Fairyville (26 page)

"Fine," Zoe said, ignoring the twinge of hurt. "We don't have to pretend this is fun. I simply need to ask you about a weird experience Alex and I had at Fairy Falls."

"A 'weird experience'? Is that what they're calling wild sex these days?"

Zoe's breath caught in her throat, not only at the accuracy of his guess but at the bitterness of the anger flashing in his eyes. "Okay, I'm not going to ask how you know that, or why you think it's your business, but I need to know if your mother is alive or dead, and if she's dead, I need to know if she passed in some gruesome fashion, because if Alex and I met her spirit, it's seriously pissed."

Magnus was on his feet before she'd finished, his hands pressed trembling to either side of her head. "Oh, God," he said. "Are you all right?"

If she'd understood the reason for it, this level of concern might have been flattering.

"I'm fine," she said, shaking him off. Talking about cursed bubbles seemed ridiculous, so she let that lie. "I'm just confused. Why would your dead mother want you to come home, and why is her shade lingering at the falls?"

Magnus's normally high color seemed to have bled right out of his face. "She said she wanted me to come home?"

"Actually, she said she wanted Alex to. We think… it doesn't make a lot of sense, but we think she must have mistaken him for you."

"She's nearsighted when she's here," Magnus said in a dazed, faint tone.

"Evidently, since you and Alex aren't exactly twins."

Magnus winced and took her shoulders in his hands, speaking slowly and carefully. "Did my mother say anything to you, Zoe? Did she seem to know who you were?"

Zoe folded her arms, less than pleased to be answering
his
questions. "She seemed to think I was your girlfriend."

"Hellfire." The curse was typical Magnus, but she didn't smile—considering it wasn't the most ingratiating exclamation he could have made. She watched as he shoved his hands in his thick black hair and began pacing his living room. After about half a minute he spun on his heel.

"You have to promise me you won't go back."

"I can't speak for Alex, but it's safe to say Fairy Falls has dropped off my must-see list. I'm beginning to think I'm not cut out for facing everything Fairyville can throw at me."

Magnus's clear green eyes narrowed. "This isn't a joke. It's important that you stay away from there."

Zoe didn't bother to tell him her answer had been serious. "You want to tell me why?"

His face twisted. "I can't."

"You can't."

"Would you rather I invent a lie?"

Zoe stared at him, refusing to acknowledge the plea for mercy shining in his eyes. "No," she said slowly. "I guess you're right about that. I've had enough of being lied to."

He said her name, but she turned away anyway, walking out the way she'd come without a backward glance. The heat that prickled between her shoulder blades didn't matter. Knowing that he was watching her didn't change a thing.

Magnus didn't bother to scream again, though he wanted to. He also didn't throw the couch across the room or shatter a whiskey glass. Now wasn't the time for pointless operatics. Now was the time for action.

Gritting his teeth, he dumped the melting ice cream into the sink and grabbed an apple from his fruit bowl. Magnus's fairy metabolism ensured he didn't have to worry about getting fat, but his brain was feeling in need of vitamins.

As he saw it, he had two problems to attend to. One: Prevent his mother from maiding Zoe the target of her ire, and two: Keep himself from going stark, raving bonkers over losing the prize that was meant for him to his damn cousin. Of the two dilemmas, he suspected solving the second would have the biggest influence on his effectiveness.

Concentration, and the magic he could work with it, was going to be key.

The moment Bryan caught sight of Alex that night, he knew.

Alex was walking toward him along the sidewalk, half a block from the steakhouse where they'd planned to meet. Bryan had good news about the hotel, and he was feeling happy to see him—a little horny, maybe, but mostly just happy.

Then he noticed the difference in Alex's stride, a stride he hadn't realized he knew so well. The swing of his legs was looser, the easiness of his hips. His hair was mussed in a haphazard way, and his lips were fuller, redder, as if he'd been kissing someone long and hard.

Bryan stopped in his tracks and had the dubious pleasure of watching Alex's steps falter. The air between them seemed to vibrate as they stared at each other. Even at this distance, Bryan saw the guilty rush of blood to his partner's cheeks.

An idiot could have jumped to the right conclusion. Alex had finally fucked Zoe Clare.

The knot in Bryan's throat didn't surprise him, but the slap of anger did. It was close enough to rage to suggest he really had been hoping Alex would get serious about him. The stupidity of that hope only made it worse. Too angry to have any desire to talk the situation through with him—or
not
talk it through, for that matter—Bryan turned around and walked the other way.

"Bryan!" Alex called, but he was smart enough not to follow.

Which figured, when Bryan thought about it. Guys like Alex didn't make wrong moves. Guys like Alex gave idiots like Bryan time to cool off. They waited until the people they'd stepped on in their selfish pursuit of pleasure were ready to crawl back.

That Bryan probably would crawl back was too mortifying to contemplate.

