Editor's note: Hello! Thanks for reading my story. For quicker updates on my writing, you can find my Discord here. And if you're feeling generous and want to buy me a cup of coffee, you can do so here. 

__________________

In between the locking of lips and quick breaths to keep my lungs semi-functional, I tried to plead my case. Though I could tell in seconds this Barsilla character wouldn’t have to work hard to elicit pleas from me. 

My face was starting to feel warm. Really warm. Snowy outside, good buzz building at the bar while I made out with a girl wearing a Lacuna Coil sweater. What was her name again? Emma? I swear, trans girls were fucking beautiful and often generous kissers, but they needed a little more originality in the name department. 

Aside from the sweater and her name, the only other thing I remembered was that we were drinking hard cider when our eyes locked across the bar. 

I could have sworn the thermostat was set to 85 or maybe even 90 after the fourth or fifth kiss. Fucking Bremerton, man. Every time they built a new apartment complex or business, I swear they flipped a coin on whether to include air conditioning. Or maybe it was a lady I was kissing. I was inclined to accept either explanation. 

Why was I thinking about Emma again? Oh yeah. Because this Barsilla girl was stirring some of the same feelings. New kiss. New girl. New place.

Thing was, I didn’t smooch Emma until I’d already had a drink or two in me. And that’s not to say I needed the drinks to want to kiss her. I was just too nervous to make the first move and sat there drinking to run down the clock. Either my courage would hit equilibrium and finally allow me to walk over to her booth, or she’d roll her eyes, grow impatient, and come stick her tongue down my throat. 

Barsilla pushed me a little harder into the pillow, and I might have grinned. Usually, I had to do the pushing. It was nice for once too — WAIT. What the fuck was happening?

Let me run through the series of events as I continued to lock lips with this fae librarian. First, I was going to marry a sweet boy, but not one I was attracted to in any way because of overwhelming family pressure and guilt. Second, I unknowingly struck a bargain with a sprite who used a magic book to imprison my human soul in her tiny ageless body. Third, I was dropped into a magical world called Faerie against my will. Fourth, I was accused of spying on a mad queen and almost executed. Fifth, a femme my height had agreed to interrogate me, only for conversation to quickly give way to snogging. 

I know Americans don’t use that word, but I always found it amusing to say, so I tried to work it into as many conversations as I could. Goddamn Brits had the funniest slang. And here I was macking with a girl who sounded like I imagined the average London dyke sounded like. 

Warmth crept up into my cheeks, and I found my hands moving toward Barsilla’s hips. 

“Do you remember what I said I’d do if I ever saw you again?” she whispered into my ear. Fuck, the sound of a girl talking low into my ear, a secret just meant for the two of us, it was enough for me to almost forget I’d nearly surrendered my future to a straight man today. A man whose hands knew exactly what to do with a diesel engine but shit all about revving up my own motor. 

“Not even a little bit,” I said, my voice still not my own. Well, it was mine now. But it still didn’t sound like me. Body thieving was just an innately weird crime. It had to be right up there with reverse pickpocketing or living statues in a no-loitering zone. It’s just not an example of lawbreaking that came to mind right away. Not like robbing a bank or committing tax fraud. 

I kept thinking that I needed to inform Barsilla that I was, in fact, not her ex-girlfriend. This had to be the horniest form of identity theft in the history of the felony. But every time I tried to make the words, Barsilla would run her tongue over mine, and I’d feel a little more intoxicated. 

So now I had competing interests, being honest and figuring out how she was making me feel kiss drunk. Was that magic? What did she call it? Glamour?

“I said that if you ever dared to show your face in front of me again, I was going to kiss you silly and then remind you of what you’d missed every single day for whatever amount of time it took you to come to your senses and rush back to me.” 

Dammit, Sylva. What on Earth could have driven you to leave a woman like this? My greatest prayer before the wedding was that a girl like Barsilla would storm into the chapel during the part where the preacher asked if anyone had objections. 

Barsilla pressed a knee between my legs and moved a hand behind my neck, squeezing. That, I’m embarrassed to say, elicited a slight moan from yours truly. I found that strange for two reasons. First, those weren’t necessarily moves I’d found all that impressive when I was human. Second, she seemed to know exactly what she was doing, which was a chilling hypothesis. 

“There it is,” she whispered in my ear again. “I can’t believe it took you a fucking century to realize how badly you needed these touches in your life.” 

“About that. . .,” I finally found the strength to say. 

Barsilla pressed her knee against my groin a little harder, and I felt heat rising all the more. It wasn’t unwanted. I just — she had to know the truth before we went much further. 

“Yes, I know. What’s a century between immortals? But just because we’re made to live forever doesn’t mean we stop feeling the days,” she said, joining her lips with mine once more. If the room wasn’t spinning before, it was now. “I’m not sure how much you remember about me, but I damn well sure remember every single millimeter of your body. I recall every spot that will bring you to your knees, every location that fills you with anticipation, and every zone that just requires a light caress to summon forth your moan.”

