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I find myself drawn back to Maewen’s apartment in the hours leading up to dawn. I have the vague notion that someone should be keeping watch over her. Given it is my mother leading the enemy charge, I feel responsible for her safety.
I am tempted to port myself all the way into her apartment but I can hear tiny little snores, and I am certain she would not want to wake up and find me standing over her. I would not like to be placed in that situation myself, knowing someone had been watching me sleep without my permission. So, instead, I create myself a cushioned chair in the hallway outside her apartment door, take a seat, and create a protective bubble so I will not be visible to any early risers of the human variety.
She will likely still be angry when she wakes and finds me here at all. My presence seems to annoy her greatly no matter what. But in all conscience, I cannot leave her alone. She might not act like a fae hybrid, but Maewen is still half-banshee, and as such, one of my Court’s subjects. She, like her sisters—and indeed, like all the unfortunate human victims in this—could be a target of the Restoration Movement.
So far, it seems as if the abominations attack humans because they are easy to get to, and likely because they have little to offer in the way of defense. But obviously, Renna’s children are potentially in danger from my mother, as well. Especially given Mother has now openly declared her desire to collect their banshee blood. Or their true names. Or both.
I wonder what Maewen’s true name might be. I have three, being royal. Though I am aware she must have one, I cannot imagine her as anything but Maewen. It suits her. Unusual, tough and to the point, and yet somehow soft and vulnerable, all rolled up in that one, beautiful, word.
“Maewen.” Without meaning to, I whisper her name aloud.
My keen hearing picks up a stirring within the apartment, though it couldn’t possibly be from my voice. I spoke too quietly to disturb her. Maewen releases a small moan, a sound that could denote either pain, or sexual arousal. Damn it. She seemed exhausted earlier. I should leave her be to sleep as long as she can, now.
I release a slow sigh, trying not to think of her long, curvy body tangled up in her bedsheets. I would make love to her in a heartbeat, should she wish it. She is one of the sexiest creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on and her pheromones call to mine in a way that is both frustrating, and tantalizing. But nothing will happen between us. Maewen has made it very clear that she is not interested in me in that way.
Pity. I sit straighter in the chair, trying to switch off my disobedient thoughts. I am determined to ensure no enemy will enter her premises on my watch. Sleep, little banshee. Enjoy your rest. I will keep you safe. And I will try to stop thinking of you naked and begging for sex.
As if she senses my thoughts and wants to be contrarily opposite, I hear sudden movement behind the door. The sound of someone thrashing about rises. Before I can wonder if she is in the throes of a passionate dream, Maewen’s voice rings out in a sad and lonely wail. It is the most pitiful sound I’ve ever heard.
I’m torn as to what I should do. Should I leave her alone to ride out whatever nightmare clearly haunts her?
Another wail, only this one turns into a full-throated scream. I can’t help myself. I port to the inside of the apartment and rush to her side.
She is still sleeping, even as she screams and sobs and thrashes around. I lift her up and onto my lap, pushing aside the bedcover that is, indeed, as tangled as I imagined. Though not for the same positive reasons I envisioned while outside her door. She is wearing an old gray tee-shirt through which her erect nipples are clearly visible. The length of the top is such that it only barely covers her lower body. I try to ignore the parts the tee-shirt doesn’t cover, and concentrate on cradling her tense body in my arms. I rock her gently back and forth. Tears pour from her still-closed eyes as her scream fades into a series of heart-wrenching sobs.
“Shh, it’s all right, I’ve got you. Shh, calm down, little banshee, calm.” I begin to croon in my own language, not even sure what I’m saying, until the tension leaves her body and she collapses like a rag doll fully against my chest.
“What... Rhodri? What on earth? Ohhh...” She shudders and her sobs begin anew, only this time her eyes are half open and she clutches at my shirt with both fists. “I can’t bear the agony of it. Hold me, Rhodri. Please.”
“I am, dear one. It is all right, I’ve got you.”
“Oh, God. Make me forget.”
Make her forget... what? And how? I don’t understand what is going on in her mind. It is obvious she is hurting, though I cannot tell whether the pain is physical or mental. Perhaps it is both?
She suddenly opens her eyes fully and gazes up directly into my face. The color of her irises is no longer hazel, but pure emerald. I could drown in those glorious green depths. My mind goes blank, and I will it to stay that way. Now is not the time to be thinking lascivious thoughts. Now is not the time to be noticing that she has no underwear on beneath the too-short tee-shirt and that her arse—her bare arse—fits perfectly in my lap.
I pat her awkwardly on the back and attempt to remove my arms from around her. I slide her off my lap and back onto the bed, trying to use mind power to force my burgeoning hard-on to shrivel up and disappear. It ignores me, growing by the second as Maewen places a hand each side of my face and drags me down to her.
“Kiss me,” she whispers against my lips.
