by Dani Harper
In wonder, Lissy reached out to touch one that she recognized, tracing the spiraling design from beginning to end. It glowed slightly wherever her fingertip made contact. I dreamed of you, of us. I’ve seen these, all of them. They cover your whole body, but they’re not tattoos, are they? Not ink.
No. These are ledrith, and no hand placed them there, not even my own. For those born to sorcery, each one appears when a certain complicated spell has been mastered. He took her hand and, as before, slowly drew a finger into his mouth, setting off a whole-body shiver that might have caused her knees to fail if she’d been standing. With such spells embedded into the skin, they can be enacted with a single thought, a word, a gesture. Many are weapons that require little more than reflex. It is efficient, especially in times of danger. He lifted his head suddenly, his eyes uncertain. Do they trouble you?
“Not at all. I think they’re beautiful, like artwork.” She retrieved her hand and pulled him closer. Her mouth roamed along his jawline to just behind his left ear, where the old warth scar began. He flinched when her lips first touched it—was it sensitive? Or was he sensitive about it? “History can be art, too,” she murmured, and placed soft, openmouthed kisses along its silvery length. Surprise and confusion flared in his mind, and she could feel the sheer will he exerted to permit her to do as she pleased. By the time she reached the end, just below his right collarbone, there was only a grudging pleasure, as if he had not expected to enjoy it.
Maybe she could find something else he’d enjoy even more.
“Mmm—sit back a minute,” she murmured, giving his shoulders a tiny push. Obligingly, Trahern leaned back along the bench, resting on his elbows. He watched her intently as she used her tongue to outline a serpentine design on his chest. When it ended at his bluish nipple, she was satisfied to see it quiver . . . and then she placed a firm hand on the bulge that presently nudged the vee of her legs. Squeezing gently at first, she increased the pressure until he said something that sounded suspiciously like a curse, and all their clothes vanished.
Lissy found herself with a rampant cock in her hand that might have been sculpted from alabaster. Fascination trumped surprise. His blood was blue; therefore, his sensitive parts were bluish as well, she realized. Stroking the seemingly polished head, she admired its pale-azure shade—
Until the sound of a window closing in the next house had her throwing her hands over her breasts in a futile effort to cover herself. “Omigod, the neighbors!” How could she have forgotten where she was?
Trahern sat up at once, his arms encircling her protectively. “They see nothing, not even the fire,” he reassured. “Before I began working with Fox, I shielded this place from all eyes and ears, fae or human. The spell will not fade unless I will it so.” He shrugged as he easily anticipated her next question. “Your son is asleep, and Braith is at his side. Even if they were to come outside, they, too, would see only a darkened yard. But . . . ”
Lissy looked up into his perfect face. “But what?”
“We can stop if you prefer.”
She laughed, easily reading what he’d prefer. “I want this,” she said, and kissed him slowly and deeply, even as she ran her fingers up and down his cock. “All of this.” Now.
The heat of the fire played across her naked backside as she rose and settled, as they began to move together. She spared an instant to marvel at how at ease she was with this man, as if they’d been here before, loved before, many times. And then his fingers touched where they joined, and there was no more thinking . . .
TWENTY-THREE
Thank heavens the neighbors hadn’t heard any of that. Lissy couldn’t help but grin as she stretched languidly and snuggled closer to Trahern on the feather-soft surface. The bench was gone, having been magically replaced with a broad divan in the instant that he rolled her underneath him the second—no, the third time they had come together. Her body felt gloriously well used and satisfied right down to the bone. I’m never going to be able to get this smile off my face.
She paused, wondering if Trahern had heard her thoughts, but he remained sound asleep. He’d told her that the fae didn’t need to sleep often, certainly not every night as humans did. And she knew from his memories that he seldom slept at all, spending most of his downtime searching for a way to restore his brother. He thinks the fae do not love. Considering his horrific experience with his mother, she could see where he got that idea. But Trahern’s devotion to Braith showed otherwise.
