Eve of Samhain (18 page)

Suddenly, Stan’s face was all up in my business. “Ryann? Are you okay? Did you feel that? Did anything break?” A mix of panic and concern marked his features as he gasped for air, shaking behind the bar.

“I’m fine,” I said, barely able to think, let alone form a coherent sentence. The demon had come after me again, risking exposure no less, by attacking me at my place of work. It was either extremely brazen, or desperate. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

Of course, I couldn’t exactly tell my boss I’d been attacked by a malicious demon that wanted to steal me away to his underworld lair. He’d most likely accuse me of hitting the sauce and fire me on the spot. So I did the only thing I could do. I lied.

“Just a small quake, that’s all,” I said, waving him off with my hand. “Pretty typical for California. Nothing’s broken.”

Stan stood eyes wide, scanning the bar for broken glass before letting his eyes come to rest on Quinn, who shook visibly with rage.

“What a geographical nightmare. Good thing nothing was lost in the quake.” Stan’s attention darted back and forth between Quinn and me.

“Yes. It
is
a good thing nothing was lost,” Quinn snapped bitterly, while looking pointedly at me.

His double entendre was not lost on me. I knew I was damn lucky to be standing where I was.

Stan gave me a hearty clap on the back before snatching up a towel to wipe the bar with. “You look a bit shaken up, Ryann. Why don’t you go ahead and take the night off. I’ll keep you on the clock, so you won’t lose any pay.”

“Oh,” I said, shocked he’d offer such a thing. But given what had just happened, I wasn’t about to argue with him. Retrieving my purse from the break room, I walked quietly to Quinn’s side, afraid to meet his heated glare. I’d blown the perfect opportunity to put end to the nightmare that plagued me twenty-four-seven by stupidly opening my mouth. Why was I never able to keep my damn trap shut? Ashamed, and aware I’d totally blown it, I followed Quinn out of the club and down the street to the garage that housed his car, a hideous wall of silence separating us the entire way.

Once in the vehicle, I dared a peek in Quinn’s direction and found him sitting with his hands on the steering wheel. He stared out into the distance, his eyes resolute, and conviction radiating from every pore.

“I give you my solemn vow.” He turned to face me then, drawing his
Scían
from its sheath, gripping the blade with his hand and holding it to his chest. “On my soul, by my body, by the very blood that flows through my veins, before I leave this earth, I will bleed that devil dry, and set fire to his bones. You shall never have to fear him again.”

I stared, awestruck at the blood that flowed freely down Quinn’s massive hand onto the soft leather upholstery of the car before launching myself full force at him.

W
HEN
I W
AS
S
EVEN
, I had a crush on a boy named Nolan. He had bright blue eyes and a crooked smile that sent my little heart all a twitter. He’d give me the Oreos his mother packed him and chase me around the blacktop during lunch. One afternoon during late recess, Nolan and I snuck behind the library and gave each other our very first kiss. It was quick and awkward, and left me wondering what all the fuss was about with regard to kissing. Our fledgling relationship crumbled shortly thereafter, Nolan telling everyone I had cooties. Not to be outdone, I retaliated by telling everyone he had dog breath.

Many years later, I discovered the difference between good kissing ability and bad, and boy, was there a difference. My first real boyfriend, Spencer, was utterly adorable, funny in the extreme, but quite possibly the world’s worst kisser. Possessing the sensitivity of a Bull Mastiff, he kissed much the same, shoving his tongue down my throat and covering my mouth and chin with large amounts of drool. Needless to say, our relationship didn’t last long as I’d gag anytime he leaned in for a smooch.

Then there was Carson. Handsome and charismatic, he had a way with the ladies, and quickly stole my heart. No stranger to kissing, he’d schooled me in the fine art of making out. It was Carson who taught me a good kiss could be felt all the way down to your toes.

I dated a few other boys, some skilled, some not so much, but none of whom even came close to delivering the mind-blowing lip lock Quinn and I shared.

Quinn’s vow to protect me was the most romantic, heart-stopping, passionate pledge I’d ever been witness to in my short twenty-one years of life. Every coherent thought that had been running through my head—the fear, the remorse from my earlier blunder—quickly flew out the window at hearing him utter his promise to guard me from harm.

Acting on impulse, I threw myself at Quinn, grabbing onto his broad shoulders, my mouth crashing into his with a mounting desire. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew the kiss would be intensely wonderful, mind-altering even, given the nature of his curse. What I wasn’t prepared for was just how nearly orgasmic a simple kiss from him would be.

The moment our lips met, a spark ignited, deep within my very soul, exploding outward like an atom bomb, setting my skin on fire and sending my blood boiling. I gasped at the intensity of the sensation, giving Quinn an open invitation to deepen the kiss—an enticement he greedily accepted. He gently traced the contour of my lower lip with his tongue before sucking it between his own.

I unclenched my hand which gripped his shoulder like a vice, and let my fingertips slowly blaze a trail up the contour of his neck until it came to rest at the base of his skull, my other hand following suit. My body’s response to the additional skin-to-skin contact was staggering, and my pulse exploded. A low moan emanated from deep within my throat.

