A Bite of Magick

by Rhyannon Byrd

  She turned her face to the side, eyes squeezed closed, and his lips trailed across her cheek, sipping from her flesh, his tongue flicking out to take tiny licks, as if he couldn’t help but taste as much of her as he could while he had the chance. “Goddamn it, Té, dinna let me hurt you. Please. I couldna take it if I ever hurt you.”

  Everything she knew about this man, this Warlock, rioted through her brain in a dizzying flash of images and emotions. What was happening between them? If all he wanted was a fuck, then why wasn’t he taking it? Why was he so tortured by the thought of hurting her? Why did he care? What did he really want…and why did he fight so damn hard against it?

  Just how far did his feelings for her go?

  Just how much of herself was she prepared to surrender?

  And did she really have a choice? Could she honestly protect her heart, when she knew, if she were honest with herself, that she would admit it already belonged to this magnificent man?

  His lips trailed down her chest with hungry urgency, his fevered mouth closing carefully over one silk-covered breast, and even through the layers of bra and dress, she could feel the deliciously wet heat enveloping her. Feel the strong pull of ecstasy as he wrapped an agile tongue around her nipple, suckling with a strong, steady pressure that made her eyes roll back in her head.

  He worked his way over to her other breast with a rough growl of hunger, but just as his lips touched her nipple, his head lifted, eyes narrowed in concentration, his entire body held utterly still.

  A whispery sibilance of noise from the gallery had caught his attention, his senses going on full alert, while Té continued to writhe against him, destroying his concentration. He started to lean back down to her perfect, heavy breast, wanting it naked and vulnerable, but then he heard it again.

  “What the fuck was that?” he snarled beneath his breath, pulling back from her. Big hands moved quickly to refasten his fly, his muscles flexed with tension as he turned toward the door, putting himself between his mate and anything that might come through.

  “Oh God, don’t you dare!” she gasped behind him, feeling ridiculously close to the edge of a breakdown from having him pull away from her again. The urge to scream crept up the back of her throat, almost impossible to stop.

  Kieran took a quiet step forward, his weight light, poised on the balls of his feet for quick movement, and she wanted to kill him. “Oh no, don’t you dare leave me, Kieran. I swear to God you’re going to force me to rape you if you do this again. And I am not a violent person. I’m a member of Greenpeace, you miserable bastard!”

  “Damn it…quiet,” he commanded over his shoulder, his voice a steely whisper, face slipping back to its original shape, though the man, the Warlock, looked no less dangerous than the beithíoch.

  “Is this just another excuse?”

  And then she heard it. Or rather, she heard nothing. No sound at all coming from the outer gallery. The eerie silence felt heavy and strange in place of the light music and conversation that had been filling the air only moments before.

  “Kieran?” she whispered, scowling at the sudden, quivering sound of fear she heard in her voice.

  His muscles bunched, tightened, and she knew something bad was coming.

  In the next instant, the door to the office crashed inward, splintering wood flying in all directions, and what stood in the doorway was enough to let the scream she’d been fighting down break free in all its shattering terror.

  She looked into the face of Richard Pinella, Lexi’s brawny personal assistant, a man who’d always made her uneasy. She’d never liked him, but she’d never seen him look quite so frightening as he did in that moment, his normally brown eyes burning red in the dim light of the hallway, thin mouth twisted into a gloating smile as he glowed with a sickly light. And from between his pale lips flicked a long, ribbon-thin tongue with a forked tip, like that of a serpent.

  Kieran pressed back against her, pinning her to the wall with his broad back, blocking her view of the horror at the door. All she heard was one snarled, hissing statement before she felt herself floating in a strange, black, whirling vacuum of space, Kieran’s arms holding her tight, keeping her safe.

  But that one statement of intent meant that she was in more danger here than she could’ve ever imagined.

  She heard Richard’s sickening words, over and over, like a repeating record skipping in her mind, spreading a cold chill over her skin that seemed to reach into her soul with its icy claws.

