by Mina Carter
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It is just that—my parents held…meetings here. It was their place…it became mine. No one has been allowed in here since I lost m’da.”
ThudThudThud “Jethro, hell and fire, man, we are waiting!”
“I’ve got to go, but stay here, please Chaz, I’ll be back shortly.” His finger traced her cheek.
She purred at his touch. “Let me come with you.”
“No.” Jethro took her hand, put it to his lips. “Just wait for me here.”
She was fine with that for the moment. She would wait for Jethro until he returned, but she fully intended to find a way onto Jared Mulrone’s mansion. They could do what they wanted, but she was meeting Jared Mulrone alone, and face-to-face. The time had come.
Jethro occupied more of her than she thought she would ever allow a man to do. However, she had a goal to accomplish and no one was going to get in the way of that, not even Jethro McBain.
****
Jethro left Tom Murphy and his two men setting up their campsite. Before he led the garda there, he had invoked a concealment spell that none but a Fae could see through. The time spent helping them set up their equipment and discussing their strategy with them served to calm down the initial rage he had felt when he had first discovered that Chaz had snooped into his private space.
He closed his eyes. A new point of view entered his thoughts. Of course she would snoop, she was an indomitable lass, and it was one of the things that intrigued him about her. She didn’t don the spy cap for snooping’s sake, but to get to the truth and deal with it. All he knew was when he looked at her he felt a pull inside his heart that he could no longer deny. She belonged to him, or would shortly—very shortly.
He swung open the front door, and stopped to look around for her. A muted sound came from the kitchen. He followed an irresistible aroma.
Quietly he made his way there and hoped he would have a moment to watch her in the kitchen before she noticed him. He got his wish. She moved to and fro from the cutting board, to the stove, adding ingredients to a large frying pan.
His lips curved as his eyes took in every move she made. He was struck by the pull she had on him. It was as though nothing else in the world mattered. She stirred something in the pan, popped a piece of bread in her mouth, and said, “Yum.”
She was irresistible.
Lemon juice dripped into the ingredients in the pan from the fruit she squeezed. She hummed an old Irish ballad. She swayed into a dance step as she worked to the sound of her song. She was the most ravishing thing he had ever seen.
He moved in on her from behind, and his hands rested on her shoulders first before he slid them down her upper arms and enfolded her. “Whatever you are putting together smells good, lass.” He snuggled against her against him in one fluid motion. His lips almost brushed her ear as he whispered, “I am so hungry.”
She stiffened slightly, but he brushed away her long hair with his lips and placed gentle kisses along the nape of her neck. She told herself she was behaving like a tart in heat, but she melted back against him and it occurred to her that tarts had a whole lot more fun. He reached over and shut off the burner.
“Hey, our dinner…” She didn’t sound as though she really cared, even to herself.
“I have a different dinner in mind, lass.” He spun her around in his arms, positioned her against his rippling hard body, and pressed against her in a way she could not mistake.
She made one more half-hearted try. “But I’ve already started preparing…I’m so hungry…”
“Och, lass. Tell me that again. Say it now, tell me how hungry ye are while ye look into me eyes.” Jethro’s hand scooped up her butt and pulled her into him.
Look into his eyes? I can’t look anywhere else. Can’t he see that? She had in fact been looking right up into those ocean blues, and her lips parted to say something, but nothing came out.
His mouth closed on hers.
His tongue invited hers to join, tease, and play with his. Her body took over. She was mindless. Good sense fled, somewhere she couldn’t hear, see, or smell. Primal Chaz surfaced in his arms and wasn’t letting go. She pushed against the hard ridge pressed into her belly.
He groaned and worked at her sweater. It was gone, flung somewhere. He played with the lace of her gold push-up bra and bent to kiss the swells he so expertly fondled before the bra went the way of her sweater.
