by H G Lynch
Disgusted with myself, I stomped up the stairs for a shower, needing to wash off the sweat, grass, and baby drool.
Chapter Eleven
** Islay **
I made it through the next week with Angus’s help. He came over almost every day and babysat Peter while I cleaned the house and did homework. Everything was less dull with him around, and just having someone else in the house made me feel better. Once the chores were done, and Peter was napping, we would watch TV or just sit in my room and talk. The whole time, I was trying to ignore the butterflies beating at my stomach.
Everything was totally normal between us, which shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. It was as if our almost-kiss had never even happened. While I was glad he wasn’t pressuring me, and there was no awkwardness between us, I wanted some sign that he at least remembered it. Some sign that it would have meant something, if we hadn’t been interrupted. Or that it might happen again, for real this time.
But no. Angus was as causal and charming as ever, while part of me was withering every day.
When Saturday afternoon came around, I was sitting in one of the patio chairs in the back garden at Angus’s house, sipping on an icy glass of Pepsi, while Layla took Peter for a walk in his buggy. Angus was sprawled out on the grass with his hands behind his head, eyes closed, soaking up the sun’s rays. Even in the middle of summer, it was unusual for us to get three straight weeks of sunshine with only a few mild rain showers thrown in. But I wasn’t complaining.
“You’re going to get sunburn, you know?” I said to him. With his red-brown hair and fair complexion, he should’ve been wearing sunscreen.
He cracked an eyelid to glance at me. “Good. Then when it starts pissing rain next week, I’ll have something to remember the beautiful sunshine by.”
I laughed, twirling my straw in my glass and making the ice clink against the sides. He grinned and rolled onto his side, pushing himself up on one elbow and raking his hair back from his face with the other hand. For a second, he just looked at me, and I wondered if—hoped that—he was checking me out. I’d deliberately ditched my usual jeans-and-t-shirt combo for something more weather-appropriate; a white tank top and khaki shorts. My sandals lay by the patio doors, along with the pile of books and papers I’d brought for Ruairidh’s tutoring session.
Angus was still looking at me, and I started to blush. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I just . . . never mind.” He lay back down and closed his eyes again.
I sighed, propping my chin in my hand. After a moment, I asked, “So where’s your brother? I want to get this tutoring thing over with.”
Angus waved a hand vaguely without looking up. “In his room. Sulking.”
“You still have his sword?”
“Yup.” He smirked.
I tipped my head back, sweat rolling down my neck and into my tank top. I fanned my face with my hand. “I’m going to go get him . . . and an ice-pack at the same time. It’s way too hot out here.”
Angus just smiled and made a contented sound. I shook my head at him. He was like a cat—never too warm. I left him basking in the sunlight and slid the patio door open, slipping inside the house. The kitchen was freezing compared to outside, the tiles cold under my bare feet, and I shivered as goosebumps rose on my arms. It was a good chill, cooling the sweat on my skin, and I stood there for a long moment, enjoying the relief from the heat.
Then I sighed and climbed the stairs, my feet leaving sweaty prints on the wood. I wandered down the hall, passing Angus’s room and stopping outside the closed door with a KEEP OUT sign posted on the outside. Undoubtedly Ruairidh’s room. I knocked on the door tentatively and stepped back to wait.
The door flew open. “What?” Ruairidh barked, glaring.
I flinched, and he blinked, a frown slowly taking over his face, confusion replacing the anger.
“You. What do you want? No, wait, don’t tell me. Your boyfriend won’t put out, so you came to me for some sexual relief, right?” He grinned smugly, green eyes flashing with a malicious sort of amusement.
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “No.”
My motion caused his eyes to slide to my chest, and his eyebrows went up. His gaze went lower, trailing over my legs, and I swallowed, my face burning.
“Damn, girl. If you’re not here for sex, I’m going to need to have a cold shower real soon.”
