some reason, he’d allowed her to argue with him about his choices in how often he gotten laid.  The odd thing was that at the first sign of him showing violence, she didn’t budge.  When she justified her behavior, he realized that she must have been what the Goddess had been talking about when she suggested a squire or companion.  Someone who didn’t take his shit just because he could become an eight-foot tall wolf that would keep him in check.  Though perhaps he would personally have chosen someone less bossy and demanding; not that he apparently got a choice.

* * *

“So, where am I going tonight?”  Faolan heaved a sigh as the memory faded and he removed his boots from the desk to better look at his ward. 

“Where the freaks are,” she almost giggled, her dark brown eyes gleaming with mischief.  “A place called The Church.  It’s in Texas!”

“I have to leave California for another fucking Goth club?”  Leaning forward, Faolan opened and narrowed his eyes on Anya. This wasn’t the first freaks club she’d encouraged him to go to, what did she know that he didn’t?

She absently twirled strands of dark hair between her fingers and nodded, her eyes lowered.  “You’re looking for more than a fuck, my precious wolf.”  Her tone sounded almost provocative. 

“But why with those fakers?  Most of those freaks can’t take the kind of pain I like to give out. Do you remember,” his shoulders tensed at the memory, his anger rising a notch, “the last little girl I had in here?”

Anya nodded in understanding.  “I do.  She was whiny and bitchy and your cock in her mouth shut her up quickly before tears came down her eyes.”

“No,” he shook his head, his voice a low growl of annoyance. “I fucked her ass then made her suck me off because she was missing the point of dominance.”

“She still cried.” Anya smirked, clearly unimpressed

“Fuck,” Faolan set a large hand on his oak desk, sighing in exasperation.  “I have to go?”

Anya looked up from his thigh and grinned as though she’d reach up and tear his head off if he declined.  “I insist,” her accent came out thick, the smile on her lips sweet and dangerous at the same time.

It was moments like this that reminded him just how maternal she could be, though there was more to it than that. Their relationship was… complicated.

Faolan reached out to her, stroking her thick hair.  Silky strands fell between his fingers before he clutched her hair in a tight fist and yanked her upwards partially off her knees.

Slowly, Anya rose to her feet, guided by the fist entwined in her dark locks just at the nape of her neck.

Faolan let out a sigh as he leaned forward and kissed her, brushing his lips softly over hers before applying steady pressure.

Complicated indeed. 

Her warm mouth opened for him, letting his tongue slip past juicy lips. She was giving just as he needed her to.  Smaller fingers reached for his thighs again, clutching them tightly through rough texture of his pants. 

His cock hardened beneath his jeans as his grip became a gentle caress at the back of her head, raising goose bumps over her tanned skin. The heat was rising in a beautiful blush across her flesh that stole his breath. How lovely his Anya was.

Faolan became instantly aware that her nipples had peaked into tight little buds beneath the deep purple crushed velvet top.  He tore himself from her with a low growl and released her.  The flutter of her eyelashes against his rough unshaved cheek tickled.  The scent of her arousal was almost more than he could bare, but he forced his lusts down as he looked upon her with affection.

She sank down back to her knees in silence, gently resting her head against the warmth of his thigh. Something genteel and sweet moved through her rich brown eyes as she gazed up at him, nudged her cheek against the material of his jeans. 

“I love you Anya and wish to protect you above all else,” he quietly whispered the words, but he knew she’d heard them.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. There was only a soft contented sigh breathed past her slightly bruised lips

***

Prince Faolan sat on a high back leather chair atop the second floor of the Church, looking down at the myriad of people in boredom.  All the dancers were swaying sensuously to the soft music that played over the speakers. One woman to his right mimicked fucking the pole she’d wrapped her legs around, sliding her hips up and down the steel object, throwing her head back in overjoyed ecstasy.  Dressed in short shorts and a bra, Faolan suspected that she’d probably rubbed the pole the right way and gotten her rocks off. It was hard to distinguish one scent of arousal from the next, they all blended into one in this bordello of sights and sounds.

He wondered how many other women had done the same thing in this club.

The building was large, two story complete with a patio and deck outside with a full bar which was occupied by smokers.  The faint smell of cloves was driving his feral senses nuts. He hated the smell of cloves and could never understand why the youth smoked them.

Anya could only guess that it was an artsy thing.

Faolan snuffed.  He hated ‘artsy’.

Crossing one black jean clad leg over the other; his boots reflected the strobe light that lit up the room.  A black leather vest covered his upper body, showing off ripping muscles that moved with a soft grace only an experienced ballet dancer possessed. 

One gold arm band gripped his left bicep.  His fingers intertwined as he leaned forward and spotted someone out of place.

Leaning forward, he set his elbows on the wrought iron railing and looked closer.  Between all the scents of sweat, sex, cum and smoke, he detected magick, his nose never missed that slightly Earthen tingle. And he knew this scent wasn’t wolf.  Was this person here to cause trouble?

A closer press of energy towards the presence forced the person to turn their head up and look at him. 

A smile crossed his lips when he realized who he’d spotted.  Or rather what.

