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Authors: Cheyenne McCray

BOOK: Shadow Magic
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Before she knew it, servers had placed trenchers before each person and the table was laden with platters of chicken, beef, and pork. The scents were enough to cause Hannah's mouth to water. Bowls of potatoes, sugar snap peas, and yellow squash were arranged around the meat dishes, along with fresh fruit and large hunks of cheese and bread. The bread smelled warm and freshly baked.
The entire time, Hannah was far too aware of Garran. She felt odd—jittery—in his presence but flushed with heat.
No man had ever made her feel that kind of electricity sizzling under her skin just from being close to him. How could she feel this way when he was one of the Dark Elves, a being who couldn't be trusted? A traitor.
And he has blue skin, for the goddess's sake!
From the other side of her, she sensed Eavan's tension and decided to ignore him, too.
As Garran spoke with Rhiannon, she couldn't help but listen to his rich voice. Hannah tried to stay completely aloof, but it was difficult as she noticed his soft smile and gentle manner as he talked with his daughter. Rhiannon seemed to have set their differences and her anger aside for the moment as her father told her stories of the mother she never knew, and of his love for them both.
A sigh came out of nowhere and Hannah tried to hold it in as her thoughts brushed her own childhood.
The dull roar of conversation rolled over Hannah as she tore tiny pieces off a chunk of bread and let them fall onto her trencher. In some ways she was like Rhiannon. Hannah had never known a true home, and what a real family was like.
Instead, she had spent her childhood being dragged around by her mother who went from husband to husband to husband. Selena Wentworth was born of “old money,” and had spent it lavishly. Her husbands each demanded alimony once Selena divorced them and moved on to the next man.
She paid the alimony without batting an eyelash or putting a dent in her checking account.
Hannah tore off bigger pieces of bread until there was nothing left in her hands. She fought back the childish feelings that tightened her stomach as she thought about her mother. A mother who would rather attend parties, luncheons, and social gatherings than spend time with her own daughter.
Hannah sucked in her breath. What in Anu's name was she doing? Thinking? She was no longer that little girl who needed attention and never received it.
“Why did I not see you at my daughter and Keir's joining, Hannah?” Garran asked, drawing her away and giving her a reprieve from the unwanted thoughts. His rich voice flowed over her like honey.
She frowned as she worked to regain her composure and force better forgotten memories away. “I was at the wedding.”
“You must have left the room.” Garran leaned closer to her. “I would have seen you.” He lowered his voice another octave. “
Sensed
you. Like last night.”
Something inside her told her she would have felt him, too. The innate power of his presence made her dizzy, and that was enough to make her grind her teeth.
Was
he using Drow magic on her?
“Why were you watching me last night?” she asked, keeping her expression neutral and her voice just as low as his.
“It is not often one comes across such beauty. And magic.” Garran gave her a lazy look as his gaze slid from her face to her breasts, and then his eyes met hers again. His slow perusal caused her nipples to tighten and ache against her will. The corner of his mouth curved into a sinful smile. “I wager you have many surprises.”
GARRAN'S LIPS TWITCHED AS he studied the beautiful woman who looked at him with such disdain.
Hannah Wentworth might not wish to be attracted to him, but in every fiber of his being he held certainty that she was.
Hannah's dark brown gaze moved from his eyes, down his chest, to his abs. Fortunately she could not see beneath the table, unless that was one of her D'Anu talents. He had to refrain from shifting in his chair as her gaze traveled over his body. Instead, he leaned back, propped his elbows on the chair's arms, and steepled his fingers.
She brought her eyes back to his. “My talents would be wasted here,” she said, then turned to speak to the D'Danann warrior on the other side of her.
Garran did smile then. This woman was not easily rattled or embarrassed, something he found more than intriguing. Her mere presence heightened his senses. The soft scent of her skin—woman, and something light, clean, and fresh. Need vibrated through his body, deep and carnal.
The intriguing woman was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. A woman meant to be savored as a man would enjoy a fine Faerie-made honeyed mead.
He would start with brushing his lips over the line of her delicate brow while sifting his fingers through the blond lock that was so distinctive against her dark hair. His teeth would find her earlobe and she would give a soft cry as he nipped it then slipped his tongue inside.
When his mouth finally met her soft lips, he would taste her like a hummingbird might relish nectar from a bloom. His tongue would move with hers and their lips would meet and meet again.
The din at the meal table faded as he focused intently on Hannah until he was certain he could hear Hannah's every breath with every rise and fall of her chest. His gaze settled on her breasts and he lowered his lids as he smiled his sexual promise when she glanced at him. Her cheeks had the slightest tinge of pink as her nipples grew obviously harder, pushing even more against the cloth covering them.
Cloth he wanted to peel away so that he could suckle, lick and bite those nipples.
He noticed the catch in her breath as she looked away. She reached one hand up and slid her fingers over her gold armband in what appeared to be a nervous movement. He shifted in his seat as his erection grew when he imagined her fingers stroking his cock in the same way.
Garran let his gaze drift from her breasts to her small waist and pictured her naked body. He would stroke her flat belly, the curve of her waist to her hips and then he would spread her thighs wide. He could almost feel his hands sliding beneath her ass as he buried his face against her folds.
He imagined how sweet her flavor would be, smooth and rich on his tongue.
Gods, he wanted her. Wanted to taste her sweetness. Wanted to feel her slim body beneath his as she cried his name.
When he came to his senses, the noise in the room gradually returned to his hearing. The bellows of laughter he had pushed out of his consciousness now rang in his ears, hiding the sound of her breathing and the rapid beat of her heart.
