Elphame's Choice

"It's been five days. I'm going to go mad if you don't let me out of here." Elphame snapped the words at her brother. Then she narrowed her eyes and cut him off before he could reply. "No! I don't want to hear about how badly I've been hurt. I know exactly how badly I hurt. My side is itching like I've been bitten by fire ants. My shoulder aches. And I am well into day five of a five-day headache. But I'm telling you that I have to get out of this tent, and I mean farther out of it then just sitting in front of the awning."



The tent flap opened and Brenna bustled in carrying a tray that held fresh bandages and a mug of steaming tea.



"Oh, no! I'm not taking any more of your sleeping poison. I'm tired of sleeping. I'm tired of lying in bed.



I'm tired of this tent. And I'm especially tired of how I smell."



Brenna glanced at Cuchulainn who was looking harried. He threw up his hands and turned away from his disheveled, frustrated sister.



"You're the Healer. You handle her," he said a little too quickly, starting to sidle toward the exit.



Both women frowned at him.



"And to think maidens swoon over your bravery," Elphame said in disgust.



"Said swooning maidens aren't my sister. You are a different thing altogether. Brenna, I admit she is a terrible patient, and I leave her in your capable hands with my most humble apologies." He managed a quick grin at his glaring sister, bowed to Brenna and, with a flourish, retreated from the tent.



Brenna had to make herself quit smiling at the empty doorway.



"Overprotective oaf!" Elphame said, grimacing as she brushed one long, greasy strand of hair from her face. "I'm disgusting. I smell bad." She rubbed absently at the bandage that covered the wound in her side. "But he's right. I am a terrible patient."



Brenna smiled. "You aren't a terrible patient. You're just bored and healing. If you weren't going a little mad I'd be worried about you."



"Somehow that is not much comfort." Elphame scratched her scalp.



"Would a bath help?"



"Oh, sweet Goddess, yes!" Elphame swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood a little too quickly. She gritted her teeth as the world pitched around her.



"Easy. You must go slowly." Brenna's firm hand caught El under her elbow, steadying her with the knowing touch of an experienced Healer.



Elphame breathed deeply and slowly until the dizziness passed.



"Better?" Brenna asked.



"That was foolish of me." El gave her friend a sideways look. "Am I still allowed to bathe?"



"Later this evening."



"But - "



Brenna put a hand up to stop her. "It's a surprise. Do not argue with your Healer."



"That's good enough for me." El glanced at the tray Brenna had set on the table. "I'll even drink your awful potion if it'll hasten my way to cleanliness."



Brenna laughed. "Now you sound almost as dramatic as your brother. And, yes, I do want you to drink the tea, but you need not fret. There is nothing in it stronger than willow bark to help ease your headache."



Relieved, Elphame sat on the edge of the bed and sipped the surprisingly harmless-tasting tea.



"And when you've finished your tea, how would you feel about going on a short walk?" Brenna asked, although she knew very well what Elphame's answer would be.



"You mean outside?"



"Definitely outside."



Elphame gulped the tea. "You are wonderful."



"You mean I'm not a horrid, potion-brewing jailor?" Brenna said with feigned innocence.



Elphame cringed. "You heard that?"



"I know you meant it only in the kindest of ways, my Lady." Brenna's eyes sparkled as she curtsied to Elphame.



"I have been a terrible patient."



"Yes." Brenna laughed. "You have."



Elphame swallowed the remainder of the tea and stood, slowly and carefully. Brenna hung her Healer's bag over one shoulder, and linked her other arm firmly through her patient's.



"Going to keep me in check?"



With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Brenna nodded at her charge and then tugged gently at El's arm.



Both women were smiling as they emerged from the tent. Brenna took only a couple of steps before she halted, letting Elphame's eyes adjust to the bright afternoon light. Then she began guiding her slowly to their left, the direction that led away from the castle and toward the edge of the forest that flanked the southernmost grounds of the castle.



Elphame cleared her throat. "You know how I hate to complain..."



Brenna's eyebrows shot up in silent sarcasm.



