I found Conner at the bar, chatting up the pretty brunette pouring a pint of Guinness, Fiona. More like flirting. Maeve’s daughter was known for her loose morals, and I couldn’t quench the bout of jealousy. Who could blame her though? Conner was hard to ignore.
His rich caramel hair was windblown. As I drew closer, attraction struck, tugging my heart and belly. Everything about him was sharp, the cheekbones, the jaw, even the bold sea color of his eyes. There was a glint in them as he caught sight of me from the corner.
Fiona propped her elbows on the bar, gazing at Conner like he hung the moon. “Let me guess, you’re a Gemini.”
I rolled my eyes as I took a seat beside him at the bar. I’d forgotten Fiona’s interest in astrology. She had spent an entire summer a few years back, hanging around Nan’s, asking a million questions.
“Impressive,” he said, pulling a swig from his pint.
Fiona grinned, looking quite pleased with herself. Poor girl.
My gaze locked on Conner’s. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
He sent me a cheeky grin. “And here you are, Mirela. I was beginning to wonder if you would stand me up. I’m glad you didn’t.”
“It crossed my mind, but tonight is the kind of night for wine to warm the blood.”
Fiona set my usual on the bar. “Thank you, Fiona. It’s much appreciated.”
“Should we grab a table before there are none left?” Conner suggested, a quiet booth, away from the prying ears of the locals.
“You’re not a Gemini,” I said as we walked to the rear of the pub.
He cocked an eyebrow. “What am I then?”
He was testing me, but I didn’t mind. I knew whole lot more about Conner Delany. “A Scorpio.”
“There was no harm in letting young Fiona think otherwise.”
Although Fiona looked fresh out of high school, there was nothing youthful about her. “What about flirting? I suppose there is no harm in that either?” I asked, setting my glass down on the mahogany table.
“There is never harm in making a lass feel special.”
Our waitress came around just then, saving me from making a snide comment. She had a smile as bright as her crimson hair, and it was all for Conner. I might as well have not been in the seat across from him. “What can I get you tonight?”
“Mirela?” Conner prompted. At least he was courteous.
I didn’t bother to look at the menu. I’d been to the pub more times than I could count, and like most things in Kenmare, the menu stayed the same, which was fine by me. Why mess with something if it doesn’t need fixing? “I’ll just have a bowl of Sean’s stew.”
“Make it two of the house stews, luv,” Conner winked.
I sipped my wine and considered a charmer who threw endearments around like they were candy on Halloween. Maybe, just maybe there was something under the smug exterior. “Do you always use your smile as a weapon?”
Conner leaned back into the worn leather seat and put on a look of amusement. “Only when it suits me.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re arrogant and cheeky?” I asked.
Nothing seemed to faze him. If anything, I only entertained him more. “Never.”
I wasn’t going to allow myself to get swept away by his dimple. Trailing a finger on the rim of my glass, I cut to the chase. “What is it you want from me, Conner? Do you want me to tell you your future?”
“Do you know mine, Mirela?”
“Aye, I do.”
“There are many things I want from you, but a meal and your company will do for now.”
I kept my gaze level with his. “I can be patient, but my patience only goes so far.”
He moved a little closer, eyes curious and legs stretched out under the table so his boxed me in on either side. “Is it weird that I feel as if we’d met before? From the moment I saw you, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that somehow I’m meant to know you, Mirela Rawlings. Why is that?”
I swallowed. He had no idea. “Fate. We rarely escape our destiny. No matter how hard we try.”
“And you believe in fate?”
I nodded. “I do.”
A moment passed. He tilted his head to the side, several honey locks falling across his forehead. “Did you always know you were gifted?”
He didn’t bat an eye when talking about something most people were skeptical of. Again I was struck with the sensation that Conner knew of magick. His aura was vibrating with power. I wanted to reach out and take his hand, see what the vision would show me, but I folded my hands in my lap instead. “Since I was six.”
