Beauty (A Faery Story 3)

She turned her face up. This was the sunshine room. Oh, her mother called it the waiting room, where she and her ladies sat and sewed and chatted, but Bronwyn called it the sunshine room because it was always filled with light.

A familiar shape moved just out of the light’s reach. This shape hid in shadows.

Her Dark Ones.

“Are you coming out?” Bron called, teasing them a bit. She caught sight of one and then the other, their forms clinging to the edge of the light.

“Why don’t you come back in?” They spoke in one voice, a slight echo in the words.

It was always this way. Come morning, she knew she would wonder why she never sat down and talked to them, but caught in the dream, she simply did what felt right.

They didn’t love the light the way she did, but they would wait for her. She turned her face up to the sun, letting it warm her. The sun felt different here. In her village, it was always so hot during the summers, but at the palace the sun was a soft kiss on her skin, warming her gently.

“We can kiss you better than the sun. Come here.”

She smiled, not looking their way just yet. They grew surer and more dominant with each night. It was hard to believe that they had come to her as children. She’d been five and so shy of the boys who had called out to her in dreams.

She wanted to play with them now but not as children.

Her nipples tightened against the soft silk of her gown.

“If you don’t come to us, we’ll be forced to get you, sweetheart. It might not go well for you,” the more dominant voice said.

“He’s itching to spank you, love. Give him a reason.” This second voice was gentler, but there was no mistaking his interest.

Nor hers. She could explore everything in these dreams, and lately, her interests had taken a distinctly disciplinary tone. She wondered if they would really spank her. She wondered how it would feel.

“Yes, and you’ll love it.”

She felt a strong hand at her wrist and the scene changed. She was no longer in the palace, but some dark place where the marble at her feet was black and the room was dominated by an enormous bed draped with curtains.

Her Dark Ones stood by the bed. Twins. So alike she hadn’t been able to tell them apart at first, but then she’d assigned them numbers. One was the rougher of the twins, though his hands were always gentle on her skin. Two had a sweet smile and liked to talk dirty.

“Where are we?” she asked.

One’s brows rose. “We are where I want us to be. In our home. In our bed.”

Never answers. She’d grown accustomed. They were dressed identically in dark leather pants. Those clothes were unlike anything in Tir na nÓg. The leather they made here didn’t have the supple feel of the twins’ clothes.

“You’re beautiful tonight, love,” Two said with a long sigh. “But I would love to see more of you.”

One’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we explained this before. You don’t need garments around your men. You need only your own sweet skin.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts. “You have no problem with pants, I see.”

One’s lips curved up in a wicked smile, his satisfaction a palpable thing. “A bratty mouth will bring you nothing but trouble, sweetheart.”

He used that word often. Brat. She remembered her cousin calling her a brat when they were young. He would pull her pigtails lightly and laugh and call her brat. It was a phrase from the Vampire plane to speak of sweetly disobedient girls.

“I don’t see why I should be naked when the two of you are clothed.” She could feel the smile on her face. Her dreams had been more and more sensual in nature. In the last several years, since the dreams had flared back to life, each night they went a little further. It had started with an embrace, their arms wrapping around her when she’d realized they were once again with her. Those dreams had been little flashes she couldn’t seem to hold on to no matter how hard she tried. She’d clung to One and Two until they faded. Then gradually each had become more solid, the dreams lasting longer.

That was when the kissing had begun. What kisses they were. Long, slow kisses that seemed to last for hours. Just lips at first, and then One had boldly traced her lips with his tongue.

One was suddenly in front of her, his eyes warm as though he could read her thoughts. His hand came up, tracing her lips as his tongue had. “You like kissing.”

“I like kissing you.” She went up on her tiptoes, leaning in to brush her mouth against his.

He backed away, frowning. “Me? Who else do you kiss?”