Wicked Magic (12 page)

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Authors: Cheyenne McCray

BOOK: Wicked Magic
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A strange churning sensation rolled through her belly. Rhiannon tried to slide her way out of Keir's hold, but he had her caged completely with his body, within his embrace.
Rhiannon's pulse ramped up and a panicky sensation made her feel as if she was locked in, with no escape. She started wriggling against Keir's hold in earnest. She pushed at his thigh draped over her hip. His arms bound her so tightly she couldn't even move her shoulders.
“Keir!” The panicky sensation made her feel as if she couldn't breathe. “Let me go!”
“Sleep,
a stór,
” he murmured.
“No, damn it.” She ground her teeth and jabbed one of her elbows into his ribs as hard as she could.
He gave a loud grunt of surprise, loosened his hold and moved his legs. She took the opportunity to roll away and slip out of bed, even as he reached for her.
When she got to her feet, she grabbed for the robe she'd left draped on a chair. She was trembling so hard she almost dropped the garment.
“What is wrong?” Keir was already out of bed and at her side by the time she'd slipped the robe over her naked body.
She didn't say anything, just focused on tying the belt tight enough that the front wouldn't gape and expose her.
His touch was gentle as he caught her by her upper arm with one hand and used the fingers of his other to raise her chin. “Tell me.”
“Nothing.” Rhiannon couldn't stop trembling. “Everything!”
Keir murmured soft words in Gaelic and drew her close to him. The heat of his body, the tenderness and strength of his embrace somehow eased her trembling and calmed her racing pulse.
How she wanted to just give herself up to him. But sweet, wonderful things like this didn't last, did they? No. And where would she be when he was gone as well? Gone back to Otherworld, lost and gone in battle, or just gone because the feelings were no longer the same?
When she could catch her breath, she raised her head and pushed herself away from him by bracing her hands on his muscular chest. He was so warm, and his cock so firm
against her belly that she almost thought about tumbling back into bed with him.
But the way he had insisted that she belonged to him—again that caged-in feeling caused her throat to close and she took another step away.
He looked at her with a puzzled expression as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
“I just need some space.” She glanced toward the bathroom. “I'm going to take a shower and then I need something to eat.”
Keir narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
Rhiannon practically fled to the bathroom, slammed the door behind her, and locked it. She sagged against the door, her heart racing, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.
For a moment she closed her eyes tight and forced herself to take deep breaths. The night with Keir
had
been magical. But … what had she been thinking by letting it go anywhere beyond really satisfying sex?
He had made it clear that he intended for her to belong to no one but him.
Did he think the same for himself? Had he pledged himself to her at the same time?
An ache bit at the back of her eyes and she forced herself to take deep breaths again. No good could come of this. No good for her, anyway.
Everyone left. That was just how things were.
When she was relatively calm, she opened her eyes and went to the bathtub. She turned on the shower and made the water as hot as she could handle it. Then she slipped out of her robe, draped it over the towel rod, and climbed into the bathtub.
Water from the showerhead beat down on her, pounding against her face, her breasts, her thighs. Every part of her body that Keir had touched tingled with awareness and she found herself longing to be in his arms again.
She turned, tipped her head, and water drenched her hair
and rolled down her backside. What an incredible lover Keir was. Fiery and passionate one moment, gentle and loving the next. It was as if he had a magical talent that went beyond just having sex.
She sighed at the memory of last night. They'd been so good together.
Yes, she was definitely in trouble.
Rhiannon took her time in the shower, not ready to face Keir or anyone else. She used her favorite citrus-scented shampoo to wash her hair and rubbed her scalp until she felt invigorated. She had body gel in the same scent and used a loofah sponge to scrub herself. By the time she finished, her body tingled all over.
When her fingers and toes were wrinkled, and her skin was red from the heat, she shut off the water, climbed out of the tub, and dried off with one of her bright red towels. The room was clouded with steam, but with a wave of her hand, a space on the mirror cleared so she could see herself. Her short auburn hair clung to her cheeks and her nape. Her lips were still swollen from Keir's kisses and she definitely had the look of someone who'd been completely satisfied by great sex.
But her eyes—when she leaned closer, fear clawed at her throat.
They were changing, shifting. From brown to blue to green to silver.
Rhiannon stumbled away from the mirror and hit the towel rack, barely holding in a scream.
Ceithlenn's eyes. Looking back at her!
Pain bolted through her head in a white-hot shard of light. She placed her palms to either side of her against the textured wall and took deep breaths, trying not to cry out. Trying not to lose control.
It took her more than a few moments to regain her composure—at least a fraction of it. She stepped toward the mirror, and with her heart pounding, looked at her eyes.
They were green again. Her own eyes stared back at her. Not Ceithlenn's.
Rhiannon braced her hands on the porcelain sink as she tried to breathe. She looked down at the trail of red rust that had stained the sink from the aging metal faucet to the drain.
It took her a long time to get the guts to look at the mirror again, and when she did she thanked the goddess that her own eyes still stared back at her.
For long moments she studied her pale reflection in the mirror. Could the shifting colors of her eyes—the goddess's eyes—have been her imagination?
No, it definitely hadn't been. She knew that truth with every part of her heart and soul. Even the Shadows stirred within her, recognizing what was happening.
