Unholy Blue (18 page)

Thrusting Cor behind him, Rory stretched to his full height and scanned the woods beyond the gate. “I don't see anything,” he said after a minute. “Are you
sure
it wasn't just a shadow?”

“It was Max.”
I think
.

“C'mon.” Still holding Cor's arm in a grip that hurt more than the boy wanted to admit, Rory escorted him back to the house. Sam raced ahead to the open door.

Fiona stood just outside, her own knife in hand. “Everything okay?”

“I don't know.” Rory ushered Cor into the kitchen, then hovered in the doorway and stared back at the woods. “The kid thinks he saw the shapeshifter.”

“It was
Max
,” Cor repeated. “Not…not…
him
.”

Deep in the woods to the west, a yodel split the night, followed a few moments later by a second wail, then a third. Rory relaxed and blew out a long breath. “Coyotes. A pack of them, by the sound of it.” He turned to Cor. “I bet that's what you saw.”

“It was Max,” Cor insisted, certain that if he said it enough times, it'd be true.

Rory laid a hand on his shoulder. “Hear that?” He indicated the voices serenading the night with sobbing
howls. “Those are coyotes.
That's
what you saw. A coyote.”

“But…but…”
What if it really wasn't my Max, but the other Max?
A new thought turned his bowels watery.
What if I had opened the gate?
It was too much. Cor shrugged off the Knight's hand and bolted out of the kitchen.

Steeling himself, Bann paused in the living room entrance. Decorated in a style keeping with the Colorado mountain lodge look of the rest of the house, the room was filled with leather furniture and aspen-log tables, and featured the ubiquitous river stone fireplace. Oak timbers, a shade darker than his torc, crisscrossed overhead like the inside of a clipper ship.

Clan members were packed shoulder to shoulder on sofas or chairs or leaning against the walls. Even the floor was full of seated younger Knights. As if on cue, every head swiveled toward him when he appeared. While a few of the two dozen or more were friendly, most looked apprehensive, neutral at best.

Standing side-by-side, Hugh and Ann held court in front of the fireplace. Shay stood next to them, talking in an undertone to Ann. Nearby, Isobel Doyle sat in a chair brought in from the dining room. Her slender fingers played a silent tune on an arm as wooden as her expression.

The low murmur that had died down when Bann appeared swelled again, as if his presence brought up more arguments both pro and con. Hugh raised his
hand for silence, then pointed at a man standing in the far corner. “You were saying?”

A bald, heavyset man—more muscle than fat—sporting a dark goatee and mustache crossed his arms over his chest. “This is a difficult river you're asking us to swim,” he said, his accent as much Boston as Belfast. “To battle both god and Fey. Why, Cernunnos is insanity personified and the Tullys are a right fierce clan.”

“And we Doyles are not?” Shay retorted. “Hell, half of us here could take on those punks.”

“Which half?” called a girl, barely out of her teens, from the center of the room.

“Why,
us
half.” With a grin and a swagger, Shay pointed to herself. “The half without those bothersome testicles dangling between our legs.” The other women broke into cheers.

A younger Knight in the far corner shouted over the noise. “You're just jealous.” He smacked his chest. “Because you don't got a pair.” The men hooted in agreement.

In spite of the seriousness of the moment, Bann relished the good-natured ribbing. He fought back a smile, knowing
exactly
what his future wife was going to say next.

Shay waited until the room quieted, then smiled sweetly at her heckler. “Rumor has it, William, neither do you.”

A roar filled the room, Bann laughing along with them. His laughter died when a familiar voice from the kitchen caught his ears—Cor calling for him, his tone
thick with tears.
Gods, now what
? He met his son in the foyer.

“Dad—I saw Max. Rory said it was a coyote, but it wasn't.” Cor was blinking furiously, trying not to cry in front of everyone. He slapped at a tear that slipped out. “It was Max,” he insisted, his voice breaking.

“Easy, lad.” Bann pulled the small body against his side in a one-armed hug. He glanced up when Rory appeared. “What happened?”

“Coyotes,” Rory said in a low voice. “A whole pack of them to the west, wailing away.”

At that moment, the other Knights began filing out of the living room. Bann noticed while some of the Doyles gave him a friendly nod or word, most avoided looking at him.

In pairs and in groups and individually, they walked out the front and down the steps. The sound of voices calling farewells and the rumble of engines protesting the cold air drifted back to Bann through the open door.

“Well, that sucks.” Shay joined him. “Too many have declared it not their fight. Guess we're on our own.”

Bann didn't know whether to feel relief or remorse.

A
N HOUR LATER AND
back home, Shay sank further into the pillows and tugged the comforter higher around her bare shoulders as she waited. The bedroom—
our bedroom
—was cozy in the soft light from the single lamp. She debated lowering the shades, then decided not to, wanting to enjoy the starlight.

Down the hall, Bann was grumbling at Cor to stop mucking about with that pup and get his arse in bed and under the blanket. Right. Now. The metal crate clanged a few moments later. Voices murmured softly, then morphed into the whisper of bare feet on the wood floor.

Bann appeared. “It's like having two puppies.” He paused and studied Shay, then closed the door with a soft
snick
.

