Author's Note: I'm a little behind—thanks for the reviews, , Guest, Mystifying Roses, Summertea88, and MileWideSmile! :) Receiving reviews makes me even more excited to punch out the next chapter.

She grabbed his shoulders in surprise as he charged out of the dance club. "We haven't even said hello to our friends," she frowned. A laugh broke free as he jostled her, darting around fairies trying to enter.

"Ugh!" He stilled and stood tall. "Everyone, move!" he ordered in a fierce military voice.

The sea of fairies parted. He charged through.

"What is all the excitement? What did the Queen want?" She held his shoulders as he set her on her feet.

Then he looked around, as if completely flustered. "Stay here." The wind whipped as he zoomed off.

This was odd indeed.

Tink walked past with Terence. "Oh, hey, Silvermist!" She came over and hugged.

"Hi! Hi, Terence."

"Hey. You're looking better." He smiled.

She nodded. "I went back to work yesterday. I still fall asleep early, but I feel better."

"Good. Is he being nice?" Tink held up a fist, as if she's punch Sleet.

The smile grew. "Yes. It was a misunderstanding. He ran off for something, I guess. He said to wait here."

"Oh. We'll wait with you." Terence looked around.

Sleet suddenly slammed down in front of her and shoved a bouquet of buttercups at her.

It burst up a cloud of pollen, and she sneezed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, seeming distracted and jittery. Then he suddenly seemed to notice Terence and Tink. "Oh, hi. We'll see you tomorrow."

She frowned. "Sleet, there's no reason why we can't go in and sit with them tonight."

"Yes, there is." He turned to Tink and Terence. "We're going to go." Then he tugged her hand.

"But, we just got here." She looked at Tink in confusion.

Tink scowled at him. Terence looked confused.

Sleet made some kind of gesture at them, and Tink's face lit up.

"Oh! Okay! Yeah, we'll see you tomorrow, Silvermist!" Tink shoved Terence toward the door.

Sleet dragged her along, almost stepping on some bugs in his hurry.

"Wait. I can't walk that fast in my dress."

"Oh, sorry." He turned and scooped her up and plowed ahead.

She turned her face into his chest right before a blade of grass slapped her face. "Sleet, what's going on? You're bumbling and being a little rough like when we first met." But it drew a laugh all the same.

He stopped and looked down at her with a frown. "Oh." Then he set her down and pulled at his tunic like he was hot. "Um, I wasn't exactly ready for this." He paled and dropped to sit, mumbling something to himself.

Easing down to kneel beside him, she set a hand to his brow. "Are you ill? You don't look so good."

But his brow furrowed and he stared right through her, still mumbling. Then he shot to his feet.

She startled.

He leaned down and helped her up. "Not here. This isn't right." Then he scooped her up and flew to the Pixie Tree. When he set her down, he asked, "Do you remember this spot?"

"Yes." A small smile tugged. "It's where we met, and over there my arm broke."

He smoothed a hand over his tunic and cleared his throat. "Except for that part," he muttered. Then he took the bouquet from her hands, not seeming to notice that his own hands trembled as he crushed the worse-for-wear flowers that hadn't held up to all of his flying around.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped to his knee and held up the bouquet. "It was here that I first saw you, where I was left speechless for the first time by the first fairy who didn't fear me. You were so innocent and trusting. It was when I came to apologize for breaking your arm at the hospital that I fell in love with you."

"It was?" Her wings fluttered for a moment with happiness.

"It was. No one has ever trusted me like you do, and no one has ever made me want to try every day to be a better fairy. I know I bumble things and make a lot of mistakes, but I want to learn with you by my side. I want to become the sparrowman that you think I am. I want to spend the rest of our lives together and be the place where you belong. I love you so much, Silvermist. Will you honor me by being my mate?"

She blinked. "What? I thought the Queen had to..."

He nodded, his smile growing. "That's what she whispered to me at the club."

"Yes!" she gasped behind her hands and threw herself into his arms, capturing his mouth with a kiss.

He stood and held her tight, returning the kiss.

"I love you so much," she breathed and kissed again. "You are the sparrowman that I think you are. I feel like I'm going to explode from being so happy," she laughed.

"I love you, too," he smiled around another kiss.

Capturing his face in her hands, she deepened the kiss as her mouth grew sweeter.

