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curled his palms over hers. She lifted the glass for a lusty swallow then inclined her head in thanks.
    "My pleasure." He purred the words. But he wondered if Betsy had brought her the iron mug on purpose. "I think someone doesn't like you."
    "It has nothing to do with me." She shook her head. "I think someone does like you. I am apparently in the way."
    She swallowed long and deep, the muscles in her throat working to deliver the fermented brew. And he wanted only to soothe her. But she had shown that soothing would get him nowhere. However, he could find a way to distract her. "Would you swallow my cum with the same enthusiasm, I wonder?"
    She spewed a mouthful of ale onto the table. "You are quite impertinent."
    "Darling, I'm assure you I'm not impertinent. Give me your hand and I'll show you." He glanced meaningfully down at his lap and startled a laugh out of her.
    She bit her lip and glanced around the tavern. Finally she straightened her shoulders and shifted toward him. "Has anyone in here been asking about the Fae?"
    The instinct to rear back was strong but Barbas kept his expression mocking and slightly amused. "Besides me?" He hoped she would take his meaning the wrong way and he was rewarded by her narrow gaze.
    "Quit redirecting. Has anyone been asking about the Fae?" She was deadly serious as her gaze quartered the room. The Fir Bolg assassin was clear and present in that moment.
    "No." And it wasn't a lie. Besides him, no one else was talking about the Fae at all.
    "Fine." She finished the beer with a flourish. "You want to get out of here?"
    "You just got here."
    "It's empty. All the other taverns I've visited have been empty too."
    It was a wonder they hadn't run into each other before now.
    "The town must be preparing for the Beltane festival." She raised a single eyebrow, her mouth cocked in a wicked smile as she repeated her question. "You want to get out of here?"
    Barbas couldn't conceal his surprise. Had he convinced her to give him another try? "And?"
    "Take me back to the clearing and we'll talk."
    "Talk?" Disappointment clouded his anticipation.
    Her look was saucy. "Among other things."

SEVEN
    They arrived in the clearing without any complications.
    Barbas leaned toward her, knowing that his posture gave away how much he wanted her. But as he scrutinized her bright chestnut eyes, he knew he didn't want to deceive her. "I don't want to lie to you." The words burst out without sensor.
    She nodded once. "But you will." The somber statement cast shadows in her eyes.
    He was the Demon of Deception. It was inevitable that he would deceive her and yet, as he clasped her hand in his, grip tightening with frustration, he swore to her. "I will not lie to you. I swear it to be so." He might use their association to further his mission to infiltrate the Fae but he would not lie to her.
    Her eyes widened as she took in his vow. As if she understood he spoke the absolute truth. Her gaze cut away from his. And in that moment, he realized that for once he might be on the receiving end of the lies rather than the other way around. He wondered briefly if she had an ulterior reason to acquiesce to this assignation.
    Her face lightened with mischief and she carefully, deliberately dropped her cloak to the forest floor. She was still fully dressed in a tunic and breeches beneath the heavy cloak. Before he could comment, she said, "Your body won't lie."
    "My body will always be truthful." He agreed. And yet, how would a former virgin know? His erection pushed at the placket of his simple linen breeches and pulsed to his heartbeat. Gods, he wanted her. A Fae. "It's completely irrational."
    "What's that?"
    "How fucking much I want you."
    She stroked her fingers over his jaw and raised her brow as if questioning the veracity of his confession.
    "Truth." He pressed his palms against her full breasts and savored the pierce of her nipples in his palms through the heavy silk of her tunic. The tunic of the Fir Bolg.
    He sobered