Epilogue

“Are you ready?”

Cricket looked at Avery, her blue eyes bright and hopeful. Her stomach twisted with nerves, and she grabbed Avery’s hand. “No.”

“Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

Cricket huffed, ears flicking. “You’ve never met my father.”

“No,” she conceded and squeezed back. “But compared to mine, how bad can a Deer Daddy be?”

“Oh, my Gods, I will pay you to never refer to my father as ‘Deer Daddy’ ever again.”

Avery giggled, and the joyful, bubbly sound settled Cricket’s nerves.

It had been a surprise, that giggle. So different from the self-deprecating huffs and tiny smiles Avery had shared with her at the start of the summer.

As the weeks passed, and the phone calls from policemen and federal agencies tapered off, that giggle had grown from a tiny snort to a burble of glee. And then her mother’s lawyers had called, reporting that Meander’s had responded to their subpoena, and that Avery’s signature on the receipt matched the forged signature on that last batch of sales.

Cricket had no head for the intricacies of human law, but the phrases “conclusive evidence” and “irrefutable innocence” were thrown around, and Avery had burst out laughing. The same joyful, bubbling giggle she let out now.

Cricket held her breath and faced her parent’s dwelling, exhaling as she raised her hand to knock on the birch door. It flew open immediately, and her mother, Thistle, rushed out.

“My baby!” She enveloped them both in a tight hug. “My sweet doe.”

Cricket and Avery were half drug, half escorted into the dwelling where her father, Bosk, loomed in the center of the room. The ceiling was highest here, able to accommodate the spread of his antlers without the points scraping the thatch. Parcels and filled baskets lined the walls, and what little had accounted for decoration had been removed and wrapped in linen, ready to be moved.

“Cricket.” Bosk nodded, his deep basso rumbling through the room.

“Hey, Dad.” Arm tight at her side, she waved her fingers in his direction, feeling every inch the doe her mother had called her, and not a grown faun. “I, um, this is Avery.”

It was a cheap trick, she knew it, but it didn’t stop her from pushing Avery in front of her. By Avery’s own admission, her dad was way worse than Cricket’s. And she was a big girl. She could handle herself.

“Hello, Cervid Bosk,” Avery said without missing a beat.

Every faun in the room blinked in surprise at her use of the proper title. Thistle recovered first, patting Cricket’s shoulder and whispering, “Well done.”

“I didn’t—”

A wink from Avery shut her mouth. Of course, she’d learned the proper way to address the faun. The real surprise here was that Cricket hadn’t assumed that she would.

Pride bubbled in her chest, giving her the courage to step beside Avery as she explained why they’d come. “The camp owns the land,” she finished. “As long as Elkwater is open, there’s a permanent place for your family. With electricity and access to running water, and—”

“I am sure my daughter has told you already,” Bosk cut her off, “the faun have no interest in leaving Green Bank.”

“Then don’t,” Avery fired back. “If you want to stay, stay. Keep uprooting your dwellings and your children, but don’t hold back the members of your family who want to settle somewhere for more than a week at a time.”

“You could not possibly understand—”

“No, you’re right. I couldn’t. But I’m trying to.” Avery squared her shoulders, lifting her chin as she stared down the seven-foot faun looming over her. “There’s a whole wide world out there, a world you can be a part of like the wolven and the naga.” Bosk scowled, wide mouth twisting down, and Avery shook her head. “I’m not explaining this very well. What I’m trying to say is that there is a place for the faun. Here.” She pointed to the ground beneath her feet. “And for those who want to wander further afield, there’s room at Elkwater.”

“What do you mean ‘here’?” Thistle asked. Bosk jerked his head around to glare at his wife, and Cricket stepped forward, grabbing her mother’s soft hand before her father could raise his voice.

“Avery owns the land,” she explained, then cringed. “Sort of. A lot of it is being held up in court or escrow. Something like that, it’s wildly confusing, but what matters is, it’s her signature on the property taxes and deeds.”

“Forged.” Bosk’s nostrils flared.

“Regardless, the land was sold through land contracts, which the previous owners are funding. My mom’s lawyers can explain it better than I can, but what it comes down to is that the land is being held in trust under my name, and the attorneys are working with the previous owners to ensure nothing like this ever happens again.”

“Impossible,” he snorted, burly arms crossing over his chest.

“Hardly,” Avery chuckled in reply. “You’ve never met my mom’s lawyers.”

“How will they ensure the land doesn’t sell again?” Thistle asked.

