Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2) Page 10

  Heather shook herself free of Aidan’s hand, even though his ministrations had felt delicious and glared at him.

  “No one woman is exactly like another, you stupid Irish prick, though—come to think of it—I do think most men are exactly the same. I have met plenty of men like you.”

  “Oy, ye’ll be taking tha' one back, ye little liar.” Aidan’s tone was amused, but his eyes were less so.

  “I won’t.” She said it even as a hitch caught her voice as he stepped toward her.

  “Yes, ye will and ye damme well know it. Just like ye know ye’ve never met anyone like me, little miss nobody.”

  Had he been telling her what he was, even then? Or trying to?

  Heather sighed. Her eyelids were getting heavy, despite the wrenching memories and the sound of Lacey’s snores behind her.

  Waking up two mornings after that and finding Aidan gone had…it had felt like someone had sucked all the oxygen from the air and left her drowning far from any sea. She hadn’t wanted to admit he meant a damn thing to her, had convinced herself he hadn’t…that he couldn’t possibly….

  They'd known each other less than seventy-two hours at that point, in which time they'd had a few amazing fucks and one near-death experience. What kind of ‘bond’ was that anyway?

  She had no idea how to contact him, even if she had wanted to, and she didn’t want to. That way led straight to crazy. Or in her case, crazier. He obviously hadn’t given a damn about her. The lack of so much as a note left little doubt of that.

  Still, as Heather finally started to drift to sleep, she had one thought clear as crystal shoot through all the swirling in her head.

  She knew why her black moods went away around Aidan.

  She had known being with him had eased that panic, the fear of that abyss ready to swallow her up. Yeah, part of it was simply that he pissed her off, and turned her on like crazy.

  But around him Heather also completely lost that feeling that usually haunted her every waking second. That fear that the drop-off was always waiting. That any second her feet could slip out from under her and down she’d go. That awful, empty feeling that never, ever went away completely—

  Except when she was with Aidan.

  All because her own darkness simply got lost in the enormity of his.

  That shouldn’t have been a comforting thought, but for some mad reason, it was. With a sigh, she rolled over, threw her arm around Lacey and fell at once into a sound sleep.

  Chapter 6

  Aidan came awake all at once. As per usual. His eyes opened and he inhaled the comforting smell of books and a freshly stoked fire. Like fingers snapping, things clicked one by one into his mind. Abhartach. Ronan. Bav.

  Heather.

  Secrets kept and secrets shared. His stomach clenched. How much did Lacey know about him to share? Vampire was a given. Duh, he’d actually bitten the woman. She was unlikely to forget that. Nor was Ronan, he thought with sudden trepidation.

  Shite.

  He’d be answering for that, sooner or later. Ronan had been a mite distracted lately, but he’d work his way back around to it. Eventually. Probably when Aidan was least expecting it.

  Ronan had a painfully keen sense of justice. And humor.

  Still, he would like to know the depth of Lacey’s knowledge. He’d bet a limb or two Ronan hadn’t told her everything. Friendship earned him some limits surely. But what were the limits when you were in love? It wasn’t if he had any idea anymore.

  Aidan sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. Less worrying about what might be and more finding out what was. For a man who tended to loathe secrets, he sure had plenty of them. He sighed and swung his feet off the couch. That was when he heard it. Voices outside his door, secretive ones.

  “…you doing here?” Heather’s voice, whispering and a little shocked, maybe?

  “I live here, thank ye very much.” The familiar, haughty tones that only a very accomplished 11-year old could have managed. Chloe Fitzpatrick was all that and more. He loved all the Fitzpatrick children, of which there were five. The lot of whom belonged to Ronan’s oldest brother, Michael and his wife, Shelagh. Chloe, with her honey hair and sharp tongue, was his favorite.

  And oh, did the sly lassie know it!

  “Yes, sorry. You’re absolutely right. I just…you do know there is a man sleeping in that room, right?” Heather’s tone was careful, as if she wasn’t sure how much…or how little to say. She had hesitated on the word ‘man’ as if she had wanted to say something different. Vampire, perhaps? Aidan’s mouth twisted.