The sprite bit the bottom of my now-pointy ears and lightly ran it through her teeth while my eyes closed, and I curled into Barsilla even more. 

“Coming back to me was your greatest mistake, Sylva. And also the smartest decision you’ve ever made. So I hope you’re ready for me to remind you of everything you’ve been missing for the last 100 years. Because when I’m finished with you, you’ll never want to leave me again, not for a quest.” 

“A quest?” I mumbled. 

“Not for a fling.”

“A fling?” I muttered. 

“And certainly not for some magic book.” 

My eyes snapped open, and I found the strength to push Barsilla back. Not far. Just a step or two. My arms were weak, and the room was still spinning. I felt tipsy beyond belief. How long had we been kissing? What did she do to leave me feeling like this? I didn’t hate the feeling. Truth be told, it was warm and welcoming, like everything I’d been craving since I tumbled headfirst into this faerie business. 

“Why. . .do I feel this way?” I asked, leaning back hard into the pillow wall behind me. Without it, I’d have certainly fallen over.

Barsilla raised an eyebrow. 

“Because we were in love? And after leaving me to find that stupid book, you finally came to your senses to come back and beg my forgiveness? What answer are you looking for?” the sprite asked, crossing her arms. 

I shook my head, which I realized too late only made the problem worse. 

“N — no. I mean. . . why do I feel tipsy after kissing you?”

Barsilla chuckled. 

“Sweeting, we were on our way to doing more than kissing before you pushed me away. If this is an issue of consent, I apologize. I’d just assumed if you went far enough as to earn the ire of my queen, you were truly desperate to be with me again.” 

I raised a hand. 

“No. Let me be clear. You absolutely had my consent to rock my world. Pretty women, especially ladies with an accent, can run me over with their car, and I’ll typically thank them for it. If I didn’t want you kissing me, you’d know.” 

The sprite cocked her head to the side. 

“Well then what’s the issue, Sylva? I refuse to believe you’re having cold feet after the risk you took being here. My queen almost obliterated you. If you didn’t take that risk to feel my lips all over your body again, what possible reason could you have for drawing the ire of the Raven Queen?”

I took a second to catch my breath. 

“Can we just. . . get back to why I feel all woozy?”

“Oh wow. You really did forget what it was like to be with me after a hundred years. That’s kind of depressing. Though I’m happy to remind you. . . intimately,” Barsilla said, taking a step forward. 

Now I had both arms raised. 

Ironic that she mentioned cold feet given how badly I wanted to ditch my wedding, I thought. 

“Again, all for you reminding me of anything intimately. Biblically bring back my memories. Help me recall with great quaking. But you need to know who you’re pre-fucking first.” 

Barsilla crossed her arms. She looked amused. Her coral eyes narrowed slightly as a grin crossed her lips. 

“Are you not Sylva Sniffles, the girl I’ve pleasured multiple times in every court of Faerie?” 

I lost my words immediately as I imagined us fornicating in a bunch of exotic magical places that didn’t smell of bog and rain. 

“Are you not Sylva Sniffles, the lady I’ve made scream every obscenity at the tops of her lungs?”

“About that. . .” 

“Are you not Sylva Sniffles, the woman I’ve tasted and the sprite who has tasted me so often as to leave a lasting imprint on our very glamours?”

Shit. She was getting me hot and bothered with just her words. Not since I shagged that slam poet in Spokane had such a thing happened to me.

“Okay, the answer to all those questions is. . . very depressingly. . . no. I’m not Sylva. I’m not the sprite you’ve done all that with.” 

“Eh, it was more to than with. You always were a bit of. . what do the humans call it? Pillow princess?”

I sighed. That felt familiar. The thing about being an Amazon among girls was I tended to find a lot of partners who wanted things done to them, but who might not have been as enthusiastic about doing things to me. 

“I feel your pain. Believe me, I know a thing or two about selfish lovers,” I muttered, looking out the window again at the seemingly endless storm ripping through the swamplands that stretched as far as my tiny eyes could see. 

“Oh, you were never selfish. Well, leaving me to find that stupid book was selfish. But I enjoyed bringing you to the brink and pushing you over the abyss. It was my greatest pleasure. And it will be again once you finish this ridiculous farce.” 

My knees buckled, and I fell to the giant quilt beneath me. Why was I so dizzy?!

“Do you remember nothing about our time together? You’re addicted to me, sweeting.” 

“No! I don’t remember anything of our time together because I’m not your sweeting. I’m a human girl who was tricked into a stupid bargain with your ex-girlfriend and got body-napped,” I said in a slurry of what I’m pretty sure was mostly coherent. “Wait — did you say addicted?”

Barsilla nodded. 

