Eve of Samhain

by Lisa Sanchez

  Quinn brought out a huge mix of conflicting emotions in me. In the short time I’d known him, I’d wanted to both slap him silly and jump his bones. Our little argument did nothing to sway my feelings. Angry or not, I was fiercely attracted to him.

  Stupid jerk!

  He met my eyes before scanning the area as he spoke. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

  He was holding back, refusing to meet my eyes, and it annoyed the crap out of me. “How about the truth?”

  He took a deep breath and sighed, running a hand over the back of his skull-trimmed head. “I’m not a nice guy. What can I say? I am trying, though. Truly, I am.” His voice was softer now, the harsh ima-beat-you-senseless tone gone from when he shouted just moments ago.

  Searching his features, I found nothing but remorse looking out at me through his vibrant blue eyes. “I believe you. God help me. I don’t know why, but I do.”

  The muscles in his face and neck relaxed, no longer twitching and straining with frustration. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I still don’t like you traipsing about all on your own.” He inclined his head up the street. “Let’s get you home, shall we?”

  A radiant smile lit up his face, and he raised his eyebrows and shoved his hands in his pockets. The muscles in his arms flexed, corded and powerful, and I fought to keep myself from staring at them. A fleeting thought raced through my mind, of what those arms would feel like wrapped around me.

  Gah. Get a grip, Ryann.

  He stared at me with a smug grin on his face. “Enjoying the view, are we?”

  With my arms still crossed, I leaned back on one hip and beamed him with a whole lot of shut-your-pie-hole. “You’re doing it again.”

  He coughed, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. “What? Oh, come on, I’m sorry. Can I take you home now? Please?”

  “Yeah, okay.” I jabbed a finger in his direction. “Just try not to insult me again or I might have to shank you.” I tacked on a playful grin for good measure. My apartment building was just up the street and I inwardly cursed its close proximity to my work. I wanted to spend more time with Quinn.

  He flashed me a wry smile and waved his hand across his body, urging me to walk with him. “Well, well, well…I guess I’ll just have to mind my p’s and q’s when I’m around you. You’re a feisty wee thing, aren’t you?”

  His voice was incredibly deep, with an almost raspy tone, and incredibly sexy. I hung on his every word, wishing he would speak more, even if it were to fight with me.

  I didn’t respond, other than to smile, and bit the inside of my lip to stop myself from laughing. I’d turned into a giggling teenager. Butterflies raced through my stomach and my already sweaty palms felt stickier. I felt giddy, like a schoolgirl experiencing her first crush. God, I was pathetic.

  “So this is my place.” I motioned to the three-story apartment building behind me, secretly wishing I lived across town. If I had any brain at all, I would have feigned amnesia and wandered aimlessly around the city just so I could spend more time with him.

  He looked toward the building and then back to me. “Aye, I can see that. So…when do you plan on working on your project for Lit?”

  Crap. I’d totally forgotten about our assignment. Hell, I’d forgotten about everyone and every thing except for the divine creature standing in front of me. “I’ll be hitting the campus library tomorrow afternoon, before I go in to work.”

  He gave me a nod, his deep, penetrating eyes boring into me, lighting my skin on fire. “I’ll be on my way then. Sleep well, a ghrá.”

  I blushed pink and glanced down at my feet for a moment. Why was I so affected by him? He was a stranger, for crap’s sake. The pull I felt toward him was…God, incredible. I’d never given much credence to love at first sight, but after meeting Quinn, I was a firm believer in lust at first sight. Stranger or no, I wanted him badly.

  “Good night.” I looked back up to find Quinn gone, having magically disappeared once again.

  How the hell does he keep doing that?

  ***

  Thankful sleep came easy for once, my exhausted body slept in until well past ten. I didn’t have any classes, so I lazed around the apartment most of the day, cleaning, organizing (something Jessica never did), and hoping to get a glimpse of our elusive new roommate, Martha. Much to my chagrin, her door remained closed, and I never saw her.

