by L. A. Boruff
We both turned to the nearly empty stainless steel, Abby shaking it to reignite the sound. “Your Gran didn’t work for the mob, right? It isn’t a finger in there or something?”
“No, she was a seamstress,” I groaned but was still hesitant to dig around. It was a lot of money that seemed to come from nowhere. Easing the lid open, I peered inside as if I was checking on the cage of a radioactive rat. With the tip of my finger, I shoved aside the papers in the way. Gold struck my eye and I froze.
Abby stood behind me, her chin pressing to my shoulder. “Is that a…” Without a thought, she plucked up the gold coin hidden in my grandmother’s pile of secrets. “Huh? Think it might be worth something?”
Ochre colored, the edges were blobby as if this coin was cast by hand and time. My head buzzed in pain, the sides of my vision sparkling as I hefted the small coin in my palm.
“Ever seen anything like it?” Abby asked.
Yes. Pressed to my cleavage while kissing. Bouncing against my spine as I was ridden from behind. Glistening from the shower we shared. Dangling off the neck of the mysterious stranger who came to my neighborhood looking for something.
It was an exact duplicate of his treasure.
Closing my hand around the coin, I tried to swallow the scream rising in my soul.
* * *
“You!”
Spotting the man standing upon his front lawn, I bolted so fast from the car I forgot to undo the seatbelt. It snapped against my ribs, my left hand struggling to push the button. My right was wrapped around the coin burning a hole through my flesh.
Conall glanced up from the halo of clover he stood in, misting rain beading upon his fisherman sweater. “Evening, Lass,” he called, a jolly wave to his hand. “You’re home early.”
The explanation that I left work to head to the bank rolled on the back of my tongue, but I swallowed it. Stomping across the rising puddles soaking into the frosty spring ground, I froze a foot away from him. The man who knocked down my window with a tree. Who found a key under those roots. Who…
Who laughed at my jokes. Who fed me tiramisu. Who rolled up a ball of yarn and dangled it for my disinterested cat. Who strummed my body until I wanted no other hand to touch it.
Who was a fake.
When I didn’t rush into his arms, Conall caught on that something was amiss. The waving arm that extended for a warm embrace thudded to his side. He quirked his head to the side as if waiting for me to deliver the final blow. As if he was too much of a coward to do it.
I’d thought of nothing else on the mad drive home. Even left Abby alone with the money, telling her to get it somewhere safe. She turned ghost white at the thought but agreed.
It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t be… But no matter how much I twisted and turned the puzzle, it kept coming up with the same answer.
Holding my palm flat, I opened my fingers to reveal the glint of gold to the world. Conall winced, but his eyes also zoomed in on the coin and refused to leave.
“This is yours!” I shouted above the rising pelt of rain and slush of car wheels through puddles.
A puff of steam escaped his lips and his head drooped. “Aye.”
“This is why you’re here. This is what you’re looking for!”
Slowly, he raised his gaze off the glint of the coin to meet my eyes. Thunder rumbled inside them, and Conall’s lips parted. “Yes, it is.”
“Your treasure,” I sneered. The logical part of my brain that knew Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and Unicorns were all lies refused to believe this truth.
Conall worried his hand over his scruff, his head bobbing. The rain soaked through his red locks rusting them to a muddled brown. There was no long red beard, no green frock coat, no pointy shoes. He dressed…odd but not for a hipster. Maybe there were a lot of them in Ireland. And even with the coin in my hand, I was still begging for any explanation other than the truth.
“You’re a leprechaun,” tumbled from my lips, my teeth chattering as drizzle soaked through my shirt and drowned my hair.
Conall snickered and a doleful smile wrapped around his lips. “Now you know the truth.”
“How? Why? What?” Every question I wanted to put to him smashed to nonsense, but I couldn’t stop talking.
Clicking his tongue, Conall dipped a finger into the collar of his shirt and tugged up the coin around his neck. Laying it in the palm of his hand, he said, “A hundred and fifty some years ago, a village swiped my gold. My hard earned keep for millennia of cobbling, and sweeping, and doing whatever you mortals asked for. In dire straights from the famine, they thought that a leprechaun’s gold coin would fix all their problems.”
