Sea of Dreams

Sea of Dreams Interlude Three of the RuneQuest Keira Ramsay (c) 2008

Sea of Dreams Interlude Three of the RuneQuest Keira Ramsay Published 2008 ISBN 978-1-59578-437-7 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2008, Keira Ramsay. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com Email: [email protected] Editor Chrissie Henderson Cover Artist April Martinez This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Dedication This one’s for my Pop, who chose the beautiful Oregon coast as his home, and the Pacific as his final resting place. Daddy, you bought the first copy of my first-ever book, and I know you’re up there, cheering me on! Author’s note I took a few liberties with the geography of Winchester Bay and Reedsport … call it artistic license, but for the most part both towns are exactly as described, and a total blast to visit. And while the Coast Guard and fire stations are real, Fiona’s Ranger Station is not. But hey, it fits in the story!

Prologue I am Rhiannon, Moira of the Clan, keeper of the fates, champion of the Fae. At last, the pieces begin to fall into place. The runes of Fate and Domain have been rediscovered and already put to good use. Our defenses have been strengthened and the destinies of our young foretold. But an undercurrent still buffets us, swirling unseen. The Jionagh, the traitors within the Realm, are still active, still plaguing us with their little nips and bites. Our own species’ collaboration with a race as abhorrent as the pixies nauseates me, even as I search to discover and destroy those who would threaten our most precious Realm. It is most unfortunate Chloe-Sidhe and her shaman, Logan Whitefeather, completely broke Cameron O’Donnell, for he had many answers we still need. But it was either that, or lose them both, an unacceptable trade. Yet there is more I see in the rune of Fate. It whispers to me of a lost child, of this Fae’s direct relationship to the rune of Inspiration. The rune of Domain whispers that we can do little to assist in this recovery; it will be the action, or inaction, of our sister which sets our course. I am Moira, and under my leadership, the Fae will be made whole again. It is my calling, my fate, my destiny. As I ended my narrative when the quest for the Runes of Fate and Domain began, so I shall end this. This is not my story, but in truth, how the final call to power of the modern-day Fae began.

Chapter One “Hottie alert, two o’clock, on the left in the tux.” Tristan whispered in Fiona’s ear. “Definitely out of my hunting zone, but probably just right for yours.” Fiona smiled and nudged her best friend in the ribs with an elbow before slowly swiveling her head and taking in the morsel Tristan had so kindly pointed out. The wedding they were working at the Promontory Hotel in Big Sur had already been a feast for the eyes. She’d never seen so many beautiful people in her life. Oh yeah, the man Tristan had pointed out was definitely up there on the hot-o-meter, but even better was the man standing next to him. Wiry build on a tall, rangy body, classic Hispanic features, liquid brown eyes. Both men had shed their formal jackets and bowties and chatted with each other and the assorted guests. The object of her attention stood easily in a pristine white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, glass of champagne in one hand, the other hanging loose at his side. Even from this distance she could see he held his body like a warrior, feet spread at hipwidth, toned body at the ready even in this relaxed atmosphere. Yeah, there was a man she could drool over. Unfortunately, men in tuxes didn’t tend to reciprocate when she was wearing her figure-killing, blend-into-the-background uniform. Some of the waitresses looked great in their corporate ignore-me duds, but Fiona wasn’t one of them. With a sigh, she turned back to Tristan and the cocked eyebrow indicating he wanted an answer to his alert. “Both of them are hotties, you’re right, but seeing as I don’t know which one is the groom, I’m going to turn off my range finder and concentrate on getting out of this reception in time for my yoga class.” She’d been behind the scenes for the ceremony itself, only catching glimpses of the wedding, and hadn’t seen the actual wedding party until now. “You and your yoga. If you actually put any of those positions to good use, I could see going.” Tristan grumbled, before sighing long and loud. “Besides, the groom is the dreamy stud on the left, and oh, look, here comes the bride. Bitch.” Fiona smiled. Tristan was more catty than most women. Since she wasn’t, they made a good match. She looked more closely at the two men and the beautiful, gypsy-haired woman in wedding white who had joined them. As a triad, they were stunning, and she took a stray moment to wonder where the best man’s date was. Something about the groom struck her as familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. It wasn’t because she’d seen him before—she was positive of that—but more the way he held himself. Whatever it was, it made her uneasy. Her unease doubled, then tripled as he sidled her way, his new bride at his side. “Greet you, Sidhe,” he said in a low, undeniably sexy voice, his eyes intent, as were the woman’s. “Can I get something for you, sir?” Fiona asked with an “I’m here to make your reception perfect” smile. He looked puzzled, flashing a glance at his wife. She shrugged and took a sip of

champagne. “I’m Aidan Hughes, Salamander Clan.” He looked expectant, as if he’d said something she could or should understand. She tried to keep her professional face on. Why did all the cuties have to be nuts? “Congratulations on your wedding,” she said. “It was a beautiful ceremony.” Unusual, but beautiful, most of it spoken in a language she didn’t understand, but had struck a chord within her nonetheless. She took a step back and offered the tray of canapés she’d picked up. Aidan still looked confused, and said something in the dialect she recognized from their vows. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t understand.” He shot her a quick, thorough glance, then shook his head. “You will,” he answered enigmatically, looping his arm over his bride’s shoulder and turning away. She caught a snippet of what he was saying as he leaned close to his wife. “…how can she not know … faking it?” They moved out of earshot. Fiona snorted and headed to the kitchen. They didn’t call California the land of fruits and nuts for no reason, but their conversation took the fruitcake. Tristan collared her as she shouldered through the kitchen doors. “So, love, what did the delectable groom have to say? Was he looking for an addition to their wedding night?” His eyebrows rose lasciviously. Fiona thought hard as she deposited the tray onto a side table. Was that what their little exchange had been? No, except for his strange questions, he’d only had eyes for his wife. “No such luck,” she quipped. It wasn’t something she’d entertain at this point in her life, but in her youthful twenties she’d been more than experimental in that regard. The experiences had been light, fun, with no real commitment, and while she’d moved on now, she definitely looked back on them with fondness. One particularly delectable tryst had been how she’d met Tristan, as a matter of fact. But when she’d become friends with him and his now-partner Daniel, rather than just having a good time, she’d ended their physical relationship. That’d been six years ago. Aunt Carrie had been harping on her to find a man of her own since, but the oomph, the gut-punched feeling she knew would indicate “the one” had been sorely lacking. Not from a lack of trying on her part, though. These days she tended toward hanging out by herself, only hitting hot spots when she felt the overwhelming urge to get nasty. Those urges were coming more and more infrequently as her desire for something more lasting solidified. She wanted what Tristan and Daniel had. Tristan broke into her self-analysis. “Well, damn. What about the best man? He’s here solo.” “What’s in it for you, Tristan?” she snapped, uncharacteristically edgy now. She was never good at introspection. And what was it with Tristan and his pushing? He held up his hands as if to ward her off. “Down girl. It’s time for you to get laid. You’ve been acting pissy lately, and we both know what that means. Why not hook up with Mr. Studly out there … you know you want it.” Damn. Tristan was right, and her response to him a second ago just proved it. He didn’t have to look so smug about it, though. She thought fast, back to her last fling.

Three months ago. Too long for a woman in her early thirties. Way too long. That and her thoughts about long-lasting relationships made her decision more than anything. Maybe a quickie with a stranger was what she needed to pull her out of her atypical funk. “All right.” She nodded. “Yoga’s out. Let’s toss a line in the water and see if he bites.” **** Mike Alvarez scanned the room—again—looking for the hot little blonde waitress Aidan had been talking to. Aidan and Leanan had acted odd the moment they’d laid eyes on her, and he had the feeling it was because they were trying to set him up. Aidan knew the type of women he liked. Hell, until his buddy and Leanan met and fell in love, they’d been the original dynamic duo when it came to the ladies. While he didn’t need any help in that particular area, he wouldn’t mind hooking up with someone he’d never see again. It would help him take his mind off the upcoming fire investigator’s exam. She’d probably left already, since the reception was winding down and he’d seen her in the thick of things since long before the ceremony began. His attention was snagged—completely—by the sight of her walking out of the kitchen doors. She’d changed into a flimsy little peach sundress riding just above her knees, hugging her breasts to perfection. The switch between waitress and hot tamale threw him for a loop. He’d expected her to be pretty, but this went way beyond his expectation. The short, blonde hair which had capped her skull like a lover’s hand now fanned out in a riot of spikes, haloing a face that managed to look angelic and completely nasty at the same time. She strode directly toward him, eyes as blue as the sea locked on him. One corner of her mouth—her full, generous mouth—kicked up in a half-smile. There was no come-hither quality to her expression. Instead, it said she’d like to eat him alive—if he was willing. His cock swelled in response, pushing against the fly of his tux pants, and he had no doubt they’d be tangled in the sheets, thoroughly replete, long before tomorrow morning hit. He stepped forward, ignoring Aidan’s hail from across the room. Screw him. He already had a girl. His mystery woman took his hand without a word and steered him deftly to a side door, pushing the French doors open into the cool coastal night. The surf crashed on the rocks below the promenade the hotel sat on, and it sent a primal thrill through Mike, one which demanded he conquer, claim his right to her body. But he was too well schooled in the female species to just take without asking. He turned to her. “My name is…” Her finger, topped by a short, unadorned nail, rested against his lips. “Shhh,” she whispered. “No strings, no names. Just this.” Damn, she had a voice that could set the world on fire … all smoke and heat. He looked at her in a bit of shock, then took her at her word. What man wouldn’t? He sucked her finger into his mouth and nipped it, drawing a tiny gasp, and ran his tongue along the

tip, teasing away the tiny pain. Her taste, salty and sweet, perfumed by the sea, surged through his body. He released her finger and hauled her into his arms, capturing her mouth completely, delving his tongue inside, savoring the differences which made her all woman … and all his for tonight. Her curves imprinted themselves on him, the tight peaks of her nipples caressing him through his shirt. He leaned into the kiss, bowing her back, and reached down to hike her leg up. His fingers found miles of soft, satin skin, and as he devoured her mouth, he slid his hand up her thigh, encountering nothing but sweet, heavenly woman. His fingers probed and found, to his delight, that she was shaved bald. He slipped between her pussy lips, and she was wet already. His dick hardened as her questing hand cruised down the front of his slacks, tracing his erection with quick, sure strokes. He drew in a rough, ragged breath and used the motion to whisper, “Not against the building.” “Why not?” she asked in a voice gone soft and breathy. “Doesn’t it turn you on, thinking anyone can walk out here?” It did, but it wasn’t how he’d been raised. His big, noisy Catholic family cherished their women. They didn’t slam them up against the wall and fuck them senseless like a caveman. But God, that’s what he felt like doing right now. “Don’t think so much,” she whispered, and slipped her hand inside his pants, grasping his cock in a sure, firm grip. “Just feel.” She slid her hand down his shaft slowly, flicking a finger over his cockhead, smearing the drop of precum over it as she memorized him by touch alone. He stiffened, dropped his mouth to her breasts, and suckled her nipples to hard points beneath the silky material of her dress. She tasted like summer, heady and sweet. She moaned when his fingers traced her seam again, gasping as he parted her and slid around her clit with teasing little strokes. He stroked lower, and slid a finger inside her hot, clenching pussy at the same moment he bit down lightly on her nipple. She stiffened against him, a husky little cry breaking from her lips as her hand tightened around his cock. Mike smiled ferally against her breast and slid a second finger inside her, pumping slowly, in direct counterpoint to the rapid beating of her heart … and his. He continued tonguing her nipples, first one, then the other, interspersing his laving with nips and bites. She stiffened against him, her breath coming in harsh little pants as his thumb circled her clit, her fingers clenched around the iron of his erection as if it were a lifeline. Jesus, she was like fire, burning in his arms. He brought her to a quick, wrenching climax, making her shudder. She sagged briefly against him, her weight a sweet pressure, before sliding her leg down. He lifted his head from her breasts and straightened slowly, painfully, his cock still within her grasp. Her face literally glowed with satisfaction, and her eyes were slightly glazed. “Well, that was a surprise,” she said, her voice husky and sated. “But I had something a little more mutual in mind.” She retreated a few steps, leading him by his dick, until she was flush against the wall, and spun him. The rough contours of the rock and stucco walls bit into the fine lawn

of his shirt, the sensation a scathing contrast to the hand now caressing him as if it were the last night on earth. The rasp on his zipper lowering sawed through the night, incredibly loud, incredibly arousing. His cock sprang free, the head blindly seeking her through his Jockeys. She laughed, low and sensually, and pulled his pants and shorts down just enough to bare him, tracing her nails down his swollen cock, making it … and him … jerk in response. Before he could even breathe out an oath of thanks, she dropped to her knees and her hot, wet mouth engulfed him. His moan carried on the night air, drowning out even the pound of the surf below. Mike clutched at the rock wall in desperation, fingers itching to burrow into her hair, to direct her movements. But no, he’d let her lead, even if it fucking killed him. Her tongue laved the bottom of his erection lovingly as she sucked him in, her fingers caressing his balls with just enough force to make him buck against her lips. She hummed in approval and sucked harder. The vibration traveled through his body like a shot, scrambling his brain, short-circuiting his restraint. He buried his hands in the short spikes of her hair, setting a fast, furious pace as he fucked her mouth. His mystery woman tightened her hold on his balls, the fingers of her other hand biting into his hip as she steadied herself. His sac drew up, sensation thundered up his spine, and he was coming, jerking against her face as he shot cum down her throat. He sagged against the wall, drained, but curiously alive … more so than he’d ever felt after a quickie. She took one last, long, loving pull with her mouth, stood and tucked him back into his pants and zipped him up. “Thanks,” she whispered, “I needed this.” She dropped a quick kiss on his lips, slid away from him, and was gone in the night.

Chapter Two Three months later Fiona stood on the rock-strewn beach, saying goodbye, at least to this stretch of the Pacific. Her year in Big Sur had been wonderful, but it was time to move on. The urge to trek north had been hitting more often in the last few months, and the perfect job had finally presented itself after all these years. The funky coastal town of Florence, Oregon, had posted a National Park Service job for a naturalist, and, miracle of miracles, she’d been tapped for it. No more serving up rubber chicken and bouncing potatoes for her, thank you very much. The college degree she’d finished in bits and pieces over the last ten years had opened a door. It wasn’t as if her art career had exactly blossomed, and she’d finally given up on it, just as she had on the quest to fill the gaping hole in her memory. It had taken her a long time to accept the fact she might never remember the first fourteen years of her life, might never recall the hugs and words of parental love most other children accepted as a matter of course. Or even if they’d been given. She’d been found scared and cold, wandering through the chilly mist of a Santa Barbara morning, with no idea who she was or where she’d come from. All these years later, it still didn’t sit easily with her, but everything that could be done to recover her memory had been done, so it was a moot point. Her name had been given to her by a fanciful social worker, one with a love for everything Celtic, and she’d liked it enough to keep it. Her Aunt Carrie—in truth her foster mother—and Tristan and Daniel were the only past she’d claim from this point on. And now, it wasn’t as if she and Aunt Carrie would be talking in the near future. Her determination to move north and start a new life had sparked a monster fight, one where both of them said things they probably shouldn’t have. She’d miss Tristan—a lot—but they had the phone and e-mail and he and Daniel had promised to come up for a visit after she settled in. It was a grand new beginning, with the exception of the dreams which had haunted her for the last three months. Images of what could only be Ireland, of glorious, multicolored sprites, and a soft, commanding voice calling her home were all she remembered. After almost ninety nights of the same imagery, she could have walked the landscape with her eyes closed, and located the voice whispering in a stadium full of people. She woke each morning strangely refreshed, as if her nocturnal wanderings had rejuvenated her, but it was still unsettling as hell. Maybe when she crossed the border into Oregon, the dreams would disappear. Maybe they were simply a manifestation of what she’d been longing for … a clean start, doing something she wanted to, rather than had to simply to make the rent. She nodded to herself. That was it. Fresh start … fresher brain. She turned her back on the ocean and walked to the U-Haul truck. Time to begin a new life.

