A Bite of Magick

by Rhyannon Byrd

  The one named Ivy gave her a warm smile. “Of course not.”

  “We normally dinna look so fierce, but we were just complaining about how we’ve been denied the Ag Ríochan for too damn long,” Willow explained, as if the strange statement made perfect sense.

  Té nodded. “At the risk of sounding incredibly stupid, what is that?”

  Willow scrunched her nose in obvious distaste. “It’s a ritual of sorts, a kind of practice that Witches pass down to the following generations. A spell, actually, in which a young Cailleach learns to use her power over the elements to prepare her for the intense physicality of mating with a Warlock.”

  Té swallowed a shock of surprise, a million and one questions racing through her mind. “And you’ve all been…denied the training? That sounds rather harsh.”

  The one named Poppy scowled at the group of Council members on the other side of the room, their white heads bent in private discussion. “Aye. Seamus forbade it.”

  “But, why?” Té asked, the feminist in her clearly appalled.

  Chrys, short of for Chrysanthemum of all things, snorted at her side. “Because the controlling old bastard thought it would keep us from having sex.”

  The five Witches shared a smothered laugh, drawing worried looks from Mal and Dugan, who stood near enough to see their devilish expressions. The girls winked at the two intimidating brutes, both of whom Té had yet to meet, but had been pointed out by Evan, and she felt a grin tug at the corners of her lips. “Something tells me their little plan hasn’t worked.”

  Ivy shrugged. “Well, it’s true that none of the Warlocks will bed us, because our interfering cousins have made sure they all know we’ve been denied, but that’s hardly stopped us from experimenting with some of the gnach.”

  Té’s grin fell into a sudden frown. “I’m not sure I like how you guys say that—like it’s a dirty word.”

  Lily clasped her shoulder, giving her a little hug. “Ah, Té, you’re no mere gnach, love. You and our Evie are special.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  Ivy sent her an apologetic smile. “Lily’s right, Té. You and Evie are special. And it’s not as if we dislike the gnach. But it’s hard sometimes to be sympathetic toward a race that used to burn us at the stake.”

  Té shot her a sideways look. “Hmm…good point.” She looked over at the Council. “Do you think Seamus knows what you’ve done?”

  Five distinct laughs filled the air. “I should hope not,” Chrys replied. “If he did, he’d probably drop a plague on the whole damn city just to keep anyone from touching us.”

  “But won’t he have to let someone share it with you someday?”

  Willow nodded her head, sending her white-gold curls bouncing around her smiling face. “Oh, I’m sure he has plans for letting one of the matrons share it with us eventually. Say, like when we’re forty.”

  They all giggled, making Té smile. “And even your cousins won’t find the answers for you?”

  Poppy snorted across from her. “Are you kidding? Those arrogant heaps of testosterone still treat us like we’re five.”

  “How hypocritical can you get?” muttered Chrys.

  “Yeah,” Lily sighed, “the philandering fuckheads.”

  “I hope to hell you’re no’ talking about me,” came a deep rumble from behind the group. The five young Witches turned at the sound, snickering, and Té somehow found herself standing in the center of a perfect semicircle. She glared at the girls, each one trying to give her an innocent look that she so wasn’t buying, and turned to see Kieran watching her with the intensity of a hawk going in for the kill.

  Her mouth went dry at the sight of him.

  Lord, he looked even better than she remembered. Gone were the jeans and leather jacket, and in their place were a fine, sage-colored pair of expensive wool pants and a crisp white dress shirt, the fine linen contrasting wonderfully against his dark, olive-toned skin.

  “Té,” he said, his low voice falling over her like a wave of warm, mellow whiskey. Her belly pulled tight, a strange little fluttering of delicious anticipation racing through her blood.

  “Kieran,” she whispered, trying not to wince at the breathless, dreamy sound of her own voice.

  Chrys gave her a gentle elbow in her side. “Come on, girls, I think we’re thirsty. Catch ya later, beautiful.”

  “Great meeting ya, Té.”

  Another hug came from the back. “Glad to finally have ya here, Té. You better stick around.”