And what of his tenderness with her? There’d been enough passion between them to burn down the entire yard, yet he had been gentle and considerate. Maybe he thinks humans are fragile. I guess we might be, compared to his people. It was more than that, though. He hadn’t handled her like she was made of glass but, rather, as if she were precious.
She still didn’t know what to make of the profound connection she felt to him. How could this man, this being, be so familiar? There was nothing about him that reminded her of Matt. Was it simply that there hadn’t been anyone in her life since? Because there was no denying that the encounter with Trahern had hit her hard and fast, like an oncoming train.
Sex-deprived, she decided. It’s no surprise that I wanted to sleep with him. After all, the vibrator in her nightstand certainly didn’t stack up against a sinfully hot flesh-and-blood man. Her eyes roamed over the long, lean muscles of his arms and legs, the well-formed abs and chest, his half-relaxed cock. He was beautifully made. With his white skin and hair, he might have been a statue in repose, a work of art. A heathen god, inscribed with the strange amber symbols of another world entirely . . .
And she knew him. He was alien and other and yet inexplicably known to her heart. What she had felt when they came together had gone far beyond the physical. It made no sense at all. But then, how could anything about this situation make sense? There’s a giant faery dog in my son’s room, and here I am in bed with a card-carrying member of the Wild Hunt.
Did he feel the same? Did he feel at all?
Mentally she gave herself a head smack. Get real, Lissy. He’s Tylwyth Teg, practically an immortal. What could you be to him but a friend at best—even if it’s “friends with benefits”? Trahern would teach Fox some things, and then what? Someone who rode the sky certainly wasn’t going to stay with her in her very ordinary world.
As if to underscore that depressing thought, Ranyon’s words came back to her: I didn’t say he couldn’t break yer heart, now did I?
Damn. The smile she thought couldn’t be wiped from her face faded into something bittersweet, even as she made her decision. She’d chosen this, and she would not regret it. As for the future, she’d take what was offered for as long as it lasted—five minutes, five days, five whatever. She’d enjoy every bit of it.
And she would not hope for more.
Trahern was aware of Lissy before he opened his eyes. Her aura, warm and bright, still melded with his as she lay curled against him. He could feel the rise and fall of her breath and the soft tumble of her long dark hair on his skin. And beneath his palm was the pleasing fullness of a naked breast. It was more than pleasant to simply lie together in peace—and entirely new to him. Had he ever known a lover who lingered?
Court dalliances had always been shallow, but now they seemed vulgar and repellent. There had been other females in other parts of the realms who had not been as cold and indifferent, yet they were still self-serving. Bedding an Oaken prince was cause for a temporary elevation in status among their peers, not to mention the possibility of costly gifts they might receive. None of Trahern’s experiences had allowed him to consider the existence of love when his brother spoke of it. If not for the long-ago influence of old Heddwen, he’d be hard-pressed to believe in affection and caring, either.
Now he found himself questioning everything because of this mortal woman. He closed his eyes for a moment and simply savored the curve of her fingers around his. Listened to her steady quiet breathing and to the profound silence of her understanding. H
e waited for a revelation, for some bestowal of wisdom, a deeper insight. Anything at all . . . but as expected, he was left with only his own tangled thoughts.
He glanced up to see ash leaves silhouetted against the moon, relieved somehow that neither belonged to the Nine Realms. The flowers and plants of this human plane were not as exotic, yet they appealed to him. There were roses on the night breeze, purple evening stocks, and a type of primrose. This world is not without its charms. And the play of moonlight on Lissy’s dark curls reminded him that the most enticing of those charms was within arm’s reach. He turned and kissed her awake.
They lay tangled, still aglow with the heat of passion, and Trahern mused that perhaps they had melted together. It was difficult to discern where her skin ended and his began. Her head nestled on his shoulder, and he breathed in her scent as they talked beneath the stars.
“Why is it that I can hear you so well in my mind?”
