If there weren't a table between the window and my face, I'd be pressed up against the glass as we make our descent into Olympus.

I never thought I'd get to see it so early into my change.

The city clings to the insides of the dead volcano's broken crown, its lower tiers lit from beneath by the glow of the lake that fills its center. Shielded from the worst of the winds but farther from the heat of the lake, snow blankets the ridges and structures of the caldera's upper reaches.

"Wow," is all I can manage. Heartbeats later, a flurry of snow obscures the view. When it clears again, we're hovering over a landing pad.

After touchdown, Aidon—now smiling from ear-to-ear—takes me by the hand as we step into the fresh, cold air outside. Loose strands whip around my face, collecting snowflakes as I struggle to brush them out of view. We're high up in the peaks here, with most of the city a ring of light laid out beneath us. Built outward from the rough stone is a house too grand to call a manor, but too small to call a palace. Made entirely of storm-gray stone, many of its tall stained-glass windows are set with stylized images of the Daimon. Every corner has a turret, and every level boasts an array of ornately railed balconies.

"Welcome to our mountain house," my husband declares as he leads me to the entrance.

"What was that you said about honeymooning in our own home?" I smirk up at him.

He laughs. "Ah, but this is our vacation house. It's different."

Our guardians trail behind us, Syntrofos taking up the rear with Pompom now huddled in the perfectly-calibrated warmth of his hands. For half a moment I worry that I hadn't been able to pack anything, but then I smile to myself. Whatever I might need, there's no way he won't have thought of it.

As we approach, the door creaks slowly outward. Aidon's eyes flash to mine, watching for my response as a human skeleton steps into view, holding the door open for us. It's glossy black--as though it's been lacquered—and held together by bits of silver.

"Oh, ah, it's an old place, from the Dark Age. It's got the updates that matter, but otherwise, I've kept it as it was. No automatic doors.

"And no Synthes?"

"Not many."

"Why is it that you don't have more?" I prod as I follow him.

"It's important I have outlets for my abilities." He says simply. I get a distinct sense there's more to it than that, but decide not to press him on the matter.

The bone-servitor closes the door behind us. Distantly I'm aware of releasing Aidon's hand as I step forward, craning my neck to take everything in. The entrance leads straight into a huge foyer whose two-story tall windows look out over the luminous caldera and snow-swept sky. A pair of curving stairs lead up to an open level, while the ground floor glitters in a mosaic of crystal tiles in every shade from purest white to onyx black. I study the flowing images as I step across them—a luscious array of plants, animals and mountains.

A resonance piano stands at the center of it all, awash in the blue glow of the illuminated skylight in the vaulted ceiling overhead. Clusters of low, dark furniture are arranged at a comfortable distance around it. Over near the windows, a fountain trickles musically.

"Do you like it?" Aidon steps up beside me, brows furrowed ever-so-slightly. I purse my lips for a moment, drawing it out, before grinning up at him.

"It'll do."

With a disbelieving scoff, my husband offers me his arm before taking me on a full tour that culminates in the master bedroom. Syntrofos doesn't bother to follow us in.

Before I know it, my back's pressed against the cool stone of the wall. Aidon lifts me off my feet, hands burried deep in my skirts as he grips the soft flesh of my thighs. We kiss, hard and desperate, before his lips leave mine to work down my neck. I gasp as he teases me with a fang, tangling a hand into his hair to press his head forward. He takes this for the invitation it is, and I sigh with pleasure as his fangs drive into me.

Some time later, we lay in a tangle of blankets, leaves and partially removed clothing on the enormous bed. Propping myself partway up on my elbows, I look out the ceiling-high corner window that serves as a headboard.

"Don't worry," murmurs Aidon, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear before it can fall into my face. "At University, you'll learn how to direct and contain your energy."

"So I won't have to worry about bursting into bloom every time we have sex for the rest of forever?"

He shakes his head, chuckling, as a ripe fig drops from one of the branches growing from my back. "No, but I think it's charming."

"Wait," I sit up, snatching the fig from his hands, turning it over in my fingers. "It's fruiting? But it shouldn't be able to do that without wasps..."

At that, Aidon all-out laughs. "You can grow trees from your back and create hybrid lifeforms and this is what surprises you?"

Scrunching my nose at him, I lift the fig and take a bite—raising my eyebrows at his look of shock. "We drink each other's blood, what's this in comparison? Oh,"

"What?" Brows peaking in concern, his eyes dart about as he studies my face. "Are you al-"

"It's delicious," I sigh, closing my eyes. "So fresh. It tastes like sunshine."

His lips curl upward. "That sounds about right."

I offer him the other half, but he shakes his head. "Blood or no, this is little weird for me," he says. Shrugging, I pop it into my mouth, savoring the flavor as much as possible before swallowing.

"You know, if you keep stimulating yourself, the branches won't fall off."

I chortle. "Stimulating myself?"

"You know what I meant."

I'm just opening my mouth to antagonize him further when suddenly he looks up, eyes narrowed and pupils going to slits.

"What is it?"

"My brother's here,"

"How do you know?"

"My servitors." Already sliding off the bed, he begins tugging his cloths back on. I can't help but feel a pang of loss as he pulls his shirt down over the sculpted contours of his abs. "Stay here and relax. I'll get rid of him."

"Get rid of him? Why-"

But he's already off, striding purposefully across the room to fling open the door. In the next instant he's gone, door slamming shut behind him.

Sighing in frustration, I lay back down on my stomach. Normally, I'd be after him in a heartbeat--but the branches and inability to get fully dressed would make for an awkward first meeting. Instead, I close my eyes and do my best to clear my thoughts.

Just as the first branch begins to loosen, there's a shout and a crash from somewhere outside the room. Yanking up the sheet, I wrap it hastily about myself as best I can before dashing out the door and down the hall to the interior balcony overlooking the foyer.

Down below, Aidon's just getting up from the ground—hair wild, fangs bared, and clutching his left arm. Blood glistens between his fingers, runs down his sleeve. His guardian lays on the ground behind him, completely disabled. Not a few paces away, a Variant who can only be his brother leers down at him, eyes aglow as white-hot bolts of electricity flare around his body in a blinding whirlwind.