Away with the Faeries (Get Your Rocks Off Book 1)

by Sam Hall

  Part of Nan’s mental illness seemed to be this—the ability to put away any sort of social prohibition preventing you from displaying exactly how you felt. She cried like a child, noisily, with her whole self out on display and screaming her pain.

  “Who can I call?” Mark said in a low voice.

  “Mum and Dad, I guess,” I said, my head still spinning. The sound of her cries broke me, so hoarse and broken and plumbing a depth of pain I just wanted to get the fuck away from, which made me feel so much worse. She couldn’t help what she was feeling, what she’d done. She was this mix of impulses I didn’t understand and pronunciations that made no sense to me, but they did to her. She acted at all times in response to her own internal rudder, but the rest of us were left with no clue as to what was going on.

  “Is she likely to hurt herself?” Mark asked.

  “No. She might trash the place and get hurt accidentally, but she doesn’t self-harm.”

  “Right.” He turned to me and swept an arm around me, something that had my pulse jumping traitorously. “Let’s get you outside and somewhere safe, and then I’ll call your father.”

  “You have Dad’s number?” I squeaked as I felt the heavy weight of his body against mine. He directed me down the steps and out to his car, taking my camera and computer bags and stowing them in the back before ushering me into the front seat.

  “He gave it to me when you signed the contract, wanted me to have a point of contact.”

  The curiously hermetic feel of a stationary car settled over me as I sat back in the plush seats. Must have been adjusted for Paulie or one of the other guys, as I had legroom for days in here.

  “Yes, we’ll wait here until you return. No problem. Bye.”

  Mark slid inside the driver’s seat, ending the call to Dad and throwing the phone onto the dash. For a moment, all I could hear was the two of us breathing in the stillness, until he turned to face me.

  “Does this happen often?”

  The words were delivered in a quiet, almost tentative way. I just nodded.

  “Kira.”

  I glanced up at the sound of my name, and he reached slowly for my injured arm. I frowned when he grabbed it, turning the limb to one side, then another. His touch was a confusing mixture of pleasure, anticipation, and pain right now. He nodded and placed it on the centre console before reaching down, glancing at me to check I was OK, and then opened the glove box. I didn’t see what he was retrieving, just kept very still as his head skimmed the thin space between our bodies. I blinked, shoving the brief whiff of woody manliness I’d gotten a nose full of as he pulled back, opened a little med kit, and got out a tube of antiseptic ointment.

  “Human scratches, they get nasty quick,” he said, brandishing the ointment. “May I?”

  “Oh, yeah, of course,” I said hurriedly.

  He nodded, then applied a dab of ointment. His hand tightened around my wrist when I hissed, my arm jerking in his grip as the first bite of the medicine registered. He rubbed a thumb across the back of my hand and looked up with a smile.

  “It stings, doesn’t it? It’s good stuff, but it hurts like a bitch. You’re being very brave.”

  “Is this when you offer to kiss my boo-boo better?” I said, grabbing for any kind of silliness to take my mind off the points where his body touched mine.

  I realised my mistake when he looked up, those grey eyes searching mine as he moved.

  His eyes burned with a fire I wanted licking all over me as he darted closer into my personal space, then he stopped, seeking something—permission perhaps—before going any nearer. My tongue flicked out to moisten my suddenly bone-dry lips, and that seemed enough for him. His lips brushed mine as his hand went to the nape of my neck, tugging me towards the middle of the centre console. For a moment, I could barely feel a thing, my head spaced out and ringing from all of the morning’s insanity. What kind of granddaughter pashed her best friend’s bodyguard in the car while her grandmother lost her shit inside her house? Me, apparently.

  But I couldn’t fucking help it. He tasted of coffee and mint, and his scent cloaked around me like a drug. All the horrible grinding realities of my life fell away, and there was only this. His lips, his sudden hiss of breath when I reciprocated, his bottom lip just as soft as I thought it would be as I suckled on it, his tongue tangling with mine the minute I slid it past his lips. His fingers scored the back of my scalp as he fought to bring us closer, the kisses growing harder and hungrier and more intense…

  Until I was cockblocked by my parents.

