Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2) Page 11

  “Aye.”

  Heather swallowed again, but pressed on. “Then do it, Aidan…drink from me. Here. Now. Without using that…whatever it is you have to make me forget—“

  “Heather. Nae. You donna want th—“

  “Don’t tell me what I want!” Her voice cracked between them and Aidan flinched. “You don’t get to go into my mind and hide something from me because you don’t think I can handle it…or were you just scared to show me what you really are?”

  Aidan snorted, even as his shoulders tensed under her hands. “There is no' anything about ye tha' scares me, nobody.”

  “Then don’t hide! I know what you are now.”

  “Knowing and seeing—and feeling—are quare different things, love.”

  “Right. And how would you feel knowing somebody had taken something from you, a piece of your memory—however unpleasant or frightening—and just erased it?”

  He jerked at her words, as if she’d slapped him again.

  For a moment Aidan sat there, still as stone, his angular face unreadable in the flickering shadows. Finally he nodded once, just the barest inclination of his head. The pupils of his gorgeous eyes were blown wide, inky dark pools ringed with silver ice as he bent toward her again.

  She expected him to go for her throat, but she should’ve know Aidan would buck tradition. His mouth closed instead over her bared breast, his lips warm and caressing, sending tingles straight between her legs. Her fingers tightened in his hair. She had to fight the urge to close her eyes and just surrender to the pleasure of his highly experienced mouth and tongue. But she wanted to see. Heather knew that she needed to see and not forget anything.

  And she did see. Actual fangs, gleaming and sharp as his lips parted again, fangs that shone in the firelight. God. A cold finger of instinctive fear traced her spine.

  Pain flared, hot and white. Twin stabs, just above her throbbing nipple. She gasped, her eyes widening. Aidan stared up at her and she couldn’t look away. Fire seemed to flare up, all over her body, and she shuddered in its grip.

  Aidan’s gloved hands slipped over her waist, holding her still as the fire burnt down, flame by flame until it settled in the small area where his mouth touched her, drawing out her very life…her blood. She arched helplessly as he drank.

  It was so intimate, almost sacred. He looked cruel in the light from the fire, like some dark god taking her as sacrifice. Goosebumps danced over her whole body. It was hard to breathe, but her heart raced in her chest until it burned. It felt like an eternity before he pulled back, but when he did she had to hold back a cry at the emptiness that streaked through her with the separation.

  Aidan slapped a hand over her mouth, her lips tasting leather.

  He toppled them both silently off the couch, on to the rug in front of the fire, that crackled and sparked behind Aidan’s dark silhouette. He stripped her bare in seconds, making such short work of buttons and zippers, she was sure it had to be more magic. At this point she was beyond caring what it was, as long as he got inside her as quickly as possible. Something had taken over her, powerful and demanding. She was almost used to wanting Aidan by now, if such a thing were possible. She knew well that throb of heat that pulsed inside her whenever he was near, but this….

  It was utterly consuming. She had to have him…now, now, now!

  But when he slid against her, his cock thick and solid between her slick lips, she bucked on the rug like a wild thing, almost unable to stand it. The feel of him was overwhelming as his length dragged over her clit. She shoved her fingers into her mouth to keep from screaming. His hands were on her hips, the leather hot now in the blaze of the fire, almost branding her skin as he thrust inside her.

  And now it wasn’t enough. She met his rhythm and urged him on. Faster. Still not enough. She whimpered as her insides tightened but the release she craved wouldn't come.

  He wanted more, too. She could see it in his face. With a low growl, he grabbed her legs, throwing them over his shoulders. Then Aidan grabbed her bare ass in his gloved hands and lifted her off the floor, into him. Her head fell back as his cock stretched her wide, going so deep it almost hurt. Such a delicious pain, like when he had drank from her. Such a goddamn satisfying ache.

  Her inner muscles fluttered. One hand flailed at the rug, as her fingertips brushed his rock solid thigh, then trailed up his lean hip, over to the firm curve of his ass. Her fingers dug into him as he drove inside her again and again.