He stepped closer to me leaving the clover path to splash in the puddle. I didn’t back away, but my body shuddered. That was enough to freeze Conall’s walk. “Was your great-Granda who took it, along with over sixty other villagers. I’ve been hunting across all of Ireland, Scotland, England, and finally America for the pieces.”
“Why…why didn’t you stop them? Why didn’t you take it back from them?” Why wait over a hundred years to collect? Why walk into my life, sweep me off my feet, and make me fall for you?
Conall licked his lips, steam puffing off his tongue. “I was all outta luck. Didn’t have a chicken in a fox den’s chance of catching any of ‘em. Not until theirs ran out.”
“So that’s how you…how you managed to get it all to work. The tree, the window, the box,” I recited over the near rube goldbergian chain of events he set off, which luck guided him to. “I don’t understand, you had the flask. Why didn’t you just take the coin yourself?”
“Banks aren’t prone to releasing their secrets to just anyone, especially anyone without that piece of plastic you all carry,” Conall mused with a laugh, but as his wandering eyes slipped back to me, he gulped. In a stricken voice, he said, “And I was curious what you’d do.”
I’d barely looked at the coin, only held it so tight in my hand it was probably imprinted forever into my flesh. Now I gazed down at it. There was a hint of a lion in the relief and the circle of letters around the edge must be magic themselves. It was beautiful.
“You said it was cursed.”
“If that’s how you wish to see it. The luck’s long gone,” Conall said.
“But I could still keep it, suffer the consequences anyway.” I weighed the coin in my hands. Was this family relic the reason everything in my life kept going wrong? I could get rid of it, pass it off to the leprechaun and breathe freely for the first time. But it’d get rid of him too. He’d have no reason to remain.
“Yes,” Conall breathed, his voice dropping deep into his chest as if he suffered from a twin set of wounds. There was no easy way for him to relieve the pain from either. “You’d continue with your string of bad luck until the coin passes on, but I will not take it from you.”
Keep the bad luck, keep him. Though, probably not. There were more coins out there, more treasure for him to collect. He’d have no reason to even see me, to contact me, to leave a text message. Did leprechauns have phones?
Raising my head, I stared deep into those emerald eyes I tried to get lost in. How long had they suffered for this? How long had he searched and begged for his treasure back? I knew what it was like to have a life full of bad luck, and he had to endure a century of it.
My eyes never leaving his, I reached my hand out. “Here,” I said, upending the coin into his palm. “It’s yours.” I was about to snake my hand back, but Conall enveloped his fingers around mine. Pain bobbed in his gaze as if he was pleading with me to both give him the coin and take it away. But I had no answer and tugged my hand from his grasp.
Weighing the coin in his palm, he bounced it thrice before flicking the golden artifact into the air. When it reached its apex, instead of falling it began to spin faster and faster until it turned into a stream of light. It beamed directly onto the coin dangling off of Conall’s neck, sealing itself there.
“I keep all my treasures in
one now,” he spoke as if he needed me to understand.
Numb, my head lolled to the side. My lips mumbled the compliment, “Smart,” as I began to turn away from the leprechaun caught in the rain. Water seeped through my shoes soaking my socks, the puddles rising as if to trap me in this gloomy purgatory.
“Wait.” Warmth enveloped my frozen fingers, Conall seeming to appear by my side from nowhere. I froze in my march away, my hand locked in his, but I wouldn’t turn to him. I couldn’t let him see the rain washing down my face.
“When I left Éire, when I faced unending nights in the dark, cramped squalor of this mortal life, I never dreamed I’d meet someone like you.”
“The others weren’t as gullible?” my wounded ego spoke for me, the hurt striking like a lash against my heart. I rolled my eyes over my shoulder and from the edge watched Conall glaring at the ground.
