The Wicked

by Cheyenne McCray

  “What happened?” His look intensified and his manner returned closer to what she was used to. Commanding. Authoritative.

  This Keir she could deal with.

  She scowled. “What are you doing in my room?”

  “What happened?” he repeated, his voice growing in strength and his dark eyes narrowing.

  Truth was, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t about to let him badger her. “Take a hike.”

  He frowned for a moment before he realized what she’d just told him. “I am not leaving until you are well.”

  “Oh, yes, you are.” She pushed back the covers and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. The moment she got to her feet she knew she’d made a big mistake.

  Her head spun and her knees gave out. Just as she started to drop, Keir was there. He caught her to him, holding her tight and keeping her from falling.

  For a moment she allowed herself to sink against him, her cheek pressed to his chest. She felt boneless, like she didn’t quite have a grasp on reality.

  He smelled so good, woodsy and male, and the scent of the clean cotton T-shirt. With his hard body pressed to her softer one, that burning, spellfire sensation in her belly traveled between her thighs and up to her nipples. The roughness of his jeans and his hard chest rubbed against her through the satin of her robe.

  “Let me go,” she finally managed to get out. She didn’t dare look up at him in case he took that as an invitation to kiss her like he had last time.

  But he clasped her chin with his callused fingers and tilted her head back. Instead of a hard, possessive kiss, he just brushed his lips over hers in a touch so light it surprised her. His breath was warm against her lips and she almost moaned. She ached for more. Wanted more.

  While she still looked up at him in surprise, he eased her onto the bed so she lay flat on her back. He tucked her in like she was a child. At that moment she didn’t have the strength to argue or spar with him.

  “Why are you wearing jeans and a T-shirt?” she asked instead. “What happened to your leather gear?”

  Keir scowled. “Your law-enforcement officer, Jake Macgregor, insisted we look more like the people of your world to ‘blend in.’”

  Rhiannon couldn’t help a small smile. “What about your weapons?”

  Keir gestured to a chest draped with his long black coat. “My weapons are inside. I wear the coat over this new clothing.”

  “You look good,” Rhiannon found herself saying. But then he looked good in leather, too. And most likely he would look good in nothing at all.

  That line of thought had her gently shaking her aching head.

  Keir sat in the chair, leaned forward, and rested his forearms on his thighs again. This time he spoke gently, “Tell me what happened, a stór.”

  Rhiannon wasn’t sure what to think of this different Keir. She paused then decided to answer his question. “I remember sitting in the common room and I was petting Spirit.” She concentrated hard, her head aching with the effort. “But nothing else until I woke up.” She studied him. “How did I get here?”

  “I carried you,” he said.

  Heat crept up her neck to her cheeks. “Who changed my clothing?”

  “Silver and the healing witch, Cassia,” he said.

  “You didn’t watch, did you?”

  He shrugged and her cheeks grew hotter. She pushed herself to a sitting position again, this time cross-legged. At once her vision swam. She placed her head in her hands until the dizziness passed. It was as if something was in her mind, taunting her, making her feel as if she were being watched—and not just by Keir.

  And the darkness in her mind and her body—it wanted to come forward and she had to fight it back.

  The bed dipped and springs creaked as Keir sat next to her. His hand enveloped one of hers and she raised her head.

  “I should get the healing witch now.” He was so close to her she noticed the purple marks on his neck from the fight with the Fomorii.

  Rhiannon took a deep breath and let her hands fall to her lap, but he still kept a tight grip on one of them. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  She just couldn’t remember a blessed thing and that was ticking her off. So were the dizziness and the weakness. Had she come down with some kind of virus? Since she was a witch it was unusual for her to catch anything a normal human would.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Rhiannon glanced at the curtains. It looked like it had to be late afternoon.

  He squeezed her hand. “Two days.”

  Shock flooded Rhiannon, causing her skin to tingle. Her jaw dropped as she stared at him. “You’re screwing with me.”

