8. Rodan

8

Rodan

T he first thing he sensed, even before opening his eyes, was the bond. It was open, with a steady ebb and flow of power and emotions streaming between.

It was a state of being he had ached for, forced solitude being one of his father's many punishment tactics.

I'm not alone, he thought. She's right here.

And she was in more ways than one, for the next moment he could sense her fingers sliding through his hair, and he opened his eyes to find her seated in a chair next to the bed, watching him, her movements idle as she stroked the slippery black strands.

"Your hair is longer," she said. "Nearly to your knees."

"It is," he responded, still lying prone. Watching her watch him. "What do you think?"

"I think it's beautiful, and so are you," she said, smiling a little shyly.

The suns were up, for she was bathed in their slanted light, a halo of gold around her hair. She was wearing court clothes, in the androgynous fashion. Black poets shirt and a sleeveless tunic with trousers and boots. Gold thread flashed at her wrists and along the seams of her tunic, but it was obviously someone's hand-me-downs. They fit, but they were not made for her in the way of royalty.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

"About a day and a half," she said. "Thirty-seven hours by my count."

He blinked. "Truly?"

"I've been to bed twice since you," she said, standing and pacing away from him, her long hair unbound and cascading down her back. "I told everyone to leave you be. I've been keeping tabs on you through the bond. You've been deeply asleep this whole time. I only just started to sense some sort of wakefulness from you within the last half hour."

She turned to him, hands clasped behind her back. "There's been a lot to attend to. I—I don't know how, but I seem to have been gifted your transmutation through the bond. I had the desire to try it, and the next thing I knew I was making the potion. I knew what was in it, I could sense the components when you gave it to me the other night."

She took a deep breath. "There were a lot of injured and sick from the storm. The sea was intense, from all accounts. The Echo is going to require extensive repairs, and it got off lucky. Most ships are splinters in the bay. Roofs were collapsing beneath the strength of the wind and the weight of the snow. There's been a mass rescue effort."

Rodan sat up, the covers puddling in his lap. "You should have woken me?—"

"It was fine," Maeve said, her words soothing. She came back to the bed, reaching out and grasping the frame, staring at him. "I've tended to the major fires. I promise. We were okay. The people are okay, for the most part."

He slid from the mattress and moved toward her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, stepping back as he approached. He paused. She cast him a hesitant smile. "I need to understand what's happening. You said the bond was mostly stabilized before, that we had exchanged all the abilities that we could have, but—there's more, now. Much more." She stared. "What's happened?"

Rodan ran a hand over his hair, and his stomach started up a complaint. He went to the writing desk, noticing a stack of papers that had not been there before, several turned over with marks that showed there was writing on the opposite side. "What's this?"

"Just some thoughts," Maeve said, coming up behind him and pulling the papers away before he could reach for them. "I couldn't sleep at first. I had to write about them."

"The Nyx?" he guessed.

She nodded, eyes averted, and put the papers into a drawer.

Rodan turned back to the desk and made some food upon it. Bacon, bread, butter, tea for Maeve and wine for himself. With another thought he provided cherries and peaches, as usual. She was beside him, taking a slice, as he reached for the bread to make a sandwich.

All the while, he kept his side of the bond somewhat closed, trying not to reach through it like he desperately wanted to. To roll in the sensation of her.

Yet there was so much to tell her, to show her. "When my father took me to his world, it was for a singular purpose. One that he's been working toward for centuries." He sat with the sandwich in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other, and talked between bites. He was famished. "Icarus did a great deal of damage in the Fae Court, for he had discovered the High Queen was the consort of the god of death, Ankou.

"With this knowledge he had hoped to gain favor, to climb the ranks, but he was clumsy in his execution. His abilities were too great to lose forever, and so Titania found a world where the days stretched into centuries, and there he was left without his ability to travel the pathways.

"Titania removed the memory of him from our minds, and had Kabira bind my own growing abilities. My father, Icarus, is of the High Fae. Something I never suspected, until he came for me that night."

Maeve sat cross-legged on the multicolored rug before him, a mug of honeyed tea in hand, the bowl of peaches at her side. "You said he had a singular purpose. What was it?"

