Puca

by Penny Ash

  A chill washed through her. The panther stepped out of the brush, it’s burning green eyes locking her in its gaze. She could not move, could not scream, as the animal walked toward her. It slowly crouched, moving to pounce. Muscles rippled under the black velvet pelt. The Puca sprang, shimmering faintly, flowing into his human form.

  Emma’s brain refused to process what she had just seen. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she crumpled, passing out.

  Kian walked toward his quarry, his smirk full of mischief. His smile disappeared when Emma went pale and began to fall. He ran the last few feet and managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

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  Gently he lowered her to the mossy ground, cradling her in his arms. He brushed her hair from her face with a trembling hand.

  “Emma? Poppet? Love?” Emma heard the fright coloring his soft velvet voice and slowly opened her eyes. The fear and concern in his eyes gave her stomach a funny little jump. Then her anger boiled over and she scrambled up and away from him.

  “Emma?” Kian stood and reached toward her, confused and hurt.

  “You think that was funny?” she shouted.

  “You...you...man! You hare-brained good-for-nothing man!” She stormed toward him. She raised her hand and swung.

  Kian froze for a second, his eyes wide. He backed up a step, catching her wrists to keep her from striking him. This was not the reaction he had expected at all. He knew she was afraid; he could smell the cold musty scent of her fear. And he could smell something else, a mix of hot and spicy anger with the dank, stagnant scent of disappointment and sadness, like a dreary rainy winter day.

  Emma jerked her hands free, tears glittering in her eyes, and stalked down the path toward the house.

  He watched her, so aroused he could barely breathe.

  Suddenly she stopped and turned, pointing at him angrily. “You can be replaced by silicone and a couple of batteries, buster,” she yelled, then turned and marched down the path once more.

  Kian just stood there as she disappeared around a 128

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  bend in the path. Hare-brained, he thought puzzled, and what the hell was wrong with having the cunning mind of a hare?

  Slowly he followed her, replaying her words. Just how would she be about replacing me with silicone and batteries? Bemused, he resolved to ask Pin. After he caught up with Emma. The lass was a contradiction and a surprise every time he dealt with her, and he needed her loving in the worst way.

  He started down the path at a quick walk that soon turned into a fast jog. Seeing her up ahead, he called out to her. “Emma, lovey, wait!”

  She stopped, hearing him and turned slowly, half afraid of what she would see. He slowed to a walk, reaching out for her. She crossed her arms and backed up a step. He touched her face, cupping her cheek.

  “Emma, my girl, I cannot be other than I am. I’m a Puca, and when you’ll run, I’ll be chasing after you,”

  he said softly.

  “What does acting like a jerk have to do with your last name?” She glared at him.

  “Puca ‘tisn’t a name, my love, ‘tis what I am,” he explained patiently.

  “What you are...” She went very still.

  “Aye, what I am, shapeshifter and trickster, mischief maker, all that I am,” he affirmed.

  “But...Pookie?” she asked, her voice holding a faint tremor.

  “Pookie, among others, though I am not animal. As I am not human, Emma, I only wish I were for you.”

  He watched her as she worked out just what his being 129

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  a Puca meant.

  “A Puca?” Emma asked quietly.

  “Aye, a Puca who’s in love with a beautiful human girl.”

  Her breath caught. “Then all those fairytales are true?”

  “Ah, well, not quite all of them. But enough.” He smiled at her.

  Slowly she reached up and placed her hand over his, looking into his fiery hazel eyes. He gathered her into his arms and sighed, closing his eyes and inhaling the warm, comforting scent of her acceptance.

  Her arms slipped around him and he sighed once more, relaxing against her. A soft, stealthy sound caught his attention, a sound he recognized right away. He quickly opened his eyes to find the Asrai watching them from the creek with a malevolent glare. She would not harm Emma, he vowed silently, he would kill her first, even if it meant death to himself. Slowly he turned his back on the Asrai, holding Emma close as they walked back down toward the house.

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  Chapter Twelve

  ian opened the door for Emma and followed her Kinto the kitchen. Tilly and Pin were seeing to the guests and the kitchen was deserted. The radio was on, tuned to the station Tilly favored, playing a slow song. He turned her and swept her up in his arms pulling her into a slow, sensuous dance.

  Tilly and Pin stood in the doorway and watched the two lovers dance. Lost in each other, they were oblivious to their audience. The Brownies were joined by several guests.

  “Oh, how romantic, the Fairy Prince dancing with his Fairy Princess,” Mrs. Overstreet whispered.

  Miss Crow nodded her agreement, and the two little old ladies crept back to the table. Lissie glared at Emma jealously, frowning when Kian kissed her.

  Tilly and Pin glanced at the girl, and then each other.

  They shared a knowing look, and resolved to help Emma keep an eye out for mischief from the girl.

  The song ended, and Kian covered her lips with his. He nibbled gently at her lips, making love to her mouth, slowly exploring and tasting her sweetness.