"...but I was rather hoping we would take our little walk into the castle. I haven't seen the inside of it for five days, and I am just mildly curious about the progress of the renovations."



"You'll see the inside of the castle. This evening."



"Not now?"



"Not now," Brenna replied cryptically.



"Hrumph," Elphame said, borrowing one of Cu's favorite expressions.



"I thought you were fond of the forest."



"I am!" Elphame assured her. The forest...her heartbeat quickened. He was in the forest.



"Good. I found a smooth set of boulders a little south of here, just edging the forest. From there you will have a lovely view of the sea and the castle. It seemed a good place for us to walk to. Once there, I can work on those sketches for the castle's tapestries while you relax and work on your frustration level."



"It sounds nice," Elphame said and smiled absently at Brenna, but her thoughts were humming.



They would be near the forest. Lochlan waited somewhere within the forest. Or did he? For what seemed like the thousandth time she silently cursed her incomplete memory. He had been real; the physical proof was undeniable. Lochlan had killed the boar, carried her up the ravine, packed her wound and covered her with his warmth, but the entire experience was shrouded in a fog of pain and confusion.



When she tried to remember specific things he had said to her, she could reconstruct only halting bits of their conversations.



He'd told her he knew her from his dreams.



He'd said he would be waiting for her.



He'd admitted his father had been a Fomorian.



A visual memory flashed suddenly through her mind and she clearly saw Lochlan, wings spread, his handsome face twisted in a feral snarl as he plunged his knife into the attacking boar. Despite the warmth of the afternoon, Elphame shivered.



Brenna's probing eyes fastened on her.



"I feel fine," El assured her. "I - I was just thinking about the accident."



The Healer's gaze softened in sympathy. "Brighid said she had never seen such an enormous boar. The battle must have been horrible. I hate to think of the pain you were in."



"I can honestly say I have never been so afraid." Was an omission a lie?



"Thank Epona you survived."



Elphame made a vague noise of agreement, wishing Brenna would change the subject.



"I haven't wanted to mention this in front of your brother," Brenna began slowly, "but I have noticed that your sleep has been rather restless. I think you should know that it is normal for your dreams to be troubled after a traumatic experience."



Elphame met Brenna's compassionate gaze, then she looked hastily away. It wasn't nightmares that were causing her dreams to be restless. She felt the flush of heat color her face.



"There is no reason to feel shame, Elphame," Brenna said, squeezing her arm gently. "But if the dreams trouble you I could give you a stronger sleeping potion, although that would not be my preference."



"No!" Elphame said, feeling more and more guilty at the honest concern in her friend's voice. "The dreams aren't bad." Well, at least that much wasn't a lie. The dreams she had experienced for the past five nights had been delicious, not disturbing. "I think I'm restless because I'm not used to so much inactivity. I'll be fine when I can get back to a more normal schedule."



"That will be soon. Your wounds are healing with almost miraculous speed."



Elphame rolled her eyes. "Oh, please don't tell anyone.



"I never divulge a Healer's secrets."



"That's a relief. I don't want the people to go back to treating me like I'm a goddess on a pedestal."



"It is difficult to be set apart from others." Brenna soft voice was introspective.



This time Elphame had no trouble meeting her eyes. "Yes. It is difficult."



They walked on silently, both lost in their own thoughts. It was a spectacular afternoon. It had rained early that morning and the forest was even more brilliant than usual, as if it had been newly washed by the Goddess. They were traveling through the grassy grounds that adjoined the southern side of the castle, and Elphame was impressed by how much work the men had accomplished. The concealing shrubbery and trees had been cleared, leaving no greenery other than meticulously cropped grass within several hundred paces of the castle's outer walls. After what Cuchulainn must have decreed as a proper distance, a few well-trimmed groves of still-blooming dogwood trees had been spared. They lined the road that led into the forest with a halo of blushing pink blossoms. Elphame smiled when she noticed that Cu had also left a dozen or so tufts of thorny blackberry bushes, which looked maniacal in their haphazardly entwined vines when compared to the newly established order around them. The grounds appeared to have been lovingly cared for, which pleased Elphame. She'd have to remember to praise Cuchulainn and the men for a job well done.



