He slid in and out of me, with the waves helping some of the time, and some of the time they seemed determined to pull us apart, as if they were jealous of what we were doing. I began to feel that growing weight of pleasure again, but deeper inside me this time.
I wasn’t sure if I shouted or whispered against his face, “Soon, soon.”
He understood, and he began to work his hips faster, driving himself deeper and quicker, so that each thrust ran over that part of me, and the waves tried to help find that spot inside me, but Rhys gave them no room. He filled me up, and then between one thrust and the next I was screaming his name again, my nails pinning into his back, tracing my pleasure in half-moons on his pale skin.
I screamed his name as he rode me, in the sea and the steps leading up. I felt him fight his body to keep the rhythm that had brought me so that he could bring me again and again, and only when I’d lost count did he finally allow himself that last deep thrust that spasmed him backward, so that he was staring at the sky as he finally let himself go.
That last deep thrust brought me one final time, and it was then that the scent of roses fell around us in a shower of pink petals that glided out to sea with the waves. The magic rushed across our skin like a different kind of orgasm, so that our skin ran in shivers, but it was warm, so warm. Warm enough that the sea could not be cold for us. The twin glow of our bodies merged and became one, as if together we could make a new moon to send into the sky—a moon that had eyes of liquid fire, burning emeralds, spun garnets, melting gold, and sapphires so blue they would make you weep to see them. His hair was white foam around his face, across his shoulders, merging with the white glow of our bodies.
It was only then that I realized we should have put up a circle to keep in the power, or to control it, but it was too late. The power surged through us and went up and out into the night. I’d felt a release of power before, but never one with such purpose. Always before it had been almost accidental, but I felt our merged energies seeking something, like a magical missile aimed at a target.
We felt it hit, and I half expected to hear the echo of some great explosion, but there was no sound. The impact of it shook us, and sent Rhys thrusting inside me one last time, as we both cried out at the release of our bodies and the release of the magic miles away.
Only when our skin began to fade, glowing around the edges, instead of that white-hot light, only then did he let himself slide to his knees, still holding me, as I slid down the railing. The sea held our weight, and then tried to spill us down the steps. He moved us up in a kind of crawl until he had us safe on a drier step. He had fallen out of me somewhere in the climb but we were both ready to be done. It had been enough.
He gave a shaky laugh as he cradled me against him, and we leaned back against the steps.
“What was that magic?” I asked, my voice still breathless.
“It was the power of faerie creating a sithen.”
“A hollow hill here in Los Angeles,” I said.
He nodded, still trying to catch his own breath. “I caught a glimpse of it. It’s a building, a new building that wasn’t there before.”
“Wasn’t where before?” I asked.
“On a street.”
“What street?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but tomorrow I’ll be able to find it. It will call to me.”
“Rhys, how will you explain a new building appearing?”
“I won’t have to, just as the hollow hills would appear and the people would think the hill had been there forever. If the magic works as it always has, everyone will accept that it’s been there. I’ll be new moving in, but the building won’t look new, and people will remember it.”
I laid my head on his chest, and his heart was still thudding fast. “A sithen is like a new court of faerie, right?”
“Yes,” he said.
“So, in essence, faerie just made you a king.”
“Not the Ard-ri, but a lesser king, yes.”
“But I didn’t see the building. I didn’t feel it.”
“You are the high queen, Merry. You don’t have just one sithen; in a way they’re all yours.”
“Are you saying that the other men will get them, too?”
“I don’t know. Maybe only those of us who had one once upon a time.”
“Which would be you, and who?”
“Barinthus for one. I’ll have to think about the others. It’s been so long for most, so many centuries. You try to forget what you were before, because you don’t ever think you’ll get it back. You try to forget.”
“First my dream or vision and being able to save Brennan and his men when they have to be hundreds of miles away, and then them being able to heal with my blessing, or whatever you want to call it. Now this. What does it all mean?”
“The sidhe didn’t appreciate the Goddess coming back through you. I think she’s decided to find out if the humans are more grateful than the fey.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” I asked.
