Schooling A Succubus, a lost girl fanfic

Lost Girl - Schooling A Succubus

This follows about half an hour after Vexed II: The Reckoning, and is a bit of a hot one (in fact, I may have overdone it). Bo is trained by the Dark Fae, meets a hot, hot, hot 3,000-year-old tiger shifter (who's also an incubus), and learns more about the Dark Fae than she ever wanted to know…

Author's Note: there are a few things in here I want to explain:

First: This tale effectively unites Up, Up And A-Fae! and Vexed II: The Reckoning into a trilogy, as opposed to being merely a story set after them. This was not my initial intent - this tale was in fact originally the latter half of Vexed II, and shorter - but then my very weird muse often doesn't listen to me. This time, though, she had a really good idea I just couldn't resist, so there you go. This newfound unity is partly what caused the delay in posting this and the next story; there was a fair bit of cross-pollination going on between the two. Not only that, but the story I'd originally intended to be the next one is now the next but one; at the request/demand of my muse, another story has sort of inserted itself!

Second: The spellings of seircon and crosànn are my best guesses, at least until the DVD set comes out (can't wait!) and I can check the subtitles. :)

Third: The flashback of Bo teasing Lauren about talking science in her sleep - oh, c'mon, how could I not? I saw the 'isotopes' snippet in Something Wicked This Fae Comes (ep 2.01), and I thought, "Aww, that's cute!" I'm sorry, but I just could not resist it. :)

Fourth: There's a certain music track I heard 3 years ago and fell in love with: Bring Me To Life (Evanescence, Fallen). For no reason I can name, I've always pictured it as the background track for what can only be described as a violent sex scene, the sort where both partners are so dominant neither will surrender control to the other, and thus it isn't clear if they're having sex or a fight. Ever since, I've been looking for characters who could play out such a scene, and now I have, at last, found one (Bo) and created the other. Readers are invited to play said track as they peruse Bo's encounter with Damon's inner tiger.

I shudder to think what this says about me. :) However…enjoy!

Immediately on arriving at the Morrigan's home - which put Aoife's to shame while somehow appearing less showy, though it did resemble a castle more than anything else - the Morrigan gave her over to the care of a woman with dark blonde hair and a manner which combined brisk professionalism with warmth. "This is Bo," the Morrigan stated, with no ceremony or preamble. "Fix her up and take good care of her, I don't care about any expense." She paused, enjoying her next words: "She's ours now. Go."

The woman bowed to the Morrigan, but the latter barely noticed, clearly heading off on business of her own. "Well, now, my lovely, you've been in the wars, haven't you?" she clucked over Bo, her voice a rich, warm contralto. "Come with me, we'll soon sort you out."

"Yeah, hi," Bo ventured feebly, but she was too tired to object.

After receiving first aid, i.e. being allowed to draw on the chi of three gorgeous young (human) men and an equally beautiful woman, and taking a much-needed bath, Bo's carer led her to a warm, softly-lit quiet room devoid of all furniture except for a luxurious-looking massage bed and a rack of various oils. "Have you ever had a massage, dear?" the woman inquired brightly.

"No," Bo answered, bemused. "But it sounds like a good idea. Um, how much should I…?"

"Oh, get everything off, my lovely; there's no sense in doing half a job, is there?" She looked serious. "One thing you should know about milady Morrigan is that she never does things by halves, and doesn't expect any of her servants to, either. 'Do it all or don't do it', that's her motto. I've been told to take care of you, love, and that's what I'll do. You need an all-over massage, and I have over three centuries of experience in the art, acquired in the Orient. You'll love it. Hold on," she added, "I should get down to skin as well; the best masseuses will tell you that staying dressed while your client's nude makes most people feel at a bit of a disadvantage, and that hardly helps them to relax, now, does it?"

Bo was sure that wasn't all there was to it, but she didn't feel like arguing and it did make sense. In a moment, the masseuse was naked. Bo raised an appreciative eyebrow; the woman looked thirtyish (though since she was Fae that meant little) and had a surprising amount of toned muscle, the lines of her body suggesting useful strength rather than useless coquetry, but she was still very feminine. She was a natural blonde, too, which always scored highly with Bo. She was lightly tanned all over, a lovely toast colour, with no hint whatsoever of tan lines.

Oddly, Bo could smell wild cherry blossom. She liked it.

Bo had never been shy about her body; she too stripped quickly, shrugging off the robe, slip and panties she'd found next to the bath and earlier donned. The woman sucked in her breath, but whether it was in appreciation or concern for the fading signs of her recent injuries Bo couldn't tell. Her next words answered the question, though. "Oh, my…oh, I'll have to be careful with you, my love, I mustn't hurt you. Lie on your front, dear, I'll start with the back…"

The next hour was one of the most relaxing experiences Bo had ever had. Her masseuse was indeed expert, firm but very gentle, working out a muscle kink between Bo's shoulder blades she'd been trying to get rid of for weeks. An old pain in her left shoulder, which had persisted for some reason irrespective of her healing, vanished as if it had never been. The oil, warmed almost to body heat, felt wonderful against her skin, the scent unfamiliar but enticing and somehow…friendly. The massage was entirely professional, but Bo's arousal was gradually increasing as her relaxation deepened. She wondered drowsily if that were the intent.

She noticed, and paused halfway down Bo's spine. "I think someone's really enjoying this, my lovely…I can smell something that definitely isn't my oils…" she teased.

Bo could hear the smile in her voice. "Yeah, sorry…I'm a succubus. It happens."

To her surprise, the woman bent down and kissed the back of Bo's neck. "Don't be sorry, my lovely, I'm flattered; it's a compliment." She stroked Bo's hair. "Don't imagine I'm not enjoying it," she added, very softly, with intimate promise. "You're just a lavish stack of beauty, you are; it's a real pleasure to work on a lovely young thing like you - clearly a warrior, judging by this muscle tone, but no less a woman. And if you're up for a little attention that's less, shall we say, professional, I'm all for it." She blew gently in Bo's right ear and kissed the lobe, and Bo shivered in pleasure. "But let's finish the job first, eh? A pleasure deferred is a pleasure doubled."

"Okay," Bo murmured. The woman's hands felt wonderful digging carefully into muscle groups along her spine. They felt even better kneading - and, once, spanking - her butt.

"What was that for?"

"Fun, my lovely," the woman trilled merrily, kissing Bo where she'd lightly paddled her. It was all very Story of O, Bo mused languidly, but she certainly wasn't complaining. Her tension was just leaking out of her; she'd never felt better.

Once she'd worked her way down Bo's body, massaging and expressing admiration for her strong, trim thighs, working all the way down to her feet, she straightened and told Bo, with a frankly sensual note in her voice, "Time to do the front, my love…"

Bo turned over almost eagerly. She finally remembered to ask: "Hey, what's your name?"

"Sinéad, my lovely," she smiled softly. "And yours, I think, is derived from 'Boann', a Celtic goddess of healing and water. It suits you, being a succubus." She chuckled. "Normally 'Bo' is a masculine name, of Swedish and Danish origin, but you, my gorgeous girl, could never be mistaken for a man!"

"Oh, it happened once," Bo fibbed. Sinéad just laughed, swatted Bo lightly and began massaging her shoulders and arms. To Bo's mild frustration, it took several minutes for Sinéad to move on to her breasts…but once she did, Bo's arousal started seriously peaking. Sinéad wasn't massaging so much as fondling them, but she was so, so gentle…

"Please," Bo whispered, trying not to cry out, "move down already, you're driving me crazy…!"

Sinéad laughed softly, kissing Bo's left nipple. But she did as requested.

And Bo did cry out. In fact, she screamed.

She would have been livid to know she had an appreciative audience; the Morrigan was standing outside the door, relishing Bo's cries of passion and pleasure. Sinéad really was an artist, she thought, well pleased. She'd have the girl begging for her attentions before long. The Morrigan knew full well that Bo's affiliation was hardly voluntary or whole-hearted; rather merely a means to a vengeful end - irrespective of what she'd said at the ceremony - but that would change.

Sinéad was only the first weapon in her arsenal of seduction.

She briefly debated turning on the concealed high-definition CCTV camera in the massage room, just for kicks, but reluctantly decided against it. Bo could have a measure of privacy…for now.

There was no rush; she had a whole lunar month, after all. Bo's affiliation was, she would learn, a lot less temporary than she thought.

One way or another…

"Oh, God, that was incredible," Bo sighed lazily, sometime later after a session of sensual, gentle, expert lovemaking. Her body bore a patina of sweat, but somehow she didn't smell of it; all she could smell were the delicious oils Sinéad had employed. She reached out and caressed Sinéad's luscious, equally sweat-covered body lying next to hers on the bed; her attentions were returned with interest. She still smelled, somehow, of wild cherry blossom.

"You're a natural when it comes to the love arts, Bo," Sinéad praised her softly. "Why, I've known succubi four times your age that weren't as skilled - and from what I hear," she added delicately, "with no training, to boot. A foundling, no less," she chuckled. "Ooh, it sounds just like a fairy tale, your story does…abandoned at birth to be raised by humans, knowing naught of your true nature or origins, then in due course coming of age to reclaim your birthright and strike down those who would keep it from you…"

"I could do with less of the striking down," Bo told her wryly, "but otherwise that's pretty much right. Am I famous, or notorious?"

Sinéad laughed gently, and stroked Bo's pussy sensually. "You're a little of both, my lovely; a little of both."

"What are you?" Bo asked curiously, "Just a masseuse? Sorry," she added hastily, not meaning to denigrate Sinéad's competence or experience, "I mean, is that all you do?"

"I know what you meant, Bo. No, I'm a succubus myself, my love, and an instructor - when the Morrigan said to take care of you, she meant I was to start you on your training." She raised an eyebrow at Bo's look of surprise. "Surely she offered you that?"

"Well, yeah, she did once, but that was before I joined. I didn't think anything of it. Um, you'll only have a month," Bo pointed out.

Sinéad kissed her softly. "You'll be surprised what can be done in a month with a willing pupil, Bo. Surely you want to learn more about yourself and what you can do? I've never met a succubus yet who wasn't as curious as a cat."

"Yes, please," Bo nodded. "When do we start?"

"Oh, I haven't finished with you today yet, my lovely…"

This time the Morrigan wasn't present outside to hear her happy cries.

She was, however, keen to hear Sinéad's report in her luxurious office, once Bo, still naked, had fallen into a deep, healing sleep and she'd kissed her, dressed and left. "She's definitely got potential, this one," was her professional verdict. "If even half of what I've heard is true, we can make a bloody fortune out of her." She hesitated. "Milady…is it true what else I've heard, that she's the child of Aoife?"

"According to our spies, yes," the Morrigan nodded.

"Aoife, an finscéal - the legend," Sinéad breathed reverently. "Ooh, I'd have given my right arm to work with her in the old days…she was an inspiration to us all…"

"She was also a murderess," the Morrigan pointed out sourly, "An ambitious bitch, far too much so for her own good."

"I was only saying, milady…with such ancestry, Bo was bound to be powerful. She is, I could feel it even without tasting her chi…and, ooh, I can't tell you how delicious it was…!"

"I do appreciate an artist who enjoys her work," the Morrigan smiled, pleased. "You've done well, Sinéad; a good start. I know she enjoyed it…" she trailed off meaningfully. Sinéad picked up on the implication immediately, and grinned.

"Ooh, you are a saucy one, milady," she told the Morrigan cheekily. From anyone else it might have been lese majesté, but Sinéad was special and had earned the privilege through centuries of devoted service; Evony merely returned the grin.

"Of more import is convincing her to join us permanently. If our oracles are correct, she'll be a major player in events to come. We need her to work with us against the Light. If we play our cards right," she finished with relish, "we can end this damned conflict for good and, as a bonus, take overall control - finally - and rule this world."

She stood and walked around her elegant desk, to lay a hand on Sinéad's left breast in an almost affectionate manner. "You've served me for a long time, Sinéad, and served me so very well," she said lightly.

"I'd like to think so, milady. It's been a pleasure."

"You are special to me," the Morrigan continued, stroking Sinéad's breast now, holding the woman's china-blue eyes with her own, dark ones.

Sinéad blushed and smiled, exerting an effort to conceal how much her liege lady's touch excited her, though it was hard, given the sheer power of the Morrigan's raw sexuality. "Milady flatters me."

"However, no-one is indispensable…failure will not be tolerated." She ceased stroking, her eyes now gleaming with a malicious light. Her hand closed slowly on Sinéad's breast in sadistic pleasure, her elegant nails digging in deliberately; Sinéad tried not to cry out, knowing too well the Morrigan would only increase the pressure. She despised what she saw as weakness. "Don't fail me, Sinéad. As precious as you are to me, as much as I value your services, you know the price," she added coldly. "Bo must know nothing of this."

"Yes, milady," Sinéad managed, holding back tears of pain with difficulty. The Morrigan enjoyed the spectacle a few seconds longer, and then released her.

"Where is she now?"

"Still where she was, milady; I left her sleeping."

"And satiated, no doubt," the Morrigan mused gloatingly. "Good. You know the drill: train her; introduce her to our incubi; make her hungry to know more. I want her interest raised to fever pitch, so she'll beg me to accept her permanently. She's so damned contrary and stubborn that the stick won't work; it'll have to be the carrot, all the way through." She scowled. "In my experience, the quickest way to get that bitch to do something is to demand she does the exact opposite!"

"What d'you think they're doin' to her?" Kenzi fretted, staring into her barely touched mead, "Whips? Needles? Nine inch nails? Iron Maiden?"

"I think her taste leans more towards Metallica," Lauren attempted to joke.

"Actually, it may not be as bad as you think, Kenzi," Trick replied. "If anything, she'll enjoy herself…at first. The Dark Fae, and especially the Morrigan, can be subtle in their enticements. Joining the Dark Fae can be quicker, easier, and more seductive."

Kenzi couldn't help a slight smile as she recognised the reference after a moment's thought. "Quotin' there, Trickster…"

"I know, but this once George Lucas had it exactly right," Trick pronounced grimly. "In many ways, it is easier to be Dark than Light Fae. We expect a lot more of our affiliates; it can be hard, there's no denying it. The eventual rewards are greater and longer-lasting, though, which of course is the whole point: if it's worth having, then it's worth striving for. But for a young, impatient succubus…" he sighed.

"They'll offer her training," Lauren told Kenzi, "The kind she should have received as a child, and which I requested for her from the Ash, on health grounds if nothing else. Hopefully they'll assign Sinéad O'Neill to her; someone like Bo needs a firm but gentle hand, and she's an expert in both regards, I've heard. She, um, loves the ladies. Succubi so polarised are a rarity, actually - about 80% are bisexual, as Bo is; most of the others are hetero. There's speculation in several journals as to why lesbian succubi should exist…" she trailed off.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Sorry, I was just…I was expecting Bo to chime in and tease me a little there…" Lauren explained, trying to laugh instead of crying.

She missed the teasing more than almost anything…

"You know why I love watching you sleep?" Bo told her once, as she massaged Lauren's tired feet after twelve hours' vigil watching over the Ash, still comatose as he was.

"So you can plan what you're going to do to me next?" Lauren quipped, luxuriating in Bo's attentions. It felt so good…

"As if you mind," Bo quipped back, tickling the sole of Lauren's foot and hoping for a reaction…which she didn't get. Dammit, even her feet aren't ticklish…"No, it's because you have a cute little habit: you talk in your sleep. You talk science in your sleep. Even asleep, you're a geek."

"I do not!" Lauren protested.

"If you're asleep, how would you know?"

"I - oh, surely not…you're teasing me. Again," Lauren reproached her.

"No, you really do. When we were chasing down the Guardians of the Sword, and you'd closed your eyes for 'just one second', at one point you said 'isotopes'. I've heard you mention Darwinian selection, titrations, whatever the hell those are - no, don't explain it - various technical stuff I couldn't make head nor tail of…all sorts."

