A Bite of Magick

by Rhyannon Byrd

  “Ah…it’s hard when it hits you, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Kinda like running headfirst into a brick wall.” At Kieran’s fierce expression, Lach’s smile only broadened, spreading across his face with devilish delight. “Trust me, I know. It was the same way when I found Evan. Damn near knocked me on my ass.”

  “I dinna know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “No?” Lach laughed, easing back in his chair. “Then I guess you willna mind when I ask Blu to show the lass around town while Evan and I are busy with the reconstruction here. I’d tell Evan to just go ahead and leave it to me, but you know how well the woman listens,” he ended with a pained sigh.

  Evan’s working status had become a point of contention between the couple since they were bonded…and they still argued constantly that she no longer needed to work. According to Evan, Lach might own her soul and her heart, but they couldn’t spend every second of every day boinking like bunnies, though Kieran strongly suspected Lach would have liked nothing more. So they were now, in addition to Lach’s training studio, the proud owners of The Wicked Brew, with enough new staff that Evan could afford to come and go as she pleased. The refurbishing, however, she demanded to oversee herself.

  Which still didn’t explain what any of this had to do with the little bundle of pink he was seriously considering throwing over his shoulder and running back to his house with, hard and fast…and desperate, until he could rip her clothes off and introduce himself while he introduced her sweet cunt to his throbbing cock.

  Kieran leaned forward, muscles bulging. “You let Blu anywhere near her and I’ll—wait, what the hell makes you think that gnach would let one of us anywhere near her?”

  Lach’s brow rose over wickedly gleaming, pale green eyes. “Well, one does tend to trust family.”

  Kieran stiffened. “That woman’s no McKendrick.” They had cousins from one corner of the Isles to the other, and he’d sure as hell never lusted after one of his own before.

  “Aye, she’s no McKendrick. Not yet, at any rate,” Lach drawled, seriously pissing him off. “And no’ by blood. Hell, man, stop looking with your cock and use your bloody eyes.”

  Oh, he was using his eyes all right, devouring every sweet inch of her, from her sneaker-covered feet to the fuzzy pink cashmere of her sweater. Hell, he was afraid to friggin’ blink, in case she disappeared on him.

  “What in the hell makes you think that woman would trust a McKendrick?” he muttered. It was true that in the world of the Magick, they were considered the finest catches around, but mortals tended to be somewhat leery of their size and dominating presence—not to mention their aura, which scared the hell out of them, though they had no way of knowing what it was. They simply recognized the danger of something different from themselves, and their first instinct was usually to stay clear of anything more than casual contact. Strange, how that had never bothered Kieran until this moment.

  Most gnach could go bugger themselves for all he cared, but this one he wanted to get close to. As close as humanly possible. And considering he was far from human…even closer.

  His cousin’s smile was slow and easy and once again total jackass, tempting Kieran to knock it away with his fist. “What makes me think she’ll trust a McKendrick?” Lach drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Probably because her sister is married to one.”

  Chapter Two

  Kieran whipped back around so fast his chair nearly toppled. “The hell you say. That’s no’…I mean—it canna be…”

  “Aye, it is.” Lach leaned forward once more, preparing to rise as the woman began trying to weave her way through the long line of customers waiting to place their orders. “Though from the look of her, I’d say she’s been through a bit of it lately.”

  Well, hell, that was putting it pretty lightly. The picture he’d seen of Bronté Hayes was of a cute, curvy little pixie with a short cap of titian-colored hair and a shy smile. The vision walking toward the counter—and a vision she was, looked worlds apart from the image he’d kept of this woman in his mind.

  Even as an adorable imp, he’d been…intrigued by Evan’s little sister. There was something in those luscious lips and luminous eyes that had always pulled at him, causing his breath to hitch with the oddest sensation. But he’d never, not in a thousand lifetimes, expected to feel like this when he finally saw her in the flesh, face–to-face.

