Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, Summertea88 and Guest! It's exciting when someone likes the story enough to take the time to leave a review. :)

Healer Spruce insisted on another twenty-four—hour hospital observation.

Sitting on the edge of the bed as the intravenous line and monitors were all reconnected, he looked at Spruce. "Will Silvermist be alright?"

He nodded. "I'm keeping her until morning, but she seems quite fine. Your numbers are still a bit off, but I suspect it's just the exertion after not being fully recovered yet."

"Is she still in her room? I need to speak with her."

"She is, but you aren't going anywhere. You need to stay quiet, so I'll tell her that you asked for her to come by in the morning." Then Spruce left.

Sagging back against the pillows, he stared out the window. So many apologies were owed to her. So many hours of consolation, if she'd allow, for having smashed all of her dreams of a future together. After this, she wouldn't trust any more than the Queen and Lord Milori. It was wrong to assume that she'd even want to speak. Perhaps it was for the best that so many wires and tubes prevented getting out of bed to go to her. He stared out the window. A numbness settled in. Experience said grief would soon follow and cause the darkness of depression to break free from where it was constantly battled to be kept shoved away in the deepest corners of his heart—an Alamur heart that could truly hold nothing but darkness for too long.

"Do you feel better? You have more color," a soft voice said.

It couldn't be. His heart took off as his head whipped around.

She hovered in the doorway wearing a hospital gown and a thin hospital robe, with those sweet little feet completely bare. She'd never looked more beautiful.

"You shouldn't use up energy flying." He sat up, automatically holding out his arms before remembering himself. It was only by the grace of Pixie Hollow that she came, much less spoke to him.

She flew over and sat on the edge of the bed. "I feel alright. I'm sorry about you being a Lieutenant, but I know you'll work your way back up again." Her delicate little hand rested over his.

The physical differences served as a cruel reminder. The smooth, creamy softness of her delicate, pale hand was a stark contrast against his calloused, oversized weapon of a hand meant to crush. Blue scars riddled the flesh, serving as perfect reminders of the violence those hands were capable of.

He cleared his throat. Offering her a chance out of this mess was the honorable thing to do. Letting her go was the right thing. "Silvermist—"

"Dewdrop," she corrected. Without even looking at her, he knew those innocent brown eyes gazed up at him with so much trust.

He swallowed hard, unable to watch more pain reflect in her eyes with what was about to happen—that he was about to inflict on her generous heart. Neverland, his disgusting glow would grow brighter in response to her heartbreak. A wave of nausea swam up. He didn't deserve her.

Her eyes could be felt watching, completely oblivious to the heartache coming. She wasn't making this easy. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what I did with the Alamur sugar. I thought all of it was out of me and had no idea I could hurt you. After this, there's no chance of the Queen ever granting us permission to mate. I'll always be near to protect you, but this isn't a life to offer—"

She took his hand and intertwined their fingers. "Do you know what I love about water?" she interrupted.

He stared at her, confused by the sudden change in topic.

"It nourishes and doesn't discriminate who it helps. It washes things clean and is so beautiful." Her eyes rose to meet his. "You're my water. You nourish me and help anyone in Pixie Hollow, no matter how they've treated you." Her hand traveled up his arm. "You forgive me for mistakes. You're beautiful to me because you're gentle but strong, and sweet but protective." That dainty hand caressed over his chest. "I could watch you all day, like an ocean sunset."

Releasing a shaky breath, he eased her hand from his chest. "You are my everything, and I won't see you go down in flames with me."

Her eyebrows rose. "Then you need me even more so I can catch you if you're going down."

"No, it means—"

With a smile, she set her hands on his chest and leaned forward, her lips coming closer. "I know what it means," she purred. "And I mean that we're in this til the end. You aren't getting rid of me." Then she pressed her lips to his.

But he pulled back with wide eyes. "I don't want to get rid of you. I—"

"Shhh." She gave a kiss that sent all thoughts out the window.

The grief of likely losing her one day made him greedy, soaking up every bit of love that she offered. For now. At least for now she still loved him.

When she broke the kiss, poor Sleet looked a bit dazed. So she curled up on top of his chest. "Do you feel alright? Mm, you make a nice bed."

He drew a deep breath and gave a small growl. "I'm fine. You cannot come marching in here and do things like that." His arms wrapped around all the same.

The bee gave a frantic chirp as his antenna was bumped and he couldn't give a proper heart readout.

With a giggle, she scooted to his right a bit. "It's good that your chest is big enough to fit me and the bee."

His hands stroked through her hair. "You make it easy with being so little," he grunted.

Sometimes his rough voice was so endearing, such a contrast to how sweet and gentle he could be.

