Midnight of the Fae [Tangere Tales 2] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting) Read online

  “She’s enchanting, but I didn’t have enough time to get to know her to be able to answer your questions. She’ll come tomorrow night.”

  “Fine, just make sure you are there, and receptive. I won’t be happy if you’re not.”

  Regine was a loving mother, and no one could deny that, especially him. But when she spoke in that manner, he knew it meant if he wasn’t there and giving his best effort to being hounded by the single female masses, then he would face censure.

  “I’ll go make your excuses, but mark me, they will not be happy.”

  “I’ll do my best to make it up to them,” he murmured, relieved as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you, Mother.”

  “And I you. Wait, where are you going?”

  He backed away from her on the path, feeling freer by the second. “I’ll dance to your tune tomorrow night. For now, I’m off to contemplate my pending nuptials.”

  “Don’t lie to me. And don’t let Leandre get you in any trouble. He has a knack for that.”

  He chuckled as he walked toward the now darkened path, knowing it was no good denying it. He and Leandre had gotten into plenty of mischief together over the years.

  Fae aged much more slowly, so Leandre was older than him by a few years. He’d made Plaisir D’Or his home when his family had sent him along with Ella, as her companion and bodyguard, when she was wed to the queen’s trade minister, Charles de Rochambard. Selena had thought it best for her to have a protector dedicated to her since Charles was often gone on trips for the ministry. Ella and Leandre had known each other all their lives and viewed each other as brother and sister. Charles, who was as thoroughly smitten with Ella as she was with him, had heartily agreed to the arrangement, thinking him merely a small dog, a token bodyguard.

  Wait!” he heard her call in the distance. “You didn’t tell me her name!”

  He pretended not to hear her as he whispered away on the wind. His half-fae blood giving him the ability to do as Leandre had done earlier.

  He thought of Caresse as he searched them out. Her spirit was like a beacon showing him the way.

  * * * *

  Leandre watched Caresse’s rapidly changing expression as she gaped at the room from end to end.

  “Is this my room? I don’t think it is. Did you bring me to a different one? Everything is…”

  “Is it more to your liking?” he asked, hoping he’d pleased her. From watching her grow up, he knew Caresse preferred cozy comforts to stylish trends. Her apartment in the other world had been filled with hand-me-down furniture with sentimental attachments mixed with a few solid antiques. Patchwork quilts made by her adopted mother had adorned the bed, and vintage-everything had been stacked in her cupboards and decorated her walls.

  “It’s incredible!”

  When Desdemona had given her this room, she’d intended for it to be a slap in the face after the opulence of the guest chamber Caresse had slept in the first night—a way to put her in her place. Desdemona’s mistake was in thinking every woman wanted overstated grandeur as much as she did.

  Moments after the ink was dry on the certificate pronouncing Charles and Desdemona man and wife, she’d given orders for the mansion to be stripped of every decorative touch Ella had curated over the years, even down to the portrait of her that had hung in the parlor.

  Charles had questioned its removal, but Desdemona had insisted it would make their visitors uncomfortable to have his dead wife looking down on them. Then she’d pouted and added that leaving the portrait in place made her feel unloved. Charles had capitulated with the condition that Leandre remained a part of the family household. George had asked the servants to carefully pack everything of Ella’s and move it all to one of the rooms in the attic. The butler himself had overseen the portrait’s removal in dour silence.

  Desdemona was familiar with him in human form from occasional meetings in the palace, but she had no idea what his fae talents were. Because he could sneak around Le Maison de Rochambard in his tangere form with little notice, Leandre knew how all the servants had felt about the changing of the guard.

  Before leaving Caresse to reconcile her change in accommodations, Desdemona had motioned with a negligent hand, a slight sneer on her face as she glanced at him, and told Caresse that she could make do with whatever old furniture she could find among “that mess,” referring to all of Ella’s things.

  “That mess” had been a treasure trove. By making her at home amongst her mother’s things, he hoped to spark a few memories but mostly make her want to stay.

  “I took the liberty of setting a few pieces of furniture about to make you more comfortable.”

  “More comfortable?” she parroted, stepping up on the low platform the large carved bed was positioned on in the center of the room. Red velvet drapes were suspended around the bed from the heavy oak rafters and tied back with twisted satin rope. Subtle illumination was provided by homemade beeswax candles placed along the tops of all the rafters around the room. He lifted a hand through the air in a gentle motion, and the golden light increased.

  Gasping, she looked up and said, “That looks like a fire hazard to me.”

  “Not at all,” he replied. He took the candle from the vanity and held it so she could see as he waved his fingertips through the flickering light orb. Had it been a flame, his fingers would’ve been burned. He turned his hand so she could see he wasn’t injured. “It’s not a flame. With the drapes, and the gauze curtains for the windows, open flames wouldn’t be a good idea if a strong breeze blew through your room.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.” She chuckled and watched the way he dimmed the lights and brightened them with a gesture of his hand, just as Ella had been able to do. Just as Caresse would be able to do once she accepted she was home.

  One thing at a time though.