The rain ceased drenching his shoulders and hair as if he didn’t have to keep the ruse up anymore. “Who I am, what I am is beyond most mortal’s ken, but you…” Green eyes burned into the sliver of mine I’d give him and a gulp bulged in my throat. “There is none in this realm or the other like you, Jess.”
“What are you saying?” I tried to shake away the buzzing crowding out my thoughts, the headache of truth transforming into a confusion migraine.
Conall stepped to the side of me ensnaring my eyes. Releasing his grip upon my hand, he tugged off the chain about his neck, the gold coin catching the splinter of light. “That you, Jessica Malley…” He reached over and circled the long necklace around my head. A burst of breath broke from my lungs as the coin of a hundred coins landed against my sternum.
“Are me treasure,” he breathed, watching as I ran my fingers along the edge of the coin in shock. By the third circle of the mystic runes, I felt his head dip down from the weight of uncertainty hanging in the air. Those emerald eyes; however, wouldn’t drift from me for a second. When did they look at me the way he’d once stared hungrily at his coin?
Conall folded, rain gushing down the back of his shirt as he stumbled away. “If’n ya don’t…”
Splashing through the puddles, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his lips to mine. Warmth trembled through my frozen body, alighting the fires of hearth and home in my soul. Conall’s safe and comforting embrace pulled me ever tighter to his body. Rain splattered around us, but not a drop would touch our tangling bodies as I lost myself in his Irish kiss.
Breaking from my lips, Conall brushed his forehead to mine, green eyes burning forever in my vision. “In all my searching, all my long nights and days, you,” he cupped his massive hand to my cheek, a smile dawning upon his lips, “you are the greatest treasure I could ever find.”
As we kissed, the rains faded to reveal a beautiful rainbow sparkling through the rising-blue sky. Hope rode upon those colors of light and a future I’d never dreamed of but couldn’t wait to live. The unluckiest girl in the world and a gorgeous leprechaun entwined in love. Who’d have ever guessed?
About the Author
Ellen Mint adores the adorkable heroes who charm with their shy smiles and heroines that pack a punch. She has a needy black lab named after Granny Weatherwax from Discworld. Sadly, her dog is more of a Magrat.
Her first two books, Undercover Siren and Fever, are available on Amazon and KU. If you enjoyed the adventures of a sexy leprechaun, you’ll salivate over her next book called Son of Krampus. Look for it Christmas 2019.
For more information, you can sign up to her newsletter.
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Magical Competition
A Biomystic Security Short Story
Jaliza A. Burwell
Dr. Laila Porter is going to learn what St. Patrick’s Day is all about when Davies drags her into the Clover's Luck St. Paddy's Day Pub Marathon. Join Laila and her men as they compete in an exhilarating race to reach the pot of gold at the end. And if she gets lucky along the way? Well, that’s just a bonus.
1
Davies was still completely out of it when I woke up, his breaths even and deep, a soft snore escaping his slightly parted mouth. He managed to wrap his body completely around mine, holding me close to his chest. It took a while to get used to his snuggling ways, but now that we found a position that worked, I was addicted. Never had a bad dream since the guys started holding me close. And all seven of my guys enjoyed doing it, which I thought was surprising.
Davies’ leg was thrown over mine, one arm across my lower back, his rough hand hot against my skin. With him so intimately pressed against me, I could feel all of him against my naked body. He was just as naked after our fun activities last night.
The sleep gave me plenty of energy and wanting to expel it, I leaned forward, tracing my lips along his jaw, the bristles of his facial hair tickling my face.
He kept snoring.
Holding back a laugh, I wiggled until his arms loosened. I pushed the blanket off us, letting the cool air in. As I slipped down, my fingers trailed along the hard plains of his chest, and when they circled around his nipples, he shuddered in his sleep. I paused at the tattoo on his rib cage, tracing the cursive letters lightly, taking a brief moment to be thankful to the family who took care of my man as a boy. I wished I had a chance to meet them, but they had been murdered right in front of his eyes when he was eight. Torn apart by shifters.
