Her head hurt viciously and she felt chilled to the bone. The warmth of the fire beckoned, but she couldn’t seem to find the strength to move, let alone stand. Her body ached. What had happened to her?

She wondered if he slipped a drug into her drink. Had she been drinking? If she was in Atlantic City it definitely was a possibility. Her head pounded like she had tossed back one too many Jello-shots at the bar.

The man in front of her was like something straight out of a fairytale. He removed the long charcoal gray coat over his outfit. He wore a loose fitting shirt that seemed plain and too dark compared to his fair flawless complexion, the long gray boxy cut shirt had two slits on both sides and his narrow waist cinched with a black leather belt with gold plates that matched the gold threaded designs on the close cut collar and wrists. His pants were black and sturdy, dusted with spots of mud but it didn’t detract from the fact that the fabric contoured a pair of nice long, lean, muscular thighs that led straight down to curved calves. Right below the swell of his calves he wore a pair of black laced leather boots. An impressive costume, she had to give it to him, he rocked it well.

Still his over the top outfit was not half as spectacular as his long silver blonde hair that fell just past his shoulders. She wondered how long he had taken to grow that out. The ends of his hair were slightly damp and left wet spot on the fabric. Rosario reached out and brushed his hair with her fingertips. It was unnaturally silky soft. He looked at her, his upturned almond shaped eyes held the most glorious emerald green irises. His face was angular but not feminine. He definitely did not have a woman’s body. Long, tall and lean, he had the physique of a swimmer or a runner. A huge improvement over the stocky, muscle heads she normally dated in Jersey.

Jersey? That reminded her that she had no clue where she was or how she had gotten here. Despite his protest, for all she knew he really was a serial killer. Sure he denied it but seriously, what psychopathic moron went around admitting he was a homicidal maniac? She needed to get to a phone quick.
She searched the room to see if he had phone or computer. Nada. Although, he did have impeccable taste in décor. She loved the baroque period style furniture.
Her stomach lurched and she closed her eyes to stop the room from spinning.

When she opened them, she found herself staring at the loose neck cloth of her rescuer. She supposed she should be grateful for his assistance. She would be if he didn’t unnerve her so much. She sniffed the air letting her heightened sense take in information. He smelled of moss, firewood, trees, rain and horse. Her inner-bitch definitely liked the way he smelled.

His green eyes stared at her in wonderment and she knew she must have had the same look in her eyes. Never before had she come across such a man, unless of course it was Halloween, but she was pretty sure that was months away. Then again, she did have an Uncle Louie that liked to dress up. She wondered if Prince Demetrius also liked women’s pantyhose.

She sensed she amused him, though she couldn’t say why and she didn’t intend to ask. Did he know she was a werewolf? The heat that flared in his gaze when he looked upon her caused her stomach to flutter and parts of her body to tighten. Okay, he was definitely not like Uncle Louie.

What she needed was information. She couldn’t make a decision until she understood what kind of mess she’d landed in.

He’d said he was a prince. She let her eyes roam around the room, noting the high quality workmanship of the furnishings and drapery. She had to admit the guy had all the trappings. He knew how to feed his fantasy of being a prince.

But then where were all the servants? She had read enough bedtime stories to know that princes always had hired help.
Heck, even her mother had a housekeeper, groundskeeper and driver.

“If you’re a prince, why don’t you have maids on your staff help me?” She tipped her head back to better watch his reaction. There it was that brief flare of amusement before being replaced by another emotion. She sucked in her breath at the intensity of his gaze. He seemed almost possessive. Okay, maybe he was a serial killer. A really well funded serial killer.

“ I’m afraid the maids believe you are a witch sent to charm me. They dare not get too close to you.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she snapped out. A witch, really? As if werewolves had warts and big ugly moles. “I’m offended.”

He shrugged, that amused gleam back in his eye. She wanted to kick him. “As their prince, it is my duty to sacrifice for my people. It will be my pl—privilege to see to your care.” He performed a flourishing bow.

She rolled her eyes. This guy really was a good actor. She looked around the room to see if there were any hidden cameras. Was she being punk’d?
Her vision having cleared for the most part, and being sharper than the average human’s, she could pick up on hidden objects. She looked for a glint of glass or a shape out of place. Nothing.

“Great. Then you can get me a phone and a cab to Jersey.”

“I don’t know of this Jersey of which you speak, but I can assure you that while you are under my care, no harm will come to you.”

“Thanks, I think. But if I’m not in Jersey, then where am I?”

He got up from the bed and crossed over to the fireplace. He grabbed up another log and threw it on to the fire. “You have an odd way of speaking.” The fire snapped and crackled. “These places I am unfamiliar with and it might explain why I have never seen you in the village before.”

“The Village? Duh! I’m in New York.” Relief spread though her. “Oh, thank God.” She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “For a second there, I thought I was going crazy. All this talk of fairies. Now it all makes sense –The artwork, the furniture, the outfit. You must be into the avant garde. ” She was in the city. Stupid horse must have carried her through the Holland tunnel and straight into SoHo. She stood up on her bare feet and snatched up her ruined heels. “Well, this has been fun but I gotta go. I have some pretty important people waiting for me.” She really didn’t need to tell him that they were werewolves and a jilted groom. She strode over to the door and yanked it open.

