Bren pulled his wetsuit up and turned back to face him.
“You alright? You look a bit strange.”
Devin let out a shaky breath. He was full of wanting. And it wasn’t only Bren’s body he craved. His imagination tormented him with snapshots of pure bliss. The two of them curled up on the sofa, watching a film. The sensation of Bren’s fingers lacing his as they walked down the main street.
He felt dizzy and disorientated, a stranger to his own mind. He seriously needed to pull himself together. Bren had never said or done anything to make Devin think he wanted to do any of those things. And even if he did, it didn’t matter.
There was no way he was stupid enough to get involved with someone who happened to be his housemate, bandmate and closest friend. When it ended, as it always did, he’d be left homeless, jobless and friendless. Not exactly a winning trifecta. That was enough incentive to keep his fantasies strictly in his head. In the meantime, he needed to get as far away from Bren and his perfect arse as he could until his body agreed to listen to reason.
“Go ahead and have your surf.” Devin jumped to his feet. “I’m going to take a wander along the beach, and walk to work from there. You take the van. It’s packed up ready to go.”
“It’s a two-hour walk. Not like you to expend so much energy.” Bren looked at him quizzically.
“Maybe I’ve been motivated to start exercising after seeing your perfect behind.”
“You promised you wouldn’t look.”
“For inspirational purposes only. Doesn’t count.”
Devin caught the frown that flitted across Bren’s face. He counted himself lucky that Bren wasn’t a mind reader.
“Now that I think about it, eleven degrees is fecking freezing. I may as well join you.” Bren’s hand moved to the tag of his zip.
That was exactly what Devin didn’t need. Every extra minute sharing the same space with Bren’s wetsuit-clad body was making him increasingly desperate to put a few miles of beach between them.
“It took you half an hour to get that bloody thing on. And what are you going to do, lug your harp the whole way? And who’s going to drive the van? Anyway,” Devin added, “I need solitude.”
“Since when do you need solitude?”
“Only for the last seven years. I’ve been waiting for you to take the hint.”
He tossed the van’s keys in the air and Bren’s hand whipped out reflexively to catch them. As Bren’s eyes searched him, he held himself tightly, trying not to telegraph his frustration and impatience. Finally, Bren shrugged and nodded.
“Fine. I’ll meet you there. Have you got your phone?”
“Yes. And my fully functioning brain.”
“At least you have your phone.”
Devin marched off without looking back, his Vans dangling from one hand. Once he was around the headland he relaxed his pace, feeling the tension in his shoulders easing. Something was up with Bren in the last week that went beyond this sudden and unexpected attraction. He’d always been protective, but lately, it seemed like he wanted to follow Devin everywhere except the bathroom. That was probably next. He was lucky there was a lock on the door.
A few miles on he was feeling calmer, the thunder of rolling surf and the expanse of sky settling him. He moved to the waterline where the going was easier, keeping an eye out for sudden rogue waves intent on knocking him over. He was so busy concentrating on the ground it took him a minute to register the muted thudding, rapidly getting louder.
A horse came hurtling over the dunes ahead of him and careened down the beach at a breakneck pace, churning through the loose sand. Devin froze, temporarily paralysed by the solid bulk of rippling muscle headed straight for him. There was no time to react before the it reached him, its gallop not faltering for a second.
He flung himself onto the ground as it took a soaring leap over his body, landing smoothly on the other side and cantering on. As Devin sat up, shaking the sand from his hair, it spun around and headed back towards him, slowing its pace to a walk.
Devin didn’t know much about horses, but even he could see this one was impressively built. Its bay coat glowed in the mild sunlight, the wind catching its black mane. Watching its powerful haunches working, he gave a small shudder thinking how close those huge hooves had come to splitting his skull. The horse stopped a few feet away, deep brown eyes considering him. It gave a sudden snort, making Devin jump.