“I do not know. Perhaps because you are a twin. Do you not speak with your brother, George, like this?”
“Yes and no. It’s not as clear. It’s more like I feel what he feels, even now that he lives in California. If we’re together, I can guess what he’s going to say.” She shrugged. “Often, we finish each other’s sentences, but that’s about it. What about you and Braith?”
“I can use mind speech with him and no one else. It is not common among the Tylwyth Teg, and I do not believe our mother ever suspected we had the ability. Sadly, the longer Braith was in the form of a grim, the less I could hear him. I do not hear him at all now.”
“But Fox can. Why is that?”
“His own gift plus the strength of his magic. As you suspected, he can speak with most living things and be understood by them. I am glad that my brother once again has someone to communicate his thoughts to, although I miss talking with him.”
“How could your mother not care about her own sons?” She sat up and circled her knees with her arms. “Surely she must have shown you some love when you were a child.”
“No. But as children, we never expected that she would.” He searched for a way to explain. “You show frequent affection to Fox and give much consideration to what he thinks. It is not so in the circles of power. Few of the Royal Court bear offspring. When they do, they are merely assets.”
“Like—like property?”
“Similar. If you are royalty or otherwise titled, children can be kept in reserve for succession.”
“With fae life spans so long, I’ll bet that doesn’t happen much.”
“True. And intent can change over millennia.”
“So now your mother sees you as some kind of threat? Who does that?”
“Such is the nature of fae nobility. If a child is not required for succession, then he or she might be used to cement a valuable alliance. I have even seen offspring from the noble houses used as trade items to barter with for other resources.”
“That’s horrible! It’s—it’s so cold. Doesn’t anyone have children for love?”
“It is not love but mutual advantage and loyalty that holds high-ranking families together.” And Trahern had been loyal to a fault: obeying, appeasing, even defending Eirianwen no matter what latest horror she had inflicted on someone else. It sickened him still. “Or so I once believed.”
Lissy was quiet for several moments. “Did you hate her?” she asked softly.
“Not growing up. Understand, I knew nothing else, expected nothing else. But later, yes. Later, when I dutifully stood in attendance at her right hand after Braith had been taken away, I hated both her and myself.” Trahern remembered wondering if Eirianwen’s enemies would someday remove her beautiful head from her shoulders—and wishing he could do it himself. “Of course, our mother is accustomed to being hated. I believe she even relishes it. To be hated reinforces her sense of power, and in the Royal Court, power is the only thing that truly matters.”
“Not to you.”
“My brother matters to me. But until Eirianwen left the palace, I had to pretend that he did not.”
“When we shared minds, I saw you do it, and I understood why. But I can’t even imagine how hard it was.” It was several moments before she spoke again. “I hope this isn’t too personal a question, but I need to know. Why didn’t you turn out like your mother? If you didn’t have love in your life, if the Royal Court is so cutthroat and callous, then how did you and Braith become decent men with a sense of honor? How did you become kind or considerate or . . . ” She struggled for words. “Or anything?”
A very good question, one he’d asked himself long ago. “If I have any sense of fairness and honor, it is no doubt due to Lord Lurien’s example.”
“I’ve heard Aidan speak highly of him.”
“The Lord of the Wild Hunt is extraordinarily dangerous, yet never without cause. The innocent have nothing to fear from him.” Unlike Eirianwen, whom everyone fears. “I have come to believe that sorcery should be like that as well. Those who taught me to wield magic—not of the House of Oak but teachers I sought out in other realms—ascribed to certain principles, even ideals.”
Lissy nodded. “Brooke has a code that she follows.”
“Exactly. Many find magic to be stronger if handled with appreciation and respect, in harmony with living things as much as possible. I think I grasped that because of the influence of old Heddwen. She was an ellyll, like Ranyon, and my twin and I were in her care from the time we were born. I saw very little of my mother—we were dressed up and shown off occasionally, but never for very long. Heddwen was the constant in our lives.”
