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Mark found a new friend... But will Zach agree?

Just implied it. And though the fey couldn't tell outright lies, they sure could deceive.

"Promise me one thing," she said, echoing Fiona's words.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Don't tell your family that I had anything to do with you waking up."

"Why not?"

Liadan pressed a slender finger to his lips. "Just promise me."

Cahill hesitated. Promises had power among the fey, at least according to the old tales. It was as impossible to break them as it supposedly was to tell an outright lie.

She bent down and her glorious lips hovered over his swollen member, ready to engulf him. "Promise me, Cahill."

Fuck. How was he to refuse, with a mouth to his head like that? Even if he wasn't a complete and total sex addict, as he felt more comfortable admitting to himself that he was now that he realized it was in his blood, he'd buckle under that pressure.

"I promise," he said, hoping he didn't come to regret it.

Her lips didn't make good on their promise. Not at first. A warm tongue flicked against his sensitive tip, but that was it. "When we sleep, as we will soon, pretend nothing's different at first." Another lick, this one slower and more tantalizing. "Then, sometime before you leave, give the impression that something one of them said finally got through to you. After you wake, by light of day, you can leave the Dreaming behind." Finally, her lips slowly wrapped around him. She bobbed up and down a few times, descending no further than his foreskin. Then she stopped abruptly. "Okay?"

"Got it," he said, with a groan of protest.

"Good," she said, before finished what she'd started.

They fooled around for some time after that. But eventually they did indeed drift off to sleep. Cahill tried not to focus on the irony of the fact that he'd lose the first woman to share a bed with him because of his nightly visits to Faerie, rather than in spite of them, even more quickly than he lost most women. Soon enough, he'd be with the only women that mattered, anyway. The woman of Clan Walker.

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Oona awaited him deep in the heart of the forest. Cahill was not surprised by that. Had the floral nymph not been the one to greet him, that would have made three nights running. Only one more after that would be required to set a record.

His aunt wore white. She almost always wore white, just as his sister favored forest green and his mother reds and browns. That made her skin seem just a little less pale in comparison. Perhaps she thought that was a good thing, but Cahill wouldn't have minded if she were a bit fairer still, truth be told. Like Fiona. Or, especially, his mother. Caronwyn had skin as white as driven snow, and it took his breath away.

If her dress made her skin seem a little less fair than it was, it made her black hair seem even darker. And that, Cahill liked very much.

Her affinity for wearing white also ensured that no one would overlook her dark red lips. They were always the only source of color to be found on her. And colorful, they were. Soft pinks did not do for this one. Her lips were always the color of bricks.

The simple dress hung to her mid-thigh. The way it flowed about her could almost allow it to be called modest, save for the fact that the fabric was so thin as to border on translucent. A makeshift belt of woven flowers, too loose to actually cling to her waist, hung over her hips. As ever, her feet were bare. Fey women always went barefoot.

"Hey, you," the busty beauty said as she planted an innocent kiss on his cheek. "Everything alright? I expected you sooner."

"Fine," Cahill said. "Just went a little while without sleep."

Oona narrowed her chestnut brown eyes at him. But she said no more.

His aunt wasn't one for stern warnings and lectures. He had Fiona for that. The floral nymph never wanted to do anything but have fun.
It was hard to believe that she was as old as she had to have been.

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