The Fae Court was the Eighth Wonder of the World. The first would be more accurate, since it had formed even before fae memory had begun, and therefore, well before human memory. Certainly, before any of the structures on the traditional list had been constructed.

The court was a law unto itself. It worked to an agenda no one living, or sane, could figure out. For the last couple of hundred years, it had appeared as the archetype of a romantic court with high vaulted ceilings and walls made of smooth, veined marble, the veins sparkling silver as they caught the light. Light came from glowing orbs set in brackets on the walls and from will-o’-wisps twisted into glorious crystal chandeliers.

It was the sort of place someone would expect a fairytale princess to come around the next corner, brushing her hair and waiting for her prince to arrive. But occasionally, when the court was agitated, it appeared in different forms. A gothic castle, or even, when it was really stressed, the rough-hewn dirt walls of the barrow it had originally been. Now though, it was a glorious sight to rival the best of any mortal king’s palace, and was completely ignored by the woman who swept through the massive doorway.

Slender and almost childlike in form, she had the delicate fragility of a full-blooded fae. One of the old blood, not the newer generations whose blood had been filtered by elven or some other magical creature. There weren’t many left these days. The old lines had died out, leaving just the Seven Sisters and Mab, and with the newest generation, even they would be gone. It was hard to worry though, when a generation such as theirs could span thousands of years.

Ilia stormed into the large, high-ceilinged hall, her face like thunder. With an imperious wave she ordered the door closed, ignoring the servant who scurried to do her bidding.

“So you failed. Why am I not surprised?” Although her appearance was ethereally beautiful, the voice that issued from the perfect cupid’s bow of her lips was as sharp as a whip and twice as venomous.

She stalked in front of the three pixies she’d sent to recover the Morrigan child. Forced to their knees by her guards, all three trembled as she approached. A small smile curved her perfect lips as she switched the hem of her white gown away from their knees, in case they marked the pristine hem.

Terrified… just the way she liked them. Closing her eyes for a moment, she savored the fear that oozed from their skin. She shivered at the delicious treat.

“Do you know how much it cost me to get that brat separated from its parents?” Her voice sharpened as the initial hit from their fear wore off and she recalled their failure.

Everyone in the room, pixie or fae, avoided the gaze of the princess—the three held before her, the guards doing the holding, as well as the gaggle of pixies huddled in the corner. Her pixies, to do with as she wished, after their fool of a warlord tried to put one over on her. He’d ended up trapped by fae law and she’d gloried in taking his pack—and his flesh—for the insult. Pixie flesh and blood were powerful. She hadn’t needed to feed for weeks after he’d shared her bed.

A mutter from one of the kneeling pixies drew her attention and she leaned forward. “What was that?”

“It wasn’t our fault!” the “leader” of the trio complained, daring to look up. His bravado didn’t last long and he looked down again, visibly quaking.

“There was a kyn there, a warrior,” he muttered. “We were only expecting the woman and the baby,” he added, flinching as though he expected a blow.

“Excuses, excuses! Always bloody excuses!” she exploded, seething in anger. If it wasn’t the damn nanny suddenly developing a conscience and dropping the brat off on the first pixie doorstep she could find, it was this bunch of incompetents. A kyn indeed… like she believed that.

“Do I have to do everything around here myself? Do not answer that, Talven,” she ordered as her guard captain looked up, a frown on his handsome face.

That was the trouble with half-breeds. Pretty to look at, but very much a case of “the lights were on but no one was home.” Talven, a sidhe half-breed, fit that description perfectly. The hopeful expression in his eyes bolstered her feminine ego while also irritating the hell out of her. He was like a damn puppy, always following her around and eager to please. If she were to kick him, she was sure he’d thank her.

“Get these idiots out of my sight.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Clean them up and send them to my chambers. I’ll deal with them later.”

The low moan from one of the trio when they were hauled to their feet got her attention, but not as much as the fresh wave of terror that rolled toward her. She held out her hand, an unspoken order to stop as she stepped forward.

The sound had come from the youngest. He was barely in his twenties with smooth, handsome features and a strong, well-muscled body. He had the sort of looks that fired her interest, her body awakening as she felt the pull of attraction.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Her voice was a soft croon as she moved closer to press against him, nestling her slender body along his. He flinched, trying to move away, but the hard hold of the guards kept him immobile. “There, there,” she murmured, her voice soft and lover-like as she stroked the side of his jaw. A fine tremor racked his body as she leaned in to lay a gentle kiss on his lips.

