by Claire Marta
“With a client,” she told him crisply. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“She lives at the Citadel,” he scolded lightly. “With how many men? I’m not comfortable with Willow being around strangers. Who the feck are they? How do I know they can be trusted around our daughter?”
“My daughter,” she reminded him. “And I need to get back to her. I’m leaving now, Colin. Give me the papers, mail them, or keep them. I don’t care. I’ve heard enough for today.”
He rose when she did. “You're making a mistake staying there, Rae. I’m only watching out for the two of you. They’re tied to Ivan’s court case. He’s Bratva. He has friends. Men. Power. Connections. If things turn ugly, you could be caught in the crossfire. You might be willing to take the risk, but you need to think about Willow.”
She didn’t reply. Leaving her coffee untouched, she marched toward the door, glaring at his goons who stood to stop her.
A signal from Colin let her pass.
If Colin was her blackmailer, why had he looked so angry when she’d told him about Willow almost being snatched? He’d said Ivan had friends. She’d been quick to think the threats were from her ex, but what if she had it all wrong? What if this had nothing to do with Colin and his rise to power? What if an outside force, focused on the Citadel, was trying to use her as a pawn?
Ivan Michalov was the most logical suspect. Casey had been served a subpoena at his trial. The Russian arms dealer had known she was pregnant, which meant he had her under surveillance. Anyone watching the Citadel would have reported Raven’s visits, including those before Willow’s birthday trip to the zoo. A man like that would think nothing of kidnapping her child and forcing her to work for him, ferreting the Citadel’s—and eventually Casey’s—secrets.
Jaysus.
The possibility made her stomach clench with dread.
So who was threatening her? Was it Colin and the Irish mob, Ivan and the Russian Bratva, or one the Burke family’s enemies?
Raven thought she’d escaped their world when she divorced Colin. It felt as if a net had been cast around her, threatening to drag her back into his world… only this time, she would drown. If she didn’t find a way to escape, to learn who was behind the texts and stop them, she’d live the rest of her life—however brief it was—in constant danger, fearing for her own safety and terrified for her daughter.
Her thoughts were still plagued with events when she pulled up in front of the Citadel. Seeing Zana at the gates, she figured Morgan was done with her nap and back with Willow.
The charismatic Persian was kind enough to open the gates and wave her through.
Killian and Cayden were waiting on the steps to greet her. Raven sighed internally. Why did they have to bug her today? All she wanted to do was have a quiet evening with her daughter.
“We need tae talk,” Cayden announced when she finished locking up her vehicle.
“We have nothing to say to each other,” she countered, moving past them up the steps.
“But we made ye dinner,” Killian called after her. “A wee taste of home.”
Those words gave her pause. They’d cooked? Something traditional? In the last few days, she’d been daydreaming of comfort food.
“Corned beef and cabbage,” he continued quickly. “Potatoes, Irish soda bread, and lemon pie.”
Raven’s mouth watered, her stomach taking the moment to rumble hungrily. “Where’s Willow?”
“She’s fine,” Cayden assured her, both men following her into the building. “Morgan’s rested, and they’re playing video games wie some o’ the others.”
She should say no, damn it. But they’d made something that she hadn’t had in a while and an empty belly worked against her. It was the lemon pie that did it. She’d been hankering for the sweet, tart taste for days.
“How soon?” she asked, pressing a hand to her rumbling stomach.
Killian grinned. “It’s done, staying warm and waiting fer ye.”
“The two of us,” she corrected, making it clear that she wouldn’t be coming alone. “Willow and me. Take me to her, please.”
A small crowd had gathered downstairs in the communal lounge. Willow was seated on the floor with her toy unicorn on one side and Prince on the other, playing a game, riding a dragon, stealing sheep, and gathering jewels while Morgan, Aiden, and a group of grown men looked on.
“Mummy!” she cried when she saw her. “See the cool game that Uncle Aiden got for me? Look! I can fly!”
