As he smiled at her reassuringly, she could smell wild roses, fresh-cut hay, bonfires—things she didn't think she'd ever been around, but knew nonetheless in that moment.

Solemnly he nodded. "My word, Aislinn. I swore to you that your wishes would be as my own as often as I am able. I keep my vows."

"I was so afraid. I mean, not that you would" — she broke off and grimaced, realizing what she'd implied—"it's just that…"

"What can you expect of a faery, right?" He gave her a wry grin, looking surprisingly normal for a faery king. "I've read the mortals' stories of us, too. They aren't untrue."

She took a deep breath, tasting those strange summer scents on her tongue.

"But the fey I…hold sway over don't. Will not do that—violate another." He acknowledged the bows of several invisible faeries with a nod and a quicksilver smile. "It is not the way of my fey. We do not take the unwilling."

"Thank…I mean, I'm glad." She almost hugged him, her relief was so great. "You don't like those words, right?"

"Right." He laughed, and she felt like the world itself rejoiced.

She rejoiced. I'm a virgin. She knew there were other thoughts she should ponder, but that one precious sentence was all she could think. Her first time would be one she would remember, one she would choose.

As they walked on, Keenan took Aislinn's hand in his. "In time I hope you'll come to understand how much you mean to me, to my fey."

The scent of roses—wild roses—mingled with a strange briny scent: waves crashing on rocky shores, dolphins diving. She swayed, feeling the pull of those faraway waves, as if the rhythm of something beyond her was creeping inside her skin.

"It is a strange thing, this chance for openness. I've never courted anyone who could truly know me." His voice blended with the tug of foreign waters, sounding more musical with each syllable.

Aislinn stopped walking; he still held her hand, like an anchor to keep her from leaving. They were standing outside The Comix Connexion.

"We met here." He caressed her cheek with his free hand. "I chose you here. In this spot."

She smiled languidly, and suddenly she became aware that she was happier than she should be.

Focus. Something was wrong. Focus. She bit her cheek, hard. Then she said, "I gave you your dance, and you gave me your word. I know what I want from you…"

He ran his fingers through her hair. "What can I give you, Aislinn? Shall I weave flowers in your hair?"

He opened his hand, letting go of her hair. An iris blossom sat in the palm of his hand. "Shall I bring you necklaces of gold? Delicacies mortals can only dream of? I'll do all those things anyway. Don't waste your wish."

"No. I don't want any of that, Keenan." She stepped back, putting more distance between them, trying to ignore the cry of gulls that she heard under the rhythm of waves. "I just want you to leave me alone. That's all."

He sighed, and she wanted to weep at how sad she suddenly felt. Faery tricks, it's all faery tricks.

She scowled. "Don't do that."

"Do you know how many mortals I've wooed in the past nine centuries?" He stared through the window at a display for the release of yet another vampire movie.

A wistful expression on his face, he said, "I don't. I could ask Niall, probably even ask Donia."

"I don't care. I'm not interested in being one of them."

The ocean faded under the acrid taste of desert winds, searing her skin, as anger flared on his face. "How very fitting."

He laughed, softly then, like a cool breeze on her burning skin. "To finally have found you, and you don't want me. You see me, so I can be as I truly am—not a mortal, but a faery. I am still bound by other rules: I cannot tell you why you matter to me, who I am—"

"The Summer King," she interrupted, moving away from him, ready to run. She tried to keep her temper in check. He'd done the right thing by her, but that changed nothing. He was still a faery. She shouldn't have let herself forget that.

"Aaah, so you know that as well." In an inhumanly quick move, he stepped closer until they were chest to chest. In less time than it took to blink, he stood there as he truly looked—not wearing his glamour. Warmth rained over them, as if sunbeams fell from his hair like warm honey pouring slowly over her.

She gasped, feeling like her heart would burn out from racing so fast. The warmth rolled across her skin, until she was almost as dizzy as she'd been when she danced with him.

Then he stopped it, like turning off a faucet. There were no breezes, no waves, nothing but his voice. "I promised you I would do anything you asked of me within my power. What you ask is not within my power, Aislinn, but there is much that is."

Her knees felt like they'd give out; her eyes wanted to close. She had the awful temptation to ask him to do that— whatever it was—just once more, but she knew that didn't make sense.

She shoved him away, as if distance would help. "So you lied."

"No. Once a mortal girl is chosen, she cannot be unchosen. At the end you may reject me or accept me, but your mortal life is behind you." He cupped his hand in front of her, scooping the empty air and coming up with a handful of creamy liquid. Swirls of red and gold shivered in it; flecks of white floated among the other colors.

"No." She felt her temper—her lifetime of anger at faeries flare up. "I reject you, okay? Just go away."

He sighed and poured the handful of sunlight out, catching it in the other hand without looking. "You're one of us now. Summer fey. Even if you weren't, you'd still be mine, still belong with us. You drank faery wine with me. Haven't you read that in your storybooks, Aislinn? Never drink with faeries."

Though she didn't know why, his proclamation made sense. Somewhere inside she'd known she was changing— her hearing, the strange warmth just under her skin. I am one of them. But that didn't mean she had to accept it.

Despite her growing anger, she paused. "So, why did you let me go home?"

"I thought you'd be angry if you woke up with me, and" — he paused, mouth curled in a sardonic half-smile— "and I don't want you angry."

"I don't want you at all. Why can't you just leave me alone?" She fisted her hand, trying to restrain her temper, a thing that she was finding more and more difficult the past week.

He took a step closer, letting the sunlight drip onto her arm. "The rules require you to make a formal choice. If you don't agree to the test, you become one of the Summer Girls—bound to me as surely as a suckling child to its dam. Without me, you'll fade away, become a shade. It is the nature of the newly-made fey and the limitation of the Summer Girls."

Her temper—so well controlled after all these years— beat against her like a cloud of moths pushing against her skin, aching to be set free.

Control. Aislinn dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from slapping him. Focus. "I will not be a faery in your harem or anywhere else."

"So be with me, and only me: it's the only other choice." Then he bent down and kissed her, lips open against hers. It was like swallowing sunshine, that languorous feeling after too many hours on the beach. It was glorious.

She stumbled back until she bumped into the window frame.

"Stay away from me," she said, letting all that anger she'd been feeling show in her tone.

Her skin began to glow as brightly as his had. She stared down at her arms, aghast. She rubbed her forearm, as if she could wipe it away. It didn't change.

"I can't. You've belonged to me for centuries. You were born to belong to me." He stepped closer again and blew on her face as if he were blowing the head off a dandelion gone to seed.

Her eyes almost rolled back; every pleasure she'd felt under the summer sun combined into one seemingly endless caress. She leaned against the rough brick wall next to them. "Go away."