The woman below him growled again and dug her nails into his shoulderblades, just above his wings. Spike. Her Spike had finally come home to her, just as she had foreseen it -- and now he was loving her: an agreeably heavy, hard presence writhing with her on what had been a dark and lonely bed.

Her feathers splayed out across the mattress beneath her, but there was plenty of give in the bed -- no pain. She would keep him in her nest. She would keep him every night, and this would be their home. She would bake him a pie made of kittens.

At the thought, Dru moaned encouragingly and licked his earlobe. More.