“No wonder you seemed so happy to meet Ranyon.”
“He was not pleased to meet me. And I cannot blame him.”
“Give him some time. I think he’ll come around eventually. But right now, I want to know more about the ellyll who took care of you.”
What to say? How did you condense someone into mere words? “Heddwen was strict but fair, and she had an endless supply of stories to both amuse and teach us. Indeed, I thought of her tales much when we viewed the movie tonight. I often wondered why she stayed, as my mother did not treat her well. But then, Eirianwen treats no one well.”
“With someone like Eirianwen in charge, maybe it was important to Heddwen to try to be an influence for good on the next generation,” said Lissy. “You know, to make things better for everyone in the future.”
“I had not considered that. My mother’s main concern was that we behave properly at Court. Heddwen was tasked with instructing us in protocol, but she took it upon herself to teach much more than that. Heddwen would not tolerate unkindness or selfishness between us, and she tried hard to instill a certain respect for living things. I remember Braith being scolded severely for injuring a bird in the garden. I’d never seen her so angry. She insisted that he nurse it back to health, and it made a deep impression on us both.”
A gentle hand tugged his hair, and he looked down.
“You said love does not exist among the fae. That it’s a myth. You’re wrong.”
“Do you speak of Braith and Saffir?”
“Nope.” The moon glimmered in her dark eyes as she held his gaze. “I’m talking about you. We’re not so different, you know. We both have people we love very much and we’d do anything to protect. You watch over your brother like I watch over Fox. You would give your life for him. In fact, you already have. I can’t even imagine the number of years you’ve spent trying to find or create a cure for him.”
“Loyalty binds us together,” he began—then saw in her eyes just how foolish that sounded. It suddenly seemed foolish to him as well. Whatever he felt for his twin, loyalty was far too weak a word.
“And didn’t you ever think that maybe Heddwen loved you? That she stayed because she cared for you and your brother? You miss her. I can see it.”
“It was . . . difficult to be without her. She was the first to recognize that magic had come to me and encouraged me to learn. My very first spell was one that she t
aught me. I owe her much.” He managed a smile, for Lissy’s sake and to honor Heddwen.
“So where is she now?”
I wish I knew. “My brother and I were old enough to be presented at Court, that we might be officially named by Eirianwen as her heirs. There was a ceremony and a grand gala, and we were gone for several suns. When we returned home, Heddwen was gone. Simply gone, as if she had never been. I am certain my mother was responsible, but she would not reveal what became of her. Nor have I ever been able to discover the answer.” Braith and I missed her sorely.
“Was it when . . . ” Lissy trailed off, but he already knew what she was asking.
“It was just before that cursed day, and I know not if she escaped.”
“I’m so sorry.” She slid her arms around his waist and held him. Simply held him. As when they coupled, her bright aura infused his with warmth and something more . . . Trahern gave in to the temptation to rest his cheek on the soft curls of her long dark hair. It was strangely comforting, though he had never been comforted before. The ancient travesty was unchanged, yet Lissy’s closeness allowed him to breathe in a sort of peace along with her scent.
A tiny trio of green shooting stars careened across the blue-black sky.
“Did you make a wish?” she asked.
“I do not understand.”
“It’s traditional to make a wish when you see a shooting star. You know, wish for something you really want. A heart’s desire.”
Trahern stared at the sky for a long moment. “I would wish for my brother to be free of his curse. I would wish for all of Eirianwen’s terrible deeds to be undone.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Close your eyes. Then draw the energy to you.”
“Dude, do I have to close my eyes every time? It’s boring.”
Trahern directed a look at Braith. The big dog stretched out in the ivy-laden corner of the yard, watching with what looked suspiciously like amusement. Fox’s expression changed with his brother’s unspoken cue, however, and Trahern knew they communicated. It was hard not to feel a pang of—what? It wasn’t envy so much as a wistful sadness that he couldn’t hear Braith’s words in his own head anymore. I miss it . . . I miss him.
