Author's Note: SPOILER ALERT for the series through Skin Game. This is set at a nonspecific point in the future of the series. I purposely didn't name the threat that Harry and Molly are facing; hopefully that will keep it from becoming non-canon too soon. Feel free to imagine the Denarians, Outsiders, the Black Council, or whatever other bad guys you want. Mature readers only!
Disclaimer: These are Jim Butcher's characters, not mine, and the awesome world he created. Thank you, Mr. Butcher! :-)

"Almost there, Harry," Molly reassured me, helping me hobble over a tree root that seemed determined to trip me. With a wave of her hand that reminded me of an old Jedi mind trick, the snow vanished from a long strip of ground in front of us. A path of paved stones appeared instead.

"Take your time, Grasshopper," I panted, leaning on her shoulder more than I wanted to. "It's not like I have a fractured ankle, or anything." The mantle of the Winter Knight had been keeping the pain at bay all day, enough so that I'd been putting a lot more weight on the injury than I should have, keeping it from healing. Now, after everything that had happened, there was very little of that power left to keep me going. I ached all over, and I'd been using Soulfire too much, as well; the weariness that caused, on top of everything else, meant I could just barely gimp along with the help of my staff and Molly's support without falling on my ass.

She knew it, too, and shot me a sideways glance. "I'm going as fast as you can," she said sweetly, nudging me in the ribs with an elbow.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, and concentrated on the complicated rhythm of staff-foot-shuffle-hop that was keeping me moving.

"Here," she said, pausing a moment later. I looked up, squinting. In the dead of Sidhe night, somewhere in Winter's domain, we stood outside a generously-sized log cabin. Actually, the word cabin didn't do the building justice; it was more of a sprawling log ranch. Through the windows, I could see a fire blazing merrily away on the hearth. A sudden pang of homesickness for my old basement apartment shot through me.

I frowned over my shoulder as Molly led me inside. The path behind us was covered in snow again, and there was nothing to show where Molly's portal into the Nevernever had opened. We were in Faerie, obviously, but not a place I recognized, and not a Way that my mother had ever studied.

"Where are we?" I asked, while Molly shut the door behind us.

"Home," she said promptly. "It's sort of... I guess you could call it my demesne, in Winter. Auntie Lea helped me set it up. We're safe here."

Whoa. It had never occurred to me that Molly would have her own home in Mab's realm...but it made sense. She was Mab's own successor, after all. And if this was indeed a demesne, as I understood the term, Molly was in complete control of everything within its borders. Safe might almost be an understatement.

The interior of the cabin- or whatever- was cozy, lots of natural wood grain surfaces and soft rugs. There was a comfortably-sized kitchen, and the living room held a massive fireplace, with bookshelves lining the walls to either side. The fire filled the huge hearth, but the warmth in the cabin was spread evenly throughout the space, a welcome contrast to the chill that was prevalent back at Arctis Tor, and the rest of Winter. The living room had a sloping ceiling that reached two stories high at its peak, and the far wall was lined with expansively tall windows. They afforded the interior with a great view of a small lake several hundred yards away. Beyond the lake, a stand of huge evergreen trees was decorated like Christmas, with lights glowing softly under a layer of snow.

"Wow," I said, impressed by the house. I waved a hand toward the lighted trees outside. "Do the neighbors ever complain about you leaving up the holiday lights all year?"

Molly helped me shuffle to the big couch that faced the fireplace. "Always Winter, never Christmas," she said. "It was starting to get old. All I was missing was a lion and a wardrobe."

"Heh. You know, I've met Santa Claus. He's not as benevolent as he is in that story. Or most stories."

"Why am I not surprised?" She muttered. I leaned my staff against the wall, and Molly helped me settle onto the couch. I leaned back with a sigh of relief. Stars and stones, I hurt everywhere. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and pass out right there, forget about everything that had happened that day and everything that was going down tomorrow.

But...

"How long do we have, Grasshopper?" I asked tiredly. "What's the time differential between here and Chicago?"

"It's in our favor, actually," she said, with a small smile. "For once. You'll have plenty of time to rest. Even the Leanansidhe can't make time stop, but she got pretty close. I usually spend a few nights here and get back to Chicago at almost the same time I left."

My jaw might almost have dropped down to the floor for a second, like an old cartoon. This was incredibly cool. "Wow," I said again. "I mean, wow. You're...you're sure about this?"

Molly nodded. "We set it up that way deliberately. I... Being the Winter Lady helps with my sensitivity, a little... but still, I don't handle combat well. I need a lot of alone time. And, here..." she looked around her home, a quiet pride in her blue eyes. "Here, I have a place to recover alone, and I don't miss out on anything."

"Your own little Fortress of Solitude," I said, and managed a grin.

She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Duh. Let me get you some coffee, and then I'll look at that ankle."

"First things first," I agreed, and gave in to the urge to drop my head back against the couch and close my eyes.

