Max sprinted around his new backyard; his shaggy blonde hair fell into his eyes as he ran from Cilia. She paced herself and allowed the boy to take the lead. Happiness radiated from every line etched in her face. The setting sun glinted off her raven hair and tinted her skin a golden red.

Fiach and Cilia had spent all afternoon with the human child and his mother, Stella. They were celebrating the couple’s move from the hotel, where they had been staying, to the new home that Fiach had purchased for them. The house had been a gift to replace the apartment Cilia had accidentally burned down a few months before.

Max’s new puppy leapt and chased the pair as their race deteriorated into fits of laughter and finally exhaustion. Fiach carried them each a chilled bottle of water. Max wrinkled his nose at the offering, but Cilia uncapped the bottle and drank greedily.

His thirst stirred as the muscles worked in her throat. She was a Phoenix, and because of their mate bond, so was he. Their biological clocks set to burst into flames every five hundred years. Fiach had never experienced the rebirth in fire, but Cilia had convinced him it was something to anticipate.

A fine sheen of sweat glittered over her skin. His fangs distended. If they had been alone, he would have sampled the salty moisture and perhaps something more substantial. The vein in her neck pulsed; the flutter of life tempted him to taste the sweet rush of adrenaline-laced nourishment he would find there.

“Did you see that? I beat her fair and square,” Max boasted, taking a grudging sip of water.

Cilia elbowed Fiach and brought his attention to the boy and away from the temptation of her blood. “I don’t know Max; it looked pretty close from here,” Fiach replied.

Cilia shoved Fiach’s chest. He rocked back on his heels and captured her hand, pulling her in for a quick kiss before releasing his grip.

“Now, now. Let’s keep in mind there is a child present.” Cilia warned. Stella joined them on the porch and pointed at her son, who stared at them in fascination with his prepubescent interest piqued. “Sorry, Stella. We’ll behave.” Cilia winked at Fiach, who swatted her bottom as she sashayed past him to reach down and fondle the puppy’s ears.

“I saw that.” Stella chided.

“I’m sorry, Stella. I’ll try to restrain myself.” He flashed a wicked grin at Cilia then softened the smile for the human. When Cilia and Max wandered out of earshot, Fiach spoke softly. “Thank you for inviting us over. She misses you a lot, you know.”

Stella crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “I miss her too. The separation is killing Max, but she’s not who I thought she was. Not even what I thought she was. You both risked my son’s life.” She glared at Fiach. “You, in particular, bargained with a demon so you could put the moves on my next door neighbor.”

“I never meant for either of you to be harmed. Please believe that.”

One of Stella’s eyebrows rose in a doubtful expression. She watched as Max started another round of tag with Cilia. “He’s all I have in the world. If something ever happened to him...” Her voice broke. “I don’t know what I would do.”

“I understand Stella, but Cilia had nothing to do with it. The fault is all mine. If you have to be mad with someone, be mad at me.”

Stella frowned in the fading light. “I appreciate the offer, but it doesn’t work that way.” Her voice turned hard. “You have to learn that you can’t play with other people’s lives or their loved ones. Cilia explained what you both are, but that doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“Does it really bother you so much to know what we are?” he asked.

She gestured between Fiach and Cilia. “You two shouldn’t exist. I shouldn’t be able to have this conversation because you shouldn’t be real.”

He leaned against the house and crossed his arms, his stance mirroring hers. “I could say the same thing about humans. Maybe you shouldn’t exist. I was born half demon. Humans believe in those. I’m also half fae. Most human children believe in fairies.” He grinned in amusement. “You read about us in fairytales; you can’t say you were never warned.”

Stella pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. She appeared to struggle between her desire to be a good host and her instinct to put distance between her child and the danger that Cilia and Fiach represented.

Max flew past them; his puppy ran in circles around his legs. In a blur of motion, the two tangled, and the boy began to fall. He stumbled close to the heavy planters that dotted the edge of the patio. Fiach used his supernatural speed to place himself between the child and the cement containers; he scooped Max into a bear hug and brought him to his mother for inspection.

