Sacred Places

by Mandy M. Roth

  Oh yes, he’d bring her in for sure if Gordon didn’t respond to him soon.

  He smiled, his focus returning to the Oak King sculpture he was carving. So much of his time had been poured into carving this or that. At his age, getting lost in a project was a must. If he didn’t, he’d dwell on the past, on all the things he could not change yet desperately wanted to. Worse yet, he’d dwell on the fact that none of the O’Caha boys had found their chosen ones. Women who were the other halves of their immortal souls. Other immortals they knew had found true love. But none of the O’Caha men had.

  Coyle wondered what their line had done to piss off the goddess. They respected her and feared her. She did not seem to find them in her favor though, for they were all still very single.

  Some liked that.

  Others, such as himself, were ready to start families and have something more in life. He sighed. It hadn’t happened in seven hundred years and didn’t look as if it ever would. For now, he’d do what he always did with his spare time—he’d stay busy. He carved around the mouth of the statue, paying extra attention to each pass he did, letting his love of his past pour forth and into the oak.

  The idea for the Oak King had come to him while he slept, as many of his better ones did. The soft sounds of music from the motherland played as he lost himself in his work.

  The pub’s building was large enough that Coyle could have a workshop in the back without issue. He had an apartment above it. While he could live like a king, as could any of the O’Caha men, he chose to live a simple life. Others did not need to know he was worth millions, perhaps billions—he tended to lose count.

  Money meant little to him. He could still vividly recall when he and his clan had lived in the Highlands, hunting for food, living off the land. So many modern conveniences meant so many took so much for granted.

  Not Coyle.

  He held great respect for the land and for the magik that created it all. That same magik ran through his veins, often wanting to be free. With his age and position came high titles within the supernatural magik community. He and his brothers and cousins each held positions upon the High Council of Magiks. There were so many O’Caha that the other members often joked the vote would never be in their favor.

  Not true.

  The O’Cahas were fair and just.

  Chapter Three

  With a deep breath, Deri mustered her courage and went for the door of the pub. The moment her palm made contact with the door handle, energy snaked up her arm, centering in her chest, surprising her.

  She held still, hoping that would take care of the random flare of power coming from her. Her power hadn’t done so in months—not since the incident that had landed her in Grove Bluff. And certainly never had done so by simply touching a door handle. She paused a moment, gathering her wits about her. It would do her no good showing up to ask for a job looking like she’d seen a ghost. Or worse, having her magik leaking all over the place.

  Already she wasn’t at her best. If the rains kept up, she’d be soaked to the bones. Sure, she could have used her magik to dry herself and to tidy up her appearance, but she couldn’t risk being seen or sensed at this point. PBI had ways of tracking such things and she wasn’t sure she wanted to test the waters just yet.

  They were itching for her to make another infraction. Even the slightest one could send her away for good. That was what Chad was counting on. That no-good piece of crap had probably planned this all along. If he couldn’t have her, no one would.

  She wanted to turn him into a toad and then step on him. But she liked toads so she wouldn’t wish that on one. Maybe a worm. She didn’t like worms at all.

  That could work.

  Stop it before you get yourself in more trouble.

  If she didn’t mind her temper, she’d end up in front of the High Council of Magiks. She’d never actually met an elder of the Council, but the stories told to young magiks were enough to keep a kid up at night. They were probably old, decrepit-looking men who only wore worn cloaks and had bald patches on their heads.

  Once the rush of power subsided, Deri turned the door handle and entered the pub. Calming scents filled the air when she expected to smell beer and peanuts. The pub was as pleasing to the eye on the inside as it had been on the outside. There were the tiniest of carvings in the wood that seemed abundant throughout, as if someone had spent a fortune on having a wood smith custom design each piece within the establishment.

  It was beautiful.

  The more she looked around, the more she realized that nearly all the carvings were Celtic in some form or fashion. Words in Gaelic, a language she knew bits and pieces of, were also carved into the wood. Her heart swelled with delight as she turned in a circle, feeling overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. She may not be able to be among her kind anymore—magiks—but she could be in a place that felt as if it were paying homage to the legends of old.

  She’d accept anything at the moment. She craved the life she knew that much. It took Deri a moment to realize she was totally and completely alone inside the pub.

  She walked out and looked for a sign with hours and found none before entering the pub once more. “Hello?” she called, allowing the heavy oak door to shut behind her. She expected a thud, something, anything from the sheer weight of the door. Instead it closed so silently that she double-checked it had indeed closed at all.

  It had.

  The faintest sound of drums beating filled the air around her and Deri paused, listening harder, hearing faint chants as well. Additional sounds mixed in and she realized then it was some sort of Celtic music playing softly from the back of the pub. She walked in the direction it came from, calling out two more times in hopes someone would hear her. She stood next to a door she assumed led to the back, where patrons weren’t welcomed.

  “Anyone here?” she asked, straining to be heard over the music.

  The door swung open, thankfully inward, or with as heavy as the door seemed to be she’d have been taken out for sure. Deri blinked and found herself at a loss for words as she stared at a very bare, tattoo-covered, very muscular chest. The specimen before her had just about every Celtic marking she could think of inked permanently on his tawny skin. Reaching out to touch each one seemed like the best idea she’d had in weeks.

