Wicked Magic (9 page)

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Authors: Cheyenne McCray

BOOK: Wicked Magic
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Galia gave a delighted giggle and bobbed up and down in the air. “Now?”
“Later.” Keir turned and headed up the stairs. He paused and glanced back at Galia. “What would you prefer to eat?”
The Faerie grinned. “Anything you think I would like.”
Keir nodded and started up the stairs again. “I will see you shortly.”
Rhiannon sat on a couch in the common room, her legs tucked up beside her, Spirit at her side. The cocoa-colored
cat had stayed closer to her ever since she had been kidnapped just a few short months ago by the Fomorii. She'd been saved by Silver, Hawk, and Jake and a few of his officers, but so many witches hadn't made it.
At this moment the room was filled with D'Danann, PSF officers, and witches, discussing how to get to Ceithlenn and the demons. They had come to the agreement that the goddess must be near the location where they had battled the Fomorii and the Basilisk.
The chattering around Rhiannon became nothing more than a low drone as she petted Spirit and pushed all thoughts from her mind. Especially of a certain D'Danann warrior whom she'd almost had sex with in the basement.
Bless it!
She didn't even know the man.
As she reached deep inside her for some semblance of calm, she began to feel light-headed. Her vision blurred and her ears felt as if they were stuffed with cotton. Her hand stilled in Spirit's hair.
Everything went hazy and she felt as if she were being transported out of her body, traveling, traveling. And then she stopped.
Rhiannon found herself in a large and sumptuous penthouse room. She looked at her hands then ran them down her skirt and felt the soft brush of her palms against the material. Her sandals sank into plush carpeting and she felt her chest rise and fall with every breath.
It smelled strange. Like burnt sugar and jasmine.
When Rhiannon raised her head, she saw the vivid image of a woman pacing before a window. Unfortunately, the wooden blinds were drawn so no view could be seen.
The woman turned and Rhiannon gasped.
Sara.
But not. Sara had been a white witch in the D'Anu coven who defected to serve Darkwolf, a Balorite warlock who practiced black magic. Copper had told Rhiannon how Sara had absorbed Ceithlenn's essence when the door opened to Underworld.
Sara was even more beautiful with red hair. It wasn't a
natural shade, but it suited her. She now had the most interesting eyes—they seemed to shift colors like a wavering mirage. A revealing leather catsuit barely covered her nipples or her crotch.
Just like the flame-haired being.
Rhiannon's heart beat faster.
She felt as if she were drifting, dreaming, yet still there, whole, in the room.
Ceithlenn.
The name rolled through Rhiannon's mind and her heart moved into her throat. Sara was the goddess's human form.
Something stirred in the corner of Rhiannon's vision and she gave a soft gasp of surprise. Darkwolf. She ground her teeth from thoughts of what the evil bastard had done. If it wasn't for him summoning the Fomorii,
none
of this would be happening.
Not far from him was Junga in her Elizabeth form. The sight of her made Rhiannon want to throw up. That bitch had given Rhiannon the scars on her cheek.
She looked back to Darkwolf, who was staring at Ceithlenn. His handsome features were blank. The stone eye Rhiannon remembered seeing when she'd been captured by the Fomorii was still resting on Darkwolf's chest. But it was cold and lifeless, not the throbbing red that it had often become.
Tension suddenly crackled in the air and Rhiannon's attention snapped back to Sara …
Ceithlenn
. She was sniffing the air, her gaze slowly sweeping the room.
Then her eyes focused directly on Rhiannon.
As if Ceithlenn could see Rhiannon there, in the room.
Suddenly a sensation like invisible fingers digging into her brain caused Rhiannon to cry out and drop to her knees.
Ceithlenn's power grasped at the Shadows deep inside Rhiannon, driving into the places no one should have been able to touch.
Rhiannon screamed from the pain and clasped her hands to her chest as she fell from her knees to her side.
Ceithlenn growled and extended her hand, palm first.
Rhiannon's heart felt lodged in her throat as she writhed on the floor.
The room seemed to billow. Expand.
A tremendous
boom
shattered her ears.
A great force slammed into her chest.