  What the hell had happened to her? She looked like she’d been honed down, streamlined into a compact version of the charmingly cute girl she’d been. This new version of Té, as Evan called her, was all lean lines and toned muscles. Even the delicate bones of her pretty face shone more prominently, the cheekbones strikingly strong above a now sharp little chin.

  He honestly hadn’t recognized her, she’d changed that much from the small snapshot he’d seen in Evan’s wallet. From the first moment he’d set eyes on it, a strange seed of possessiveness had taken root, though he’d never really been able to put a name to it. He’d always assumed it was wrapped up in casual attraction and familial protection. McKendricks looked out for McKendricks, and even though she might not bear the last name, they all considered her a part of the fold. But sitting here, watching her, seeing her for the first time, there was no mistaking it for exactly what it was.

  A primitive, primal, archaic sense of ownership.

  His, though he didn’t have a clue where that was coming from, but it was pounding through his veins, whispering through his mind…and making the nether regions of his body decidedly uncomfortable, feeling far too contained within the worn denim of his jeans.

  Here was the one who belonged to him. He didn’t know how he knew it. He just did. Hell, maybe he always had, and just hadn’t wanted to admit it—but there was no denying it now that she was here, in the same room with him, and her lush, tender scent of promises and something darker…something edgier with need was making its way to him over the muddied smells of the mortal world.

  He wanted to wrap himself around her and force away the weary shadows in her eyes. She’d obviously been through hell. No one changed that drastically, that quickly, without some sort of life-altering experience.

  The woman before him now was but a shadow of the voluptuous girl he’d seen in that picture—a snapshot of two sisters smiling into the camera. He knew it was from Té’s college graduation, and she’d been achingly sweet in her blue gown and goofy graduation hat. Charming and cute, with the obvious Hayes’ good looks.

  But whereas Evan was gray-eyed and golden-haired, Bronté had been blessed with magnificent eyes the color of a deep, dark sky when it was at its most blue, and a luxurious veil of hair that shone like a blaze of flame, from dark red to shimmering gold, falling just beneath her sharp chin. Her neck was a slender column, begging for his mark, lean shoulders leading into graceful arms with fragile wrists and delicate hands. Small earlobes from which sparkling little hoops of silver could be seen reflecting the café’s light, and a new, decidedly sexy arc of silver gleaming at the tip of her left eyebrow. And those firm, full, lush breasts that begged for the teasing drag of his teeth, the suctioning, suckling heat of his mouth as he ate at the plump, giving flesh.

  But his favorite feature was the one that hadn’t changed at all—that subtle, sexy little mole at the top of her right cheekbone, just beneath the far edge of her right eye. He wanted to press his lips to that perfect little spot. To run the rough scrape of his tongue across it, and then trail down to the moist, succulent cavern of her mouth, lower to the delicate tips of her breasts, and finally lower, to where he could settle into a long, luscious tongue-fuck that had him eating his fill of her juicy, pink-fleshed little cunt. It would be warm and soft, like the tempting, syrupy sweetness of an exotic fruit, moist beneath his lips, vulnerable to his hunger…and entirely addictive.

  He’d liked the girl, but the woman damn near killed him, blindsiding him with a sudden, biting, overwhelming urge to get inside of her and stay there for
as long as she’d let him. He felt it in every cell of his body, as if his chemistry were changing…altering…recognizing a necessary component for life that he had never before even realized was missing.

  “How did you know?” It rankled to admit he’d been unable to recognize her, especially when Lach so obviously had.

  “Well, it’s easy to see, if you’re no’ staring at her chest.”

  Kieran swallowed, trying to lift his eyes off the soft, gentle, tantalizing sway of her plump breasts, but damn, it wasn’t easy.

  He should have met her by now, but she’d missed the Binding Ceremony, and no one was really sure why that was exactly. Her excuses had been vague…and hardly satisfying. Evan had tried not to worry, but they had all noticed how her sister’s continued absence had begun to take its toll. After all, there’d been nothing more than a few scattered postcards in the last few months, providing barely adequate explanations for why she couldn’t accept their repeated offers of a ticket to Scotland. Lach had wanted to take the situation into his own hands, and Kieran agreed, but Evan wouldn’t have it.

