Naive
Summer Rain
"Does she know yet of the trouble, the pain, she causes you?" the female fey asked bitingly, leaning back against the chair comfortably, smiling a sweet innocent smile. She continued to suck on her fingers like there were remnants of sugar on them and not the blood of another faery of another, darker court. She sighed in contempt as her king gave her a warning look. She stopped, she didn't know if he meant the glare for the question or the licking of blood, and leveled him with a glare that said quite clearly that she was angry with him. Thankfully, she was in his closest confidence and could afford to be so disrespectful to her King; she would probably be burning right about now under normal circumstances
He continued to pace, hands running through his unglamoured hair, little bursts of heart and fire emerging wherever he passed. She made a strangled noise in her throat as the expensive Persian rug started to catch fire. Keenan didn't even pause as he jabbed at the small fire, extinguishing it before it even started. The Summer King was volatile even in the depths of winter, but now, with summer rapidly approaching and with it the Summer Crown which would be his as soon as summer began to bloom, it was like adding oxygen to a fire. Along with a couple gallons of lighter fluid. In the middle of a grass prairie that hadn't seen rain in months.
The faery thought to herself as she watched her king continue his wearing down of the carpet, only her eyes moved, tracking him like a great cat stalking prey. She didn't dare move anything other than her eyes for fear that it would draw his wrath; for while she was the great lioness of the jungle she was nothing against the fire-breathing dragon. And while she was one of the most powerful Rouge faeries ever to roam the earth, her powers of lust (too powerful for even the Summer and the Dark Courts) and her powers of love (much too strong for the Winter and the High Courts) pushing the mortal and fey worlds forever into the future, she was nothing compared to the power of the Summer King. Especially when it was in the middle of his reign, his season.
She scowled as she realized the fault in her thoughts. Her King, for some years ago (two in the mortal's eyes, a fraction of a second in the immortal eyes of the fey) she had ended her status of Rouge and became a Summer fey, was not as full power.
Because of her, the Summer Queen. Aislinn.
The foolish child. She kept her mortal by her side, even when Keenan wanted her. No. Keenan, her King, Aisnlinn's consort, needed her. Oh, the faery could see the bonds of love, or something akin to love, running between the two, mortal to immortal. She thrived off those kinds of bonds, needed those small priceless threads of love and lust to continue living. But, what was between that Seth (the name of the mortal even bouncing around in her mind sent shivers of disgust rolling up and down her spine) and her Queen was mortal love. Not fitting for the immortal Summer Queen.
The faery sympathized with Aislinn, for she too had felt the pain of an absence of a bonded mate. But with that sympathy, came the fury with the knowledge that she was throwing Keenan away like a rag doll. Without even realizing that her soul was basically withering without her bonded mate. Which wasn't Seth. She was the Queen, and she needed her King. Yet, she refused him every time. She didn't feel the hollowness, because of the love for the mortal covered it up; love which Keenan didn't have.
Donia was immaterial. Keenan had found his mate, his soul mate to use the mortal term.
The fey, always curious and always flighty even in their thoughts, paused her train of thought to think on that term.
Soul mate.
It was a good term. A correct term as it were, such a rarity for mortals. However, it could never happen to a mortal. Their souls didn't possess the magic needed to recognize their mate. Mortals with Sight have been known to feel the glimmering of the magic, and see the really smart ones recognized what that magic was and they had bonded. When two faeries had bonded, the bond could never be broken, and they grew more powerful. The bond drew together their souls and all of their powers, their gifts, and their minds were open to the other.
A crash drew her attention back to Keenan. "Does she know the pain she's caused you?" the faery asked again, not letting her anger at her Queen show through. Her paused and ran his hands through his hands again before stepping gingerly around the shards of glass that were scattered around his feet before dumping himself unceremoniously onto on a brown leather couch. She pursued her lips when she noticed the broken vase (not one of Aislinn's favorites of course, she thought darkly) before calling for one of the Summer Girls. They were useless really, she thought suddenly as one of the younger ones came into the study, along with lemonade. Seeing the yellow drink, the faery giggled sparking a corresponding giggle from the girl and a wry grin in the King.
"Thank you," she murmured as she grabbed the glass and brought it to her lips, mentally noting the girls fine bone structure as she served Keenan humbly and cleared the mess quickly before leaving. The door closed with a quiet click. The feary thought for a second before sending out a tendril of her magic, too follow the girl. The magic, black resembling the color of the night when lovers slept, was her power over lust. It forced open the door, just a sliver of the light from the party outside slipping across the thick, blood colored, carpeted floor. She watched her magic wrap around the girls wrist, and she felt the pleasure that the girl would feel later on that night curl in her stomach.