Faolan had killed his share of Fae from both Courts in the past.  They both had had power hungry rulers at the time and forbid their kind from mating with the Protectors, but Faolan had heard a new ruler was in one of the kingdoms.  He didn’t know which, but understood that a line was drawn between Seelie and Unseelie, a light and darkness, if you will. He was the balance so to speak, the Protectors skirted the edges of those darkness and light, undefined by either.

She moved her body willfully to the music, her hands moving and swaying up above her head.  Light gleamed off bracelets, emphasizing her curves as she undulated her hips in a slow, steady circle.  Her short skirt rode up, giving slight peeks of luscious creamy flesh that made Faolan lean further over the railing, hoping for a glimpse of her sweet pussy. He knew the sight of a woman that didn’t wear panties when he saw it.

She spun around, her ass bobbing up and down as she arched her back, breasts jutting upwards.  The top she wore clung to her every movement, giving Faolan reason to sit back and adjust himself in his jeans.  His cock stiffened, mouth watered at the sight of her sensually teasing dancing.

But his ire reared it’s head when he saw another man—no it was a wolf, saunter up to her and dance provocatively with her.  The other wolf was tall, had spiked hair that stood almost a foot taller than he was.  He was built, bare chested and marked with slashes along his ribs and sides, probably from the little fae. 

Faolan gripped the wrought iron railing hard enough to turn his knuckles white, a no-no considering this wasn’t the place to lose his temper.  He had to be more mindful of his strength as the metal gave beneath his fist with a slight groan.

He sniffed the air, oddly pleased when he didn’t detect the other wolf’s scent on the little Fae.  But he could smell her arousal from here, the pungent smell a sweet reminder that the Fae were capable of playing games that he liked.

Ones that included safe words, bondage and fear.

The best way to conquer, he decided, was to go downstairs and have a little chat with the Fae, see who the other wolf was and if he was a Protector. 

The one flaw about being a Protector was that no information was given as to their powers, their cohorts or anything.  No mark, no scent, nothing set them apart from any other wolf. It was frustrating to say the least at times.  Then there was the unspoken vow to not speak a word about who or what they were as well.  He didn’t follow this rule all the time.

Faolan had gathered a pack around this area in Texas awhile back, making sure to solidify territory that stretched from Colorado to Louisiana, including New Mexico, the south eastern corner of Arizona and parts of Oklahoma. 

None of the wolves in his pack were Protectors, though they all felt a sense of duty to protect the stupid humans who were always messing up the mud ball known as Earth. 

He’d trained as many as he could personally for two years in hopes that they would be stronger than any opponent he could throw at them and that morals and ethics would rule them the way it had him up to a point.  Any rogues never lasted long; he was a firm believer in strict discipline. So far, things appeared to be working in his favor.

Picking up his drink from the table, Faolan sipped it, letting the cool smoky peat taste of scotch burn his throat, warming him. 

Jaunting down the stairs, he headed towards the dark haired fae and her Mohawk companion. 

She spun around, stopping on her spiked heels when he descended the stairs.  Their eyes met and realization hit him that she wasn’t just any fae.  There was an instant pulling, he felt drawn into the depths of her hungry eyes, responded with his own cravings. Something strange spiked through her essence, something he didn’t normally find on Fae. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was intrigued now.

A closer glance revealed that she was un-owned. Not a single collar or marking appeared on her body, but for the single band of gold on her arm.  Her scent wafted over his nostrils, causing them to flare at the sweet perfume of lust.  It was too potent for her to be wearing panties, he thought.  He hoped to find out soon.

“Pardon me,” he stepped off the final step between the equally large wolf and the fae.  “I think we should talk.” He gave no considerations for her companion, his eyes narrowed and focused solely upon the Fae woman.

The glossed over look disappeared from her face as she blinked slowly and her eyes began to twinkle as they came into focus again, zeroed in on the voice addressing her. 

Her mouth formed an O, ruby red lips parting to speak.  No words came out.  She looked at her companion, nodded dismissively at him and then extended her hand to Faolan.

Faolan paid no mind to the tension or the stiff manner in the other wolf’s  bow before he turned and left.

Faolan took her hand, bowing low, hair sweeping over the tops of his boots before he raised his head.  Keeping eye contact, he saw close up how luscious her figure was.  Breasts jutted proudly out beneath her corset, crushed together forming the perfect place to drip cold ice.  And leave nail marks.  The corset tapered down to a waist that fanned out into a blossom of beautiful hips and an ass meant for fucking and spanking.  Long legs dressed in thigh high fishnets held her up while she stood in her heels. 

Licking his lips, he realized Anya had his best interest at heart when she suggested he come get fucked tonight.  Somehow she always did know what was best for him, and this certainly was a find, not like the last one.

His cock throbbed, his mouth watered. “What’s your name?”

She giggled, light and bubbly like champagne, “Millie.”

“Millie,” he pulled her towards the shadows, into his body, his voice rumbled through his chest in a feral growl as he rolled her name on his tongue..

“Yes?”  Her eyes sparkled brilliantly, like wet emeralds, each ring of color dazzling.  She smelled so perfect like musk and magick and cinnamon, she must have been wet. 

“I believe it’s time for a breath of fresh air,” he spoke in a low, regal tone.