Rhiannon squeezed her eyes shut and bile rose in her throat. The dark goddess possessed her in more ways than one.
She kept her eyes closed and willed her breathing to slow. Right now she needed to focus on the present, the here and now, and push all thoughts of Ceithlenn from her head.
When she finally willed them away, her mind relaxed and she opened her eyes.
Memories of her night with Keir replaced all other thoughts. She'd much rather think about him—that was far more welcome.
Yet disquieting, too.
Such as his insistence she belonged to him …
She-yeah, right.
What was she going to do about him?
She was going to do what she always did. Be strong. Be smart. Be someone who was confident and in control and wasn't going to let something said in the heat of the moment make her believe that it could be anything more than that—the heat of the moment.
With that clear in her mind, she dried her hair with her magic and wrapped herself in her blue satin robe.
She wasn't going to tell Keir what she'd just seen in her own eyes—he'd just become more possessive.
Squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, she walked out the bathroom into an empty bedroom. The door was closed.
She dressed slowly, slipping into bright green silk underwear and a matching green cotton skirt that flared at her thighs. Something really bright was in order for the day, so she chose a satiny yellow bra, a sunshine-yellow blouse, and yellow sandals. As usual she wore her gold-and-onyx pentagram ring and the matching gold-and-onyx pentagrams at her ears and at her throat.
Okay. Now she could face anything.
But could she really? Was she ready for Ceithlenn? How would she get the goddess out of her head?
She wiped her palms on her skirt, prepared to go downstairs and face whatever else she would meet today. She flung open her bedroom door and came to a complete stop.
Keir was setting her small dining table with her mix-and-match blue and red plates and the forks with the red handles. The smell of eggs, potatoes, and toast made her stomach growl, and the sight of the pitcher of orange juice caused her mouth to water.
His hair was wet. It looked like he'd taken a quick shower, changed into fresh clothing, and gathered breakfast for her while she'd taken her sweet time showering and getting dressed.
While freaking out over Ceithlenn and obsessing over Keir.
His dark gaze met hers. “You said you were hungry, so I went to the store's kitchen.”
You woman, me man. I provide food, you give me sex.
She shook her head at the images in her mind, pushed her hair from her forehead, and offered him a smile as she walked toward the dining table and near him. “I'm starving.”
Something close to a smile flickered across his features, making her feel good again.
She
was doing this to him. And she had the feeling that smiling was a rare thing for him indeed.
She glanced in the kitchen to see Spirit eating tuna from his bowl. The familiar glanced up, licked his mouth, and went back to eating. Keir had even thought of Spirit.
The orange juice, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast
were so good, and she was so hungry, that she was tempted to take thirds of everything, but she stopped herself at two servings.
She concentrated wholly on her food and hardly glanced at Keir during their breakfast. When she finally finished and wiped her mouth with a vivid green napkin, she looked up and met Keir's gaze.
He was sitting back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest and his look as intense and brooding as usual. The bad boy.
“Tell me what is wrong,” he said in that demanding voice that had always pissed her off in the past. The past being only a day ago.
This time it did something altogether different. It caused her heart to melt a little because she knew he sometimes got demanding when he was concerned.
The bravado she'd coached herself on slipped, but then she sucked it up again. “Last night.” She cleared her throat. “You said something you shouldn't have and I think you didn't really mean it, anyway.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn't speak.
Rhiannon swallowed. “We had a really wonderful night, but it was just one night. That doesn't make me yours.”
He slowly shook his head and remained unsmiling. “You are mine.”
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to speak, then shut it, then opened it again. “It was sex. That's all it was. Sex.”
He didn't change his expression. “You know you belong to me.” His features almost seemed to soften as he said in a quieter voice, “As I belong to you.”
Rhiannon blinked. Something in her heart shifted and she didn't know what to say.
Keir felt such a need to possess Rhiannon heart, body, mind, and soul that it bordered on pain. What had made him decide that she was meant to be his mate?
Perhaps it was the moment he recognized her from the face in the wood. Destiny had spoken to him that night, and
had continued to drive him toward her. He needed her more than he had ever needed anyone in his existence.
He admired her spirit, her strength of will, her desire to protect others, and her love for her Coven sisters.
His heart nearly stopped beating when he realized that he wanted her love. It was more than possessing her, it was
needing
her.
The thought was almost dizzying and he had to focus on the here and now.
Keir uncrossed his arms, stood, and held out his hand to Rhiannon. She took it and let him draw her to her feet in front of him. He slipped his hand from hers, placed his palm on her hip, and brought her so close that her body was flush with his. With his other hand he cupped the back of her head and lowered his face to hers at the same time he drew her up to meet him.
“Mine,” he said before taking her lips with his.
He gently explored her mouth with his tongue and she sighed. She tasted of orange juice and her own flavor that made him crazy for her every time they kissed.
It pleased him that she let him take control, let him draw her tongue into his mouth. She softly moved her lips with his, at his pace.
She slid her hands up his chest and threaded her fingers beneath his damp hair. Clean scents of soap and citrus filled his nostrils.

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