“It’s all going to be fine. I’ll be gentle with you. I promise,” she assured him, a promise that didn’t seem to console the young pixie. Faced with what she assumed was one of his worst nightmares wrapped up in a breathtakingly beautiful package, his breathing was panicked, his eyes wild as he looked at anything but her.

Growing tired of the game, she reached out and pulled his jaw around. He struggled, but she was far stronger than her delicate appearance should allow, even for a fae. She caught his forest-green eyes with her own dark gaze. “We’ll have ourselves a good night you and I,” she whispered.

His terrified moan, more animalistic than anything, echoed around the chamber. At the same moment, a hot, acrid smell assaulted her sensitive nostrils. She leapt away, pushing off from his broad chest and her nose wrinkling in distaste as a dark stain spread over the front of his trousers.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Get them out of my sight,” she hissed in annoyance. What was it with men these days? She longed to find a real man, not one that lost control of his bodily functions when she so much as looked at him. One who would stand up to her…

“Right, the rest of you…” She turned on her heel and glared at the huddled group in the corner as the others were dragged away. “…get out there and get that damn baby. I don’t care how you do it. Just do it!” she barked her orders, a warning in her voice alluding to their fate should they fail her again. The atmosphere in the room grew cold, as though the very building were affected by her mood.

“Now go,” she snapped, turning in a flurry of skirts to stalk up the length of the hall. Movement broke out behind her as the pixies made their escape, followed by the measured tread of her guard. A small sigh escaped her as she approached the dais at the end of the large hall. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, she looked at the throne.

Made of stone, it was one of seven, each sitting in a hall of its own around the court. Or, when required, pulled by the court itself into the queen’s hall to sit flanked around Mab. One throne for each of the Seven Sisters. The Seven Fae princesses. Beloved by the land, all powerful amongst the fae, and all that crap...but Ilia wanted to be more powerful. She wanted, needed...

Everything.

* * *

She’d been right. Tessa walked back to her hotel room sometime later, deep in thought. Jane had read through the note and confirmed Tessa’s suspicions. The baby was a Morrigan.

That much she’d managed to read for herself, but there was more on the note she couldn’t read. Jane knew the language far better than Tessa. More years to study, as well as having the advantage of dealing with all sorts of fae daily, so she’d been able to translate what Tessa couldn’t.

The note had been brief and to the point, explaining that the baby had been stolen from his family because his mother was possibly Morrigan-descent. The writer had said she’d regretted what she’d done but hadn’t had time to return him as she was being tracked. There were vague references of what “they” wanted to do to him but no details on who “they” were. She, whoever she was, had asked forgiveness for what she’d done, and that whoever found him keep the baby safe.

One thing puzzled Tessa though. Why had the baby been left on Feral’s doorstep in the first place? She could understand leaving him there for protection. After all, there weren’t many beings that could take on a kyn warrior and live to brag about it. The note had been written in High Fae, though, not something anyone would expect a vampire to be able to read. Hell, thanks to her pixie side, she had fae blood, and even she couldn’t read all of it.

Then there was the fact they’d hit her sister’s apartment rather than Feral’s. It was rare for pixies, even as arrogant as they were, to break in like that with brute force rather than employing glamour—and Feral had said they’d been expecting a woman and a baby, not a kyn.

Realization hit her and she smacked her palm against her forehead. She was obviously far more tired than she thought. The baby had been left on Feral’s doorstep by mistake. All the doors looked alike on that block, and it would have been quite easy to get them mixed up, especially if a person had never been there before and was in a hurry.

She reached their corridor, doing a quick, automatic check on the numbered plaque on the wall. Last thing she wanted to do was walk into someone else’s room. She’d passed her excitement level by nine o’clock this evening. All she wanted to do now was relax and get some sleep.

The intrigue would be over tomorrow though. In the afternoon, Jane would take them to the Fae Court so they could get the baby back to his parents, or at the very least, to the Morrigan. He was of her bloodline so she was bound to know who his parents were.