Almost immediately, I woke up to a sharp pain in my ankle, and found a cup of steaming coffee on the table by my elbow. And a sandwich, which looked heavenly, and was just about the only edible thing I trusted Molly to make.

She was kneeling at my feet, carefully pulling off my boot. She began to examine my swollen ankle with a gentle touch. As it always did when I was caught unawares, Winter roared to life inside my head, making it impossible for me to see her as anything but a luscious young woman on her knees before me. Aches and weariness be damned, desire spiked through me like a lightning bolt, with no regard for whether I was even capable of acting on it.

As I always did when that happened, I gritted my teeth and began to run through multiplication tables in my head. When rationality returned, I sipped at the coffee to help keep my head clear. Plenty of sugar, which was perfect. I was feeling almost human again by the time Molly eventually said, "I think it'll heal cleanly, if you just rest it long enough for Winter to do its thing. I'm going to wrap it though, just in case."

I grunted an assent, watching her wind an athletic wrap around my ankle. Earlier that day- had it really been just this morning that everything started going to hell?- she had sported an opalescent sheen of the palest icy blue in her hair, and frosty glimmers on her eyelids, her cheekbones. Here, in her home, she'd let go of that glamour, and pulled her natural, golden hair back into a messy ponytail. She'd ditched the facial piercings a few years back, but the tattoos were still visible, twining down her neck and up her wrist. She was unhurt, but her navy blue business suit, her usual Winter Lady look, was a mess of mud and blood. The ivory silk blouse was tattered and torn, and it offered me a very good glimpse of what was underneath as she leaned over my foot. I managed not to stare, and fought back Winter's rising hunger again. Tall, blonde, fit, and with just the right amount of curves, Molly was a knockout. I'd always noticed, of course- any healthy, heterosexual male would. Bob, Thomas, and my own subconscious had been trying to hook me up with Molly for years... but that didn't mean I had to go along with it. I had known her since she was a gawky middle-schooler, for one thing, and she was my apprentice, for another.

Except that she really wasn't, not anymore- and probably hadn't been ever since I had asked her to help me arrange my own murder. Besides that, after seeing her in action today, I had to admit that she didn't have much need for a mentor anymore. She would never have the brute strength with magic that I do, but she knew how to play to her own strengths: she'd pulled off intricate illusions, delicate veils, and attacks that confused her targets' senses to a degree that made them useless. I wouldn't have been able to manage anything close to the level of complexity that she'd been throwing around. I knew the effect of feeling that many deaths would be wearing on her, but she seemed to be in control. Her eyes looked a little haunted, shadowed, but beyond that, she was holding up well, focused on the task at hand.

"You looked good out there today, Molls," I said quietly. "You've come a long way." And it was true. It had been over ten years since she'd first called me to bail her boyfriend out of jail, when her talent had first begun to manifest. Neither of us could have guessed where we'd find ourselves now... but she was definitely no longer the scared teenage warlock that the White Council had wanted to execute. They never did learn to trust her.

Of course, they couldn't really touch her now. Not without bringing the wrath of Mab down on their heads. And there wouldn't be much left for Mab, after I got done with them first.

Molly glanced up at me, not quite smiling, but not quite able to hide the pleased look in her eyes, either. "We all grow up sometime," she murmured.

I winced. "I keep forgetting, you can read minds now."

"Not your thoughts, Harry," she reminded me, finishing up the wrap. She gave me a small smile. "Nothing that explicit. Just emotions."

"Hell's bells, that must be confusing," I said. "I don't even know what I'm feeling most of the time."

Her smile widened. "I know you don't."

Oh, man. I cleared my throat awkwardly, gulped at my coffee, and resolved to be more vigilant about Winter's influence around my former apprentice. Molly turned her attention back to my ankle, taping down the end of the athletic wrap. She still wore a tiny smile on her lips.

When she'd finished, she gently lowered my foot to the floor and sat back on her heels. The smile had disappeared. "Harry?" She bit her lip, and it made her look younger, and a little scared. "Tomorrow... it's going to be bad, isn't it?"

My inner chivalrous idiot came to life, urging me to promise her that it would be alright, that I would be able to keep her safe, to save the day. I opened my mouth to do just that-

But I couldn't say it. Tomorrow, I would do the best I could to hold everything together, but I couldn't promise that everyone would be safe. With everything we were facing, she needed to hear the truth.

"Yeah," I said heavily. "It will be. Molly, you can still change your mind-"

She cut me off with a snort. "You taught me better than that, boss. And you're not getting rid of me that easily. I'll be right there with you, my Knight."

I swallowed past a sudden lump in my throat, and we shared a quiet moment of eye contact- a rare luxury for both of us. Tears glimmered in her blue eyes, but did not fall. The fire crackled softly behind her in the silence.

After a long moment, she reached over to grasp my hand. She still hadn't moved from her knees. "No matter what happens, Harry... Thank you."

I squeezed her fingers. "For what?"

