by Zoe Parker
The tip of one of the slightly curled ends is purple. A light lavender type purple. What the fudge?
“Guessing that’s a surprise?” she comments coming up beside of me.
“A bit. What’s your name?” I ask, tucking the hair over my shoulder and out of sight while trying to put what it means in the back of my head.
“Lucinda,” she answers, giving me another shy smile. “Yours?”
Smiling back, I turn to leave and say as I look over my shoulder at her, “My name is Keri. Stay safe okay?”
She nods, and I walk out of the bathroom. Thankful, as I duck and weave through the throng of people in the hallway that we don’t have to carry books around.
The only reason I’m avoiding most of the attempted shoulder checks—a result of the bathroom incident I’m sure—is because of the training Ciar made sure I received. Reflexes honed from avoiding, or trying to avoid, his attacks. Otherwise the floor and I would be intimately acquainted.
It’s rather childish when you think about it. Most of the people trying to knock me about are adults in their twenties. Very immature adults and without lumping them into stereotypes, spoiled rich adults. Apparently, I’m going to get the high school experience at twenty-five.
The more logical, less bitchy part of me chastises the ‘I don’t wanna’ part, Oh, stop whining about it and just keep going, the day is almost over. Sighing, I keep mucking along.
Music class is on my schedule next, which makes me momentarily think of the violin I stuffed in the janitor’s closet. Which causes guilt to niggle at me. With a little bit of effort, I shove it aside. I can deal with that mess later. This is the one class I’m genuinely looking forward to and I don’t want anything to color it. I can’t sing to save my life, but I love all types of music.
Powerful spells can be wrapped up into the notes of music. Not that the ability to do such spell-work is a skill of mine but there’s no harm in attempting to learn about it, so I chose the class.
The best in it will obviously be the Sirens. Music is their thing after all but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.
Thankfully once we’re settled in I’m not called to do anything but Ciar is chosen instead and he can sing like a god. The song he picks surprises me. It’s one of my favorite songs, a poignant, soulful song about a river who loves a woman. The magic he is weaving with his voice calls to me.
My eyes burn, and hastily I blink the tears away. He paid more attention than I realize and for some strange reason that fact makes me want to cry.
The sound of applause pulls me back from overly emotional response.
The teacher, Ms. Cobbleson, says, “That was absolutely beautiful. I will most definitely have you play again in the future, Ciar.” Given the way she’s looking at him, the piano isn’t the only thing she wants him to play. I snort at my own thoughts while she continues, “Now, as you all know—except for our two new members—I will be putting you in pairs. I want you to write the music for a creative dance.”
Crap. Who will I be paired with? I look at Ciar who is looking at Ms. Cobbleson intently. The feel of his magic in the air raises goosebumps on my skin. I see that decision is already made.
As soon as the slightly glazed look leaves her face she says, “Miss Nightshade, do you mind being paired with your,” she squints at Ciar closely trying to see a resemblance, “relative?” I cough to cover a laugh.
“That’s fine,” I answer quietly, while my tension eases. Ciar and I have never danced, he’d been a wolf/dog most of my life, but I’ve danced many times before. Including with partners. I’ve learned some of the new dance styles as well, I’m Fae after all, we love to dance.
But it’s usually a prelude to something more… intimate.
I take in the other people around me and the disappointment written on their faces because they weren’t partnered with Ciar, is funny and eye rolling at the same time.
Yeah, I feel you—he really is pretty.
The reality of the situation hits me, I’ve got to dance with Ciar. I’m going to be body to body with someone I, may or may not, have a wicked crush on.
Well, fudge.
The smile he gives me is pure wolf and Lord of the Hunt. The feeling rising in me floods into my eyes. I smile back at him with all my teeth. I almost forgot in the newness of this place and in the sadness of leaving home. I’m Fae. I’m family to the Sluagh, I’m a child of the Dark Forgetful Forest.
Dance challenge accepted, Ciar. To top it off I wink at him.
