Hard to Handle

by Christine Warren

  Just thinking of her generated enough heat to keep him warm in the chilly night air. He hadn’t bothered grabbing a jacket, as the air inside had gone overheated from the collection of bodies pressed together in the confined space. He had wanted cooling off, but if he intended to get any he would have to find a new direction for his thoughts.

  He almost swore he heard the angels laughing at him when the object of his obsession appeared beside him and mirrored his pose braced against the wall of stone. He tensed, but when she said nothing and simply looked out over the darkened countryside, he returned to contemplating the same view and felt himself gradually relax.

  For a good while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves and grasses, the buzzing of insects, and the occasional call of a night bird. He wouldn’t label the interlude peaceful, since nothing seemed to dissolve the tension that had accumulated between them, but it was quiet and empty of sharp words or resentful glances, so he would give thanks for small mercies.

  “Your family shares a great deal of affection for one another,” Ash finally said, her voice a bare ripple in the air. “You are fortunate to have one another. Though I think that they become a little overwhelming at times.”

  He gave a short chuckle. “You aren’t the only one to have mentioned it.”

  Hadn’t that been part of the reason why he had left the party to stand out here alone? He was surprised Ash had lasted as long as she did surrounded by the chaos. But he hadn’t missed the note of wistful envy that twined through the background of her words.

  “Two of your sisters are older? Those who have children.”

  “Síle and Sorcha. Síle is the oldest. She and Colin are parents to Stephen and Isabel. Sorcha and John have to take responsibility for the other three.”

  “And Meara is younger.”

  He nodded. “Three years behind me, four ahead of Maeve. She and Sorcha both inherited Ma’s talent for healing. Sorcha is a midwife and Meara is doing her residency at a hospital in Cork.”

  “Your mother was very pleased to have you all together in her home tonight.”

  “Usually it only happens that we’re all in one place like this at Christmas.” He shrugged. “That’s what happens, I suppose. Everyone gets busy with their own lives.”

  Ash lapsed back into silence, and Drum considered the impact of his words. Had the last time his family gathered together really been almost a year ago? Sorcha and John’s youngest had been only a couple of weeks old last Christmas, so the family had jumped right from their reunion at the christening into the holiday madness. Since then, he’d seen each of them from time to time, but no more than two or three in any place at once.

  It seemed so strange, he reflected as the reality of it sank in. When his father had been alive, the family had seemed to constantly be stepping on each other’s heels, tripping over each other even—or especially—when Drum had longed for a little privacy. But Stephen Drummond had died shortly after Sorcha’s engagement, more than a decade ago, and since then his children had grown and moved on to establish lives and families of their own. What would his father think if he could see them now?

  The question only increased Drum’s feeling of confusion. He felt as if everything that used to make sense had turned into a giant puzzle, and he couldn’t even figure out what image the pieces were supposed to make when he managed to fit them all together again.

  Once more, Ash’s quiet voice drifted into the silence. “I will not force you to continue aiding me, human,” she said. “I release you from any obligation to me. I just wanted to tell you that.”

  For the first time, being called human didn’t make Drum feel as if he had just been insulted. She hadn’t used the word as if she couldn’t be bothered to remember his name, but simply because that’s what he was. And what she wasn’t.

  She pushed against the stone wall and turned to leave. Reflexively, Drum reached out and grasped her arm, stopping her.

  “What did you say?”

  Ash stilled, but she didn’t try to pull out of his grip. “You heard me. I will no longer force you to help me, nor expect you to go any further in fighting this battle. I accept this fight is mine, and mine alone.”

  If he had expected to feel relief at her words, at being released from a bargain that fate had made without so much as consulting him, he got a rude surprise. Instead of feeling relieved or unburdened, Drum felt only angry at the thought of Ash walking away from him and taking on this mysterious threat all on her own.

  No, it didn’t make a single, bloody lick of sense, but he didn’t care. Now that the moment was upon him, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

  “What if I want to help?” he demanded in a low, harsh voice. “What if I don’t want you to do this alone?”

  She stared at him for a moment, then threw up her hands and laughed without humor. “Then by the Light, I have no idea what to do with you, Michael Drummond. You have done everything in your power to run from me, since the moment your eyes first lit on me. Everything you have done for me, I have had to drag from you with threats and bribes and coercion. And now that I have finally given in, have finally tried to give you what you ask for, now you decide that you want the exact opposite? In the name of all that is sacred, I do not think I will ever understand you.”

  “Don’t worry,” he rasped. “I don’t understand it, either.”

  Then, with a sharp tug he pulled her into his arms and took her mouth in a blazing kiss.

  * * *

  Ash felt herself begin to fall before she realized that her feet remained planted on solid ground. It was reality that disintegrated around her.

  She hadn’t expected the kiss. To say the least. After his failed attempt to locate the Guardians Maeve had seen in her vision, Drum had said no more than five words to her over the course of the evening. Maddie had taken over introductions between Ash and the steady arrival of family members young and old. Drum’s sisters, their husbands, and their children had been warm and welcoming, and had immediately gone out of their way to include her in the lively dinner conversation and the raucous gathering that followed.