Brenna angled their walk in a direction that led toward the cliff where the forest softly kissed the sheer, rocky edge.



"Here's our spot." She pointed to a cluster of smooth boulders that perched near the cliffside just within the shade of the tall pines. The rocks varied in size from imposing heaps of rock that towered over Elphame's head, to small lumps that were no more than waist high. "If you sit here - " Brenna gestured to a medium-sized rock that butted up against one of the massive boulders " - you can rest comfortably and have an excellent view of your castle."



El gingerly sat. Being careful of the still sensitive wound in her side she slid slowly back until she could lean again the boulder, which formed a surprisingly comfortable backrest. Brenna hiked up her skirts and with a nimbleness that reminded Elphame of a scampering mouse, she climbed up the side of one of the larger rocks. El saw that her friend's boulder had a convenient edge that lipped up in serrated ridges so that she could rest her sketchbook within its grooves almost as if it were an easel. After she positioned herself, Brenna searched through her bottomless bag until she found her charcoal pencils. Then she considered for a moment before returning her hand to dig farther. With a slight smile she produced a floppy wineskin, which she tossed down next to Elphame.



"I think you're well enough to enjoy a little fruit of the vine."



"It's a nice change from your never-ending teas," El mumbled after taking a deep drink of the rich red wine.



"The tea is good for you. Stop complaining and enjoy the view. I'll show you the sketch I've been working on as soon as I correct the tower detail."



"I will do exactly as you say." Elphame smiled happily. She sincerely enjoyed Brenna bossing her around.



It meant Brenna felt comfortable with her; it meant she treated her like a normal patient. She was also coming to understand that it meant that Brenna cared deeply about her. Elphame took another long drink of wine and breathed in the crisp spring air, pleased that just that morning her side had stopped aching each time she took a deep breath.



Saltwater and pine filled her senses, and she drank in the pungent scents as she gazed at her castle. It looked like a hive covered with busy worker bees. The pointed roof of one of the four lookout towers was complete, and two others were actually taking form, as was the massive roof that would eventually cover the center-most area of the castle. For the past several days she had, of course, been restlessly watching the construction from the chaise longue that Brenna had allowed her to recline upon just outside the front flap of her tent, but Elphame had had no way of comprehending the extent of the ongoing construction while she had been so near the castle walls. From her new vantage point she could see her home literally coming alive before her eyes. She felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion at what her people had accomplished while she had been recovering.



"It really is beautiful, isn't it?" she said reverently.



"Yes," Brenna slurred, tongue tucked against the side of her mouth in concentration as her charcoal pencil flew across the page. When she stopped, she blew across the surface of the sketch and narrowed her eyes critically at it even as she reluctantly set her pencil aside. "That finishes it. I think I have that fourth tower in the right position now." She bent and gently tossed the open pad of thick, crude paper to Elphame.



MacCallan Castle seemed to leap from the linen-colored page. Brenna had drawn in the mighty outer walls, complete with the restored wrought-iron gate, although in reality it had yet to be installed. Flags that were currently being stitched flew proudly from each of the four watchtowers - Brenna had even thought to sketch in a plunging mare on each waving banner. There were no bare, fire-scorched timbers or crumbling stone breaches in the battlements. The castle looked young and vibrant and very much alive.



"Oh, Brenna! It's perfect. It's like you got inside my mind and saw what I saw."



Brenna blushed. "You're just good at describing what's in your mind."



"No, you're really a wonderful artist." Before Brenna could stop her, Elphame began to leaf through the sketch pad. There were preliminary drawings of parts of the castle and some close-up studies of hands and feet. And then there was Cuchulainn - page after page of Cuchulainn. Elphame felt a little start of surprise. Well, she thought, that was how it was. The drawings of her brother were tenderly rendered, and they captured several of his different moods. She lingered over one of him looking sad and tired in which he appeared to be a decade older than his true age.



"This was how he looked the day of my accident," Elphame said.



"He's - he is - I just wanted to - " Brenna paused, swallowed nervously and started again. "Your brother is an interesting study. He has all those proud, perfect lines in his face and so many differing emotions."



