The Wicked

by Cheyenne McCray

  Silver came up beside Rhiannon, carrying her full plate. “There they go again,” Silver said.

  Rhiannon glanced at Silver before looking back at the arguing men.

  “He had to ensure these warriors were ready.” Tiernan pushed his way between Keir and Hawk. Tiernan had selected a couple of sandwiches and placed them near a pile of potato chips on his plate.

  Having been born to a high D’Danann Court, Tiernan’s Irish accent sounded more refined than the others. “This group is young,” he added.

  Hawk grumbled something Rhiannon couldn’t make out and then he turned his back on Keir. She hadn’t known Hawk had a brother. Or maybe it was just one of those things—all the D’Danann called each other brother and sister. But it was the way Keir had said the word brother that made her think there was more to the situation.

  She wanted to turn and ask Silver if they’d figured out where all these men and women were going to stay, but she couldn’t quite take her gaze off the new warrior.

  And then, for some reason she caught his attention.

  Their eyes met and she couldn’t even blink, she was so mesmerized. A connection sizzled between them that made her heart beat even faster.

  The man studied her in a way that made her feel like he was stripping off her clothing layer by layer. Her cheeks heated as his gaze slowly perused her from head to toe and then his eyes met hers again. He had the deepest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen.

  His dark hair reached his shoulders, and goddess, what impressive shoulders he had, not to mention that broad chest. His sleeveless leather shirt showed his finely carved biceps and his forearms had a light scattering of hair that led down to strong hands. What could he do with those hands...

  Rhiannon’s belly did a little flip.

  Like the other warriors, he was clad in leather pants and wore a weapons belt with a sword on one side, a dagger on the other. His snug pants, showing muscled thighs, were tucked into scuffed leather boots that reached his knees.

  When her gaze met his again, she saw that his expression was fierce, proud, and arrogant. Definitely arrogant. He wasn’t what she’d call handsome. He was rugged, unruly, untamed-looking. He had a scar that slashed one cheek and reminded her of her own scars.

  This warrior was a bad boy. Definitely a bad boy.

  Great. Apparently I am physically attracted to arrogant bad boys.

  Rhiannon tried to think of other things—like playing her favorite video game and killing spiders with little blue swords. And tried really hard to not think about how hot that guy was.

  But for a long moment they held each other’s gazes. Rhiannon couldn’t breathe. Her nipples tightened beneath her grubby T-shirt and she felt a shaft of desire shoot straight down through her belly to the place between her thighs.

  With a tremendous effort, she cut her gaze away from the warrior’s and was able to suck in a deep breath. She was positive he was still staring at her—her entire body burned.

  Rhiannon cleared her throat. “I don’t suppose you know who that guy is with the scar? The one Hawk called Keir,” she said to Silver, who still stood beside her.

  Silver shoved her long, silvery blonde hair over her shoulder. She was “eating for two” as she said, now that she was pregnant. She’d already eaten half the food that had been stacked on her plate.

  Silver and Hawk had recently gone to Otherworld to be soul-bonded in the D’Danann tradition. At the same time, Silver’s blood sister, Copper, had bonded with her D’Danann husband, Tiernan.

  Rhiannon wished she could have attended, but with the battle against the Fomorii, it wasn’t possible for the other witches to take any chances and leave.

  “Keir is Hawk’s half-brother and the two have never gotten along.” Silver glanced in the direction of the warriors then raised one eyebrow as she turned back. “Keir looks like he wants to eat you whole, honey.”

  “He’s new?” Rhiannon could still feel the intensity of his stare, but she tried to sound casual as she spoke. “He hasn’t been around since I got back.”

  “That’s right.” Silver tipped her head. “You were off trying to get aid from the other Covens when he arrived around Samhain. You missed the battle, and before you returned he went back to Otherworld to train some of the younger warriors who’d never fought Fomorii before.”

  “Oh.” Rhiannon wasn’t used to being at a loss for words. Nor was she used to being stared at like she was a rich chocolate dessert. The heat of his gaze made her feel more like chocolate icing sliding down the side of a cake as it melted.