His jacket dropped to the floor. His shirt followed and as she stared at his rippled, tattooed, muscular chest, she noticed the flex of his biceps, and she licked her lips. He watched her tongue lap her bottom lip and it tore a feral sound from him as he growled her name and his mouth once more took hers.
She drowned in his kiss. It was as though they were in a black hole, as exploding fireworks engulfed them. Her body surged into wanting, needing, like an itch that had to be scratched. She wanted his fingers to work themselves all over her, and relieve that itch.
He unbuttoned her jeans and she wriggled out of them. Someone familiar in the back of her mind called out caution to her. Who was that? She shut the door on her conservative self, and nibbled on Jethro’s full bottom lip. This was what she had been wanting, this man, his touch, this moment, and this time. This was what she needed to complete who she was. This was what no man before had ever made her need…
Her lacy gold panties had somehow vanished. Jethro kneeled at her feet. His tongue licked a spot at the juncture of her thighs that drove her wild. She put her hands into the thick of his black hair and pulled roughly, and an animal sound came out of her mouth.
He stopped to look up at her as he gently pulled her down to the floor with him, retrieved and threw his jacket on the kitchen floor. He caught her as she kneeled and settled her back on the jacket. He stared at her a long moment. “Ye are exquisite,” he whispered.
She stared back and almost giggled. This is what it means when they say a man is hung like a stallion. She had always doubted the cliché, but Jethro was proof.
He roamed all over her, touching, licking, kissing. His fingers worked her, then he applied his talented knee, wielding it between her thighs. With expert fingers, he stroked her through her damp panties.
Frenzied pleasure built up to a peak. Jethro scooted down, and suckled her feminine nub. She exploded and clung to him, whimpering his name. Reeling with the aftershocks of her climax, she groaned. His touch, his kiss, his expertise…all magic. They seemed otherworldly together—could he be using magic?
“Magic. Jethro, are you using magic?” she breathed out.
He lifted himself on his arms above her. “Och, lass…not the magic ye mean—but oh how it roars between us. Do ye feel it, Chaz? No spells, no potions, only the magic that comes from inside of ye and pulls on the soul inside of me. Do you feel it, love…as I do?”
He shifted and eased himself on top of her. She burned for more. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to analyze this.
She couldn’t think about anything else except having him between her legs—getting him inside of her.
Lying on his side, Jethro guided her hand to his hardened manhood, and it danced to her tentative touch. It occurred to her this stallion might not fit.
As though reading her mind, he whispered, “Och, lass, we’ll take it slow. You are so tight, beauty…but we’ll get it done.” He positioned the tip of his rock hard cock at the opening of her swollen, damp sex and he rubbed.
“Oh, yes,” she whimpered.
“What, Chaz? What do ye want?”
“You know what I want. I want you, inside of me,” she answered roughly. “Now.”
He slowly pushed himself into her an inch and stopped. “Like this?” he growled, his eyelids half-closed with desire.
“Yes, oh yes, more.”
He pushed himself deeper and paused again. Chaz focused on his fingers as he slid them between her burning wet cleft and parted them. He played with her, and her body responded, ready as he urged her wider
. Her body dampened with desire, and his girth rubbed her walls as he sank deeper yet. Panic bubbled, and she stiffened. “You’re too big.”
Jethro retrieved his jeans and hurriedly folded them. She watched his face as he slipped them under her hips as raised her butt to meet him, “Bloody hell, Chaz—ye are perfection.” He groaned as he hesitated.
“In me…now…” she pleaded. The heat of her desire returned, full force, dissipating the earlier panic.
“Chaz, my wee lass, do ye know how I feel? Do ye know what this is? I want to drive m’self home, but here in this kitchen is not where I thought our first time should be…”
In answer she reached up for him, and pulled at his arms. “Anywhere we are together is where it should be,” she whispered.
He bent his head, took her mouth with his, and even as his tongue took possession so did he, and she knew she was lost to him forever.
He rammed into her quickly then and she flinched with sudden discomfort; however, a moment later that was forgotten in the beat of his hard fast controlled tango.
