Spun around by the force of his swing, the fae recovered his balance with a look of confusion on his handsome face. He blinked at the tiny dragon, still roaring in its tiny little voice as it beat wings now larger than it.
“Sorcery!” he bellowed in triumph, thrusting his axe into the air with a grin. “The dragon is vanquished!”
Looking around, he caught sight of Daffi watching him with wide eyes and strode toward her. Her ovaries had a little meltdown at the size of his muscled thighs. Maiden, mother and crone… she’d climb him like a tree given half a chance.
He reached her. Then, to her utter astonishment, he knelt before her, his head bowed.
“My lady! I am Oberon, king of the fae.” He looked up and she was caught by the most amazing pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen.
He smiled, studying her with wonder. “Your beauty astounds me. I had not thought to be so fortunate in my bride.”
Her gaze wandered over shoulders broader than a barn. Surely fae weren’t supposed to be so… ripped? If so, all the movies had it wrong.
“Huh…” her brain caught up with reality. “Wait, what? Bride?”
Okay, she must have hit her head. Was probably lying behind the curtain still as the kids summoned all manner of nasties with their hybrid spell.
“Yes.” Oberon grinned and stood, taking her hand. “I promised my hand in marriage to whomever could defeat the beast. You will be my queen!”
Well… shit.
Oberon’s day had started early, with twittering handmaidens applying his war paint in preparation for the hunt and then chasing the foul beast that had plagued his kingdom. He was the best warrior in the lands, so it was his right to kill the creature and mount its head in his hall with all his other conquests. All would know of his prowess and magnificence. His halls were filled with proof of that.
His chest puffed up with pride as he looked at the tiny woman in front of him. She was small and petite... human, but no one was perfect... His gaze wandered over her—the strange-colored hair and the wide amber eyes in a delicate heart-shaped face. She was so beautiful it made his teeth ache.
And she had vanquished the dragon, so she was his, his promised bride. Her wide-eyed look of adoration stoked his male ego. She was awed by his awesomeness, as was right. She should be amazed by him, her husband-to-be. He would wow her with his prowess, in battle and then in bed.
Then she frowned.
“You promised your hand in marriage to anyone who defeated the dragon? What if a guy had killed it?”
Oberon pursed his lips for a second, not seeing the point of the question, and then shrugged. “My bride would have been a groom. Why?”
Pulling her closer abruptly, he bent her back over his arm. She went easily... well, she went with a small screech, clutching at his shoulders... but then he had her where he wanted her.
In his arms where she should be.
“But I am glad it’s you.” His gaze roved over her face. She fit so perfectly against him that he couldn’t wait to get her back to his castle and make her his queen. Then... the wedding night. “You will look glorious spread over my bed.”
“O...kay.” Her lips pursed as she pushed at his shoulders. She might as well have pushed at a cliff face. He didn’t intend to let her go. Ever.
“Gonna need you to back it up a few steps there, handsome,” she ordered, her expression unimpressed. “Or I’m gonna have to make you.”
His lips quirked at her little threat. Okay, so his queen-to-be wanted to play hard to get, did she? Love games he could play.
“Of course, my love,” he murmured, setting her on her feet and then beaming down at her. She was so tiny and delicate. He would have gowns made for her, beautiful gowns to highlight her delicate stature and a crown to match his.
“I will have my throne made larger,” he declared. He didn’t want her sitting on a separate one. That would be too far away. If she shared his, he could sit her in his lap all the time. A deep growl of male approval rolled through him at the idea.
“Hang fire on the throne idea for a moment, okay?” She wriggled from his hold, approaching the others in the room. For the first time he paid attention to their surroundings.
There were...
“Are these...”
“Human children,” a voice announced. “Disgusting, aren’t they?”
Oberon whirled around, unable to locate the owner of the voice. He raised his axe. “Show yourself, beast!”
“Look down, dipshit. Not everyone’s built on gargantuan lines.”
He blinked and looked down as ordered.
A creature sat by his ankles, watching him with eyes of fire. At least, it was cat shaped. It was silver grey and floofy, with a tail that could have doubled as a feather duster. Yes, definitely cat-shaped, but if it was an actual cat, he’d eat his own throne. Without ketchup.
“What are you?” he demanded, not lowering the axe.
The thing grinned, its mouth filled with way more teeth than should be there. “You’re not as dumb as you look. Are you?”
“I am king of the fae! How dare you speak to me in that manner!”
The cat-thing flicked an ear. “You’re a king without a crown at the moment, muscles, so I’d keep it shut if I were you.”
“Foul beast.”
“Air-headed fairy.”
The conversation devolved into name calling. It was familiar and Oberon grinned.
“You are acceptable. I like you.”
The cat would have arched an eyebrow if it had them. “You have low standards, don’tcha? We can work with that.”
They both turned to watch his queen-to-be dealing with the children. Oberon slid his axe away. She was good with children, quickly reassuring them and, when one wouldn’t stop screaming about the dragon, quickly erasing their memories of the incident.
“Good with children and a powerful witch. She will make a wonderful queen and an excellent mother for my heirs.”
“Might want to ask the lady before decorating the nursery,” the cat muttered as the last of the kids filed out of the room and his bride-to-be walked back toward them. The dragon was buzzing angrily near the ceiling, trying to set the crude drawings on the ceiling on fire.
“Wifey!” Oberon bellowed in welcome, offering her his arm.
“Stop calling me that,” she hissed.
“Quite right,” he agreed, looking down at her. “We’re not married yet so... future wifey!”
There was a suspicious sniggering around his ankles. His little wife-to-be shook her head and started to bundle him across the room. He let her, grinning. Her small hands on him were just glorious.
“I look forward to our wedding night,” he told her.
She went a funny shade of red.
“Dream on, handsome,” she whispered as she opened a small door. A sound somewhere else in the building made her look over her shoulder and seem worried. “You need to get in here. Quickly!”
His grin broadened. She found him handsome. He puffed up with pride, flexing all his muscles for her. “Oh, I will definitely be everything your dreams desire.” How could he not be? He was Oberon, king of the—
She pushed him in the closet and shut the door in his face.
He blinked and then grinned.