Korey nodded, a knowing look in his gaze as he ushered Deri into the back of the pub.
Coyle left, heading outside into the damp darkness. He needed to think, to clear his head and double-check his wards. Something was off. He’d never been this out of sorts in all his long life.
He headed around to the back of the pub where his truck was parked. There was no shirt inside. Instead, he held out his hand, conjuring a shirt from the apartment above the pub rather than one of the extras he kept in his office. It would do him no good to blink away a shirt if Deri was standing near it, seeing the entire thing.
One did not show humans magik.
It simply wasn’t done.
And while she’d somehow managed to make his wards waver, he’d have sensed if she was a magik or a supernatural. He’d not met a magik to date who didn’t have a residual amount on them. Happened from usage. If he had to guess, a magik who stopped using magik might not emit anything noticeable but he’d never met anyone who had given up magik. As far as he could tell, she was simply stunning—but very, very human.
Sadness washed over him.
Had she been supernatural, there would have been a chance that maybe she’d shaken his wards because she was destined for him. His chosen one. Humans were never selected for his kind.
He’d never wished more that the rules in the magik world would change.
Chapter Five
Three Years Later…
Deri nearly groaned as Coyle pushed the mirror he was trying to hang higher on the wall. The thing was heavy enough to require several men’s assistance, yet Coyle held it with ease, as though it weighed nothing. The man made the extraordinary seem mundane. In all the time she’d now known him, he still continued to both surprise and captivate her.
Case in point, Deri couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from the act. Who needed cable TV and late night premium channels when they had a body like Coyle’s around to stare at? And he loved to show off what the gods had given him.
Always seeming to tease and taunt her with it.
She stared at both his backside and his reflection and did her best not to moan. The man should not still have this much sway and power over her, but he did. It was extremely difficult to look away, considering the amount of unintentional flexing Coyle was doing. With each sway of the mirror, another part of his body responded so fluidly, so naturally exotic, that she thought she might have to sit on her hands soon to avoid touching him. His biceps flexed, and for one second, she knew for sure she heard herself moan.
No. I wouldn’t do that. Would I?
Cringing, she pushed the thought from her mind. She most certainly could and would accidentally moan, drool, pant, trip over her own two feet—anything embarrassing when dealing with Coyle. The man could twist her in knots with nothing more than a smile. She’d tried to make herself immune to him after hearing and seeing he was a ladies’ man, but that had proven impossible. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
She should have left Grove Bluff—and Coyle—years ago. Especially when signs that Chad had found her began to surface. For months she’d been receiving hang-up calls from a blocked number. Then there had been a bouquet of purple flowers on her doorstep the day before last—the same flowers Chad used to buy her after one of his violent streaks. Much more disturbing was the signs that someone had been in her tiny apartment. She was particular about where she placed her meager belongings. When she’d returned from a double shift, she’d found things moved, just slightly, but moved all the same.
She knew better than to put Coyle or the others she’d come to care so much for in danger, yet she couldn’t seem to go. Couldn’t stomach the idea of walking out on Coyle.
A man she’d still never told her secrets to.
How could she after all this time?
Hi, I’m actually a witch on the run from a dark sorcerer and in exile because the PBI let me keep my life in exchange for the punishment. Oh, you think I need a room with padded walls? No surprise there.
And doing so would only paint a target on him with the PBI as well. Mortals who knew the truth of magiks often met with unfortunate endings. She’d heard far too many stories about similar cases to ever risk it. She shuddered at the thought of anything happening to him or his cousin, or Gigi for that matter.
They’d become something of a surrogate family of sorts to her over the years.
Gigi and Deri were close, or as close as she could allow anyone with her past to be. Gigi suspected Deri had deep feelings for Coyle. And yes, if she had to admit it to herself, she was totally and completely head over heels for the guy. She had been from the moment she met him and it had only gotten stronger with each passing day. Though she kept it to herself. It was safest that way. Besides, he had his fill of women passing through the pub doors. He wasn’t interested in her that way.
He had a way with women, and the women he picked generally repulsed Deri. They seemed to lack anything of substance in the brains department, but more than made up for it with breast size. Somehow, Coyle managed to stay just this side of being a male slut.
How, she wasn’t sure, but he did.
Had any woman pulled what he did, they’d carry the label for sure. Double standards tended to piss her off.
Coyle moved again. This time to reposition the mirror. It was a little too far to the left. Every muscle on his upper body flexed, causing Deri’s sex to flood with cream. If the man cared even an ounce for her safety, he’d have ceased his activities immediately for fear he’d send her body into lust overdrive and kill her.
What a way to go.
Death by way of Coyle overload.
“Well?” he asked, the bulging muscles in his arms looking as though they were about to pop, while the ones in his abs made six-pack ripples that seemed to tease her. Their “come and get me” taunt would be the end of her soon if he didn’t get the damn mirror hung and quick. She even considered using her power to aid him, but thought better of it. Somehow, Deri didn’t think a floating mirror would go over well in conversation. Especially not when Coyle was just a mortal, and in the lives of mortals, mirrors did not hang themselves. Plus, it would be a giant flare going off to the PBI.
