Intuition: The Premonition Series (42 page)

Watching him with the light of humor in his eyes, it is difficult to believe that he is the same monster who had been down in the creepy underworld caverns with me. He is so graceful and sensual in the candlelight. It’s making his skin look less like alabaster and more golden and warm. It has to be a trick of the light because there are no redeeming qualities about him. Being handsome should make him more of a monster, not less, because he probably uses it as a lure to trap his victims more easily.

“Whah made ye tink dat vampires do na go out in da daylight?” he asks, and I silently curse Bram Stoker for his lack of vision.

“So, why the lair then?” I ask, gesturing around at the windowless, sunless chambers hollowed out of stone.

“Dis is but one of many homes I have, pet. Dis is a private place, away from humans and other nosy beings,” he says, but he is grinning now.

“How do you feel about garlic?” I ask him halfheartedly, and see his smile broaden. “This place is so weird. How did you find it?” I watch the candlelight flicker on the shelves that line the room. It would be romantic if I were here with someone I actually like.

“Da mine was defunct a couple of decades ago. I bought it because of its location near a waterway. We made all of da improvements ta it ourselves,” he answers, looking around at the walls of the bathroom. He moves to the wood-burning stove that contains smooth stones. Picking up a couple of them, he walks over to the tub and sets them gently in the bottom of it near my feet. The water slowly begins to get warmer and I move my feet nearer the rocks to enjoy the warmth radiating off of them.

“Who did the columns in the hall?” I ask, because they are like pieces of art, but they make the place seem like it was built in another time—in another world. They have intricately carved gargoyles and other figures carved into the capitals. The rest of the columns are smooth as glass, showing the veins of ore within them.

“We needed ta support the ceiling so Lonan and Driscoll created dem,” he replies.

There is that name again, Driscoll. He is one of the ones that has been in my apartment… knows I sleep alone.
“Is Driscoll one of the fellas that came up here with us, or is he downstairs?” I ask, because Driscoll will know about Russell. He will know what went wrong with their plans for Russell. He is someone I want to talk to.

Instantly, I can see that I have touched a nerve with my question. Fury… and pain are registering on Brennus’ face. “Why do ye want ta know about Driscoll?” he asks between clenched teeth.

Something bad happened to Driscoll,
I surmise, trying to keep my face blank.

“I think that what he did with those columns is art and I want to ask him how he carved the capitals,” I reply with an innocent expression.

“I will kill him,” Brennus says in a deadly tone.

“Driscoll?” I ask, but I know we aren’t talking about the Gancanagh. A shiver of fear runs through me.

“Yer soul mate—da other,” he says, and fear roots in my heart, flowing like acid throughout my body.

“Russell? Why? He has done nothing to you,” I say in a pleading whisper. I grasp the sides of the tub tight, bending the rim.

“He has. He has killed Driscoll and Ultan,” Brennus counters, pulling out an enormous towel from the cabinet and unfolding it, holding it up for me. I have no choice but to stand up and allow him to wrap me in the towel. His arms snake around me from behind, pulling me back into his chest. Icy-coldness radiates off of his lips as he runs them lightly on the skin of my shoulder.

“Do you know where he is?” I ask in a near whisper, hoping Russell has escaped far away where they can never find him. Brennus lifts me out of the tub, setting me on my feet. He doesn’t let go of me, but holds me to his chest.

“He is here somewhere,” Brennus states with certainty.

I close my eyes in dread.
Russell, why can’t you stick to the plan and run?

“He fails to appreciate dat ye’re moin now—but he will, he will suffer,” Brennus says like a promise. My resolve to try to turn Brennus to my will is tested to nearly the breaking point as I imagine reaching back and snapping his neck.

I don’t argue with him, or try to plead for Russell’s life. I have learned that pleading with evil is useless. Brennus is a Gancanagh and killing is what he does; it is innate. “Come,” Brennus breathes against my skin, and then he holds my hand. The clanking of my chains reminds me that I need to step cautiously as we exit the bathroom and enter his bedroom. Fear is threading its icy fingers through me again as I wait for Brennus’ next move.