“Or two boys. Not much different, if you ask me. By the way, I left a jar of
sláinte
brew on the counter.” She watched as Bann unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it in the general direction of the chair in the corner next to the dresser.
Even if we don't buy that house, we're going to need new furniture in this one
, she mused absently.
A bigger dresser, to start with. Half of his clothes are still in his duffle bag
.

Her musings died away when he unzipped his pants and slid both jeans and underwear off in one movement and kicked them aside. Naked except for his torc, he disappeared into the bathroom; Shay could hear him urinating, followed by a flush and the sink running. He reappeared, holding a damp washcloth. The scent of the nettle potion drifted around the room. Leaning a shoulder on the doorframe, Bann pressed the cloth against his left palm, letting the healing brew work its magic. A crease marred his forehead.

“Shay, I've been thinking and—”

“I know. And I know what you're going to say.”

Bann snorted. “No doubt.” He tossed the cloth onto the counter and turned off the bathroom light. Blowing on the cut, he walked over to the bed, scratching a cheek more south than north with his other hand, then slid under the sheets with a groan of satisfaction.

“Let me see that cut.” Taking his hand, she examined it, then nodded. “Good.” She let go and snuggled closer, relishing the contrast between the cool night air and the warmth of Bann's body next to hers. “You're thinking about what Gideon Lir said. About going after the shapeshifter. Fine. I'm hunting with you and that's that.”

He reached over and clicked off the lamp, then shifted to his side. Fingering a lock of her hair, he wound it between his fingers as he spoke. “But what if something should happen to both of us? What about Cor?”

“Good point.
You
stay home with the kid and
I'll
go kick some god booty.”

Bann's lips twitched. “Ye're a stubborn one, Shay Doyle.”

“Look who's talking.” She reached over and tapped his torc. “You should've had a pair of mules put on the endcaps, instead of horses.”

“These are not just horses, I'll have ye know.” Bann pushed her down and shifted over on top of her, resting his weight on his forearms, lips inches from Shay's.

“They're not?” Shay could feel his manhood against her thigh. Hot and heavy and growing thicker, and oh, so eager.

“Not at all.” His breath ghosted along her cheek. “They are
stallions
. Males in the prime of their lives.”

“How prime?”

“Enough to prime yer pump, woman.” Before Shay could say anything, his lips were on hers.

He tasted faintly of pork and beer and mint toothpaste. And desire. And love. Sliding his lips along hers, he took his time mapping her mouth, exploring its hills and valleys. His tongue flicked out, then stabbed and probed, silently demanding her surrender. Shay resisted at first, enjoying a bit of power play. Knowing Bann enjoyed it, too.

As the kiss deepened, Shay slid her palms along his back to his buttocks. She loosened her grip as he left her mouth and scooted down her body, his lips level with a breast. He nuzzled it, then took her nipple in his mouth, letting it tighten and swell before he began suckling. One hand stole down to the inside of her thigh; calloused fingertips stroked vulnerable flesh.

Desire so strong it hurt surged through Shay, blossomed from her center to the ends of her limbs, making her want to both spread her legs wider and to roll him over and mount him.

The latter seemed like it would be more fun.

“Bann, love.” She took his head between her hands and lifted it enough to make eye contact; in the starlight, his were half-lidded and drunk with lust. “On your back.”

As he obeyed, she leaned over and fished out a condom from the nightstand. When he started to take it from her, she held it out of reach. “I'll take care of you.”

“I best do it, darlin',” Bann said, his voice tight. As he prepared himself, Shay couldn't help smiling at his jaw-clenched concentration.

“What are you thinking about?” she teased.

“Car maintenance,” he said, a little breathless.

“Well, whatever gets the job done.”

“This is supposed to be a passionate moment.” Bann tossed the wrapper in the small trashcan, then lay back and reached for her, trying to draw her closer. “Come here, woman.”

She captured his hands. “You just hold your horses.”

Bann blinked. “You did not say that.”

“Looks like I did. My bad.”

They both burst out laughing.

The next morning, a knock on the door jerked her out of a sleep made bottomless by too much rich food and alcohol, not enough water, and just the right amount of sex. Peeling open an eyelid, she saw that the bed next to her was empty.
How did he do that without waking me up?
She opened the other eye.
Well, he
is
a Knight and a hunter
, a voice in her head replied.

She sat up and tucked the covers around her, making sure nothing showed that would freak out an eight-year-old—
make that a nine-year-old
—boy, then smoothed her hair back from her face. “Come in, Cor.”

“How did you know it was me?” Cor slipped into the room, still dressed in the T-shirt and sweats he had slept in, and with a half-eaten slice of toast in one hand. A smear of jam decorated one cheek like strawberry woad. He carried a mug of coffee in his other hand.

“Process of elimination.”

“What's that mean?” He handed the cup to her, then raced around to the other side and climbed up on the mattress. Sitting cross-legged on Bann's side, he stuffed the rest of the slice in his mouth and wiped his fingers on his shirt.

“It means there are only three others in this house. Your dad wouldn't have knocked. Sam doesn't have hands.” She grinned at Cor's giggle. “So, by process of elimination, the only one who would have knocked is you.”

“Oh.” Flinging himself backwards, he spread his arms and legs wide. “I wish my bed was this big.”