by Inara Scott
“I’ll get the knife,” Victoria called, heading for the kitchen.
“I’ll find her binky,” Max offered. “Maybe that will make her happy.” He put down the video camera and set off in the direction of her bedroom, Lexi close behind.
Portia took a step toward Sorah, clucking softly under her breath. Portia hadn’t changed much since their encounter in Faeria. Kaia suspected she had been a hard person long before Zafira had stolen away her love, but there were cracks around her edges. She hadn’t precisely reconciled with Victoria, although they could be in the same room without insulting each other. Tea time with Lexi had become far more comfortable, and Garrett was no longer forced to play his saxophone outside at the Manor.
The greatest difference could be seen in her relationship with Sorah. With this child, Kaia liked to think, Portia was determined to get things right. She smiled at her and held her for hours. When Sorah was fussy, Portia could soothe her. Kaia had even heard her singing to Sorah when she thought no one was watching. And Portia’s love for Sorah seemed to have gone a long way to healing the hurts she’d inflicted on her daughter and grandsons.
“Kaia, didn’t you strap the child down?” Portia asked.
“Well, of course I… ” Kaia gulped.
Slowly but surely, Sorah was rising out of her seat.
Rising out of her seat, and above the ground.
“Oh, dear God.” Portia sucked in her breath.
Garrett lunged and caught her by the seat of her pants just as she tipped forward and prepared to plunge her face into the cake. Sorah immediately burst into frustrated tears, waving her hands and squirming in his arms.
“Kaia?” he asked unsteadily.
She stared at the child, at the cake, and at Garrett, her mouth open. “I don’t… I didn’t… ”
There was a chuckle in the back of the room. The voice was familiar, one that Kaia hadn’t heard since that last fateful day in Faeria. She didn’t have to turn around to picture the guileless blue eyes, the stubby little horns, or the expression of glee. “You didn’t really think you weren’t a faerie anymore, did you?”
Kaia spun around slowly. “What in the world are you doing here?”
Even as she spoke, three figures appeared at the back of the room, tall and willowy, glowing with a faint sheen of iridescent light. First one, and then the others, came into focus. Dimly, she heard Portia make a soft sound of horror.
“Talia? Mina? Analise?” Kaia backed away, holding up her hands as if to forestall them from coming closer. “What are you doing here? I’m banished. You can’t be here.”
Analise smiled gently. “It’s okay, Kaia. Zafira knows.”
“Zafira?” Garrett shifted Sorah to one side. With a deep frown, he stepped between Kaia and the Handmaids. “I don’t want to hear that creature’s name ever again. We paid our dues. Kaia’s human now. There’s nothing Zafira can do to us anymore. I think you should all leave.”
“Right,” Talia said, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder. “Queen Zafira can do whatever she wants to you, human. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
Mina put one hand on her hip, her body a sensual curve of red and gold. “Goodness, Talia. You make everything into a fight.” She ignored Garrett, focusing on Kaia, her voice husky and deep. “The thing is, we didn’t think it was right that you had to be banished and lose your wings forever. So we made a deal with Zafira. You got to stay a faerie, and we—”
Kaia winced. “Wait a minute—you bargained with Zafira? How could you, Mina? She could have called in the Black Ladies just for you suggesting it!”
“That’s what I told them,” the imp said. “But they were determined. So I brokered the deal. You got to keep your wings and the Handmaids each gave something up. Zafira wanted you to be a human for at least one year. She wouldn’t budge on that. So they couldn’t tell you what happened.”
Kaia struggled for control, the information slowly seeping in. Keep her wings? The only way she could keep her wings would be if she were still a faerie. A moment later, the full import of the imp’s words sunk in and her heart sank. “What do you mean they each gave something up?”
Analise glared at the imp. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me,” Kaia demanded.
“They don’t know, exactly,” the imp said. “Someday Zafira will collect a forfeit from each of them. It won’t kill them, or take their wings, or banish them. It will be within the bounds of what Zafira could ask of her Handmaids.”