Dropping the Scían he still held to the floor of the car, Quinn grabbed me by the waist, pulling me over the center console and onto his lap. Deepening the kiss further, his tongue danced sensually with my own as we explored each other’s mouths with a growing fervor. I felt just how excited Quinn was as I sat straddled against his hips, and ground myself against his cock which strained against the seam of his pants.

He snaked one arm behind my lower back, pulling me closer still, and crushed our bodies together while grabbing a fistful of my short brown locks with his other hand. And dear holy Lord, I felt his kiss from the top of my head to the very tip of my toes. I was sure every molecule in my body would spontaneously combust from the sheer pleasure of it.

Lightheaded from lack of breath, my body shook, cluing Quinn in to my rapidly declining state. He broke contact, much to my dismay, and I cried out with displeasure.

“
A ghrá
, you need to breathe.”

Frantic, I shook my head. “Breathing is for the birds. I want more kissing,” I said breathlessly, moving in for another lip lock. Nothing else mattered. My mind swam with images of his lips moving with my own, his hands searching and exploring every inch of my body. More. I needed more.

The next thing I knew, he heaved me over the center console and back into my cold seat with an agonizing groan.

“Hey!” I complained. “Why’d you do that?”

His expression was one of pure torment. The longing in his eyes was unmistakable, yet he made no move to give in. “Because,
a ghrá
, you were losing control, succumbing to the curse.”

“No, I wasn’t. It was fine. I was fine. Please?”

I watched him sit back in his seat and shake his head. He looked like I’d slapped him.

Maybe I was losing control. I’d begged frantically like a child who’d had its toy taken away. I was most definitely not acting like myself. “Maybe you’re right,” I said reluctantly.

“Aye, I know I’m right.” A mixture of lust, pain and sadness tore at his rugged face. “I hope you enjoyed that, because it won’t happen again.”

The bubble I’d been floating on burst, sending me spiraling down to crash and burn against the sad reality of our situation. There would be no more kissing, no more touching. Quinn’s curse placed a wall between us he stubbornly refused to knock down. I knew his reasoning, and though I understood and even admired his decision to abstain from contact with me, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. I’d be living off the memory of my stolen kiss for the rest of my life.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “It was beautiful.”

He gave me a sober nod and looked away.

“How was it for you?” I felt like an idiot asking such a clichéd question, but my head demanded I ask what my heart desperately wanted to know.

Quinn turned to face me, his eyes full of…love? I couldn’t be sure, but whatever emotion, it was intense. “I’ve never experienced its equal.”

***

The silver bough came two days later via second day airmail. I felt relieved I had tangible evidence of a way to help Quinn within my grasp, yet afraid of what came along with using the mystical branch. Relief and fear made strange bedfellows.

I’d be confronting a queen. A faerie queen, no less, who’d used her magical powers to put a hex on the man of my dreams. Facing her would be extraordinarily daunting. Still, I knew I would go to the ends of the earth, to hell and back, if it meant keeping Quinn alive.

I cranked the speaker on my iPod’s docking station and called Martha into my room to finalize our plan for that night. We had the branch delivered in her name in an effort to keep Quinn in the dark, should he take it upon himself to inspect our packages. While rifling through other people’s mail was a federal offense, as a faerie, I didn’t think Quinn really cared. He’d do what he had to in order to keep me safe, which meant I needed to stay one step ahead of him at all times.

After texting Jessica, reminding her that tonight was the night, I headed outside to meet Quinn so he could take me to work.

Quinn went ape-shit after Monday night’s attack, falling into a panic-fueled spiral of rage. Suspicious of anything and everything with a pulse, he’d actually threatened to beat the piss out of an elderly man who he insisted gave me the “evil eye.”

It took quite a bit of reasoning on my part to convince him that not everyone on the planet was a demon in disguise, lying in wait to kidnap me. While Quinn had no problem doling out ass-whoopings to an evil monster such as the Zmeu, he wasn’t about to punish innocents who had no clue about the supernatural world. He finally admitted I was probably safe with regard to the elderly and infirm. Until Quinn located the Zmeu’s lair, we’d bide our time and wait for him to make another appearance, which we were both certain would happen sooner, rather than later.

According to Quinn, cloaking himself with invisibility while he watched over me at the club was the only way to go. His blue eyes darkened, filling with determination as he hovered over me protectively. “We’ll take him by surprise,” he said, pounding his fist into his palm as we walked up the street toward the club. “The damn shifty bastard won’t know what hit him.” My guy was ready to fight, and I’d never felt safer.

I cast him a sideways glare as we entered the club. “Behave yourself.”

The corner of his lip curled up into a mischievous grin. “Aye. That I will,
a ghrá,
that I will.”

***

Work lingered on for a damn frigging eternity, my heart and mind focused on my secret plan to save Quinn, and not on the job at hand.

