The Ruby Kiss

by Helen Scott Taylor

  Ruby grabbed the first-aid kit from the bathroom and returned to find Nightshade sitting with his head in his hands. To see this huge über macho creature looking vulnerable did something strange to her insides.

  “I’ll be quick,” she assured him.

  She climbed onto the bed behind him and started wiping the blood off his skin. When she eased aside his wing, the stretchy skin was strong and soft as kid gloves. She had a crazy urge to rub her cheek against it and decided she must be light-headed with tiredness. She smoothed away the thick silk of his hair before she cleaned up his wound and covered it with gauze.

  “There you go,” she said in a brightly efficient voice. “Ready for bed.”

  He didn’t move. She went around in front of him and squatted down. His eyelids were lowered, his lashes thick ebony crescents against his cheeks.

  “Nightshade,” she whispered, and silver slivers appeared beneath those lashes. “Lie down, laddie.”

  He eased onto his side, and she threw a duvet over him, then watched while he went back to sleep. His guarded expression relaxed and he looked even more beautiful. His lean dark fingers gripped the edge of the pillow, and she clenched her hand as she imagined running her fingertips up his sinewy forearm to the bulge of his biceps. He must be casting some kind of magic over her; she could hardly tear her eyes away. She had thought that only a mad and irresponsible woman like her mother would succumb to a supernatural man who appeared in her bedroom in the middle of the night.

  Perhaps she had inherited the same madness.

  * * *

  Nightshade woke to stillness. For a moment he wondered where he was. Then he recognized Ruby’s light floral fragrance on the air.

  He stared at the clock beside the bed and puzzled over the fact that, although he felt well rested, he’d apparently slept for only fifteen minutes. After more thought, he worked out that he’d slept round the clock. As it would soon be dawn and he couldn’t be seen flying during daylight, he would have to wait another day before he went on to the fairy Gathering of Kith and Kin in the Scottish Highlands. At least that meant he would have time to check Ruby’s roof for damage.

  He listened for her, heard the steady beating of her heart on the other side of the wall. Guilt flickered within him at how he’d dropped in and frightened her; he should never have flown all the way from one end of the country to the other when he was out of practice. Normal nightstalkers who lived a solitary life got used to flying all the time. But he’d grown soft living his comfortable life in Cornwall, with the modern-thinking pisky troop, being driven around in cars.

  Longing ticked in his chest. Only two days away from home and he already missed his brother. He imagined Rhys sleeping peacefully in the nursery at Trevelion Manor with the Cornish pisky king and queen’s children. His beloved baby half brother. To protect Rhys, he would find their evil father Dragon and make him swear a blood oath to give up all rights to the boy. He would never let Dragon injure the child again, as he had in the past.

  Nightshade’s stomach rumbled in protest. Heaving himself out of bed, he ripped the dressing off his healing shoulder and went downstairs to find the kitchen. When he snapped on the lights, they gleamed off the contemporary white-fronted units. The house was a strange combination of rustic wooden hunting lodge and modern styling. He preferred old houses, like Trevelion Manor where he lived, that breathed history from every seasoned-oak beam and floorboard.

  He opened cupboards at random until he found a loaf of bread, then dropped two slices into the toaster before making a cup of tea. That would have to tide him over until Ruby prepared him a proper breakfast.

  While he ate, he sat at the pine kitchen table, scrolling through the photos of Rhys saved on his cell phone. The Gathering of Kith and Kin where he hoped to find his father would last five nights, and he had already missed the first. He must arrive tonight in order to get his bearings and plan his strategy.

  After he finished eating, Nightshade looked for a calendar to check his dates. One hung beside the fridge, each full moon highlighted in orange. The Cornish pisky wise woman kept just such a moon calendar in her room at Trevelion Manor, but Nightshade couldn’t understand why Ruby would be interested in lunar cycles. Maybe she was a wise woman or witch. That would explain the strange power he’d sensed in the house. He stared at the calendar for a few seconds, frowning, then noticed the wall clock showed it was getting-up time. So he went upstairs, impatient for Ruby to wake and cook for him.

