Hi Everyone,

I’ve been working on my next supernatural series, The Mortal Champion. When Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness threatens the Balance between Summer and Winter, a champion is selected. A single Mortal gifted with the power to settle the conflict between the Summer and Winter courts of the Fey.

At a small university, the fates of the Mortal and Fey worlds falls. The Mortal Champion will be a supernatural, erotic romance full of hot, kinky sex and thrilling action.

Here’s a sneak peak at the prologue!

Prologue: Maeve of the Red Rose

Treasach’s melody haunted Titania’s Garden.

“He’s so wonderful,” sighed Maeve of the Red Rose as she lounged beneath the shade of a tall elder tree. A gentle breeze wafted through the air, stirring the elder tree’s branches. Small, white petals drifted down from the dark leafs, adding their sweet perfume to the air. “We could make such wonderful music together.”

Aisling of the Bluebells giggled beside her, the Pixie’s silvery wings twitching. “Treasach has all those Dryads fawning on him. What would he see in a little fluff like you?”

“You don’t have to be so mean,” Isolde of the Violet scolded, her bluish wings sticking straight behind her. “Just because her love is delusional, doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud.”

“Thanks for the support,” Maeve muttered to her friends. Then she turned her gaze back to the perfection of Treasach’s form. His chest was sculpted like a maiden’s wet dream, while his thick fingers nimbly played his linden pipe with such perfection even the vain Dryads had crept from their elder trees to fawn at his feet. “I could attract his attention.”

“With those Dryads flashing their blandishments at him,” Aisling laughed. “He wouldn’t even notice you flying around him.” Aisling fixed her deep green eyes of Maeve. “It’s because of your rose.”

“What does that mean?” huffed Maeve, ripping her green eyes from their study of Treasach to gaze at her friend. Maeve’s delicate, golden wings hummed behind her. “What does my rose have to do with this?”

“She’s blooming, right?” Aisling asked. “And that has your head filled with thoughts of love.”

Isolde nodded her head in agreement. “Just give it a few days, and you’ll have your heart set on some other handsome Fey. Perhaps one more at our station than a Gancanagth.” The violet-haired Pixie gave a giggle. “Even if he has those dreamy, brooding eyes.”

“You violets are almost as bad as roses,” sighed Aisling.

The timbre of Treasach’s pipes grew more lustful, stirring passion inside Maeve’s heart. Her wings fluttered faster, and she cast her gaze back upon Treasach. One of the cow-breasted Dryads had wrapped her mammaries around Treasach’s cock, pleasuring the handsome Fey as he played.

“I wish I could do that.” Maeve let out a mournful sigh, her hands sliding up to cup her small, freckled breasts topped with tiny, mauve nipples. “Dryads are so lucky.”

Isolde’s hand stroked up Maeve’s side, squeezing the Rose Pixie’s breast. The violet-haired Pixie rolled her nipple and whispered into Maeve’s ear, “More than a handful’s just a waste. Why don’t we find a nice bower and sport. That’ll take your mind off Treasach and his pipe.”

A tremble passed through Maeve, her pussy growing damp with excitement. Isolde was always fun to sport with, the Violet Pixie passionate and loving. But Maeve was entranced by Treasach’s pipes. “Look at that Dryad. She’s proving that more than a handful is not a waste. Listen to the passion in his music. He is enjoying the silky touch of her cow-heavy bosoms.”

“And you’ll enjoy my silky touch just as much,” Isolde promised. “Maybe we can even convince Aisling to join us. Doesn’t that sound like fun? We’ll make you forget all about those dumb Dryads and their big tits.”

Isolde’s fingers on her nipple did feel amazing, but Maeve was not convinced. There was such joy to experience at Treasach’s skilled hands. The Gancanagth were a race passionate lovers, and Treasach was whispered to be the most skilled. Maeve believed the rumors, dying to feel his touch.

Look at how skillfully he plays his linden pipe.

Aisling’s hand brushed Maeve’s thigh. “Yes. We’ll help you forget all about the dumb Gancanagth. Pixies need to remember where our station is. We do not cavort with the nobility.”