  “Sure and I donna I know my own Uncle Aidan when I see him? I know who ye are, too.”

  “Hmm. And who am I?”

  “Lacey’s friend, her bestest friend ever. Like me and Jenny Ryan, though you’re a model and Jenny Ryan will n'ver be a model.” Chloe’s voice turned considering, as if just realizing that might have sounded unkind. “Bit I n'ver will, either. So that’s that.” There was something approaching longing in Chloe’s voice that surprised Aidan. It didn’t seem to have surprised Heather.

  “I guess it is. Do you want to be?”

  “A model?” Chloe tried to sound shocked and failed miserably.

  Heather made a non-committal noise. “Some people do.”

  “Did ye, always?”

  “Not at your age. I wanted to be a lighthouse keeper.” There was a laugh that was quickly, if almost unwillingly, echoed by Chloe.

  “Whatever for?”

  “Oh, I lived in Minnesota, by a huge lake—“

  “That’d be Lake Superior, aye?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.” Heather sounded pleased at the cleverness of her young acquaintance and Aidan knew from experience Chloe would be puffing with pride. “There’s a lot of lighthouses on the North Shore, where we lived, and I always loved them. How quiet and still they were, and how they seemed so safe. Everyone looks for a lighthouse in a storm, but the storm never seems to touch the lighthouse itself, you know? They are always calm and apart.”

  Heather’s words had gone soft and Aidan thought he knew why. It was damme sure Heather was feeling herself in the middle of a bit of a storm right now.

  Chloe made an impatient sound. “I’m sure it’s grand and all that, but isn’t being a model much more exciting?”

  Heather’s tone lightened. “Yes, of course. But exciting isn’t always better, is it?”

  There was a snort that seemed answer enough to that. “Still though, people taking your picture, telling you how beautiful you are all the time, the clothes…that’s nae bad, is it?”

  If Aidan expected Heather to play it down, or give the young, impressionable girl some platitude about beauty being skin deep, he was dead wrong. “No. Course it’s not. It’s wonderful. Gorgeous clothes, piles of money and the travel is nice, too. Not to mention seeing your face on magazine covers all the time. It's pretty damn cool, really.”

  Chloe sighed. “I’m not pretty enough to do that.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, just look at me.” Aidan sat there, stunned. He’d have never dreamed Chloe had thoughts like this. She was a happy child, with a loving family—an unusual family—true enough. But one who loved her beyond all reason. That she would feel any insecurity, especially about her looks….

  She was bloody eleven!

  His fury had clean pushed Chloe’s true age right out of his mind.

  “I am.” Heather’s tone was matter of fact, not in the least patronizing. “It’s hard to tell at your age, honestly. Some models are hideous when they are younger and some are average. Most people that are stunning as a child aren’t all that impressive when they get older. But you never know.” There was a rustling sound and Aidan guessed Heather had gone to her knees to get a better look at Chloe. “You’re pretty enough, not striking, but not plain either. You’ve good bones and your hair is good, too. Nice and thick and the color is decent. Your eyes aren’t bad. Plus, your parents are gorgeous. Good genes is
key, you know. Really, I think you have a better shot than most.”

  “Really?” Chloe sounded amazed.

  “Sure. If you like poising and people poking at you all the time. I mean, it’s fun and all, but pretty boring sometimes, too. Standing around is a huge part of my day, you know. Huge. And you can’t eat like normal, it sucks. I'm so going to pay for those scones your grandmother made today. Plus, boys are a little stupid around you when people call you a model.”

  Chloe giggled. “Boys are stupid anyway!”

  “True enough. But I like them okay. At least some of them. Do you mind if I go in and see your Uncle Aidan now? I really do need to talk to him.” Her voice was finally showing a bit of strain.

  There was a shuffle as Chloe moved away from the door. His little guardian wasn’t quite through shocking Aidan yet.

  “I just want to say," Chloe hesitated for a second, then her tone firmed. "Donna ye even think of hurting my uncle.”

