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He hadn’t realized he was. Didn’t want to hurt her. He began opening himself up, and Brother Wolf took over and opened them both up all the way. It was very much like a man opening an umbrella that had been stored for years. Some parts creaked and groaned and shed dust-others cracked under the sudden stretching and threatened to break.
He felt naked-only more so. As if he’d shed his skin and stood with raw nerve endings waiting to be filleted by the next stray wind. All he was, all he’d been, was there in the broad daylight, where it had never been meant to be seen. Not even by him.
There was a pause, a waiting moment, and then everything hit.
There were too many memories, things he’d seen and done. Pain and pleasure and sorrow: all there as if they were happening now-too much, too much, and he couldn’t breathe…
And A
His protections, the walls he kept between him and the world, were up again, but A
A
He ran a hand down her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, and thanks. Brother Wolf tends to be a little literal, and he doesn’t like you hurt.” He found himself smiling, even though he was still reeling. “Brahms?”
She gave an uncertain laugh and backed up so she could look him in the eye. “Sorry, I was panicked. And music seems to help me focus… whatever it is I can do. Soothing music. And the Lullaby just seemed appropriate. Are you all right?”
“Fine-” he said, then realized that he was lying, so he amended it. “I’ll be fine.” Yeah, it was a sharp right his life had taken. Having a mate was throwing both him and his wolf off their game-and he wasn’t inclined to complain. He smiled to himself. She even sang lullabies to him-and he liked it.
Somehow he’d managed to stay on his feet, thus avoiding a dunking in the cold water, and still had his father’s present for Dana.
“Shall we go see the fae?” he asked politely, as if he hadn’t just had some sort of… epiphany, metaphysical almost breakdown… he didn’t have the words.
“Sure.” A
Brother Wolf gave a groan of contentment and settled down, even though he was always unhappy around the fae, any fae. They weren’t pack and never could be. He himself liked her as well as he’d ever liked any fae. About Dana, he and Brother Wolf agreed to disagree.
THE boat had a door, just like a real house. A
He seemed to have it all together now, but she kept her hand on his back, tucked up under his jacket, where she could feel the muscles, smooth and relaxed under her fingertips.
Over the smell of brine, vegetation, and city, she could smell turpentine-but no one came to greet them.
Charles opened the door and stuck his head inside. “Dana? My da sent us to bring you a present.”
It felt like the whole world paused with interest, but the fae didn’t say anything.
“Dana?”
Sound, when it came, emerged from over their heads. “A present?”
A
“That’s what he told me,” Charles said.
A
“Bring it here, then, dear boy. I’m up in the studio, and I don’t want to track paint all over the place.”
Dear boy? A
He took her hand absently. Her wolf settled at his touch as she followed him through the door in the side of the boat. Charles seemed to know where he was going, or maybe he was just following the biting smell of turpentine.
She glanced around as she followed him deeper. There were paintings of butterflies and moths lining the hall. The rooms to either side were small and cozy, decorated in purples, pinks, and blues-as if a team of Disney animators had come in and decorated it to make the perfect fairy abode. One room held an artificial waterfall that burbled with manic cheer. A twin-sized bed took up the rest of the space. The whole place smelled of salt water and the same odd smell she’d noticed when they talked to the troll-maybe it was the smell of a fae.
The hall emptied into a cozy kitchen and a narrow stairway lit by skylights and lined with flowering plants growing in various pink, powder blue, and lavender pots. At the top was a large room, one side entirely of glass that looked out over the water. In the center of the room… greenhouse, whatever it was, stood the fae.
Her skin was pale, a stark contrast to the thick hair that flowed to her hips in mahogany curls. Her face was screwed up in concentration which made her… cute. Slender, long fingers, splattered attractively with paint, played with a small paintbrush. Her eyes were deep blue, like a lake in the high summer sun. Her mouth was dark and full. And she was tall, as tall as Charles, and he was a tall man, over six feet.
Aside from the hair, she was nothing like A
In front of her was an easel holding a largish canvas that faced the other direction, so A
“Dana,” rumbled Charles.
A
Or maybe it was the “dear boy.”
A
Dana Shea looked away from the easel, and smiled, a radiant smile that had all the joy of a mother’s first look at her infant, a boy’s triumph the first time he hits a baseball with a bat. It was warm and intimate and i
“Dana,” Charles’s voice was harsh. “Stop it.”
A hurt look slid over her face.
“That magic doesn’t work with me,” he told the fae-and he was starting to sound seriously angry. “And don’t think that my father’s favor will allow you leeway with me.”
A
A