Stones Unturned Read Free Page B

living in Faerie was no sacrifice at all, in comparison. In truth, he had gained far more than he had lost while residing there. Often he had questioned his decision to leave Faerie and to leave Ceridwen behind. She had refused to come with him, and he had been unable to stay. Now he wondered how he had ever had the strength to turn his back on their love.
    That they had been brought together again, found the love growing between them once more, was a greater gift than he had ever deserved. Silently, he vowed to himself that he would never let her go again. No matter the cost. Yet looking back, he knew all too well that had he not made that decision to leave Faerie, humanity would likely have met it demise by now. The world of his birth would have been swallowed up by some horrific preternatural threat if not for his efforts and those of his special operatives — his Menagerie .
    He put his mouth close to the delicate shell of her ear and whispered, "Even though it has changed, it is still the place that brought us together. That is what brought us here, Ceri. And even with the way the woods have changed, it is still a beautiful, autumn day. Are we going to allow it to go to waste?"
    She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. "I hope not, Arthur. Somehow I know you'll do your best to ease my mind."
    Ceridwen did not wait for his response. She pressed her lips tightly to his in a passionate kiss, her hands leaving his waist to cup his face. He responded in kind, pressing his body tightly against hers.
    It wasn't long before they lay beneath the trees, their passions inflamed, and fumbled with their clothing. Conan Doyle could feel the environment around them responding to his woman's pleasure. To the magic in her. The grass grew tall around their entwined bodies, the air filled with the sound of insects and the chirping of birds.
    Ceridwen sat astride him, her rhythmic movements sending wave after wave of intense pleasure through them both.
    "Though the world may change around us," she breathed, "what we now have together . . . this is something that will forever remain untouched."
    She leaned down to kiss him again, her hair brushing his face as their bodies moved together.
    A delicious overture, before the inevitable storm.
     
    "So when do the lovebirds get back?" Julia Ferrick asked her son from the stove, where she was currently putting together their evening's meal of Texas chili.
    Danny loved his mother's chili, and his empty stomach rumbled just thinking about it. Seated on a stool behind the marble island in the center of the large kitchen, he inhaled the delicious smells of her cooking. The lovebirds she referred to — though the expression made him wince — were Mr. Doyle and Ceridwen, gone to England to spend some private time together.
    "I think sometime tomorrow," he said, picking strips of dead skin from around his fingernails. His body was continuing to change, becoming more and more . . . demonic .
    "Don't pick," his mother scolded. Julia chopped up an onion on the wooden cutting board, as four strips of bacon popped and sizzled in the frying pan on the gas burner. The air was filled with the delicious aroma of cooking meat.
    "It's just dead skin," he said, paying her no mind. His nails had become long, curved, and thick, growing to nasty points, and when he tensed the muscles in his fingers, the nails distended, reminding him of a cat's claws. They could do some serious damage in a fight, he mused, recalling the scrapes he'd gotten into since coming to live in Conan Doyle's Beacon Hill brownstone.
    "I don't care," his mother replied. "It could still get infected. Leave it alone."
    Danny glared at her. "Have you fucking looked at me lately? An infection is the least of my problems."
    Using tongs, his mother flipped the bacon over in the pan. "Language, Danny, please. I didn't let you talk that way in my house, and I don't want you to talk that way here."
    He laughed. "Everybody talks that way