  We leapt apart at the sound of the car horn and just looked at the other for a split second, before Mark turned, opened the door, and then climbed out to talk to my Dad. My parents spared me a quick look through the window when they arrived beside the car, evidently having not seen the spectacle we were making. I watched Mum go inside and emerge out again with Nan in tow, and felt like I always did—helpless and horrible as they did so.

  Because the big trigger for Nan’s illness was me. She rarely recognised her other grandchildren if they ever came to visit, which wasn’t often. My cousins barely knew Nan or me, and it wouldn’t have mattered if they did, because she focussed entirely on me. On helping me and saving me, from what, none of us had been able to identify. I hadn’t suffered any major childhood trauma, no event to strike such fear in Nan’s heart, but there it was. The spells and wards, the little rituals and effigies were all attempts to secure my safety. When she turned like this, I was to evacuate as far away as possible, let them settle her, and avoid her place until she was ready to cope with me again.

  I jumped when Mark opened the door again, something he noticed but didn’t mention.

  “To the estate?” he asked. I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. The professional boundaries seemed to be up again, the little moment beforehand evidently a momentary lapse. I settled back into the seat and clipped my belt on while he leaned forward to return the medical kit to the glove box. My hand moved on its own accord as he did so, my fingers itching now to stroke the many shades of brown and blond in his hair, rather than photograph them.

  He noted this and paused for a second when he pulled back, grabbing my hand. His eyes flicked to where my parents were escorting my grandmother out, and he pulled our hands down below the line of the dashboard, then rubbed a thumb across my knuckles before starting the car. I looked back as we drove out, not sure how to feel about the thought of leaving the family home. It seemed oddly anticlimactic, and my mind was only half on what I was seeing, the throb of my lips demanding attention. Mark caught me touching them with a quick sidelong look, and a supremely male smile spread across on his face in response. I forced my hand down and kept my eyes on the scenes outside my window.

  “Stop here,” I said when we got to the Gisbourne lookout.

  The estate was built on the crest of the hill, looking down on the town itself, and this was a little place halfway there. It contained a rest area and a small cement tower-like structure that you could climb into and look out over the entire valley. Mark looked at me in surprise for a moment, then pulled off the road, parking to one side of the steps. I ran up them as quickly as I could, shivering as I felt the cool air whip around me. The tower provided some shelter, but not much. Mark followed me. I could hear the crunch of his shoes on the gravel, then on the steps behind me, but I didn’t turn. I forced myself to keep an eye on the town I’d spent my life in, soaking up all the details I ignored every day, but wouldn’t see again for six months. The whole thing seemed bizarre, unreal, and as likely as a leprechaun offering me his pot of gold, but it was happening. This time tomorrow, I’d be driving or flying somewhere, my passport receiving its first stamp.

  Which is of course why the guilt hit.

  “I can’t believe I’m not going to see this for a while,” I said, mostly to myself. That was the polite, scaled-down version of what I felt. Home, my parents, Nan… It all tugged at my attention.

  “You’re off to have an
adventure,” Mark replied, coming to stand beside me. “You can’t feel guilty about that. Seems like it’s well past time.”

  “And what about you?” I said, unable to believe the words coming out of my mouth. I was a modern woman and could flirt competently when suitably inspired. I didn’t feel like I had to wait around for a guy to make a move, but Mark was something else altogether.

  I’d like to think it was the taste of him in my mouth that made me so bloody bold, or perhaps the truth of it was that there was Kira and there was Ki. Kira kept her head down, didn’t draw too much attention to herself and stayed in her lane, but Ki? She was the side of me Jen saw and encouraged, and she came roaring to the fore right now.

  “Are you part of that adventure?”

  For a moment, I thought I’d misstepped, because there was a terrible expression on his face as he just stared me down, my back leaning against the cold stone of the lookout. Then he let out a groan and closed the space between us, the heavy weight of him just as I’d imagined as he settled between my legs.

