by A. S. Green
No, not her scent.
Her essence.
Little bits of her peeled away—even as she fought to keep herself intact—and she jerked and twisted her body, clenching her mind around the lyrics.
I got married to the widow next door; she’s been married seven times before…
It wasn’t working. Meghan’s back arched. She clung to her spirit as they kept sucking it out of her.
Fuck, they really were like spiders. They were going to suck her dry of…all that made her her. She didn’t know how, but she knew that if she gave in, there’d be nothing left of her but an empty husk.
And everyone was a Henery. (Henery!) She wouldn’t take a Willie or a Sam. (No Sam!)
A loud, furious roar suddenly filled the forest. The women all whirled, turning their backs on Meghan, and her body slumped forward, hanging by her wrists, as the anesthetizing veil slowly lifted. Meghan only had the strength to raise her head as an enormous black dog burst into the clearing.
Oh, fuck.
“It is as our sister said,” one of the women said. “The cú sídhe has taken sides with the enemy.”
To that, the beast growled low in its throat, the sound growing in intensity as it prowled forward, its head low, and its lips curled back. Meghan felt her flesh prickle and crawl, and for the life of her she couldn’t understand why these women didn’t run. She’d run, if she wasn’t tied to the trees.
“Let us finish what we started,” said another of the women, holding her hand out in supplication to the beast. “We’ll be sure to leave the scraps for the dog.”
An even more sinister growl erupted from the beast, and it retracted its body as if it were a slingshot gathering energy. A second later, it released, lunging forward. Its teeth ripped into the woman’s outstretched hand, tearing it clean from her wrist.
Meghan’s stomach churned, as the woman screamed and her four sisters howled with such a high-pitched keening that Meghan thought of cicadas.
The dog snarled, lunging at another woman. This time it was only a threat, but it did the trick. The women were flushed from the clearing like a flock of birds. In a flash they were gone.
Then the beast turned its red eyes on easy prey.
Meghan’s stomach sank. She wrapped her fingers around the ropes, closed her eyes, and held on tight. It would all be over soon. God, please let it be over soon.
She tried to calm herself with that prayer, but still a whimper slipped past her lips. She could hear the slow, menacing sound as the beast stalked closer, the predatory growl rumbling low in its chest. Even the wet sound of a hungry mouth, opening, its tongue licking over its teeth.
And then a voice said, clear as day, “Meghan. Jesus. What. The. Fuck?”
Chapter Twelve
CORMAC
Meghan’s eyes flew open, but Cormac couldn’t take the time to contemplate her look of terror and surprise. He was too busy with his own fear, exasperation, anger, relief… There were too many emotions roiling through his mind, and it was all he could do not to release them on her.
Why had she left the cottage when he told her quite plainly to keep her ass inside? Salt the door, he’d told her. Stay put, he’d told her. Stay awake. And what was she thinking coming into the woods?
Meghan stared straight ahead, her mouth hanging open, her eyes blinking like a barn owl’s. “Who?” she whispered. “What?”
“Mo cuisle.” His whole body hummed with loosely controlled energy. His gaze dropped from her beautiful gray-green eyes all the way down to her feet, checking for injuries. He pinched his lips together, more than satisfied with what he saw. Not only was she in one piece, she was damn near perfect.
Nearly perfect. She’s still a pádraig, and there’s no avoiding that.
“Where did that dog go?” She jerked her arms against the ropes, trying to break free, as her gaze darted around the clearing. “There was a giant dog. Or a wolf. Probably a wolf.”
Cormac held up his hands, palms out, as if she were the dangerous thing. “Calm down. I’ll explain.”
“Oh, my god.” She jerked one of her hands again, probably intending to put it to her mouth, but it only moved a fraction of an inch. Her eyes settled on him with a look of horrified realization. “It’s you, isn’t it? That was you. That was you before, too. When we found the first body.”
Her eyes were like saucers, and she bucked against the ropes. “Get me out of here!”
“Settle. I said I’d explain. Just listen. It’s all right.” But it wasn’t all right. Christ, he’d almost lost her. How could he have let this happen? Was he incapable of keeping anyone safe?
Cormac pulled a knife from his belt, and she flinched. His eyes jerked to hers, pain slicing his heart at the realization that she thought he meant to hurt her.
“Meghan, I’m just going to cut the rope.”
She sniffed and closed her eyes, nodding her head.
He dropped down to a squat and sliced through the first rope that bound her right ankle. Then he unwrapped the coil and rubbed, soothing away the burn. He looked up. She was looking down at him, her curly hair falling forward, her eyes shining with tears, and the sad but beautiful sight nearly blinded him.
“What are you?” she whispered. “What were those…women?”
He pinched his lips together, then freed her other ankle.
When he stood, there was no more than a foot separating their bodies. “If I tell ye,” he said, pausing before he released her wrists, “are ye going to faint again?”
She jutted out her chin, and she blinked back the tears, though her body still trembled. “I don’t faint.”
He snorted and smiled. Her stubbornness was one of the things he was beginning to love most about her.
