Stepping inside one of Scott MacRae's lesser-known magical "wormholes" on Hawaiian soil brought on a depth of relief that Chris had never felt before.

Chris, Cassie, and their fairy companions had escaped Canada and crossed an ocean. The worst of the potential danger was behind them. As long as they stayed within a password-guarded tunnel, or Ilima and the Zone of Protection, they would be safe from outsiders, the same as they had always been. And not since Chris's back laceration had either blood or weapons been drawn.

Cassie grabbed Chris's hand and set his heavy pack on the ground. When he was at fairy size, she insisted on carrying it for him. "It's time."

"Already?"

She nodded. 

Chris took a seat on his knees, lifted the back half of his shirt, and kept his posture straight for her. 

Cassie started the process of giving him his medicine and changing his bandages with a kiss, the same way she did every other time. It was something he always looked forward to, but the quick peck also left him wanting.

Affection, for the most part, and all intimacy had been reduced to practically nothing. They had been moving constantly, sleeping at different times, and they were never quite without an audience. More than ever, he looked forward to a bed, a closed door, and enough time and energy to do whatever they pleased.   

After she removed the bandages, she kneeled behind him and stroked the area around the wound. "It looks a lot better today. How does it feel?"

"Good. And I have you to thank." 

He tilted his head back. She gave him the smile he sought and snuck in a kiss on his forehead . . . a bonus feature.

Chris was, indeed, on the mend. He sighed while she slathered the liniment over his wound. He was happy to be this close to home but a little overwhelmed as well. They had a long night ahead of them. He had to make sure everyone had shelter before he could call it a night and the sun was already setting. . . .

Cassie finished and tidied up. She was about to sling his pack over her shoulders when Chris took it from her. He put his finger to her lips to silence her protests. "I'll carry it for a while. You deserve a break."

"I don't want you to—"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "It'll rest on my good side."

"The wound is in the middle!"

"Shhh . . . everything's gonna be okay."

She gave him an exasperated look, which made him laugh, but she let him have his way. She had to be tired of carrying it. The pack was almost as big as she was.

As they walked, he cupped his free hand around the back of her neck. Chris was moving wisps of her hair around with his thumb when he spotted an unusual black mark peeking out from her hairline. Because her hair was so thick and dark, it never popped out at him before. But her hair was pinned up today and there was enough daylight still filtering through the translucent walls to help him out.

He slowed his walking pace to a crawl and smoothed her hair out of his way. Still not satisfied with his view, he stopped, pulled her to a stop, and then hunched down.  

"What is that?" he asked once he released her. "On your neck? It's much more detailed than my mark."

"I've always called it a star. I showed you once. Do you remember?"

They resumed walking at their normal pace with his hand now resting on her shoulder. "Yeah, at my aunt's house." With his brother, Cassie and the kids in tow, they were trying to solve the mystery of their own heritage at the time and Chris had just learned that his wife had been murdered. It wasn't the best time to process anything beyond absolutely necessary. "I didn't get a good look at it, though. Do you know what it means?"

"I've always been curious, I admit. When I had free reign over the Royal Library, I began skimming fairy heritage indexes, some that went back centuries or more. I never found a match, though."

"Hmmm . . . do you think your uncle might know anything?"

"Perhaps. If we ever see him again, I'll be sure to ask."

"While we're on the topic of family, are there any other relatives I should know about?"

"Not that I'm aware."

"Are you sure? Any more half-brothers who'd want to kill me?"

She glanced up at him, an eyebrow and the side of her lips lifted in dry amusement. "I think one was enough."

"More than enough! Or, better yet, how about an eeevvviiiilll twin sister who will confuse me by taking on your identity? Now that would be fun!" 

"That's an interesting idea, though definitely more fun for you than for me."

Though neither of them would likely be dubbed "funny," they were in the mood to joke around with one another. It was one of the most satisfying forms of affection they could get away with in the presence of others. "Oh, I know! I got one . . . best yet! My father and your mother, during their brief love affair—if you could even call it that—conceived a child. One that would be related to us both!"

"A truly frightful thought!" Cassie replied.

"And one I think we should both forget I ever mentioned!"

She smiled up at him with so much sparkle that he felt compelled to pull her closer. She snuck her arm around his waist and for a while, they stumbled along in a half-embrace.

"Chris!"

They moved apart slightly and glanced between their shoulders. Carina was flagging him down this time.

The mystified fairies were curious about their new world. They had worked too hard to leave Pyxis very often and never even traveled as far away as a human town. Cars, paved roads, traffic lights, airplanes, airports, oceans, and high heat and humidity were all new experiences for them.

Carina hovered into a graceful landing on the other side of Cassie. "Chris?"

