Sky kisses me with tender patience, his lips and breath a soft caress and his embrace a safe net ensnaring me. I long to give in and surrender myself to him, but after a moment of bliss, I push him away instead.

"Wait. Stop."

I rest my hands on his chest and stare down at the sliver of space between us, as if it were a bottomless and unbreachable void.

"Why?" His voice is quiet and undemanding, inviting me to set the speed.

"I can't," I say. "The kids."

"The kids are sleeping," he says.

I shake my head. "They won't understand."

"Understand what? That their father is a man in need of comfort and companionship? I think you underestimate them."

Very gently, and careful not to force the motion, he tucks a finger beneath my jaw and makes me look up at him.

"Martin, tell me the truth. We both know the kids will be fine."

Suddenly feeling a little out of breath, I knock his hand away and turn aside. "I'm just not ready for this," I say, hunching in on myself defensively. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's been a while since you were with someone, hasn't it? Since your separation, at least, I imagine."

I laugh. "Well before that. Why do you think I'm so certain Nico and Rio aren't mine, naturally speaking?"

He tries and fails to hide his surprise. "Your wife withheld her affections so long?"

"Affections?" I laugh at the archaic expression. "She had no 'affection' to give. As for... physical intimacy..." I cross my arms self-consciously, remembering just how 'physical' she liked to get. "No. We'd not engaged in 'marital activities' in a long time."

"Have you been with a man before?"

His casual tone catches me off-guard, and I turn to find him watching me with a curious, slightly concerned expression.

"Once. In college, before Elena. I was never unfaithful," I say.

"Just once?"

Flushing, I turn away and study the bare, freshly painted walls. "Yes. It was... somewhat transactional."

"Transactional?"

I wince at the imagined judgment in his tone.

"I had something I wanted to lose, if you know what I mean," I say. "It wasn't the best experience, and it made me doubt my identity for a while, so I never tried again. What about you?" I ask, turning the question back on him.

"Not often, and nothing serious, but I've scratched the itch now and again," he says easily, "with men, women, and everything in-between. 'Pansexual' is how it's described these days, I believe."

"'These days?'" I raise my brows at him. "How old are you? More to the point, what are you?"

He smiles disarmingly. "You're right; perhaps we ought to get to know each other better before we get to know each other in the biblical sense."

"You already know pretty much all there is to know about me," I say. "You're the one who's still a mystery."

"Some things are easier to show than to tell." He touches the tips of his fingers to his lips thoughtfully. "That's why I was hoping we might visit the lake this evening. But I suppose some of it requires explanation, nonetheless. The truth is..." He takes a breath. "...my mother is a queen."

I blink as my brain searches for a believable interpretation of this.

"Your drag mother?" I ask, frowning. I suppose his long hair would save him some money on wigs, and he might have been reluctant to tell me he performs, given his job and all the misinformation out there these days.

He laughs. "I've been known to enjoy a good drag show, now and then, but no. My biological mother is Queen Meridia of Thassos, which makes me Prince Scyllian, heir to the throne."

"Prince..." I shake my head and laugh at myself. He'd found it easier to accept that I'm a wolf than I'm finding it to accept that he's some kind of royalty.

"Sorry. I'm an American werewolf," I say. "I doubt I could even find all fifty states on a map. Where is Thassos? I don't think I've heard of it."

"There's a Greek island of the same name," Sky says. "But my mother's domain is... further offshore. Nearer the Azores."

Having only a vague idea where that might be — somewhere off the coast of Europe, I think — I merely nod. "Okay. So, this is like one of those 'prince in disguise,' things, and you didn't want to tell me because you were worried that I'd only be interested in you for your money or title, or something?"

"Or something," he says, laughing lightly. "It will make better sense tonight, at the lake."

I frown. "Why the lake, anyway?"

"I like the water," he says, closing the distance between us once more and looping his arms around my waist. "Almost as much as I like you. So, what do you think? Will your children object to their father kissing a prince?"

"Not if the prince doesn't object to kissing a wolf," I say, fighting a smile.

I'd been terrified that he would reveal some awful, deal-breaking secret, and my relief is like a rush of sugar in my veins. When he kisses me, I kiss him back with less restraint and a little thrill of excitement shoots along my nerves.

My wolf isn't dying. Elena had been slowly killing me for so long I'd simply forgotten what it felt like to be alive.