A wave slid on to the beach, the foam kissing Devin’s toes. Getting a soaking now wouldn’t be ideal with a few hours of busking ahead of him. The cuffs of his jeans were already damp from his walk and patches of sand clung to his jumper. Holding out an open palm of surrender, he slowly pulled himself up. The horse whinnied.
“Sorry, don’t understand equine.” Devin kept his voice low and even. “How do you say ‘please don’t eat me’?” In response, it cocked its ears and raked the ground between them with a restless hoof.
With one last glance at Devin, it whirled, flinging more sand, and took off towards the cliffs. Galloping along the shoreline, it threw up a shining arc of water before disappearing over the horizon.
Devin considered his options. A loose horse rampaging on the beach was dangerous and even though he was far from hero material, he had to do something. He didn’t mind going on a wild goose chase. Or a wild horse chase, for that matter. He wasn’t in a hurry to face Bren again, and he was heading in the same direction as the nightmare nag anyway. With a bit of luck, its owner would find it before Devin did, and he could continue to work with a clear conscience.
Rounding a corner, he spied the horse a little farther on, its head tilted in Devin’s direction, eyeing him curiously.
Devin stared back at the devil steed that had tried to run him down. It arched its neck, its mane fluttering, looking very noble and not at all murderous. Living proof that appearances could be deceiving. He approached it cautiously, inching his way to within a few metres. He tried to sound calm and measured.
“Nice horsey. Nice demon horse of the apocalypse. Which one is your rider? War? Or maybe Death?”
Dropping his shoes and slipping off his jumper, Devin looped it into a makeshift lasso and crept another step closer.
There was a flurry of movement as two men came running over the dunes to his right. As Devin watched, one grabbed the other playfully, tripping him up, and together they rolled on to the sand.
The men wrestled each other only metres away from him, though judging by their shouts of laughter, it wasn’t exactly a serious battle of wills. The man on top was shirtless, despite the bitter weather, and every muscle on his smooth chest and stomach was beautifully defined. He smirked as he held the other in a headlock, his jet black hair long enough to graze his neck, his dark skin gleaming.
“Yield, Fintan,” he said, his voice soft, but clear. Devin couldn’t place his accent, but it hinted at a more refined upbringing than his chaotic one. His wrestling partner’s hair was shorter and finer, his skin burnished amber. He muttered something too low for Devin to hear, just as an eddy of wind blew stinging sand into his opponent’s eyes, forcing him to throw up his hands to shield his face.
Chuckling, the man called Fintan twisted out of the other man’s grip and jumped to his feet in one graceful movement, leaving his sparring partner sprawled on the sand.
“It was supposed to be a show of strength, not cheap magic tricks,” the man on the ground complained, rubbing his eyes.
The victor smiled, brushing off his lithe body. He was underdressed for the biting sea breeze in a black t-shirt and jeans, his feet bare.
“All this time, and you still haven’t learned to expect magic, Airech. The only time you should be surprised is when there’s an absence of it.”
The horse gave a loud whinny, the sound ringing out over the water. Both men turned and took in Devin standing there, staring, his jumper dangling forgotten from one hand.
“I’m expecting magic now,” the darker man said, looking straight at Devin,
eyeing him up and down with scarcely contained amusement. A comment like that would usually have Devin cringing. Not blushing and pushing back his hair like an awkward teenager running into his latest crush.
Fintan locked his gaze on Devin, turning him an even deeper shade of red. Devin was struck by how young he looked, all except for his eyes, which were honeyed and warm, like old ale.
It was a bit late now to play it cool and saunter away as if he hadn’t noticed two of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen rolling there in front of him. So he supposed the next best thing was to stand there like a dope, gaping uncontrollably.
Fuck my life. This was typical, to run from his feelings for Bren only to land smack bang headfirst into another potential complication. Make that two complications.
There had been no way to be sure about the man in the café, not without getting a closer look. But there was no reassuring shred of doubt to soothe him this time. His instincts were screaming at him, and he forced himself to listen because they rarely got it wrong. His gut had recognised these men, and now, he did too. What had Bren called them again? His storm boys.