"Bo, I do no such thing," she protested again.

"Yeah, you do. But honestly, it's cute. I like it." She smiled fondly and gently kissed Lauren's toes. "You are the smartest person I know, even asleep, and I love that. I really do."

Lauren chuckled. "I still don't believe you…"

God, I miss you, Bo. Come back and tease me…

"You are so missin' her, huh?" Kenzi asked sympathetically, though it wasn't really a question. Lauren nodded sadly. "You an' me both, doc," she sighed, finally sipping at her mead.

"I was just remembering her teasing me about talking in my sleep," Lauren admitted, "talking science, allegedly."

"Well, you do," Kenzi shrugged.

Lauren's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Yeah, that time we chased down that glow-in-the-dark two-headed kitty thingy all night, an' you crashed on the couch after? I got up 'bout five in the mornin' to get a drink and I heard you - somethin' 'bout hormone levels an' ATP, or whatever."

"Oh," Lauren said in a small voice. "I didn't believe her. I thought she was just teasing." She fought back tears, and tried to smile. "She…likes it, thinks it's cute."

It is, doc, Kenzi thought fondly, but didn't voice it. If Lauren started crying, it'd set her off, too, she knew. Instead, she decided to encourage Lauren's not-so-inner geek, to try to distract her from her fears. "So, trainin', huh? How d'you train a succubus? Is it all exams, or whips and chains?"

"What is it with the whips and chains, Kenzi?" Lauren chided, managing a small smile. "No, it's mainly teaching by example, though there is some theory; Sinéad will show her various techniques, then Bo will practice them." Her voice lifted a little as a thought sparked her enthusiasm, as was typical of a true scientist. "There's one in particular I'd love to know more about: apparently succubi can, with the right training, consciously alter their scent -"

"Hey, that'd save a small fortune on perfume, huh?"

"- to better seduce a potential partner," Lauren continued. "One might like musk, for example; another might be fond of flowery scents, or things like honey. For some reason, incubi usually can't do it. The biochemistry of the process must be fascinating; I can't wait to get Bo into my lab after…after she learns…"

It was a valiant attempt on Kenzi's part, but it hadn't worked; Lauren stumbled to a halt, unable to hold back the tears. 'After' was, of course, the key word, and there was no guarantee there'd even be an 'after'. For all they knew, Bo might royally piss the Morrigan off badly enough to get her killed…and there was nothing they could do.

Kenzi sighed resignedly and hugged Lauren tightly. Lauren murmured something which Kenzi didn't quite catch.

"Say what, doc?" she inquired gently.

"Kenzi," Lauren began uncertainly, carefully breaking the hug, "would you - pray with me? I - I've never been much for religion - where were the gods when Bo needed them, that's what I want to know - and being a scientist I have doubts about the entire concept…but…but it couldn't hurt…" she raised teary eyes to Kenzi's. "Please…?"

Kenzi sighed again; she'd never been a god-botherer, either. Hell, there'd been plenty of times on the street she could've used a little divine help, and that alone was enough to convince her it was all a load of crap, but…

She doesn't believe. She just needs a little comfort. Hell, me, too.

Aw, screw it. If it helps Bo's friend, what the hell, she decided, and agreed.

Lauren took Kenzi's hand, closed her eyes and began hesitantly: "Dear Lord…we pray You, watch over our friend in her time of need. Help her see the true path, and to return safely to us, and…and deliver her from evil. This we beg, of Your infinite mercy and compassion. For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory…forever and ever, Amen."

"Amen," Kenzi echoed, a tear starting down her cheek. To their surprise, Trick did the same. He smiled ruefully. "He's hardly our god, but it doesn't hurt to hedge your bets."

Bo, for her part, was in fact thoroughly enjoying herself. Sinéad had, by now, explained why she always smelled of wild cherry blossom: "It's my favourite, my lovely, so it's the way I like to smell…so I do."

"You mean, you just want to smell like that - and make it happen?"

"Oh, yes, love."

Bo was fascinated. "Can I do that?"

"You already do, to an extent, Bo," Sinéad smiled. "I noticed when you healed with those four humans. Did you notice they all smelled differently?"

"Not at the time, no," Bo shook her head.

"It's an unconscious reflex," Sinéad informed her, "but it's one that can be controlled. Usually it takes a while to learn, but from what I observed…" she nodded thoughtfully. "We'll give it a go."

She led Bo to a bedroom that was like something out of Scheherazade's tales. Four young men, strong and sleekly muscled, were standing by the king-sized (emperor-sized? It was the biggest bed Bo had ever seen, at any rate) four-poster. The first thing Bo noticed about the men was that they were all entirely naked. The second, that none of them could possibly be over 21, not that she minded in the least.

The third, that each was as luscious an example of beefcake as a girl could ever hope for. It was all she could do not to drool. That dark-eyed one in particular was so handsome he was almost pretty…

"Lovely, aren't they?" Sinéad remarked conversationally, and then sighed. "Would that my tastes leaned towards the boys, but alas, they don't…ah, well. It's the way I'm made, no sense complaining."

"You're a lesbian?" Bo asked curiously.

Sinéad nodded. "It sounds odd, doesn't it? Oh, I've tried, and I'm no virgin, to be sure, but I can't seem to connect with them for some reason - sexually, I mean, though I can still take their chi," she shrugged, "and appreciate a healthy, beautiful young man from a purely aesthetic viewpoint. I know how to connect, of course, and I'm a whiz at teaching others, but it just doesn't work for me. Never mind," she continued briskly, "it's your tastes and talents we're exploring here, my lovely.

"Now then…we'll start with young Peter here," she smiled, walking to the black-haired man with a slight olive tint to his skin and a vaguely exotic look, apparently a mix of Caucasian and Greek. "What I want you to do, my lovely, is just to smell him initially. Just get his scent. Let it fill your nostrils, then close your eyes and just enjoy it. Don't think about anything else. Don't touch him…yet," she added with a saucy smile.

His scent was slightly spicy; he was freshly bathed, she knew, but couldn't detect any soap, though there was no doubt he was squeaky clean. There was just a touch of male, very male, musk about him. She ached to touch him, to stroke that smooth skin and feel the rippling muscles beneath, but she remembered Sinéad's admonition and managed to restrain herself…barely. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose…

God, he smells good. I am so enjoying this. If this is a perk of joining the Dark Fae, maybe I made the right choice after all…

She was abruptly aware of a strange sensation, as if she were itching…on the inside of her skin. It was oddly pleasant. It seemed to soak through her from the inside out, and then…

I smell different, she realised, startled. How the hell did I do that?

"Oh, well done, my lovely!" Sinéad clapped delightedly. "What do you think, Peter?"

"She smells delicious, ma'am," the young man grinned, "like cooking spices."

Bo opened her eyes. "How did that happen?" she demanded of Sinéad, amazed at what she'd just done.

"It always happens, love, but this is the first time you've been aware of it. The very fact that you are aware is what gives you control over it - or will, once you learn to do it to order. Next, here's Scott…"

He had a slightly wild look about him; his tan and skin were clearly those of a man who worked outdoors with his hands, his shaggy light brown hair streaked and bleached by the sun. He was cute. He smelled of the sea, salty and tangy. A minute later, to her shock, so did Bo.

Amos, the dark-eyed pretty one, had a scent reminiscent of freshly mown grass, of wet earth and growing things; Bo found it very relaxing. Her scent changed to that of new hay, warm and summery; she was lost in the memory of a farm orchard where she'd once made love.

Almost, she could hear ponies.

Finally Alexei, obviously Slavic or Russian, had a scent of winter, of pine and fir, bringing to mind a wind blowing down from the steppes. This time, Bo actually thought about a scent that might suit, and concentrated on it, wondering if she could alter hers to…to wild honey, maybe. It didn't quite work, though.

She suddenly realised she smelled of wet dog.

Sinéad burst out laughing. Bo wasn't offended; she too saw the funny side. "Oops."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Bo," Sinéad gasped, giggling, "I really shouldn't laugh, especially as you were doing so well…there's bound to be the odd slip-up, you being a novice and all." But she laughed again as she asked, "Wet dog? Where'd that come from, then, my lovely?"

"I've no idea," Bo laughed herself, "I was trying for wild honey!"

"No matter, no matter; you're doing amazingly well, Bo," Sinéad encouraged. "It's not easy, but it's worth the effort. But I think we should take a break, eh? Could you fetch us some nibbles and a drink or three, dears?" she addressed the men; they smiled, bowed and left…still naked.

"Won't that raise a few eyebrows?" Bo asked.

"Oh, no, my lovely; nakedness is often seen but never noticed."

"Oh, very Japanese," Bo quipped. "I couldn't help but notice. Um," she added, hopefully, "is there any chance after class I could, uh…"

"Yes, Bo?" Sinéad inquired meaningfully.

"If I could, uh, get together with one or two of them…?"

Sinéad laughed saucily. "Oh, they're part of your training, love! I'll need to see how you cope with more than one lover at once; they're under strict instructions to ensure you come eight times at a minimum. Sounds good?"

"Sounds great," Bo drooled.

"You wouldn't mind me watching?"

"Just watch? Hell, I'm not that selfish - why don't you join in?"

In the end she came twelve times, to Sinéad's delight, and ended up begging for a break.

The Morrigan, too, was well pleased. "Excellent. We have an ambassador's party coming up at the end of next week; she'll go down extremely well as the entertainment." She smiled at Sinéad. "Keep it up. That'll be all," she dismissed her servant casually, turning her attention to the paperwork with which even Fae were cursed. Her high rank notwithstanding, there were some issues she dared not delegate.

But Sinéad did not move. She remained seated across from the Morrigan; the latter frowned disapprovingly as she became aware of this. "What?"

"Milady, forgive my intrusion, but there's something you should know," Sinéad told her uneasily. The Morrigan raised an eyebrow; Sinéad took that as permission to continue. "She…learns very fast, milady -"

"Well, good," Evony approved. "All the better; the quicker she learns, the quicker we can put her to use."

"- I'm sorry, I'm not being clear…it's freakish, the way she's learning. I only have to show her something once, or twice at the very most, and she gets it. After that, it's just practice." She shook her head, with an expression of worry on her face. "Milady, in all my born days I swear I have never seen a succubus learn to change her scent as rapidly as Bo has."

"She what?" the Morrigan demanded, startled. Suddenly her interest, formerly waning, was now fully aroused. She stared at Sinéad. "She can change her scent - already? Sinéad, you're one of the best teachers of succubi the Dark Fae have ever had, but even you aren't that good."

"Perhaps not, milady…but she is."

"Well, now," the Morrigan remarked thoughtfully, "that is interesting. So it's likely Aoife's skills run in the family…" Her expression turned speculative. "What if Bo had a daughter? Would the child be as powerful and naturally skilled - especially if the father were an incubus?"

"Most likely, yes, milady," Sinéad nodded, lost for a moment in a beautiful vision of Bo, naked and pregnant. Dear gods, I'd pay to see that…!

"In that case," Evony continued determinedly, "all the more reason to make sure we keep her - before she has puppies or whatever by that damned wolf shifter of hers! Sinéad, I realise this increases the pressure on you, but this is now an order: do not fail me. Find a way to seduce Bo into joining us permanently…or your suffering will be legendary." She didn't hurt or even touch Sinéad this time; her tone and expression served as sufficient emphasis. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, milady," Sinéad answered, very quietly, "Perfectly."

"In fact," the Morrigan informed her, "you may be getting a little help shortly. I've invited our old jungle friend for a visit; he accepted, so he should be here shortly." She smiled at Sinéad's excited gasp. "Make the most of him, Sinéad."

"Oh, I surely will, milady!" Sinéad bubbled, giggling like a schoolgirl. The Morrigan barely smiled at that, genuinely amused. Sinéad rose, bowed and left, the Morrigan staring thoughtfully after her.

She recalled again the urgent conference with the Elders, convened literally two minutes after she'd returned from Mayer's place:

"Temporary fealty?" Ardal Finlan screamed. "TEMPORARY? Nonsense!"

"Necessary!"

"What does she want?" Marilyn Conrad asked - finally, an intelligent question.

"Her price is to be allowed to kill Vex. I'm inclined to allow it, as I suspect she could be far more valuable to us, but of course I had to consult you first." She bowed…allowing not a trace of her utter contempt to show in her eyes.

"What makes her - or you - think she can even accomplish this? Vex is so powerful he could even overwhelm us, did we not maintain constant control - and if he didn't know better than to try."

"I don't know," the Morrigan admitted candidly, "but she has some kind of angle on the problem, I'm sure of that - otherwise she wouldn't be doing this. Whatever else she is, she's no fool; she certainly knows what she's up against. She no longer has that damned seircon, since the Ash confiscated it, but I wouldn't put anything past her. I wouldn't be surprised if that interfering bastard Trick's helping her somehow. Or the Ash's vet, Dr. Lewis," she snorted contemptuously.

She listened to one more protest - on the part of Vex's great-uncle, who she'd only reluctantly allowed to join the conference, owing to the obvious conflict of interest - and barely held onto her temper.

"Look, if we don't give her permission she'll likely do it anyway! I knew she'd be furious, but the plan worked a little too well - she is burning with it! Yes, I admit I underestimated her - I certainly underestimated her temper," she confessed wryly, "but that's precisely my point! We have all underestimated her, Light and Dark alike, from day one! I can't believe now that we ever contemplated killing her out of hand - she has capabilities far beyond what she should have, given her youth…almost impossible capabilities, given her ignorance, not to mention her total lack of training!"

Her voice had risen stridently at that point. "We cannot ignore her potential! With her as our ally, however temporary - and there are ways around that, believe me - we may, after a thousand years, gain the upper hand! She is, in essence, a high-risk-high-gain investment, as I see it; against her, Vex is expendable."

"One woman alone, however capable, cannot achieve all that," Aidan Marks objected dismissively, with the lack of vision she'd come to expect of him. "You are dreaming, Evony."

"No, you are blind! Of course Bo cannot give us victory alone, you fool…but she can give us the…weapons…with which we can achieve it. All we need to do is to use her as a woman," she suggested.

The female Elders understood her instantly, and smiled in approval. They explained to their male brethren, and finally all comprehended the Morrigan's plan.

And they agreed with it, illegal and immoral as it was. From that moment on, Vex was a dead man.

You'd damned well better be worth it, you sexy bitch, she mused. I'm taking a hell of a risk with you.

Then again, to win all, you have to risk all…

Her train of thought was interrupted by the intercom's chime. "Yes?" she inquired of the air; the sophisticated AI monitoring system, courtesy of a very intelligent (by their standards, anyway) human engineer, recognised the inquiry as such and automatically opened a communication line, without her having to press a single button. She'd always appreciated cleverness.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, milady, but your special guest has just arrived. You asked to be informed."

"So I did," she smiled, surprised and pleased he'd responded so quickly. "Excellent. You have your orders. Tell him I'll be with him directly. And remember: show him all possible courtesy."

"Yes, milady," the servant replied.

Time for the second of my weapons of mass seduction, she chuckled to herself. And against this one, Bo, you have no defence. Nor does any woman…

She discarded the paperwork and left her office. Important or not, it could wait.

Her guest could not. He could be…difficult. If she kept him waiting a second longer than necessary, he might well leave. She didn't dare risk that; she needed him.

"Greetings, Evony," he saluted her cordially. She smiled broadly; she was genuinely pleased to see him. It had to have been two centuries or more, but he looked as good as ever. His was a truly timeless attraction, and her loins quivered at the memory.

He damn near raped me…and I damn near let him. Even by Fae standards, he's incredible. She'll love him.

"Well met, Damon," she greeted him. "How fares the jungle?" she asked politely.

"As always," he answered solemnly. "Now, to business; you called for a reason. I would know it."

