Smoke in Moonlight (CELTIC ELEMENTALS)

by Heather R. Blair

  "I know you're in there! I can smell you, you mangy mutt! Fuck!" The walls shook as whoever was outside kicked the door. To Lacey's amazement, Ronan had a grin on his face as he motioned her to stay in bed, before throwing the covers over her.

  She peeped out from under the mass of blankets to as he walked to the door and threw it open.

  "Feisigh do thoin fein!" Ronan yelled at someone she couldn't see.

  "That's a physical impossibility, mate. I know. I’ve tried. Let me in, goddamn it. I'm about to get one hell of a sunburn."

  “Tá fáilte romhat sa teach seo, mo dheartháir," She heard Ronan's words, then there was the sound of two hard bodies colliding as Ronan embraced the man who had just crossed the threshold.

  He was maybe a finger's breath taller than Ronan, though not having Ronan's bulk, he looked even taller than that. His long, lean body was clad entirely in black. Black leather trench coat, soft black turtleneck, black jeans and black boots. Crystalline blue eyes so pale they were almost white looked around the room, skimming over the bed where Lacey lay hidden. The man's lips curved in a smirk as he shook his head, dark blonde curls shaking with laughter.

  "Holding out on me, mate?"

  "Yeah, like I don't know you smelled her from a mile off." Ronan laughed and in her cocoon, Lacey frowned. "Preserving her modesty is more like."

  "Well," the man with the crystal eyes rubbed his hands, also clad in black leather gloves, together. "Let us meet the chit."

  Ronan's voice cooled ever so slightly. "Not a chit, O'Neill."

  “Ooooh." Burnished gold eyebrows shot almost into those curls at Ronan's tone. "Now, isn't that just fascinating."

  Ronan made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. "Lacey," he growled. "Stick yer head out and say hello to Aidan O'Neill, one of Eire's great eejits."

  Aidan clutched his heart as if mortally wounded before chuckling and sidling over to the bed.

  Lacey pushed her head out from under the covers, trying to wrap the tangled sheet around her breasts with one hand. She extended the other warily.

  "Hello, Aidan O'Neill." Her voice was cool, though she couldn't hide her interest at meeting a friend of Ronan's. He wasn't exactly handsome, though his face was certainly intriguing. And those crystal eyes were something else... almost mesmerizing.

  They widened as he looked down at her. "Aye," he murmured softly. "Definitely, not a chit." He took her hand with care, turning it palm up and brushing his lips against her wrist. Inexplicably, Lacey felt her heart lurch with a cold burst of fear and her eyes darted to Ronan. "It's okay, love." Aidan murmured, instantly dropping her hand and stepping back. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  "You've nothing to fear from Aidan." Ronan said, though he moved to put himself between her and his friend. Whom he was giving a hard look.

  "Bit hungry, are ye?"

  "Bit." Aidan agreed, avoiding looking at Lacey, who was watching them curiously. "Nothing I can't handle. For the mo', anyway."

  "Good, then let's have it. I'm dying to know why my best mate's turned back up after damn near a thousand years." Lacey's jaw dropped in tandem with Aidan's at Ronan's blithe words.

  Aidan recovered first, his expression considering.

  "Well, well, sharing the family secrets with civilians, are we now? Even more fascinating. Guess we do have loads to catch up on. But, damme, get on some pants, man. That afghan does nothing for your legs." His eyes finally flickered back over to Lacey as Ronan chuckled. "And make it snappy. I'm dead jacked, mate. In right need of a kip, but it looks like there's room for another in that scratcher."

  "In your undead dreams, O'Neill." Ronan said, picking up Lacey and her sheet and walking to the bathroom.

  "Gods, ye don't trust me at all." Aidan complained, rippling his fingers at Lacey with a sly smile as she and Ronan crossed the doorway.

  "Damn straight, mate. I've known ye too long." Ronan said before kicking the door closed.

  "What the hell was that all about?" Lacey hissed at him immediately. "Don't tell me he's another werewolf!" But she had a feeling she knew exactly what Aidan O'Neill was. She just didn't want to say it out loud.

  Ronan smiled as he unwound the sheet from her, his hands wandering as he uncovered bare skin.

  "Hell, no. You've just met your first vampire, lass."

  Lacey sighed, he just had to say it. "And my last, I hope. You don't have any other friends I should know of, do you?"

