“I’ve been wondering . . .” Sloane mused what had to be hours and hours later.

“Yes, love?”

“Whether you’ll have the same . . . stamina now that you’re human?”

He pushed up on his elbows, his eyebrows drawn together as he looked down on her. Sloane smothered a giggle at the consternation on that dark face. “Oh, are ye then? Well, I guess we’ll just have to put it to the test.”

He slid a big hand under her thigh and lifted it to his hip, sliding inside of her in one forceful thrust. Sloane swallowed hard, her hand fluttering to the sheets, twisting the cool linen in her fingers as her throat closed and pleasure bowed her spine. “God,” she whimpered.

“Nae, no’ a god anymore,” Mac breathed, looking down at her. “But yers forever just the same. And ye are mine.”

“Yes,” she gasped as he pulled back. He reached out to tilt her chin down, looking straight into her eyes.

“Say it, machree.”

Her lips trembled with need and a full heart. “I am yours, Mac. Always.”

“Forever,” he demanded, slamming back inside of her so hard the bed shook with the force of it.

“Forever,” she agreed, the word half a scream as his cock filled her.

She rolled over and stretched a long while later. It was dawn again, or something approximating it. Mac was gone, but his side of the bed was still warm and the clattering in the kitchen assured her he hadn’t gone too far.

With a grin, she flipped over onto her back, throwing her arms wide.

She was happy.

So goddamn happy. For the first time in years, that empty ache inside her was gone. The fear and uncertainty was gone. She was where she was meant to be, with the man she was meant to be with.

Maybe there was such a thing as perfect, after all. With a laugh, Sloane got to her feet, not bothering to hunt down her bra and panties but throwing her dress on as the breeze coming through the windows was rather sharp. It was a misty-looking day out there. Even the bedroom was turning hazy with it. She walked over to shut one of the windows. It was stuck fast, the painted jamb so slick and cold she couldn’t get a grip on it.

Fuck. It had to be freezing out there.

“Ye want tea, love?” Mac called out.

She’d rather have coffee, but anything hot sounded amazing right now.

“S-sure,” she answered, shivering hard. She gave up on the window and turned around. Only to jump back with a gasp.

Someone was standing by the open bedroom door.

“Fand. What are you doing here?”

The fairy wrinkled her nose, glancing at the rumpled bed.

“Waiting for you two to finish rutting so I could get you alone for a moment.” Fand seemed annoyed, and strangely animated. That dreamy look Sloane associated with her was gone. The fae queen was carrying something under her arm. She shifted it restlessly when the tea kettle whistled.

“You could have knocked,” Sloane pointed out. “How did you get in anyway?”

Fand gave her a sly look. “I have my ways.”

Sloane was starting to feel creeped out. “Why are you here? Mac’s not one of you anymore.”

“I know he’s not.” The fairy queen laughed lightly. “He surprised me. I didn’t guess he’d give up immortality for you. It’s better this way, really.”

“What is?”

“I was going to kill you, Sloane.” The words were said so matter-of-factly, so off-handedly, they almost didn’t register at first. “Well, that worthless vampire Declan was supposed to do it for me, but in the end, this is so much better. Mac’s giving up Avalon, his powers, his godhood . . . and now he’s going to lose you. Oh yes, this is a very, very good day.”

Nothing the little fairy was saying made any sense. Then suddenly, it did. The one Declan had been working with in Fae. It had been Fand all along. Sloane’s head started to pound. “But Aine said you couldn’t hurt people. That Mac cursed you. How did you break his curse to do all this?”

The fairy queen laughed, but the sound of it made the hairs on the back of Sloane’s neck stand straight up. “I didn’t break it, Sloane. I feel your pain, your anger, your fear. I feel it more than you do, just like he wanted me to.” Mist crept out from the fairy queen’s skirts, spreading through the room. “After a few eons, it hurts so much, you just go numb. Then you start to crave it. I don’t mind the pain anymore. It’s my friend.”