“We’re re-drafting the contracts to include an amendment stating that the land cannot be further developed, nor can it be sold for a profit.” Avery grinned, glancing from faun to faun. Her shoulders drooped at Bosk and Thistle’s blank expression.

“The land stays ours,” Cricket explained. “There’s a precedent, or something, tied into the property laws governing the camp. Avery, or rather, Payne Properties, can’t develop the land, and they can’t sell it for a profit.”

“But what we can do,” Avery said, “is sell it to you. For a dollar.” Bosk’s wide eyes blinked. His stern mouth fell open, and Cricket grinned. “I can’t promise that every seller comes on board, land contracts are tricky, but the people of Green Bank respect the faun. We’ve already secured twenty-five acres, including the land your dwelling is on, and I’m hoping we can—”

“And the hollow? By Deer Creek?” Bosk asked.

Cricket glanced at Avery. She worked her jaw, eyes narrowed in the way they did when she was thinking hard. “I’m not … I’m not sure? But I can check. As shady as the whole thing was, Lunar Asset Management kept a clean paper trail; we should be able to locate the owners easily enough.”

“You secure the hollow under Little Mountain,” Bosk said, “and the faun will be your allies for as long as we roam this world.”

“Yikes, dad, calm down.” Cricket laid her hand on her father’s arm and smiled up at him. “But, you mean it?”

“The hollow is all that matters.” He nodded and extended a hand for Avery. She took it without hesitation, her long pianist’s fingers dwarfed by the length and breadth of Bosk’s own.

“Then I’ll have my mother’s lawyers start there.” She pumped his arm once, and in the tight nod and gleam in her eyes, Cricket saw a shadow of Nathan Payne. His determination, grit, and charm. But where Nathan was all smooth edges buffed to a shine, Avery’s shirt, tucked into denim cut-offs, was wrinkled and bore faint, muddy stains. Her fox-fur hair was frizzy and wild, and she’d never looked more lovely.

Bosk released her hand and regarded Avery for a long moment before his nut-brown gaze landed on Cricket. One ear twitched, the corner of his mouth curled, and he pulled her into his side, knuckling the top of her head. “I can see why you like this one.”

“Dad.”

“Only, I wonder what it is she sees in you.”

“Dad.” Heat rushed into Cricket’s cheeks, and she pushed against him, attempting to wriggle free. But Bosk kept her hugged in tight, spinning Cricket around and calling for Avery to follow. “Dinner is already in the pot, young lady, and my wife’s acorn stew waits for no faun or human.”

A light haze rose from the forest floor, braiding through the trees and dissipating in the fields where fireflies danced to a soundless tune. Glimmers of warm, yellow lights bobbed and weaved, rising high enough to obscure the line between earth and sky.

Avery and Cricket had left the dwelling after dinner with her parents, both of them flush with laughter and acorn whisky. Without any particular heading in mind, Cricket led her human through the woods.

One glade melted into another. The deer trail she followed took them over a stream, through a cluster of blackberry bushes, and out into a field. On they hiked, chasing the last of the setting sun. She hadn’t planned to catch that magical hour of twilight when the fireflies danced and a cool breeze teased mist from the creeks running into the valley, but Gods be damned if she wasn’t going to take advantage of it.

Stars twinkling overhead, and a pretty girl holding her hand? Yeah, Cricket was absolutely going to take advantage of this.

“Where are we going?” Avery huffed. A light sheen of sweat coated her skin, giving her freckles a luster that shone in the moonlight.

“No idea.” Cricket pantomimed scanning the wood, and thrust her arm in an arbitrary direction. “There!”

“What?” Avery stopped short, peering in the direction she pointed. “I don’t see anything.”

“There, castle,” Cricket drawled, then cackled when Avery playfully smacked her arm.

“How the heck have you seen Young Frankenstein?”

“How have you?” she retorted. “It has a man playing God and boob jokes. Isn’t your dad, like, super Evangelical?”

“It has boob jokes,” Avery leveled in a flat tone. “And in case you haven’t noticed”—her mouth curled wickedly, and she tugged Cricket’s arm, drawing her in close—“I happen to have a thing for boobs.”

That said, she brushed her knuckle over the curve of Cricket’s breast. She sucked in a breath, ears flicking as an accompanying shiver ran down her spine. “You’re feeling bold.”

“Acorn whisky,” Avery mumbled, her eyes dropping to Cricket’s mouth. “Pretty company.”

