Deceiver's Bond: Book Two of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (47 page)

We spent the remains of the day in bed. In between flights of passion, we spoke as lovers, as friends, learning about each other’s lives. Even while talking, Kieran’s attention focused on me almost as intently as when we made love. Except for the few times we’d separated to visit the bathroom and when we’d eaten dinner, he almost never stopped touching me—not in a pawing, overbearing way. It was sweet. His caresses and obvious regard never let me forget how much he wanted and valued me.

It brought into stark contrast how one-sided my relationship with Vince had been. For the most part, I’d been the one in the driver’s seat, moving things along, pursuing him, coaxing him into spending time with me. If not for the trouble with Sheriff Lancer, which essentially forced him back into my life, I had little doubt Vince and I would have parted ways.

Kieran, on the other hand, had taken the lead from the get-go and I was content to yield it to him.

As I lay next to him on my stomach, my head resting on my overlapped hands, he skated his fingers down my back, drawing a shiver out of me. “You look pensive,” he observed. “What are you thinking?”

I tried to smother my guilty expression, but it was impossible. “About Vince,” I admitted. “About how glad I am that I never slept with him, and how good it is to feel wanted, especially by a man like you.” I bobbed my shoulders up and down, attempting a prone shrug.

He lowered himself to his side, supporting his head with his right hand. The room had grown dim, but I could see his tender expression well enough.

“So … perhaps it will not be so bad to learn you cannot resist my glamour?”

I rolled slightly and raised up on an elbow so I could look at him. “
Your
glamour, no. Lorcán’s—that would be a big fat yes.”

“And if you should fail my test? What then?” His fingers trailed a path over my shoulder and down my side.

“I don’t know,” I replied, honestly. “We’ll figure something out.”

I reached out to stroke his jaw. When we were this tantalizingly close, I couldn’t keep from touching him. A whisper of stubble rasped beneath my fingertips. I wondered what he might look like with a beard.

“He’ll not harm you,” he told me.

“I know, baby. But if I can resist him, that’s a
guarantee
because I’ll give him brain freeze before he can even get near me.”

“No. To do so, you would need to touch him. Like me, he has the ability to shroud.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, not one little bit. I sat and scooted to lean against my padded headboard, tugging the sheet with me so it loosely covered my breasts. “He can control his shadow, like you? Can he reflect my magic too?”

“No, he hasn’t the power over shadow. Shrouding is one of our more common abilities, similar to a veil. Instead of diffusing the play of light, it diffuses magic.”

“But if I touch his skin all bets are off?”

He sat up to peer into my eyes. “You don’t want to get close enough to touch him. Hear me on this: Lorcán is an expert warrior. His knife-work and hand-to-hand skills are nearly unmatched. If you get close enough to touch him, he will incapacitate you before you can use your magic. He has no offensive boons of his own. Because of this, he’s dedicated his life to perfecting his physical prowess.”

I shivered at Kieran’s grim expression. “You told me you wounded him once.” Watching him carefully for any signs of false bravado, I asked, “Can you beat him?”

His eyes hardened, but before I could read anything more in his expression, his stoic mask slammed into place and cut me off. “I want your oath,” he declared. “If he comes, you will sidestep. No matter what the circumstances.” He grasped my chin. “Swear it.”

“No.” I batted his hand away and glared at him.

“Lire—”

“Forget it. That’s a promise I can’t make.”

“You are no match for him.”

I folded my arms, locking the sheet to my chest. “I knocked you nearly unconscious. Or have you forgotten?”

His body went rigid. “Because I at least
endeavor
to be honorable.” He paused, drawing a long breath, and then continued less vociferously, “When you fought against me, I had no wish to hurt you. Lorcán will not constrain himself in such a way. He will take you using any manner necessary. He will not hesitate, even if it means inflicting serious injury.”

“Then I guess we better make darn sure he doesn’t get the drop on us.”

“Lire—” he started, but I turned away and slid to the edge of the bed.

“Come on, protector. Let’s figure this out. Time to play with glamour.”

I donned my robe and walked to the bathroom’s doorway to put some distance between us. Kieran stood next to the bed, gloriously naked.
Good God.
His body was a visual treat, and apparently I was still ravenous.