A punch of the controller and her avatar did a series of aerial loops that almost made Raven dizzy. It was… weird. She didn’t get airsick, but right now, her stomach felt queasy.
Potatoes and a bit of corned beef should settle it right down. It’s what she got for skipping lunch. She’d fed Willow and left her with Morgan, then headed out for her appointment with the Robertsons.
She let Willow play until she came to a place where she could save her game. Someone had set her up with the player name of Princess. Leave it to her daughter to wrap people around her little finger!
“What about Prince?” Raven asked Cayden. “I can leave him in our suite.”
The Scottish medic grinned. “He’s welcome tae come,” he told her. “We played a wee bit this afternoon. While Zana and Killian played outside with Willow, I was teaching her pup tae fetch. Or trying. He’s starting tae get the hang of it.”
“Thank you,” she told him, willing to make peace with the two of them—at least until dinner was done. Once they’d eaten, she could take Willow and Prince back to the guest suite, put on a movie for Willow, and pick up reading where she’d left off.
Jaysus, she hated stopping in the middle of a sex scene.
“Thank you for watching her, Morgan… and Zana,” Raven told them. “And thank you for the game, Aiden. She loves it, I can tell.”
Aiden grinned. “She’s got a gift. But I don’t think she has this game system. We hooked one up in the guest suite. It’s hers to take wherever. Consider it a late birthday present from all of us.”
Raven was touched by their gesture. After four years with a step-father who couldn’t be bothered to remember holidays, here was a group of virtual strangers who’d given her an expensive and welcome gift, chosen with her in mind, with no strings attached. “Thank you,” she told them. “Willow, what do you say?”
“Thank you!” she echoed, giggling when Prince ruffed his thanks, too.
Raven waited until they were well away from the ears of others before speaking. “Willow, Killian and Cayden have invited us to eat dinner with them. Is that alright with you?”
A distant hoot of laughter sounded from the lounge. The men must be enjoying their own video game.
Killian and Cayden exchanged a knowing look.
“Yes!” Grabbing her unicorn, Willow hugged it to her chest and bounced like Tigger. “Prince! We get to eat with Killy and Cay!”
“After you wash your hands, young lady,” Raven warned her. “Clean up first, and then we’ll go eat.”
“Ye can use our bathroom,” Killian offered.
His rumbling voice did strange things to her insides, but her mind was worse. She remembered the night of Casey’s birthday when they’d taken her upstairs and she’d given in to her baser urges and had sex with them. Jaysus. Her nether parts remembered, too. It was like she’d been hotwired with the current sent straight to her crotch.
“We’ll use ours, thank you,” she said. “If I can get Prince to eat a bite before we come, he’ll be more apt to leave us alone and not sit there and beg while we eat.”
It would also give her a chance to talk to Willow. Hear about her day. Let them have some mother-daughter time that Raven needed and Willow deserved.
“Can you give us twenty minutes?” she asked them. “Time enough to get settled, cleaned up, and let you get things ready for us. Is that alright?”
“Aye,” the men spoke in stereo, bowing to her wishes without an argument for the chance to have t
hem share a home-cooked meal. So far, they’d been keeping their distance, giving her space, not pressuring her. Hopefully, that would continue.
Prince wasn’t starving but he ate like an adolescent boy, wolfing down his food and lapping up his water. Raven washed first, and then went to find Willow, who was playing a game on the tablet in her lap.
Raven’s tablet was on the sofa beside her. “You need to wash, button. You can play games later, once dinner is done.”
Leaving her tablet here would give them an excuse to go if the dog didn’t need to be walked first.
One way or another, she intended to eat and run.
Chapter Thirteen
Killian impatiently paced the floor of their apartment. He was nervous about dinner. They could not screw this up and push Raven further away. There was also the matter of the damn Fae to address. She needed to know that the prince had made contact with Willow. That they would have to be vigilant for future attempts.
Worrying her mother was the last thing either he or Cayden wanted to do. Raven needed to relax around them. Give them a chance to talk. From her positive reaction to the meal they had planned, it was a start. Killian had worked hard to create authentic dishes from their homeland. Things that would appeal and hopefully soften their female’s attitude toward them.
