It was like being leaned on by a very heavy, warm brick. A sexy brick.

So in the sweltering heat of a July night, I sang a Christmas carol to a room full of fae, who had been driven out of their homelands by Christians and their cold-iron swords.

If I couldn't be a good example, I'd just have to be a horrible warning.

Maybe I needed sensitivity training. I once signed up for an anger management class, but the instructor pissed me off.

…dancing in the carnage and the flames.

Water matted his black hair into spikes and peppered his skin with a fresh sheen. If I shut my eyes I could still see the one who bound me, his smile bright as the white sun as he emerged from our latest dip in the sea. I fought the sudden urge to bury my face in his chest and run my fingers through that hair.