“Pretty?”

Avery flicked her gaze up. Moonlight reflected in her eyes, twin pinpricks ringed in blue, bright enough to hold even the strongest faun captive. That knuckle trailed lower, brushing the row of her nipples, one by one, through her thin cotton tank.

“Beautiful,” Avery whispered and closed the distance between them. Her lips brushed Cricket’s in a soft kiss, less than the brush of a butterfly’s wing, and somehow, it was more than any deep sweep of a tongue or tangle of limbs could ever hope to be. In that brush was a wish and a promise. It was a statement, hopeful in its brevity and everything Cricket could have asked for.

She wrapped her arms around Avery, refusing to let any space between them, and returned the kiss. Soft against her cheekbone, a dusting on the tip of her nose, and then she caught her mouth, swallowing the moan that rose in her throat at the taste of strawberry chapstick.

Time fell away, the meadow and the stars vanishing as Cricket’s world became the human in her arms. She chased every sensation brought on by the heat of Avery’s mouth, the slide of her tongue, and the deft caress of her fingers. The soft curve of her shoulders and hips, how Avery’s body melded into her as if she’d been made to fit every one of Cricket’s hard angles.

Warmth pooled between her legs, every swipe of Avery’s tongue and tease of her fingers feeding the low, steady throb in her groin. With shaking hands, Cricket tugged her shirt from her shorts, sliding her palms up Avery’s waist to cup her breasts and groaning at the soft weight.

“Gods.” She broke away from the kiss on a pant, sweeping her thumbs over hard nubs. “Aves, you’re so—”

“Shh.” Avery pressed a finger to her lips, smirking at Cricket’s wide eyes. She trailed the shape of her mouth, the touch as soft and teasing as the caress of her nipples had been. It was a subtle sort of magic, this light caress, hauling every nerve ending to life and drawing all of Cricket’s attention to the so-soft-she-thought-she-imagined-it touch.

Her lips quivered in the wake of Avery’s finger, chest heaving as she cupped her breast and swept the nipple, pinching lightly before moving lower. Again and again, teasing every one of Cricket’s nipples until the muscles in her stomach were tense, her body a tightly wound spring.

Her ears stood fully erect, the soft breeze tickling fine hairs. A shudder built in her core, and with a groan, she chased Avery’s mouth. Slipping her hands up, she cupped her cheeks and held Avery in place, nibbling and sucking her lower lip before delving deep to swallow the tiny whimpers clawing up from her throat.

Gods, this human. Avery. Her Avery. In a matter of weeks, she’d driven Cricket wild with lust and met her every step of the way. She’d never known the magic of her home world, and she had never known what it was to feel the flow of healing power through her limbs, but she imagined it would feel a little something like this.

Avery was pliant beneath the force of her kiss, letting herself be walked backward and grunting softly when her back hit a nearby tree. She squirmed against Cricket, and half a thought later, her hands were in Cricket’s hair, tugging the curls and—

“Oh, Gods.” Her legs trembled as Avery circled the base of her ears, squeezing gently before rubbing her thumbs up the inner curve. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea,” Avery murmured against her throat, hot breath raising goosebumps beneath the down. Her nails scraped down Cricket’s ears, and a warble of pleasure dribbled into her core.

This was it. This was how a human bewitched a faun and turned her into a puddle of goo. A gentle stroke, a scrape of nail, and that plush, plump mouth sucking on her pulse.

A throaty moan escaped, and Cricket buried her face in the crook of Avery’s neck, trying and failing to think clearly enough to reciprocate. But what were thoughts when her brain was boiling and her pussy throbbing?

“Avery, please,” she managed, kissing the words into the sweet salt of her skin. “Please touch me.”

“Where?” Her nails scraped again, and Cricket twitched against her, pussy clenching.

“Anywhere, sweet girl.” Her hips twitched, bucking against Avery as if they could demand her fingers.

Avery laughed a throaty chuckle and worked her leg between Cricket’s thighs. Hot breath teased Cricket’s ear, and she moaned, bending her knees to grind against Avery’s thigh as she continued groping and stroking her ears, pinching the tips and rolling them between the pads of her thumbs. It was mind-melting and maddening and everything and nothing. Cricket needed more. She needed those fingers inside her, needed Avery’s mouth on her throat, her nipples, her navel her—

“What do you need, baby?”