"My departure has been delayed until the army is restructured with a new captain."

So that's what had him irritable. Happiness made her wings perk up, and she leaned up to smile down at him. "You're staying home with me longer? Oh, Sleet." Flinging herself down on his chest again, she wrapped him in a hug.

He lay frozen for a moment, as if surprised. "You should be ashamed of my dishonorably stripped title," he growled but held tight again.

"Eventually they'll see you were trying to do the honorable thing. What did you do after you transfused yourself with the Alamur dust during the war?"

His muscles tensed. "Some things are too dark for you to know."

She frowned. "I know you. You wouldn't have done it for nothing." Then she propped up on his chest again. "Has it occurred to you that maybe I can handle more than a regular Bright Fairy because I'm your mate?"

He snorted. "And as a water fairy, Healer Spruce said you're more emotional and sensitive than other Bright Fairies. So, no, you can't handle more darkness than other Bright Fairies." His glow around her heart dimmed again, as if he tried to pull away.

She frowned. "Did you do it and help the Lost Nine escape?"

"Is your monster a hero? No," he growled, seeming to grow irritated with the discussion.

"If you're a monster, I'll have to keep kissing you until you turn into a prince," she smiled, teasing him into good humor.

"That's a frog," he scowled. "You're in a nightmare, not a fairytale. I got to where the Lost Nine were held hostage, but the cells were already empty." Then he hesitated. "There were a handful of more Alamur who arrived to take over the lands of the Alamur General that Lord Milori and his soldiers slayed." He paused. "I slayed them and must have beaten the Lost Nine home. Your so-called frog prince is a murderer."

Her eyes widened. "But that means you saved us from another attack. Does Lord Milori know?"

"You look for a hero when there is none," he snorted. He eased her head down onto his bare chest. "You need to rest."

Nibbling a nail, she stared at the wall. "Sleet? If they came to take the lands that first Alamur army had, and you killed them, does it mean you control the lands from both of those armies? Does that mean your rank an Alamur rose?"

He tensed, as if hating this conversation. "I left the lands unprotected, so no, I don't control them."

"And your rank? What's higher than a General?"

Self-hatred flowed from him. "Prince of Death," he snarled and tried to move her off, as if too disgusted with himself to stand her touch.

But she held tighter and searched his eyes. "So you are the highest Alamur?"

"The King of Horrors has that," he scowled with a glare. "Now are you ready to leave?" So much anger and self-loathing filled him.

It hurt to watch him only see himself as a thing of darkness and evil. She stroked his cheek. "A prince and one of the strongest Alamur with your own lands you could rule, and yet you're here as an ostracized Lieutenant to protect us. No one has any idea, do they? You could overtake this kingdom in moments, yet you serve and protect it."

"The stronger the chains Lord Milori puts on me, the better. I'm a weapon for this kingdom, to serve as its monster if needed, nothing more. Enough of your romanticizing," he ordered in a harsh tone meant to silence an army.

The truth made his gentleness and loyalty even more precious.

She rested her cheek on his chest, the soft undulations of his heartbeat so comforting. "Sleet?" Trailing a finger up and down his hard body felt nice.

"Hm?" he grunted, still tense.

"You have a pet name for me, but I don't have one for you. Why do you call me dewdrop?"

The tension eased from him. "Because you're little and fragile like a dewdrop, but as pure and vibrant and beautiful as one. When you used a dewdrop and orange sugar to prove I wasn't insane about seeing the creature, it struck me like a perfect name for you. My little water fairy became my salvation with her dewdrop."

A laugh bubbled up. "So a pet name is picked based on what someone does that's special?"

"Not necessarily. I've heard fairies call each other 'honey,' 'love,' 'sweetheart,' and such. There's no need for a pet name for me." His contented sigh filled the silence.

Her finger traced a pattern over the solid muscling of his chest. "Dragon. You fiercely protect and care for what is yours, yet you let me touch your soft underbelly. I would say teddy bear because you're a big softie inside, but that probably wouldn't sit well if the other soldiers overheard." She tilted her head back with a grin.

A soft smile touched his lips. "No, it would not. You're hopeless. You're going to insist on romanticizing, aren't you? Not dragon because—"

She slapped a hand over his mouth. He was going to insist on it because of some dark rationale. "No. My dragon."

A soft chuckle answered, so she let go and cuddled.

"Why do you slouch when Lord Milori or the Queen are around?"

He remained silent, as if caught offguard about anyone noticing. "You're full of chatter."

She frowned. "I didn't eat any cheese."

Silence. "No, dewdrop, chatter—as in talkative, not cheddar."