  When her sister was ready, she would come, and that had been Evan’s final word on the subject.

  All they knew was that Bronté Hayes had up and left her job in Chicago three months ago, right about the time of the Binding, and taken off for the coastal town of Xoetché in Mexico, teaching English to the village schoolchildren. That was it. No personal address, just a PO Box number in Chicago that was being forwarded to her…and nothing else. No phone. Not even a bloody email address.

  Lach had kept him updated on Evan’s growing concern that something definitely wasn’t right, but so far, she hadn’t wanted to press. According to the independent Evan, Té was a twenty-five-year-old woman who had the right to go anywhere she damn well pleased, no matter how the McKendrick men might look at it. After all, just because Té was a female didn’t mean she couldn’t handle herself. Hell, Evan had even gone so far as to call them archaic Neanderthals a time or two while they argued the point, though Kieran strongly suspected she actually liked Lach’s “caveman” routine—at least in the bedroom. But when it came to her sister, the woman was steadfast in her determination. It may have been driving her crazy, but so long as Té said she was fine, they had to accept it as the truth.

  None of it sat well with Kieran, though he’d had little time to spend worrying over it himself with the way his life had been lately. But it was always there, brewing in the back of his mind—that subtle suspicion that there was something he should be doing, damn it, such as tracking down the little gnach and dragging her stubborn ass to Scotland where they could all keep an eye on her.

  Then again, considering the circumstances, maybe the whole thing had been for the best. It was true that most mortals had trouble accepting them as easily as Evan had, and Binding Ceremonies were a Magickal, mystical affair. If she’d come, it might have been more than she could handle. Though, from the look of her, Kieran had a sudden feeling that there wasn’t much the little spitfire couldn’t get a grip on.

  And damn it, just the thought of what he’d like to give her to grip was enough to make his throat tight, and his dick throb with an uncomfortable, growing knot of desire.

  He watched as she finally bypassed the long line of customers waiting to place their orders, choosing instead to walk to the far end of the counter, near the service aisle. She still hadn’t completely looked their way, but then her eyes seemed to be scanning the area behind the pastry display cases, obviously searching for her sister.

  She stood in their direct line of vision now, with her back to them as she faced forward, and he wanted nothing more than to howl at the sight of her luscious ass wrapped up in delectable little blue jeans. Damn, did she have to look as edible from the back as she did from the front? He’d always been a sucker for a nice ass, but this was ridiculous. He hadn’t even seen it bared to his hot eyes, and already he felt the urge to drool over it. But then it looked finer than any he’d ever seen. Round, pert, the twin globes perfect for his large palms to fondle and knead, long fingers digging into her resilient flesh.

  A low growl vibrated in the back of his throat, and beside him Lach laughed, clasping him on the shoulder. “Shall we go welcome the lovely lady, cousin?”

  Should they? If by welcoming, Lach meant him throwing her over his shoulder and hightailing it to the nearest place where he could fuck her hard and deep, for hours…days on end, then Kieran was in full agreement. But if he meant to play nice, Kieran wasn’t so sure he could do it.

  And his dick knew for damn sure he couldn’t.

  With his lips pressed into a grim line, he shook his head. “I think maybe I should just…go.”

  Lach arched his brow, his look challenging, and Kieran gritted his teeth. “You’re no’ afraid, are ya, man? After all, she’s family.”

  A muscle began to twitch annoyingly in his cheek. “Damn it, stop saying that! She’s no’ my bloody family!”

  “She’s not?”

  “No’ to my dick, she isn’t! And you’re pushing it, Lach. Keep pissing me off and Evan willna be thinking you’re so pretty if I decide to rearrange the location of your nose.”

  Lach snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Dinna tempt me.”

  “Stop being so temperamental and come introduce yourself…if you’re no’ too afraid,” Lach teased, his light green eyes gleaming with mischief.

  Afraid? Hell, he was fucking terrified.