"Of course," she nodded. "She's just down there…" She pointed over the balcony and down. He craned to look, curious.

"Oh, good, he's here," Sinéad trilled.

"Who is?" Bo puzzled.

"Oh, milady Morrigan's special guest, love. He'll be right pleased to see you, I'll wager."

All she saw was a vague outline on the balcony above; it was rather large. She frowned.

Then the man hove into clear view, and Bo was enraptured - and instantly soaking wet. She'd never actually drooled in her life, but she came damned close.

He was huge, easily topping six feet - seven, maybe.

That in itself wouldn't have been all that significant, were it not for the sheer physical power he exuded as he walked - almost slinked - down the stairs. He moved like a lion, all smooth elegance and hidden power held firmly in check. He wasn't a bodybuilder type - not bulgy or anything - but there was definitely sleek, hard muscle running all through that massive frame. She felt suddenly fragile, as he looked as if he could crush her one-handed without a thought.

His eyes were the most incredibly piercing shade of blue Bo had ever seen, his face rough-hewn, rather like the granite cliff face she'd scaled once. Indeed, one side of his face bore a jagged scar, but it added to the character of his face rather than detracting from his looks. His hair was shaggy dark blond, streaked by the sun. His scent was - dear God, it was delicious. It reminded her of a big cat, wild and musky, and was making her head spin a little.

Instantly, she wanted him. She had to have him.

Sinéad watched Bo's reaction to Damon with satisfaction, but entirely without surprise. Damon's raw sexuality was so intense even she could feel it, and even respond a little. He would, she knew, appeal on a very basic level to a woman like Bo…doubtless she would appeal to him likewise.

At least she'd bloody well better, Sinéad mused, or I'm fucked…and not in a good way. Poor girl, her tongue's practically hanging out and I can smell her pussy from here.

So can our boy Damon…!

He smiled at Bo in a friendly way. Her knees went weak.

Oh, for God's sake, she told herself sternly, you are not a teenager, Bo! Get a fucking grip!

I'd sure like to get a grip on him, a rebellious part of her retorted.

"Greetings, milady succubus," he bowed slightly, surprising her with the rich softness of his tones. "Well met. Permit me to introduce myself; I am Damon, formerly of the old country."

"Hi," Bo managed feebly, disgusted at herself for the adolescent behaviour she was displaying. Was she blushing, even? "I - I'm Bo. I, uh, just joined the Dark Fae, but if they're all like you I think I made the right choice…"

Did I really just say that? Sweet Jesus!

Dammit, I am a mature woman, not a kid, what the hell's the matter with me?

He smiled gently, a look of amused understanding in his eyes. "Milady is somewhat discomfited, I misdoubt. I have an unfortunate effect on ladies upon first acquaintance, I fear; once you become accustomed, the effect will be less…pronounced."

Was he mocking her with the old-fashioned mannerisms?

No, she suddenly realised. Nothing in his body language suggested he was being anything other than sincere. Presumably he was from a high-born family; they all tended to talk like that, Bo knew.

But I could listen to that for hours…he has a beautiful voice.

It was deep, but smooth, not husky at all. It rather reminded her of James Earl Jones, in fact.

'Bo…I am your father,' she giggled to herself. I hope not, 'cause with what I'm planning to do to him, that'd be incest!

"So, Damon," Bo asked later, over a hot coffee, as they lounged on a couch in her luxurious bedroom, "the old country, huh? Why can't you guys just say 'England' or whatever?"

He chuckled softly. "A holdover from the old time, Bo, set in my ways as I am. We of the Fae were much given to formality once. Speaking for myself, my speech has altered little since that time, as there was no need."

"Why's that?" Bo asked, a little annoyed that she was being so obvious.

"I am seldom abroad in the world, Bo," he told her solemnly. "At least, in this world, the world you know…the world of Fae and of men."

"Where else is there?" she asked curiously. Somehow she wasn't surprised by the answer:

"The jungle, Bo - that is my true home, as once it was home to us all. This world, of artifice and complexity, is hardly more than a diversion to me, and I have spent but little time in it," he explained. "Tell me, milady, are you acquainted with those of our kind who may take on a different form?"

"You mean the shifters? Yeah, I know one," Bo nodded. "His name's Dyson."

"Ah, the War Wolf," Damon nodded in turn. "I knew him in the old days. We fought together once, as brothers in arms, and a formidable warrior he is, too." He chuckled, and sipped at the coffee. "I doubt he has changed much."

"So I'm guessing you're a shifter, too?" She already knew he was. She seemed of late to be developing Fae-dar, so to speak, despite what Aoife had said - first Lou Ann, now this gorgeous hunk of man-muscle.

Stop it!

"Just so, milady," he acknowledged. "There have been few of us in times past; no more than a dozen, if memory serves, in all the recorded history of the Fae. At the present time, indeed, I am the only one."

For a moment, he sounded lonely, wistful, and Bo was oddly touched. She reached out to him, stroked his arm. Her fingers tingled at the feel of his skin under them.

"I thank you for your sympathy, milady Bo," he murmured softly, "but I am not in pain. We were always rare, then and now. If ever I feel the need for company of my own ilk, I go to India or Siberia, to live among them."

It hit her. She knew what he was, and stared at him, fascinated.

"A - A tiger?" she breathed, incredulous and delighted.

"Just so," he said again, inclining his head in respect. "We are by far the rarest of shifters, but not even the wisest of our shamans could ever speak as to why. I doubt much more has been learned in this curious modernity the world has become, since last I walked in it."

"Um, how long ago was that? Sorry, I don't mean to be nosy -"

"Is it 'nosy' to seek out that which one does not already know?" he smiled gently. On another man's face it would have looked patronising, but she could see only sincerity in his eyes. "In any case, one must be true to one's own nature; and being a succubus, you are naturally curious."

"Everyone says that," Bo groused; he chuckled.

"And to answer your question…well, let me ponder it for a spell," he mused thoughtfully. "One loses track in the timelessness of the jungle…but I think it would be, oh, roughly two centuries," he finished.

Her jaw didn't quite drop.

"So I guess you're, uh, kinda out of touch?" she ventured.

"Perhaps, yes; but some things change little, I have observed. On my visits, I seldom require more than a few days to reacquaint myself. This time, however," he mused thoughtfully, "things have changed much more than in the past. There is, for instance, much more talking, and there are, I have learned, so many more new ways to do so."

"Is that bad?"

He chuckled again. "There are those who would say so, I misdoubt."

Bo had once spent an afternoon browsing through Twitter, and could readily agree there.

"However, it has been my observation, again, that the actual talk has changed little. People speak of daily affairs, of work, of life, of love; thus it was in the old days. People remain people, Bo, irrespective of the trappings of what they are pleased to term civilisation." He gazed directly at her, seeming to see into her, and she quivered with what she could only describe as sheer lust. "Some things, though, are eternal - that which is between a man and a woman, to name but one." His voice, full of sensual promise, dropped to a register softer than she would've thought possible given the depth of that barrel chest. "And you, milady, are very much a woman…"

This is it, Bo thought. Sorry, Dyson, but there is no way I can resist this guy. I can't imagine even trying to put up a fight, even if I wanted to.

But she would never need to, she suddenly realised in a flash of feminine intuition. He could take any woman he wanted, even if she were unwilling, but he would never do that.

Besides, what woman wouldn't want him? He'd never need to do that.

He reached out to stroke her hair, and it was all she could do not to throw herself at him.

Then she thought: Oh, screw it, and did just that.

He anticipated her, and she ended up in his arms. They closed very gently around her, enveloping her completely, and she thought, God, I was right - if he held me tight he'd break my spine!

Oh, that feels so good…he's so warm, that's lovely…mmm, yeah…

She felt as a kitten might feel, tucked up next to its mother: warm, safe, cherished. She caught herself actually snuggling up to him. She turned her face up to his, and without a word he answered her silent plea and, very gently, kissed her, one huge hand softly stroking her cheek.

Every nerve ending in her body did a July 4th impersonation. His lips were electric. She could practically feel her panties, liberally lubricated as they now were, slipping off…

When they broke the kiss, after an endless time, her irises glowing bright blue, Bo husked, "Please…"

She wasn't sure exactly what she was asking, but he seemed to know. "Milady is willing?" he asked quietly, his voice rumbling in his chest. She laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was like a hydraulic jackhammer; she felt as if hers wanted to beat in time with it.

And, to her astonishment, his irises were glowing, too - glowing green. Was he an incubus?

This is gonna be even more fun than I thought! I am so doing this!

"God, yes," Bo whispered. "Since when would a succubus be anything but willing?"

He laughed very softly. "It is only polite to ask, even though I was well aware of the answer, milady."

"Bo," she whispered again. "Please, no titles - just 'Bo'."

"As you wish," he acquiesced. "My intent was one of respect, but I sense you dislike titles of any kind. So be it, Bo."

"You're such a gentleman," Bo murmured. "But not in bed, I hope."

As it turned out, he was, but Bo wasn't disappointed in the least.

"You," Bo murmured contentedly, "have to be the most experienced lover I've ever had. How the hell did you make me come just by kissing my toes?"

Damon chuckled softly. "A little thing I learned in the Indian subcontinent, Bo. And I am indeed experienced; while not vain in any sense, I am not unaware of the allure I have for the ladies. I have known many women, of many ages, in every country in this world. I have travelled much - and, I would like to think, I have learned much more."

"So, uh, how old are you? I still can't believe this whole not-aging thing."

"It is true, Bo," he told her seriously. "In time, you will accept, when you yourself show no changes a century or more hence. As for me…it has been so very long even I am unsure, but…my age is no longer measured in years, decades or even centuries. I pre-date the human Christian faith…I think it would be on the close order of three millennia now."

Bo was awestruck. "Three thousand years…? My God…is…is that how long Fae live?"

"Not all, no," he shook his head, stroking her. "The lifespan varies; we who heal by feeding are more resistant to the ravages of time. There is, however, at least one of the Dark Fae, who has the aspect of a scorpion, who pre-dates the Babylonian Empire. It varies, as I said."

Bo shook her head, astounded. "I can't even imagine living that long…I always figured a century or so would do for me. Then again," she reconsidered wryly, "that was back when I still thought I was human."

"Indeed," he chuckled. "Would you answer a question of mine, Bo?"

"Sure. What?"

"How do you come to be of the Dark Fae, if I might inquire? With your temperament and outlook, surely the Light would be a better fit."

"Well, my fealty was all I had to offer in a deal," she explained darkly, "there was a Mesmer, name of Vex, who was a favourite of the Elders. But I wanted to kill him. In the end, I did."

"Oh? Why was that? I perceive you not to be a killer by nature, Bo."

"It's a long story…" She explained; he was entirely sympathetic to her quest for justice. "There are indeed times when justice must be claimed, rather than granted. It seems to me this was one of them. Surely, though, this means the Dark Elders do not approve of your presence here? The crash was ordered by them, after all."

"Yeah, but apparently the Morrigan can overrule them in what she calls 'certain circumstances', and I wanted to join anyway, so I could learn more about them. I didn't grow up with all this crap, remember," she reminded him, "I'm a baby in this world. I thought I needed to learn this stuff from the inside. That's why I'm here."

"Ah, I understand - in order for you to make an informed decision when the time comes, if it does; very wise of you."

"What about you?" she asked inquisitively. "Somehow I get the impression you're not Dark Fae, but I can't imagine a Light Fae visiting the Morrigan."

"I am a rare exception, Bo," Damon informed her solemnly, "like you - albeit for different reasons, I suspect - I am secular. I have never cared to join either side, though I have been invited to do so many times…and, I might add, I have known those who might have wished to force the issue." He looked grim. "Let us say I dissuaded them. It was on one such occasion I acquired my scar," he indicated it.

"I wondered about that," Bo remarked, stroking it with her fingertips; he smiled at the contact. "I mean, why didn't it heal?"

"The weapon was a magical one; it altered the flesh such that the scar is now a natural part of me. If I were to attempt to remove it, by Fae mysticism or human surgery, my next healing would bring it back."

"In a funny way, I think it suits you," she complimented him. "It adds character - not that your face doesn't already have that," she smiled. "It's a badge of honour, isn't it?"

"It is indeed. It is my statement to the world that like you, my sweet, I go my own way. No tiger should ever be caged, or collared."

"I agree," she nodded. "And I think I'm in the mood now for a little less talk and a little more action," she then added, stroking him lasciviously. "You game?"

"I am indeed, my beautiful one!"

"Ohhh, it's so good to wake up to someone and not find 'em dead," Bo sighed in her second bout of post-coital bliss, disappearing into the envelope of Damon's long, powerful arms as she lay on top of him, the heat of his body like a furnace. She could still taste his chi, and revelled in it.

"Surely you received training in control?" he wondered, confused.

"No," she shook her head. "I was raised by humans."

Well, that made him sit up and take notice, she thought.

"Indeed?" he replied, politely fascinated. "Speak on, Bo. How did that occur?"

"I wish I knew," she sighed. "All I know is that my birth mother thought I was in danger, so she and her midwife took steps to hide me."

"How was it you were not discovered?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it was because I was raised by humans; maybe they didn't think of that. Hell, I didn't even know I was Fae until this year, and only then after I left a kill in public and the police found him - Dyson was one of them, of course."

"And presumably they sought you out, and demanded you should account for yourself," he nodded.

"Yeah; it wasn't long before they found out I wasn't part of a clan -"

"I had noticed your lack of brands, but I thought it impolite to remark on it," he told her thoughtfully. "I had assumed, though, that your marks were more subtle - not merely absent."

"Well, you certainly searched me thoroughly enough," she teased saucily; he laughed and began stroking her body. She tingled to his touch. God, he was so gentle. She began stroking right back. She'd noticed his entire body was covered with a light soft down…his entire body. She'd never felt anything quite like it, and couldn't stop stroking it.

It was as if he was always partly shifted…

"I was Tested - the old way, apparently."

"You passed, I presume."

"Yep. Then the Ash said I could choose a side, and I did…I chose humans."

He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. "Indeed? No Fae in our entire recorded history has refused both sides. Though a few Selkies have come close - bereft of their pelts, they are closer to human than most - no Fae has ever been raised among humans, certainly not as a human. That is truly the stuff of fairy tales, Bo!"

"Welcome to my world," she smiled wryly. "It's been nothing but a damn fairy tale ever since. I've met headless creeps, land wights, shifters, Albasters, weird things that get into your head, Under-Fae that the Elders keep as pets…"

"You have had a busy time of it, then," he chuckled.

"Oh, sure, I met the best friend I've ever had along the way, and I've had fun, too, but…" she trailed off.

He gently raised her chin and ended for her: "…but there are times you wish it would all just stop, yes…?" She nodded, trying not to cry and show how much his sympathy touched her. This was a man unafraid to show his gentler emotions, she knew, and that was, to her, sexy as hell.

"I understand, Bo. Oftentimes I feel much as you do…it is one reason I spend so much time in the jungle, among the beasts and plants which make no demands of me. It is a simpler life, an easier one. There are times, it is true, I wish for one with whom to share it, but…" he sighed. "It is not to be."

"You know," Bo breathed, "you are so damn sexy." He chuckled at this non sequitur. "But it's not just that you're a gorgeous hunk; you're so strong, but so gentle, too. Have you any idea how attractive that is?"

"I have heard it said, Bo," he murmured. "I have learned over the course of a long life that it is better to be gentle with a lady than to be aggressive."

"More than that - you're a gentle soul, I can feel it, even though you're a tiger, and you're not afraid to show it. That's even sexier."

"You flatter me," he smiled, while accepting the compliment. He was then startled by the sudden glow in her eyes.

"But there are times when that's not enough for me," she continued, her voice dropping suddenly into a rough, sensual register. "I want to see the beast!"

She pressed close to him, raked his chest with her nails and drew aggressively on his chi. He resisted briefly, and then acquiesced.