  Keir maintained his steady gaze. “You were in the common room. You screamed and fainted. That was two days ago.”

  For a long moment she looked at him, his words not quite sinking in. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “Silver thought she saw you in a trance, as if you were having a vision.”

  Flashes came to Rhiannon at his words. Punk red hair. Catsuit. Darkwolf.

  Stabbing pain.

  Nothing.

  “Bless it.” Rhiannon took her hand from Keir’s and pressed all her fingertips to her forehead as she lowered her head. “It’s there. Not quite, but I can feel it at the edges of my mind.”

  Memories of pain accompanied by a fresh bout of real pain made her stomach churn. She grasped her hands to her belly and looked up at Keir. “Were you sitting in that chair very long?”

  “Most of the time.” He reached up and brushed her hair from her face. “I could not leave you.”

  “Why?” Her heart beat a little faster at his touch and the sincerity in his expression. “I don’t get it.”

  Keir trailed his fingers from her hair to her cheek in a featherlight brush that made her shiver. “I was concerned for you, a stór.”

  Rhiannon swallowed and drew away from his touch, which was doing crazy things to her body. “You keep calling me that. What does it mean?”

  He looked almost embarrassed as he said, “My treasure.”

  Heat rushed through Rhiannon and she barely kept from putting her hands to her burning cheeks. She felt like she’d just landed on another planet.

  Keir, looking embarrassed and saying sweet things to her?

  Who is this guy? What happened to the real Keir?

  “Has it honestly been two days?” she asked as she forced herself to think of other things than the way this man was working his way under her skin.

  Her voice rose as it occurred to her that she hadn’t asked the important questions. “What’s been going on with tagging the demons? Any sign of that goddess?”

  “It has been quiet since the day you took ill.” Keir leaned closer and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, causing her to shiver. “After the last battle, we felt it best to wait a short time before tracking the next Fomorii as they are sure to be more aware of us now. We have still kept to the skies in search of signs but have found nothing.”

  She shifted from sitting cross-legged to draw her knees up to her chest. “How do the Fomorii and C-Ceithlenn—” She stumbled over the name and a brilliant white bolt of pain shot through her head.

  Rhiannon ground her teeth before she spoke again. “How do they even know what happened to the demons and Basilisk?”

  His thumb stopped moving across her knuckles. “Silver used her cauldron to scry. From what she was able to see, one demon witnessed our attack and escaped to tell the goddess. That is all we know.”

  “We can’t sit around and wait.” Rhiannon’s heart beat a little faster. “How could I have slept for so long? This is too important.”

  Keir growled and her gaze shot to his. “You will not involve yourself again.”

  “What are you talking about?” Despite the pain in her head, Rhiannon jerked her hand away from his and almost shoved him right off the bed. “I certainly will be a part of this. Down to fighting the last demon.”

  His expression turned even more
fearsome. “No, not if it could kill you—”

  “What do you care?” She gripped her sheets in her fists and glared at him. “You don’t even know me.”

  “Damnation.” Keir thrust his hand through his thick hair. “I—Rhiannon—Damn!” He looked flustered and angry all at once. “Ceithlenn is beyond dangerous. I will not have you in the middle of a war.”

  At the mention of the evil goddess’s name, Rhiannon shuddered and pain shot through her head again. Something about Ceithlenn remained just out of reach.

  When she tried to grab at the memory, the pain only grew worse.

  She held one of her hands to her forehead as she clenched her teeth. The pain was like a white-hot rod through her skull.

  “You are ill.” Keir’s voice softened and he stood. The bedsprings creaked as they released his weight. “I will get the healing witch.”

  Rhiannon couldn’t begin to pretend it was nothing. Her head hurt so freaking bad. “Can you tell Cassia that I have the mother of all headaches?”

  She scooted down and her head was on her pillow again, as she tried to get some reprieve from the pain by relaxing. Wasn’t working.

  He gave her a sharp nod, picked up his long coat, and turned away.

