by Lauren Dane
The gagging stench of brimstone filled the air along with a sort of growl that made Bron’s skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He had to fight against the urge to flee quickly from the presence of the demon lord he’d just summoned.
“Who are you and why have you summoned me?” the thing contained in the circle demanded of him.
“I am Bron MacAillen of the Dark Fae and I have a proposition for you.”
“Why would I deal with you while you’ve contained me in this circle? Let me out and I’ll listen to your story.”
Bron laughed then. “If I let you out without a deal, it would be certain death for me. I have news that a book of very old Faerie magic, thought lost for millennia, may have been found.”
“Why should I care? I loathe the Fae and their bright lights and urges to protect everything under the sky.”
“Because this book contains magic that may be able to break the Compact that keeps you from destroying the human Charvez witches.”
The demon narrowed his glowing sulphur green eyes at Bron. “Go on.”
Bron went on to explain the chaotic magic within the book and the demon saw the significance of it right away.
“Faerie MacAillen, I think we must deal. Seal with me upon our mutual intent and you will remain unharmed but I will not work with you while captured like an insect within this circle.”
And that very night, Bron took the demon’s mark and entered into an agreement that would destroy the Compact that the demon was beholden to and the very man that Bron hated enough to summon a demon for.
Chapter Five
Em wasn’t in the penthouse when he sifted back. He grimaced when he saw it that was already evening. Time moved differently in Tir na nOg than it did in the human world. Her scent was there but cold—she hadn’t been there in hours.
He frowned as he saw a paper with “Michael—two p.m.—Pig and Whistle, Oxford” written on it in a feminine hand. Who the hell was Michael?
He went to his suite but there was no message waiting for him from her. At least she hadn’t gone through with her threat from the night before and had him kicked out of the hotel. He smiled wryly at the memory of how mad she had been at him. He still had no idea why she’d reacted so strongly to finding out he’d arranged to meet her.
Shaking his head to clear it, he thought he’d never understand human women as long as he lived—and he would live a hell of a long time.
Concentrating on her, he reached out and shimmered to where she was.
* * * * *
It was nearly two by the time she found the pub near Oxford that she’d arranged to meet Michael at. She saw him immediately as she entered. He was sitting at a table near the bar and waved at her.
She walked to him and he embraced her and kissed her cheek. “Em! You look lovely, darling. Sit down, I’ve got a pint for you.” Michael Bertin had spent two years in New Orleans studying with her family and with other witches, wizards and sorcerers in the area. At nearly forty, he was quite the expert on most things magical and paranormal. He smiled at her and tipped his glass her way in a toast.
“Damn if you aren’t a sight for these old eyes. You look lovelier each time I see you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Old, my ass. You’re what? Just forty? That’s not old. A forty-year-old man is experienced enough to appreciate but young enough to have stamina.” Em laughed and took a sip of the lager. “Hits the spot. Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Now something tells me that this isn’t just a social call.” He looked at her curiously.
She felt his intense need to know things, to know everything. It was something about him that had always amazed her. She could feel his ease with her, his general happiness with his life and, oh, his sexual interest in the bartender. She had to dig her nails into her palm to not turn around to check him out again. She’d caught a big enough eyeful when she walked into the pub the first time. She had to agree that the hunky blond behind the bar was pretty delicious.
“Yes, I need your expertise, Michael. Shall we finish these and take a walk somewhere a bit more private?”
He turned serious and interested. “Sure. You’ve got my undivided attention.”
They visited while they finished their beers then left the pub to walk the short bit to his apartment.
Once inside, she kicked off her shoes and sat on a big, overstuffed chair.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked and she nodded. No one made tea like an Englishman. Before he left the room, he spoke under his breath and drew symbols in the air and Em felt the wards locking the bookshelves come open.
He bustled around the small kitchen as she looked over his bookshelves and coveted most of what she found there. Ancient scrolls, books so old the leather was nearly dust, books in every language imaginable and several she’d never even seen before. “God, I want to cry every time I see a bookcase this juicy. Michael, you do have an amazing collection.”
He came into the room and set the tray with the tea and cups and a plate of assorted cookies down on the coffee table. He came to stand behind her. “Thanks. Coming from you that’s a real compliment. I hear you’ve added some of the books from George Carter’s collection to your own. I’m jealous.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Michael. You should see these books! He has a complete set of the Necromancer’s Journals. The spellbooks alone are priceless—evil and scary—but irreplaceable. You’re welcome to see them any time. Alex, my brother-in-law and George’s grandson, let me have unfettered access to the entire collection and gave me some exquisite pieces for the Charvez library. He’s offered to make me the curator for the collection, which will be housed in Chicago. Of course, you have to know how pissed off that made the wizard community. They’re not only sexist pigs but they believe that witches are inferior and having one with all of this access to the collection drives them nuts.”
Michael laughed. “Well, they are an all-male society based on patrilineal power. One might guess that would breed a few sexists. Enough of this, as fascinating as it is. I want to hear why you’re here.”