  Her bedroom door stood ajar, the bed visible through the gap. Early sunlight glowed through the thin white curtains, illuminating her. She lay in a state of abandon, arms flung above her head, one leg protruding from beneath the covers. Without him making a conscious decision to go inside, his feet carried him to the foot of her bed.

  He had never noticed how women smelled before. Her floral scent mingled with an enticingly musky feminine fragrance that stirred an unfamiliar hunger. The covers rode lower as she moved, revealing the ripe swells of her breasts. Nightshade clenched his teeth to hold in his fangs.

  This woman did things to him he’d never experienced. He might be a vampire, but for him taking blood was a pleasure rather than a necessity. He’d only ever wanted to bite men, and the idea of mating rarely entered his head. Now his body ached to mate with Ruby’s while he sank his fangs into her soft pink curves and formed a blood bond so that he could control her. He would only be able to take blood from her a couple of times a week, assuming he didn’t want to hurt her, but that could be enough to satisfy him. She was the woman he needed to complete his life. He would make her scream with pleasure and start his baby growing in her belly. Then, after he’d secured the blood oath from his father, he would collect Ruby and bring her home with him to Cornwall.

  * * *

  The sound of her name dragged Ruby up from the depths of sleep. She groaned when shafts of early morning sunlight fell on her face, then blinked sleepily and met determined silver eyes.

  “Hey, shut the damn curtains and get out of my bedroom.”

  “It’s time to get up,” Nightshade replied.

  “Go away.”

  “I’m hungry,” he announced, as though that was a momentous statement.

  “I’m not surprised. You were comatose for a day. Was I supposed to drip-feed you while you slept?”

  Ruby watched his gaze cruise slowly down her body beneath the sheet, and that made her heart do a funny little jig. For a moment she imagined that his hunger was for something other than food, but then she dismissed the thought. He was a spectacular example of masculine beauty. There wasn’t much chance he’d be attracted to a short and overweight human. He probably only went for lady nightstalkers, whatever they were.

  “Kitchen’s downstairs,” she said.

  “I’ve already had toast. I need something more substantial, please.”

  When he tapped impatient fingers on the footboard, Ruby gave him a threatening look. “You touch my bed once more and all you’ll get is dog food.”

  He ruffled his wings against his back, disgruntled. “I need to replenish the energy I used flying up here!”

  “You’ll have to wait till seven-thirty. That’s when I get up.” Ruby glanced meaningfully at her alarm clock, which read six fifty-four.

  With a sigh Nightshade turned to stare out the window. The rising sun hung over the glen. “You get used to early starts when there are small children in the house.”

  Small children? Ruby stared at his neatly folded wings. Did that mean he had a Mrs. Nightshade at home? What sort of a house did he live in? And why did she even care?

  “Okay, I’m getting up.” She was already too wide awake to go back to sleep. Climbing out of bed, she trudged over to fetch her dressing gown off the door. Then she realized: “Are you telling me you can’t cook anything but toast?”

  His chin hitched up. “The kitchen is a female’s place.”

  Ruby’s step faltered. “Your wife must be tolerant to put up with an attitude like
that.”

  “I don’t have a wife.”

  “But you’ve got kids?”

  “A three-year-old brother,” he replied.

  “Ah.” Ruby stared at him, unmoving, an unwanted flash of relief tingling through her.

  Fifteen minutes later, a full Scottish breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, black pudding, haggis, and oatcakes was in preparation, while Nightshade paced back and forth across the kitchen speaking into his cell phone. He was questioning someone about a little boy called Rhys—presumably his brother, although Nightshade sounded more like a concerned father. When Ruby imagined a tiny version of him with small wings, she found herself smiling.

  She placed two plates on the table, and Nightshade snapped his phone shut and sat down. He mumbled a thank-you before tucking in as though he hadn’t eaten for a week. Ruby picked at her scrambled eggs. She didn’t feel hungry this early, but she’d wanted to sit with him. He cleared half his plate in record time.