  When she came, the room seemed to spin away, lost in a thousand twinkling lights. Aidan pulsed once inside her, swelling against her clenched muscles. Then she felt him break, too. Slick and hot, his body dropped onto hers. Her legs fell to his sides as he let go. They trembled with weakness from hip to toe, but she managed to wrap them around his limp body along with her arms.

  She had never held him like this, but right now…right now they both needed it. Even if she suspected Aidan would never admit it.

  A stealthy knock came at the door.

  “Oh for heaven’s bloody sake!” Aidan’s words tickled her ear.

  “At least they knocked.” She whispered back, and felt him smile against her neck.

  “At least he waited until we were finished.”

  “He?”

  “'Tis Ronan.”

  Heather blinked, his powers were more than a bit disconcerting.

  “Oh… Are we finished then, Aidan?”

  He lifted himself from her slowly, his fire-and-sex warmed muscles flexing and stretching under her hands. Muscles that had been warmed by her blood, as well, Heather realized with a sting of shock.

  His eyes were glowing, but so softly she wasn’t quite sure she wasn’t imagining it.

  “No' by half, nobody. No' by bloody half.” Then he smiled and shook off the mood of the moment with his next words. “For one thing, ye dinna beg. Ye were supposed to beg. And I think I said something about knees as well.” He pushed himself up onto his own knees as she gaped up at him.

  “You, you goddamn—“

  “Ass, is it then? Are we back to tha'?” He laughed as she swatted at him. She did it more in amusement than irritation. Heather was feeling far too relaxed to work up a proper temper and figured Aidan knew it from the smile on his face.

  His expression quickly turned to a frown when the knock came again, far less stealthy and good deal more impatient this time. “Oy! Shut it, Ronan. Give a man time to get decent, will ya?”

  Ronan’s deep voice was soft, but held an unmistakable smile that slipped through the door. “Ye’ve never been decent, but ye have always been a right arse. The lass has tha' dead on.”

  “Stop eavesdropping, ye prevert and go head on wit yerself. I’ll be out in a mo’.”

  Heavy footsteps moved away, but didn’t hide a muffled laugh.

  Aidan shook his head. “He’s enjoying this, he is. Getting his own back, he thinks. Damme eejit.”

  Heather wondered what exactly Aidan considered ‘this’ to be, but didn’t ask. Instead she said. “Getting what back?”

  “I may have…inadvertently, ye mind, overheard some of his and Lacey’s more, ermh…intimate moments. So I daresay, he’s having a bit of fun interrupting us.” Nearly dressed now, Aidan sat down on the couch to pull on his boots.

  She winced. “Oh for ….! Men. Everything’s a damn game.”

  “Aye, competition is what makes us men. And for the record, since I know ye are wondering,” she turned her head curiously as he leaned over and brushed her ear with his lips, “ye and I win. No contest.”

  Heather flushed from head to toe as Aidan stepped over her to open the door, but couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips.

  His bite had left no mark, her skin was smooth and unblemished. Heather noted in the small mirror above the couch as she dressed. Another thing that Hollywood and most of her favorite authors had gotten wrong. She stepped out into the hallway.

  Right in the path of Moiré Fitzpatrick. Ronan’s mother, whom she had only
met briefly at supper. A meal she had anxiously excused herself from as soon as possible, with the intent of talking to Aidan.

  The tall, Irish woman was giving her a forthright look that made Heather uncomfortably aware of just what she’d been doing in this woman’s home minutes before. She cleared her throat and smiled weakly.

  “Hello.”

  “Good eve. Lacey is in the kitchen, washing up.” The tone was mild, but Heather thought there was an accusatory note in there somewhere.

  “Right,” her cheeks were burning. Heather could feel the heat and resisted the urge to put her hands up to cool them down. “I'll just go help her out.”

  Moiré stepped aside to let Heather pass in the narrow hall. At the last moment, she turned.

  “Miss Kantos?”

  “Oh, there is no need to call me ‘miss’. Heather's fine.”

  Moiré inclined her head in acknowledgement of this, but her brown eyes said there was every need for formality between them. “Aidan is like a son to me, I do hope ye understand tha'?”