Elphame couldn't look away from the lifelike rendering of her brother that so clearly showed his love and concern for her.



"You capture him perfectly." Finally she glanced up at Brenna, who looked quickly away from her. "May I have this one?"



Brenna's eyes shot back to meet her friend's. She gazed intently at Elphame. She saw no pity in her open expression, nor did she see any reproach.



"Of course. You may have any of them you desire."



"Just this one. The rest are yours." She met Brenna's timid gaze and smiled warmly, thinking how very much their mother would approve of Brenna.



The sound of pounding hooves surprised both of them, and, as if thinking of him had conjured him into their presence, Cuchulainn thundered up. Brenna instantly read his expression.



"An accident?" she asked, already climbing down from her perch.



"Angus was cutting a new section of raw timbers and the saw slipped. I'm afraid it's a rather nasty wound." Cu leaned down to offer his hand to Brenna. Without any hesitation she placed her small hand in his and he lifted her behind him. He gave his sister a stern look. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be back to get you soon."



"No need for you to hurry. It feels good to be out of captivity." Elphame shooed him away with an impatient gesture.



Cuchulainn frowned at her before kicking his gelding so that they raced back to the castle. El watched Brenna's arms tighten around her brother's waist and Cu reach a possessive arm back to steady her and hold her more firmly against him.



Yes, that's how it was - Cuchulainn and Brenna - her instincts had been right. She wondered if either of them realized it yet. Probably not. For all his experience with women, Cuchulainn would be as unprepared as his sister for love.



"Unprepared," Elphame whispered. That certainly described her. But how could she have been prepared for Lochlan? Had he been a hallucination? No, he couldn't have been. There was tangible evidence that he had been there - the boar was dead - her wound was packed with moss. But did he really have the wings of a Fomorian? She shivered and her gaze turned from the castle to the forest. She hadn't been afraid of him, she did remember that much. Why hadn't she been?



Because his presence had Felt right. She already knew that answer - she'd thought about it over and over again during the past five days. But was she being a fool, depending on an ability that had recently fledged within her?



"Lochlan," she said, unable to keep from speaking his name aloud. An unexpected breeze caught his name, and Elphame felt the skin on her forearms prickle. For a moment Lochlan's name seemed to hover, frostlike and almost visible, before the playful wind whisked it up and sprinkled it into the waiting forest.



She shook her head, ashamed of her overactive imagination. A lover's name didn't become visible when spoken aloud. And Lochlan was not even her lover.



"That bump on my head is making me imagine things," she said, lifting the wineskin to her frowning lips.



"What is it you are imagining, my heart?"



Elphame sputtered in surprise, gagging on the half-swallowed wine. Eyes wide, she peered into the forest.



Like an enormous bird, the winged man dropped from the concealing boughs of a pine, mere feet from where Elphame sat. He remained within the shadows of the forest while his wings tucked themselves neatly along his back. His smile was tentative.



"I did not mean to startle you."



"By the Goddess, you are real!" Elphame blurted, and then instantly felt like a fool.



"Did you truly doubt it?"



Elphame nodded vigorously. "Constantly."



Lochlan laughed, a sound so honestly joyous that Elphame smiled and felt some of her nervousness slip away.



"I understand your confusion. My mind was clear and uninjured, yet in the five days since, the memory of our meeting seems to have become a thing that belongs to a different realm."



"Like a dream," Elphame said.



Lochlan shook his head. "No, my heart, our dreams are something unique, something unlike anything else."



Elphame felt herself blush but she had no desire to look away from his penetrating gaze. Lochlan stepped from the tree line. Even with his wings held tightly against his body he moved with a feral grace that mesmerized her; for a moment all she could see, feel or hear was Lochlan. And then her mind began working again, and realization flooded her. What if someone saw him? She thrust up one hand, instantly causing him to halt his approach.



"I want you to explain all of this to me. I want to know who you are and what is happening between us."



Elphame looked around nervously. "But you can't be seen. I haven't even told Cuchulainn about you."



