His hands worked through her hair, massaged her scalp. “Aye, sugarplum, take what you want of me.”
Her tongue tasted, lips trailed over firm flesh, pressed the tiny bud of a nipple. His chest vibrated beneath her kiss on a groan. She inhaled the herbal tang of his skin like an addict.
His lips found hers again, hard, demanding. Her fingers tugged the belt of his robe, plucked at the knot while he half carried her from the bathroom.
One of his hands gripped her bottom andpulled her close; the other caressed her breast. Sensation sprayed out from his touch, filling her body and aura with their blended desires. Her breath hissed out, followed a second later by his.
“Sweet Anu, your allure is mixing with me energy.”
She should have warned him her allure could use a man’s power against him. Dragon had known and yet still been overwhelmed.
A whirlpool swirled within her, drawing Michael into the turbulence. They fell on the bed together, arms and legs tangling. Michael shoved her on her back, rose over her, eyes blazing, jaw clenched. Fear quivered in her belly; then she relaxed. Michael would never hurt her. He stared at her, gasping air in and out of his mouth until the wildness in his eyes faded.
He swiped a hand over his face. “That’s the energy you healed me with?”
She nodded, her tongue tied with desire and memories of fear.
“No wonder I came back.” His lips slid into a sinful grin.
Rising to his knees, he shrugged off the robe before tossing it away. Her gaze trailed down his chest, admiring the sculpted ridges of muscle. Shivery tingles raced through her as she stared at his erection, her fingers trembling in anticipation.
“Touch me,” he whispered.
She cupped the thick length of his arousal, stroked the silky skin. With a little murmur of pleasure, he pressed his mouth to her neck, trailed his lips onto her breast. When he moved down, he slid out of her hand. But her moan of displeasure caught in her throat as his mouth closed around her nipple. He gazed up at her beneath his lashes while he sucked, his fingertips teasing and tickling her belly.
A burst of pleasure shot through her when his hand moved lower, worked magic between her legs. She fought to keep her eyes open to watch him, but her mind overflowed with the caress of his spirit and the sensation of his touch.
She writhed, clutching the sheet, body wild with the allure surging through her.
He pushed her legs wider, his hands and mouth working an elemental magic.
“Please…“ she whimpered. Michael’s energy blended with hers and pulsed through her so hard, she was going to burst out of her skin. Then she imploded, her whole being contracting to a point of light before expanding outward in a flash.
In the corridor outside came a crash of breaking china, jerking her from her pleasure-dazed stupor.
After a moment, Michael raised his head and grinned. “Crikey O’Reilly, lass, your allure almost took me with you, and I’m not nearly ready to finish. I want to make this last.”
At the sound of a man cursing outside, they both looked toward the door. “I’m betting you did take that poor fella with you,” Michael said. “He’ll probably worry he’s going to keep suffering from spontaneous ejaculation.”
A twinge of discomfort tainted Cordelia’s pleasure. If her allure had affected the man in the corridor, she needed to paint the symbols back on her body quickly.
She fidgeted, hoping Michael would take the hint and move. When he gave her room, she started to rise. He gripped her arm, not hard, but leaving her in no doubt he wouldn’t allow her to retreat to the bathroom.
“We haven’t finished, sugarplum,” he said, glancing at his lap.
At the sight of his arousal, tension gathered in her belly again, sparking nerves beneath her skin she’d thought burned out by the recent rush of energy.
“In fact,” he said, flicking up his eyebrows, “we’ve only just started.”
A languorous heat drifted through her. He slid up the bed and beckoned her to join him. “That was your appetizer. ’Tis time for the main course.” He cupped his genitals and stroked himself. Her brain forgot how to work her lungs. Specks of light and dark floated across her vision.
There was no way she could reapply her wards, because her higher mental functions had given way to instinct. She crawled up the bed, pausing halfway to drop a kiss on his hip and revel in the hot musky scent of him. Muttering endearments, he pulled her up beside him, captured her mouth, and pressed her into the mattress in one smooth movement.