“We tend to Titania’s Garden,” purred Isolde. “And my flower is in need of your gardening.”

Treasach’s music built to a crescendo as Aisling and Isolde’s gentle hands stroked Maeve’s body. She bit her lip, mewling with delight. She leaned back against the tree, letting them caress and tease her. Aisling’s fingers brushed the lips of Maeve’s pussy hidden in her fiery-red curls.

The Dryad rubbed her breasts faster up and down Treasach’s cock, her tongue licking the thick tip. Maeve had never experienced a cock so big. Her pussy convulsed about Aisling’s probing digit. An orgasm swelled inside her.

“Yes,” she sighed, her wings fluttering. Maeve was attuned to the music, climbing with it to the crescendo’s peak.

Treasach trilled his linden pipes as his cock erupted. Cum fountained up, landing on the fat tits of the Dryad, staining her brown skin. Maeve’s pussy convulsed about Aisling’s finger, her head thrown back as her orgasm swept through her.

“That’s it,” purred Isolde. “Let yourself go.”

“Treasach!” she moaned, her heart beating faster. She wanted to love him so much.

“Rose Pixies,” sighed Aisling, pulling her finger out of Maeve’s pussy and licking the dew clean. “Hopeless.”

Maeve smiled, bliss pumping through her while she watched Treasach stand up, his muscular body was just perfect. Maeve imagined she was a mortal girl. Ganacanth’s loved to seduce maidens, playing their flutes and entrancing young women to spread their thighs so the Fey could sport between them.

“Pixie Maeve,” a honeyed voice announced.

“Hmm,” Maeve murmured, opening her eyes.

A Slyph hung before her in the shape of a comely woman made of vapor. Her body formed in blue, and her flowing hair painted with white. She had a curious expression on her face as she danced before Maeve.

“Are you Maeve of the Red Rose?” the Sylph asked.

“I am.” Maeve was curious why a Sylph was bothering her. They were flighty Fey, often zipping through the skies and playing on the winds. “And you are…?”

“I am Daire. And you are summoned to the Summer Throne. Titania demands to see you.”

“What did you do?” Aisling gasped, her dark-green eyes widening.

“Nothing,” Maeve protested, fear beating her heart. “Honest.”

Aisling had a disapproving look on her face. “Rose Pixies,” she despaired. “You are always getting in trouble.”

“But…” Maeve pouted. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Titania is waiting,” the Slyph declared, still zipping about Maeve. “Hurry, hurry.”

“You better go,” Isolde whispered, giving Maeve a hug. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Yes. Because our Queen summons Pixies to attend her all the time,” Aisling muttered.

Maeve trembled in Isolde’s arms. “Don’t listen to Aisling. Bluebells are sour flowers.”

Aisling sniffed with indignity.

“Now go. We’ll await your return.” Isolde placed a soft, sisterly kiss on Maeve’s lips.

Maeve nodded, flapping her wings. They hummed as she lifted into the air. “Lead on, Slyph,” Maeve whispered, trying not to tremble.

“Yes, yes! Follow!”

With a giggle, the Slyph zipped off.

Maeve sped with her, flying over Titania’s Garden. It almost seemed to stretch forever. Fields of endless flowers attended by the Pixies. Maeve’s kind all lived in the Garden, their souls tied to a single flower. Here their flowers were protected from being plucked. So long as her flower bloomed, Maeve lived. To repay the Queen for her kindness, the Pixies swore to be her gardeners.

It was happy life. Full of laughing and giggling and loving. Sweet and naughty games were played in the Garden. Maeve soared over Fey of all kind lounging, reading, playing music, and making sport. Beautiful bodies entwined together, crying out in passion amid the beauty of the flowers. The Gardens were the heart of the Seelie Court, the most beautiful and loving part of Fey.

Ahead, a grove of elder trees rose. They were the biggest in all of Fey. Their bark had grown dark-gray with age. White flowers budded in the limbs, speckling the green. The Slyph and Maeve dived for the opening between the Elder trees. Maeve landed on soft heather as Daire danced about her, laughing and playing.