  “Keir,” Rhiannon called out to him before he was through her doorway. She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

  He looked at her for a long moment then bowed from his shoulders and walked out of her room.

  Rhiannon sat at the Formica table in the kitchen of Enchantments while her Coven sisters chattered around her. She clenched a mug of one of Cassia’s healing draughts in both hands, its heat warming her cold fingers as her thoughts settled on Keir.

  The man was going to drive her crazy. Since she woke from her “episode” two days ago, he’d appointed himself as her personal bodyguard whenever he wasn’t off doing whatever the D’Danann did when they searched the skies for signs of Fomorii or Ceithlenn.

  He didn’t touch her, barely talked to her—but didn’t let her out of his sight, either. She suspected he had everyone else watching out for her when he wasn’t around. She’d threatened to toast his balls again, but he’d simply looked at her with that dark and arrogant expression and said nothing.

  Rhiannon looked into her tea. She wasn’t crazy about its taste, which included Jamaican dogwood and feverfew. She constantly smelled like lavender because Cassia insisted on rubbing it on Rhiannon’s temples and the nape of her neck to help chase away the headaches.

  It wasn’t doing a whole heck of a lot of good. Nothing was.

  Each night, the Elvin witch made a sleeping brew from rose petals, myrtle leaves, and vervain, along with a good dose of her magic. It was supposed to chase away nightmares as well as help her sleep.

  She’d slept okay. The nightmares, though… Because of the magical brew she shouldn’t have had them, but somehow she was sure she had. It was driving her out of her mind not being able to remember her dreams of the last two nights. Just vague images remained when she woke.

  What had happened that day she’d fallen into the vision?

  Rhiannon shuddered. It was like something had shattered her mind. Ever since, she hadn’t been able to vision anything. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

  When she tried, her head ached so badly she had to get a mug of Cassia’s healing draught. It did bring some relief—but not as much as it should have. Cassia was keeping a large pot of it brewing at all times.

  Rhiannon stared at the warding bells above the kitchen door, but they blurred as she fell into her thoughts.

  What if she didn’t take Cassia’s nighttime brew? What if she let herself experience the nightmares? Maybe they were the key to unlocking whatever it was that had happened to her.

  “Rhi. Rhiannon.” Sydney’s voice barely registered as she squeezed Rhiannon’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Rhiannon took a deep breath, letting it out in a slow exhale as she looked at her friend standing over her.

  Rhiannon shifted in her seat. “Just a headache. The usual.”

  A headache that made her want to puke, pass out, and not wake for at least a month.

  Sydney’s mouth pinched in obvious concern. “I think you’d better take it easy and stop trying so hard.”

  Rhiannon rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I need to do something, Syd. I can’t just let this go. I’ve got to figure out what happened, and I’ve got to find out what Ceithlenn is doing.”

  Bless it! Like always, the mention of the evil goddess’s name sent a fresh bolt of pain through Rhiannon’s head and she shuddered. All of this had to have something to do with Ceithlenn.

  Rhiannon’s hands shook as she clasped her mug again and brought it to her lips. After she took another swig, Sydney squeezed her shoulder tighter. “Come on. I think you need to lie down.”

  Rhiannon wanted to argue, but she just didn’t have it in her. She swallowed the rest of the healing draught then let Sydney take her by the hand to help her stand. That freaking dizziness caused her to sway and she clenched Sydney’s hand tighter.

  Sydney held onto Rhiannon as they walked toward the doorway leading out of Enchantments’ kitchen and into the café and New Age shop, which was filled with people today. The chatter and even the beep of the cash register only served to make Rhiannon’s headache worse.

  Chaos and Spirit followed at their heels. The Doberman put his wet nose against Rhiannon’s calves as if supporting her, too. Spirit only hissed twice at the dog familiar.

  “You look pale,” Sydney said as she brought Rhiannon along with her through the store.

  “I’m fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.” Rhiannon ground her teeth. “I’ve got to be fine. There’s too much to do.”