He made love to her, made her experience an ecstasy she had never known, and when he brought her to that final shuddering climax he emptied himself into her. He enfolded her into his arms and whispered words of praise and affection as he placed gentle kisses all over her face.
Some time later, he stood up, took her hand, and pulled her up. He scooped her into his arms and hastened toward the staircase. She laughed. “Our dinner…”
“Aye, be patient, love. Ye have had yer appetizer and now ye’ll be getting yer dinner, mark me on that…and then dessert.”
She snuggled into his hold and rested her head into the crease between his neck and shoulder. For the moment, this was all there was, and she didn’t even wonder what he was thinking.
As he laid her on the bed, she heard him say hoarsely, breaking her reverie, “Chaz, m’darlin’, I am telling ye now, I have decided ye were meant to be m’own.”
She laughed. “I might have something to say about that.”
“I don’t think so.”
****
Jared Mulrone stood upright as he stared at himself in the long antique mirror. He knew what he was: ruthless. If he were a glan he would be labeled sociopath because he never felt remorse. He supposed that was true. He had been born to it. His was the face of his father.
Called devilishly handsome by many, he bestowed a winsome, boyish smile at his reflection that could charm even the most hard-core criminals. His forty-fifth birthday loomed, and aging was the only thing that troubled him. He didn’t want to age any further.
The eyes that stared back at him from his mirror were no longer the soft shade of hazel they had been in his youth. Now they were an indistinct shade of dark amber, lit from the darkness that had taken over his soul—or what was left of it. That did not disturb him. Instead, it rather pleased him and he winked at his doppelganger and put up a hand to smooth the thick mantle of gold hair that adorned his head. Irritated he could detect white intermingling with the gold, his smile faded.
Ah, but my physique is perfect. He was tall, his shoulders wide. He was lean and athletic and proud of his build. He had maintained a two-hour physical regimen almost every single day of his adult life.
It wasn’t enough. Time pressed at him. He sighed and returned to his large oak and gothic-styled desk where a small bronze artifact reposed. Few could guess that it was so much more than just an artifact.
It was a Fae relic and if he could translate the lines engraved along its edges, he might be able to use its enormous power. Examining the relic brought his mind back to Olivia Pratt.
Olivia Pratt who had tried to trick him—even after all the affection he had bestowed upon her during their lovemaking. How could she have dared? Now Olivia would pay the price for her little games.
She knew nothing about such relics. She had decided to have a little fun and make a little extra money. Greedy bitch. After all the gifts he had given her? She must have overheard him making arrangements with the antique dealer in Dublin to come in and have a look at the unusual piece. Olivia had gone before him and paid a ridiculous price…fool. Did she think he would actually buy it from her after such betrayal? Money meant nothing to him, but disloyalty rendered him furious.
Even so, he could have bought it from her and walked away clean. However, he was tired of the little whore’s games. He decided to collect her and his relic and give her a little time to think about the error of her ways before he used her as his next kill.
Mulrone fingered the Fae artifact he held in his hands. He had to decipher this. Perhaps his demon could help him? As soon as he thought this, he dismissed it. He would get no help from Asgard the Blood Demon. This particular demon had been a mistake to summon. He had believed that in exchange for the slaughtering of young women and allowing the demon to possess him, he would be rewarded with his request.
Instead, Asgard wanted more and more and gave nothing. He was going to have to find a way of sending him back from whence he came. Not easily done, and it would appear that the prize he sought was not something this demon could award him. In fact, Jared Mulrone believed there was only one that could give him what he wanted—Chazma Donnelly.
Indeed, Mulrone was working on a new plan and he would have to get Chazma Donnelly into his manor, and soon. He picked up the phone and when the good doctor James Dunboyne answered he said softly, “It is time James.”
“Yes…but I haven’t been able to get through to her…I’ve been calling for a couple of hours and she doesn’t pick up her cell.”
