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Category: Fantasy
Description: Forcing a sylph to pay child support is always a tricky business.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, 1996 Marion Zimmer Bradley's Fantasy Magazine
Fictionwise Release Date: October 2002

38 Reader Ratings:

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Words: 6058
Reading time: 17-24 min.

Thelan fell through the warm evening air. He could feel the earth below waiting for him to hit, but he swooped upward long before he came close to touching the ground. He skimmed the treetops, arms stretched straight out from his sides, chest just brushing the highest leaves, laughing at the sheer feeling of freedom.

Then he sensed the woman on the path below.

He felt the summer breezes swirling gently around her body like a second skin, rippling her dress, stirring her sweet-smelling hair. He grinned an exuberant grin and dove straight down.

This was, after all, why he had chosen to be male.

Wind rushed past his ears and air swirled about him as he landed on the path behind her, though only the sharpest observer would have noticed his feet didn't actually touch the ground--they remained the tiniest fraction of a thumblength above it. Thelan moved his legs back and forth and "strode" forward without a sound, but before he got three steps, the woman spun to face him.

"Who's there?" she demanded.

Thelan, startled, tensed to flee back to the summer skies, but then he paused. Something about her scent drew him, something he couldn't quite identify. He decided to stay.

"Hello," he said.

The woman drew back. "Who are you?" Her voice was deep and powerful. It also sounded vaguely familiar. But that was impossible. He was never drawn to the same person twice, and this woman's heady scent pulled at him. Strongly. He let his voice go soft and husky, the register that always attracted females.

"My name is Thelan." He stepped forward into a pool of moonlight, fully aware of the way it would show his strong, even features, raven-black hair, and well-developed body.

The woman shifted her basket and a variety of smells tinged the air--sharp rosemary, pungent sage, earthy mandrake. She was apparently gathering herbs by moonlight. This particular facet of the situation also seemed vaguely familiar, though Thelan couldn't think why.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, a little less belligerence in her voice.

Thelan put an easy grin on his face. "Is this private land?" He stepped forward. "I'll leave, if it is."

"I--"

"You're very beautiful," he said, taking another step forward. "What's your name?"

"Where did you come from?" she asked. Thelan didn't fail to note the breathlessness in her voice. "I didn't hear--"

"Does it matter?" Thelan glided close enough to put a hand on the smooth warmth of her bare shoulder. She trembled at his touch but didn't pull away. An intoxicating scent rose from her skin. "Does it matter at all?"

The woman looked up at him for a moment, eyes glassy and vacant, then stepped into his arms. Thelan embraced her with a sigh and ran his hands through thick, glossy hair that smelled of sweet herbs and wood smoke. Desire surged almost uncontrollably, making him shudder, but he forced himself to go slow, to prolong the pleasure. His hands moved lower, but she abruptly took the initiative and brought his arms around so she could kiss his palms. Thelan closed his eyes, enjoying the play of her soft lips on his hands--

--and screamed as something cold and burning clamped around his wrist. His feet slammed into the ground. Jolted, Thelan lost his balance and fell to the hard, dusty earth.

The woman poked him with a foot. "Get up," she growled.