Stella reached out, but Max pushed her away and grinned sheepishly. “Thanks Fiach. Phoenix is just playing around. Mom says he’ll grow out of it eventually.”

“Phoenix, huh?” Fiach teased.

Max’s face flamed red, and his eyes shifted to some suddenly interesting point over his mother’s shoulder. Fiach had noticed that Stella and Max had been careful to only refer to the puppy without the use of a name. Now, he knew why. In Max’s idol worship, he had named the dog after his newest hero and heroine.

Fiach was amused and oddly proud that the human child thought so highly of his mate, and of him. He tousled the boy’s hair. “It’s alright Max. When I was a child, my mother gifted me a pony. I was ready to name it Aranax, after a great warlord. Imagine my surprise when I found out not only could the pony speak, but it was already named.”

Max moaned sympathetically, envisioning where the story was headed. Fiach nodded sagely and continued, “Her name was Buttercup.”

The boy’s jaw dropped. He doubled over and whooped until his laughter dissolved into hiccups. When he could manage a gulping breath, he asked, “What happened with your pony?”

“Well, it turned out the pony was actually a Kelpie. My mother kept her at a stable near the outlands of Faerie, close to where you were taken. She told me to never ride the pony near water, even if it begged for a drink.” Fiach frowned. “One day I went for a ride with some of the other fae children. It was the peak of summer, and we were all hot and thirsty. One of the other boys knew a place where we could rest our ponies and swim. I disregarded my mother’s wishes and heeded the urging of my friends instead. That was my first mistake.”

“What was the second?” Max asked, eyes wide.

“Not noticing how quiet my usually talkative pony had become. Buttercup knew she would lose my mother’s favor if she lured me to the water’s edge. If I went there on my own, and she just happened to be there when I did, she felt it was the only logical assumption that I was fair game.”

“Did she try to hurt you?” he asked.

Fiach caught Stella’s wary glance and decided to tone down the actual events of the story. Max was secure in the protective cocoon that his mother had created for him, and Fiach wanted the boy to remain there. There was no reason for Max to know that Kelpie attacks on humans were attributed to fresh water sharks since both shared the same serrated teeth. Just as there was no reason for Fiach to tell Max all he knew about Kelpie attacks from the experience.

Once a Kelpie smelt water, its skin turned adhesive and trapped the rider onto its back. It would wade into the deepest part of the stream and stay beneath the water until the victim drowned. Then the Kelpie devoured its prey. They were careful to stay near thriving streams and rivers so that fish and other wildlife helped cover their misdeeds.

Max hadn’t grown up in the same grim fairytale as he, so Fiach embellished the truth. “Actually, I remembered the warning about the time I started sticking to my pony. I called for my Mother, and she came and,” he looked away, “rectified the situation.”

“Oh.” Max said. “So it all turned out right in the end?”

Fiach recalled the memory of his water horse being dragged away in iron shackles, hobbling along to her execution. He still held Buttercup’s death as a grudge against his mother. The Kelpie had only acted as it was created to. Its only crime was its poor choice of victim.

Max poked him in the ribs with a lean elbow. “Well? Did it turn out okay or didn’t it?”

“Yes it turned out okay in the end. My mother saved me, and I learned to always look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Max shook his head. “Whatever,” he said and scampered off to catch up with Cilia.

Max had no idea how fortunate he was to grow up with a mother like Stella. The woman was all plump curves and good intentions. The kind of casual affection that the two shared was enviable, something Fiach had never known with either of his parents.

He had known all of his life that his blood was not pure. He exuded neither the icy demeanor of his mother nor the malicious tendencies of his father. He was different, and more than the full black-feathered wings on his back marked him as such.

In a desperate attempt to conform him, his mother had taught him to use glamour personally so that he could hide his wings and his nature around others of her kind as well as from those who kept his father’s company.