The man called Airech jumped to his feet and moved towards Devin, sending his heart skittering in his chest and his toes curling into the sand. Airech’s wide, dark eyes looked Devin up and down one more time, glanced past him to the water and back again before lingering long and hard on his face.
“I see you found our horse,” he said.
Chapter 7
Airech
Airech dragged his gaze away from the curve of Devin’s jaw, forcing himself to focus on the pewter eyes. He watched them turn to flint.
“My little pony here found me. When he nearly trampled me,” Devin said.
The god tried to rearrange his features into something resembling a remorseful expression. With so little experience at being contrite, he couldn’t be sure it was convincing. Devin had never been in any real danger anyway. Cap might be an aughisky, a demon horse, but he was all neigh and no bite. As long as he stayed on dry land.
“I’m sorry. I hope he didn’t scare you,” Airech said.
“Maybe ten years ago he would have. You’re lucky there aren’t any kids around.” Scowling, Devin yanked his jumper awkwardly back over his head.
“He would never harm a child.” Fintan moved to join them, giving Devin a reassuring smile. “His size makes him appear more threatening. He’s quite a rare breed.”
“He’s a public menace,” Devin retorted.
“C’mon now, don’t be so hard on him.” Pouring all of his sensual power into a bewitching gaze, Airech launched it at Devin. “I’m a public menace. He’s just a dumb animal.”
Snorting, the horse retreated into the surf, glaring malevolently at Airech. The god suppressed a snigger. It was very satisfying being able to insult Cap while he was in his animal form, with no fear of retaliation. Especially since his retaliation was usually extremely painful.
“I’m Airech.” He offered his hand.
“Devin.” The young man gave a barely-there smile as he took it. Airech felt the tingle of possibilities coursing through his fingertips. Still, it was hard to believe this was the one who had called them, harnessing the power of an ancient wave.
When he and his fellow gods surfaced, they’d expected to be greeted by a great power. A god, or at the very least a druid with highly evolved magic. And standing above them was this very mortal-looking man, hardly more than a kid, with no staff in his hands. Only a fiddle.
At this close range, he looked terribly unfinished and callow, despite his stubbled chin. He had no sharp edges, from his wavy blond hair and full lips to his eyes, wide in his round face. Yet Airech could sense the steely strength in him, in the set of his jaw and the firmness of his hands.
“This is my friend, Fintan. My platonic friend. Just so there’s no confusion.” Airech gave Devin another sizzling look so potent the air between them shimmered and crackled. He caught Fintan frowning almost imperceptibly, shaking his head. Airech signalled his soundless reply with raised eyebrows. What? Too much?
His face flushing, Devin lowered his hand, quickly following it with his eyes, taking great interest in his naked feet. Airech considered probing deeper to see what caused his discomfort but decided it would be too risky. Mortals couldn’t sense incursions into their mind, but this one might be different. He satisfied himself with drinking in the pale shadow of the man’s collarbone, exposed by the stretched neck of his ancient jumper. An exquisite thrill made his insides tumble over.
“The weather is unseasonably mild,” Fintan remarked. Airech resisted the impulse to sigh. He could always rely on Fintan to break an awkward silence with an even more awkward conversation. As the oldest man in Ireland, he could converse for hours on any number of topics, but the art of flirting continued to elude him.
Glancing up again, Devin gave a cautious smile. “You don’t seem to feel the cold, anyway.”
Catching Devin’s fleeting look at his bare chest, Airech felt the familiar rush of satisfaction. It was almost always too easy. Mortals simply could not resist him. In a world where people liked to list their best feature, he didn’t have one that hadn’t been singled out for praise. He was everyone’s wildest dream, whatever the fantasy.
Avoiding Airech’s grin, Devin shifted his attention back to Fintan. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Do you usually take a rampaging beast on holiday with you?”
“We’ve had to travel here rather unexpectedly,” Fintan said. “But we’re fortunate to have the use of an old family residence, close by.”