"Everything," Molly said softly. "You saw something in my soul that was worth saving, and you risked your life to give me a chance at mine. You never gave up on me, no matter how badly I screwed up. You taught me more than how to use magic; you taught me how to be a good person. How to stand up for the right thing, how to be a light and a hope in the darkness. You showed me that even though I didn't have a choice in being made a part of Winter, I could still choose not to become my predecessor.

"And I want you to know that too, especially. No matter what happens, you've proven that you're not Lloyd Slate. You never let Mab's touch change who you are. You are the Winter Knight, and you are Harry Dresden, and those things are not mutually exclusive."

Until she said them, I hadn't known they were words that I needed to hear. It took me a couple tries to manage, "Thank you," in a rough whisper.

"No, thank you. You've always done right by me, Harry." She let go of my hand, and after a second she added, in a teasing tone, "Too much for your own good, sometimes."

That was a shift in subject that made my tired head spin. "Hey, now," I began to protest.

"You had the right idea all those years ago. I... I can't imagine how weird things would have been, if you had accepted my offer. You were right to turn me down, to set me straight that first night.

"But I'm not a little girl anymore, Harry." She said it calmly, her eyes steady on mine. The haunted look behind them only reinforced her words. She was a wizard in her own right, and in the morning she would be at my side as we faced what might be our last day alive. She was definitely not a little girl.

"I can feel it, you know." She shivered a little, and reached out again, brushing one fingertip over my hand. It sent a tiny thrill through me. "I can feel it when Winter's power rises in you, drives you to hunt, and conquer, and take what you want... and I can feel how hard you have to fight it back. I could call it forth, if I wanted to."

"You could," I said quietly. "And you would know that it's... it's just Winter. It's just Mab's touch, Faerie influence. Not me."

She continued as if I hadn't spoken. "And I can tell when Winter is not driving you, when it's just you looking at me, and trying not to consider things that you think you shouldn't. I've been inside your head, remember. I've talked to- to the guy in black."

Hooboy. This was getting more awkward by the moment. "That guy," I muttered. "Molly, he's just-"

"What you're really feeling," she said.

"He... he says a lot of things," I told her. "That doesn't mean he's always right, and it doesn't mean he gets to call the shots."

"Shut up, Harry," Molly said mildly. She was smiling a little, but there was a hint of Winter's authority in her voice. It startled me, more than anything, and I fell silent. The Winter mantle, though, began to stir again, angered.

She withdrew her hand again and leaned back, regarding me calmly. "You had a freaking fallen angel in your head, and turned her down. I'm not going to sit here and try to tempt you, Harry. But you need to rest, and while you do that, I want you to think about a few important truths."

"Um. Okay," I said cautiously.

Molly glanced down at her hands, as if gathering her thoughts. "One. I'm not your apprentice anymore, Harry. If anything, as far as the Sidhe are concerned, I'm your boss. We're here in my demesne. Nothing will happen here that I don't want, and nothing that you do here could be considered 'taking advantage' by anyone, except your own hyperactive sense of honor.

"Two, there's a very real chance that we won't survive tomorrow," she said, so softly I could barely hear her. "That scares me way more than I want to admit. I don't want to think about the fact that I might be gone tomorrow. Or that you might be- I already dealt with your death once, and it didn't go well. But we're not facing that quite yet. Tonight, we have enough time to live just a little more.

"And, three..." She rose to her feet, those shadowed blue eyes still steady on my face. "I know how hard it has been for you. How lonely. Mab surrounds you with danger and beauty, and you don't dare touch any of them, don't dare trust them." She was right, and there was a tremor in her voice that said she knew it from experience. "I am the Winter Lady, but I am not Sidhe. I am not trying to trick you, I don't want to strike a bargain. I don't want anything from you, Harry.

"I just want you."

With a lopsided smile, she left me sitting there speechless. I stared at the fire, my sandwich forgotten in my hand, while her footsteps receded to another part of the house.

Hell's bells. Every one of those three points hit a little too close to home. Especially that last one. Being the Winter Knight, the champion of the Queen of Air and Darkness, was pretty much just like she'd said: it seemed like everywhere I turned, there were Sidhe with unearthly beauty, ready to kiss me, kill me, or both, all while driving some ridiculous bargain with a catch I wouldn't see until too late. There was no way I would risk those sorts of entanglements just to get laid. Being a mortal in the service of the Sidhe was a lonely gig.

And no one would know that better than Molly Carpenter, who was pretty much in the same boat. We both clung desperately to our humanity while wielding the power of Winter, standing with one foot in Chicago and one in Faerie. If anyone understood the isolation I felt, it would be Molly.

You're rationalizing, I told myself. With anyone else, that might be enough. But she's not anyone else, she's not just any girl. She's Michael's daughter.

Of course, I had never been the sort to go for 'just any girl', anyway. There had to be something real between us- trust, affection, respect.

And Molly and I had all of those in spades.

Stop it. I was too tired to try untangling this knot. I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes.

I opened my eyes and found myself standing in a dim room, lit by one ominous overhead light, like the interrogation rooms in old detective movies.