  “Uh-oh.” Silver glanced back in Keir’s direction, then to Rhiannon. “Looks like you’re going to get to meet him.”

  “What—” Rhiannon started but Silver slipped away into the crowd of people in the common room.

  In the next moment a shadow fell over her and she caught the rich scent of male along with fresh air and forest breezes.

  She slowly turned to face the man who now stood just inches from her. Invading her “little box,” as Hannah would say.

  Rhiannon took a step back and found herself with her heels against the baseboard of the wall behind her. He moved in closer.

  She tilted her head to meet the warrior’s dark eyes and she drew herself up to her full height of five eight. Dammit. He was still a good eight inches taller.

  “Mind giving me a little space here?” she managed to say, even though her heart thumped like crazy.

  He said nothing, but braced one hand on the wall above her head, making her feel caged. And hot, definitely hot, in more ways than one.

  He reached up and trailed one finger down her arm, causing goose bumps to rise along her skin.

  “Stop it.” She tried to shrug away from him as he stared at her. “What do you want?”

  “You.” He moved his hand from her arm to her hip as if he owned her and pulled her a few inches closer to him. “And I always get what I want,” he said in a deep, sexy brogue.

  This time a different heat slid through Rhiannon’s veins. She gritted her teeth and shoved his hand off her hip. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you’re hitting on the wrong female. I don’t like men who think with their dicks instead of their heads. Been there, done that.”

  She tried to move away from him, but he captured one of her wrists in his big hand. “Tell me your name,” he demanded.

  Oh, no way was he going to treat her like this.

  She attempted to jerk her wrist away, but he held her tight. “Your name,” he said again.

  Rhiannon yanked harder. “Screw you.”

  “I would like that,” he said and gave her a smile so wicked a feeling like spellfire went berserk in her belly.

  Rhiannon clenched her jaw and tightened her resolve. “You’d better back off or you’re going down, big boy.”

  An amused expression crossed his features. “One so small as you could best a warrior like me?”

  Small? That was something she’d never been called. “I’ll give you two seconds and if you don’t release me, believe me, you’ll be more than sorry.”

  Keir gripped her wrist tighter and moved his hand from the wall above her head to reach for her other arm.

  Rhiannon let loose a burst of gold spellfire straight at his groin.

  The expression on Keir’s face was priceless. Shock followed by pain followed by shock.

  The big bad warrior dropped to his knees and braced his hands on his thighs. Despite the fact he was clenching his jaw, a groan squeezed from between his tight lips and he fisted his hands.

  Rhiannon smiled and stepped around him, wiping her hands as if dusting them off. “My work here is done.”

  * * *

  Keir had been kicked in the balls before, hard enough to damn near drop him to the ground. But this—this witch had done exactly that with a flick of magic from her fingers.

  Lise’s comment yesterday, about a woman driving him to his knees, chose that moment to enter his mind and he gave a low growl.
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  Keir ground his teeth and forced himself to his feet. He could barely stand.

  Gods, he could not even begin to walk across the room. He probably would not be able to fuck for a week.

  He took a deep, slow breath. That was exactly what he was going to do with that witch. He had no doubt she wanted him, and he was going to make sure she enjoyed every minute of it.

  He would never take a woman by force. It would be just a matter of time before she admitted to herself that she desired him as much as he desired her.

  Godsdamn.

  Was he out of his mind?

  She’d tried to fry his cock, for the love of Fae.

  But he still wanted her.

  From the moment he had seen her across the room he had known he had to have her. He had never felt such an intense need to possess a woman as he had in that fraction of time.

  Her nipples had grown into taut nubs beneath her shirt and the way her eyes had widened and her pupils had dilated told him she wanted him.

  And she had seemed familiar... something about her face...

  The face in the wood.

  The image he had carved last night had looked almost exactly like this witch. What in the name of Underworld?

  Keir braced one hand on the table to steady himself as he straightened to his full height. Gods, the pain.