And then took her completely by surprise. With no effort at all, he tossed her onto her back, stopped her drawing on him, loomed over her and growled, "You know not what you ask; else you would not ask it."

"Wrong," she snarled, her eyes flaring blue. "I can take anything you can dish out, tiger boy! Show me what you've really got!"

She kissed him savagely and dug her nails into his back (though she could barely reach), drawing blood; he growled against her tongue, and she bit his. For no reason she could name, she was feeling extremely aggressive. She was in no mood for gentle words and caresses. More than she ever had before, she wanted it rough.

And he's just the man for that!

"You invite me to sexual combat?" he demanded, his eyes wide.

"I challenge you!" Bo snapped, wriggling out from under him and standing naked and aggressively proud at the side of the bed. "If you want me, this time you're gonna have to take me!"

"I shall," he snarled now. "Your challenge is accepted!"

"Bring it!" she snarled back.

He roared, and went for her. He was clearly counting on her momentary paralysis - and he wasn't far wrong, it was scary - but Bo was made of sterner stuff than that. She'd once goaded Dyson into releasing his inner wolf, and the result was a marathon hours-long sex session that pushed even her to her limits and nearly killed him, but this was a whole new ballgame.

He'll either fuck me senseless, or kill me! What the hell have I done?

She met his charge with her body, but was unable to push him back; he was just too damned big. She backed, panting, to gain a little breathing room. But he was astonishingly quick for such a huge man, the muscles moving like a well-oiled precision machine.

Like a tiger, she realised.

Unless she was seeing things, his down had developed stripes.

He now had a white mane, and she definitely wasn't imagining that!

He closed in and grabbed her. She cried out as he gripped; she was helpless. It was like being caught in a hydraulic press, or a car crusher.

Dear God, he's strong! I can't even fucking move!

She did the only thing she could think of: she bit him, hard, and dug in her nails again, deeply.

He howled.

Elsewhere in the mansion, the Morrigan was heading down a corridor to a virtual conference with Dark Elders in the Sudan, the old country, Russia and a number of other places. But Damon's primal howl brought her up short, every fine hair on her body standing on end as she stopped in her tracks.

What the fuck are they doing?

She wasn't the only one to react to it; she could hear various questions being asked inside the room, along the lines of "What the fuck was that?" Marilyn poked her head out of the conference room and asked excitedly, "Evony! Was that -?"

"Oh, yeah," the Morrigan nodded, grinning, her pupils widening in arousal as she pictured what Bo and Damon must be up to. Clearly she'd roused his inner beast.

She could only hope the girl could withstand it.

He threw her across the room, her nails trailing his blood; luckily she landed on the bed, though she was still winded. She scrambled off quickly, looking for anything that might serve as a weapon. A stool was the closest thing she could find; desperation and not a little fear gave her the strength to smash it against one of the bedposts - she ended up with a short club. It did her little good, though; he swiped at her with a hand that was now more like a paw, scimitar claws extending, and the short club abruptly became shorter as one claw passed through it with virtually no resistance.

Oops.

This was getting dangerous; that could have been her hand. She didn't know if her healing powers extended to regrowing lost body parts, and had no desire to try to find out.

But something in her wouldn't let her quit - not her usual stubbornness, but…something.

He clearly recognised the danger, and sheathed his claws, or maybe he'd just decided to fight fair. His hands didn't look any less like paws, though.

His eyes, too, had changed, turning a tawny yellow.

He swiped again, and this time he made contact; his paw-hand slammed against her cheek and she immediately went down, fighting to stay conscious. She knew numbly even in her dazed state that for all that she'd provoked him to anger, he'd pulled the punch…and that she'd be dead now if he hadn't. Even so, she'd never been hit with such power before. She tried to scramble clear, but he was again too quick, and she too dazed.

There was one anatomical feature of his which hadn't changed…except to grow to impressive size (though she wasn't worried about that) and turn harder than steel.

He grabbed her again and bore her down to the bed as she shook her head to clear it; she struggled as hard as she could, but she knew it was futile now; he'd won. He could kill her in an instant if he had a mind to; she'd been insane to even consider fighting such a man. She needed a seircon, or full body armour, preferably both.

She was capable of no more than token resistance. It no longer mattered, though; she didn't want to fight any more. She wanted to fuck.

Shortly Damon was putting the most formidable of his weapons to good use; she did her best to wrap her legs around him, welcoming him now. The heat of his body, increased by his arousal, was incredible. His down - more like fur now - felt wonderfully soft against her flushed skin as he wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close, and held her tight.

God, that feels so good! Do it, tiger boy!

She screamed as his claws suddenly dug into her back and raked down it, and she could feel her blood running freely, but her agony was somehow sublimating into ecstasy - she could feel the wounds closing even as they opened, her healing taking place faster than it ever had, even with Dyson. Her blood was racing, throbbing in her veins.

Oh, God, that hurts! But it feels good, too! More, you sexy bastard, MORE! HARDER!

She dug her fingers into his ass and squeezed as hard as she could; a lover with his depth of experience knew what that meant, and he gave her what she wanted, shifting his body slightly to achieve still deeper penetration, spreading her thighs so far apart she would have been worried about her pelvis…if she were in any mood to give a damn. She moaned, enraptured, as he bumped against her cervix; Kyle was the first man to do that, bless him, and she'd loved it ever since.

As they writhed on the bed, Damon thrusting hard into her, still clawing at her flesh, she could see the bedclothes becoming liberally stained with her blood - a sight which, to her shock, she found arousing. I'm being turned on by my own blood! What the fuck is wrong with me?

At one point, when she somehow managed to roll them both over and assume the top position, she pressed her body down onto his as hard as she could and gasped hoarsely, feverishly, "Hurt me."

He did. She screamed…and loved every moment of her own agony.

"Again," she begged, raking him with her nails once more.

He growled harshly, but seemed willing to do whatever she demanded/begged for.

This went on for what seemed like hours, with Bo suffering and healing at one and the same time, unsure of which she was enjoying more. As she drew chi from Damon, so he did the same to her, neither holding back, their eyes flaring together. Had she drawn so aggressively from anyone else, they would surely have died. Her climax, when it happened, blazed through her body as if someone had pumped rocket fuel into her veins and ignited it, and went on for nearly three minutes; she shrieked, sounding not even remotely human, the purely primal animal scream shocking her even in the throes of ecstasy. Had anyone been listening, they might well have thought she was being brutally murdered.

Indeed, for an instant she understood what Cindy had meant; she actually believed she was going to die, and didn't care in the least.

Her face was flushed a vivid red, her nails penetrating his flesh all the way to her fingertips as she clutched at him, her entire body aflame - even her hair somehow felt hot. Damon roared as he came at the same time as she did, seeming to fill her womb with his deliciously hot spurting semen.

When she finally came down, sobbing with joy, covered in blood yet no longer injured (not that she realised or cared a jot at the time), she was utterly spent, as was Damon. She shakily hugged him, and they fell asleep in each other's arms, holding and stroking each other wordlessly until they succumbed.

"That," the Morrigan declared softly after watching the high-def CCTV recording, utterly spellbound by it, "would probably be banned even in Holland. Jesus," she shook her head, relishing the intense excitement the recording had aroused in her. Not that she would - even she didn't dare - but if she were to sell copies, she was certain they'd gross millions and make Bo an overnight hardcore porn star. While Damon was to most men as a nuclear reactor was to a candle flame, in a sexual sense, Bo had certainly given him a run for his money, and then some. Sinéad's right; she's definitely a natural. What the hell, I think I'll try her out at some point.

Better encrypt this, though, she mused, if Bo - or, worse, Damon - found out about it, I'd likely be dead shortly after, Morrigan or not. The thought briefly danced through her head that of course Sinéad also knew about the camera, but Evony could certainly rely on her discretion.

It was more than Sinéad's life was worth to be indiscreet where the Morrigan's private affairs were concerned, and Sinéad knew it all too well.

It was several hours before Bo could drag her shattered self out of bed; Damon, still in a deep sleep, wasn't in much better shape, she suspected. To her surprise, however, they were both completely unmarked, all injuries healed. She was sure those claws of his had opened one or more blood vessels in her back with less effort than a surgeon's scalpel, but - she twisted to look in the mirror - there wasn't a trace. That mutual healing he'd shown her was something else again.

The bed, however, was another matter. It looked rather as though someone had been savagely knifed to death upon it; the sheets were shredded and soaked in blood. More blood was spattered around the room. The entire bedroom reeked of blood and sex.

"CSI would have a field day with this crime scene," she muttered.

She was confused, struggling to work out how she felt about the night. She'd previously been convinced that pain had no place in sex beyond a mild spanking and/or restraints, but she couldn't forget the duality of agony and ecstasy she'd derived from his claws raking down her back, healing even as she suffered. It had hurt…

…yet she hadn't wanted him to stop. Hell, she'd wanted him to do worse.

Had she really said, "Hurt me" to him? No, surely not.

Was she a closet masochist or something…?

He woke. His head jerked up and he made a rapid scan of the room as if checking for danger. He relaxed on seeing there was none, and his eyes lit on Bo. They darkened with concern. "Bo, are you well?"

She turned to him and smiled. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Are you certain?" he asked, the concern clear in his voice. He twisted in place on the bed and crawled towards her, his hands checking her rapidly for injuries as she sat beside him. He seemed surprised when he didn't find any. "I feared I might have hurt you unduly…"

"Any hurt I got, it was my own fault," she told him soberly. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have provoked you like that." She had a sudden insight, and gazed at him with as much concern as he had at her. "Are you okay? I, um, I guess you don't like being like that?"

"You are clearly a woman of deep understanding," he responded, very quietly. "There is little middle ground with me, I fear; I am either Tiger, or I am Man. To be both at once is…unsettling. I find control difficult in such state," he confessed.

"I didn't know that," Bo murmured remorsefully. "I'm sorry."

He gave her the gentlest smile she'd ever seen on a man's face. "You could not have known, Bo. Be not afraid; I am not so fragile." His smile turned proud. "Nor, it seems, are you."

She wriggled like a puppy on hearing that; it seemed the most gracious compliment.

"Listen, can we talk?" she asked tentatively.

"I believe it would be wise," he agreed solemnly. "I sense you are most discomfited by the events of the night."

"Yeah," she nodded. "In particular…Damon, I…I saw a side of myself I didn't know I had. I…didn't like it much. Normally I see pain as something to be avoided - hell, I get hurt so often in my line of work I generally can't, but at least I don't have any choice in the matter. Last night, though, I…Damon, did I really ask you to hurt me…?" she asked plaintively.

He sighed. "I fear you did, Bo. So provoked was I, I responded as I should not have. I should have refused you…but of course, my beast was roused also." His voice turned very soft. "A lady should never be hurt by her lover; it is unseemly at best and contemptible at worst. There are those, sad to say, who find their pleasure in the inflicting of pain, but I am not among them and feel naught but contempt for those who are."

"I know what you mean," she agreed, thinking of Vex and his laughter as he forced her to stab herself…and her reaction to his death. "That part of me is a total bitch, and I don't ever want to see her again."

"She was born of the darker side of your nature, Bo," he told her understandingly. "But she is not all there is to you - far from it; a small part, no more." He looked regretful. "Sadly, this has happened often in my life; I tend to rouse the beast in my love partners, though such is never my intent, I assure you."

"I know," she said gently, kissing him. "I didn't mean to make you feel guilty or anything. I'm sorry I provoked you like that; I promise I won't do that again - ever. All I wanted - all I thought I was going to get - was some really rough and energetic sex. I should have settled for that."

"Oh, if a lady merely desires roughness, I can certainly accommodate her, without hurting her unduly," he declared, brightening. "You should have said that such was your desire, Bo!"

"Oh, right," Bo said, smiling now. "In that case, let's go for it!"

They did. It was less intense than the previous night…but, for Bo, much more satisfying.

This, she thought, as a glorious orgasm burst in her head like the proverbial fireworks display and she cried out in utter ecstasy, is what sex should be like.

The Morrigan offered no reaction beyond a raised eyebrow on seeing the state of the room when she greeted Bo later that morning; it wouldn't do to reveal that she knew exactly how it'd gotten in that state. She merely nodded to a servant, and he and a small army of fellows set about restoring it to pristine condition.

"You were busy last night," she observed neutrally to Bo, as they headed towards the lounge, where breakfast was being served. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bo nodded. "Um, sorry about the damage; I didn't know that would happen."

"I should have warned you," the Morrigan admitted, "he can be dangerous, when he's…pushed. So can any man, I grant you, but Damon more than most. He's quite a softy, really," she chuckled, "for all that strength and power; but of course, once he's riled…"

"Just like a cat, yeah. Well, at least he's true to his own nature," she quipped.

"Don't worry about it; I can account for the expenditure as, let's see…training and tuition materials. Yes, that's broad enough to satisfy our accountants." She laughed at Bo's expression. "What, you thought we just have to click our fingers, poof, and the money's suddenly there? Think again. The Dark Fae are business folk more than anything else, and everything has to be accounted for…even when you're as filthy rich as I am," she grinned. "Seriously, though, it's not a problem. It's a trivial expense as far as I'm concerned. Now, we should move onto more important matters."

"Like what?"

The Morrigan chuckled. "Breakfast, Bo. Tuck in."

She did. She was ravenous.

They talked over their breakfast; the Morrigan raised an amused eyebrow over the amount Bo was wolfing down, but only remarked, "Rough sex obviously makes you hungry, Bo."

Bo swallowed the bite of toast she'd just taken and shrugged. "Oh, I'm always like this - succubi don't get fat."

"Lucky you," the Morrigan noted enviously, nibbling at a wafer, "some of us have to work at it. Don't you dare tell anyone I said that," she added wryly. "It wouldn't do for me to be seen as less than perfect, but after a few centuries, the odd pound does show here and there."

Bo let that slide, asking instead: "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you: what should I call you? I know 'Morrigan' is a title, but to be honest I can't see myself calling you 'milady'. I don't have much use for titles."

"Really?" she asked interestedly. "What do you call the Ash, then?"

"Not what I'd like to, that's for damn sure," Bo groused; the Morrigan laughed. "I take it you're not too impressed with Lachlan, then?"

"He doesn't need me to be impressed with him - he's too damned impressed with himself."

The Morrigan laughed again, saluting Bo with her glass of fresh mango juice. "Oh, well said! And very true, I might add!" She sipped delicately. "As for me…well, my given name is Evony; Evony Florette Marquis, if we're being formal."

"Let me guess," Bo ventured, "only Elders, family and close friends get to use your first name?"

"And a short list of exceptions," she nodded, "in which I'm prepared to include you." She smiled gently. "You are, after all, exceptional."

"So, Evony," Bo shook her hand, to her mild surprise and amusement, "what can you tell me about Damon?"

"I was wondering when you'd ask, Bo. Well, where would you like me to start?"

"He claims he's over 3,000 years old," Bo told her, shaking her head over what he'd told her during pillow talk. "Is that true? I know the Fae don't age much, but he doesn't look a day over fifty, at most." She finished her slice of toast and started on another, spread with honey.

"Oh, it's true," Evony confirmed. "He's so old, in fact, he actually pre-dates the divide; that's why he's secular, like you. Once, there weren't Dark Fae and Light Fae; there were just Fae. Loyalties were based mainly on family ties, or kingdoms, or simply choice. It was all very unsatisfactory, because there were too many conflicts, and thankfully the divide happened just before my time; mine was the first generation to grow up with it.

"The division, and then the whole thing with our beloved Blood King," she continued ironically, "happened while Damon was somewhere in the wilds of Siberia, and by the time he came back to civilisation, about ninety years afterwards, he didn't seem all that interested in joining either side, and still doesn't."

"I bet they weren't happy about that, huh?"

"No, but they had little choice except to put up with it…" Evony grinned wryly. "Can you imagine trying to impose any kind of choice on a man like him?"