**** Fiona dusted the sand off her hands and looked critically at Winchester Bay’s oyster beds, brushing off the feathery sensation at her nape with irritation. The feeling came over her every time she’d visited the beds since her move here three months ago, and had begun to make her distinctly uneasy. Everything was as it should be, dammit. Well, except for the nine million classic car enthusiasts who’d flocked to the little seaside town for the Kool Koastal Nights rally. Not that she didn’t appreciate a good muscle car, but they were everywhere, and she could just see herself rolling her ancient Volkswagen Bug into one of them. While it probably wouldn’t do much harm to Detroit steel, her v-dub would likely end up with a dent the size of a moon crater and scratch the thousand-dollar paint job on whatever she hit. Definitely not something she could afford. So she’d just be extra careful as she made her way home to Florence, twenty miles up the Pacific Coast Highway. She stowed her equipment in the front trunk of the little car and climbed in, coaxing it to a coughing start. Her first order of business when she saved some moola would be to upgrade vehicles. This part of Oregon wasn’t exactly renowned for its public transportation, so a bit of adaptation was definitely in order. But the rest of Oregon? Well, it was just a plain joy, especially with the brisk bite of fall in the air. The dichotomy between sandy beaches, the bobbing boats of the fishing fleet and the monolithic stands of pine trees which fiscally supported a large part of the population was just quirky enough to suit her tastes. And it never hurt that every time she inhaled, the scent and taste of the sea was there, teasing her senses with a familiarity and sense of homecoming. Merging into the dense traffic, she wound her way through the streets and up the hill into the main town of Reedsport. Traffic was just as congested in the little community, and she got stuck for several long, interminable minutes at the line of cars waiting either to continue up the Pacific Coast Highway, or head east into the Umpquah River Valley. Finally it was her turn to roll through the light. She’d just begun to pull into the intersection when the blare of a horn startled her. She stomped on the brakes, and a flash of white barreled through the intersection, missing the front end of her Bug by mere inches. She barely glimpsed the porthole of a classic Camaro before it was gone, flashing across the Umpquah Bridge at a speed which went far beyond reckless. “Jesus,” she breathed, eased up on the clutch and followed the car up the PCH. As she drove, her temper, never the best of her qualities, began to boil. Arrogant bastard was a hazard to everyone on the road. If she ever caught up to him, he’d get the ass-chewing of his freakin’ life. Like a wish, the Camaro came into view, pulled haphazardly into a scenic turnout. She yanked the Bug in behind it, fuming; so angry she was surprised steam wasn’t shooting from her ears like a cartoon character. Thrusting open the car door with a squeal of hinges, she stalked to the Camaro’s driver’s side, index finger already pointing accusingly at the eyes she could see looking at her from the rearview mirror. “What the hell is wrong with…” she shouted, “…you!” Her voice faltered, going from outrage to shock in the blink of an eye. The man from her wedding-reception tryst sat behind the wheel, his face blanched white in fear … or alarm. He opened the door and slid from behind the wheel.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes a bit glassy. “The accelerator stuck. I’m sorry…” He trailed off as if registering her presence for the first time. “You.” Fiona made a split-second decision to pretend she’d never seen him before. “Well, if that’s all it was, no harm. You might want to call a tow truck though, and have it looked at before you continue driving on these roads; they’re kinda curvy.” She started backing away a mile a minute. Her fresh new start didn’t include a past lover, even if he had rocked her world, if only for a few moments. “But…” “Enjoy your weekend,” she said, shooting him a sunny smile before turning back to her car. He stood frozen for a long moment, then pursued her, his strides eating up the ground. He caught her just as she climbed behind the wheel, and leaned into the open window. “I know you,” he stated unequivocally. “But I never caught your name. I’m Mike Alvarez. And you are?” Fiona shook her head. “Sorry, must’ve been my evil twin. I’m Fiona Neal.” He took in the clean Park Service uniform hanging from a hook in the back of the car and a frown creased his features. While Fiona was sorry to see him so flustered, she was glad he was coming to the conclusion he really didn’t know her. “Sorry, I would’ve sworn…” he said, shaking his head. “So you work around here?” “Up the road a bit, in Florence. You?” she replied conversationally, glancing at her watch, hoping he’d get the hint. “Just moved here. I start work at the Reedsport firehouse on Monday.” “Well, welcome to Oregon,” she said. “Listen, I’ve really got to get going, and you need to call a tow truck.” He still looked bemused, but nodded and pushed away from her car, pulling out a cell phone as he did. “See you around, Fiona Neal.” “Sure thing,” she replied, even as she knew she’d do everything in her power to make sure it didn’t happen. She pulled away from the turnout, casting one long glance at Mike Alvarez in her rearview before she rounded a corner and lost him. She spent the remaining fifteen miles to Florence concentrating on the serpentine roads, not the man she’d left standing behind her, but when she pulled into the driveway of her cute little house, everything she’d been holding back came at her in a rush. Jesus. She remembered the feel of his hands on her, his mouth, as if were yesterday, and the simple thought of it had her creaming her panties. As much as she might—no would—enjoy his touch again, this move, this new life had to be just that. New. Mike Alvarez was old business, something she intended to leave behind her. * Mike watched the tow driver as he winched the Camaro up, not overly concerned because the guy seemed to know what he was doing. And because everything was going according to specs, he let his mind drift to the woman he’d almost pegged. Fiona Neal. Damned if she didn’t look like the twin of the woman he’d indulged in a mindblowing, against-the-wall quickie with. Hell, he could feel her lips wrapped around his cock, see, in his mind’s eye, the way her eyes had glazed as she came around his fingers, her pussy the sweetest vise he’d ever felt. He could still smell her, the scent of soap, perfume and feminine musk which made her unique.

And damned if Fiona Neal hadn’t smelled almost exactly the same. But her hair was longer, cut in one of those styles women called a bob, and she’d been so cool, so distantly friendly, it couldn’t be the same woman. And even if it was, she obviously didn’t want him to know it, didn’t want to acknowledge the too-short time they’d spent together after Aidan’s wedding. The question was why … and did he want to do something about it? Aidan and Leanan had been freakin’ obsessed with his quickie, questioning him endlessly on her identity after they’d seen him leave with her. And even though his best friend had given him the wink-wink-nudge-nudge treatment after learning it had been a fleeting passing of two horny strangers, their behavior had struck him as over the top, and still did, to this day. He shook his head. He needed to concentrate on the job, on his new place, on his car, not on a woman who might—or might not—be the complete stranger he’d almost shagged six months ago. The tow driver finished winching up the Camaro and they rode into town in silence. Well, at least silence on his part. The driver, Tommy, never shut the hell up, and his conversation mostly consisted of local women who were “available”, heavy on the innuendo. Luckily his time in the cab of the tow was short-lived, and the taxi ride to his house even more uneventful. **** Mike stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he dashed for his cell phone. “Aidan,” he greeted his friend, a huge smile on his face. “Mikey, my man! We just wanted to make sure you made it okay.” Aidan’s voice was distorted, and Mike knew Leanan was there with him on speaker. “Had a few problems with the Camaro, but other than that, smooth sailing,” Mike replied as he walked to the window and looked out of the picture window at Winchester Bay, spread out beneath him like a jewel. The little house he was renting was a bachelor’s dream—small and already furnished. “Gotta admit, the view is a helluva lot better than it was at my place in El Cajon.” “Hah. You miss us, you just don’t want to admit it yet. So what’s this with your baby?” “No big, accelerator problem. It’s already in the shop.” He paused, and pondered mentioning his run-in with Fiona Neal. After a few seconds, he decided against it. Until he was positive, he wouldn’t say anything. Aidan and Leanan had been … peculiar … when it came to his mystery fling. They chatted amiably for a few moments, with Aidan promising to make a trip north the next weekend before he disconnected. He ran a hand through his wet hair. Why hadn’t he said anything? Aidan was his best friend, and Leanan had quickly wound her way into his heart as well. So what was it? A memory, brief and blurry, ricocheted through his mind’s eye. Aidan and Leanan standing in Balboa Park, a stunning silver light, creatures who belonged to dream or nightmare conversing as if everything was normal, when it was anything but. He shook his head, dispelling the images. It had been a humdinger of a dream, that’s all. He just wondered why the memory of it was coming to him now. His stomach growled, and he had to grin at his uncharacteristic introspection. He

wasn’t really a deep guy … give him food, beer and a warm, willing woman and he was good to go. On that note, it was time to find at least the first two of the equation. And maybe begin to scope out the local wildlife to see if he might hook up on the third. That he might encounter Fiona Neal was probably too much to hope for, but hell, he was an optimist. **** Fiona sat at the riverside table, enjoying a truly excellent glass of locally grown and bottled Pinot Noir. Normally she wouldn’t have spent hard-earned cash on something as frivolous as a night out, but her run-in with Mike Alvarez had left her feeling off-center. Her little house—normally a haven—had suddenly felt cavernous and echoing, so she’d decided on a tiny bit of Friday night pampering. She’d heard good things about the seafood restaurant down the street, and, as always, being close to the water soothed her in a way she couldn’t name. Tonight, as the sun began to drop behind the wall of pines separating Florence from the sea, she was inexplicably lonely, missing Tristan and Daniel’s offbeat humor. She’d been too busy to make any new friends, but tonight, as she sat there mulling, she acknowledged it for the excuse it was. She wasn’t normally a social person, but in this new life, she seemed to have withdrawn even more. Sure, the other rangers, all two of them, were friendly enough, but they were both men with steady girlfriends. It wasn’t likely their significant others would be beating down her door with a basket of goodies. If they’d been married, maybe, but in her experience, the female of the species wasn’t exactly prone to inviting a new chick onto their turf without a ring on their finger, if even then. She stood, even more melancholy now, and approached the deck’s rail. Beneath her, the water lapped at the pilings, the occasional sea lion poking its head out of the river. At least the dreams had stopped. That was a consolation, if nothing else. They bothered her, even as they soothed, because she had to wonder if they weren’t part of the memory vacuum she’d come to grips with years ago. She’d started a new life, she told herself for the hundredth time, one which didn’t include worries and doubts about what her past might … or might not … be. When the warm male voice sounded at her shoulder, she should have been surprised, but she wasn’t. “Well, if it isn’t Fiona Neal.” She turned and let herself appreciate the sight of Mike Alvarez. Just as she had six months ago, and even this afternoon. He exuded a raw masculinity that made her mouth and other regions water. She could remember, all too well, the feel of his callused fingertips against her breasts, against her clit, inside her pussy. While she might never admit to him she had been his blow-job-against-the-wall, she could definitely remember it fondly. “Mike Alvarez. What brings you to Florence? I thought you said you lived down the road. Is your car fixed?” He smiled, his teeth flashing against swarthy skin. “I did, but the tow driver said this place had the best fried clams in creation. The car’s still in the shop, though. Had to get a rental until the moving company gets here with my daytime wheels.” Fiona nodded in understanding. “Well, your new friend was right about this place,

the food is great.” “Mind if I join you?” His smooth, slightly accented voice washed over her like a butterfly’s wing. And as much as she felt the urge to make a convenient excuse and flee, her feet stayed rooted to the deck. Something about Mike Alvarez drew her, just as it had in Big Sur, and it wasn’t the fact he hit every single one of her erotic buttons. And that was saying something. Just the memory of his fingers buried inside her, his thumb against her clit as he finger-fucked her to orgasm was still enough to make her soak her panties all over again. He took her silence as an answer and steered her back to her table, waving to a passing waiter, who brought a menu. Mike ordered without looking … fried clams and the same Pinot she had. The silence they sat in should have been uncomfortable; it was anything but. The murmur of other diners was a smooth counterpoint to the cry of seagulls and the slap of the river against the pilings. For the first time, Fiona wondered why she had been so adamant about not revealing herself to Mike. What possible gain was there in it, other than to separate herself from the life she’d left behind? It wasn’t as if she was hiding anything. Rather, she had been committed to forging a clean future. Creating a new woman, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. But Mike was such a small part of her past, what did she have to lose? As if reading her mind, Mike spoke. “So have you decided to own up to it yet?” His tone was unquestionably amused. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, then grinned ruefully. “You caught me off-guard this afternoon. One-nighters aren’t exactly my usual forte.” “It wasn’t exactly a one-nighter, now was it? If you’d stuck around longer, it could have been.” The totally male longing in his voice made her smile. “Isn’t that what weddings are for? Unless you’re the bride or groom, of course.” “Of course.” He grinned back. “So where do we go from here?” The waiter slid Mike’s food on the table and discreetly disappeared, leaving her to ponder the question. But in reality, the answer was pretty damned clear. “Nowhere. You’ve got a new life in Oregon, as do I. There’s no place for our pasts here.” Mike popped a fried clam into his mouth and grinned, nonplussed. “Says who?” She couldn’t help but be amused by his easygoing attitude. In a perfect world, where she didn’t have a past beginning at the age of fourteen, she would have been tempted to extend their Big Sur dalliance to a fling. Especially given the fact she could all too easily imagine reigniting the sparks they’d fanned so passionately just a few months ago. “Says me,” she replied, and took a sip of wine. “You might not have a problem with starting back up again, but I’ve got other things to consider.” He mimicked her sip before setting his glass on the table carefully. “Such as?” “None of your business,” Fiona replied calmly. Because it really wasn’t. “What if I decided to make it my business?” “I’d dissuade you as forcefully as possible,” she remarked. “We had a good time. Why can’t you let it be just that?” He looked her square in the eye and shrugged. “Guess I could. Just don’t wanna.” Fiona felt her mouth quirk into a grin even as she tried to steel herself against it. He was persistent, if nothing else. “Well, get used to the idea. I’ve got other things on my

plate right now. Things which don’t involve you.” “We’ll see,” he answered, and reached across the table, trailing a finger down her arm. His touch sent flames licking through her blood, and Fiona knew the chase was on.

Chapter Three She stood on the beach at the mouth of the oyster beds, aware she was dreaming, but unable to control what she saw or did. A quarter moon hung low in the sky, shedding weak light on the lap and swell of the ocean. An ethereally beautiful man stood by her side, murmuring in a language she understood on a cellular level. She walked into the surf at his direction, the water chilly against her bare feet and legs, soaking the gauze of the filmy dress she wore. Her companion stayed on the sand, green eyes piercing her even through the darkness of the night. Her mission, her compulsion, was to locate something important to him, something only she could find. And that something pulled at her, called to her deep in her marrow. The crash and thunder of the untamed surf emanated from it, drowning out the normal, calm sea sounds on this part of the coast. Yet as she looked for this mystery object, the search chafed at her, even in this dream state, because it wasn’t right. She was the steward of this part of the sea, sworn to protect it, not plunder and despoil it. The farther she stepped from him, the more the certainty solidified that what she was doing was wrong. Twenty feet out, she stiffened her shoulders and turned. Something drew her, yes, but it was not something she would gift to this man, no matter how powerful his words, his presence. His emerald gaze caught her, held her for long moments. In his eyes she saw an undeniable familiarity, as if, just like the language he spoke, they were connected on a deeper level. A bolt of longing swept through her, and she knew, if she acceded to his dark request, her past would be revealed. The promise of it was a poignant ache, a calling not unlike the dreams she recalled, even here and now, like a fond memory. As quickly as the longing had claimed her, fear spiked. Who was this man, this being, to promise such things, even if it was only with the weight of his gaze? She shook her head, as much to clear it as to deny his claim, and blinding pain rocketed through her, shutting out everything but the punishment he meted out for her disobedience. She screamed, pure anguish echoing off the boulders and shoals, and the spell was broken, leaving only the burning ache and a promise of retribution in his eyes. In an eye blink, he was gone, as if he were never there. Fiona shook her head again, trying to pull herself out of the dream, out of the horror. And as she did, one word echoed in her mind … Jionagh. * Fiona bolted upright in her bed, her heart rabbiting against her chest. The dream was vivid and painfully clear. As much as she knew she’d never met the man before, she knew she would, and that he was obviously an enemy. One not to be trifled with. She pushed out of bed with a curse and headed to her computer, repeating the last word she remembered over and over so she wouldn’t forget it. There was danger here, not something she could pawn off as a simple dream. While the laptop and its connection were expenses she really couldn’t afford, it was

something she considered a necessity. And right now, that necessity was paying off. She typed Jionagh into a search engine and was rewarded, but not by what she imagined. The only hits were for a Gaelic dictionary, and the word meant, of all things, “free will.” As if the words whispered in her ear and the agonizing punishment had been anything but an attempt at coercion. Her heart thumped unsteadily and she forced her mind to dismiss everything she’d heard and felt. It was that or go slowly insane. It was a dream. She must have heard the phrase on the news or seen it in the paper and it had worked its way into her subconscious. That was it. And as she crawled back to bed, she told herself that a second time … and a third. **** Morning came too early, even if it was a Saturday and she was off duty. Her dream—and her encounter with Mike Alvarez—plagued her as she poured her first cup of coffee and settled in at the breakfast nook. After taking her first sip, she let her mind begin to dissect the images which had haunted her last night. They were different from the dreams which had almost overwhelmed her in California. There, the dreams had been almost a call to home. Granted, to a home she’d never seen, but it had been the feeling they gave her nonetheless. Last night’s had left her … terrified. She didn’t recognize the man who’d played a starring role, and it wasn’t as if she would forget someone so stunningly beautiful. She’d always been able to remember her dreams, had even taken a course during college on dream interpretation. Because of that course, and because too many things she’d dreamed had come to fruition, last night’s journey disturbed her on more than one level. She was afraid it just might come true. But at least now she knew who to look for. Even if it scared the hell out of her. As for Mike Alvarez, she’d play it by ear. While she wasn’t ready to start anything up, he had been great in their brief little interlude, and might be a fabulous diversion … if he followed through. In her experience, guys like Mike Alvarez didn’t stick around for long. Which should be what she expected, wanted. It was all she’d ever known. But dammit if she wasn’t tired of accepting what “should” be. **** Monday morning Mike toured his new firehouse, eyeing the second and third generation trucks parked in the bays. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but this certainly wasn’t what he’d left behind in San Diego. While the firehouse was obviously well cared for, it was small fry compared to what he was used to. But that’s why he’d been hired as the incoming Fire Chief, replacing the man getting ready for retirement. Because he had big-city experience. Because he’d been in the mix more than once, and because it was the first job that had come down the pipe after he passed the inspector’s exam. He still couldn’t say why he’d felt the overwhelming urge to head north when San Diego was all he’d ever known, but it had been there, and he’d heeded it. It would be years before he’d be picked up in San Diego as an arson inspector or a member of MAST, the Metro Arson Strike Team, so Reedsport had seemed like a great place to get