  Drum glared and brooded when he was not obvious in his attempts to ignore her very presence. Ash had grown increasingly uncomfortable as the hours passed, until she found herself entertaining fantasies about changing forms and launching herself into the night air through Maddie Drummond’s sitting room window. Luckily, Drum had excused himself before she had entirely betrayed her hostess’s generosity. But it had been a very close thing.

  She had remained perched as unobtrusively as she could manage at the fringe of the gathering for another quarter of an hour before Maddie caught her gaze and sent her a wink followed by a meaningful glance toward the kitchen door. Grateful for the opportunity, Ash had escaped without any real intention of chasing after the woman’s son.

  Outside, the fresh air and open space had allowed her to breathe for the first time in what felt like forever, and she had wandered away from the house with no firm destination in mind. With her thoughts scattered and her gaze on her own boots, she hadn’t caught sight of Drum until she stood less than ten feet behind him.

  Her feet had frozen in place, and her internal debate on whether to approach or to turn and flee had quickly evolved into a much more complex argument with herself. She had known from the beginning that Drum had no desire to become a part of her world, with its never-ending war and its constant threat of danger. He had made that abundantly clear, but she had needed his help, and she had told herself that dragooning him into assisting her was all in service of the greater good. She had still believed that, all the way through the end of his failed afternoon vision quest. She had believed it right up until this very moment.

  But now?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and closed her hands into fists, but she could not shut out the images this evening had shown her. Tonight she had met Drum’s family. Not just Maeve, but his mother, his three other sisters, his brothers
-in-law, his nieces and nephews. She had heard stories about his aunts and uncles, about his father and his grandparents, the latter group long since passed away. She had seen him not as an isolated and useful human, but as a son, a brother, an uncle.

  Under her very eyes, he had been transformed from a tool into an integral thread of his family’s tapestry. If she bound him to her service and dragged him into battle behind her, the risk to his life would be equivalent to holding a match to the end of that thread. Not only would Drum burn, but the fire would spread until the entire fabric was compromised. The only way to prevent it was to cut herself off from him and remove herself from the picture.

  Even then, Ash didn’t realize she had made the decision until she heard herself speak the words. She told him that she was setting him free and felt the statement ring with truth. Then she felt a hollow space empty out inside her, and she turned to walk away.

  That’s when he grabbed her. That’s when he kissed her, and that’s when Ash lost her mind.

  He tugged and took her by surprise. If he hadn’t, she told herself, she never would have fallen into him and found herself leaning against his chest, dependent on him for balance.

  He didn’t provide it. Instead he stole what little remained by parting his lips above hers and tracing the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. It was the same trick he had attempted the night before, but instead of bringing her to her senses, this time it set fire to the pit of her stomach, and made her head spin in a dizzying whirl.

  She parted her lips and let herself dive under. Her arms rose without her conscious control. One hand gripped his shoulder, while the other ventured higher, her fingers tangling in the silky, black thickness of his hair.

  Drum groaned and thrust his tongue forward to tangle with hers. She felt a start of surprise before sensation overwhelmed her, heating her until she melted against him. His grip shifted, his arms closing around her and pressing her tight against him.

  It shocked her how well they matched. She had known he was tall, that he had the lean, muscular build of an athlete and enough strength to carry his sister around as if she weighed no more than a down feather. She had eyes, after all. But she hadn’t known that a simple tilt of her head could put their lips into perfect alignment, or that when they stood this close, her breasts flattened against the firm plane of his chest and her hips cradled his erection in a way that seemed to excite him as much as it did her.

  He devoured her mouth, but it didn’t take long for Ash to follow his lead and begin to challenge him for dominance. She didn’t think of it that way—she couldn’t think at all—but she knew that she didn’t want to be left behind, that she wanted them racing forward stride for stride and breath for breath.

  Her fingers tugged at his hair, and he made a deep, hungry sound as he lifted his mouth from hers. She hissed her displeasure and tried to drag him back, but he bared his teeth in a feral display and resisted, only to lean down and use them to nip at the skin along the line of her jaw. Her hiss turned into a breathless moan, and she arched her neck to grant him greater access.

  Teeth scraped and tongue laved a trail from her jaw, across her neck, to the sensitive hollow behind her ear. The first touch there made her whole body shake as if she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. She felt so hot and disoriented she couldn’t guarantee that she hadn’t. Drum nuzzled the spot, his warm breath teasing her skin before he closed his teeth around the tender lobe of her ear and tugged gently. Her knees turned to water, and she would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught her.

  In that moment, Ash did not feel like a powerful warrior, but like a woman pliant under the hands of her man. She would have sunk to the ground and let him take her in the cool, damp grass. And she would have gloried in it.

  But somewhere above them, the Light was laughing.

  “Ash? Michael? Where are you?” Maddie Drummond’s voice rang out from the kitchen doorway, dragging them to earth in an entirely different way. “Come back inside before one of you takes a chill. John and Sorcha are getting ready to leave and they want to say good night.”