She was the Lady of the Sidhe court. His father was Harailt, a demon lord who took her body as punishment for offering asylum to two creatures that he wanted dead. The result of their union had been Fiach’s conception. A rare mix of genes since bedding demons was looked down upon in Sidhe society, no matter what the title. His mother’s pregnancy was something none of the fae ever talked about, which spoke volumes about how immense the blight on her reputation was, because all fae are social and thrive on gossip.

He caught sight of Cilia pirouetting away from the energetic pup. If his father knew what she was or what Fiach had become, he would gather the Morag, his personal demon guard, and kill them both. Harailt had hunted Phoenix almost to extinction. Now the burden of Cilia’s protection, as well as his own survival, rested on his shoulders.

“Is it my imagination or does she seem to touch Max more often than she did before?” Stella asked, intruding on his thoughts. “They were always close, but seeing her now, it seems different somehow.”

Cilia had been forced to abstain from physical relationships with humans. Phoenixes bond by transferring heat and energy. A lone Phoenix would have sensed the relationship between Cilia and Stella, or Max, and reached out to cement its own ties to them. The results would have drained away the humans’ life energy and left them as blackened husks consumed by Phoenix fire.

“I think they’re both making up for lost time,” he replied.

“Yes, I suppose that must be it.”

The low hum of energy that all living things exuded would always interest their Phoenixes. Now that Cilia had mated Fiach, they could share with each other and curb their appetite for life energy. They could live a more human life, something he never expected to prize so highly.

Stella glanced at her wrist and twisted the watch face upright. Fiach looked to the sky, noting the location of the sun. Dark was coming, and it was time for Max to get ready for bed.

Cilia held up her finger to indicate one more race. She lined up beside Max; Phoenix pawed at their heels. Her muffled countdown drifted across the yard. Max shot off the mark and ran with speed impressive for such a physically limited species. His coordination had improved considerably over the last few months; his gangly limbs had learned to move in greater concert even as they continued to lengthen and stretch his frame with new growth.

The pair skidded to a stop in front of Stella and Fiach, panting and out of breath. They dropped to lie in the grass and let the puppy lick the sweat from their faces.

Cilia stared into the sky. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. It’s time for you to get ready for bed Maxie.”

Stella chimed in. “She’s right, hon. You need to take a bath and wash some of the dog off of you, then it’s up to bed.”

“Aw Mom,” he groaned. “I haven’t seen Cilia in ages. Can’t she stay just a little longer?”

“No Max. If you behave yourself, we can invite them over again next weekend.”

Max rolled to his feet and helped Cilia to hers. He dusted the grass and dirt from his hands and offered one to Fiach.

“I hope you can come back soon.” The boy’s eyes sparkled. “Or maybe Mom will let me go see your place in the mountains.” He turned a pitiful expression on his mother. “I bet it’s really pretty up there, and Phoenix would have lots of room to run.”

Stella sighed. “Maybe. I still have some concerns about your safety that need to be laid to rest first.”

Max grumbled, and Stella shot him a look that would have cowed a man twice his age. “Maxwell, I said we’d see.” She softened her tone. “A night in the mountains might do your mutt some good.” The boy balked at the use of his given name then gathered her in a quick hug.

“You’re the best! Thanks Mom.” He turned to Cilia, gave her a shy kiss on one cheek, and then tossed a wave at Fiach before bounding into the house.

Max’s absence marked the first time Cilia and Stella had been alone since the humans had been rescued from Faerie.

“Thanks for inviting us over Stella. I’ve really missed you guys a lot.”

Stella nodded. “I know, but I have to be certain that Max is safe around you. He’s my baby, and I can’t let you risk his life again.” Then she turned to Fiach. “And I have to be more certain about the company you keep.”

Fiach stayed silent, knowing he deserved any harsh words or accusations she cared to level at him.

“You’re right Stella. There will always be an element of danger if you continue your friendship with us, but I like to think the benefits will outweigh the risks.” Cilia pulled her into a hug, and Stella startled, having never felt Cilia’s embrace before. “Only you can decide what’s best for your family. We will respect any decision you make.”

