Smoke in Moonlight (CELTIC ELEMENTALS) Read online

  Ronan put her down abruptly.

  She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. But he only moved slightly away from her, directly under the stream of the shower. He peeled off his jeans and kicked them into the corner. Lacey felt light-headed as she stared at him.

  His hair was plastered to his head in dark rivulets, water sluiced over the broad expanse of his shoulders, through the dark mat of hair on his chest, down the flat planes of his stomach and over the erection standing rigid between his muscled thighs.

  Lacey swallowed and reached out to wrap a hand around his sex. It was warm and hard and quivering under her fingers. She slid her fingers over the wet veined skin and had the satisfaction of hearing Ronan growl. He took a step toward her, then cursed. Pulling himself out of her hand, he stepped out of the shower. She heard the sounds of rummaging from out the half open door.

  He was back in seconds, tearing a wrapper between his teeth as he slammed the shower door shut. Ronan slipped the condom on one-handed as he walked toward her. She was glad he'd thought of protection. For the first time in her life, it hadn't even crossed her mind. Which blanked out again as he cupped her bare ass in one big hand and lifted her to him.

  Bracing her back against the corner wall again, he eased into her. One inch at a time. Slow and deliberate. She let out a long breath, watching him watch her, those gray eyes dark as he pushed deeper. Until she bit her lip from the pleasure uncoiling throughout her center, her thighs tightening around his slick hard waist. Steam curled around them, between them. The spray of the water as it hit his back and misted over her. Lacey licked the droplets from her lips and blinked them from her eyes. Wanting to see him as he moved, all that delicious power.

  Oh god, even her dreams hadn’t been this good, she could have never imagined the feel of him. When he eased back again, she whimpered, her nails digging into the back of his neck. “Ronan…”

  “What, Lacey?” His voice was as rough as hers was breathless.

  She wanted frantic and fast, meant to tell him such, but her throat closed as he filled her again. She pleaded for it silently with her eyes and her nails digging into his skin. But Ronan shook his head at her mute plea for urgency. And kept to the pace he had set.

  Purposely, meticulously slow. As if he wanted to drag out each second into a minute, each minute into an hour. Her fingers twisted in his wet hair as the pressure within her began to build until she twisted in his arms with need.

  She could see his smoky eyes, intent on her face, drinking in every nuance of her expression, but everything else had disappeared in a white-hot glare. She hovered on the threshold for one long second.

  Then with an achingly deep thrust, he pushed her over. The fierce climax surged within her and Lacey was lost waves of pure sensation.

  Her scream echoed and thrummed against the shower walls as her inner muscles seized him with a power that made his heart stutter in his chest. Ronan threw his head back and yanked her hips to his, burying himself into her fully. His own sharp cry joined hers, ringing against the glass and stone.

  It was his name she breathed once before collapsing bonelessly against his chest. His arms tightened instinctively, tucking her head under his chin. His heart slamming against his ribs as if it wanted to leap out of his chest.

  Ronan leaned forward, resting his forehead against the slick walls of the shower, his chest curved around Lacey's limp body as he sought to calm his breathing. His thighs were trembling with the power of the pleasure that she had brought him.

  His name, he thought, a surge of possessiveness shooting through him. Lacey was his. And no one; be they god, beast or demon was going to take her from him. Not until he was finished with her. That's what he told himself, but as he held her, still buried inside her, while the shower spray drummed against his back, Ronan knew he was lying. He'd never let her go. Not willingly.

  Not ever.

  Chapter 12

  Lacey wondered if she'd ever be finished with him.

  His body was fascinating. They were laying on the fur rug in front of the blazing fire. Or rather he was laying on the rug. She was laying on him. Her smooth legs brushed against his hairy ones as she tried to wrap both hands around one of Ronan's biceps. No matter how she tried her fingers would not touch.

  He laughed at her, the sound vibrating down her whole body and making her squirm.

  "You're a freak of nature." She shook her head in amusement, then put a hand to her lips in horror. He just smiled as she flushed. That smile that made her toes curl.