"Dewdrop," he whispered between kisses, "I can't make white dust."

Pulling her head back, she frowned in confusion. "White dust for what?"

"To make your wings soft to be able to hold you tight enough during flight for mating." His wings lowered in disappointment. "I thought I told you." He slowly lowered her down to stand. "We can't physically mate."

Biting her lower lip, she smiled. "Am I not a water fairy? Haven't you heard of salt water?"

He frowned. "Salt water?"

She nodded. "The water softens wings and the salt does even more. Fly me faster than a wind fairy to the ocean."

Hope gleaned in his eye, and he took off.

Her squeals and laughter echoing through the sky.

"Are you certain you're alright? Perhaps we should go see a healer to make sure you aren't hurt." He dropped her dress over a chair and eased her down onto the bed, her wings still so pliable they could crumple in a fist.

The smile still wouldn't leave as she closed her eyes. "Mmm, I'm perfect."

He slid into bed with her, and she rested her head on his chest and flung a leg over his.

He pulled up the fur blanket higher on her bare shoulder. "I didn't mean to...I planned on being gentler. I think I was too vigorous."

"Hush. It was perfect, but I'm tired now. Let's go to sleep for a bit."

"For a bit? It's nearly midnight. What are we going to do after a bit?"

A throaty laugh answered, and she dragged her toes up his thick calf.

"No. We're lucky that I didn't go into a frenzy and kill you. We aren't pushing our luck again. Once was good enough for mating so I can keep your glow safe."

"Once was not good enough. Go to sleep." Peaceful slumber came.

The sunlight leaked through the windows of Sleet's cabin. His heavy arm rested over her, and his chest pressed against her back, offering warmth from the cold air. The potbelly stove must've burned out. Turning in his arms, she pressed a kiss to his neck and hooked a leg around his hip. Being tucked under the furs had kept her wings damp enough that they still were quiet limp.

He sighed and shifted, his wing giving a half flap like his body sensed her.

Last night he'd been gloriously exuberant without causing harm, his enthusiasm serving well to help overcome the shyness. Now, though, there was a need for slow, tender passion. With a gentle tug, he rolled onto her and his wings rose.

A sleepy brush of his lips without opening his eyes as his hands buried in her hair. And then his body joined hers.

The rush of excitement and love made her fingers bite into his shoulders, which only made him sigh and his body start moving. His mouth crushed down with a hungry need as his wings buzzed and he started to get a bit enthusiastic.

The kiss stopped. He stilled.

Opening her eyes, she startled to see his eyes fly open.

His head jerked back with a confused expression. And then his eyes widened and he shot off with a curse. And got tangled in the blankets. He fell off the bed with a loud thud.

She sat up, a shiver running through at the sudden cold, and looked over the edge where he'd landed on his side, twisted in all of the blankets. "Are you alright?"

He wiggled and tugged the blankets to get free. "Are you? Neverland, I thought I was dreaming!" he huffed as he stood and scooped up the blankets. "Cover your wings from the cold—" He looked up and froze.

With a frown, she looked down. And then a rush of embarrassment hit, having forgotten about not having clothes on. She pulled her hair forward to help hide.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed.

Last night had been so dark over the ocean and full of too much passion to waste time not kissing. A flush rose, secretly happy that he was pleased.

He seemed to remember himself and hurried to get a fur around her shoulders. "Cover your wings—they still look damp. I'll get the fire going." Then he snatched his pants, but not before revealing a glimpse of a terrible scar where a chunk of his backside near his hip was missing. He threw some logs into the stove. "Did I hurt you?" He didn't look over.

"No. Does your hip pain you?" Bright Fairies barely scarred. He had scars everywhere, but that one was the worst seen yet.

"No. And no, it's not a story for you to hear." He busied himself with lighting the fire.

She stood and padded over as he straightened. He stilled as she set her fingers against the deformity that his pants pulled over tautly enough to hide. Three fingers fit in the pit of the scar.

He snatched her hand away just as white-hot pain burst through her fingers. He released, but his face contorted in pain. "Don't touch. It's fine as long as it's not touched."

"I'm sorry. Maybe I can heal it a bit—"

"Don't," he ordered and stepped back, holding his hip. "It goes down through the bone. You can't heal it that much anyways."

The bone. It was his saw scar. Nausea hit.