I slapped a hand over my eyes and groaned. “Shit. Put your clothes on. Otherwise you’ll have an unfair advantage.”

“Planning for the worst case. Isn’t that the point of this exercise?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Now that’s just ridiculous, unless you honestly think Lorcán will come gunning for me in his birthday suit.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Nudity won’t be necessary. There is more than one reason Maeve keeps Lorcán under her thumb. Even with his scar and fully dressed, his charms are legendary.”

”
Please
,” I snorted, shaking my head. “Baby, trust me on this. No man, sidhe or not, is going to hold a candle to you.”

He bent down to retrieve his jeans, obviously unmoved by my declaration. His muttered reply came to me as he slipped into them. “You have yet to see him.”

The resignation in his declaration unsettled me. It was perfectly matter-of-fact, as though Lorcán’s show-stopper status had been written into the fabric of the cosmos, as enduring as gravity and equally absolute.

“It doesn’t matter how gorgeous someone might be on the outside, if they’re ugly on the inside, people will know it.” I stared at him. “
I’ll
know it.”

My words didn’t have the anticipated effect. Instead of looking relieved or touched, his lips compressed, and for a moment, I got the sense I’d only made him angry.

What the hell was that about?

Before I could call him on it, he wiped clean his expression and said, “Ready yourself. I won’t move. If you end up here in my arms, you fail. To succeed, you need to escape or find a way to disrupt my spell. Agreed?”

“Yes.” I stiffened, unsure what to expect, and immediately raised my psychic shield. Would he start singing, like Maeve had? I couldn’t imagine him doing such a thing, but then, besides Maeve, I’d never witnessed anyone casting glamour.

He sighed. “Bìdteine, relax. I’ll not hurt you. You know this.” He smiled tentatively and it did delightful things to his eyes.

In fact, his tender expression filled me with such warmth, I honestly worried that strange, desperate noises might come out of my mouth if I wasn’t careful. Just to be safe, I clamped my lips together.

“There is almost nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” he said and then frowned. “Have I not made that clear enough?”

When I didn’t immediately answer, he prompted, “Lire, my love. Do you trust me?”

My mouth had gone dry. I licked my lips. For some reason, tears hovered at the back of my throat and I had to force my words past them. “You know I do,” I said and, to my embarrassment, my voice broke with the admission.

He blinked at me, looking anguished, absolutely wrecked. Never in a million years had I expected to see such a heartrending expression on Kieran’s face.

Of course I trusted him! But why would knowing it cause him such distress? The urge to rush to his side, to console him, to love him, nearly overwhelmed me. I wavered in place, unsure what to do to make things better.

“Kier,” I whimpered.

I couldn’t seem to think straight. I closed my eyes, hiding them behind my hands, and struggled to regroup.

Damn it, woman! Are you so thick headed?
Paimon’s voice thundered through me.
Snap out of it! Protect yourself.

I stumbled, midstep (I’d been walking?), and blinked slowly at the floor.

I glanced up. Kieran was there, not ten feet away, obviously tormented by something I’d done. Or not done. But what? I frowned and blinked back the tears that welled into the corner of my eyes. I needed the comfort of his arms around me, wanted him so badly, but … it was the oddest thing … Much as I wanted to go to him, I couldn’t convince my body that it was a good idea.

“You speak of beauty.” Kieran shook his head and gently scoffed. “
You
. Do you have any idea of the effect you have on me? Singular looks, keen wit, astonishing strength, and such stubborn, fiery determination …” He blew out a fervent sigh. “You captivate me, Lire. Stun me. You make me wish I was a better man. Because as surely as I breathe, you deserve a man far better than I.”

He squeezed his eyes closed and ran a hand savagely through his hair.

Jesus
, the look on his face! Completely undone. And it was all for me. My inner voice screamed,
Go to him!

Dizziness narrowed my vision, and I swayed on my feet.
Move, damn it.
What the hell was wrong with me? I closed my eyes, trying to pinpoint the problem.