  "Only got the one." Ronan's hands moved upwards, cupping her breasts. She leaned into his touch, but not before she noticed a veil come down over his eyes. Something was off about this Aidan O’Neill. Other than the whole vampire thing. Then the rough pads of Ronan’s thumbs slid over her nipples and Lacey shivered. He couldn't seem to get enough of her, and she damn well knew she couldn't get enough of him. She rose to her toes to rub her lips over his...

  "Oy!" Aidan's voice rang through the door, making Lacey jump and Ronan curse. "Psychic goddamn vampire out here! If you two want to have at it, I'll just take that kip, what'd ye say?"

  "No, O'Neill. Give us a mo'." Ronan grabbed a pair of jeans out of a built-in drawer, saying under his breath. "Gods, I'd almost forgotten how annoying Aidan can be."

  "Heard that!"

  "I know, you worthless bloodsucker!" Ronan yelled, his voice booming through the small bathroom. But there was a smile on his face as he pulled on his jeans. Lacey could almost believe what Daire and the others had said about him now. He started to leave, when she caught his arm.

  "What the hell am I going to wear?" she whispered. Their eyes both flicked to the shower, where her damp and torn clothes were still lying in a pile against the milky glass.

  There was a soft chuckle from the other room.

  Quarter of an hour later, Lacey was dressed in an old Guinness T-shirt of Ronan's that hung past her knees, sitting with Ronan on the hastily made bed, while Aidan leaned back in the wheeled chair.

  The vampire rolled back and forth, studying the two of them with that eerie crystal gaze of his. Lacey put her hand on Ronan's denim-covered thigh. She wasn't sure she cared for the way Aidan O'Neill was looking at her.

  "Do I get to hear what rock ye been hiding under all these years?" Ronan started.

  "Been here, been there." Aidan waved a negligent hand. "But bugger that. We got more on our plates than catching up." He rubbed a leather-encased hand over his face. Lacey noticed how dark the hollows under Aidan's eyes were. "I pushed it all the way from Istanbul, mate. Took me three nights to get here."

  "And what had ye in such a bloody rush?"

  "Got a little head's up, I did. Bav sends her love." Aidan nodded at Ronan's violent curse. "Aye, pretty much what I said."

  "Who is Bav?" Lacey asked quietly, not liking the dark looks that came over both men's faces at her question.

  "Ye might know her better as the Morrighan, another goddess of the Tuatha de Danaan. Like Aine." Ronan explained, then glancing at Aidan, he said. "Aine's taken an interest in Lacey."

  Something wordless passed between the men, something that made Lacey uneasy. Ronan had doubts about her still, she knew that, but it made her stomach knot nevertheless.

  Lacey pulled her hand from his thigh. Ronan reached down and put it back, covering it securely with his own without looking at her. Aidan, however, was.

  "That right?" He'd sat up straighter in his chair, gaze narrowed ever so slightly. Lacey swore there was a definite chill there now, but he shrugged and said lightly, "Well, better Aine than Bav, love. Bav makes that chit look like friggin' Tinker Belle."

  "Really? What's she the goddess of then?"

  "Why, death, love." Aidan examined the fingertips of his gloves. "That's why her and me are so intimate like. Got a lot in common, we do." He sighed, looking up at Ronan. "She sent me a dream, mate. She was washing your laundry, if ye know what I mean."

  "I do." Ronan's voice was grim, though unsurprised.

  "Well, I don't." Lacey said in exasperation.

 
; Ronan's hand tightened on hers, but he shook his head. "Later."

  "So, in light of that I decided a quick trip home was in order. Took me a bit to find yer new place, of course. Or old place, as it turns out. Lucky for me you smell so rank." Aidan yawned. "Saw your handiwork on my way in, by the by. Something too important to wait on the moon? Or were ye just getting in some fencing practice?"

  Ronan shrugged, giving a side-long glance at Lacey. "I had some energy to work off. But I did find out Aillen is getting creative. He sent a Changeling after me the other day."

  “That's creative, mate?" Aidan sounded bored and tired, his head beginning to nod. "Sounds like same ol' same ol'..."

  "And I do mean day, Aidan. As in the daylight." Ronan cut him off. Aidan's curly head came up very, very slowly.