I was definitely blushing, but at the same time, despite his crassness, I was a little flattered, and a little turned on. See, Angus, he noticed! Then I felt stupid and a little guilty and made a sound of disgust, more at myself than at Ruairidh, but he reacted to it anyway by rolling his eyes.
“It’s a compliment.”
I dismissed that with a flick of my wrist. “Whatever. Look, I’m just here to tutor you, so either you get your ass outside, or I bring the textbooks to you. Your choice.”
He stared at me, and I held his gaze, despite the bubbling nervousness in my chest. If I looked away, he won, and I knew I’d never get him to take my tutoring seriously if that happened. So I ignored the uneasy butterflies in my gut, and glared back at him with everything I had, refusing to so much as flinch.
Eventually, Ruairidh bowed his head slightly, as if accepting my victory, and I let out a silent sigh of relief as he stepped out of his room, shutting the door behind him. He spread an arm, indicating for me to go ahead of him. “Lead the way.”
Giving him another glare just for good measure, I turned and stormed ahead of him along the hallway, fully aware that he was checking out my ass in the shorts. I repressed a grin.
** Ruairidh **
Islay was talking, explaining something about Sine and Cosine and whatever, but I wasn’t really listening. Honestly, it was really her own fault for wearing that tank top. How did she expect me to focus on Maths when her tits were practically falling out of her shirt? I was all but drooling on the textbook in front of me.
She didn’t seem to notice where my stare was as she tapped her pencil on the textbook, her mouth moving as she spoke. Absently, she tucked a lock of honey-streaked brown hair behind her ear, exposing the slender column of her neck, leading down to her delicate collarbones and those swells straining at her tank top. Hell, she was gorgeous.
Suddenly, her whiskey-hazel eyes flashed up to mine, and she sighed. “You’re not even paying attention, are you?”
I smirked. “To the Maths? No. To you? Definitely.”
Her cheeks were already pink from the sun beating down on us as we sat at the patio table, but I could tell she was blushing. She cast her eyes back down, tapping the pencil incessantly against the edge of the table. She bit down on her lower lip, and I couldn’t tell if it was because she was nervous, afraid of me, or trying not to smile.
Curious to find out which, I leaned forward in my seat, laying my forearms on the table, and murmured, “No wonder Angus’s so smitten with you. It must be like unwrapping a sexy little Christmas present every time he takes you to bed.”
Her eyes flicked to mine and widened, her lips moving as she fought for words. I trapped her gaze, holding it as she stammered.
“He’s not . . . . We’re not . . . . We haven’t . . . . Angus doesn’t . . . .”
My eyebrows went up as I figure out what she was trying to say. “He hasn’t slept with you yet? Damn, he really is a fucking saint, isn’t he? How the hell can he be around you so much without ripping your clothes off? You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Her eyes were as round as saucers, and her cheeks had turned scarlet. She looked utterly shocked, whether by my crudeness or the compliment intended, I wasn’t sure. Had to be the crudeness. A girl like her had to have the guys dropping at her feet, right?
Except, when I thought about it, I’d never seen any guys hanging about her, except for Angus. Even if everyone knew she was taken, usually one or two guys would try their luck. So the question was, were they uninterested, or were they somehow afraid of Angus?
I snorted.
Neither of those answers was reasonable. You’d have to be blind not to see Islay was hot, and Angus was about as threatening as an angry puppy dog—even with the training Dad had given him before we’d moved to Ireland.
Islay suddenly stood up, clearing her throat, and began shuffling the papers about on the table, gathering them and stuffing them into the textbook. “Um, I think we’re done for today.”
“Hey, how’s it going?” Angus stepped out of the patio doors just then.
Islay spun around with a gasp, still blushing.
I groaned internally. Yeah, ‘cause that didn’t look guilty or anything.
Angus took one look at her, and then turned a glower on me. “What the hell did you say to her?”
I shrugged, leaning back and folding my arms. “Just gave her a compliment. Not my fault she can’t take them.”