The rest of the day passes rather as expected. By the time I drag myself back to our room I’m absolutely fed up with people. I’m sick of them staring at me and disgustedly tired of them gawking at Ciar. In our last class, one Djinn girl had the audacity to sit right on his lap, uninvited.
Ultimately, she ended up on the floor but it’s a point of principle.
I also didn’t make a new friend when I laughed at her. Or the next woman to have a trip to the floor for draping herself across his shoulders. She ended up getting the crap scared out of her too.
Do any of these Fae understand their own natures at all? They seem to have the lots-of-sex part down pat, but the intricacies involved with other things seem to be lost on them.
If a Fae—especially one like Ciar—is interested in someone there’s no subtlety about it. He’ll doggedly pursue his chosen partner and when he catches them he’ll either do them or eat them. Maybe both.
But if there’s a romantic intent he’ll feed them, he’ll do little things to care for them like… lick their hands clean. My eyes jerk to his. He’s sitting on his bed across the room from me—shirtless—staring. Those eyes of his lit up like green torches.
As a shiver runs down my spine I ask, “Ciar, are you courting me?”
With animalistic grace he slides to his feet and crosses the room, prowling towards me like he owns the world—wearing those well-fitting jeans, riding low on his hips. I can’t help but appreciate what I’m seeing, a lot.
Leaning down he places a hand on each side of my hips. Bringing his face so close to mine I can feel his breath on my lips. Feel the heat pouring off his body. Even if I wanted to, I can’t control my body’s reaction to his proximity. Straight lust flashes through me like a forest fire.
“Are you ready for that bond, monster girl?” His nostrils flare, scenting my reaction to him.
The heat rises to my cheeks but I keep my eyes on his. I will not cower or be ashamed of how this makes me feel. “Bite away,” my voice wavers slightly, exposing my false bravado.
Smiling, he rubs his cheek against mine and dips his head to my shoulder. The sealing of his hot mouth against my skin is pure bliss. Enhanced because he’s choosing to let this be purely pleasurable.
I’m Fae, pain and pleasure are intertwined in our world so his teeth sliding into my skin is one-hundred percent sexual. The first draw of blood he takes from me, orgasmic. A moan escapes me before I can catch it. His teeth dig deeper into my body, his weight pushing against me until I’m lying back on the bed with him draped over me. His body fits snug between my open legs. My hand digs into his soft hair and pushes his mouth closer to me.
Instinctually, I rub my face on his shoulder, tasting his skin with the tip of my tongue. Hesitating only a second, I bite into it and the essence of Ciar floods my mouth. His blood tastes like moon lit nights and waterfalls, the crisp clean air of the forest. He tastes like… home.
His flesh rips as he tears it from my mouth. Instantly my body feels the loss of him. Taking several deep breaths in an attempt to calm the confusing emotions rolling through me I push myself up on my elbows to study him. He’s standing several feet from me in the sudden unnaturally dark room. Those green eyes glowing eerily in the sudden darkness of the room, are the only parts of him I can see.
“Ciar?” He growls, when I speak his name.
Goosebumps rise on my skin because of the way he’s looking at me. I feel his intent before he moves and tense in preparation, I have
no desire to stop him.
In a flutter of leather wings mini-Zag is between us, roaring at Ciar. Ciar who looks more monster than man and… holy meatballs is he beautiful. Those inhuman eyes are blazing with hunger, hunger for me.
“Regain your control, dark lord!” Zag yells at him, standing his ground against Ciar, who is pacing side to side looking for a way to get around Zag and to me. I want him to get to me, to become part of me.
Something loosens inside of me and shakes free. Pain lances through my head, laying me flat on my back from the strength of it. My back bows as my body convulses from another wave of pain.
“She has claimed you. Hold her!” Zag orders, sounding muffled and distant, like he’s at the end of a tunnel.
With effort I force my eyes open to see Ciar’s face above mine. I feel the steel of his arms wrapped around me and holding me tightly to him. A clawed hand lashes out at him. Calmly he takes the assault as jagged cuts open up on his face and then just as quickly heal, leaving slashes of blood in their place.
