The Gift of Love

by Lori Foster

  “I have always loved you,” he moaned against her mouth, breaking the kiss to rest his head on hers. Always.”

  A wave of bliss rolled up Summer’s spine. “Show me.”

  Wolf didn’t need any more encouragement. She clung to him as he took her, love and desire melding into an emotion so strong, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could only grip him with wild abandon as she fell over the edge one more time, taking him with her as her body clenched hard around his length, dragging a rumble of pleasure from his throat as they came together in a final burst of ecstasy.

  He held her for a long time when it was over, the night air cooling the sweat from their bodies as they cuddled in contented satisfaction.

  A stray trill of fae laughter brought Summer back to the present, the reality of their situation digging a sliver of ice into her heart.

  They were from different worlds.

  Always and forever.

  five

  Summer let her legs uncurl from Wolf’s waist and pushed against his chest.

  “Don’t do this,” he pleaded as she reached for her breeches, tugging them back on.

  “What?” She pretended an ignorance they both knew was a lie. “I need to get home. Honeysuckle will be—”

  It happened so fast, Summer didn’t have time to scream as her foot caught on a sliver of bark and she lost her balance. Wolf’s expression turned bleak as she tried to grab his hand, but her fingers missed his and she fell backward, tumbling toward the ground in a nightmare of scratching twigs and sharply cutting leaves.

  Wolf dove after her, but his wings were encumbered by the foliage. Summer shrieked, this time for Wolf’s safety as one of his beautiful wings was shredded, sending him into a spin that made her head swim and her stomach roll.

  And still she fell, the occasional branch slowing her momentum, but she knew she was in trouble. She lost sight of Wolf as she slammed onto a larger branch, unable to catch her breath.

  Before she could think to grab on to anything, she was falling again, faster and faster as the ground swelled up to meet her.

  And suddenly Wolf was there, his arms strong around her body as he gripped her close to his chest. They still spun madly, and Summer closed her eyes, unwilling to watch as they splattered in the dirt. Then, somehow, someway, Wolf gained control of his one good wing, slowing their fall enough to steer them toward a thick tuft of grass.

  And they would have made it, landed safely, until the bat darted from above, biting down on Wolf’s last good wing. He dropped her with a curse of agony as the creature careened skyward, realizing in the nick of time the fairy king was not a tasty midnight snack and letting Wolf go at last.

  But the damage had been done. Landing beside her with a thud, Wolf’s body was broken beyond repair, his face a bloodless mask of pain.

  “What have we done?” Summer couldn’t take her eyes from his face as she tried to see how badly he was injured. “Wolf. I’ll get help. I promise. Don’t you dare do anything stupid like die on me before—”

  Her words faltered as despair took over. She didn’t care if she never saw him again. As long as she knew he was safe in the world above her, she would be satisfied in her world on the ground.

  Let him live, she prayed to whatever gods were listening. Just let him live and I will be content.

  His eyes fluttered open and he tried his best to smile, but the expression failed as anguish shuddered through his body. “S-Say it,” he mouthed, his hand clutching desperately at hers. “Tell me you love me, too.”

  “I love you. Always,” she answered on a sob, squeezing his fingers tight.

  Without another sound, he passed out cold, lying so still and lifeless, Summer felt the panic rise once more.

  But she had to get help. Covering him with whatever scraps of leaves and brush she could find, she began her run to the village.

  Her legs were strong and sturdy beneath her as she flew across the ground, fleet and sure-footed, familiar with the action. In a very short time she made it to the village, her cries of alarm bringing everyone out of their houses.

  “The king is hurt,” she yelled. “On the ground, just beyond the hedge of roses.”

  And then she was bounding up the stairs to the upper kingdom, taking them two at a time, not stopping even when her lungs burned as if scorched by fire and her heart thudded so hard in her chest she thought it must surely burst.

  At the top of the tree she called for Stag-fern and anyone strong enough to fly Wolf to their healers, all the while continuing her silent pleas that he would live to see the morning sun.