Maeve swallowed as she stored through the gate into the Summer Court. The Elder trees seemed to loom over her, the canopy of green leaves and white flowers pressed down, and her shoulders hunched, almost crushed beneath their ancient weight. The Pixie’s wings trembled and twitched as she fought against her fear.

What did I possibly do wrong? Why would Titania want to see me? I’m just a Rose Pixie. There are hundreds of us.

She stepped into the sunlit glade of Titania’s Court. The sun was always directly overhead of the Court, shining with warm rays. A path of gold wound through the heather fields to Titania’s distant throne.

Maeve swallowed, forcing herself to walk down the path. Powerful Fey lounged across the field. Some sat about boards playing games of strategy while others played instruments of gold. Mortal men and women, their bodies naked and oiled, stood about the field, living statues for the Fey to admire their perfect beauty. All the Fey were just as gorgeous. A myriad rainbow of eyes, hair, and skin tones populated the Court. Everyone was beautiful and unique.

Maeve was too scared to appreciate any of the beauty that surrounded her. The Pixie’s eyes fixed on the throne of Hawthorne at the end of the path. Titania sat upon it, shining with her own radiance.

Titania was a voluptuous beauty. There was not a flaw marring the Queen’s perfection. She wore a gown of wildflowers, a rainbow pageantry that draped her curvy body like a second skin. Her vibrant, green eyes fixed on Maeve’s as she crossed the Court. The Queen sat upon a throne grown out of a hawthorn tree, smooth brown fissured with gray cracks. Branches adorned with white flowers grew from parts of the throne. Naked, oiled men lounged at the base of the throne, their eyes sightless. Titania’s mortal lovers. Each was fortunate to know the Queen of Fire and Light’s passionate, blinding embrace.

A second throne lay beside Titania’s, grown from an oak tree. A whip-thin man lounged on it, wild, dark-green hair falling about his shoulders. Maeve found his piercing stare even more intimidating than the Queen’s. All quailed before Oberon, Master of the Wild Hunt. Titania’s Consort. A Feyhound, laying at Oberon’s feet, stirred as she neared, ivory vines wrapped around its hawthorn body.

Maeve stopped before the throne and fell prostrate. “Summoned, so have I appeared, Mother of Summer.” Maeve trembled, her wings humming with agitation.

“Rise, gentle Maeve,” Titania purred. Her voice was a pure song caressing Maeve’s ears. There was no anger in that sweet melody, only love.

Maeve’s fear vanished, and she rose, facing her Queen. “I stand ready to serve Summer.”

“Good,” Titania nodded. “For I have an important task to lay upon your slim shoulders.”

Maeve swallowed, trembling again. What task could I preform for Titania?

“Mab seeks to wield the Balance, disrupting the equilibrium between Summer and Winter.”

The Pixie’s eyes widened and she let out a gasp of fear. Mab, Queen of Air and Darkness, was the vile ruler of the Unseelie Court, the Fey of Winter. They were all cruel and heartless. Since creation, Summer and Winter had warred, but their power was equal, forcing them to be in balance.

“How?” Maeve asked.

“Mab prepares for war.”

Maeve gasped in alarm.

“So the Balance has chosen a Mortal Champion,” Titania announced. “The Unseelie will try to bind him into slavery. We cannot allow that to happen. He must remain free to wield the Balance in our favor. If he remains free, he will the arbiter and stop Mab’s plan.”

“I don’t understand what you need from me, Your Majesty?”

“You shall be his consort,” Titania smiled. “You shall go to the Mortal World, discover his identity, and seduce him to our cause. Make him love you, and he will aide us against Winter with a willing heart. With your love, he can be armored against Winter’s poisonous chains.”

Maeve’s heart beat. She had so wanted to experience true love. So many times her heart had blossomed and so many times she had been spurned. Then the enormity of her task fell upon her. “But I’m only a Pixie, Your Majesty? How will I find him? How will I contend with Winter’s Emissary? Surely Mab will send a strong servant to seek him.”