“They won’t like it,” Kaia said, looking around at each of them. “Zafira would do this to punish them.”
Analise shrugged. “You withstood the greatest challenge she could have set forth and look what happened.” She waved toward the still-glowering Garrett with a smile, and pressed a kiss on Sorah’s forehead. The child giggled and reached forward to grab a lock of shining blonde hair. “If this is Zafira’s greatest punishment, what have we to fear?”
Kaia shook her head. “You should not have done this. I was happy to be human. I didn’t need… ” she trailed off, watching as Analise touched Sorah’s face with a gentle hand. The child gazed up at her adoringly.
“We could not let you go,” Analise said, not meeting her eyes. “You were our sister. You will always be our sister.”
“Ah, ’Lise,” Kaia sighed. She touched her on the shoulder and Analise turned, and Kaia hugged her tightly. Then Mina, and then Talia, Kaia embraced each of them, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
§
Later that night, when the frosting had been wiped from the floor, a disapproving Portia returned to the Manor, and an exhausted Sorah tucked into her crib, Garrett and Kaia stood out on the balcony overlooking the city, the warm breeze and the smell of the ocean wrapping around them. Kaia rested the back of her head against Garrett’s chest as he pulled her against him.
“So what do you think about… ” She didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say. So much had happened so quickly with ’Lise and the other Handmaids, but with the party to finish and Portia to soothe, she and Garrett hadn’t had any time alone to process it all.
“It’s fine,” he said, tightening his hold. As always when he touched her, a steady heat began to slide through her veins and across her skin. “I never wanted you to give up that part of yourself. I do wonder what that means for Sorah. Is she Fey, or human?”
Kaia shook her head. “I have heard stories of the children of faeries and human, but their magic varies. We may not know for years exactly what effect her Fey blood will have.”
“I see.” Garrett paused, then shrugged. “We already knew she was special. Now just a little more so. But be honest with me, darling—now that you know the truth, do you want to go back?” He chuckled, but there was a hint of concern deep in his voice. “I’m not sure I could let you go, but I feel like I should ask.”
Kaia leaned against him, fitting her bottom against him and snuggling into the cradle of his chest. “No. Never. I can’t say I am not thrilled to have my wings back, but my heart is human now. When I first came to Florida, I thought becoming a human would be the worst fate I could suffer. Now it’s just who I am.”
Garrett’s voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again. “It doesn’t matter what form you take. You are simply Kaia.” His hands moved to her breasts. “My love. My heart.”
Kaia closed her eyes as he traced circles around her nipples. “You transformed me,” she said. “We transformed each other. Nothing else matters now.” She pressed her hips backward, connecting with the hardness at his groin. “Nothing else but this.”
Their movements grew rhythmic, his fingers slipping lower, riding the curve of her hip, the line between her thighs. He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. “Can I see?” he asked. “Can I see you?”
Kaia nodded, understanding what he meant. She stepped out of his embrace and closed her eyes. With only a trace of hesitation, she loosened the hold she
had been maintaining ever since Analise told her about the bargain they had made with Zafira.
With a soft moan, she let her wings burst from her shoulders and her faerie form take hold of her body. She did not assume the figure she had cultivated so carefully as a Handmaid. Deliberately, she released every memory of other men, of their desires and needs. She let go of the sensuality that had become like a mask and abandoned all artifice, all magic except the faerie essence that would always stay deep within her soul.
Garrett’s face reflected golden light. Energy surged through her, demanding flight, but she paused, watching his face and waiting to see how he would react. She felt the first stirring of panic as she wondered what he saw and what he had hoped to see. Did he want the old Kaia? The one he had seen at the Blue Hour all those months ago? And if he did, would he ever be satisfied with the new Kaia? The Kaia she had become?
