helpless, before her. Zenia would pull power from them and feed off their fear. She wanted them to know they were doomed long before doom descended on them. The sense of her growing power thrilled her. Her mother’s elemental fire seeped into her bones.
Zenia watched four of her winged attendants heave a heavy iron casket onto their shoulders. Her birdmen slaves were her favorites because they were sexy and glorious, with the heads of peregrine falcons and the muscular, bronzed bodies of men. Their torsos glistened with sweat in the moonlight, their muscles straining as they carried the iron trunk up the beach and toward the ship. Zenia would never touch the casket herself. She’d have a trusted birdman retrieve whatever she wanted from it. Zenia had earned her other title of the Secret One for a reason. She was no fool . She knew the power of iron to drain fae of all magic, which was exactly why she stored her treasures within an iron vessel—so no other fae could get their greedy mitts on her gold and gems.
Once, the casket had held a human body. Now it held only treasure, fairy gold and jewels of all shapes and colors and sizes, jewelry that contained magic that mortals and half fae should never have.
The mortal beach stretched out for miles, deserted and wild. The wind blew like a bellows, making the sea choppy. Snow mixed with the sand. But Zenia, as a Daughter of Fire, was impervious to cold.
This was a strange time of year in both the mortal world and the Light parts of the Fae Realm. Zenia had watched the half-fae Lillian Rudolph in her silver scrying bowl enough times to know that half fae were as silly about Christmas as any full-blood mortal. Every year, mortals and half mortals alike were always bizarrely excited about Christmas. Zenia sneered. She thought of the date she’d once had with Kris Noelle. They’d been to see a movie: The Grinch Who Stole Christmas .
The Grinch had the right idea about this stupid holiday.
Pity she didn’t have the type of power that could match Santa Claus. Nevertheless, with a bit of luck, she’d be able to steal Christmas from her enemies when she took over the Realm, and especially from her nasty little half sister.
A bit of luck and a bit of help. Zenia smiled as she eyed the strong bodies of her sexy slaves. Truthfully, birdmen were difficult creatures to understand. They might have been magical creatures if they’d made the sane choice, but instead, they invariably chose the path of cold iron. They all had warrior hearts and loved to fight with sword and dagger. Some fought for the light fae, but most, like her own army, fought for the Dark.
She’d dragged herbirdmen from the darkest corners of the Fae Realm with her magic, and some of them hated her for it. Especially the one named Rurik. He hated her, hated to be her slave sexually as well as menially. She could see it in his eyes, but that only made her enjoy her power over him all the more.
“Hurry, slaves!” Zenia demanded. She sniffed deeply so she could smell their fear. How she relished it. It was the best aphrodisiac. The way their hearts sped up and their blood pumped like freight trains in their big, masculine bodies. No matter how large and muscular they were, they knew her magic was more powerful than their brawn could ever be. None of them ever disobeyed her will. She never gave them enough freedom to disobey. Not even Rurik, that sniveling, resentment-filled coward.
Brock, on the other hand, was a loyal slave she could trust without doubt, and she enjoyed making use of him in many ways too.
The Secret One curved her lips in a faint smile. It was a relief to have at least one clever slave on whom she could rely to understand what was needed, without having to explain every cursed detail to him. Brock got her.
Zenia threw back her long, straight, blonde hair. Amazing how beautiful the glamourie made her hair. She gestured to Brock to come to her. At once, he left his companions and, like a
Zenia watched four of her winged attendants heave a heavy iron casket onto their shoulders. Her birdmen slaves were her favorites because they were sexy and glorious, with the heads of peregrine falcons and the muscular, bronzed bodies of men. Their torsos glistened with sweat in the moonlight, their muscles straining as they carried the iron trunk up the beach and toward the ship. Zenia would never touch the casket herself. She’d have a trusted birdman retrieve whatever she wanted from it. Zenia had earned her other title of the Secret One for a reason. She was no fool . She knew the power of iron to drain fae of all magic, which was exactly why she stored her treasures within an iron vessel—so no other fae could get their greedy mitts on her gold and gems.
Once, the casket had held a human body. Now it held only treasure, fairy gold and jewels of all shapes and colors and sizes, jewelry that contained magic that mortals and half fae should never have.
The mortal beach stretched out for miles, deserted and wild. The wind blew like a bellows, making the sea choppy. Snow mixed with the sand. But Zenia, as a Daughter of Fire, was impervious to cold.
This was a strange time of year in both the mortal world and the Light parts of the Fae Realm. Zenia had watched the half-fae Lillian Rudolph in her silver scrying bowl enough times to know that half fae were as silly about Christmas as any full-blood mortal. Every year, mortals and half mortals alike were always bizarrely excited about Christmas. Zenia sneered. She thought of the date she’d once had with Kris Noelle. They’d been to see a movie: The Grinch Who Stole Christmas .
The Grinch had the right idea about this stupid holiday.
Pity she didn’t have the type of power that could match Santa Claus. Nevertheless, with a bit of luck, she’d be able to steal Christmas from her enemies when she took over the Realm, and especially from her nasty little half sister.
A bit of luck and a bit of help. Zenia smiled as she eyed the strong bodies of her sexy slaves. Truthfully, birdmen were difficult creatures to understand. They might have been magical creatures if they’d made the sane choice, but instead, they invariably chose the path of cold iron. They all had warrior hearts and loved to fight with sword and dagger. Some fought for the light fae, but most, like her own army, fought for the Dark.
She’d dragged herbirdmen from the darkest corners of the Fae Realm with her magic, and some of them hated her for it. Especially the one named Rurik. He hated her, hated to be her slave sexually as well as menially. She could see it in his eyes, but that only made her enjoy her power over him all the more.
“Hurry, slaves!” Zenia demanded. She sniffed deeply so she could smell their fear. How she relished it. It was the best aphrodisiac. The way their hearts sped up and their blood pumped like freight trains in their big, masculine bodies. No matter how large and muscular they were, they knew her magic was more powerful than their brawn could ever be. None of them ever disobeyed her will. She never gave them enough freedom to disobey. Not even Rurik, that sniveling, resentment-filled coward.
Brock, on the other hand, was a loyal slave she could trust without doubt, and she enjoyed making use of him in many ways too.
The Secret One curved her lips in a faint smile. It was a relief to have at least one clever slave on whom she could rely to understand what was needed, without having to explain every cursed detail to him. Brock got her.
Zenia threw back her long, straight, blonde hair. Amazing how beautiful the glamourie made her hair. She gestured to Brock to come to her. At once, he left his companions and, like a
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