She nibbled her lip as she walked. The poor things must be going out of their minds with worry, and she didn’t like the idea that she was contributing to their distress. She didn’t know them, but she was sure any parent whose child was missing had to be going through hell wondering where their baby was... Whether he was okay, who had him, whether he was being looked after, fed enough, kept warm enough...the list went on.

She’d been all for going to the courts straight away, getting the baby back as soon as possible. Until Jane pointed out that fae, especially temperamental ones like Mab and the Morrigan, were not people someone awakened from their beds, nor did they need Feral ending up as a crispy critter. Reluctantly, she’d conceded that Jane had a point, agreeing to get some sleep so they could leave as soon as the sun set.

Reaching the door to their room, she opened it easily. Her lips quirked in a smile as she remembered Feral’s earlier grumbling. Honestly, all it took was a light touch, not going at it like a bull at a gate. She pushed the door open and slipped in on silent feet. It closed behind her with a soft click and her gaze flew to the inhabitants of the room to make sure she hadn’t woken them. She knew only too well how grouchy babies could be if they were woken before they were ready.

Her eyes fell on the bed and she smiled, all but melting inside. Stretched out full length across the bed was the large form of her vampire warrior, and curled up trustingly on the broad expanse of his chest was the tiny baby, his pink hair a bright halo against Feral’s skin. She itched to rush over to her bag and grab her phone. She so needed to take a picture of this. It was just too cute for words. Big, scary looking thug so gentle with the baby he cradled.

But then, her attention was diverted by the lean form of the man himself. Shirtless again. He seemed to have real issues keeping a shirt on for any length of time, mostly wearing only jeans. Denim clung to his lean hips and powerful thighs, the top button undone—revealing the slight “V” of hair that disappeared underneath.

Oh, my lady, he’s commando under there…

She swallowed convulsively. There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on him. He was all hard muscle and satin skin. Even as relaxed as he was, that charisma of his couldn’t be shrouded by sleep, and she was still fascinated. Still felt that pull toward him. The desire to run her hands over those ripped muscles gripped her again, to explore that scar she could just see on his abdomen with her tongue...

She was a pervert. Her hands flew to her cheeks as heat flooded them. It was one thing to lust after a guy when he was conscious and asking for it, but quite another to do it when he was sleeping and holding a baby. Just how low could she get?

She shook her head, crossing the room to get her bag. A quick search through the organized chaos of the contents and she located her phone by touch, drawing it out of the bag and thumbing it on as she turned, only to find Feral watching her, his dark eyes unreadable.

“That won’t work. Kyn don’t pick up on cameras well.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, low enough so he wouldn’t wake the sleeping baby. “Like not at all.”

Tessa frowned, pouting slightly in her disappointment. It would have made for such a cute picture. She flipped the case shut and slid it back into her bag, saying the first thing that came to mind. “So how do you get a driver’s license then?”

“Who said I had a license?”

“What?” Tessa squawked, the shrill sound making the baby jump in his sleep. Feral glared at her warningly, soothing the baby back to peacefulness. If he wasn’t a vampire, he’d make a great dad, she thought absently before her indignation at being driven by someone without a license got the better of her again. “You don’t have a license? You shouldn’t be driving at all then! What if you got caught?”

Feral shrugged, rocking the baby in his arms. “Mind tricks, remember? What else am I supposed to do? We don’t photograph and I don’t have a birth certificate. Not easy to get a license without those.”

She nibbled her lip, caught once again at making assumptions. She hadn’t had a lot to do with the kyn. In fact, Feral was pretty much the only one she’d done more than nod at.

“I think he’s gone back to sleep.”

Feral’s deep voice was still quieter than normal as he levered himself up from the bed, his posture rigid to keep the little boy held in his arms in the same position with a look of contentment on his tiny face. She watched as Feral carefully placed him in the travel cot, making sure he was tucked in nice and cozy.

Her heart melted again, a sense of amazement filling her at the gentleness he showed toward the baby. She knew he had issues with pixies. There was an edge in his voice at times, a flash of anger in his eyes when he spoke about them, that tipped her off. It wasn’t surprising. The pixie race wasn’t nice. It was one of the reasons the women were peeling off, choosing to live and marry among the humans. It was a better life.

Feral straightened, watching the baby for a moment and then turning to her. “He’s asleep,” he announced, a smile spreading over his face.