"Don't worry. We're almost there," he said, figuring that was what she wanted to know. Are we there yet? seemed to be the most popular question of their adventure.

"That's what Vela wants to know, again, because the boys are getting restless, but that's not what I was going to ask."   

Chris exchanged glances with Cassie and squeezed her hand. Her supportive smile reminded him to maintain his sense of humor at every challenge to it. That wasn't hard with Carina. Because of her age—only nineteen—and friendly demeanor, her inquiries weren't infused with cynicism or judgment. 

"I'm listening."

"Well . . . I was wondering what the fairies are like in this 'Ilima' village? Will they accept us? Or simply tolerate us?" she asked, her green eyes hopeful but also wide with apprehension. 

Chris couldn't think of any reason why the Ilimans would be opposed to newcomers if he was the one to invite them. He and his father had done a lot for them over the years, training them, saving lives, and making many personal sacrifices. "They should, if they know what's best for them. Everyone is pretty tolerant of variation and fairy anomalies, as long as you come in peace."

"Thanks Chris. I'm asking because we want to open another tavern once we get settled. Is that something you would consider a good idea?"

"Sure. Ilima is growing. There is only one place to eat, drink, and be merry, and it gets a little crowded, in my opinion. And I like their food, but I would certainly appreciate something a little less 'tropical' every once in a while."

At that, Carina fluttered off and rejoined the others. Just as she was relaying the news to her sister and brother-in-law, Chris opened the final barrier and led them toward the Zone of Protection.

The jungle air wafted in, heavy with the scent of wet earth and exotic plant life. Chris lit a lantern and took the lead. Although it wasn't raining at that exact moment, the signs of a recent downpour were everywhere. The ground was almost too gloppy for safe walking. Wisely, the flying fairies opted for air travel.

"What is that?" Vela buzzed lower in response to a loud clap and rumble. With her daughter cradled in one arm, she huddled over her other children as well. 

"Thunder and lightning," Chris replied, walking on, unaffected. "It's practically harmless at our height," he said loud enough for them all to hear. "I assure you," he whispered in Cassie's ear.

She nodded but continued to cling to his arm with a vice-like grip. She didn't like the insects either and there were more than just a few creeping around nearby.

"Couldn't the lightning start a fire?" ten-year-old Victor asked, his voice a mix of fear and awe.

"Not likely. There's too much water everywhere."

Chris braced himself for additional questions. Fortunately, that was the last of them for the time being. And their taxing, six-day journey ended with the sight of his father's hut.

He didn't really expect any lights to be on, but still, his stomach dropped somewhere close to the mud. It was closed and dark, the way he had left it, and that meant no one else in his family had made it "home," the closest place they had to one, anyway. It didn't necessarily mean Joe and his father were dead. They just weren't fortunate enough to make it out of Pyxis and across the world just yet.

Chris vowed not to lose hope. Not yet.

While the others absorbed the nuances of their new location, Chris opened up the hut and returned with armfuls of supplies. They would need shelter that was better suited for moisture than what they had been using.     

Once the rain started again, there were more failures than successes. The first shelter they assembled seemed sturdy enough. That was a plus. Vela and Carina were able to get the youngest children settled in for the night. The shelter for Angelica and her son, however, kept collapsing. The more times it hit the ground, the muddier and heavier everything became. And though they picked a flat area that seemed suitable, the ground became increasingly soft the more they prodded at it. The stakes kept shifting, warping, and then sliding to the ground. They decided to try their luck in a new location.

Their efforts continued late into the night. They were all tired, wet, and frustrated by the time Chris constructed a fixture around a fallen tree branch. It appeared stable even in the steady tropical wind and it couldn't have come at a better time. The sky unleashed a downpour that left them scrambling to finish.

Chris and Cassie jogged to the hut once everyone else had found refuge in their temporary homes. Chris clicked on the flashlight by the door and blew out the flame of his lantern.

"Oh, Chris!" Cassie gasped. She strolled away from him and spun around to examine the hut's upgrades.

Chris glanced at his work. Mostly, though, he was watching her reaction to it. "Do you like it? When I had time, I added some things to make it more livable."

"The entire place looks phenomenal. Did you do this all yourself?" 

She waited for his answer motionlessly. Once he nodded, she resumed walking toward the living area. He pursued leisurely after her. 

"There are plank floors. And windows!"

"Yep."

She glanced in the twins' room at the back of the hut. The room she had once slept in had only a mat on the floor and a single bookshelf. Now a partition split the room in half, and it was a cavernous two-stories high. There were ladders and ropes that led to multiple tiers. At the structure's peak, there were two beds with boy/girl jungle-themed toys and blankets.

