Velvet Haven (30 page)

It was a command, not a plea.

“Don’t you understand, Mairi?” he asked as his lips nuzzled her earlobe.

“Yes. I do.”

“I don’t think you do, otherwise you would be back on that bed, my cock inside you, moaning as you come for me.”

“You arrogant bastard!”

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t change what you are.”

“And what is that?” she demanded.

“Mine.” The fierceness of that whispered word terrified her.

“I don’t think so.” She tried to match his fierceness, but her protest sounded husky and needy.

“You sealed your fate,
muirnin
, when you tended my wing.”

She closed her eyes against the warmth that was flooding her belly. He’d used her to feed a curse. She should not want him. Should not even believe in Annwyn, and magic, and immortals. But every instinct believed. Hell, she had died and been brought back to life by an angel. The same angel who confessed to having been at her birth, and present at the life-altering moment in the tub when her lifeblood ran out of her wrist. Anything was possible.

She believed. God help her, she could actually wrap her mind around the impossible, but she could not stand here and allow herself to be used by him—not again.

“Should I find you another one?”

Bran scowled as he looked out over the dockyards and the blue of the lake beyond. The sun was setting and his fucking curse was calling.

“No,” he replied, hating to think of any woman other than Mairi beneath him.

“You owe her nothing. She saved your life. And you saved hers. The debt is balanced.”

“I do not want another female.”

“But your curse—”

“I doubt I could even get it up for another female,” Bran spat. “The thought of pleasuring another makes me ill, which is hardly conducive to an exchange of energy, is it?”

Sayer’s elliptical pupils dilated. “That sucks.”

“Part of Morgan’s curse. She has made me want the only woman who can destroy me. I think she cast this damn curse because she knew I would never love her. She wants me to hurt, to love another and feel the betrayal by someone I love.”

“Morgan always had a taste for the sadistic.”

“Then she is enjoying my misery, because I am utterly ruined for any other female, Sidhe or mortal.”

Sayer looked at him with a mixture of shock and sympathy. “You have fallen for her?”

Bran nodded. The truth became easier each time he admitted it.

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“She could kill you.”

“I know.”

“Why not leave and return to Annwyn?”

“I cannot leave Mairi alone while that madman is running loose. He is not only working in Annwyn, but here, amongst mortals as well. He wants Mairi and I cannot let him have her. I
have
to protect her.”

“I could enchant her—”

“No!” If she was to desire him, then he wanted it to be of her own choosing, not Sayer’s magic binding her to him.

Sayer’s eyes softened. “Rhys says you bargained with Suriel for the girl.”

Suriel. How he hated to hear that name! This afternoon when he saw Mairi with Suriel, sitting close together, heads bent over Cailleach’s book, he felt enraged. Filled with an absurd, dangerous jealousy that made red mist gather at the edges of his eyes. The way Mairi gazed at Suriel made him want to tear the angel apart, limb from sinful limb.

“Is it true, then, that you made a deal with Suriel?”

“I did what I had to do,” Bran growled. And in doing so, he’d handed Mairi to Suriel. Now she knew of the bond they shared. A union that was deeper than what he and Mairi shared. Suriel was Mairi’s
Anam Cara
, her Soul Friend. Nothing in Annwyn was stronger than that link. What he felt for Mairi was nothing compared to the chain that now bound her to Suriel.

It made him realize that Mairi would never fully belong to him. So he had decided that he would leave her. Would no longer think of her. Would use her only to discover the true identity of the Soul Stealer. When he was caught, when the Dark Times were over, he would release her without a second thought.

Until then, he would remain apart from her. He had to. For his own sanity. “You know, by striking this bargain, you’ve managed to climb into bed with the devil.”

Bran glared at his companion. “You talk too much, Sayer.” “You don’t talk enough. I think that’s the problem with your human. She needs more than what you’re giving her.”

“Fuck off, Sayer.”

The Selkie laughed. “That is my cue, then, to depart.” Sayer flashed him a smile before he slapped him on his back. “Cheer up, Raven, you might find you enjoy snuff sex.” Sayer held up his hands when Bran’s expression blackened. “I’m leaving.”

“Going to check on Rowan again?” Bran taunted.

“Maybe. I like her. And she likes me.”

“Don’t hurt her. Mairi would be unhappy. You know what will happen to you if Mairi is unhappy.”

“You’ve got it bad,” Sayer teased. “A few days ago you were boasting that you would not be brought low by a mere mortal.”

“I hadn’t met Mairi yet.” Hadn’t felt her incredible energy, or tasted her sweet arousal. How could he have known what she would do to him? How could he have guessed that a human could be a perfect fit for him?

Silence and the howl of the wind echoed through the terrace. Sayer had left him alone with his thoughts. Thoughts he didn’t want.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t allow himself to be intimate with her knowing she was part of Morgan’s curse. Yet he couldn’t walk away from her either. He’d given his heart to her. A heart he didn’t even know he had, and love he wasn’t aware he could give.

“You bitch,” he roared to the heavens, hoping Morgan could hear him in the Wastelands, where she had been exiled for the past hundred and seventy years. “I’ll kill you for this.”