  “Hurt him…?” For the first time in this conversation Heather sounded at a complete loss for words. Aidan could sympathize. He just blinked at the door, open mouthed, and incredibly touched. “I…why would you think I'd hurt Aidan?”

  “I’m nae sure,” Chloe said, and then more slowly, “I shouldna tell you this but…Maman says Uncle Aidan’s got more hurt inside him than any one man ought to be able to hold. I donna know what she means by that exactly. But his eyes get real sad sometimes and you can see it in there. All this bad stuff. So I guess Maman is right. But…but hurts like love, isn't it? Everyone’s always got room for more. So donna ye hurt him!” The words were so fiercely protective Aidan wanted to laugh, but the sound got stuck in his suddenly tight throat.

  “Honestly, Chloe, I don’t think there is any danger of that.” Heather’s voice was gentle. “But I will do my best, okay?”

  If Chloe noticed how ambiguous that promise was, Aidan couldn’t tell from this side of the door. No more words were exchanged.

  Instead, the door to the library opened.

  Heather slipped inside with her head turned toward the hallway. Her long, dark waves shone briefly in the light and he caught the delicate edge of her jaw, the pulse fluttering in the hollow of her throat…reminding him of how damme thirsty he was.

  Yesterday morning seemed an age and a half ago.

  It took a minute after she shut the door for her to see him there in the flickering light of the fire. For a long moment she leaned against the door and stared at him. Aidan sat on the couch, staring back, his hands loose between his legs, though he wanted to clench them into fists. He didn’t owe the chit any damme explanation.

  So why did feel as if he did?

  “So…vampire, huh?” Her voice wasn’t accusing, not exactly, but there was a definite edge there.

  “Yes.”

  “Shouldn’t that be something you have to declare before…”

  “Before I fuck a woman? Ye mean like herpes or some other STD?” Aidan laughed harshly. “'Tis not catching, nobody.”

  “Isn’t it? That’s not the impression I’ve gotten from Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer…” He almost laughed again, but caught something in the undercurrent of her tone. His stomach tightened in understanding.

  “Ye want to know if I drank from ye.” His voice was flat.

  “No, I know you drank from me.” Aidan’s head snapped up and he saw Heather’s lips press together. “When….when Lacey told me…everything last night, I remembered a few things. Not clearly, but some of those hazy bits and pieces after the accident came together. You…you bit me then, because you were hurt, right? It helped you heal somehow.”

  “Aye.”

  “So, no choice then. Not that time. I get it, but…before…in Istanbul. Did—“

  There was no point in hiding it. “Aye.”

  She pushed away from the door and stopped just in front of him, her whole body trembling with some blend of emotions Aidan couldn’t quite sort out. Anger was the foremost one though, he got that loud and clear. Particularly after she slapped him hard across the face.

  He took the blow without comment, but when her hand came up again he caught it in mid-swing.

  “Oy, nobody, that will about do.” His voice was mild, but the force with which he yanked her down into his lap was anything but. She landed with a thump that made him grunt and slide them both back into the cushions a little. Heather didn’t struggle away. She only stared at him, her lips white.

  “What’s got yer panties in a twist, then? Tha' I had a bit of a nip, or tha' ye dinna know about it? "Tis no' as if tha' is the only part of ye I tasted, love.” His hand moved up her warm thigh, having her so close was making him edgy. He wanted her. Again.

  In so many ways.

  She surprised him by not slapping his hand away. Instead, she grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back against the couch as she straddled him. Aidan stared at her, disconcerted. He had already been going hard—the smell of her, the feel of her on his lap had been doing that much—but her forcefulness had just made him absolutely rigid. He was amused, though somehow he didn’t think Heather would be. Still, she was bound to notice sooner or later.

  He was hoping for sooner.