"He wanted to unbind me, and give me over to his patron god. A show of allegiance. Only, he was disappointed to find I had been so thoroughly bound, my High Fae abilities locked away the majority of my life. That's what you feel, my love," he said. "My abilities to bind, to make. Transmutation, it turns out, was not so much a gift as an unlocking of part of my making."

"So the wood witch?"

"She just uncovered it. Poorly, my father was happy to report, for it should not have taken so long to be able to use it effectively. She put a pinhole in the ability. My father tore down the dam entirely." He regarded her. "There is much I have learned about Titania, and the Fae Court, since my time in that world."

"Did it have a name? Your fathers world?"

"Tartarus." He said. "Fitting, no?"

Maeve shook her head, then passed her hand over the bowl of fruit, turning it from its present form to an overflow of blackberries. "It's incredible. It's everything I thought I understood about the materials of the world, magnified. It's not only the sense of things, but the knowledge of how to change them, intrinsically."

"Yes," he breathed, gratitude swelling in him. How long it had seemed he would be alone with these gifts, this life, and yet here she was. The most precious being in the world to him. Alive and whole. "And binding, that is what I did with the Nyx. It is a magic of cessation, preventing action, and can be difficult if not impossible to undo. I don't know if you will receive any of that power."

Maeve visibly shivered. "I'm glad you bound them. I would have myself if I had known how. They wanted me to become the leader of them, to take the place of their Queen, who was dying. They told me I was supposed to be at the head of their army. And I feel sorry for them, the ones who were changed against their will, but I can't—I won't be that for them." She took a deep breath, looking up at him. "Who is your father's patron god?"

"Ninack," Rodan said.

"Ninack was there when the Nyx first took me." Her face was pale. "He took my fire. Said if I did not give it to him, he would make sure Jen was killed. Others, too." She shivered visibly. "I haven't felt right since."

Rodan felt a cold chill wash down his spine. "Your fire is gone?"

It was a power not shared through the bond. Stemming directly from her lineage to Ankou, it was a god's gift. But that must have been what he sensed about her magic, the strangeness to it.

She nodded. "I've tried to summon it, but I can't, and that whole side of me? It's gone. I'm…" she tapped her chest. "Even with the power I'm getting from you now, it feels wrong. Like I'm missing something vital. I'm hollow."

Rodan chewed on his words for a while. What he was contemplating was something that could damn them or help them, he was unsure. "I think we should consider calling upon your father."

Maeve's eyes widened. "Why?"

"I was to be gifted to the same god who stripped you of your powers. You are demigod, and so I think consulting with your father is one of our best options right now."

She frowned. "And what if he extracts another promise, for his aid?"

"I will agree to nothing without you, Maeve. Nothing." He drained his wine and stood, reaching down to help her up. She steadied herself with one of her hands on his chest as she rose. "I have had time to regret much, and what I did to get you back from death? I am so sorry."

She swallowed hard, then leaned her head against his neck and shoulder, an arm coming to wrap around his waist. He reveled in the touch, wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer. Her body molded against his, perfect despite the thickness of her court clothes.

"I love you," he whispered. "More than anything."

She inhaled deep and sighed against his skin. "I love you, too." The side of her face rubbed against his as she withdrew enough to press a kiss to his jaw, trailing lips along his flesh until she reached his mouth.

Rodan groaned into the kiss, his hands raising to bury in her hair, tilting her head just a bit more. She tasted sweet, like peaches and blackberries, and the smell of her surrounded him. Fresh herbs and honeysuckle. He would never get enough of this.

When they pulled back, he murmured, "I need to take the suppression potion again, my love."

She nodded, eyes heavy-lidded. "Please do."

He smiled wide and kissed her again, delighting in the feel of it. "Let me do that, and change, and then we should call upon your father."

Rodan hated to be parted from her for even an instant, but he had to take the potion that would keep them from conceiving, summoning the portal to his private laboratory and stepping through, keeping it open behind him. It took more power to do so, but the drain on his resources was infinitesimal compared to what it used to be.

There sat on his apothecary table the still-steaming, red-tinged potion he and Maeve had brewed together only several weeks previous, insofar as this world was concerned. He took a few drops before shifting his clothes to the same-similar court attire as what Maeve was wearing, selecting a copy of her book, The Restless King , as he left.

