feeling a slight flush of embarrassment.
“That , ” said Miach, eyes still closed, “was only foreplay, my dear girl. Only wait until Beth Carter lifts her bothersome geis . Then I will take you into my bed, Helene.”
The geis . She had forgotten all about it.
Kneeling in front of her, he’d looked feral and hungry, arousal flushing his features, but now his cheeks were pale, and he seemed more drained than she was.
“Miach, are you all right?”
He didn’t stir.
She climbed off the sofa and knelt beside him. “Miach,” she said softly.
No response.
She touched his cheek. Her fingers came away bloody. There was blood trickling from his ears. “Miach,” she said again as panic overtook her. She shook him and he stirred a little, then opened his eyes.
“Why are you bleeding?” she asked. “What’s happening?”
He sighed. “I suppose I violated Beth’s geis by pleasuring you, willing though you were. It’s weakened me, given the iron a chance to do its work. The little Druid’s magic is even stronger than I suspected. I think she might be a tad . . . overprotective , don’t you?”
“What can we do?” she asked.
“ We can do nothing until Beth arrives. Not even a repeat performance, no matter how much we might enjoy it. I am going to ruin the last of Nieve’s garden, and perhaps wreak a little havoc on the park across the street after all. You are going to Deirdre’s.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m too weak now to protect you. Because there’s no summoning spell written on your skin, which means that the Fae who cast it on you has worked deeper, more dangerous magic than I can fight until I’ve fully recovered. I hate to admit it, but you just aren’t safe here with me.”
• • •
M iach rued his own stupidity and lack of self-control. He was three thousand years old. He didn’t make these kinds of mistakes. But somehow he’d managed to convince himself that Beth Carter’s geis couldn’t pose a real threat to him. It was an oath to an untrained Druid, a novice in the magical arts.
He was as self-delusional as the rest of his race.
Beth’s geis held real power. And Miach had violated its conditions. It did not matter that Helene had been a willing and enthusiastic participant in their love play. He had been the aggressor, or at least the active agent. No matter that he hadn’t even really bedded her. It had been enough to trigger the effect of the little Druid’s prohibition—at a time when he could not afford to be weakened.
And it was humiliating for a Fae to appear weak in front of a human woman. Mortals were attracted to the strength and beauty of the Aes Sídhe , to their superiorities. Not to their few frailties. It was entirely possible that Helene would want nothing more to do with him now, not of her own free will anyway. Not without using his glamour on her. And he did not want—had never wanted—Helene Whitney that way.
“Elada will take you to Deirdre’s,” he said. “You and Nieve. You’ll be safe there.”
“I’m not going,” she said. “You were poisoned, Miach. You’re even worse now. You need someone to look after you.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. It seemed that the trees in the park had seen their last summer. He would have to consume them. “Better, in fact, without Nieve fussing over me.”
“Why is Nieve in danger?” Helene asked.
“She may not be. But if Finn’s family is involved in this, she and her son will be in jeopardy. You both have to go to Deirdre’s. The Fianna would attack my home on the slimmest excuse if they thought they had a sporting chance of defeating me and mine. But they have no quarrel with Deirdre, and they would not risk angering her, or her friends, by crossing her threshold. Her house is the only safe place left for you and Nieve. Elada will take you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to arrange a meeting with Finn. He doesn’t want the Fae Court back any more than I do. Of
“That , ” said Miach, eyes still closed, “was only foreplay, my dear girl. Only wait until Beth Carter lifts her bothersome geis . Then I will take you into my bed, Helene.”
The geis . She had forgotten all about it.
Kneeling in front of her, he’d looked feral and hungry, arousal flushing his features, but now his cheeks were pale, and he seemed more drained than she was.
“Miach, are you all right?”
He didn’t stir.
She climbed off the sofa and knelt beside him. “Miach,” she said softly.
No response.
She touched his cheek. Her fingers came away bloody. There was blood trickling from his ears. “Miach,” she said again as panic overtook her. She shook him and he stirred a little, then opened his eyes.
“Why are you bleeding?” she asked. “What’s happening?”
He sighed. “I suppose I violated Beth’s geis by pleasuring you, willing though you were. It’s weakened me, given the iron a chance to do its work. The little Druid’s magic is even stronger than I suspected. I think she might be a tad . . . overprotective , don’t you?”
“What can we do?” she asked.
“ We can do nothing until Beth arrives. Not even a repeat performance, no matter how much we might enjoy it. I am going to ruin the last of Nieve’s garden, and perhaps wreak a little havoc on the park across the street after all. You are going to Deirdre’s.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m too weak now to protect you. Because there’s no summoning spell written on your skin, which means that the Fae who cast it on you has worked deeper, more dangerous magic than I can fight until I’ve fully recovered. I hate to admit it, but you just aren’t safe here with me.”
• • •
M iach rued his own stupidity and lack of self-control. He was three thousand years old. He didn’t make these kinds of mistakes. But somehow he’d managed to convince himself that Beth Carter’s geis couldn’t pose a real threat to him. It was an oath to an untrained Druid, a novice in the magical arts.
He was as self-delusional as the rest of his race.
Beth’s geis held real power. And Miach had violated its conditions. It did not matter that Helene had been a willing and enthusiastic participant in their love play. He had been the aggressor, or at least the active agent. No matter that he hadn’t even really bedded her. It had been enough to trigger the effect of the little Druid’s prohibition—at a time when he could not afford to be weakened.
And it was humiliating for a Fae to appear weak in front of a human woman. Mortals were attracted to the strength and beauty of the Aes Sídhe , to their superiorities. Not to their few frailties. It was entirely possible that Helene would want nothing more to do with him now, not of her own free will anyway. Not without using his glamour on her. And he did not want—had never wanted—Helene Whitney that way.
“Elada will take you to Deirdre’s,” he said. “You and Nieve. You’ll be safe there.”
“I’m not going,” she said. “You were poisoned, Miach. You’re even worse now. You need someone to look after you.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. It seemed that the trees in the park had seen their last summer. He would have to consume them. “Better, in fact, without Nieve fussing over me.”
“Why is Nieve in danger?” Helene asked.
“She may not be. But if Finn’s family is involved in this, she and her son will be in jeopardy. You both have to go to Deirdre’s. The Fianna would attack my home on the slimmest excuse if they thought they had a sporting chance of defeating me and mine. But they have no quarrel with Deirdre, and they would not risk angering her, or her friends, by crossing her threshold. Her house is the only safe place left for you and Nieve. Elada will take you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to arrange a meeting with Finn. He doesn’t want the Fae Court back any more than I do. Of
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