Paimon’s voice exploded in my head.
He is known as the Deceiver by his own damned people! My love, heed me. He is not who he seems. You must fight his sway. Fight him, Lire. Do not let him take you.

I cried out and, without any forethought, clouted Kieran with my telekinesis. It flared out of my core and slammed into his chest, driving a startled grunt from his mouth and catapulting his body backward. He collided with my nightstand, toppling it. My lamp and telephone crashed to the floor. Before he could spill to the ground too, I enveloped his body in my magic and thrust him hard against the wall. His feet dangled eighteen inches from the floor. Fire cascaded over my arms, flaring incandescent and banishing the early evening shadows to the farthest corners of the room.

“No!” I forced him harder against the wall. My voice bordered on shrill. “Tell me. Why are you called the Deceiver?”

I was freaking way the hell out, but I couldn’t help it. With the lingering effects of the spell and Paimon’s words still echoing in my head, if I didn’t release my fear, my disappointment, I’d drive him through the damned wall. Or worse.

He recoiled, as though my question had been a physical slap, and then his eyes widened in understanding. “The demon. It speaks to you.” His voice rose. “This is how you broke Maeve’s enchantment!”

I was too astonished to respond to his outrage.

He hadn’t denied it, hadn’t acted confused, demanded to know what the hell I was screeching about, or why I’d dare to call him such a horrible name.

“Yes,” I snapped. “And once again, it’s painfully clear that the demon speaks more truth than you.”

A flash of agony flooded his expression before resignation took its place. Not anger. He didn’t even argue. He stared at me with the enduring look of someone who had long ago taken responsibility for his actions and had accepted his fate.

His body stilled, and he watched me, waited for me to tear him apart, all while wearing an expression that said he knew it wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve.

And,
damn
, if that chastened demeanor didn’t squeeze my heart.

I banked my fire and lowered him to the floor. Distance. I needed distance. The safety of the bathroom threshold beckoned. I shambled to the doorway and gripped the painted wood casing. I had the mad notion that if I didn’t hold on to something solid, I’d float away, never to be seen again.

Great
. My inner voice seemed to have developed a penchant for melodrama.

Before I could begin banging my forehead against the doorjamb, I squared my shoulders and faced him. “Why are you called the Deceiver?”

He sighed, but it wasn’t out of indignation or impatience. It was a defeated sound that was so aberrant, so out of character, I’d have battled a nest of dragons with a curling iron if it meant never hearing him make it again.

His gaze met mine. “Because years ago, I forsook my honor for what I thought was my duty. It is a mistake I continue to regret to this day.”

“What did you do?”

He didn’t reply but his taut body language and afflicted expression spoke for him. This
thing
, whatever it was, pained him deeply, and it was a part of his past he wasn’t willing to discuss. At least, not yet.

The sidhe prided themselves on their honor, possibly above all else. Being so blatantly labeled a liar must be an incredibly grave repercussion. In fact, with the way he was acting, I wondered whether the sidhe considered lying to be worse than murder.

I hugged myself, suddenly feeling very naked under my robe. “I trusted you.”

“Lire, I do promise, I have never lied. Nor will I. But because of my previous … lapse in judgment, there are those who continue to question my honor.” He cautiously approached me. “Everything I have done has been with your welfare in mind. There is very little I wouldn’t do to ensure your happiness and keep you safe. You must know this.”

I considered him, took in his heartfelt expression and concerned gaze, and grudgingly admitted, “Yes. I do. I feel the same way about you.”

And I
did
. Regardless of what he’d done in the past, he’d never once given me any indication that he wasn’t honorable to the core. There had been nothing duplicitous in the way he’d treated me or anyone else. He’d risked his life for me. When he said he’d protect me from Lorcán and anyone who might want to harm me, I believed him. And we’d just spent the last four hours as close as two people could get. He’d been nothing but attentive and loving.

When something seems too good to be true—

I told my inner voice to shut the hell up.

Maybe it was reckless, barreling ahead without protecting my heart, but it was too late to turn back. I’d already decided. He was worth the risk.

Kieran stroked the underside of my jaw, tipping my head to be sure he captured my gaze. “Bìdteine, can that not be enough?”