I can’t believe I’m trying to dissuade her, but this feels wrong, as if I’m taking advantage of her in a moment of vulnerability. “I don’t think...Maewen, not now. We should wait until...”
Too late. Her lips capture mine with a ferocity I cannot resist. Her tongue slips into my mouth and without thought I accept and begin to kiss her back. The kiss is divine, instantly igniting further heat in my groin and putting paid to any chance I have to control my growing need.
When she moans, her breath flutters into me, the sound unlike her earlier panicked cries. This sound is clearly seated in desire rather than distress. I sink my hands into her long, tangled hair and cradle her head, feasting greedily on her proffered mouth and allowing her to feast on me in return.
We finally break apart, both of us panting. Somehow, we have ended up kneeling on the bed facing each other. I am not sure when my hands dropped from her head down to her butt cheeks. Her bare and deliciously curvy butt cheeks.
Heat flares in my face, but even as I begin a stumbling apology, my hands remain on her arse as if they are separated from my brain and therefore non-cooperative. “I apologize, Maewen. I do not wish to take advantage of you in such a—”
“I want you to, Rhodri.” Her voice is fierce, thrumming with desire that she is making no effort to hide. “I want to be taken advantage of, right now. By you. It’s just sex, isn’t it? Nothing more. Don’t you want to? It will help me...forget...”
She shoves at my chest, encouraging me to lie back. Just sex. I know that phrase well. I’ve used it myself, regularly. Up until this moment, sex has always been nothing more than physical gratification, in the many encounters I’ve had in my life. And I expect it will be the same, with Maewen. Why would it be anything...more?
My heart pounds as she shucks her tee-shirt over her head and throws it to the side. My stomach swirls, as if an army of butterflies have taken up residence in my belly.
If it is just sex, then why are my hands shaking as I take a moment to remove my own clothing before laying back on her soft downy bedcover as she directs? Why not simply morph the clothing off quickly, as I would normally do, and get to the act of intercourse without second-guessing every thought, every action, every emotion? Without anticipating what it might feel like when she slides her hungry body down onto my waiting erection...
Why do I continue to wonder if this is what she really wants, or if it is the right thing to do at this time, when minutes earlier she was so clearly in a distressed state?
Rational thought drifts away as she straddles me and stares down at my cock with hunger in her gaze. It is pointing skyward and clearly transmitting how much I want her. I can’t hide the fact that my desire feeds on hers.
She reaches out and fists my flesh, up and down, several times. The opal and silver ring she wears on her smallest finger flashes as she moves. The sight is mesmerizing, the sensation exquisite, and I shiver beneath her touch, afraid I won’t be able to last as long as she wishes.
Desire is so strong in the air I can almost smell its heady essence. A growl releases from my constricted throat.
“By all the winter gods, Maewen, I feel this is not good timing, but I...oh yes. That is so damn good.” My voice strangles, and I swallow hard. “I want you badly, little banshee-human.”
She removes her hand, tracing a circle around the tip of my organ before she does so.
“I’m sorry,” she says, in a strange tone. “You’re not taking advantage of me at all, Rhodri. It’s the other way around. But there isn’t time to explain. There isn’t time for anything other than...oh, my God!” She descends, her body sinking onto my hard flesh until I am seated deep within her channel. “Yes!”
She begins to ride me, with a desperation that lends urgency to her movements, and all doubt, all thought, disappears from my mind. I lose myself in the heat and the slick wet tightness of her body around me. The clenching of her inner muscles as her movement intensifies draws a shocked gasp from my lips.
A wild abandon seems to take her over at the sound. She moves frantically, her breasts wobbling and her breath coming in uncontrolled pants. I grab her around the hips, trying to hold her steady as I thrust up and into her, meeting her grinding movements with my own. The slap of flesh on flesh, and the grunts and groans and moans from both of us fill the air, until I cannot hold on a moment longer.
“Mae, I can’t hold on. I’m going to—”
“Yes, Rho! Come! Come hard. Come now!”
I roar as I do her bidding, releasing my hot seed deep inside her as she gasps and shudders and tips over the edge a second behind me. She falls into her own climax with a stifled scream, her inner muscles clenching violently around my flesh and her fingernails digging deep into my upper arms as she collapses forward onto my chest.
***
Maewen
Oh, my God. That was incredible. And insanely stupid.
I can’t believe how good that felt. I can’t believe I just did that. With Rhodri.
When I woke from my nightmare, he was just there. I didn’t even think about it. I just grabbed him, hoping at most for a moment’s escape from the agony of my nightmares. Instead, I got so much more.
I owe Rhodri an explanation, at the very least, and I will provide it. In a moment. For now, I don’t want to move. I can still feel his flesh seated deep inside me, his heart rate fast beneath my cheek where I lay sprawled on his muscled chest. His skin against mine is soft and warm, yet the firmness of muscle beneath the silken layer is equally as enticing.
A soft outer layer, encasing hard steel.
A perfect combination in a lover.