  “I…sure.”

  “He’s had a strange life, our Aidan has. And a terribly hard one. I would nae care for anyone who made it harder. Ye take me meaning?”

  Heather started. These Fitzpatrick women were certainly protective of Aidan. He was the vampire here, not her. Why the hell did everyone persist in making her feel like the dangerous one? “I'm not sure that I do.”

  The older woman tucked a strand of greying red hair behind one ear as she studied Heather for a moment. “I think tha' ye do, but to be clear, Aidan may seem right cocky and full of himself to ye, and mayhap he is. But his heart runs quare deep for all tha' show. Ye will nae be welcome here if ye trifle with him. Lacey’s friend or no'.”

  “Sorry, but I'm not anywhere near to Aidan’s heart. I think you've misunderstood our…relationship. We barely know one another.” Her cheeks, cooling in her anger, threatened to fire up again, but Heather forced it down. She had nothing to be ashamed of here.

  “Mayhap ye are right, and if so, ye’ll be accepting my apologies.” Moiré smiled and held out a hand, which Heather took hesitantly. The woman’s grip was both soft, firm and very strong.

  Heather gulped when the woman pulled her close enough for Moiré’s next whispered words to ring in her ears alone.

  “Two such like souls have little need of time to recognize each other, lass. Be ware of my Aidan’s heart….and yer own.”

  Moiré dropped her hand and pushed past. Heather stood frozen, her fingers still tingling from the woman’s grip. Moiré's words had raised goose bumps on the backs of her arms.

  Heather rubbed them away as she stared at the door to the library. She couldn't help wondering if everyone in Ireland was either cursed, a vampire, a god—or mad as a hatter.

  Chapter 7

  Lacey was indeed washing dishes when Heather stepped into the big, warm kitchen. Her eyes sparkled why she hummed to herself. The tune was something bright and happy that irritated Heather after two cheery notes. Night pressed against the glass doors and the wide window seat that Heather flopped down in with a small huff.

  “She hates me.”

  “Who Bav? I would say that is a given, since she saw you with Aidan…oops.” Lacey caught herself as she turned, wrinkling her nose. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Heather narrowed her eyes.

  “Keep your secrets, it’s fine. If Aidan feels the need to tell me his past with that…woman, I’ll listen, for sure. But otherwise it’s really none of my business. No, I meant Moiré.”

  “Moiré?!” Lacey looked stunned.

  “Well, don’t look at me like that! I don’t know what her problem is, but she obviously would be throwing me out of here in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Heather. You must be mistaken. Moiré…she’s one of the warmest, kindest peo..”

  "'Ye will nae be welcome here, if ye trifle with his heart’! That is what she just said to me, Lace!”

  “She was talking about Aidan?”

  “Of course she was talking about Aidan! Who else’s damn heart would I be ‘trifling’ with? Not that it is his heart that concerns me, for god’s sake. I am plenty interested on what he’s got going on the outside, but I don’t give a damn about his stupid heart! Why does everyone keep pestering me about it?” Heather noticed how loud her voice had gotten and lowered it in a hurry, looking around the kitchen warily. “Where is she anyway?”

  “Moiré? She went out front, she’s pulling weeds again.”

  “In the dark?”

  Lacey shrugged. “Ronan and Aidan are out there, too, somewhere. And it’s what she does when she’d upset.”

  “See?! I told you. She hates me!”

  “Oh, Heather.” Lacey took a small hand towel from a drawer and wiped her hands, her back to the sink as she looked at her friend. Standing, Lacey was almost on eye level with Heather sitting. “Do you want some tea?”

  “Do I want…. What..?!”

  Lacey shrugged again. “It’s what everyone here does when anyone is upset— sorry.”

  “Damn, you’ve been here less than a month and you’re turning Irish on me. No, I don’t want any ‘bloody’ tea, Lace! These people are nuts!”

  With a sigh, Lacey came to the table and sat down next to Heather. “I'm sure it seems that way to you, Heather. You have had more than a few shocks. But if Moiré said something that made you feel unwelcome, I'm sure she didn’t mean it.”