  Unable to put off the inevitable, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door for the library, deciding I’d grab something to eat after I did my research. After making sure the deadbolt was secure, I slammed into a two-hundred-plus pound wall of solid muscle head on. The wind flew out of me with a loud “Ooof!”

  “Quinn?” My body came alive in his presence. My heart skipped a beat, and blood pooled to some of the more intimate areas of my anatomy. “What…what are you doing here?” I asked, shocked to see him. I unwillingly peeled myself from the steely expanse of his magnificent body, wishing to God I could somehow morph myself into a pair of low-rise jeans so I could hug his ass all day long.

  He stared down at me with a wicked grin. “I’m taking you to the library.”

  I frowned. “Quinn, I’m a big girl. I don’t need a babysitter. I can make it to the library just fine on my own.” As much as I craved his presence and secretly wanted to figure out what was going on with him, I sure as hell didn’t need a keeper. I’d taken care of myself for as long as I could remember, and did a damn fine job of it too.

  Quinn’s smile curled into an exasperated frown. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I know you can take care of yourself just fine. I need to do some research of my own. I have a paper due as well, you know.”

  My knickers in a twist? Where the hell was this guy from, and what the heck were knickers? “You’re not going to budge on this, are you?”

  He widened his stance, crossed his arms, and shook his head.

  “Fine then,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s go.”

  The walk to the university library was brief and chock-full of prolonged, painful silence. Quinn stared at me the entire way, watching me as though some crazed lunatic might jump out at any moment and steal me away. It was unnerving, albeit slightly flattering, that he cared enough to bother.

  Once inside, I found a secluded table near the back of the library and set my purse down. “Crap.” I’d forgotten my notebook. I let out an irritated groan, which won me a loud “shush” from a couple of nearby students who then gave me eye daggers as I passed them on my way to the stacks.

  I heard a low snicker and turned to see Quinn fighting back a laugh. “Careful, lass. You’ve upset the nerd herd.”

  I stifled the urge to flip him the bird. I noticed I wasn’t the only ill-prepared student out of the two of us. Unless Quinn had somehow managed to smuggle a laptop in under his leather jacket without my knowing, he was empty-handed and didn’t seem to care. If the man had a photographic memory, I was going to hang him by his toenails. Some of us had to write shit down. I raised an eyebrow and scrutinized him.

  “What?” He shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence.

  I bit my lip and grumbled. “Nothing.” Arguing with him would do nothing but get me worked up. The stacks, a popular place for playing hide-the-pickle, was not on my list of top places to get pelvic. Not that I anticipated sex with Quinn in any way. Both women I’d seen him with previously had been paper thin waifs, and well…I was a Marilyn. My hourglass figure was the complete opposite of what he seemed to like.

  Frustrated, I pulled a thick book from the shelf and made my way back to the table. I sat down, opening the timeworn volume, and flipped through the pages, looking for something that piqued my interest.

  A few minutes later, he came up alongside me. “So if you’re a psychology major, why are you taking a Lit class?”

  “I’ve got English as a minor. Wait—” I looked up from my book. “How did you know I was majoring in psych? I never told you that.” We’d only had a small
handful of conversations, none of which had anything to do with my schooling.

  He ignored my question and focused on the book in my hands. “What have you got there?” Quinn pulled out a seat next to me and made himself comfortable with a volume of his own.

  I lifted the book, enabling him to read the title on the binding.

  An impish smirk crossed his mouth. “Irish Mythology, eh?”

  Heat scorched my cheeks. “Yeah, you could say my interest in Irish heritage has been recently piqued.” Oh, God. Lame!

  My admission was met with an audible “humph” as he went about reading his selection. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I caught him hiding a smile.

  His rugged beauty swept me away once again as I sat and watched him read. Quinn was magnificently made. His closely shaven hair allowed for a generous view of his profile, keeping nothing hidden from my hungry eyes. Everything about him was perfect, from his strong jaw to his flawlessly full lips. And his physique! Adonis had nothing on Quinn. All masculine, hard-bodied, and sensual, he was a deadly weapon sent by the gods to drive women mad, and a walking billboard for all things wicked and carnal. Orgasms! Get your orgasms here. Hot and juicy! Just how you like ‘em!

