Velvet Haven

look out every window and ensure they were all locked. He could see everything, every dust mote and cobweb. Nothing had been disturbed. But the strange scent still lingered.
    “Take me to the bedroom.” The clicking of nails on hardwood made Mairi stir. Clancy stilled, looking over his shoulder at his mistress. When she didn’t wake, he continued on into Mairi’s bedroom.
    Hopping off Clancy’s back, Bran landed on the soft mattress. The sheets were cool and crisp and smelled of Mairi’s shampoo and her supple skin. He couldn’t resist smelling them, remembering the feel of her soft thigh grazing his chin, the scent of her deep in his nose. He had only just begun with her when Rhys had interrupted them.
    Damn Morgan and her fucking hellhounds!
    Bran hopped quietly forward. Rowan was sleeping heavily, dressed in a white T-shirt. Sweat stains ran down from her neck and between her breasts, plastering the cotton to her drenched skin.
    Pressing forward, he ran the tip of his good wing over her brow and closed his eyes. His hand sigils, which were hidden beneath the feathers of his wing, absorbed the salt and minerals. He felt her illness penetrate through his body, and knew it was as Mairi had said. Rowan was ill. Deathly ill, and tonight she had a fever.
    He came closer to her, studying her, wondering how she could know of the hellhounds. He thought of what she had said, wondering what key she could mean. Most important, he recalled Keir saying Rowan was not completely human. That more than anything had shaken him. If she was not mortal, then what was she?
    As king of Annwyn he had a duty to protect its inhabitants, and if, like Rhys, Rowan was at least part immortal, then it was up to him to make certain she was safe. He needed to identify her other half; maybe then he could heal her. There were many species living in Annwyn, many healers who might be able to help.
    She stirred and he smelled the scent of sandalwood and musk mingle with the air from her body. He inhaled it, recognizing Sayer’s scent. He had enchanted her. Damn the Selkie, he would cause nothing but problems claiming this one. But Sayer being Sayer, he felt he was entitled to any female, of any species.
    Leaving Rowan to sleep, Bran climbed once more atop Clancy, who walked him to the living room and stood beside the couch. Bran perched himself on the arm and stood guard at Mairi’s head.
    She was still agitated, her legs tangling in the blanket, which had fallen to her knees. She was wearing white panties and a pink tank top that had ridden up to her navel. Her skin glowed in the pale light from the window, revealing milk white skin and taut nipples.
    Ordering Clancy to the foot of Rowan’s bed, Bran settled over Mairi, watching her sleep, sweeping the tip of his good wing through her hair. His sigils tingled, liking the energy he felt, craving more. Over and over, he stroked her, running his wing tip over her brow and down her nose. In a fleeting sweep, he brushed her mouth, watching her lips part beneath the black feathers.
    For all of his three hundred years he had felt betrayed by his shifter half. He had wanted to be magnificent and strong—a mountain lion or a wild horse or an imposing white hart like his uncle Daegan. Instead he had been born a bird. All that seemed to fade now as he thought of Mairi naked, pressed against him, his wings beneath her, around her, their fluttering softness caressing her flesh, arousing her, protecting her. He thought of what it would be like to take her as his wings cocooned them both. She would be utterly surrounded by him, and the image made him feel possessive.
    For once he gave thanks for his wings.
    “Mairi,” he whispered, brushing her mouth once more, “I wish I’d had more time tonight to pleasure you.”
    Those words came from a very dark place within him. He had never known this feeling with a mortal. He did wish he could have pleasured her. He wanted to know what it was like to sink deep into her, stretching her full of his cock. He wanted to learn her sounds, her movements beneath him. He wanted to know her , not the feel of the energy she would give or the magic she would create within him. He wanted to know her and he wanted her to know him.
    “Bran?”
    Her voice was husky with sleep and desire. He stilled, his wing hovering over her throat. The temptation to touch her was overwhelming. Her hand, fragile and pale, skimmed down her belly to where it slid beneath the waist of her