Fighting the magic force holding me, I reach up to touch his face and his eyes meet mine. That’s when I see the claws and realize that the hand that damaged him belonged to me… but something isn’t right, none of this is right.
I need something to make this awful burning fade. To take the wrenching pain away. “Please, Ciar… I need…”
‘Shh, my monster girl. I’ll take the pain away.’ His voice in my mind is like a soothing balm.
And when his mouth descends and merges with mine—all sharp teeth and tongue—the pain recedes. Leaving the feeling of relief and arousal in its wake. On his tongue I can taste the tang of my blood. I can taste the power of Ciar, the Lord of the Hunt and feel him in every beat of my heart.
With one last deep kiss, he pulls away from me.
“Sleep.” His magic weaves around me, a lullaby to my senses.
My eyes are getting heavy and I fight to keep them open. My gut is telling me that something will be different when I wake up, something important.
“They will hear that summons, my lord. She has claimed,” loud heartbeats in my ear drown out the words, “earlier than expected.”
The smell of him surrounds me so I burrow in deeper, needing to be close to him. “Do you have any idea of the others? You are the…” soft lips on my forehead and my cheek, the edge of my mouth. “These foolish mortals in this place should be treating her with proper…” hot mouth on my own and the taste of forest floods me. I open to it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. More, I need more, but the warmth pulls away from me.
“They will not be the only ones to sense her, others will come and try to claim her.” Not that Zag’s words are making a lot of sense but that last part I understand perfectly. No one will claim me unless I allow it.
So, I let them know that in no uncertain terms, “I will… feed them to…. Ciar.”
Two masculine chuckles follow me into oblivion.
Fairy roses, Fairy rings , turn out sometimes troublesome things. ~William Makepeace Thackeray
I wake up in my own bed with the blanket pulled up to my chin. Someone tucked me in like a child. Shaking my head, I sit up, rubbing my forehead to try and ease the pounding inside of my skull. Before I do anything else, my bladder needs to be appeased and my mouth tastes like something died in it. Ugh.
Climbing slowly to my feet I stumble into the small bathroom attached to the room. After taking care of nature’s necessities, I brush my teeth, twice, and wash my face. Feeling a little better, I check the time, only to discover that it’s almost noon.
“Crap. Crap. Crap,” I grumble, as I run around trying to get dressed for the rest of my classes. I don’t want to disappoint Nagan by getting thrown out this soon or failing because failing is worse.
“You have been excused from classes today, mistress. My lord took care of it earlier.” Zag’s voice startles me so hard I fall over with one leg in my jeans.
Giving up a little on life, I lay there as bits and pieces from the night before come back to me with blinding clarity.
“Where is Ciar?”
Zag pads over to me to look down into my face and with quite a bit of amusement, says, “he is getting you food.” May the gods bless Ciar for that.
Closing my eyes, I try to remember everything that happened, because it’s important to remember and I know this. “Zag?”
“Yes, mistress?”
Is that guilt I see in my familiar’s eyes. Why yes, yes, it is.
“Who was I going to feed to Ciar?” I can feel Ciar drawing closer, feel his heat, his heartbeat.
Well, fudge.
“Whoever you want.” Ciar’s voice—at least—doesn’t startle me. At this point, I don’t even care that I’m lying on the floor in my underwear with my jeans only on one leg. Not after what transpired the night before. “What are you doing, monster girl?”
All his attention is on me and it’s much more intent than his nonchalant question implies. Rolling over, I gain my feet and pull the jeans off, tossing them onto my bed. Crossing to the small dresser we share, I dig a pair of yoga pants out. This is definitely a comfy pants day. I slide them on quickly still feeling him watching me.
“I smell coffee,” I say instead, turning to smile at him.
Amazingly he smiles back, and it’s a smile that transforms his entire face. For a gaping-mouth minute I stand there and drink it in. Because that smile is genuine because his emotions are bleeding into mine. Amusement… arousal.
What the heck?