Bo chuckled. "Not without armour and a lot of weapons and troops, no."

"By the way, where is he?"

"Oh, he took off into the grounds," Bo sipped at her coffee, "on a constitutional or something."

"Hmm, he's probably hunting," the Morrigan nodded. "We have deer in the grounds; I imagine one of them will go down well. They do need a little culling, actually, as the groundskeeper tells me they've been overbreeding lately and hence overgrazing; I was about to put my wolves on the job, but Damon will do just as well."

"Oh, okay."

"You mentioned his looks; well, what tends to happen is that each Fae sort of settles in to a given age, and then they stay there. I did, just before I hit thirty, thankfully. I was worried for a while, as my mother wasn't so fortunate, poor dear; she was nearly seventy before she settled. Some, like Trick, look a little closer to middle age; some unlucky ones actually start looking old, then they stay that way. It varies." She gazed keenly at Bo. "In your case…I rather suspect you've settled, too. Have your looks changed at all in the last, oh, say ten years?"

"Not much," Bo answered. "Well, I think I look more mature than I did when I left home, but I haven't noticed much aging."

"I thought so," Evony nodded. "Yes, I think you've settled, you lucky girl. You'll still look as you do now in another three centuries - maybe longer, as you're a succubus. Every time you heal, your body repairs all damage, including that caused by aging. Just be sure to keep your skin moisturised and exercise regularly," she advised, "and crow's feet and gravity will be the least of your concerns."

"Good to know," Bo noted, drinking her coffee. "God, this is incredible," she said appreciatively, savouring the rich aroma.

"Peruvian blonde," the Morrigan explained, "the first beans of the season - I am, if nothing else, a connoisseur." She smiled. "What's the point of being filthy rich if you don't indulge yourself?"

"This honey's unusual, too; I've never tasted anything like it."

"Oh, that's Sinéad's doing," Evony informed her idly. "She's a keen amateur beekeeper, and she does love her cherry blossom - so do her bees. I think there might be a touch of apple in there, too."

"Mmm, yeah," Bo agreed, unable to resist dipping a finger into the jar like a kid. The Morrigan chuckled indulgently. "If you ask her nicely, I'm sure she'll let you lick it off her body."

Bo grinned, "Works for me!"

After she finished breakfast, she accepted an offer from an eager young man to work out together in the superbly equipped gymnasium…not that they did much working out per se, as he was distractingly gorgeous.

And she never noticed the Morrigan hadn't really told her much about Damon, or how she'd subtly steered the conversation away from him.

In particular, she'd forgotten to ask Evony why she'd invited him at all.

She met Sinéad in the gymnasium's shower the next day, and couldn't resist grabbing her; Sinéad giggled and grabbed right back. To Bo's surprise, though, she looked a little worried. "Hey, what's up?"

"Bo, I…I heard about the other night…oh, are you all right, my lovely? Damon can be, well, a bit much for some…"

"Oh, I'm okay," Bo smiled. "Thanks for asking. No, I can handle a little rough sex."

"It sounded more than that, from what milady Morrigan told me," Sinéad doubted, her eyes mirroring her heartfelt concern. "She said there was blood everywhere…you've obviously healed aright, but…"

Bo kissed her. "Sinéad, I'm fine, honestly. I mean, yeah, we did go a bit too far, but that was mostly my fault. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but…well, let's just say I learned a little too much about a part of myself that I'm definitely not looking into any deeper, okay?"

Oh, thank God for that, Sinéad couldn't help thinking; at the Morrigan's order, she'd watched the recording, and was simultaneously excited and horrified. There were certain things in her own past the recording had reminded her of…things she never wanted to remember.

A near miss…

Stop it. That was over 600 years ago. It's over.

"Are you up for a lesson or two today, my lovely? We can skip, if you'd rather not, there's no rush…"

"No, I'm good. I'll just finish my shower and then we can get on with it." A thought occurred to her, namely: I am naked in a shower with a beautiful, sexy woman, and I'm not doing anything about it. What's wrong with this picture? "Mind you, there are things we can get on with right now…"

Her meaning was unmistakable even without the dirty grin; Sinéad grinned lustily in return and slapped Bo's ass. "Ooh, I like the saucy ones!"

The lesson - concerning the precision channelling of chi, so Bo would take exactly enough to heal and no more - was a success, even if…delayed…an hour or so. Sinéad was well pleased with Bo's progress, and like any good tutor made sure to tell her so.

She also told the Morrigan afterwards; Evony was well pleased. "She's coming on nicely, then. I'm very pleased with both of you." A thought occurred to her. "Is she, uh, recovered from that night? Damon did give her quite a ride…"

"She's fully healed, milady," Sinéad nodded, "I, um, checked her thoroughly."

Evony grinned saucily. "I bet you did."

Sinéad returned the grin. "She's fine emotionally, too; she's strong, milady, one of the strongest people I've ever known. She's proud, stubborn, independent…"

"…a problem, in other words," the Morrigan nodded, serious now. "But it doesn't matter; we can still use her while she's here. I assume my instructions regarding the, ah, additives have been carried out?"

"To the letter, milady," Sinéad confirmed, "and she doesn't suspect a thing."

"'Suspect'?" the Morrigan asked mildly, but with a dangerous edge. "She saw you?"

"Yes, milady, but that was because I didn't try to hide it - I thought if I told her something plausible and was casual enough, she'd just accept it." She smiled. "Sometimes Bo can be such a trusting soul."

"So she didn't question you?"

"No, milady; I told her the stuff was a vitamin supplement, and gave her some guff about succubi occasionally needing a little boost - she doesn't know any better, bless her. I even took some myself, to make it more convincing."

"Excellent," Evony approved.

As Evony dismissed her, she felt an unaccustomed pang of unease. There were several things about milady Morrigan's plan she wasn't happy with, but the fertility drugs - and the other thing - were near the top of the list.

But she had no choice.

Besides, the prospect of training the, ah, result was so exciting…!

Having finished her lesson, Bo decided to return to her bedroom, hoping to find Damon there; she'd finally remembered wanting to find out why he was here, and resolved to ask him. But he hadn't returned from his daily hunt yet, apparently. She was surprised to find his absence made her feel a little lonely; unless she missed her guess, she was becoming quite attached to the guy, and he to her. It wasn't just the glorious sex, though; he appealed to her personally. He was gentle without being soppy, and she loved it.

Am I falling in love with him? Nah, it's too soon, surely.

She caught herself thinking of Kenzi, and Lauren, and the rest of her friends, thinking they'd be worrying about her, missing them. She debated calling them, but decided against it. Hell, it's only a few weeks, I'm not a kid and neither are they. They'll be fine.

I wish I could believe that.

She found herself taking out the iPod, hesitated, and pressed Play.

"Given my instructions to this fellow, there's only one person who's likely to be listening to this. Hi, Bo, Mom here…"

She didn't know why she was doing it. Maybe she was missing Aoife, too.

Yeah, missing her trying to kill your ass, you crazy bitch! She's totally 'round the bend, remember, so far around she's meeting herself coming back!

That's not her fault!

Doesn't change the fact, does it? She's crazy -

"May I interrupt?" Damon inquired gently, as the recording played on. She dropped the iPod, startled.

"How the hell do you move so silently?" she wondered, retrieving the iPod and pressing Pause, then rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, I know - the whole silent hunter thing, duh. How'd, uh, your hunt go?"

"It went well, my sweet; the deer are tender here, as the undergrowth is lush and well suited to them. The stag I caught was near the end of his life, and had lost his place at the head of the herd; had he been in the wild, he doubtless would have been taken by a predator, as is the way of things. He fought well, but I gave him a quick and merciful end, I assure you. He was delicious, I might add." He paused. "What is this?" he asked, indicating the iPod; she explained. He frowned. "No, I refer to the voice I heard; please explain it."

"My mother, Aoife," Bo said hollowly, "my crazy mother."

"Aoife?" he gaped, to her complete surprise, "Aoife, originally of the clan Finn Arvin? Aoife, the legendary succubus? Do we speak of the same woman?"

"Well, yeah," Bo frowned too. "Do you know her?"

"I know her well," he nodded, "and that is not she who speaks."

Bo's jaw dropped. "Say what?"

"Well do I know Aoife, Bo, and well do I know her voice. That which your device holds is but a simulacrum - a clever one, to be sure, but that is not Aoife speaking."

"But - it is her," Bo blurted, stunned. She pressed Play again.

"- about that, Bo, and what it means for you - especially as neither side has any interest in protecting you, since you're a neutral. Doing the right thing isn't as simple as you seem to think. Also, I know you're trying to find me, but let me assure you that you won't, not until I decide the time's right. Do take care of yourself, stay away from that shifter who's nowhere near good enough for my little girl, and watch out for the Fae. Bye!"

"It is not Aoife," Damon stated authoritatively as the recording ended. "Of that, I am certain."

"How do you know? It sure sounds like her," Bo protested.

"Ah, the modern world and its artifice," Damon cursed mildly. "It is very close, that I do not deny, but there are certain aspects of the sound which do not ring true to one with ears as sharp as mine, if you will permit the immodesty."

She suddenly saw what he meant; the recording could have been created from a sample of Aoife's voice.

Why, though? More to the point, who?

And how could she find out?

A few hours later, Mayer's meal - which he hadn't been able to get around to earlier, preoccupied as he was with business for the Morrigan - was interrupted by Cassie. "Hey, uncle, what up?"

"I wish I knew what you were saying more than half the time," he groused, having dropped his chopsticks when she chirped in his ear. "What?"

"You're getting a package, is all," she told him brightly.

"There's no delivery scheduled," he scowled. "And how would you know anyway?"

"Duh, is there an oracle in da house?" She rolled her eyes in exasperation. She did love Uncle, but there were times…

"Excuse me, sir," a flunky called, "but there's a courier outside, says she's got somethin' for you."

"Toldja," Cassie smirked, blowing a bubble with her gum.

"Tell him to come back, I'm busy!" he barked, failing to notice the error in gender.

"Can't, sir, it's a priority delivery -"

"My priority right now is my dinner, I haven't eaten all day!"

"- it's direct from the Morrigan's mansion, sir," the flunky finished, gulping.

"Well, why the hell didn't you say that first? Get him in here!" he yelled.

In fact, he was a she, a sprite; many sprites worked courier duty, particularly for the Elders, their powers of instantaneous transport ideally suited for such. This one, oddly, was Light Fae, but she had a Waiver Badge which, by long-standing treaty, permitted her to enter Dark Fae territory if she were delivering a priority package. The label clearly identified it as such. He stared at it with interest. "So, who's this from?" he asked her, idly noting how pretty she was.

Róisín, for it was she, curtsied. "It's not from the Morrigan, but I can't identify the sender. You're to open it only when you're alone, sir," she added.

"You mean you don't know who sent it?"

Róisín frowned. "Well…I did know, but somehow I forgot…but I rather fancy I enjoyed whatever made me forget, truth to tell," she giggled.

Mayer was naturally shrewd; that single clue told him everything. "Well, thank you, little one," he said politely, taking the small package. "I'm sure it'll be fun, whatever it is. You wouldn't happen to know, would you? Or," he smiled knowingly, "did you forget that, too?"

She giggled again. "Do you know, I think I did?"

She curtsied once more and vanished.

Well, well, Bo, he mused, what are you up to now?

A few hours later, he opened the package, and was more puzzled than ever. All that was in it was an iPod, which proved to have three voice recordings on it - two of which were password-protected. He briefly debated using his luck to guess the passwords, but decided against it when he saw that the third file was titled 'Mayer'. Besides, he had better things to do with his luck than intrude on Bo's private affairs - even his luck could run out, and knowing Bo, it likely would. He shrugged and played the file.

"Hey, Mayer, it's Bo here. Sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger crap, but I didn't dare let anyone here know I was doing this, and sending it via a Waivered Light Fae courier was the only way to prevent the Morrigan finding out. I'd rather have sent it directly, but they keep account of everything that goes on here, and I'm sure my sending something to the Light Fae would send up warning flags. Listen carefully:

"I need you to get the iPod to Kenzi, or to Dr. Lauren Lewis; she works for the Ash. Well, she's owned by the Ash - whatever. It's important, though I can't say why, and you won't know unless you use your luck to hack the other two recordings - which I hope I can trust you not to do. You can consider it another favour I owe you, if you like; I don't care. But whatever you do, do not tell anyone you're doing this. The less you know the better. I've decided to trust you with this because for Dark Fae, you ain't half bad. Don't make a liar out of me, or I'll make sushi out of you…and you know I can.

"Erase this recording after you've played it, will you? Be careful, and thanks."

"It's from Bo?" Kenzi puzzled, as Mayer handed her the iPod. "Wait a minute - isn't this the iPod she got from -"

"No names," he interrupted brusquely, "I don't want to know. That girl has a way of dragging people into her troubles, and even my luck has its limits! I've done as she asked, and now I'm outa here," he shook his head and walked away. Kenzi stared after him briefly, and then shrugged and closed the door.

She quickly discovered the two password-protected recordings, one of which was titled 'Kenzi - remember the first option you gave me over a milkshake?'

Say what?

Then she remembered, and burst out laughing:

"Screw it; I gotta know…" She scribbled on a piece of paper. "Some things are too stupid to say out loud…"

Smart, Bo, she laughed to herself, something no-one else could possibly know!

She entered 'Iamanalien' as the password; the file played.

"Well done, Kenz. I knew I could count on you."

"You know it, girlfriend!" Kenzi whooped, unutterably pleased to hear Bo's beautiful voice.

"Okay, listen: the other recording is the one Aoife made; Lauren will know the password. I thought I'd better protect it, just in case. She, uh, should remember me once saying to her, 'I don't want to hurt you' - the password is what she then said to me. Obviously you're now going crazy trying to figure out what's going on instead of just waiting for me to tell you, so here it is: I have reason to believe that the recording of Aoife is a fake. I don't know who did it or why, but I have a, uh, reliable source who says it's not Aoife. I need you to ask Lauren to analyse it; text me when you know one way or the other.

"I'll be in touch, Kenzi. I miss you both. Take care."

"So what's the password?" Lauren asked, puzzled, gazing at the enigmatic file entry on the iPod.

Kenzi shrugged. "She said you'd know. You remember her sayin' to you 'I don't want to hurt you'? Whatever you said then, that's it."

"Oh…" Lauren breathed, remembering now:

The lost, hurt note in Bo's voice as she asked, knowing the answer: "Were you sent here…?"

Her unbridled anger as she tugged on her jacket:

"You have no idea what I think, and less about what I feel - or you could not have done this to me!"

Her dripping contempt as Lauren cried: "I haven't done anything wrong!" and she answered bluntly, "You are in my bed…because he told you to be.Everything…about that…is wrong!"

"This is suicide! Vex is too strong for you -!"

"What, you know his name?"

She retrieved the locket on her way out and grated harshly, "Don't forget your dog collar."

She'd cried for hours that night - first thinking she'd never see Bo again except for the routine autopsy once Vex had forced her to kill herself, then again in relief on hearing Dyson had successfully intervened…

"Hey," Kenzi asked her gently, seeing the tears in Lauren's eyes, "are you okay?"

"I - I'm fine," she lied, "I was just…remembering." Kenzi, for once, showed a degree of tact and didn't ask her to elaborate. Lauren sighed, regaining control, and typed in 'Itrustyou', knowing why Bo had picked that occasion from which to derive a password…because she knew too well that neither of them would ever forget that night. Her sin was forgiven, she knew, but not forgotten.

The file unlocked instantly. Time to go to work, she resolved, and uploaded it to her workstation.

She had the answer inside of ten minutes. "Okay, I've done a Fourier analysis on the waveform of Aoife's voice." She indicated a display showing Aoife's voice broken down into its various frequency components. "Every so often, there's a break in the flow of the wave - it's extremely short, too short for anyone with normal hearing to notice, but if this were natural speech they wouldn't occur at all. The intervals correspond precisely with every sentence; if I play a portion -" She did, "- the break occurs there, you see, just as the sentence ends? These two portions of the wave don't quite fit together?"