"Amazing. You have a gift."

"Nothing like your gifts. But thanks."

Chris joined her from behind. He was about to slip his hands around her waist, but he hesitated too long. She turned, gave him a cheerful peck on the cheek, and strolled away. He let out a slow breath through his nose, mussed his hair a bit, and then followed.   

Next, she peeked into the washroom. She giggled at the vat of water hanging from the ceiling. 

Chris set a hand on her hip and pointed to the shower with the other. "See that over there, underneath the water?"

She nodded.

"You light the coals and it heats up the water. You wait a little while and pull the string when you're ready. So no more showering outside with cold water."

"I must admit that's very nice to hear." 

She grabbed the hand Chris had on her hip and led him to the last unseen doorway. "Another bedroom," she announced. "It has a real bed and a door!" She swung it open, closed, and twisted the knob. 

"Two very important things."

Her eyes darted around as she took in the details. He did the same and jumped to action at the sight of dirty clothes draped over every surface. "Sorry it's so messy. I left in a hurry and never expected to be returning with company."

She leaned her shoulders against the doorframe. "No?"

He watched her bite her lip to suppress a smile. He tried to think of something witty to say. Unsurprisingly, nothing came to him. "Nope." He wandered back over to the doorway. 

He rested his arm against the doorframe over her head and was about to lean in for a kiss when she gasped and slipped beneath his arm. Chris's longing eyes followed her as she pranced into the living area.

"My bat!" she said on tiptoe. She lifted it off the hooks that were barely within her reach. "I'm surprised you still have it."

"Why wouldn't I? It was the most thoughtful gift I've ever received."

She smiled at his answer and then peered into his eyes as if to discover the truth or more of the truth. "Do believe that, even though it set off such an unfortunate chain of events?"

"Nothing about that kiss was unfortunate," he said with a shrug. 

The strength of her gaze did not falter. "Really? You seemed disappointed."  

"That's not true." He had to drop his eyes and turn his back. "And please. Don't dig." It was a confusing time and he wouldn't want her to "see" anything that would make her unhappy.

Her eyes dropped, too, and she returned the bat to its hooks. "Well, I'd like you to explain as best you can, then. I've spent far too much time pondering the particulars of that night." She backed into his open arms and he embraced her around the waist. 

"Pondering, huh? What'd you come up with?"

She gazed up at him over her shoulder. "You're not going to tell me?"

"I will . . . I'm just. . .  See? I'm already struggling. I'm sure you can explain me better than I can explain myself."

"All right. Let me know if there are any inaccuracies."

He nodded against her shoulder.

"I thought there was a chance you were growing fond of me."

"More than a chance. And more than just fond," he added.

"And that perhaps if we lived in a simpler time and place, we may have been perfect for each other."

"I agree."

"But. . ." She paused as her way of signifying the transition to the downside of their attachment, and there were many. Then she turned around and latched her arms around Chris's neck. "It was a delicate situation. There were many variables amplifying your unease and confusion. Like my mother, for example. She was responsible for your wife's death. Honestly, I don't know how you managed to look at me once you became aware of our blood relation."

"It would have been unfair to blame you for that. We are not our parents." Chris set his hands on her hips and moved them up and down her sides. Her clothes were gritty and damp and she shivered in response to his touch. "You did save our lives. But speaking of your mother, did you hear what she said to me when she chased us out of her dungeon that one time?"

"No. I'm sure it was disturbing, though, and it was probably about me."

"I should have told you this a long time ago. She was way off target, or so I thought, but once I realized that getting closer to you meant ruining my relationship with my brother. . ." Chris trailed off because Cassie's eyes darkened. Joe was a sensitive and guilt-provoking topic . . . for them both. "Let's forget I mentioned it. We'll talk about it another time."   

"Would it be all right if you told me now? I need to know or I won't be able to sleep tonight."

He lowered his head and didn't immediately answer.

"Please, Chris?"

He sighed in resignation and met her eyes. "'She'll unravel you and your brother and lead you to your demise,'" he said as a direct quote, one he would never forget. "And then my father said something similar. He believed, at the time, that you could be part of some master plan to end the MacRae legacy from the inside." 

Cassie shrugged in response. And Chris lifted her solemn face with the crook of one finger. "I was wrong to listen to them. And we can't change the past. What we can do is start over. What's important is that we're alive, we're safe, and we're together."  

Though clearly still upset, she smiled slightly. Then, with a sudden clap of thunder, her head went to his chest. She shuddered, maybe from fear or the chill from her damp clothes. His shirt was wet, too, but he felt warm when he shifted to be against her. He was growing warmer as his mind moved away from the past and to the alluring present. 