Mentally shaking myself I take the offered coffee, already knowing by the smell it has sugar and cream in it. Ciar knows me so well and a sip lets me know exactly how well.
Gods, it’s perfect.
“So, what exactly happened with my biting you?” I can hear the tick of the ceiling fan because the room is so quiet. “Well?” I prompt, pinning Zag to the floor with my gaze. He shuffles a little.
“You claimed him,” he finally answers. Wait, what?
“Claimed? How is that different than a normal bond?”
“Well,” his beseeching gaze turns to Ciar, “a little help here, my lord?”
Ciar hands me a brown bag that smells heavenly, almost as good at the coffee. Taking it, I flop onto the bed and dig through it with glee. My mouth is watering from the smell of the sandwiches inside of it. I begin stuffing big bites of one in my face while I wait for an answer to my question.
Fluffy growls from under the bed. I climb off the bed to look under it and laugh when I see how big he has grown in just twenty-four hours. He’s already as big as Zag’s mini form. I feed him the bacon off my sandwich.
“That piglet has already eaten today,” Zag comments from beside of me.
“I’m still waiting.” I’m not the most patient person, especially with something like this.
“You made out with me,” Ciar says, sitting on my bed a mere foot from me.
“Nu uh, you made out with me first.” The maturity of that statement is incredible. Go, me.
“So, you’re not denying you made out with me?” He teases, completely deflecting my questions.
Seeing that he isn’t going to answer my questions I shove the rest of the sandwich in my mouth to keep from talking. Nothing I can say at this point would get me out of this mess, considering I like the making out part… looking at him through my lashes I realize that I kind of want to make out again. His gaze jerks to me and his eyes burn as they search my face.
Flipping bond, he knows exactly what I’m feeling.
Climbing hastily to my feet I go to the bathroom to wash my hands, needing something to do besides stare at him like a lovesick idiot. Love? Yes, love. I love them all, including him, as family, yeah? Frowning I dry my hands and flick a glance at him. Yeah?
The answer smacks me in the face. I won’t lie to myself.
“What has you thinking so hard, monster girl?”
“My period is late. I’m wondering if maybe my last litt
le romp resulted in a mini—womph—” The ground is suddenly farther away because I’m dangling by an arm from a large clawed hand, while wolfy-dog man sniffs my stomach. “I’m joking you idiot, put me down.” With a huff he drops me to land lightly on my feet.
“That was not amusing,” I laugh at the annoyed tone of his voice, it’s hilarious. “Children are to be protected and cherished, a child of yours will be doubly so.” Well fudge, that’s all noble and sweet and stuff.
I don’t know what to say to that because it speaks of intimacy that I’m still reconciling, and because I have no idea what to say to that I go and tuck myself away in the window alcove to read a book, or at least pretend to. I’ll never admit to him how many times I look at him throughout the day.
I’m pretty sure he catches me most of them, then again, he’s looking at me every time I look up at him, so what does that say?
Between the worlds of men and make believe I can be found. ~ Dan Fogelberg, Scarecrow’s Dream
A cringeworthy noise drags me from the pleasurably enjoyable dream. Covering my ears, I sit up in the darkness and look for the offensive source of it, however, when I discover it I sigh and lay back down.
The flipping violin is on the dresser next to my bed, glowing a pale eerie blue in the darkness, its strings moving to a phantom bow that’s making sounds like someone strangling a Boggart.
Determined to not acknowledge the persistent thing I roll over and shove the pillow on my head hoping the fluff will block it out. The violin only gets louder. Gods that’s an awful noise.
“Okay! Fine!” I throw the pillow aside and get up gracefully tripping over Fluffy who’s laying on the floor next to my bed. Fighting to regain my balance I careen right into a warm, solid very male chest.
Well, hello there Ciar.
“What are you doing, Keri?” His warm hands grasp my shoulders.
His touch is nice and it’s hard not to lean further into it. A fact that has nothing to do with the bond or whatever mojo is going on, it’s quite simply because I like him.