"Stop thinking about it," he gasped, his brow growing damp with pain. "I can't touch you without making you hurt. Stop thinking about the evil." He sank into a chair and set a hand over his heart.

The glow around her heart grew warmer.

"How did I make it hurt?" Yanking on her dress, she opened the door and scooped up snow into a rag and then took it to him.

"It's a way to control Alamur soldiers," he gasped and eased the ice pack on. "If a scar is pressed, it renews the pain from when it happened." He laid his forehead down over his arm on the table, holding the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip. His wings twitched, as if trying to fly in response to the terrible pain.

"Oh, Sleet, I'm so sorry. I didn't know." She wiped his soaked bare back with a rag. "Let me—"

"No," he panted and stumbled away so she couldn't take on his pain. "Stay here." Then he opened the door with a soft gasp of agony and pitched forward.

Darting to the door, she slammed to a halt.

He was gone.

"Sled!" She ran out in her cape and gloves to catch him passing.

He landed and smiled. "Silvermist. I hear congratulations are in order." Then he frowned as she ran closer. "Where's Sleet?"

"I...I need you to frost...my wings," she panted from running the distance to find any winter fairy.

"Oh. I haven't tried it, so I could hurt your wings. Let me find Gliss—she's good at it. Is everything alright?"

She nodded. "Sleet needed to go, but I need to find him. Do you know where Lord Milori is?"

"He should be arriving for work at any moment. Do you want Gliss or Lord Milori?" Concern filled his eyes.

"Can Lord Milori frost wings?"

"I don't think so because he's colder than winter fairies. I'll send them as I find them." Then he took off.

Standing there in the winter wind was cold, but worry kept nerves from feeling the bitter temperatures. The warmth in her heart dimmed—he must be pulling away to protect her from the darkness of his severe physical pain. Tucking her hands inside the cape, she pressed a hand over her heart. Perhaps it would help make the pain go away, or at least let him know he wasn't alone.

Lord Milori's owl circled overhead and then landed. "Silvermist? What's going on? Sled said Sleet left, and you needed to speak with me." He slid down.

"I didn't know that if I touch a scar it causes him pain."

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

After she explained it, he set his hands on his hips. "I had no idea he has such an injury. If it's what I think it's from, he's probably as close to the North Woods as he can get where no one will hear him."

She frowned. "Hear him?"

"His screams," he said absently. "Even the winter fairies can't go into that cold. Frosting and covering your wings won't help. I'll go see if I can find him and bring him just north of Frost Lake. Have Gliss frost your wings, and then tell her that I said she's to take you to the burrow just north of Frost Lake." He climbed up on the owl and took off.

It was a cave, with beautiful icicles on the ceiling. Ice covered the floor, so she flew behind Gliss. "What is this place?"

"Lord Milori's old home. This is the basement."

A scream echoed.

Gliss stopped mid-flight, making her collide into her back. "What is that?"

Her heart beat faster. "I think Sleet is hurt. You can go. I just keep following the tunnel?"

She nodded. "Should I send for a healer?"

"I think maybe Healer Spruce." The fewer fairies who knew about what was happening, the better. Then she took off as Gliss hurried the opposite way.

More screams, each more violent and panicked than the last.

Tears fell as she zipped through the cavern.

A doorway with a light inside. The screams grew louder. She landed, the fear and panic so strong that it took every ounce of courage to even peek in the room.

Sleet laid on a bed of ice, writhing and clutching Lord Milori's hand, his body soaked from pain. Lord Milori sat on the edge of the bed and mopped Sleet's brow, his complexion pale and face contorted like Sleet's screams tore at his heart.

"Deep breaths," Lord Milori said gently. "Silvermist will be here soon."

Sleet's head thrashed side to side, as if trying to say no.

"She needs to be here with you."

Then Sleet turned onto his side, curled into a terribly tight ball, and a horrid scream of agony ripped from him.

Shooting over, she laid facing him. "I'm right here. Spruce is coming." Tears poured out as his arms wrapped around and he clutched fistfuls of the back of her cape, holding on for dear life.

His body trembled and then locked up rock hard, as if trying to brace against something excruciating. Another scream tore through the corridors.

Spruce handed over a tissue and looked down at Sleet, who was now heavily sedated. "What happened?"

She dabbed at her tears. After explaining, she sniffled, "I don't understand. This hasn't happened before."