Keenan had seen her do this favor for the girl, and glanced at her through lowered eyes. "What?" she said innocently, pretending not to know that the King could see the possible consequences of her actions. "She gave me lemonade." They drank silently for a few minutes, just listening to the murmur of voices that came through the thick heavy door. With every day summer came closer, the loft turned more and more into a gathering place for all kinds of fey, and there was a party every single night.
"Her name is Rayn." Keenan said, almost as an afterthought as she set her glass down on the end table within his reach before burying his head in his hands. "She was only sixteen."
"How old is she now?"
"One hundred and twenty." He answered mournfully, shifting his body so he lay on the couch instead of sitting on it.
"Keenan," she asked. "How many Summer Girls are there?"
His jaw clenched as did his fists. Emotionless, he answered, "By my last count, forty five."
She shook her head ruefully, trying to deny what was in front of her. "So you haven't told Aislinn what she has done to you?" she further pressed, finding an unknowable need to know the answer.
"…no." he answered after a short pause, and she could hear his increased heart and breathing rate. "I think she may know a little bit from the bond, I think she may feel it as well, but no. She doesn't know what it is."
"And what is it?"
"Why are you doing this now?" her King questioned, turning his head and facing her, storms and lightening dancing in his eyes. She could hear the telltale ring of swords and the short, loud shouts of thunder. She realized that she had been pushing him, and that he was almost, but not quite, glaring at her. She paused, and tried to collect her thoughts, knowing one wrong step here could mean much disaster for her later.
"I feel a rift growing between her and her mortal."
He sat up, and she was astonished to see that he a look in his eye that reminded her of a frightened puppy. "No! Don't interfere!"
"I have not done anything." She stated loftily, titling herself back in the couch and dramatically holding her hand above her head. She acted like she was inspecting her fingernails. "It is all their doing. I only feel it because I am love incarnate." She smiled evilly, and added. "Lust incarnate as well, don't forget about that."
He growled, and moved his right arm. Unwilling, she flinched, ever so slightly. He grinned, knowing that even without his powers and summer knocking on the door; he would still have the upper hand. Keenan had gotten too good at threats, whether they be verbal or silent.
"You're scared of them growing apart?" she questioned lightly, standing up and walking around the room, glancing casually at the books stacked neatly.
He grunted, laying down and throwing an arm over his eyes. "I'm scared of Ash," she paused as he used her nickname, the one he only used when she wasn't around. "Thinking that I had something to with it."
"Why would she think that?" She pulled down a book, the lost tales of the Atlantian race. "It's not like you have the power to do break their bond. She has just the same amount of power as you do, and your power cannot affect you unless she wills it."
"You can. And she knows what you do, what you can do, and she knows how close you are to me." He groaned, painfully the sound ripping its way from his throat. "Dammit. I just want her to trust me."
She turned with sympathy filled eyes. "And I just want this damn feeling to go away." She thought she heard the noise outside the room increase slightly, and a scuffling noise on the door, but she ignored it when Keenan continued. "It hurts. I feel hallow, I feel like a knife is ripping out my soul every time she's in the room, and I can't touch her. Every time she refuses me."
"Oh, my king," she said, sorrow gilding her voice as she settled down on the end of the couch pulling his head into her lap. She petted his hair, crooning softly. She was the mother that he never had. "I'm so sorry. I feel your pain, I really do." She bent down, and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.
"And I actually like Seth. That's what makes this even more painful." He said mournfully. Looking up at her, eyes filled with the summer thunderstorm s all too common when he was sad. Her heart broke, and she saw the red thread that bound him to Aislinn, the one stretching out the door, grow thinner and dimmer. He turned back to the bay window, with the rain from Keenan's emotions pounding on the window.
"I just want her to trust me." He said softly. "I just want her."
She continued to pet his hair, noticing out of the corner of her eye the wisp of black hair and a lithe body as it ran quietly away from the wooden study door. She smiled softly, as the summer squall continued on, lightening forking the sky and thunder shaking the whole loft.
My first Wicked Lovely fic, and I would be very greatful if you reviewed! Part two should be posted soon, hopefully. If you see any grammatical errors, please feel free to point them out and I will fix promptly.
Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked Lovely, or any characters of Wicked Lovely. That all belongs to Melissa Marr. I do own the unnamed OC of lust/love, so do not take. Or else I shall hunt you down and beat you.