  As I continued eye-fucking him, my eyes came across something I hadn’t noticed before: another tattoo. Centered on the back of his neck, partially obstructed by his shirt, was an enormous tattoo of the Celtic Tree of Life. The intricate detail of the body art was wicked cool. I battled the urge to tug at the neckline of his shirt so I could see the entire thing.

  He looked up from his book and smiled. “I thought you needed to do a bit of research?”

  Damn. Caught with my hand in the cookie jar.

  His satisfied smile made it painfully obvious he enjoyed the fact I’d been drooling over him. Smug bastard.

  “I am researching. Look here. I’m learning about Bloody Bones.” I shoved my face into my book and began reading aloud. “Oh…oh, God,” I said as I read the horrible description of that particular story. “Listen to this. Also known as Rawhead, Bloody Bones is said to live near places of water and under sink pipes. Bloody Bones terrorizes naughty children by dragging them down the sink pipes and drowning them in water. He is also said to be able to turn the children into objects, such as pieces of trash, which are then mistakenly thrown out by the unwitting parents.”

  I looked up at Quinn, horror stricken. “That’s a horrible myth, way creepy.” After reading that little gem, I was sure to have nightmares.

  “Yeah, he’s a real pile of shite, that one.” He went back to reading, but I noticed his skin had paled and a tic had formed in his jaw. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say he looked nervous, though I had no idea why.

  I refocused on my book. “Hmm…this one doesn’t seem quite as bloody as the last. Have you heard of the Gancanagh?”

  Quinn’s head shot up from his book and he stared at me wide eyed for a moment before regaining his composure. “That’s not a very interesting tale. Why don’t you read about banshees or the Dullahan? He’s the inspiration for the Headless Horseman tale.”

  I shook my head. Scary didn’t interest me. Especially not after the tale I’d just skimmed. “This one sounds pretty interesting, but there isn’t much information about it.”

  Figures. I find something I’m interested in, and there’s barely any info on it.

  I pulled the book closer and lifted it off the table. “The Gancanagh, or Love Talker, is a male faerie in Irish mythology, known for seducing women. The Gancanagh is thought to have an addictive property to his skin, which charms the women he seduces into a deadly obsession. The affected women typically die from withdrawal, pining away for his love, or fighting each other to the death for him.”

  I looked up to see Quinn staring at the table. His fists were clenched alongside his book, his jaw rigid and the muscles in his neck rippling and flexing.

  “How awful! A man-whoring faerie that loves ‘em and leaves ‘em. Well…at least it’s not bloody.”

  Quinn slammed his book shut and shoved it across the table. “I wouldn’t call him a man-whore. There’s a bit more to that particular myth than what you’ve read.” He rested an elbow on the table and placed his head in his hand. Apparently, I’d hit a nerve.

  I leaned forward. “You know this story?”

  He closed his eyes and breathed in a long, slow breath through his nose. “Yes, I’m quite familiar with it.”

  I grew more uncomfortable by the second and had the sinking feeling I’d insulted him somehow. Obviously, I needed to be careful with my words when discussing anything about Irish culture with him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or your heritage. I’d love to hear more about this particular myth, if you wouldn’t mind telling me.”

  He lifted his head from his hand and turned to face me. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” he asked, mimicking my words from our walk earlier.

  I shook my head with a large grin. “No.”

  He drew in a deep breath, sighed, and turned in his chair so his entire body faced me. “Very well, then. Where to begin?” He drummed his fingers on the table. “How much do you know about Irish mythology? Faeries, their queen?” He pursed his lips and waited for my response.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. I don’t know a thing.”

  “I see,” he said, and he sat back in his chair. “I suppose I should begin with a bit of history then. The Fae were an ancient race of beings that came from the great islands of the North. After being defeated in a series of battles with numerous otherworldly beings, as well as the ancestors of those who currently inhabit Ireland, the Fae retreated to the Isle of Apples, or Avalon, as you may have heard it referred to.”