“You,” Cricket panted, rolling against Avery as she chased release. Her body flashed hot, each breath coming in tiny tight pants. How the fuck did she do this to her so easily? A wink and a smile, the feel of her soft skin, and Cricket was drooling like a satyr at the Bacchanal.

“Where?” Avery pulled her face away, head thudding lightly against the tree trunk. Her eyes searched Cricket’s face. She drew a line with the edge of her fingernail down the side of one ear. “Here?” Cricket’s heart skipped a beat and Avery continued the path down to her temple. “Or here?” That lovely mouth pursed, and mischief sparked in her eyes. “Certainly not here.” She traced Cricket’s mouth and slipped her finger inside, wetting the tip.

Cricket’s eyelids fluttered closed, as did her lips. She sucked on Avery’s finger, thankful for the reprieve and furious all the same. She’d been so close, and Avery—Gods-blessed Avery—had known and chosen to tease instead of please.

Cricket wasn’t sure if she loved her or hated her for it.

So she swirled her tongue around Avery’s finger, watching that mischief deepen into desire. Her lips parted, and over the thrumming of her heartbeat, Cricket caught the tiniest, most innocent little “Oh.”

An innocence that was far too quick in passing.

Avery’s brows lowered, and her mouth curled wickedly. “I see.”

“Hm?” Cricket cocked her head, lips pursed around Avery’s finger.

She withdrew, eyes flicking low, and before Cricket could decipher that look, Avery pulled her hand away, cupped Cricket’s pussy, and pressed her palm against her clit. “Somewhere wet, then.”

“Oak and ivy.” Cricket slammed her hand against the tree trunk as her knees buckled to keep from falling. The calm she had managed vanished beneath a wave of pleasure, and instantly she was panting and fighting off a rising bleat in her throat. “A-Avery.”

“Cricket.” She lowered herself to the ground, bringing Cricket with her.

Or maybe she chased her down, refusing to let that delicious touch leave her center. Not that it mattered who led whom, but if it did, Cricket was all too happy to admit she was currently being led along by her nose.

Or her pussy.

Whatever.

“Can we try something?” Avery asked as Cricket settled on her lap. Those strong, steady fingers curled against her center, palm pressing and releasing in a slow tempo—enough to have Cricket panting but not enough to send her over the edge.

“Anything,” she said, barely able to catch enough breath to do so. Avery hummed her pleasure, squeezing Cricket’s hip as she wriggled lower. Hooking two fingers in the waistband of Cricket’s bike shorts, Avery tugged them down.

“Help me?”

No faun ever kicked off lycra so quickly. The shorts landed with an unceremonious whump somewhere behind her, and a half-second later, Avery gripped Cricket’s thighs with both hands and kissed her navel.

“I’ve never—”

“It’s alright,” Cricket promised. And GODS, was it alright. It was damn near celebrated.

“Not never,” Avery amended. Her words hummed into Cricket’s lower abdomen, joining the curdling pleasure deep in her core. Her legs were already trembling, caught up in a whirlwind of anticipation and need. “Just not with an inhuman.”

“S’not so different.” She cupped the back of Avery’s head, pressing gently to get her to look up. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” She squeezed Cricket’s thigh in emphasis. “I really, really want to.”

“Oak and ivy, Aves.” If the angle had allowed, Cricket would have kissed the human girl senseless.

“Guide me?”

All Cricket could manage was a nod and then a breathy moan as Avery pressed a warm, wet kiss to her pussy. And again, following the line of her lips and lingering at the peak. Almost shyly, her tongue darted out, catching on Cricket’s clit. A flash of pleasure and surprise shot her eyes wide. She dropped her head back, fingers still tangled in Avery’s hair. Encouraged by the response, Avery flicked her tongue out again, stroking her in a steady, maddening tempo.

“Aves,” Cricket moaned, her hips twitching in time to each pulse of sensation shivering up from her center. “Fuck, you don’t need any guidance.”

That earned a chuckle, and the vibrations stole Cricket’s breath. Oak and ivy, she couldn’t see straight. That metronomic pace consumed all of her, adhering her body to the cadence of Avery’s softly stroking tongue.

Cricket cautioned a glance down, and the sight of blue eyes watching her intently nearly ruined her. Her hand flexed at the back of Avery’s head, and she closed her eyes, soft pleasure easing her features as her tongue stretched along the line of Cricket’s lips, parting her with a steady sweep.

One of them hummed, or both of them, what did it matter, and the buzzing filled Cricket from slit to scalp. She rocked her hips against Avery’s tongue, no longer in control of herself. She belonged to this human and her bewitching song. Belonged to her every breath, her every smile. Belonged beneath her hands and her mouth.

