Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

She spoke one word greedily, possessively: "Mine."

She kissed me hungrily and my body responded, wanting her, needing her. She kissed me harder, catching my bottom lip momentarily between her teeth, then moved back down my body, planting kisses in a line from my neck down to my nipples. Heat welled into me. Sensuous warmth radiated out from her kisses as she wriggled slowly backwards until my hardness pressed against her. She moved up and then down and I shivered as I slipped inside her.

Biting her bottom lip, she pushed herself upright, back straight, eyes closed in concentration as she began a rhythmic oscillation. She lifted her arms, slowly from her sides, each motion bringing them a little higher until they were outstretched, palms upward. Her chin lifted and she looked balanced, poised.

Behind her, great wings unfolded, delicate and pale, changing colour like oil on water as they unfurled until they were full and transparent, like dragonfly wings. She opened her eyes and the wings blurred into invisibility. The room whirled into motion, paper tumbling about as the draught caught it from the dresser and the sheet billowed out behind her, rippling in the vibrant air.

She raised herself in one long slow movement, her tongue pink against the dark of her lips, her eyes glowing with green fire in their depths.

"Mine!" she declared, and thrust downwards, pushing me over so I cried out, and my body arched in answer to hers.

I slowly regained myself, breathing into her hair in the dark with her draped over me, nuzzling into my neck. The darkness had returned as if the dawn had reversed itself. I realised that the light I had thought was coming through the blinds had been inside the room. She had summoned the dawn to dispel my dream.

She'd said she was a creature of fire and air and I had believed her, but I hadn't understood what that meant. It didn't tell the half of it. She was elemental, scary and incredibly beautiful. My arms were tight around her waist, my fingers interlocked behind her back and I hugged her to me, pressing her skin to mine.

She mumbled something.

"Huh?" I answered breathlessly.

She turned her head slightly and nibbled my ear and then whispered softly: "Mine."

"Am I still dreaming?" I asked her.

There was a huffing sound against my throat, that I interpreted as more laughter.

In answer she nibbled down my neck and then slowly, taking her time and with infinite care, she proved to me she was real.

I woke bathed in true sunlight in a snapshot from Kareesh's vision. The sheet was strewn across the floor, striped by yellow bars of light and the quilt was mounded in a heap at the bottom of the bed. The angle of the sunlight told me it was late morning and I sat up in bed, stretching to ease muscles that I hadn't used in too long.

I rose and went into the bathroom to splash my face with cold water. The shock of it woke me further, but still left me with a dream-like quality I couldn't shake. I looked up in the mirror, seeing a face that looked almost familiar. I had changed. In some indefinable way my glamour had altered, something was different.

My eye caught sight of the reflection of my shoulder, showing a semi-circle of teeth marks. I traced it with my finger. "Mine," she'd said. She had marked me as her territory.

I thought about that in the shower. I wasn't sure I was ready to be possessed in that way, but she had pre-empted that and claimed me for her own. If I didn't like it then why couldn't I stop smiling? That troubled me in a way I couldn't articulate all the way through dressing. I thought about it as I put the room into a semblance of order and then made my way down through the house.

She was in the lounge bar where we had been the night before, wearing a white silk shirt, which she tied at her waist, along with a long full dark green skirt. She was sitting at the table holding a mug of coffee over a plate of sausage, bacon and egg.

She put the coffee down carefully on the saucer. "Good morning, sleepy head."

Just the warmth of her voice brought back echoes of last night, inducing a low tightness in me. I sat down opposite her, covering my reaction, disconcerted by the influence a few innocuous words could have on me. She grinned as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

I noticed little changes in her too, or was it simply that I was seeing things differently? Her hair had a copper highlight I hadn't noticed before and her lips were stained as if she'd been eating raspberries. She looked up from her bacon and caught me staring.

"Did you sleep well?" she enquired politely, as if we had somehow slept separately and she was unaware of my nocturnal state.

"Like a baby," I admitted. I felt rested, restored.

"Excellent." She put a piece of bacon into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"You?" I enquired in the same polite tone.

She swallowed. "Me? I was restless, up and down all night." Her eyes were wide with innocence.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. I slept till late."

"You're eating well," I commented on the full breakfast she was half-way though consuming.

"Restlessness makes me hungry."

The landlord appeared, whistling merrily and carrying a plate of toast for Blackbird. "Good morning. Can I get you some breakfast?"

"I'll have the same, please." I indicated Blackbird's plate.

"No problem. It'll be five minutes." He walked back to the kitchen, whistling the tune "She Moved Through the Fair".

"He's cheerful," I commented to Blackbird.

"Overspill." She grinned over a sip of her coffee.

"Overspill?"

"Our room is above theirs. I think they woke up in middle of the night and neither of them felt like going back to sleep." She grinned mischievously.

I coloured at what she implied. "You mean-"

"It's like when we were walking around the backs of Covent Garden. Some of my magic spilled over onto you, concealing us both. It's the same here, only it's stronger when there are two."

"Oh."

"Don't be embarrassed. It's a nice thing."

I remained slightly pink at the impact we had had on our hosts, watching her eat breakfast.

"You look different," I commented. "Nice. Fresh."

"Hmm. It's amazing what rampant sex does for a girl." She grinned impishly while I looked over my shoulder to see if we were overheard.

"No, I just meant you look…"

"Contented?" she suggested. "Satiated?" She speared a sausage with her fork and bit the end off, making me wince.

"No, I meant that you looked happy."

"I am happy. It's good for a girl to get what she wants, once in a while. You're mine, now."

Her use of the possessive pronoun echoed her words from the night before, disturbing me slightly.

"You don't own me, Blackbird." The words came out sharper than I intended and her brow creased into a frown. "Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound as harsh as it did, but you can't own people. They belong to themselves."

She shrugged off the apology. "I should have explained it before, but there was never a good moment." She dipped a piece of bacon into the yolk of her egg and popped it into her mouth.

"Explained what?"

"You haven't lived long among the Feyre, so you don't know, but they're different."

"In what way? I mean, I know they're different, but in what respect?"

"Their customs and practices are different. These days when humans choose a mate they sort of come to a mutual agreement about it between themselves, after a lot of dating and negotiating and promises and things. It's so muddled. No wonder so many relationships fail." She talked about it like it was an academic exercise, something she'd heard about, observed even, but never participated in. "The Feyre, on the other hand, are much more straight-forward and uncomplicated. The males make themselves available and the females choose who they like. It's easy. I chose you, and you're mine." She was very matter of fact about it.