"Oh." A flush of embarrassment swept up.

His hand stroked her arm. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Should we switch to Korean?"

A tiny flutter from her wings with happiness and she nodded.

"Just remind me, dewdrop," he said in Korean.

"It's hard to understand things in English, and then everyone thinks I'm dumb." Having someone else that spoke Korean wasn't just a relief, but fun and relaxing.

"You are not dumb. Perhaps you should tell them that it's not your first language."

She shrugged. "Do you speak other languages?"

"Arabic, Russian and Spanish. We had to learn several languages in the Alamur army if we wanted to survive."

"The Alamur army sounds terrifying," she whispered.

A deep sigh collapsed his chest. "It's over now."

"You didn't answer my question about why you slouch around Lord Milori and the Queen."

"I can smell when fairies fear me. There's a little less fear if I don't stand straight."

"Too seem smaller? Are you taller than Lord Milori by much?" She wiggled to free her wing stuck under her hip and let the wing flop over the edge of the bed.

"Just a bit taller, not much."

Something stroked her right wing. With a start, she shot upright in his lap, searching over the edge of the bed.

"Did that hurt?" Concern filled his voice.

A frown wrinkled his brow when her eyes flew to him. "That was you?"

He nodded.

"Oh," she sighed in relief and sank down on his chest again. "I thought maybe it was one of the hospital ghosts."

He didn't move, didn't even breathe. She couldn't be serious, but she seemed so relieved. His glow had even received a jolt of excitement from her sudden fear. "Dewdrop, I don't think there's such a thing as hospital ghosts."

A hand slapped over his mouth as she raised up on her elbows to look at him with wide eyes. "Shhhh! You can't say that, or they'll come to prove themselves," she whispered, seeming truly afraid.

He frowned and mumbled around her hand, "Did you see a ghost here before?" She'd seen—or thought she'd seen—something at some point.

With a small nod, she removed her hand and curled her hands between their chests to look him in the eye. "When I broke my arm right before you came to the hospital. There was a shadow in my room, but the healers said they didn't see it."

Shooting upright and holding her tight in his arms so she didn't fall, he stared down at her. The monitors started beeping like a symphony as the icy claws of fear grasped. "The creature?"

Her eyes widened in realization, and then terror. "It wasn't black like the creature, but a grayish-white—almost transparent. Are there more of them?"

Easing back against the pillows and pulling her down, he cradled her close. "No, not more, dewdrop. It was probably the same creature, just changing transparency." Oh Neverland, it wasn't after him. The creature wanted her, and he was simply in the way. But what would it want with a Bright Fairy when it was Alamur that it preyed on?

"I won't let it hurt you," she promised and held tight.

Believing she was protecting him gave her courage that had little chance of thriving otherwise. "Dewdrop? Promise me that we will stay close together at all times. I'll talk to Lord Milori and tell him we need permission to sleep in the same house, preferably my cabin."

She raised her head and studied him. "You'd want us to be at my house if it's coming after you."

He shook his head. "It won't expect you at my cabin," he said quickly and tucked her head back down on his chest. "Security strategy is what I do. Ambush is what I did for a century. Just trust me, Silvermist. Until we know more about this thing, I need you to always be within sight of me. If you need to leave for any reason, you must tell me where and when you're going."

"I will." But suspicion still leaked into her voice.

The soft weight of her head on his chest felt so absolutely perfect. With tender care, he stroked down her hair and shoulder and all the way to the tip of her wing draped over his hip.

"Mmmm," she sighed. "That makes me sleepy."

"Then rest, my dewdrop." After a few more strokes and her breathing deepened, he wrapped his arms around her and stared at the ceiling. Why did the creature want her?

"Keeper!" He marched into the library with Lord Milori after being discharged from the hospital the next evening.

Dewey startled where he stood writing at his podium, and papers flew everywhere.

"Keeper, what do you know of the dark creature?" he ordered.

Lord Milori held out a hand to calm down. "How d' you do, Keeper? Pardon the intrusion."

"How d' you do? It's been awhile Milori. Who is this?" The fairy flew around the podium and peered at him through spectacles.

"This is Capt—, Lieutenant Sleet," Lord Milori corrected himself. "We need your knowledge of the creature that entered our lands a few months ago. We have reason to believe it's been here much longer and will return again."

"Oh dear, oh dear," the little sparrowman muttered and flitted to his podium again. "I don't think I know anything. Let me see, let me see." He dug through books.

"How can you not know anything? The Queen doesn't know, so you must know," he demanded. This thing was after Silvermist. If no one knew much about it, how was he to keep her safe?

Lord Milori turned. "What do you know of it?"

