by Lisa Kessler
He’d discovered recently that a man with roses and sad eyes attracted his prey, and a heart-wrenching tale of betrayal or loss assured they would listen long enough for him to cast his spell. Then he’d bring the hypnotized women to the source of his power. They’d stand transfixed while he shifted into his true form. He’d bow before them as a mighty steed, and they’d climb onto his back, eager to meet their watery fates.
Benedict smiled, abandoning the roses on the rocks. He would never be banished from this place again.
Rich piano chords bled into one another, the sound swelling like angry waves crashing against the cliffs. The music drew him closer to the door. Colin frowned. Classical piano pieces weren’t typical live pub music, but he’d never been inside the Bridled Pony before, either.
He reached for the weathered wooden handle on the door and pulled it open, drenching himself in the music as it embraced him. His gaze shot to the piano. A woman sat on the bench, and the bar’s dim lighting didn’t dull the shine on her long dark auburn hair. Or her obvious passion.
He took a step inside, the door closing behind him, and he nodded to the bartender. He shifted his attention back to the pianist. She played the old upright in her bare feet, her shoes sitting neatly on the floor beside the bench. Interesting. He took a seat at a small table to the side of the piano. The woman’s profile revealed warm features, full lips, round cheeks, and a determined countenance. Her fingers caressed the keys, making the worn instrument sing.
He lost himself in the tune, his new shortcomings forgotten.
When she reached the final cadence, her fingers remained on the keys, her foot sustaining the sound with the pedal until it faded into silence.
Colin applauded, but she never moved. Not even a flinch.
The blonde behind the bar called over to him. “She can’t hear ya. But I’ll let her know she has a new fan.” The bartender headed his way. “What can I get for ya?”
He forced himself to stop staring at the fiery-haired angel and glanced up at the blonde. “She can’t hear me, but she plays the piano?”
She tipped her head toward the woman at the keyboard. “That’s my cousin, Juliana. She was a piano prodigy before her accident. She can’t hear anymore, but she still loves to play, says she can feel the vibrations.”
His ancient heart skipped a beat. He furrowed his brow, processing the information. “She’s deaf?”
The blonde nodded, her thick, bobbing curls punctuating her answer. “I’m Muriel. Can I get ya somethin’?”
“Pint of Guinness, please.”
“You got it.” She gave him a wide smile and went back to the bar, only straying to tap Juliana’s shoulder and point toward him.
When Juliana turned, her dark eyes met his, and he reveled in the mystery wrapped up in the mortal woman before him. What compelled her to play music when she was denied the ability to hear it. Wouldn’t the playing pain her, reminding her of her disability?
Questions filled his head, but he cautioned himself not to tap into her mind. As a Night Walker, the thoughts of mortals around him could be overwhelmingly loud, but Colin had shields, only reaching for people’s thoughts when it suited him. This woman had made him forget his injury, for a brief moment there was only the passion in her music. He longed to understand how she moved past her injury, but peering into her mind for answers would steal the pleasure of discovery, of getting to know her. So few people surprised him anymore. He wanted to savor it.
But how would he discover his answers if she couldn’t hear his voice and he didn’t read her thoughts?
It didn’t matter anyway. He should be locating Benedict and reminding the slick monster of the boundaries of his territory, not swooning over some girl in a pub. The aughisky could feed elsewhere. This county was under Colin’s protection. He rubbed his right hand down the deep divot in his left arm where his bicep had been.
How much was his protection worth now?
He looked up to see Juliana slip her feet into her shoes and smile in his direction. His lips parted in a crooked grin he’d forgotten he had. Color flushed her cheeks as she nodded toward him and walked to the bar.
He ached to go to her. Curiosity was a rare sensation for a being as old as he, but he stayed in his chair. He had nothing to offer and no time to keep hiding in this pub. One drink to clear his head and then he would hunt.