Excruciating pain filled her mind, her body.
She screamed again before everything went dark.
Rhiannon's scream tore across the common room just as Keir walked through the doorway. His heart thundered. He reached her before anyone else and caught her in his embrace as she slumped forward on the couch.
Spirit jumped onto the floor but staggered, as if also affected by whatever was wrong with Rhiannon.
Keir felt the pulse in her neck and relief surged through him to find it sure and strong. Her breaths were so shallow he had not seen her chest move. He ignored everyone as he swept her up. Rhiannon remained limp and pale in his arms.
“What's wrong with her?” Keir asked Silver as she came to his side.
“She must have had some kind of vision.” Silver pushed a loose lock of Rhiannon's auburn hair away from her smooth cheek and placed the back of her hand to Rhiannon's pale skin. “I just happened to glance up from across the room and saw that she was in some kind of trance—I've seen that same expression many times.” Silver's eyes met Keir's, a look of fear on her face. “But then she jerked back like something had slammed into her and screamed. That's never happened during any of her visions before.”
“Where is the healing witch?” Keir demanded, then saw the half-Elvin witch, Cassia, pushing her way through the crowd.
“Up to her room.” Cassia gestured toward the stairs, to the upper-level apartments. “We'll get her to bed and then I'll take care of her.”
Keir still could not explain why he felt the tremendous need to protect this woman, or why he wanted her so badly. But right now all he could think about was getting her safe and well.
Holding Rhiannon tightly in his arms, he followed the Elvin witch up the stairs to Rhiannon's apartment. When Cassia unlocked the door with her magic, it swung open and he caught the light citrus scent he had come to associate with Rhiannon. Cassia flicked on the lights, revealing a room as bright and colorful as Rhiannon herself. Splashes of reds, yellows, greens, blues, and purples greeted him from lamps and framed pictures, to couches and chairs, to kitchen canisters, towels, and potholders.
Cassia led the way to the bedroom and pulled back the sheets and Keir laid Rhiannon on the bed. Even her sheets were a bright shade of yellow.
Keir took her small hand and gently stroked her fingers as Cassia held her palms over Rhiannon's chest.
Iridescent sparkles glittered over Rhiannon's body as Cassia moved her palms above the witch. She looked startled for a moment. “It's worse than I thought—some kind of blackness is inside her.”
Cassia removed her hands and the sparks vanished. An expression of deep concern was on her face. “I need to get a few things. You leave and let Silver take care of her while I run to my place,” she said, hurrying from the room.
“I will not leave,” Keir growled as he gripped Rhiannon's hand tighter and leaned over to see her beautiful face.
“Out of the way, you big numbskull,” Silver said as she tried to push past him.
Before he could respond or move, Rhiannon's eyelids fluttered open. For a moment her green eyes met his, her expression going from puzzled to pleased to very displeased.
Keir gripped her hand tighter. “You will be all right, little one,” he said in Gaelic before he allowed Silver to gently push him out of the way.
He sat in a chair beside the doorway, arms folded over his chest and his legs crossed at his ankles. He did not know why it was so important to ensure that Rhiannon was all right, but it was, and he had no intention of leaving.
A force so powerful that it almost flung Darkwolf to the floor rocked the room. Elizabeth-Junga's shocked cry could barely be heard when a sound like a cannon burst in the air. The walls fluxed in and out, wavy as if made of water. Then everything cleared.
Fury on her features, Ceithlenn stood with her palm out, facing the wall across the room from her. Her hair nearly stood on end and her body reverberated with her anger.
Darkwolf automatically tensed.
What the hell?
“That witch won't get in
my
head again,” Ceithlenn growled.
“Who?” Darkwolf asked, trying not to sound too interested. He'd been a bit obsessed with the witch named Silver from the moment he'd met her, and hoped she wasn't centered in Ceithlenn's sights.
“The one you scried in your cauldron. The witch called Rhiannon.” Anger shimmered in Ceithlenn's eyes. “The bitch dared to invade my thoughts—twice. I felt her the first time I dined on human flesh and absorbed that human's soul. But I didn't
see
her until she visioned us in this room. Right now.”