Fiach saw the hesitant tightening of Stella’s arms as she pulled closer to Cilia. Their friendship would survive this. He was certain of it. When they stepped apart, the human’s cheeks glistened with tears, but he was certain they were of the happy variety. Cilia looked up at him, and her eyes twinkled with tears unshed for the friend that he had almost cost her.

*

Cilia willed the moisture from her eyes and gave Stella a watery smile. “Thanks again for having us. If you need anything, you have our number.”

Fiach draped an arm across her shoulders and led her around the side of the house. She inhaled the scent of leather and clove that always clung to his skin. The scent was comforting and reminded her of home.

“I think tonight went rather well, all things considered,” he commented.

“It will take some time, but I think she’ll forgive me.” She gave him a pointed glare. “As long as no one barters her or her son to a demon again.”

Fiach chuckled, a deep bass reverberation that echoed against the cheek she rested on his shoulder. “Will I never live that down?”

“Not likely. It tends to stick in someone’s memory when they’re trapped in an alien world for weeks on end by a creature they thought didn’t exist.” She shivered. “I can only imagine what they thought of Arvel. Seeing her must have been a horror in itself.” The emaciated face and black sunken eyes had been bad enough. After Cilia burned away most of the demons skin while protecting Fiach, Arvel’s largely fleshless skull was a truly horrific sight.

Fiach shrugged. “If I said that I would undo it if I could,” he bent to brush his lips across hers, “it would be a lie. I would do it again, and much worse, if it meant the difference of having you in my life or not.” He smiled against her closed lips. “It’s a good thing you’re here to reform me from my evil ways.”

Cilia rolled her eyes. “I worry that it’s the other way around. That you’re dragging me down, instead of me shoring you up.”

He paused. “Why do you say that?”

“Because, since I met you, all I seem to think about is getting you in bed.”

He growled. “I can think of a few other places I’d like to get you.” His thumb pressed into her wrist. Whether it was to count the heartbeats or enjoy the telltale quickening of her pulse, she wasn’t certain.

Cilia cleared her throat and glanced around. They were in Stella’s driveway and within range of a set of prying youthful eyes and straining ears. “Fiach, we shouldn’t discuss this here.” She jerked her chin over her shoulder, indicating the upstairs bedroom window where the soft sounds of a television floated down to them. She was willing to bet Max was on the other side of the curtains that framed the window and fluttered periodically even without a breeze to stir them.

“Then let’s get out of here.” He released her wrist and rounded the driver’s side to slide into place behind the wheel.

Cilia took her seat and clicked the belt in place. “I thought gentlemen opened car doors for ladies.”

“I’m no gentleman,” he confessed. “But, I would gladly do it from now on if it pleases my lady.”

“Charmer,” she accused.

His wide smile flashed in the fading light. “Let’s get home Firebird. I have something I want to show you.”

Cilia snorted. “I think I’ve already seen it.”

“Perhaps.” He reached behind her seat and dropped a box in her lap. She attempted to lift the lid, and he slapped her hand away from the temptation. “Not yet; if you open it now, we won’t make it out of the driveway.”

With the lid firmly in place, she shook the box searching for clues. There was a dull thumping sound. The box itself was heavy, and whatever was inside only made a muffled thud when rattled against the thin paper walls.

“No peeking,” he scolded.

“I’m not peeking. I’ll have you know human children do this every year at Christmas and on birthdays. It’s allowable to shake the package for clues even if you can’t open it.”

“I’ve heard you can use hairspray to see through wrapping paper if it’s thin enough.”

“Really?” she asked. It did make sense. You could spray the paper until it got damp enough to see through, catch a glimpse of the gift beneath, and once dried the package would look exactly as it had before.

“I’ve never tried it, so I wouldn’t swear by it. I thought the ritual exchange of gifts was an interesting one, so I looked into it a little.”

“You’ve never gotten a present before?”

“Oh I’ve gotten plenty of gifts. Didn’t you hear me tell the humans about my first pony?” His dark laughter did nothing to assuage her. “But I have never received one freely given. Or, one that wouldn’t attempt to kill or maim me if I ever let my guard down around it.”