Disappointment darkened Lochlan's expression, but he nodded tightly and retraced his steps so that he stood back within the opaque semidarkness at the edge of the forest.



Elphame felt a rush of shame, followed by a flood of irritation. Days of boredom and frustration had her nerves on edge and suddenly she wanted to lash out at him and shout that she had just met him, and that he was nothing to her except an intriguing stranger. But the false words wouldn't come. Elphame stared into his storm-colored eyes and knew with an almost terrifying certainty that she was seeing her future.



With a clear mind, she remembered that Cuchulainn's own words had foretold him. I know you meet your destiny at MacCallan Castle. I know that destiny is tied up in your lifemate ___



Lochlan was that lifemate.



Then, unbidden, the rest of what Cuchulainn had said played through her mind.. .but when I try to focus on details about the man 1 get only fog and confusion.



At least now she knew why her brother's vision had been incomplete, and she couldn't help but think that the Goddess had been wise in hiding Lochlan's visage from Cu. If he knew that her lifemate was the son of a Fomorian demon... Elphame didn't even want to finish the thought.



"This is going to be very difficult," she said uneasily.



Her words made Lochlan smile. "My mother would have said that then it must be something that is worth doing."



The warmth in his voice when he mentioned his mother touched her, evaporating her irritation.



"You loved her very much," she said.



"She gifted me with humanity, and then she taught me what that gift meant. She never saw the monster, she saw only her son."



"You aren't a monster," Elphame said emphatically.



Lochlan's smile was bittersweet. "No, I am not a monster, but I do have the blood of a race of demons within my body, and that is something that neither of us can ever forget."



"Should I be afraid of you?"



"I cannot answer that question for you." One of his hands lifted as if to touch her. "All I can tell you is that I would rather die than harm you."



The thickness of foreboding clogged her throat. Her mind and her heart felt like a kingdom in civil war.



She should demand that he leave. She'd give him an honorable head start before she informed Cuchulainn that a creature of Fomorian descent had entered Partholon. She needed to stop thinking like a romantic fool. He was nothing more than a dangerous dream.



"I will leave if that is truly your wish," Lochlan said solemnly.



"Must you read my mind?" she snapped.



"I cannot, I can only read your face and your eyes. I have dreamed of you since you were born. It was enough time to learn the expressions of your face and to understand your moods."



Elphame's eyes found his, trying to ignore the sadness she saw there. She could do it - she could send him away. It was her destiny to be Clan Chieftain, The MacCallan, and she had been touched by the power of the Goddess. She was a being set apart.



As is Lochlan, her mind whispered.



She looked at him, making herself see the truth of the creature that stood before her. His body was very human. He was tall and muscular and well-formed. But men didn't have down-lined wings that tucked against their bodies, and they didn't have skin that seemed to glow faintly as if it had been lit from a pale light within. She couldn't remember ever seeing any man who had eyes that slanted such a stormy shade of gray. Her reflective gaze slid slowly down his body. His feet - they were bare and looked odd. With a little jolt she remembered that she had thought the same thing when he had been standing in the stream after his battle with the boar.



"Talons," Lochlan said, following the path of her eyes. He lifted one foot from the green of the forest floor and shrugged. "I have talons. You have hooves. If I had my choice I think I would rather have either than the feet of a normal man. I cannot imagine liking to wear shoes."



Unexpectedly, Elphame laughed. "This is the first time I've ever admitted it aloud, but I have often thought the same thing. You would not believe the small, tortured contraptions my mother lashes her feet into. When I was a young girl it made her sad that I couldn't wear frilly little stockings and silly, awkward shoes, so she used to buff and polish my hooves until they glistened. I tried to explain to her that it didn't matter, that I liked my hooves, but she never seemed to understand."



He smiled back at her. "My mother simply told me to keep my talons trimmed because she was tired of mending my bed linens."



He was easy to talk to. When she stopped dissecting his humanity, and simply reacted to him as a woman to a man, she found that it was already easy to forget that he was so different. By the Goddess!



She was different. Her heart said that he could not be a monster, but could she trust her heart?



Do you trust her, Beloved? Epona had asked.