A hand slipped from her thigh, clumsily reaching between Cricket’s legs, and that hesitance filled her heart to bursting.

Her determined Avery. So brave in taking what she wanted, in grasping life by the antlers and bending it to her will. Not that Cricket had antlers, but damn if her human wouldn’t take them in both hands and tug.

A finger pressed against her, shattering Cricket’s last remaining thoughts as it plunged deep. Avery increased the tempo of her tongue, alternating between sucking on Cricket’s clit and flicking the bud. Her finger crooked on the alternate beat and it was all Cricket could do not to cry out and startle the moon itself. She fisted her hand in Avery’s hair, bleating as the human began to hum.

“Aves—“ A shiver rolled up her spine. Her ears swiveled to catch the sound reverberating in her core as another finger pressed within her, filling Cricket until all she could do was moan. With each stroke and the relentless flicking and sucking of her clit, the last shreds of control she’d desperately hung onto dissipated like the rising mist in a breeze.

What had been a slow-building fire in Cricket’s belly transformed into an inferno. She cried out to her Gods, called out to the oak and the ivy and the faeries tucked into the trees, riding Avery’s face and her hand until stars burst beside her eyes. Pleasure erupted, rushing up her front, and Cricket threw her head back, unleashing a deep, rasping cry that startled the birds above.

Avery worked her through her orgasm, only ceasing the pump of her fingers and the Gods-blessed pace of her tongue when Cricket sagged forward, catching herself on her elbows. Avery pulled her hand away, and Cricket’s pussy clenched one last time, missing the stretch of those glorious fingers. She collapsed onto her side, tongue all but lolling out of her mouth as Avery propped herself up on an elbow, gazing down at Cricket, her lips swollen and mouth glistening.

“You said …” Cricket panted, “you’d need … guidance.” Avery grinned and nodded. “Liar.”

“I also said I’d done that before.” She wiped her mouth with the back of a hand. “Just not with an inhuman.”

“Avery Payne, ladies and gentlemen. One shot wonder.” Cricket rolled onto her side, draping her arm over the curve of Avery’s waist and scooting closer. “There should be some sort of scout badge you can earn for that.”

“Badges?” Avery cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. “We don’t need no stinking badges.” Cricket stared at her long enough that Avery’s smile faded. “Blazing Saddles?”

“No, I know.” Cricket nodded. “They show it at the Green Bank library twice a year. But how do you know what Blazing Saddles is?”

Avery chewed her lower lip, eyes dropping. Heat bloomed under Cricket’s palm, and it took her a moment to realize that Avery had broken out in a full-body blush. She mumbled something under her breath that had Cricket leaning closer.

“Come again?”

Avery glared at her. “I said, ‘Madeline Kahn.’” Heat darkened her cheeks. “I don’t know what counts as an awakening in Green Bank, but for me, it was Madeline Khan.”

“Ah, yes.” Cricket slipped her hand under the hem of Avery’s shirt, wriggling closer as she drew the cotton shirt up to reveal a soft pink bra. Avery hissed quietly as cool evening air caressed bare skin. “Madeline Kahn. I think she was an awakening for a lot of us.”

Her fingers followed the swell of Avery’s breasts, eyes intent on her face to ensure she didn’t miss a single quiver of lips or flutter of eyelashes. She hooked her finger into the cup and tugged it down. Soft flesh spilled out, warm and inviting. Cricket ducked her head low and laved the flat of her tongue against an erect nipple. Avery gasped, arching into her touch. Her hand came up to cradle the back of Cricket’s head, holding her face against her breasts.

“What was the line?” she murmured into Avery’s skin. “‘What knockers.’”

“Teri Garr.”

“Hm?” Cricket angled her face up, questioning.

“Inga.” Avery’s fingers pressed into Cricket’s skull as if she could force the faun back to her breast. “Dr. Frankenstein”—Cricket pinched her lips in a smile at her pronunciation: Fronkensteen—“says it to Inga. Teri Garr.”

“Right, Teri Garr.” She raised her head, loving the disappointed sigh that escaped Avery.

A disappointed sigh that cut off as Cricket slung her leg over thick, luscious thighs and rolled Avery onto her back.

“What do you say, Avery?” She grinned, letting all of the heat and desire she felt for this human show in her face, and in the warmth of her voice. “Would you like to go for a roll in ze hay?”