The smile hit Tessa like a speeding bullet, her heart fluttering in her chest. Feral was dangerous, not just physically in that “mess with me and I’ll rip your limbs off” sort of way, but dangerous in other ways too. Something deep inside her, something inherently feminine, told her he was dangerous emotionally as well. Without much effort, she could fall for him and fall badly.

She tried to ignore the feeling as they settled in on the double bed to watch an old film Feral found on one of the channels. It was strange, but, despite the day she’d had, followed by all the excitement of the evening, she wasn’t tired yet. But it didn’t matter. They could sleep in late in the morning. Until the sun went down they were pretty much trapped, so they might as well make the most of it.

“This is terrible,” she commented, indicating the screen, “and I’m bored.”

He slid her a sideways glance, arching an eyebrow. “Bored? You can’t be...this is a classic!” he said, his voice aghast even as his eyes twinkled with laughter. Tessa studied the screen again, displaying a car chase that never seemed to end.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered, “classic my ass... Bloody typical action film, all car chases and explosions, no plot.”

“That’s it! You can’t diss action films. It’s just not done!”

Tessa giggled, their conversation conducted in whispers as they tried to avoid waking the sleeping baby. “Not done huh? Seems to me I just did...so what are you going to do about it, fang-boy?” she challenged, grabbing a pillow to defend herself and scooting to the edge of the bed.

“Fang-boy? Well aren’t you Queen of the Original Insults?” Feral asked, arming himself and advancing on her. Trouble was, the fierce expression on his face was completely ruined by the pale lavender pillow he brandished threateningly. “You have insulted my honor! Prepare to... get battered!”

With that, he launched his attack, pummeling her with the feather pillow as she frantically tried to defend herself with her own. Queen of pillow fights when she was a kid, she was pleased to discover she’d lost none of her skill, easily holding him off as she made a move for his pillow. Then she had both, rising to her knees to hit him back, forcing him to block. He did so with lightening quick movements. They both laughed so hard she was surprised the noise hadn’t woken the baby.

Her half-second glance cost her dearly. In a sneaky move, Feral flicked both pillows out of her hands and rolled over, pinning her under him in a lightning-quick movement. She giggled and tried to wriggle from under him, her fingers straining for the pillow while teetering on the edge of the bed, just for the chance to whack him over the head again.

Then she caught his gaze and the amusement drained from her face. The mood between them flipped from light and teasing to aware and fraught with sexual tension in a heartbeat. Holding her gaze, he moved, sliding a hand into her hair, strong fingers caressing the nape of her neck.

She swallowed, realizing she was pinned on the bed under him. His large, muscled body covered hers, blocking her view of the rest of the room, trapping the two of them in their own little world. One heavy leg covered hers, his broad chest pressing against the softness of her breasts. Pressed against her stomach was the hard evidence of his mood.

She caught her breath, a thrill shooting through her as he leaned forward. “I’ve wanted to do this again since earlier,” he confessed as his lips claimed hers, hot and hard.

Without preamble, he coaxed her lips apart and her body turned to jelly as his tongue swept in, exploring the silken depths of her mouth relentlessly. Endlessly. By the time he lifted his head, a lifetime later, they were both breathing raggedly.

“Don’t turn me away, Tess.” He kissed her between the words, hard kisses clearly conveying the need surging through his large body. “Please don’t turn me away.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to.” Her hand smoothed over the nape of his neck, brushing against the stubble there. The silky pelt teased her fingers. He moaned, his head dropping again to devour her lips as he moved over her, the movement of his hips against hers mimicking what they both wanted to happen... what was going to happen shortly.

She parted her thighs, cradling him with the softness of her body as his hand smoothed down her side. He pulled her t-shirt up, his movements hurried, almost desperate. As though he couldn’t wait to touch her, as though he needed, craved the touch of her skin against his. As he did, his large hand fit into the curve of her waist, a sigh escaping him. One she could swear was of relief, as his lips trailed fire down her neck.

Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. Does he really feel that way about me? Desperate to touch me? She could understand it if he did, a similar desperation crawled through her, settling deep within her and taking up residence. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back, feeling the hard muscle that rippled under his skin until she had a handful of the hard ass Jane had admired earlier.

Almost as though thinking of her aunt had conjured her up, there was a rapid knock on the door and Jane’s voice filtered through the wood. “Guys, wake up! We’ve got pixie company, and it doesn’t look friendly.”