Nestling his head in the hollow of her throat, she sighed as his wings closed around her like a cocoon. She was his—all his. There was no fear in her now, only the bliss of pure rapture of the soul.
After a moment, Gideon gathered her up and carried her out of the pool. Wrapping her in one of the soft lemongrass towels heaped about, he carried her to the bed and set her down upon the sumptuous feather down quilts. How beautiful she was with the pink glow of sex staining her cheeks, and her dreamy eyes still dilated with the dregs of desire.
Splashing in the pool behind called their eyes there, where Pio had broken the surface again, dancing on his tail at the edge of the vortex his antics had created, before he plunged into the curl of the spiral and disappeared.
Gideon smiled. “Poor Pio,” he said. “I fear you have quite captured his heart.”
“I shall miss him,” she replied, “but we cannot stay here, Gideon! I will die beneath the waves—I
will
! I am in terror of the deep. I could never bear it. But I think I have stumbled upon the answer for us. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Something Marius said reminded me of something you said once…about worlds where we could live in peace. Can the watchers enter the astral?”
Gideon stared, trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying. The same thing had occurred to him, when the astral royalty came to Marius’s aid in the forest. He didn’t know the answer. Dared he hope?
No, they cannot, my lord Gideon,
said the disembodied voice parting the confusion in his mind.
The only two regions in our universe that bar the watchers are Outer Darkness and the astral plane. You have tried the one, will you try the other? You would rule there as Prince of the Air, your rightful title, dark one, with dominion over all the winged ones in the Arcan Astral. And while the curse upon you cannot be entirely lifted, you would have more control of your urges without threat of the watchers’ lightning bolts, and there would be…concessions…
Gideon rocked back on his heels trying to digest what the mysterious speaker who had been with him all the while was saying.
Who are you?
he asked.
My name is of no consequence
, the speaker said.
Suffice it to say that I am an astral elder, with full authority to make the offer, though I should warn you that it is not unanimous among us. Your impetuous nature is rather daunting to some. You will have to prove yourself, of course, but I have no doubt that my faith in you is justified.
Gideon’s head was reeling. Could the astral be a safe haven for them both? Was it too much to hope for? There was one thing he needed to know before he would even consider it.
Rhiannon?
he asked.
What of Rhiannon?
All mortals who cross over and become our…guests gain immortality among us.
Gideon’s heart leaped.
What must I do
? he begged the speaker.
Call back your final feather and embrace your destiny
, the voice said.
“Gideon?” Rhiannon prompted. “Have you heard me? Can the watchers follow us into the astral plane?”
Gideon hesitated. What little experience he had with the astral realm was hardly enough to determine whether he could exist among the fay forever. He was a creature of habit, a solitary soul accustomed to his own private world among the princes of Arcus. How would he fare as ruler of the winged beings of the Arcan Astral? He was accustomed to his cave, his mineral pool, his freedom to soar however and whenever he wished—accustomed to his very existence, for it was all he’d ever known since the fall that cursed him so many eons ago. It was a moment before he realized all that was already gone. The watchers had plucked him clean clear to the soul, but they hadn’t crippled his spirit. He had been stripped of his existence as he knew it—of his home, of his isle, of his cave, of his privilege, of his freedom to soar without the threat of lightning bolts, but when all was tallied, they hadn’t been able to strip him of his heart. He was still an angel of the gods, whether they wanted him or not. Could this be what Lavilia meant, when she’d said that he could live out his eternity with his Rhiannon, but not as he wished?
He drew a ragged breath. “No, the watchers cannot cross over,” he said. “But we can…with my last feather from Lavilia, if that is what you want. You may as well know it won’t be easy. It would be an entirely different life than either of us has ever known. You need to know that now, because once we cross over, there is no turning back.”
“What about me?” she asked. There was fear in her voice again. He could bear anything but her fear.
“You would be as I am, but in a whole new plane of existence,” he said. “No one returns from the astral. It is an immortal plane. That is why I hesitate. It is a mammoth decision for both of us. All mortals who are crossed over—whether they are taken or go voluntarily—gain immortality; unfortunately, captivity is the price.”
“There is no question,” Rhiannon said. “We must go, Gideon. Whatever comes we will face it together.”
Gideon took her in his arms. It was more than he’d dared hope for, but the alternative was too terrible to contemplate, for if they were to stay, he would surely bring catastrophe down upon his friends and fellow princes, and most grievous of all, upon Rhiannon herself. He had already had a foretaste of that, and he found her lips with a hungry mouth that joined them—mind and body—soul to soul.
When their lips parted, he looked her in the eyes, though when he spoke it was to the rune caster.
“Lavilia!”
he called out, ignoring Rhiannon’s gasp. “It is time.”
The reply came almost at once. “You are certain, dark one?” the rune caster said.
“Yes, we are certain,” Gideon said, his adoring gaze, so full of promise, riveted to Rhiannon’s face, radiant with hope, as he cautioned her to keep silent during the rune caster’s disembodied discourse. “We shall go into the astral together.”
“So now you know what I was trying to tell you when you flew off in such a mad rush the last time you traveled there.”
“You were trying to tell me that it is where we belong?” Gideon queried.
“Love madness has scrambled your brains, Gideon, Prince of the Air!” Lavilia’s voice boomed. “I was trying to tell you, you should have
stayed
there with your lady then, where you would have been safe and where you would have avoided all that has occurred since!”
Gideon groaned.
“However,” Lavilia went on, “you were not ready to hear sage advice then, and the game needed to be played out as destiny designed. The gods are a fickle lot, and all things are relative in Nature, dark one, as you will soon find out in your new domain.”
“We will not meet again,” Gideon said, answering his own question.
“I would not say never,” she said, “but not in the near future, no, we will not.”
