by Anya Bast
“I’m not,” she called after him, but he didn’t turn. Charlotte watched him walk into the trees. “At least not as much as before,” she whispered.
I think you’ll truly find yourself.
This trip had been all about that very thing. Finding herself. It was ironic that it took being plunged into her worst nightmare for her to do it.
GIDEON entered his apartment, flipped the light switch on, and tossed his jacket onto a chair. He stilled, feeling the presence of someone in the room. A fae. Slowly, he pivoted.
Máire sat in an easy chair, her booted feet comfortably on the coffee table.
“What are you doing here?” he rasped.
She tipped her head to the side. Black leather encased her slim body, fading into matching boots. Her long red hair hung straight and sleek around her shoulders, perfect as a model in a shampoo commercial. He wondered if it was glamour. If she had escaped the Great Sweep, it was likely she possessed that talent. “What? You’re not happy to see me?”
He undid his tie with angry jerks. “How did you get in here?”
She swung her legs down, leather creaking. “I have many skills, Gideon.”
“I thought I was supposed to wait for Liam to call.”
“Oh, but I missed you.” She stood. “I like you.”
“Really?” Gideon grunted. “I want to rip you apart with my bare hands.”
She sauntered over to him and gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. “That’s why I like you.” Her eyelashes fluttered a little.
He jerked his head from her touch and she turned away, walking slowly around his living room as though she’d been invited and was merely waiting for him to bring her a drink or something to munch on. “Your place is very austere. Like a monk’s.”
“I’ve given my life to Labrai. Worldly possessions have little value to me. I am a monk.”
“Ah.” She glanced at him. “Yes, you are more than a little obsessed.”
“Of course I’m obsessed with doing my Lord’s will.”
She tilted her head at him. “The destruction of my people is your Lord’s will.”
He narrowed his eyes and jerked his chin at her. “You don’t seem all that eager to save them.”
“I don’t want them destroyed, necessarily.” She shrugged and continued on as though the topic of the annihilation of the fae wasn’t all that interesting to her. “I just don’t want the walls to fall. We want them to stay where they are and for you to keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Why?”
She stopped in front of the many cat-o’-nine tails that decorated the walls. Reaching out to touch the leather of one, she gave him a look over her shoulder. “You like pain, don’t you, Gideon?”
He shifted and made a sound of impatience. “Why don’t you want the walls to fall?”
She turned. “I, like the rest of my merry little band, have been very, very bad fae children. Once the walls fall, all sorts of nasty things will happen to us.”
Realization dawned. “The Wild Hunt will come for you. You’ll be reaped.”
“With extreme prejudice.” She touched the cat-o’-nine tails again and gave him a saucy sideways look. “Want to punish me, Gideon? Oh, no, that’s right, you would want me to punish you.” She gave him a coy look. “That works, too.”
His gorge rose at the thought of engaging that way with a fae and he turned away. She laughed. It was a cruel and bitter sound. “Why are you here? Can you please get to the point so you can go away? Your very presence fouls my home.”
“I’m here to tell you the location of the last piece of the bosca fabh.”
“Why couldn’t you tell me before?”
“We had to make sure you could be trusted. We’ve been watching you very closely since our last conversation and have deemed you . . . well, not worthy of the knowledge, but you know what I mean.”
He rounded on her. “What did you think I was going to do?”
She shrugged. “Track me. Would have been impossible, by the way, thanks to my special skills. That’s why Liam sent me. We thought perhaps you’d try to find me and my friends. Fruitlessly attempt to drag us into Piefferburg. You didn’t do any of that.”
No, but he’d sure as hell thought about it.
“Okay, so I passed your test. Where’s the piece?”
She took a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. A map. “Here. The location is marked with a longitude and latitude. Don’t think about taking the piece and hiding it somewhere else. Like I said, it’s a sword in the stone. You can send people to guard it, however. We want all the help we can get in doing that. We don’t want another event like what happened in Israel.”
He took the paper from her. Her hand brushed his as they made the exchange. “How do I know if I can trust you?”
“You don’t, but I know you want the rest of the fae to stay locked up as much we do, Gideon, so you’ll accept this information at face value.”
His face twisted with rage at her presumption. “You don’t know anything about me.”
She held his gaze and adopted a small, slightly mocking smile. “Oh, Gideon, yes I do. I know a lot about you. About you and your mother.”
Shock rolled through him. “How could you—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “It’s all right. Your secret is safe with me.” Then she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his. Stunned at more than just the dry kiss, he allowed it, up until she nibbled a little at his lower lip.
He pushed her away and she laughed. Seeming unconcerned, she sauntered toward the door. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, he asked, “What about the spell on the piece? I need to know the details.”
She halted in the doorway of his apartment. “But if I tell you that now, I’ll have no excuse to visit you again.” She tipped her head to the side and smiled.
“The piece—”
“Is safe. My friends are always watching it. Believe me, this spell is specific, yet also very general. It might be a hundred years before the right person comes along or it could be today. The spell is of little consequence. The piece must be guarded at all times. That’s why I gave you the map. Send your people to help us.”