  “At one time this bed was in Ella’s dressing room. She slept in it when Charles was gone because she preferred the coziness of that room in his absence. These furs and those spreads were hers, as well. So is the vanity and the armoire,” he added with a gesture at the darkly stained wooden pieces. They were possibly darker and heavier than most women would prefer, but the delight in Caresse’s eyes told him she took after her mother in other ways besides facial structure.

  The carved wooden screen across the room drew her attention, and she made a beeline for it, blinking in wonder when she peeked around it and spotted the large ornately framed silver mirror hanging on the wall in front of the big porcelain tub.

  “This room is fit for a princess!”

  Rugs in intricate woven patterns graced the floor throughout the room, similar, he thought, to the ones she decorated her former home with.

  “Wow,” she murmured, turning in a circle, trying to take it all in. A breeze wafted through the natural gauze curtains draped over the windows, attracting her to them. She looked up at the hooks hanging empty on the wall, where her clothes had been placed before. “My clothing?”

  With a dramatic flourish of his hand, Leandre turned her attention to the armoire. The doors eased open soundlessly, revealing her clothing, as well as other serviceable pieces that she could use to augment her work wardrobe until this “baker” sham was over with. Drawers slid out in precise formation, revealing undergarments, stockings, kerchiefs, caps, and hair doodads.

  “This is too much. If Desdemona finds out, she’ll flip. There’s going to be trouble, I just know it.”

  Leandre shook his head. “She said you could use what you could find. Remember? Every single thing in here came from the collection of items stored under the sheets she referred to. Every servant from Ella’s time can confirm these pieces have been in this room since Desdemona herself ordered them stored here.”

  “I love it, Leandre,” she said, her earnest expression creating a pulling sensation in his chest as she came to him. “But I don’t understand why you’ve gone to all this trouble for me.”

  He recalled the source of her sorrow at the beginnin
g of the night. “You miss your friends, don’t you?”

  “Always. I feel guilty for loving Ville des Orange and Plaisir D’Or, and…and…” She glanced at him. “This place, all of it…it shouldn’t feel so much like home, yet it does. But Angel and Elaina must be sick with worry about me. How can I enjoy any of this knowing that? And what if something freaky happened to them, too?”

  Selena would have it well in hand, I’m sure. But he kept that thought to himself. He’d never force Caresse to stay, even by simply not providing a means of escape. Either she wanted to stay or this was all for naught. And his job was to make sure she wanted to stay.

  “I’ve learned to trust in fate.”—and Selena.

  Her expression morphed into a frown. “You were with me in that cave. You know where it is, don’t you?”

  He’d known she’d be distracted by her surroundings and all the excitement of the ball only so long. “I was there, yes. I do not know the location of the cave.”

  “Why? Does it just up and move like something from a cable sci-fi drama?”

  “Not…precisely.” It moves wherever my wily sister decides to move it to, and it wasn’t where she’d put it earlier. And she’d left him to explain. “It’s a magic portal.”

  “A portal? Oh my gosh, this is like a sci-fi drama. How do we find it?”

  Defer and redirect. “The one who controls it will be at the ball in two nights’ time.”

  “Oh, well, then…who does it belong to? Wait, let me guess. Another faery?” she said, giving him a look that said she wanted to have a one-on-one chat with that frigging faery.

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “What? Is she like the queen? Let me at that Galadriel wannabe and we’ll see who—”

  Leandre put his palm over her mouth, not wanting her to utter words that could alter her fate if by chance Selena was listening in.

  In her ear, he whispered, “More like Gandalf with a wedgie and a crappy attitude, having a really bad hair day.”

  I heard that, motherfucker. My hair is fabulous and you know it.

  A chill breeze blew through his soul, and he chuckled in the mental link he sometimes shared with Selena.

  Better that than allowing her to chance disrespecting you, not knowing what a vengeful tart you can be.

  A delicate snort came across the link, and the chill dissipated. It’s a good thing I know how much you adore me, brother. I’d never allow anyone else in the family to speak of me—or to me—in such a manner.

  Leandre released his hold on Caresse’s jaw and gazed down at her, getting a little lost in those whiskey-colored eyes of hers. Sister, somethings are worth daring for.

  Caresse stared up at him, seeming in a daze. Selena must’ve cast a trance over her.

  You care for her, then?

  How could I not?

  Then nothing would please me more than for you to convince her to stay—for yours and Sebastien’s sakes.

  His gaze centered on Caresse even as his sister’s words registered. What are you saying?

  You know exactly what I’m saying. I may share some secrets with you, but you can be sure I don’t share all my secrets. You’ve never wondered why, in all the years since you first set eyes on her, that you’ve never fallen in love? Listen, I only put her in a light trance to chat with you and she’s already coming out of it. She has a strong mind, just like her mother. Ella would be so proud.

  You’re saying I can—

  You heard me, little brother. Good luck.

  Caresse blinked and looked around. “What was I saying?”