“You will succeed with my blessing,” Titania smiled, leaning back in her throne and parting her sleek thighs. Her skirt parted, forming an inviting shadow. A sweet perfume filled Maeve’s nose, and a hot surge of lust flowed through the Pixie. “Drink of my essence and you shall be armed and armored for this great task. When you lie with the Mortal Champion, you shall know him fully. I just know your open, loving nature will beguile him and win his affections. Together, you shall overcome Mab’s servant.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Maeve licked her lips, her heart pattering with excitement. Disbelief pumped through her body. The great Queen is honoring me. I’m not worthy to even be in her presence.

With a swallow, the Pixie walked forward. A pure scent, as clean as summer, wafted into her nose, tinged with feminine excitement. Titania’s pussy wept excitement. Maeve stepped past the blind, brawny men. As perfect as their muscles were sculpted and their face shaped, they were mere lop-sided daises flowering next to the perfect rose that was Titania.

Maeve placed a hesitant hand on the Queen’s thigh. She was warm, her skin almost hummed with the Power of Summer. Maeve slid her hand in deeper, pushing back Titania’s flower skirt. The Queen let out a slight sigh as she unveiled her pussy, tight lips nestled between burning curls.

“Drink of my passion, Pixie,” Titania moaned. “Satisfy my desire with those beautiful lips.”

The Queen’s finger caressed Maeve’s lips. Her pink tongue crept out, swiping about the digit before sucking it into her mouth. She moaned as the Queen slid her finger out a few time. She worshiped the digit like it was a cock, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hallowing as she sucked.

“Put that ardor to use on my nethers, Pixie,” purred the Queen. Her breasts heaved, pressing against the petals of her dress. Pink nipples peaked through gaps between the flowers, hard and fat, perfect to suckle.

Maeve lower her lips to her Queen’s pussy. Her tongue snaked through the Queen’s lips, gathering the fresh juices that leaked out. Titania tasted like a cool pool in a forest glade, the water pure, untouched by anything but the sun’s warm caresses. Titania shifted, moaning as Maeve’s tongue grew more bold, sliding through the folds of her pussy.

“That’s it, Pixie,” hissed the Queen. “Give me your worship! Oh, yes!”

Maeve’s wings twitched as she drank deeper. The juices poured down her chin, coating her neck and breasts. A flood of passion issued from Titania. Power brimmed in the juices. Maeve bathed in the essence of her Queen, rubbing her face all over the silk of Titania’s lips.

Maeve never wanted to stop drinking. She moaned, eager to find more cream. Her tongue worked deep as her fingers spread Titania open wide. Her tongue wiggled, swirling about the Queen’s tight, pink flesh.

Then she moved her lips up and sucked on Titania’s clit.

“That’s it, Pixie! Yes! You will make me cum so hard. Pleasure me, slut!”

Yes, my Queen! I am your slut!

Maeve wanted to cry out her love for her Queen, but her lips were occupied. The Pixie sensed Titania’s orgasm approaching. Maeve wanted to send Titania into bliss. Her tongue swirled about the Fey Queen’s nub, batting it as her lips sucked and her teeth nibbled. Energy brimmed around Maeve, growing in Titania’s core.

“Yes! Drink my Power! Imbibe every last drop, Pixie! Revel in my passion!”

Juices squirted into Maeve’s eager mouth. She swallowed it, a warmth spreading through her body. A bit of Summer’s Power infused every nerve in the Pixie’s petite body. Her wings hummed as they beat, and the Pixie’s pussy convulsed as she came.

“Yes, yes, yes,” sighed Titania. “Umm, you did such a good job.”

“Thank you, my Queen,” Maeve smiled, licking her lips. Her body still buzzed with her orgasm.

Titania leaned down and placed a single, brief kiss on Maeve’s lips. “You are our emissary to the Mortals. Find the Champion and claim his heart. Together, you shall claim the Balance for Summer. Do not let Winter bind the Champion’s will.”

“But…how will we find the Balance?”

