Amy A. Bartol

I gasp as my body curls toward Brennus like a flower to the sun, for the pleasure of it. He holds me close to him. His nose grazes the length of my neck. He breathes me in. I feel the roar and rush of my heartbeat. I?m his toy; his energy streams into me. He winds the invisible key in my back and the euphoria ratchets and coils inside of me: tick...tick...tick...Another wicked surge of energy flows from him into me. Pain. Pleasure. Bliss. My jaw unclenches as my lips part. I make a small, breathy sound as we dance. Brennus responds with something close to a growl. ?Ye?re killing me, mo chroí,? he murmurs. His hand moves down my back infusing me with a golden glow of power. My wings punch violently from me, tearing a hole in my day dress. They spread wide, like a red stain beyond my pale skin. I?m dancing now for the thrill of it. I follow his lead. As the song comes to an end, Brennus kisses my throat. He whispers in my ear, ?When ye get back, come find me, mo chroí. I?ve healed ye...now wake up and banjax whoever banished ye here...

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