by Lisa Sanchez
My breath caught at the sight of Quinn as I walked out into the courtyard of my building, into the crisp evening air. I was quite sure there would never come a time when I’d tire of admiring him. How anyone could make a simple white button-down look so amazingly sexy, I’d never know, but he managed it with ease. The top portion of his shirt was unbuttoned, allowing just a hint of his smooth, powerfully chiseled chest to be exposed. The sleeves were rolled and pushed up, and dammit, even his forearms were ripped and sexy.
Get a grip, Ryann.
As I stood eyeballing Quinn, I almost forgot the tension that had plagued us this past week. Almost. After placing my tongue back into my mouth, I managed to meet him halfway, happily accepting his leather jacket which he’d been holding for me. I was surprised he wasn’t wearing it himself as the climate had taken an unseasonably large dip.
“Won’t you need this?” I asked as I slipped my arms in the sleeves of his coat. I wore the thing so much, I wondered when he’d just give up and let me have it. His delicious scent lingered on the leather fabric still, even though he hadn’t worn it, flooding my center with a sinfully warm sensation. I was doomed. Quinn appealed to all my senses in the most primal way. Resistance was futile.
“Please. You insult me,” he scoffed, as he swept a stray lock of brown hair out of my eyes, taking care not to touch my skin. “This isn’t cold. It’s downright pleasant. Ireland in the dead of winter is cold. Fierce cold. That shit will freeze your balls off.”
A loud snort escaped my lips as I laughed. It couldn’t be helped, and he chuckled in response. Though bright, his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and a small piece of my heart chipped away. What I wouldn’t give to see him happy through and through. Still, the laughter felt refreshing after a week’s worth of uncomfortable, awkward silence between us.
My thoughts traveled back to when I’d gone to Martha for help. After setting my plan of action for aiding Quinn, I’d lost it, given in to my emotions and freaked out. Feeling guilty over the things I’d shouted at Quinn and sick at the thought of possibly pushing him away, I’d rushed out of my apartment in a panicked search for him.
I knew he’d be watching out for me since my demon stalker still lurked about, but wigged out anyway when I didn’t immediately see him. Not thinking straight, I ran down the busy street toward the school, searching for him. I took maybe ten steps before Quinn stopped me.
***
Quinn magically appeared in front of me. “Will you never learn?” He raised his hands in frustration and growled at me. The man actually growled. “Stubborn, irritating, pain in the hole!” Quinn’s Irish accent was thick, and though I was still reeling from our earlier confrontation, my knees went soft at the sound of his voice.
“I was looking for you. I wanted to apologize. Stop yelling at me!”
“Stop yelling, yourself!”
I threw my hands up in the air in a fit of temper. “All right, I will.” I not only looked like a complete idiot, I sounded like one as well, yelling at the top of my lungs like a child who got caught doing something naughty. Embarrassment and shame crept over me and I hung my head for a moment not wanting to face his penetrating gaze. There was so much I wanted to say to him.
“I’m so sorry, Quinn. The things…the things I said earlier were…awful.” I choked on my words, my voice muffled from the giant lump that formed in my throat as I continued to stare at the ground. His eyes blazed a hole into my soul as I continued. “I know you don’t feel the same, but I don’t care. I don’t want you to leave. I…I can’t be without you,” I sobbed.
I felt like such a loser, basically begging him to stay, knowing he didn’t feel the same. Sure, I could have walked away, not looking back, but that would have killed me. Quinn had taken up a space in my heart, a rather large space, actually, and without him present to fill it, I’d be a walking corpse, a shell of my former self, and half a person. Though he didn’t share the intensity of my feelings, he did care for me; that much I knew. He’d offered me his friendship and I’d take that over nothing at all.
A large, warm hand gently came to rest over my heart and my head snapped up, my eyes meeting his. Quinn captured my gaze, holding it in his own, his eyes filled with sorrow and something else I couldn’t make out.
“Táim i ngrá leat. Is tú mo sonuachar.” He spoke gently and with tenderness despite the rich timbre of his voice. The combination of his words and touch moved me immeasurably, despite the fact I had no idea what he’d said.