"He told you this hasn't happened before, or you don't think it has?" Lord Milori asked.

Her eyes widened. "Do you think he's been hurt before when I touch him, but he just hasn't said anything because it wasn't this bad?"

Lord Milori and Spruce exchanged a glance. "Honestly, Milori, he's tried so hard to appear like a Bright Fairy that I wouldn't put it past him to hide physical pain in order to blend in."

With a deep sigh, Lord Milori ran a hand over his face. "Are you able to stay with him?"

Spruce nodded.

"Alright. I have to get back to work. Silvermist, it's too cold for you to stay down here. And don't argue with me," he ordered when she opened her mouth. "I'll take you back to his cabin. Spruce, I'll be back in a couple hours to see if he's able to move home."

At Sleet's front door, she turned around. "Lord Milori?"

He looked from where he sat on Blizzard.

"If you had reactions like that, why would you not tell the Queen? As her mate?" Holding fistfuls of her cloak, she swallowed hard to brace for the answer that would undoubtedly come.

Sadness filled his eyes. "Because to feel her, even in pain, would be better than to never know her touch."

Tears stung.

"You need to talk to him. Hopefully it's only when severe scars are touched that it simulates the pain. But whatever you do, don't withdraw all physical contact. He won't tell you the truth if he thinks it means completely losing that closeness with you." Then he took off.

It wasn't until three hours later that sparrowmen voices mumbled outside. Jumping up from the chair next to the warm pot belly stove, she flung open the door.

Lord Milori and Spruce helped Sleet limp inside.

His brow and tunic were already wet again. Maybe he'd been suffering this whole time and just trying to work up the energy to make it through the flight home.

"The sheets are fresh and I made some berry soup. An owl gave me some feathers, and I made another pillow if you need to prop up your leg," she babbled simply to have something to do while they eased him to side on the side of the bed through his gasps of agony.

"I'm leaving the sunflower seeds here in case you change your mind about taking something for the pain," Spruce said and set three seeds on the table. "We're going to talk more about this in a day or two when you're better. As a healer, I need to have it in your chart—this kind of thing and the fact that you're allergic to chocolate. Bright Fairies put chocolate in a lot of things, and it's not wise for us to be unaware of that."

"Bright Fairies aren't allergic...to chocolate," he growled and cursed and groaned as Spruce lifted his leg onto the bed so Sleet could lie down.

"And I told you that your records are restricted so I'm the only healer with access to certain things like that." Spruce stood and gave her a look. "Good luck—he's in a mood."

"As if you wouldn't be if your...leg felt like it was being sawed off," Sleet snapped, panting hard through more pain. He yanked off his tunic. "It's so damn hot in here."

She herded them to the door. "Thank you. I'll see what I can get out of him," she whispered.

"I can hear you," he barked, "I can see and hear better than all of you..because I'm supposed to hunt and torture you to death."

Lord Milori's eyebrows rose. "Just because she's your mate doesn't mean I have to leave her here with you—"

"Oh, shut the Neverland up," Sleet growled and covered his face with his hands, as if trying to get through more pain. "If you take her with you, I'll rip your damn wing off."

"Sleet!" She pushed them out the door. "I'll be fine."

"I'm coming back to check on her in a couple hours!" Lord Milori called as the door closed.

"Good, I feel like punching someone," Sleet mumbled and then dropped his hands to hold his hip as his eyes squeezed shut.

"First, let's stop being all macho and take these sunflower seeds—"

"Can't," he gasped and held his breath for a moment. "I'm allergic."

Drawing a deep breath, she silently counted to ten like Fairy Mary did when needing patience. "And you couldn't have said so he could give you something else? What can you have for pain? What did you have in the hospital during the Alamar war?"

He shook his head and seemed to breath normally again. "Nothing worked well. Stop hovering."

She dropped to her feet, not even realizing she had been hovering. "Do you need ice? A cold rag? Soup? Tell me what would help. And don't say nothing because you know you wouldn't leave me there writhing without doing something."

"You," he breathed and tensed, as if another wave of pain hit. "Don't touch."

So she spread the cape over him and laid down in the crook of his arm. He held tight and panted for a moment before seeming to be able to handle the pain again.

"Don't fight me because this isn't going to be fun for either of us if you don't make it worthwhile." Before he could respond, she pulled down her dress strap and pushed away the cape to press her heart to his.