“There’s something comforting in knowing who you are.”
Our food arrived with a basket of fresh baked bread. The aroma was enticing. I dug into a bowl of roasted vegetable soup, dipping a corner of bread into the broth. “Where are you staying?”
“My aunt has a home on Bolton Street.”
“The Whelans’ place?”
He nodded. “My mother’s sister.”
“And where is your ma now?”
I regretted asking. A dark shadow flashed in his eyes. Pain. Anger. Hurt. “She is no longer with us.”
“I’m sorry. Losing someone is always hard on those left behind.”
He angled his head, studying me, and under his careful eye, he saw too much. “Who did you lose?”
The waitress couldn’t seem to stay away, but this time, I didn’t mind the interruption. It saved me from having to answer his question. “Are you enjoying your meal then?” Claire asked.
Conner beamed up at her, smiling back. “It’s wonderful. As are you.”
Poor Claire blushed. “Would this be your first time in Kenmare?”
“It is.”
Claire moved in so her body was turned toward Conner and pretty much excluding me from the conversation. “Well, if you’re in need of a tour guide, I have the day off tomorrow.”
I thought I might lose my appetite. What was going on? If I didn’t know better, I would swear his cologne put a spell on every girl near him. This was my first date in months, and every female in the place was trying to sabotage it.
“I appreciate the offer. Another time perhaps,” he said, letting the smitten Claire down softly. She tried to keep her smile pasted in place, but her eyes deceived her, shadowing with disappointment.
I spooned another helping of soup. “A descendant of the Whelans, you are?” I probed, bringing the conversation back to him.
“You say that like it has meaning,” he replied.
I tapped my lip with the end of my spoon. “I know your aunt, not well, but have seen her in passing. If I remember, there is a legend that swirls around her family.”
“Like most names in Ireland, there is always a legend attached.”
I smiled, relaxing slightly. “Very true.”
His fingers intertwined with mine on the table, a casual gesture that turned intimate as he ran the pad of his thumb along the inside of my wrist in lazy circles.
Conner smirked. “You’re a mystery, Mirela.”
I stared at our joined hands, frowning, before disentangling them and picking up my nearly empty glass of wine. I was going to need to keep my head if I planned to get through this date without crawling across the table and jumping into his lap.
The smirk turned into a smile that could stop hearts across the nation. “There’s no need to be nervous. I don’t bite…much.”
“It’s not that, I…” Shaking my head, I thought twice before speaking what was on my tongue. “It’s nothing,” I assured him. It was a lie, but I wasn’t sure what to make of Conner and hadn’t made my mind up how much information I wanted to divulge as of yet.
“You don’t strike me as shy. What is it? What has you suddenly on edge?”
Him. And what he made me feel. I shouldn’t have such strong emotions. One minute I was jealous and possessive, the next I was hot and bothered. I was blaming it on the wine. “I’m fine. Really.”
Whether he bel
ieved me or not, I couldn’t say, but we left the pub shortly after that. He insisted on driving me the few blocks to my little cottage, although I would have preferred to walk and clear my head, breathe in the crisp twilight air, instead of being confined in a car that smelled entirely of him.
He walked me to my door, proving his ma taught him some manners. I turned, a hand balancing on the banister and gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for dinner.”
He stood on the step below me, putting us almost eye-to-eye. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across mine. “For the hell of it.” He strolled down the steps and got behind the wheel of his car, leaving me speechless.
In spite of myself, a small smiled curved and I touched my bottom lip, still tingling. “Conner of the Whelans, you’re a charmer, but it’s going to take more than a sinful smile and charisma to save your life.” I leaned my head on the wooden support, letting starlight twinkle over my face.
Perhaps fate was pushing us together, but I wished fate would give me the answer to the questions that plagued my dreams. It wasn’t in my heart’s best interest to get mixed up with Conner, but something had definitely transpired during that brief kiss. It was going to leave me thinking about him, when that was the last thing I wanted to do before bed—and I suspect was exactly what he wanted.
