The forces pushing us to mateconstantly seemed to ebb during dinner. There were plenty of awkward glances, but the conversation was completely mundane. We had all spent the day engaging in incest, but it was like that was somehow less worthy of discussion than conversations about movies, music, books, or television shows.

And it continued after dinner, when Mom insisted we all watch classic Christmas movies together. Which, at first, I'd thought was a euphemism for holiday-themed porn. But no. She meant actual Christmas movies, like Miracle on 34th Street, It's a Wonderful Life, and dreadfully cheesy crap like that.

The side conversations were as prurient as could be. But it didn't go past side conversation. Something seemed to keep us from further indulging in our family's favorite pastime.

I had a pretty good idea I knew what that something was, though I wasn't sure how Mom had done it. At least, I assumed it had to have been Mom. Iva was probably the only other one strong enough to manage something like that, and I didn't think she'd have been particularly inclined to do so. She was almost as bad as the three youngest members of the clan when it came to trying to hide her complete lack of interest in the movie.

While we took a brief break between movies, I went to fix myself an Irish coffee. Iva slipped into the kitchen behind me and gave my ass a soft pinch. "Hey there, stud."

"I've been thinking about earlier," she said. "That really was a generous proposal."

"Don't mention it," I said. "I want you to know-"

My aunt pressed a slender finger to her full lips. "Shh. Don't."

"I was only going to-"

"I'm glad we buried the hatchet," she said. "But let's not make into something more."

I frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"

And which one of us was throwing around pet names and pinching bottoms?

She patted my hand . "No, no. I just think maybe I gave you the wrong impression." She looked down at her feet, which were encased in those garish multicolored socks that girls seemed to think were so cute. "I've already found the closest thing to a life partner that our kind can really hope for. As have you. I know you'd like the two of us to be closer, and I might have given the impression earlier that I would too, but let's not kid ourselves."

As badly as I wanted to reach out to her, to hold her and kiss her, I didn't. I certainly didn't believe that she meant what she was saying. But her body language and her Libido both suggested it would be best for now to give her some space.

"Cindy's a very lucky woman," I said.

She crossed her hands under her breasts. "Is there something wrong with that?"

I raised my hands defensively. "Whoa, whoa. I wasn't judging."

Iva sighed, very nearly popping out of her undersized bustier. "Sorry. I just can't figure out why guys think it's so weird. You've seen me eat pussy often enough. You think that's, what, just another way of trying to turn you on? Would you suck a dick just to excite a woman? Why do you guys always assume that a woman who enjoys members of both sexes must naturally still expect to end up in some kind of lasting relationship with a man?"

"Do you hear me offering any counter-arguments?"

My aunt leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "No." She smiled faintly. "For some reason, being around you brings back a lot of old memories." She stroked my bicep. "I hardly spent any time in the mortal world after I came of age. Didn't even finish my first year of college. That wasn't entirely by choice, but I can't say I miss it. In the mortal world, my only options were to swear off men altogether or have everyone assume that no matter what my recreational activities were, someday I'd find a good man and settle down."

I gestured for her to make room for me to get at the microwave.

Running a hand through her platinum blonde hair, she said, "I was in a committed relationship with this incredible woman for a little while. When I was sixteen. I was completely loyal to her. When she caught me looking at other women, she got a bit jealous, but it wasn't a big deal, right? Not like she didn't sometimes do the same. Everyone does. But there was this one time that she caught me checking out a guy, and she totally freaked. Called me a LUG, all that garbage. I never even claimed to be a lesbian, so I don't know where that came from. We didn't last a week after that. And it was no better with the few men I dated. They thought it was hot when I checked out women. But every one of them, not that there were many, mind you, flipped out when they realized I was willing to consider spending the rest of my life with a woman."

"Well, times have changed since we were young in the mortal world," I said.

Iva shrugged. "Yes, no, sorta. The times never really change, obviously."

"Wait, why is that obvious?" I asked as I poured some Irish cream into my coffee.

"I forgot how cute you can be," she said. I was sure that if I'd been facing her, she'd have pinched my nose. "Like you don't know. Anyway, I'm probably making it all sound simpler than it is. You think I haven't noticed that Cindy might not feel the same way about me as she does our dear brother," she said with a weary sigh. "But I have."

