room in a brilliant flash of white.
The storm was back. Where had it gone, she wondered, when she had been writhing in Bran’s arms?
CHAPTER SIX
Bran slid down the wall to a crouch, trying to gather himself. He was in extraordinary pain. He couldn’t understand it. Yes, he needed sex to beef up his magic stores—he’d used a considerable amount of magic to hold off the thunderstorm and the wind in order to give Mairi that few minutes of solace he’d wanted to give her. But this pain . . . it wasn’t from his Legacy Curse. But he knew it had to do with Mairi. His inner voice, which he never ignored, all but shouted it to him.
“Thought I’d find you up here.”
Bran stood to his full height and glared down into Rhys MacDonald’s violet eyes. “What do you want?”
He didn’t like the way Rhys was looking at him, like he was assessing an adversary for a weakness. “I saw the woman running down the stairs. I wanted to find out what’s up.”
His cock, for sure. The damn thing wouldn’t go down. Any thought of Mairi aroused him, not to mention the fact that he still had her scent burning in his nose. Her aroused scent . The heady, sensual perfume reminded him of the orchids that grew by the reflecting pool in Annwyn. He’d never look at them again without thinking of her, never see the clear liquid drip from the stamen without imagining Mairi’s core weeping in desire.
Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? She was a mortal, and he was getting way too fucking poetic.
“Raven?”
“Everything’s fine,” he growled, shouldering past Rhys.
“Did you hurt her?”
“No, damn it.”
“She told me to give you this.” Rhys tossed his coat to him. When he caught it in his hand, Mairi’s scent perfumed the air.
This was the last damn thing he needed. He was so aroused now, he’d do any mortal and enjoy it, just to relieve the ache in his groin. But I’d be thinking of Mairi .
“You’re in a bad way, Raven.”
Bran stuffed his arms into the sleeves and wrapped himself in Mairi’s scent and the lingering heat of her body. Below the cuff, the sigils on his left hand glowed, surprising him.
How could it be that he’d received any energy from her? They’d only kissed. Rhys caught it as well and snickered. “Looks like she treated you right.”
“You will not talk about her that way,” Bran warned. “She’s not like the others.”
“She’s mortal, isn’t she?”
“Shut up, halfling.”
Rhys snorted, then threw something at him, making him fumble to catch it. It was a phone. “She was crying,” Rhys snarled, “and I don’t like customers crying as they leave my club. Call her.”
“And say what?” he growled, glaring at the blasted thing in his hand. What did he know of using these mortal devices?
“How the hell should I know? Only you and she know what went down up here.”
“I did not hurt her,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Well, not in the physical sense. Number’s already plugged in. Just press send.”
Bran watched Rhys leave, then hit the silver button. It rang and rang, till a machine came on with Mairi’s voice. A beep sounded and he cleared his throat.
“It’s me. Bran. I, ah . . .” He looked back out over the terrace and focused on the waves, trying to find his calming center. “I want to see you again. Tomorrow night. I, ah . . .” He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find the right words, the words a human male would say to her.
The wind kicked up, whipping his coat, stirring up her scent, and he closed his eyes and rested his head against the bricks. “I just really . . . need to see you again. Soon.”
Mairi tossed her keys onto the coffee table and gave her dog, Clancy, a rub between his ears. He greeted her with a lolling tongue and big wet licks. “Bad night, Clance,” she whispered as she rested her head against his. “Men. Why are they such assholes?”
The wolfhound looked into her eyes and gave her a lick up her cheek.
The storm was back. Where had it gone, she wondered, when she had been writhing in Bran’s arms?
CHAPTER SIX
Bran slid down the wall to a crouch, trying to gather himself. He was in extraordinary pain. He couldn’t understand it. Yes, he needed sex to beef up his magic stores—he’d used a considerable amount of magic to hold off the thunderstorm and the wind in order to give Mairi that few minutes of solace he’d wanted to give her. But this pain . . . it wasn’t from his Legacy Curse. But he knew it had to do with Mairi. His inner voice, which he never ignored, all but shouted it to him.
“Thought I’d find you up here.”
Bran stood to his full height and glared down into Rhys MacDonald’s violet eyes. “What do you want?”
He didn’t like the way Rhys was looking at him, like he was assessing an adversary for a weakness. “I saw the woman running down the stairs. I wanted to find out what’s up.”
His cock, for sure. The damn thing wouldn’t go down. Any thought of Mairi aroused him, not to mention the fact that he still had her scent burning in his nose. Her aroused scent . The heady, sensual perfume reminded him of the orchids that grew by the reflecting pool in Annwyn. He’d never look at them again without thinking of her, never see the clear liquid drip from the stamen without imagining Mairi’s core weeping in desire.
Christ, what the hell was wrong with him? She was a mortal, and he was getting way too fucking poetic.
“Raven?”
“Everything’s fine,” he growled, shouldering past Rhys.
“Did you hurt her?”
“No, damn it.”
“She told me to give you this.” Rhys tossed his coat to him. When he caught it in his hand, Mairi’s scent perfumed the air.
This was the last damn thing he needed. He was so aroused now, he’d do any mortal and enjoy it, just to relieve the ache in his groin. But I’d be thinking of Mairi .
“You’re in a bad way, Raven.”
Bran stuffed his arms into the sleeves and wrapped himself in Mairi’s scent and the lingering heat of her body. Below the cuff, the sigils on his left hand glowed, surprising him.
How could it be that he’d received any energy from her? They’d only kissed. Rhys caught it as well and snickered. “Looks like she treated you right.”
“You will not talk about her that way,” Bran warned. “She’s not like the others.”
“She’s mortal, isn’t she?”
“Shut up, halfling.”
Rhys snorted, then threw something at him, making him fumble to catch it. It was a phone. “She was crying,” Rhys snarled, “and I don’t like customers crying as they leave my club. Call her.”
“And say what?” he growled, glaring at the blasted thing in his hand. What did he know of using these mortal devices?
“How the hell should I know? Only you and she know what went down up here.”
“I did not hurt her,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Well, not in the physical sense. Number’s already plugged in. Just press send.”
Bran watched Rhys leave, then hit the silver button. It rang and rang, till a machine came on with Mairi’s voice. A beep sounded and he cleared his throat.
“It’s me. Bran. I, ah . . .” He looked back out over the terrace and focused on the waves, trying to find his calming center. “I want to see you again. Tomorrow night. I, ah . . .” He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find the right words, the words a human male would say to her.
The wind kicked up, whipping his coat, stirring up her scent, and he closed his eyes and rested his head against the bricks. “I just really . . . need to see you again. Soon.”
Mairi tossed her keys onto the coffee table and gave her dog, Clancy, a rub between his ears. He greeted her with a lolling tongue and big wet licks. “Bad night, Clance,” she whispered as she rested her head against his. “Men. Why are they such assholes?”
The wolfhound looked into her eyes and gave her a lick up her cheek.
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