  And Saephus help her if he wasn’t right about what she could handle, because she was about to have a whole new world dropped right into her pretty little lap.

  * * * * *

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Oh my friggin’ God!” Evan shrieked as she spun around, the tray of glass pastry plates topped with a variety of fresh cheesecakes wobbling in her arms. She stared at her sister, gray eyes huge in her beautiful face. “Crap, Té, you shocked the hell out of me! What are you doing here?”

  Té flashed a cheeky grin. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

  “Hah,” Evan muttered with narrowed eyes. “You could’ve surprised me three months ago, when I was getting married.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she said around a wince. “I didn’t mean to let you down.”

  Evan’s look was pointed, demanding an answer. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Té lifted her brows. “I told you I was with Jamie. She’d been asking me to come down and help out at that school for ages. Didn’t you get the postcards?”

  “Yeah, I got them. And I’ve written you back at that damn post office box address, as you well know, asking you to call. I mean it, Té, I’ve been worried sick about you. Just look at you! Jesus, I hardly recognized you.”

  She blew out a tense breath, having known this was coming. “Evan, I’m not a child. I’m sorry you were worried, but I had some things I had to take care of that couldn’t be put off. I told you I’d get here as soon as I could.”

  “Yeah, well, you can make it up to me by promising to stick around for as long as possible, and I just might think about forgiving you.”

  A slow grin curved the corners of her gloss-covered lips. “As gracious as always, I see.”

  “You bet your ass I am,” Evan mumbled, still juggling the tray in her arms, looking around for a place to set it down, but finding none. “I really have been worried sick about you, and I will get the whole story, in teeny tiny detail.”

  Té shrugged her shoulder, letting her heavy backpack slide down her arm until it snagged on her wrist. Feeling the ache of sitting for so many hours on the plane twist through her body, she lifted her arm to rub her hand across the back of her neck, kneading the tired muscles. “I know. I know. Just not now, okay. I’m feeling pretty beat.”

  Beat, jetlagged, and ready to grab some much needed rest. She looked around the lovely, thriving café, and for the first time in months, she felt the heavy comfort of safety wrap around her. In that moment, she want
ed nothing more than to crawl into the nearest bed and crash for a year.

  “You look like hell,” Evan muttered, her gaze intense as she studied her sister’s weary face, able to see the strain she’d been carrying for far too long.

  Té smiled, knowing Evan was only worried and didn’t mean it the way it sounded. “And you look gorgeous. Just like a happily married woman.”

  Evan grinned back. “You bet your ass I am.”

  “So…where’s the lucky groom?” She lifted her brows. “Is he really as fine as you said in your letters?”

  Evan gave her a mischievous wink as she slid the display case open, realizing the only way she was going to get her arms free so she could give her sister a hug was to put the damn cakes away. “Even better, if you can believe it. And you can see for yourself, because he’s right over there,” she said, nodding her head toward Lach and Kieran as they worked their way through the bustling, early morning crowd of patrons.

  Té’s eyes went wide as she looked over her shoulder, unable to do anything but stare at the two intimidating giants quickly closing in on them. “Jesus,” she whispered around a sudden lump in her throat. “Which one is he?”

  Evan gave a dreamy smile, clearly besotted. “The auburn-haired hunk.”

  “Nice,” she replied with a low whistle.

  “Yeah, I think so, too.”

  “And the black-haired one?”

  “His cousin Kieran.”

  “Does he always look so…intense?”

  Evan cocked her head in consideration. “Nowadays, yeah, though I’ve never seen that particular expression before. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.”

  “What?” Té sputtered, turning back to Evan, trying not to appear as shaken as she felt. Her belly was doing a strange little dance of excitement, her palms going embarrassingly damp.

  “Mmm…he definitely looks interested. Oh man—you’re so in for it now,” Evan laughed around a dangerous grin.

  “Evan…what are you talking about?” she demanded under her breath, rubbing her hands on the front of her jeans. “So help me God…if you try to set me up or force me on that poor man, I swear I’ll make you pay.”