"Uh-huh."

"That happens with every sentence, indicating that synthesis techniques were employed - very sophisticated ones, to simulate Aoife's phraseology. The tiny phase shifts -"

"Whoa, doc, you're geekin' out on me!" Kenzi protested. "Bottom line: is it Aoife, or not?"

Lauren gazed sombrely into Kenzi's pale grey eyes. "Not. It's a forgery."

"That's all we need to know," Kenzi growled, and sent a text.

"It's from Kenzi," Bo told Damon, her jaw setting grimly. She showed it to him. It couldn't possibly have been simpler or clearer:

Faked.

"You were right," she admitted. "Next question is: who did it, and why?"

"That is two questions," he pointed out impishly. She scowled and hit him; willing to play the game, he cried out and whimpered in mock hurt.

Okay, Bo thought, begin at the beginning…

"Do you know where the Morrigan's office is?"

He nodded, and led the way.

"Bo!" Lauren cried delightedly on receiving Bo's call. "It's good to hear -"

"Sorry, Lauren, but Old Home Week's gonna have to wait," Bo interjected. "I need your help, but I'd advise you to sit down first, 'cause you're not gonna like this."

"I am sitting down. Bo, what -?"

"I need to know how to hack into the Morrigan's office computer."

She wasn't hugely surprised to hear a gasp, a clattering sound and a change in the audio background. Even given the tension she was under, she almost laughed at that. She exchanged a look with Damon and called loudly, "Pick up the phone, Lauren…" She waited until she could hear the sound of Lauren's now-terrified breathing and continued, "Are you okay?"

"Bo, p - please tell me that was a joke. You're not actually going to -"

"Yes, I am," she smiled. "Do you know how?"

"Without seeing it I couldn't be sure," Lauren doubted. "But Kenzi's still here; she might…"

"Now we're talkin'," Bo grinned.

It took Kenzi only a couple of minutes to set up a conference call with a Russian hacker she happened to know, and less than two hours later, the Morrigan's computer succumbed to Bo's attentions as per their detailed instructions. Immediately Bo was in, she thanked them and hung up, to prevent their call being traced by Homeland Security or the Feds.

Or worse, the Fae.

If anyone knows what's going on here, Bo mused, it's the Morrigan. She couldn't rid herself of the suspicion that the Morrigan herself was responsible for the doctored recording; she had no idea where these flashes of insight came from, but she'd learned to trust them.

Bo skimmed through the contents rapidly until she found something that looked likely: Project Bo.

"Project Bo?" she wondered, not liking the sound of that at all. She liked it even less when she opened and read the document; it was a report for the Dark Elders, detailing the necessary steps for Project Bo - presumably it was a plan to persuade/force her to join the Dark Fae permanently. But as she read further, with growing horror, she could see the true purpose was far more sinister than that - there was mention of some sort of weapon. Her fealty was effectively incidental as far as she could see.

But it was the execution of the plan that horrified and angered her the most; she never actually got as far as the conclusion of the report.

One step stated: Contact double agent in Washington, alert her when Bo arrives.

'Double agent' - hmm, Aoibheann will be interested to hear that.

Another: Secure Vex's cooperation - poss. increased kickback from his clubs?

What? But she told me -

A third: Ensure agents placed in FAA & FBI suppress any inconvenient details.

The implication was obvious: "She lied. She lied to me. She said she had nothing to do with it, but according to this," her voice shaking with anger, "she ordered him to cause that crash! Not only that, the FAA investigation was influenced!" Then a phrase caught her eye: '…when Bo arrives.' That presumably referred to her arriving in Washington…

…chasing down the lead to Aoife, she recalled.

The whole, terrible truth hit her all at once. Somehow, she saw it all.

"Aoife was never there. The lead was planted by the Morrigan's agent - that woman I met. They wanted me on that flight, but - why? Unless…" she trailed off, seeing but not wanting to acknowledge it:

If she'd never gone to Washington, she'd never have intervened in the 'hijack'. She'd never have met Cindy, who'd known about the Fae…and Bo. Without that knowledge, Cindy would never have known to approach her for help - she might even have tried to tackle the flight crew herself.

Was Siobhan O'Donnell, Cindy's lynx shifter friend, one of the Light Fae…or was she Dark? Why did she tell Cindy about Bo?

The flight crew were Aoife's Thralls, but who said they were actually still serving her? Couldn't they have been subverted by the Dark Fae? What about the Dark Fae Elder who was allegedly going to brief the Vice-President on the Fae? Did he ever really exist, or was that purely misdirection? That seemed likely, given that Aoibheann's Washington agent was clearly a traitor.

Bo would never have become fond of Cindy and William if she'd never met them. She'd never have had a reason to be blazing mad on hearing they'd been murdered, or any reason to kill Vex beyond simply hating him for what he'd done to Lou Ann and her kids…or any reason to offer herself to the Dark Fae.

And now she came to think of it, wasn't it just a bit odd that Cindy should decide to go off on holiday just when she'd been promoted? Wouldn't she have been expected to take up her new position and responsibilities first? Wouldn't she have done that out of her sense of duty if nothing else? Jetting off to the Caribbean just like that wasn't in her nature. But if she'd gotten a little push, oh, say, from a certain Mesmer…!

It was all very neat, she realised; a dead man tells no tales, except possibly to a forensics scientist. She herself had killed - and therefore silenced - Vex…who, she now saw, had been not traded so much as sacrificed!

And as for Cindy…no, please, it can't be true…But she knew it was. The pain hurt almost as bad as Damon's claws had.

Dear God, poor Cindy had been used. She'd been an unwitting party to the entire plan. That, more than anything else, more even than the knowledge she herself had been manipulated, made Bo's rage burn star-hot. That dear, sweet, kind girl who'd never done or wished ill to anyone in her life…!

"It was all about me," she realised. "They killed 382 people just to get at me! The bitch knew I had nothing to offer in exchange for Vex, except my fealty! She played me like a fucking accordion! She knew how I'd react to my friends being murdered!" She was screaming in fury now, wishing she had claws like Damon's so she could use them to rip the Morrigan to bloody shreds.

Fuck it - my own nails will do fine! I'll scar that callous slut to the fucking bone!

She drew back a fist, intending to shatter the screen to ruin, but Damon restrained her. "No! That is not the way, Bo! As I understand it, knowledge held upon these 'computers' can be copied, yes? I suggest you do so - you will require proof before tackling Evony and securing your release from your fealty." He growled dangerously, "I, too, have been used, and so I shall gladly support you in that!"

It took everything she had, every scrap of self-control, but Bo managed, somehow, to cage the raging beast of her unspeakable fury; the hot blue glow faded from her eyes. Still shaking with rage, she took out an IronKey she'd started carrying a while back on a just-in-case basis and copied everything that looked even vaguely suspicious. She was sorely tempted to call Kenzi again and ask her how to totally trash the damn computer and make everything irretrievable, but she restrained herself.

Better to save the anger for when she needed it.

It wasn't long before she got the opportunity. She cornered Sinéad in the gymnasium, reasoning that as the Morrigan's apparent confidante, she'd likely know what was going on. Sinéad had immediately realised something was up from the expression on Bo's face, and looked rather like a cornered animal, her gaze jerking back and forth, but there was no way past Bo…or, worse, Damon.

"You wanna talk to me about Project Bo," Bo growled, "or do I have to suck it out of you?"

"What's that, my -?" Sinéad attempted fruitlessly, but for all her control her face had given her away by going pale. Oh, no…

"Oh, don't even try!" Bo snarled. "We hacked Evony's computer! Spill it, Sinéad, or I'll take it!"

In ruin Sinéad found an unsuspected reserve of courage, and retorted, "Oh, you wish! I've centuries of experience and training in fending off attacks like that, my girl, but you're welcome to try! I think a human might say: bring it!"

Bo accepted the challenge; her fight with Sinéad was intense and brief. The woman was certainly no slouch at hand-to-hand and got in a telling blow or two, but Bo was bigger, stronger and far more determined; a brutal blow to Sinéad's belly left her gasping, at which point Bo struck. But she soon discovered she couldn't even touch Sinéad's chi - yet as far as she could tell, the woman didn't have a crosànn or any other protection. Sinéad smiled scornfully. "Oh, there're ways, my lovely, of resisting succubi even without pretty baubles which can be lost, stolen or destroyed. You'll get nothing out of me! I am loyal to my liege lady!"

"Enough," Damon rumbled, "allow me, Bo." He reached past Bo, and grasped Sinéad's arm before she could shy away. There was no chance whatsoever she could free herself; his powerful fingers wrapped completely around her arm.

Sinéad paled. Resisting a neophyte like Bo was one thing, but engaging someone of Damon's experience - to say nothing of his sheer awesome power - was quite another. She tried to keep her mouth away from his, but his huge hand gripped her chin; he exerted what for him was minimal effort, but she couldn't stop her cry of pain as he squeezed. The instant her mouth opened, he was upon her.

"Don't hurt her," Bo entreated him, "I can't fault her for loyalty." She scowled, "Even if it is misplaced."

"No…" Sinéad breathed, "p - please…" He didn't ignore her, but neither did he listen.

Sinéad gave it all she had, her eyes glazing in concentration, but her resistance was as brief and futile as it was desperate. She moaned as Damon drew on her chi with little apparent effort, utterly overwhelming whatever means or mental discipline she'd used to thwart Bo; she was soon in that twilight state of mind in which a succubus - or an incubus - could induce a person to say or do virtually anything. Even so, Sinéad had somehow retained a degree of volition.

"Okay," Bo snapped, "let's have it!"

"Please, no," Sinéad begged, frightened, "she'll kill me…!"

"And I'll kill you if you don't!" Bo shouted furiously. "Those people were my friends, Sinéad! Okay, I'd never even have met them without the Morrigan's plan, but they were still my friends, good people who didn't deserve what happened to them! They were murdered, just to get me here! I want to know why, and I want to know NOW!"

"No…" Sinéad pleaded, somehow still resisting, but Bo was unmoved. "Give her another shot, Damon," she commanded harshly.

"I am risking her life by taking more…"

"Do it!"

He complied without another word; when he was done, Sinéad was as pale as death. "Well?"

"She…she wants your baby," Sinéad gasped feebly; she was so weak now Bo could barely hear her. "I'm…to train her…she'll be a powerful succubus, so very powerful…"

"My baby?" Bo yelled incredulously. "I'm not -" And then it hit her.

She suddenly remembered Sinéad adding some sort of powder to her drink; she'd said it was a vitamin supplement…

She shook Sinéad fiercely. "What was that powder?"

"Fertility drugs," Sinéad admitted. "Even young Fae often have difficulty conceiving; sometimes they need a little help…"

"Am I pregnant?" Bo screamed in frightened rage.

"I don't think so," Sinéad barely shook her head, dizzy from the amount of chi Damon had drawn from her, "at least, not yet. It's only been a few days, my lovely…" She looked dreamy now. "Oh, you'd be even more beautiful with child, Bo…I'd sell my soul to see that…"

"As far as I'm concerned," Bo spat bitterly, feeling raped, "you did!"

She began strangling Sinéad, feeling not even vaguely guilty about how much she found she was enjoying it. Somehow Sinéad's throat felt so good under her hands, and her agonised gasps were delicious, as was the obvious fear in her eyes. Squeezing her windpipe and constricting the arteries in her neck seemed to take so little effort…

To her surprise, though, she felt Damon's hand on her arm, as gentle as always.

"No," he said quietly, "she is not to blame, Bo. I understand your anger, but for your sake more than hers, I ask you to spare her life." A sad look crossed his features. "It is wrong to take pleasure from another's pain or death, Bo - as you are now doing. As I recall, you regretted doing so with Vex…and you had far more reason to hate him."

Sinéad barely managed to gasp, "Please…Bo…"

Bo maintained the pressure on Sinéad's throat a moment longer, and then relaxed her grip. He's right. God, I really need to get a handle on that part of me - there was me just now telling Damon not to hurt her. She was only doing what she was told to.

It's Evony I really want to kill.

If only I could, without causing a war.

Something else occurred to her then: "Can we test me? If I'm pregnant, I need to know now."

"I have a kit in my room," Sinéad admitted, coughing and gasping for breath, "I was supposed to use it near the end of your, ah, stay."

Much to Bo's relief, the test quickly proved negative. That's one less thing to worry about. Now, she decided, for the next thing…

"Where's Evony?"

Having received a page from Sinéad, the Morrigan entered her office, noted with irritation that Sinéad wasn't actually there - What the hell's that girl playing at? - and froze in her tracks as she caught an unmistakable scent which was definitely not cherry blossom.

That's odd. What the hell was Damon doing in here? What he knows about computers you could fit in a matchbox without taking the matches out first…

Then she noticed the other scent. Oh, no. She hurried to the desk and moved the mouse; the screen saver (her clan's coat of arms) vanished.

The report for Project Bo was still displayed.

Crap. They know.

She turned, intending to dash out of her office and alert security - only to collide with a certain man-mountain more than filling the doorway. He grasped her arm in a nonthreatening way which nonetheless sent a very clear message: try anything, or call out, and this is mine. She knew all too well he was physically capable of it.

She tried for nonchalance. "Busted, huh?"

For a long moment, Bo just stared at her, trying to put into words the outrage and fury she felt. This was the callous murderer of 382 human souls, including two that Bo was sure she'd have learned to love in time. In the end, she abandoned the effort and simply demanded: "Why?"

"That's such an open-ended question. You wouldn't care to elaborate?"

"Oh, don't come the sophisticate with me, you murdering, callous bitch! You lied to me! Vex caused that crash because you told him to! It's all there in your computer - your precious Project Bo! You used Cindy, a dear, sweet, innocent child by Fae standards!" She fought back tears; her voice rose, the pain burning in every syllable: "I cared about those two, Evony!"

"Oh, please," Evony snorted contemptuously, "they were just fuck toys."

"They were my friends! Why did you do this, you BITCH?"

"There was no other way," Evony shrugged with such a casual air it made Bo want to beat her senseless. "I could hardly ask you to get pregnant, could I? You're a bleeding heart, Bo, especially when it comes to humans," the Morrigan smirked, further infuriating Bo…if that were possible. "You need a cause to motivate you, so I gave you one." She shrugged. "Vex was a convenient scapegoat, as well as a potential danger to me if he continued developing his Mesmer power - and it's not as if you didn't hate his guts anyway, is it? I got rid of a threat, and you got your revenge - it was a win-win."

"It wasn't revenge!" Bo screamed furiously. "It was JUSTICE!"

"Oh, please," the Morrigan said again, dismissively, "you and your outmoded, human concepts. You even admitted enjoying his death - in fact, you came, didn't you? So maybe you shouldn't be lecturing me on morality."

Well, the evil bitch has a point there, Bo admitted. I'll deal with that later, though.

"Why?" Bo challenged her again, fighting for calm, resisting the urge to rip out Evony's heart…if she had one. "Why do you want to get me pregnant?"

"Oh, just getting you pregnant isn't enough in itself, honey," the Morrigan smiled. "It's the father who matters more here." Time for a little half-truth…"You see, crossing an incubus with a succubus produces a child with greater powers than the norm - and it's always an incubus or succubus. The crop's only as good as the seed, and," her smile broadened, "Damon's seed should be pretty damn good, don't you think?" She had the grace to look a tad nervous at Damon's low, angry growl.

"You'd take him or her -"

"Most likely her," the Morrigan pointed out, "you usually get succubi from such a mating."

"- and bring her up as Dark Fae…as a weapon, right?" Bo demanded.