"Silvermist? Dammit, wake up, dewdrop." A soft pat on the cheek.

She blinked up at him leaning over.

His shoulders dropped in relief. "Pull a stunt like that again, and I'm sewing that cape around you," he barked.

With a frown, she sat up. "What happened?"

"You fainted when my pain transferred to you." He reclined against the pillows.

"Did it work?"

He gave a dry glare.

A smile bloomed. "It did, didn't it? You're so stubborn."

"Oh yes, not wanting my mate to pass out from my pain makes me bullheaded."

His temper only made him more endearing because it stemmed from worry for her. She scooted up to lean a hand on the bed and face him. "Does it hurt every time I touch you?"

A curtain fell over his expression—it became cold and distant, just like his typical expression around Lord Milori or the Queen.

She reached out a hand and set it on his arm where there were few scars. "I don't want to not touch you, but I don't want to do that to you again." Tears blurred him. "I didn't know I could hurt you like that."

His face softened and he pulled her against his chest. "I thought only Alamur could do that to each other. Other times you've touched me, there might be a bit of an ache over a scar, but it's never been anything like that. When Alamur do it, they're intentionally touching only the scar and press—the harder the pressure, the worse the pain."

Her face crumpled. "But I didn't even press. It was worse than that when the creature actually tried to cut off your leg?"

"I don't want you to not touch me," he said, ignoring the question. "Maybe just don't intentionally touch only a scar." His arms wrapped around tighter. "This doesn't hurt—the scars on my chest just ache a tiny bit."

She sniffled. "Why can't I feel you hurting?"

"I don't know, but I'm glad because I don't want you to hurt when you touch me. Now, be a good mate and nap with me since I ruined our first honeymoon morning."

Releasing a watery sigh, she scooted down with him and didn't argue for the moment when he put the cape as a barrier between their bodies. "I ruined our morning."

"No." He tensed for a minute and then released a slow breath, his body gradually relaxing again as more pain passed. "Silvermist? Thank you for staying," he said quietly.

She pulled up the fur blanket higher and then rested a hand on top of the cape over his chest. "You would've done no less. I daresay you scared away the Lord of Winter and Spruce with your growls, though, my dragon."

"I suppose I'll hear about it later," he sighed. "My little pixie didn't seem to bat an eyelash at it, though."

A soft laugh answered. "You may breath fire, but my dragon won't eat me."

"Never." A kiss brushed over the top of her head.

Once he was asleep, she eased the cape down to feel how much pain he was in still. Tears of agony slammed.

"This is extraordinary," Spruce breathed in amazement as he examined Sleet's hip that afternoon. "The tissue is red and swollen like this is an actual injury. Does it hurt like a new injury?" He gently palpated the back of Sleet's hip, right above the scar, as Sleet laid on his stomach in bed.

Sleet buried his face in the pillow and cursed like a pirate, slapping Spruce's hand away as his back heaved with pants through the pain.

She eased onto the edge of the bed by his leg and set a hand across on the opposite hip to let him know that she'd guard the injury. "How long until it calms down?" She eased the sheet up over his hip again.

Spruce shrugged. "I have no idea. I've never heard of this before. You could probably tell us better, Captain."

His body slowly relaxed and he turned his head on the pillow to face them. "Alamur heal within two weeks usually. We never asked each other how long the pain from a scar activation lasted." He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he eased onto his side. "The only...other time I've had it was a punch to a whip scar, and it took about five days for that to settle."

A sigh blew out from Spruce's lips. "That sounds about right for how long I imagine a real whip injury would cause severe pain, depending on how deep it was. I'd guess you're going to be bedridden for at least three days, if not a week. You'll probably need a walking stick for a few days once you can get out of bed."

Sadness clouded his eyes as he glanced at her.

He was going to be bedridden during the entire honeymoon, if not an additional few days—just in time to go straight back to work.

"I'm sorry," he said and took her gloved hand. "I know I promised I'd take you to the Mainland for a few days—"

She shook her head and raised his hand to her lips, a flash of pain escaping through the brief contact. "I just want you better. We can go to the Mainland for a weekend sometime."

Spruce left.

She got up to make some lunch.

He was silent, and when she glanced up, his eyes followed her. A sheen glistened on his brow again. "I didn't think this through. I should've done what Lord Milori did and built our home before asking you to mate. When the Queen said last night at the club that we could mate, I was so excited and didn't want her to change her mind."

