Faerie Christmas by Katica Locke

Nathan wants to go home. After becoming a werecougar, he's spirited off Earth in the middle of the night and sent to a half-way house for werefolk on a strange planet. His family and friends think he's dead. Everything in his life has changed and as he approaches his first Christmas alone, depression begins to set in. His roommate, in an effort to cheer him up, buys him a Christmas gift...

Ezarali wants a Master. Seddryn sidhe are beautiful, highly valued pleasure slaves given to important faeries as gifts. When Ezarali is given to a human diplomat, he finds himself rejected and sold off as a common slave to a cruel and vile man. After months of abuse, Ezarali escapes, only to be caught by slavers and sold once again, to a young man looking for a Christmas gift...

Can a human werecougar and a faerie slave overcome their cultural boundaries to find what they both desperately long for?

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"Is it okay if I help you?" Nathan asked.

"Yes, master," Ezarali said, nodding.

"I'm not your master," Nathan said. "Where I come from, people don't own other people." He stepped closer, and Ezarali let Nathan remove his clothes. As the shorts hit the floor, Nathan gasped and Ezarali flinched, but Nathan was just looking down at Ezarali's limp cock. "Sorry," Nathan said, tearing his gaze away. "I just, I've never seen-- Do all faeries look like that?" Ezarali glanced down at himself, slender and soft, the loose skin lying in folds all down the shaft.

"Yes, master," Ezarali said. All the faeries he had seen, anyway. Nathan looked at him for a moment, but then shook his head and sighed. Ezarali stepped back as Nathan reached past him, opening the door of the shower stall and turning the water on.

"There you go," Nathan said, stepping out of the way. Ezarali moved into the spray, a soft cry escaping him as the hot water hit his skin and rolled down his body. "Is it too hot?" Nathan asked. Ezarali shook his head. "Too cold?" He shook his head again. Nathan was silent for a moment. "How long has it been since you were allowed to bathe?" he asked softly.

"I can't remember, master," Ezarali replied, turning a slow circle in the spray.

"I am so sorry," his master whispered, and Ezarali glanced at him. Sorry for what? Nathan hadn't done anything to him. In fact, Nathan had been unbelievably nice. Not like everyone else. Ezarali's heart began to race. This master wasn't like everyone else. Nathan was a far cry from the Master he'd been dreaming of, but Ezarali was willing to settle for simply not being hurt. He had to make Nathan want him.

"H- help me, master?" he asked, raising his hands to his tangled, filthy hair. Nathan hesitated, and then stripped off his shirt and stepped into the stall doorway. He picked up a bottle of shampoo, squeezing a white spot of it into his hand.

"C'mere," Nathan said. Ezarali moved closer, his hands shaking as he reached out and tried to unbutton his master's jeans. Nathan jerked back. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, master," Ezarali said. "I didn't want your pants to get wet."

"They'll be fine," Nathan said after a moment. "Don't worry about it."

Ezarali stood in the shower spray, his eyes closed as his master's strong fingers worked the shampoo into his hair and then rinsed it away. He did it three times before he set the bottle down and grabbed a bar of soap.

"I'm just going to wash you," Nathan said, but Ezarali still flinched when the human hands touched his shoulders. Nathan was gentle, though, his touch making Ezarali quiver inside. He was so strong. Nathan's hands moved down Ezarali's back and brushed his wing ridges between his shoulder blades. "What is that?" Nathan asked, sweeping Ezarali's hair off to one side.

"My wings, master," Ezarali said, shivering as Nathan trailed his fingers down one fluted edge. The gristly protrusions were very sensitive, and Ezarali felt himself hardening as Nathan ran his soapy hands over them.

"No offense," Nathan said, "but they don't look much like wings." Ezarali raised his hands, bracing them against the misty glass as he swayed on his feet. He closed his eyes, imagining himself staying with Nathan forever, and his ridges began to tingle. He heard Nathan gasp and he opened his eyes, glancing back as the rose, fuchsia, and black butterfly wings spread behind him, shimmering in the steam from the shower. The wings were made of light, generated by special organs in the ridges, and were one manifestation of a faerie's glamour.

"I take it back," Nathan whispered. "You have beautiful wings."