by Zoe Parker
She is in the practice area, barefoot in the snow, her Fiend weapons glowing in the night. Her stance is somewhat tidy, her footwork precise. The blades flash out in blurring speeds, moving in the identical motions I practice with her.
Propping my hip against the fence, I let my shadows fall and I watch her. She knows I am here now; I saw the flashing of her eyes over her shoulder.
Watching the steam rise from her moving body, watching the way she moves… I decide I am not longer content to be a bystander.
Walking across the clearing to her, I let my own sword materialize and I take a stance in front of her. Teeth flashing, she smiles and lunges right at me. The dance begins between us. But this time it is not me teaching her, it is her showing me what has been taught.
I am a good teacher.
There are things she throws in there I did not teach her. That makes me have to work a little to stay out of the reach of those blades. I smile. I am proud of her.
Flipping backwards to avoid a swipe of my sword, she laughs as she rolls around in the snow. Studying her, my feet subconsciously bring me closer to her.
I blame the soft feelings she evokes in me when I kneel in the snow next to her. I blame the way she makes my heart beat faster when I do not move out of the path of the snowball she hurls at my face. I blame this bubbly feeling she raises in me for grabbing snow and packing it into a hard ball and lobbing it back at her.
Like children we begin this thing they call a snowball fight. And it is… fun.
“So, when you gonna tell me where you’ve been going?”
And there it is.
“Patrolling,” I answer.
The look on her face speaks plainly of her disbelief, but she does not push it. Knowing her, she will follow me next time.
That does not surprise me.
“The humans are being quieter than I expected them to be. Any idea why?” she asks flopping down in the snow beside of me.
“Perhaps. What is this about a big bird that has Jameson in such turmoil?”
She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question. And as far as the bird, I’m going to cook it for the Thanksgiving.”
Iza’s cooking is dangerous to everyone.
“I used the Google God and found out that the biggest bird in this world is called an ostrich. It’s not as big as a dunlick from Juras, but these birds here are dumber. There are a lot of jokes about them burying their heads in the sand.”
As she talks, I check over her body. She is covered in mud and snow and spots of red here and there from where I nicked her. With a growl of frustration, I grab her and sling her over my shoulder.
Giggling she beats on my back but there is no real strength behind it.
Moving through the Sidhe I take her to her room and dump her on the bed. She kicks out at me and I dodge to the side.
“Take care of yourself. You are bleeding and—”
The impact of her hitting my chest automatically brings my arms up to cup her hips. Her legs are around my waist, her arms locked around my neck.
“Iza.” That is all I say, her name. But there is a wealth of meaning in it.
The smell of her, all wet from snow and mud, fills my senses.
“Phobe, go shower, you stink.” Then she slides down my body and goes into her own bathroom.
Leaving before I do something I want to do—but know I should not do—I head towards the room the Sidhe made for me. I only use it to shower and think; but otherwise, I spend my time doing other things.
I remove my clothes as I walk through the large bathroom, I need the shower. The water will come on automatically and is always the perfect temperature. Climbing under the hot streams of water, I rest my forearms on the wall and relax.
Only to immediately tense when I feel Iza coming. What is she up to? I hear the bedroom door shut, footsteps leading to the bathroom door. I frown as the other noises coming from her register in my mind.
Was that a zipper? Clothing rustles as it hits the floor.
The shower door opens and Iza steps inside, magnificent in her nudity. She smiles and says, “You want me to wash your back?”
I straighten, absolutely stunned.
Her face turns a very pretty shade of pink. “I mean, you were covered in mud and stuff. I thought maybe you’d want help getting clean.” She is offering much more than a shower.
I cross the small space between us and stare at her, unable to find one coherent thought in my head. All I can think, see, feel is Iza standing there offering me something I have waited on for so very long.
Every single inch of her body is forever in my memory, but this time is different. I study her face closely. Is she ready for this?
Then she takes the choice completely from me. She steps forward and softly kisses my chin then my bottom lip. Watching my eyes closely, she licks that same lip.
Her eyes flash and she bites me, hard. My body instantly responds. I stand stock-still letting her experiment. Her little bite made me hard as a rock in two seconds.
She licks my lip again. ‘Touch me everywhere, Phobe.’
At her words, I tense even more. If she needs gentleness right now, I cannot give it to her, not with sex. Maybe not really with anything. I have wanted to be inside of her so badly, for so long, my own nature will work against me.
‘Iza, I-I cannot be gentle.’ Hell, I am stuttering like a school boy. In my long life I have never felt as unmanned as I feel right now.
She smiles again, showing me all those sexy sharp teeth. She opens her mind completely to me. I rush in, eager to know why she chose to do this. Her thoughts quickly fill my mind.
That is all the answer I need.
Her eyes bleed to black, shining in the semi-darkness of the shower. I can clearly see my own reflecting in hers. I can also see the heat and want in her dark eyes matching my own staring back at me.
I pin her against the shower wall. My nostrils widen, filling with the scent of her arousal. God, she smells so good. My body slides down her water-slicked one as I drop to my knees.
I want to taste her. Need to.