“So, I’m forgiven, then?” I could only assume he’d taken pity on me and forgiven my earlier outburst.
Quinn gave me a funny look, as if he were confused. A single brow rose, his eyes widened momentarily, before he nodded, the corners of his mouth turning up. “There is nothing to forgive, a ghrá.” He let his hand drop, a look of pain enveloping his handsome face. “I’m such a fool,” he muttered under his breath while shaking his head. “Come on then, lass. Let’s get you home.”
***
The smell of fine leather yanked me from my recollection as I climbed into Quinn’s car. We rode the short distance to Fire and Ice in the Mercedes, my personal favorite out of all his vehicles. The other sports cars were sleek, powerful and fun, but the Mercedes simply oozed style and class.
Quinn parked the car in the small garage up the street, as was his usual routine when taking me to work. Wary of just about anything with two legs and a pulse, Quinn insisted on staying nearby while I worked, constantly reminding me that evil could come calling at any time of the day, even in a public place.
Dedicated to my protection, Quinn had even taken to carrying an ancient Irish Scían on him, which I must admit, was a complete and total turn on. The ancient dagger was not only beautiful, but also deadly, and Quinn proudly flung it about on numerous occasions, trying to impress me with his skill.
From the research I’d done in recent weeks, I’d gathered that faeries tended to shy away from iron and steel, as it served as a kryptonite of sorts to them. When I asked Quinn about my findings, he’d laughed.
“Aye, that’s true for most faeries. I’m one of the lucky blokes that are an exception to that rule. When Morgana cursed me, she knew I’d need a way to defend myself against jealous husbands and the like, and cast a spell rendering me impervious to iron. Not only can I grasp a steel blade, I can do a fair bit of damage with it as well.”
The club was empty when we arrived, save a few employees. Stan had called me earlier in the day and asked that I come in early to help with inventory again. Thankful for the hours, what with the large purchase I’d just made, I happily accepted the extra work.
Quinn passed by the bar and knocked knuckles with the bartender, Gabriel, as he waltzed toward the back section where I usually waited tables, his iPhone and ear buds in hand. The two never spoke, but, for some strange reason, had formed an unspoken bond. Gabriel, silent and serious, had taken on a brotherly role of sorts, endearing himself to me and gaining the respect of Quinn in the process. Gabriel was the only man I’d ever witnessed Quinn pay any type of respect to, save our professors, whom he was forced to play nice with.
After storing my purse in the break room, I made my way over to the bar, greeting Gabriel, who then headed for the storage room, clipboard in hand.
Grabbing myself a bottle of water from the refrigerator under the bar, I popped the cap and was about to take a swig when a blast of cold air blew over me, and an evil, malevolent laughter filled the large room.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Standing on the other side of the bar was the same dark creature that haunted my dreams just weeks before, the same monstrosity that attacked me during my morning run. A shudder ripped through me as I stared at the hideous embodiment of evil and all things unholy: my demon stalker.
“Ryann.” His sinister voice burned my ears and ate away at my insides.
Before I had time to blink, Quinn appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and stood in front of the hideous demon, pure una
dulterated hatred and rage emanating from him.
“Go in the back with Gabriel and Stan, Ryann.” Quinn’s eyes never left the Zmeu’s, who returned his deadly stare with one of his own.
I tried to move, but my leadened feet fused to the floor, rendering me immobile.
“There is no need for her to flee from my presence, faerie. I mean her no harm.” The demon broke Quinn’s gaze momentarily, turning toward me with a sinister smile. “So beautiful.”
Its bone-chilling voice sent my blood running cold while it moved toward me. It lifted its arm, beckoning for me to move forward.
Quinn dove toward the demon, pinning him to the bar, his deadly Scían dagger unsheathed and poised at its jugular, ready to drain its life in one swift plunge. “Ryann, get back!”