"Right on, doll. There are several ways a succubus can kill, although I imagine Sinéad hasn't got to that part of your training yet. But she will. She'll train your daughter, Bo. Just imagine her: ruthless, beautiful, and irresistible - the ultimate femme fatale!"

"Forget it! I don't want kids anyway, and I'm certainly not having one just for you!"

"You have also neglected to consider me, Evony," Damon snarled. "You know well my feelings on the matter, my issues of commitment! How dare you?"

"Once you've done the business," she shrugged, "who cares? I know you, Damon. I know you'd never hurt a child, especially not your own. She'll be well cared for, I assure you. She'll want for nothing."

"Except love," Bo spat bitterly.

"Oh, please."

"You will not do this thing, Evony," Damon declared imperiously. "If Bo is with child, she will keep that child, and bring her up as she sees fit."

It was at this point that the Morrigan came to a belated realisation:

They don't know! They don't know it's illegal to cross-breed incubi with succubi - Bo because she's ignorant about pretty much everything to do with the Fae, and Damon...let's see, where would he have been when that damn law was passed? Oh, I know: Nepal, in the forests, so he'd have been out of touch! So they don't know!

"Who says?" she bluffed. She didn't dare let the exultation she was feeling touch her face, though it took every bit of her long centuries of schooling in allowing her features to reveal only that which she wanted revealed.

"I say. You will not do this, for if you do, I shall expose your perfidy, your plots and schemes, to the Light Elders. You have used Bo, and me, in a most disgraceful fashion, and they shall hear of it."

The Morrigan went pale. On the other hand, if the Light Elders find out before the child's ready..."You wouldn't dare," she attempted. "Wars have started over less!"

"Who are you," he roared, "to tell me what I would or would not dare? Bo entered into her arrangement with you in good faith, and has kept her word thus far; it is you who is the oath-breaker here! You will release her from her fealty immediately!" he commanded fiercely.

"I can't!" But I'll have to, dammit. She'd have been useful, but…

"You can," he snarled viciously, gripping her by the throat, "and you most certainly shall!"

"I - the Elders - please -!" she gasped, clearly terrified. He loosened his grip ever so slightly, and she choked, "The Elders have to sanction it…"

"I think she's telling the truth…for once," Bo said sourly. "She couldn't have done any of this without their say-so in the first place." She sighed. "Oh, let her go, Damon," she requested, reluctantly.

He did so, slowly; Evony sagged, almost collapsing, taking huge whooping breaths.

"By my command, call them to order…now," he ordered her, speaking as if there were no possibility of her failing to comply. Nor did she; she shakily called to the air, "Marilyn? I need an emergency conference - all the Elders. Now!" she cried.

"Excuse me?" Marilyn demanded indignantly, "Evony, what the hell -?"

"It's Damon who wants the conference!" Evony interrupted, her mood edging towards the frantic. "Do it!"

"Oh," Marilyn responded, in a small voice.

Technically Damon, being secular as Bo was, had no authority whatsoever over the Dark Elders. That didn't stop them from convening the conference as fast as they could; for all their individual and collective power, they were clearly terrified of him.

They were right to be, Bo knew.

She presented her evidence, somehow retaining her steely grip on her temper, but her eyes kept flaring icy blue, unnerving the Elders - as if Damon's threatening presence wasn't enough for that. She made her position clear to them; several exchanged glances as they realised the game was up. Normally they might have tried some sort of bluff to salvage the situation, but with Damon backing Bo they didn't dare.

Though no-one knew it, the Morrigan was on tenterhooks the whole time. It all hinges on this; if the Elders only have the sense to stay quiet about the law…don't ask, don't tell…

"You will stay silent," one Elder asked Damon nervously, "if we release Bo?"

Damon nodded. "My word on it, undeserving of that though you be," he growled.

"And you, Bo? Can we trust you to keep your counsel?"

"Who the hell are you," Bo snarled, "to talk about trust, huh? You expect me to say nothing? Don't you think they'll ask?"

"Of course they will," a matronly woman replied, "but surely you can convince them there was nothing…untoward?"

The Morrigan silently applauded her: Oh, well done, Ursula!

The only thing bothering Bo was that the Morrigan didn't seem nearly as put-out as she'd have expected, given the failure of her plan. She had no idea why that should be, though, and if Evony was up to something, Bo couldn't see it - and didn't much care. Screw it; I've got a way out - and I'm takin' it. "Oh, I'll stay quiet, but not on your account! I don't want a war any more than you do! I just want to get the hell outa here!"

"So be it," Marilyn said quietly. "Those in favour?" she asked.

Every (trembling) hand was raised, except that of the Morrigan, who scowled but said nothing. "Very well; by a majority vote, the Dark Elders do hereby release you from your fealty, Bo. You are free to go." Marilyn now scowled. "In fact, you'd better go, as you're now technically trespassing!"

"Am I?" Damon growled softly.

Marilyn gulped. She didn't like the disturbing way the light was catching his teeth - and particularly his fangs - as he smiled.

"Well, of course not," she quavered, "y - you're our guest, Damon."

"No longer," he shook his head. "I shall take my leave." His voice rose; his eyes flashed the luminous amber of his Tiger as he pronounced: "Let it be known: I am done with the Dark Fae, for now and forever. Do not invite me again to visit…" His fangs grew slightly in length as he finished dangerously, his eyes dark with menace, "…for I might well accept."

He placed a gentle, protective arm around Bo as they left without a backward glance.

Thus they didn't see Evony's smirk of triumph…

On the way out, they met Sinéad, who froze on seeing them. Damon was about to ignore her contemptuously, but Bo growled, "Just a minute…"

"Bo," Sinéad began, a pleading expression on her face, "I -"

"Save it," Bo interrupted brusquely. She wanted to…to…oh, the hell with it, Bo. Let something go for once. "I only have two things to say to you. First, thank you for everything you taught me; I have to admit it was fun, no matter why you were doing it, and I did learn a lot. Thank you," she told Sinéad, sincerely. She didn't give Sinéad a chance to respond before adding:

"Second…after what you did to me, and what you tried to do…if I ever lay eyes on you again, you faithless bitch," she continued in a flat, utterly grim tone, her eyes flaring icy blue again, "I will kill you…but not with my powers."

She turned away, ignoring Sinéad's sob - which was probably genuine, but she was in no mood to believe it, or care. "Let's just get the hell out of here," she declared tiredly to Damon.

He squeezed her shoulders gently, and they did just that.

The next person Sinéad met that evening was the Morrigan, as she exited the conference room, the last person to do so; Marilyn was already heading down the corridor. She gulped as Evony's expression changed from pleased - though Sinéad had no idea why she should be - to enraged. She attempted, "Milady -"

"On your knees!" the Morrigan screamed in fury. Sinéad had no way of knowing Evony was thinking: Oh, I'm going to enjoy this performance…not that I'm not genuinely pissed at her for failing me, but…

Sinéad didn't dare disobey. The Morrigan struck her full in the face, bursting her nose; Sinéad did her best not to cry out, but a second backhander, splitting her lip, forced a yelp from her. Marilyn spared her a brief, sympathetic glance, but chose not to intervene and departed.

"You failed!" the Morrigan shouted. "You failed me, Sinéad! How the fuck did Bo find out? What did you tell her?"

"Nothing, milady, I swear!" Sinéad cried in anguish. "I did everything you ordered -"

"I had to release her," Evony cursed, "or be torn to shreds by Damon! He was angry enough to do it, Sinéad! I could have been killed tonight!"

"Milady, I'm sorry -!"

"Sorry doesn't balance the books!" Evony spat, hitting her again. She was battling with a vengeful desire to see Sinéad beaten to death and/or brutalised by her wolves. Oh, I'd love to watch her die for this failure, but…no. I do still need her. She gradually regained control of the anger which had started out as pretence and edged into the real, and recovered her composure.

On seeing the deadly calm settle on Evony's face, Sinéad's fear intensified. Evony in a rage was one thing, but an outwardly calm Evony…Dear God, let me die quickly, she pleaded to a deity she'd never believed in.

The Morrigan took Sinéad's chin in one hand, the other touching the blood flowing from her burst nose. Evony touched her now bloodstained fingers to her lips, tasting - and, Sinéadknew, enjoying - her blood and her pain.

"Oh, my dear Sinéad…how shall I punish you for failing me, hmm?" She released Sinéad's chin contemptuously.

Sinéad bowed her head miserably, not daring to look the Morrigan in the eye. "That's not for me to say, milady…I am yours to do with as you please."

"You are indeed," she agreed silkily. "It says a lot for your courage that you aren't begging for mercy…or is it," she taunted, "that you know I'm fresh out of it? At the moment, I'm very much inclined to give you to Brett Harding and his pack. I'm sure they would enjoy it," she suggested meaningfully.

Sinéad couldn't help her moan of fear; wolves had always terrified her, even before the near miss she'd had at the age of ten, when a rabid pack who'd lost their alpha bitch and were desperate to mate (not to breed, just to mate) attacked Blue Water Crossing, her village, killing the men, boys and younger girl children outright and raping, then slaughtering, every girl who was at least woman-tall. She was in fact the only survivor of the massacre…her sixteen-year-old sister hadn't been as lucky.

She'd had to cradle Ciaran's ripped, bloody body in her arms, trying in vain to help her, as she died in agony from multiple atrocities - sadistic and sexual both - committed on her person. Only the Morrigan's intervention, and that of her soldiers, who'd tracked the wolves with the intention of putting them down, saved her from the same fate when the wolves found her and pulled her, covered in her dear sister's blood, from her hiding place. Sinéad had been sworn to her liege lady ever since.

Now, it seemed, Evony had rescued her from wolves only to condemn her to them.

"Or maybe I'll have you burned at the stake," Evony continued casually, as if she were talking about the weather, savouring Sinéad's muffled sob of terror. "I haven't had a good burning in at least a century…"

"As - as milady pleases," Sinéad whispered in despair, certain now she was going to die.

That's enough, I think. It's time to ease off; she's just about to wet herself.

"Look at me, Sinéad," Evony commanded. Trembling, she obeyed. "If you just tell me the truth, I give you my word I'll spare your life, out of respect for your long and - until now - faultless service. Lie to me, and you die, slowly and in agony. It's that simple. So what did you tell them?" She glared at Sinéad, gripping her chin again. "Speak!"

"T - They already knew, milady; Damon only forced me to confirm it. He used his p - powers on me, milady," she cried in protest at Evony's sceptical look, "I couldn't resist! I tried, milady, I tried, but…"

"Oh, shut up, I know he's impossible to resist when he gives it his all," Evony conceded, releasing her grip. "Even I couldn't. As it happens, they somehow hacked into my computer and saw the plan for Project Bo, so I suppose I can't blame you for that. But how she found out there was any plan, or how she knew to look there…you're sure you gave nothing away?"

"No, milady," Sinéad sobbed, "I told her nothing, I swear."

"Strange…then again, she is very intuitive…oh, well. You told them about the fertility drugs, I assume?"

Sinéad nodded fearfully, but then piped up hopefully, "But I didn't tell them about the other thing, milady, and they didn't ask…"

"You didn't?" The Morrigan smiled genuinely. "Oh, well, you've just redeemed yourself, Sinéad…barely," she added sternly. "Okay, you can live, but don't think you've escaped punishment," she declared harshly. "A sound whipping, a few broken bones and a rape or two, perhaps…I'll just call Brett and let him know he'll be busy in the punishment chamber tonight," she gloated when Sinéad whimpered in terror. "Take a young human from stock to use for healing when Brett's done with you," she ordered carelessly. "She should be, oh, sixteen at most - nice and fresh; maybe that pretty athlete we picked up, she should do nicely. Make sure you kill her," she finished coldly, knowing this would worsen the punishment because Sinéad, like Bo, hated to kill with her powers.

"Milady," Sinéad pleaded in abject misery, tears streaming down her face, "Don't make me do that…please…she's just a child…"

"Well, Sinéad, if you don't use her, I'll tell Brett to rape you in his wolf form…with me watching. I think I'll let him rape and then kill the girl, too, with you watching. Either way, of course, she dies…but how she dies is your choice." She smiled cruelly. "I might even film it all."

Sinéad moaned in fear again, knowing too well Evony meant what she said. She knew Brett, too, and was terrified of him…and he knew it. Her only consolation, such as it was, was that Brett was utterly loyal to the Morrigan and wouldn't kill Sinéad if he were ordered not to.

He would, though, likely make her wish she were dead.

He did.

By the time his lusts both sexual and sadistic were fully satiated, leaving her bruised, bloody and in agony from her broken arm, her slashed thigh (from which, to Sinéad's utter horror, he drank her blood) and her violated body, she could well imagine what her poor sister had suffered in her last moments, and wished she could join her. He laughed callously at her anguished sobs, licked a bloodstain off her breast in mockery, rose and left, leaving her curled up and miserable.

As she lay there in the punishment chamber for nearly an hour, suffering, feeling abused and worthless, she gradually found herself thinking in unaccustomed terms, along the lines of: I've served her faithfully since I was a child, I fail her once in over six hundred years, and this is how she treats me? It wasn't even my fault!

She moved slightly, and sobbed with agony as the broken ends of her radius bone ground against each other. She needed healing desperately, she knew; she was sure she was bleeding internally as well, most likely from her kidneys or spleen. Brett had been thorough in his brutality. Unless she fed soon, she would die.

The human Evony had in mind, a tall girl with long, glossy red-gold hair and an eye of emerald green (the other was china blue, like her own; the humans called the effect heterochromia), was an athlete, young, strong and vigorous; every line of her lithe, lissom body spoke of vivacity and life, her cheeks and skin glowing with health. She was a beautiful, attractive youth whose parents were doubtless missing her desperately…not that it was at all likely they'd ever see her again. Her chi would, Sinéad knew, be powerful and delicious, and would heal her completely; likely it would satisfy her for days, too.

But to use someone so young went against everything her mother had ever taught her. God, I haven't thought about Mama in centuries…I'd almost forgotten we were Light Fae…I would've chosen the Light at my Gathering, if only…

Those memories of happier, too-brief times stiffened her resolve. As badly as she needed to heal, she couldn't feed on a child, much less kill her…

No. I can't. I…I won't!

For no reason she could articulate, she found herself thinking desperately: What would Bo do?

Immediately she asked the question, the answer came to her - and she did it.

When the Morrigan was later informed, she shrieked: "SHE DID WHAT?"

"She's what?" Trick demanded delightedly. "Oh, that's the best news I've had all year! Thanks, Tim!" He hung up, chuckling.

"What's so good, Trickster?" Kenzi asked morosely, staring into her pint of beer and not all that interested, until he replied offhandedly, "Oh, nothing much…just some idle gossip about Bo coming home early, that's all…"

Her head jerked up so fast it was a wonder her neck didn't fracture. "Say WHAT?"

It wasn't long before an impromptu Kenzi-powered party was under way; somehow a couple of Light Fae had even conjured up (probably literally, Kenzi mused wryly) a paper banner which said 'Welcome Home, Bo!' An entire buffet had mysteriously materialised (see above), and copious amounts of drink were flowing. Even a few of the Dark Fae were joining in (Kenzi asked Trick about this, and he replied with gentle amusement that not all the Dark Fae were "as enamoured of milady Morrigan as she thinks they are, especially not the non-political ones or those from the less well-off families").

Outside, Bo heard the revelry, immediately knew who the culprit was, and groaned, "Oh, no. No, tell me she didn't."

"They are your friends, Bo," Damon pointed out with gentle amusement. "Surely you will not begrudge them their joy at seeing you return safe and sound."

"I didn't want any fuss. I didn't want a damn party or whatever!"

"Perhaps it is more for them than for you, Bo," he suggested solemnly. "Perhaps they need this."

Bo thought about that, and realised he was right. And yeah, she was touched by the gesture, but…

Oh, the hell with it.

She sighed, and braced herself. Sure enough, as soon as she opened the door the clientele did their best Cheers impression and cried happily: "BO!"