He took a step forward. “I need to know more.”
She smiled. “And you will when I decide the time is right. See you later, Gideon.” The door closed behind her and he stood staring at it, the map limp in his hand.
SEVENTEEN
KIERAN dragged Charlotte underneath him on the bed, covering her body with his. Her smooth skin rubbed his bare abdomen and chest, making his cock rock hard. His hand stroked along her hip and up her side to cover one round, delectable breast, his fingers teasing her nipple into a hard little peak. She moaned at his touch and he dropped his mouth to her lips, consuming the sound.
He slipped his knee between her thighs and they parted for him, allowing him to slide between her legs. The head of his shaft touched the hot heart of her, nudging her entrance. She shifted, practically begging for him to push inside her. . . .
Kieran came awake with a gasp. He sat up on the couch, the blankets a tangle around his legs. His cock was hard enough to hurt and perspiration marked his skin. His breath came in short little pants.
The dream had been very, very real. Just like the dream he’d used to bind her, just like the nightmare he’d entered to alter for her, though he hadn’t initiated this one and had lacked control within it. Somehow his dreaming self had found its way to her private dreamscape and acted out everything he’d stopped himself from doing today.
From the loft, he heard Charlotte gasp awake just like he had. She swore softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear. She almost never swore and when she did it was mild. Clearly, she was disturbed.
He closed his eyes. They were sharing erotic dreams. Great.
He swung around and sat up, pressing the heel of his palm into his eye socket. He could forget sleep for the rest of the night. After a few moments, he he
ard Charlotte coming down the stairs. She went directly into the kitchen and filled a glass with water, then stood at the counter and drank it.
Standing up, he walked to her. “Charlotte?”
She yelped and dropped the glass. His hand whipped out reflexively and caught it before it hit the floor. “God, Kieran, you scared me.”
He handed her the glass. “Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe he’d be lucky and her dream wouldn’t be the same as his.
She glanced sideways at him, then took a long drink. Finally, she said slowly, “It wasn’t exactly a nightmare.”
He leaned against the counter. “Shit.”
“What?”
He bowed his head and shook it, then put his finger and thumb to his temple. “Forget it.”
“Forget nothing. You can tell me. We’re sharing dreams, right? This one felt like the . . . other one. The bonding one.”
Fuck him. “Yeah.” And these dreams were going to kill him.
“But you didn’t cause this one, right?”
“It was involuntary.”
“Did you know this might happen?”
He lowered his hand and looked at her. The moonlight shining through the window over the sink caught in her hair and made her skin seem paler than it was. “It’s probably because I’ve entered your dreamscape twice now. My subconscious knows where to find you and my id wants—” He snapped his mouth shut.
“Me?”
“Yeah.” He let out a slow breath. “Bad.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, full lips parted, then blinked rapidly a couple times and looked away. “Okay, well, no big deal. They’re just dreams.”
“Dreams of what we both want. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having them.”
She bowed her head and he was certain her face had flushed. “I’m flattered.”
“You shouldn’t be. I would think every man who sees you would want you.”
She laughed. It was a loud, abrupt sound in the stillness of the house. She pressed a hand to her mouth and laughed harder. “Ah, no, Kieran. That hasn’t been my experience.”
“Then all human men are blind.”
She sobered. “Thank you. That’s really sweet.”
Sweet? At the moment he felt far, far from sweet. He wanted to take that glass of water from her hand, lead her into the living room, force her down onto the couch, and do everything in that dream and more.
And why not?
He’d stopped himself earlier in the day because . . . why? He could barely remember the reason now. Because he’d been afraid sex might lead to love? Since when had it done that? Never. The fact he now drew breath was proof of that. He’d been alive for five hundred and three years and for most of them he’d been living under this damnable curse. He hadn’t exactly been a saint during all that time. He’d been with plenty of women and never once felt in danger of the curse kicking in.
Was this woman any different?
He took a long, hard look at Charlotte. She’d turned back to the sink, facing the moonlight, and sipped her water as she gazed out the window at some unknowable thing in the distance. She wore a lightweight nightgown that Risa had brought for her. As usual, Charlotte had absolutely no comprehension of her attractiveness. Her long dark hair trailed loose and tangled over her shoulders. The nightgown she wore was long and billowy, but it clung to her breasts, showing the curve of the top of them and how her nipples had pebbled in the cool air.
Sighing, she set her empty glass in the sink. “I’m going to back to bed.”
He yanked her to him and crushed his mouth to hers. Her body stiffened for a moment with surprise, but then she molded herself to him, her breasts pressing against his chest and making him insane. He broke the kiss and murmured against her lips, “Not without me.”
“I thought you didn’t want this.”
“Not want it? This is all I want.” At the moment what he really wanted was to hike her nightgown up to her hips, yank his sweatpants down, and take her right up against the counter. “I’m not sure we’ll make it to the bed, though. I want you too much.”
She shuddered against him. “I want you, too.”