While the thunderstorm picked up in intensity, so did their yearning for each other, that which had been repressed for so many days, and essentially, so many years.

The kitchen table interrupted their clumsy route to the bedroom. Chris lifted Cassie on top of it. There was a lot of clothing in his way—billowy borrowed blouse and skirt, layers of makeshift undergarments—burying her delicate curves. He knew they were there, though, and had been fantasizing about them every moment he could spare.

She shifted forward and kissed him . . . hard. He nearly lost his balance. She tugged on his clingy tunic shirt, damp and disobedient. He fumbled to undo her blouse buttons. She moved, he responded.

Knock, knock, knock!

Chris threw his head back and exhaled.          

"Yep?" Chris called out while reorienting his shirt and replacing Cassie's skirt over her legs. She went to work on her own buttons, latching them back up to the neck.

Victor opened the door and stuck his head in. "Chris? Our tent collapsed."

"I'll be right there."

Victor shut the door. And Chris started counting to ten in his head . . . slowly. 

Cassie stroked the stubble on his face and gave him a few more pecks by his ear. Then she slid off the table. "Do you want any help?"

He lightly pinched her nose. "I want you to get comfortable. I'll be back in a few minutes . . . hopefully."

He crossed his fingers and headed out the door.

A little over an hour passed. It was after midnight. The branch that had been stabilizing the second shelter snapped from the weight of the pooling rain. It was the only good thing they had going for them.

After yet another failed attempt in a new location, Chris sat down on a pebble, wriggling his lower back and shoulders, hoping he could somehow correct the muscle pain peaking around his stitches. He watched Angelica and Orion continue to struggle. It was a lost cause. The ground was too soft.

"Angelica . . . why don't you and Victor sleep in the hut," Chris finally suggested. "There're two extra beds until tomorrow. We'll start building something more durable in the morning."

Earlier in the evening, everyone opted for their own space and Chris didn't argue, despite the time and effort it would take to achieve. At this point, though, Angelica agreed and guided her son into the hut.

Chris looked longingly at his slightly ajar bedroom door. He could see light through the crack. She might still be awake. . . .

He showed Angelica all of the essentials—the food, water, washroom and the bedroom. Once they settled in, he said goodnight and closed himself behind his bedroom door.

A single lantern remained lit. The clean room made him smile. His clothes were away, the linens had been changed, and every nook had been cleaned and dusted.

Chris kicked off his loafers and unfastened his belt. He peeled off his drenched clothes and draped them over the back of a chair.

He changed into dry undershorts and sat down on the bed next to Cassie. She remained curled up underneath the sheets. It appeared she had fallen asleep. 

Chris wished she had waited up for him but understood why she hadn't. He rested his elbows on his knees, rubbed his tired eyes, and looked forward to curling up beside to her. 

He was surprised to feel her fingers sliding up his side. Chris hadn't slept well in days, was still recovering from his injury, and had been on his feet doing manual labor most of the night. He really needed rest. What he desired—irrationally, illogically, and uncontrollably—was her.

Her fingertips alone were enough to arouse him. He glanced at her in time to see the sheet falling off her unclothed body.

She moved behind him. He closed his eyes to enhance the sensation of her hands, lips, and long loose hair. Even her breasts were caressing their way over his body. 

One of her hands settled on his thigh. Their hands met on his lap and she guided him beneath the sheets. 

Chris was relieved to lay back on the pillow and feel only a dull throb. While she slipped his undershorts down for him, he put his hands behind his head and kicked them the rest of the way off. He didn't know where her confidence was coming from, but he loved it and hoped it was around to stay.

Cassie slipped one leg on each side of him. "I was thinking of you."

"What were you thinking about?"

She traced the flat side of her fingernails up the underside of his arms until he released them from behind his head. He clasped onto her hands. But his eyes roamed, unable to narrow in on a preference. The soft light flickered over every fine feature. It danced in her eyes, warmed her skin tone, and exaggerated every irresistible swell on her body with a sultry shadow. 

"Being alone with you . . . finally. It has been days."

"Well, we're not really alone. We gave up on the second shelter.  Angelica and Victor are in the twins' room."

"We're alone enough." With their hands still latched, she swooped down and trailed her mouth up his chest. Just before their lips met again, she suddenly eased the trivial addition of her weight off his body. "How does your back feel?"

Chris tugged her closer by surprise. Releasing her hands, he went for her shoulder blades and narrowed their body gap to nothing. "What back?" he mumbled with his mouth pressed between her breasts.

He couldn't wait another second. He had to have her. Really, though, she had him. Her first go on top. She leaned back, eased him in, and with cries she had to bite down on to keep in check, she lifted them both to a place that felt like immortality.