Digging out a basin from his two-cabinet kitchen, she went to the door and scooped up snow. "I'd rather be with you than wait for a home to be built first." Then she picked up a fresh rag, sat in the chair beside the bed, and started to bathe his brow with the melting snow.

"Yet something has you sad." He set a hand on her leg.

Pausing to meet his eyes, she set her hands in her lap and held the rag tight. "Every time it's our turn to be happy, something like this happens. There's always pain or a creature or something in the way."

He gave a gentle squeeze on the thigh. "That's what life is, dewdrop. There will always be something, but I'd rather go through it with you than alone. I know that having an Alamur for a mate doesn't help either, but now we get to figure out the adventures together."

That earned a watery laugh. "You've been spending too much time with Lord Milori. The Sleet I know would grunt and shove flowers in my face."

A smile poked through. "Yes, well, I've learned a bit about the fairer fairy since then. Plus, I'm not so terrified of you anymore."

She cocked her head. "Why were you? I thought it had to do with not wanting a mate and being afraid I'd trap you into it."

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment and his breath hitched. The pain seemed to pass as she wiped him down with ice water. "I was afraid of having a mate because Alamur don't spend time with a female for more than a few minutes before finishing her off. And I was terrified of having you because you're so small and innocent—I was certain I'd accidentally kill you."

"And now you're not?" A smile tugged. Perhaps he was finally beginning to trust himself.

He held her eyes. "Now I realize that loving you makes me want to protect you, not hurt you. The instincts to hurt you during mating didn't come, but it was difficult to not get too rough."

"This frenzy you talk about—it's the instincts to take a female so roughly that she fades?"

A haunted look clouded his face. "Do you remember when I said I loved a Bright Fairy who faded from my sugar?"

It hurt to think of him loving someone else, but she nodded.

He moved the blanket to cover her hand and then held through the other side. "I was young and didn't know it was infatuation, not love. We were kissing, and it was the first time I felt the frenzy. I couldn't think about anything but having her. It makes it impossible to process what someone says—it's like mumbles in the background. I don't know how long she struggled—if it was a few seconds or minutes..." His gaze dropped to her stomach as shame made him pull his hand away. "When I reached for her clothes and stopped kissing, she slapped me and her nail cut my cheek." He pointed to a thin line on his left cheek where the creature's deep talon scars interrupted. "It distracted me enough to register what was happening. But she had already touched my sugar by then."

She frowned. "I thought you said a thistle that ran by and cut you, and that's how she touched your sugar."

He swallowed hard. "I had her in a field after the madness set in, in hopes of something familiar bringing her back to reality. A thistle ran through and cut me." Tears shimmered in his eyes. "She was suffering so much real and imaginary pain that I let my sugar drip onto her wings and make her fade instantly to end her suffering." Then he met her eyes. "I didn't tell you the full story at the time because I was afraid you'd be terrified. I love you too much to be able to force you, but I don't trust myself if we're already making love to not get too vigorous and hurt you. It would be too much to bear to see you fear me, and I never want to harm you."

"But you didn't scare or hurt me when we mated." A blush burned. "I was tired afterwards, but that was all."

He shook his head. "Once was enough to protect your glow. Never again."

He limped over to the stove a few mornings later with a walking cane. Pain made his wings beat too erratically to fly yet. Spruce struggled to find pain medications that Sleet wasn't allergic to, so that left it to her to help him. Kissing seemed to help distract him from the pain—when he wouldn't try to break it off in fear of the frenzy coming.

His wings twitched trying to fly in a reaction to the pain. He stopped and leaned a hand on the edge of the stove for a moment, as if exhausted from fighting his body every moment the past few days.

"Wait, you need your wings tied down." She got out of bed and pulled on a green robe she'd bought for him while out looking for a walking cane. Gathering up the extra hem of the robe to not trip, she picked up the spider silk rope that Spruce had left.

A smile tugged one corner of his mouth as she approached.

"What?"

"You're practically swimming in that—you look adorable." His finger gave a tug on the sash as she leaned in to wrap the spider silk around his waist. The robe fell open and exposed her bare body. "Oops."

