light. Random life pulses fluttered across her senses, tripping up her heartbeats and then shimmering away.
And then it stopped, and the shimmers formed into a faery with violet wings threaded with gleaming dark veins that resembled blackened chrome. Coal hair was streaked with white, but Blu realized it was painted or dusted with pollen. Three blue dashes crossed diagonally from above her left eye, over her nose, and down her right cheek. She stood as tall as Blu—who, admittedly, was short without her spike heels—and her bright violet eyes narrowed. A thin white sheath danced over her narrow frame, exposing remarkable muscles for such a petite figure. At her hip gleamed a crystal scimitar.
Warrior, Blu decided. She’d called a sidhe champion to her. Such luck!
Blu bowed. “Well met.”
“Well met, wolf,” the faery said in a gruff voice that chastised for disturbing her, while also piqued a question. She slammed a palm to her hip near the scimitar. “For what have you called me?”
As Bree had instructed, she must get right to the point. “I want to conceive my husband’s child.”
The warrior sidhe walked before her in a wide arc, casting a discerning gaze over her. Blu felt lesser standing before her—she caught herself and lifted her shoulders. She never considered herself lesser, or greater, than anyone. And she would best show her confidence before this woman.
“If a child is your desire,” the faery said, “why marry the one man who could not give you that child?” She scoffed. “A vampire?”
“It was an arranged marriage set up by the Council.” She’d thought the marriage stupid until Creed had kissed her after they’d recited their vows. That kiss had changed her attitude toward vampires forever. At least toward the one sexy, loving vampire who only had eyes for her. “But I love him more than anything in this world.”
The faery’s laughter sounded like bells the size of flower heads. Eerily out of place when measured against her warrior stance. “Did Creed Saint-Pierre not murder your father?”
“No, that was one of my father’s men,” Blu protested.
Ridge Addison, her father’s right-hand man, had taken off Amandus Masterson’s head with one swipe of his talons. Blu could never be angry at Ridge, because he’d been protecting her and Creed at the time.
“Creed was…tortured by my father.” Her father had ordered the punishment of one thousand talons against her husband. Her heart pulsed as she recalled finding Creed bloodied and near death in a ditch following that awful torture.
“He suffered for me.” She let out a breath. Clutching the air with needy fingers, she shifted from foot to foot, jittery with need. “Please. It is all I want, to give my husband a child. To answer my breed’s innate call to surround myself with family.”
Those were the desires that twanged daily at her very soul. It wasn’t right she should be denied merely because her breed was not compatible with Creed’s.
“One child is all you ask?”
“Well…” It would be greedy to ask for many. Yet a pack, or even a tribe, required more than a few. “The ability to carry my husband’s children is what I ask, no matter it be one or more than one. Is that all right?” She winced. Be firm, positive. “I want my womb to be receptive to his sperm, to get technical.”
With a tilt of her head, the faery’s eyes glowed, deep amethyst caught in surrounding stone. “And what do you offer in return for so great a boon?”
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