  Maldari.

  Wants.

  His.

  Woman.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pulled in opposite directions, Kieran was torn between the savage need to tear the serpent shifter to shreds and the burning necessity of getting Té to immediate safety. The two desires battled against one another—but in the end, there was really no question as to what he would do. Because of what she meant to him, the need to see her protected quickly won out over the thirst for battle and vengeance.

  And just as both Blu and Té had proclaimed, it turned out that some rules really were made to be broken. Knowing her life was in danger—that it was Té Lexi Maldari wanted—he’d broken one of the most ancient laws of his people and transported them to his father’s home with a spell now only allowed to the Council members themselves.

  And if they didn’t like it, Kieran figured they could bloody well go bugger themselves.

  Té sat on the low, hunter green sofa before the hearth in his father’s library, a chenille throw wrapped around her slim shoulders as the dizzying effects of being transported by Magick slowly wore off. He’d already informed his father of their presence, along with a brief explanation, and phoned Blu on his cell, sending him to secure the gallery and bring Evan’s car to the house. His last phone call had been to the gallery itself, and he’d taken the news that no one had come to any harm with a great, heaving sigh of relief.

  Knowing that would be Té’s first concern, he’d told her as soon as he walked back into the room. “I just talked with Daumier. Everyone at the gallery is fine. A little shaken up by all the commotion, but no one was injured by Lexi’s thugs.”

  She’d nodded, her sigh of relief nearly as loud as his own had been.

  And now he knelt before the log-filled grate, holding out his palms, and within seconds a roaring flame sprang to life, sending a curling wave of warmth spiraling through the chilled room.

  Té looked back and forth between him and the blazing fire, blinking slowly, and then laughed softly beneath her breath, the sound somewhat odd considering her teeth were still chattering.

  He wished he could return the smile, but there were too many unanswered questions running rampant through his mind, and he had only a short time to get them answered before Blu arrived. With his hands planted firmly on his hips, he took two slow, deep breaths, and then said, “Do you mean to tell me that the bastard you’ve been refusing to tell me about is Lexi Maldari?”

  She nodded her head again, pulling the throw around her more tightly.

  Shit, that sure as hell explains the scent, he thought with a low curse, knowing now where the watered-down smell of Magick he’d kept getting had come from. “He’s goddamn mafia, Té. Not to mention a fucking Gan Bhrí.”

  Her mouth went thin, lips pressed hard in irritation at his explosive tone. “What’s a Gan Bree?”

  Kieran went on as if he hadn’t heard her, pacing before the now roaring blaze. “I canna believe you didna tell me it’s fucking Maldari!”

  Té shrugged. “It didn’t seem important. I mean—I didn’t even know you knew him. And anyway, it’s not like you couldn’t have just picked it out of my head if you really wanted to,” she snapped with accusation, nerves too frayed to deal with his anger at that particular moment.

  His black gaze cut to her. Sharp and focused. “I told you I canna do that.”

  “Right,” she said, clucking her tongue, clearly not believing him.

  “Goddamn it, Té, this isna a joke. And
I canna read your bloody mind.”

  Blue eyes narrowed with intent. “Then how do you always know what I’m thinking?”

  He stepped closer. “Your scent,” he growled. “It’s rich, sweet…delicious. And it tells me you’re in this just as deep as I am.”

  “Then maybe you need your nose fixed,” she muttered, fighting the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. Damn but she was in a bad mood, not to mention seriously frustrated. Sexually frustrated, thanks to the overprotective beast pacing before her. Lord, how could she worry about anything when he clearly worried enough for the both of them?

  “And maybe you need to stop changing the bloody subject. We’re talking about the mafia here, Té.”

  Before she could question him on that bit of astounding information, considering she’d thought Lexi’s “family business” was vineyards, he blasted ahead, another sudden revelation occurring to him. “Saephus, no wonder you accepted it so easily,” he snarled with a sudden, strange force of accusation. She felt a warm wave of air surge around her, lifting her hair from her face, and knew she was feeling his magnificent power firsthand.

