He flew through the night, carried on the warm air currents, his call echoing through the trees. Loneliness. Each time he cried out she heard the sorrow and emptiness in his voice. Cursed to hunt alone, never finding a mate, never spending a night in the arms of another. An eternity, flying through the night alone, until the dawn forced him to seek out a safe place to roost.

Unless she found a way to free him from the curse.

Rhiannon shook her head and walked back into her cottage, or rather her family's cottage. The small building had been the sanctuary for the women of her line for generations. Vines crawled around the windows, a thin line of smoke curled its way into the sky, and candles shone in the windows. This place had become home to her. Most of her family had shunned it once they found out about the curse. A curse she had to try and break, if for no other reason than to stop the dreams once and for all.

She wondered what he might look like when the curse was broken. He couldn't possibly be as attractive in human form as the man who tormented her every night. His eyes were wild and soft at the same time, a deep amber, bright, sharp, looking for some flaw, some sign of weakness in her. Yet it didn't stop him from caressing her body through the darkness of the night.

His eyes. She couldn't shut out his eyes. They pierced her soul, leaving her trembling at the slightest memory of them. Even more than that. They burned into her heart, sent quivers through her body until her sex tightened, rippling with the need to feel something, anything, deep within her being.

If she only understood, fully, what she was feeling. She had never known the touch of a man except in her dreams, and now--now the man she dreamed of was little more than a spirit trapped within the body of a great white owl. If she tried to tell this to anyone, they'd tell her she was insane.

She closed the door behind her and turned her attention to the old book on the table. She had left it open to the page where the notes began to speak about the curse, the day her great grandmother had finally had enough of the arrogant young man and taken action against him. Rhiannon settled down at the kitchen table, tracing her fingers under the words, her gaze narrowing as she read the neat script.

I warned him. Time and again I warned him to stay away from my sister. But still he waits for her, trying to lure her away with soft words and tender kisses. He'll bring her grief. I don't understand why he will not take my warning and leave well enough alone, so I have no choice now. Goddess forgive me, I have no choice but to use everything in my power to turn him away from her.

Why can't he see that hounding her every minute of the day and night has left her afraid of him? She won't even leave the house now and that still doesn't keep him away.

Obsession. I never thought I would see it up close. Now that I have, I can see it for the dangerous and evil thing it truly is.

Thank you, Goddess, for giving me Sean. He, at least, understands the difference between love and obsession. He despairs at the actions of his brother. I can only hope he will understand why I have to do this. It's a risk. He will be angry, but I know he loves me, and in time, he'll accept that this is for the best.

Rhiannon shook her head, turning away from the book for a brief moment. It had all been done to protect a woman from a lover, or perhaps a would-be lover. If her great aunt had ever actually stepped foot into Éanna's bed, it was never entirely made clear. Rhiannon had scoured the books, journals and hand written scraps of notes for any sign of further information that she could use, but whatever had happened behind the privacy of closed doors, remained hidden for all time.

Unless she could free him from the curse and ask him herself.

Goddess, it's been done. But the price. I never thought the price would be so high. Sean will not speak to me. He cannot see this was the only way to protect Elaine. I should have realized he would not approve of this no matter how I tried to pretend otherwise.

I've lost him. For now. I pray, no I beg, that he returns to me. I cannot imagine my life without him.

Or perhaps this is all I deserve for stealing the humanity from his brother?

But I've left a hole in the curse, a way he can be released. If I thought he would trust me then I would offer him my innocence to release him. But he stays clear of me, and I cannot rid myself of the hope that the man who takes that from me will be Sean. My beloved Sean.

At least she'd regretted her actions, and the price she paid had been one that cut her to the heart. Rhiannon had read through the story before, a hundred times, or more, searching for the answers.

Éanna, the answers lay with him.

In the dreams he came to her naked, hungry, needing her touch. The words whispered to her spoke of love, devotion and a life together. His body curled with hers, filling her, stretching her, bringing her to heights of passion that she'd never dared believe could exist. But what she intended to do now would be no dream. The risk she'd take could condemn her to a life she wasn't sure she had the courage to face, or a life with a man who had won her heart and soul through the passion they'd shared during dream time.

His eyes. She couldn't shut out his eyes. Amber, liquid passion, she'd lost herself in his eyes time and again. Those first dream meetings had been vague, little more than the impression of light touches, his lips, the way he looked at her. Then it changed.