Muttering under his breath, he pushed into the first bar he saw, a dark, sticky-floored place that didn't look like it catered to the tourist crowd. He ordered what they had on tap and carried it to an empty booth. The crowd was mostly male, blue-collar workers with no one in particular to go home to. It would serve Alex right if Bryan picked someone up, but in a straight-arrow bar like this, he might end up on the wrong end of a baseball bat for thinking it.

Alex never said he was only going to sleep with you
, Bryan reminded himself.
Ton knew who he was before you started this
.

He also knew he wouldn't have chosen any differently. After all those years of yearning after his friend, no way would Bryan have missed the chance to be with him.

Which meant he kind of had to understand why Alex had grabbed his chance with Zoe.

"Crap," he said into his half-drunk beer.

A shadow fell over his booth—too tall to be a waitress and too substantial to be Alex. Bryan was too irritated with the world to bother looking up. Whoever it was could damn well write him off as rude and take a walk.

"An Irishman like you might like this better," the shadow said, placing a bottle of Jameson's on the dark, knife-gouged wood. Two empty glasses followed, set down by a large and well-kept masculine hand. Dark hair shaded the strong forearm above it. Intrigued in spite of himself, Bryan decided it might be worth his while to lift his head.

"I know you," he said, recognizing the man who'd driven Zoe to the Vista Inn—though he looked a lot harder-edged tonight.

"And I know you," said the man, his dry suggestiveness telling Bryan he meant more than just his name.

The instant heat that ignited in Bryan's body did nothing to legitimize the grievances he'd been brooding on. This man, this Magnus Monroe, was enough to give any mostly gay man a hard-on—and probably a few straight ones, too. He was big all over, and gorgeous to boot, with beautiful, dark-lashed green eyes that promised all sorts of dangerous adventures. This was a man who might do anything to his partners—tie them up, fuck them breathless, force them to have sex with exotic toys…

Bryan squirmed on the booth's hard bench, his jeans abruptly tighter than they'd been before. He found himself unable to say a word. He was pretty sure he was reading Magnus's signals right, but if he wasn't… or even if he was, was he really ready to thumb his nose at Alex?

"Well?" Magnus prompted, his small, knowing smile a wet dream all by itself. Those lips of his were born to do carnal things. "Should I pour you one, or am I drinking alone?"

Bryan shook himself. Oh, yeah, he was reading the signals right. "That would be a shame, considering that's a ten-year-old single malt. I should tell you, though, I'm only half Irish. The rest of me is all Eye-talian."

"Two fine races," Magnus observed. "Known around the world for the charm and lustiness of their men."

Magnus poured for both of them. Bryan sipped, allowing himself a tiny gasp of appreciation for the fiery nectar. Then he faced his unexpected company.

"Not that I'm complaining, but to what do I owe this honor?"

Magnus smiled, and there was a sweetness to it no amount of ulterior motives could dim. Bryan's cock gave an embarrassingly forceful lurch. "I want something from you."

That was enough to make Bryan cough. "Is it something I'll want to give you?" he rasped once his breath came back.

"Oh, I expect so. Once I sweeten the pot."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"By giving you something you want from me." His eyes seemed to be glowing in the bar's murky atmosphere, two sexy green lasers that sent a fresh wave of fire lapping Bryan's groin.

Bryan found those eyes unnervingly hard to look away from.

Not sure where he wanted this to be going, Bryan took another hit of whiskey, which—thankfully—went down smooth. "Forgive me for asking, but I was under the impression that Zoe was the object of your romantic interest. Won't, um, offering me what I want complicate that?"

"She is a good-looking woman." Magnus leaned back with his glowing, half-lidded eyes. "You think so yourself, don't you?"

Bryan shrugged. "Sure I do."

"And you could get it up for her if you had to."

This conversation was becoming downright surreal, but oddly enough Bryan had no inclination to cut it short. He was feeling a little buzzed, more so than could be accounted for by what he'd drunk. Magnus was radiating some sort of hum, as if sex appeal could be converted to energy.

"Not a problem," Bryan said. "Those legs of hers could get a rise out of a corpse."

This answer seemed to disconcert his companion, but Magnus recovered soon enough. He leaned forward across the table, the tips of his fingers touching Bryan's hand. Bryan fought a shiver. The humming he'd felt before increased with the contact.

"I want you to be my eyes," Magnus said in a hypnotic singsong tone. "My eyes and my ears, my cock and my skin, my proxy for a night of sexual indulgence. I want you to plunge your hardness into Zoe's cunt. I want you to spill your ecstasy inside her over and over. Nothing could be better than taking your pleasure there, and nothing else will fully satisfy you until your cock tastes her sweet pussy."

"Uh," said Bryan. His head felt thick, the images that Magnus described threatening to cloud his reason. Zoe was a hot tamale, and he didn't know why he shouldn't fantasize about fucking her, but surely it couldn't be that easy. "That sounds nice, but how am I supposed to get Zoe to agree to this?"

"When I make you come, I'll loan you a portion of my magic charm."