Relishing his ability to wander around like the Invisible Man, Quinn took great pleasure in tormenting my lanky boss every chance he got. Ghosting his movements throughout the club, Quinn snatched up Stan’s glasses the minute he set them down.

Unable to see without his hideous specs, Stan took out two servers and a scary looking biker dude when he came out of his office and attempted to make “the rounds” as he called it. Later, when he went to sit down at the bar, his barstool shot out from beneath his butt, sending him ass first onto the floor in front of a large group of co-eds, who then mocked him mercilessly.

Unable to scold Quinn, because no one else knew of his presence, I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.

Knock it off! You’re freaking him out!

My phone vibrated a few seconds later with Quinn’s response.

I can’t help myself. The scrawny ape makes it too damn easy.

As bad as I felt for Stan, I couldn’t begrudge Quinn the small bit of happiness he’d found in pranking my dorky boss. His ability to goof around and be playful despite his impending fate warmed my heart. Quinn was like no one I’d ever come across before, and I loved him all the more for it. A small giggle escaped my lips as I waited for Gabriel to fill a drink order.

A high pitched, garbled noise coming from Stan’s direction startled me, and I looked over to see him frozen in place, his eyes ten times their normal size, threatening to pop out of their sockets. His breath came in short gasps as he stared across the bar.

I craned my head to see what was frightening him so much and saw he was staring at the giant specialty drink menu that hung behind the right side of the bar. Overcome with silent laughter, I looked away for a moment so Stan wouldn’t see.

Quinn, doing his level best to scare the tar out of Stan, had somehow gotten hold of the remote that controlled the electronic drink menu and had programmed “Stan, I’m coming for you,” placing it on repeat so the phrase continually crawled across the screen in large, bold letters. My boss, unaware there was a devilish faerie lurking around, saw the ominous message and fled the bar in hysterics, leaving shortly thereafter, claiming stress due to overworking.

“You are incorrigible,” I scolded Quinn later as he drove me home, earning an impish grin from him as he hit the gas pedal.

“Try to behave yourself,” he said as I climbed out of the Mercedes. “Don’t leave the apartment for any reason. If you need something, call me.”

“Okay, Dad,” I grumbled. I shut the door and leaned down to wave goodbye, only to see him pointing at me and then to his own eyes, letting me know he’d be watching.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’ll be watching me,” I said, and rolled my eyes.

The corners of his mouth turned up and he blew me a kiss before I turned to walk toward my home. In the distance, I heard car tires squealing as he exited the parking lot.

Damn faerie thinks he’s Jeff Gordon!

I walked into Martha’s room to see her and Jessica sitting on the floor, waiting for me with several candles and the silver bough lying before them. After dumping my belongings onto Martha’s bed, I took a seat on the Berber opposite my two friends, completing the circle.

“Well,” I said, and exhaled. “This is it, then. Where do we begin?” I looked over to Martha, who smiled and, with a nod, turned the lights off and lit the candles simultaneously using her magic.

“Can we have some music or will that disrupt the spell? I don’t think Quinn is coming back, but you never know. I don’t want him to hear what we’re up to.”

I hated keeping such a huge secret from him, but I knew he’d never approve of what I was about to do. Quinn stubbornly believed he didn’t need any help and planned on fading out of this world after five hundred long years, having finally made a connection with someone: me. Unable to even think about a world that didn’t have Quinn in it, I was forced to keep my plans of crossing over into the Faerie Realm to plead with the Faerie Queen Morgana hidden from him.

Martha scrunched her face as she pondered my question. “I think that will be okay. It’ll have to be something soft and mellow though, no hardcore rap or metal. Those would be too distracting.” She glanced over our heads toward the docking station that sat on her nightstand and with a look of concentration sent a soft selection of classical music filling the air.

I shook my head and stared at Martha in awe. “Damn…can you teach me how to do that?”

“Sorry.” Martha shook her head and laughed. “It’s a family thing.” She held out her hands, palm up. “All right, girls. I need everyone to join hands.” Martha gave Jess an annoyed glare when she initially refused her hand.

“Jess.” I flashed her a warning look.

Now was not the time for petty prejudices. I needed her on board. I knew she was just being protective of me where Martha was concerned, but she needed to drop the attitude. Quinn’s life was on the line.

“Fine,” she said with a huff.

“Whatever you do,” Martha continued, “Don’t break the circle. Our hands must remain joined in order for the spell to work. Now, try to relax and concentrate on the bough.”

We both nodded and looked down toward the branch lying on the carpet. The dim light from the candles bounced off the bough, casting ominous shadows about the room.

My thoughts trailed off. What did the Faerie Realm look like? Would Morgana even allow my presence before her?

“Ryann, focus on the bough,” Martha said pointedly.

Shamefaced, I refocused. “Sorry.” I set my eyes on the large branch that lay before us as I listened to Martha begin the spell, uttering words I couldn’t understand. Staring at the bough, I couldn’t help but think it didn’t look very magical. In fact, it looked like an ordinary branch you might find laying on the ground after a storm, and I had a hard time imagining what was so damn special about this particular piece of wood that made it worth two thousand dollars.