At her family’s house, anything and everything functioned by itself when magik was applied. Once, she and her middle sister had decided to have a tea party, only to have it all crash to the floor the minute the neighbor lady came pounding on the front door, complaining about the racket. They’d paid her back later when they’d spent the greater part of an afternoon levitating her killer poodle when she wasn’t looking. The dog never yapped at them again while they rode their bikes.
“Damn thing,” Coyle mumbled, drawing her attention back to his glorious body.
Coyle shifted his weight, forcing her gaze to his midriff. The urge to lick her lips was great. She held back. Deri knew she’d end up rubbing her clit for months to come to thoughts of Coyle hanging the mirror. Each flick of her nub, each clench in her pussy would be a direct result of her imagining Coyle being the one bringing her pleasure. It would be his dick she pictured in place of her vibrator, his fingers tweaking her nipples instead of her own, and if her dreams held true, as she knew they would, it would be him playing the starring role.
If only they were real.
Coyle set the mirror down and cast a questioning look over her.
Forcing a blank expression to her face, Deri held out the file she’d brought with her. Her hand shook slightly and she realized that nerves had now gotten the better of her. That was silly.
Right?
The tremor moved from slight to noticeable. Her hand didn’t seem to agree with what her mind already knew was a lie. Coyle more than got to her. He consumed her.
She tried to focus on anything other than his body. She went with the first thing that popped into her head since she’d spent a chunk of the morning prior to the bar opening looking over his books. At some point while working for him, she’d simply taken over the task. It w
as for the best. Coyle wasn’t great about keeping up on them. He didn’t seem to mind where his money went or how it was spent. He had so much that she wasn’t surprised.
“Here are your taxes. I thought you’d want to take a peek at them before I lock them in the vault.”
He glanced at her via the mirror’s reflection. “You did my taxes? Did I nae tell you that you dinnae have to worry about those things? That I’d see to it?”
She cringed. “You did, but they needed to be done and I’d gathered up everything for you already. Listen, they aren’t filed, just done. Look them over or throw them away. I was only trying to help.”
He pinned her in place with a smoldering look. “Thank you, lass. If I dinnae already think you were perfect, the taxes would have put you there.”
She gasped. He thought she was perfect? She looked away, ashamed. After all, she’d been lying to him from the moment she met him. Three years was a long time to stick to a lie and keep huge details from those she’d grown to love. “I’m not perfect, Coyle. Far from it.”
“As luck would have it, I do nae recall givin’ you a say in the matter,” he said with a wink.
A huge bolt of lightning lit up the sky outside and was quickly followed by thunder so loud she nearly launched herself at Coyle. For a split second, Deri thought Coyle snickered at her.
Nervous and embarrassed by her fear of storms, Deri continued to babble. “Did you want to look over everything tonight still, or you probably have people for that. I’m sorry.”
Coyle arched a black brow and stared out from slate-grey eyes. The tiny scar above his right eye provided the only bit of realism in an otherwise surreal face. The man was gorgeous. “Is this really that important right now, Deri? Am I in danger of going broke?”
Pfft, not unless someone swooped in and sucked your millions dry.
The man made no sense. He was loaded beyond belief but only operated the pub. His cousin had mentioned a time or two Coyle had once owned quite a few businesses but had decided to give them all up and go with a quieter life. He certainly didn’t look old enough to have amassed a fortune before deciding to live life under the radar, but who was she to question anything.
“So—” His gaze was long and searing. “Am I out of money?”
Not bothering to answer Coyle, Deri visually traced the swirling pattern of what she knew to be a shield-knot tattoo on his upper arm and bit her lower lip. It was one of many markings he had. He seemed to take great pride in explaining each one to her, and Deri took care not to let on that she already knew what the majority of them symbolized. There was a lot she held back from Coyle, but he had secrets too. Of that she was sure. Though she highly doubted they were as momentous as her own.
She closed her eyes a moment, thinking about Chad. All the signs were there that he was in Grove Bluff now. She’d gone so far as to pack her bags, ready to run, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave Coyle.
“Deri?” he asked, his deep voice bringing her back from the edge of panic. “Are you well?”
She pressed a fake smile to her face. “Peachy.”
He didn’t look as though he believed her. She couldn’t blame him. Thankfully, he returned to his task at hand—hanging the mirror. With the newfound focus came more bursts of longing and desire rocking their way through Deri. The man was wet-panty material in the flesh. He looked like he should be in a bodybuilder magazine, not hanging a mirror in the entrance to his seaside pub. It didn’t matter. Coyle O’Caha did whatever the hell he wanted to do and no one told him otherwise. Well, no one except Korey, who normally ended up with more than he bargained for having to deal with a pissed-off Coyle, so usually he too kept his mouth shut.
On more than one occasion, Coyle had tossed Korey over the bar. She’d seen Korey manage a few good strikes against Coyle as well. The two of them had a way of acting like schoolboys if left unchecked. Even with their short tempers, it was easy to see they cared greatly for one another. Coyle often mentioned his family was spread out around the world. Whenever he spoke of them, it was brief and with longing in his eyes.