Jaw clenched, Angus looked about ready to jump over the table and throttle me, but Islay laid a hand on his arm, bringing his attention back to her. “Hey, it was nothing. He was just trying to get on my nerves. Look, I have to go, but I’ll call you later, okay?”
Angus jerked his head once in agreement, and Islay leaned in as if she was about to hug him, but at the last second, he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. It was a quick, hard meeting of lips, and as soon as he let her go, he turned his glare back on me. I got the message loud and clear. He was marking his territory. She was his, and I was to back the hell off.
Islay gasped, looking startled, and Angus glanced at her briefly. “You’ll definitely call me, right?”
She nodded dazedly and walked off, clutching the Maths textbook to her chest. Angus followed her, slamming the patio door shut behind him. I tilted my head back, sighing. The sun was too hot on my face, and I wished for another downpour to cool me off. Or a cold shower.
I thought about the blush on Islay’s face, the curves pouring out of her tank top, and I ran a hand over my face. Yeah, a cold shower would be a really good idea. That and a pack of cigarettes.
Chapter Twelve
** Ruairidh **
Having spent almost half an hour in the shower, I dried off and slipped into a pair of jogging bottoms and a worn t-shirt, and went digging in my brother’s room.
After Islay had left, taking her unhappy baby brother with her, Angus had gone with Mum to her flower shop to manhandle some crates into storage for her. So, while he was out of the house, I was taking the chance to—hopefully—find my damn sword.
As expected, Angus’s room was as neat as a pin. Books lined up on the bookcase, bed made, no clothes on the floor or dirty dishes lying around. His walls were dark green, his carpet brown, and there was a couple of band posters on the walls. Everything was almost military precise. I guess some of Dad’s training had stuck after all. I’d never quite been able to keep up the army neatness thing for long.
Sighing, I got down to the business of searching. First, I looked under the bed, where I found his laptop and a couple of barbell weights. Next was the wardrobe. I was half-surprised to see his clothes weren’t organised by colour. There was a sweet electric guitar hidden at the back, too, and I shook my head. Only Angus would leave something that nice to collect dust.
Then I checked in every drawer of his dresser, carefully lifting the folded clothes to look under them, hoping he wouldn’t notice I’d been in there. But the most interesting thing I found in his drawers was an unopened box of condoms tucked inside a sock.
Running out of places to look, and getting frustrated, I even lifted the mattress to check under it. I smiled when I saw the hidden porno mag. I’d have been worried if I hadn’t found it. After Islay’s revelation that she and Angus hadn’t slept together yet, I was starting to wonder if my brother was secretly in the closet and in denial about it. But, porno aside, there was no sword.
Out of places to search, I made sure everything was how he’d left it, and I closed the door behind me as I slid into the hallway, no closer to finding my blade than before.
An hour later, I was doing sit-ups on my bedroom floor with my iPod headphones in, blaring The Glitch Mob as my back and abs burned. About halfway through my workout, just as I hit sixty sit-ups, I sensed someone else in the room and glanced at the door. Sure enough, Angus was standing in the doorway, watching me with his arms crossed.
Oh, goodie, I thought. Baby brother wants to chat.
I sat up and yanked out my headphones, breathing hard. I didn’t say anything, waiting for him to get on with whatever he was there for. He didn’t disappoint.
He smiled thinly and said, “Did you find what you were looking for in my room?”
Shit. I scowled. Bastard knew I hadn’t. Still, just to annoy him, I smirked. “Not exactly. Your stash of porno mags is seriously lacking. But it’s okay. I just thought about your girlfriend in those tiny shorts and that got the job done.”
Instantly, Angus’s expression turned black, and rage flickered in his eyes like lightning. “You sick fuck—”
“Yeah, about that. She says you two haven’t gotten horizontal yet. What’re you waiting for, baby brother? The girl is smokin’ and she clearly wants you. Everything downstairs working alright?”
He gritted his teeth, his fists clenched, and took a step into the room. I sprang to my feet, ready and willing to fight. I was dying for it.
