Lyssa made a pleasurable noise as Raphael put his fingers inside her tight rear entrance. When he seated her more deeply on Jacob, he was pushing her down further on his fingers as wel , preparing her.

  “Relax and surrender to males who love you, sweet queen. It’s not a matter of giving up, giving in to your exhaustion. It’s a matter of letting it go. Let it al go. Experience this moment, every moment, in its shining clarity. Let the healing power of it inside of you.”

  He arched her back then, those soft, mesmerizing words replaced by something more urgent as Jacob bent and captured her breast in his mouth. Raphael nipped her throat, his hair brushing over Jacob’s head.

  She let out a smal cry as Raphael replaced his fingers with himself, and began to enter her, sharing the limited space the two channels had, one of them already occupied by Jacob. Her fingers bit into Jacob’s shoulder and he increased the suckling at her nipples, even as he adjusted himself inside of her, ready to stroke when Raphael was positioned.

  Now they weren’t alone in the water. The sirens and the angels had gravitated toward them, the various groupings swimming, kissing, twined around one another.

  “Do not worry. I can neutralize the effect of the sirens on you, Jacob.” Raphael lifted his head to give him that one reassurance, those dark eyes flickering. It was timely, because one siren brushed Jacob’s back, then slid beneath the water. He made a noise in his throat, his mouth stil on his lady as the siren’s hands spread his legs so she could suck one of his testicles into the teasing heat of her mouth.

  Her fingers played between his buttocks, a brief tempting stimulation before she emerged and turned herself against his back, her generous buttocks braced on the upper rise of his as an angel apparently lifted and reentered her, using Jacob’s anchored stance as a brace.

  It pushed him farther into Lyssa, and of course Raphael responded in kind. Another angel had done the same with his siren, bracing her against Raphael, so now the angel turned his head to kiss that female as wel , taking advantage of her lips as his hands stroked down Lyssa’s arms, gripped her slender biceps, and he rocked forward into her.

  Lyssa cried out, and Jacob stared into her eyes as he pushed in from the other direction, taking her up high, not quite letting her go over the edge, just building her with al the heated stimulation around them, knowing she needed it to go on as long as possible. The brush of feathers against their skin, the vivid reality of flesh meeting flesh in urgent need . . .

  Soft singing was going on somewhere on the bank, that ethereal beauty of the siren’s song that he could now hear with a clear mind. It was yearning, desire, the ultimate search for ecstasy and peace at once.

  He and Raphael could give her that, leaving her no fear or uncertainty, only pleasure. She’d learned a long time ago that ful control wasn’t always possible.

  But lack of control didn’t mean loss of control. It was that which had plagued her since her transition, and the situation with Arrdol had underscored it. Tonight, though, only pleasure was ruling her.

  Lyssa raked her nails down Jacob’s chest as the sensation built. The siren was undulating hard against his back, responding enthusiastical y to what the angel was doing to her, which felt like a great deal of powerful thrusting.

  It was spiritual, visceral, primal, everything. She was lost in it, spinning almost like she’d been during the dance. Raphael’s gaze was on her face, those solid black eyes like gemstones as he tipped her head back. “There is nothing to fear,” he said.

  “You’ve always known that. Endings always come back to beginnings, and you wil always find the one you need there.”

  The siren and angel behind Jacob shifted away, so now he pul ed out of her and dropped under the waterline. Clasping her white thighs, he found the treasure of her heat once again. She was convulsing on the emptiness as if his cock was stil there, but he could feel the reverberation of Raphael stroking into her ass as Jacob suckled her clit in his mouth, made it more prominent, her thighs trembling under his hands.

  She thrashed, but in pleasure, and he held on, using his strength to take her even higher. He could tel Raphael was doing the same, holding her biceps so that they were essential y restraining her, but not in a way that reminded her of Arrdol or Carnal, the source of her dark nightmares. In her mind he saw she was immersed in the pleasure they were giving her. She’d discarded those fears and reached out to embrace that magnificent wel of inner strength he’d never known to fail her. No fear would rule her pleasure, her happiness. Her savoring of every moment. Not his Mistress.

