If she were that worried, Shannon thought, it wouldn't hurt to indulge her. Indulge both of them, rather, because the idea of letting the Enemy have her was becoming more attractive. Most humans were disgusting weak things, not fit to be more than toys for his minions, but Sara was different. She was strong, attractive--and she loved him. Part of that was the conditioning he'd given her, of course, but even at first that hadn't been all of it; she'd taken to him without any prompting, unless you counted the rescue itself. And he hadn't felt Cortin using her power, even unconsciously, for some time, so perhaps it wouldn't be too much of a risk using his own. It would take so little to transport them to his realm, and Cortin should be either asleep or too preoccupied to notice anyway. Giving in to temptation, he kissed Blackfoot hard, pulling her blouse open to grasp her breast as he set himself for the transfer. Blackfeather gasped in startled joy as her lover's power surrounded them for the first time in months that seemed like years. She felt a sensation of movement, and they were standing before ruby thrones at one end of a great hall hung with rich dark draperies, brightly lit by flames that moved at random, without burning anything. This had to be an illusion, she told herself at more normal moments, because they could be here for hours, even days, with no time having passed when they returned--but it felt real, and while she was in it, she didn't question that reality. This was Hell's throne room, he its King, and she his Queen. She remained herself, only her clothes changed; instead of a proper tailored suit, she now wore gold streamers generously sprinkled with rubies. They hid almost nothing even when they fell quietly from shoulders to feet; stirred as they usually were by her movements, they swirled open at random times and places. But he changed completely, more spectacular in his nudity than even the most ornate robes could make him. Flame-red hair and amber slit-pupilled eyes emphasized alabaster skin, as did huge wings with gleaming jet-black feathers. This was her favorite of his forms--though it shocked her to see that for the first time, he wasn't erect. Taken aback, she stared at him. "Is something wrong, beloved?" "That is." His wings spread, shadowing them. "I love you as well, you see, which is why I cannot continue to let you love me. It must be love, because I find your welfare more important to me than my pleasure, which is the classic definition. It is also an emotion I never felt before, in all my millennia, and one I find both unfitting and remarkably inconvenient."