his feet wet. One of his new crew members poked his head out from behind a rig. “Can I help you?” “Mike Alvarez.” He shook the young fireman’s hand. “Jimmy Hanks. Glad to have you on board. Chief should be here any minute. He can give you the nickel tour.” “Sounds like a plan.” And because it was the first question any firefighter worth their salt asked, “Where’s the kitchen?” Hanks grinned and waved in a follow-me gesture. The kitchen, like the rest of the ’house, was well used, but comfortable, and Mike made himself at home by pouring a cup of truly extraordinarily awful-looking coffee before settling in at the long, scarred picnic table where the crew presumably ate their meals. “So, San Diego, huh?” Hanks asked, his eyes sparking with curiosity. “Yeah. Different beach, same ocean. So where’s the rest of the crew?” “Only one man on duty at night, just in case, two during the day. Only five of us on staff full-time, including you. We rotate day and night shifts, so we get a bit of variety. Chief usually pulls a day shift. I was just getting ready to head home. If something fires up after hours, or we get an injury, which is much more likely, we sound the alarm and everyone boogies in. Response and roll time for the whole crew is about two minutes. Day crew will be in pretty quick.” Mike nodded his head, considering. It was damned fine response time even when you had crew in-house, so he couldn’t quibble with sending guys home. The outer door slammed and Hanks informed him, smiling, “That’ll be the Chief. Fair warning, he is not a morning person.” Hanks was right, Mike thought approximately thirty seconds later, as a grizzled older man bulled into the station, looking more like a ship’s captain than a firefighter. “Alvarez?” he grunted as he passed, heading for the coffeepot. “That’s me.” Chief Donald Parks took a long draught of coffee, let out a long sigh, and turned to face both Mike and Hanks. “Good to have you here, finally. Come on into the office and let’s get better acquainted. Jimmy, ain’t it time for you to head out?” Hanks threw them a smile and a wave, and when the outer door closed, it was just the two of them. They seated themselves in the tiny, overstuffed office, and Parks filled him in. “Mostly cat-in-tree shit,” he said, referring to the traditional nuisances a fire department saw on a daily basis. “Ninety-nine percent of your job is pulling knuckleheads out of the dunes when they’ve had too much to drink and crash their fourwheelers. Good thing you live down in Winchester Bay, because that’s where most of the stupid-people calls come from. Coasties take care of any on-the-water stuff. The hospital only has one rig, so you may have to do some transport yourself. Got a second-hand first response truck coming in next month that’ll make it easier.” Parks settled himself into his chair. “You’ll fight with the city … a lot. Politicking is almost a sport around here.” “Fabulous,” Mike replied dryly. There was nothing he hated more than giving speeches or fighting over what should be theirs by right. He’d seen it happen too often at his last ’house. And then Parks asked him the question he knew everyone had to be thinking. “Why

in the hell are you up here from San Diego, sonny? Ain’t nothing here for someone with your experience.” At least he’d had the balls to come right out and say it. “Except a chief’s job,” Mike replied. Parks dipped his head, acknowledging the point. “I just worry you’re gonna find life up here boring. It’s not exactly the Gaslamp.” Mike smiled. “So you’ve been to America’s Finest City.” “Arson convention put on by MAST last year. Don’t know if I’d give something like that up if I was young and single.” “I’ll be fine, but thanks for the thought. Right now the job is more important than the incidentals.” “Hell, man, no job’s more important than the incidentals.” Parks barked out a bawdy laugh. “But it’s nice to see someone ambitious in here. I can’t wait to come to the next city council meeting. I’ll be the one sitting in the back, hiding.” * Mike luxuriated in the cool shower, washing away a good, earned, hard-day’s work. But even the temperature of the water couldn’t turn his thoughts and libido from Fiona. His cock hardened as her image flashed through his mind, so he did what any normal man did in the shower. He took his dick in hand and imagined plunging inside her, the tight, warm sensation of her mouth wrapped around him, the clasp of her pussy, the little moans she made when he’d tongued her nipples. But when he spent himself, it was far more hollow and lonely than it had ever been. He toweled off and headed for the kitchen and his bachelor’s dinner. While he understood Fiona’s reticence about raising the stakes to an affair from what had been a quickie, it didn’t mean he was going to give up. He’d genuinely liked talking to her the other night, and even if friendship was all he could get, he’d take it. Never mind that he’d try his damndest to change her mind and get into her panties. Now he just had to figure a way to do it. **** Fiona started the v-dub the next Tuesday with a prayer and a punch of the gas pedal. The beast roared to life, and she eased out of her driveway with a grateful glance heavenward. Someone was looking out for her. The rest of her weekend had been blissfully dream-free, and for that she was thankful. She enjoyed her new job too much to be punch drunk with fatigue on any morning. She reported into the ranger station, gulped down a cup of coffee, and climbed back in her Bug for her first patrol. As a buzzword, “patrol” was much too grand. She basically cruised down to Winchester Bay to eyeball the oyster beds and canning facility before checking in with the Coast Guard. The last part wasn’t officially on her job description, but she’d figured out early on that if she needed help with anything, they were her best bet, and had cultivated a relationship with them accordingly. By then it was usually lunchtime, and she ate the lunch she’d packed on the beach. The afternoon was reserved for guiding tours, if any were scheduled, paperwork, and the like. She didn’t necessarily have to check in on the oyster beds every day, nor the canning facility, but since both were tourist draws, and oysters were traditionally eaten raw, she felt the need. In truth, her job was pretty much exactly what she wanted it to be, as long

as she gave the tours when they were requested. All in all, it definitely worked for her. As was part of her day, she cruised roads crisscrossing the dunes and made sure no one was doing anything stupid. When they did, she either called the cops or the ER, whichever was most appropriate. She knew from experience that the fire department was usually the first responder on any medical call, and wondered how long it would be before she came across Mike Alvarez in an “official” capacity. The mere thought of him made her squirm a bit in the seat. Why had she been so adamant about keeping herself separate? It was just fucking, for God’s sake, not an act of undying love. And she was honest enough with herself to know she excelled at fucking. If she weren’t such a freakin’ ninny, she could have spent last weekend getting wild with a guy she found truly sexy, instead of puttering around her garden and watching boring Law and Order reruns. Her foot eased off the accelerator as she cruised past the oyster beds she’d dreamed of just a few nights ago. As delectable as thoughts of getting naked and sweaty with Mike Alvarez were, there was something here she needed to explore, to soothe her own mind, if nothing else. She brought the little car to a standstill. Today the dunes were quiet, with only the faraway screech of seagulls piercing the air. It was lonely, barren, and starkly beautiful. She stepped onto the sand, the soles of her Rockports squishing and sliding through the fine grains. And just as in her dream, something pulled her forward, propelling her on feet which suddenly seemed to fly. Her shoulders itched and ached, as if wings were trying to unfurl from beneath her skin. And underneath the sensation was a feeling of longing, of hope, of completion. It wasn’t sexual, not quite, but so very close it pounded through her, leaving an unsettling throb in her breasts, her pussy. And it only intensified as she crested the dunes and beheld the secluded oyster beds before her as if for the first time. Rocky, man-made shoals jutted up from the water, protecting the beds from the bruising ferocity of the unrestrained sea. Her feet carried her forward until she was standing on the beach, the water mere inches away from licking her boots. She drew in a deep breath, tasting the salty familiarity of the ocean, feeling it as it surged through her blood like a call to hearth and home. Longing, pure and bittersweet and unexplained, brought unwanted tears to her eyes. Fiona dashed her hands against her eyes almost angrily. What was wrong with her? The dream had to be causing this, had to be the reason for her unusual melancholy. She scanned the beach for the man who’d starred in it, but she was alone, as always. **** Wednesday’s routine was just that … routine. Blessedly so, after yesterday’s short dive into the blues. She was sitting in her traditional spot on the beach, chowing down on a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich, watching the seagulls as they dive-bombed the returning crab boats. It was all very normal. At least until Mike Alvarez appeared, riding shotgun in an ancient fire truck which whipped through the parking lot, lights and sirens screaming. Curious, Fiona stood from her seat at the picnic table and shaded her eyes. A crowd had gathered around a fallen tourist far down the quay, and Fiona watched

as Mike swung out of the rig with catlike agility, a Medi-bag hanging from one hand. He cleared the bystanders with a word, and kneeled beside the downed figure, checking vitals. Fiona jammed what was left of her sandwich in her lunch bag, left it on the table, and ran down the beach. While she wasn’t a paramedic, she’d had to obtain certification in both basic first aid and CPR in order to attain her current job. She might not be able to assist from a medical standpoint, but she could certainly take care of crowd control. By the time she reached the knot of bystanders, the patient was sitting upright, her face a pasty white. “Anything I can do to help?” Fiona asked the firefighter who’d been driving the truck. “Just step back, ma’am, we’ve got it under…” He fully turned his attention to her, saw the uniform, and stuttered to a stop. “Never mind. Hell yes, we can use you. Can you rally the ambulance in? Should be here in two clicks.” Fiona did as he requested when the rig arrived, moving the bystanders away with the authority her uniform presented. Even if she didn’t wear a sidearm, people in general tended to respect a park ranger. The patient was loaded into the ambulance, and the crowd quietly disbursed, leaving her, the unnamed firefighter, and Mike Alvarez standing on the beach. She turned to the firefighter and stuck out her hand. “Fiona Neal.” He replied with a wide, appreciative smile. “Jimmy Hanks, and this is Chief Alvarez.” “We’ve already met,” Fiona conceded with a wry grin. Mike nodded, his oh-so-mobile lips stretched into a wide, knowing smile. Jimmy’s gaze pingponged between the two of them for a moment before he let out a low whistle. He turned back to the truck, Medi-bag in hand, but not before Fiona heard him mutter, “Geesh, he’s been here less than a week.” Mike had obviously heard as well, because he had the grace to look chagrined. Proud of his player status with his new troop, but chagrined nonetheless. Then he became all business. “Thanks for the assist.” “You’re welcome.” She shrugged, suddenly at a loss as to what to do with her hands. Oh hell, why did she have to feel awkward now? She’d laid out the ground rules last weekend—or lack thereof. So why was she so fidgety? It certainly couldn’t be regret, could it? Or was it unease, a fragment of her dream and yesterday’s events? As if in response to her discomfort, Hanks hollered through the suddenly thick air. “Chief, gotta roll. MVA five miles down the road.” Mike swung into action, but as he passed, he ran a quick caress up her arm that sent gooseflesh over her whole body. “See you around, Fiona Neal.” He jumped on the truck, and they were gone in a flurry of lights and sirens. Fiona hugged her arms against her body. Mike’s touch, as it had on every occasion, zoomed through her with an eroticism that left her breathless. But as soon as she slowed her stuttering heartbeat, the eerie feeling from yesterday set in again, banishing the passion of his touch. What was wrong with her? She shook herself in self-deprecation and walked back to her Bug, the remainder of her lunch forgotten. How could she ricochet from the utterly female way Mike Alvarez made her feel into the blues? It pissed her off, more than

anything. Hours later she still felt vaguely uneasy. The sensations were eerily, frighteningly reminiscent of yesterday. It was almost as if she were muddling through a waking dream, the reality around her unfocused and strangely grainy. She pushed back the sensations flooding her. She was in control here, dammit, not flashbacks from a dream which might or might not be a portent. Yeah, she could and would be on her guard, but she was done with obsessing over it. She’d vowed to start a new life, and getting wrapped around the axle by a freakish dream wasn’t the way to do it. Fiona finished her rounds and checked into the ranger station, more than ready to bag it for the day. She wanted a hot bath, a good book and a tasty glass of wine, and she wanted it now. So why wasn’t she surprised to find Mike, sitting comfortably with his feet up on her desk? The sight of him lifted her mood considerably. This … Mike … was exactly what she needed. A reality check. “Thought we might try a different restaurant this weekend,” he said, a smile creasing the laugh lines around his mouth. “Rather presumptuous, aren’t you?” Fiona replied, taking care to keep it light. The other two rangers were listening closely, and she knew this encounter would be the number one topic in the rumor mill as soon as she left the room. She kind of deserved their attention … they’d both wondered, not very subtly, when she was going to hook up with someone. As annoying as it was, it was nice to have someone fuss over her. And now, having Mike Alvarez semi-courting her, well, it made the week complete … in a good way. After her disquiet this afternoon, this sparring was just what she needed. “Hey, I just don’t give up very easily,” he said, spreading his oh-so-talented hands wide. Fiona laughed, she couldn’t help it. Maybe she was up for a continuation of their fling after all. It wasn’t as if there was much holding her back from dabbling, except her own silly reservations. But even she wasn’t so easy to get. Three days should be good. “Fine, lunch Saturday. You pick the place.” Fiona spent the night puttering contentedly. It was nice to look forward to something that wasn’t work related, and honestly, when was the last time she’d been on a real date? Flings she excelled in, and until a few years ago, they had been enough. Now? She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. It wasn’t happily-ever-after, but she’d be more than pleased to settle for happy-for-now, and her best bet at that might just be the man she’d sucked into oblivion a few months before. She ran herself a nice hot bath and settled in amongst the bubbles. Laying her head back against the bath pillow, she closed her eyes and imagined their interlude back in Big Sur, the way his hands, so strong and sure, had effortlessly brought her to climax. Sliding one hand down her slick body, she palmed her breast, flicking the stiffening nipple before venturing lower, until her fingers had just breached the folds of her labia. She fondled her clit leisurely, reveling in the just-there sensation of her own teasing. Behind her closed eyelids, she pictured Mike’s hands doing the work, his liquid brown eyes hot and serious, and her pussy clenched. Reaching out blindly, she grasped the waterproof vibrator she’d set on the edge of the tub.

She flicked it on and eased it down her body, circling her distended nipples slowly, savoring the rush of heat that seeped out of her as she ran it lower still, over the ticklish spot on her stomach. Parting her folds with her free hand, she rubbed the dildo over her clit lightly, not wanting to come yet. Electric sensation raced as she slipped it even lower, until the vibrating head rested just at her slick entrance, and her free fingers pressed against her button. She worked it in slowly, inch by inch, and arched her hips, imagining it was his talented tongue working magic on her clit, his cock that pressed into her core as the silky water of the bath stroked her entire body in a lover’s caress. She picked up the tempo, the walls of her pussy spasming as her fingers thrummed her clit in time to each stroke. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as she came closer and closer to climax, as her imagination took over and it was Mike in the bath with her, his cock pounding into her. She exploded around the vibrator, water spilling over the sides of the tub as she bucked and thrashed, tiny pinpricks of light hazing her vision, her breath harsh and loud against the tiled bathroom walls.

Chapter Four Fiona didn’t dream the rest of the week, and woke on Saturday refreshed and ready to enjoy her weekend, starting with lunch. Especially after her little self-love fest earlier in the week. Yeah, lunch … and maybe more … was definitely something she was looking forward to. She met Mike at another ocean-side restaurant. The food was excellent, but Mike seemed troubled by something. She finally called him on it. “So what’s up? Regretting this already?” She said it with a half-smile. She knew better, but wasn’t above having a bit of fun with him. He toyed with his wine glass, “Sorry, I’ve got visitors on their way, and as much as I’ll enjoy seeing them, I was looking forward to settling in a bit more first.” “Family?” “As close to it as you can get.” He raised his gaze to hers. “You met them at the wedding.” “Let me guess, the bride and groom?” Fiona thought back, remembering their odd line of questioning at the reception. She shrugged. They’d been a bit strange, but no more so than many of the people she’d run into over the years. “Hell, Mike. If you were his best man, you’ve gotta be close. You’ll have a great time, and you know it.” That brought a bit of a smile. “Yeah, you’re right. It’ll just be strange seeing them in this setting.” “So when are they getting in?” He glanced at his watch. “Any time now. I’m sorry I’m kinda preoccupied. I’d like a chance to make up for it next weekend…” He left the question open, the first time he’d done so in their short relationship, which showed her how truly discomfited he really was. As if on cue, his cell phone rang, “Aidan, where are you? Wow, here already, huh? You’re a lot earlier than I expected. I’ll meet you at the station in a few, then take you to the house if that sounds like a plan.” He paused. “Right now? I’m having lunch with a friend.” Fiona listened to his half of the conversation with interest. He was clearly uncomfortable in revealing he was with her. But why? As she wondered, it came to her, fast and ugly. Oh God, he didn’t have a wife and kids in San Diego, did he? She hadn’t asked in Big Sur because it’d been a one-nighter, he hadn’t worn a ring, and she hadn’t really thought about it. He’d given off the “single man” vibe pretty damn overwhelmingly. Her mind automatically jumped on the worst-case scenario and ran with it full-tilt. Holy shit, she’d given a blow job to a married man. Fury flooded through her. At herself, for being so gullible the past week, and at Mike, for the deception. She pushed away from the table in a surge, the sound of her chair legs screeching against the flagstone tiles yanking Mike’s attention away from Aidan. “Hold on a sec, bro.” He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “You should have told me you were married,” she accused. “Huh?” he asked, his expression almost comically confused. “I’m not married.”