Ceithlenn's scowl deepened. “I had the opportunity to read
her
mind, and you were correct—the witch was one of those who destroyed part of our forces.”
Then she gave a wicked smile that turned Darkwolf's stomach. “I know the secret she guards so well,” the goddess murmured. “A secret that will be her ruin.”
Darkwolf narrowed his brows.
What did that mean?
Ceithlenn-Sara approached Darkwolf with that look in her eyes he recognized only too well. She was horny again—and pissed. He didn't know how much more he could take of her.
He didn't want her.
He wanted her.
It was slowly making him crazy.
This time Elizabeth-Junga stayed in the room with them as Ceithlenn-Sara pressed her body against Darkwolf's. Ceithlenn's burnt sugar smell and Sara's jasmine scent almost made him scowl. She bit his lower lip,
hard
. His damned cock came to full attention as she rubbed her body against his.
“That bitch.” Ceithlenn's fury obviously hadn't cooled as she bit Darkwolf again. “She was the one who instigated the invasion and she has paid. And will continue to pay.”
With the power of her magic, she slammed him to his knees hard enough that pain shot through his legs. He ground his teeth to keep from shouting from the agony. She fisted his hair in her hands and yanked him close to her.
“So how does it feel?” She smiled, an eerie light to her eyes, and he knew it was the Sara part of her that spoke now. Sara, a warlock he had dominated much like he'd dominated Elizabeth, before Sara had joined with Ceithlenn.
Could he kill her in her Sara form? He would do it in a heartbeat.
“Tell me,” Ceithlenn-Sara urged. “How does it feel to be the one at someone else's mercy?”
Rhiannon blinked, then had to clench her eyes tight against the light coming in through her curtains. Dear Anu, her head ached and she thought she might puke.
Despite that, she felt somewhat comfortable, which was a strange contrast. The cool sheets hugged her, the mattress soft beneath. Spirit was curled up against her side and rubbed his head on her arm, acknowledging that she was finally awake. Scents of sandalwood and cypress hung in the air and she felt as if oil had been rubbed on her chest, belly, arms, and legs.
Something had happened … but what? She couldn't quite grasp it … Whatever it was perched on the edge of her thoughts and stayed just out of reach.
She finally managed to get her eyes open and squinted to try to ground her vision. Her whitewashed vanity table and purple dresser drawers came into view, although they seemed to swim a bit. The yellow wall behind them was almost too bright. She blinked again and saw that her bedroom was much cleaner than normal. She wasn't exactly the world's neatest person.
How had she ended up in bed?
And jeez, where did this headache come from? She was a witch, for Anu's sake.
Her skull hurt as she turned her head to see the rest of the
room. The open doorway came into view next and then she lowered her brows.
Keir sat in one of her chairs beside the door. His arms were folded and he was looking directly at her.
She blinked. Instead of a leather tunic and pants, he wore a black T-shirt that hugged his muscled chest and a pair of snug jeans that looked so good on him her mouth watered.
Okay, there had to be something
seriously
wrong with her.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked in a voice that came out rough and dry. Goddess, she needed a drink of water.
Keir leaned forward as he uncrossed his legs and bent his knees. He rested his forearms on his thighs as his gaze held hers. “Are you all right?” he asked. He didn't sound as gruff as normal and it threw Rhiannon off balance.
She pushed herself to a sitting position and dizziness caused her eyesight to blur again. The sheet fell away and she looked down to discover she was in one of her robes. A royal blue satin one that gaped at her breasts. She hurried to tighten it while she avoided Keir's eyes.
When she looked back at him, she took a deep breath. “I'm fine.”
“What happened?” His look intensified and his manner returned closer to what she was used to. Commanding. Authoritative.
This Keir she could deal with.
She scowled. “What are you doing in my room?”
“What happened?” he repeated, his voice growing in strength and his dark eyes narrowing.
Truth was, she didn't know. But she wasn't about to let him badger her. “Take a hike.”
He frowned for a moment, then realized what she'd just told him. “I am not leaving until you are well.”
“Oh, yes, you are.” She pushed back the covers, and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. The moment she got to her feet she knew she'd made a big mistake.