He moved her toward the couch. That seemed the closest soft place they could get to at this point. She deserved more than for him to simply take her up against the sink.
CHARLOTTE’S mind whirled and her body hummed. She’d managed to get the fire he’d started earlier under control, but all it had taken was a spark for it to flame back into glorious life. He kept moving her toward the couch and she kept letting him. They both knew this was wrong on so many different levels, but she couldn’t make herself push him away.
His lips brushed hers when he spoke. “It’s been a long time.”
“Been a long time? Oh.” For sex, he meant. With his body pressed against hers and his mouth so close, it took a while for all her synapses to fire properly. “It’s been a long time for me, too.” And she wasn’t even close to being as experienced.
They reached the couch and his hand bunched in her nightgown, dragging it upward slowly. His knuckles brushed over the skin of her outer thigh and hip. Her ability to reason disappeared. Soon her brains would devolve into Jell-O.
“Do you remember the bonding dream?” He kissed her lower lip, dragging it slowly between his teeth, and rubbed his thumb along the skin of her hip.
Her knees felt a bit wobbly. “Yes,” she breathed against his lips.
“I want to make it real.”
And that was the worst thing they should do. He rested his hand on her hip, her nightgown caught in his fingers. His knuckles brushed over her bare skin, back and forth, back and forth. Mesmerizing. “Okay,” she answered.
This was a mistake, but she couldn’t help making it.
His mouth slanted over hers and his hand went to the small of her back, pushing a little and forcing her body to arch into his. She’d been kissed before, but never by a man like Kieran Aindréas Cairbre Aimhrea.
She melted against him, molding her body to his as his lips skated slowly back and forth over her mouth, sending shivers of need through her. His tongue tasted her lips, asking without words for her to part them. When she allowed him in, his tongue stroked up against hers, bringing to mind a bed, tangled limbs, and the brush of skin on skin.
Her body flared to exquisite life, like she’d only been sleeping up until now. In some vague, recessed part of her brain, she thought it was interesting that she’d bring a faery tale to mind. “Sleeping Beauty.” Although she would not consider herself any beauty and Kieran was certainly no prince.
Mouth still on hers, he dragged her back and pushed her gently onto the couch. Kneeling between her legs, he lifted her nightgown over her head and threw it to the floor, leaving her completely bare. His gaze ate her up her in a most appreciative way.
For the first time in a very long while, she felt pretty. No, gorgeous.
Her breasts felt full and beautiful under his gaze. Her nipples were hard as diamonds and her breath came fast and heavy as she watched him watch her. He wanted her so much. Never had any man looked at her with this kind of hunger on his face. Her hormones were flaring so hard now that if they stopped, if Kieran got up and walked away, she’d probably curl up and cry. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had ever affected her this way. On some level, that realization frightened her but she was too far gone to examine it closely.
She ran her palms over his warm, naked torso, trailing her fingers over the swirls and arcs of his tattoo. He had a curious soft/hardness to him that came from the solid muscle under his skin. He was stunning, all perfect, sculpted flesh, strong arms, and a washboard stomach. Just looking at Kieran made her feel safe.
He lifted his gaze to her face. “You’re so beautiful, Charlotte.”
She swallowed hard. He really sounded like he meant it.
She ran her palms over his muscled chest, down his arms, remembering the feel of him from the bonding magick, all this glorious hard, warm flesh. He was
something—literally—from her dreams.
“So are you.” Her voice had a breathy quality that completely revealed how much she wanted him. There was no masking it anymore.
She was naked in more ways than one.
Her fingers found the drawstring of the jersey sweatpants he’d worn to bed and caught in them. Biting her lower lip, she raised her gaze to his eyes. Instead he pulled her hand away and eased her down off the couch to the thick rug in front of it. He came down over her body and his mouth found hers.
Balancing himself with one hand on the floor near her ear, he sipped and nipped at her mouth and tongue while his hand covered her breast. Her nipple went hard against his palm and she arched her back, moaning, as he teased it, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. At the same time, he captured her lower lip and bit just hard enough to make pleasure rush through her veins.
Smoothing his hand over her skin, he parted her thighs and touched her softly there, weaving a kind of magick that had nothing whatsoever to do with violence. As he slipped his fingers over her folds and around her entrance, she let out a small sound of helplessness. He found her clit and petted, drawing it from its hood and teasing it until pleasure rippled through her body with every little movement he made.
She’d been with men before, of course, but none of them had touched her like this. Kieran had lived many years, had been with many women, and knew where best to stroke her, how hard, and for just how long. He turned her into a panting mess on the floor in no time.
His mouth left hers and traveled down her chin, over her throat. He took one nipple into his mouth, laved it until it was bright pink and diamond-hard, and then moved to the other. She watched as he dragged the tip of his tongue over her abdomen and then moved between her thighs. The sight of him there nearly undid her, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
He bit her inner thigh and she moaned low, her body humming with need. His fingers brushed over her, then slipped deep inside her, first one and then a second, stretching her inner muscles. He stroked in and out as his mouth came down on her. His tongue found her clit and nestled down against it, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.