Wait. No, not love. Respect. And despite her foolishness, she deserved that. His respect, and his honesty.
“I’m cú sídhe,” he said, saying the foreign words slowly, Koo Shee. He cut through the rope that bound her right wrist. “Ye might know me better as ‘hell hound.’”
She blinked, and her lips parted as if she’d heard the word before. He cut the last rope, and she reached out to steady herself against one of the trees.
“Ye know of us?” he asked.
She shook her head, her eyes still wide. “Those women…those things…were talking about you. They said you’d taken sides with the enemy.“
Cormac sighed. “Those women were leannán sídhe. I told you to stay awake because they influence people’s dreams; they suck them in, then live off their energy, and you are the enemy they were referring to. You’re a pádraig.”
Meghan blinked and shook her head. “What does that even mean?”
“It means human.” He did his best to hide the disdain in his voice, or how, with just that one word, he’d emphasized the insurmountable difference between them.
Meghan’s body slumped against the tree as if she no longer had the strength to stand. “Your…friend…Branna called me that, too. She said pádraigs were ‘all alike.’”
His head jerked up. “Branna?”
“She said you needed an ‘equal partner’ and not a pádraig.’”
Cormac took a quick step closer. “Meghan, when did ye talk to Branna?”
She took a step back. “After you left.”
“I told ye not to open the door.” He ground out the words. Were his instructions really so hard to understand? They were going to have some serious problems if she continued to act so recklessly.
She put her hands to her head.
“Why did ye leave? Was Branna behind that, too?”
She groaned and shook her head as if still trying to clear away the after effects of the leannán sídhe. “You don’t understand.”
“Ye got that right. I’d ask if ye have any idea what a leannán sídhe will do to a person, but I see ye got a good taste of it first-hand. Now, why did you leave me?”
She bent over and put her hands on her knees. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
&
nbsp; Cormac exhaled in frustration. He wasn’t going to get any answers out here. “Come back to the cottage with me.” He glanced around the woods. “We should probably find some safer cover anyway.”
She straightened quickly and looked at him like he was insane. “You can’t go back there.”
“Why not?”
She threw out one arm and pointed in the direction of town. Sort of. “You said whoever you’re tracking left the body there to say that he knows where you are.”
“So?” He cocked his head to the side. What was she getting at?
“So?”
“Meghan, I did my fair share of hiding when I was young. I don’t like hiding. If he’s going to come for me, I figure…great. Saves me the work of trying to find him, and I’ll be ready.”
“You are insane.” Now she was staring at him like she really meant it.
“You think so?”
She folded her arms. “I’m not going back there.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not.”
“You’re not safe out here alone. You proved that handily. Stay with me.”
She opened her eyes and just as he thought she was going to continue with her refusal, maybe make him throw her over his shoulder and force her to go with him, she took a deep breath. “If I go, you’ll explain the rest?”
He nodded, though she had some of her own explaining to do. “I said I would.”
She clenched her teeth, and he saw a final shudder run through her before she lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Then, fine.”
He blinked in surprise because he could see how much that cost her. She was taking a risk staying with someone like him. When they first talked in the bar after leaving the clinic, her natural instinct had been to leave. Now she knew how right she had been.
He was grateful for the second chance to come clean.
“Thank you,” he said on an exhale. “Would ye be willing to ride me?”
Meghan blinked and, fighting a horrified expression, shook her head. “Ex-cuse me?”
Only then did he hear his question the way she had. He played off the sexual innuendo as if he were none the wiser.
“Would that be too terrifying?” he asked, pulling at the leather band that angled across his chest. “Ye can hold on to the strap, like a rein, ye know? It’s just that it’s a long way back, and I don’t dare tilt you again. You barely survived it last time.”
She swallowed hard—probably remembering—but continued to stare at him blankly.
Cormac continued. “We can get there faster if I shift and you ride on top.”
Meghan’s gaze dropped to the strap. Another second passed, then she lifted her chin but her face went red. “I’d be willing to try.”
“Okay, then,” he said, smoothing his hands over her hair. He lifted her wrist to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Close your eyes.”
“I don’t have to,” she said, straightening her shoulders.
This made Cormac’s own body go on alert. Then it went warm and prideful. She was brave. So brave. He doubted there was another pádraig on the planet who would willingly face a cú sídhe, particularly during its transformation.
He kissed her forehead then took several steps back. He felt that swell of pride in her grow stronger when she refused to look away, even as he clenched his teeth and his face morphed.
He pulled back his lips in a grimace then fell onto all fours. He braced against the pain as his rib cage expanded, arching his neck, then shaking his head as black wiry fur exploded from his back. His ears grew pointed, flattening against his massive head. A thick tail extended behind him.
His teeth grew and elongated from behind his lips until he could no longer hide them, leaving Meghan in the presence of the beast that, moments earlier, had sent five leannán sídhe scattering into the brush.
The transformation complete, a red haze filtered over Cormac’s vision, and the hell hound stood there, heaving, in a human’s presence.
It bared its teeth and leaned forward, as tall as Meghan, and touched its nose to hers.