His gaze moved from her to her companion and he narrowed his eyes. The man sitting beside Hannah clearly desired her. A moment's anger at the D'Danann warrior traveled through Garran, an unfamiliar feeling of jealousy. But the feeling quickly diminished as he saw that Hannah was dismissing the man, just as she had dismissed Garran.
But unlike her reaction to him, Garran felt no currents of attraction between her and the D'Danann. At least not on Hannah's part.
Instead, the sexual awareness remained between Garran and Hannah. Tangible, strong threads that could easily be woven into a tight rope.
Hannah turned her attention to her trencher and frowned at the pieces of bread she had shredded on it before looking at the rest of the food on the table. More raucous laughter
broke out from the opposite end, but the D'Danann and D'Anu did not join in. They appeared far too serious.
Hannah took a few grapes and a bit of cheese, but merely picked at her food as he watched.
Garran's gaze settled on his daughter who sat on the other side of him. She looked so much like her mother that every time he saw her, his chest seized and he felt that lonely ache that sometimes took residence in his heart.
Since the time Rhiannon's mother had passed on to Summerland, no woman had attracted him like his daughter's companion, this Hannah Wentworth.
No one, until this fresh, exciting D'Anu witch.
Oh, he had enjoyed attempting to seduce Copper Ashcroft when she had been trapped in Otherworld. But the fascination had been nothing like what he felt at this moment. With Copper it had been mere flirtation.
It had been nothing like what stirred inside him now—such intense feelings of desire along with the need to possess. He had never experienced such an incredible attraction as he felt at this moment.
Garran, who normally had no difficulty in focusing on whatever task was at hand, had to struggle to take his focus off Hannah to where it belonged.
He could ill afford such a distraction as Hannah, especially with so many weighty matters at hand.
Garran smiled as he studied his daughter. They had spoken of her mother and earlier he had shared some of the joyful memories with Rhiannon. But he had not yet touched on her life now.
He laid his hand over Rhiannon's where it rested on the table. “Are you happy with your mate?”
Rhiannon had been focused on the D'Danann, Keir, and she cut her gaze to Garran. She cleared her throat and nodded. “I am. Very happy.”
He offered her a smile and squeezed her fingers. “Then I am pleased for you.”
“Thank you.” She looked uncomfortable with his hand on
hers and he released it before selecting a hunk of white cheese and setting it in his trencher beside his healthy serving of pork.
“We will eat.” He tore off a piece of bread from a loaf that sat before him and brought the piece close to his mouth. “Then we will talk about why you have truly come to see me.”
AFTER DINNER, ONLY HANNAH and her companions remained seated at the table with Garran.
The king had introduced them to each member of his “Directorate,” something like a high council, and they met the leaders of the order, Sepan and Hark, along with Garran's First and Second in Command, Vidar and Carden. The men had made it clear they expected to stay for the discussion with the witches and the D'Danann, but Garran had dismissed all of them.
Now just two guards were positioned to either side of the door inside the room, and two on each side of the door in the great hall.
The dishes had been swept away and all that was left behind on the smooth, clean table were tankards of mead that had been placed in front of each person.
Garran leaned back in his chair in a casual pose, his elbow resting on one arm of the chair while his free hand stroked his chin. No longer did Hannah see the teasing light that had been in his liquid silver eyes, but the seriousness of a warrior, a king.
“You have come once again to seek the aid of the Drow.” Garran looked to Rhiannon and to each of her three companions in turn. “Tell me why my people should assist you?”
Rhiannon frowned. Hannah felt a pinch in her gut that told her this wasn't going to be as easy as she'd begun to hope.
Hannah thought it best to speak first and start with the urgency of their situation. “Ceithlenn has killed thousands in
our city,” she said. “Somehow the goddess collects their souls and the souls make her stronger—strong enough that she was able to bring her husband from Underworld.”
Astonishment showed on Garran's face. “Balor? In your San Francisco Otherworld. At this moment?”
Rhiannon nodded and gripped her tankard in both hands. “The god is searching for his eye. Darkwolf still wears the eye on a chain around his neck, and if Balor gets a hold of it …”
“All who stand in his way will perish,” Garran said in a flat tone.
“That's why we need your assistance.” Hannah relaxed her hands when she realized she was clenching them on the tabletop. “We can't do it alone.”
Rhiannon leaned forward in her chair and pushed her mead out of her way. “There are only a handful of us—the D'Anu witches, what D'Danann warriors the Chieftains will give us, and the San Francisco Paranormal Special Forces.”
“But this matter does not concern us.” Garran's voice remained calm and Hannah's temper rose in a slow burn. “Balor is not in Otherworld,” he added before taking a drink of his mead.
Rhiannon's face turned nearly scarlet and her scars stood out against her cheek. “Don't you care about me and those I love? You're supposed to be my father. Won't you help your own daughter?”
As he studied Rhiannon, Garran said softly, “
I
would.” Then he raised his voice as he thumped his tankard on the tabletop. “But I am the king of the Dark Elves and I bear the responsibility of making the decisions as to what is best for my people.”
“The good of the few outweighs the good of the many?” Hannah's back was rigid as she spoke. “That is such—such—”
“Bullshit,” Rhiannon said, her green eyes burning with fire. “Thousands, if not
millions,
need you. That is the many. You are the few.”
Keir's expression had turned thunderous and Eavan narrowed his gaze. Likely they were reining themselves in from locking horns with Garran.

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