  Hmm…interesting. She’d never argued with a Warlock before, and for some remarkable reason, she was finding it incredibly arousing. Then again, she was still damned horny from before. Tilting her head to the side, she regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Just what are you getting at, Kieran?”

  “Maldari,” he gritted out between his clenched teeth, dark eyes alive with fury. “He’s a fucking Magick, Té. You must have known that.”

  She couldn’t help it—she laughed. “Uh no, he’s not.”

  He shot her a look that seemed to be asking if she was really so stupid as to disagree with him. “Aye, he bloody well is.”

  “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?” she asked, scrunching her nose in disbelief.

  “He’s a criminal, Té. A bloody Gan Bhrí.”

  “Well, I take it from your tone that you don’t much care for them, whatever they are.”

  “Care for them?” he snarled. “His kind was responsible for the attack that killed my mother.”

  “What?” She could feel the color draining from her face—a hollow, queasy ache bubbling in her stomach.

  “They’re fucking murderers, Té. The entire lot o’ them.”

  “Evan,” she whispered, panic taking hold of her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. “I’ve got to warn Evan,” she stammered, lips feeling numb.

  Kieran shook his head, grabbing hold of her arm as she tried to rush past him to the phone. “Lach will take care of your sister, Té. No harm is going to come to her, or the baby.”

  She sank back down onto the sofa, holding her head as if her pressing palms could somehow keep her scrambled thoughts together. “I had no idea.” She snorted, trying not to giggle, it was so fantastically unbelievable. “The Magick Mafia. Jesus, I feel like I’ve fallen into a deranged episode of The Sopranos meets Bewitched.”

  Kieran gave her a worried look. “Are you okay?”

  “Just so long as I don’t get a dead horse head in my bed courtesy of Aunt Esmeralda, I’ll be just peachy,” she mumbled, pushing her hair back from her face as she tried to absorb everything he was telling her. “So then, I take it these Gan Bree or whatever you called them are the bad guys, huh?”

  “You could say that. They’re a bloody pest. A menace. Just ask the Council. It was a rogue faction of these assholes who murdered their lovers. Our mothers, Té. Every damn one o’ them, not to mention my Uncle Robert and my Uncle Kyle, Lach’s father.”

  She shook her head, wishing it were anything but true. The thought of all the things she’d done with Lexi, how she’d found herself so hopelessly attracted to him, until the night she surprised him with the gallery showing and his true colors finally revealed themselves, made her ill. “I didn’t know. I swear.”

  He made an exasperated sound. “How could you? Apparently, you didna even know he was Magick, though how he kept that from you I dinna have a fucking clue.”

  “But how could they? I mean—you’re all so powerful.”

  “My Da and his brothers made many mistakes when they were younger, lass. Mistakes which could have easily been avoided had they no’ been so bloody arrogant. They…refused to bond with our mothers, and in doing so, they left the family with an unforgivable weakness.”

  “And these men, these Gan Bree, exploited that weakness?” she asked softly, not sure that she really wanted to know.

  “Aye. A Gan Bhrí,” he sneered, “is one who has been stripped of his own powers for unspeakable crimes. He has nothing left but his spells, and those he must be granted use of by a higher power, one willing to share his or her own Magick. There was a traitor within the ranks of our people when they last attacked, who gave the Gan Bhrí the information they needed. And once they possessed the ancient knowledge of forbidden spell-making, they were nearly impossible to defeat—their vendetta against the leaders who’d stripped their Magick utterly merciless.”

  She was so pale from what he’d told her that her sudden flush shone like twin bright spots of color on her high cheekbones. “You mentioned spell-making. What kinds of spells?”

