Page 29 of The Fae’s Treasure

Chapter Nine: Lovers

Bonwit and half of Pine Ridge’s Night Watch, a group of concerned supernatural citizens, are on guard outside my house. Rory’s bassinet is in my bedroom. Sprite is outside, in Bonwit’s arms, and Bonwit and I have made peace after he apologized for breaking in to steal Rory (with good cause) and I apologized for beating the hell out of him (also with good cause).

Where am I? Showering properly for the first time in three days. Shaving my legs.

In case.

When I reappear, wrapped in a thick navy blue towel that does nothing attractive, I try to sneak over to my dresser to get my pajamas, but I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of Dairmuid holding Rory in the crook of his arm, a sliver of the Fae realm showing above their heads.

Liar. Betrayer. Everything in me freezes as I think Dairmuid is about to pop my son away from me, and some part of me thinks he has the right. That he’d be safer there, and that the only thing stopping me is pride and selfishness. And love. I love him so much, so fast. Already.

But all those pretty words Dairmuid said about staying here. I can’t even scream, I’m so upset. My throat is too thick with anger and grief.

It’s a good thing I’m still, because it forces me to stop and actually listen.

“See, Rory? So you see the stars there? Watch Dada move them. Oh.. Ohhh. Oh! There we go. Now the constellations are right for an autumn night. But it’s a bit too warm. Look at how rosy the sky is there. We must take the winds, and blow them colder. Makes the corn a little sweeter, and the caterpillars’ fur that much thicker. One day, you will learn these things. But first, you and I will have to learn to do that anchoring spell someone spoke of during dinner. You were asleep, wee one, but they explained it. We must do it just right, to make sure we are bound to Mommy. Yes. Yes! To Mommy!” Dairmuid’s voice goes from soft and mystical to bright and playful, and he spins the baby around as the little sliver, the peephole between dimensions, vanishes. “Do you think Mommy would look pretty in a green dress, with a crown of autumn leaves in her hair? Hmm? I surely doo-oh! Lady Deanna!” Dairmuid blushes and glares. “You were not there!”

“I have been here. That’s ... That’s pretty complex magic, Dair. Can you do that?”

“I will need help.” He makes a sour face. “I now understand the syndrome you spoke of, the one where you do not like to ask for help. It is unpleasant for a fae with many powers to do such things. But! Ah, I am willing to, because the need is great and the cause is just.” He hands me Rory and lightly kisses both of our foreheads. “There is nothing I would not do for my son and his true mother.”

I swallow. The words I need to say are hard to gouge out. “You should take him to the fae realm if he’ll be safe there. It’d be... It’d be for only a few days in our time, right?” I say brightly, forcing myself to smile. “Then, if Saz comes here—”

“I doubt she would. She would know that he was gone from this place, so then she’d try to get into my realm. She wouldn’t succeed—not easily, not without some unknown feats of magic or power.” Dairmuid gently pushes my wet hair back from where it’s falling over my shoulder. “The only way to break the bond that she has with him is to make you his mother officially. Fae law recognizes it already. The other laws of blood and magic must be taught to recognize it, too. I am thinking, Lady Deanna, of just the right bargain, the unbreakable sort of bargain that has no other interpretation, that will safeguard all three of us from her machinations. Something deep. Eternal. Permanent. Something demons or angels can’t argue with.”

I nod, lips parted slightly as he makes his speech. Such a beautiful, eloquent speech.

Why does some stupid, secret longing make me dream of a beautiful life with him? A life with little suburban things like play dates and choir potlucks, our little townhouse community and seeing Rory make his first trip down the slide mixed together with a life with magic, and someone eternal, someone powerful, where other realms rip open in my living room and gold coins pop out of pockets, and someone... Someone who looks like a literal fairy prince can’t take his eyes off of me.

“You are wet. I shouldn’t have handed him to you. Here, I will put him down in his bassinet while you dress,” Dairmuid whispers.

“Oh. Uh. Yes.” I blush, realizing how close we were, remembering how his kiss felt.

Not like Aaron’s kiss. Not like anyone else’s kiss.

Addictive. Powerful. Beyond what a human should experience, something that felt pure and powerful in all the most sinful ways at once.

To be blunt, sex was always about intimacy, and it felt “good,” but one single kiss with this Mr. Sex-on-an-Autumnal-Stick Fae was “fantastic.” F for Fantastic. F for Fae. F for family, feral, feelings, and that other F-word I’m going to cut down on now that I have tiny ears listening.

I’m going to need another shower. A long-term relationship with a nice Midwestern robotics engineer didn’t prepare me for the level of “Instaslut, just add fae” that I am feeling.

With a shake, I move on to my dresser, and Dairmuid walks around the room with Rory, murmuring a beautiful lullaby to him. While I find the pajamas I wanted originally, Rory falls swiftly to sleep.

“I’d accept your bargain,” I whisper. “I’d do whatever it takes to keep Rory safe. Even if I... I know Saz doesn’t want my soul, but if I could trade it to save him—” I can’t keep talking. I can’t explain the pain that breaks everything in me when I think about losing Rory. But knowing he’s safe and happy instead of hunted is a different kind of pain, a pain with hope. “I love him already,” I finally whisper. “He’s my... He’s mine. He’s my little boy. He feels like it. I...”

“Shh. You’re crying again, and you’re still wet. Cold. That won’t do for the mother of my child. And you are. You are in the laws of nature. I cannot tell you how many times a wild fowl rejects a chick, and I have placed it under another broody bird, who never questions. How some squirrels toss the runt of their litter away, and another mother seizes it and carries it away with her little ones. It is the same with sheep and goats. It is not supposed to be this way with humans or immortals. We should want to love what we’ve created—but Sazara and her kind... They don’t create. They kill and destroy.” His hand strokes my face. Lifts it. “You make so many beautiful things. Music. Family.”

“You make me want to make a family,” I whisper, and immediately bite my lower lip hard enough to taste blood.

Yes, sure, I want kids. Someday. Rory’s arrival just sped “someday” up pretty dramatically. I didn’t mean that I necessarily wanted another baby—but right now, standing in nothing but a towel with Dairmuid leaning over me?

My hips loudly proclaim that they wouldn’t mind practicing.

Dairmuid’s mouth descends on mine, and his shoulders shrug once, and his shirt and cloak are gone.

Sweet J.S. Bach, the shoulders on this man. The pectorals. He’s like moonlight poured into muscle, and my insides go from gooey to straight liquid, a warm, silken rush that I’ve never felt before.

“I told you I would help you with anything you wanted, my lady,” he whispers between kisses, wings spreading out behind him now, catching the low lights of my bedroom, sparkling like opals in the room where we’re safe.