Mists of Velvet (10 page)

Rhys wasn’t normally the macho, dickhead type, but lately, his actions had been leaning in that direction. He really didn’t have anything to prove to anyone, but maybe this feeling he had was the need to prove something to himself.

“So, what else are you hiding?” Rhys grumbled, preferring to talk about something—or someone—other than himself. “I know you are, so you might as well come clean.”

Sighing, Keir sat back in his chair and raked his long fingers through his hair. “I have been using the cards to try to investigate Rowan’s past.”

“What’d the tarot tell you?”

“Nothing. I mean, it’s so bizarre. I know she’s not fully human. I can feel it. And so can Bran. But what the other part of her is . . . I can’t determine.”

“And this other part? Do you think you can use it to save her?”

Keir looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“If she’s immortal, can you use whatever immortality she has to save her?”

“That’s not the way it works. You’re either immortal or you’re not.”

“I already know that.” Rhys had tried to perform magick, and fuck-all had happened. He was a mortal, with violet-colored Sidhe eyes—the only sign of his immortal blood. Nope, not one magical cell in his body. Just about his only special talent was with a bow and arrow. As a kid, once he’d accepted that magick wasn’t in his blood, he’d picked up a different hobby—archery. He was good—
really good
—at it; a natural, his instructor had said. He’d always believed that one day, his talent might come in handy. But when compared to magick, playing with arrows was . . . well . . . so nursery school.

“I figured if I went to the cards, they might help me to learn more about her, but it was just cloudy images, until . . .”

Keir swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Rhys felt Keir’s agony. The way it ate at him. Rhys had never been in love, and he was suddenly glad for that, because he didn’t want to experience one ounce of what the wraith was going through.

“This morning, I left the club and went there,” Keir whispered quietly, his voice cracking. Rhys knew exactly where Keir meant—Rowan’s old store, which housed her inventory of new age stuff. Keir was a devout practitioner of the tarot.

Keir glanced at him, and Rhys knew the wraith could hear his thoughts. “I needed to be close to her, and I needed to know her. I went to see if I could discover her past.” Keir shot him a hooded look. “Instead, I saw her death.”

Rhys shoved the bowl away and pressed forward, trying to catch Keir’s gaze. But he was a million miles away, lost in the memory. “I saw it in the cards—it is heat and flame and ash. And when the embers die away, and the wind whispers over her grave, the ashes fly up and around, and there is nothing left but a bit of silver that is melted and distorted.”

“Jesus, Keir,” Rhys murmured as he reached out and clutched the wraith’s shoulder. “You should have told me sooner.”

“Why?” Keir looked up at him with desperate eyes. “Can you change it?”

“You know I would if I could.”

His friend nodded and pushed his coffee cup away. “It’s all just bullshit, you know.” Keir stood and moved away from the kitchen table, prowling like a caged lion. “I shouldn’t even care what happens to her. I’ve known her for what? A month? Hell, I haven’t even slept with her. And yet, the second she looked into my eyes I felt something . . . like destiny, or my fate unfolding. I can’t explain it. I just feel it so deeply, that she is meant for me.”

“I know what you mean.” And he did. He felt the very same thing whenever he dreamed of the woman. Yes, he wanted her sexually, but there was something more than lust connecting him to her.

Keir shook himself. “I apologize for leaving you high and dry here. I’ve just—just been consumed with Rowan. And if I’m being honest, it’s hard to see her spending so much time with Sayer. That damned Selkie is using his Enchantment magick on her to help with the search for the king’s brother, but my gut tells me he has his own motives, and they aren’t pure and innocent.”

“There’s no need to apologize. You’re not my babysitter, and I’m not your wife.”

That earned a half smile from the wraith. “Shit no. I wouldn’t marry you. You talk in your sleep.”

Suddenly, Rhys was on the alert. “Oh yeah, what do I say?”

“Very naughty things. You’ve been dreaming of a woman for a week.”

Amusement melded into jealousy. He didn’t like that Keir might be able to see his dream woman. Hell, he didn’t even like the idea of the wraith’s knowing about her.

“Easy,” Keir grumbled. “I got my own female problems.”

Only slightly relieved, Rhys pushed his chair back. He didn’t want to think about Keir’s knowing about the woman. For some asinine reason, he was starting to become highly jealous and possessive. “I have some business to do in my study. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Just stay away from the portal, right?” Keir reminded him.

Rhys flipped him off, making Keir laugh for the first time in weeks.

Keir watched Rhys walk out of the kitchen. The mortal was tightly wound this morning. It had been stupid to admit he knew of Rhys’ dreams and the woman. He was overstepping bounds. He knew it. But somehow he had to find a way to make Rhys realize that things weren’t always as they seemed.

That woman Rhys was dreaming of? She was going to make things very difficult, and very complicated.

With a groan, Keir sat back at the table, allowing his head to fall into his hands. Things were going to get downright ugly—and soon. Closing his eyes, he recalled how he’d been awakened in the night with the near-deafening screams of Rhys’ thoughts in his head. He could still feel the mortal’s desire swimming in him. And the things he had wanted to do with the woman . . .
Christ
. He glanced down at the button fly of his 501s.
Ah, shit
. Not again. Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d suffered through a hard-on all night while listening to Rhys get it on in his dreams? But now, too?