The wind rose, blowing past him, carrying with it the tinkling of a woman’s laughter. “Oh, how I love to see you brought low. So proud, so powerful, brought to your knees by a mere mortal.”

“I’ll make you pay for this, Morgan.”

“Try, Raven, and see what will happen. You do want to find your brother, don’t you? Or have you forgotten all about him while you’ve been fantasizing about your mortal whore?”

He had not forgotten about Carden. There was no doubt, however, that Mairi had become his first priority.

“Time is running out for your brother, King. Submit to me. Marry me, and I will release your brother from his curse.”

“I would rather die than marry you.”

“Then I am naturally happy to fulfill your wish, my king.” She would use Mairi, of course, he thought with hatred. To destroy him she would use the only woman he wanted.

“I will find Carden,” he vowed, “and when I do, I will break both of our curses and send you to the Shadowlands where you belong.”

“You will try, but I know your weakness.”

Morgan’s laughter drifted away on the wind. Bran turned to look for her, but she was not there. In her place was Mairi.

Mairi wrapped the heavy woolen shawl around her shoulders as a gust of wind whipped past her. She saw Bran, standing alone, dressed all in black, looking fierce and gorgeous.

His black hair rippled in the wind. He wore only a T-shirt, leaving his arms bare. It was cold, yet he didn’t shiver. He stood perfectly immobile, lost in whatever he was thinking as he studied the tattoos that ran along his forearm. A soft glow flickered from his flesh and she wondered how he had gotten energy to make them glow.

As she got closer to him, she let her gaze travel downward. He had a fabulous ass in his tight-fitting pants. An image came to her of him sitting on the bed beside her. She remembered the way he’d looked naked, all sculpted and hard—and the tattoos—she remembered them, too, and how when she ran her fingers over them she felt his muscles shift and slide beneath her fingertips.

Bran was handsome in a lethal sort of way. And Lord, she wanted him. Despite what he was.

She was standing right behind him when he turned suddenly and faced her.

“Your tattoos—they’re glowing.”

“They’re called sigils.”

“Looks like you’ve gotten some energy.” She tried to keep the jealousy from her voice, but she couldn’t. Bran was gorgeous. He oozed sex. There were a number of women, both guests and staff, wandering about the club, even at this early hour of the evening. He could have any or all of them.

“I can harness the elements to make magic as well. It’s windy tonight. It’s helped shore up my flagging stores.”

“Oh.” She felt small and petty. Especially after she’d thrown him off her and accused him of using her. Why shouldn’t he go find someone who would do him right? She’d given up that chance when she’d stormed out of the room, her Scotch temper getting the better of her.

“Did you keep the rain away that night?”

“Yes.”

“And the wind?” she asked, stepping closer. “Did you quiet it so I could hear the waves?”

He nodded. “You needed solace. After . . .” He turned his head and looked down onto the beach below. “After you had that initial meeting with Suriel, you needed to calm your thoughts.”

“Thank you.”

His shoulders stiffened and his voice turned to one of indifference. “It’s cold. You should go inside.”

Mairi pulled the shawl tighter around her. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.” He shot her a glare, then turned his palms upward toward the sky and closed his eyes. The wind immediately calmed.

“No guy has ever stopped the wind for me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered.

In silence they stood, looking out over the water. It was unnerving standing there, wanting to reach out to him, but knowing he was cold and closed off. An invisible perimeter surrounded him and she didn’t know how to breach it.

How did one get a conversation started with a Sidhe king? She hadn’t a clue, so she used what most people did—the scenery.

“This gargoyle is rather fearsome,” she said, touching the frightening head of the demon that overlooked the stone railing.

Bran grunted and nodded to the other side of the stone wall. “That one is uglier, if you ask me.”

Mairi glanced at the demonic face with the serpent’s tongue sticking out of its mouth. With bulging eyes and fanged teeth it was indeed the stuff of nightmares. “Well, he’s definitely not stuffed animal material, but he’s kind of cute, in a demonesque way.”

“Damn thing is eerie as hell. Always makes me feel like it’s watching me,” he muttered as he glanced once more at the statue. With a shake of his head, he said, “I’ve looked at it many times, wondering if he’s Carden.”

“Carden?”

“My brother.”

Mairi felt her eyes bug out. “Your brother is a gargoyle?”

“He is a shape-shifter, like me.”

“This is going to take some getting used to,” she muttered beneath her breath. He grinned, but looked away, hiding it from her.

“He’s been missing for nearly two hundred years, cursed by Morgan to stay in his gargoyle form.”

“Why?”

Bran turned and faced her, his beautiful eyes shadowed. “It’s my fault. I was supposed to marry the bitch. I despised her, but Carden adored her. He went in my place, hoping to seduce her. She figured it out and cursed him to stay in his gargoyle form. She cursed me as well.”

“How?”

He looked at her in surprise. “You don’t know?”

“How would I?”

“Your dreams.”

She blushed. “My dreams of you are sexual.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.” She thought of the dagger that she had been drawn to in her dreams. Wondered if it represented anything. “Bran?”

He closed his eyes, and Mairi marveled at the length of his lashes. She reached out to stroke the crease of his eyelid with her fingertip. He flinched and stepped back, but she whispered softly, staying him.