The morning drifted past while he kissed her and caressed her with expertise, rousing her until a tornado circled in a vortex at her energy center, until she forgot who she was. She claimed what she wanted of him, exploring his body using lips and fingers, watching him arch beneath her stroking hand in an agony of pleasure.
Finally, he lay panting, eyes screwed tight. “You’re going to kill me with pleasure, and I want to die at your hands.”
She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the thump of his heart, his warm, comfortable presence surrounding her like a loving hand. This intimacy was more wonderful than any fantasy. In the future, maybe she could remove her wards when they were alone, so they could make love again.
He ran a fingertip lightly around her jaw, then touched the three stones of his Magic Knot against her skin. “Ahh, I have me second wind, love.” With a wicked grin, he rolled her underneath him and nuzzled her neck.
Once more, his fingers found her tender places, making her body sing beneath his touch. She massaged the bulge of his biceps, stroked the firm length of his back, fingered the taut strength of muscle bunched in his buttocks. Michael’s body was built to give pleasure.
He slid over her and settled between her legs, the hot weight of his erection pressing against the sensitive flesh he’d teased to readiness. Her breath stalled at the promise of dreams fulfilled.
“Cordelia.”
She blinked, focused on the searing blue heat of his gaze.
With a slow brush of lips, he kissed her, then touched the side of his nose to hers. “Say me name, love.”
“Michael.” The word whispered over her lips.
“Again.”
“Michael.”
He licked his lips. “You want this, don’t you?”
“Oh, gods and goddesses. I’m going to combust if you don’t do it. Can’t you sense how much I want you, Michael? I’ve always wanted you.” She wriggled her hips beneath him, sucked in a catchy breath at the burst of sensation. “Please.”
He grinned, slowly, a lazy satisfaction in his eyes. “Just checking.”
“Stop teasing.”
“That wasn’t teasing.” With a practiced tilt of his hips, he pressed a little way inside her.
He stopped. She whimpered, teetering on the edge of bliss.
“This is teasing,” he whispered.
“Michael O’Connor.” She slapped him on the backside, and he laughed.
“Oh, baby, spank me again.” He flicked up his eyebrows. Although she thought he was joking, she slapped him again because she was through waiting. He jolted, the effect pushing him deeper.
“Oh yeah. Oh yeah.” Michael breathed hot against her lips, pressed his hips down, filling her with heat and sensation. Cordelia’s eyelids fell as his lips claimed her mouth in a deep drugging kiss. His hand glided beneath her hip, lifted her thigh, expertly moved her in time with his thrusts.
She clung to him, lost in the perfect rhythm of their bodies and minds, a warm sinful place where nothing mattered but pleasure. Hot flushes of desire swept through her, growing in intensity each time he moved. Her breath shuddered in and burst out every time he murmured naughty things in her ear.
Michael moved faster, while his hand stroked her breast, sending tingling shards of sensation across her skin. She grabbed at his back, hung on as though she might lose herself if she let go. He moaned, eyes closed tightly, teeth clamped over his bottom lip.
The waves of allu
re cascaded through her. With a cry, bone-melting pleasure flashed along her arms and legs, bursting out from the boundary of her body into her aura.
Dimly, on the edge of awareness, she heard shouting. Then the waves of energy swamped her. She floated on the warm swell of their pleasure.
Slowly, his power absorbed her allure and settled around her, held her in its embrace. The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered for a while, but the feeling of being one with Michael. She’d desired him from afar, but now that she knew him, her feelings ran far deeper than lust.
She raised her hand, watching it curiously as though it didn’t belong to her, then touched Michael’s hair, let a chestnut wave slide over her finger. She’d washed off her wards, made love with Michael, and no harm had come to anyone. He could handle her allure, so maybe she could have a proper relationship with him as she had dreamed. The more she got to know him, the more she loved this sexy rascal with his kind heart.
After long minutes, he roused, and pushed himself up on his elbows, levering most of his weight off her. His blue eyes were hooded with satisfaction, his expression lazy and sated. “Sugarplum, you’ve wiped me out.”
