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It is the destiny I acknowledge—and choose.
Instead of watching the magic of the Fae take him from me, I throw myself into my fox’s arms. The Veil stutters around us. My will to stay with him grates against his to free me.
When I was tiny, Máthair took me to a beautiful version of Peter Pan with Celtic music and magical Bunraku-style puppets floating across the stage. That’s when Neverland became my forever dream. The moment of the play I’ll never forget is when Tinkerbell is dying, and Peter says to the audience, “If you believe in Faeries, clap your hands.”
While keeping Sionnach in my grasp, I clap my hands behind his back slowly and then faster and faster.
“What’s this? In the name of my ma’s soda bread cookies, you’ve crossed over giddy to madness.”
The mention of the cookies I, too, adore strengthens the bond I feel to this man. “I do believe in Faeries.”
He captures my hands, gaze burning into mine. “I’ve told you before, I’m not a Faerie.”
I bring our hands to my heart. I’ve found my Neverland.
“But I am.”
I raise my face to his. “I believe. I believe it all, and I want it.”
Our lips find one another. Every jagged edge of mistrust between us disappears. The harmony of our spirits remains. The kiss rises in fury until I taste blood from where teeth and lips dig into each other to prove we are living things, not phantoms in destiny’s great game. We fall onto the stone seat. I’m rooted to Sionnach’s lap. His arms lock around me. My hands grip the sides of his face, thumbs sliding across those wonderful ears he’s always eager to hide.
I laugh and nuzzle his hand away when he tries to cover his ears with curls. “Don’t.” I drop tiny kisses around the curve of each non-pointed ear. “All this time, I assumed you were hiding Faerie ears.”
His hand slides under my shirt to tiptoe along my spine until his thumb dips inside the back of my jeans as he traps my bottom lip between his teeth. “I wish it were morning, so I had proper time to love you.”
“I second the wish.” I cover his mouth with mine. I will make love with him right here on the cold stones of the gate lodge. “We may never have another morning, my love.”
It’s not only lust driving me but an intense desire for my anamchara to redefine my empty spaces. Finnbheara created me for Sionnach, but I’ve become more. We’ve become more. Together we are the spectral light of the Veil. We fall together into the chasm of desire.
I run my hands under his shirt to trace the muscles of his chest, sliding fingertips down the soft auburn patch at its center. He yips when I pinch his nipples and then laughs at his surprise. His hands rediscover my body, and I moan softly when he cups my breasts. He swiftly digs under my sweater to lift me out of my bra and takes one nipple then the other into his mouth. His teeth claim and pull until I’m ripe for him to suck hard enough to send me shuddering in violent waves.
He rubs calloused thumbs over my peaks to keep me pleading for more while his ragged breath meets the skin of my neck. “Anamchara.” Here, now, then, past, present blur together as we touch and kiss and want.
I stand before him and slide my jeans and panties to my ankles. Snatching his hand, I guide his fingers between my wet folds. Quickly introducing him to another nuance of lovemaking, I ride those fingers until they find their way inside me.
Sion’s eyes widen. Between groans of disbelieving pleasure, he manages a few words. “We may not be alone for?—”
Reluctantly, I pull free before I dissolve under the sensation of Sion’s touch. Yanking his jeans and boxer briefs low enough to free his pulsing cock, I wrap my hand around it. “Remember what I said about no quick rutting?”
He releases a series of unintelligible syllables as I stroke faster and faster.
My words burrow inside breathless panting. “Sometimes…it’s…necessary.”
I lower my head to his lap and tease his tip with quick flicks of my tongue while I continue to trickle my fingertips up and down his length. I take more and more of him into my mouth, sliding my lips to replace my touch. He bucks his hips, thrusting across my tongue. When I feel his shaft begin to quiver against my lips. I give a long hard suck then release him.
In a flash, I’m on his lap, fitting my slick wanting over his hard cock. My knees grind into the stone seat, but I don’t care. We need this joining to seal the promise to stay together until the end.
Sion drives into me while he moans, “Love, love, my love,” against my ear. I thread my fingers through his hair, rocking against him as I clench around his powerful thrusts until he swells inside me and bursts with release. His cry echoes around the walls. I swallow them with a kiss then pitch my hips forward over and over, finally throwing my head back with an answering wail as I follow him into the absence of all things but each other.
We hold tight, waiting for the return of control over breath and body. Abruptly, the sun disappears behind the horizon. Its weakening light is our warning. Sionnach leans against the stones, panting. “I wish for a lifetime of days before Beltane.”
I clear a mop of curls from his eyes and trace a finger along his bottom lip. “I don’t know if this is actually the Wishing Seat.”
“It’ll do.” Sion presses his lips gently to mine and lifts me to my feet. “I’m afraid, my love, time calls us.” We’re both wobbly as our liquid limbs regain form. With gazes locked as if that will ensure we won’t be parted, we quickly reassemble our clothing. As layer after layer of shadow erases details of the gate lodge, Sionnach presses me gently against gray and black flecked stones. “I wish for time to claim your body and spirit beneath a waxing moon.”
“With a million stars to bless us.” We savor the taste of one another, demanding kiss after kiss until my blood sings with the oncoming Celtic day.
Finally, he sighs, folding me gently into his arms. “In all this misery and battle, you’re my bit of grace.”