  “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

  “Eloise, my brother’s mother.”

  “Not your mother?”

  He shook his head, forking food into his mouth. She so rarely cooked for anyone that it was gratifying to see him enjoy what she’d prepared.

  “Eloise is human, but my mother was a Cornish pisky. That’s why I live with them.”

  “A Cornish pisky?” She remembered them from her mother’s books. “Aren’t they small?”

  “No. Our size.”

  Ruby’s heart rate doubled as she realized this was the ideal moment to ask about her father. “Do you know any angels?”

  He wiped his mouth and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “They don’t exist. Humans probably muddle them up with some sort of fairy.”

  Could her father be a fairy? The idea made her snort with disbelief. She was about as unfairylike as it was possible to get. “So, there are beautiful glowing fairies with wings?”

  Nightshade sniggered. “The only beautiful glowing individual I know doesn’t have wings, and he definitely isn’t angelic . . . but I suppose a human might think he was an angel.”

  Disappointed, Ruby sagged back in her seat. Even if he didn’t know her father, he might know something about the strange magical affliction that had plagued her at full moon since puberty. “Have you ever heard of anyone who makes plants grow when they touch them?”

  “You mean a nature spirit? You don’t want to mess with them. They’re strange. I met a dryad once and his skin looked like leaves.”

  “So none of them look like angels?”

  “Not that I know of, but the Cornish piskies keep to themselves and live an almost human life because the pisky queen is half human. There are different fairy courts in different parts of the country, but I’ve only visited a few. If you ever go to Ireland, steer clear of the Wicklow Mountains. The Irish fairy queen has her court there, and she’s a psycho.”

  Ruby didn’t need that advice. She’d discovered the Irish fairies were dangerous years ago when her mother was searching for Ruby’s father. If not for the leprechauns’ help, she and her mother probably wouldn’t have escaped alive. And, as usual, her mother had blamed Ruby for not sensing the Irish fairies were dangerous. Whenever things went wrong it was always her fault, just because she had the stupid power.

  Nightshade patted his stomach. “That breakfast was good, Ruby.”

  She ignored the ridiculous flash of pleasure his words gave her. “So, does your father live in Cornwall?”

  “No!” His expression darkened and his jaw clenched. “I would not allow Dragon within ten miles of Rhys.” For the first time she saw the threat of violence in his eyes. With his cell phone and his love of her cooking, Nightshade had lulled her into a false sense of normality, but his civilized veneer only thinly disguised the powerful male beneath. She would do well to remember that he wasn’t human. Whatever he said about living a human-style life, the rules and conventions nightstalkers lived by were likely different from her own.

  Ruby busied herself loading the dishwasher before washing up the griddle. Yet, while she worked, Nightshade’s potent presence dominated her senses. She’d dated a few men she met at art exhibitions, but no human man emanated such raw masculine power. She would definitely paint a picture of his energy if she got the chance.

  She tensed when she felt him approach behind her. His hands landed on her upper arms in a firm but gentle touch that sent tingles racing across her skin, and she tried to concentrate on the dishes as he bent close to her ear.

  “You’re a strong and beautiful female, Ruby,” he whispered in a velvet voice. He made a little noise in his throat that sounded like a growl. Then his lips brushed the side of her neck.

  The griddle slipped from Ruby’s hands, splashing greasy water up the front of her dressing gown. Where had his sudden interest in her sprung from? She cast a sideways glance at his strong black fingers gripping her arm, and her knees felt weak.

  “I want you, Ruby,” he whispered. The tip of his tongue stroked her skin, and a pulsing knot of heat tied low in her belly. “You taste so good.”

  She should pull away from him, but her feet were glued to the floor. The tiniest scrape of teeth against her skin nearly made her legs give way. His hands gripped her waist to steady her as if he sensed her weakness.

  “I’ve never met a female who makes me feel like this,” he said in a low sexy growl. “I want to mate with you.”

  Ruby should say no and push him away. She’d only known him for two days, and she knew supernaturals could be trouble. Yet there was something about Nightshade that resonated with her.