He shrugged. Panic would only make Lord Milori tell the Queen and cause chaos. Remain calm and aloof. "I told you. Mostly legends that it slays Alamur to take over their kingdoms."

"So, why would it come after you when you don't have a kingdom?"

He had the pick of almost any kingdom, but Pixie Hollow didn't know that and it was a moot point right now. "The more important question is how did it find me when I don't have Alamur sugar."

Lord Milori's eyes narrowed. "Because you think more of them who might come?"

"If the stories are true, they are loners, and there are very few of them. But they make Alamur look like the Tooth Fairy." Bracing his feet apart and folding his arms over his chest had always made soldiers cower. Perhaps it would make this knowledge keeper hurry up with an answer.

Lord Milori kept an eye on him, though. "Sleet, what are you not telling me?"

With a side glance at the keeper, who seemed completely absorbed in the books, there was no reason not to discuss it right now. "I think it's after Silvermist, but I have no idea why. It was in her hospital room right before I came in when she broke her arm, then it was in the North Woods when I wasn't supposed to be there, then Silvermist's home when I wasn't going to go there, and then again in the North Woods where it attacked me—when she was on her way there."

His jaw flexed. "If that's the case, Her Majesty needs to know that her warm fairy is the target." Worry tinted his light brown eyes. "But with her in a delicate condition, I'm not eager to add on this stress. Thus far we've been able to keep the creature away and the news silent. I haven't discussed it with the Queen yet. Mind you that I'm far from keen on keeping her in the dark. As soon as the princess is born, the Queen will be updated on these happenings."

"Of course. I would ask that because we have only the winter army on guard and not the warm one, as well, that I be assigned to guard Silvermist at all times."

The request was met with a sigh and Lord Milori rubbing his forehead. "Sleet, you put me in a compromising situation. I understand why you want to be her bodyguard. However, Her Majesty was very clear about her view of you mating with a Bright Fairy. If I assign you to guard Silvermist and your natural instincts kick in to mate with her, much less if she's harmed during it, how am I to justify it to the Queen?"

Anger flickered for a brief moment. Cool and aloof. It always served well to keep a calm head in tactical negotiations. "I would never attempt to force Silvermist. I'm well aware of what I would do to her during a frenzy."

Lord Milori snorted in disgust. "Frenzy? Is that what your kind call it? The rest of the world calls it rape. My answer is no."

Rage made his wings raise and his hands fist at his sides. No one had a right to determine that he couldn't protect his mate, much less a Bright Fairy who didn't understand the horrific things the creature was capable of doing.

Fear, for a brief instant, flashed through Lord Milori's eyes until he pulled himself up to his full height. "You will remember your place, Lieutenant."

"And you will remember we're discussing my mate. Frenzy is not what 'my kind' call it—it's what I call it to not terrify the innocent fairy given the poor fortune of being my mate. It's what I call it so she doesn't see her death when she looks at me, an Alamur who is twice her size and more than thrice her strength that was created to do unspeakable things to her for my own pleasure," he growled and stepped toe to toe with Lord Milori. "What 'my kind' call it would make you vomit," he hissed. "You touch and hug your mate because you love her. I touch and hug mine and panic that it's perversion trying to come out. No one but her trusts me, and I worry what it is you all see that she doesn't. Every moment of every day, I'm terrified that it's me that she should be fucking protected from." Spinning on his heel, he stormed out.

Silvermist sat in the Keeper's foyer, laughing and talking to Lord Milori's owl as her protection, not even seeming to realize that he'd returned.

Slipping around an ice column, he sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands. That had not been wise to admit to Lord Milori that she may not be safe under his care. Hot heads always led to errors in tactical strategies.

The summer night was warm. Another wipe of his brow with a rag as he sat on Silvermist's doorstep.

If she wasn't permitted to be with him at night, keeping guard outside her home while she slept was the next best thing. Rolling his neck to stay awake, a soft groan released. A Bright Fairy sugar transfusion three hundred years ago was much easier than doing it as a nearly four-hundred-year-old fairy. It left aches and lingering exhaustion this time.

A floorboard creaked inside.

Shooting upright and drawing his sword, he lunged for the doorknob just as it turned from the inside.

Silvermist appeared in the doorway and squeaked in surprise.

"Neverland, don't come out unannounced," he sighed in relief and sheathed the weapon.

Her eyebrows rose. "Why are you sitting on my step in the middle of the night unannounced?" She stepped out in her short, too-tight silk nightgown and caught his hand. "Come inside and sleep. You've looked tired all day, and now you're up all night."

He planted his feet. "Lord Milori—"

"I know what he said," she stated, switching to Korean. "Sound echoes in ice rooms, but apparently none of you realize that."

