By Fairy hands their knell is rung:
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.
~William Collins
Since Zag found out about the whole poison thing he’s been a regular mother hen. Apologizing a hundred times for something that wasn’t his fault. The silly lizard. He thinks that somehow, he was sleeping mind you, he should’ve been able to smell the poison before Ciar.
“Zaggggg, enough! Nothing you could’ve done.” I chastise, flicking his tail to get him to move off my chest. Grumbling, he moves but only a few inches to lay beside of me on the bed.
I look at the clock and groan, it’s three am and because he’s checking on me every ten seconds I haven’t gotten any sleep. Of course, there’s a good chance I wasn’t going to sleep well anyhow.
Who’s trying to kill me now?
“Monster girl?” I raise my head up to look at Ciar standing a few feet from me.
“What?”
“Follow me,” he says ducking out the door.
Flinging the covers and a complaining Dragon off me I run after him uncaring of my bare feet and pajamas. My important parts are covered so it doesn’t matter.
Ciar moves like a demon, flitting in and out of shadows like he has no substance. The few times I get close enough to reach out and grab him, he slips right through my fingers like water.
Laughter is left in his trail. Smiling I pick up my pace. We’ve played this game before and occasionally I actually almost win. Except this time I’m not chasing a wolfy-dog I’m chasing a half-naked man who wants me in the ways of a man and who I… who I want too.
Well, fudge.
Rounding the corner, dirt flinging in the air, I skid to a stop, he’s standing still in front of me, his eyes lighting up the darkness in a faint moonbeam. Extending his arm, he beckons me with a pale hand and almost like he’s pulling me with strings I go to him. But it is not against my will, I go because I want to.
The air is a warm caress but the feel of his skin when I put my hand in his is an inferno that spreads up my arm, across my shoulders and all the way to my toes. He pulls me against him until we are firmly touching—with me fitting against him like I was made to go there.
“You know we’ve never danced together? How else shall we practice for our class project?” Placing my hand on his shoulder and his other hand on my waist he brings our clasped hands into position and then I feel the magic seeping out of him as he begins to hum.
And since I’ve heard the song so often I begin to hum with him.
Small Moss Fairies appear out of the tall grass and flow around us in a swirl of blues and reds, their lights bright and their giggles loud. The magic of this dance calls them too. Smiling, I look up into his eyes and stop fighting.
And just dance.
Effortlessly he leads me in a dance that only Fae can do. Our humming takes on a life of its own, the notes appear on the fog wrapping around us in its magical embrace.
This is true Fae dancing and the beauty of it leaves me breathless.
Laughing with pure joy I follow his steps that are so fast it feels like we’re flying. Faster and faster we go, his eyes holding me prisoner, his smile making me feel more aware of his closeness.
When his arms tighten, pulling me closer to him, I allow it. Ciar is a beautiful man who smells like home and feels like the strongest thing in the world and right now, he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me up.
I love it.
Resting his forehead against mine for a brief second, he lets his lips touch mine and then he’s twirling me away, laughing. Spinning I try to catch my breath and manage to fall right into the thick grass.
The magical lights around us fade and the Fairies, sensing that the dance is over, go back to their hidey holes. All that’s left is Ciar standing above me his, hand out waiting for me to take it.
After holding his gaze for what feels like an eternity I slide my hand into his and smile as he pulls me to my feet. The tension between us is thick, giving more heat to the warm air around us. It’s a good kind of tension, it’s just one that I’m not quite ready to explore yet.
Once I do I know its forever.
“Well, it’s fair to say I think we’ll get a passing grade, monster girl.” The tension eases at his jest.
“Gods I hope so. Either way I have a feeling that at the end of it we won’t be the only ones sweating.” The mojo we were putting off was at its base nature sexual.
To me it’s so much more.
He smiles and links my arm through his as we head back to our room. Ciar talks about nonsensical things like laundry—which I forgot about again—and what would I like to have a TV and then if I want to go to lunch.
The man is always about feeding me.