Despite a blush rising, she laughed and continued tying his wings down. "That was by no means an 'oops.' I'm beginning to suspect that you're letting the fire go out at night so then you can use keeping me warm as an excuse to not wear clothes to bed. And don't think I haven't noticed that the past two days you've left bed early without your silk—you're doing it on purpose so I have to come put it on and you can 'oops' the robe." She tied the knot.

A naughty smile answered. "I never said you have to put on my robe. You enjoy 'oops' as much as I do." His hands slid inside to cup her hips. "Mmm, your skin is like buttermilk. Neverland, you have amazing curves." He let his hands wander.

But a giggle answered. "Behave..." The word melted as she sagged against him from the magic he wove. "Sleet, you said no more...mating," she breathed, and her head fell back as he leaned down and kissed her neck.

"There are plenty of ways to make love to my beautiful dewdrop without outright mating," he whispered in her ear and gave a tiny nip on the earlobe. His arm wrapped around to hold her tight against his body. The cane clattered to the floor as his other hand roamed.

"Sleet," she sighed and held onto his biceps, "It's daylight."

He swiped papers off the table and laid her down. "I know, princess." Then he opened the robe and sprinkled kisses over her body.

Sitting to his left at the table for lunch, she glanced over. He ate as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened on this table less than an hour ago. A hard flush burned her cheeks, and she ate a spoonful of soup. Another glance over. Since the pain had become more bearable for him in the past two days, he'd been able to touch without transferring pain. And he was not shy in the least about touching her whenever the mood struck. The blush grew hotter.

He leaned in and draped his arm over the back of her chair. "I daresay you're thinking of things other than food, my dewdrop," he purred, his voice deep and deliciously rough.

Pulling her hands into her lap in embarrassment, she gave a sideways glance. This insatiable need for him wasn't something that other newly mated fairies talked about. Maybe he had an unusual affect on her because he wasn't a Bright Fairy, or maybe there was something odd about her.

His finger stroked down her cheek, sending odd sensations that made her squirm with restlessness. Her toes curled and heart beat faster as she bit her lip and met his eyes.

"You need more kissing," he breathed.

It was too much. The chair topped back as she shot up and climbed into his lap. Cupping his scruffy cheeks in her hands felt so right as his chest vibrated against her in a beautiful chuckle. Her lips crushed against his, demanding and needing. "I think there's...something wrong with me," she breathed between kisses and tugging his tunic over his head.

"What's wrong, my love?" His tongue teased hers, making the restlessness build.

"I think I caught the frenzy," she panted and broke the kiss long enough to toss aside her dress.

He smiled and started to speak, but she captured his mouth again in a kiss. "Dewdrop, you can't catch it."

She pulled at his remaining clothes almost frantically. "I need you all the time. I can't think of anything else. I can't stand it."

But he caught her hands and met her eyes, a frown marring his brow. "Was it there after we mated?"

Shaking her head, she pressed a kiss to his lips again. "It went away after we started to make love again the morning you got hurt."

The kiss wasn't returned. He held her upper arms and eased her back. "Because Bright Fairies are meant to be physically intimate," he said to himself. Then he met her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that trying to be intimate in other ways would do this."

She frowned. "Do what?" When she leaned forward to kiss again, he turned his head away.

"Start up your instincts to make love so often." He eased her off and stood.

Utterly confused and embarrassed, she held up the dress to cover herself. "Did I do something wrong?" He didn't want her, and it made no sense why.

"No, dewdrop. I did." Then he swiped his tunic from the floor and limped out the door with his cane.

"Yes, to start physical intimacy with your mate after mating means instincts take over to finish making love." Spruce said at the hospital and flipped open another medical chart in his office.

"Is there a way to make it go away without making love again?"

Spruce looked up and frowned. "Because you think you're going to murder her during it?"

"Mating to bind our glows was what I promised. I'm not risking her life again."

But Spruce shook his head. "Bright Fairies are meant to express love, including physically. To not activate her instincts...you can't do more than hug, hold hands, or kiss on the cheek. But I have to warn you that she is going to try to initiate things the longer it goes on. And the longer she's rejected, the more she's going to feel hurt and isolated."

"We kissed while courting and that was enough. How do I make her instincts settle down again?"

He shook his head. "You also weren't mated while courting. I daresay telling her 'no' and then walking out to come see me doused her with embarrassment well enough for now. I don't advise this."

"But it won't hurt her to not make love again?"

"Physically? No. But it will damage the emotional bond."