“You’re beautiful,” he said in wonder as he reached up and touched her cheek, “but the same. Your body isn’t the way it was that night.” He stopped, obviously struggling to put into words what he was seeing. “You’re still you,” he said, relief finally crossing his face. “You’re still my Kaia.”
It took a moment for his words to register. She looked down at her body, clad in the soft knit dress she had worn for Sorah’s party. Her hips were the same width they’d taken since Sorah’s birth, her breasts heavier, her stomach no longer flat, but gently rounded. She held up her arm and saw a smattering of freckles and the scar from a burn she’d gotten a month before.
She threw her arms around his neck, joy exploding from every pore in her body. “I was a reflection before,” she said. “Now I am myself.”
They made love that night slowly and tenderly, and when they reached their peak, Kaia knew that she was finally whole. Faerie and human, mother and wife, lover and friend. She had found herself and she had found love.
And she would never let it go.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, an enormous thank you goes out to all the fantastic folks at Entangled Publishing, but especially Libby Murphy and Heather Howland, who fell in love with my faeries and wanted to share their story with the world. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my unendingly optimistic and supportive agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, who believed in Kaia from the start. To my dear friends, the Romance Bandits, you are an incredible group of women, and I love you to pieces. Finally, how could I not thank my better half, the man who inspires it all and reminds me every day that happily ever after isn’t just a fairy tale. Thank you.
About the Author
Inara Scott has been an avid romance reader since childhood, when she snuck her first bodice-ripper into the closet so her mother wouldn’t see. Throughout a series of careers, including outdoor educator, attorney, and author, romance and happily ever after have been Inara’s touchstones. Inara lives in Portland, Oregon, with her knight in shining armor, two perfectly behaved children, and an embarrassingly cute little white dog. She believes firmly that dreams do come true and magic is everywhere. Inara loves to hear from readers. You can find her at www.inarascott.com.
Her tears called a powerful snow god to life...
...but only her love can grant him the humanity he craves.
Read on for a sneek peek of Laura Kaye’s sexy contemporary fantasy NORTH OF NEED...
Coming November 2011
Chapter One
The cold scorched Megan Snow’s throat, making it hard to breathe. Hard to think.
That was a good thing.
She tugged her scarf over her mouth, grateful for the expansive winter sky and crisp air, and set off on a trail walk. Four days alone in the cabin, and Megan was sure the walls were closing in on her. Outside, everything was bright and clean and open. Just what she needed.
She headed for the stand of trees off to the side of the house, hoping the snow might be more shallow under the thick canopy of branches that sheltered the woods. A creek sat a half mile in where, on warmer days, happier days, she and John had sometimes picnicked and made love. It would be iced over, of course, but having a goal burned off some of her restlessness.
Megan high-stepped through the snow until her thighs burned, gripping onto one tree after another. She tripped on buried branches and rocks until the trees were the only things keeping her upright. Hugging a hickory trunk for support, she glanced back over her shoulder and groaned.
The clearly visible cabin mocked her progress. Most of the twenty inches of snow blanketing the wide field in front of the house had made its way to the forest floor, too. She wanted a distraction, but she needed to be smart, safe. Damn. She retraced her path to the cabin.
But she wouldn’t go back inside. Couldn’t.
She grabbed the shovel from the covered porch of the story-and-a-half log cabin and dug into clearing the front sidewalk. You know you’re going stir crazy when shoveling backbreaking wet snow counts as entertainment.
Her family was right. It was probably time to stop coming out here for the holidays. But she just couldn’t give this place up. Not yet. Not when it was the only thing she had left of him. Nope. Not thinking about that.
Sweat trickled down her spine under her cotton turtleneck and thick fleece with each scoop-and-toss. Blonde curls worked their way out from under her hat and hung in her eyes. She didn’t mind though, because with each newly revealed foot of sidewalk, the ache in her muscles made it more and more difficult to wallow in memories.
