Page 36 of The Fae’s Treasure

“Me? I can leap.” I step out of my shoes and put my hands on his arms. His head immediately dips, sucking the soft spot on my neck that makes my blood pump harder. “It’s your kind who can’t. You need time to fall in love, because ... Well, usually, you’re going to be stuck with them for a long, long time. With me? I guess it wouldn’t matter so much, huh?”

“My offer to you... The one I’m trying so hard to craft—would break Saz’s hold, but also bind us together, Deanna. Our lives would be very different, and your time and mine would match in more ways than one. I don’t think it’s fair to you to make such a bargain, not in the way that would give... Well. One way—”

“Dair?” I moan when his hands slide under my open blouse, massaging my breasts even as he keeps talking. “Can’t you tell me some ‘facts’ about what you’re thinking without offering it as a deal? Like, for example, if I said, ‘I love Rory, and I want to protect him,’ that doesn’t activate some kind of fae bargain, does it?”

“No, because you didn’t offer me that; you were simply explaining what you want. All right. Maybe I can do that.” Dairmuid blinks his wings again, and his clothes shimmer away. This time, I don’t let him do all the work. I quickly grab at his cock, running my palm up and down his long, hard uncut length.

“Fae and mortals. We have immortal souls. But mortal bodies... They age quickly, unto death.”

“Your pillow talk sucks,” I whisper, but I really don’t mind. I have this gorgeous canvas of a man to paint with kisses, little nibbles as I work my way down to his cock, seamlessly dropping my mouth over him and feeling how he fills it completely. Not just the length. The width. He’s not comically big or reminiscent of some garden squash, but he’s not built like Aaron, or any other man I’ve been with either. What’s more, his skin, his scent—it’s all things fall. Harvest flavors, just a hint, but it’s addictive. I slide my tongue up and down as I sink to my knees, staring up at him.

Dair’s head falls back, and he groans. His hands find my bun and loosen it, then stroke my red strands through his fingers. “Never have I ever seen anything so fucking lovely,” he moans as I bob on him.

“Keep talking.”

“Your hair, Deanna. It’s the most perfect shade. And your skin—”

I hate to stop the litany of compliments I know are coming, but we have business to attend to. “Tell me about souls. They seem to be so important, and yet I barely think about mine.”

“Funny how that is, until it’s about to leave—or be taken. If a fae were to gift his soul to a human, to keep as part of a bargain—it could keep her alive forever. But she’s mortal. And she ages. Living forever and aging forever isn’t as good as one thinks.”

“No,” I admit that the moment isn’t about pleasure anymore. I stop my ministrations, and Dair lifts me up, sweeps me into his arms like I’m weightless, and settles me onto the bed. His hand slides down my side as he looks down at me.

“You mentioned you lost your father. I can tell you love him so.”

“I do.”

“He’ll be in the heavenly realms, and you’ll want to see him. I wouldn’t be so selfish as to ask you to give that up, or to risk the endless aging. I’m looking, my lady, for just the right words to—”

“What happens if a human gives the fae her soul, and he gives his to hers? A fair trade, maybe? Or maybe...” I lick my lips. “Maybe she asks for a little bit more, like his firstborn, too, because souls are big currency. Does that make him mortal? Does he suddenly only get eighty or ninety years instead of eight hundred or eight thousand?”

“Ah. Well, I don’t know for certain, but if they were lovers, if they were—ahem—soulmates, in the truest sense of the word—they would be bound together. They would become demi-mortals. Or, rather, she would, and even though he might still technically be immortal, as Bonwit puts it, ‘the clocks of their souls wind down together. Stop together.’”

I cup Dairmuid’s strong jaw and bring his head to mine. “So... So, neither one ever has to live without the other?”

“Mmhm. And we can bind our time to this realm, but visit mine,” he whispers. “But someone who would do that... They have to be in love, I think. Truly in love, to bind souls. I know you love my son. But I don’t know how you truly feel about me.”

I don’t know either, not exactly. Right now, we kiss, and it’s slow, and longing, and my pants and everything else melt away. Dair’s hand strokes down my belly, massaging every inch of skin he can reach, unhurried. Patient.

I’m the starving one. He has eons of time. I have decades—I hope.

And if we don’t kill Saz, maybe we have nothing.

His fingers slip between my thighs as I let them fall open, taking his wrist to guide him where I want—but he already knows. His fingers tease and pull gently, finding where I’m wettest and spreading my juice over my clit, heating me up before his fingers slide inside.

My body relaxes, which gives my overloaded brain a chance to see things clearly for the first time in days.

Do you realize that he could save his son, and with the wrong offer, he could pretty much sentence you to a life of endless aging? He doesn’t have to do that. If it were my child at risk, would I be so caring about a relative stranger?

I honestly don’t know.

“You’re so good.”

“I’m trying,” Dairmuid sighs against my breast, capturing a nipple as his fingers start to work inside. “You’re so delicious, Deanna. You make it easy to be good. I could devote myself to this body every day.”

“You could? For how long?”

“Endlessly,” he chuckles, taking the other breast in his mouth.