“Then pay her a visit first thing in the morning—do whatever you have to do, but you have to bring her to me.”
“Yes…and then…?”
“And then you will be rewarded.”
Chapter Seventeen
“DINNER—NEED MY dinner,” Chaz whispered in Jethro’s ear as she snuggled into his arms. That darkness inside of her had not taken charge as she feared. It had fused with Jethro McBain and was cooing like a dove.
“Bloody hell, woman. Have I not fed ye enough?” Jethro lifted her breast into his hand and lowered his head to suckle.
She groaned. He had the stamina of a hemi-head super-charged engine. They had made love for hours, and she didn’t think she would ever be able to walk again. “Food, you insatiable man.” She giggled as his lips made a journey to her chin and then to her lips to quiet her. He dropped a light kiss there, and then threw off the covers, got up, and stood beside the bed.
“My lady’s wish is m’command.” He bowed regally, his blue eyes glinting in the dimness of the bedroom, his bedroom. “Chaz, I have decided ye are never sleeping anywhere else.”
“Never? No outings, no travel?” she teased. “I shall have to rethink this.”
He laughed and it sounded joyous to her ears. He dived back in the bed, pulling her up into a sitting position. A sure mistake, because his eyes went to her breasts, which caught his attention. His manhood came to full attention.
“Ye know, don’t ye, that I am pledging m’self to ye?”
“How can I know that? You still haven’t told me: what are you?”
“And this is something ye want to know—before ye satisfy yer need for…er, food?” His eyes teased and his finger tilted her chin so that he could look into her gaze.
“Yes. Sure and straight, give it to me.”
“I thought I already had.” Still teasing, putting off the inevitable. What would she think? He already knew she mistrusted the Fae. What would she think of a man who served the Fae’s contract with man?
“Jethro…please,” Chaz said quietly.
He released her and sat back against the headboard, his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. He folded his arms against his chest and released a long and heavy sigh. Might as well get it over with, even though he had been hoping for a better moment.
As though reading his mind, Chaz put her finger to his hard chin and turned him to look at her.
“This is the right moment.”
“Aye then, Chazma Donnelly—I will start by telling ye that I have always known what ye are. Yer grandmother arranged for us to offer ye this job to keep ye out of New York where we thought the blackguard was temporarily residing—”
“I knew it!” Chaz interrupted. “Sorry. Go on…”
“I probably know as much about ye as ye do yerself.” He sighed and continued, “Ye are more than a white witch. Ye are a direct descendent of a royal Daoine Fae prince, but ye, like yer mother and grandmother, rejected him, so he was never a part of yer lives.”
“I never rejected him. He went away.” Chaz turned from him and he touched her face and brought her face around to his.
“Yer grandmother has come to regret keeping him out of yer mother’s life and yers. At the time all she wanted was some normalcy for ye both.” He paused while he watched her emotions flit over her face. When he judged her ready for more, he continued.
“Ye have latent Fae talents and I know that ye have decided to use them in order to destroy the murdering animal that killed yer parents.”
“I know all that, now I know that you know—but what I want to know is what are you and where do you stand?”
“I am a high Druid priest with talents of m’ own. It is me sworn duty to maintain the four annual rituals that help keep the walls up between Fae and Man.” Jethro couldn’t keep the tinge of pride from his voice.
Chazma digested this with a growing smile. “Of course…that explains so much.” She threw her arms around him. “Oh, Jethro, I have been so worried about just what you were going to turn out to be. But a Druid priest, I should have guessed. I am a dunce. A Druid priest is loaded with powers.”
“Aye. Some are powers that come from the blood, gifted to us from the Fae. Others are abilities we learn and attain through a twenty-year training regimen.”
“Huh!”
He took her into his arms. He had to make certain that nothing had changed between them. His kiss was desperate until she melted against him. Food was forgotten as one kiss became two and his hands journeyed over her body.