“All right, a steady girlfriend. That’s the only thing that explains you hedging with your friend.” She challenged him, now simply confused by his attitude, and defensive because she’d jumped so uncharacteristically to the worst possible conclusion. “Ah shit.” He pondered for a few seconds, then pulled the cell back up to his ear. “Aidan, can you guys meet me here? It’s right down the road from where you’re at. The Laughing Pelican … okay, see you in a few.” He snapped the phone closed. “Fiona, please sit down and I’ll explain.” She hesitated for a long moment, thought it over, and seated herself again, waiting for him to begin, arms crossed over her chest. “Aidan has this bizarre fascination with you, okay? I wanted our time to be ours, not Aidan and Leanan freaking out because you’re here … again.” Fiona sat back. Hadn’t she been thinking almost the same thing a few minutes ago? “So you’re not married or involved?” It seemed like the most important part of the conversation right now. “Nope, never been married, and I’m currently the biggest bachelor you ever met. Are we cool?” She nodded, ashamed by her outburst. Even if she’d gone about it wrong, she’d needed to know. “Sorry for jumping, hell, pole vaulting, to that conclusion.” He held up his hand. “You were totally right in asking. I should have said something back in Big Sur. So, are you okay with seeing Aidan again? Because you can certainly bail and I won’t say a word.” Fiona felt a small measure of relief, followed by a completely asinine twinge of regret. If Mike was willing to keep mum about her being here from his best friend, that meant he intended to keep things light, uncomplicated, right? Which was what she wanted. So how much would formally meeting Aidan and his wife complicate things? Damn, this much thinking on a weekend was giving her a headache. In a moment it was too late, because a road-weary SUV pulled into the parking lot, and behind the wheel she saw the man in question. She braced herself, saw his head whip up in recognition, and the hurried conversation with his wife in the passenger seat. “It doesn’t appear we have much of a choice now,” she said quietly. **** Mike stood and greeted his two best friends with a wary smile and a hug. He’d meant what he said to Fiona. She intrigued him enough that he wanted to explore their relationship—even if it was only a friendship—on his own terms. Not with Aidan and Leanan’s buttinsky, off-the-wall questioning. He made sure the look he sent his best friend warned him off his previous tactics. And from the expression on Aidan’s face, he got the message. Leanan gave him a quick hug and wandered to Fiona, thrusting out her hand. “Hi, I’m Leanan Hughes, and the idiot over there is my husband Aidan. Might you be the woman from our reception a few months back?” Fiona flashed a quick grin and clasped Leanan’s hand. “One and the same. What are the odds?” Leanan laughed. “Indeed. So what’s good here?” The two women settled into a light conversation about the food, and what wines went best with different dishes, leaving Mike and Aidan in their own little pocket of

silence for a few moments. “Not a word, Aidan. Not now. Later. Then you’re gonna explain why you’re so allfired interested in her.” Aidan nodded, but Mike could tell it was pained. Whatever it was, Aidan didn’t want to spill. Like he had a chance in hell of that. **** Fiona pulled into her driveway, humming under her breath, and took the steps two at a time. The encounter with Aidan and Leanan had been … interesting. They’d been perfectly friendly, but she’d caught Aidan staring at her once or twice, as if he was trying to get into her head. Not that he’d find much there. She’d been invited to dinner, but declined. They were Mike’s friends, and had come to see him, not the chick he was hitting on. If she and Mike were going to go any further, it wouldn’t be this weekend. And really, that was fine with her. She had some thinking to do, and while Mike was a peripheral to her consideration, what the hell was going on with her would be the topic of a weekend’s worth of analysis. And hopefully, by Monday morning, she’d have figured out the meaning of her dreams and funky feelings … without meeting up with the man who she suspected was front and center in both. The mysterious man from her dreams. She took a look around the combination kitchen/dining area, absorbing the art hanging on her walls, displayed perfectly to catch the rising sun. She was proud of those pictures, of the way her thoughts, hopes and dreams had translated onto the canvas. Even if her art never went further than her own four walls, maybe it was time to pick up the brush again. She’d painted for as long as she could remember, back to the day her life “began.” It had been a way to escape, a way to express herself when words couldn’t. She had no reason to think it would be any different now, her new, clean-slate life notwithstanding. It took little time to convert her spare room into a studio. It wasn’t so hard, since all of her supplies had been stored in the closet. And as she stared at the blank canvas, her mind emptied. Her hand rose, dipped a brush into ocher, and she let herself go. Three hours later, the sun had begun to sink toward the horizon. Fiona shook herself out of what had almost been a fugue and stared at what she’d created. It was the image from her dream last week. The mysterious man stood on the beach, his jade eyes glowing with an unearthly light. She waded, shin-deep, in the surf of the oyster beds, her nightgown floating around her knees. Her eyes were wide, frightened, but a secret smile curved her lips. Jesus, what had she created? When she laid her head against the pillow that night, she knew she’d dream. It was simply a toss-up of whether it would be about Mike Alvarez or the “visitor” from last week. God, she hoped it was the first. **** “So, Aidan, spin me a story.” Mike leaned back in a comfortable armchair, legs stretched in front of him, cold beer sweating in his hand.

Aidan sighed and cut a glance at Leanan, raising his eyebrows. She answered with a shrug. “Listen, man. She needs to be here to hear this. It’s her life.” “Not as far as she knows,” Mike answered easily. “I get the impression she never laid eyes on either of you until Big Sur, yet you’re acting like she’s a long-lost sister.” “That’s because she is … kind of. Listen, Mikey, you know I love you, but it’s a closed subject unless she wants to hear it. It’s bigger than all of us.” Mike considered Aidan thoughtfully. They’d been friends for a long damned time, and Aidan had never dissembled like this, at least not so he remembered. And because he respected their friendship, he’d leave well enough alone … for now. But it still bothered him. **** When the phone rang late the next morning, Fiona wasn’t overly surprised. She got the distinct impression Mike had ordered Aidan to lay off. But after a night filled with the beautiful, poignant dreams she thought had vanished when she moved north, she was curious. The dreams had come right after encountering Aidan and Leanan the first time, and now they were back. Could Mike’s friends have something to do with them? And if they did, was she curious enough to follow up on it? Seriously, how could the two of them have anything to do with her dreams? Was she nuts for even considering such a thing? As she picked up the phone, she acknowledged she was. “Hello, Mike. What time does Aidan want to meet?” If Mike was surprised, it didn’t come through in his voice. “How does brunch sound? Aidan and Leanan want to be someplace private, though. Got any suggestions?” Fiona looked around her little house and an inexplicable surge of excitement ignited her mind and body. This was meant to be … and it had to be here. “My place.” She gave him directions. “And Mike? Pick up some orange juice and champagne. I get the feeling some booze is in order, and I’m in the mood for mimosas.” By the time the threesome arrived, she’d showered, fixed some breakfast munchies, picked up a bit and generally worked herself into a nervous frenzy. All she could think about was her first encounter with Aidan and Leanan. How Aidan had seemed to know her, how he’d spoken to her in the language she now recognized from her strange, foreboding dream. But how did she even begin to broach her dreams and feelings without sounding like a complete loon? It wasn’t something she wanted … especially in front of Mike. Why, she wasn’t ready to analyze, but it was there, nonetheless. It struck her … she was excited about this, rather than frightened. The only explanation she could formulate was that she associated Mike’s friends with her “good” dreams, rather than the unspeakable terror of the other. The thought was comforting, if nothing else. She ushered them into the living room and led Mike into the kitchen with the champagne and some groceries. She sensed his curiosity, saw the long, assessing look he gave her art, before he turned to her. “You don’t have to do this. They’re my friends; I can send them back to San Diego, no harm, no foul.” He said it with such sincerity, she knew he would, and in a hot second. Because of that, she stepped in and cupped his face in her palms.

“I appreciate it, but I think they have answers I need. And if you and I are going to continue with our friendship, or possibly more, you need them too.” He turned his face into her hand and feathered a kiss against her palm. “All right. Let’s see what they have to say. After a drink.” He smiled, and it warmed her heart. “Sounds like a plan.” Twenty minutes later they’d eaten a few nibblers and drained half of their mimosas. Fiona looked at them and smiled, though it was a bit shaky. As much as she had been anticipating this, she was scared of what she might find out now. “So, I’m Fiona Neal, and I’ve been dreaming of what I think is Ireland, and some other things, every time I’m around you. What’s up with that?” There, that was lighthearted enough, but opened the game nicely. She restrained herself from looking at Mike, to see how he was taking her words. Aidan cleared his throat and threw a guarded glance at Mike, as if what he was going to say would sit with her better than his best friend. Interesting. “I really don’t know how to start. Hell,” he ran a hand through his hair, “guess I should just dive right in.” He stood, dropped a quick kiss on Leanan’s lips, and moved to the center of the room. Fiona found herself tensing for something … she wasn’t sure what … and when “it” happened, she was struck dumb. One moment Aidan was standing there, a big, strapping man, and the next he was gone, replaced by what could best be described as a blue, glowing sprite. It … he … flitted around the room, buzzing the ceiling before descending to rest on Leanan’s shoulder. Fiona sucked in a breath, but her shock was nothing compared to the stunned expression on Mike’s face. Leanan broke the silence as she stroked a finger down Aidan’s wing, her gaze locking with Fiona’s. “Aidan is Fae. And we think you are too, Fiona.” She turned her attention to the fairy on her shoulder. “Okay, big man, enough of the theatrics, you’ve made your point.” Aidan flew to the center of the room again and rematerialized into his “normal” self. “We can usually feel each other. That’s why I approached you at the reception. You’re definitely Fae. I just don’t know how in the hell you survived in the Outer World this long.” Fiona slumped back and glanced quickly at Mike. His face had gone from stunned to furious. She wondered about the change, but right now her past, present and future were a more immediate concern than his wellbeing. Selfish? Damned straight, but realistic. Because Aidan had just manifested into the sprite from her “good” dreams. “What do you know about your family, Fiona?” Leanan asked, her voice gentle. Fiona appreciated the velvet glove treatment, but it wasn’t necessary. What she’d seen Aidan become had been shocking, yes, but struck a chord within her, just as her dreams had. While she had doubts as to whether she was what he claimed, she couldn’t negate the fact she believed what he said wholeheartedly. “Almost nothing I recall. I can’t remember any time before I was fourteen … it was almost as if I’d been born right that moment, a fully formed teenager. I was found on the streets of Santa Barbara, fourteen years old, with no memory. The psychologists who treated me said I was blocking out some trauma from my past, and nothing they did could

break through. The police’s searches for kids reported missing came up with nothing, so I went into foster care. In the end, we just stopped trying to regain my past and I started a new life. Until today, it had to be good enough. Now, I just don’t know.” She picked up her drink and drained the rest of it before putting the glass down on the coffee table carefully. Her three guests had remained silent during her little soliloquy, but now Mike spoke. “It was all real last year, in Balboa Park, wasn’t it? It wasn’t a dream.” His voice was toneless, his face a blank mask. “Yeah,” Aidan replied quietly, almost sorrowfully. “I’m sorry, Mikey. If there are two people in the world I would have told willingly, it would have been you and Leanan. And Rhiannon is still probably going to bust my ass, even though you’ve seen it with your own eyes. I’d have told you if you really wanted to know, but by that point you’d ascribed it to a nightmare.” Fiona wondered about their exchange, about what had happened last year, but she supposed she’d find out soon enough. But as much as the last few minutes filled her with wonder, she was worried about Mike now. She stood. “Mike, can I talk to you?” He came to his feet, almost in a marionette’s movements, and followed her to the front door. “Make yourselves at home; we won’t be but a minute.” She ushered him outside, sat down on the stoop and pulled his arm until he joined her. “I can’t believe it was all true,” he mumbled, shock still evident in his voice. This was the first time she’d seen him vulnerable. Back in Big Sur, he’d been a commanding lover, and here, a lighthearted friend who wanted something more. It should have been hard to reconcile the three faces of Mike Alvarez, but it wasn’t. This new side of him made him more human. That thought brought a grimace. He was more human, and she less, if what Aidan and Leanan said was true. And she knew it was, deep in her heart. Shit, she wasn’t qualified to deal with this. Why she’d even felt the urge to bring him out here, into the bright sunlight of the fall morning, was beyond her. Bringing him out of his shock was something his friends should be doing, not her. She was a one-night stand, not someone who knew his past, his hopes and dreams. She rose. “Listen, why don’t you hang here for a few? Come back in when you’re ready.” He took a deep breath. “No, I’m going to hear it all, dammit.” He stood and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. I needed this, even if it was only for a few moments.” Fiona’s feet were rooted to the ground. With his tender, totally absentminded gesture, all of her good intentions about keeping Mike Alvarez at arm’s length went straight to hell.

Chapter Five Mike’s mind was in tumult. Shock didn’t even begin to cover it, and as Aidan laid out what had actually happened last year, he could almost begin to believe he was dreaming again. Until he glanced at the woman sitting by his side, the woman who was freakin’ Fae, the woman who’d completely undone him when she took him outside for a breath of fresh air. Like she’d known how much he needed it, how much he’d needed separation from Aidan and Leanan, if only for a few moments. No, she made it all too real. Absolutely fantastic, but real. He watched as she processed the story Aidan told, as her expressive face crinkled in disbelief, then smoothed out while her brain processed his words. “So let me get this straight,” she said, her voice contemplative. “Leanan here is pretty much human, there’s a whole community of Fae in Ireland, ruled over by this Moira, your specialty is, not surprisingly enough, fire, and people like me are basically unheard of. Is that about the gist of it?” “Yeah,” Aidan replied, and his relief was evident. “We’ll need to get in touch with Rhiannon, the Moira, pretty soon, to let her know you’re here. I know she’s pretty tied up with the Jionagh mess, but…” “What did you say?” Fiona’s whole body stiffened, and Mike could actually feel the alarm emanating off her. “That word. Repeat it.” “The Jionagh. They’re kind of a splinter cell of the Fae. They’ve been tied in with our mortal enemies, the pixies, and were behind the youngling who was the catalyst for Leanan and me meeting. Why?” Fiona stood and walked into the next room without a word. When she returned, she carried a large canvas with her. “I think you need to see this, and hear about my other dreams.” She flipped the painting around. Mike was struck by the pure beauty of her art, of how much of her she’d poured into the painting. The woman in the foreground was an excellent self-portrait of Fiona, but in the background, the figure she’d brought to life was … chilling. “Who is he?” Mike asked, as he stood and examined the man in question more carefully. “I have no idea, but he wants something from me, something I’m not sure I’d be willing to give, if push came to shove.” She detailed her dream, the way the word Jionagh had echoed in her mind even after she’d awoken. The raw pain he’d evoked with simply his gaze. “The scene is one of the oyster beds in Winchester Bay, of that I have no doubt, but I’ve never seen this man before in my life.” “You say you felt something calling to you?” Aidan said, exchanging a long look with Leanan. “Yes, why?” “Remember the rune I talked about? The Fae have been searching for four missing runes for a very long time. Leanan had one, the Rune of Fate, and another Fae Mikey met briefly, Chloe Saint James, discovered another. Your reappearance in our lives, along with your dreams … well, I have to think that the next rune is ready to make its appearance.”

“Are they sentient?” Fiona asked, and Mike realized she was serious, not yanking Aidan’s chain. Good God, what kind of world had he discovered, if Aidan’s answer was yes? “Not … sentient, per se, but given what has happened with the discovery of the last two runes, Rhiannon’s starting to wonder if they don’t choose their finders, in some way.” “Huh.” Fiona mused and set the painting down, leaning it against the wall before resuming her seat next to Mike on the couch. “So, when do we contact Rhiannon? If this guy is going to come gunning for me, I’d like to have as much knowledge as possible.” Jesus, Mike hadn’t even considered that. His mind had been so jumbled by what he’d seen and heard in such a short amount of time, he hadn’t given her dream visitor the attention he deserved. “Tomorrow is soon enough. Leanan needs to head back to San Diego soon for class on Tuesday. I’ll go with her and contact Rhiannon from there, then transport back.” “Why can’t you just do it here, and what do you mean by transport?” Mike asked, now more confused than ever. “Communing with the Moira, with the Realm, requires a focus, or having someone of great power calling me. It has never been a particularly strong talent of mine, thus my need for assistance. My focus is my fireplace at home. I’ll speak with Rhiannon, and transport back here tomorrow, after making excuses at the office.” “Okay, but I’m on duty tomorrow, so you’d better make it tomorrow night. And hey, this transporting thing … is it like in Star Trek? Scotty, beam me up?” Fiona’s tone was amused. Leanan laughed delightedly. “It’s exactly like that. Totally freaky the first time you see it, but uber cool.” They spoke for another hour, but Mike didn’t glean anything more, and could tell Fiona didn’t either. Instead, it was more of a way of cementing a connection, forging a bond. And when Aidan and Leanan stood to leave and begin the drive back to San Diego, Mike was actually glad to see them go. All of this had been too much, too overwhelming. He gave them both a hug and stood beside Fiona, watching them drive away. * Fiona walked back inside, and went straight to the painting of her nighttime nemesis. She picked it up and placed it on an easel in her studio, followed by a curious Mike. The familiarity of her art was something she needed right now, after the information dump from Aidan and Leanan. To be honest, she was still somewhat in a state of shock. The biggest question that came to mind wasn’t over her new, improbable reality, but rather rooted in the past. Who had her parents been? And, if she really was what Aidan and Leanan claimed, how had she wound up wandering the streets of Santa Barbara, of all places? How did her dream visitor tie in? “You’re really good, you know?” Mike’s comment pulled her from her musings. He gestured at the canvases stacked against the walls, and she welcomed the shift in topic, even if it was only in her mind. Her parentage was something she’d ponder later. “Not good enough to make it, apparently. But that’s okay, some things aren’t meant

to be, and after everything I heard today, maybe it’s for the best.” Even if the thought of her failed “career” did give her a pang. Mike leaned up against a bare wall and tucked his hands into the pockets of his wellworn jeans. “So, um, ‘everything.’ Do you believe any of it?” Fiona sighed. “I don’t know. Do I believe Aidan is what he says he is? Yes. I had to see it with my own eyes, but yeah. That I’m one of these fantastical creatures? Not so much. Sure, I’m having creepy dreams, and I don’t really have a past, but those things aren’t enough for me to make that leap.” Mike smiled. “Good. I’d have wondered about you if you bought into it all so readily. A year ago I saw some things that made me wonder about my sanity for a bit, even relegated them as a nightmare. But now, having seen Aidan transform, for God’s sake, I have to believe.” He pushed away from the wall. “So, since our lunch was interrupted yesterday, how about an early dinner?” “That’d be nice,” Fiona answered. “What did you have in mind?” **** By the time Mike pulled into her driveway, the sun had set. Fiona was in her happy place after a relaxed dinner and a shared bottle of wine. It hadn’t hurt that they’d taken a leisurely drive up the coast, the ragtop of the Camaro down. And as she invited him in, she knew he wouldn’t be leaving until the sun rose tomorrow. She needed the normalcy of lying in a man’s arms, of lying in Mike’s arms. And he seemed to need it too, if the way he stroked the hair off her cheek as they climbed the stairs was any indication. She turned to him at the threshold. “Stay.” His smile lit the darkness. “You know it, babe.” He pulled her into his arms, and his mouth slanted over hers. He stroked his tongue over her lips slowly, velvet swipes which teased and tantalized. She kept her lips closed chastely, enjoying the sensation of his lip play, of the way his simple touch brought her nipples to point, made her core pulse with heat. His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head to the exact right angle, and she opened for him. He tasted just as she remembered, all man flavored by the sweet intensity of Pinot Noir. She groped behind her and pushed the door open. Mike crowded her, his body long and lean and hard against hers as his tongue stroked and teased, stoking the fire building in her body to a fever pitch. He lifted his head, his mocha eyes intense. “Tonight we’re gonna do what we should have six months ago. All night long.” Fiona sighed in anticipation. She’d seen him focus this kind of attention on his patient the other day, on her the night in Big Sur, and damned if she wasn’t looking forward to having it directed all over her body this time. She took his hand with a smile and led him to her bedroom, anticipation singing through her body. Their tryst in the spring had been an appetizer … now she wanted it all; she wanted the main course. She dropped her fingers to the hem of her blouse, but his hands stayed her. “Not so fast,” he murmured, his voice low and husky, the faint hint of an accent she’d heard before deepening. She actually felt his eyes sweep over her body, bringing every sense on alert.