  "Come again?" he said, in a deadly soft voice that made Lacey aware, more so than when she'd felt his lips on her wrist and gotten that shock of fear, of exactly what Aidan was. For all his easy wit, Aidan was just as dangerous as Ronan. Maybe more so.

  "Ye heard me." "That's bloody impossible, mate. Ye know the rules. No soul, no sun." Aidan's face was hard.

  "So, I've been told." Ronan said. "You know Changelings aren't great conversationalists, but they understood what I wanted well enough. Took a few heads, but I finally got something else off of one." He got to his feet and went through the bathroom door. Lacey looked at Aidan, but his eyes were fixed on the wall, his expression unreadable. Ronan came back, and sitting down held up a tiny glass vial, filled with a fine black powder.

  "That looks like smack." Aidan said.

  "Shouldn't it be white, then?" Lacey asked, leaning over Ronan's arm to look.

  "Your innocence is showing, love. Some of the best stuff is dark." said Aidan, before reaching out to take the vial from Ronan. After the slightest hesitation, Ronan gave it to him. Aidan turned the vial over in those long, gloved fingers, watching the grains trickle from side to side. "Tho' got to say, never seen any that looked like this."

  "That's ‘cause it's not dope, O'Neill. I think it’s a potion. The Changeling that handed it over said one thing-ghrian siúlóir."

  "What's that?" Lacey asked, getting damn tired of feeling like the odd woman out.

  "Sun walker." Aidan breathed, still staring at the dark powder with something between desire and pain.

  Ronan held out his hand. Aidan passed the vial over slowly. "What are ye going to do with it?"

  Ronan shrugged, tucking the vial into his jeans pockets. "Thought I'd send it to a chemist friend of Michael's."

  “Ye won't be destroying it, Fitzpatrick." The words were not a question.

  Ronan gave his friend a sympathetic look, but his voice was firm. "I canna let ye have it, Aidan. If some of yer people got a hold of it...."

  "I don't have a people, as ye damn well know." Aidan sat in the roller chair, elbows braced on those long legs. His shoulders down, staring at his hands. But the posture was far from a defeated one. Lacey saw that, as the vampire raised his eyes. "I'd like a private word." And that cold fear rushed over her again, this time in spades.

  Ronan sighed. "Aye." He grabbed Lacey's hand and pulled her to her feet. He had her out of the cottage so fast her vision blurred. When they were outside, he picked her up, since her slippers were still on the bathroom floor. He didn't run, but walked quickly up the path.

  "Are you two going to fight?" Lacey asked, when Ronan didn't comment on what had just happened. He shook his head, but didn't speak. In irritation, she hooked a few waves of his hair in her fingers and yanked.

  "Damme!" he said, glaring down at her.

  “Don't ignore me then. What are you two going to do?"

  "Talk." He bit the word out as they approached the house. Sunrise was just barely blushing the morning mist pink. Lacey drummed her fingers on his chest, watching that hard profile and not believing him a bit. "So why doesn't he want me there?" Ronan gave a snort and stopped under the rose trellis, looking down at her.

  "Because I doubt it's going to be a nice talk, Lacey. And since he's hungry and exhausted, he won't be able restrain his bloodlust when he gets pissed. You'd be cowering in the corner in seconds."

  "I would not cower and... I don't think he likes me." Lacey said, frowning. Wishing it didn't matter so much if his best friend liked her. He shook his head, a slight grin on his face.

  "You would definitely cower, trust me. And actually, I think he'd find ye very likeable at the mo', if ye weren't mine." She grimaced at the thought and Ronan chuckled.

  "Am I yours, then?" she asked, trying to make light of it. As she looked up at him though, her throat tightened and her voice cracked on the last word. The muscles in his big arms rippled as Ronan squeezed her closer, almost crushing her against him. Before she could blink his mouth was on hers.

  That damned desire rushed through her, as it always did at his touch. Lacey dug her fingertips into the back of his neck, giving as good as she got, wanting to savor every drop of him she could, while she could. Knowing it wouldn't ever be enough.

  When he ended the kiss, Ronan softly said. "What do ye think?"

  As she watched him walk away a few minutes later, standing behind the glass door as the sun began to rise in earnest, she knew that he really hadn’t answered her question.

  And that hurt, far more than Lacey could have imagined.