The sugar drained from his face. "Dewdrop, I don't want you frightened—"

She tugged his hand. "I'm not frightened because I know you'll protect me. But you can't do that when you're worn out. Come sleep in my bed. I'm small enough to take the sofa."

"But—"

"I'll lock you in so we can't mate, if you insist, just get in here." She gave a strong yank.

"But, I won't be able to come protect you if you lock the door," he said dumbly as she dragged him inside.

The little thing stopped and spun around, her look quite irritated. "You could tear down the entire house down, if you wanted. I think you can bust through a door."

"So then why bother locking it?"

"Ughhh!" She pulled him over to the bed and pushed him down. "Sleep. It'll be daylight in a couple hours."

Every muscle was too exhausted to resist as she pulled off his boots. "We're not obeying what Lord Milori said." Neverland, her bed was so soft and smelled of the ocean, of her.

"If you have the energy to mate, then our glows will be even more protected. But you don't, and you certainly aren't going to harm me." Then she stroked a sweat bee awake, and he started buzzing a gentle breeze to cool the hot air.

"I shouldn't..." But every muscle melted in relaxation, and it became impossible to stay awake. "Don't...leave the house..."

She brushed a kiss over his brow. "I won't. The door and windows are locked. Go to sleep, my dragon."

He slept so deeply still. Work would start in twenty minutes. It seemed a shame to wake him, but he might be get in trouble for being late. And so would she.

"Sleet?" She reached out to set a hand on his arm at the same moment he started to roll away, making her fingers bump his back.

In the next instant, she was under him on the floor with her hands pinned over her head and his leg anchoring hers down. His chest heaved and eyes dilated with a lethal look. In a heartbeat, he blinked and shot backwards across the room.

Still trying to comprehend what had just happened, she stared at the ceiling for a moment.

"Dewdrop, I'm sorry. Are you hurt? I forgot I was here and—"

"I'm fine." She pushed herself up.

He darted over and took her hands to help. "This is why we can't be mates. Let me see." Then he turned her wrists over to inspect them. Do your legs hurt? Your wings? Did I crush your wings?"

"Sleet, I'm alright. I meant to touch your arm to wake you, but you rolled and I touched your back. I didn't mean to startle you." She looked up at him and touched his arm. "I wasn't sure if I should let you sleep longer."

His eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. "No, I need to leave. Promise that you won't leave work before I come." He yawned and ran a hand over his face. Then he dug his eye patch out of his pocket.

"I won't. But will you be able to take a nap during your lunch? You still look exhausted, and you only slept two hours." Rising up on her toes, she set a hand to his forehead. He looked ashen.

"I'd go days in the Alamur army without sleep. One night is nothing."

She frowned. "But two days ago you were in the hospital for a full transfusion—"

"Enough with the fretting, Silvermist," he ordered and put on the eye patch. "Are you ready for work?"

"Yes, but you—"

"If we leave now, I can take a quick shower at my place before work to wake me up." He rubbed his face again, as if tired.

Voicing concern would only irritate him and make them late. So, she took his arm and let him take her to work.

The work whistle for the end of the day had blown long ago. The last fairy had left and Sleet still hadn't come. Maybe it was time to head home and get winter clothes to go check on him.

Half way home, a fairy slammed down right in front of her, causing a start.

His arms crossed over his chest and he glared down at her. "I told you to not wander alone."

Her wings fluttered in excitement, and a smile broke free. "You were late, and I've walked home alone many times." She rose up and kissed his cheek.

"I was overhead making sure it was safe." He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her lips.

Deep shadows stood out under his eyes, and his color seemed even paler.

"Sleet, did you get any rest?" She wrapped an arm around him when he looked ready to collapse.

"We had army exercises today. Let's get your winter clothes and go to my cabin for the evening."

Meaning he didn't feel well enough to fight the creature off tonight.

He leaned on her and the doorframe by the time they reached his cabin, his complexion as white as snow. "Let go," he breathed and pulled away her arm. And he dropped in a dead faint.

"Sleet!"

"It's exhaustion," Healer Spruce said a bit later.

Sleet laid in bed, hardly able to stay awake, much less follow conversation.

"His glow is a tad dimmer than I'd expect from typical exhaustion, though. I suspect it's from the transfusion leaving him drained on top of it." Then Spruce looked down at him. "What say you if we do the daily Alamur dust draw, and I take a little extra to double check how your organs are doing?"

Without a word, Sleet laid out his arm and lost the battle against staying awake.

Healer Spruce drew sugar with a syringe. The crook of Sleet's arm already had a couple other puncture marks.