"I'm sorry," I said. And I was. The sadness in her voice, her eyes, her suddenly cold Libido, were like a fist squeezing my heart. I might have liked it if she wanted me the way she did Cindy, but I couldn't see her feeling this way and take pleasure in it.

And how vain and insecure did I need to be to want her to feel that way about me anyway? I had as good a thing going as I could ask for with Mom.

"I know what that must be like," I continued. "For a long time, my mother favored Dom. Can't say I was crazy about that."

"Well, it's complicated than just that, I think. I don't know that she's prefers Gus. Sometimes, it feels like that. But other times, it doesn't. It's just so confusing. I know that she isn't on the same page as me, but I'm not sure what page she is on. I almost wish I knew for sure that there was no chance she'd ever feel the same way, so at least I could move on. It's felt like that ever since I returned to court, and it's getting old."

I pulled her against my chest and kissed the top of her head. "I'm sure you've considered the possibility that since she's spent more time in the mortal world than you, and grew up in a different era than you, she's been socialized differently? Even if she felt exactly the same, she might have a hard time coming to grips with it."

"Thank you, professor. It's occurred to me, yes," she said, wrapping a hand around my waist. "But you realize we've pretty much cast off societal mores already, right?"

"Have we? The whole idea of lasting pair-bonds is something of a holdover from a world obsessed with monogamy, don't you think?"

"I guess," she said.

"By the way, are you going to explain what you meant about how it's obvious that the times never change?" I asked.

She stared at me in disbelief. "Frank, the mortal world, the one we visit, isn't real. Our kind haven't been to the real one in...pretty close to forever, near as anyone can tell. What we refer to when we talk about the mortal world is sort of like a really elaborate simulation."

I sipped my coffee with responding.

"Every so often, we hit the reset button. It's pretty much always been, and always will be, somewhere around the turn of the century. You honestly didn't know that?"

"I had some idea. But I can't really say I knew all that, no."

She sighed before planting a soft kiss on my cheek.

"No wisecrack about how I haven't really changed so much after all?"

"Too easy," she said.

"So how old are we?"

I knew it was a tricky question, based on an earlier conversation with Mom, but there had to be some kind of answer, however messy.

Iva shrugged. "Who knows. What will feel like eighteen years or so will pass here, and two years will go by in the Homelands. If you were to go by date of birth, it only gets more confusing, since we were pretty much all of us born between the early 80's and mid 90's. Even your grandmother. Your mother might have been born 'after' you, in a sense. Though in an earlier incarnation of the mortal world."

I hid behind my coffee again while I let that sink in. "So are any of the people in what we think is the mortal world, you know, alive?"

"Well, I guess it depends on what your definition of life is. But the short answer is pretty much yes, if you have to simplify things. I'm not sure it would be possible to drain energy from them otherwise. Nevermind Elevate them."

"You said that none of us have been back to the real mortal world," I said. "So we came from there. When, and how?"

"That," Aunt Iva said, "is a great question."

"Which means you don't have a great answer."

"Precisely," she said. "We started leaving there long before the twentieth century, I can tell you that much. I wouldn't hold my breath waiting to meet one, but the oldest among us are said to remember the Dark Ages. So the obvious question is why we keep building simulated mortal worlds set near the end of the twentieth century or the beginning of the twenty-first. Someone must know the answer to that, but I sure as heck don't."

"I see," I said, though I wasn't sure I really did. "So there \emph{are} things you don't know."

"Some," she said, with a faint grin.

"Someday, you're going to tell me how you know all this. You keep acting surprised that I don't know these things, but it doesn't seem like anyone else does either."

She feigned an innocent look. "Well, in my defense, it \emph{is} fun to lecture the professor. But you're right. You're no more ignorant than most everyone else."

"So did you get all this from your mother? I can't get her to tell me anything. But she's obviously more enlightened than the rest of us."

"Mostly because of me." Iva said. "But, anyway, if we hold things up any longer, your mother might get upset."

Without another word, she went up on her tiptoes, planted a soft kiss on my currently smooth cheek, then turned and padded out of the kitchen on those ridiculous socks of hers.

I stood alone in the kitchen for a moment, trying to wrap my head around a great many awfully confusing things, before returning to the living room.

#

We only got halfway through the second movie before even Mom lost interest in keeping up the charade. She turned turned the lights back on, turned the TV off, and announced that we were all free to do as we pleased for the rest of the night. When we were kids, if she did that, it was a safe bet that what she really meant when she said that we were free to do as we pleased was that we were ruining family time and if we knew what was good for us, we'd apologize and insist that she turn the lights back off and the movie back on.