The shovel hit something solid and kicked back against Megan’s frozen hands. She groaned as the shock of thwarted forward motion rocked through her wrists and elbows. Gravel from the driveway spilled from the shovel blade into the snow. Huh. She turned and looked behind her, surprised to find she’d cleared the whole length of the twenty-foot path.
Without once thinking of him. Of the anniversary.
Progress.
And proof that manual labor was her friend. There’d be no more sitting around with books or music or TV shows she couldn’t concentrate on. She’d just exhaust herself into a mindless oblivion.
She looked to her left, down over the expanse of shimmering white to the distant forest that marked their property line. To her right, her now-hidden driveway formed a curving path two-thirds of a mile to the main road and civilization. Shoveling that mess certainly would require manual labor, but Mr. Johansson would be up here with his plow as soon as the weather broke. How would she explain to him she’d tried to shovel it by hand? She imagined the confounded look on his craggy face.
So, what next? After returning the shovel to the front porch, she stood and surveyed the Western Maryland landscape. The low peaks of the ancient Appalachian Mountains rose around her, the firs and hardwoods for which these forests were famous veiled by two days of nonstop blizzard conditions. The only sound besides her labored breathing was the occasional whistling of the wind through the snow-burdened forest. For all Megan knew, she was the only person in the world. Sure felt like it, these days.
What to do?
God, I’m so lonely.
She sighed and shook her head.
The wind moaned. Then do something about it.
Heart pounding, Megan jerked around, her right boot skidding against a slick spot, pink scarf fluttering out around her like a ribbon. Who’d uttered those last words?
No one, of course. The silence and stillness were complete, as was her isolation—exactly the qualities she and John had always loved about this place.
“Jesus, I’m losing it,” she murmured out loud, just to create the impression she wasn’t so alone. Her gaze returned to the snowy field in front of the cabin. Trimmed by a dense line of firs at the far edges, the clearing was big, clean, empty…
Do something about it, the mysterious voice had said. Oh, she’d do something about it, all right.
Back to the high-stepping routine, Megan trudged out into the front yard. Any spot would do, she supposed, so she stopped and mashed two mounds of snow into a sticky white ball. The lull
in the storm had allowed the temperature to creep up into the high twenties, so the snow was good packing quality. She rolled the ball over the powdery surface, intent on making it as big as she could. After a while, the thing started to fight back when she pushed, but she wanted the exertion. Digging her toes in, she fought for every additional inch in diameter until, finally, she was done.
She stood with snow-crusted gloves on her hips and admired her work. “That’s one big ball ya got there.” She sniggered, then shook her head.
Now, for the next two. She set about the packing-rolling-grunting process again until she created a sizable middle and the head. Lifting them into place proved a challenge, but with a lot of grunting and a few choice expletives, she lugged the heavy masses where they needed to be.
“Now, to transform you from androgynous snow person into my snowman.” Megan jogged back to the house and didn’t even worry about tracking snow inside. Moments later, she reemerged with an armload of supplies she dumped at the foot of her creation.
“First, we gotta give you a face, mister.” Emptying the bag of buttons on top of the flannel shirt, she sorted through with glove-thick fingertips. She wanted bigger ones for the eyes, and found two. She frowned. They weren’t the same color, but she wouldn’t be able to tell from a distance. She plugged the biggest navy and chocolate-brown buttons into the face as eyes. A light brown button made a cute nose, and a row of mismatched reds made a friendly mouth.
The red and white plaid flannel shirt was a big don’t-even-let-your-thoughts-go-there, but she couldn’t allow the poor guy to go without clothing. Besides, she had a closet full of them. She wrapped the soft fabric around the middle section. The snowball was wide, but the shirt closed. After all, he’d been a big guy, hadn’t he? She tugged off her gloves so she could do up the front, then trudged to the oak tree on the corner and snapped off two branches. With cold, shaking hands, she threaded the twigs through the flannel sleeves until Snow Man was inviting her in for a hug. She finished him off with a blue tartan wool scarf and a thick black knit beanie she stretched down as far as possible.