A horrible, base laughter filled the room, as the demon lay unmoving on the wooden surface of the bar, seemingly un-phased by Quinn’s murderous intentions. “Ahh…so eager you are to slay me, faerie. I wonder, though, if you are just as eager to risk exposing your true identity? You’ve already unmasked yourself to one worthless mortal. Would you risk exposure to more by slaying me now?”
“I care not for myself,” Quinn growled.
Time as I knew it ceased to exist. I’d shifted to another plane of reality where time passed at a much slower rate. Several things happened simultaneously. The muscles in Quinn’s arms flexed as he moved to plunge the dagger into the demon’s neck, and the door at the front entrance of the club opened, most likely another one of the bartenders coming in to help with inventory.
I screamed before I knew what I was doing. “Quinn. No!”
All it took was that one moment. Upon hearing my scream, Quinn hesitated, and the demon broke away, morphing into a giant black bird that swooped out the front door, forcing the employee trying to enter to dive to the floor to keep from being struck.
“The hell with that. I’ll go around to the back,” the poor guy shouted and dashed out of the building.
“No!” Quinn roared. “What have you done? I had him within my grasp. I could have ended this!” Rage and fury the likes of which I’d never seen flowed from every inch of him, reverberating off of the walls causing the entire building to rattle.
We stood in silence, staring at each other for what felt like an immeasurable amount of time.
“Earthquake!” Stan raced out from the back with his arms flailing, squealing like a stuck pig.
My boss’s howling failed to register with me as I focused on Quinn. “I’m so sorry.” Silent tears streamed down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean for him to get away. I…I just…”
Suddenly, Stan’s face was all up in my business. “Ryann? Are you okay? Did you feel that? Did anything break?” A mix of panic and concern marked his features as he gasped for air, shaking behind the bar.
“I’m fine,” I said, barely able to think, let alone form a coherent sentence. The demon had come after me again, risking exposure no less, by attacking me at my place of work. It was either extremely brazen, or desperate. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
Of course, I couldn’t exactly tell my boss I’d been attacked by a malicious demon that wanted to steal me away to his underworld lair. He’d most likely accuse me of hitting the sauce and fire me on the spot. So I did the only thing I could do. I lied.
“Just a small quake, that’s all,” I said, waving him off with my hand. “Pretty typical for California. Nothing’s broken.”
Stan stood eyes wide, scanning the bar for broken glass before letting his eyes come to rest on Quinn, who shook visibly with rage.
“What a geographical nightmare. Good thing nothing was lost in the quake.” Stan’s attention darted back and forth between Quinn and me.
“Yes. It is a good thing nothing was lost,” Quinn snapped bitterly, while looking pointedly at me.
His double entendre was not lost on me. I knew I was damn lucky to be standing where I was.
Stan gave me a hearty clap on the back before snatching up a towel to wipe the bar with. “You look a bit shaken up, Ryann. Why don’t you go ahead and take the night off. I’ll keep you on the clock, so you won’t lose any pay.”
“Oh,” I said, shocked he’d offer such a thing. But given what had just happened, I wasn’t about to argue with him. Retrieving my purse from the break room, I walked quietly to Quinn’s side, afraid to meet his heated glare. I’d blown the perfect opportunity to put end to the nightmare that plagued me twenty-four-seven by stupidly opening my mouth. Why was I never able to keep my damn trap shut? Ashamed, and aware I’d totally blown it, I followed Quinn out of the club and down the street to the garage that housed his car, a hideous wall of silence separating us the entire way.
Once in the vehicle, I dared a peek in Quinn’s direction and found him sitting with his hands on the steering wheel. He stared out into the distance, his eyes resolute, and conviction radiating from every pore.
“I give you my solemn vow.” He turned to face me then, drawing his Scían from its sheath, gripping the blade with his hand and holding it to his chest. “On my soul, by my body, by the very blood that flows through my veins, before I leave this earth, I will bleed that devil dry, and set fire to his bones. You shall never have to fear him again.”
I stared, awestruck at the blood that flowed freely down Quinn’s massive hand onto the soft leather upholstery of the car before launching myself full force at him.