  “See ya later, sweetie.”

  “Ciao, darlin’.”

  The chorus of feminine voices faded away, and just like that, she was left alone with him, albeit in a roomful of people, but she still felt like the final survivor trapped on a sinking ship. Miserable little rotten deserters, she wanted to shout, but knew it would be too rude.

  Kieran gave her a slow, perceptive smile, as if he knew just what she was thinking, and she scowled at him, wanting to knock the knowing expression right off his gorgeous face almost as much as she wanted to kiss him.

  “Feel better?” he asked in that fine voice, his tone far too intimate for her to handle.

  “Just peachy,” she gritted through her teeth, wondering why he could so easily rankle her. His crisp, woodsy scent floated through her like an addictive substance, dangerously close to dismantling her resolve, a sensual combination of aftershave and warm, virile male. Her emotions became a chaotic jumble, everything felt in the extreme around this too-sexy-to-be-true Warlock.

  His black eyes inspected her from the top of her hair down to her little sandal-clad toes. “You look just peachy, too,” he drawled around a wickedly boyish grin, his eyes reversing their path in a slow, sensual caress, lingering in a maddening way over the juncture of her thighs and the slow heaving of her breasts, until finally connecting with her own once again. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the deep voice coming from directly behind him. Té peeked around his side to see another gorgeous giant standing there smiling at her, his hair a bit longer than Kieran’s, so black it was nearly blue, with thick-lashed eyes the color of a Caribbean sea.

  “And who might this fiery beauty be?” he drawled, the delicious burr in his voice rolling across her senses just like the others.

  Kieran’s lips pressed into a scowl as he watched Té step to the side and smile, extending her hand with the natural warmth that made him just want to crawl up into her. “Hi. I’m—”

  “She’s no’ someone you’ll be touching, Blu McKendrick. Keep your blasted hands to yourself,” he muttered, feeling his fist clench involuntarily at his side in an instinctual need to knock the smiling Blu right on his cocky ass.

  Té shot an outraged look at Kieran, and Blu let out a low whistle. “Och, now, cousin, I dinna think the lass is in agreement with ya, man.”

  Shouldering her way in front of Kieran’s huge body, Té grabbed Blu’s big hand and gave it a hearty shake. “I’m Bronté Hayes, Evan’s little sister, and it’s lovely to meet you.”

  “Ah, so little Té’s finally made it home? ‘Bout time too, lass,” Blu murmured, taking in her changed appearance. “I almost didna recognize you from the photos I’ve seen.”

  Her home? What was it with these arrogant Scots? Sheesh, the one at her front seemed to be as bad as the one at her back. And he was almost as gorgeous, with that blue-black hair and those lapis-colored eyes.

  Hmm…maybe it wasn’t such a great idea coming here after all. If her instincts were to be trusted, she didn’t think it was going to be as easy to eventually slip away as she’d initially thought it would be. She shifted nervously, tucking stray strands of her red and gold hair behind her ears like she always did, wondering why she didn’t just cut it shorter to save herself the hassle. “Yeah, well, I was, um, ill for a bit,” she offered by way of explanation.

  Yeah, sick in the head for letting myself be taken in by some sexy stud.

  She plastered on her bright “everything’s just
peachy” smile. “But as you can see, I’m all better now.”

  Blu placed his hand over his heart. “Lass, if you got any better, I’d be dead.”

  “Cousin—” Kieran growled the low warning from her back, so close she could feel his mouthwatering heat, and the devil in front of her winked.

  “Um, if you two will excuse me, I think I see Evan looking for me.”

  The two Scots watched her scurry away, their expressions wry, the blatant fact that she was hightailing it away from them rather too obvious to miss. Lach walked over to join them, his look accusing. “What the hell did you two do now?”

  Kieran ignored the question. “Keep Mal and Dugan away from her,” he snarled, beyond the ability to be reasonable. His eyes cut to a smirking Blu. “And this idiot, too.”

  Lach gave him an infuriating grin, his expression saying he understood all too well the hell Kieran was going through, struggling to deny the undeniable.