I would figure out a way to deal with the wolf, and with Conner, on my own terms. But I was going to need to find a way to protect my heart. There was a reason I’d never been in love. Another heartache wasn’t something I could ever endure again.
Chapter 4
As expected, I dreamed of Conner that night. But it wasn’t his death for once. The visions were changing, and I blamed Conner and his kiss. His presence in Kenmare escalated the nature of the dream, my subconscious and body betraying my common sense.
There was no easing into the vision. I was tossed in, quickly and fiercely, barely able to discern where I was or what was happening, and when my mind and body caught up, my senses were reeling.
He moved fast, yanking me so my body collided with the length of his. My name tumbled from his lips a second before they descended on mine. Desire drugged my mind, whirling through it. It took less than thirty seconds and I was lost in the dream—lost in Conner.
My fingers dug into his shoulder, a light tremble of pleasure rippling inside me. He smelled of rain, of forest, and something else I couldn’t place, something wild.
One taste of his lips was all it took, and I wanted more. A lot more.
He wasn’t gentle, and that wasn’t what I was looking for. I’d dated plenty of smooth and polite types. Conner was neither, and maybe was what made him different. I purred low in my throat as I melted into him. It had been too long since I’d been kissed so completely and thoroughly—if ever.
My back was pressed to the wall, his hand under my thigh, lifting so it curled around his hips. Breaking the kiss, he stared into my eyes with a multitude of greens and blues swirling in his. He dragged his thumb over the bottom of my swollen lip. “I’ve never been kissed like that,” I whispered.
“Christ, Mirela,” he groaned, taking my mouth again in a kiss branding my soul. “I’m not going to be able to let you go.”
“Your tongue is pierced.” I flicked mine along his lip.
A wicked gleam filled his eyes. “Do you have any secrets?” His hand tightened on my waist, lifting me up so my legs were wound around him, pressing my softness into the hardness of him. His mouth, dark with hunger and greed, swept over mine. I arched up, lost in the kiss, my body shuddering under the phantom touch of his hands.
I had no idea my body could feel like this. Desire, dark and swift barreled into me, and need swarmed behind my eyes. I couldn’t get enough of him. What had started as a spark, flared to hot want. His tongue traced my lips, until mine trembled in invitation. The taste of him was so sweet, warming me from the inside out. The metal on his tongue provided cool relief and more lust at the same time. Light fingers trailed up my sides, skating just under my shirt and causing a streak of lightning to zip along the way.
There was so much passion mixed with hunger. His tongue danced with mine, bringing those dark and dusky flavors that were all male. My fingers tangled into his silky hair, urging him to take more—take all of me.
When his mouth cruised down my jaw and to the sensitive alcove of my neck, I groaned, desperately wanting him to show me more. In that moment, I surrendered and time spun away.
He kissed my body in the same way as my lips, using teeth and the warmth of his breath. I didn’t know how we got to the bed or when I lost my shirt, but we were lying skin to skin, his hand sliding up my thigh. My hips pushed against him, and it was all the encouragement he needed.
With fast hands, Conner flipped our positions so I straddled him, and a glimmer of starlight caught the side of his face. I took him in, fast and deep, my hands pressed to his chest as the first wave of ecstasy flooded me. It was a whole new level of sensation having Conner inside me. He drove me to the near brink, only to change directions and do it over again.
His hand brushed the swell of my breast, eyes dark with hunger. “You’re absolutely beautiful, Mirela. And you’re mine. Only mine.”
My mind sang, yes, yes, yes.
With starlight on my skin, my head fell back as the last thread of my sanity broke and I cried out, a tremor rocking through me as Conner claimed more than my body, but my soul and my heart. Every part of me was his.
A magickally green light shimmered at my fingertips, flashing bright and bewitching me. Desire wasn’t the only thing he pulled from me--magick flowed, as well.