  He looked at the sea of faces in the room. Damnation, he could barely focus. Just about everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at him.

  The warriors, witches, and human PSF officers looked away and started talking again, most grinning. There was the unmistakable sound of laughter from a few. He saw Hawk’s amused look and wanted to slam his fist into his half-brother’s jaw.

  The pain in his groin would not let him take the steps needed to do so.

  Keir took a deep breath and focused on trying to speak as he turned to face Copper, who now stood beside him. Copper looked as if she tried not to laugh, but fortunately for his pride she managed to keep her expression straight.

  “Who was that wench?” he asked, finding it harder to talk than he had thought.

  “Er, ‘wench’?” Copper grinned. “Damn, Keir. Your balls might just get another blast if she hears you call her that.”

  The mere thought brought a fresh round of pain and he could barely keep from wincing.

  “Rhiannon.” Copper cocked her head to the side. “What did you do to piss her off like that?”

  “I simply told the woman that I planned to bed her.”

  Copper released a burst of laughter. “Really? You’re lucky a zap to your nuts was all she did.”

  Keir nearly growled. “I am hungry,” he said, even though at this moment he was not sure he could eat.

  Doing his best not to limp, he grabbed a paper plate and started spooning what was left of the baked beans onto it.

  4

  Darkwolf had an increasingly difficult time keeping his emotions hidden from Ceithlenn as she paced to and fro in the penthouse.

  The manipulative bitch had been there five days and he wanted to kill her. She ordered him and every other being around and forced Darkwolf to bow to her when she was in the mood to be worshiped.

  Goddamn but that pissed him off. Her magic was too powerful for him to stop her from forcing him to practically kiss her boots.

  He gritted his teeth and kept his thoughts masked behind steel walls in his mind that not even the essence of Balor had been able to penetrate.

  He’d become very good at masking his thoughts from Ceithlenn, as well as Balor’s essence.

  If only Darkwolf’s Balorite Clan had not been destroyed by Ceithlenn, Darkwolf could have gathered the warlocks. Together could they have used their dark sorcery against the goddess? Perhaps a banishment ritual that would have sent her back to Underworld?

  Why his thoughts even traveled that vein—it was a waste of time. Ceithlenn had murdered most of his Clan and the rest had fled the city when she arrived.

  For the first time, Darkwolf cursed the day he had found Balor’s eye on the shores of Ireland. He had been a white witch then, known as Kevin Richards.

  The moment he picked up the stone eye, it had fed on desires already buried deep within him. His heart had been filled with darkness.

  He’d become one of the most powerful and feared warlocks in the world—all because he had found Balor’s eye. The eye that now dangled from a thick chain around his neck.

  Thankfully, the eye was quiet. When Balor chose to make his presence known, the pain in Darkwolf’s head was excruciating and he had little choice in his actions.

  Darkwolf reclined on one of the couches in the sumptuous penthouse he and the Fomorii now controlled.

  And Ceithlenn. He couldn’t forget her, now could he?

  Ceithlenn had sent Junga, the Fomorii Queen, and a few of the other demons on some kind of errand.

  Darkwolf watched Ceithlenn continue to pace from one end of the spacious great room to the other. She remained in Sara’s human form when not on the prowl, thank the gods. Sara was a white witch whom Darkwolf had converted to dark sorcery. But then she had betrayed him and had absorbed Ceithlenn’s essence when the door to Underworld was cracked open.

  Ceithlenn-Sara’s punk-red hair curled in a soft bob around her face and her eyes were fascinating. They were ever-changing, shifting colors like sunlight on a pond—brown to blue to green to silver.

  She wore a black leather catsuit with a V neckline that dipped to her navel—the leather barely covered her breasts before the V grew smaller. The suit, interestingly enough, had a zipper that ran from below her belly button all the way down her crotch and up past her ass.

  Despite himself, Darkwolf wondered what it would be like to take her and he hardened. Would he be able to sexually control her like he controlled the demon-woman Junga when she was in her human Elizabeth form?