When the gentle knock sounded on their door, Cayden scrambled to answer it. Raven stood on the other side, shielding herself from them, keeping her eyes shuttered and her lovely face devoid of emotion.
Armed with her unicorn, Willow was grinning from ear to ear, Prince jumping up around her legs.
“Come in,” Cayden told them, holding it wide so they could enter.
Killian rubbed his hands anxiously down his sides. “Aye, take a place at the table and I’ll start serving.”
Cayden petted Prince and showed him to a mat that they’d bought, hoping to get them all here eventually. A brand new rawhide bone rested on it with a stainless steel bowl of water close by. The puppy tackled the chew toy, flopping down to claim his prize while the humans took their seats around the dining room table, the males on one side and the females on the other.
Raven closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and smiled, savoring the aromas rising from the table.
“It smells wonderful,” she said, her voice sincere. “Where did you learn to cook?”
Killian coughed behind his hand, wondering just how much to say with the wee colleen here. “Dublin,” he told her. “I picked it up here and there. Practiced until I got it right. I can’t cook a world of things like Gael, but I can make what matters most. I leave the haggis to Cayden, though. I don’t have the stomach fer it.”
Raven’s eyes went wide when she realized that he’d made a joke. She rolled her eyes and groaned at it, but she relaxed a bit more.
Cayden had filled four glasses with filtered water, after discussing what was best to drink this time of day with a five-year-old present.
Raven took a sip and eyed it speculatively. “Would you happen to have lemon slices?” she asked, her voice hopeful.
They looked at each other and made a mental note for next time. “Sorry,” Killian told her. “No lemons or lemonade.”
Raven’s shoulders sagged with disappointment.
“But we’ve lemon pie fer dessert.”
Their mate brightened as surely as a switch had flipped. The way to her heart might well be through her stomach with this one. Casey was different from Morgan, and Raven was unique compared to the others. No wonder there were people like Morgan who taught men how to find mates. Each one required something different to please them—although both of the other two had responded to Elijah’s oils.
They hoped for the chance to give Raven hers soon.
She served her daughter first, giving her a little of everything. Corned beef, cooked with cabbage, celery, carrots, and potatoes and slices of warm Irish soda bread. He’d gone one step further and bought Irish butter to use. Should she stay long enough, there were packages of Irish cheese in the refrigerator they could cube and have for a snack.
Cutting into the softened butter, she spread it on Willow’s bread and then hers for them both to enjoy.
Their mate had a healthy appetite. She took sensible portions but didn’t deny herself if it was something she enjoyed, including the lemon pie he’d had Gael make for dessert.
Killian knew his limitations. He could make corned beef to rival the Frenchman’s but he couldn’t come close to matching his pastries and confections. If the Citadel ever needed a source of income, they could open a bakery for Gael and be sold out daily.
Raven took one bite and creamed her panties. The sound and face she made were orgasmic.
Jaysus, Joseph, and Mary.
Killian shifted in his seat when his pants got too tight. Cayden was having the same issue. They needed to get their bodies under control before they could stand up or the wee lass might ask questions that her mother wouldn’t welcome.
“Gael made it,” Killian told her, not wanting to take credit for another’s work. Too, he didn’t want her to think that he could whip her up a lemon pie whenever she craved one.
“I’ll have to ask him for the recipe,” she remarked, taking another bite.
“Aye, weel, guid luck wie tha’,” Cayden murmured. “Maybe ye’ll hae better luck, but Gael’s like a dragon guarding his treasure when it comes tae his recipes. Ye’re muir like tae pluck emeralds from a griffin’s nest than get directions fer making this pie, aye?”
While Raven looked away, plotting how she might go about it, Killian was thinking of the oils they’d had Elijah blend for their mate. Made specifically for her, the oils contained a bit of each of their essences and were meant to strengthen the bond between them. Added to a bath, worn on the skin, or poured in a diffuser—any way would work. With luck, she’d go home with a bottle tonight.
