Nature and Nurture: Finding the Perfect Blend

Chapter 10: The Fae

Stiles was exalted, overwhelmed by feeling so much. He cried out and fell into the open arms of the Fae, who smiled and held him close.

The Fae's human-like form was no longer hidden in misty air. Visible in all its detail, it was a contradiction to Stiles. He'd never considered what the Fae might be like without its camouflage, but if he had he would have been completely wrong in his assumptions. Stiles could feel magic wrapped up in the being before him. The Fae didn't just have magic, it was magic. Natural and complete and so outside anything he'd ever been exposed to before.

The Fae's form was a little shorter than him, lithe, unclothed and male in it's appearance. Its face was a puzzle of connecting angles that spoke of inhumanness. Its chin and jaw too pointy, eyes too wide and dark, nose a straight line, cheekbones sharp and cutting. Its ears were hidden under streams of thick black hair that moved in a wind that was not there. Stiles got lost for a minute just watching the movement of the strands lifting and falling slowly by themselves. It gave the effect of the Fae swimming underwater. Stiles touched the side of the Fae's face near its hairline. Touched the hard, smooth skin and the soft subtle lengths of hair. The hair didn't stop moving as Stiles pushed his hand into it. It curled around and stroked his fingers.

The Fae allowed Stiles his perusal. It waited with a calm and predatory grin of one who'd gotten what they'd been hunting for. It tightened its arms almost imperceptibly and Stiles could tell it was preternaturally strong. He could easily believe the Fae to be even stronger than werewolves. He could feel it in the solidness of the body under his hands. Stiles wasn't stressed about the Fae being naked. Such a creature had no need of clothes. He was also beginning to understand why the Fae had said it was the wind, the rain, the sunlight and the earth.

Its skin was pale, almost transparent, and it had a dull glow trapped underneath it, the color of sky-gray clouds, of downy feathers. The Fae tipped its head sideways, watching Stiles. The color underneath its skin rippled, changed, and it was the lemon-green of new growth, of moss growing in cracks.

Stiles stepped back to watch, still held by the Fae's hands, as its skin changed again and again. Flowing endlessly, the very essence of nature bound into form; the yellow burst of bitten citrus, the damp brown secret recesses of caves, the deepest indigo of dark waters. The variant colors were endless, beautiful and mesmerizing. Stiles touched the Fae's chest, running his hands down the plains of its skin, sensing a natural connection to each and every color tone. When he came back to himself, the Fae was laughing in happiness and Stiles was swaying.

The Fae grasped Stiles to him in another hug and whispered with fierce pride, "Well met, Stiles-who-is-not-Stiles."

Stiles' forehead rested on the Fae's own. "Well met." He understood now why the Fae called him that. It wasn't only that he went by a nickname. The very nature of the wild was to be un-named. Un-bound. Un-fettered. Stiles would never ask the Fae its name, he wasn't sure it even had one. It was, as it had always said, whatever it wanted to be.

"You have come," the Fae announced.

"Yes. But I don't know how." The aspen forest connected to the preserve but it wasn't easy to get from where Stiles had been to where he was now. Not normally, anyway.

"You stepped through the light and we helped by directing you here." The Fae was moving its hands up and under Stiles' shirts.

Stiles reciprocated by pulling the Fae even closer, one hand on its back, one low on its waist, until they were pressed flush against each other. The Fae's mouth was a wide slit of a grin and its pointy teeth bit into its bottom lip. Every touch of its skin made Stiles want to get closer. It wasn't so much a sexual thing as a magical, wild Fae awakening. The touches were smooth and needy and pulled at something deep within him.