Brennus is back to looking satisfied and completely confidant while strolling through his bedroom, past the bed, and over to a wardrobe. Inside the wardrobe is an array of women’s clothing. Extracting a black silk gown that looks suspiciously like lingerie, he holds it up to me to see the effect.

“Do you have any jeans?” I ask. He just smiles and hands me the garment. Clutching the garment to the front of my body, Brennus tugs at my towel, gently removing it. Before I know what he is doing, he reaches down and tears the sides of my underwear away, letting them fall to the ground. Turning away from him quickly, I step into the black silk gown. It’s nearly backless, which is fortunate because I’m unable to retract my wings right now with all the anxiety churning within me.

The silk is clinging to my every curve, ending at my mid thigh. Judging by the darkness in my captor’s eyes, I know he likes the effect and I have to hold my hands in fists so I won’t use my fingers to claw his face. I straighten my shoulders, glaring back in his eyes, trying to stare him down, but it doesn’t seem to be working. He begins to lean closer to me, like he is going to kiss me again. My stomach growls loudly and Brennus pauses when he hears it. I haven’t eaten anything in days. I’ve been living with the pain because it’s not as important as finding a way out of here, but I’m becoming weaker by the second. I will need to eat something soon.

“Are ye hungry, pet?” Brennus asks. I bristle because it’s so similar to his water question.

“Yes,” I say between clenched teeth.

“Den let’s feed ye,” he replies. I am suspicious when he leads me out of his rooms. Our entourage follows us back down to the hall where I sit at the table in the same chair he had carried me to on my first day here. It’s the chair on his left. In minutes, steaming chicken broth and thick bread is placed on the table in front of me by one of the fellas. Brennus, seated next to me, watches me without comment as I devour the food. When I finish the soup, my stomach hurts because I have eaten too much, too quickly.

“Thank you,” I say as politely as possible because I’m actually grateful for any kindness the evil, narcissistic monster shows me. But, it’s probably not a kindness. He probably has an ulterior motive for feeding me; I just don’t know what it is yet. My gratitude, however, is making him look happy so I think it is a good thing anyway.

“Finn. ’Tis time,” Brennus says, and Finn is with us in seconds. The other Gancanagh come with him—all of them. I stiffen, preparing for their attack, but they each just wait for Brennus. Glancing at Brennus, I wait, too. Brennus extends his hand to me. I take it immediately, letting him lead me away from the table to the middle of the room.

“Ninian,” Brennus says. Ninian immediately steps forward; his gray eyes that are shades lighter than mine seem nervous and apprehensive. Tentatively, he raises his hand, reaching it out to touch my face. His eyes are on Brennus, like he will pull his hand back at the least sign of anger from his leader. The cold fingers of Ninian’s hand touch my face lightly. Tearing his eyes away from Brennus, he gazes into mine. I see relief in his eyes, but then there is a flash of something else, too.
Disappointment?
I think in confusion as he continues stroking the back of his hand down my face in a caress, like a lover.

Peeking at Brennus, he is studying me intently with clenched teeth and balled up fists. As Brennus reads the confusion on my face, his hands relax. “Dat is enough, Ninian,” he commands. Ninian immediately pulls his hand from my face.

Brennus calls Torin next. When Torin nears me, I see the same trepidation in his brown eyes as had been in Ninian’s; the look of dread and fear that I’ll react to him and he will be killed for it. Standing still, Torin puts his fingers to my face and the brief look of longing in his eyes surprises me.
Their touch does not affect me, but maybe mine affects them,
I think.

Eibhear, Lachlan, and Goban have their turns next, followed by Keegan, Faolan, and Lonan. None of them make me feel anything other than grossed out from their cold caresses. I take the opportunity to catalog each Gancanagh as he approaches me. I try to scan their attributes so that I can recognize them later and maybe use what I know against them. Alastar uses his left hand to touch my cheek and, perhaps, he favors that hand. This is knowledge that will come into play if I ever have to fight him. Cavan and Declan look like they could be true brothers and Eion is unable to hide the fact that he really likes touching me.