She understood his feelings. Deri missed her sisters and her mother. She even missed her father, despite him turning his back on her all those years ago. She’d done as she’d been told to do by the PBI. She’d kept her distance and refrained from contacting her family. It had been so hard. She desperately wanted to hear her sisters’ voices, share with them her feelings for Coyle and even sit through their lectures about bad-boy men who would break her heart in the end.
“Lass, you feeling okay?” he asked, his lilt shining through.
Growing up, Deri had been taught that the greatest men in the world originated from the Highlands. Her father had only been allowed to marry her mother because of her ties to the motherland, and keeping with traditions was expected of Deri as well. Her sisters would have to do the same. Though, Deri suspected her eldest sister would have issues following orders. She seemed drawn to Italians, which made their father crazy.
Finding a man worthy enough, according to her family’s standards, was next to impossible. Unless the man was a living, breathing Celtic warrior with unearthly powers, the chances of him passing the Sullivan family tests were slim to none. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to find her father had a checklist of prerequisites.
Not that her father would care now. She’d shamed the family name.
And her last boyfriend was a real winner. She shuddered thinking about him. She’d known he’d find her if she stayed in one spot too long. And she’d been in Grove Bluff three years. More than enough time for Chad to put out mystical sensors for her. He was here. She knew it in her bones. She just hoped he didn’t cause a scene in front of Coyle.
Or worse yet, use power against Coyle.
Her magik bristled, ready to defend the man before her should the need arise. She would do whatever it took to keep him safe. Even if it meant exposing herself and magik—though she wished with all her might that it would never come to that. Countless nights she’d begged any goddess who would listen for the chance to spend the rest of her days by his side, be the one who caught his fancy, won his hand. Countless days she’d awoken to heartache, finding that she was nothing more to him than a close friend, someone who helped run his pub.
Coyle propped the mirror against the wall and turned to face her. “Deri,” he clasped her shoulders while he stared down, “have you eaten today? Yer paler than normal, and that is saying something since yer pretty damn pale.”
“I’m totally fine,” she said, the room beginning to sway slightly. She couldn’t remember eating. She’d gotten sidetracked by the books in Coyle’s office prior to her shift starting and then she’d worked straight through. Worry over Chad being in town had been gnawing at her as well, making her stomach too upset for her to think of adding anything to it.
The storm outside seemed to grow in intensity and she turned to look out the window. Gasping, she jerked back as she thought she saw Chad standing on the other side of the glass pane, glaring in at her.
She bumped into Coyle and turned so fast that her head, which already felt light, suddenly felt as if darkness was swooping in around her.
Chapter Six
“Korey!” Coyle shouted, pushing his magik out to contact his cousin.
There was a flash and then Korey appeared in the center of the pub, using a form of transportation they tried to avoid as a mortal could see them. Korey took one look at Coyle holding Deri’s limp form and rushed right to him.
“What happened?”
“I do nae know,” Coyle said, lifting Deri into his arms gently. “Yer better at healing magiks than me. Fix her!”
With a grunt, Korey put his hands over Deri and held them there. He closed his eyes a moment and then opened them, his gaze going to the front window. It was late, way past closing, and the storm was so brutal no one would be out in it, yet Korey stared at the window as if someone were standing there. “Dark magik.”
&nb
sp; Coyle’s chest tightened. “What?”
“Do you nae sense it?” asked Korey. “Someone used dark magik on her. She’s soaked in it, Coyle. How could you miss it? It’s as if someone has been pouring it on her for weeks.”
Coyle roared, his power nearly bursting free from him. The next he knew his cousin was yanking Deri from his arms as Coyle spun and stormed towards the front door. He thrust it open and looked out into the darkness. “Show yerself, dark mage!”
No response.
Coyle pushed out further into the storm, ignoring his cousin’s pleas behind him. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and paused, his magik charging in his hands, ready to strike.
There was a deep laugh and Coyle nearly rolled his eyes. The assholes who lead with laughs meant to be threatening were almost always douchebags. As he turned to find a man standing at the edge of his property, wearing a trench coat, of all things, his suspicions were confirmed.
Yep.
Douchebag.
The man held an orb of light in his hand, as if that small feat of magik would make Coyle shake and quiver. When Coyle merely lifted a brow, the man’s smile faded.
“Are you the dimwit who dared to put your dark magik on my woman?” demanded Coyle.
The man squared his shoulders, as if to really take Coyle on. The man was magik, that much was easy to see and sense, but he was nowhere near Coyle’s age. This man was barely into his forties. If Coyle sneezed, he’d kill the man.
Korey appeared next to Coyle and Coyle jolted. “Deri?”
“Is safe and up in yer bed,” said Korey, as he looked past Coyle and rolled his sleeves. “We’ve company, I see.”
The newcomer took a step back, lifting the orb of magik higher.
Korey nudged Coyle. “Are we to be afraid of that?”
“I think so,” returned Coyle.
The man appeared confused. “You’re not human.”
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