  “I shouldn’t be,” he murmured against my skin, making me squirm against him. “I’ve been wondering what fucking god I’d offended to be assigned this job. I have to watch you all the fucking time, laughing and mucking around with your friend, collapsed into yourself in pain, serious and thoughtful, seeing everything with those bloody eyes of yours. You catalogue everyone around you and make me ache for you to see me.” The strange words were delivered between kisses, his caresses searing my skin and his words branding my heart.

  I stopped, put a hand between us, and pushed, wanting to see his face, hoping that would help me decipher his words.

  “You coming out in that dress damn near stopped my heart, and half my blood supply went to my dick. I was about to give Paulie two black eyes for just looking at you. Marlow too. I wanted to stitch you into that thing and never let you change, then lock you away so no one would see,” he said, putting my hand on his chest.

  “No,” I said, the word now a buffer between me and him. This couldn’t be true, couldn’t be what was happening. Jen liked to joke that Mark had the hots for me, but that wasn’t actually happening. It was a running joke, all part of her ‘Kira is a sexpot’ bullshit she liked to push and I always rejected.

  He didn’t answer me, but his fingers tightened around mine and his brows frowned for a split second. He just stared and waited, for me to either accept or reject what he’d said.

  What he didn’t seem to realise was that this was all so far beyond my normal, I had no response whatsoever prepared. The tour, the photos, the interview, his kilt, the kiss, Nan. My head should have been throbbing in response, but the blessed elvesbane kept it all crystal fucking clear. I saw him shift restively, his grip starting to loosen, and the old smooth veneer that had kept me out so damn well was being rebuilt brick by brick.

  “No,” I said more gently, to that and to returning to the way things were. That wasn’t going to happen, I knew that now. I couldn’t stay the way I was and do this job, be the artist I wanted to be. I was going to have to embrace shit I’d never even considered before, and how I did that was up to me.

  So I reached out with my other hand and caressed that sharp plane of a cheek, frowning at the severity of it, wanting to come closer and inspect just how he could have such dramatic bone structure. But drawing closer brought his scent, woody and wild, clogging my nose and my brain, so all reluctance and refusals were tossed aside, until there was only my lips on his.

  I’d never felt a kiss like this, our mouths in perfect synchronicity as we created a symphony of caresses that conveyed a longing, a need, a desire that came from…where? I had no fucking idea. The idea that he was this quiet sentinel, watching me the whole time and aching, was so hot. That was romance novel level bullshit, which did not happen in real life. But he felt so fucking real under my fingertips, his hair catching in my fingers, his tongue spearing inside me. Any sexual tension I’d managed to dissipate coming back ten times as strong. My hands delved into that suit, pushing the jacket away from his body, and my fingers went to the buttons.

  “Kira,” he panted, his hands stopping mine. “We’ve got to—”

  “Oh no, no fucking way. You can’t stand there, with a body like Sam Heughen’s bigger hotter brother and not let me take another look, because damn, boy, it’s a bloody masterpiece. I half wanted to tell Dave to piss off, set up a room in the house as a studio, and just photograph you naked for the sake of women and gay men everywhere.”

  “Yeah?” he said, his smile so boyishly sweet that I almost felt like I needed to check if it was the same guy. But some of that seriousness came back as I unbuttoned his shirt, sliding my hand inside the gap, and found his skin scalding hot. I smoothed over the firm surface, stopping to scratch a nail over his nipple, something that pulled a strangled sound from him. I looked and I touched, until he finally stopped me by placing his hand over mine.

  “I’m as hard as a stone,” he said, and our eyes dropped down to see the now ample evidence of that. “There’s not much stopping me from pulling your shirt off, here and now, and sucking on those luscious tits that were shoved in my face yesterday. But…”

  “Fuck, there’s a but?” I said. “Why is there a but, unless it’s your very nicely formed butt?”

  “You can explore any and all of what I have, once we’ve finished the jobs we’ve been employed to do today. The team has been ringing and messaging me every other minute, and Rutherglen is probably going to fire me when I get back, but Kira, I have a room. You can rest there until you have to get dressed in that bloody dress and take those fucking photos, and then later, when all of this bullshit is over…”

  “Keep telling me this story,” I said, trying for smart arse but sounding all breathy as I thought about curling myself in sheets that smelled like him.