He wraps his arms around me, stroking my back, and I see the crescent marks on his biceps.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I drew blood.”
I lift a hand and run my fingers over the marks left by my fingernails. When did I even do that? Heat rushes into my face and I turn briefly into his chest, hiding from him. Hiding from everything.
I feel his lips on my hair as he places a gentle kiss atop my head.
“It is nothing,” he says. “Doesn’t hurt at all. I am glad you enjoyed yourself enough to mark me.”
I unfurl from my position and slide off him to lie by his side.
He shifts a little beside me. “You said it was just sex. But that did not feel like just sex,” he says. There’s a question in his statement, one that he hasn’t voiced, but I know I have to address it.
I release a slow sigh. “No. It didn’t feel like that to me, either. But I can’t let it be any more than that.”
He props himself up on one elbow and stares down at me, a quizzical line forming between his brows.
“Why not?” he asks. “What was it, then, to you?”
I reach up to smooth away his frown line. “It was... oh, how to explain it?”
I sit up and hug my knees into my chest. I’m not prudish enough to worry about whether or not I’m covered at this point in time, but the protective gesture makes me feel slightly more contained and in control.
As if hunching in over my own knees is likely to change anything.
“Several years ago, I bought a charm off a mage.” I point briefly to my opal ring.
He takes my hand and studies the ring, before gently releasing me. There’s a knowing look in his eyes. “I wondered how you were getting by as a banshee dealing with death.”
I laugh, the sound short and lacking in humor. “I suppose you could say I’m getting by. The charm certainly helps keep the banshee magic tamped down to almost non-existent while I’m awake, but there’s a cost. A consequence.”
“Of course, there is,” Rhodri says in a gentle tone. “If you deny what is natural, then nature will find a way of re-balancing itself. It is the way of things. If you force your fae magic into a box, it will find a way to bounce back out, sometimes even stronger than it was before.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what happens. It’s as if everything that is held back while I’m awake has to be released somehow, sometime... So, when I sleep, when I dream...well, they’re nightmares, really. Constant, terrifying nightmares...”
So much horror is unleashed in my dreams that I cannot bear it. And yet, I have no choice. Not if I want to keep being a cop. I have to keep using the charm.
“I don’t sleep much,” I admit.
When I slant a glance up at him, his brows have risen and I can almost see the question right there on the tip of his tongue. I move my hand in a gesture designed to stop him before he asks why I do it.
“I can’t do my job—I can’t be human—if I’m curling up in a ball every time someone nearby starts to die.”
His non-committal grunt speaks volumes, as does his judgmental gaze.
“I hate my fae heritage, Rhodri. Hate it!”
He finally sits up too, only he turns his back to me and slides his legs off the bed before standing up. I study his rigid shoulders as he gathers his clothing and dresses quickly, and I realize he must have taken offence.
“I don’t hate all fae,” I clarify. “I don’t hate any fae. Just my own banshee half.”
“Not my problem,” he answers coolly, still not looking at me. “But I have obviously overstayed my welcome.”
“You don’t understand!”
Now he does turn and look, and his eyes are a glacial blue, not warm like they were minutes earlier. “No. I do not understand. I am the future king of the Winter Court of Faerie. I love our realm, our people, our magics, with all my heart. Do you think all fae are good? Kind? Do you think all Winter Court magic is sparkles and snowmen? Of course, it isn’t. There is dark magic as well as light. Good as well as bad. And yet, all of it goes to make up who we are. Every Winter Court fae is connected, through our magics. Even you, Maewen.
“How can you hate something that you are? How can you hate something so wonderful and powerful, as your own magic? Your gift!”
“Gift? You call sensing death—living death—every time it happens around you, a gift? I don’t have any magic, other than that. And it didn’t help my friends, when they died. Children. Torn apart. I couldn’t do a damn thing about their deaths, except wail and cry and live it right along with them. I don’t call that a gift. I call it a fucking curse!”
I don’t realize tears are streaming down my cheeks until one of them plops off the edge of my jaw and drops to the bedcover in front of me.
I scrub at my eyes, embarrassed. Rhodri’s previously fierce expression softens a touch, but he doesn’t approach me. Clearly, I have crossed a line of some kind, in his estimation.
“I am sorry you feel that way, Inspector Maewen Jones. But I am glad—even though you wish to deny your fae half—that you have your police work to sustain you. May it last many years, and bring you much joy.”
A flash of silver, and he’s gone. I can’t even blame him for the sarcastic tone. I get why he’s offended. But I can’t change who and what I am. And I can’t change how I feel.
I’m a police officer, first and foremost, and I have to focus on that. It’s the only way I can ever hope to get any kind of justice for my friends. It’s the only way any of the victims out there will ever have the opportunity for justice. If I can’t do my job, I will fail those who have no voice left to speak up for themselves.
If I allow my banshee power free reign, then I might never be able to find and stop the abominations, or those who control them.