  "True enough." He ran his fingers lightly up her bare spine, making her shiver. She considered him warily, but her curiosity was too great.

  "How does it feel, when you..." Her words trickled off as her courage failed her.

  "Change?' Ronan murmured. His eyes darkened ever so slightly, but other than that he showed no reaction to her question. Though he did take a moment to answer.

  "Like... being wrapped in heat, like...melting down to your very bones. Then being scattered into ashes and...reformed."

  Into a giant wolf. Lacey rested her elbows on his chest and cradled her chin in her hands. "Does it hurt?"

  “Nae, though I'm not entirely sure I feel pain the same way you do."

  Because he was not entirely human. Lacey sighed and dropped her arms to lay her cheek against his chest, crisp black hairs tickling her nose. Closing her eyes, she could hear the thump of his heartbeat. It sounded human enough. But it wasn't. And after fifteen hundred years that wasn't likely change just because she wanted it to.

  Lacey eye's snapped open at the thought. She fought to keep her body relaxed against his as her panicked gaze darted around the room filled with dancing fire shadows. What in the hell was she thinking?

  "Lacey?" Ronan said, obviously feeling something of her tension. Lacey tried very hard to school her features into a calm, curious expression before she lifted her head.

  "Hmm?" She murmured, keeping her eyes half-closed. She didn't think she really fooled him, but his hands came up again, rough palms sliding over her arms. Goosebumps erupted on her skin and she gave him a look. "I think you enjoy making me shiver."

  He laughed again. Lacey relished his laugh and his smiles, all the more for their rarity. "Of course I do. Any man would." The glint in his eyes seemed almost jealous for a moment. Lacey dismissed that fancy out of hand.

  "I wouldn't say that. It's been long while for me."

  He looked curious as he continued to stroke her, her arms, then her back and down over her buttocks and thighs. And over again. As if he were memorizing her body with his hands.

  "Why? As much as you seem to enjoy my crazy family, I'd have thought you'd be the type to be keen on making your own?”

  She sighed and stretched, feeling warmth flood through her at his ministrations. It felt so good. Distracting her from how that question made her uneasy. She knew very well why she avoided having a family, no matter how badly she ached for one. But Lacey couldn't form those words. Instead she said, "I don't know, maybe my career. I really was rather career-orientated, you know." He remembered her telling his mother about her television work, vaguely. He also noted her use of the past tense. "Yet, you left it easily enough to come here."

  "That was seriously out of character, trust me. And it nearly gave my sister a heart attack."

  What about your parents?" This time she couldn't mask the way her body stiffened and his hands stilled at the back of her waist.

  "My parents are dead." He didn't offer any sympathy but the look on his face made her close her eyes. "It was a long time ago, Ronan." She had to force the words out, as he started to caress her again.

  "That kind of pain have an expiration date, does it?" His tone was quiet. "How old were ye?"

  "Nine."

  “Ah, lass." This time the concern rang in every short syllable.

  Lacey opened her eyes, but laid her head back on his chest, her cheek rising and falling with his breathing. Trying to just say the words
and not feel the feelings. To keep them apart, where she could deal with them. Or almost.

  "Katie, that's my sis, and I, were at a fancy summer camp in Colorado that I'd absolutely begged to go to. Hell, it was practically a campaign. You know like you do when you are-well, no you probably don’t. But-anyway… they died in an airplane crash on the way to pick us up."

  Her deliberate monotone could not hide the guilt that remained, even after so many years and all the therapy Katie could afford. Her mind accepted that it hadn't been her fault, but her heart was never convinced. She sighed and twirled one fingertip round and round on his chest as her heart tightened.

  Might as well get it all out in one go, like yanking off a damn band aid.

  "We went to live with Dad's younger sister, Aunt Meggie, after that. She was sweet and funny and very young, only twenty when she took us on. She had a massive freak heart attack six years later." She felt Ronan's breathing pause and closed her eyes again, but when he didn't comment, she continued. "Katie was only just 18 and she had a devil of time convincing the court to let her raise me. But in the end she did just that. She absolutely refused to have us separated."