"How long does he need daily draws?" It hurt to think of him being poked so often.

"The Queen ordered daily for two weeks, and then weekly for awhile. I'm hoping to convince her of just monthly after a couple weeks. He made a stupid decision, but I suspect he had a good reason when he hasn't betrayed us for three hundred years. It doesn't seem right to subject him to this for that long. I agree that he needs monitoring for a couple weeks to be sure we got all of the dust out, but after that..." He shook his head.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise to hear that Spruce was on Sleet's side for this. "You didn't hear it from me, but he did mean well. And we should be grateful that he did do it."

If only Sleet would tell someone that the Lost Nine likely would have been caught and killed on their way home, and they would've led more Alamur back to Pixie Hollow in the process.

Spruce studied her for a moment but didn't ask for details. Then he wrapped a bandage around Sleet's arm.

"Are the daily draws taking enough sugar that it's adding to the exhaustion?"

Spruce tucked three tubes of Sleet's sugar into his medical bag. "I took an extra vial to check his organ function. Right now it's not harming him, but after a week when he's this exhausted, his body is going to notice. At the end of the two weeks, he might need a transfusion to give a boost in recovery," he said regretfully and stood.

"I can give him my sugar." She took Spruce's spot on the edge of the bed.

Again, he studied her. "Let me talk to the Queen. Perhaps if this test is clean, we can go to every other day."

Her heart fell. "Because the Queen won't want her fairies' sugar going to an Alamur?"

He held her eyes. "Because I think we're not seeing something in him that you do. Silvermist, we spent enough time together over the years trying to figure out why you're so small that I know there has to be something very good about him for you to love him this much. Keep him in bed for two days, and then have him take it easy the following day. I'll give you both healer's notes for work. And don't worry about Lord Milori with you staying here—I'll talk to him."

She flew straight into him, forcing Spruce to stumble back a step as she hugged. "Thank you, Spruce."

He gave a pat on the back and then left.

"You don't have to stay," Sleet said drowsily hours later when he woke up and she relayed Spruce's instructions. "You'd be safer with Lord Milori—I feel like I can barely lift my head. I'll be no protection if the creature comes."

She poured a glass of water from the pitcher beside the bed. "It's been months since we've encountered the creature. Odds are it has moved on to some other land. Be good and take a long drink." She sat on the bed and helped ease him up.

His hands even shook trying to hold the glass, so she helped steady it.

After he drank, she set it aside, and he sank back down, as if drinking had taken all of his energy.

"What exercises did you have to do today? You're as weak as a new human baby." She placed a hand over his heart to strengthen his glow.

"Everyone is drained after them," he sighed and closed his eyes again. "Come lie down—I'm too tired to react if you bump my back."

"Aren't you hungry for dinner?" She eased his eye patch off so he could rest more comfortably.

It took him a moment to respond, as if needing intense focus to process a conversation. "I'm not hungry. All I have are beans anyways," he apologized.

"I didn't get a lunch break until three o'clock, so I'm not that hungry either." She kicked off her shoes and slipped under the blanket with him.

The moment she rested her head on his shoulder, his breathing slowed to that of a deep sleep.

"I'll take care of you, my Sleet," she whispered and pressed a kiss to his cool skin.

"You shouldn't go on your own," he argued weakly the next morning. Dark shadows colored under his eyes still, his eyelids drooped from exhaustion, and his skin still had a grayish, sickly complexion.

"There are berries just outside—I can see them from the window. You can barely sit up in bed, and we don't need you getting weaker from not eating." Drawing on her cape, she grabbed an empty bowl and hurried out before he could work himself into a fit.

When she slipped back into the cabin just minutes later, she blinked at the empty bed. "Sleet?"

"I thought I could get us more water myself," a tired voice said from behind.

She spun.

He sat on the floor against the wall in defeat, with one shoe on. "You aren't here to be my maid."

Setting the bowl down, she hung up her cape and went to him. "You're unwell, and I'm here to help. Don't try to do anything today. For one, you'll wear yourself out more. For another, I'm not big enough to drag you around." She knelt to get under his arm.

That earned a bitter smile. "I deserve to be left on the floor."

She stilled and met his eyes. "Why would you say that?"

"You get the short end of the stick with me in every way, no matter how you look at it."

A frown formed. "Why do you talk down about yourself all the time? I know you get it from other fairies, but I don't think it of you. I should think my opinion matters more."

He opened his mouth to argue.

"It makes me sad. Is that why you do it? Because it makes your glow stronger? I've wondered if it's instinct or an addiction that maybe you can't help."