"Dammit," I said wearily. "I am too tired for this crap."

"You're already falling asleep," my subconscious pointed out in a reasonable voice. "I'll be gone by the time you really go under."

I turned slightly to find my double sitting on a replica of Molly's couch, in same place that I had been sitting. Er, that I was still sitting in, back at the cabin. This dim room was all in my head, a sort of dream-state that popped up whenever my subconscious got sick of being subtle, the way a normal person's subconscious is supposed to be.

He's not exactly my evil twin, though you'd never know it just by looking. He was me, but dressed better than I ever was, in a black silk shirt, black trousers, and expensive black shoes that probably would have cost a few months of my Warden's pay. He wore a goatee, which just looked weird on me, and there was a pin on his shirt that looked like a real snowflake, palm-sized, glittering with a thousand facets from each of six intricate sides. And for some reason, he was wearing a hat: a black, wide-brimmed one that was part dangerous cowboy, part film-noir private eye. Which only made sense, I guess. It wasn't a bad look.

He leaned back against the couch, arms spread out to either side, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles- neither of which were injured. He had an arrogant smirk on his face.

I sighed. "I'm not sleeping with Molly."

The smirk widened into a grin. "You're a lot quicker on the draw than you have been recently."

"Not hard to figure out. You represent my instincts, my impulses. Obviously, you're going to tell me something I don't want to hear, and it's either about sex or about survival."

"Why can't it be both?" He asked. "Also, you forgot 'food'. Also, maybe you don't want to hear what I have to say... but when have I ever told you anything that you didn't need to hear? Also, why won't you sleep with Molly?"

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, fought back a sigh. "I told you before, she's..." a kid, I finished silently.

Huh.

No, she wasn't. I had just been thinking it. Molly had said it outright. When even my own freaking subconscious shows up to say it, I have to admit there's a theme developing.

I tried to replace it with my apprentice, and that didn't work, either.

My double rolled his eyes. "Like sunlight breaking through the clouds," he said sarcastically, waving his spread fingers apart to illustrate.

I scowled at him. "Look, just because she's no longer my teenage apprentice doesn't make it right."

"But you're attracted to her. She's gorgeous. And she's attracted to you too, for whatever reason-"

"Hey!"

"She's always had a thing for you. You know each other really well, and this whole Winter thing has only brought you closer. Is there anyone else you trust to understand what Mab's power does to you? And you're conveniently forgetting that moment earlier today when you caught a glimpse of her in all her sparkly Winter glory, slinging around spells that would tie your brain in knots if you tried them. God, that was hot, wasn't it?"

The memory sent a flush of embarrassment through me. "Not the point," I said, through gritted teeth. "Maybe we're attracted to each other, but that doesn't make a difference."

My double leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, fixing me with an intent stare from under the brim of his hat. "Doesn't make it wrong, either."

Hell's bells. I folded my arms across my chest. "Didn't you have something to tell me about survival? Something useful, maybe?"

"I am telling you, idiot. You know what you'll be up against tomorrow. There is a very big chance that you will not survive it. What better time to let me take the wheel? There's nothing like impending doom to rev the ol' engines. The phrase 'life's too short' was invented for nights like these."

"That's your survival advice," I said flatly. "Have sex with Molly Carpenter. It's a wonder I've survived this long with you in my head."

"No kidding, Mr. Celibate." He let the corner of his mouth curve up, an expression that looked a little creepy on my features. "What did Molly say? Enough time to live a little more. That's true enough, here in her demesne. You can take the time to rest, and then to grab hold of any little chance at happiness that you both have, before you face the music. Then you can go into battle content, without feeling like you've missed out on something you'll never get to have. Who knows, maybe it'll even give you an edge tomorrow."

I frowned. "Uh... that seems a little selfish."

"Obviously," he said. "Look where it's coming from. But just remember: Molly will be at your side through it all, tomorrow. She knows she faces the same uncertain fate that you do. You can bet that her own subconscious is saying the same things I am."

I was treated to a quick vision of Molly's subconscious: the old-school starship Enterprise bridge, with Captain Molly in her central chair. At her side, black-haired, pointy-eared Science Officer Molly coolly and logically pointed out all the reasons why we ought to sleep together. The idea made me smile, in spite of myself.

My double stood up, and gave me a level look. "You always have to do the right thing. I get it. But on nights like this, you have to be more specific, man. You can't base what's right on society's standards, or on wizard standards. You have to do what's right for you and Molly."

I stared at him. That was... a perspective I had never considered. At least, not consciously.

He took a few steps closer. "Do us both a couple of favors," he continued. "Try not to get us killed tomorrow. And for God's sake, try not to be a complete and total idiot about everything tonight." Before I could reply, he took the hat off, settled it on my head, and the single light in the room went out, plunging me into darkness.

Finally, I thought, as real sleep took over.