Brennus looks as if he wants to smash something as he watches Eion touch me. This gives me an idea, so when Eion is just about to finish, before he can step away from me, I reach up, and place the backs of my fingers against his cheek. I mimic the caress Eion had just given me; slowly and gently I trace a path over the plane of his cheek. Desire burns in his eyes as he stares back at me. With fascination and horror, I watch as his fangs engage with a sharp
click
from their retracted position, sending a chill down my spine. I glance away from his hooded gaze, to see the stunned faces of all the Gancanagh watching me. They are riveted by what is transpiring between Eion and me. Quickly, I pull my fingers back, seeing the murderous expression on Brennus’ face; he is about to explode and I know I have just executed a
huge faux pas
by touching Eion.

In an attempt to avoid Brennus’ wrath, I turn toward him, walking the few steps to his side. All eyes are on me as I raise my hand slowly toward his cheek. I focus on the green, iridescent flecks in his eyes as they bore into mine, seeing them smolder while my hand inches nearer to his face. The intense chill radiating from him reaches out to me as my hand hovers just above his cheek. The sensation is electric; it’s like feeling him without touching him. Allowing the anticipation that I see in his eyes to build by degrees, at last, I relent, softly touching my skin to his.

His skin is smooth and supple, but that is how it appears on the surface. There is a layer beneath his skin, that my fingertips can feel, that is tougher, more like armor. I have no doubt that it will not be easy to kill him because of it. While my fingertips gently stroke his cheek, his eyes dilate and his lids close slightly as his skin absorbs the heat of my fingers.
He does want me,
I realize as a bolt of fear strikes me,
and I am playing with fire.

Slowly, I pull my hand back from his cheek, not surprised to see that it’s shaking a little. Brennus watches me coolly. I jump when he barks out, “Right, lads! Now ye know dat yer touch is allowed when, and only when, ’tis necessary to restrain me
aingeal.
Ye will do it wi’ out hesitation and wi’out fear of reprisals. Da only ting ye should fear is her gettin’ away—unless ye touch her in any way other den ta restrain her…den ye know ye will die. She’s moin,” he says, and everyone in the room understands what he means.

“You should arrange for a demonstration of her strength and skills,” Alfred’s voice carries from the entrance of the hole we are in. He has just jumped in from the outside and begins to walk casually toward me. I envy him the freedom he has to leave this place at will. “She has been training. It is apparent, since Russell is still out there, walking around.”

“Who would train her? She is jus a lass. She is na even fully evolved yet,” Finn responds from behind us. He had not participated in the touch demonstration, probably because he has already touched me.

“Bruce Lee,” Alfred says, holding up the DVD from my apartment.

I WILL KILL YOU!
My mind screams.

Alfred smirks, “She is deadly. You need to let your men know that. Who is your most skilled fighter?”

Brennus stares at Alfred like he is insane because it’s obvious that he is the strongest, or else he wouldn’t be the leader of a band of bloodthirsty Gancanagh; he would be dead. “Keegan,” Brennus says in a commanding tone and the redheaded Gancanagh, who I recognize from the back of the library, steps forward.

“How is Lynnette?” I ask him, trying to gauge his temperament.

“Delicious,” he replies with an evil grin, and I wince.

Alfred gives me a wide berth as he passes me to sit at the table. He props his feet upon it, grinning at me. He wants to see me hurt, after what I had done to him with the knife. He wants revenge.

“I’m hardly dressed for a fight,” I point out, because I don’t want to show them what I can do. That is not part of my strategy.

“Whah do ye need?” Brennus asks me with a relentless stare, and I shiver.

“I, at least, need some shorts,” I reply, because I can’t fight like this. I’m wearing a nightgown and nothing else. Brennus nods to Finn and he is gone in a second. It doesn’t take him long to come back with a pair of men’s sports boxers.

“’Tis da best I can do,” Finn says with a grimace as he hands them to me. I must have made a face because he adds, “Dey are clean.”