  He teased her clit, plunged his tongue inside of her, until he knew she was hovering on that edge, then he pul ed out and sank his fangs into her thigh, tasting the rich femoral blood. It nearly pushed her over, only the pain balancing her on that precipice.

  On such a magical night, in a world where the exercise of magic was celebrated, it shouldn’t have surprised him that along with unleashing her desire, loosening her hold on her fears, she also let her own special talents out to play. When he broke the surface of the water, he felt the power emanating from her, saw it sparking along her white skin. The

  lotus blossoms and water lilies now had company.

  Roses as large as his lady’s hand had appeared on empty pads or joined the water lilies, making clusters of two to three blooms, in deep pinks, traditional rose, and al shades in between. He saw Raphael smile as his lady’s magic expanded into a shower of rose petals, fluttering through the air like a gentle rain. They caught in the angel’s wings and landed in the water, becoming spinning smal boats for the delighted firefly Fae. More roses were climbing the banks as wel , twining along the wil ow trunks, the air fil ing with their fragrance.

  Jacob slid back into her again, moving in close so he and Raphael could synchronize their movements.

  She kissed Jacob, her mouth eager and hot, and he clasped her skul , tangling his fingers in her hair. He thrust back into her hard, into that tight channel made even more constricted by Raphael’s presence. She moaned at the sensation, her legs locking hard on his hips.

  “Come for us now, my lady. Share your magic with us.”

  Her jade eyes opened to stare into his, the pupil expanding to take over the green as he and Raphael stroked her, a relentless rhythm, no pause in the sensation and arousal. Raphael had spread his wings again, so that he provided an additional force and source of control to create an excruciating rhythm for them al . Even as that climax began to grip them, Jacob both despaired and delighted at that Mistress glint in her eyes.

  Not . . . until . . . I . . . go.

  He shook his head, acknowledging her. He always obeyed such a command, but fuck, the tightening of her muscles on him, on them both, made it difficult.

  Then Raphael pushed the issue by releasing, giving her that searing explosion of sensation along al the sensitive nerve endings in her rectum. She clamped down on Jacob like a vise, rubbing slick muscle against him, pumping hard, fast. The smel of roses grew stronger, and the blooms pressed against his body.

  She gave a long, fierce, triumphant cry, like a warrior queen throwing out a chal enge as she embraced the pleasure, let go of the fear, of whatever might have plagued her. She defied it and ful y embraced that magical energy to find renewal in his arms. The arms of her soul mate, her beloved.

  They were fragments of feelings, so strong they became disjointed thoughts, but he caught each one as treasure. When her eyes met his, her lips trembling on the consent, he gave her his seed, releasing hard and strong. He held nothing back as wel , both of them trusting an angel’s wings to keep them steady and on course as the wildness took them.

  When they al slowly came down, Lyssa rested her head on Jacob’s shoulder, making a quiet murmur as Raphael withdrew from her. He wrapped a wing around them, gave both a kiss, though Lyssa noticed he kissed Jacob on the forehead while he tipped up her chin for a lingering, memorable kiss on the lips.

  Breaking the contact, the angel gave Jacob a broad wink and Lyssa a smile before he retreated.

  The other angels were preparing to leave, their pleasure sated as wel . When Raphael moved in that direction, he bestowed similarly appreciative kisses on the several sirens who stopped him for that purpose. He was an obvious favorite with them.

  Generously, he didn’t cut short a single embrace, and was lavish with his skil ed caresses.

  Though it amused Lyssa, she sensed the sirens were drawn to the same thing that had led her and Jacob to trust him for the remarkable interlude.

  There was a healing power not only in his touch, but his very presence. The flashes of gentle humor in his expression didn’t make light of the world. Instead they conveyed he knew how very terrible the world could be. The weapons they picked up off the bank looked entirely too wel used, including the spear and sword he hefted for himself. A spear that could return like a boomerang . . .

  Watching him, she realized that, for Raphael, there were no significant wal s between Fae, vampire or humans. This being was top of the food chain, but he accepted al life as precious and natural. Feeling that emanation as he joined them in shared sensual pleasure offered the hope that other powerful beings, such as Fae and vampire, could reach the same point.