  “HE will survive.”

  Summer breathed a sigh of utter relief when Prince Stag-fern sat down beside her. She’d been waiting for hours to hear news of Wolf, hope warring with doubt as the night rolled on and she had no word of his condition.

  “His wings?”

  “Gone.”

  Her heart plummeted. “What will you do?”

  “Whatever my king commands me.” Stag-fern rubbed his hands down his face, his expression grim. “My brother has already decided to abdicate the throne.”

  “He can’t do that.” Summer jumped to her feet, intending to speak with Wolf and ask him to wait before he made such a hasty decision, but the prince grabbed her arm.

  “If you care for him, leave us. This is a family matter.”

  His words effectively shut her out, putting her firmly in her place. He was right. She had no business meddling in royal affairs, no matter how much she loved the king.

  Wolf was out of her league, over her station, the same as he’d always been.

  She nodded, grief curling like iron around her spirit. To have found him only to lose him again—“I understand.”

  “Honeysuckle has already been brought to our chambers. We thank you for all your help. Our daughter is our life.” Stag-fern’s voice held a note of compassion, despite the stilted formality of his speech. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before he turned to leave. “You saved Wolf-moss’s life. That will not go unrewarded.”

  There was nothing left to say. Summer watched him fly back the way he’d come, disappearing through a doorway.

  But Wolf was alive.

  It was all she’d asked for, she reminded herself in the days to come when she threw back her head to gaze up at the sky. He was alive.

  IN the aftermath of Wolf’s injury, the family of Summer’s new student decided not to send the child down right away. Because her house seemed so empty with no one to talk to except the faithful Blister, Summer found herself spending more and more time adrift in the forest, roaming farther than she’d ever gone before, sometimes sleeping through the night tucked into a crevice beneath the thick root of a tree, other times arriving back at the village long after the stars and moon had risen.

  It was late on one such night that Summer dragged herself through the village, still unwilling to go inside and face the dark alone. She stood outside her door, trying to keep from staring up through the leaves or wondering what Wolf was doing in his world so high above.

  “You keep late hours, mistress love,” came a familiar voice from the shadows. “I have been waiting here since dusk, and my feet are killing me.”

  “Wolf!” She whirled, wanting to run and throw her arms around him, but holding back, afraid he wasn’t completely healed.

  He stepped into the light, hands crossed over his chest, a tentative grin tilting up one corner of his mouth. “Do you recognize me without my wings?”

  Of course she did. “You are still the most beautiful man I’ve ever known,” she assured him honestly, understanding at last what he’d been trying to tell her all along.

  Love looked beyond appearance. Love could care less whether you had wings or not. Love saw beyond such superficial things. That was the gift love gave to the willing.

  When he stepped closer and took her in his arms, she could feel that he was trembling.

  “You are still not healed,” she chided, curling his ar
m around her shoulder to help bear his weight. “You should be in bed.”

  “I’ll be in your bed soon,” he said with a naughty wink. “That is, if you’ll have me.”

  Summer was already shaking her head. “You can’t stay here; you’re king.”

  He managed a tinny chuckle. “How could I be king of earth and sky, when sky is forever out of my reach? Shhh, my love,” he continued, placing a finger to her lips when she tried to argue. “My brother will make an amazing king.”

  “Are you certain this is what you want?” Summer brushed her fingers down his cheek. “To stay here with me?”

  “Oh, I don’t intend for us to stay ground-side.” His face took on an excited glow. “I was talking with Buckthorn, the cobbler, and we’ve come up with a plan to create a flying machine that will soar higher than the clouds.”

  Summer frowned. “A flying machine—that sounds entirely too dangerous.”

  “But exhilarating.” An excited glint shone in his eyes and Summer vowed she would do whatever it took to keep that light shining forever. “We should have the first one ready by the spring thaw.”