“The feather, then!” Gideon said. “We are ready!”
“One thing I tell you for free,” Lavilia said. “You must catch this feather when it falls and keep it in a safe place. One day you will have need of it.”
“In what respect?”
“You need not know that now,” Lavilia said. “You will know when the time comes, but that is another story, and not entirely yours. Fare thee well, dark one! I send you to your destiny. Your lives have just begun. Hold on to your lady…until we meet again.”
The Arcan Astral West Country, Region of Perpetual Spring
One month later
G
ideon rose from his sleeping niche early. Rhiannon was still sleeping soundly in her hammock woven of woodbine and honeysuckle vines. It was suspended between the two great oaks, Ancient Ones that rose through the airy bedchamber skylight. The room had neither roof nor ceiling but for the canopy of leafy boughs the oaks formed swaying gently overhead. How beautiful she was sleeping so soundly, so peacefully in her new surroundings, her breast rising and falling beneath the silky sheet, her lustrous lashes casting long shadows upon her cheeks.
Aroused, he nodded toward the shadows, and a troop of tiny winged creatures flew near and took hold of the coverlet gently, peeling it back for him to view her as she slept. She was naked, for nudity was the height of fashion in the astral realm. Except for filmy garments spun by silkworms and spiders so fine they hid nothing, nakedness was the norm.
A wave of his hand dismissed the creatures, and he knelt down, toying with a lock of Rhiannon’s long hair waiting for her to awaken to him. It was a good life. No watchers hurled their missiles. No demons marred the sanctity of dreams—one more erotic than the next—that filled their nights with carnal ecstasy.
The elder who had spoken to him for so long was right. Though the curse could not be broken, there were concessions. His tender wings would always be sensitive to touch, but he had his Rhiannon for comfort without reprisal, beloved captive of the realm that had given them sanctuary. He had his freedom to soar the length and breadth of the astral in his pursuit of order among the winged classes. It would take time, but he had found a home among those who needed him, reverenced and respected him, and most important of all, he had the woman he loved.
Rhiannon had been given Maribelle, the gruagach, as her personal attendant, when she wasn’t tending the livestock, and their compound often overflowed with cows and goats and sheep for the woman’s tenacity. But now, they were alone, except for the tiny creatures always hovering nearby to do their bidding, and Gideon was hard against the seam of the glittering skintight astral suit the elders had provided to replace his tattered eel skin on formal occasions, like now, when he would shortly be making his rounds.
How would he make love to Rhiannon today…in the rock pool that flowed from a natural spring that wound its way through the surrounding forest? Or would he take her in flight, soaring through cloudless cerulean skies, his wings unfurled for the wind to stroke and caress and ruffle, bringing him to climax like no other? Or would he do both?
Soon, dawn would break, and the couplings would begin. The sweet springtime air would be filled with male and female creatures mating in plain view. There was no modesty among the fay. Public mating, Gideon soon found, was a common occurrence, shocking at first, especially for Rhiannon, with her mortal morality, but they both soon fell into the rituals as if they were born to them, delighting in the pure uninhibited joy of their sexuality. Just thinking about it made him harder. Bending, he kissed Rhiannon awake, and lifting her into his arms, he carried her into the forest.
The minute she left the hammock, the trees that supported it bent and swayed and reached with their leafy branches to order it. Smoothing the honeysuckle that had cradled Rhiannon through the night scenting her skin, they discarded any crushed blooms and made the hammock bed with fresh rose petals liberally sprinkled about. It was a labor of love, Gideon thought looking on, for every creature, like Pio, had become enamored of Rhiannon, seduced by her beauty, bewitched by her charm.
The tide that fed the rock pool was running high. He stepped into the warm water and floated on his back as Rhiannon straddled him. The first rays of dappled sunlight filtering through the trees tinted her skin shades of saffron and rose as he opened his skintight suit in front and lifted her onto his penis, taking her deeply.
Shafts of fractured sunlight breaking through the trees showed him others who had come to the pool to couple in celebration of the morning, climbing up and down the sun beams as if they were ladders. The air was filled with mating fay. Watching them engaged in the sex act excited him, made him harder still, and when her thick folds tugged at his penis, he groaned and let her take him, let the power of her passion slake his hunger—fill his need, for it was only the beginning.
The climax was riveting, wrenching a groan like nothing human from his throat as he surrendered to her skills, the skills he had awakened in her, skills that made her his alone. After a moment, he surged to his feet in the water still inside her and wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Hold on,” he murmured in her ear.
Purring like a cat, Rhiannon clung to him as he soared through the trees into the cloudless sky, high above the astral forest buzzing with carnal excitement below. He was hard inside her again as he took her lips in a fiery kiss that weakened his knees and wrenched another guttural moan from her throat. He could feel the blood throbbing in the folds of her vagina, as he ground the root of his cock against her swollen sex. His wings fluttered in and out of furl as they carried him up, up, gliding on a zephyr, as if they had a will of their own.
“Are you happy, my love?” he murmured in her ear.
Rhiannon reached to stroke his face, and he leaned into the caress. “How could you even ask?” she murmured.
Gideon kissed her fingers. Drawing one into his mouth, he laved it seductively with his warm tongue, igniting fresh fire in his loins. It was time, and he furled his wings around her and plummeted down, down toward the misty world they now called home, where creatures of the fay mated in public, trees made their beds with honeysuckle and rose petals, and springtime sunlight never ceased to beam down upon the land.
Yes, it was good. Gideon, Lord of the Dark, Prince of the Air, hurtled toward the Astral forest with his Rhiannon in his arms. They came together in shuddering spurts before his wings snapped open slowing their approach. Taken by the wind, they plummeted into the morning mist through clouds of mating fay under the spell of carnal oblivion to begin another day on their journey to forever.