Sloane tried to listen and keep away from the mist at the same time, but the coils snuck around her and tightened until there was nowhere to go. “What are you planning to do?”

Fand smiled, but it wasn’t that slightly vague and sweet one. This one had teeth and claws behind it. For the first time, Sloane could see the resemblance between vampire and fae. “Mac’s fond of handing out lessons. This time I’m going to return the favor.”

Behind her, Mac appeared in the doorway, looking from Fand to Sloane and back again. Instantly his eyes darkened in understanding.

As soon as he stepped through the door, it slammed behind him.

“Perfect timing.” Fand nodded happily. “I need you both here for this.” She shook out the bundle in her hand. At the sight of it, Mac went white, ghostly, otherworldly white.

“No.” He whirled, reaching for the door behind him, twisting at the knob and then pounding on it when it wouldn’t open.

Chills skated down her spine.

Giving up on the door, Mac turned and launched himself at Fand. Lifting a tiny finger, she threw him back against the door with a harsh laugh. “How satisfying it is to see how helpless you are! No magic, no immortality and soon no love. Poor, poor mac Lir.” Her tone was venomous.

“Mac, what is going on?” Mac didn’t answer Sloane’s question. He simply slid down the door, his eyes leaving the fae queen’s face to find hers. She gasped at the desolation there.

“Will you beg?” Fand smiled that horrible smile again.

“Aye,” Mac said without hesitation. “Doona do this, Fand.”

Helplessly, Sloane watched Fand taunt Mac, her eyes fastened on that torc winking at the fae queen’s neck. Something teased her memory. Something Aine had said about pureblood faes. Her eyes widened.

Leaping forward, Sloane wrenched the torc from around Fand’s neck. The fairy queen blinked and looked down in surprise.

Her lips twisted back over those tiny, perfect white teeth. But it didn’t stop. Her mouth kept opening wider and wider as her body seemed to shrink. No, it was starting to collapse in on itself, like a star turning into a black hole.

With a disbelieving screech, Fand reached for Sloane, who had already stumbled back out of reach. The tips of the fairy queen’s fingers kept stretching though, the flesh peeling back to reveal the gleam of bone beneath. Before that skeletal hand burst into dust, Fand threw the shimmering cloak at Mac, her wide blue eyes triumphant before they collapsed in on themselves with a sickening pop.

Sloane shrank back, her hand at her mouth, feeling like she was going to be sick. Even for someone like Fand, that had been a horrible way to go. Even worse than Declan.

When she turned to see how Mac was doing, something silky brushed at her face. The damn cloak Fand had taunted Mac with, still fluttering its way to the floor. Impatiently, she swiped at it but the slippery material slid away from her, as if the fabric were made of water. She chased it across the room, feeling strangely triumphant when her fingers managed to snag it.

When she lifted her head, she met a pair of wide green eyes staring down into hers.

Startled, Sloane took a step back. Damn, where had he come from?

He was a bit too big to miss, though admittedly she had been distracted by Fand pulling her wicked-witch-of-the-west act. Poor guy was staring at her with his mouth half open.

Acting normal, Heather had told her, was the best way to deal with mortals seeing shit they shouldn’t.

“I think you dropped this.” With a polite smile, she pushed the cloak into the strange man’s unprotesting hands. Then she brushed past him, hoping the damn door would open now that the fairy was dead. When it did, she closed her eyes briefly in relief.

Sloane frowned at the room she found herself in. Where the hell was she anyway? Her head hurt something terrible. This place did look vaguely familiar, though, like the home of an acquaintance she’d visited once long ago, but she couldn’t place who it could be. Then she saw her cell phone on the table and picked it up. Thank Christ.

Without a backward glance, Sloane walked out the front door.

She didn’t see the big redheaded man in the bedroom sink to the floor, whispering her name in a broken voice, both his eyes and face utterly blank.