Like this: like there's champagne sparkles in my blood, and like every touch tingles with electricity. When he slides his hands under my shirt, I arch against him and lift my arms so he can slide it over my head, then open my mouth to a more invasive kiss as I do the same to him. Firm muscles shift beneath my palms, from his trim waist to his swimmer's shoulders, broad and strong. The warmth of his body, the silk of his skin against mine, and the hot glide of his tongue combine to intoxicating effect, and when he turns us and walks me backward towards his bed, I go with it and let him push me down.

Part of me is aware he's still told me very little, and a more cynical part is aware he might not have even told me the truth (I may not have aced geography, but how many kingdoms I've never heard of could there possibly be?) but another part of me doesn't care.

The part so starved of love, and so injured by it, that it trembles with a painful mix of hope and terror, tells the rest of me to shut up and — good choices be damned — live a little.

Then, when his lips and hands stray — the first to the side of my throat and the second below my waist — another part comes to its senses.

"Wait — the kids!" I gasp, half delirious with passion, but still unwilling to forget my duties as a parent.

"They'll sleep awhile yet, surely," Sky murmurs, his lips tickling the dip between my collarbones.

"It's already been twenty minutes. Nico and Rio recharge fast."

"I see."

To my dismay, Sky backs off and looks down at me with a frown.

"I mean... We'll just have to make it quick," I say.

The corners of his lips twitch. "I don't want anything we do to be 'quick.' But I suppose we might be quick even while we take things slow."

His gaze travels down my body and stops below my navel.

"Show me," he says.

For a full ten seconds, I lie without moving, paralyzed with embarrassment and indecision. Then, with my heart beating a wild tempo against my ribs, I unbutton and unzip my pants, lifting my hips as I push them down.

He stares as he does the same to himself, and I can't help staring, too.

Between nerves and mixed emotions, I'm only half-hard, but Sky is one-hundred-percent ready for action. Presented with flushed skin, thick veins, and a length and girth that make my eyes go wide, I utter two words I instantly regret.

"Fuck me."

"My pleasure," he says, grinning, "and yours as well, I hope. But not today. For today... let's just get to know each other, shall we?"

Wordlessly and breathlessly, I nod, and he moves over me again, aligning our shafts and taking both in his hand. I bite back a groan, but he smothers it with a kiss.

"Just let it be," he says. "Here and now, you and me. Just feel."

I obey; but as I'd told him, it's been quite a long time, and while I've taken care of my own needs now and then, I've more often ignored it. With a few strokes of his hand and the sensation of his hard length against mine, I'm gasping, then cresting, then done.

Before I have a chance to register embarrassment, however, he's joining me, head thrown back as he comes in a few spurts of hot, creamy seed.

Panting, he grins, swipes a finger through the mingled cum painting my abdomen, licks it, and then leans to kiss me.

The strange, salted sweetness on his tongue should disgust me, but it doesn't. Instead, it feels like we've just done something sacred — something beautiful and free of sin. I've never felt anything like it before; and as this dawns on me, a well of sorrow opens in my heart.

Elena wasn't my fated Mate.

I'd known that, and I'd Chosen her anyway.

Now, it seems fate has given me a second chance.

Sky lifts himself to look down at me, his expression pinched with concern. "You're crying."

I touch my face and feel the wetness there.

Sky looks stricken. "Gods, Martin, if this isn't what you—"

Shaking my head, I reach for him, drawing him back into a kiss.

"No," I say, letting us both up for air. "If you don't care what I am, then I don't care what you are, Sky. I only care that—"

The quick double beep of a horn interrupts me, and I startle, bumping our foreheads together.

"Ow. Who the hell...?"

Sky lets me up, and I zip my pants and walk to the windows at the far end of the room. A postal service truck is parked in the drive, a confused-looking delivery driver standing beside it with a large envelope in her hand.

"Shit."

I stride back across the room and reach for my shirt, but Sky gently grasps my wrist, looking pointedly at the evidence of our recent fun drying on my skin.

"I'll get the package," he says, pulling his own shirt over his head. "You get cleaned up."

Grumbling under my breath, do as he says. The noise might have woken the kids, anyway.

In the 'bathroom,' I find a washcloth, dampen it, and wipe myself clean, then pull on my shirt and step outside just as Sky returns, envelope in hand.

"I had to sign for it," he says, frowning as he hands it to me. "Something legal, I think."

I take it, study the return address, and feel my heart stumble in my chest.

"Martin?" Sky catches me as my legs give, making me curse my overly dramatic nervous system. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Weakly, I hand him the envelope.

"It's from Elena," I say.