  “It’s not okay that you messed with my mind, Aidan! It’s…it’s fucked up to do something like that to someone—“

  “Somehow, I remember us doing plenty of other things that were fucked up—“

  “Stop it! Just stop it! You don’t get to play this off, not this!” She shook him, hard. His head rapped against the wall behind them. Even though Aidan knew she hadn't meant to do it, he had had enough, though her temper was one damme fine turn-on. He snatched her wrists and pinned them behind her back, yanking her forward so that his arousal was blatant against her belly. She gaped at him. “You complete ass!”

  He laughed. “I sure am. But ye’re turned on too, nobody. Only ye can hide it, and I canna. We seem to have tha' effect on each other, donna we? So come on, while ye’re just sitting here thinking about me being inside ye—”

  Heather cursed and struggled for a moment, stopping only when she realized that was pleasing him more. “—tell me which part is it tha’s got ye so bloody pissed—tha' I took yer blood, or that you dinna know about it?”

  She lifted her chin, but refused to answer. Her body was taut as a coiled whip, her back arched, her breasts trembling under the material of her blouse as she glared at him. Bright spots of color deepened the hollows of her cheeks and those violet eyes glittered with fury.

  Pissed off rather suited her.

  “Aye, I am thinking the no' knowing about it is the bigger pisser. But why? Ye think ye would have been okay with seeing me…doing tha' to you? Ye think anyone is?”

  He didn’t want to talk about this, so he pressed her closer, rubbing himself against her in slow grinding circles. Her lips parted despite herself and her eyelids fluttered. Aidan smiled, his voice low. “I did ye a favor, making ye forget tha'…'tis not natural, Heather, no' like this—” He lifted his hand, closing it over one of those full breasts, rolling the tip of her nipple between his leather-encased fingers until a whimper escaped her lips.

  There was nothing natural about this. Heather struggled against her rising need for Aidan, but it was impossible. He was impossible! She was angry, confused and shocked about what he had done. But had she any right to be? Now that she knew what he was, what did she expect him to do? Ask politely if he could have a pint or two, then open a vein and drink his quota? She supposed his way was kinder, less messy, and certainly more subtle than some stupid Hollywood horror fest.

  Maybe she should be thankful for that, but she wasn't. She couldn’t help but feel like she’d lost something, some private piece of herself. Knowing he’d invaded her mind without her consent, made her forget something so intimate…

  Maybe, just maybe there was a way to feel better about the whole thing. If she could be brave enough to ask.

  Aidan was nuzzling her neck now, sending shivers to every secret li
ttle place in her core. His hand had slipped under her shirt, shoving it up. He released the front catch of her bra and when she felt the first touch of warmed leather against her breast, she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out loud.

  She slipped her own hand into his hair, the soft, silky spring of his curls against her fingertips as she pulled lightly, trying to get his attention.

  It wasn’t enough. Aidan’s head was lowering inexorably, his lips inches from his target.

  It took everything she had to pull back, but she made herself.

  She had to know.

  He looked up at her, surprised and a little irritated at this interruption. He released her hands and she tried to scoot back on his thighs. He yanked her down again, keeping her flush against him. Heather licked her dry lips and watched him follow the movement. A look spread over his face that made her heart race.

  “Aidan, wait,” her voice was shaky and alarmingly breathless. It went to a screech when his tongue flicked out and teased the tip of her aching breast. “Oh god, please…just quit for one damn second!”

  He pulled back, his eyes narrowing.

  “Are ye planning on telling me no again?”

  She shook her head and felt him relax. “Then what is it? There’s a fair dozen people in this house, Heather. If we don’t get a move on, we’ll be walked in on…and I’m no' of a mind to be interrupted at the mo’. Though I do believe I said something about begging before...”

  She swallowed, shrugged. “Fine. Whatever you like.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Nice to know ye’ve come to yer senses at last. Though tha' does take a bit o' the f—“

  “Are you hungry right now?”

  He cocked his head as her words cut across his. His face was so utterly bemused, Heather giggled nervously. “Thirsty, I mean?” The confusion slid from his face like someone had wiped it off.

  He didn’t answer her for a long, long time, searching her eyes. The way he had in that bar in Istanbul, she realized with a start. When he finally spoke, his one word fell like a stone between them.