Centuries ago, Cinniuint had stolen the Balance from Fey. Cinniuint was a Fey aligned with neither Winter or Summer. She was a weaver of fates, and whatever future she had glimpsed had compelled her to act. No trace of the crafty Cinniuint or the Balance had been discovered as Fey of both Courts quested over the centuries. Worse, the Balance could look like anything. It was mutable, shaped by the will of its wielder.

“Have faith, dear Pixie,” Titania smiled. “You have the strength to do this.”

“I won’t fail you,” Maeve gasped.

“I know you won’t.” Titania’s smile was perfect and trusting. Maeve swelled. Her Queen believed in her.

I can do this.

“Leave at once, dear Pixie, and stop Winter from seizing the Balance and destroying the equilibrium.”

Maeve rose and walked out of the Court, excitement brimming through her. Her imagination was on fire. Who was the Mortal Champion? Would he be handsome? She hoped he would be. He would her husband.

Treasach was almost forgotten as new, romantic thoughts blossomed in the Pixie’s fertile imagination.

~ ~ ~

Titania watched the Pixie depart, Maeve’s golden wings twitching with excitement.

Oberon’s piercing eyes were upon her. Titania sensed the questions brimming in her Consort. For Millennia, ever since Titania had won the bitter contest with Mab for his devotion and tamed Oberon’s heart, he had walked at her side, trusting her to rule the Seelie Fey.

So he didn’t voice his concerns in front of the entire Court.

“Court is adjourned for the day,” she announced, holding out her left hand.

Oberon’s strong grip took hers. He helped her to rise, his body as solid as an oak. She wrapped her arm lightly about his, striding to the side entrance that led to her bower. They walked through a forest glade, song birds singing above, pollen drifting on the air bringing the sweet fragrance of their flowers. Sprites and brownies danced and sported, their tiny forms scampering through the trees.

Her Consort arm was tense.

They walked the dirt path in silence, her bare feet savoring the cool loam. Excitement beat in Titania’s heart. She wanted to sing and dance and frolic in the glade. But it was too soon for that. Maeve was merely the first step in her plan.

The path ended at a wall of silvery-barked elder trees grown so close together they formed an impenetrable wall. A door made of hanging vines pierced the elder trees guarded by Mathghamhain, her most loyal guard. He was a homunculus grown from an oak tree and shaped into a squat man. Acorn eyes peered at her, and his gnarled fist stroked a beard of broad, green leaves.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed. “Prince-Consort.”

“None shall disturb us,” she commanded. “I wish to enjoy the companionship of my Consort for the nonce.”

“As you command, my Queen,” Mathghamhain bowed, his body creaking. He pushed open the flowering vines and Titania and her Consort entered her bower.

The starry sky twinkled above them. It was always night in the intimacy of her bower. At the center, her bed grown from four hawthorn trees entwined together, the mattress a field of soft heather. She stretched out on her bed, her dress of wild flowers falling to pieces off her lush body.

Oberon’s gaze flickered to her. She smiled; lust still burned in his eyes. Millennium later, and she still owned his heart. “Join me,” she purred, her pussy growing liquid.

“Why did you choose Maeve for this task?” he growled, his voice rasping like dry leaves. His eyes grew hard. Titania didn’t flinch before the Master of the Wild Hunt’s gaze. She was the only being in existence he loved.

The only being that felt no fear from his gaze.

“She is perfect for the task,” Titania answered.

“How? She is flighty like every other Pixie. She possesses no cunning, no strength. She has never been to the Mortal world. She cannot contend against the strength of Winter’s Emissary. Mab will not send such a useless creature.”

Titania stared at her husband.

“She will fail and the Mortal Champion will be bound to Winter.”

“I know,” Titania answered with a smile.

If you want to read more, you can buy or borrow The Pixie’s Passion from Amazon, Amazon UK, Amazon CA, Amazon AU, Amazon FR, and Amazon DE. You can check out my other supernatural thrillers: The Girls of My Dreams (My Fallen Angel 1), The Devil’s Pact Part 1: Slaves of Love, or browse my catalog of naughty stories on Amazon!

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