He poured out and handed her a cup and saucer while she explained her research and the symbols she’d found in the margins of the journal. As his specialty was language, she hoped that he’d be able to give her some insight on the symbols. She was unable to contain her excitement as she told him about The Shifting Veil. Despite the seriousness of everything, she couldn’t help but grin.
A look of pure wonder lit his face as he looked at the symbols and listened to her talk. “Em, I’ve heard about what I believe to be this book once or twice from the really old practitioners. Supposedly it’s magic older than any other, more powerful than any other. If this book exists… Imagine the possibilities.” He looked at her and grew somber. “Imagine the possibilities if someone or something on the dark path got this book…”
“Yes. It’s why I’m looking for it myself. I want to get to it first, before anyone else does and uses it for evil.”
He pulled out several of his most ancient books and scrolls and they pored over them for the next few hours. It was a disappointing experience. They found one reference to a book that had most likely been in a collection The Shifting Veil had been in at one time but nothing more.
* * * * *
She was sitting on the floor drinking a glass of wine, happily sated by an afternoon filled with research.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t find anything. Will you let me know if you need help at Adelade’s? I don’t know that I could translate the book, I’ve seen that part of her collection before and was unable to figure any of it out, but I’d be willing to help in any way I can.” Michael leaned in and raised a thumb to wipe a smudge of dirt from her cheek.
Con shimmered into the room and loomed over them, scowling. “And why are you touching her?” he growled.
Both Em and Michael jumped at his sudden appearance. Con grabbed Em and pulled her up to him, delivering a kiss so devastating that
it made her nearly collapse in his arms.
“Did you not get enough last night that you couldn’t wait until I returned?” he demanded.
Her brows shot up and the dreamy look of passion gave way to insulted fury. “What? Who do you think you are barging in here and making accusations? As if you had any right!”
“I’m your man, that’s who I am. And you’re my woman. If I didn’t make that clear last night let me show you again—over and over and over,” he added, his voice going low and silky.
“Uh, hello?” Michael interrupted, holding out his hand to shake Con’s. “I’m Michael Bertin, a friend of the Charvez family.”
Despite her anger with Con, Em wanted to laugh at Michael’s reaction. She could feel that he was near to bursting with curiosity about Con. He wanted to pelt the man with questions. He also wondered what Con looked like naked.
“Unbelievable,” she murmured to Michael, answering his last unspoken question, but he didn’t understand her meaning.
“Just being friendly. Wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea. He seems quite attached to you.” Michael smirked.
“He’s being incredibly rude!”
“He’s in the damned room!” Con turned to Michael. “I am Conchobar MacNessa.”
Michael’s face turned pale. “The Conchobar MacNessa? You’re Fae? The most honored of the Queen’s Favored?”
Con nodded, looking down his nose arrogantly. He didn’t want the other man to even begin to entertain the idea that he had a chance with Em. Em was his.
“It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve studied your history. The story of the Thousand Year War… I’ve read odes written to your prowess on the battlefield. Do you have your magic sword with you? You negotiated the peace with the trolls and rode the Dark Fae into hiding. Simply amazing! I would love to interview you sometime. The history of the Sidhe is so fascinating. Do you live here among humans? What is Tir na nOg like? Do you travel through a dimensional rift? What is the source of your magic? How did you two…”
Em cut his stream of excited questions off. “He knows about the book but he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t. He lured me into a supposed chance meeting to try and find out what I was doing. He’s here to make sure I don’t find it without his knowledge.”
“I’m here because you didn’t leave a note as to your whereabouts and I was concerned,” Con insisted.
“I’m a big girl! And you didn’t leave a note before skulking out this morning either.” The nerve of the man! Although, damn if he didn’t look good enough to eat. He was wearing jeans that were fraying at the crotch and the pockets with a black crewneck sweater. Her mouth watered as she remembered what he looked like underneath the clothes.
“I don’t skulk! I had a quick errand—or I thought it would be quick.”
Michael cleared his throat and Con and Em ceased fighting and looked at him. Em blushed. “God, I’m so sorry. How crass of me. I apologize on behalf of Con for barging in here the way he did. I promise before I stop speaking to him entirely that I’ll show him how to knock,” Em said.
Michael laughed. It was good to see Em like this. She was the type to live in her head and it appeared that the legendary Faerie warrior was the man to get her out into the real world.
Con bowed. “I beg your pardon, Michael, I should have knocked. In my zeal to see Em again I lost my manners,” he said insincerely. He’d just wanted to remind the other man that Em was his and that he was powerful enough to take care of any competition.
“Off with you then, Con. Michael and I were working before you popped in.” She made a shooing motion with her hands.
Con insolently looked at the wineglasses and slid his gaze back to her face. “Is that so? Well, being ten thousand years old makes me a bit of an expert on a lot of things,” he said with a bit of a leer. “I’m sure I can help with your work.” He crossed his arms across his chest and Em’s breath hitched as she watched his biceps bulge with the movement. Con caught her gaze, scented her wetness and gave a deadly, sexy grin.
“I, uh, think we were done, Em. You can go off now with Con, but I would truly love to speak with you, Con, about the Sidhe and about your own history. You know, to see what’s truth and what’s exaggeration? We don’t know a whole lot about the Fae really.” He gulped in air and remembered Em. “You’ll call me if you need help, right?”