"I'll find other things to do to keep her happy."

"Oh, by the way, how is your pain with the dandelion pollen?"

He shrugged. "It's not doing anything, but it does seem to be preventing the pain from transferring to her. Is that something that can be taken daily, long-term?"

Spruce sank back in his chair and sighed. "Does she know this?"

"If she knew, she'd be upset about it."

"Captain, you need to tell her. After that, I'll answer your question of if it's harmful long-term."

With a look, he reached for the door. "I take that as a no, it's safe."

Spruce stood and set a hand against the door to prevent leaving. "She's your mate. You need to talk to her about these things. I understand that you want to give her a relationship like Bright Fairy mates have, but there are things here and there that will need tweaks because you aren't a Bright Fairy. She loves you so much that she isn't going to care. Don't keep these things a secret. Secrets eat away at a relationship without you even knowing until one day everything unravels and falls apart. Of course she isn't going to be happy to know that you're hiding pain, but maybe a compromise—like you take the dandelions only when you're injured and have so much pain that it could harm her if transferred. Maybe be intimate just a couple times a year when you're feeling really in control of yourself. Don't do what I think you're about to do."

"What's that?" he growled.

Spruce searched his eye. "Secretly take the dandelions every day the rest of your life without her knowing, and never even kiss her again but not explain why. It's going to breed heartache because she won't understand. You are hating yourself so much right now that you don't even see that she's the one who is going to pay for it."

Anger rose and he hissed, "She pays for it every day having an Alamur for a mate." He brushed Spruce aside and limped out.

Sleet returned home almost two hours later without any explanation. He didn't watch with that hungry look in his eye. He didn't take her in his arms and kiss. He didn't even brush a hand over hers. He barely even glanced at her all day and spoke even less.

Finally working through the embarrassment and shame enough by dinnertime, she pulled on her cape and slowly walked over to where he was working right outside the cabin.

A strange smell stung her nostrils as she approached from behind.

"Sleet? Did I do something wrong to make you mad at me?"

"No," he grunted and swung a bloody, hook-knife down.

A horrified gasp escaped as a dead, skinned rabbit came into view.

He glanced over his shoulder quickly and stood, blocking the view but turning to reveal blood splattered over his clothes and bathing his hands. "Get back inside. There's a blizzard coming, and we need another blanket."

Of course it was obvious and he'd said before where the furs came from, but to see it was more horrifying than expected. She stumbled back a step.

His eyes hardened and his eyebrows rose. "You mated an Alamur, didn't you?"

There was something bitter and angry in those words. The Sleet she knew would've been patient and kind, walking her beyond the shock of seeing something more gory than a Bright Fairy was meant to witness. But he simply seemed pleased when his glow flickered brighter in response to her fright over the violence of it. There was something slightly frightening about seeing his hands bloodied and holding a knife, almost like a glimpse of the life he used to lead.

Her eyes rose to his, her breathing still a bit too fast as she clutched the cape shut tighter. "Was it dead?" No injuries were visible.

A smirk touched his mouth. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Nausea swam up and so did true fear—not that he'd hurt her but that he had murdered an animal.

"It saw a wolf and died from a heart attack," he stated when his glow brightened considerably. "I took it from the wolf."

Swallowing hard, she nodded. "Why do you want me to be afraid of you?"

For a split instant, regret flickered through his eyes. And then the hardened expression returned. He pulled a rag from his belt and slowly wiped the blade clean. "It would take much more than this to make you afraid of me." He seemed to relish this. "You Bright Fairies think that mating means a happily ever after." He finally looked from the knife to meet her eyes. "You mated an Alamur, Silvermist. A happily ever after doesn't exist."

Author's Note: I couldn't resist commenting at the end here. Some of you probably hate Sleet right now and are confused by his 180 in his attitude toward her. That's intentional because we're seeing it play out from Silvermist's POV right now.

Spruce's speech gave a lot of foreshadowing. :)

It's very subtle, but Sleet was surprised by Silvermist showing up while he was making the blanket. He blocked her view, too late. As he sees her horror at what he's doing, his self-loathing comes out in the form of playing on her horror—perhaps as a way to build a barrier against her wanting physical intimacy. Perhaps Spruce's words are in his head that rejecting her would hurt their relationship, but if she chose to keep a distance... I love writing the psychology in characters' relationships. :)