Yes, I trust her. Her mother had answered with calm certainty.



Elphame had trusted herself when it came to restoring MacCallan Castle - and that had been the right choice. How was this any different? Lochlan was just another life-altering choice she had to face.



Perhaps it was time that she grew up and began to truly trust herself.



Waiting within the shadows of the pines, Lochlan showed no outer sign of his own inner turmoil as he watched her struggle silently with her conflicting emotions. What could he say to her? He couldn't ask her to accept him. How could he? What if he could find no other way but through her blood to fulfill the Prophecy? He should leave her - now. He should turn and flee, and never see her again, even if in doing so he was damning his people to eternal madness.



He could feel the ever-present pull of the demon that surged deep within his veins. Steal her, the currents of his dark blood murmured erotically, take her and do with her as you will.



No! Lochlan welcomed the pain that was always the response when he suppressed the demon in his blood, the pain that was causing his people to lose their humanity and slowly embrace the madness and the never-ending blood lust that was at the core of the Fomorian race. Pain was the price they paid for striving to be more than their demonic fathers. They had been born different, unique. In their mother's womb each of them had somehow been altered. Instead of being fashioned after the race of Fomorians, they had evolved into something that was almost human. But the call of their dark heritage was an ever-present lure they struggled against. A lure filled with dreams of death soaked in the maddening scent of blood.



How could killing Elphame save his people from the violence that was destroying them? How could the Goddess ask that of him? It made no sense. There had to be another way for the Prophecy to be fulfilled.



She was so near. No longer an insubstantial woman from his dreams; she lived and breathed and was standing mere feet from him. He couldn't leave her, not yet. He'd spent a century fighting darkness; he would not retreat now.



Slowly, Elphame raised her eyes to meet his, and Lochlan read the confusion and the questions there, which mirrored the turmoil within his own soul.



"I do not have all the answers you need. There is much happening here that I, too, do not understand, but I swear to you that my heart, perhaps even my very soul, is linked with yours. If you are not by my side, I will ache for you until I cease to breathe," Lochlan said.



He ached for her. Elphame was just coming to know that wonderful, terrible feeling. Suddenly she wanted to touch him; she wanted the reassurance of feeling his heartbeat and his warm, living flesh under her hands. He had been dreaming of her for all of her life. She had only dreamed of him for a fraction of that time, but already she knew that she wanted more than ethereal dreams and half-realized hopes.



Without allowing herself second thoughts, she slid from her rocky seat. She studied the castle. The distant workers were busy, no one was even glancing in her direction - and there was definitely no sign of Cuchulainn charging up on his gelding. And anyway, she told herself, if anyone was watching her, the fact that she stepped into the forest for a moment of privacy would not seem unusual at all.



She turned to Lochlan. He was watching her with an expression that made her suddenly want to weep.



He radiated a feral, masculine power, yet at that moment he looked heart-wrenchingly vulnerable.



"Elphame - " his voice sounded choked " - I should not stay."



Elphame felt his words quiver low in her stomach. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her body moved toward him as if he were drawing her on an invisible string. She stopped a little less than an arm's length in front of him.



Elphame shifted her legs nervously and her hooves make a liquid sound against the long grass.



"I know you shouldn't stay, but I don't want you to leave," she said in a rush. Then she tried to smile, motioning to her head. "But maybe the bump on my head is tainting my judgment."



Lochlan's lips twitched. "Then it seems your wound has spread to me." He raised his chin and peered at the side of her head. "And it appears that you are much improved. You heal quickly." He glanced at her shoulder, glad that they had something less emotionally charged to talk about. "And I see the Healer has given you leave to stop using your sling."



"Brenna," she said. His nearness was intoxicating and she tried to dilute the effect he was having on her with simple, normal conversation. "The Healer's name is Brenna. She is very gifted, and she is also my friend."



He nodded his head thoughtfully then pointed at her side. "I would like to see how she has dressed that wound."



Elphame held her hand protectively over the bandage that rested snuggled beneath her linen shift.



"I think you'll just have to take my word that it's healing well, too."



