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My vagina clenched the girth of his fingers. I bucked against him, driving his fingers to the end of me again and again until the heat spiraled, and I could only ride the cresting waves.

“Come for me, mo ghrá .” His thumb scraped my nipple while his erection strained between us.

Heat pulsed through my sex, and I lost myself completely, my mouth open in a silent scream. Voices whispered, and darkness fell. I could barely breathe.

And then he took away what I craved, leaving me empty inside.

“This is what I want.” He displayed his glistening fingers, wet with my release, and then ran his tongue in lazy circles around his long digits, savoring every last drop.

Some part of me went wild with animalistic lust. I grabbed his hand and fought his tongue for the remaining sweet heat. I tasted myself. I tasted him. My pussy tightened, wracked with thunderous waves. I shoved his fingers into my mouth and sucked those long lengths, plunging deeper and deeper until the waves crashed onto the shore.

The clouds shifted, and the sun beat down. I left the past where it belonged, my heart alive with unfamiliar sensations. I questioned the why and what seemed unimportant.

“Take me home, Colm. Please.” That breathy moan belonged to me?

He rose, lifting my limp and liquid body with him. He set me on my feet, cupped my face in his big hands, and nibbled my lips. “Are you all right?”

“You made me come.” The shattering waves of pleasure left me replete. I eased my grip on his arm, my gaze dropping to his still-hard erection.

“You were exquisite, mo ghrá .” He offered his hand.

“But?” I motioned with my eyes toward his rigid member.

“I have become accustomed to this state of distress.” He twined his fingers with mine and grinned.

His meaning was not lost on me. My imaginary soirees into the land of lust involved him as well. His comment confirmed it.

We left the tumbled walls behind, following the mud track down the mountain slope.

A black billy goat lifted his bearded head, holding me in his fiery gaze. I looked away from those chocolate eyes. The landscape blurred into a canvas of emerald shades and blue skies.

“What were you doing up there?” At each rocky outcrop, he sent me an anxious glance.

“I was looking for ériu.” We continued down the narrow path.

“Who?” He lifted an eyebrow and locked his fingers around mine.

“My mother. The Princess of the Dead. Her portrait is above the fireplace.” I chewed the inside of my mouth, realizing how insane my words sounded.

“What?” He tipped his head, his eyes widening.

“I see her everywhere, Colm. She’s trying to tell me something.” Her image showed itself—a golden-haired girl on the cusp of womanhood with rosebud lips and lily-white skin. She belonged to another world, a faraway place of verdant forests and sapphire skies.

“What is she trying to tell you?” His lilting voice chased away the shadows. He made me question everything.

“I don’t know.” My voice rose. “I don’t even know how long I’ve been here.”

“Shh…it’s okay. It’s okay.” He clasped my elbow, halting our descent, and rested his hands on my shoulders. “Tell me everything.”

“She wanted to marry Dermot Sweet, but he wouldn’t let her,” I remembered her conversation with the ghostly visage.

“Who? Who wouldn’t let her?” A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his eyes darkened.

“Finvarra, the King of the Faeries.” I glanced into the sky. Black-feathered ravens rode the wind, cresting sideways, jagged feathers floating upon every current. I knew them.

“Finvarra. He’s one of the Tuatha Dé.” He waited for my response. He seemed curious and fascinated. “The Tuatha Dé Danaan, the People of Danu.”

“Danu?” I paused to catch my breath.

“The mother of all gods.” He grinned. “Pagan gods.”

“Finvarra was with ériuthe day she was to marry Dermot Sweet. They were together. I saw everything. Oh God, he’s my father—the King of the Faeries is my father, and ériu is my mother.” My knees buckled, and I swooned. Only his grip saved me from falling.

The air shimmered, glinting in the sunlight. White clouds skiffed across the sky.

“Then who was Dermot Sweet?” His brows creased.

“ériu wanted to marry him.” I cringed, reliving the memory. “How did you find me?”

“You left a trail of breadcrumbs, Calla.” He chuckled. “No, I’m kidding. Your dog led the way. What’s his name? He’s very friendly.”

“I don’t have a dog.” The heat left my face, and a wave of dizziness threatened.

“The red collie sitting in the driveway when I arrived? He led me up the hill.” He scanned the courtyard, searching for the mysterious dog.

“It was Seamus.” I swallowed hard, accepting the little man had many faces. “He’s one of them. I’m sure of it.” Any doubt I might have had vanished, along with the King of the Faeries himself. I wavered in Colm’s arms and swallowed hard. The world between worlds existed, but what of the underworld? ériu stated plainly, her tone demanding respect. “Remember who I am.”

“Who is Seamus?” Colm’s eyes filled with shadows.

I could see that even he who believed in pagan gods was unprepared for a shapeshifting immortal.

“He looks after the place. He looks after me. Am I going crazy?” My gaze ventured beyond Colm, but I saw no sign of my little friend.

“You’re not crazy.” He planted a simple kiss on my forehead, enough to ignite the flames. Heat raged between us—so much heat.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” I moistened my lower lip with the tip of my tongue.