The opportunity came after the table was cleared and the dishwasher was started. Willow was snuggled on the sofa watching a movie with Prince. The adults were enjoying a cup of coffee around the kitchen table. Excusing himself, Cayden came back with the vial of oils and set it on the table in front of Raven.
“A gift,” he told her. “From aw of us,” he added, knowing she’d be more willing to accept it. “Elijah has a talent fer blending oils. He’s made them fer Morgan and Casey. I make the bottles, and Killian letters the labels. He’s got a fine hand fer that kind of thing.”
Raven studied the calligraphy he’d done and nodded her approval of their work. “Impressive hobbies,” she admitted. “Morgan tells me that Zac’s a knitter and Aiden’s a gamer. Casey showed me the leather purse that Malik made for her and I’ve heard some of Iosefa’s music. Tobias made the kinetic sculpture dragon outside. So what all do you two do here?”
Cayden answered first. “As ye ken, I am the medic, but I work wie glass when I can. I’ve a fondness fer stained glass and hae been helping Killian restore the chapel. He works on the stones. I work on the windows. But I’m learning tae blow glass now. There’s a row of workshops adjacent tae the garage. The one closest tae it has a forge, a pottery kiln, and equipment for working wie glass. It’s muir satisfying than golf,” he joked. “At least I hae something tae show fer my time when I am done.”
“I’m a stonemason,” Killian told her. “I finished building the labyrinth the day of Casey’s birthday party, but most of my time is spent restoring the chapel. Replacing broken stones. Carving water spouts. About a third of the gargoyles on it now are mine. Ye’ve seen my ink. Being from Dublin, home to the Book of Kells…, I’ve made it a study, learning how to do calligraphy, Celtic knotwork, sacred art… The labels are a little thing. Casey and Morgan think our bottles are pretty, even though the true treasure lies within.”
Raven weighed it in her hands like Alice in Wonderland with a bottle labeled Drink Me.
“As long as ye’re nae allergic tae anything in there, it’s perfectly safe fer topical application,” Cayden assured her. “Elijah is our gar
dener. He’s nae exactly a perfumer but he probably could be if he wished tae learn. As it is, the mon has a gift fer blending fragrant oils. Aromatherapy, some would call it. If ye’re anything like Casey and Morgan, ye’ll be asking fer muir when yer bottle’s half-gone.”
She was curious now, wondering what could possibly be that good.
They didn’t pressure her, trusting that she’d open it in her own time. And once she did…, once she started using them, the bond being forged between them would strengthen, tying them together like the fated mates they were meant to be.
In their minds, it wasn’t a matter of if but when.
She traced the calligraphy label that he’d made with her name in flowery script and a Celtic knotwork border with intricately woven strands. She studied the hand-blown glass, admiring the shape and the color of it, a dark amber brown that matched her magnificent eyes. When she pulled the stopper, the scent of lemon verbena, honeysuckle, and other oils drifted free, filling the air with her special fragrance combined with all of their essences.
“Mmm. Lemon,” she breathed. Bringing the bottle to her nose, she inhaled deeply, held it, and released her breath on a sigh. “Magick,” she murmured as if sensing the charms that went into its making.
“‘Tis magickal,” Killian allowed. “A special blend fer a special woman. It will go fast if ye use it in yer bath. Just say the word, and we’ll have Elijah make more.”
“Thank you,” she said, graciously accepting their gift and replacing the stopper, saving the joy of it for later.
“What’s that, Mummy?”
Willow bounced over to the table with Prince at her heels.
Raven smiled softly. “Killian and Cayden gave me a bottle of oils.”
Willow’s wee nose went up, scenting the air. “Ooh! That smells nice! You love lemon!”
“I do,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to get enough of it these days. Thank you for the pie,” Raven told them again. “I’ll be sure to thank Gael. I’ll mention that I’d love to know how to make one but I won’t ask him for the recipe. I know how cooks can be.”