"You know," he said as he exited the portal and closed it behind him, "I have wondered about the model for this book cover." He held up his copy, dog-eared and worn. "Do I truly look that intense? Angry?"

Maeve laughed and came to his side, plucking the book from his hands and tossing it to the couch. She swung her arms around his neck and kissed him, the motion brief but intense. He did not even have time to close his eyes before she was pulling back.

She glanced at the book. "I was barely a woman. You were, at the least, intimidating." She inhaled and gave him a look full of heat. "I still can't believe I get to touch you freely. It feels like a dream."

He encircled her waist with his hands, thumbs brushing against her sides. "It is the same for me, at times. I—some part of me still thinks this a dream, or some madness-brought illusion. I have nightmares that you're still in Visantium, dead by poison. That I never succeeded in bringing you back." He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. "My father had a master illusionist at his disposal, and there were many conjuring's she subjected me to. I have seen you die in a thousand ways. I have mourned you, over and over. The grief is as fresh now as it was the moment you stopped breathing."

"I'm right here," she whispered, her breath on his face. "We've conquered the Nyx. Their Queen is dying, or near enough. We'll face your father if we have to, and Ninack, and whatever else." She kissed his cheeks, drawing her lips across the bridge of his nose as she did. "I'll do everything I can to remain by your side. I love you."

He pulled her tight against him and kissed her, taking what she was giving and letting the bond open wide between them. He could sense her touching on memories even as her tongue tangled with his. She did not recoil from them, and her motions against him became fervent, her fingers slipping beneath the buttons on his vest to touch his chest.

"How long does it take?" she gasped as she broke their kiss, her hair tousled from his touches and her color high. "The potion? How long until we're safe?"

Rodan grinned, palming her rear with one hand to pull her flush against his erection. She made a small sound that had him smiling even wider. "It's immediate, my love. But don't you think we should?—"

Her mouth crashed against his, and her fingers made quick work of his layered court clothes, exposing his chest to the air. She raked her nails against his muscles, purring low in her throat. "I've missed you."

"You've missed me?" he said, laughing.

"A day is too long," she said, expression and tone serious as she undid the lacings at his waist. "I cannot even imagine what you—" she paused, looking up, her expression and motions suddenly unsure. "You do want to do this, don't you?"

Rodan guided her hand beneath the band of his loosened trousers, and she made another of those delicious sounds when she touched him. "I want you more than anything," he confessed, voice raw as she gently explored him. "Gods, Maeve, I need you."

Her grip on him tightened and he bucked against her hand, the motion involuntary as he gasped. She gave a satisfied smile, and knelt before him.

Rodan did away the rest of his clothes by unmaking, not wanting her to waste a moment more in undressing him. Maeve gave an appreciative sound, hand still wrapped around his cock, and then she took the tip of him into her mouth.

He let out a hiss, watching her swallow him, her tongue doing things to him that made his legs shake. How long—it had been so long since had been touched, and by her?

Maeve groaned as she sucked him, and Rodan had to steady himself on the back of a nearby chair, trembling with the pleasure of it. A part of him wanted to finish within her mouth, but more of him was roaring with the need to be buried in the soft heat between her thighs.

But she was not ready to be done with him, gripping his hips tight to keep him in place as she continued her motions.

"Maeve—" he gasped after some time. "You have to stop."

She purred around him and his knees almost went out, but then she popped him from her mouth and rose, a self-satisfied smile quirking her swollen, glistening lips.

Rodan kissed her, his hands going from her hair to the lapel of her tunic, tearing through the buttons and pushing the heavy cloth from her shoulders so he could cup her breasts through the thin fabric beneath. Maeve moaned, arching against him, and they broke away long enough for him to lift the shirt over her head. When next he touched her, it was her naked flesh, burning hot beneath his fingers.

Gods! He could not believe it, sometimes, just as she had said. That he had leave to touch her so. To bring such soft cries from her lips, to see her heated gaze on him.

"I want you so much," she whispered, voice hoarse with longing. "Please, Rodan."

He lifted her, carrying her to the bed and setting her down, stripping her of boots and pants all while she propped herself up on her elbows, watching him.