She is so short I push her up, so I can see the core of her. The view is hot enough to make me almost fuck her right then. With my tongue, I trace a path from her thigh to the inside of her leg, nudging her thighs apart. I let my tongue slide against the heat of her, the very center of my Iza. She moans as one of her hands buries itself in my hair. And she pulls, hard.
Iza tastes like darkness, sweet, seductive darkness. My long tongue slips up inside of her, trailing over her little nub as I withdraw it. She whispers my name.
The sound of it, thick with passion, sends a shiver through me.
I want to pleasure her this way, but I want to be inside of her when she climaxes. The undeniable need had to have her around me is a desire I will no longer deny.
Standing, I lift her roughly by her ass and guide her legs to encircle my waist. I bury my tongue in her mouth the moment I bury my dick as deep inside of her as I can go. She is wet and so fucking tight. I moan in her mouth.
Tearing my lips from hers, I take deep breaths against the wet skin of her neck, biting and kissing it, as I fuck her as hard as I can.
Iza is the only creature I can fuck this way. Love this way.
Every thrust takes me all the way to her core, to her womb. Her claws dig deep into my shoulders and back, adding to my excitement. She is panting my name, her cries getting louder and louder as she gets closer and closer. I watch her face, watch how her mouth hangs slightly open, her lips still bloody from my kisses. I cannot look away from how her eyes are half closed as she moans my name over and over and over.
Vaguely, I am aware of the Magikal storm our passion is forming, but damned if I care at the moment. We are surrounded by a bubble of black power. This moment will change something, seal something, lock in that last little bit that needed to cement our bond.
“Oh god, Phobe—don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”
H
er body tenses in my arms as I feel her warm liquid heat surround me as she comes. Feel her muscles squeeze me so tight it sends me over the edge of my own orgasm. I roar as I lose myself deep inside of her and swell, locking us together as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through me.
Resting my head on her shoulder, breathing heavily, I fight for control. That is the most pleasurable experience I have ever had in my life. I rest my chin on her hair.
Time is no longer trackable as I stand there listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat slow to normal. My eyes are closed, every nerve-ending in my body hyper-sensitive.
Slowly, I soften enough to pull myself out of her and set her gently on her feet. I look down at her, down at the one thing in any world that I cannot be without. Will not be without.
She opens her black eyes and looks at me with a look so fathomless I feel myself sinking into it. A drop of blood weaves its way down her chin, to be carried away in the spray of the shower.
I jerk my eyes away from hers and study the damage I know I did to her body. Her shoulder has healing bite marks, big ones. I know my claws dug into her bottom, causing her to bleed there too. I wait for her to get angry for my roughness.
Not to mention how tender she must be inside.
“That was amazing. Can we do it again?”
At her words, I feel the smile blooming on my face. Pulling her directly under the spray of hot water, I kiss her. Then I make her stand there while I wash every single luscious inch of her.
It is a long time before we get out of the shower.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Iza
During peaceful moments like this, I keep expecting to wake up and find myself still in a prison—starving, angry, and waiting for the next beating. Waiting for the pain that comes after the sound of feet in the hallway.
I often wonder why they hadn’t killed me way sooner.
Somehow, I know it’s connected to this prophecy I’m… well—living. This prophecy that puts me in a place that, honestly, I don’t really know what to do with. Yes, the Dark and my own instincts guide me often, but they’re not what ultimately makes the decision.
These instincts help shape them but the Dark itself brings out the more—bossy part of me. The controlling part. It’s the deeper part of me that feels like the Feyrie are mine and somehow, I’ll restore them, my people to their rightful places.
My life shaped me into who I am. Between it and what I am now, it will ultimately shape into whatever type of person I’m supposed to become.
Who I will be for him.
It seems since I woke up that first night in the cell next to him, it’s been one crazy moment after another. One more person doing something horrible, or trying to kill me or someone I care about. Yet each of these moments led me to this man beside me. Led me to the man I don’t know how to live without. Can’t live without.
I sigh and relax against him. Every single moment that was painful, scarring… is worth what I have right now. Worth these arms of his wrapped around me like they are now. I wouldn’t change a bit of it, it’s worth the time I’ve spent with this scary, quiet, beautiful man.
Before him I never knew an honest touch, never knew there can be something soft between two people. Before him I didn’t know what it’s like to—love. No, more than love.
Something that there isn’t even a word for.
It’s he that awakened this emotion in me. He that gave me the ability to freely love my father, and all the rest of them tied closely to me. If not for him, I would still be dead.
A dull ache takes up residence in my head as the music that the Sidhe speaks to me with sends a sour note. The next notes are of confusion.
I sit up in bed, concerned.
Somehow, something just hurt the Sidhe.
“Iza?”
“We’re under attack,” I answer.
Then Phobe is gone, moving so fast I can’t follow him.
Dragging on clothes as I run towards the front of the Sidhe, I’m hit with another sour note. The Sidhe is fighting to protect itself. So I lend it what I have to give too.
How dare they!
It’s someone outside. Someone who can hide from me and the Sidhe. How fucking powerful are they to be able to do that? The answer comes swiftly and makes my stomach turn.