“I want to savor this. I’m going to love you slow and long and deep.” His words sent a thrill through her body, igniting nerves she’d almost forgotten she had. He stepped forward again and settled his hands on her shoulders, pushing her into a sitting position on the bed before kneeling in front of her. He laid his hands on her bare knees and caressed them before dipping and dropping a long, slow, open-mouthed kiss on each. “You knelt before me that night, and I can only imagine the scrapes you got as I fucked your mouth.” His words sent a tremor through Fiona. She remembered the heady sensation of sucking his cock, his barely restrained ferocity as he came in her mouth, the taste of his cum, salty and musky, as it flooded her mouth. And as she remembered, as his tongue laved away nicks long since healed, her pussy clenched, hard. His hands slid up her thighs, thumbs caressing the skin beneath the hem of her shorts. “Even as I came, I was aching to taste you as you were tasting me, to put my tongue where my fingers had been, to lick every last bit of cream out of you.” Fiona moaned at the picture his words painted, at the way he could almost make her come with just that light touch on her legs, the husky sound of his voice. His head nudged between her thighs, his fingers tracing the seam of her shorts. “And tonight I’m going to do that, and so much more.” His hot breath teased her, even through the material of her shorts, and she arched, seeking more. Now. He chuckled, sending another gust of air across her sensitized skin. “Hmmm,” he hummed, “eager tonight, are you?” He withdrew until he was simply kneeling between her legs again. Fiona looked down at the obvious bulge of his cock, straining against the jeans which clung to every curve of his body like a lover. His hands coasted back along her thighs, past her knees, down her calves to her feet. He slipped her sandals off and kneaded her feet with strong fingers. Fiona gave up, moaning, and flopped onto her back and to let him do whatever he wanted. While submission wasn’t her usual turn-on, with Mike, it seemed like everything he did was right. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, and continued his seduction, with both words and the magic of his hands. “When I finally taste you, you’re going to come like you never have before,” he promised. Given what he was doing to her right now, she didn’t doubt the truth of his words. His hands coasted back up her legs, his fingers tracing little circles of exquisite sensation as he traveled north. He skimmed her hips, lingered at the indentation of her waist, swept his thumbs beneath the swell of her breasts, his body now tight against hers again, his cock rubbing against her pussy through the barrier of their clothes. She drew in a sharp breath as he slid up her body until his mouth was even with hers. The solid, male weight of him was more than welcome, it was something she craved … almost as much as the promise of his lips on hers again. Then that promise was realized. His mouth covered hers, his tongue seeking as his hands captured her wrists and drew her arms up over her head. Her breasts thrust against him as her body arched, the sensitive points of her nipples crushed against his chest. God, had anything ever felt so good? Why had she been

fighting this? He shackled her wrists with one hand, running the other back down her body in a slow, sweeping caress which made her shudder against him as want, need, screamed through her. He changed the tempo, his lips and tongue lazily mapping her mouth with thorough, smoldering sensuality. His fingers tweaked one nipple, and Fiona moaned in response, feeling the arch of his lips as he smiled. With each touch, each stroke, each feather-light trailing of his fingers, her heart rate accelerated, until she felt as if she’d run a marathon. It was overwhelming, especially since they were both still fully clothed. Mike remedied that. He rolled to the side and sat up, shedding his T-shirt, and reached over and ran a finger slowly down the center of her chest. “What do you say we get a bit more comfortable?” Her breath hitched as he snagged the waistband of her shorts and pulled. She gulped and yanked her shirt over her head as she stood and pushed her shorts to her ankles, standing before him in her bra and panties. “Mmmm,” he murmured as he slid to the edge of the bed and positioned himself between her knees. “Even better than I imagined.” His big hands closed on her hips, drawing her even closer as he kneed her legs further apart, and his mouth was creating intricate, wet patterns on her stomach. Fiona drew in a breath as his tongue dipped into her navel before slipping teasingly lower, to tickle her abdomen above her pantyline. He tugged her panties down, his tongue flicking over her exposed skin until he reached her waxed pussy. He groaned and drew in a deep breath, as if the mere scent of her would sustain him, and caged her hips in his hands again and dove in as if sitting down for a last meal. Fiona’s knees began to buckle as he found her clit and swept down for a long, thorough taste which made her heart thunder and her pussy cream even more. She palmed her breasts, rolling her peaked nipples between her fingers, moaning as Mike canted her hips forward and speared his tongue deep inside her, his nose bumping her clit in perfect synchronicity with each pull of her nipples. His hands bit into her ass, and the small pain was enough to send her over into a small, shaking orgasm which left her trembling. Mike withdrew, a satisfied look on his face, and stood, bringing them chest to chest, face to face. Fiona leaned in for his kiss, tasting herself and the essence that was totally Mike on her lips. She skimmed her hands down his body, stopping only to unbutton his jeans and push them to the floor, following the movement with her body until his pants were pooled at his feet and his cock bobbed in her face. She smiled and reached out to encircle him with her hand, but his grasp caught her midway. “Uh-uh,” he grunted. “We’ve already played this reel. I want everything we didn’t do six months ago.” He pulled her to her feet, crushing her against him as he fell backward onto the bed. She laughed as they bounced, more lighthearted and carefree than she could ever remember being. And then Mike’s mouth was on hers again, his hands lifting her until she straddled his body, her pussy hovering over his cock. “Protection?” he grunted. “I’m clean,” he said, his fingers flexing against her hips.

And because she wanted the feel of him, skin-on-skin, more than she wanted to draw her next breath, she shook her head and lowered her body. “Pill,” she gasped, more than ready to sheathe his cock within her, to have him fill her to overflowing. The tip of his cock traced her wet folds. “Mmmmm.” She sighed, and lowered herself onto him, feeling each inch as she enveloped him. Just as she’d imagined, he filled her almost to the point of pain, and she relished in it. She reared over him, reveling in the sensation of sexual superiority, even though he could reverse their positions in a heartbeat, if he wished. With that thought ringing in her head, she began to move, a slow undulation, a gradual retreat and advance. Mike’s hands rose from her hips to her breasts, weighing each one before he began tweaking her sensitive nipples. Heat streamed from their tips straight to her clit and she moaned in delight. Mike smiled and thrust up into her, drawing a gasp of pure delight, and she was lost in the rhythm and magic of his cock, his hands, the way his body moved beneath hers in a symphony as old as time. His talented fingers tweaked her nipple one last time, then crept down her body in slow, torturous increments, tantalizing and satisfying at the same time. One hand parted her nether lips, circling her pulsing clit, while the other crept behind, grasping her ass in a sure, firm grip as he surged up again, taking control of the tempo until they were both gasping, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, the sensuous, timeless sound of flesh slapping flesh echoing through her bedroom. He pressed hard on her clit as he thrust again, deeper than before, and she came apart, a kaleidoscope of colors flashing against her closed lids, her body wrenching like a sharply pulled bow. She felt him coming inside her, the hot, pulsing spurt of his cum washing her vaginal walls, setting off another, bigger and brighter orgasm which seized her muscles and shut down her brain before she slumped down on him, boneless with utter satisfaction.

Chapter Six Fiona sat upright in bed, her heart pounding with a mix of terror and exultation. Mike stirred beside her, a sleepy question on his lips in the pre-dawn light. “Fiona?” She ran a hand down his bare back, settling it on his hip. “It’s nothing, just another dream.” He came awake at that, and pushed up onto his elbow. “Really? Same one or something new?” She knew he was referring to the picture she’d painted, not her dreams of Ireland. “The same, but different. Because I knew I was dreaming, I was able to get more.” Mike pushed his free hand through his hair and focused on her. “So what was different?” His complete attention was like a laser, and took her back to last night. Hell, actually just few hours ago. It wasn’t as if they’d gotten much sleep. Mike Alvarez could be a very, very focused man when he chose, and she’d been the object of his attention, and his imagination, for so many hours, she was surprised they both weren’t comatose. “Just more of a feeling, a vibe, I guess,” she answered, forcibly pulling her thoughts into the present. “I need to find out more from Aidan though, because I got the distinct impression my nighttime visitor might be one of those pixies he was talking about.” “Why?” Now he sat up, the sheet pooling in his lap. He appeared hyper-alert, more like a warrior than a firefighter. While Fiona was more than happy to have a protector, she wasn’t sure she liked the proprietary air he was wearing like a shield. She kicked herself mentally for going there. Why wouldn’t he act like this? They’d just spent a fabulous night together, and if she were truly honest with herself, she’d like to continue it past today. “Dunno.” She shrugged, perplexed by both of their knee-jerk reactions. Mike, for being an alpha male when she hadn’t expected one, and her, for getting all twitchy about what they were going to do when the sun had fully risen. “I have to tell you, this is weirding me out a bit,” Mike confessed, a wry grin on his lips. Fiona blinked. How could he go from intense to easygoing at the snap of the fingers? Normally she wouldn’t care, but right now she did, a lot. She searched her mind, and as she did, remembered the various faces of Mike, how he seemed to be exactly who she needed, exactly when she needed it. And as she stared at him, she realized it wasn’t something he was doing consciously. Rather, he was acting in response to her. As if they were a team. “Hello-o, Earth to Fiona…” Mike waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, a bit unnerved by her revelation. She’d never been part of a team before, and she wasn’t sure Mike wanted more than a few nights of her company and some hot monkey sex. “I was woolgathering. So what’s freaking you out? Me possibly being Fae, or the whole thing in general?” “Oh, definitely the whole shebang,” he replied. “You know, Fiona, even if you are Fae, it doesn’t matter, right?” She decided to go for broke. What did she have to lose? “Why should it? I mean, this

is just fun, right?” He smiled wickedly and fell back against the pillows, pulling her with him. “Oh, it’s definitely fun, but I wouldn’t say it’s ‘just’ anything.” His lips caught hers, and she found she didn’t really care about much of anything. **** Handling Fiona was going to be interesting, Mike thought, as he listened to the drone of her hairdryer in the bathroom. It hadn’t taken him more than a few minutes in her company last night, at dinner, to decide he wanted more from her than a good time. He’d suspected, after the first night in Florence, that she might be more than even he’d anticipated, and he’d been right. Last night had simply confirmed their ultimate compatibility, at least sexually. And the more he talked to her, the more he realized they had the whole mind-to-mind thing going on as well. But she was nervous as a cat about this going further than the next few days down the road, and he could understand that. From what he gathered, flings were her gig, not relationships. That didn’t mean he didn’t relish the challenge of changing her mind. And he’d try, with every opportunity he had. But right now they both had more pressing matters on their minds. Namely, her dream man. Mike didn’t like the fact this sonofabitch was stalking her in her dreams. Pissed him off to no end, as a matter of fact. There was no way he was leaving her side until Aidan showed up, and if his bud couldn’t make it today, he’d work something out with the ’house; say he was getting the lay of the land or something while he rode with her on her rounds. He didn’t expect she’d be happy about it. * She wasn’t. She stood in front of him—her National Park Service uniform crisp, her badge shiny—looking every bit the professional. “What do you mean, you’re riding with me today?” Her voice was clipped with something approaching fury. “If this is about the dreams…” “You know it is,” Mike said, trying for a reasonable tone, and failing miserably. This was her safety, dammit. “The dreams all take place at night, under a different moon phase than we’re in now. If him being in my dreams is true, a portent, wouldn’t the circumstances hold true as well?” “Maybe,” he agreed, “but I’m not willing to take the chance. Not until Aidan is here, and you’ve talked to this Moira. Rhiannon. Aidan said it, Fiona. This is bigger than we can possibly imagine. If only a tenth of what he’s told us is true, the Jionagh will stop at nothing to get their hands on the remaining runes.” He could tell she’d conceded the argument by the defeated dip of her head. Dammit, that was the last thing he wanted. He stepped to her and tilted her chin. “Fiona, I care about you. More than you probably want me to,” he admitted, and watched her eyes go wide. “I can’t stomach the thought of this guy laying his hands on you. Forget the whole rune thing; I couldn’t give a damn about that. It’s your safety I’m worried about. The fact this dude is in your dreams is making me batshit, okay?” She nodded, but the shock in her eyes had given way to something which looked suspiciously like feminine satisfaction.

Mike hid a grin, and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Can we stop by the firehouse as part of your rounds? I need to check in.” Fiona nodded, a smile lurking on her unpainted lips. Damn, if they didn’t have things to do today… **** Mike had to admit that Fiona’s job was just as she’d described in their ride down to Winchester Bay … boring as hell. They’d stopped by his place, and he’d suited up in his chief’s duds, then popped by the station to let Hanks, who was on duty yet again, know he was on radio while he did outreach. Hanks had barely hid his amusement when he saw the outreach in question was Fiona. “Nice work, Chief.” “Hey, gotta keep good relations with the other agencies,” Mike replied with a wink and grin, before he went serious as he remembered exactly why he was shadowing Fiona. “Yeah, well, I wanna volunteer to work on that committee,” Hanks said, a bit wistfully. “I’ll let you know if I spot any openings,” Mike promised, and left the ’house. Now, they cruised to a stop in his “day-job” car, an ultimately reliable mid-size, ready to inspect the oyster beds which had inspired Fiona’s dreams. As much as he knew she loved her Beetle, in his point of view, it barely had enough power to get out of its own way, and wasn’t trustworthy enough to get them out of a jam, if need be. Mike viewed the beds with a new eye. Yeah, he’d seen them over the last week as he and his partner of the day cruised the beach area, but hadn’t really paid much attention. He was much more interested in the final result, which he could buy at almost any store up and down the coast and suck down with a cold beer. They were innocuous looking enough, he decided, not something he’d normally spend a second thought on. Now, though, he scrutinized them with an eye toward defense. Fiona was sure there would be some kind of showdown here, and while he might not be a hundred percent sure everything Aidan had said was buyable, he’d seen her excitement over the concept of finding what might be the rune, and her terror of her stalker, firsthand this morning. It wasn’t something he’d be forgetting any time soon. “Do you feel anything now?” She turned, and he was struck once again by her pure beauty. No, she wasn’t magazine-beautiful, but who wanted airbrushed when you could have the real deal? And her voice, just as it had the first night back in Big Sur, sent a jolt of sexual awareness down his spine, straight to his dick. “I’ve always felt something a little ‘off’ down here, but brushed it off as me being twitchy. Now, who knows?” She paused. “I checked the calendar this morning. I was wrong before when I said we were in the wrong moon phase. The quarter moon is tonight. As much as I hate to say it, I’m glad you’re here with me.” “Why does my being here sit so hard with you?” “Because I’m not used to depending on anyone, that’s why. And I’ve never been in a situation like this, obviously.” Mike restrained himself from giving her a comforting hug. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate it, not while she was in uniform. She took her nine-to-five life very seriously,