“I’m just wondering about this man called Seamus. How did he reveal himself to you?” He considered his words, shadows drifting in his eyes.

“He was here the day I arrived. He’s not tall and wears the strangest clothes, like from another century.” I swept my hair behind my ears and looked at him, really looked at him. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t crazy.

“He could be a spirit, but more than likely, he was sent by someone else.” He led me through meadow grass burnished with gold tips.

“He said my father wanted to meet me. Oh, God. It’s true, then. Finvarra is my father. I have to know what happened to ériu. I have to talk to Orlaith.” I gazed at the smoke curling from the chimney, the purple pansies trailing from each window box, the calla lilies blooming vibrant pink and virgin white.

Colm’s blue rental car sat parked in the courtyard. He had stolen my heart so quickly and confidently. What did I even know about him?

“I’ll go with you. I don’t trust this, Faerie King.” Suspicion coated his words. His chiseled features hardened, and his lips curled into a tight line. He seemed a man used to drawing first blood.

“What does that make me, Colm?” My thoughts danced between realms. The Tuatha. The Dead. And Colm. Where does he belong?

“You’re one of Them, Calla. You’re part of their world.” His gruff voice soothed my spiking emotions. Light returned to his baby blues.

I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing, but the weight stayed put, pressing down and making breathing difficult. Colm wanted something. I closed my eyes and fought the shadows. For him, my “gift” was a means to an end. The heat raging between us could not be denied, but neither could the truth.

“That’s what Saoirse said. She said, ‘You just are.’ How can I be part of an invisible world? What does it mean? What world do I belong to?” I turned into him, drawn to him. I placed my hands on his biceps, fingering the smooth cotton sleeves.

“We’ll figure this out together.” He pulled me close, tucking my head beneath his chin.

“Colm…would you? Would you like to come in? I have tea.” My mind calmed, and I saw a future with him. He had shattered my mind with a single touch.

Sunlight broke through the clouds, lighting every leaf in dappled shades.

“I burn for you, mo ghrá .” He drew his thumb over my lips, tearing my soul to pieces—pieces that belonged to him.

“I’ve never.” Liquid heat flowed through my veins, and desire caught flame.

I should tell him this would be my first time. I swallowed hard, unable to voice the words. My gut burned with indecision, confusion, and shame. I ran through today’s events: my father was an immortal god of the Sidhe , and my mother was the princess of the dead, and by the way, I’m a virgin —all that in one day.

“Never what, luv .” He dipped his head, closing his lips over mine, filling me with his taste.

I threw my hands into his thick curls, knocking his hat to the ground, and kissed him back, fully and completely. My tongue found and battled his. A whimper rose low in my throat, hunger burning in my soul.

He came for me. He wanted me. That was all that mattered. I didn’t care about the rest.

“Shh.” He nosed my nape and then traced his lips along my throbbing pulse. “You taste like no other.”

“I want you. I want to be with you.” I inhaled his scent, musk mixed with shadows. I melted into him, wanting what he could give. I yearned for what others took for granted: intimate contact, the shattering pleasure of release.

“And I you.” He glanced in one direction, then the other. He held my hand, leading me away.

“Where are we going?” I would go anywhere with him, and he knew it. I rubbed my forehead, blocking the sun’s rays.

The waterfall trickled down the mountain gash, tumbling onto the stones below. The sun beat down, too strong for late April. I spied the bee hives Dermot Sweet cared for, ten square boxes hidden in overgrown brambles.

We walked across the courtyard and behind the barn, where the grass grew long.

“This will do.” He threw his arms on either side of my shoulders, caging me against the wall.

Only the circling ravens could see. They cawed and screamed, throwing shadows onto the meadow.

“Here?” I twisted my neck and looked longingly toward the cottage.

“You’re not afraid of me? Are you, Faerie girl?” He dragged his tongue across the seam of my lips, his voice rough-hewn and hard.

“I’m not afraid.” Arrows of heat shot straight to my core. He made my mind lust.

“Good.” He slid his hands beneath my hoodie, lifted my arms over my head, and tossed the fleece away. It landed front-side up.

I read the words—boys lie.

My skin prickled and burned.

“Should I be? Afraid?” My bottom lip trembled. The weight of his hand grazing my flesh made my sex quiver.

“You’ve been riding me for days now. Bespelling my mind. Haunting my dreams. Leaving me in a wee bit of distress.” He slid his index finger beneath the pink band of my bra, flicking the snap free and spilling my breasts.

“Well, that’s your fault. You didn’t give me a chance to remedy your discomfort.” I tried not to flinch. Instead, I arched my back, jutting my breasts toward him, tantalizing him.

“Look at me.” His eyes filled with luminous light as he caressed each swell with his knuckles.

“You’re not the boss of me, O’Donnell.” My mouth watered, my nipples hardening into taut nubs. I was ready, so ready. I wanted to have my way with him, yet it appeared to be the other way around. As much as he pointed out his distress, he seemed to want me—at his mercy.