  She resisted.

  Damn hard to do.

  Her gaze slid lower, and lower. She wasn’t even sure what the muscles that formed a V low on a man’s abdomen were called, but she sure knew a great pair when she saw them, and this man had the best she’d ever seen. She totally forgot what the hell she was even doing in the pub to start with. All she could think about was the sight of the man before her. She’d once heard one of her sisters mention muscles on a man making a woman stupid. Deri had thought that statement absurd. As she continued to stare at the male in front of her in all his glory, she felt her IQ plummeting.

  “Aye,” the man said, his voice deep, his burr evident, making her sigh softly. “Who wants to know?”

  Who?

  What the hell was her name?

  Her mind went blank.

  She had to force her gaze upwards, from his chiseled chest to his equally chiseled jawline. Ohmygod, she was going to say or do something really stupid. She could just feel it. How could she not in the presence of such awesome eye candy?

  Her throat felt dry as she raked her gaze upwards more, spotting full, kissable lips, and then to penetrating slate-grey eyes. Eyes that were looking directly at her with a strange expression. Long black hair fell to the tops of his broad shoulders. There were several braids mixed into it all, making him look wild.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  Again, she couldn’t remember. Hot men clearly made her stupid. “Um.”

  Deri wasn’t sure how long they stood there, neither saying a word. She just knew the longer the silence ticked by, the more awkward it became. Clearing her throat, she thought for sure she’d somehow swallowed sandpaper when she wasn’t l
ooking.

  “Water?” she managed with something akin to a croak. Yep. She was now one of those women who couldn’t think straight around a hot guy.

  He blinked, his black brows meeting for a moment before he nodded. “Aye, we’ve got some. Come this way, lass.”

  She followed obediently, unsure what else to do since she’d been struck stupid at the very sight of him. Of course, walking behind him didn’t help her problem in the slightest. His backside, wrapped in dark black jeans, was as mouth-watering as the front side. His boots, reminding her of boots a biker would wear, made nearly no noise as he stepped in the direction of the bar.

  Was that sawdust on him?

  Ohmygod.

  Hot and handy.

  She wasn’t sure she could take much more.

  He went behind the bar and grabbed a glass, filling it with ice and then water. Deri stayed back, still surprised by her body and mind’s response to a perfect stranger.

  Odd. Doesn’t feel like a stranger.

  He handed her the glass of water, and the moment her fingers slid over his, the same rush of power she’d felt before entering the pub returned. She gasped, her eyes widening as she stared at the hunk before her. She was about to sip the water when he pulled it back from her, his gaze on her chest as he gulped the water down. There wasn’t a drop left when he was done.

  Deri couldn’t help but laugh. She felt a little less like one of those women now that she knew he was having some issues as well.

  The man paused and looked from the glass to her. “Och, sorry. Here.”

  He went behind the bar again and got her a new glass of ice water. He held it over the bar, out to her, as if he didn’t want to chance getting closer to her. That was fine by her. She wasn’t sure she could handle him any closer either.

  Smiling, Deri took the water. “Thank you.”

  She sipped it as he continued to watch her.

  “We do nae open for another two hours,” he said, his voice continuing to make her want to melt into a puddle of mindless hormones at his feet.

  They were closed. That explained why the place was empty. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m here about the job. I was told you’re hiring.”

  He eyed her up and down and then shook his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Hiring. Are you hiring?”

  He exhaled slowly, putting his palms on the bar top, looking as if he were gathering strength for something. “Aye. Yer hired.”

  She took a step back. “You didn’t even ask if I was qualified and you don’t even know my name.”

  He squeezed his hands into fists, still watching her with a strange expression. “I seem to recall asking but you dinnae answer.”

  Oh, right.

  “What is yer name, lass?” he asked, something akin to mirth crinkling around his eyes as he watched her.

  “Deri Sullivan.”

  Shit. Why did I give him my real last name?

  She tried to think of another name, but it didn’t matter now. She’d already told him the truth. She could only hope he didn’t run a background check on her and tip off the PBI. Those bastards would be monitoring all human channels.

  The man tried and failed to get much in the way of water from the now empty glass before him. He watched her. “Guid enough for me. Yer hired.”

  Deri baulked. “But you didn’t ask for my resume or even ask if I’ve done bookkeeping or tended bar before.”

  She wasn’t sure why she was protesting so much. Him not wanting any of those things was a godsend. Her pushing for him to take them was downright stupid.

  “I do nae care if you have. Yer hired, lass, stop tryin’ to talk me out of it. The girl I have working for me now threatened to quit if I didn’t get some help in here. She’s a tiny slip of a thing but can scare the hide off a bear. So, yer hired. Gigi will be happy.” He motioned to the door he’d come through. “You’ll find extra aprons in the back. Look around, get to know the place. You start now.”

  Deri stood rooted in place. “Um, Mister? I don’t know your name.”

  She doubted he’d like it if she went around calling him Mr. Hot Abs. Though, that was exactly what he had. Her gaze moved down to them again and it was as if the IQ point dropping stick smacked her upside the head again.