Cilia rested a hand on his taunt forearm. “I’m sorry Fiach. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s all right. If my mother hadn’t prepared me, then my father would have killed me to spite her.”

“So you think it’s better that your own mother tried to kill you before your father got the chance to?” she asked with incredulity.

Fiach choked on a laugh. “I have never thought of it like that.” He squeezed the hand resting on his arm before settling it back on the steering wheel. “You have an interesting perspective on my childhood. I was too busy trying to survive it to notice.”

Cilia slipped a finger between the lid of the box and the sides, careful to pry the side closest to the door and farthest away from Fiach’s keen eyes.

“Cilia,” he groaned, voice thick with hunger. “I warned you not to do that until we got home.”

The dappled sprawl of houses near Stella and Max’s new home had faded away, which left only dense foliage and towering trees on either side of the road. The city was invisible from here, too many miles away to mar the natural beauty. Only the strip of asphalt signaled civilization.

Fiach’s accelerated flight back to the cabin slowed to the speed limit as his eyes searched the darkness.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“Teaching you a lesson,” he replied absently.

Chills prickled her skin, her core flooded with desire and a rush of excitement. Fiach’s head jerked to stare at the juncture of her thighs, as though he could see her arousal through the thick denim of her jeans. He inhaled deeply.

“You always smell so sweet when you’re wet.” His eyes darkened. “I’ll never tire of your scent.”

Her cheeks burned in the night although, with his eyesight, he could easily see her embarrassment. She cleared her throat and talked past the lump that was rapidly forming there. “It’s easy to say that now. Just wait until we’ve been together a few hundred years. Then we’ll see who is committed.”

Fiach smiled, and she knew he was thinking of the Noce, the ceremony fae partners underwent to become soul bound. Fiach had only mentioned the rite once, and even then he hadn’t brought up the subject. Kathel, an emissary to his mother, had. Kathel believed it was only a matter of time before Fiach claimed her as his D’Ame. She wished she felt the same calm assurance as the great black cat. After a few months of being together, she could no longer imagine her life without Fiach in it.

The car turned onto a small dirt feeder road. They drove a few hundred yards, and it ended abruptly in the middle of nothing. Tall trees formed walls on three sides of the car. The only way to leave was the way they had come. He turned the car off and they sat for a second in silence, enveloped by the night.

He twisted in his seat and thumped the box. “Open it.”

Nervous hands fumbled the lid. Inside was something she was certain that she had never seen before: a thick leather strap with handles at both ends and padding in the middle. “Thank you?” She lifted it from the box and stretched it curiously. “What is it?”

“A new toy.”

She twisted the strap and tried to imagine a use for it, but nothing came to mind. “I give up; what does it do?”

“Why don’t I show you?” He stepped from the car and popped the truck.

Cilia climbed out and circled to the rear in time to see him pull a thick blanket from the trunk. Her stomach clinched when she realized he had planned for this outcome all along. He knew she would never make it home without sneaking a peek at her gift.

His mouth curved in a self-satisfied smile as he spread the blanket over the ground. In a flash, he willed away his clothing and stood nude before her. His shoulder length black hair was woven with ruby quills; his eyes blackened with hunger and shimmered with intensity. He dropped the glamour from his wings, knowing how she loved to see them. They stretched and flexed, fanning behind him before settling against his back once more. Black tattooed swirls dipped over his chest and stomach, curling along his side and over his back. The flushed head of his erection strained upright, almost brushing his navel.

He held out a hand for her to join him. She discarded her clothes by the car and tossed them on the hood. She took a few tentative steps, until she was close enough to take Fiach’s hand and allow him to reel her in, to press her against his chest. The hard-muscled skin beneath her cheek acted as an aphrodisiac, all on its own. His scent was intoxicating; the musky clove fragrance made her head swim.

“Are you ready to try out your present?”

She pouted. “I don’t know what it is, so I’m not sure if I want to try it out or not.”

