Luc waited for the young one to make demands of him in exchange for his freedom. His lands, title by marriage, or even a pledge of servitude for the remainder of his sentence were all within bounds. She simply had to wish it. He examined her critically, not entirely opposed to the idea of a contracted relationship. Wood sprites and dryads were usually more graceful than this one, but he had cheated with a tripping spell. He saw her gaze linger on the exposed skin of his chest, felt the pressure of her wild magic heating the air between them with desire. He wanted more.

His thoughts reached a conclusion at last, and the coldness vanished from his face. "I am Prince Luc Laurentius, of the Undines. I owe you my thanks for breaking this prison." He smiled briefly, revealing perfectly white and pointed teeth that seemed normal on him, blending into the over all wildness of his bearing. He crouched next to her with a glint of deviltry in his eyes. "I can think of a lovely way to...show my gratitude, my dear forest child." He purred.

Amy's eyes widened when she realized he thought she, too, was a magical creature. She just barely kept from blushing when her eyes strayed to the emphatic promise now perfectly framed in the apex of his solid thighs. The fitted breeches pulled uncomfortably tight over certain areas. Certain large areas, she corrected. The view tempted her to take the offer as it was, payment for service between two equals; a carefree good time with an indecently sexy man who sent her senses wild with longing to get closer, as if the only air worth breathing was perfumed by his skin. Her fear was not entirely gone, because he had not said if he was affiliated with the light or dark court of the fae. He didn't look dark; no puddle of stagnant water by his feet or red, blood dyed scarf on his head, so she relaxed.

Didn't she deserve a hot, personal fairy tale once in her life to make up for being pawed by a skinny, bad breathed asthmatic in a back room at the Serenity Healing Retreat? She most certainly did, and Luc clearly agreed because his gloved hands were sliding up her bare arms. His strong fingers parted the hair draped over her breasts and pushed the offending locks behind her shoulders.

"What is your name?" Luc had the best bedroom voice, she decided. The hint of French accent and a heavy helping of sin deserved a large, brass, bedroom voice trophy. She almost forgot to answer.

"Amaryllis." She blurted out her fairy name without thinking, then blushed high on her cheeks. Only her best friends knew her as Amaryllis, the masked flower fairy that liked to trade yarn bracelets for jokes and secrets at the Oregon fairy festival each year. He touched a finger to her lips.

"I've been waiting too long, Amaryllis." He murmured, moving his lips against the pulse of her throat. "So if you don't mind, we can get to know each other after...we get to know each other." Amy felt his voice surround her in soothing heat as though she plunged into a hot spring. She felt his silken lips rain kisses on her neck. She gasped when his pointed teeth nipped at her ear, expertly driving her heartbeat higher.

Luc shrugged off his vest to allow her hands free access to his body. She pulled his shirt and unbuttoned the entire front, so the light silk hung like icing from his shoulders, ready to melt off at the slightest breeze. Her hands pulsed with energy that sparked into his back, when he kissed her collarbones or ran his tongue thoroughly over the pink skin around her nipples. Her body surrendered in every way to his touch, flowing toward him and begging for more. He took the taught nub into his mouth and sucked when she arched her back. Her soft gasps and cries of pleasure filled his amazed ears as he pulled deeply on one, teasing the other to life with his hand.

"So responsive, my pet. So noisy. I hope you scream when I take you." He smirked, and stroked one hand across her short curls, deftly parting the moist folds to allow his first contact with the root of her delicious magic. Such a pity that he had to keep the gloves, as well as some other magical protections, on for this encounter. He wanted to taste her, drink in her richness and her power, then plunge into her invitingly tight depths, but there was a little chore he needed to perform first. It would never do if the entire Underground heard of him fucking a dryad before he paralyzed her second set of teeth.

Luc pushed her back until she lay flat on the mossy ground, where he had long since placed spells to make that ground as comfortable as a feather bed. He propped his head on one hand in the grass beside her, then trailed his other hand back down her lean body. She panted and writhed when he dipped two fingers inside her, slowly probing every fraction of her feminine flesh.

She didn't understand the puzzled look on his face when he muttered, "Not a dryad, then, are we?" Before casually curling his fingers to manipulate the most sensitive, previously undiscovered spot on her body. He smirked.

"No!" She exclaimed, bucking her hips into his palm. "Not a dryad. Oh, Goddess, don't stop."