Lochlan's lips twisted in a lopsided smile that made him look like a mischievous boy. "I have already seen your naked side."



Oh, Goddess... Her stomach rolled and she wished desperately that she had her brother's gift for light, flirtatious repartee.



And Lochlan was no simple-minded maiden.



"Well, that was under duress. There's no boar getting ready to attack me now," she said, feeling ridiculous. She wanted him to touch her, but thought that if he actually did she might bolt back to the castle. "And anyway," she continued. Her thoughts were like fireflies, flitting around in her head and she was unable to stop herself from babbling. "I'm not a very pretty sight right now, naked or otherwise. I haven't really bathed since the accident." She told her mouth to be quiet and nervously ran a hand through her long hair. It felt hopelessly dirty and lifeless. She even took a small, half step back, afraid she might actually smell as bad as she thought she did.



But Lochlan would not let her retreat. Without coming toward her, he reached out and snagged her wrist as her hand lifted to pat at her hair again. His hand felt warm and strong. He pulled gently, and she moved one step closer to him.



"How can I make you understand what I see when I look at you?" Lochlan asked. "My mother raised me with her beliefs. She taught me the ways of her people, the people of Partholon. And she passed on to me the love of her Goddess, Epona. I cannot count the times I heard her beseech Epona's protection and aid - and ask special blessings for me and the others like me. She had a bond with her Goddess which stayed strong throughout her life." He paused, his throat suddenly tight with the remembrance. "My mother was a woman of great faith. She died believing that her prayers would be answered." Lochlan pulled insistently on Elphame's hand, drawing her nearer. This time she followed the beating of her heart and came to him. "So you see, to me you have stepped from my mother's prayers into my heart. When I look at you I see the love of my past coupled with the fulfillment of my deepest desires."



Gently, as if he feared that she would shy away from him, he touched the side of her face with just the tips of his fingers. Slowly, he traced the smooth line of her jaw and let his hand slide down, caressing her neck and finally letting his palm come to rest lightly on her injured shoulder.



"Does it still cause you pain?"



"It?" She was so close to him that she could feel his body heat.



"Your shoulder." His touch had shaken her, Lochlan could see that - her lips had parted and her eyes looked dewy and dazed. The thought that his touch could so obviously affect her made him smile, exposing very white, very pointed incisors.



Elphame looked away quickly, but Lochlan put one finger under her chin and turned her head back so that she had to meet his eyes.



"They are just teeth."



"Stop reading my mind!" She covered her unease with irritation.



"I already told you that I cannot."



"Then stop reading my face."



"I cannot help it. It is a lovely, expressive face."



When he smiled again she did not look away.



His teeth were definitely different - sharp and dangerous. Fragments of information from the history books in her mother's library rattled through her brain. Fomorians were demons...were filled with uncontrollable bloodlust...especially during mating... fed on a living creature's blood to live...preyed on humans___



"Can you - " she began abruptly and then paused, regrouped her thoughts and rephrased the question.



"Do you feed on the blood of others?"



Lochlan blinked once, clearly surprised.



"No, I do not feed on the blood of others. I prefer my meals cooked." The corners of Lochlan's eyes crinkled, but he didn't smile. "And dead."



"Then why?" She looked purposefully from his eyes to his mouth, and then back to his eyes.



"Why do my teeth look like this?" he finished for her.



She nodded, watching him carefully.



"It is part of my heritage, Elphame. I am human, enough that I do not need to feed from the blood of the living to survive, but I am Fomorian enough that I still carry within me the vestiges of that bloodlust."



She drew a deep, shaky breath. "I have read that Fomorians drink each other's blood."



He sighed. "Your books are correct. A Fomorian lusts to taste his mate's blood, as she, in turn, desires his. The blood exchange is a part of the bond they form together." His smile was sad. "Does that seem a terrible thing to you?"



She looked at his mouth - his lips - the strong line of his jaw. "I don't know," she whispered. Then her gaze traveled up to look into his smoky eyes. What would it be like to kiss him?



Ask him. The thought swept through her mind like dancing autumn leaves. Ask him, it echoed through her blood.