“Side effect of loving a nectar sprite, I’m afraid. You fuck us long enough, and you crave us. Nothing to be done about it. It’s why I figured you’d come crawling back before now. But you knew that well before we got together.” 

“Sylva might have. I sure as fuck didn’t,” I said. “She found it. That goddamn book. Then she stole my life, tossed me into a tree, and dropped me in front of her former lover. Maybe she was counting on me bumping into you and you tying me down so I couldn’t cause you problems in the future. I didn’t exactly get to hear Sylva’s grand plan.” 

The sprite rubbed her chin and started looking at me more closely. She examined every inch of me with her eyes, and I felt as though I was being mentally undressed which. . . I’m embarrassed to say just made me want to strip for her so she wouldn’t have to rely on imagination. 

Fucking hell, I thought. Could this day get any weirder? 

“So it’s not like. . . mind control, right? This addiction stuff?”

Barsilla shook her head and moved closer, causing me to freeze. I didn’t move a muscle as she ran her fingers across my cheek. I held my breath. 

“No. It’s just cravings. Like humans crave caffeine. Well — alright — it’s a little more intense than that. Call it a side effect of you tasting my. . . well, for lack of a better word, nectar. Of course, I never needed mind control to get you to do what I wanted.” 

Her eyes found mine, and the sprite twirled her fingers in a lock of my hair, which caused my shoulders to tense up. My brain screamed, “Kiss me again, you fool!” 

The fae grinned. 

“You know, it’s funny. You sound like my sweeting. You taste like her. And gods know you moan like her. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m just a little doubtful she found the Book of Tevaedah and traded lives with a mortal. Though I confess, I cannot think of a single advantage your little story gives you. I’m already here, holding you captive, which is historically where you’ve always enjoyed being. Why spin this yarn to get what you want when you already have it?”

Her knee was back again, and her lips hovered inches from me. The urge to grab her and pull her forward was starting to short-circuit my brain. 

“It’s not about. . . trying to get what I want. And believe me, I’ve woken up next to girls after nights of very few words. But they always knew exactly who I was and what I was about before we made it halfway to the bed or the coffee table or the stuffed unicorn or the bathroom at the club. They always knew. I won’t take advantage of someone. I just won’t,” I muttered, falling forward into Barsilla’s steadying embrace. 

Damn, I’m buzzed, I thought. 

The sprite pushed me back into the pillow wall and studied my face. Her flirtiness vanished for all but a moment when she said, “How very conscientious. It’s not like you at all, sweeting. The most genuine thing you told me was that you were leaving me to find that book. And now you’re here. . . telling me you found the book. Or rather, my former lover did. It’s all hard to believe.” 

I said nothing. What could I say? “Please move your thigh a little more upward and start rubbing on me?” No, that was not what I needed right now. It’s just what I wanted. . . terribly wanted. Awfully wanted. Extremely badly wanted. 

Barsilla thought for a moment before that flirty smile crept back onto her face. 

“I need to know if you’re telling the truth,” she said. 

“Okay?” I shrugged, trying not to sound desperate for her to stop talking and start undressing me. 

These goddamn cravings are ridiculous, I thought. 

“The easiest way for me to get the honest-to-gods truth from your lips is to overwhelm you with my glamour and cast a revelation spell over you.” 

I raised an eyebrow. 

“A revelation spell?”

“It’s a good act, sweeting. Pretending you’ve forgotten all these things. I’ll play along for now. A revelation spell helps you to see absolute truth and then speak it to the caster. Essentially, you cannot lie to me for as long as the spell lasts. There’s no twisting words, no muddling meanings, no severing secrets. You’re entirely at my mercy for a fact-finding mission.” 

I nodded. 

“Okay, so how do you overwhelm me with glamour and cast the revelation spell?”

Barsilla’s grin grew wider. 

“Well, the fastest way for me to slam a bunch of my glamour into your body would be to fuck you senseless. Such an intimate act between our bodies would leave you all but prone to my influence. But if you don’t consent to that, I’m sure I could think of another way that might take half a day or so.”

I gulped, and she heard it. 

This was crazy. Had I hit the lottery? A woman of otherworldly beauty needed to hear absolute honesty from me. In any other situation, I imagine I’d be strapped to a table and pumped full of truth serum like Luis was.

But here, in this remote cabin, I just had to cozy up real close to this smoldering librarian-looking sprite and let her go to town on me? 

“Fuck me up,” I said before my mind had considered the consequences of her doing so. What if the cravings got stronger? What words did she use again? Prone? Revelation? There was an awful lot to consider. But fuck it. I was thirsty as hell, and a beauty named Barsilla was offering to help me in that regard. 

“So you consent to the sex and the spell?” she asked. “No stopping me to have a conversation about honesty and identity?”

“I consent. No interruptions, I swear.” 

The piskie was on me in an instant. 

Before her lips found mine again, she practically hissed, “Fucking finally.”