Chapter 16
WHEN I WAS SEVEN, I had a crush on a boy named Nolan. He had bright blue eyes and a crooked smile that sent my little heart all a twitter. He’d give me the Oreos his mother packed him and chase me around the blacktop during lunch. One afternoon during late recess, Nolan and I snuck behind the library and gave each other our very first kiss. It was quick and awkward, and left me wondering what all the fuss was about with regard to kissing. Our fledgling relationship crumbled shortly thereafter, Nolan telling everyone I had cooties. Not to be outdone, I retaliated by telling everyone he had dog breath.
Many years later, I discovered the difference between good kissing ability and bad, and boy, was there a difference. My first real boyfriend, Spencer, was utterly adorable, funny in the extreme, but quite possibly the world’s worst kisser. Possessing the sensitivity of a Bull Mastiff, he kissed much the same, shoving his tongue down my throat and covering my mouth and chin with large amounts of drool. Needless to say, our relationship didn’t last long as I’d gag anytime he leaned in for a smooch.
Then there was Carson. Handsome and charismatic, he had a way with the ladies, and quickly stole my heart. No stranger to kissing, he’d schooled me in the fine art of making out. It was Carson who taught me a good kiss could be felt all the way down to your toes.
I dated a few other boys, some skilled, some not so much, but none of whom even came close to delivering the mind-blowing lip lock Quinn and I shared.
Quinn’s vow to protect me was the most romantic, heart-stopping, passionate pledge I’d ever been witness to in my short twenty-one years of life. Every coherent thought that had been running through my head—the fear, the remorse from my earlier blunder—quickly flew out the window at hearing him utter his promise to guard me from harm.
Acting on impulse, I threw myself at Quinn, grabbing onto his broad shoulders, my mouth crashing into his with a mounting desire. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew the kiss would be intensely wonderful, mind-altering even, given the nature of his curse. What I wasn’t prepared for was just how nearly orgasmic a simple kiss from him would be.
The moment our lips met, a spark ignited, deep within my very soul, exploding outward like an atom bomb, setting my skin on fire and sending my blood boiling. I gasped at the intensity of the sensation, giving Quinn an open invitation to deepen the kiss—an enticement he greedily accepted. He gently traced the contour of my lower lip with his tongue before sucking it between his own.
I unclenched my hand which gripped his shoulder like a vice, and let my fingertips slowly blaze a trail up
the contour of his neck until it came to rest at the base of his skull, my other hand following suit. My body’s response to the additional skin-to-skin contact was staggering, and my pulse exploded. A low moan emanated from deep within my throat.
Dropping the Scían he still held to the floor of the car, Quinn grabbed me by the waist, pulling me over the center console and onto his lap. Deepening the kiss further, his tongue danced sensually with my own as we explored each other’s mouths with a growing fervor. I felt just how excited Quinn was as I sat straddled against his hips, and ground myself against his cock which strained against the seam of his pants.
He snaked one arm behind my lower back, pulling me closer still, and crushed our bodies together while grabbing a fistful of my short brown locks with his other hand. And dear holy Lord, I felt his kiss from the top of my head to the very tip of my toes. I was sure every molecule in my body would spontaneously combust from the sheer pleasure of it.
Lightheaded from lack of breath, my body shook, cluing Quinn in to my rapidly declining state. He broke contact, much to my dismay, and I cried out with displeasure.
“A ghrá, you need to breathe.”
Frantic, I shook my head. “Breathing is for the birds. I want more kissing,” I said breathlessly, moving in for another lip lock. Nothing else mattered. My mind swam with images of his lips moving with my own, his hands searching and exploring every inch of my body. More. I needed more.
The next thing I knew, he heaved me over the center console and back into my cold seat with an agonizing groan.
“Hey!” I complained. “Why’d you do that?”
His expression was one of pure torment. The longing in his eyes was unmistakable, yet he made no move to give in. “Because, a ghrá, you were losing control, succumbing to the curse.”
“No, I wasn’t. It was fine. I was fine. Please?”
I watched him sit back in his seat and shake his head. He looked like I’d slapped him.