Airech cringed internally, wishing for the one-thousandth time that Fintan wouldn’t speak like someone who’d escaped the pages of a Victorian novel. Though it was an improvement—there was a time when he’d sounded more like the Old Testament. The fact he was from biblical times was no excuse, as far as Airech was concerned.
He watched Fintan chase his comment with a slow smile. It had the soothing power of a warm glass of milk and a deep, candle-lit bath combined. Personally, Airech couldn’t think of anything worse than having a face that calmed people. He preferred leaving them on edge. Slightly unnerved. Fintan wanted people to trust him; Airech needed people to want him. And want to fuck him.
Surprisingly, his heady charisma was the perfect foil for Fintan’s serene wisdom. Mortals believed in Fintan because they could see how sincere he was, and followed Airech because they were blind to anyone else. Fintan grounded them; Airech made them fly. They rarely made much of an effort to work together, but when they did, there was no denying they were a good team. It made a change from immortal enemies.
This one mortal, however, seemed curiously resistant, both to Airech’s captivating charms and Fintan’s calming presence. A spurt of dismay shook Airech, like the queasy panic of missing a rung on a ladder. He moved quickly to regain control, tossing Fintan’s concerns aside and unleashing the full force of his captivating allure.
“We’ve seen you playing your music. Have you lived here long?”
Devin shrugged. “All my life.” He snuck a look down the beach towards the cliffs, as if planning his escape. Airech took a step closer.
“We were going swimming. Join us?”
Eyes narrowing, Devin frowned. “No, thanks.”
“Why not?” Airech gave an outrageously flirty wink. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Let’s see. Best case scenario, I’m late for work. Worst case scenario, I freeze to death. Anyway, I don’t have any swimmers.”
“Neither do we.” Airech grinned again at Devin’s obvious discomfort.
“Sorry. I have a rational fear of water.”
The guarded expression on Devin’s face spiked Airech’s curiosity.
“Don’t you mean an irrational fear?”
“No.”
Airech’s smirk withered and died. Any other man would be making excuses to linger, to soak up more of the gods’ presence. Devin wasn’t only failing to absorb their ma
gic, immune to its effects. It was almost as if he was reflecting it like a mirror, their powers ricocheting off him, only to crash back through them.
A powerful compulsion to take Devin by his rigid, defensive shoulders and pull him to the ground washed over Airech in increasingly stronger waves. He felt as if he might be willing to give up control for the first time in his long existence if it meant surrendering to Devin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the dreamy look and distracted smile on Fintan’s face.
“Well, better be going. Nice meeting you, lads. Bye, fella.” Devin moved to the horse standing in the shallows, stretching a hand towards its velvety muzzle. With an eerie, human-like scream, it reached for him, eyes rolling, teeth bared.
“Devin, no!” Horror flooded through Airech, launching him like a firecracker. Tackling Devin to the ground, he sensed Fintan spring a split-second later. The other god landed on him, his weight pinning them all to the sand, shielding them from the aughisky’s attack. Airech lay with his body curved protectively over Devin’s, sweat prickling his hair at the thought of their lucky escape.
When I imagined myself on top of him, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.
“You can’t touch him,” Airech gasped out.
He heard Fintan murmuring soothing words and Cap’s answering whinny. After a few moments of silence, Airech pushed against Fintan, and the sky reappeared above him. Scrambling up, he helped Devin to his feet.
“Are you alright?” Airech asked innocently.
“Slightly squashed,” Devin grunted.
Airech leaned forward to brush the sand from Devin’s hair. He lingered longer than necessary, one impulsive thumb sliding along Devin’s jaw to trace his chin. His head spun with the sensation moving in tandem with it, curling through his body. Giddy with desire, his eyes went searching for Devin’s soul. He scarcely grazed it before the man’s pupils flared and he backed away.
“We must beg your forgiveness,” Fintan said. “If we hadn’t intervened, he would have bitten you.” He put a placating hand on Devin’s arm, giving it a tentative squeeze.
Storm Boys Page 4