His eyes widened and he paled even more, if possible. "No. Your sadness and fear may strengthen my glow, but they don't give me pleasure to want to hurt you. I'd never try to inflict sadness or fear in you." He pressed his lips together for a moment and stared at the floor. "I simply worry that other fairies see something dangerous in me that you don't. If I point out the evils that maybe you try to not see, maybe then you'll do what's best for you."

"And what's best for me?" She set a hand against his scruffy cheek.

Those blue and brown eyes looked up with such sadness. "To leave me," he whispered.

It hurt to find out that's why he did it, that he so frequently thought about something that sad. "You are what's best for me. I need you to trust me. Instead of focusing on making me leave, focus on making us happy." She took his hand. "I need you to do this for me."

His face crumpled. "I can't. Happiness isn't something Alamur are capable of. I can't give you that."

"Sleet, no, it's alright." She rose onto her knees and cradled his head on her shoulder. "You're so tired you're not thinking straight. You have been doing things every day for centuries that Alamur aren't capable of. My Sleet, I'm not going anywhere."

"It has to be the Alamur darkness in him trying to take over again," Spruce said when he stopped in that morning.

Sleet had withdrawn into himself hours ago.

"The exhaustion must have weakened him so the darkness could do this." He ran a hand over his face, as if not knowing what to do. "The closest thing I've heard of and know of it is depression in humans. It can spread to Bright Fairies, it's thought. You need to leave—"

"I'm not leaving him."

"Take her away." It was the first time Sleet had spoken in hours. He still laid in bed and faced the wall, all the hope gone in his voice. The glow of his love around her heart had faded this morning until there was barely any warmth.

Gently setting a hand on his arm, she sank onto the edge of the bed. "My dragon, I need you." Her hand slipped down over his heart so he would feel her love.

His warmth around her heart flickered.

And then his hand laid over hers on his chest. "It's so dark," he whispered.

Her heart broke in a thousand pieces. "I know. I'm not leaving you," she breathed and laid down to hold him from behind.

"No—"

"Shhh, you aren't going to hurt me." She held him tight.

His hand turned to interlace their fingers and held so tight, as if afraid to let go.

Hours. It took hours of holding her, of needing her love, her touch, her voice for the darkness to let go enough to be battled on his own again. The darkness was always there—it was a part of being an Alamur to have hopelessness. But it hadn't been this strong since meeting Lord Milori centuries ago.

She didn't once let go, even though her glow dimmed a little because he had to pull his heart away so the darkness wouldn't get her.

"Sleet?" she said quietly, breaking into the numbness and silence. "Turn so I can hold you better."

Something happened. Maybe it was powered by her selfless love and willingness to give even more without a second thought, but he rolled over and captured her lips as love exploded in his heart.

She gasped and grabbed her chest, as if she felt the surge.

"It's alright," he whispered and held tight to absorb any pain she might feel from the sudden burst of it.

"What happened?" she drew a steadying breath.

"Love—that's what happened. I love you." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Thank you for staying with me. But you need to go in case it comes back—"

"It's exactly why I shouldn't leave." Then her arms wrapped around again. "I love you, too."

It was the best sleep in centuries, holding her all night.

Dishes clanked early the next morning.

Rolling over in bed, it was empty. She opened her eyes.

He stood over the potbelly stove with a pan. A strange smell filled the air.

With a groan, she stretched.

When he looked over his shoulder, he gave a true smile from the heart that hadn't been there for awhile. The dark shadows under his eyes were gone, and his skin didn't have the sickly hue anymore. "Good morning, dewdrop. I suspect you're quite hungry. I don't remember you eating much yesterday."

A smile won out, and she cuddled the pillow and enjoyed the view of him shirtless and freshly shaven. "What are you making?"

"Eggs."

"Eggs? What are those?" She sat up and ran a hand through her hair quick when he turned around to the pan again.

The blue scars on his back from various battles stood out in stark contrast against his pale skin, causing a pang of heartache for all of the suffering he'd endured in his life.

He spun on his heel, with the pan and a spoon still in his hand. "What's wrong?" Alarm flashed through his eyes.

She tilted her head and studied him. He was so attune to her glow around his heart, noticing every time when something was wrong. Even Bright Fairy mates didn't seem this perceptive. How very special that he paid such close attention to her feelings. "Nothing." With a soft smile, she got up and fluttered over to him.

"Oh. I thought you were sad for a moment." He leaned down and pecked a kiss on the lips before turning to the stove again.

Wrapping her arms around his middle from behind, she kissed a scar on his back. "It just makes me sad to see how much pain and violence you've suffered." She gave a soft kiss near his wing where another scar marred his skin.

