He was sitting with his back to her, waist deep in a hip bath in front of the fire. That surprised her, for humans (and men in particular) seemed to have little concern for cleanliness. She had not made a sound, but he sensed her. In one fluid movement he grabbed the sword from the table next to him and stood, spinning around to face her. The look of surprise on his face almost matched her own.

By the Goddess, he was lovely. He was young, no longer a boy but barely a man. The muscles of his body were lean and firm. She preferred a heavier build on a man, but that would come with age. Already his face was perfection — cheekbones that could rival her own; a strong, square jaw; and lips that any woman would long to kiss. His hair, which fell just past his shoulders, fascinated her. Black at the roots, it then changed to brown and again to a coppery blond. It was his eyes that held her though. They were the dark green of a Faerie forest with flecks of golden sunlight. The emotions behind them ranged from shock to suspicion as they frankly assessed her.

«Lay down your sword, Cullen. I mean you no harm.»

His body relaxed (well, parts of it anyway) and he lowered the blade. «You have the wrong room, my lady. There is no one here by that name.»

She smiled and strolled further into his chamber, taking note of the sparse furnishings — a bed, a table and chair, and little else. She would have thought King Conchobar’s nephew would have more lavish quarters.

«I have not mistaken my destination,» she replied. «Your parents call you Sétanta. The people call you Cúchulainn. May I not have my own name for you?»

For a moment he was drawn in by her sweet smile, then his eyes narrowed. «Who are you?» he demanded. «You are not from Ulster.»

«Are you so certain?» she asked, cocking her head to one side.

«I think I would remember crossing paths with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You aren’t one of Conchobar’s subjects.»

«No, I am not,» Morrígan agreed, pleased with his compliment.

«Are you one of Queen Medb’s spies, then?»

«I am not your enemy,» she assured him. «In fact, I have every reason to believe that you and I will become firm allies.»

Impatiently he stepped from the tub and raised his sword. «That is not an answer. I ask you again, lady. Who are you?»

«I am Morrígan, goddess of war. I hear your prayers before every battle, Cullen, and tonight I am here to answer them.»

He stared at her for a moment and then threw back his head and laughed. Irritated, Morrígan raised her arm and Cullen’s sword was ripped from his grasp, flying through the air and into her outstretched hand.

«Any sorceress could do that,» Cullen scoffed.

Morrígan arched one black brow at him. «Perhaps,» she conceded. «But could anyone other than a goddess do this?»

She moved, faster than his eyes could track her, and before he could react her body was pressed against his. Her hands were suddenly on either side of his face and Cullen grasped her hips to steady them both. She looked into his eyes.

«Hold on,» she said, a moment before the room went black and the floor disappeared from under his feet.

The sensation that followed was not a pleasant one. It felt as though his body was being turned inside out and Cullen gritted his teeth at the pain. Blessedly, it only lasted a moment and then his feet were on solid ground again. Morrígan released him and he fell to his knees, unable to get his bearings and stay upright.

«What did you do?» he gasped.

«I have brought you across the Veil,» she said proudly. «Welcome to Faerie, Cullen.»

Five

When he opened his eyes Cullen found himself in a world he did not recognize. He knelt before Morrígan in the centre of a small meadow surrounded by lush, green trees. A full moon rode high in the sky, gilding everything with its silver light. Nearby, a doe and her fawn, startled by the intrusion, rushed for the protective cover of the tree line. But none of this convinced him that he truly was in Faerie. What did was the fact that everything, from the stars in the sky to the grass under his feet, sparkled. He had never seen anything like it and he knew he never would again.

«Goddess,» he whispered reverently, bowing his head in supplication, «I beg your forgiveness.»

Morrígan placed her hand under his chin and tipped his face up so that she could look into those beautiful green eyes.

«Cullen, we cannot dally here. Time moves differently in Faerie so we must seal our bargain quickly.»

«Bargain?» he asked, confused.

Morrígan cocked her head to one side. «Tell me, what is the one thing that you want most in the world? If you could shape your future any way it pleased you, what would you wish for?»