As strong as Phobe.
Running to the front room and out the door, I’m surprised to find absolutely nothing but snow and trees. What the hell? There is no one out here.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stops.
The entire building sighs with relief. The attack has stopped.
“Iza? What the hell was that? My bedroom disappeared,” Jameson says from inside the doorway.
“Someone was attacking us. But they’re not now.”
“Who?”
“Someone outside,” I answer, looking at the thread of each being in the Web that’s on Sidhe land.
For the life of me I can’t see who did it. Everyone is loyal.
‘Phobe, it doesn’t make any sense.’ There is no way they could disappear that quickly.
‘What? Did you find someone?’ he asks appearing at my side.
‘That’s just it—I didn’t. But the Sidhe told me they were just outside of the door.’ I start pacing and thinking.
‘I cannot find any intruders, nor can the Fiends or Forlorn.’
‘That’s so strange. How does someone get away so quickly?’
‘A portal, Iza,’ he responds.
Shit. I didn’t even think of a portal.
‘Go. Rest. I will stand guard tonight.’
I make a face at him, prepared to argue. The yawn catches me off-guard, so big that it cracks my jaw. Well, there’s that. Apparently I gave more to the Sidhe than I realized.
‘Wake me up in four hours.’
Of course, he says nothing. He doesn’t say anything when I turn, unsurprised at finding him so close and I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him either. A quick kiss that no one sees. Now is not the time.
But he does smile.
Chapter Fifty
Iza
Thanksgiving is tomorrow. Which is why I’m standing outside this stinky ostrich farm waiting on the man to bring me my big bird I bought. Watching them peck at him while he goes after the biggest one in the field is mildly entertaining.
Having them peck at me because I got too close to the fence is not.
My pocket starts vibrating. It takes me a moment to figure out why. The thing rings so rarely that I forget about it unless I’m on the interwebs.
“Hello?”
“Iza, you need to get home. There’s some humans here claiming that they can take the kids.” Jameson’s voice wavers; he’s in damn near a panic.
Are you fucking serious?
Impatient, annoyed, heading towards angry, I hop the fence and go after the same bird the farmer is having no luck catching. Three quick steps and I have the stupid bird by the neck, one twist and it’s twitching in death.
I’m not leaving here without the freaking bird. Dragging it to Nika’s car, I toss it in the trunk.
“Nika, either you drive faster than a grandma or I’m driving. You pick.”
She nods at my words. It’s the fastest I’ve seen her drive.
The Sidhe is in an uproar when we get there. Outside the door are a few law enforcement officers and a couple men and women in cheap suits waving around papers. Alagard is blocking the doorway and he doesn’t look like he’s moving any time soon.
Shit.
Hopping out of the car, I jog to the front door.
“How can I help you?”
“Are you the owner of this property?” a rather round gal questions, stepping forward to stand even with me.
“You can say that. Why?”
“Are you aware that children are required by law to be in sch—”
Forcing my voice as pleasant as possible I interrupt her, “They are homeschooled. Jameson, can you please get these nice folks the paper
work we have? Do you need copies?”
That shut her up.
Jameson returns quickly, his face red from exertion and pokes his head out the door, papers in hand.
Thank god I have money. Money can buy you lots of things here. She riffles through the papers and her lips take on a more puckered look with each piece.
“Are they in order?”
“Yes, surprisingly they are,” she answers, not happy about it either.
Jameson snatches the papers out of her hands and goes back inside. Good boy.
“Now, any more questions?” I ask.
The law enforcement officers, seeing they aren’t needed, are already heading back to their cars. The other two people accompanying this woman are also walking off.
She is the last one standing here.
I lean close to her and whisper, “I know they sent you. If you aren’t gone in fifteen seconds, I’ll let them eat you.”
Her face pales and then goes beet-red. Without a word, she turns and stomps off. Yeah, my gut’s right. The humans who captured me sent her.
Dirty bastards.
Waiting until all of them are gone, I go drag the big dead bird out of Nika’s trunk and into the Sidhe, headed right for the kitchen. This visit of theirs was just a poke at me, saying “Hey, I can get to you.”
Do they realize that I can also get to them?
‘Have you been killing the humans?’ I ask Phobe.
‘Yes.’
‘Where do we need to go to kill the rest of them?’ I ask as I start to pluck the feathers out of the bird.
Some of the goblins are hovering, but they won’t step in unless I ask them to. Following the instructions on a tube video, I gut the bird—which I think I was supposed to do first—and then I dress it for the pan.
One of the goblins is crunching on one of the feet behind me. I toss the other one to him. He shares it with his comrades, giving me a happy, bloody smile. I smile back and keep trying to figure out how to fit the bird into the pan on the counter. I bought a large roasting pan. The biggest one they had.
It’s definitely not big enough. It’s barely big enough for the bird’s leg. Slowly, it starts to morph and change, finalizing into a pan that is large enough to fit the big bird. I blow a kiss in the air for the Sidhe. The goblins giggle while chewing on the legs. Sounds like they’re eating popcorn.
