Smiling from the unalloyed pleasure of being here with Dain, I leaned my head against him. "You're far from tiny," I drawled at him.

Dain only hooked his arm around mine and laced his clawed fingers through my human ones. "Nevertheless, I, too, required my soulmate to bloom, and there is no one else but her who will do for me." He rubbed his cheek against my hair, a fond gesture. "Phoenix-tongues will live only in dense, moist litter underneath a forest like this, and they require the litter to be full of twigs and airy, because their beloved fungus needs water, air, and dead wood to survive. Somehow, they all know to bloom at the same time, and usually bloom every six years, though occasionally they'll do five or seven years."

"Do you come every year to check?" I asked, trying not to giggle about Dain being sappy and romantic. Nobody would ever believe me if I attempted to quote this at them, and I was delighted by the secret.

"Not every year," Dain said with a laugh. "But many years, yes. Do you see that?" he asked, pointing to one of the thick, pale green anchoring roots of the orchid, which was covered in little bumps along the underside, all the places where it touched the rotting twigs and leaves it laced through. At my nod, Dain kissed me again. "That's where the fungus connects to it. Even though the orchid is more spectacular in appearance than the fungus, it's the fungus that anchors the orchid. It wouldn't survive without its soulmate."

"Are you calling me a fungus, mister?" I did laugh this time, especially when Dain flicked me on the ear with a grin.

"You're my very beloved fungus," he said, in the sappiest, most dramatic voice I thought he could dredge up. "It's true love."

I shoved his immovable self, and he laughed and shoved me back. I would have probably gotten shoved right off the boardwalk if Dain hadn't still had his wing-arm around me, but as it was he got me onto my side, and then flipped me the rest of the way over onto my back, framing me with his solid body. I looked up at him with a wicked smile, thoroughly pinned and enjoying every second of it.

Dain settled himself down on top of me, warm and heavy, and ran his nose along my neck, inhaling. "I love this scent," he said, his voice dropping deeper.

"Which one?" I asked, running my hands down his sides.

He hummed, sounding pleased, and kissed my neck, all sultry heat and desire. "I think you know," he purred into my ear. "Your desire for me has always drawn me to you like the stag to the doe, from that very first day in Faery when I displayed myself to you so I could see the horror on your face, and instead found anger and want."