Then Mum called up the stairs, “Angus? Can you come and help me with the pasta for a second?”
Angus and I locked gazes for a moment longer, and then he turned and stormed out, shooting me one last glare that let me know this wasn’t over. The fight was only postponed for now.
Once he was gone, I slammed my bedroom door and banged my head against it. Christ, what was wrong with me? Was I seriously considering beating the shit out of my baby brother? Years ago, before the divorce, I would’ve rather stabbed myself in the eye with a fork than hurt Angus. I’d taken a lot of hits, both from bullies and from Dad, to protect him. He was my brother. I loved him. Had that really changed?
No. No, I still loved my brother. He was just making it more and more difficult to keep that true, and my own frustration with being grounded while there was a demon out there to hunt was ramping up my temper and putting me on edge. I really needed to get out and kill something, otherwise, I’d end up breaking my brother’s jaw.
Since Angus had to go into class early on Tuesday to make up a Biology test he’d failed, I got to walk to the college on my own for once. It wasn’t a long walk, and the morning air was crisp with the rain from the night before, the sky was overcast though the sun was supposed to return in the afternoon. I enjoyed the minimal freedom of walking alone, the breeze ruffling my hair like gentle fingers, the way Dad had always done when I’d done something to make him smile.
I was halfway to the school when I spotted it—a shadow lurking across the street, just ahead of me. It was just a glimpse, a flicker of movement between two cars, something that anyone else would have just dismissed as a trick of the light. But my instincts were blaring alarm bells, and I always trusted my instincts. There was a demon watching me.
Pretending not to have noticed it, I bent down, acting as if I was trying to fix my laces and slyly slid my red-gripped dagger out from under my trouser leg. I palmed it and slid it up my blazer sleeve, hiding it as I straightened up. I walked on a little bit, and then crossed the road as casually as possible, checking both ways and catching another glimpse of the shadow moving along the street ahead of me.
Once I was on the other side of the road, I caught sight of the demon slipping between two buildings, and I cursed. Dropping my bag and gripping my dagger, I raced after it into the alley. I skidded around the corner and faltered to a halt. The demon stood at the other end of the alley, which was a dead-end, blocked by a chain-link fence, beyond which lay a parking lot half-filled with cars but empty of people.
The demon was trapped, and I grinned as it turned, hissing at me. I was unsurprised to see it was the Catchi demon from the other night, and my
grin widened. Gotcha this time, I thought, twirling my dagger in my hand, the leather grip on the handle comforting against my palm.
As I advanced, my adrenaline pumping with anticipation and excitement at the chance to finally take this guy down, the demon backed up until its back hit the chain-link fence. The metal rattled, and the Catchi snarled, showing vicious fangs, his body tensing. I paused, steeling myself for it to pounce on me. I lifted one hand and curled my fingers, making a bring-it-on gesture, and the demon seemed almost to smile, the movement twisting its mouth grotesquely. It crouched, its legs bent and muscles coiled, and then it sprang.
Straight upward.
I roared, lunging forward to grab it as it shot into the air and flipped itself over the fence, landing safely on the other side. I curled my fingers into the links, spitting furious, and it cackled at me before bounding away, melting between cars like a cloud of exhaust fumes.
Growling, I clutched my dagger and thought, Next time, fucker. Next time I’ll get you.
By the time I got to class, I was late—very late. The instant I walked into the Biochem lecture, I knew I’d missed something important. I had no idea what the professor was talking about. Groaning internally, I took my seat, pulled out my notebook, and slumped over my desk. Behind me, I could feel my brother’s disapproving, suspicious glare drilling into the back of my skull. Without turning around, I flipped him off, bent my head, and went to work on figuring out what I’d missed.
I spent half of my lunch hour in the lecture hall, having the professor explain shit to me, and when I got out, Angus was waiting for me outside the hall with Islay and Ashley, looking severely unhappy with me.
So what else was new?