  “You were telling me that you find your TFG irresistible, and I said yes when you asked if you could kiss me,” he replied, smiling down at her as he tipped up her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

  He could feel her smile against his lips, and he smiled in return when she chuckled. “I don’t think I said that at all.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ve yet to refer to you as TFG. The notion that you’re my faery godfather is a little…”

  “Weird? Okay, so I didn’t think out the nickname thing all that well. But the kiss was nice, wasn’t it? No hint of creepiness there, right?”

  “Nope. None. Sebastien suggested I could call you my faery bodyguard.”

  “The faery bodyguard. Don’t forget the ‘the.’ It’s important.”

  “Whatever. Just kiss me again.”

  He obliged her, happily. Caresse was the perfect combination of tenderness and sassiness. Sassy enough to ask for what she wanted, but not enough to be considered pushy. Bold enough to speak the truth, but not enough to hurt someone. Tender enough to let him see her vulnerabilities, but not so much that she became a doormat.

  The warmth of her skin seeped through the silky fabric of her dress into his fingertips. He paused long enough to test the mental link and found that he was alone before he willed the transformation of her clothing to take place.

  A small sound came from her, accompanied by a light shudder and sigh as he continued stroking her lips with his, kissing and nibbling at her lower lip. A wave of heat swept over him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her voluptuous, barely clad frame to his.

  “Leandre, I don’t…this is…”

  “Happening fast?”

  “A little. I mean technically I’ve known you only a few hours. Before that you were a…”

  “Dog?”

  “I’m sorry! That sounds awfully rude to hear it. I thought you were Doop-Doop, my little companion. I’ve only known you”—she gestured at his face and his body—“and your human self a few hours. This is crazy.”

  He waved his hands over her shoulders, and a wrap appeared over the filmy shift he’d clothed her in. “I understand and didn’t mean to take advantage.”

  A frown appeared for a brief instant when she glanced down at the robe, and then she looked around at the room and then up at him. “No, you don’t understand.” She shrugged out of the robe and caught it before it fell to the floor in a puddle. “My parents raised their daughter to be cautious, careful of the world she lived in. They were older and very protective.”

  That’s why I chose them. They had good hearts and common sense. They taught you well.

  “But you feel different. This whole place does. I…I feel like I’m home.” Her voice warbled a little on the last word, and he felt an echo of her emotions tugging at his heart.

  He pulled her to him and lifted her off her feet. “Maybe you are. What if all your worries could be laid to rest? Would you stay? Here? With us?”

  “Us?”

  “With me?”

  She held him tethered simply with her gaze. He wished he’d revealed his true self to her days ago, not because she didn’t trust him—obviously she did. He wished he’d showed his true identity so he could’ve held her in his arms like this sooner. So he could talk to her, laugh with her, and love—yes, love her sooner.

  “I think you’ve cast a spell on me,” she murmured, her smile captivating him as she leaned in and stroked his lower lip with her own.

  “Just returning the favor, princess.”

  “I was mad at you for leaving me earlier, at the palace.”

  “You were. I could tell. Are you still mad?”

  Her eyelids were heavy and her smile sensual as she gazed at his mouth. His body came alive, wondering what she was thinking about, imagining. She licked her lower lip. “Nope. I like Sebastien. He taught me to dance.”

  “I noticed. You took to it like a natural.”

  He’d need to come up with a better disguise for her than tonight’s. Desdemona might not be able to see past her own nose, but Regine and many of the courtiers had been a part of palace life long enough to remember Ella.

  “Are you tired?” he asked as he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the single step of the platform and laid her on the already turned down bed.

  She didn’t release her hold on his shoulders, keeping him near h
er as she shook her head. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Do you feel as if you are? I certainly hope not.”

  “Do faeries use condoms or other forms of birth control?”

  Her boldness sent a surge of lust through his entire being. She was full of surprises.

  “No. Unlike humans, fae control their reproduction here,” he replied, brushing his fingertips against her temple. “If both parties want young, then it’s a mutual choice to conceive. And we can’t carry or be infected by communicable diseases. Does that mean I’m about to become your sexual plaything?”

  Caresse snorted and giggled. “You’d deny me?”

  “I never said that, princess,” he murmured as he unbuttoned his coat and leaned forward to kiss her lips. He brushed a light hand over her torso, and she shuddered as the transparent shift shimmered away in tiny sparkles across her skin, leaving her resplendently naked.

  “That tickled. What other magic do you have in those hands?”

  “I’m about to show you…if you’re sure.”

  Please, please be sure! She might feel like she’d bonded with him quickly, but his bond hadn’t been instantaneous. It’d been decades long in the making. And now Selena had told him there was a reason why.

  You have to stay, princess.

  “Shhh,” she murmured comfortingly as she tugged at his coat. “You look good enough to eat in this tux, but you have too many clothes on.”

  Say no more. Every stitch of his clothing vanished like vapor.

  “Oh! I like that trick even better when it’s your clothes disappearing. Oh…my…” He loved the sparkle in her eyes and nearly burst into laughter when her jaw dropped as she checked him out. “Now that is a big cock.”

  “You like?”

  Narrowing her mischievously twinkling eyes, she glanced up and said, “Is this your true form or another tangere designed to knock my socks off? Is the real you a guy with a beer gut and hair growing out of his ears and nostrils?”