  "Sounds like your sister is a strong woman."

  Lacey was surprised to feel a chuckle burst out of her burning throat. "You have no idea. She's the complete opposite of me."

  Ronan placed his hand on her head and turned her to face him. He was frowning. "What would ye be meaning by that?"

  "Mouse, remember?"

  His eyebrows drew together in a dark furrow. "Lacey, I didna..." but she cut him off. Too much sympathy would completely undo her right now.

  "I'm not blaming you, Ronan, in some ways it is true. I do tend to let things happen to me, without challenging them. Like my career, for instance. My best friend, Heather, umm… Kantos, and I got an idea in college..."

  Ronan lifted a hand, his expression now bemused. "Heather Kantos? The model?" Lacey sighed. Of course, even an ancient Irish werewolf would know who Heather was.

  If it was male and breathing, that was pretty much inevitable. She loved her friend fiercely and was rarely jealous of her, but sometimes it did get a bit... old.

  "That would be her. We were sophomores in college, both journalism majors, and we came up with an idea one night when we were half-ploughed and watching some stupid reality programs." Lacey could smile at that particular memory.

  "Heather said that Warhol was right, everyone would be famous for five minutes, but all the wrong fucking people got there first. Her exact words. That’s where "Five Minutes of Fame" came from. My first TV gig. And hers. We pitched it to the local public television. Heather pulled simple, nice people off the street, put them in a studio and interviewed them. It was surprisingly popular, probably mostly due to Heather. She's not just beautiful and crazy smart, you know. She could charm the horns off of a bull moose. We were number one on daytime local TV for 3 years running. I learned production and got offered an internship to one of the Cities biggest stations, KQUE."

  "But you weren't happy." Ronan was watching her intently.

  "I wasn't unhappy. I was good at producing and I did well." Lacey shrugged. "But it wasn't what I wanted, I wanted to write. But Katie thought writing was a ridiculously impractical career choice, she barely thought better of journalism." Which was why Lacey had a business minor.

  "And you didna want to disappoint her." Ronan's fingers brushed her hair now and Lacey leaned into his touch.

  “I couldn't."

  "Ye came here to write, didna ya? Bet she wasn't keen on that." A smile played about his lips.

  Lacey snorted. "You could say that."

  "You're stronger that you think, Lacey." He looked suddenly serious and she folded her hands on his chest again.

  "Am I?" she murmured, staring at him over steepled fingers, not caring to talk about herself anymore. "What about you, Ronan?"

  "Me?" His eyes went wary and he dropped his hand from her hair.

  "Couldn't you choose to make a family on your own if…"

  “To what end?" Ronan said bitterly. "So I could watch them grow old and die? Lugh only did the spell for those as was there in the beginning and I would nae ask him to repeat it, anyway. It would be a foul thing to do to someone I loved." He wouldn't quite look at her as he said it and the fingers of the hand that remained on her spine curled into a fist. She could feel the press of his knuckles.

  "Didn’t Lugh keep trying to break Aine's spell? After you helped him with the Changelings? Or did you ever find anything..."

  The bleak look in his eyes cut her off.

  "There is nothing," he said, his voice chilling for the first time. But Lacey remembered Aine's whispered words. You can save him. She bit her lip, staring at the whorls of hair on his chest with great concentration as her heart lurched.

  Ronan's eyes narrowed and he sat up. She gave a soft cry and clutched at his shoulders, but his arms came up around her. Steadying her on his out-stretched thighs.

  "What aren't ye telling me, Lacey?"

  She swallowed. "Well, I forgot, actually. I came here to talk to you about it. But..." She chanced a glance at him. Ronan looked resigned.

  "Aye, it wasn't talking you got," he acknowledged. "But ye tell me now."

  "I had a visitor while you were gone...and that reminds me, what the hell were you doing away for so damn long?"

  He waved a hand impatiently. "Later. Who was your visitor? Or do I even have to guess?" His face grew hard as he read her expression.

  "Probably not," Lacey said. "And she wasn't exactly nice this time, either."

  "She didna hurt ye?" He asked, his tone sharp.