  Drum lifted his head and gazed down at her, his eyes glinting in the starlight. His breath came fast and ragged, and the way his fingers gripped her hips told Ash he had been as far gone as she was. They stared at each other for a long, tense moment before Drum gave her hips a squeeze and put a deliberate step between them.

  “I hope that makes my position very clear, Guardian,” he said in a near growl. “You’ll not be getting rid of me quite so easily.”

  Ash could only blink. She had seen in the cavern that this man possessed more magic than either of them had first thought. It would seem his talents included the ability to rob her of the power of speech.

  Dropping his embrace, Drum took her hand and kept it in his as he turned and tugged her toward the house. She tried to follow, stumbling over her first two steps before the worst of the fog of desire blew away on the night breeze. At that point she at least managed to keep her balance and school her expression into something resembling neutrality before she had to face his family again.

  Then the devious human went and ruined it.

  “You’d also better not be forgetting where we just left off, mo chaomhnóir,” he purred. “For I mean to take it up again just as soon as we can be alone.”

  She tripped over the kitchen threshold and met his family again with her mouth hanging open and her cheeks stained the color of ripe strawberries. Behind her, Drum laughed and rejoined the party with a grin of male satisfaction.

  Bastard.

  Chapter Twelve

  Drum set the new land speed record on the return trip to Dublin. He did it with muscles so tense he expected that at any moment, one would snap like an overstretched rubber band and knock him unconscious with the recoil. Beside him, Ash clutched the edges of her seat and vibrated like a tuning fork. And it was all his own damned fault.

  He had been the one to initiate the kiss that had nearly killed him (for several minutes, his heart had beat so hard and fast he wouldn’t have been surprised by a cardiac arrest), and he had been the one to throw petrol on the fire with that final taunt. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, probably hadn’t been thinking at all, but based on the current fit of his jeans, Ash could not possibly have been suffering worse than he.

  By the time he parked the car in the spot behind the pub and hustled Ash inside and upstairs, the restriction the denim had placed on blood flow to certain parts of his anatomy made him doubt his future ability to father children. When he flipped the lock to seal them inside his flat, though, all futures beyond the next few hours lost any claim on his attention. So did anything else that didn’t involve him getting his hands on the dark-haired, dark-eyed, not-quite-human woman in front of him.

  They reached for each other simultaneously, flying across the space that separated them like boxers at the start of the round. Combat, though, was the last thing on Drum’s mind. The first thing was the taste of her lips, and the second was the feel of her lush curves under his hands. Everything else faded away like a summer sunset.

  This time, she opened to him at once, her lips parted in an invitation echoed by teasing little flicks of her tongue. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed every inch of that toned, female flesh against him, until she tore a ragged groan from the back of his throat.

  The feel of their bodies straining together made Drum acutely conscious of the layers of fabric keeping them apart. The denim and cotton and wool suddenly became as offensive to him as the idea of watching this woman walk out of his life. Quickly, he shrugged out of his jacket and sent hers to the floor along with it. Ash offered no sign of protest but began to tug the hem of his shirt free of his jeans.

  It spurred him on as if she had actually dug sharp little wheels of metal into his flank. He pulled her top overhead, cursing every second that it forced their lips to part. But then his eyes locked on the curve of her bare shoulder and the enticing slope of creamy skin
leading down to her breast. The kiss drifted from his mind, and his mouth watered.

  He lowered his head and dragged his mouth from the hollow of her throat to the sweet, scented valley where her bra dipped to a small plastic catch. He tasted her skin and detected a hint of sun-warmed stone and sweet anise beneath the tang of salt. His teeth worried the fastening of her bra for a moment, teasing them both, but before he could flick the device open, he felt her shift and heard a ripping sound, followed by a series of rapid pings. She had torn his shirt open and sent the buttons flying.

  Maybe they had both had enough teasing.

  Drum shrugged out of the tattered remains of his shirt and quickly dispensed with her bra. Ash’s hands fumbled with his belt, undoing the buckle and quickly abandoning the ends to move on to the button of his jeans. She had the zipper down and his fly open before he managed to release the breath that had been trapped in his throat the moment he saw her breasts completely bared.

  They were larger than he had expected, pale, full mounds perfectly proportioned between her broad shoulders and narrow waist. Her nipples had pale, blush-colored peaks that darkened to a deep rose beneath his gaze. He trailed one fingertip along the outer curve, marveling at the warm, living silk of her skin. He could hear her breath speed up, coming quick and shallow as she arched into his touch.

  Had she lifted her battle-axe high above him, poised to make a fatal strike, he still could not have resisted. His mouth closed around a beaded nipple, and he curled his tongue about the little nub with a rough sound of pleasure.

  Ash cried out, a breathless noise choked off by a sharp inhalation. She buried her fingers in his hair, fisting tightly enough that he would have winced were he not so delightfully occupied. She growled a definite warning as he released her nipple, but the sound faded when he shifted to capture the other peak.