  “I am quite sure she did!” Heather glared mutinously at her friend, feeling betrayed. And more than a little hurt.

  “Sorry.” Lacey put a small hand on hers and squeezed. There was a lot of love on that familiar face, but Heather refused to be mollified.

  “Why don’t they like me? Everyone likes me! Damnit.”

  Lacey patted her hand. “Not everyone, sweetie.”

  “Oh thanks! You’re not helping here.”

  Sighing, Lacey withdrew her hand. “I'm not trying to. Sorry, I was trying to figure out why Moiré would treat you like that. And I think I have an answer. But you’re not going to like it.” Her friend’s bright eyes were not twinkling now, but round and serious.

  “Surprise, surprise. Lay it on me.”

  Lacey hesitated, obviously choosing her words with care. “Moiré, she’s got a bit of the sight…”

  “You mean she’s psychic, too? Oh, holy balls, Lacey! Are you for real?”

  “Yeah. She saw me all the time when I was a kid, growing up…off and on my whole life.”

  “Okay, creepy.”

  “Heather!”

  “Sorry, sorry, it’s just…well, Jesus, Lacey. Vampires—psychic fucking vampires— and werewolves and goddesses and demons….and now more psychics?” Heather finished weakly. Lacey reached over and patted her hand again.

  “I know, I know. But buck up.”

  “I’m trying. It’s not easy though.”

  “No, it sure isn’t.” Lacey gave her a sympathetic look that reminded Heather that her friend had gone through this very same insanity. And she had done it without the benefit of a friendly, familiar face in sight. Heather straightened her spine and resolved to stop being so damn whiny.

  “Okay, sorry. Go ahead.”

  “Well, Moiré has the sight, like I said. And the only reason I can see for her acting that way to you, because she definitely has a reason, Heather. I wasn’t playing when I said she is about the sweetest person on earth, okay?” Lacey paused for Heather’s nod and then continued. “The only reason I can think of for her attitude is if she saw something…something about you and Aidan.”

  The words seemed to hover for an instant in the air between them, then they shot right into Heather’s midsection like a solid punch. She rocked back in her chair, her eyes wide. “Alrighty then. Something…bad, I’m guessing, from her tone.”

  “I'd tend to agree with that.” Lacey chewed her bottom lip worriedly. “But—“

  Whatever she intended to say was cut off, as a c
horus of voices rang through the house along with the slamming of doors. Together, Heather and Lacey stood.

  By the time the Fitzpatrick family poured into the kitchen, they were side by side at the sink, Lacey washing and Heather drying, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

  Neither of which were taking them down pleasant paths.

  Aidan wasn’t having pleasant thoughts himself as he walked into the kitchen. He and Ronan had tried hashing out a plan. As they were of two very different minds, it hadn’t gone particularly well.

  As long as he remained with the Fitzpatrick’s, he could be fairly certain of being safe. Abhartach wouldn't dare attack too close to their doorstep, for fear of unwelcome attention from Lugh. The king of the Tuatha de Naanan was one of the only powers on earth the demon fae respected.

  For Aidan, being a prisoner, even in the home of a friend, rankled. There was also his need to hunt. Heather allowing him, well, pretty much demanding that he drink from her meant that his hunger was decently at bay. For the moment.

  Still, he hadn’t had a kill in well over two weeks now. That was bad. He couldn’t be sustained for any length of time without one. He’d gone as long as a month before, but that had nearly ended him. He didn’t relish the idea of going through it again.

  Abhartach wouldn’t just quit. It didn't make sense. No, the bastard was holding back for a reason. There were no vampires or demons or thralls along the Fitzpatrick property at the moment, as far as he and Ronan could tell. Eventually though, they would come.

  Ronan thought it better to wait until they showed themselves, to wait for Abhartach to make his move first, and show his hand.

  Aidan didn't agree and not only because he knew damn well the sneaky lengths his friend would go to protect him, which could definitely include lying about strategy

  Ronan's main intent was to keep him close, no matter what. That way the big man could feel confident of protecting both his best mate and his family.