Instead of crawling up the length of her, he dipped down to taste her heated core, pulling one of her legs up over his shoulder so he gained better access. Maeve gave a little shriek of surprise at first, which soon turned to a low moan of pleasure.

The moment his fingers and lips touched her, he could tell she was soaked through. Two fingers slid inside her easily, and she lifted her hips toward him, just as he lowered his mouth to her clit. Using lips and soft strokes of the tongue, he built her until she was panting and moaning his name, begging him with whispers of, "Please."

She tasted divine. More herself than anywhere else, and it was all for him. Every bit of her arousal that coated his tongue. He had brought that forth in her.

Rodan licked her until she came with a faint scream, her surprise evident even as more liquid coated his fingers, which he withdrew from her before sliding them into his mouth, watching her all the while.

He was so hard it was near-painful, and every breath he took was suffused with the scent of her.

"Oh, gods," she whispered, reaching for him. "I need you in me, Rodan, please. I can't stand this."

Whispers crowded his head as he crawled up her body, trailing kisses and touches as he went. Whispers this was not real, that it was just another illusion, another manipulation, and he would find he was kissing not Maeve, but another?—

No , he thought, savagely. This is real. It has to be real. The illusions had still been only that, and even as he had been in them he had known something was wrong. This, though? This felt as though it were true, through and through. The illusions could never recreate the bond, not in total. But this? Here?

This was real. He could sense her, utterly.

Maeve's legs wrapped around him, her arms encircling his neck. "I love you," she whispered, kissing his neck, his jaw.

And then he was pressing inside of her. She was all heat and softness and fluttering muscles, her gasping breath in his ear, begging.

The bond swelled, their emotions and sensations intermingling, so it was difficult to tell where his own feelings ended and hers began. He could sense, above all, her love and passion for him, all wrapped up together with burning shards of worry he could not quite identify.

Rodan buried himself fully in her, his face against her neck, and Maeve cried out, fingernails digging into his shoulders. Hitching her leg over his hip, he began to drive into her, his breath leaving in a huff as pleasure ricochet through his body, his entire being focused in on the delights to be found here.

Maeve arched beneath him, eyes closed, her mouth open in an O of pleasure he captured in a kiss, tongue diving, seeking, tasting her.

She began to tremble, and then she was gripping him tight everywhere as she moaned against the kiss. Her legs clamped around him, and when next he drove deep into her she pivoted them, turning so she was splayed on top, rising up and breaking the kiss as she did, moving her hips to slide over the length of him. "Fuck," she swore. "You feel so good."

He cradled a breast and gripped her hip in his other hand, helping guide her movements. "Yes," he hissed. "Maeve…" His control was slipping as she ground over him, and his hips began to piston up into her.

"Yes," she echoed with a whimper, one hand braced on his chest and the other reaching out to lace with the fingers of his where he had been gripping her hip. "I want to feel you come."

He gasped, the words sending him spiraling over the edge, and then he was holding her waist, slamming into her with several long, deep thrusts before going still, his orgasm making his back bow as he gripped her even tighter.

Maeve cried out over him and, though her motions slowed considerably, she was still wrapped tight around him. "Rodan," she moaned. "I can't—I want this so much." She reached between her legs, slipping fingers down to where they joined. She brought those fingers to her lips, and when they kissed next he could taste them both.

He growled and started to thrust into her anew, even though he was sensitive, he knew she was, too. And when Maeve began to make noises of encouragement, he flipped them again, gathering her to him as he continued to move, the motions unhurried and blissful. Every inch of her was the greatest pleasure he had ever known.

Other lovers faded to nothing but hazy fog in comparison. She was so incredibly vital to his very being, her heartbeat an echo to his own.

Maeve sighed into his ear and slid her hand down again, stroking herself in time to his movements. Panting breaths fell from her lips as she did. "Gods," she said. "Nothing—nothing like this."

He made an appreciative noise and buried deep, feeling his release for the second time in her arms. This time he did not attempt to pull away from her, however, staying within and holding her close, nuzzling at her neck and trailing his lips against her flesh.

"You smell so fucking good," she said on a laugh. "How?"

"I could say the same." He nipped at her ear and pulled back enough to look at her. "Do you think you'll ever regret this? Me?"

Her smile widened, but her tone was serious. "Never."