Damn it. He couldn’t help it. Everything Rhys wanted to do with his woman was what Keir wanted to do with Rowan.

Okay, he had to check it. To get the memories of Rhys’ thoughts and yearnings out of his head. But Christ, he couldn’t stop hearing him. Even now, Rhys was thinking of her. Keir heard his thoughts and his sexed-up voice. It was a terrible invasion of his privacy. He should have shut off the sounds—he had the power to—but he was so strung out, so fucking desperate that he didn’t have the strength. He was desperately in love with Rowan, just as Rhys was falling in love with a woman he could never have, for Keir was powerless to deny the destiny that was unfolding. The woman Rhys dreamed of would not belong to him. She would not be his mate.

Instead, she would be Keir’s.

In time, Rhys would have to know the truth, but not now. Let him have his dreams. As long as Rowan was alive, Keir would do everything in his power to change their fate—a fate that would destroy Rhys.

“You will open your eyes and awaken when you feel my touch.”

Rowan felt the gentle caress along her cheek. Lashes fluttering, she slowly lifted her lids to see Sayer sitting before her.

“Well?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing new. The riddle is the same. No more or less was revealed.”

“I’m sorry, Sayer,” she whispered. And she was. She had so hoped that by allowing Sayer to enchant her, she would be able to help uncover the location of Carden, the Sidhe king’s brother.

“We’ll try tomorrow. I have other techniques I can use.”

Rowan knew her mental resistance was the roadblock. Sayer, despite his powerful Enchantments, could not break past that one last barrier in her mind. This was the barrier that protected her innermost thoughts and feelings and the dwelling place of her horrible memories of being raped.

Cupping her cheeks, Sayer looked deeply into her eyes. His pupils were long, elliptical—beautiful, and the mystery she saw in his eyes drew her in. “You know you can trust me, Rowan. I need that trust to be able to get inside your mind completely.”

“I know I can trust you . . . but . . . I can’t let you in there. I . . . can’t.”

Kissing her forehead, he soothed her fears. “It’s okay. It’s too soon yet. That’s all. Don’t worry, we’ll find a way around this.”

Pressing her face into his neck, Rowan allowed herself to absorb Sayer’s heat and the safety he provided. He was a good friend, but obviously not good enough for Rowan to shed the memories of her body being abused by the caretaker of the orphanage where she had lived since the age of five.

On the outside, she appeared to be a together type of woman; someone who had survived being raped as a teen, and was still able to heal and grow. And she had, in some respects. But in her mind, she hadn’t. She hid those memories, and the fears, from herself and others.

Trembling as the memories came back, she held on tighter to Sayer. A month ago, if someone had told her she would find comfort and friendship in an immortal Selkie who practiced Enchantment magick, she would have laughed, then promptly called the psych ward for the poor, deluded individual. But now, it seemed almost normal.

He held her for a while, allowing her to breathe in his calming scent. He smelled of the ocean—clean, salty; the aroma always brought her a measure of peace and calm.

“You need to rest.”

She wasn’t tired, but the opportunity to be alone was too much to resist, so she nodded and allowed Sayer to press her back onto the bed. She shuddered as his chest came down to hers. Suddenly she felt smothered, just as when she was sixteen and the caretaker had come up behind her and grabbed her, covering her mouth with his hand as he dragged her to the crypt below the church.

Her breathing started to quicken, and her vision glazed. But Sayer moved away and reached for the blankets. “Sleep well.”

The space he created made her breathe easier. No one knew, not even Mairi, her best friend, that she had not been able to allow herself to be with a man since that fateful afternoon. She had pretended she had gotten over it. She’d dated, but never once had she been able to allow a man to do more than kiss her. The relationships would then end swiftly, and she’d move on. Most of the men had been understanding, with the exception of Aaron. He’d turned into a stalker, and a horrifying one at that. He’d wanted something from her, but what?

He was still out there, she thought. He was part of this prophecy, and the Dark Times that had come to the Otherworld. She was terrified he would find her. When she was alone at night, her room blanketed in darkness, Rowan prayed to the Fates she would never be found. So far, good karma had reigned. She’d been protected here in the court of the Sidhe king.

The door inched open, and Mairi peeked around the corner. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“No. We’re done. I’m sorry, Mairi. We didn’t learn anything new about Carden.”

Mairi’s expression was somber. “It’s okay, Rowan. Just rest. Bran will find Carden. I have someone here who wants to see you.”

Rowan’s heart sped into overdrive. Keir. Her body lit up, anticipating a glimpse of the rough-hewn Shadow Wraith. He was huge—tall and broad, with a body that looked as if it could snap a person in two; the type she should be terrified of. But she wasn’t. Keir did things to her body she had never experienced before. And he’d never even touched her.

“I’m up for visitors,” she said, suddenly more animated. Sayer sent her a cocky grin and gave her another quick kiss on the cheek.

“Sleep well,” he murmured, with heavy emphasis on “sleep.” “And we’ll try this again later.”

Rowan smiled as she watched him leave. Her expression immediately fell when Suriel walked in. “Hi.”

He knew she was disappointed. She saw it in the way his face softened. “Expecting someone else?”

“No.”

But he knew she was lying.

Sayer and Mairi took their leave. As the door to her room clicked closed, Suriel pointed to the bed. “May I?”