I must have slept for more than twelve hours. I can't remember the last time I had that luxury. Maybe it was the knowledge that time was essentially on hold, or the knowledge that I was currently safe from everything that wanted to kill me. Or the fact that I was pretty much running on empty, magically and physically speaking. Whatever it was, I slept like the dead, deep and undisturbed.

And at some point in my sleep, it seemed I reached a decision.

When I awoke, halfway, it took me a minute to realize that I had laid down lengthways on the couch, and I was staring up at the sloping ceiling of Molly's cabin. The huge fireplace was still lit, and outside was still dark. Was it always night in Molly's demesne? Some places in Faerie are like that, but I'd forgotten to ask.

I would almost think that I hadn't slept at all, except that I felt about a thousand times better. My ankle didn't hurt, either; the Knight's mantle had done its job, healing away the fracture as I slept. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was in Winter but blissfully warm and relaxed. I remembered that time was passing insanely slowly back home, and the looming specter of what was waiting in the morning seemed like a distant worry. For a long time, I just laid there, enjoying all those sensations while drifting in and out of a doze.

Eventually, I looked over at the extra-tall windows. Outside, huge ribbons of cascading, silvery light were slowly coruscating silently across the black sky. The Sidhe equivalent of the Northern Lights, I guessed. Like everything Sidhe, they made the real thing seem like a pale imitation. Sleepily mesmerized, I watched them for a long time, until it dawned on me that Molly was standing off to one side, gazing out the windows too.

She had changed out of her ruined suit, and wore a comfortable-looking blue hoodie, one side slipping lower, exposing the top curve of her shoulder. Her blond hair was still tied back in its ponytail.

Below the hoodie, she wore... well, I believe the correct term is yoga pants. They were gray, and thin, and tight, and made it very apparent that Molly had an incredible ass. I could see her curves outlined in the glow from the fire, which was illuminating her right side. I lay there, still half-asleep, and gazed at Molly for a long moment, simply appreciating the view, while desire began a slow, insistent burn in my blood.

I didn't fully wake up until I remembered, with a start, that she could sense what I was feeling. Stars and stones, that was hard to get used to. She didn't move, didn't react. Maybe she hadn't felt anything after all.

Yeah, right. Was it my imagination, or were the lights in the sky moving around a little more rapidly now?

"Molls," I said. It came out hoarse.

She turned. In the flickering firelight, her eyes looked huge and dark. She didn't say anything as I got to my feet. I took a few steps toward her, and stopped, unable to make myself close that whole distance myself. There was a hugely significant line between us, and I'd be damned if I would be the only one of us to cross it.

Maybe she sensed that, too, or maybe she just knew me that well. In either case, she took a couple steps toward me until our toes were nearly touching. I took one of her hands in mine.

"This is... difficult," I said softly. "I've spent so long knowing that you are off-limits. It's really, really hard to change that kind of thinking."

"I know," she whispered.

I looked her in the eye. "But given everything else that's going on... It just might be the easiest thing I do in the next day or so." I pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

She exhaled softly, as if she'd been holding her breath. She didn't quite smile, but her eyes sparkled. She squeezed my fingers, then moved to lay her hand on my cheek. I needed to shave; stubble rasped against her thumb as she traced the old scar on my chin. She was almost as tall as I was, but I still had to lean down a little to rest my forehead against hers.

We stood like that for a long, silent moment. The fire crackled beside us. We weren't hesitating, really, just... We had that one moment, with both of us balanced together on that line we had never crossed. There was no rush; so we took the time to share that final moment, the moment before everything changed.

Eventually, Molly's hand moved, sliding around to the back of my neck. I met her eyes, and my hands found her hips. When my head dipped a little lower, she met me halfway.

There was no magic in the kiss, not the way she or I would use the term. But there was power: the power of any first kiss, the sweet, intimate shock of unfamiliar lips against your own. The power to find comfort, and joy, in the touch of another human being. The power to set hearts racing, pulses pounding.

And beneath it, the power of the Winter Knight began to stir, reacting to her touch. I forced it back immediately, refusing to let it gain any traction. We broke apart, and Molly gazed up at me with firelight and desire reflected in her eyes.

"Wow," she whispered. That would have been a good time for a witty remark, but my brain was stuck. I'd just kissed Molly. Apparently I needed a little time to process that.

She smiled slightly, and tugged me down for another kiss. Her hands slid over my shoulders, down my arms, found my hands at her waist. Without breaking the kiss, she guided my hands to the firm, round curves that I'd been admiring so from behind.

Finally, finally, something clicked in my head, flipping a switch that said See, Harry, it's all right. You kissed her, and the world didn't end- she even wants you to keep going. Her lips parted, inviting me in, and suddenly I couldn't get enough of her. She moaned into my mouth as I pulled her closer. It had been way too long since I'd had such intimate contact with anyone. Unstoppable arousal pulsed through me, and we kissed for a long time, exploring, reveling in the novelty of it.