  And then a mischievous look settled across Blu’s face that had Kieran narrowing his eyes in suspicion—a suspicion which was quickly confirmed when Té’s sudden squeal snagged his attention. She’d stopped working her way through the guest-filled room, standing not ten feet away from them, her hands struggling to hold down her billowing skirt as it swirled and thrashed around her shapely legs, lifting into the air.

  “Damn it, Blu,” Kieran growled, shoving his smiling cousin in the arm while Lach chuckled under his breath. “Cut it out, you ass. Right now!”

  Blu’s deep blue eyes widened in feigned surprise. “What? Dinna even try to tell me you’re no’ enjoying the view.”

  Té’s skirt lifted higher, Blu’s Magick whipping the air around her into a churning frenzy, until she looked like a Marilyn Monroe poster Kieran had often seen. Her hair whipped around her flushed face as she spun in a circle, apparently trying to figure out where the bizarre breeze was coming from. He gritted his teeth as he caught a quick shot of her gorgeous, panty-covered ass, but only a few raised brows and slow grins came from those standing around her—everyone there far too used to witnessing the cousins’ crazy antics to rile one another to be shocked by the odd display. A low grumble of soft, heated expletives could be heard slipping from Té’s lips, though, and Kieran couldn’t help but give a brief, inner smile at her fire.

  Standing there with his fists clenched at his sides, he felt torn between enjoying the tempting view of her incredible body, and beating the holy living hell out of Blu. There was a steady pounding in his temples, echoing the pumping of his heart—the need to knock some sense into the man itching through his system.

  He couldn’t handle this crap right now. Not with the shape he was in. Saephus, couldn’t Blu see how close he was to the breaking point?

  “Nice view,” Mal drawled at his back, and Kieran suddenly began to wonder just how angry Evan would be if he threw a punch in her house. Or better yet—two.

  “Damn—best I’ve seen in years,” Dugan added over his other shoulder, his voice a low, aroused rumble, and Kieran felt the sudden possessive need to blind the whole friggin’ lot of them.

  “Keep your bloody eyes off her,” he snarled, turning his back on Té so he could face the three smirking faces sending him knowing expressions that he couldn’t wait to wipe away.

  As if oblivious to the murder in Kieran’s eyes, Mal cocked his head at Blu and said, “Check this out.”

  Groaning under his breath, Kieran cut a quick look over his shoulder at Té’s low gasp. The wind slowed softly around her legs, yet she stood rooted in place, facing them, hands still grasping fistfuls of her skirt, her wide eyes glued to her panting chest. Kieran followed her line of vision, his gut cramping with a staggering punch of lust when he saw that the thin fabric of her shirt was now wet with one tiny drop of water, right at the tip of her left breast. They both stared at the small wet spot where her nipple pressed against the clinging cloth, and Kieran felt his tongue stroke the roof of his mouth, eager for the taste of that sweet little nipple between his lips. He swallowed a painful lump of sexual hunger as her dark blue gaze sliced to his, the vivid color hot with accusation.

  He winced as he slowly turned back to her, ignoring the low rumble of his chuckling cousins as he stared…lost to the lust…transfixed by the sight of another plump drop of water materializing in the air just above her right breast this time. It hovered there, catching the shimmering sparkle of the soft lights and flickering candles, then descended with perfect aim to land precisely at the tip of her right nipple.

  Kieran growled in the back of his throat, desperate to use his mouth to continue the job and wet the entire damn shirt, sucking and nipping at those luscious tits until she was screaming from the pleasure, her hot little cunt shattering in ecstasy. She’d be wet and silky, glistening on the pretty pink lips of her pussy, down the insides of her thighs—all that sweet cream just waiting for his mouth to eat it, lapping it up stroke by rasping stroke. It was such a hot fantasy, and one he needed to put a stop to right now, or he’d be doing it, going down on her in a roomful of his bloody relatives.

  “Cut it the hell out,” he grunted at his cousins, his hands fisting tighter, knowing he was getting ready to throw that first punch—Evan’s anger be damned.

  Blu took a long swallow of his ale and smiled. “Or what?”