Conner rolled, taking me with him. He tucked me in his arms. “Sleep, Mirela,” he murmured, touching a finger to my head, and I slipped deeper, to a place where the visions couldn’t reach and the spark of magick was forgotten.
I awoke early and blissfully rested for once. My body seemed to glow, and then I remembered the dream. Conner. We’d been tangled up in more than just my sheets.
Glancing at the empty spot on the bed beside me, I muttered a curse. I swore I could still feel the heat from his body, but it had only been a vision, not that it made me feel any better. Knowing Conner and I would end up having hot, mind-blowing sex left me torn in half. It would be pointless to deny I didn’t want Conner. Oh, I wanted the arrogant man, but my wants were going to have to take a back burner. There were more important things to attend than my needs.
After a quick shower, I toweled off, feeling a bit different. I wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and looked closely at my misty reflection.
What was different? What did he do to me?
There was a glow on my skin, and a light in my eyes of a woman who just had a splendid night in a man’s arms. Yet, I hadn’t. Not really. Then why did it feel so very real?
I lifted my hand, trailing my fingers along my neckline. Closing my eyes, I could let myself taste his skin, feel his body slide over mine. Never in my life had I experienced anything like it. Not in dreams or in reality.
Why him? Why Conner?
I opened my eyes and stared at myself in the mirror.
“Because you want him. And that scares you.” Wow. I’d resorted to talking to myself in the mirror. It was time to get out of the house. I needed a day where I didn’t think about Conner Delany, if that was possible.
“Why do you look like you’ve just had sex?” Cat O’Keefe plopped down in the seat across from me. She had the Irish ivory complexion much like me, but that was where are similarities ended.
“Cat!” I hissed. Her name was Caitriona, but no one called her that since fifth grade when she socked Fin in the eye. It was the last time anyone other than her Nan called Cat by her given name. She was kind of intense—one of the reasons she was my best friend.
Cat balanced my weirdness with her crazy. She was the yin to my yang. “Well, did you?” she repeated, peering at me from over her sunglasses.
Cat liked details, and she wouldn’t stop until she had them. I t
ook a sip of my iced coffee, stretching out the silence just to tease her. She rapped her fingers lightly on the iron table. “No, sadly. At least, I don’t think so,” I said.
She angled her head to the side, watching me with amused blue eyes. In the sunlight, her hair had a burnt auburn sheen to it. “Was it so bad you can’t remember or are you blocking it out?”
I laughed. “Cat, you’re exactly what I need today.”
“Glad I can be of service. Okay, now who was he?”
I sighed. Relentless she was. “I really don’t want to talk about my sex life.”
“So you admit you have a sex life to speak of?” Cat had a vibrant personality that transcended into every aspect of her life. Including her wardrobe. Like today, she was wearing a loose orange shawl with white denim jeans and sapphire heels.
“You just don’t quit. Since you have sex on the brain, lets talk about yours. You still seeing…um, what’s his name again?”
“Niall,” she supplied with a frown. “And oh, no you don’t. The more you avoid the topic, the more intrigued I become.”
I leaned my elbows on the table, stirring the ice in my glass with the straw. “I’m still trying to sort it all out.”
“Is it the man in the dream?” she asked.
She knew about Conner. After having the same dream for most of my life, I had to have someone other than Nan to talk to. Cat always gave a different perspective to things—the fanciful side. If I told her now that one of her elaborate theories about the man in the dream and me had sort of come true, Cat would only encourage me to act on my desires.
I didn’t have to say anything. My face did the talking.
“You saw him?” she guessed, inching to the edge of her chair. Cat was one of the few people who never asked me what their future held.
“I’ve seen him countless times,” I replied, attempting to downplay how right on track she was.
Cat let a snort. “Liar. I know you, Mirela. Something has happened, and it definitely has to do with the dreamy man.”
She should have been a detective instead of a banker. “I ran into him the other morning on my way to the shop. Literally…”
Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 11