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years, not mere seconds.

“You know what it means,” Cian replied, looking more serious

than Meg remembered him ever being. “Look at the fields, brother.

Look at the fields, and tell me the legends were wrong.”

Meg turned with Beck and gasped as she took in the lush fields

that had replaced the struggling ones. Crops that shouldn’t be

harvested for a month were ripe and ready to be picked.

“Someone needs to explain this to me,” Meg said, since her

husbands seemed to be speaking their own language.

“It’s an old legend, Meg.” Beck bent over as he inspected a

particularly luscious strawberry plant. “Back in Tir na nÒg, the

legend had it that when royal symbiotic twins were born, if they found

the right bondmate, she would bring them into their true power.”

“So now Ci is some sort of agricultural deity?” Meg asked.

It was hard to believe the question came out of her mouth, but she

was starting to accept that things worked very differently in her new

home. She’d negotiated a trade deal with goblins just a few days ago.

Why couldn’t her new hubby become a god?

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Sophie Oak

“I’m a Green Man.” Cian spoke slowly, seeming to savor the

words. “All things green and vital answer to me.”

A wind suddenly whipped around Meg’s skirts. It was an odd

wind. It was strong and seemed happy to stay where it was. Meg

turned around and had to catch the hem of her skirts as the wind blew

from underneath and exposed her legs.

“What the hell?” Meg moved to Cian, who was laughing at the

wind’s antics.

“And I’m a Storm Lord,” Beck said. Wonder filled his voice as he

lifted a finger and the little wind calmed. It brushed gently against her


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