  Actually, it was an advantage that he would be a one-night stand. The guys she dated were rarely invited home, in case they discovered her secret affliction. Such a discovery wouldn’t be a problem with Nightshade. And, this way, she would never become obsessed with him like her mother had been with her father. When darkness fell that night, he’d just leave. She had a chance for passion with no strings.

  Even as the idea pleased her, it also made Ruby sad. She felt a natural affinity with him that she couldn’t explain. He might be the one man who wouldn’t be freaked out by her affliction.

  Before she had the chance to make a decision, Nightshade turned her to face him. Although he didn’t hurt her, his grip was so assured and controlling that she realized how much stronger he was. If he forced himself on her, she couldn’t resist. His arms slid around her, pulling her flat against his hard chest while his mouth came down on hers, and by the time he broke that claiming kiss, she was disoriented and gasping for breath. He swept her up into his arms and heat rushed to her face. She struggled to get down before he noticed how much she weighed.

  “Stop wriggling, woman,” he said as he carried her upstairs. Then, with a satisfied male smile, he deposited her in the center of her bed.

  He flicked open the button on his jeans. Languorous heat flooded Ruby’s body as he lowered the zipper. Hard, sleek muscles rippled with every movement, and when he pushed his jeans down over his hips, every other thought fled her mind. Little flickers of heat raced through her, making her so hot she thought she might melt.

  “Strewth,” she whispered. “That’s one for the record books.”

  Nightshade had a tadger the size of a rolling pin.

  “Ruby, you’re special,” he whispered.

  He eased down onto the bed at her side, then leaned over and stroked his fingers across her cheek. He pressed his lips against her neck, and the scrape of his teeth made her tremble with a deep primeval excitement that had an edge of fear. A tiny voice in the back of her mind told her she shouldn’t be doing this; her mother had come to a terrible end over her dalliance with a powerful supernatural. But, heck, Ruby was a woman with needs. And this was a one-time deal. When would she ever get a chance like this again? Her hands went to Nightshade’s chest. For a moment she paused; then her fingers slipped over the firm contours of his pectorals to his shoulders and dragged him close.

  Hi
s hand swept up her body to cup a breast through her dressing gown. He gave a little grunt of displeasure at the clothing in his way, reared back and untied the belt of her robe before pulling the offending garment off her and tossing it away. Then he buried his face in her breasts. Ruby’s eyelids closed on a burning wave of sensation.

  She ran her hands over his back to the hard ridge where his wings joined his body and let her fingers play over that unfamiliar structure. His breath hissed in and he raised his head to stare at her.

  “I love being touched there,” he whispered.

  He threw a leg over her, and the impressive length of his arousal pressed against her thigh, sending wicked little whirls of heat swirling through her. His mouth came down on hers again, hot and hard, almost desperate. He trailed kisses along her jaw. His teeth nipped her neck and spikes of pleasure pierced her.

  “You’re my ideal woman,” he whispered in a sizzling purr. “We’ll make a beautiful son together.”

  His words shattered Ruby’s rapturous haze like a hand grenade. “What!” She turned her face away and pushed at his shoulders.

  Nightshade raised his head, his smooth ebony brows drawing together in confusion. “We’ll have a beautiful son,” he repeated, in a tone that suggested he was paying her a huge compliment.

  “Are you freaking mad?” Little slivers of pain sliced through her: He didn’t want her at all. He wanted a baby. She shoved at his shoulders, raised one leg and managed to wedge a foot against his thigh. She should have known it was a mistake to even think about getting mixed up with a supernatural, especially when her father had done the exact same thing, left her mother with a baby.

  “Oomph.” Nightshade rolled away. With a snap of his wings, he retreated from the battlefield the bed had become. “What is wrong with you, woman?”

  “What’s wrong with me?” Ruby grabbed the covers and pulled them over herself. “I’m not having a baby with you.” The fact the doctors said she was infertile and couldn’t have a baby was irrelevant. He’d already ruined the mood.