Davies, Corinne - Wrapped in Fur [3xtasy Lake 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

3xtasy Lake 3

CORINNE DAVIES

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Centuries ago, a young faery committed what was considered a dangerous lack of judgment among her kind—she fell in love with a human.

He came from humble beginnings and she often listened to him talk to others about finding his fortune before claiming his heart’s desire. She saw him as the embodiment of all that she felt her own kind lacked. Passion. Adventure. Humility. Using the small amount of magic within her, she made certain he obtained every goal and ambition.

The young Marshall soon found his place in a prominent position in his world. When the time came, she presented herself to the now proud Lord, positive that he would love her forever. Not understanding human behavior, she had not considered the possibility that the now incredibly spoiled man would see her only as a creature beneath his lofty position, useful to him only as a distraction. He mocked her revelation as the ramblings of a lunatic, easily casting her aside to continue pursuing his own interests. Crushed at his behavior, and her own foolishness, she spat out a malevolent curse. Such dark magic can never be cast without dire consequences, especially if a magical being is both wielder and the recipient.

~ Cris on 3XTC

Aniela puttered around her antique shop as she listened to Cris’s voice tell a story on the radio. The young man had taken to reading obscure tales and myths in the afternoons and matching up soundtracks to them. It was his way of entertaining everyone during the winter months. But this tale thoroughly captured her attention. Due to her distracted state of mind, she didn’t pay attention to what she was doing and missed the table she meant to place the antique box on. Antique wood made a terrible sound when it smashed against the floor.

It was the sound of history destroyed and a loss in any profits she might have made. Not that the antique shop did much business this time of year. Not for the first time, she wondered if she should take her nephew’s advice and spend winters down south.

She gingerly picked up the box hoping it was salvageable, but a large crack had almost split the bottom of the box in two. Adjusting her scarves out of the way and tucking her patchwork skirt under her legs, she sat in the middle of an overstuffed settee and tucked her legs up beneath her. In her lap, she held the damaged box.

“Bloody Hell.”

The crack was larger than she first suspected and ruined the value of the piece. The sun pierced the clouds and filled her dusty showroom with light. She noticed then that there was something jammed into the broken space. She pried the crack open further and pulled out a thickly wrapped package. All the years that stupid box sat on the top shelf and she never knew something lay hidden inside it.

 
She carefully unwrapped the package, trying to guess what might be inside. Perhaps her winter home in Florida was closer to reality than she imagined?

Her hands cupped what looked to be a Christmas ornament. A crystal snowflake, roughly the size of her palm, and much lighter than it looked. Six crystalline arms branched out, linking to each other in an analogous, weblike pattern, surrounding a flawless teardrop center. In its heart was a three-dimensional etching of what looked to be a faery.
The artist must have been a genius to have the ability to capture a being in such intricate detail, from her delicate wings to the expression of heartbreaking sorrow in her face
.

She held the ornament up to the sunlight streaming through the window. The rays bounced off the prism-like object, sending hundreds of shattered rainbows dancing over the painted walls and stacks of knickknacks. The vibrant colors turned the dusty old showroom into a fantasyland. She had never expected to find such a thing of beauty hiding within the false bottom of an eighteenth-century cigar box.

Her first instinct was to contact a friend at the local university and get it carbon-dated. She had no idea how old it might be, but this kind of workmanship was way beyond the artisanship of that century. But she disliked the idea of her theory being proved wrong by something as inconsequential as scientific fact. Reality raised its rational head and offered a few explanations for the ornament’s hiding spot.

Of course, it had to have been placed in the hideaway fairly recently. Even if the estate she purchased it from had been clearing out an attic that hadn’t been opened for over a century.

Of course, where there were dusty attics, there were children, and one must have hidden this and then forgotten about it.

Of course, what other reason could there be…

Further exploration into the hidey-hole revealed an obviously antique piece of parchment. The sheet practically crumbled in her fingers as she unfolded it and read the contents.

Antiques often carried interesting stories and the odd curse or two. Having learned long ago that some things were beyond mortal understanding, she didn’t find it hard to believe what she read on the crumbling paper. If she hadn’t taken an Old English language course in university years ago, she never would have been able to understand what was written.

“It couldn’t be that easy?” Holding the ornament back up to the light she gazed at the small figure inside. “Do I dare?”

She thought of the story that Cris told only moments before she dropped the box.
Could this be the faery in the story?
What were the odds of her discovering this ornament now? She could have found it years from now, or years ago for that matter? No, she found this when it was time to be found. It was Serendipity, and she owed it to the Powers That Be to see if she could help this poor creature.