  Chapter 13

  Ronan opened the door carefully and closed it quickly, but Aidan wasn't visible. Not that he figured any less. Aidan hadn't survived this long to be fried by a stray sunbeam. The curtains on the only two windows in this room were drawn tightly and also had his spare sheets tacked over the gaps now. He narrowed his eyes. Busy little bastard.

  He wondered what else Aidan gotten into in the five minutes he'd been gone. He didn't have to wait long to find out. Aidan strolled out of the tiny back room, a storage area next to the bathroom where he kept his personal books and other things he wanted closer than the family library.

  Aidan was carrying a handful of blueprints and an impressed expression. "You did the Black Building in Cairo? What happened to doctoring?"

  "It's been a damn millennium, O'Neill. Haven't you gotten any new interests?"

  "Nae, not really." Aidan shrugged. "I'm a simple man, mate. With simple tastes."

  "Now, that's the biggest vat of shite I've smelled in awhile." Ronan eyed his friend as he crossed to sit in the chair Aidan had left empty. "Aren't ye gonna at least wrestle me for it?"

  "Hmm," Aidan mumbled, still looking at the plans in his hands. Ronan drew the vial out of his pocket and held it up. There was a flash of that bright vamp gaze before Aidan ducked his head. "Oh, that."

  Ronan knew very well Aidan was playing him, but he went along. "Slipped yer mind already? My mistake. Guess you really aren't all that keen to catch a sunrise walk after all."

  Aidan sat down on the bed, tossing the papers aside, before looking up at Ronan. "Gotten a bit cruel in yer old age, have ye?" The words were light, but Ronan heard the echo of pain he knew was very real in them.

  Still, he forced aside his sympathy for his friend. If the rest of vampires got even a whiff of this stuff... there was no end to the madness he could see down that path.

  "If I could, ye know damn well I'd bleed out for you to get that walk, but it's too dangerous, mate. We can't go there."

  Aidan sighed. "You think I actually believe I have a bloody chance in hell of talking you out of it? Damme, Fitzpatrick, no one knows better than me what a stubborn eejit you are. I would fight you for it, but in my current condition, ye actually have a small--very small, mind--chance of kicking my ass. So, I'm good with putting that on hold for the mo'. No, I wanted a word on another... complication."

  "God, another one?" Ronan rubbed his face wearily. "I'm getting right tired of new ones."

  "Oh, this one's already right under yer nose." Aidan was finally removing his gloves, he tucked them into his trench coat as he watched Ronan.

  "Lacey, ya mean?" Ronan dr
opped his hand and shot Aidan a glance.

  "Got it in one. Don't like that whole Aine deal...and those dreams are right nasty, once you get past the fun bits, of course."

  "Son of a bitch, you peeked into her mind!" Ronan half-rose from his chair, then considering, slowly sat back down.

  Aidan grinned, reading him easily. "Oh no, mate. You know it doesn't work that way. I only got random pieces of her memories, not her reactions to those memories. And that makes all the difference. I don't know if she's trustworthy or not. Or anything else ye might be wondering about."

  "But if you touched her..."

  He leaned back and folded his arms. "You really that far gone on her?" They exchanged a look that had Aidan aching for his friend. He cleared his throat. "It wouldn't really matter, if she is clean and innocent as she seems. Hell, I'd say she is. But, you know damn well it just means they're using her. And I‘d say it‘s working, wouldn‘t you?"

  "That's not definite." Ronan's stomach was balling tighter and tighter as Aidan summed up everything so succinctly, so logically. Everything he'd felt with that first dream, but had been trying hard to ignore since he'd botched that first night. And let her get to him.

  "Someone's trying bring ye down, Fitzpatrick. That's what Bav showed me, which she probably only did ‘cause ye know she's got a soft spot for me. Then I pop up and yer making nice, really nice, with a woman under Aine's protection? I mean, gods, Ronan. Aine, of all of 'em? Call me crazy but I say one and one adds up to dead werewolf, mate." He coughed once when Ronan stayed silent. "You know what that means."

  His family's faces filled his head. Letting them back into the sweep of time again, letting them be normal mortals would be fine. A blessing even. But that wouldn't happen. Instead, the curse would fall to Eamon... or would it go to Michael first? The thought of his brother, a loving husband and father becoming a monster. Or worse, his shy, clever nephew...suffering this madness....

  Ronan stared down at his hands, startled to see the knuckles turning white. He hadn't realized he curled them into fists.