Page 1 of The Fae’s Treasure

Chapter One: Dairmuid

Saz’s tail tickles my foot as she leaves my bed, stretching. Gloriously naked, her deep ruby skin, curling black horns, and long black talons scream “Succubi Siren” with every slow, sauntering step. And that tail... It can do things no frigid fae queen would ever even imagine. “Come back to bed, my brimstone beauty,” I murmur.

“No,” Saz says with a devilish smirk over her shoulder, tossing her long black waves with one skillful hand, making herself look even sexier than before. “I’m still mad at you.”

I sit up with a sigh. “Darling... A soul isn’t something I’m keen to give away. I’d share it.” With my soulmate. I don’t tell Saz that she’s not it. I’m not sure I believe in soulmates, even though they say everyone, mortal or immortal, has one. I’ve been alive for hundreds of years (in some realms, dozens in others), and I haven’t found mine. I’m guessing it’s a myth.

But then again, my kind are myths, too. I sink back in bed, thinking.

Talons are suddenly around my throat, crimson thighs straddle my hips, and Saz’s lips claim mine, burning with desire, and possibly just plain burning. She’s from the Hell realms, anyway. Her jet black curls mingle with my deep persimmon-colored locks as our foreheads touch. “If you were to give it to me, we’d always be like this, my love,” she purrs, tight, wet sheath closing over my semi-hard cock, squeezing it to immediate alertness.

“We can always be like this anyway, love. We’re immortals. My realm and your realm have no barriers—well, not in my home at least.” I look around my mossy hideaway, a crumbling green palace that befits a bachelor fae lord, someone who would rather ride and hunt than attend balls. My parents say it’s a disgrace, unbefitting someone with blood of the Áes Sídhe in his veins, flowing through his wings.

If they knew about Saz, they’d die on the spot—quite an accomplishment for royals living a thousand years or so already.

“If this is about meeting my parents—”

“I don’t want to meet your inbred, idiotic parents!” she hisses, riding me harder, making me forget the insult she just hurled at my forebears. To be honest, they can be dithering, annoying types. “I want your soul, Dair. I want it. I need it. You know that a fae soul is incredibly powerful. It’ll— Well, I could tell you later, or I could show you. And I’d show you in ways that’d leave you so incredibly grateful, baby.” Her touch is soft now, her lips lingering, breasts smushed into my bare chest. “Almost as grateful as I could be,” she whispers, talons now trailing across my shoulders, up to cup my face. “I’d give you a night to remember, lover, or maybe a thousand nights. I have so many succubi sisters who’d be thrilled for a little taste of fae cock deep in their bellies. Would you like that, Dairmuid? A dozen of us pleasing you at once?”

“Saz... I only need you,” I breathe, mind leaping in alarm at the thought of what she’s saying. It’s not that there isn’t a sudden, hedonistic spike in my brain that makes my cock throb and threaten to burst deep inside of her at the thought of my own personal harem. But there’s also something that makes my skin creep, the thought of being shared by a swarm of bloodthirsty demonesses who steal souls through sex. I trust Saz—but many of her kind are deeply, historically untrustworthy.

“Darling, hasn’t it been long enough? How long does it take to prove I’m worthy of you?” she pouts, and her sadness melts me.

But a little part of me doesn’t understand how she can still be gyrating on me, arrow-tipped tail teasing and squeezing around my sack as slick, sloppy noises from her vise-like pussy fill the room—and give me a face filled with such sorrow.

Maybe I shouldn’t trust her after all. And if I don’t trust her, I’m definitely not giving her my soul, not even a nibble of it. “Let’s just be happy as we are, love,” I whisper.

But Saz’s silence tells me she’s not happy at all. As soon as I finish, she’s off of me, glaring, and gone in a puff of sulfurous smoke.

“Damn it,” I sigh. “Bonwit!”

Bonwit is my servant, a nice enough young fae, more the country sort than the royal type, the sort that sits on gates and trades magic for apples and turnips. I drag myself up and into a spidersilk towel before his freckled face topped with shaggy, coppery hair peeks in.

“Thought you had company,” he says in a low voice.

He doesn’t like Saz. Says she makes his wings itch.

“Saz left. And I don’t know if I’ll be leaving the barriers open for her going forward. Maybe by invitation and request only, no more free zones between our realms,” I groan, heading to the bathing pond. “Can you make breakfast?”

“So early?”

“I used up a lot of energy.”

Bonwit grunts and turns to leave. “Place smells like sulfur.”

“You’re showing your prejudice, you halfwit,” I shout after him.

He whirls back, leather boots flopping down his calves with the fury of his indignant strides—even though he’s only a short little thing, barely five and a half feet tall. “I don’t trust her! You shouldn’t either, sitting up here in your starry autumn tower, playing with moths and thunderclouds.”

I roll my eyes. In the realm of fae, I’d be considered a creature of magic, a spirit of nature. My family has been members of the Autumn Court for centuries, responsible for certain rituals of harvest, fertility, changing seasons, and the dying of the year, or as we call it, the sleeping of the earth. I have no reason to play in other realms, content with where I am and the company I keep here. Bonwit’s the one who loves humans, dances every Samhain with girls around the bonfires, and turns up his nose at any of the beings from other realms.

“I’m serious. If you could see what evil beings like her mess about with, and what rotten things they do to humans—”

“Beings like her, Bonwit. And fae like us. How many changelings have filled these courts purely out of spite and amusement?”

Bonwit hangs his head and grumbles, “Too many, m’lord.”

“None of that ‘m’lord’ stuff just because you’re sulking. You just don’t like that I’m right.”