  Slipping his hands into her hair, he moved with her, breathing her breath. Emma leaned against the Puca, tightening her hold on him, her knees going weak.

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  When they came up for air, Tilly bustled into the kitchen. Pin followed her sister, grinning. “All right, sit yourselves down, your dinner will be getting cold, so it will,” Tilly said briskly.

  Emma blushed. Kian smiled and sat her at the table before going to the seat across from her.

  They had a quiet and simple dinner. Kian rose from the table and stood by Emma. He reached down and brushed his fingers over her hair. She looked up at him and he smiled at her, bending to brush his lips against hers.

  “I must go now but I will be back, think of that, Emma my love,” he said seductively. He hurried out the back door, disappearing around the shed.

  The Puca stood at the edge of the pond looking dispassionately at the still water. Glancing at the Pixies standing close by him, he knelt, reaching out and slapping the water three times. Standing once more, he waited for the Asrai to show herself. The water began to bubble and churn as she rose from the bottom.

  Her lank, pale blonde hair had a green tinge to it and her eyes were a watery blue. The tattered dress of pond scum barely covered her. “Puca,” she said with a seductive, knowing smile.

  “Asrai,” he replied, his smile cold.

  She reached out to twine her arms around his neck.

  Kian caught her wrists, stopping her. Her eyes flashed a sickly orange fire.

  “I’ve come to deliver fair warning, Asrai. I’ll be visiting you no longer. I have cast my lot with the 132

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  lady Emma,” he said.

  “A human,” the Asrai said in a voice filled with derision. She spat, making her opinion clear.

  “Aye, a human woman. Warmth and acceptance and comfort. And you’ll not be harming her. She’s assured of my protection until the end of her days.”

  “Oh, that’s rich, and what will you do when she grows old and dry and you do not? What then, Kian Puca? What then?”

  “Tis none of your concern, Asrai.” He bared his teeth in a predatory grin.

  “She’ll grow old and wrinkled and ugly sooner than you think,” she said with a whining tone in her voice.

  “Asrai, this is your fair and final warn
ing, as the Pixies will be witness to. Do anything to harm my Emma and I will be killing you, though it takes my own life,” he said sternly.

  She hissed and jerked herself free of his grip. He returned her glare, never taking his eyes off hers. The Asrai slowly sank back into the water. Kian waited until the surface calmed before turning on his heel and walking deeper into the forest toward his home in the old oak.

  * * * * * *

  Kian Sean Puca, you should have thought of this long ago, he thought, excitement bubbling up inside him.

  He reached the oak at the heart of the forest and gave a little skip and a hop up onto the steps that led up 133

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  into the boughs of the old tree and to his tree house.

  Opening the door, he went straight to the little painted chest, and opened it reverently. The soft scent of lavender wafted upward from the contents of the chest.

  Reaching into the chest, he folded back the thin tissue paper. Memories of the day he had received this flooded back. He smiled softly, remembering his mother’s words. “One day the one to wear this will come along,” she had said. He would know when the time was right; there would be signs. Slowly he lifted the filmy ivory silk and lace garment out of the chest.

  Holding it up before him, he pictured Emma in the dress. He carefully replaced it in the chest and left the tree house.

  Kian walked toward the house. He noticed the unnatural stillness; no sound came from the tiny creatures that inhabited the forest. He slowed and flowed into a dark, nebulous form, fading into the underbrush. He watched and waited.

  A stealthy sound caught his attention. A dark figure crept through the woods toward the house.

  Kian followed, watching the human dressed in camouflage. The man pulled out a huge camera and focused it on the house. The Puca glanced toward the man’s target and saw Emma on the back porch. He narrowed his eyes and returned to watching the strange man.

  Two hours later, the intruder had taken several rolls of film and was preparing to leave. The Puca solidified and lumbered through the brush toward 134

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  the man. With a roar, he rose up on his hind legs and reached for the hapless photographer. The man let out a high-pitched shriek and dropped his camera equipment in his haste to get away from the huge black bear. Kian followed him to where his vehicle was parked and watched him leave.

  Biddle Land Development, Kian read the company name on the truck. Well, they’ll not be trespassing in the forest again. He snickered and flowing back into his human form, Kian hurried to the house, picking up the discarded equipment on the way. I’ll just be hiding this away in the attic.

  * * * * * *

  Emma sat on the porch steps enjoying the warm night. All the guests were asleep, Tilly and Pin were in the kitchen playing cards and Kian had disappeared after dinner with barely a word. She sighed heavily and thought about getting up, but she was too comfortable.

  An owl hooted in the distance, and she smiled. She sighed again and pulled herself up, walking slowly into the house and locking the door behind her. A nice hot bubble bath, she thought, that would be the perfect end to the day.

  She walked back to her bedroom and turned on the light. Silently she moved around the room, collecting her robe and T-shirt to sleep in and undressing. She went into the bathroom attached to her bedroom and turned on the water, adding a handful of her favorite 135

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  vanilla-scented bath crystals. She lit a couple of candles and turned out the overhead light, then turned off the water and stepped into the old claw foot tub.