Until the mantle of the Winter Knight threatened to erupt, again, surging to the forefront of my thoughts. This was the Winter Lady in my arms, and her power called to mine, urging me not to be slow, not to be gentle. The mantle wanted her, and saw no reason why I shouldn't force her to the ground and take her. Claim her, take her, fuck her, it was urging me. It was primitive, caveman desire; it had nothing to do with desire or affection, and everything to do with brutal conquest. I jerked away from the kiss with a gasp, fighting to clear my head, and half-expecting Molly to be repulsed.

Instead, she fixed me with a darkly amused look, a look that said she knew exactly what I feeling, and it didn't bother her in the least. She laid one hand on my chest.

"Not yet," she murmured, with a wink. The quiet words resonated inside my skull like the clear tone of a temple bell, chill with the authority of a Queen of Winter. The mantle receded, faster than I'd ever been able to control it on my own. It dwindled to a pinprick in my awareness and stayed there, apparently content to wait.

"That's a neat trick," I managed to say.

Molly's lips curved in a slow smile, her hand closed on a fistful of my t-shirt, and she kissed me again.

I backed up a few steps, pulling her with me, and sank down onto the couch. She straddled my hips, pressing against my erection, and I groaned. My fingers found the zipper on her sweatshirt, and I slowly drew it down, noting the way her breath quickened as I did.

Gently, I slid the hoodie over her shoulders, and she dropped it on the floor. Then she hesitated. The confidence of Winter was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and behind the desire in her eyes, she looked young, nervous. She wasn't wearing anything under the hoodie.

I stroked her cheek, then began pressing kisses to the side of her neck. She shivered, moving around on my lap in a very distracting manner. Only when she began moaning did I move lower, following the serpent tattoo that wound across her skin.

My subconscious had called me repressed, once. I had ignored it at the time, having bigger things to worry about. Now, though, I realized what he'd meant. Molly had the kind of curves that would make lingerie models jealous, and I'd always been aware of it. As I cupped my hands around her breasts, I finally knew how hard I'd worked to pretend otherwise. Now that I had her for myself, every mouthwatering curve... Deep inside, part of me was smugly delighted that I no longer had to hide, especially from myself, how attractive I found her. How attractive I'd always found her.

What did that say about all my righteous, earlier insistence that she was a kid, and that I was her teacher?

I decided I didn't care, and closed my lips around her nipple.

Molly shuddered, and let out a long, shaky breath. Her hands tangled in my hair, fingers stroking my head as I continued. When I finally tore myself away, she was looking down at me, a smile hovering over her lips. She was flushed, wide-eyed, and her uncertainty had been replaced by a dreamy look of lust. I don't know why, but the way she could switch from powerful Sidhe queen, to nervous young girl, to something in between the two, was incredibly arousing.

"God, Harry," she breathed. "I can feel everything, all your hunger, your need..." She shivered again, as I rolled her nipples between my fingers. She had kept the nipple rings after all this time- gold ones, of course. She wouldn't be able to tolerate stainless steel anymore. "It's... intense. I wish I could do the same for you, let you feel what I do."

I imagined the two of us stuck in a loop of mutual mental pleasure, building and building on what we both could sense from the other. It would probably make my head explode. "Mmm...Better not," I murmured, pressing one more kiss between her breasts. "I'm already having a hard time keeping it together, Molls."

She laughed softly, and tugged at my shirt while we kissed again, then helped me shuck it over my head. I ran my hands over her ass again, and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of her yoga pants.

She wasn't wearing anything under those, either.

We had to move around to get them off her; we ended with her sitting on the couch, while I knelt on the floor, sliding one hand up the inside of her thigh. She shifted, parting her knees to let me get closer. I kissed the inside of her knee, while my fingers reached higher. When I touched her, she let out a sound that was so full of lust and need that I nearly lost it. She was slick, and soft, and feverishly hot, and-

Oh, Hell's bells.

I'd told her to remain abstinent when she became my apprentice... but that was ten years ago. It had never come up again. I'd just assumed she had been with somebody, at some point, after the danger of that initial learning period had passed. But... apparently not.

I lifted my head, and she sensed my surprise, my hesitation. Before I withdrew my hand, she seized my wrist, holding me there. "Harry Dresden, don't you dare stop," she said, breathless and half laughing. There was no Faerie-queen authority in her voice, only the firm determination of a woman who knows exactly what she wants.

I couldn't argue with that, even if I wanted to. I kept my mouth shut, for once, and watched her face as I slid my fingers inside of her.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh..." She closed her eyes, hands grasping for purchase on the couch cushions. I kept going, awed by the pleasure that suffused her expression. She whimpered, over and over... tiny, helpless sounds that made me long for more.

Molly abruptly sat up straight, and pushed me backward, a mischievous smile cutting through the haze of desire on her face. She slid off the couch, followed me to the floor- which suddenly felt more like the surface of a vast mattress rather than rug-covered stone. I didn't pay too much attention to that, because she was straddling me again, running her hands over my bare chest, and lower. She undid my jeans, helped me kick them off. When she took the length of my erection in her hands, it was my turn to groan.