She surrendered to the moment and laughed. "You're a crowd of bastards, and I love you dearly!"

Kenzi and Lauren were competing to see who would hug her first; when Lauren succeeded in getting close, she took Bo in a deep, deep French kiss, entirely uncaring of the raucous cheers and wolf whistles from the Dal's clientele.

"If that's the kind of welcome I can expect," Bo gasped, some two minutes later, "maybe I should join the Dark Fae more often!"

"Not even as a joke!" Kenzi reprimanded her. "Not even! Hey, here's a drink! And -"

She broke off, and the Dal went quiet, on seeing Damon behind her. Normally her first reaction to such a huge guy would have been trepidation, but instead the only thing she could feel was utter awe, and the only thing she could think was:

That is the most gorgeous hunk o' man I have ever seen!

Oh, no, Bo thought resignedly, recognising the signs. Kenzi's eyes were like saucers, her irises virtually invisible. Her tongue was literally hanging out.

To her shock, so was Lauren's. They weren't quite drooling, but near enough.

"My God, you're beautiful," Lauren breathed in unashamed lust to Damon, her wide eyes roving up and down his body; he smiled gently, and Kenzi actually swayed on her now-unsteady feet, panting. Dear God, she's actually panting…

"Well met, Damon," Trick called delightedly, "it's been a long time!"

"Far too long, Fitzpatrick," Damon called back. "Well met indeed. May I be introduced to these spellbound, and spellbinding, young ladies?"

"This," Bo indicated, "is Lauren, who, though she is even now melting into a puddle, is allegedly a lesbian," she noted pointedly, "and this one, who isn't even remotely close to being a 'lady', is Kenzi. Uh, I should mention they're both -"

"- human, I know it," Damon nodded easily. "Greetings, my ladies; I am Damon. Well met," he added, bowing slightly.

"I want him," Lauren husked, devouring him with hungry eyes.

"Back off, bitch, I saw him first," Kenzi objected breathlessly.

Neither had taken their eyes off him. "The hell with it, we can share."

It seemed impossible to look away. "Strangely, that works for me."

To Bo's mild surprise, many of the Fae - even the Dark Fae - were treating Damon with deference that bordered on reverence. Many were murmuring, "Well met," and there was more than one captivated female face whose gaze was fixed on him as he slinked casually into the Dal, with Lauren and Kenzi trailing in his wake. Hell, one or two of the men were looking at him that way as he proceeded to the bar.

Trick crossed arms with him and smiled warmly. "I'd heard a rumour you were back from the jungle, but I didn't know you'd been staying with the Dark Fae. I wish I had; we'd have had less cause to worry about Bo!"

"Your fears were groundless, my old friend," Damon told him lightly, "Bo is well capable of attending to her own affairs, as I have seen."

"Nonetheless, it's good to have you back, Bo," he greeted her. "This calls for my finest Buckthorn!"

"Works for me," she grinned. "While you're there, is there something to bring Lauren and Kenzi back from wherever they are mentally right now?" she chuckled.

Trick laughed, understanding. "Oh, the First-Meeting Face! That's always a problem for big cat shifters, isn't it, Damon?"

"You mean the way women react to him on first meeting him?" Bo wondered. "Well, I didn't react like that," she lied, nose firmly in the air. "I have more dignity."

Trick and Damon exchanged a knowing, amused 'Yeah, right' glance.

"He's a tiger?" Lauren and Kenzi gasped together, once they'd recovered (somewhat) from the shock of their first encounter. "Oh, Bo," Kenzi breathed, "you do bring home the coolest friends! I love bein' your BFF, I just love it!"

"They're incredibly rare," Lauren remarked, fascinated, "not because they were hunted, like the Baku, but just…rare. I never thought I'd live to see one…oh, Damon, if you'll show me your tiger, just once, I'll have your baby!" she pleaded.

Damon laughed delightedly. "Oh, there is no need to go so far, Lauren! It would be my pleasure, ere I depart."

"Is your interest purely scientific?" Bo teased. Lauren almost scowled. "You know damn well it isn't! I know why this - Kenzi's and my arousal, I mean - is happening, of course; big cat shifters produce extremely high levels of unusually potent testosterone and even oestrogen. It's a function of body mass -"

"You're geeking out on me again," Bo stopped her gently, "and I love that, but you could, just for once, just enjoy it instead of explaining it."

"Fair point," Lauren admitted, smiling and relaxing. "Mmm, there's a lot to enjoy…"

"Aren't you a, uh…"…lesbian? She didn't say it out loud, trying to be tactful for once.

"I'm still a woman, Bo."

"Yeah, but…"

"Oh, come on, masculine pheromones emitted at that level of potency are impossible for any woman to resist. A hundred-year-old nun would react just the same!" she chuckled. Bo did, too, seeing her point, and fondly kissed the end of Lauren's nose; to her delight, Lauren giggled like a schoolgirl.

"You giggled!" Bo laughed.

"That tickled!" protested Lauren, then realised what she'd said. Oops!

"I knew you had to be ticklish somewhere!" Bo cried in gleeful triumph. "You just wait!"

(With a long-suffering look, Trick asked Kenzi, "Do I really want to know?"

She replied wryly, "Probably not."

He likewise nodded. "I didn't think so.")

At that point, Dyson and Hale hove into the Dal, having received the news of Bo via one of their contacts. Dyson's nose twitched instantly; he knew that scent, even if the huge bulk he could see occupying most of Bo's usual corner wasn't enough of a clue. "Stripe!" he roared jubilantly, startling Hale.

Damon's head jerked up. "Ah, do mine ears deceive me, or do I hear the War Wolf?" he called, grinning hugely and rising from his creaking seat. Dyson laughed; the two men knocked heads and wrestled briefly, laughing all the while. "Damn, where've you been these past two centuries, as if I didn't know?" Dyson almost bellowed. "Terrorising the jungle folk, I shouldn't wonder!"

"And you, Dyson? Striking fear into the hearts of wrongdoers, and firing lust in the hearts of the ladies, I'll be bound?" Damon returned in the same spirit; they embraced in a bear hug, and sat.

"I guess we don't need to ask if you two know each other," Kenzi noted wryly.

"Oh, indeed do I know this mangy cur," Damon chuckled, "once we were the terror of the old country, after Dyson struck out on his own. For many, it was the first time they espied a tiger - aye, and for many, the last! We met when once he faced fearful odds -"

"As I recall, I rescued you," Dyson interrupted, "and your fleas."

"Ah, see how the memory fades with old age," Damon quipped, which was rich, given that he was over 3,000 years old himself. "Fleas, indeed!" he laughed merrily. "No flea would dare bite me! We decided we would best serve as a pair, to seek our fortune. Ah, and fortune aplenty we found…and heartache, and battle, eh, War Wolf?"

"That we did, Stripe," Dyson acknowledged, remembering. "Hardly a day went by that someone didn't challenge us - usually young fools still old enough to know better."

"Aye, we did well enough, for a time, but then…" Damon sighed. "In time, the jungle called, as she always does, and Dyson would not come with me. But in truth, the jungle is no place for a wolf; he was wise to refuse."

"Are you saying I couldn't handle it?" Dyson demanded, but they could tell he was kidding.

"Please tell me you're not gonna indulge in male bonding behaviour," Bo sighed exasperatedly, "y'know, arm wrestling and stuff."

"Bo, do I look stupid?" Dyson looked pained, as Kenzi and Lauren laughed, "His arms are bigger around than my legs! I'm very attached to my arms, and I'd like to keep 'em that way!"

Bo joined in the raucous laughter. Dear God, it was good to be back!

The revelry went on well into the night, but finally Bo and her friends were the only ones left (or at least, the only ones still conscious; poor little Róisín, for instance, was curled up insensate on a couch, having discovered she liked but couldn't handle well-aged Buckthorn mead). The Dal looked rather like an explosion in a caterer's shop; Trick sighed ruefully at the mess and the inebriated patrons draped liberally about the place. "This is why I don't approve of parties except La Shoshain," he lamented. "Oh, well."

"I thought you said that wasn' a party?" Kenzi slurred impishly, "No, no, it's a solemn occasion, in' it?"

"A holy day," Lauren agreed, giggling.

Trick just scowled at them, but he was laughing inside.

"The time has come," Damon declared solemnly, apparently entirely unaffected by the vast amount of drink he'd imbibed, "I must away. I shall keep my promise to milady Lauren, and then shall I depart."

"Please don't," Bo said, laying a hand on his arm. "Stay a while, with me."

"I cannot," he told her as gently as he could. "The jungle calls, I fear. It is my way, Bo. You have fought so hard to be permitted to go your own way; do not deny me the same, I beg you."

"I can't," she admitted. "I'm the last person to want to tell someone what to do. But…I'll miss you," she murmured, hugging him. "And…I think having your baby might've been fun. I never wanted one, but now that I've had the chance, a near miss…now I'm not so sure. Strangely enough, I was starting to like the idea."

It was only some while later she realised Trick had given her a very odd look on hearing that; at the time, though, she didn't really think anything of it. Trick, however, was far less sanguine.

She obviously doesn't know, he thought, and apparently Damon doesn't either; but if nothing's come of it - thank goodness - I suppose I needn't tell her. If he's leaving anyway it won't matter…I really should learn to leave well alone.

"Indeed," Damon nodded, stroking her hair one last time. "But let it be your choice, not that of others. I shall never forget you, my love." He took a breath as they exited the Dal. "My ladies, are you prepared?"

"Yup," Kenzi grinned, holding up her phone. Lauren, too, indicated her readiness, quivering in anticipation.

"Then behold…and farewell," he saluted them, stripped in a single elegant motion (Kenzi and Lauren didn't quite gasp in delight, but they were clearly very appreciative), and began.

His eyes changed first, lightening to tawny yellow. His hands and feet morphed into huge paws, and his body was abruptly decorated in stripes. He dropped smoothly to all fours, a long tail suddenly sprouting from the base of his spine even as his body stretched elegantly, and his down lengthened and thickened into fur. His face changed and yet did not change; his mane showed prominently, as his features melted into their feline aspect. He roared, clearly pleased to be back in his tiger form. He was easily the largest and most magnificent tiger any of them had ever seen.

Bo and the others were mesmerised. He padded back and forth briefly before his friends, purring loudly; then he leapt effortlessly into the darkness and was gone.

"Beautiful," Lauren spoke finally, tears of joy in her eyes, "so very beautiful…"

"That," Kenzi breathed, "was 100% grade-A totally awesome! If I posted that on YouTube, it would totally go viral!"

"Don't you dare," Dyson warned, "the Fae would totally go viral on you!"

"Oh, shut up, you old woman," Lauren scolded, unusually for her, "She knows that!"

"Did you check out his tiger junk?" Kenzi gasped to Lauren, "Totally -!"

"Kenzi!" Lauren reproved her…though in fact she had, and was equally impressed. He is, shall we say, in proportion…and, dear God, what proportions..!

Bo stared into the darkness at the spot where Damon had vanished for a long time, her friends watching her, a little concerned. It was Lauren who first asked, gently, "Bo, are you okay?"

She didn't answer at first, thinking of Damon, of the white-hot sex, of his gentleness, of her begging him to hurt her…

"Bo?"

She shook herself. "Yeah...yeah, I'm okay. I'm so gonna miss that hunk, though. He was good to me."

"He always was with the ladies, Bo," Dyson observed. "But he never once left a broken heart behind. He'd love them and leave them, but they always parted as friends. So fierce, but so gentle," he added knowingly, and Bo smiled through her tears. "Yeah, he is that."

She hugged him, Trick, Hale, Kenzi and Lauren in turn. "Thanks, guys. It's so good to be back." She sighed happily and threw an arm around Kenzi's shoulders; Kenzi too sighed and leaned into her, smiling. "Let's go home."

EPILOGUE

SOME HOURS EARLIER…

Once Bo and Damon had departed, the Elders filed out of the conference room, most complaining disgustedly under their breath; the late Vex's great-uncle in particular shot the Morrigan a venomous look, which she studiously ignored. The room quickly emptied, leaving only Marilyn and Evony, the latter still seated behind the desk. She sipped delicately from a tiny glass containing a dark blue concoction that was priced at nearly two hundred dollars…per drop. It was, Marilyn knew, something she only drank when there was something to celebrate. So what the hell…?

"Well, that was an expensive waste of time and resources, Evony," Marilyn cursed bitterly. "The Elders will be meeting again in the morning to discuss your failure, and the fact that Vex died for nothing - and you, not Bo, are to blame for that. So what the hell are you smiling about?" she demanded, upon taking note of Evony's expression.

"Was it?" Evony answered enigmatically. "Have I failed…?"

It was the smile that was the tipoff. They all knew how devious Evony was, but…

It hit her. Somehow, this wasn't over.

"What have you done?" she prodded, not daring to let herself feel hope.

"Well, let's just say that fertility drugs weren't the only thing Sinéad was dosing Bo with," the Morrigan explained, her smile broadening. "It was always a risk that Bo would find out somehow - though," she admitted frankly, "I'm damned if I know how she did - but I did take the possibility into account. The only thing I was really concerned about was the possibility that someone might blab to them about the illegality of the practice, because I'm pretty sure they don't know. Luckily," she ended, "no-one did, because they surely would have told the Light Elders. Hell, they'd have had to." She took a bottle of pills from a pocket and tossed it to Marilyn, who examined it and frowned. "Evony, what is this?"

"Just a little something to delay - but not prevent - conception," Evony informed her lightly. "That's why she tested as not pregnant…not yet, anyway; not for a few days, at least. Once things settle down, and they're all off their guard again…" she grinned, "we'll wait a few more weeks, just to be sure, and then we'll take Bo at our leisure."

"But - Damon won't go near her now without taking precautions, surely? He won't risk her getting pregnant if he knows we want the child -"

"He already has, Marilyn; it's too late for him to worry about that. And let me assure you," she added lasciviously, recalling with pleasure the white-hot sex session Damon and Bo had had, "that protection was the last thing on either one's mind at the time!

"No, we've got what we need from him. In any case, knowing him he'll likely be traipsing off back to his beloved jungle any day now; so we needn't worry about Damon," she dismissed the concern casually, "he should be out of contact - and out of the picture - by the time she conceives."

"How can she still conceive -?" Marilyn protested, and then gasped in shock. "Evony, you didn't take a semen sample from him, surely?"

"Oh, please, as if I could've gotten close enough! About the only way I could've pulled that off would've been by drugging him, and various idiots have tried that in the past. Do I need to tell you what happened to them when it didn't work?" she added pointedly. Marilyn shuddered, picturing it vividly. "He's so huge and strong it'd take a massive dose in food or drink; he'd have smelled if it I'd tried. And would you like to try darting him or something?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Marilyn shuddered again at the mental image and shook her head. "Neither would I…especially when there was a better, easier way. And believe me, Bo can still conceive…"

On seeing Marilyn's still-puzzled frown, she elaborated: "Don't you know the best way to temporarily keep sperm alive and active? Put a woman around 'em," she said simply. "Yes, she still has his sperm inside her! Those little wigglers will be quite safe and warm in Bo's body; I'm reliably informed that even human sperm can survive as long as a week - and I'm pretty sure Damon's could do better than that even unassisted. The drug actually increases the odds by giving the sperm a little chemical boost while it's holding them back. Once it wears off and they're no longer inhibited, they'll go to work." She smiled in triumph, seeing the dawning comprehension and delight on Marilyn's face. "So you see, my dear Marilyn, I haven't failed at all. Dear little Vex wasn't wasted.

"Project Bo is still a go!"

"Evony Florette Marquis," Marilyn complimented her, shaking her head in wide-eyed sincere admiration, "you are so fucking devious it's sexy."

"I know," Evony drawled, and grinned. "See you at the meeting, Marilyn."

The End

Bo will return

Fae-th, Hope & Charity