  Despite the darkness of the world surely an angel would know, he’d obviously preserved a wel of joy in himself. Tonight he’d shared a glimpse of that with Lyssa, giving her a sense of perspective she’d been lacking. Jacob bent, kissed her hand, holding it in wet fingers, giving her the warmth of his mouth and his feelings, responding to hers.

  Raphael donned his kilt when they drew closer to the bank, and now he sketched a bow in their direction. “Thank you, my lady.” He nodded at al the roses. While the gnomes were carting some off in their wheelbarrows, the sirens were gathering them up, putting them in their hair. The firefly Fae spun with the petals, holding them over their heads like umbrel a coverings. “For what you have given us tonight, I would grant you a favor of your choosing.” At his words, the other angels turned. The not-so-dormant power that pulsed around them was unnerving, a reminder that they saw the world from an entirely different view—the heavens.

  “You are the one who gave me a gift tonight, my lord.” Despite being naked, Lyssa knelt in the shal ows. It was the first time Jacob had ever seen her do that, but she did it with grace and obvious reverence. “It is more than enough,” she added.

  “It was an equal exchange. No argument. Give me the wish of your heart.”

  She looked at Jacob, and he tightened his hand on hers, in perfect accord. In fact, Jacob was sure Raphael anticipated them, because his gaze had softened in approval before she spoke.

  “Kane,” she said. “No matter what happens to us, please protect him. Watch over him.”

  Raphael glanced at the assembled males behind him, arrayed in a variety of lethal weaponry. He met the gaze of the angel who seemed to be at the front of the phalanx. Serious dark eyes flickered, his chin dipping in a slight nod. “Done,” Raphael said. “We wil protect your child, Lady Lyssa. Have no fear of that.”

  Then, with one more of those smiles that seemed capable of making the worst nightmares into a distant memory, he was aloft, the others joining him.

  As they winged up high and fast into the sky, the sirens lifted their hands in farewel . They laughed as an angel with brown feathers swooped down to steal one last kiss, a lingering touch. As he rejoined the group, there was a flash of blue sparks, and they were gone.

  Once they were dry, Jacob and Lyssa donned their clothes and left the lagoon. They strol ed hand in hand, quiet in one another’s minds. After a time, Lyssa moved in closer, slid her arms around Jacob’s waist. He wrapped his around her shoulders, holding her as they walked that way, viewing the various wondrous magical sights that crossed their path during the long night. It was Lyssa who final y sensed that dawn would be approaching soon, turning their feet back to the castle.

  Wel before they emerged from the forest, they heard the drumbeat. A primal melody, reverberating through the ground. The many celebratory circles in the forest were gone, the smel of extinguished bonfires lingering. As they came out of the forest, they saw a great gathering covering the slopes leading up to Caislean Uisce and Caislean Talamh.

  “This must be Ending Ritual,” Lyssa murmured. “I didn’t think to ask, because I thought it was what happened at the cemetery. But with dawn approaching, this makes more sense.”

  Jacob nodded. They moved along the outskirts of the gathered assembly to find a better view of what was happening in that val ey between the two castles. When they reached a copse of trees, Jacob helped her up into the crook of one and then leaned against it beside her, his greater height giving him the same view.

  In the center of an open circle, a large stone tablet had been erected. Thirteen cloaked Fae, six men and seven women, were grouped around it. They were hooded, their faces hidden, though Lyssa saw pale hands gesturing in graceful cohesion as they chanted along with the drums. The drums and distance would have muted the sound, except the front rows of watching Fae had picked up the chant and it was sweeping through the ful crowd, the volume of voices and drumbeats growing. The power of it moved through the tree, vibrating in her chest. While she picked up pieces of the language, it was not enough to give the sense of the ritual.

  However, what was occurring in the center of the circle did.