Fiach tilted her chin up as his lips lowered to claim hers; his tongue smoothed over her full bottom lip, and his teeth nipped it as they parted. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” He dropped to his knees and patted the blanket.

She knelt beside him and waited for further instruction. He shifted her hips and pushed her in front of him; he angled her shoulders so they aligned with his. Then he pushed her down until she was on all fours and wondering what a black leather strap had to do with this particular position. It was too wide to be a whip and too soft to be anything else she could imagine. “You could have just told me how you wanted me, you know.”

“And ruin the surprise? I think you like not knowing.”

The flutters in her stomach agreed with him.

She felt the smooth slide of leather across her lower abdomen. The padded cushion rested across her pubic bone. Fiach wrapped his fingers in the handles of the strap and pulled them taunt, lifting her backwards and into his straining erection. “Oh. I um... I see,” she stuttered. The straps enabled him to impale her with much more force.

“Do you? Are you sure you don’t need another hint?” he teased as he ground his swollen cock against the crevice of her bottom.

Cilia whimpered and pushed back onto him. The air thickened around them. Their Phoenixes were rising and wanting to mate, to join in their purest, most elemental form. Fiach’s labored breathing made her own lungs burn.

“You’ll have to guide me in.” The admission was torn from between tightly clenched teeth. He slacked the strap and gave Cilia enough room to reach between her legs angle his crest to her entrance. The head of his erection parted her folds and plunged home.

She gasped; the feeling of fullness was always a welcomed shock. He tightened the strap and pulled until her bottom was flush with his skin; the invasion was so deep that she struggled against him even as he yanked her closer. The sweet burn of penetration eased, and her muscles clinched along his length, which drew a soft curse from behind her.

“You’re so tight.”

She couldn’t speak, only feel. The strap loosened as her body pulled away from his. Her body savored the slow slide of his flesh inside of hers and the sudden snap of leather as he reeled her back. He slid in deep. He tugged and released; his balls slapped against her bottom, which made her fingers itch to stroke them.

She dropped to her elbows and balanced her weight on one arm as she reached between her legs. With her free hand, she reached through to cup the heavy weight in her hand. Fiach groaned and lost his rhythm as she tugged gently on the loose pouch of skin. When he moved again, his thrusts were deeper. The sounds of flesh slapping flesh filled the otherwise silent night.

“Pull harder.” His voice was a thick, guttural caress.

She palmed his testicles--the warm flesh overflowing her fingers--and pulled harder as he propelled himself into her depths. His pace grew frantic; he buried his cock, over and over, until she was straining for more, trying to go over.

He dropped the handles and wrapped large warm hands on her hips. He rocked her onto him until the tension winding in her core released, and she tumbled over into orgasm. Fiach’s strokes forced through her tightened muscles until he shouted out and filled her with hot forceful spurts.

His fangs dropped, and he thrust once more as he bit into the vein throbbing in her neck. He could feel her uncertainty as he pricked her skin, but she rapidly replaced her hesitancy with the rush of providing for her lover as no one else could. Their bodies stilled; the final tremors relaxed away as he fed, as she arched up in offering. He suckled at her neck; the brush of his lips raised gooseflesh along her body. When he was sated, he licked the small wound and nuzzled her shoulder in silent thanks.

He withdrew from her and used the edge of the blanket to clean the fluids trickling down her legs. He dressed with a thought and helped her stand. Then he carried her to the car since her shoes were nowhere in sight. He dropped her lightly on her feet so she could dress behind the shield of his muscular body. They were in no danger of being discovered; the woods were deserted except for wildlife, and it was now full dark. No one would see, but human modesty forced her to pull on her jeans and shirt quickly and left her anxious to head home.

Inside the car, she rested her forehead on her window. The low murmur of the radio and the steady sway of the car lulled her to sleep. She didn’t wake when Fiach lifted her from the car and carried her inside. She stirred for a moment while he pulled down the bed sheets, but once she felt his familiar warmth curl around her, she fell back to sleep.