He dropped on his back beside her, with a long contented sigh. “Let’s sleep; then we’ll head home later.”
Sirens outside intruded on the lazy atmosphere of the room. He turned his head on the pillow to look at the window. “Sounds like something’s going on out there.”
A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. “Ahh.” Michael rubbed his face. “What’s the point of a DO NOT DISTURB sign if people ignore the damn thing?” He rolled over and pushed up to sit on the edge of the bed.
“You all right in there?” a man’s voice shouted.
“Hang on a minute.” Michael helped her beneath the duvet, then snagged the robe from the floor and pulled it on. Cinching the belt, he wandered to the door and unlocked it. “What’s up?”
Cordelia half listened to Michael’s conversation while sleep drifted over her, lazy and warm.
“The place has gone mad,” the man at the door said. “Some men in a business workshop on the floor below went crazy and attacked the women. The police are down there now. I’m checking that everyone up here’s okay.”
Shock jolted Cordelia out of her sleepy daze. She sprang up and wrapped the duvet around her, then stumbled to the door to catch the man before he moved on. “When did this happen?”
He stared at her, pink suffusing his cheeks. Without warning, he grabbed at her.
“Hey!” Michael stepped in front of her and jostled the man away. “What’s your problem, fella?”
The man staggered back, confusion on his face. Then he turned and dashed toward the elevator.
Dark and intense, horror thrummed her nerves. “It’s not his fault, Michael. It’s me.”
“It can’t be—”
“You saw his reaction. He was affected by my allure.”
She spun back to the room, tears burning her eyes. “The pen. Where’s the bloody pen?”
Michael stared at her. The warmth of his reassurance brushed her mind and, instinctively, she slammed down her defenses, pushed him away. Disbelief, then sadness, crossed his face. He strode to the bathroom and returned with the pen.
She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she couldn’t allow him to placate her. He didn’t understand how serious this was. She dropped the duvet, sat on the edge of the bed, and, with a shaking hand, started drawing over her solar plexus to block the most powerful energy center first. Tears tightened her throat while her hand quickly formed the familiar symbols she’d applied to her skin a thousand times before. Next, she moved to her heart center, then her belly.
When she’d finished her front, she looked up to find Michael frozen, watching her intently, his mouth tight, eyes bright with pain. Her heart clenched, but her urgency overtook all other emotion.
“I’ll need you to do my back for me.” She grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk and sketched the symbols for him to copy.
He came closer and placed a hand on her busy arm, halting her drawing. “Is this really necessary, love?”
“You heard him.” Fear and shame threaded steel through her voice. “I’ve caused innocent humans to do something terrible. My father was right. I should never remove my wards.”
“I didn’t lose control,” Michael said.
“You’re not human,” she snapped. “You’re not even an ordinary fairy. You’re”—she waved an arm at him impatiently—“you’re immortal. You’re massively powerful. You can probably walk through walls for all we know.”
She held out the drawing and waited for him to take it before she turned herback. “Please, just help me reapply my wards. The top one goes on my neck, then the rest mirror what I’ve drawn on my front.” She stood up, the race of her panicked pulse so loud it filled her ears. After what felt like forever, the pen touched her back and she released a breath tight with anguish for her lost dreams.
“What does this mean for us?” Michael asked softly, while the pen moved over her skin.
She licked her dry lips. “It means I made a mistake. One I can never make again.”
“What was the mistake, Cordelia?”
Her heart thumped so hard, her temples pounded.
“The mistake was leaving off my wards to make love with you.”
Using his uninjured arm, Nightshade carried Rhys up the stairs at Trevelion Manor, Eloise on his heels. They had stopped at a motel for the night, but none of them had got much sleep, and they were all still exhausted after the last few days. Thorn had gone straight to bed when they arrived home, but Nightshade and Eloise needed to settle Rhys safely first. Nightshade had little doubt that Ana, Michael’s leprechaun half sister, would welcome another baby with open arms.