  Rhoswen was stretched naked upon the tablet, her hands bound in sashes of autumnal colors. Her hair was fanned out beneath her, a pale white-silver cloak. Tabor, likewise naked, lay upon her, thrusting into her body, his powerful shoulders flexing. He had his gaze locked with hers, and though Lyssa would say they were aware of each other, as Rhoswen and Tabor, something else had them as wel , a wreath of magical energy capturing their faces and bodies, conduits for the power rol ing out from the circle.

  The Great Rite. The bringing together of male and female energy, representing God and Goddess, yin and yang, the fusion of balance. She’d seen it done several times during her long history, but the timing of it, the significance of Samhain, meant there might be more to it. Anxiety unfolded inside her, even as she knew there was nothing she could or would do to interfere in a sacred ritual like this. Jacob glanced up at her, picking up her agitation, but she shook her head, kept her eyes on what was happening in the circle.

  They came to pinnacle together, both testament to the magic between them and Tabor’s skil as a lover.

  Rhoswen came just before him, their cries joining together to blend in with the drums. As they climaxed, al the assembled cried out with them, a dark, sensual celebration of voices lifting to the night sky.

  Tabor slowed his thrusts gradual y, that aura of magical energy stil wreathing his skin, glimmering like mist over the stone and the ground beneath their feet. When the drums at last receded to a steady heartbeat rhythm, two of the circle stepped forward and untied Rhoswen’s hands. She wrapped them around his shoulders. For several long moments, they held each other like that, intimate, their heads pressed close. Lyssa wondered what they might be saying to one another, or if they were silent but connected, two such different souls.

  At length, Tabor withdrew, rising onto his knees above her. He gave Rhoswen a nod that might have been confirmation or reassurance. The head priestess moved into the circle, wearing an antlered headdress similar to the one Rhoswen normal y wore. With ritual formality, she handed Rhoswen a stone knife. Her voice rose, a trained priestess used to speaking above a crowd, though this one was now hushed, the drums silent.

  “The Father, the Lord, the Protector, our King. We praise him for his sacrifice, knowing his life must end for the winter to begin, for the promise of spring to be seeded. May his life be released by the hand of

  the Maiden, the Mother and Crone. And by the Lover, Our Queen, the Renewer of Life.” Her words echoed in the hil s and up against the wal s of the four castles, which seemed to have drawn closer during the ritual. Lyssa saw people standing in the windows of al of the structures, joining the watching audience. She’d never felt such singular concentration. With the drums beating, the magic had possessed movement, like the strength of a powerful wind. Now there was utter stil ness and, as Thomas had told Jacob, that was where the deepest power lay.

  The priestess was joined by a young Fae girl, just past

  puberty,

  and

  a

  woman

  whose

  disproportionately swol en breasts suggested she was stil nursing a child. They al bore stone knives like Rhoswen did. Lyssa tensed. “Jacob . . .” The drums exploded into sound again, increasing to a fever pitch. Al of the assembled Fae, even those in the windows, lifted their voices in one long cry. A battle cry, a cry of triumph, a savage cry. In the same moment, al four women plunged the knives into Tabor.

  He stiffened, a strangled sound coming from his throat. Rhoswen had plunged her dagger into his heart and now she had her hand pressed against his chest beside the blade’s entry point. The other three had pierced his back. When blood ran from the wounds, the other priests and priestesses moved forward, catching it in three chalices. As Tabor slumped, it was Rhoswen that caught him in her arms. Lyssa noted they’d known how to make the kil quick, for life was quickly dying out of his gaze, his soul already departing.

  Rhoswen held him close, almost as she had just a moment before, then she turned him so he was the one lying on the stone tablet. Crossing his arms over his chest, closing his now lifeless eyes, she knelt at his feet, pressed her mouth to his arch, her hand gripping his ankle. Then she rose, several priestesses approaching to swathe her in white veils. She took the first sip from the chalice of blood the priestess offered her, before it was passed to the circle of thirteen, as wel as the Maid and Mother.

  “The Lady accepts the blood of the Lord,” the head priestess said. “May we meditate on our gifts and lives during the dark winter months, and celebrate the coming of spring, when He is reborn, and reunited with both the Mother, the Maid and the Lover once again.”