I reached up to free her hair from the ponytail, and drew her down for a kiss while her hands worked. She was inexperienced, yes, but she also had the benefit of knowing exactly what I was feeling. I only lasted a few moments before I tightened my hands in her hair. "Molls-" I mumbled against her lips. That was as coherent as I could get, apparently.

She knew what I meant. We rolled over, and suddenly I was braced on my hands, looming over her.

I have been privileged to see a lot of stunningly beautiful females in my life. Lara Raith's deadly, knife-edge glamour. Lasciel's soft, tempting curves. Red vampires and White; uncountable numbers of supernaturally gorgeous Sidhe. Mab herself, of course.

In that moment, none of them could have held a candle to Molly Carpenter.

Her blonde hair spilled around her head, while the golden light from the fire made her perfect curves gleam. Bright, bright blue eyes gazed up at me, and our whole history was written in them: our shared soulgaze, her apprenticeship. All the times she'd risked her life to help me; her sacrifice for me, when she helped me arrange my own murder. Her determination in following my footsteps; her joy in my return from apparent death. Our shared ties to the Winter Sidhe; and the knowledge of what we would face tomorrow, together. Student, friend, boss, partner. I knew her, knew the soul and the person behind those eyes. She was not without her share of darkness, but then neither was I. The contrast only emphasized her inner beauty, which shone through her exterior and made her more real, more gorgeous than any vampire or fallen angel.

I caught a glimmer of nervousness in her eyes, too- but she was smiling. Her hands moved, sliding across my skin, urging me on.

She wrapped long legs around me as I fit myself against her. There was no reason to ask if she was certain. I think she would have strangled me if I did. Instead, I held her gaze, and pressed forward.

She let out a whimper, and then a sharp, startled cry- and then I was inside her, buried to the hilt in her tight heat.

"Molly," I exhaled. My God, she felt amazing. She clung to me, nails digging into my shoulders, as I began to move. I found a careful rhythm, burying my face in her neck, and ignoring the way that every cell in my body screamed at me to go harder, faster. I made love to my former apprentice as gently as I could, until the tension eased out of her, and she began to let out little cries of pleasure.

We rolled again, putting her on top, and she rose upright, rocking against my hips. Her confidence had returned; she was as eager as I was, and it came through in her movements. The firelight caught the points of gold at her nipples, gleamed on her skin, cast shadows in the soft hollows of her waist. In that moment, we weren't anyone, anymore. Not Wizard Dresden and his warlock apprentice, not the Winter Lady and her Knight, not even Harry and Molly- just a man and a woman, naked and intimate. That was all, and nothing else mattered. That was enough.

I reached up to stroke her breasts, then let one hand drift lower, palm caressing her skin, thumb searching for-

"Oh, God," she gasped, shuddering when I found it. Her back arched, which did incredible things to her already incredible chest. "Harry, please-" Her eyes widened as her climax took her, and I realized a couple of things.

No matter how beautiful I had thought she looked earlier, it was nothing compared to the sight of her coming undone beneath my hands. Stars and stones, I could have watched that for hours.

But I didn't get to enjoy it as long as I would have liked, because I also realized something else. Earlier, when she had tamped down the Winter mantle inside me, she hadn't just sent it away.

This whole time, Molly had been holding it back.

As her orgasm swept through her, she lost the control she'd had over the mantle. Winter came roaring back, suddenly free again and fueled by my own lust. I hadn't expected it, and wasn't really in a position to fight it off. It flooded into my consciousness, an unstoppable wave of fierce, primitive survival instincts. Live, it compelled me. Drive back the darkness; find heat in the harsh, cold cruelty of Winter. Hunt, fight, kill, fuck- definitely not in that order.

More than that- as if that wasn't enough- it knew who she was, this woman riding me. As before, her power called to mine. I was Winter, and so was she. The Knight and the Lady... I was hers, she belonged to me, and we were meant for this. It was only right that I take what I wanted from her- the mantle didn't care what she wanted. Winter was cold, but there was a sudden, blazing heat driving me, a hot and fierce need that eclipsed all else.

I tried to fight it. I tried, and I was losing, when Molly leaned down to brace one hand on my chest. Still flushed and breathless, she forced the mantle back, just enough to let me think. At the edge of my thoughts, Winter snarled and battered at her restraints, fighting for control.

"My Knight," Molly murmured, fondness in her voice. "You're always so cautious of it, Harry. I love that about you. But just this once, you don't have to be." She bent and brushed her lips against mine. Something flickered in her expression. I don't know what it was, but it made the difference between Molly Carpenter and the Winter Lady. I could see the same fiery, passionate need that I'd felt, reflected in her own eyes. She felt the same urges that I did, she wanted it as badly as I did. Her lips curved in a slow, wicked smile.

"I won't break, Harry," she whispered. "And neither will you."

With that, she withdrew her hand, and her control over the mantle.