  “Coyle O’Caha,” he responded. “Owner of the pub and yer new boss.”

  Chapter Four

  Coyle watched the young, fiery redhead walk through the door to the back offices. He’d have followed behind to make sure she got settled in but he knew better. He needed a moment to collect both his thoughts and his powers. Already magik trickled through him, wanting free, wanting to wrap around the young woman and cradle her to the ground where he’d kiss his way over her before entering her.

  His cock was on board with this idea greatly.

  He’d fucked plenty of women. In fact, more than he could ever hope to count. He knew he’d never gotten any with child as he could not have children with anyone but his chosen. And he was supernatural, so he wasn’t subject to sexually transmitted disease.

  In all his years, with all the women, he couldn’t recall a time his dick had been this eager. His cock wanted the redhead something fierce. So did he. His magik seemed to be making a play for her as well.

  As an immortal druid sorcerer, he had phenomenal control over his magik. At least he had until Deri Sullivan entered his pub. When he’d sensed the wards on his pub waver, he’d come expecting a supernatural had entered his establishment. The wards hadn’t shaken violently as they would to indicate a threat, but rather dinged lightly against his power, alerting him to something, though he hadn’t been sure what.

  With over seven hundred years under his belt, he didn’t think he had it in him to be surprised. Deri proved him wrong. When he’d tossed open the door to find her standing there, her green gaze looking over him and a look of shock upon her beautiful face, he’d been more than just surprised. He’d been so turned on he nearly burst into flames instantly. Hell, he’d wanted to grab her, kiss her and see if her lips were as tasty as they appeared to be.

  He had the strangest urge to stop everything and call his cousin, Korey. He just wasn’t sure why. As if he had news to share that couldn’t wait. But what news? Did he dare call Korey and confess his magik and his cock had lost their minds?

  No. His cousin would never let him hear the end of it.

  Just then, the front door of the pub opened. A man equally as tall as Coyle entered. It was like the ether was playing tricks on him, because he’d only just put the thought out about his cousin. Korey smiled wide, his dark hair down and free from a tie today. They looked so much alike they were often mistaken for brothers.

  Coyle knew a sign when he saw one. He had to tell Korey everything, regardless the outcome. It was too strange not to.

  Coyle glanced in the direction Deri had gone off and then rushed around from behind the bar and grabbed his cousin’s arm as if they were youths with a secret to share once again. He dragged him to the back corner and lowered his voice. “I’ve a woman here.”

  Korey glanced around, looking high and then low, then back at Coyle again, a questioning expression on his face. “Is she imaginary? Now, I’ve nothin’ against men who seek comfort for themselves, but do nae be making me greet thin air and then shake yer hand. I’m scared as to where yer hand has been.”

  “Shut it,” Coyle snapped. While he was normally up for witty banter with his cousin, matters were far too serious. He thought of lying but decided against it. “She caused my wards to waver.”

  “The invisible woman caused yer wards to shake?”

  Coyle growled. “She’s nae invisible, dolt! She’s in the back right now.”

  The amused look upon Korey’s face vanished, replaced by astonishment. “Truly?”

  “Aye,” Coyle whispered.

  Korey lowered his voice as well. “Is she magik?”

  “No. I sense no magik of any kind on her,” Coyle returned, a deep sadness
to his statement. If she were magik then she could be his chosen. As it stood, she could not be.

  His cousin looked him over for a long moment. “What are you nae telling me, Coyle?”

  Sighing, Coyle bent his head, ashamed at his loss of control around the young woman. “I couldnae seem to find words to speak when I first saw her, and it was hard to think of anything other than wanting to sink deep into her and sire sons upon her.”

  There was a moment of silence and then Korey broke out into laughter. “Yer joking. Nice one. I almost believed you. Right up until the sons part. That was too much for you, the famed lover of women.”

  Coyle’s jaw dropped. He was not that bad.

  Was he?

  “You’ve slept with more women than I can count,” Korey said, laughing. “I almost believed you. Yer as randy as they come and do yer best to get into any woman’s britches that you can. Nice try on this one bein’ different.”

  The softest intake of breath caught Coyle’s attention. Turning, he found Deri there, just inside the door, wearing a pub apron around her slender waist. She was staring at him with a hurt expression on her face.

  As Coyle thought about what his cousin had just said, his chest tightened. Deri had overheard just how much he got around. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much, but it did.

  “I, um,” she stammered. “Found the aprons. It looks like you were starting inventory back there. I could work on that if you want. Or I could go. I mean, I don’t need…”

  “No. Stay,” Coyle practically shouted.

  His cousin touched his arm, bringing him back from the edge of nearly losing his control. “Hello there. And you are?”

  She looked to Korey. “Deri.”

  “Deri, what do you say you and I head to the back and I can help you with that inventory. I think Coyle has a few things to finish up here.” Korey hurried in the direction of Deri and glanced back at Coyle. “Plus, I think he may need to find a shirt.”

  A shirt?

  It was then Coyle realized he’d never put one on yet. He’d been so busy working in his woodshop that he’d not thought to wear one. “I’ve one in my truck.”