He came to her fully. They shared long conversations, poetry, dreams and hopes. Yet she'd always seen that doubt in the way he looked at her, the knowledge that, even though it felt real, what they shared would never be anything more than a dream. Well that would change. Tonight she'd show him that a dream could become reality.

If only she had the courage to go through with it.

Rhiannon peered out into the darkness of the moonlit night. Slender shimmering shards of silver pierced the canopy. He'd be out there in the darkness, hunting for a way out, a way to change his life, to break the curse, or even just a simple meal to see him through the night.

She had to free him from the curse.

She had to find a way to free them both.

Éanna soared on the evening breeze, letting it carry him through the trees. He knew every scrap of the woods, every tree almost by name, and still he explored, hoping to find something new to bring a hint of light into his world of darkness.

A barely there sound reached his ears. The air played through his soft feathers, teasing him as he landed on an outstretched branch. There. A mouse scurried through the thick undergrowth. His stomach growled, reminding him that he had to eat something soon, but even after all these years he had a problem with the idea of eating a mouse. A rabbit, now that he could live with, and live on, but there was just something wrong with the idea of eating a small rodent.

What he wouldn't have given for a mug of ale and a good steak and kidney pie. Or a ripe, juicy apple. Maybe a piece of steak, cooked over an open fire and a shot of his father's whiskey. He'd lost so many things with the curse, but whenever he was faced with eating a mouse he found it was the food he missed the most.

That and the touch of a woman. Her fingers stroking his cheek, the smell of her perfume, the way her lips felt beneath his. He had been denied all of the simple pleasures in life. The worst of it was that female owls actually started to look good some nights. The idea repulsed him most of the time, but every now and then he came close to losing his humanity completely and seeking a female owl as a mate.

He'd managed to retain enough of himself to prevent that for now, partially thanks to the dreams.

He closed his eyes, remembering each image from the previous day's dream. The way her hair had slipped over her breasts, half covering them, tempting him to draw aside the thick, dark strands. Her nipples, small, tender things that swelled with her passion and peeked through until he'd bent down and taken one in his lips, tasting her. The feel of her nails across his back as he pressed between her thighs. Her tight walls, wet, hungry and welcoming, clasping his cock, working on his thick length until he cried out, releasing into her sweet body.

She had stepped into his dreams during a weak moment. And her appearance gave him the chance to hold onto his humanity a little longer.

The night was still new and already he looked forward to the dawn and the dreams that made his life worth living, a chance to escape into the world he'd made for himself there. She would be waiting for him. She always waited for him, with her body so soft and welcoming to his touch. Her lips, he could almost taste them. Just as he strained each night to smell her arousal, but in dreams, even powerful ones, such things were denied to him. His imagination tried to fill in the gaps but he was left with a sense that he was missing something important in his times with his dream lover.

She was nothing more than a dream, but it was enough to keep him from giving up entirely.

One day it would not be enough. He would finally shed the last of his dreams, the last of his grip on humanity, and in that day there would be nothing left but the owl.

He shifted on the branch, his claws tight about the bark-covered wood as he twisted his head, trying to see what else was happening within the immediate area. That was when he saw it, a pale flickering light.

Someone was back at the cottage. After all these years, someone had lit the fire in the hearth and taken possession of the small place again.

His heart skipped a beat. Only one family ever stayed at that cottage. If they had returned, that meant trouble in one form or another. Just when he'd almost become used to living here, alone, as an owl, even hunting as one and...

No. Why was he lying to himself? He enjoyed being an owl, at times, but it wasn't who and what he was meant to be. He'd been born a man. He should still be one. If it hadn't been for that damn witch he'd still be human, with a woman at his side.

Elaine. His beautiful Elaine. Why had Aliana hated him for the love he felt for her sister? He'd done her no harm. He'd been respectful, even kept his lust at bay, but it hadn't been enough. He'd been cursed because of it. She damned him to a life as a midnight hunter and kept him from Elaine for the rest of her life.

Her life. But not his.

It wouldn't have even been so bad if he'd been given the normal lifespan of a bird, or even left to live out his standard human lifespan. But the witch had added an extra warped twist to her evil little curse. He had to live eternally as an owl, until such time as one of her line would sacrifice her blood and heart in order to release him.

As if that was ever going to happen.