  Kian sniffed the air and looked at the sky. A storm was brewing. The fires in his blood stirred. A cloud covered the moon, blotting out the stars. Lightning flashed far in the distance. He watched the lights winking out through the house. All but one. All but Emma’s.

  Her soft woman’s eyes had haunted him all day.

  The Brownies had gone to sleep some time ago, and still in Emma’s window a dimly flickering light burned. Kian walked down the hall toward Emma’s bedroom, unbuttoning his faded denim shirt. His faded and torn blue jeans were uncomfortably tight and walking was almost painful. He licked his lips and unbuckled the black leather belt, stopping at her closed door.

  Hesitating only a brief moment, he opened the door and stepped inside. He did not see her right away and growled deep in his throat, an almost silent sound of anger mixed with just a touch of worry. And where could she be hiding, he thought with growing frustration; don’t be playing games with me, my love.

  A sound caught his attention, breaking into his dark thoughts. Water softly splashing. His eyes flashed crimson fire, and he growled again. It had better not be, the Asrai had received her one warning, he thought and strode toward the partly closed door to the bath. Pushing the door open, he prepared 136

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  himself for blood and chaos.

  Emma raised her hands and squeezed the large sea sponge. The water ran over her shoulder and down her back, taking foamy white soapsuds with it. Kian felt his mouth go dry. He watched as she repeated the gesture over the other shoulder and closed his eyes, struggling against the attraction pulling at him.

  She stopped and sat up, turning slightly, listening.

  He waited, knowing he had made no sound. Emma turned her head and looked over her shoulder, her eyes darkly mysterious, her lips parted. Slowly she stood, the light from the single candle turning her glistening skin golden. She stepped out of her bath and walked toward him in all her voluptuous beauty.

  He stood rooted to the spot, unable to speak, unable to move. She was an exotic creature, something from another world, human and real and solid. And it was all he could do to breathe, enchanted by the vision before him. She touched his cheek and brushed her thumb over his lips in a feather-light touch.

  Suddenly, he could not stop himself; he swept her into his arms, capturing her lips in a desperately hungry kiss. She returned his urgency and wrapped herself around him, sliding her mouth down over his neck. His head fell back, his eyes closed, as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders.

  “Oh, Emma, invite me into your bed, my girl,” he said breathlessly, “invite me into your bed, for I’ll not be loving you on the cold, hard floor.”

  She tangled her fingers in his thick, silky hair and 137

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  whispered, her lips touching his, “Come to bed with me, Kian, come to bed and love me.”

  He moaned soft and low. “With all I have, my love.” He lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bed and flipped the covers back, laying her on the featherbed. He stood and gazed down at her, his hands moving to unbutton his jeans and push them down. Emma watched as he slid the denim over his hips. He kicked them away and knelt over her on the bed.

  Emma pulled him down, opening herself to him, and he melted into her as the storm broke above them. He loved her with the wild rhythm of the rain and wind. He gave her everything he had, his body, his heart, his love, and counted it a bargain just to hear her moan his name and feel her fingernails digging into his back. The thunder of the raging storm drowned out their cries, echoing their passion and moving away, leaving them spent.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  omething woke her; she lay there for a moment Sbefore realizing that the bed was shaking. Kian was shaking. She rose up on one elbow and reached out, touching his shoulder.

  He trembled, his legs and arms twitching, his feet moving as if he were running. His hands moved and he made soft growling sounds, moving his lips.

  Emma leaned closer and gently rubbed his back.

  “Kian,” she said softly. “Kian, wake up, sweetheart.”

  He opened one eye partway and bared his teeth in a sleepy halfhearted snarl, growling at her. She moved her hand down over his waist to his hip and kissed his shoulder. Kian made a small grumbling noise and shifted closer to her, relaxing against her with a deep sigh. She smiled and laid her head
against him, tightening her embrace and drifting back to sleep.

  Kian woke with a start, suddenly realizing he was still in bed with Emma and not safely on the floor.

  Sitting up quickly, his heart in his throat, he turned and reached for her. If he’d done the unthinkable and killed her in his sleep, he’d never forgive himself.

  Grabbing her, he roughly pulled her up into his arms, urgently searching her, searching the bed.

  Emma, violently startled awake, found herself 139

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  being thoroughly pawed over. There was not a bit of gentleness in the searching hands, only urgency and desperation.

  “What? What’s wrong?” she asked, confused. He held her tightly; his face buried in her hair, whispering to her, his lips against her ear.

  “Oh, girl, there’s no blood I’m seeing, no blood at all,” he said, his voice breaking.

  “Blood? Why would there be bl—”

  He silenced her with his fingertips against her lips and shook his head quickly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “No, no, I’ll not be speaking it true,” he said,

  “I’ll never be speaking it true.”

  Emma pushed him back gently, concern filling her gaze. “Tell me,” she demanded.

  He took a deep shuddering breath. “Emma, love, sometimes,” he choked out, “sometimes my kind, in our sleep, we destroy. We kill.”