  “Any kind you can think of, from shifting spells, like the one whose curse I live under, to death and lust and everything in between. Though many of the Gan Bhrí are no’ capable of performing more than one or two. It depends on the will of the Magick they are feeding from.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For a Warlock or a Witch, the Magick is their own to control and do with as they desire. For a Gan Bhrí, the Magick is no longer his to call, only his to manipulate as best he can when granted the right by a higher power. If the Magick doesna feel like obeying, it doesna have to.”

  “And so these…these lust spells? If a Gan Bhrí wanted to cast a…spell on a mortal, and the Magick allowed him to do so, then what would happen?”

  His voice was a soft tear across the heavy blanket of silence surrounding them within those ancient walls. “Why do you ask, lass?”

  “Because—” She broke off, swallowed, and then tried again. “Because I think Lexi Maldari put one of these lust spells on me while we were dating.”

  Deathly silence followed her words, and then he asked…again, “Why?”

  She rocked back and forth in a soothing motion, feeling almost ill at the thought of what Lexi must have done. “Because I couldn’t control myself around him.” She paused to lick her lips, throat feeling dry. “I didn’t even like him, but then one day when he asked me out for about the umpteenth time at Palo’s gallery, where I worked, I just couldn’t say no. It was like I had no choice in the matter.”

  “I’m going to fucking kill him,” Kieran snarled, his evident fury visible in the tight, tension-held lines of his body. “He’s a dead man. A walking, fucking dead man.”

  And then suddenly the import of her discovery hit her. A smile bloomed across her face with all the refreshing splendor of a fast summer rain—a warm, blinding rush of joy suddenly unfolding inside of her. She’d spent so many stupid months questioning herself, her sanity, for getting involved with a man like Lexi, and now it was over. As disconcerting as the thought of being under his “lust spell” was—it couldn’t compare to the relief of knowing he hadn’t been her choice.

  She looked up at the man standing before her now, and the thought of how delicious he was sang through her senses, surging through her blood, without the aid of any spell. It cleansed her—making the nightmare with Lexi something so insignificant she could crunch it beneath her toe and chalk it up to him being a total bastard.

  And a soon to be dead one at that.

  “There’s still one thing I canna figure out, though,” Kieran murmured, a small frown between his black brows.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why did you run to Mexico?”

  Té shrugged, sobering a bit, but still deliciously relieved. It felt as if she’d rediscovered a part of herself th
at she’d never thought to find again. “I have this friend, Jamie, who teaches at this school down there, and I figured it was as good a place as any to lay low for awhile, just ‘til he forgot about me and moved on. It seemed perfect, really. I mean—he’d never go there because he hates warm climates.”

  Kieran blinked down at her slowly, his expression blank. “He hates warm climates,” he repeated, simply stunned at her reasoning.

  Té scowled, knowing it sounded stupid. “Honestly, he does. He’d have never gone down there. The bugs and humidity would’ve driven him crazy. So I stayed until his letters stopped being forwarded from Chicago, figuring he’d finally found someone new to obsess over. And that’s when I came here.”

  He shook his head. “Amazing.”

  Amazing she hadn’t managed to get herself killed!

  For the second time that night, Té resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him. “You needn’t look at me like I’m an imbecile, Kieran. It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Only because you got bloody lucky,” he snorted. “I’d be willing to bet he probably had his eye on you the entire damn time you were down there, making sure no one so much as sniffed after you.”

  The thought was uncomfortably sobering. “So then he was just waiting to make sure no one touched what he psychotically considers his?”

  “Aye.”

  She shivered, hating that he was probably right, which meant that she had been incredibly stupid, not to mention naïve. She’d seriously underestimated what Lexi was willing to do to keep her.

  Suddenly, she was very happy that she was there, instead of going it alone in the wilds of Central America.

  But most importantly, she was happy to be with Kieran.

  As if he’d read her mind, his expression slowly shifted, nostrils flaring, and then a small smile kicked up at the corner of his wicked lips—the same lips that had been so delicious against her own. She shivered, and the smile widened.

  “Aye, I think you’re delicious, too, lass,” he drawled with a sexy wink.