I leaned forward and kissed the tattoo with my eyes closed. Even then, I could still see the swirling words. Goodbyes hurt the most when the story isn’t finished…
Davies’ breathing stopped for a beat when my lips touched his skin before picking back up, still heavy. I chuckled this time. The world could fall apart around him when he was like this and he wouldn’t wake. I smirked. That just meant I took good care of him last night. He was usually awake at a drop of a pen.
I continued my perusal of his body. As a human, Davies’ body told a story and at this point in our relationship, I knew most of them. My curious nature put him through the wringer after the first time we made love and I was close enough to see the scars.
I loved it. I loved that he had stories to tell and proof to back them up. Supernaturals usually had fast healing, rarely leaving a scar. Only if the damage was extensive. When a shifter said they lost a finger, it was hard to believe them when the said finger was still attached to their body. Given enough time, a shifter could regrow a finger, though they couldn’t regrow an arm.
Humans didn’t work like that. They got scars from paper cuts.
When I came to the scar at his sternum, I licked it, feeling the damaged skin along my tongue. His skin was hot and salty, and underneath that was the scent I learned to associate with Davies.
Sandalwood and musk.
It wrapped around me and provided a comfort I was still adjusting to. I wasn’t so sure I’d ever adjust completely to having multiple people at my back, ready to give me a hug or listen when I had a bad day. People to come home to. We’d only been dating for a few months and it still felt all too new. I kept waiting for it all to crumble at my feet—that I would understand, and could accept.
Refusing to let my thoughts ruin my moment, I reached his abs and counted them, giving each one a kiss. He had eight of them. When I got to his happy trail, my heart rate picked up and my mouth salivated. I was close to my favorite part of the male anatomy, and I was going to enjoy it again this morning. Even more so than I had last night.
Davies had been determined to make me scream until I was hoarse and never gave me a chance to give as good as he gave. Now that he was defenseless, I was going to seize my moment. Literally.
A light dusting of blond hair led down from his belly button to his groin where his cock sat, semi-hard and begging for attention. After shifting my body so I was comfortable, I didn’t wait any longer. I wrapped my hand around the base of his length and drew my tongue up along the thick pulsing vein, loving how he hardened in my hand.
“Fuck!” Davies called out, his hips bucking. I grinned
and looked up at him as he held himself up to see me.
“Good morning,” I teased. While keeping my eyes on him, I took his cock into my mouth.
“Damn, not how I was expecting to wake up.” His breathing grew haggard as he stared down at me, his hazel eyes hooded with lust. His shaggy blond curls were messy and he looked absolutely wild as I took his cock deeper into my mouth. His head tilted back and his eyes closed as he just focused on feeling me. I smiled around him, loving this moment.
There was power in giving a blow job. Some women shied away from it, but I loved that I could make a man crazy and lose control. I swirled my tongue around him and he moaned. I took in as much of him as I could, bobbing my head down and back up, finding a rhythm that worked for me.
I had no intention of making this easy for Davies. Knowing he liked a little pain with his pleasure, I scraped my teeth along his sensitive flesh and then soothed it with my tongue. When he was close, I released his cock.
“No, Babe.” Frustration slipped into his voice, and I smirked, holding eye contact, letting him know this wasn’t going to be a five-minute blow job.
I stroked him with my hand as I nipped along his inner thigh, knowing it was one of his weaknesses. When I felt his hand in my hair, I stopped and pulled.
“What are you doing to me?” he asked in a lust-filled voice, deepening the tone.
I shivered from his voice, my own body’s anticipation increasing. “No touching,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes and I just smiled sweetly at him so he knew I wasn’t playing.
“Dammit!”
I laughed as I trailed my fingers along his cock, loving the way it jumped at the touch, demanding more. He lifted his hands dramatically and slapped them down on the bed, away from me. Wanting to draw the moment out, my gaze traveled up his body, taking in the taut skin over bulging muscles. Davies was a big man, with muscles on top of muscles. He was bigger than even Venni, his wolf shifter partner and another one of my lovers.