  "No. Threats were all the weapons she needed." Lacey found herself unable to tell him the other things Aine had said. Things she had insinuated. Things that were beginning to make Lacey very uncomfortable in light of her... Her what exactly?

  She wasn't some naive teenager, thinking she had... feelings for Ronan just because they'd had sex. Well, of course, she had some feelings for him. She didn't sleep with men she didn't have some feelings for. She just wasn't about to have those kind of feelings. Not for Ronan. Lacey closed her eyes. Dear god, that would be the ultimate madness in this whole farce.

  Ronan was watching her intently, something in his expression telling her he was reading her quite close to the bone.

  But all he said was, "What sort of threats?"

  "Bascially, if I try to leave before the full moon, she'll zap me. Actually, she more threatened my car than me, but she definitely inferred I was not to try and leave at all. Quite clearly."

  "Did she say why?" His voice was low. Lacey decided to give him the shortest answer possible that wasn't a lie.

  "She said I would have to make a choice." Ronan cursed and lifted her off his legs, setting her down on the rug beside him as he turned to stare into the fire. His face was a mask of anger.

  "More games," he spat. "Gods, I hate Aine and her games." Lacey rubbed her arms, cold without Ronan's heat even as the fire crackled. But she wouldn't reach for him. Not yet. She remembered something else Aine had said.

  "She said you don't hate her, and she sounded pretty sure of herself on that." Lacey said slowly, recalling Aine's smug look. Ronan made a noise of disgust and stood up.

  "She would. Damme, I know she's felt..." He didn't finish. His hand reached for the mantel, bracing himself there, so close to the fire it must burn, even for him. But he just stared at the flames.

  "What does she feel, Ronan?" Lacey asked quietly.

  "Ronan?"

  With a snarl, he whirled on her. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and lifted her to him bodily, her toes dangling a good foot off the floor as he ravaged her mouth. His teeth nipped her lips sharply.

  Lacey gasped and his tongue swept inside her mouth, delving into every curve and corner with irresistible purpose. When her tongue met his onslaught tentatively, he nipped it too, just enough to make her whimper before sucking it softly.

&nb
sp; He did things with his mouth she'd never even considered before. It was a brutally thorough kiss. Lacey was clinging to him weakly when he finally ended it.

  "Donna you taste it?” he whispered, lowering her feet to the rug and peeling her hands from his shoulders.

  "What?" Lacey asked, seeing him through a haze of shock...and desire.

  "The darkness."

  She stared, transfixed by the depth of pain in his eyes. The pain he was letting her see. More than anything, Ronan dropping his guard stunned her silent for several long moments.

  "Yes," Lacey admitted finally, watching his shoulders shudder once at her words. Then she reached up and pulled his head back down to hers, so they were eye to eye. "But that's not all there is to you, Ronan."

  He laughed bitterly, starting to twist away. "Don't be so sure, lass. I'm not." She wouldn't release him, though they both knew he could have forced her to.

  "I want you," she whispered. "I'm sure of that." For a moment, Lacey was thought Ronan was going to break her hold and stalk away.

  Again

  Instead he just closed his eyes briefly, before picking her up and walking to the bed. He tossed her onto the vast velvety comforter before giving her a grim smile.

  "Be careful what you wish for."

  Thump, thump, THUMP!

  Lacey lifted her head from the pillow with a groan. She was so sleepy, deliciously achy and sore and satisfied—

  And she was going to kill whoever was pounding on Ronan's door.

  Ronan made an inarticulate sound to her left, obviously thinking along the same lines, his arm slung heavily over her ribs, the weight pinning her to the bed. She sighed and ran her fingers over his hand that rested against her bare stomach, snuggling back into the pillows and his warmth. Maybe it was just a dream....

  "Damnú ort! Open this friggin' door, Fitzpatrick, before I fry my ass!"

  Ronan shot up at that voice, pulling Lacey with him and tangling them both in the covers. Ronan cursed and freed himself with difficulty, before grabbing a colorful afghan from the mussed bed and slinging it around his naked hips.