  “And then I’m going to do all the things I imagined doing while stroking one off every night.”

  My hands went to his pants. They had to. What he described was being played out in my mind in exquisite detail. I ached, high and deep inside, wanting him and only him to fill the sudden gap. He hissed as my fingers closed around a truly impressive length. Like, a little intimidating and slightly doubt inducing in size, but his hand closed around mine and moved it up and down, his hips twitching with the effort of holding back, and whatever he was packing in there throbbed in response.

  “You destroy my self-control,” he growled, shoving my hand away and pushing me against the stone. His lips scored my neck, while one hand slid up under my t-shirt and closed around my breast. My nipple just about jumped off my body and ran around doing a victory dance as I felt the rough abrasion of my bra against his palm, and sounds I’d never made with another guy were pulled from me. But right as those fingers plucked at the edge of my bra cup, our phones began to ring simultaneously.

  “Fuck,” he said, glancing at me as if seeking permission to ignore it. I fished mine out and saw it was Jen’s number.

  “You’re right,” I said, my clit kicking me in the ovaries with what I was about to say. “Give me somewhere to nap. We get this job done, and then…” We both swallowed at the thought of whatever that was going to look like. Sure, he was hot, and touching him felt like fire, but it was a flame I wanted to burn me up entirely.

  I got one last glimpse at that sweet smile before it was packed up behind the very intimidating bodyguard façade. “Yes, sir,” he said, answering his call as I did mine.

  “Where are you?!” Jen exclaimed. “Did you fall down the toilet or something? Please tell me your insane family did not talk you out of this.”

  “No, no, I got Mark to drive with me back to my place so I could pick up some stuff and then get back to yours without worrying about my car.”

  “You shouldn’t have bothered, someone would have… Wait, Mark?”

  “Yeah,” I said, starting to fidget. “He brought me my keys. I’d left them back in the bedroom.”

  “Oh, did he?”
I could hear the sly smile in her voice. “I keep trying to tell you—”

  “Yep, got that loud and clear,” I said.

  “What? Oh… Ohhhh.” She chuckled. “He’s there, isn’t he? And is he giving you those smouldery looks again?”

  “More or less.”

  “More? More! Oh my god… You kissed him, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, somewhat. Look, he says he has somewhere I can crash out for a bit when we get back so I’ll be fresh for tonight. Is that OK?”

  “Oh, he does, does he? Sneaky little shit, he’s covering you with his scent to warn others off. Well, if you want to see if everything is proportionate, don’t let me stop you. We’re having a quick meeting at four pm to go over the revised brief, coordinate between you and Anna, and then it’s dress time. Be in the room you changed in at four, and the rest of the day is yours to do…whatever you want with. I want all the details tomorrow though.”

  “Jen!”

  “When he’s outside, of course. Mwah! Bye, darling!”

  When I got off the phone, it was apparent his call hadn’t gone as well. He looked over at me sheepishly, coming in close but at a much slower pace now.

  “I don’t know how to do this, except to just say it. Can we put a pin in this for now?”

  He kissed me to soften the blow, something I appreciated very much, but it wasn’t needed.

  “It’s OK. Take me to your room, and let me take a nap. We agree to meet back there later tonight?”

  That earned me another searingly sweet kiss that was a little less hungry, but no less hot for it.

  “Good plan. Very, very, good plan.”

  Which is how fifteen minutes later, I found myself standing in a fairly Spartan room, a rumpled bed between me, Mark, and the door. He had told me he needed to go, but instead, he just watched me toe off my shoes, his Adam’s apple bobbing when my hands went to my jeans.

  “Fuck…” he whispered as I pulled them off. Then he strode forward once I stepped free of them, lifted me up as I squealed, and tossed me down on the bed. He leant over me, his mouth dropping to mine as his hand slid up my thigh. His fingers wasted no time in getting under the elastic of my underwear, and he swept them through my sodden folds before pulling away. I was panting when he drew back, looking like some kind of decadent Dom or alpha or billionaire love interest from a romance novel in that suit, before he licked his fingers clean.