“Let’s pretend I am.” He dragged his lips down my face, suckling my lower lip into his mouth.

I lost what remained of my mind. I wanted him to touch me again, to squeeze my breasts, to suck my nipples into his hot mouth.

“Take those off.” He released me and stepped back, motioning toward the sweatpants hugging my hips.

“Now? Right here?” My mouth watered, fueled by insatiable need.

“Aye.” He peered through half-slits, his smile devil-made.

“Okay,” I whispered under my breath. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I pushed the sweats down, leaving them pooled at my feet. I slipped my thumbs into my lace panties, intending to bare it all. Like, why not? I had everything to lose. The V-Card had been in my possession far too long.

“No, mo grhá .” In one fluid motion, he bound my wrists in his left hand, raising my arms, pinning me against the barnboard wall.

My breath hitched. Dreaming of Colm was never like this.

“What do you mean, no? Don’t you want me?” My bare bottom pressed into the jagged boards, the triangular slip of lace the only thing concealing my sex. The sun shone between us, red-orange with fiery heat.

“Aye, but not today.” He held my hands, his beautiful face angled and hard.

I lowered my gaze to the apex of his cargo pants. His erection strained the fabric, the length threatening, the width imposing. I did that to him. My presence. My will. That I could do that made my heart sing.

“Close your eyes. Tell me what you’re feeling.” He drew his index finger between my breasts, over my taut belly, and snapped the elastic waistband of my panties.

“I’m throbbing.” I pressed the back of my head against the wooden boards, my sex clenching in anticipation.

“What’s throbbing?” His breath mingled with mine. He was hot. So hot.

“My sex. My pussy.” My mouth watered for a taste.

“What else.” He leaned close, searing my nape with a hot lick.

“My breasts are on fire. My skin tingles.” I bowed my hips, seeking his bulging erection.

”You will burn for me, mo grhá , and no one else.” He traced a hot path over my collarbone, circling my breast, scraping his teeth over one pebbled nub.

“Yes.” I arched into him, floating in a sea of desire.

“I’m going to make you come.” His rumbling voice demanded obedience. He dragged my nipple into his mouth and suckled the arrowed peak. He dropped one hand, containing me with the other, working his thick fingers into my aching flesh, stroking the outer cleft, rousing my need.

I threw my head back against the wall, my breath rasping, my sex quaking.

He didn’t stop. He angled his mouth over mine and suckled my tongue, taking my breath away.

The walls of my pussy fluttered. That. That was what I wanted. When I thought he would release me, he tightened his grip in full control of my pleasure. I arched and bowed, the heat ratcheting higher. In his eyes, I saw a man obsessed. Predatory. Hungry.

His breath raged with mine.

“Come for me, mo ghrá .” He entered my sex with one long finger, sliding between the slip of lace and the corded thong, cupping my pussy in his curved palm as he had before. He rocked and squeezed and made my body thrum.

I was unaware of when he released my arms. They were dead weights clenched around his neck. I bucked into him and ground into that single digit. He made me work for it.

When he suckled my bottom lip, I shattered against him, and a fury of heated embers burst through the sky.

“How did you do that?” My voice was unrecognizable.

This man enjoyed wreaking havoc.

“The next time, I will taste your sweet nectar.” He traced my cheekbone with his lips.

“You made me come just like that.” I swept my tongue over my dry lips, thirsting for more of him.

“The next time, you will part your legs for me. Your sweetness will be mine.” He kneaded my wet pussy. “Your nectar will flow over my lips, over and over again.”

“What’s wrong with now?” My breath hitched, surprising even me.

His hands circled my breasts, his fingers pinning the arrowed nubs, and then he kissed me again, exploring deeply, flicking the roof of my mouth, his hunger insatiable.

“You will take pleasure from no other.” He murmured into my ear, leaning into me, planting me against the rough wall.

“What?” I let my arms hang loose at my sides and took comfort in the solid wall holding my weight. Warmth brushed my skin, fire racing from one pleasure point to another.

“I will not take you that way nor lose you to another.” He splayed his big hands on my rib cage, his thumbs sweeping over my breasts. He grazed each nub with his warm tongue.

“Hmm.” I ached for him.

“Call me old-fashioned, Calla Sweet, but I intend to have you forever.” He scraped each nub repeatedly, suckling the arrowed peaks until my knees buckled.

“Forever?” Forever flowed through my mind. What he wanted thrilled yet terrified me: a promise, a commitment. Yesterday, I would have jumped at the chance to touch a man to experience such pleasure. But my entire world had changed. How could I promise forever when I didn’t know what I was? When I didn’t know him?

“You will know your heart when the spirits rise. Under the full moon, with the sea lapping the shore, you will give yourself to me, and I to you, this coming Bealtaine Eve.” He rolled the peaked tips of my breasts between his fingers, drowning me in desire. “Now, mo ghrá , let’s put you back together.”

He left me undone.