Muriel brought over his Guinness, and he lifted it to his lips. Most of his kind couldn’t tolerate drinking anything other than blood, but he’d lived on the island so long that he’d built up a tolerance and a love for a good, dark Guinness. He wouldn’t be able to drink all of it, but he could enjoy a few sips.
Muriel wiped the bar and called over. “Where’re you from?”
The jungles of the Yucatan. “The other side of Belvoir Forest. I own the Sea Haven Farm.”
She glanced up from her work. “That’s the place Bartley tends, right?” She grinned. “How come he’s never brought ya here before?”
Because I don’t eat pub grub. “I travel a lot on business.”
“Didn’t mean t’ pin ya down for an excuse.” She raised a brow. “I know I’m not the fanciest place in town.”
“I just don’t get out much.” He almost smiled. “Really.”
He noticed Juliana watching him. She peered over at him from beneath her auburn mane and gestured to the stool beside her.
How could he resist? He’d only stay a few minutes.
Colin picked up his Guinness and approached the bar. “Is this seat taken?”
She watched his lips and then shook her head.
He pulled out the stool and sat down. “You play beautifully.”
Juliana withdrew a pad and pen from the pocket of her coat. Thank you… I don’t know your name.
“May I?” He pointed to her pen.
She handed it to him, a playful spark lighting her dark eyes.
Colin. He returned her pen. “You’re Juliana?”
She nodded and offered her hand. He shook it, the warmth of her skin teasing his hunger, his thirst for blood surging. Her smile faded, and she released him to take up her pen.
You’re freezing. Muriel makes a great hot toddy.
He shook his head and pointed to his glass. “Just holding my cold Guinness too tight.”
Her expressive features gave her recognition of his words away, and he tried to imagine the sound of her voice.
Muriel came back over. “Want me to leave a tab open?”
“Nah.” He laid a bill on the bar. “I can’t stay.”
She took the money, shaking her head. “More to life than work, ya know.”
“Maybe so.” His gaze remained fixed on Juliana’s. “But there’s no rest for the wicked.”
She picked up her pen. You don’t look wicked to me.
He took a swig of the stout and winked. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“Thanks, Muriel.” He walked to the door, glancing back at the redhead on the barstool. “I hope I see you again, Juliana.”
Chapter Two
The door closed behind him, and Juliana glanced at Muriel. Her cousin was giving her a decidedly guarded look.
“You invited him to sit beside you.”
Juliana shrugged and feverishly wrote, You saw him. You would have done the same thing.
Muriel smiled and pressed her finger to her chest. “I would sure, but that’s not your style.”
Juliana rolled her eyes. I don’t have a style.
“Bah.” Muriel grabbed the glass of Guinness and shook her head. “What kind of self-respecting man leaves a half a pint of Guinness behind?”
Juliana’s gaze shifted to the door. Colin. The second man from her dream. What did it mean? She reached up to toy with the silver triquetra pendant around her neck. The Celtic trinity knot had been a gift from her grandmother, passed down through the family. She’d taught Juliana that all lives were intertwined, every thread binding to the other, no matter how distant.
And now
she sat on her cousin’s barstool wondering what connected her with Colin and Benedict. She didn’t know either man well at all, but if her dreams were any indication, that was about to change.
She ran her index finger over Colin’s name, feeling the indentation of the paper. He’d had a glorious smile, but it had never reached his eyes. Muriel waved a hand in the periphery of Juliana’s vision, interrupting her thoughts. She glanced over to her face.
“I was still talking.”
Juliana smirked and jotted, Sorry.
“I said you need to be careful. Ask Bartley about his boss next time he comes by. Find out who he really is before you waste your precious thoughts on that one.”
Juliana sighed. Being deaf does not make me stupid or naive. I have pepper spray, and I’ve been through self-defense classes. I’m just as capable as you.
“You and your mother are all the familyI have left, and she’d kick my arse if I let anything happen to you.”