something he’d discovered throughout the course of the morning when she gave a tour of the local cannery to a group of tourists. And again when she’d stopped by the Coast Guard station and traded quips with the Coasties. While he might not see it as something so essential as what he did, he could tell she took great pride in the fact she was doing something which mattered to her. That was something he could not only respect, but admire. And he’d found, as he spent more time with her, there was a lot to admire besides her perfect ass and perky breasts. He’d thought, this morning, they might have something here, and the more time he spent with her, the more he realized it might be more than “something”, it might just be the thing. **** Fiona actually enjoyed having Mike around. Until now, she hadn’t realized how truly solitary her day was. Hell, her life. He was funny and quick to smile, as always, but the hint of wariness never quite left his eyes, and he scanned everywhere they went with a tactical kind of appraisal which reminded her of a soldier again. But she knew he’d never been in the service … she’d asked. He’d answered with a wink and a grin, implying they wouldn’t have him, even if he’d signed on. She seriously doubted that, but was willing to go along with the ruse if it was what he chose. As their day came to a close, the community had been miraculously accident free, something of an oddity, she gathered. She had to wonder if the stress-free day was a precursor to tonight. She was almost looking forward to this evening … to learning more from Aidan and this Rhiannon, and to facing her nighttime foe, if necessary. She’d come to Oregon to start a fresh life, and dammit, this felt like old business, even if it was fantastically new. The one thing which didn’t strike her as a blast from her past was Mike. Maybe because he was allowing her to see the real him, not the fantasy fuck she’d indulged in six months ago, or maybe because they’d been so fast and furious that no bond besides the sexual had been forged. Now, though? She had to acknowledge she was beginning to feel more for him than simple friendship, or even the fuck-buddy phase she’d cultivated so well for the last fifteen years. It made her wonder why she’d been so adamant about keeping her flings light. And she kept wondering that until Aidan appeared in the middle of the living room at seven o’clock. **** Aidan wasn’t alone. A stunningly beautiful woman accompanied him, pure energy arcing off her so powerfully that Fiona had to shield her eyes for a moment. “Wow, it really is like Star Trek,” Mike quipped, and Fiona could see he was covering his discomfort with the whole business by joking. “Miguel,” the woman said with a beguiling Irish accent. The brogue was totally at odds with her looks … platinum hair, almond shaped, almost violet eyes, and a figure that would put a lingerie model to shame. “I’d not thought to see you again. Ever.” She shot a venomous glance at Aidan, who appeared unrepentant. “Rhiannon, isn’t it? Gee, I remember you as a bright, shiny orb. I also seem to

remember you were going to make some kind of ‘decision’ about me before I walked.” Now Mike’s voice was full of barely veiled hostility. It gave Fiona a start, because she’d never seen him as anything but polite. Gentlemanly, even. Rhiannon sighed, revealing weariness. “It is only because of Aidan you even remember that night. Because he treasures you as a friend, and I, in turn, treasure him. If it were up to me, your memory would have been wiped, and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. Now, perhaps we should turn our attention to the matter at hand, rather than your antipathy toward me.” She shifted her gaze, landing squarely on Fiona. Fiona barely stopped herself from fidgeting under the weight of her considering stare. Then the full impact of the Fae’s words hit her, and sudden anger sizzled. Memory wipe? Did that explain what had happened to her? But before she could verbalize the question, Rhiannon stepped forward and laid cool fingers on Fiona’s forehead. Fiona flinched, expecting a jolt … pain … something. Instead she felt nothing but the woman’s hand, and was strangely disappointed. The Fae stepped back, and seated herself gracefully on the sofa, a contented smile on her face. “Ah, child, you have been lost to us for far too long.” Fiona barely restrained a snort. Child? Hell, she was probably older than the woman standing in front of her. But there was no denying the Moira was powerful … it surged in the air around them. It was that power, and her pseudo-threat to Mike which made her hold her tongue when she would normally have confronted the Fae. “I wish it had been safe to bring the runes with us, for your future would be most interesting to read. Alas, it is not safe, even for a few moments. All will be well when you journey to the Realm, however.” Rhiannon’s voice rose and fell with the lilt of her homeland, soughing the air like a soft breeze. Fiona held up a hand, now even alarmed despite the deliberately calming tone the Moira had taken. “Whoa, Nellie. I’m not going anywhere, at least not right now. I’ve got a job, responsibilities. Never mind the fact I’m not positive you’re right about me. Seriously, besides some funky dreams and you and Aidan telling me I’m Fae, I’ve seen nothing to support it.” Rhiannon dipped her head in acknowledgement. “Agreed. But I have no doubt you are undine, a creature of the sea.” She swept out a hand, indicating the ocean a few miles away. “You have always lived near the coast, yes? Always been in tune with the water, with nature? You are Fae. Undeniably.” She paused and tilted her head, scrutinizing Fiona. “And yet you are a child of the Outer World, not of the Realm. And an untried one at that.” “Aidan, you never said anything about Fiona going anywhere,” Mike accused. Fiona laid a hand on his thigh, restraining his surge off the couch. The possibility of danger was here, even if Aidan was Mike’s friend. Fiona instinctively knew the Fae’s allegiance would be with his Moira, with his clan. Not with a human. Even if the human was his best friend. Aidan shifted on his feet, almost like he was going to flee, before settling down. “It never occurred to me she wouldn’t want to. It’s her history, her heritage. If it was me, I’d be there in two seconds flat.” “But you’re not me, and have no idea how overwhelming this is.” Fiona answered honestly, but warily. “I don’t know that I’m so keen on being ‘claimed’ by a bunch of people I’ve never met before, especially when I’ll be the kid thirty-something years

behind the power curve. I like the life I have here, and I’m not ready to give it up.” “It’s not so easy, Sidhe,” Rhiannon said, almost sadly. “Fae are not allowed into the Outer World until they are equipped to deal with it, until their powers have been honed, their affinity with their clan cemented. You, my dear, are a wild card. I foresee a very long, very vocal Council meeting in my future.” “Let’s be clear here, Moira.” Mike recited her title with disdain. “Fiona gets no choice, is that how it shakes out? You’ll fae-nap her if that’s what your precious Council decides?” “I wouldn’t put it quite so dramatically, but yes. Should the Council decide the Realm would be better served by sequestering Fiona within the Realm, it will be so. As Moira, I have the loudest voice, but it is still a democracy, of sorts.” “And … what I want means nothing?” Fiona heard the hard quality to her voice, and hated it had come to this. “Because if that’s the case, I’ll run when you least expect it. You won’t be able to stop me. You’ll never see me again.” The idea of being imprisoned, even hypothetically, terrified her on a level she’d never felt before. It yanked on strings that had never been plucked, making her heart beat fast. And now that she’d heard what the Fae were capable of, it was very easy to believe they, or one of their kind, were responsible for the vacuum that was her youth. No way in hell she’d walk into such a situation of her own volition. Rhiannon furrowed her brow in confusion, and leaned forward and clenched her hands together. “If that is the case, so be it. It is Fate, the will of the runes. Although I would much rather you came willingly, eager to learn our shared history and ways.” “You seem to be forgetting something, Rhiannon.” Mike’s voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. “There’s still this mystery guy around, and Fiona’s dream indicates he’ll show sometime soon. You do believe in portents from dreams, don’t you?” Rhiannon sat up straight. “Is this true, Fiona-Sidhe? Aidan told me of your dreams of the Realm, and this visitor, but not that it would be so soon.” “I didn’t realize it until this morning,” she admitted, glancing at Mike gratefully. While she certainly hadn’t counted on her dreams being an out, he had. “We must make haste to the Realm now, so the runes can be cast.” Rhiannon stood and Fiona felt her body begin to warm. “No!” she screamed, tears of shock and outrage welling, and then the room was gone.

Chapter Seven “Motherfucking son of a bitch,” Mike spat at Aidan. “What the hell, Aidan?” “Don’t worry,” his friend soothed. “Rhiannon won’t hurt her.” “She took her against her will, kidnapped her,” Mike seethed. When he got his hands on Rhiannon, he was going to kill her. Literally. “You knew, you bastard.” He bulled forward into Aidan’s space, his fists clenched, ready to punch and pummel. Aidan held up a cautioning hand, and even though his words were gentle, their meaning was not. “Go ahead and do your worst, Mikey, but know you can’t hurt me. No human can.” Mike drew in a shocked, outraged breath. He knew Aidan was telling the truth, but it didn’t stop his urge to bloody the Fae’s nose … and more. But he wouldn’t expend useless energy. The differences between the Fae and humans had never been more clear. As if in response to his wish, the women rematerialized … both of them. Rhiannon appeared stunned, Fiona just frightened out of her mind. Even though he knew it was futile, Mike pushed Fiona behind him and stared in outrage at the man who’d once been his best friend. “What the hell?” Aidan muttered. “Rhiannon, what just happened?” “We were rejected by the ward,” the Moira whispered, shock evident in her voice. “Aidan, you and I alone, if you please.” In the blink of an eye, they were gone. “What the fuck was that?” Mike spun on Fiona. “Hell if I know, but I’m getting the hell out of here right now, before they freakin’ resurface. You coming?” “Damn straight,” Mike replied, and bolted for the door, holding her hand. They were on the road in under a minute. “Where are we going?” Mike asked. “I mean, we can just keep moving for a while, if that’s what you want.” Fiona breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back against the seat. “Please,” she said, her voice small. Mike reached over and clasped her hand tight in his. They drove up the coast road toward Washington for a good hour. Darkness had descended upon them by the time Fiona raised her head again. “We need to go back.” Mike pulled into a turnout and flicked on the overhead light. She looked exhausted, but the frightened look was gone from her eyes. “Why?” “Not to the house,” she clarified. “I’m done with those people, even if I have to leave things I’ve come to love. We need to go back to the oyster beds. I need to finish this before I can go.” She paused. “Does Aidan know which oyster beds I dreamed of? There are several along the coast, all within miles of each other.” “I don’t think so,” Mike replied slowly. While he sure as hell didn’t relish the thought of her putting herself in danger, he wasn’t going to put himself in the deep shit Aidan and the Fae in general were in right now. Namely by telling her what she could and couldn’t do. No, he’d help her instead, cover her back. And then they’d see where things stood with the Fae, with him acting as go-between. Because if there was one thing he knew, it was that he didn’t want Fiona Neal to leave.

**** Damn, the scene looked just like Fiona’s painting had, sans the spooky dude. And of course Fiona wasn’t in her nightgown, but the pair of shorts and T-shirt she’d changed into after getting off work. They sat on the decorative boulders dotting the beach, which formed the mouth of the oyster beds, in silence, listening to the night … and for the footfalls of the mystery man. Fiona finally spoke. “At this point, I don’t know who is worse, the Fae who are supposed to be my longlost family, or the guy I’ll probably be meeting here tonight. Jesus, after the stunt they pulled, I’m not sure he’s not a better bet.” Mike considered her words and found he really couldn’t disagree. “I mean, I know Aidan is your best friend, but…” She trailed off and stared out at the sea. “Not after that crap, he’s not,” Mike replied emphatically. “He knew what she was going to do, he had to.” Fiona laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t do this for me. You’ve known him for so long.” “It’s not a matter of how long we’d been friends, Fiona. It’s about doing what is right. No matter what. When he brought Rhiannon to you, knowing she’d try to take you back to this Realm, even against your will, he flushed any respect I had for him right down the toilet. And I won’t be friends with someone I can’t respect.” “Is that what we are, Mike, friends?” He opened his mouth to reply and was cut short by the ring of his cell. “Sorry. It’s probably Aidan; in fact, I’m surprised he didn’t try it before now. But it might be the firehouse as well.” When he looked at the display, he saw it was the second. Shit. He flipped open the phone. “Alvarez.” It was Hanks, and even before the firefighter finished his first sentence, Mike heard the wail of the air raid siren atop the firehouse, calling all hands. “Structure fire, fully engulfed, corner of Pine and First. Unknown if residents are still inside.” He stood, torn between duty and leaving Fiona alone on the beach. “Go,” she urged. “It’s for me to face him alone, if he even shows. Maybe tonight’s not the night. Just come back as soon as you can, okay?” The wail of the siren hit full crescendo, ricocheting off the boulders and the ocean before drifting off to sea. “I’m serious,” Fiona said, and stood to give him a small push. “I’ll be fine.” Mike pulled her in for a hot, almost punishing kiss. “Come with me, you can stay in the car.” Fiona shook her head. “No. How likely is it that Rhiannon and Aidan will know you’re there, on site? That they’ll come searching for me? Damned likely. I’ll be fine here. Hell, if nothing else, I can hide if this guy shows, and wait for you to get back.” Mike felt the urgency of the fire pulling at him, but damned if he was going to leave her here, unprotected, and said as much. In response, he got a finger jabbed into his chest. “Go, Mike, and do it now.” In her response he heard the words she didn’t say. That she was used to taking care of herself, and he was in serious danger of making her hightail it in the opposite direction if he pushed any harder.

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice taking on the hard tone he’d heard her use with Rhiannon right before the Moira tried to zip her into the Realm. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and looked her square in the eye. “If he shows, you hide, Fiona. We’ve seen what these things are capable of. I want to be here with you. Wait for me.” She nodded, brushed her lips over his, and stepped back. Mike left her, heading for his car at a run. As he slid the key into the ignition, he took a long look at her. She stood bathed in moonlight, and was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She raised a hand, shooing him along, and so he went, his heart heavy, his pulse pounding with adrenaline and dread. * Fiona watched him peel out of the parking lot, not happy she’d lied to him, but knowing there wasn’t anything else she could do. She’d lied because her visitor, her possible nemesis, was already here. She could feel his presence as clearly as the beat of her heart, the surety of her next breath, and it was because of that she’d nudged Mike along. This was something she had to face alone, she felt it deep in her gut. When he stepped out of the shadows, her heart gave an uncertain little kick. He was as beautiful as she remembered from her dream, and here, in the light of the quarter moon, the memory of the pain he’d inflicted with such casual cruelty surged front and center like a bullet. But worse was the cold and unnerving expression on his face; it brought goose bumps to the surface of her skin. He appeared young, her age, but beneath his glamour was a sense of age and world-weary knowledge. An amethyst the size of a robin’s egg hung suspended from a golden chain around his neck, glowing with a light that had nothing to do with the moon. “Fiona-Sidhe.” His voice washed over her like the warm comfort of the surf. “You came, as bidden.” The brogue was almost the same as Rhiannon’s, lilting and musical to her ears, sounding like a call to home and hearth. “Not as bidden,” she replied, and stepped back, keeping a careful ten feet between them. “I came as I chose.” He threw back his head and laughed. “You always were a willful one, and I can see you haven’t outgrown it in adulthood.” Fiona stood stock-still, processing his words. “Who are you?” she whispered. “Ach, if you dinna remember, our men did their work far too well. I am Liam. Your father.” Fiona jolted back as if slapped, and searched his handsome face, looking for the lie he surely told. But all she could see was calm surety. Jesus. As quickly as her shock paled, anger and a sense of abandonment set in. And betrayal. Her own father had harmed her. “My father, huh? Even if you’re telling the truth, why should I want anything to do with you?” She hated that her voice came out sounding raw, and struggled to regain what little composure she could. “Because you are fated to recover the rune of Inspiration, and return it to its rightful place,” he replied, his expression serious. “Sorry, I’ve already had a run-in with the folks who want to claim the rune, and I’d be more than happy to leave it wherever it’s been hidden for a few centuries, thankyouverymuch.”