  He pulled her away from her door so they could both watch the fairy lights twinkling overhead. “Won’t it be grand to see the looks on their faces when we sail to the Midsummer’s Ball in our amazing winged chariot?”

  “And how will you get this marvelous machine off the ground?”

  Wolf had the decency to blush. “Uh … we haven’t exactly figured that part out yet.”

  They sat together on the chilly ground, their arms entwined so tight the cold had no way to seep through to their skin.

  “How is Honeysuckle?” Summer giggled when Wolf nuzzled his chin into her neck, goose bumps rising along her flesh as desire stirred deep in her stomach.

  Wolf nipped at her earlobe and fire licked between her thighs. “Honeysuckle is beyond delightful. She is weaving us several pairs of booties to keep our feet warm this winter.” He trailed his hand up her leg and torso until it rested against her breast. Her breath caught and her pulse leapt when his thumb rubbed her nipple into full and aching arousal.

  “Will you stay with me forever, have my children and be my wife?” Wolf’s voice was so raw with emotion, it caused her throat to constrict and she could only nod in joyous agreement.

  “B-But our c-children will have wings,” she managed to stammer as he pushed her back against the earth, throwing a muscled leg over hers.

  “Beautiful, perfect, amazing wings,” he purred against her mouth. “And since we taught his daughter how to walk, my brother has given his solemn vow that when the time comes, he will teach our children how to spread their wings and fly.”

  second time around

  HELENKAY DIMON

  one

  Heath Sanders walked into her quiet classroom at four o’clock with the same cocky assurance he’d possessed as the state champion football team’s star wide receiver in high school fifteen years earlier. Six foot something of lean muscle and sandy blond hair. A few lines now stretched at the corners of his pale blue eyes, but the handsome gene refused to take a break. Even the dirty flannel shirt and fatigue tugging at his mouth couldn’t hide his high cheekbones and firm chin.

  Serena Davis had a master’s degree and ten years of teaching to her credit, but seeing him still turned her brain to a big puddle of drippy goo. To keep from babbling like one of the lovesick seventh grade girls she taught, Serena kept her butt in her chair. Watched him move—make that stalk—down the row of empty desks and stop right in front of hers.

  With his hands at his sides, he nodded his welcome. “Serena.”

  Insisting he call her Ms. Davis seemed kind of stupid in light of their history, so she let the informality slide. “Thanks for coming in so fast.”

  “You said Nate was in trouble.”

  The man had his faults but being a caring dad sure wasn’t one of them. Anyone who looked at Heath for more than two seconds could see how much he loved Nate. Heath burned with it even as he worked his body to exhaustion every week.

  “Not exactly.”

  “You said there was a problem, so I dropped everything and got my a—” Heath swallowed. “Butt over here.”

  Nice job, Serena. She cringed and made a mental note to tone down the drama when leaving phone messages for him. Her concern morphed into something that likely had the poor man in a panic over the safety and well-being of his twelve-year-old.

  “I said I wanted to talk with you about Nate.” She motioned to the chair next to her. “You can sit down.”

  Heath’s forehead wrinkled in a look hovering somewhere between concern and anger. Hard to tell. “I’m fine here.”

  “Your choice.”

  Those long fingers slipped up to rest on his hips. “Since I have four hours of work left to do today and only about three hours of decent light left to do them in, why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

  And he stayed on his feet. Looming. Maintaining the power position. She guessed that was the goal. He commanded everything on the job site and everything in the world around him. Seemed he planned to rule this conversation as well.

  “There’s an issue with a girl,” Serena said with decidedly less flare than her last attempt to communicate with him.

  “Meaning?”

  Dancing around the subject wouldn’t make the discussion go any faster. The embarrassed part of her that wanted him in and out lost to the professional part of her that needed him to understand her concerns. “Has Nate told you about Lexy Young?”

  Heath’s arms fell to his sides as he blew out a long breath, as if preparing his mind for the bad news to come. “No.”