Her head spun and her knees gave out. Just as she started to drop, Keir was there. He caught her to him, holding her
tight and keeping her from falling. For a moment she allowed herself to sink against him, her cheek against his chest. She felt boneless, like she didn't quite have a grasp on reality.
He smelled so good. Woodsy and male, and the scent of the clean cotton T-shirt. With his hard body pressed to her softer one, that burning, spellfire sensation in her belly traveled between her thighs and up to her nipples. The roughness of his jeans and his hard chest rubbed against her through the satin of her robe.
“Let me go,” she finally managed to get out. She didn't dare look up at him in case he took that as an invitation to kiss her like he had last time.
But he clasped her chin with his callused fingers and tilted her head back. Instead of a hard, possessive kiss, he just brushed his lips over hers in a touch so light it surprised her. His breath was warm against her lips and she almost moaned. She ached for more. Wanted more.
While she was still looking up at him in surprise, he eased her onto the bed so she was flat on her back. He tucked her in like she was a child. At that moment she didn't have the strength to argue or spar with him.
“Why are you wearing jeans and a T-shirt?” she asked instead. “What happened to your leather gear?”
Keir scowled. “Your law-enforcement officer, Jake Macgregor, insisted we look more like the people of your world to ‘blend in.'”
Rhiannon couldn't help a small smile. “What about your weapons?”
Keir gestured to a chest draped with his long black coat. “My weapons are inside. I wear the coat over this new clothing.”
“You look good,” Rhiannon found herself saying. But then he looked good in leather, too. And most likely he would look good in nothing at all.
That line of thought had her
gently
shaking her aching head.
Keir sat in the chair, leaned forward, and rested his forearms on his thighs again. This time he spoke gently, “Tell me what happened,
a stór
.”
Rhiannon wasn't sure what to think of this different Keir. She paused, then decided to answer his question. “I remember sitting in the common room and I was petting Spirit.” She concentrated hard, her head aching with the effort. “But nothing else until I woke up.” She studied him. “How did I get here?”
“I carried you,” he said.
Heat crept up her neck to her cheeks. “Who changed my clothing?”
“Silver and the healing witch, Cassia,” he said.
“You didn't watch, did you?”
He shrugged and her cheeks grew hotter. She pushed herself to a sitting position again, this time crossing her legs Indian-style. At once her vision swam. She placed her head in her hands until the dizziness passed. It was as if something was in her mind, taunting her, making her feel as if she were being watched—and not just by Keir.
And the darkness in her mind and her body—it wanted to come forward and she had to fight it back.
The bed dipped and springs creaked as Keir sat next to her. His hand enveloped one of hers and she raised her head. “I should get the healing witch now,” he said. He was so close to her she noticed the purple marks on his neck from the fight with the Fomorii.
Rhiannon took a deep breath and let her hands fall to her lap, but he still kept a tight grip on one of them. “I told you, I'm fine.”
She just couldn't remember a blessed thing and that was ticking her off. So were the dizziness and the weakness. Had she come down with some kind of virus? Since she was a witch it was unusual for her to catch anything a normal human would.
“So, how long have I been asleep?” Rhiannon glanced at the curtains. It looked like it had to be late afternoon.
He squeezed her hand. “Two days.”
Shock flooded Rhiannon, causing her skin to tingle. Her jaw dropped as she stared at him. “You're screwing with me.”
Keir maintained his steady gaze. “You were in the common room. You screamed and fainted. That was two days ago.”
For a long moment she looked at him, his words not quite sinking in. “This doesn't make sense.”
“Silver thought she saw you in a trance, as if you were having a vision.”
Flashes came to Rhiannon at his words. Punk red hair. Catsuit. Darkwolf.
Stabbing pain.
Nothing.
“Bless it.” Rhiannon took her hand from Keir's and pressed all her fingertips to her forehead as she lowered her head. “It's there. Not quite, but I can
feel
it at the edges of my mind.”
Memories of pain accompanied by a fresh bout of real pain made her stomach churn. She grasped her hands to her belly and looked up at Keir. “Were you sitting in that chair very long?”
“Most of the time.” He reached up and brushed her hair from her face. “I could not leave you.”