Juliana laughed and quickly pressed her lips together. She tried not to allow any sound to escape her throat. With no ability to hear herself, she had no idea how loud she might be. To be safe, she kept silent.
Her pen scratched across the paper. I’m careful.
“See that you are. There was something about that guy…”
Juliana nodded, focusing on the door again. There was definitely something about him all right. He commanded attention. The moment she’d seen him, his smile had warmed her all over. He carried an aura of power, but it was his eyes intrigued her. Over the years, she’d learned to read the tiny lines around a person’s eyes, the nuances most people missed. He’d been playful with her, but when he mentioned looks could be deceiving, she’d recognized a flash of pain. There was a shadow lurking in the depths of his beautiful dark green eyes.
His life was being woven into the fabric of hers, and she wanted to know why.
Colin wandered the alleys in search of a heartless mortal to quench his thirst for blood, someone no one would miss. But his mind kept returning to the woman he’d met inside the pub. Her dark eyes haunted him, and her warm smile seemed strangely void of the bitterness he expected from someone who’d had her hearing stolen from her.
What made her tick, he wondered.
He turned a corner into a shadowed alley with tiny lights draped from above. Romantic if it weren’t for the muffled struggles of a woman. He focused on the sound, tracking it with his acute hearing.
A drunken thug had a young lady pinned against a car, one hand over her mouth and one hand fumbling with his zipper.
“If ye can get yer pants down one-handed without catchin’ yer snake in the zipper, yer too plastered to get it up anyway,” he called, allowing an Irish brogue to seep into his voice as he approached.
“Bugger off. This is none of yer business.”
Colin’s tone sobered, his already-deep voice lowering with each step. “Let her go.”
The woman’s struggles picked up a notch, and her knee connected with her attacker’s groin. He slammed her head against the top of the car door. “Bitch!”
Her eyes drifted closed, and Colin moved in. Before the man could utter a word, Colin’s fangs were deep in his neck. Pulling in deep draughts of rich, warm, alcohol-laced blood, the man’s memories flooded Colin’s senses. A life full of excuses. Everyone owed him a break, and he pissed away every opportunity, again to no fault of his own.
Colin searched the man’s chaotic thoughts for the name of the lass lying unconscious in the alley beside the car. Finally, he saw her face. She’d been serving him drinks at a pub down the road, and he’d jumped her when she’d gotten off work. Scumbag. Her name was Penny.
He braced the man’s weakened body with his good arm, drinking until the man’s heart finally stopped. Colin cut the tip of his tongue on his own fang, allowing his blood to heal the wound on the man’s neck.
He rushed to the woman’s side, tapping her cheek gently. “Penny?”
She groaned, slowly blinking. Suddenly her entire body tensed, her eyes going wide. He shook his head. “Yer safe now. He’s gone. Look at me, Penny.”
She stared up at him, and he allowed his power to build in his gaze, flooding her mind and mesmerizing her to his will. He wiped the nasty incident from her memory, replacing it with a bad fall that caused the bump on her head. He walked her to her car and released her from his spell.
“Goodnight, Penny. Take care of yourself.”
She clicked the locks on her car and nodded. “I’ll have ice on it as soon as I get home.”
“See a doctor if you start feelin’ ill.”
She nodded and got inside, and Colin went back to the alley to clean up his mess. He bent to lift the man into his arms, a simple task with his inhuman strength, but his left arm made it difficult to maneuver and support the other half of the body.
“Dammit!” He growled, anger flaring at the reminder of his permanent injury. His eyes burned. They’d be crimson red if anyone came around the corner, but at this point he didn’t care.
Once he had the body settled in his arms, he ran for the coast and threw the body off the cliff to the sea below. He stared up at the stars. He used to love to shift into a huge red-tailed hawk and soar off of these cliffs up to the stars, skimming over the water, and glide over his farmlands.
Never again. Now the stars just taunted him.