It snarled its greeting.
Misunderstanding, Meghan backed up and gripped the rough bark of the tree. Her body was flushed in the deepest pink, and she trembled. “Nice...doggie?”
Cormac froze. Then blinked. Then he sat back on his haunches and laughed, or at least what felt like a laugh. From Meghan’s perspective, it must have sounded like he had something caught in his throat.
She moved slowly to the side, inching toward her suitcase, which had been dropped or tossed a dozen feet away.
Cormac watched her. Holding still. Giving her time. Hopefully giving her confidence that he wouldn’t make any sudden movements.
She reached down for her suitcase, still moving cautiously, then she raised her hand to him.
Cormac walked up to her and bumped his snout against her palm.
Meghan stroked her hand over the top of his head, following the groove in his skull, pulling a low vibration of pleasure from his chest, which only grew louder when she scratched behind his ears.
She laughed, and he leaned into her. Then she slid her hand over his angular shoulder, finding the leather strap now buried in his coarse fur. He lowered himself to the ground.
She hitched her skirt up and straddled his back, squeezing him with her thighs, and damn if Cormac didn’t like that even more than her caress. He gave a huff of approval. And then they were off.
Chapter Thirteen
MEGHAN
They arrived at the cottage under the cover of darkness and by way of the back yard so not to be seen by the other renters. Meghan dismounted. She had to squeeze past Cormac’s large body to get to the door, and she did so without looking at him too closely.
The dark had helped on their journey, so had closing her eyes. As she turned the key, she looked over her shoulder to see Cormac ready to follow her in. She pushed the door open wide, then watched with bated breath.
He tested the floorboards with his front paw, then walked tentatively, as if putting the pad of each foot down on broken glass.
“Not used to being indoors like…that?” she asked.
Cormac raised his eyes to her, then huffed out a breath that resembled a sarcastic rebuke, if that were possible. At this point she assumed everything was possible.
“Okay… I’ll take that as a yes. Does that also mean you’re gonna, like, change back now?”
It surprised her that she could see Cormac, the beautiful man, and Cormac, the terrifying creature, as one and the same. If she thought about it, in changing so suddenly from one to the other, he had done nothing more than change his clothes, and that thought was confirmed by one look in his eyes. Sure, they were glowing red, but in them was the same heated intensity she’d seen in his gray ones.
It felt important that she should communicate this to him somehow, so she stepped closer, saying as casually as she could, “I noticed there’s a coffee maker in the kitchen. I could make us some coffee, or…get you a bowl of water, or…whatever.”
Cormac snorted and lowered his head.
“Nothing? Okay. Right. Good. I’ll just get changed.”
She pulled an oversized T-shirt from her suitcase then made a controlled walk for the bathroom before swiftly closing the door behind her.
Once alone, she grasped the edge of the sink and stared into her own eyes. She looked more shaken up than she expected; she thought she had been putting up a better front.
“Okay,” she said as she slapped her hands on the sink then proceeded to strip off her clothes.
“You’ve got this. You’ve seen him like this before, and you know how sweet he was with you afterward. And sexy. Don’t forget sexy.”
On an exhale, she pulled on her nightshirt. It hung nearly to her knees. “He’s good. Not scary. He took you to the doctor. He likes cheese curds.”
Then she shook out her hands, threw open the bathroom door, a
nd announced, “Okay!”
Her body slumped with the release of adrenaline when she saw Cormac the man sitting on the side of the bed staring down at his boots, looking chagrined.
“I’m so sorry, mo cuisle,” he said.
“Sorry for what?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. She didn’t want him to know how badly she was freaked, but there was no hiding from him. He could probably hear how fast her heart was still beating. “You’re sorry for getting us home in one piece? How dare you?!”
Cormac didn’t laugh. He continued to stare at his boots.
“Hey, where did your clothes go when you…um?” she asked. “How did you get them back?”
“They didn’t go anywhere. I didn’t get them back. They’re just an illusion.”
Meghan’s eyes moved over his broad shoulders and solid chest, down to his thickly muscled thighs. “An illusion?”
“Aye.”
“You mean you’re really naked? Now?”
“That’s what I said.”
“But…” She stepped closer and ran her hand along the leather strap that crossed his chest. She’d been clinging to it for the last twenty minutes and never questioned its integrity. It felt like leather, buttery smooth on one side and rough underneath. Then she slid her finger inside the collar of his T-shirt and wondered how to undress an already naked man.
Cormac grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his chest. “It’s a good trick, aye? I can even put money in my pocket and it doesn’t fall to the floor.”
It was definitely a good trick and she’d seen quite a few that day.
“Meghan…”
She nodded. She’d asked him to explain, and he said he would, but something in his tone made her suddenly want to put this off. He could only have one of two things to talk about. He was either going to say that this didn’t make sense and that they should part ways now before things got too weird between them. Or he was going to rip her a new one for not following instructions and nearly getting herself killed.
Hadn’t she been through enough for the last…what?…thirty hours? Had it only been that?