A gasp and tremble ran through his body as his knees almost buckled. The pan clattered onto the stove and he grabbed the wall to stay upright. "Neverland, you shouldn't do that," he gasped.

She pressed up against his back and ran her hands over his flat stomach. "I thought if I touch your wing frame, it sends you into a killing spree," she whispered and trailed a couple kisses over his shoulder blade.

Harsh pants and he spun her around, lifting her onto his hips and holding her hands against the wall as his mouth crushed down on hers. "Dewdrop, stop," he breathed, his muscles hard with tension as his hands roamed over her clothes.

"You won't hurt me. I won't touch your wing frame," she whispered, her mouth growing sweeter with a small hint of nectar.

Without breaking the kiss, his wings buzzed and he swiped the breakfast dishes off the table to crash on the floor as he laid her down. His breathing grew harsh and his kisses more urgent as his hands clamped onto her hips and held tight while his body moved against her.

"Silvermist," he begged, almost as if slightly afraid and losing control.

The glow of his love around her heart burned so wonderfully hot. He was vigorous and frightening himself, but he wouldn't cause harm.

He pulled her up and onto his hips, his kisses demanding and urgent. With one hand, he flung the heavy wood table across the room to get to the bed as fast as possible. He eased her down and climbed on top in the blink of an eye, pinning her hands to the mattress.

"Sleet, it's time to stop," she breathed, fighting all instincts to become his mate. He was rough yet didn't cause any fear or pain.

His head pulled back for a split instant, his eyes dilated black with desire. He tried to kiss again.

She turned her head away so he wouldn't get more nectar to feed the passion. "I love you, but it's time to let go."

This time, he pulled back and held her eyes, his chest heaving like a raging bull she'd once seen. He was in a blind frenzy and trying to come out of it.

She gave a soft tug of one wrist, and he let it free. So she cupped his cheek. "We need to stop, my Sleet."

He slowly blinked as his eyes returned to normal. And then he shot off and looked at the destruction around the room, running his hands through his hair in distress. "I'm sorry. Are you hurt? I didn't mean to frighten you." He stepped forward and held out a hand.

"I'm completely fine."

He darted closer and helped her stand. "I couldn't have destroyed a room and not at least bruised you. I'm so sorry. Where are you injured?" He stepped behind and started to inspect her wings.

"Sleet, I'm not hurt. Are you alright?" She caught his hands and stroked his cheek.

He trembled and his eyes surveyed the overturned table, shattered dishes, collapsed bed, and broken chairs. "I could've killed you—"

"But you didn't. You didn't and weren't going to hurt me. It's alright, Sleet." She stroked his chest.

His arms wrapped around and he held tight, sinking to his knees as the trembles slowly faded. "You said you wouldn't do that again."

"I'm sorry." She stroked his hair. "I thought it was only if your wing frame was touched. Sometimes when we kiss I touch it." She pulled back to search his eyes.

But his throat convulsed in a hard swallow. "I'm ready for it then—ready to fight the instincts to take you. You can't touch my back when I'm not ready. Yesterday doesn't count because I was too weak to react."

"I'm confused."

He shook his head. "If anyone else touches my back anywhere, the instinct to kill rises—you saw at your house that I tried to attack you when you bumped it while I was sleeping. When you touch my back anywhere when I'm not ready, it makes the frenzy start," he said quietly and held her close.

"I'm sorry, I thought it was just if I touch your wing frame. I won't touch your back without asking." She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I'm unsafe for you to be around."

"No, my Sleet, you're not. We're learning how to handle things, that's all. It's just getting used to each other. Don't go back to that dark place." Sitting back, she searched his eyes. "Let's clean up, and then you show me why you eat eggs. You're supposed to be resting, so after that we're going to just play cards and be lazy in bed."

That won a small smile.

He let go and surveyed the mess. "The chairs might be able to be salvaged. The glass dishes, not so much." With a sigh, he walked over to the wooden table, hefted it up on his shoulder, and then walked across the room to put it back. When he turned, she stared at him and then the table. He stopped and looked at the table. "What's wrong?"

"You picked up the table."

"Yes...it needed to be moved. Did you not want it moved yet?"

Her eyebrows rose. "It takes three male fairies to lift a table that size."

A flush crept up. It hadn't occurred to not do that so she wouldn't realize his strength and be frightened. The only thing to do was to wait for her shock to pass and then try to allay her fears.

She shot into his arms so fast that it took a step backwards to keep from falling.

It took a moment to registered her kiss that overflowed with passion. "Dewdrop?" he mumbled between kisses, a laugh threatening to escape.

"That was amazing," she purred and captured her lips again.

A laugh really did escape then.