  Oh, yeah. She had mucked this one up. She wanted to raise an issue and have a rational talk about kids and peer pressure. Things Heath, who had played the role of most popular kid in school with the super athlete credibility and everyone wanting to be his friend, might not understand. Not everyone sailed through the tough adolescent times the way Heath had. He never lived through the pimply awkward stage. He didn’t know about being left, picked last, or ignored. She needed him to tap into those foreign emotions now.

  “Serena?”

  She picked up her pencil and flipped it through her fingers. It was either that or let all the energy bouncing around inside her come out as fidgeting, and she did enough squirming in Heath’s presence without adding some new facial tic … or worse.

  “She has a crush on your son.”

  This time those hazy blue eyes narrowed. “Who?”

  “sexy. ”

  “Oh.” Heath bit his bottom lip in what looked like an attempt to hide a smile. “Okay, well, I guess girls start young these days. Makes me kind of glad I have a son.”

  “They can get into just as much trouble. Trust me.” She pushed the list of potential horribles out of her mind to stay focused on the Nate and Lexy issue.

  “That’s the sort of thing that keeps me up at night, but still I don’t see the problem here.”

  “Lexy has been texting Nate.”

  “iso?”

  “All the time.” Serena whipped the pencil hard enough to send it flying across the desk.

  Reflexes still solid, Heath caught it before it thumped against his chest. “Cut through this for me, Serena. Did Nate say or do something to upset Lilly?”

  “sexy. ”

  Heath set the pencil down on the far edge, just out of Serena’s reaching range. “Her name isn’t the point, is it?”

  Serena searched her mind for the best way to explain about young girls and their universal self-esteem issues, how one wrongly spoken word could send their self-image into a death spiral. “Nate is ignoring her texts, and she’s having a hard time with his treatment.”

  Heath’s jaw dropped open. It took a couple tries for him to close it again and say something. “And?”

  “She’s crying, pouting. She spends most of her time staring at the back of Nate’s head and ignoring classroom instruction.”
/>   “Then shouldn’t you be talking with Lexy’s parents?”

  “I will, but I wanted to ask you for a favor first.” Serena thought about making a lunge for the pencil but threaded her fingers together instead. “Could you talk to Nate about this?”

  “About what?”

  “Girls and their feelings. Help him understand how some people, especially teen-girl people, are sensitive.” She knew she had turned the corner and entered the land of babbling, but she kept on talking anyway. “That if he could—”

  Heath held up a hand. “Wait a second.”

  “I know this is difficult for you to understand.”

  “Not really. You want me to tell my son he has to text back to some girl he’s not interested in because she might otherwise get sad, is that about it?”

  A steady pounding started over Serena’s eyes. The headache came screeching in right about the time Heath’s attitude kicked up. “Well, sort of.”

  “And Nate is supposed to do this thing he doesn’t want to do because his English teacher said so? Like it’s part of his grade or something.”

  Her request sounded ridiculous when Heath said it like that. “This has to do with the man you want Nate to be.”

  “He’s twelve.”

  Serena rubbed her hands together hard enough to draw blood. “And he has the power to hurt a little girl.”

  Heath leaned down with his fists on the edge of her desk and a knowing smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “Are we talking about Nate or are we talking about something else?”

  Serena refused to dignify that with anything other than a denial. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  Oh, but she did. She’d moved away for a few years, got married only to get divorced when her idiot husband cheated, and then eleven months ago had come back to Glen Ridge, the cozy bedroom community just outside of Washington, D.C., to rebuild her life near her sister. But she never forgot Heath. The same handsome senior who had lived across the street and whom she dreamed about marrying in that way only a sophomore girl lost in the confusing space between infatuation and true love could do. All these years later she still blushed when she thought about the awkward fifteen-year-old version of herself and the way she’d thrown herself at Heath. Despite the shyness, she had made a pass and offered him something precious and special … and he’d laughed at her.