At Rio's house, Eric opened the truck door for her and held out his hand to shepherd her out. She made a little hop to the curb, lifting her head to inhale the night. He saw the moonlight on her skin, turning her to silver. He shivered at that—was it some sort of omen? Vampires could be badly hurt by silver—and held onto her warm hand to reassure himself; to banish the thought entirely, he pulled her into his arms, locking his mouth to hers. She kissed him back with fervor, and his hands started urging her toward the porch.

Rio was looking at him, her sensual smile anticipating what was to come, when she gasped, stumbling. Eric caught her before she could fall, looking at her with alarm. Her eyes were flat solid black, her face stark white, almost blue in the light from the moon. As he watched, amazed, her lips curled back from her teeth and she began snarling; she snapped at him viciously, and he almost dropped her. Not knowing what was happening, he swept her up in his arms, charging to the porch—the door swung open for him and he raced in the house. He laid her on the big chair inside the living room and stepped back, not knowing what to do.

Rio was making a deep gurgling in her throat; saliva bubbled on her lips, and her body jerked in the chair—could fairies have epilepsy?

As fast as it had started, she grunted and opened her eyes to him—they were the electric green of a jaguar's and filled with wildness. As quickly as that powerful cat leaping to prey, she jumped from the chair, throwing her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, almost tumbling him over.

Her mouth was on his, biting. Her fingers clawed the back of his neck and yanked his hair. She was pressed tightly to him, rubbing herself up and down his chest on the strength of her arms. As her tongue assaulted his mouth, she growled like a cat fighting another for food. Her scrabbling hands tore at his shirt; when it did not immediately yield, she swung her head, lashing him in the face with her hair with such force it stung. He growled his own response, tossing her down in the chair and ripping open his jeans.

With the muscular speed of the jaguar she embodied, Rio was on her feet in the chair, bending over the back. Eric pounced on the cushion on his knees, flipping up her skirt and pulling her down on him with force. She roared when he impaled her, whipping him again with her hair. He thought he felt her draw blood, and he rose up on his knees, bending her over the back of the chair and pounding into her. She slammed back with force to meet his strokes and they flew from the chair, crashing to the floor. Now Rio was sitting astride him, pumping up and down as he grasped her hips. He felt her hand wrestle inside his jeans where they still bound his thighs, pushing aggressively past his balls, making him jerk, and wiggling at his opening.

Before he could form a thought, her fingers pushed inside him and he groaned. Her fingers curled with certainty to rub his singular spot, and he shouted her name. She slammed her hips down on him, grinding her nub on his pubic bone, and hitting his spot again; she screamed her climax as he shot into her.

For a long moment, they were frozen, locked together. Then Rio collapsed over and off, slumping to the floor. Eric scrambled from under her, spinning around to push her hair from her face. As he stared at her with concern, she opened her eyes to his. They were teal green, almost turquoise, and iridescent like a peacock feather. She smiled, then winced. She looked around the room, and he could see the moment she came back into herself. Then her eyes dilated in fear and she grasped his arms.

"What is it, Rio," Eric pulled her to him. She buried her face in his chest and whispered, "It's Al."

With a heave and a shove, Eric raised her into the couch, then pulled his jeans up his hips so he could maneuver up next to her. He took her in his arms and she burrowed into him. Once he had her tightly in his embrace, he said, "Al?"

She nodded against him, speaking into his chest. "I… saw him… through my eyes… like I was…" her voice sobbed, brokenly. "…like I was… eating him."

Eric felt more intrigued than revolted, but sensed now was not the time to express that. He waited in silence.

Rio lifted her face, her eyes swimming in tears. "I was a big… a coyote, maybe. I was tearing off his skin…" she retched at that.

"Was it real?"

Even in her misery, Rio gave him an "are you kidding me?" look. "I am a fairy, Northman," she snapped.

"Part fairy, Rio," he retorted.

Rio's anger took over her distress, and she said, "I am mostly fairy. And I am powerful, part fairy or not."

Eric made a contrite face, saying, "So I have seen," and her misery swept back to overwhelm her. "I must have been reading him; he must have still been alive."

Then he asked, "Should we search for him? Could you see where he is?"

"No. The 'signal' was very weak."

"Are you sure it was him, not the coyote?"

Rio shook her head against him. "It could have been. I suppose. I felt… completely wild… I wasn't myself."

Eric smiled and raised her hand to the lash marks left by her hair. "I noticed."

"Oh Northman," she said, kissing his welts. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I, um… enjoyed every second."

Rio tried to smile. Then she asked, "You said you had to tell Sandy Al was missing—what did she say?"

"She was not concerned"—Rio snorted at that—" nor should she be. Sandy doesn't care for humans, except for how they can help her reach her goals in service to the King. She is a zealous worker." Rio let that one slide. Returning to the subject at hand, Eric said, "Did you get a sense of what you saw being in real time? Or was it a premonition of some kind?"

Rio frowned at that. "It felt very real. But…" She sighed heavily. "I just don't know. Why do you ask?"

Eric pondered for a moment. "It doesn't make sense to me that Al would be in any danger. I know he hasn't shown up like you expected, but I am more worried about you. In my enthusiasm to do a good job, I have put you in danger. Could your… vision have been about something attacking you?"

"I don't think…" Rio started, then she stopped, her brow contracting. A dawning thought moved her eyebrows up in surprise. "It could be… maybe it's Niall…"

Eric's own brows shot up. "Niall?"

"Mm," Rio said almost to herself. "He hasn't been able to find me, because I haven't been having sex." And here she smiled slyly: "I guess you changed all that, Northman."

"He is searching for you," Eric mused. Then he looked at Rio, hard. "I take this to mean he was not completely in accord with your leaving?"

Rio hedged. "Not entirely, no."

"He can track you through your lovemaking?"

"Well… yes. In a way."

"So by my making love to you, he will be able to find you." Eric was not asking her; he wasn't even looking at her. Something that had been in the back of his mind since the first time he saw her burst forward. "You chose me. Even though you didn't want to be found—yet you knew he could find you—you chose me. Why?"

"I recognized you," Rio said in that maddeningly elliptical way of hers. Eric made a scoffing sound, and she held up a hand for his patience. "I told you I knew you were coming. I'm not sure how else to explain it; part of me was known to part of you."

"And he wants you back why?"

Rio dissembled, "It's complicated, Northman."

"Rio," Eric said emphatically, "I think it is time to tell me about you."