  “I need more souls,” Ceithlenn said, and he startled at the sound of her voice. “The first one I devoured filled me with power, but not enough.”

  “Enough to do what?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  She whipped her gaze to him. “To bring my husband to me, of course.”

  Darkwolf chose not to respond and simply watched Ceithlenn.

  “I have had visions.” Thankfully she continued her pacing. “I must start little by little. Two souls next, then perhaps four. Next a small crowd and then a larger one. I do not have to eat their flesh, no. I must simply kill them and draw their souls to me as they die.”

  Morbid curiosity filled Darkwolf. “Why do you have to start with a few souls at a time?”

  The goddess snapped her head to look at Darkwolf and he nearly recoiled from her hideous smile. “I do not have the strength yet. My power will gradually increase with every soul I consume until I can take multiple souls at a time.”

  Darkwolf frowned. “How will you do that?”

  Ceithlenn pursed her lips. “As I grow in power, I will be able to kill by perhaps causing an enormous sign to fall and land on several people. Or I might force a landslide where there are hikers. Possibly then I will be strong enough to cause a great wave to crash into part of the city and I will devour those souls.”

  She stopped and her smile grew almost ecstatic. “When I take enough, I will have the strength to call forth my husband.”

  Darkwolf’s scalp prickled at Ceithlenn’s cold words. But even as his mind rejected what she was saying, Balor’s essence took over his thoughts, his entire being. Pain shot through his head but he forced a smile and the eye at his neck grew brilliant red.

  Ceithlenn smiled in return and walked to where Darkwolf reclined. She reached out her hand and grasped the eye in her palm. “My love,” she murmured.

  The power of Balor gripped Darkwolf and he stood to tower over Ceithlenn. She wrapped her arms around his neck, brought his head down to hers, and pressed her mouth to his.

  Balor’s hunger for her taste, her body, was too great for Darkwolf to control. He caught Ceithlenn
’s burnt sugar smell and a hint of Sara’s jasmine scent.

  Ceithlenn drew away from the kiss, her eyes no longer shifting but now crimson. “On your back on the floor,” she commanded.

  There was no way for Darkwolf to fight the magic of Balor’s essence and Ceithlenn in the flesh. In moments he was flat on his back. She flicked her fingers. His jeans unfastened and his erection sprang out.

  Ceithlenn licked her lips and somewhere in the back of his mind Darkwolf was grateful she hadn’t changed into the flame-haired being. Gods he hoped she wouldn’t.

  At the same time he was disgusted with himself for wanting this. For wanting to take this human version of Ceithlenn.

  The agony in his head grew more intense as Balor’s desire caused his erection to become painfully large. Ceithlenn brought her hand to her navel, slowly drew the zipper down and exposed herself. She sank to her knees and grabbed his cock.

  “Balor,” she said as she positioned herself above him. “Until you can be here, my love, I will make love to you through this warlock.”

  She sank onto Darkwolf, sheathing him so tight he thought he might come right this moment. It felt so goddamn good.

  Balor’s and Ceithlenn’s magic held him back, not allowing him to orgasm. The power of Balor’s lust became so great that Darkwolf found himself slamming up to meet Ceithlenn with every stroke.

  She rode him harder and harder. “I remember, my love. It will be so again.”

  With her scream of triumph he felt her channel clamp down on him, her contractions so fierce that he ached even more. Her red eyes met his and she gave a wicked grin. “Come for me now, my love.”

  A groan tore from Darkwolf as his climax rocked his very being. His entire body throbbed. The power of his release combined with Balor’s triumph made him cry out again. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think, could only feel the magnitude of his orgasm.

  When his vision was no longer hazy and he could see Ceithlenn clearly, he realized the pain in his head was gone and it was now only this woman—the Sara part of her—and him on the floor. And she was dominating him.

  She gave another wicked grin and pressed her lips to Darkwolf’s. She tasted different. No, it was that he was tasting her with his own senses and not through Balor’s possession of him.