But that wasn't what she was going for this time.

I knew, because I could feel her Libido from across the room, even though there were several other pulsing sources of sexual energy lying between us. Granted, as close as Mom and I were, I could pick her out of a crowded room even when her Libido was cold. As it had been when we'd started the movie. But it certainly wasn't now.

Natalie led Rob and Pat upstairs and Sean and Holly approached one another. Meanwhile, I headed towards Mom. She met my gaze and smiled.

Before I got there, though, Dad and Cindy asked Mom if she'd join them. And, with a quick and apologetic glance towards me, she agreed.

Part of me thought that Dad had relinquished his claim on Mom long ago. I'd also never gotten the impression that Cindy was interested in Mom. There was no reason for them to get in the way like that.

But the more rational part of me insisted that it would be wise to make sure the sometimes hot and sometimes cold rivalry between the Orwins and the Farriers remained cold. Iva would help with that, yes, but she had been gone from the court for a long time. The more that Dad thought of Mom as his wife rather than the head of House Orwin, the better.

"Don't look so sad," Melanie said as she came up behind me and gave me a hip check. "I may be the consolation prize, but you shouldn't make me feel like I am."

I snickered.

"Laughing is not a good start," she said.

I took her in my arms and kissed her. She tried to suck my tongue out of my mouth.

"Whoa," I said, pushing her back. "Mel, sweetie, a little subtlety goes a long way."

Her bronze cheeks flushed red. I felt streaks of anger and indignation shoot through her. I also noticed that her Libido was a modest thing compared to Mom's or Iva's, but it was quite impressive for someone of her age and inexperience.

I cursed myself for a fool. What good was it to make sure House Farrier remembered that I belonged to their house the same as I did my mother's if I was going to fuel my niece's sense that no one took her seriously enough?

Taking one of her hands in mine, I said, "I'm sorry. It's just that there's a fire inside you that's sometimes fearsome to behold. And while I want to be near it, I don't want to feel like a moth. Make sense?

She regarded me silently for a time, her blue eyes unblinking. At last, she nodded.

I ran a hand through her red hair. "There's some things you and I ought to discuss anyway. Would you care for a drink?"

Mel chewed at her lip. I could almost hear the question she wanted to ask. But either she realized that of course I was going to want to fuck her too, or she just didn't want her uncle to tell her that she was coming on too strong again so soon after the last remark, because she once again responded with a light nod.

I took her by the hand, led her into the kitchen, and fixed us each an Irish coffee. A proper one. Not just a mug of coffee with some Bailey's in it. Whiskey, sugar, cream poured over the back of a spoon, and brown sugar sprinkled atop the frothy top layer at the end.

As I handed it to her, I realized that it was probably a more mature drink than my niece was used to. No doubt, when she went to parties, she drank wine coolers or whatever sugary crap the frat boys set up alongside their kegs of cheap beer. But she took a tentative sip, politely said that I sure knew how to fix a drink, and said no more about it.

With a jerk of my head, I gestured for her to follow me. We went down to the basement. The futon was pulled out into a bed and covered with thick quilts. I folded them up and converted the futon back into a couch. Mel raised an eyebrow. We'd have need of a bed soon enough, but it wasn't hard to switch it back, and sitting was more comfortable this way.

I sat down, took a careful sip of my still steaming coffee and looked a suggestion at my niece. Mel took a seat beside me, not quite facing me, with one leg tucked beneath her.

The fishnet stockings, blood red heels, black satin panties with an heart emblazoned in the center, and leather corset were a bit much. The women of the family always wore ridiculous outfits that were typically only found on the sets of porn shoots or in lingerie catalogues, but even by those standards, she was pushing the limits.

Or maybe I only thought so because I had an image of her already firmly set in my mind. If Mom wore the same leather corset, would I think it overmuch?

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked.

Though she put just a bit too much emphasis on the word "talk," her exasperation was understandable. Here she was, convinced she had the potential to be the greatest, most fearsome thing our court had ever seen. The kind of woman men would fight wars over. And there was a decent chance that she was right about that. Or near enough to being right as made no real difference just now. Yet she was also, I knew, equally convinced that her family saw her as a rank amateur. Little more than a nuisance even. There too, she was at least half right. Not entirely. But enough that she had every right to be...