  My eyes narrowed in confusion. I’d never heard jack about the Fae, which I assumed were faeries. “Avalon? Like from the Arthurian legend?”

  “Yes,” he said with a nod.

  Huh…you learn something new every day. “So, uh…where’s that located?”

  “Avalon? In the Otherworld, of course.”

  I felt like smacking myself on the forehead. Oh, of course. The Otherworld. I should have known! I squelched my sarcasm and let him continue.

  “The Fae queen, Morgana, was eternally young and beautiful, and desired by many, including one young and foolish courtier. Exceedingly handsome and gifted with the ability to charm those around him, the young libertine ravished his way through Morgana’s female courtiers, wooing them into his bed one by one. Narcissistic in the extreme, the young faerie cared not for the feelings of the women he took advantage of, and he boasted openly about his conquests to all who would listen.

  “He was, in fact, so sure of himself, the vainglorious idiot attempted to beguile the beautiful queen, claiming she would be his greatest conquest. Upon hearing his plan, the queen became enraged, cursing the young faerie. For five hundred years he would walk the earth, seducing women, a slave to their passion, driving them to insanity with lust and the illusion of love. His touch brought about a euphoric reaction to the women he courted, filling them with desire and longing.” He stared at his hands as he spoke, as though they were the spawn of the devil, and hastily placed them in his lap, out of his line of sight.

  Hot and dizzy, I inhaled sharply, unaware I’d been holding my breath. I stared at Quinn, willing him with my eyes to continue, as my breath came in shallow pants.

  “Nothing he did was real; it was all an illusion. Every touch, a lie. Never would he know true love or passion, as every woman he came across fell prey to the magic of the curse.” He paused for a moment and stared off into space as if he were remembering the story firsthand. Darkness flashed in his eyes. “For a time, he became angry, indifferent to the plight of the women. After ravishing them, he left, letting them pine away for his touch. There were a few women who became deadly, killing any other that dared to cross their unrequited love’s path.”

  He stopped talking when he heard me gasp, and looked down, refusing to meet my eyes.
r />   “What…what happened?” I asked, my voice barely registering above a whisper. His story was riveting.

  “The faerie was unable to live with the destruction that lay in his wake. He discovered he had a few other talents that enabled him to strip the memories of those he seduced, saving them from their inevitable spiral into madness.”

  “So he sleeps with his prey, and then erases their memories?” My hand shot up to my mouth.

  “Yes,” Quinn replied quietly, his voice filled with shame. His head hung low, and he refused to meet my eyes as he spoke.

  I reached out to him, wondering why he was so worked up over a work of fiction. “Quinn, it’s all right. It’s just a myth. Th—”

  “No.” He shot up out of his seat, jaw clenched in anger. “It’s not all right. It’s torture.” His voice broke. His whole body shook, throwing off waves of anger, frustration, and sorrow. “To know every moment of your existence is a lie, a farce. To live each day knowing the women you touch will either have no memory of you when it’s all said and done, or suffer mindless insanity is pure, unadulterated agony!” He threw back his chair and stormed off, leaving me shocked and speechless.

  My mind reeled. No way, Ryann. Don’t even go there. You like to reside in a little place called reality, where there are no such things as faeries.

  His story was so compelling, though. The tale he wove seemed to meet all my unanswered questions about him. Not to mention, he spoke with such conviction, as though he lived it himself.

  Could it be?

  Twice I’d seen him at the bar with some random Betty, and twice he’d left them in a whacked out, hypnotic state. Could he have swiped their memories from them? Seemed a bit farfetched to me. Well…okay, it seemed a lot farfetched. But with nothing else to go on, his description of the cursed faerie seemed pretty convincing. Not to mention that orgasmic touch of his. Just thinking about it got my juices flowing.

  I had to find him. Gathering up my purse, I tucked the book under my arm and raced out of the library, searching for answers from the only person who could give them to me: Quinn.