Shock flashed over his features before being carefully hidden. But she’d seen it, and reveled in the fact she’d been responsible for it. Petty? Hell yes, but she’d take what she could get. “The Fae have already approached you?” The way he worded it made her wonder. “Yes they have. So if you aren’t Fae, what the hell are you?” “I am as you are,” he replied, “a half-breed. Part Fae, part Pixie.” * By the time Mike arrived at the scene, the trucks and all of his crew was already there. The fire had been beaten down, and a pair of survivors sat, ashen faced and soot covered, on the rear bumper of the pumper rig, their similarly dirty dog squirming in the man’s grasp. Aidan directed the scene unobtrusively, Rhiannon comforting the survivors. Dammit, Fiona had been right. They’d known he’d be here, and were using the fire against him. “Hanks, report,” Mike said, as he shrugged into the turnout coat he kept stowed in the back seat. “Initial estimate of fifty percent loss. No casualties.” “Gotcha.” Mike swung to face Aidan, who was looking at him stonefaced. Mike understood the sentiment all too well. “Aidan, thanks for the assist.” “No problem. We need to talk, man.” “Nothing to talk about. You and your friend,” he motioned to Rhiannon with a jerk of his head, “can just go back to wherever it is you need to be. Your work here is done.” Aidan reached out and grasped his shoulder. “No, it’s not. There’s something else you need to know.” Mike shrugged out of the Fae’s grasp. “I don’t need to know anything else, about any of you. I saw what you did back there. You kidnapped her, Aidan, against her will, and I’ll never forgive you for that. Do you understand what I’m saying, bro? Now get the hell outta here and let me do my job.” Aidan retreated until he stood next to Rhiannon, but they didn’t leave. Together, the pair projected an air of urgency even Mike couldn’t ignore, pissed as he was. He and his crew mopped up, and given the circumstances and the low probability this was fraud-inspired arson, he decided to leave the actual investigation of the ignition cause until the morning. It would be clearer in the light of day anyway. Leaving Hanks in charge of watching the site until the morning, Mike headed for his car. Aidan and Rhiannon fell into step beside him. “I’ve already said it once. Get gone, Aidan. I don’t ever want to see you again.” Mike’s voice was raspy from hollering commands and minor smoke inhalation. “She’s part Pixie, Miguel.” Rhiannon’s smooth tones held true distress. “She was bounced back from entry into the Realm by our wards.” Mike considered her words as he reached his vehicle. “So what? You can’t take her with you, so it’s a moot point, right? Why are you here?” “Because I suspect her dream, her vision, is a portent of her meeting with another Pixie. One who wants the rune only she can find.” Mike took a leap. “And you want the rune for yourself.” “In the hands of the Pixies it could very well destroy the Realm.” Mike laughed harshly. “And why should I, or Fiona for that matter, give two shits

about your Realm?” “At least let Fiona make her choice with all the facts, Mikey,” Aidan said quietly. “Pixies will stop at nothing, and I mean nothing, to get what they want.” “And that’s different from you … how?” Mike climbed behind the wheel, pondering exactly how he was going to lose the two Fae and still get to Fiona in time to give her this new information. Because, with Rhiannon’s words, he felt a deep foreboding that Fiona had been wrong back there; tonight was the night. Aidan’s next words shot his plan to hell. “We’ll be able to follow you, Mike, wherever you go.” * Fiona didn’t think her night could get any stranger, but what Liam said definitely made it take a turn for the surreal. There was no way in hell she was buying that he was her father, it was just too coincidental, too easy, but there was a kernel of truth to the whole half-breed thing. Wouldn’t she have felt completely in tune with Aidan and Rhiannon if she were truly Fae? “Even if I were disposed to helping you—and I’m not—I have no idea how or where to find this rune you seek. I don’t know if I even want to.” “It will call to your blood, to your very nature. It is what you were born to do.” “Hah. I was born for this? I doubt that, especially after spending the last eighteen years trying to find my place in life. Your claim would have more validity if I could remember my first fourteen years. No,” she shook her head, “I’m going to walk away, and you’re going to let me. And you’re going to stop invading my dreams. I want nothing to do with you, nothing to do with the Fae.” “It’s not so easy as that, Fiona-Sidhe,” he said quietly, and in a blink he was right in front of her, holding her chin in a tight grip, forcing her to look into his eyes. “The rune will show us where to go, what we must do to survive the next millennia. And you will bring it home to us, as is your destiny.” His emerald gaze bored into hers, as compelling as it had been in the dream. He let go of her chin and gave her a tiny push. “Fulfill your destiny, child of mine. Bring purpose to the world of the Pixie.” Beneath his words was the promise of the agony he’d so effortlessly unleashed upon her if she didn’t comply. Fiona obeyed on wooden legs. Her mind screamed at her to stop, but her body moved, heedless of her neural commands. She waded into the surf, the water shockingly cold against her shins, her knees, and finally her thighs. And just as in her dream, she felt the power of his command fade with each step she took. She turned to face him. “I won’t do it, not for you, not for the Fae.” “Then do it for yourself, Fiona-Sidhe.” Rhiannon’s voice carried on the breeze, and suddenly she, Aidan and Mike were standing at the opposite end of the beach, a careful distance away from Liam. And as much as Fiona might despise the Fae, she knew Rhiannon and Aidan’s appearance had spared her from an agony her dreams hadn’t even hinted at. With their arrival, Fiona felt a strong, almost undeniable pull at the forefront of her mind. It came from behind her, in the midst of the oyster beds. She knew, without a doubt, it was the rune calling to her. Damn, they’d all been right. She watched as the Fae and the Pixie squared off against

each other, only Mike having eyes for her. He watched her with a quiet intensity, and she knew in that instant that Mike Alvarez would die for her, if need be. It wasn’t something she planned on testing anytime soon. “Pixie,” Rhiannon spat, her beautiful face drawn in a distasteful moue. “Faery,” Liam replied, the contempt in his expression mirroring hers. In the air Fiona felt an undeniable charge of energy smelling of sulphur and smoke, and knew Aidan was getting ready to unleash his power. Suddenly, in that moment, she wanted to know everything. If Liam was telling the truth about her parentage, who the rune would serve the best if she recovered it. “Stop!” she cried, and held up her hand. A frigid blast of mist poured from her hand, enveloping them all in a strangely lit fog which allowed them to see each other, but dampened down the energy of Aidan’s fire. Euphoria swam through her blood. It was true, it was all true. And for once, dammit, she held the upper hand. All of them turned shocked faces to her. All but Mike, that is. His face was lit by an unholy glee. He winked at her and settled onto a boulder, watching the Fae and Pixie with a predatory air she’d started to become accustomed to. He might only be a human, but she had no doubt he could and would take any of them down if need be. That knowledge freed her. “Why in the hell are you two ready to barbeque each other?” This wasn’t how she’d envisioned discovering the legacy of her past, but it would have to do. “They are our sworn enemies,” Rhiannon said, her voice harsh. “They killed and maimed many of the Fae before we beat them back. For that alone, I will have his blood.” “You exiled us,” Liam said harshly. “We did what we had to in order to survive in a world which has stopped believing in the magic of true art and music, reviling instead of treasuring it. We had to blend into the mortal world for fear of extermination. You hate us because we carved out our portion of the Realm, and you couldn’t stop us.” “Untrue,” Rhiannon protested tightly. Fiona assumed she knew of what she spoke, after all, she was the Moira, right? “Your deeds, your very nature, made life with the Fae impossible. We are creatures of the light, of nature, while you are nothing more than con artists, thieves and murderers. Your appearance here tonight only reinforces that. Your kind should be exterminated.” The bitterness coating her words was a visible, tangible thing, reinforced by the strong wind which pushed Liam back a few steps before wrapping around him, holding him immobile. The mist Fiona had—somehow—delivered, still hung on the air, continued to damp down Aidan’s fire, but had no apparent effect on Rhiannon’s power. It was Mike—the human—who suddenly became the peacemaker, improbable as that was. He stood and walked between the two sets of enemies. “Okay, just so you know, I really don’t give a shit whether the three of you annihilate each other, but Fiona wants answers, and that I do care about. So let’s go back to square one and start over.” He looked to Fiona, and she gave him the barest of nods. “So we all know one of the runes y’all are so desperate to have is somewhere near. That’s now a given. And all of you think Fiona is the only one who can find it. So. What's in it for her?” Damned if he hadn’t distilled everything down to one neat little statement. Fiona waited, dying to hear what they had to say. Liam spoke first.

“The Pixies can give her back her past, a family.” “One you took from me in the first place,” Fiona interjected, her voice laced with rage. Liam nodded, apparently beating back Rhiannon’s power enough to do so. “Aye, so we did. We tried, from the time you were a wee child, to access the rune, to no avail. Our advisors determined it best if you were left to live your life, but to monitor you should your powers begin to develop, for only contact with the rune would cause that.” “So, if I locate it, I’m the prodigal daughter, welcomed home to Mama and Papa with open arms. To parents and a clan who were more than pleased to abandon me to gain this freakin’ rock. That about it?” Fiona didn’t even attempt to conceal her bitterness. Liam had the grace to look ashamed. “Aye.” Mike turned his attention to the Fae. “And you?” Rhiannon spoke. “As I’ve said, we have been searching for the runes for two centuries. They are rightfully ours. As a race, we’ll do whatever is necessary to obtain them.” Her voice was tight with anger. “Hmmm,” Mike mused. “Doesn’t that sound disturbingly like how you described the Pixies?” “No,” Aidan replied forcefully. “The runes are ours by birthright.” “Maybe what you’ve found to date, but to me it looks like Fiona holds all the cards on this one.” Mike sounded smug, and Fiona couldn’t help but smile a bit. She did hold all the cards. But how did she want to play them? Even as she mulled over her options, Liam narrowed them down even more … and inflamed her to the point she thought she’d burst. “She cannot live in the Realm, Moira. She is better off with us.” “ You bastards! How about you factor in what I want? I don’t want to be in either of your fucked-up worlds. I want to stay right here, and figure out who in the hell I am. By myself. Without any interference from either of you, unless I ask for it. The rune is mine.” Total silence met her declaration, openly shocked faces turning from their very private war. A war she’d now declared null and void by her statement, or at least this particular battle. “Until I decide what to do, the rune stays exactly where it is. And you know what? I can almost guarantee that you could go through every inch of this part of the ocean, and you wouldn’t find it. It’s there for me to find, for me to decide.” Rhiannon recovered first, and dipped her head in acquiescence, although her expression was one of bitter defeat. “You speak true, Fiona-Sidhe. But do not think this is over.” She released her hold on Liam, who stumbled back a step. “Your lack of action tonight will have no bearing on our continuing conflict with the Pixies.” She made another moue of disgust. Liam was not to be outdone. “Aye, Moira. Now that I have seen your true face, it has just begun. Fiona-Sidhe, child of mine.” He gave a short bow and blinked out of sight. Rhiannon turned the full wattage of her attention on Fiona. “If you’ve a need for us, you need only call out my name. Regardless of your heritage, you are half Fae, and shall be accorded the rights of such, even though you have decided wrongly tonight.” With a pop that compressed the air around her, she disappeared, much as Liam had, leaving

Aidan standing on the beach alone. The fire Fae turned to Mike. “Listen, Mikey…” “I said everything I needed to before, Aidan. We’re done.” Mike’s tone brooked no argument, and Aidan sighed in response. “I can almost handle the lies about what happened last year, but what you did tonight…” “You know how to get in touch with me if you change your mind,” Aidan replied, his expression world-weary and wounded. He stepped toward the water and Fiona, and Mike visibly tensed. “If nothing else, let me try to give Fiona a warding spell. It’ll make you both sleep better tonight.” Fiona considered for a long moment, nodded, and began to approach the beach. “No, stay there. I can do this just as easily from here, and it’ll make Mike feel better.” He stared into her eyes, and Fiona felt the heat of his power as it surrounded her. But instead of being aggressive or overt, it was a warm, comforting heat which traveled through her body in small, pulsing waves. And when Aidan blinked, she “saw” the spell he’d spoken of, the runes she would need to inscribe on her doors, on her vehicle. She shook her head as Aidan straightened, and felt him drawing on the residual power still thrumming in the air around them. He disappeared on the same pop and compression of time and space, leaving a vacuum in his wake. Fiona stood in the surf, the waves lapping against her shins, and wondered what in the hell had really just happened.

Chapter Eight Mike walked to the edge of the surf and waited as Fiona waded toward him. His mind buzzed with everything that had happened in just a few short hours. It was hard to swallow, all of it. Well, except for Fiona. He had no problem accepting exactly who and what she was, even if she wasn’t too sure of it. That kind of acceptance was odd for him, and if he hadn’t suspected they had the possibility for quite a bit more than the fling Fiona seemed to expect, he would have questioned the hell out of it. Instead, he was more than willing to ride it out and see where it went. Even if everything about this situation crossed the border from strange into downright bizarre. She strode out of the ocean and right into his arms. He held her, inhaling the essence of this impossibly strong woman, who had no idea of the depth of her inner core of strength. He’d guessed at it before, but after witnessing the events of the past few hours, he now knew the steel her backbone held. He rocked her back and forth within his embrace for a few moments, drawing and giving comfort through the surety and familiarity of touch. And when she pulled away from him, he let her slip from his grasp. “Come home with me?” she asked, holding out her hand. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” he replied, and threaded his fingers through hers. They buckled into the car, in silence, and it wasn’t until they had cleared Winchester Bay and Reedsport, and were on the PCH to Florence when he spoke. “It was there, wasn’t it?” She didn’t even pretend ignorance at what he asked. “Yeah, in one of the oysters.” “Could you have walked right to it, if you chose?” “Probably. Hell, yeah, I could have. And maybe I will … tomorrow. Or next week, or even next year. Just not now.” “Okay,” Mike replied easily. He could totally understand where she was coming from. Tonight she needed comfort from someone she could trust, and he’d happily fill that role. He wondered what exactly had passed between her and Aidan, but she hadn’t seemed alarmed. In fact, she’d been exactly the opposite, so he chose to believe Aidan had done the right thing. He just hoped his grudging faith in his old friend didn’t prove wrong. “Thank you,” Fiona said, her voice somehow sounding forlorn and strong at the same time. “I don’t even want to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.” “No problemo,” he answered, grinning at her. “It was definitely an exciting night.” Fiona gasped and turned to him. “I completely forgot about the fire. Is everyone all right? Was anyone hurt?” “Everyone’s fine. The residents got out unharmed, and Hanks is guarding the structure till tomorrow, so no worries.” “But where will they sleep tonight?” Mike barely bit back a laugh. After everything that had happened, she was worried about two strangers? It suited his Fiona to a “T”. “They’re staying with friends for a

while.” He reached out and pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “But thank you for asking.” None of his past lovers had ever given a damn about his job, beyond the excitement of being with a fireman. That cool-factor quickly wore off, though, when the phone rang in the wee hours, or you had to cancel dinner date after dinner date because of work. With Fiona, he knew she understood, because that kind of service was what she’d decided to do with her life. * They pulled into the driveway of her little bungalow. Fiona sat in the car, eyeing her house with a mixture of trepidation and pride. “I hate that they’ve made me have second thoughts about going into my own home, even with what Aidan gave me.” “Do you want to go to my place instead?” Mike was quick to say, and while she appreciated the offer… “No,” she said firmly, and pushed open the door. “They aren’t going to win. Not back there, and never here.” She tromped up the stairs and marched through the front door. As she’d expected, it was empty, despite her words. Lights still blazed from their hasty departure, making it appear she’d left for a quick run to the corner store, not for her very freedom. She drew in a deep breath and smelled only the familiarity of her home, and the distinctive, spicy scent of Mike, who stood directly behind her. Fiona turned and let herself be drawn into his arms once again. She stayed there for a long moment, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart beneath her ear, the long, slow inhalations and exhalations of his lungs. And with each passing moment, she felt her peace return, her sense of exactly what she had to do. Tomorrow. Tonight was about satisfaction, and just maybe cementing a bond which had grown stronger with each passing hour. She pulled away for the second time that night, and lifted her face to his. “How does a glass of wine sound?” He smiled, but she could still see the worry lurking in his eyes. “Sure.” To assuage his concern, she walked to the front door and laid the warding Aidan had shown her with his mind. And as she did, she felt a tiny “click” inside her head, and knew the fire Fae had been true to his word. The warding was real, and would safeguard them. She repeated the words and runes at each door and window and returned to the living room. “He did the right thing,” she told Mike as she flipped on the stereo, flooding the room with the peaceful beauty of Jeanette Alexander, before pouring both of them a glass of Chardonnay. She took his hand, led him to her bedroom and pushed him into a sitting position at the foot of the bed. “Fiona,” he protested, and she knew the reason for it. He wanted to comfort her, succor her, but she had something else in mind, and dammit, he’d let her do as she pleased. “Shhh.” She caught his lips in a fast, scorching kiss before kneeling, placing the cool glass of wine next to her. Her fingers made quick work of his zipper. He began to speak again, but quickly became quiet when she shot him a warning glance. He smiled. She returned it, because he had no idea how she was going to rock his world. When she freed his cock it was already semi-erect, just waiting for her attention. She

dipped her head, caressing him with teeth and lips and tongue, much as she had that first night, until he was rock-hard in her mouth, and little grunts of satisfaction were spilling from his lips. She drew back up in one last long pull and lifted the wineglass to her lips, sipping just enough to chill her mouth. Fiona dipped her head again, drawing a startled gasp from Mike as her cool, fruitflavored mouth enveloped him once again. “Jesus, Fiona,” he muttered, leaning back on both hands now, watching her through pleasure-slitted eyes. She withdrew again, took another sip, and continued until a buzz of pleasure thrummed through her and Mike’s breathing was harsh and edgy. His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her in place, and she forgot the wine and centered her attention on pleasing him and herself at the same time. The first burst of cum filled her mouth, triggering a climax that should have been impossible since she hadn’t touched herself, but was there and awesomely mind-bending. She swallowed every drop he had, loving him with her mouth until he pulled her up his body, banded her in his arms, and fell back onto the bed. “God, Fiona, that was fucking incredible,” he murmured into her hair, his hands roaming restlessly over her back, her ass, through her hair and back again. She smiled, the first threads of fatigue winding through her. “Good,” she mumbled, and snuggled closer, falling into the arms of Morpheus, knowing even if everything else had gone to hell in a handbasket, Mike had her back. **** Mike woke her later that night to the slow rocking of his body behind hers, his cock filling her pussy as his fingers flicked across her distended nipples. She pushed her ass back against him, taking him in fully, moaning in satisfaction when he swept her hair aside and began nibbling at her neck in tiny bites hard enough to sting, heightening her pleasure tenfold. He anchored one of her legs over his, opening her even more fully, and she slid her hand down her body, finding her clit, and began to strum herself as he pushed into her from behind. Pure fire raced through her system as she approached the brink, and Mike picked up the pace, pounding into her ferociously, as if to stake his claim, his fingers hard on her nipples, his mouth at her neck voracious. She came with a throaty cry, and Mike’s hands left her breasts to bite into her hips as he pumped once, then twice, and spurted into her with a roar. They collapsed back onto the bedding, their breathing heavy, before drifting back to a peaceful sleep. **** Fiona suited up for work the next morning, despite a half-hearted protest from Mike. “I meant what I said last night. They won’t win. Now go down to the station and take care of the mess from last night. And if those people need anything, let me know.” Mike smiled at her, but his concern was back. “Don’t worry about me. If Liam jumps me, I’ll just call Rhiannon and let them go at

each other. They hate each other so much they’ll forget I’m even there.” “True,” he conceded, “but still…” “I understand where you’re coming from, but I need some time, we both do. Not just because of everything that’s happened, but because I’m used to my own space. As much as I enjoy having you here,” she flashed him a quick grin, “I need it again, if only for a bit. If anything happens, you’ll be the first person I call, okay? In fact, let’s plan something for this weekend, all right?” Mike agreed … grudgingly, and Fiona really couldn’t blame him, but she stopped thinking with her head when he was around, and instead functioned on pure libido. She needed to decide who she was going to be, Fiona Neal, Park Ranger, or Fiona Neal, half Pixie, half Fae, and that was something she needed to consider on her own, without her hormones steering her in one direction or the other. She doubted Mike would ever understand that girls could sometimes be led around by their pussies just as much as guys could get their brains scrambled by their dicks. She had a tour to lead this morning, and damned if she was going to let anyone, be it Mike or the supernatural beings who called her family, stop her. **** The tour took all morning, and at lunchtime she found herself in her traditional place, eating her regular PBandJ. It was all delightfully normal, especially when she knew her afternoon would be anything but. Because she was going to look for the rune, and damned anyone who got in her way. Twenty minutes later she walked through the fine sand of the dunes once again, taking a roundabout way, even though she knew Liam and Rhiannon could pretty much pop in on her at any given time. Perhaps it was foolhardy to try this without Mike at her side, but deep within her, she knew it was something she had to do on her own. And as she crested the dunes and looked at the familiar layout of the oyster beds, she knew Liam had been right about one thing. This was her destiny, and because of that, she had to believe she’d accomplish that destiny without any further interference. After everything that had happened to date, finding the rune itself was almost anticlimactic, it was so easy. She’d slipped into shorts, a T-shirt and old sneakers after lunch, and now stood thigh-deep in the frigid waters of the cove. The feather-light touch she’d always felt before was now almost unbearably strong, as if she were iron filings being pulled toward a magnet. She dipped her hands into the water, her fingers closing unerringly on an oyster which had separated itself from the rest of the shoal. As she brought it to the surface, it opened, as if by magic or compulsion, and inside, like the strangest pearl she’d ever seen, sat an unprepossessing piece of granite, no bigger than her thumb, carved in a swirling, sinuous set of symbols. And as her fingers closed over it, it was as if the ocean around her breathed a collective sigh of relief, the pines soughing their accord. But just as quickly as peace had descended, it was shattered by the arrival of her nemesis … Liam. She clenched the stone so tightly the engravings imprinted her palm. She unconsciously drew on the power embedded in the stone, shocked and thrilled as energy thrummed through her. Throwing back her head in challenge, she waded out of the surf.