Cullen was silent for a moment, but it was not indecision that made him pause, it was the fear of actually putting into words what his heart most longed for. Finally, he said, «I would be the greatest warrior Eire has ever seen.»

Morrígan knelt in front of him, cupping his face in her hands. «Men will fear you, women will want you, and no army will be able to stand against you,» she promised fiercely. «In 1,000, nay, 2,000 years bards will still tell tales of the epic battles of the great Cúchulainn. I can give you all that and more, and I require only one thing in return.»

His eyes lit up at the prospect of attaining such glory. «Anything,» he whispered.

«When your mortal life has ended and I come to claim you in death, instead of going to the Summerlands you must pledge your afterlife to my service. In return for that you will be young and strong forever, Cullen. And I will make you the king of an army the likes of which no man has ever led. Will you strike this bargain with me?»

«I will gladly, my goddess,» he answered earnestly.

Morrígan ran her fingers down the sides of his neck, over his shoulders, and across the firm muscles of his chest. She looked up into his eyes and smiled seductively as she slid the cloak from her body, the red cloth pooling like blood on the grass. He stared down at the pale perfection of her naked body.

«Then let us seal this covenant, my young warrior. By flesh and blood I will bind us,» she said, her lips a mere breath away from his. «Come, Cullen. Let me give you everything you have ever desired.»

He pulled her against him, claiming her mouth in a scorching kiss that would change them both, irrevocably and eternally.

Six

Morrígan laid her head on Cullen’s chest, surprisingly sated. She rarely took a human to her bed; she found them generally uninspiring, but Cullen was different. What he lacked in experience, he certainly made up for in enthusiasm. Morrígan smiled, thinking of all the wondrous things she would teach him in the coming years.

«Why me?» he asked softly, pulling her mind back from its wicked imaginings.

«I have seen you fight,» she replied. «There is no grace in your skill nor beauty in your movements. You simply overpower your opponents — hard and rough and dirty.»

Cullen stiffened, believing her comment to be a criticism. «What need have I of grace when I have victory?» he asked arrogantly.

Morrígan laughed and propped her chin on his chest, looking up at him with a smile. «That is exactly why I chose you, Cullen. You intrigue me. Besides,» she said as she raked her fingernails back and forth across his skin, «I like it hard and rough and dirty.»

In one swift movement he rolled her over, pinning her to the ground beneath him. The look on his face held none of the virtues she had just mentioned though. The expression in his eyes was so tender that she swallowed the naughty comment she was about to make and waited for him to speak.

«You are so beautiful it almost hurts to look at you,» he said, running his fingers through her raven hair. «I never want to stop touching you. Will we have this. forever, Morrígan?»

A surge of panic went through her at his question. She was not the sort of woman to put any man and the word «forever» together in the same sentence. The closest thing she had to «forever» was her annual mating with Dagda, which ended the winter season and brought spring to her people. And if she had a choice, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t even have that relationship. She did her duty though, always, and she rarely had a choice in any of it. But now, with this man, she did. She had chosen him and suddenly, surprisingly, the thought of forever did not tie her stomach up in knots. Her mind wasn’t racing to find a reason to rebuff his offer. Instead it was racing in an entirely different direction — imagining hours, days, centuries, spent in his arms and his company.

«Yes,» she replied. «We will have this forever.»

Seven

How Morrígan wished those words had been true. They did have several wonderful years together, happy and carefree years, before the taint of anger and betrayal touched them.

Before each battle Morrígan would come to him. They would spend hours making love, Cullen eager to learn everything she could teach him. Afterwards, while he slept, Morrígan would drag one sharp, black fingernail across her wrist and spill a few drops of her precious blood into his mouth. Her blood made him strong and she made him fearless. He went into each battle, accepted each challenge, with the knowledge that he could not be killed. Because she would not allow it.

Morrígan fulfilled her end of their bargain with enthusiasm. The name of Cúchulainn became feared and revered throughout the Celtic world. He was a walking legend. He was everything she had promised, and more.