"Puppies?" I said.
"Didn't he tell you? Doyle has two aunts whose true forms are dogs. His grandmother was one of the hounds of the great hunt. Hellhounds, humans call them now, though you know we have nothing to do with hell. A different religious system altogether."
I remembered the baying and the look of hunger in Doyle's eyes. "I was aware that Doyle wasn't pure sidhe."
"His grandfather was a phouka so evil that he bred in dog form with the wild hunt itself and lived to tell the tale." She smiled, and it was sweetly malicious.
"Doyle's as mixed a bag of genetics as I am then." The voice was still neutral; yeah for me.
"But did you know he was part dog before you took him to your bed?"
Doyle stayed kneeling through all this, his hair hiding his face.
"I knew he owed his bloodline in part to the wild hunt before he came inside me."
"Really?" She made it sound like she didn't believe me.
"I've heard the belling of the hounds come out of his mouth." I moved my hair so she could see the bite mark on my shoulder, very near my neck. "I knew that he dreamed of my flesh in more than one way before I allowed him to satisfy either hunger."
Her eyes grew hard again. "You surprise me, Meredith. I never thought you had the stomach for violence."
"I do not enjoy hurting people. Violence in the bedroom when all agree is different."
"I've never found it different," she said.
"I know," I said.
"How do you do that?" she asked.
"How do I do what, my queen?"
"How do you sound so neutral, utterly neutral, yet somehow you manage to say 'go to hell' with a smile and a neutral word."
"It's not deliberate, Aunt Andais, believe me."
"At least you didn't try to deny it."
"We do not lie to each other," I said, and this time my voice was tired.
"Arise, Darkness, and show your queen your ravaged back."
He stood without a word, gave his back to the mirror, and swept his hair to one side.
Andais came close to the mirror, reaching out with one gloved hand, so that for a second I thought her hand would keep traveling and come out like a 3-D image. "I had taken you for a dominant, Doyle, and I don't enjoy being dominated."
"You never asked what I enjoyed, my Queen." He was still facing away from the mirror, his back to it.
"I also never thought you'd be so blessed down below." She sounded wistful now, like a child who hadn't gotten what she wanted for her birthday. "I mean, you are descended from dogs and phoukas, and they are not much in that way."
"Most phoukas have more than one shape, my Queen."
"Dog and horse, sometimes eagle, yes, I know all about that. What does that have to do..." She stopped in midsentence, and a smile crooked at the edges of her lipsticked mouth. "Are you saying that your grandfather could turn into a horse as well as a dog?"
He spoke softly. "Yes, my Queen."
"You're hung like a horse." She started to laugh.
He said nothing, only shrugged his broad shoulders. I was too startled at her laughter to join it. It wasn't always a good thing to amuse the Queen.