He laughed again. “I don’t know, but I can hardly wait to see this new modern sithen, or try to explain all this to Doyle and Frost.” He pushed to his feet, grabbing onto the railing to steady himself.
“I can’t walk yet,” I said.He grinned. “High praise for me.”
I smiled at him. “Very.”
“I’m going to rescue my weapons before the tide rises any more. I’ll have to clean everything. Salt water rusts like nothing else.” He waded down into the water, and finally had to dive out of sight in the waves to find where he’d pierced the sand and left his weapons.
I had a moment of being alone with the sea and the wind and the moon full and glowing above me. I whispered, “Thank you, Mother.”
Then I heard Rhys surface, taking a deep breath, splashing toward the steps, his weapons dangling from his hand, his curls plastered to his face and shoulders. He walked up beside me, the water running down his skin in shining rivulets.
“Can you walk yet?”
“With help, I think so.”
He grinned again. “That was amazing.”
“The sex or the magic?” I asked as he helped me to my feet. My knees were still weak enough that I grabbed for the railing even with his arm on mine.
“Both,” he said. “Consort save us, but it was both.”
We walked a little shakily up the steps laughing. The wind from the water seemed much warmer than before we’d made love, as if the weather had changed its mind and decided that summer was a better idea than autumn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SALT WATER IS ONE THING YOU HAVE TO RINSE OFF YOUR BODY BEFORE you fall into bed. I was in the big shower doing just that when the door burst open and Ivi and Brii, short for Briac, were in the doorway, breathing hard, and weapons naked in their hands.
I froze in the middle of rinsing the conditioner out of my hair, blinking at them through the glass of the shower doors.
I caught movement from the corner of my eye, and Rhys was just suddenly sliding in low through the door they had left open behind them. He had his newly oiled sword at Brii’s throat, and his newly cleaned gun pointed at Ivi as the other man froze in mid-motion of bringing his own gun up.
“Sloppy,” Rhys said, “both of you. Why did you leave your posts?”
They were both breathing so hard I could see their chests fighting for air, so much so that they couldn’t get enough air to talk. Brii might have been having trouble talking around the sword point that never wavered from his skin, and the short bow in his hand with its half-cocked arrow and a hand full of arrows fanned in his fingers were completely useless.
Brii blinked brilliant green eyes, his hair the yellow of cherry leaves in the fall, tied back in a long braid. His clothing was leather and could have looked like club wear, but was actually pieces of armor older than most people’s history books.
Rhys’s sword point seemed to be shoved up against the thudding pulse in his throat.
He looked at the other man, who was still frozen, unmoving under the point of his gun; only the frantic rise and fall of his chest betrayed him. His green and white hair was loose and swirled around his legs, but like Doyle and Frost, it never seemed to tangle. Unlike them, Ivi had a pattern of vines and leaves like a print upon his hair. His namesake on his hair was like a work of art, and his eyes were starbursts of green and white, so that people would ask him if it was fancy contacts, but it was just Ivi. He wore modern clothes, and the vest on his chest was modern body armor.
Rhys said, “Ivi, explain, and it better be good.” He never took his gun off the other man.
Ivi fought his own breath and pounding heart rate to speak. “We woke … on guard duty. Enchanted sleep … thought enemies.” He coughed, sharply trying to clear his throat, or take a deeper breath. He was being very careful about keeping the naked gun unmoving in his hand. “Thought we’d find Princess dead, or taken.”
“I could kill you both for falling asleep on duty,” Rhys said.
Ivi gave a small nod. “You’re third in command, you have that right.”
Brii finally managed to talk around the sword point and his pulse. “We failed the princess.”
Rhys moved in one motion, taking the sword from Brii’s throat, lowering his gun to the floor, and standing in the doorway as if he’d just walked through. With Frost and Doyle around me, I sometimes forgot that there was more than one reason that Rhys had been third in command of the Queen’s Ravens. When everyone is this good, it’s hard to remember just how good that is.