“Why?” Her heart beat a little faster at his touch and the sincerity in his expression. “I don't get it.”
Keir trailed his fingers from her hair to her cheek in a featherlight brush that made her shiver. “I was concerned for you,
a stór
.”
Rhiannon swallowed and drew away from his touch, which was doing crazy things to her body. “You keep calling me that. What does it mean?”
He looked almost embarrassed as he said, “My treasure.”
Heat rushed through Rhiannon and she barely kept from putting her hands to her burning cheeks. She felt like she'd just landed on another planet.
Keir, looking embarrassed and saying sweet things to her?
Who is this guy? What happened to the real Keir?
“Has it honestly been two days?” she asked as she forced herself to think of other things than the way this man was working his way under her skin. Her voice rose as it occurred to her that she hadn't asked the important questions. “What's been going on with tagging the demons? Any sign of that goddess?”
“It has been quiet since the day you took ill.” Keir leaned closer and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, causing her to shiver. “After the last battle, we felt it best to wait a short time before tracking the next Fomorii as they are sure to be more aware of us now. We have still kept to the skies in search of signs, but have found nothing.”
She shifted from sitting Indian-style so she could draw her knees up against her chest. “How do the Fomorii and C-Ceithlenn—” She stumbled over the name and a brilliant white bolt of pain shot through her head. She ground her teeth before she spoke again. “How do they even know what happened to the demons and Basilisk?”
His thumb stopped moving across her knuckles. “Silver used her cauldron to scry. From what she was able to see, one demon witnessed our attack and escaped to tell the goddess. That is all we know.”
“We can't sit around and wait.” Rhiannon's heart beat a little faster. “How could I have slept for so long? This is too important.”
Keir growled and her gaze shot to his. “You
will not
involve yourself again.”
“What are you talking about?” Despite the pain in her head, Rhiannon jerked her hand away from his and almost shoved him right off the bed. “I certainly
will
be a part of this. Down to fighting the last demon.”
His expression turned even more fearsome. “No, not if it could kill you—”
“What do you care?” She gripped her sheets in her fists and glared at him. “You don't even know me.”
“Damnation.” Keir thrust his hand through his thick black hair. “I—Rhiannon—
Damn!
” He looked flustered and angry all at once. “Ceithlenn is beyond dangerous. I will not have you in the middle of a war.”
At the mention of the evil goddess's name, Rhiannon shuddered and pain shot through her head again. Something … Something about Ceithlenn remained just out of reach …
When she tried to grab at the memory, the pain only grew worse.
She held one of her hands to her forehead as she clenched her teeth. The pain was like a white-hot rod through her skull.
“You are ill.” Keir's voice softened and he stood. The bedsprings creaked as they released his weight. “I will get the healing witch.”
Rhiannon couldn't begin to pretend it was nothing. Her head hurt so freaking bad. “Can you tell Cassia that I have the mother of all headaches?” She scooted down and her head was on her pillow again, as she tried to get some reprieve from the pain by relaxing. Wasn't working.
He gave her a sharp nod, picked up his long coat, and turned away.
“Keir,” Rhiannon called out to him before he was through her doorway. She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
He looked at her for a long moment then bowed from his shoulders and walked out of her room.
Keir was going to drive Rhiannon crazy. Since she woke from her “episode” two days ago, he'd appointed himself as her personal bodyguard whenever he wasn't off doing whatever the D'Danann did when they searched the skies for signs of Fomorii or Ceithlenn.
He didn't touch her, barely talked to her—but didn't let her out of his sight, either. She suspected he had everyone else watching out for her when he wasn't around. She'd threatened to toast his balls again, but he'd simply looked at her with that dark and arrogant expression and said nothing.
Rhiannon sat at the Formica table in the kitchen of Enchantments while her Coven sisters chattered around her. She clenched a mug of one of Cassia's healing draughts in both hands, its heat warming her cold fingers. She wasn't crazy about its taste, which included Jamaican dogwood and feverfew. She constantly smelled like lavender because Cassia insisted on rubbing it on Rhiannon's temples and the nape of her neck to help chase away the headaches.

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