He wondered if the story had been passed down through the ages, the women warned about the dangers of associating with him. Or maybe they didn't know about the curse at all and just thought he was another owl. He couldn't decide which was worse. And now they were back.

He pushed up from the branch, winging through the darkness, carried on the thermals with the slightest push of his wings. He had at least managed to get the hang of flying. Learning that had been embarrassing to say the least. The first few days he'd stumbled from branch to branch, managing to move a few feet through the air before he was brought down, crashing to the ground. The witch had been amused by that. He had heard her laughter, cold, cruel, and her mocking words, saying he deserved it after the pain he'd put her family through.

What pain?

He'd been in love. What pain had his love caused his sweet Elaine? He'd done whatever she wanted, made it clear he'd walk to the ends of the earth for her. That proved that he was dangerous? Had her sister been insane?

He ground his beak as he settled down on another branch, watching through the window of the cottage.

Elaine. This had all happened because of a woman. He'd listened to her lies, to the sobbing of her false heart. She hadn't loved him. No one who truly loved could have turned away from the memory of their beloved within the space of a month. Just one month after he became an owl, a lunar month, she married his own brother.

Éanna couldn't even cry.

The witch hadn't left him with the ability to cry.

All he could do was call out, screech into the night and share his pain with the darkness. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And now they had returned to the cottage, that hateful line with their lies and magic. He'd find a way to destroy them, to end the curse. Perhaps, he would give up his life in order to finally chase them away once and for all. They weren't welcome here. This was his forest now.

He hopped down onto the window ledge to watch through the glass, his breath catching in the back of his throat.

He knew her. Even without seeing her clearly at first, his heart knew this woman.

Black hair, dark as midnight, whispered about her hips as she walked, her feet bare, across the smooth wood. A deep red skirt moved in a soft wave around her legs. A white, billowing blouse, covered her breasts, but he could still see them when she turned, high and proud. Her nipples stood up, pressing against the material. Her body was a sensual delight that beckoned his attention with every step she took.

The book he could see on the kitchen table, the writing all too familiar. Damn her! She was a witch, just like the others of her line. Maybe he'd be able to fly in there and peck out her eyes. Her beautiful, deep green, bewitching eyes.

He'd seen her before, in his dreams. In those dreams, he'd parted her thighs, drove into her sweet, slick core, and enjoyed her body time and again. In his dreams, if nowhere else, he was human. The day he stopped dreaming of himself in human form would be the day he flew out of the forest and found a truck to dive into, or a plate glass window to smash against so he'd never have to feel again--so he'd be free of this curse.

Chapter Two

He was there, sitting on the window ledge. She knew it, even before she turned and spotted the shadowy form. She was aware of his presence. The curse, the magic that had been used to transform him, tugged on her heart. Now she could see the soft image of his feather-shrouded form half hidden by the shadows.

"I know you're there, Éanna," she whispered, taking a step toward the window. "I won't hurt you. I--I don't know if you'll believe me or not, but I'm here to try and help you."

The bird flicked out his wings, but didn't move away from the window, not even when she opened it slowly, taking care not to make any sudden moves. Good, perhaps he believed her. Or he was looking for a way to try and attack her. He'd have good reason.

Her gaze narrowed on his beak and sharp claws.

Yes, he could do some damage with those. She took a deep breath and moved back to the kitchen table, turning the chair as she pulled it out, so she could watch him.

"I know about the curse. And I know how to end it. I think--no, I know I'm the one to do it. You've been coming to me, during the day, in your sleep, pulling me into a dream state with you. I've seen you there, in human form. I know it's you from the descriptions. From the drawings in her book." She kept her voice low and soft, hoping he would believe her. "I've found a way to lift the curse for a night. If it works, if our time together works, then it will release you from the spell. But--but you have to trust me."

And just why would he trust her? Unless the dreams, the images had been real. If he remembered them, if he knew that he had truly been with her during those times, then it would all work out. He'd know. He'd understand that she truly was the one meant to release him from the curse.

"You've come to me, touched me, made love to me every day for months." She set her hands into her lap, well away from the book. "I thought--at first--you were a trick, played on me by someone my family had upset. But I know better now. You were reaching out for me. In your own way, you were looking for a way to be cured."