  Kieran let his own lips curl with warm satisfaction, suddenly realizing, when it came to this particular cousin that he had at least one weapon at his disposal he could use without pissing Evan off. “Or maybe I’ll see fit, the next time I see her, to let a certain little pink-haired Pixie know you canna keep your bloody eyes off her ass every time she turns around.”

  Blu nearly choked, sputtering his ale through his nose as Mal gave him a few helpful whacks on his broad back. “The hell you will!”

  “Just keep them away,” Kieran snarled at a chuckling Lach, watching as Té sent a final glare in his direction and then turned on her heel to storm away.

  His mood, which had started out sour as he stood in the corner, waiting for Té to make her entrance, had only gotten worse as the evening progressed. He’d watched with a completely alien feeling of burning jealousy as every eye in the room ate her up while she talked with the Council, and then with the girls. The only time his attention had strayed was when he caught sight of Lach seated in a big, comfortable chair beside the fire, his wife cuddled up in his lap, strong arms wrapped around her middle, his big hands settling possessively over her flat belly. It was such an intimate sight that Kieran had been tempted to look away. But then, it had been so beautiful, he could do nothing other than stand in the corner and stare at his cousin’s hands soothing over the invisible bundle of his unborn child.

  Kieran had felt his own hands tremble, a sharp stab of recognition knotting his gut—a realization that he wanted to have that feeling—that same look of bliss that fell over his cousin’s fierce features whenever the woman who’d changed his life walked into the room.

  And instead, all he had was a temperamental prick and a raging sex drive, with no easy end in sight. Not to mention the complicating puzzle of Té.

  He watched her make her way through the crowded room, his eyes taking in every nuance of expression as she turned a tense, but friendly smile to those who came forward to greet her. She wasn’t comfortable being surrounded by so many people, especially after his jackass cousins’ attempts to push his bloody buttons, and he felt a dangerous need to pull her into his side and offer what comfort he could.

  Only, he didn’t have any comfort to give her.

  Saephus, what in hell’s name was he going to do about her?

  The added ache of uneasiness that had settled into his bones puzzled him. It went beyond mere protection—though Té Hayes certainly looked as if she could use some—to some foreign sense of raw, primal possessiveness. He wanted to own her, in the truest sense of the word—but first he had to find a way to claim her without hurting her.

  Because he really didn’t think he had a choice in the matte
r. He would claim her. It was a fact. His soul wouldn’t let him do otherwise.

  The only question was when?

  She turned into the back hallway and he was already walking after her when he heard Lach say, “You’ll have to mate her soon, cousin, if you expect to be able to keep the others away.”

  He stopped, but didn’t turn around. He felt raw, exposed, as if every sensation were magnified by the instability of the emotions churning inside of him. “If they touch her, they die.”

  And with that, he set off to find the woman turning his entire world inside out.

  * * * * *

  He found her a few seconds later, talking on the phone in Lach’s home office, her back to the door as she perched her sweet ass on the corner of the mammoth mahogany desk centered before the back wall. The only light in the warm, wood-scented room came from the flickering blaze of orange and yellow in the grate to his left, the fire crackling comfortably to ward off any chill in the air. He could smell the burning wood, a faint trace of sandalwood incense, and underneath those stronger scents, the subtle, alluring smell of the woman he was slowly closing in on.

  He knew the instant she realized she was no longer alone, because her spine straightened, voice going low as she said goodbye to her private caller. Jealousy flamed to life, burning hotter than the blaze at his side, when he heard her say, “I’ve missed you, too. It’ll be great to see you tomorrow night. Bye.”

  She set the phone down carefully, still not turning around, and he heard himself say, “Who the fuck was that?”

  A small laugh reached his ears. “I knew it was going to be you.”

  “And I asked you a question.”

  She shot him a sharp look over her mostly bare shoulder, the flames from the hearth doing amazing things to the red and gold of her hair. Shit, she was so intoxicating it made him ache. Made him fucking hurt with the need to take her and claim her as his own.

  “Last time I checked, I don’t answer to you, McKendrick.”

  “My name is Kieran, and you sure as hell will answer to me.”