“What is it this time?” she snarled. “You found it, as our advisors said you would. Give it to me,” he demanded, his tone dark and seductive … and having absolutely no effect on her. Whatever power he’d held was obviously damped down by the rune … and maybe her own emerging strength. “Not a chance.” She paused, wondering why she hadn’t been creeped out by the sensuality in his voice. After all, he was supposed to be her father… “You’re not my father,” she stated with certainty. “Hand me the rune, now,” he commanded, the air around them thundering with power. It roared through her body, searing her nerve endings with blinding flame, whipping across her body until it felt as if muscle was cleaved from bone. She dropped to her knees in the sand, teeth clenched in agony, tears flowing down her face. It was the same as her dream, yet ten times more intense. But this time she wouldn’t scream. She wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction, the victory. A distant part of her not writhing in pain wondered why Liam didn’t pluck the rune from her hand, take it by force. In anguish-laced shock, she watched as her hand extended, opened, laying the precious rune bare to the elements and his greedy gaze. The firestorm of punishment ceased as soon as it had begun, a reward for her submission. And in that second of time, she hated Liam more than she’d ever hated anything in her life. She fisted the stone, her pulse hammering in her ears, heart banging against her chest. “No,” she repeated, her voice quiet, but ringing with her own brand of power. She couldn’t wait until she figured out how to use it so she could hurt this bastard … bad. “It is not for you. Now who in the hell are you, really?” Liam sagged, as if deflated, defeated. “They spoke true,” he whispered, shame ringing through his voice. Fiona knew it was for what he’d just inflicted upon her, but she didn’t give a damn. “The rune must be freely given.” He straightened and bowed low. “If you can not be compelled, you must be swayed to our cause. I shall return when a decision has been made.” “Screw that…” she started, but she was speaking to thin air. She sagged in relief, but knew while this battle had been won, the war had just begun. **** Fiona picked up a paintbrush the next night, the rune burning warm and comforting in the pocket of her shorts. She’d thought long and hard about what to do with the small stone. In the end, she decided to keep it. She didn’t trust any of her “kin” any farther than she could throw them. She would be the player now, the decision maker. As she painted, she mused, blind to the brushstrokes unfolding. All her life, at least the life she could remember, she’d floated from one job to another, from one residence to another. She thought she’d found a home in Big Sur, a lasting friendship with Tristan and Daniel, but as with everything else in her life, that too had been fleeting. And there was no one to blame for it except herself. She could have kept in touch with the people in her past, but had chosen not to. It was as if she’d always been separate, holding herself above her friends and acquaintances. In retrospect, she knew it was because of the past Liam and the Pixies had

ripped from her memory, and for that she could never forgive, whether he was her father or not. But neither could she excuse the Fae’s duplicity. Their little stunt the other night was too similar to the Pixie’s. Too self-serving. Anger coursed through her, translating to the canvas in front of her. She’d thought coming to Oregon was the new life she’d anticipated, needed. But in reality, it was just another place she’d run to, hidden in. She drew in a deep breath, realizing the room had become misty, just like back in the cove. The sound of the surf, miles away, pounded in her ears. And before her, on the canvas, was a self-portrait, of her standing tall, Mike at her side, the rune clutched tightly in one fist. She stared into the distance defiantly, as if daring all comers to challenge her. Chills chased down her back in the here-and-now. The woman she’d painted embodied everything she wanted to be, had longed to be, without ever really realizing it. Was it possible the man standing beside her in her masterpiece was more than a short fling? An awesome time? Settling back on her stool, she absently rubbed the runestone and thought hard, really considering Mike’s actions over the past few weeks. And she had to admit he’d stood beside her staunchly, and against his best friends, no less. So yeah, if she was being truthful with herself, she could easily see their pseudo-relationship lasting longer than the few weeks she’d initially imagined. As much as the concept had the possibility to make her heart soar, she had to be pragmatic. Had to let her mind rule, not the hormones he so effortlessly and skillfully aroused. Because she had no doubt both the Fae and the Pixies wanted the unpretentious rock she now clenched in her fist, much like in the picture she’d just painted. When and where they’d come from again, and how desperate they were, was the major question. Liam’s words had to be a plot, something to lull her into a false sense of security. She couldn’t risk Mike’s safety any more than he already had, simply by standing by her. In the end, the biggest choice she had to make was whether she’d disappear into the mists, or make a stand.

Chapter Nine Mike knocked on Fiona’s door after work Friday, fidgeting a bit in the glorious fall afternoon. The sun played through the trees flanking her porch, creating a mosaic of light and shadow which should have soothed. Why in the hell was he nervous? They’d been through hell and back together over the last few days, and their experiences were something he’d never imagined, even in his wildest dreams. And now, two short days later, he had to wonder if he’d even find her here. Hell, if he were in her shoes, he would have been history about twenty minutes after the showdown at the bay. He’d had to almost forcibly restrain himself from becoming her warden, making sure neither the Fae nor the Pixies had spirited her away. But as his shift ended the morning after he left her bed, he’d thought long and hard before pounding down her door. Thought long and hard, because he wanted, needed to make sure the protectiveness he felt was inspired by more than pure, simple lust. And after twenty-four hours, he’d known the answer and strapped himself into the Camaro, hoping against hope she was still here. His heart beat unsteadily as he waited for her to answer … or not. And when she did, he almost stopped breathing. She wore simple shorts and a blouse, but her aura, for want of a better word, glowed. While she’d been an assured woman before, now she thrummed with a life and vitality which made her earlier persona seem wan and lifeless in comparison. And he knew the reason for it … the rune. She’d found it after all. Lust … and something that could be far more powerful, surged through him. “Mike.” She smiled. “C’mon in.” He took a deep breath and followed her in, his fingers itching to dive into her hair, his mouth hungering for a taste of her lips. She stopped in front of a canvas. Mike shifted on his feet, thought What the hell? and dove right in. “I didn’t … entirely … expect to find you here,” he admitted, his voice raspy. Fiona tilted her head and considered him, a tiny smile lifting her lips. “I’m tired of running,” she stated simply. “Even if I never realized it was what I was doing.” “I’m glad you decided to stick,” Mike answered. “Really glad.” “And why is that?” Her head was still canted to the side as she waited for his answer. “Because I like you, Fiona. More than I should after only knowing you such a short amount of time. I think we may have something here, if it’s something you want to consider.” He blew out a silent breath, and willed his heart to stop beating out of his chest. “Is it just because we’re good in bed?” she asked, no artifice in her tone. “We’re more than good, we’re fucking fantastic, but you know that,” he answered with a grin. “But no, it’s not just that.” She stood still for so long, her face expressionless, Mike thought he’d die of anticipation. And then she smiled, a full, beaming smile, and stepped into his arms. “Good,” she laughed, “because I didn’t think so either.” Her lips met his in a fleeting kiss full of emotion he didn’t dare name before she

stepped away. She smiled, but just like her kiss, it was fleeting. “If we’re going to continue, you need to know what you’re getting into.” “Hell, Fiona, I kinda figured that out a few days ago. You know, whole supernatural Fae-and-Pixie intrigue, forgotten past, the whole nine yards. What more is there?” She reached into her pocket. “This,” she said, and showed him a small stone, which would have been unremarkable if not for the stylized carvings swirling across the surface. He stepped forward and peered at it. “So this is what all the fuss was about? Doesn’t look all that special.” When he raised his eyes, her expression was shocked. “You knew I found it?” He shrugged. “I could tell the second you opened the door. You’re different, more vital, if that’s possible.” He paused. “But you’re still the woman I first saw at Aidan and Leanan’s wedding six months ago. Still the woman who makes my blood boil.” “And you’re okay with all this?” She swept her hand out to include herself, the rune, and far away, the Fae and the Pixies. Mike stepped forward and cupped her cheek in his hand. “I’m not only okay with it, I’m dying to see what they try next. But,” he cautioned, “they’re gonna have to go through me to get to you.” Fiona leaned into his hand for a long moment before turning and whipping the cover off the canvas. Mike stared hard at the picture for long seconds before a wide smile curled his lips. She’d captured the two of them perfectly, standing on a rocky promontory far above the sea. Their hands were clasped, and behind them, in an indistinct mist, he could see the faces of the beings they’d faced down … Aidan, Rhiannon and Liam. The heads of the warring clans looked pissed, but Aidan’s face was drawn with worry and regret as he looked at them with an expression Mike could only describe as longing. “Jesus,” he murmured. “This is fantastic.” “It’s where we stand now … at an impasse,” Fiona said, almost sadly. “And until I’m comfortable with handing the rune over to one or the other, that’s where we’ll stay.” Mike turned and paced. “We know Rhiannon can’t take you to Ireland, but what about Liam? What’s to stop him from trying to take the rune by force? Besides Aidan’s warding, that is.” “He already tried, and couldn’t take it. He said something about it being given freely, but I’m not sure I believe it. In fact, it’d be stupid to buy into something so fairy-taleish. But I have another theory. It’s willpower. In our case, shared willpower. The bastard's power is compulsion. I know that much from both my dream and what happened at the oyster beds.” She dropped her gaze for a moment, then raised her head again. “He almost beat me yesterday, but together, with the rune, I think we’d be too strong for either of them, or even both of them together. But only if we’re in it together, with no regrets.” Mike surged forward and hauled her into his arms. “It scares the hell out of me you had to meet him on your own. It won’t happen again. No regrets, Fiona. No worries, no second thoughts,” he vowed, right before he claimed her mouth. Her lips opened beneath his, the hard pebbles of her nipples pressing against his chest. Their tongues stroked each other, a simple, sensual ballet of want, of longing, of pure heat. Mike ran his hands down her flanks, anchored his hands on her hips and showed her how much she meant to him with each stroke of his tongue, with each nip of his teeth.

Fiona moaned low in her throat, sending a primitive thrill through Mike, and he delved deeper still, until the only thing he was conscious of was the taste, the smell, the very essence of Fiona Neal. Even the throb of his cock was a distant sensation as he steeped himself in her. Then it wasn’t enough, and pure instinct took over. He walked her backward until the couch bumped the back of her legs and she slid bonelessly down, anchored only by his mouth and the bite of his fingers against her hips. His hands moved of their own volition, undoing the buttons on her blouse, pushing her shorts down those long, delectable legs. And when he finally pulled his mouth from hers, she lay spread out like a feast, harsh breaths making her mouthwatering breasts heave. He dropped to his knees before her and spread her legs, just staring for a long moment, imprinting the sight of her, then dropped his lips to her inner thigh and felt her quiver in helpless response. He licked upward, toward her core, the scent of her arousal driving him wild as his heartbeat thundered in both his ears and his cock. And when he took his first taste, his tongue swiping over her pussy in one broad stroke, her flavor swept through him like a thunderstorm. She cried out as he covered her with his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair as she surged against his lips. He loved her with lips and tongue and teeth until she spasmed against him, her body rocking against him as she keened wordlessly. He pulled away from her with one last stroke which made her jerk in response, and slid up her body, fumbling with the tab and zipper of his jeans as he did so. Fiona took his head in her hands and drew him forward, her breathing still fractured, her heartbeat tattooing against her chest hard enough for him to feel. She fused her mouth to his, her tongue going deep as he guided his cock to the very heart of her and slid into her like a homecoming. She arched and met him stroke for stroke, her tongue mimicking the slow thrust and retreat of their bodies. Her body milked him relentlessly until he felt his sac begin to draw tight, and he was coming in long, hard jerks that pushed her over the edge as well, leaving them both shuddering, gasping for air, sweat-slicked bodies glued together in passion.

Epilogue “Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild. With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping, Than you can understand.” —Yeats “Call him, Mike.” Fiona made her voice calm, certain, consoling. “You’ve been friends too long to let it end like this.” “What they tried to do…” Mike paused, as if trying to find the right words. “It’s inexcusable, something I can’t even comprehend. I feel betrayed,” he admitted. Fiona nodded. “I understand that. But remember, that was Rhiannon’s doing, not Aidan’s. And he did give me the warding. At least give him the opportunity to explain.” Mike blew out a breath, picked up his cell and dialed. Fiona threaded her fingers through his free hand, offering silent support. The past two weeks had been a revelation to her. Neither had spoken words of love, for they were too soon, too big to be uttered prematurely. But her heart was certainly leaning that way. In those fourteen days, the only time they spent apart was during work, as they got to know each other in ways so much more important than their compatibility in bed. The glimpses she’d seen of Mike, the man, before and during the intrusion of her erstwhile kin had shown to be true, even through their first, tempestuous argument, and their even more volatile reconciliation. The time, and getting used to the idea of herself in a relationship, gave her the distance she needed when it came to making a real decision about the Fae and the Pixies. It would be just as she’d said earlier. Until either one faction or the other proved themselves to her, the rune would remain in her possession, and she dared either to try and take it from her. She’d spent the last two weeks with Mike practicing the power that came to her naturally now, almost without thought, much as the mist had that fateful night in the cove. Water was hers to command, from the pounding surf to the west to the hidden lakes and streams crisscrossing Oregon. She had to admit, it had been fun learning her new talents, especially the waterspout she’d conjured at an out-of-the-way lake. Yeah, she dared them to come after her and take the rune by force. Because with it in her possession, and Mike at her back, she had the feeling she could outlast any of them. She pulled her attention from the recent past to the man at her side, the man who’d stood by her through everything, and now needed her to do the same for him. She heard Aidan answer the phone and squeezed Mike’s fingers, then stood and walked to her easel. Getting him to make the call had been an important step. And as she picked up a brush, she listened to Mike’s half of the conversation. “I’m trying to understand, Aidan, really I am.” He paused. “No, not yet, it’s too soon, but I’ll let you know when we think otherwise. Yeah, we.”

Fiona glanced over her shoulder and found Mike watching her with undeniably possessive eyes. She smiled in response, knowing he was rebuffing a visit from Aidan, but leaving the door open nonetheless. “Okay. Give Leanan my love.” He snapped the cell closed and rose to his feet, stopping behind her. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you for making me call him.” His voice was quiet, introspective. “You would have done it anyway,” Fiona answered carefully. “We’ll have to deal with all of them at some point, and I’d rather have Aidan on our side, or at least know where he stands. He may be Fae, but he chose a human as his wife, and you as his best friend.” She was only reiterating the argument that had led to his picking up the phone in the first place. Mike caressed her shoulders absently. “I know, but thank you anyway.” Fiona stood and looped her arms over his shoulders. “You’re welcome,” she said and dropped a long, slow kiss on his lips. “Now show me how thankful you are.” Mike grinned wickedly and palmed her breasts. “With pleasure, ma’am, with pleasure.” The End About the Author: Keira Ramsay is the pen name for TL Schaefer, paranormal mystery writer. She has been writing seriously since 2000, finishing four mainstream projects and beginning her life as an erotica writer with the publication of Blink of an Eye for the Zodiac series.

Meet LSB Authors At The House Of Sin Lsbooks.NET We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books LSbooks.com for other exciting erotic romances. 2007: Terran Realm Urban fantasy world: TerranRealm.com Featured Series: The Zodiac Series: 12 books, 24 stories and authors Two hot stories for each sign, 12 signs The Coven of the Wolf by Rae Morgan Benevolent lusty witches keep evil forces at bay Fallen: by Tiffany Aaron Fallen angels in hot flight to redeem their wings The Max Series by JB Skully Meet Max, her not-absent dead husband, sexy detective Witt, his mother… And many, many more!