Those words were reassurance, invitation, permission, a promise. If there was one thing I had learned that night, it was that I could trust Molly to know what she wanted. And no one would ever accuse me of doing things halfway. When the mantle rose up again, fierce and hungry, I was done fighting it.

I sat up, seized a handful of her hair and kissed her, roughly. She moaned, then gasped as I sank my teeth into the soft, vulnerable flesh of her throat. She leaned into it, pushing at my shoulders, urging me to lay back- but I'd had enough of that. I flipped us both again, put her on her back, pinned her wrists to the floor.

She strained against my grip, tendons flexing under my hands. My brain knew that she could blast me across the room if she really wanted to. The Winter mantle knew that her struggles were only feeding my predator instincts. She bared her teeth. Fierce and defiant, she was worthy prey. And she was mine, already claimed by my mark on her throat. Mine, only she hadn't learned it yet.

I took her hard. Driven by Winter's savage mantle and the distant, desperate knowledge that we might not survive the next day, I was not gentle. She wasn't, either. I was rough, and urgent, while she raked her nails down my back and snarled at me not to stop. I don't know how long it lasted, but I had her screaming at the end; I may have been, too. She came again, an instant before me, gasping out my name. Her inner muscles quivered around me, and it was enough to send me over the edge. I was lost for an endless moment, seized by blinding, white-hot ecstasy that wouldn't let me go.

When sanity returned, I still loomed over her, hands braced on the floor, gulping air. The Winter mantle, finally sated, retreated with hardly a fight. Molly smiled up at me, just as breathless as I was. Her eyes were shining with a mix of delight and awe. "Holy cow," she breathed.

For some reason, that was the funniest thing I'd ever heard. I dropped my head to her shoulder, laughing helplessly. For a long moment, we both just lay there, giggling, and it was almost as much a release as the sex had been.

I'd had sex with Molly. And not only had it been mind-blowing, Molly was still Molly. She hadn't changed, and we would be okay.

"Hell's bells," I breathed, as our laughter subsided. I flopped onto my back, wrapped my arms around her when she leaned on my chest.

"Harry Dresden," she mused. "All this time... holding back so much desire, hiding it so deeply that even you never knew it. No wonder I couldn't feel it." She traced an idle circle on my chest with a fingertip. "You have no idea how happy I am to be proved wrong."

I wondered what it had been like for her, carrying a torch for me all these years, believing it was futile, but never losing hope. I smiled, a little sadly. That was her, in a nutshell.

"I'm a little slow, sometimes," I admitted. She snorted.

We listened to the fire crackling away, just as strong as it had been when we'd arrived. I didn't wantto think about anything except what was right there, in that cabin, that moment.

But... We had things to do.

Molly caught the shift in my mood. "Now what?" she asked softly.

I took a long, slow breath before answering. "Now we go and save the world. I hope."

She propped herself up on one elbow, tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. But there's no rush, Harry."

"We can't hide here forever, Molls." I brushed my thumb over her cheek. Much as I want to...

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Obviously. Who said anything about hiding?" She asked, teasingly. "We're strategically building our strength before the assault."

"Is that what you call it?" I murmured. For answer, she bent forward to kiss me. Her touch drove away any more thoughts of returning to Chicago. The kiss was sweet, gentle, and slow- until it wasn't anymore.

It had taken me a long time to get here; maybe too long. And we might not get another chance, which I didn't want to think about. But we still had time, still had this night in Winter that was worth so much more than a night back home. And it wasn't over yet.

I moved, easing Molly onto her stomach. She rested her cheek on folded arms and watched me, as I ran my fingertips down her spine. She shivered a little, and the movement turned more sinuous, more needy, as my hand dipped lower. I leaned over to press a kiss to the nape of her neck. "One more time," I whispered. She hummed softly in approval, muscles trembling as I let my lips follow the trail my fingers had led.

One more time became three or four, by the time we were done. Winter lent us both the kind of stamina that teenagers can only dream about. By unspoken understanding, we took full advantage of it. The room was a mess by the time we were done: books knocked off the shelves, couch cushions strewn everywhere. We ended where we'd begun, on the floor next to the hearth. Unhurried, passionate, wordless, I think we both knew it would be the last time.

Afterward, we lay tangled silently together, while sweat dried on our skin. Anything we said would have led to talk of the next day, so neither of us spoke. Molly gave me a long, slow smile, with a warmth in her eyes that belied Winter's touch on her. I stroked her hair, and she nuzzled against me, breath slowing into the steady rhythm of sleep.

I didn't dare start wondering about us, what might develop between us after. We both had to survive the next few days, first. I couldn't afford the distraction of thoughts like that. In the morning, we would have to be all business.

But that wasn't until we got back to Chicago. In the meantime...

In the meantime, I was going to enjoy every moment of holding Molly in my arms.

Sleep beckoned. As I dozed, on the way to blissfully deep sleep, I caught a fleeting sense of my subconscious. I didn't see my black-clad double, but in my thoughts I could hear his voice, smug and satisfied.

About damned time, man...