And to her surprise she heard her own voice ask, "If you kissed me, would your teeth cut my lips?"



"No. I would not cut you," he said softly.



He mesmerized her. She heard the pounding of her blood in her ears.



"You said that you still carry the bloodlust within you. Do you want to taste my blood?"



Through their joined hands she could feel the tremor that passed through his body as an instant response to her question, but his eyes remained steady, holding hers.



"There are many things I want from you, Elphame, and much that I desire. But I will not take anything from you that you do not wish to give."



"I - I don't know what I wish. I've never even been kissed before," she blurted.



"I know you have not." Lochlan's eyes darkened from slate to thunder.



"I think I have been waiting for you."



She spoke so softly that he felt the words more than he heard them.



"As I have been waiting for you," he whispered back.



Go gently...don't rush her...the rational part of his mind ordered. She is young...inexperienced...easily frightened.



But he had to taste her.



Slowly, giving her time to pull away from him, he bent and brought his lips to meet hers.



It was so different from what she had imagined. She had thought that kissing would be awkward, especially at first. She had been so naive. Lochlan's lips were warm and firm against her softness, but they were also inviting. Her mouth fit against his perfectly, and when their tongues met her mind stopped thinking and she let her body take over. Elphame closed her eyes and drank him in. He was the forest -



wild and beautiful and untamed. And he beckoned to her. He deepened the kiss. He buried one hand in her hair, and with the other he pulled her against his body. Elphame came willingly, pressing herself along the length of him. Automatically, her arms reached up to wrap around his neck.



Even lost in the kiss she was aware of something brushing against the outside of her forearms, and the foreignness of the sensation brought her eyes open as she broke her mouth from his.



His wings. They were what she had felt against her arms as they had begun to unfurl and spread over him. Her eyes darted from the erect wings to his face. His breathing had deepened with hers and his gray eyes were dark with desire.



"They mirror my passion." His voice was thick. "I cannot stop them. Not when you are so close, and I desire you so much."



"You make it sound like they are not a part of you."



"They are from a darker part of me, a part I struggle against."



Her eyes slid back to his wings. They were spread over her, as if he was poised to carry her away. She thought that the downy underside was the exact color of a harvest moon.



"They're beautiful," she whispered.



Lochlan jerked his head back as if she had slapped him. "Do not say such a thing in jest."



"Why would I be jesting?" Hating the hurt she saw in his eyes, she unlaced a hand from around his neck.



"May I touch them?"



He could not speak; he could only nod his head slowly, as if he were moving through deep water.



Without hesitation, Elphame's hand lifted to touch the part of one wing that was spread over his left shoulder.



"Oh," she breathed the word. "They are soft. I thought they would be." She opened her hand so that she could brush her palm gently across the creamy fluff. The wings shivered under her touch, and then they seemed to fill and expand as Lochlan's breath exploded from his lungs in a wrenching moan.



Instantly, Elphame pulled her hand away.



"Did I hurt you?"



His eyes were pressed tightly closed and a thin sheen of sweat had broken out across his face.



"No!" He half laughed, half sobbed the word. "Don't stop. Don't stop touching me."



The raw desire in his voice intrigued her almost as much as his exotic body. She didn't want to stop touching him - ever. Elphame lifted her hand back to the seductive softness of his wing, but before she could stroke him again he stopped her by capturing her hand in his.



Surprised, she looked up to see him staring over her shoulder, eyes narrowed.



"Someone approaches," he said. He cocked his head to the side and added quickly, "It is the centaur Huntress."



"You have to go! She can't see you." Fear for him jolted through her.



"I must be with you again. Soon." His voice was a sharp blade of frustration.



"I'll find a way. Just go now, please. The Huntress would think you're attacking me." Her eyes beseeched him to understand.



"Call for me, my heart. I will never be far from you."



Lochlan bent and kissed her once more, pressing his lips to hers with a desperation that threatened to leak over into violence. But Elphame did not flinch or pull away from him. She answered his passion with her own inhuman strength.



He forced himself to break away from her and with a low cry of despair he turned and let the forest swallow him. He did not look back at her - he could not.