When he reached the nursery, he halted in the doorway, taking in a sight he’d never expected to see. Troy sat cross-legged on the carpet. His golden hair was twisted up in an elaborate style and trimmed with peacock feathers that matched the color of his jacket. With a beautiful long-fingered hand, more at home wielding a sword, Troy pretended to pour from a small blue plastic teapot decorated with a teddy bear into a matching cup. Little Kea sat on his lap, his chubby fingers pulling at the gold-rimmed abalone buttons trimming the cuffs of Troy’s jacket. The soft glow from Troy’s skin blended with the early morning sunlight filtering in through the window.
As Troy watched the baby, his smile was so sad that Nightshade’s heart hurt to think that Michael might end up as world-weary as his father.
Ana sat beside the babies’ cot, knitting, keeping watch over Finian while he slept.
Nightshade continued into the nursery, Rhys stirring in his arms. “Ana, we need your help, please.”
When Eloise entered the nursery, she gave a little gasp. Nightshade didn’t blame her. The sight of Troy still took his breath away.
Troy angled his head with a studied casualness. “Is Michael well?”
“He is,” Nightshade replied, Troy’s feigned indifference not fooling him for a moment.
Looking down, Troy exhaled and ran a fingertip over Kea’s plump cheek.
“He’s not here,” Nightshade added, although Troy would be able to sense that. “The wise woman lost consciousness on the Darkling Road. Michael took her to a hotel to recuperate.”
“Michael will no doubt restore her spirits,” Troy said. “He has a way with women.” Kea grasped a button on the front of Troy’s jacket, frowning in concentration while he tried to push it out of the buttonhole. Troy’s poignant smile pulled at his lips again. “The little lad is desperate to undress me.”
Nightshade couldn’t suppress his wry smile, but forbore to add that he shared the boy’s fascination.
Ana had set aside her knitting and jumped from the chair. The tiny leprechaun woman waddled closer with her funny bandy-legged walk and smiled. “You have a son, Nightshade?”
“A half brother.”
>
“Oh, my.” Ana’s face crinkled in pleasure when he kneeled so she could see Rhys properly. “May I hold the wee one?” she asked, turning to Eloise.
Wide-eyed, Eloise blinked and nodded.
Nightshade passed his precious bundle to Ana, who oohed and ahhed while she cuddled the smiling child.
“He’s a good boy,” Nightshade said, pride filling his chest. “No trouble while we escaped, and he slept most of the way home. I think he’s ready for breakfast.”
“And a dean diaper,” Eloise added.
While Ana and Eloise took Rhys to the changing table, Nightshade wandered toward Troy, who stiffened and looked up sharply when he moved too close.
“I’m no threat to you.”
Troy’s gelid gaze grazed over him, but the subtle tension in his body eased.
Taking a risk, Nightshade hunkered down beside him and rubbed a knuckle along Kea’s plump forearm. When Troy didn’t flinch from his proximity, Nightshade slowly laid a consoling hand on his arm. After the last few days, he shouldn’t have any energy left to feel compassion for another. But finding Rhys had woken an emotional side of him that sensed the anguish Troy hid behind his veneer of perfection.
“Michael will be back later,” he said softly.
Not acknowledging the touch, Troy kept his eyes on Kea, cradled sleepily in his arms, and smoothed the boy’s fine golden hair. “Then I’ll be on my way.”
Nightshade stood and stepped back when Ana shuffled across and placed a mug decorated with little green leprechauns down on the carpet. “Drink your tea, Troy. I’m thinking Michael will be pleased to see you.”
She held out her arms, and Troy handed Kea over.
“Unlikely.” Troy gave a wistful glance at Finian asleep in the cot. “Both Michael and Niall think I manipulate them.”
“Nonsense,” Ana said as she deposited Kea in a playpen in the corner of the room. “You do your best. ’Tis all anyone can ask.”
He gave her a sardonic glance. “Damned by faint praise, Mistress Ana.” He rose elegantly, his movements the agile stretch and flex of a highly toned physique. A flutter of desire caressed Nightshade as he imagined sinking his fangs into the pearly skin of Troy’s neck.
The Phoenix Charm Page 23