Deep inside, his hawk stirred. He closed his eyes, forcing the desire back. He hadn’t shifted since the night when the Night Demon had captured his hawk and ingested part of his left wing. His Night Walker blood healed the wounds, but regeneration wasn’t possible.
How could he make the animal spirit within him understand he could no longer fly? The thought of shifting and fluttering about, unable to take off, chilled him. It made eternity too bleak to face.
Best not to think about it.
Walking off his frustration, he continued along the coastline and down the hillside until the wind cooled his temper. The cliffs gave way to a gentle slope down to the shore. He jogged down to the sand, and a crease marred his brow.
Abandoned on the rocks were scattered red roses.
Juliana gave Muriel a hug and promised to text her when she got home. The wind pulled at her hair, and she tugged her coat tighter around her. Although she couldn’t hear their voices, she caught a few words from reading the lips of the couples passing by. Mostly questions about where to eat or inquiring about each other’s days. No depth but the simple pleasantries still made her sigh.
She’d had a couple of relationships after she’d graduated high school, but it hadn’t worked out. One boyfriend could hear and had never seemed to get past the idea that she never would. He’d kept encouraging her to seek more doctors and to try expensive surgeries with no guarantee of success. He saw her as handicapped, and that was something she couldn’t tolerate.
Being deaf had changed some parts of her life, but it didn’t make her any less of a person.
Her other long-term relationship had been with a man who shared a hearing impairment. She’d thought they’d have a better connection, but in the end, his bitterness over his “disability” soured her infatuation with him.
Revisiting past relationships wasn’t a usual pastime for the walk back to her little stone cottage next to the flower shop. She’d actually spent this last year enjoying the freedom of being single. Her two-bedroom, one-bath home was just the right size for her, and she could come and go as she pleased.
But tonight she’d met Colin. And he’d written his name on her pad.
Reading lips was simple—she did it without even thinking now—but something about him lifting her pen and writing it down had touched her. As if he’d wanted to be certain she had his name correct, a promise their paths would meet again.
She rolled her eyes at the romantic rubbish running through her mind and unlocked her door. Brian, her orange-and-black Tabby cat, met her in the entryway, making a serpentine path around her ankles. He was named after the first H
igh King of Ireland, fitting for the cat who ruled over the tiny kingdom of her cottage. She bent to stroke his sleek coat and went to the kitchen to get a can of food. But Brian didn’t follow as he usually did.
She frowned and backtracked to find him at the front door, tail swishing. Brian was her ears, and if he heard something, he usually waited for her to find him. Juliana rose on her toes to peer out the peephole, and her breath caught.
Colin turned to go, and she hesitated. Had he followed her home? Unease slithered down her back. The banshee’s call from her dream whispered through her memory. Maybe she was in danger. Or Colin. Or Benedict. It could be any of them, but she’d never discover what was unfolding, when it was coming and how to handle it, if she stayed hidden inside her home. Between the eagerness to decipher the message of her dream and the desire he stoked inside her, Juliana found it difficult to gauge her recklessness.
She rose up on her toes again to see Colin walking down the tulip-lined path without looking back. She turned from the door and breathed a sigh of relief. It was probably better this way. Safer. She took a step and stopped. Would a stalker just turn and walk away when she didn’t answer the door?
Maybe he’d seen her walking out of the pub and had called to her. She wouldn’t have heard him.
Juliana rushed to the coffee table and slid open the drawer depositing a slender canister of pepper spray into her pocket. Better to be prepared. She opened her door and Colin glanced back at the sound. He smiled as she stepped out, closing the door behind her.
He met her on the walkway. “Forgive me. I hope I didn’t frighten you.”
She shook her head and realized she didn’t have her notepad. Holding up a finger to signal him to give her a minute, Juliana went back inside and returned with her pen and notepad.
How did you find me?
“Bartley told me you owned a flower shop. When I came by to see, you were coming up the walk. I called to you but…”
I don’t hear so well. She smiled and then wrote again. Do you need flowers?