  “Let us worry about that,” Sydney said as they passed a display of candles. Rhiannon caught the scents of cherry, cinnamon, and gardenia.

  “I don’t like this at all.” Rhiannon looked at her pretty friend. “This isn’t me. I’m not a weak person. I don’t rely on others. I take action. I don’t sit around and wait.”

  They passed two customers and Sydney pushed open the door leading out onto the sidewalk. The warding bells that usually tinkled so happily made Rhiannon’s head feel like a small explosion was going off inside of it.

  The afternoon light hit her full in the face and she squinted. Her skin tingled and she knew if she stayed out much longer she’d get a sunburn. It never failed that the sun would bother her.

  Sydney squeezed her hand. “You need rest. Then everything will come together.”

  Rhiannon sighed as they strode toward the apartment building. “It better—and soon.”

  The moment they reached the door to the building, Keir came up beside them—apparently just having returned from scouting.

  He folded his wings away. Even though she knew it was magic, Rhiannon was still always amazed when they did that. Fresh breezes accompanied his male scent as he stepped over to her from the opposite side of Sydney.

  “Godsdamnit, woman.” In a motion that caught her completely off guard, Keir swept her up in his large arms. She cried out and automatically clung to him so she wouldn’t fall. “You need rest. I can see it in your face and in your eyes.”

  “You big jerk.” She pounded one fist on his solid chest, against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. “Put me down.”

  Of course he ignored her. Rhiannon looked to Sydney for assistance but her friend had the hint of a smile on her face. “Get some rest, girl. You’ll be okay.”

  “You’re a lot of help,” Rhiannon grumbled to Sydney before Keir carried her into the building and up the stairs toward her apartment.

  When they reached it, Rhiannon used a small dose of magic to unlock the door. Keir didn’t say a word, just carried her to her bedroom and laid her on her bed.

  He was so gentle for such a big, gruff warrior. He slid each of her sandals off and tucked her sheets and a light blanket around her. When he finished he studied her face.

  For a long moment they looked at ea
ch other. Rhiannon didn’t know what to think about this man. Powerful, possessive, arrogant, and commanding most of the time. But then this softer side showed itself to her. Gentle, caring, concerned. What was she supposed to do with a man like this?

  To her surprise, he picked up a matchbook and lit the nearby two-wick candle, which was blue for healing, spirit, peace, and calm. The scent of blueberries pervaded the room as the candle wicks started to hiss and spit and melt the wax. Blueberry-scented candles were also for protection.

  After Keir lit the candle and put out the match, he set the matchbook aside. He looked back to her for a long moment, and she couldn’t say a thing. She felt lost in his dark eyes…eyes that held her, trapped her.

  Before she realized what he was doing, he leaned close and she held her breath as his mouth neared her own. He lightly pressed his warm lips to hers then drew away. “Be well,” he said as he stroked his knuckles over the scars on her cheek.

  She leaned into his touch and stared up at him. His eyes held hers for several seconds. Maybe a minute. Maybe a lifetime.

  He drew his hand away. After one more breathtaking look, he turned and walked out the door.

  Rhiannon stared after Keir for a long time, until her thoughts blurred, her eyelids grew droopy, and darkness swept her away.

  12

  Keir trudged up to the electrical room where he had continued to sleep since he had arrived in San Francisco.

  Unlike his normally clear mind, his thoughts were jumbled, alternately filled with fury at Ceithlenn and the Fomorii, frustration at not being able to locate them, and concern for Rhiannon.

  Not to mention anger at his sonofabitch of a half-brother.

  Keir clenched his fists at his sides as he walked toward his room. Once again he and Hawk had ended up shouting at each other over how they should work to locate the Fomorii. If it was not one godsdamn thing it was another.

  But Rhiannon. His thoughts turned back to her and his gut twisted. His concern for her bordered on obsession.

  I must be mad.

  When he opened the door to the electrical room, he saw Galia hovering in midair, curled on her side asleep even as her wings beat in time with the rise and fall of her chest.