She reached back, slowly, touching the book and the bird let out a low screech, flicking out his wings. She pulled her hand back away from the book, settling it back in her lap. This wasn't going to be easy.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I know you don't believe me right now. Why would you?" She peered into the bird's eyes, searching for some sign of the man who seduced her time and again, wooed her body into heights of pleasure only to vanish with the setting sun and the fading of a dream. "Look, I have better things I could be doing with my time instead of spending it here, hoping you'll understand what I have in mind and what I'm trying to do for you. But if you want to remain as an owl for the rest of eternity then it's your life. Not mine."

The owl tipped his head to one side, blinking slowly.

"So you do understand me, don't you?"

He slowly nodded, fixing his dark gaze on her face.

"But you don't trust me."

Again he nodded.

"Will you let me try to help you?" She didn't reach back for the book, though she'd need it to work the charm. It was a brief charm, a simple one, to reveal the truth. She'd taken the time to adjust it; to work it in such a manner that it would do far more than simply reveal the truth of the situation. It would allow him to step into his true body for one night. She only hoped it would be enough.

The bird didn't move, not for some time. Then slowly he nodded. He hopped across to the table and pecked at the open page. He flapped his wings out, the movement sharp and angry. Yes he'd let her help him. If only to see if there was a chance, a hope of freedom from being locked in that feathered body for the rest of eternity.

"Then trust me and follow me. I'll need to collect the book. If you think I'm about to do something wrong, then I'm sure you'll know how to stop me." She turned to face the table, sliding the book slowly toward her. The bird didn't move, except to step back from the leather bound book, his gaze fixed on her movements.

"I have a room set up for this." She gathered the book to her breast before she walked away from the table toward the only bedroom in the cottage. Her heart raced, pounding against her rib cage. Cold sweat coated her body. She had to do this, she had to try. If she didn't, she'd always regret it.

Was he out of his mind?

The woman was a witch, just like the others of her line. There was no way she was trying to help him. They weren't to be trusted, no matter what.

Yet he'd seen her, every day, in his dreams. Why had he been dreaming about her?

He was tied to her family line. It made sense in a twisted sort of way. Falling in love with one woman had brought about the curse of another. And in an odd way, maybe Aliana had been right. Elaine hadn't been the right woman for him. But he'd thought otherwise then, he'd believed otherwise. Elaine of the dancing eyes and golden hair. She was so unlike her dark-haired sister and the midnight maiden he now followed into the bedroom.

Walking wasn't easy in bird form, so he half hopped, half glided from the kitchen into the bedroom, and landed on the back of a chair close to the door. An old wooden frame supported a thick feather bed and heavy down comforter. Candles had been lit around the room. Herbs filled the air, a soft, comforting smell that settled calm about his feathered shoulders.

"I need to open the book and read from it. Please, don't be afraid. I'm not trying to hurt you." She turned to look at him, and unbound the ties of her skirt, letting it slip around her ankles. Her long, slender legs, curved up into full, beautiful hips, a small triangle of cloth covering her mound. Just enough to hide her sex from his gaze. He might have still been in bird form but it didn't stop him from wanting to see more.

His gaze focused on a small scar just above her left kneecap. It was the shape of a crescent moon, the two tips of the moon pointed down, toward her foot. He'd seen it before, in his dreams. But that meant--it meant the dream had been real. She was real. It wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

The blouse followed the path of the skirt, pooling on the floor, leaving her in nothing more than the scrap of material that could have laughingly been called panties. Silently, she picked up the book, and opened it to the page she needed. Her gaze flickered to him, then back to the page.

"I have to read from this. Are you sure you want me to do this?"

He nodded, watching her.

Her ripe nipples were firm and begging his touch. He could see the outline of soft curls that lay hidden beneath the triangular scrap of material. Her buttocks were taut and high, her hips, round, full and delicious. She was a woman made for the touch of a man, a man like he had once been.

She spoke but he couldn't make sense of the words. He heard the musical quality of them, heard the soft sensual tone behind them, but the words themselves slipped from his memory before he was able to grasp them. Tension built across his body. His muscles twitched and he flicked out his wings, trying to find a way to be rid of the strangeness that inflicted his body.

Her voice rose. The candles flickered. One candle popped, the flame vanishing only to reappear again.

Éanna tried rolling his shoulders, but the pressure continued until he felt stretched. His muscles screamed in pain. Pain lanced through his body, pulling him taut, tearing him in two. He had to stop this, to stop the spell. She was killing him. Foul witch. Evil witch. She'd trapped him. Now he was going to die.

Hadn't they done enough to him?

Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Goddess!