“Good evening, my lady. Glad to see you are awake and well,” said another tall male, slightly less thin but no less gorgeous than the “prince” standing guard outside the door. He wore a similar outfit like Demetrius only his was brown and less opulent. His hair was even longer, a rich nutty brown that matched his eyes but it wasn’t his fighter physique that had her eyes wide open, it was the really long saber in his hand and the massive colorless wings that fanned out of his back.

“Eek!” she slammed the door shut in his face.

“Ouch.” She heard the muffled moan through the wooden door. Rosario turned around and plastered her back to the door barring it with her body, afraid the guy in brown tights would come charging through.

“I thought we were in the Village?” Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. If she didn’t calm done and quick she was going to go all furry. And the one big thing her mother had instilled in her brain was never to go furry in front of anyone that was not pack. And something about Demetrius and his winged friend outside, told her that they were not pack.

Rosario moved quickly across the room to the only window. She pushed aside the heavy tapestry and looked out. No lights. No cars, no people roaming the streets below. No Empire State Building. No George Washington Bridge. She looked to the sky and saw stars and one large moon more than three quarters of the way full. “Huh, so that’s what it looks like without pollution.”

She let the curtain slide back into place.

Demetrius eyed her with curiosity. “I think you may have taken a larger blow to the head than I previously thought.” He moved up next to her and ran his hand over her hair. She hastily moved back only to bump up against the bed.

She shivered.

He stopped and moved in front of her. He put his hands on her forehead, concern etched on his face. His expression turned grim. “See, your teeth are chattering and you are blue around the lips.”

She didn’t bother to contradict him. It wasn’t the cold causing her to shiver, but the brush of his fingers against her skin.

He stood nose to nose with her. Their eyes locked on each other. He wasn’t tall like her father but he wasn’t short either. She stood at five-foot eleven in heels, so she guessed his height fell around that number.

Okay, more and more he was dispelling every notion she had of fairies. He wasn’t dainty and he sure a heck wasn’t a little old woman in sequins with a rocking a set of wings who was sprinkling fairy dust. The only fairy she knew was Madrina Hady.

Uh, oh! Rosario got a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She remembered Madrina’s last words—“Go on, find your ever after!”

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Would she?

No way. Besides he didn’t have any wings. He couldn’t be the real deal.

“Hey, if you’re a fairy, then where are your wings?” She said smugly. She had him now. He would definitely have to stop this stupidity and get her a cell phone.
He stepped back and turned around. For the first time she laid her eyes upon his back.

“Mierda!” Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped open.

It wasn’t possible! No way. It couldn’t be, could it? She reached out her hand. This time it was him who was smiling smugly.

“Can I touch them?”

“You can touch anything you like.”

Rosario reached out her hand and traced her fingers around the edge of the wing. The paper thin wings were surreal and they didn’t feel like cardboard or plastic. They were similar to her fairy godmother’s wings. See-through and delicate, his wings were more like that of a bee than a butterfly with silver veins and green tipped swirls at the tips. The wings had four parts, one pair of wings on each side of his body that jutted out from his shoulder blades, a large upper wing and a smaller lower wing hidden below, that fanned out when he spread them. His clothes even were specially designed to allow the wings to poke through. She ran her hand over his back to see if he had a harness or straps to hold them in place but she couldn’t find any. He moved them enough to stir a breeze. Where was the motor? She moved her hands over his shoulders and around the front of his shirt.

Oh crap. He was a fairy!

“I have to admit I like the feel of your hands on me.”

She could feel the rumble of his voice under her palms.

Rosario pulled her hands back. She sat down heavily on the bed and put her hands in her lap. “Okay, I’m not in Jersey anymore.”

He turned to her, his eyes half hooded and dilated. Maybe running her hands over his body wasn’t such a good idea.

Hell, she had no idea what was a good idea or not. In the past twenty-four hours her world had gone crazy. First her uncle—her favorite uncle—had gone missing, and then the discovery of the missing millions, the midnight call demanding retribution and next thing she knew she was in a white dress offered up to an alpha male to settle a pack dispute… only to end up in fairyland in a castle straight out of a cuenta de hada.. Why not? It made perfect sense in her completely insane life.
Rosario slid right off the bed and landed in a heap on the wood flooring.

“Are you all right?” He knelt down beside her, his hand on the small of her back. She could feel his long fingers brushing up and down her spine.

She must not be as well as she thought. She sucked in a deep breath. “So, are you really a fairy prince?”

He nodded his head. His silvery tresses brushed across her cheeks. The sensation tickled her.

“And this is país de las hadas?”

“This is what?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes at the same time. “Fairyland.”

“I take it you are not familiar with it.”

Rosario remembered all of her Uncle Raul’s stories. The thought of him brought a tear to her eye. “Oh, I’m pretty familiar with fairyland.”
Demetrius brushed away her tear with his thumb. “Good. For a second there, I imagined I would be spending the rest of the evening explaining my kingdom to you. As much as I love to talk about my vast holdings, I find it quite boring.”

His smile melted her anxieties.

She laughed.

“Now that you know who I am. May I ask the name of the beautiful maiden I rescued?”

“Rosario.”