She shot an annoyed glare at Con and then looked back to Michael with a smile. “I’ll call you with whatever I find out.” She kissed his cheeks and gave him a hug and turned, grabbed her bag and went to the door.
Con bowed to Michael, grabbed Em about the waist and shimmered them back to the penthouse.
She spun to face him, pulling out of his embrace. “How dare you!”
He leaned down and licked along the shell of her ear. She shivered. “Don’t you try to use sex tricks on me, buster,” she said faintly, quickly losing resolve.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry. It makes me want to rip your clothes off and take you against the wall.”
“Oh?” She struggled as she lost the rest of her anger and began to think about how it would feel to have him take her against the wall. “You, you…you can’t just barge into places and accuse me of being a slut!”
He stepped closer and she stepped back. “I would never call you any such thing. You’re my woman, Em. I just got shaken to see you with another man like that. I would never hurl such hurtful epithets at you,” he said, his voice smooth and thick.
She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Another man? Michael is a family friend! He’s not even interested in women! And what do you mean your…your woman? What are you talking about? We had sex. You wanted to know about the book.”
His eyes flashed with anger and he stepped closer. She retreated, her back meeting the wall. “My woman. Mine. We had sex and, yes, I want to know about the book. The two things are not connected.” His nimble fingers unbuttoned her blouse—pop, pop, pop. He bent his head and kissed the flesh that had been revealed. “I’m a very jealous man. I hadn’t realized that until I saw you at the Lundi Gras celebration on the arm of another. I drove myself crazy thinking about you with him in bed, writhing underneath him. I almost shimmered into your apartment that night but I saw him walk away looking very disappointed.”
“Lundi Gras? You were at Lundi Gras?” she asked, confused. His lips heated her flesh with each brushing kiss.
He slid the blouse off her arms and it pooled at her feet. “Mmm-hmm. I walked right by you. I had to touch you, smell you. I’d been dying to for weeks before that. Months. Of course that one small taste of you only made the craving worse.”
He reached around and unhooked her bra and slid it off. Her head fell back and hit the wall but she didn’t feel it as his hands slid up to cup her breasts, taking their weight, and his thumbs slid up and over her nipples. “I didn’t see you. I know…ohh…I’d remember if I saw you.”
He grinned as he dipped down to flick his tongue across the pebbled tip straining for his touch. Her hands had been motionless on his shoulders but now slid into the silk of his hair, pulling it over the bare flesh of her arms and torso, eyes closed as she luxuriated in that delicious texture.
“I was wearing a glamour. Blue eyes and black hair. You looked at my ass when I walked away,” he said and went back to flicking his tongue over nipples begging for his touch.
“Oh! It was you? A fine ass it is too. You seemed so familiar then. I know now.”
“Know what?”
“Nothing. You were going to tell me why you’ve been spying on me all this time?” She struggled to be stern but was losing that battle as his mouth moved over her heated flesh.
“That was part of my errand today. I wanted to get permission to talk to you about what I was doing.” He unbuttoned her jeans and slowly brought the zipper down to reveal a pair of scarlet panties. “Very nice, red is my favorite color, you know,” he said as he slipped two fingers inside them and found her ve
ry wet and ready pussy.
She made an incoherent sound and pushed herself into his touch. “So tell me. Oh god…that’s so…oooh…”
Chuckling, he knelt and pushed her jeans to her thighs, effectively holding her legs tight. “Shall I tell you after? Or now? Or during?”
He stroked a middle finger through her wet folds, distributing her glistening honey over her pussy flesh, lubricating her as he moved. He gave the barest of touches to her clit and stroked down to push into her gate and up into her tight heat. “So fucking tight it makes me mad with longing,” he whispered against her nipple.
She writhed, trying to widen her legs. “No, mo fiach. I don’t want you to be able to move. Your pleasure is my job.”
He looked up into her face. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and her lips glistened because she kept licking them, driving him even more insane. He stopped. She blinked and made a sound of distress.
“Shall I tell you now?”
“Don’t stop!”
“Tell me what you want, Em.”
“Keep on doing what you were doing,” she begged.
He gave her clit a soft caress and then backed off. “Not good enough. What exactly do you want me to do to you, Em?”
She bit her lip and he swelled even tighter against the zipper of his jeans. She looked at him, clearly nervous. He drew a big circle around her clit never touching it. Instead, he used the flesh around it and the hood, caressing and tugging the flesh, creating wet friction that way. She whimpered and tried to move to get more but her jeans and his body held her in place.
“Oh, please make me come! Suck on my nipples, touch my…”
“Pussy? Cunt? Vagina? Slit?” he said suggestively, her emotional shift between wanton and innocent endearing her to him even more.
“Pussy. Please, Con. Fuck me with your fingers.”
“As you wish, a ghra,” he said and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard as he slid his fingers back into her sheath. His other hand brought both breasts close together and he laved his tongue across both nipples as he fucked her with his fingers and flicked over her clit with his thumb.