"As you wish, mon petite fleur." He rolled forward, trapping his hand between their bodies, and kissed her. Everything about Luc was timeless and unhurried, especially his kisses. His lips moved on hers as soft as a whisper one moment and deepened into breath stealing, moaning heat. He kissed like a boy kisses his virgin love, as if the only goal of lovemaking was the kiss, even while his thumb stroked circles around her aching hood. She came apart beneath him, her entire body betrayed her impatient mortal libido. A wave of power poured into his waiting hand, as sweet as cotton candy and just as dizzying.

She sighed in frustration when he ended the kiss, pulling her back up onto her knees, the shock of cool forest air replacing the sweet burn of his body on hers. Her fingers rubbed the velvet fairy skin of his shoulders and brushed the shirt down his arms so it joined his vest and boots in the grass. "Don't go, please," Amy begged.

"I'm not leaving the game, chérie, just moving the pieces." He laughed. It was a sound that defined happiness itself. Light, simple, in the moment joy that caused her heart an ache of jealousy because she had never been that happy. He didn't even care that his gloves were ruined. He positioned himself behind her. Amy heard fabric rustle before he pressed his completely naked body against hers. She stiffened at the shear size of him prodding the curve of her buttocks. He splayed one still protected hand low on her belly, caressing the hairs at the top of her mound, and nipped her ear. "Now bend over and try to relax. You are as shy as the morning glory."

Just the tone of his voice caused her body to melt and slump forward. Luc's dark purr promised much compensation for following his instructions, so her body complied without consulting her brain. Besides, this position gave her hands something to grip when he spread her knees and guided his solid length into her. His hands fit perfectly into the dips and dimples of her hip bones, guiding the constant motion of in and out, thrust and pull. She felt the subtle difference that meant he had sheathed his erection as well as his hands, and she wondered if all her future lovers would be required to wear gloves in order to make her aroused. As if any lover could compare to Luc. As if she could ever, for the rest of her life, allow the touch of another man on her skin. He thrust tirelessly, shockingly deep, branding the feel of him into her until she screamed in release.

Some words have so many meanings it is impossible to know them all. Happiness. She felt happiness when the vending machine gave her the correct flavor of iced tea. Joy. Lust. Pleasure. She felt her definition of several words change completely when Luc came.

Too soon, Luc patted her bottom affectionately and pulled out of her. He rose easily to his feet, ice chip eyes melted into lively rain forest pools, all sparkling blue. He stretched up, as far as most men she'd ever met and then some, tall enough to bend her head back just to see the lazy wave of one hand above his hair. Luc was dressed before his arms came down. Clothes perfectly wrinkle free and hair styled in what Amy thought of as hot mess fae, he raised one goldenrod eyebrow at her. "I must say, if all humans are as fun as you, it was worth the wait." Luc winked and disappeared.

Amy laughed. Her laugh almost sounded as happy and perfect as Luc's magnificent eyes. For the first time in years, she felt healthy and alive and glad to be so. Amy dressed to leave the meadow, eager to see the pictures on a larger screen. She wasn't sure if Luc would show up on film, but if he did, she just shot herself the souvenir of a lifetime.

***

Luc frowned at the meadow. He should not be here. He should have transported back to his own modest palace under the waves, ordering a bath prepared by his animated statue servants and sipping bitter chocolate, getting pleasantly drunk. Instead of moving, he had simply become invisible to the girl. She left in a hurry after donning the strangest outfit he'd ever seen on a human woman. The tight blue fabric hugged her body from ankle to hip, and she wore a soft green camisole top. He grew heavy with wanting her once again, impossibly still interested in the little dimples revealed as she walked away.

He'd already taken enough magic from the little witch to get sent back to prison for a solid decade if any of the Light Court discovered his indiscretion, but he clearly needed more. Dark Court would laugh if they knew his reasons for not killing her outright and taking all she had to give, torturing her fragile body until it spouted magic like a hydrothermal vent spouted heat onto the sea floor. Luc felt balanced between the two, neither Light nor Dark, not wanting to push his loyalty further in either direction than he absolutely had to. Killing the girl in cold blood would make enough changes in his heart to commit him to the Dark, a place Luc wasn't sure he wanted to go.

Something was blocking his ability to recover energy from the power sources at his home. Try as he might, he found it impossible to connect to the energy locked away Underhill. He wondered how many times he would be forced to take her before her energy completely restored his internal magic. Five weeks at least, taking it slowly so as not to damage his fleur permanently. There were worse ways to spend time. He grinned and stepped over the circle edge at last, following his little sprite down the trail to her dwelling place.