The Phoenix Charm

by Helen Scott Taylor

  Nightshade tasted the evil now, a sickly metallic taint on the back of his tongue like bad blood. “Eloise, take Rhys.” While Ana picked up Fin, Nightshade grabbed Kea beneath the arms and hugged the boy to his chest as he ran toward the house, leaving the toys and cups strewn across the lawn.

  When Nightshade reached the kitchen, he paused by the key hooks and snagged the Land Rover keys. “Fetch Thorn,” he shouted at the bemused pisky woman cutting vegetables at the table. “Tell him to meet us at the coach house.”

  Their footsteps pounded along the floorboards as they ran through the corridors to the far side of the house and exited into the coach house. Nightshade bypassed the motorcycles and cars, grabbed a third baby car seat from storage, and strapped the children in their seats in the back of the Land Rover. He started the engine and slapped an impatient hand on the top doorsill while he awaited Thorn.

  When Thorn finally ran up, Nightshade gripped his arm hard enough to capture his complete attention. “You drive the Land Rover to Merricombe Cottage, and you stay there with Ana, Eloise, and the babies. Tell Michael to get his arse back here pronto. Tell him we have unwelcome visitors.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Michael smiled to himself. Cordelia pretended to be demure and conservative, yet the second they were alone, she had her hands all over him. Not that he was complaining. He loved the attention.

  He sat on a decrepit wooden bench in the overgrown cottage garden overlooking Merricombe Bay with Cordelia on his lap. Her sweet rump pressed tantalizingly against his crotch while she nuzzled his neck. The sea hissed up and down the beach below. Seagulls wheeled lazily overhead, riding the wind currents. He inhaled the salty air, flavored with the fragrance of her skin. Pleasure and satisfaction drifted through him in languid waves.

  Even though there were damp patches of peeling plaster inside Merricombe Cottage, he couldn’t be happier. The cottage now contained a dining room set, a couple of lounge chairs and, most importantly, a bed sporting clean sheets, ready to be christened. He intended to give the new mattress a good workout, just as soon as he rid Cordelia of her wards.

  “Michael,” she breathed in his ear.

  “Aye, sugarplum.”

  “Have you thought any more about your new powers?”

  His head fell back against the wall behind the bench with a soft thud. Staring at the wispy clouds, he swallowed his discomfort. “I haven’t told anyone yet.”

  “Not even Nightshade?”

  “Nah.” Why did he have to tell anyone? Sticking his fingers into things would make a cool party trick, but he’d rather forget what had happened in Wales, enjoy Cordelia, and go back to being the troop storyteller. He pondered for a few seconds, then let the thoughts drift away on a wave of desire, as his body responded to her wriggling bottom.

  He caught her face between his hands, and nibbled her lips. She murmured seductively, setting a fire in his belly. He kissed her deeply, spinning silky threads of desire into her mind. “All I want to think about now is us. We’ll wash the pen off your skin; then we’re going upstairs.”

  From the guarded look that crept into her eyes, he knew she was about to disagree. He pressed a finger to her lips.

  “We’re half a mile from the nearest cottage, one mile from Trevelion Manor, and three miles from the village. Unless you’re worried about the seagulls or any fish out there, you can relax.”

  As Ana had suggested, Michael planned to encourage Cordelia to use her healing powers regularly, so her allure never built to dangerous levels; then she could live without her wards. It infuriated him that her father had caused her so much heartache by making her ashamed of her greatest gift. But Michael didn’t want to discuss her upbringing now. He wanted to make love.

  After lifting her from his lap, he stood.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  Tapping the side of his nose, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Earlier, he’d opened the window in the poky little bathroom on the back of the house to let in the fresh summer air, and scrubbed out the 1970s avocado-green tub. He returned and spread a fluffy towel on the floor to hide the stained cork tiles before running hot water for a bath.

  Cordelia appeared at the doorway, her hair wispy around her face where he’d caressed the strands loose from her braid. Desire shivered through him at her ruffled appearance. There was something deliciously wicked about seeing the untouchable wise woman flushed and mussed.

  “I don’t know about this,” she said, sounding vulnerable.

  He beckoned her, and felt a little kick beside his heart when, despite her uncertainty, she came to him. Slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her close and brushed his mind across hers. His lips traced a path over her face and hair, reveling in the silky feel of her skin. “I know we had a problem in Bristol, love. But we’ll be careful now. Trust me.” He loaded his voice with reassurance, and meant every word. Him—the master of empty sweet nothings whispered to paramours who were forgotten the moment they left his bed.

  She had changed into one of her long, high-necked dresses when they arrived home. He grinned with perverse pleasure. “I’ve fantasized about unfastening the tiny buttons down the front of your dress.”

  “You’re a naughty boy,” she whispered in a breathy voice.

  “Aye, sugarplum, and you’re going to be a naughty girl.” His fingers worked at the buttons, slowly revealing her throat and chest, rewarding each new piece of exposed skin with a kiss.

  Her ribs rose and fell while he parted the fabric and dropped a flutter of kisses around his Magic Knot, hanging in the valley between her breasts. “Sweet Anu, I love your heaving bosom all prim and proper, hidden from view, waiting to be exposed and touched and teased.”

  A needy sound escaped her lips and arrowed straight to his groin. He unfastened the button on his jeans and pushed down the zipper to ease the tightness. Then he cupped her breasts, squashed them up, and kissed the cleavage raised high in the opening of her dress.

  “Ye gods, Michael.” She clutched at his sides, her fingers yanking his shirt from his jeans.

  Her hands trembled as she caressed his back, while her tension thrummed his senses. He pulled away, breaking her grip. “Let’s get those symbols off your skin before you explode.” He was starting to hate the bloody wards that restricted her like manacles. How could her father have allowed his daughter to be tortured this way?

  Quickly, he finished unbuttoning her dress and stripped it down, leaving her standing in her underwear.

  As she unfastened her bra, he ripped his shirt over his head quickly so he didn’t miss a second of watching her. Then he toed off his sneakers, yanked down his jeans and underwear, and pushed them off inside out on the floor, losing his socks in the process.

  Flushed and dreamy eyed, she smoothed her hands over his chest. Despite his intention to wash the wards off first, he pulled her against him, pressing his lips to hers. He lost himself in their scorching kiss until her fingers brushed the side of his erection, making his stomach muscles clench.

  He stepped back before his brain switched off completely and instinct took over. Dropping to his knees, he dragged down her panties with him. She squeaked in surprise when he pressed a quick kiss to her stomach, taking a second to inhale her enticing musky scent. Then he stood, and stepped into the tub, leading her with him.

  When she was sitting between his legs, he lathered a washcloth and started rubbing the markings off her back, while she worked on her front. “If this takes too long, I’m going to spontaneously combust,” he said.

  “And I’ll melt,” she replied. “My allure’s boiling under my skin.”

  They worked in silence for a few minutes. Michael tried to ignore the insistent throb of his arousal as his fingers slid over her skin. Maybe they wouldn’t make their way to the bed until later.

  When Cordelia’s allure flooded free into her aura, Michael closed his eyes and bit down hard on his lip as the sensual pull set fire to his blood.


  “Have you finished?” The husky tone of her voice almost undid him.

  “Nearly.” He rinsed out the cloth and wiped her back, checking that the marks were completely gone. He kissed the skin he’d rubbed red, silently promising she wouldn’t have to suffer this forever.

  “I’m done.” She dropped her cloth over the edge of the tub with a plop. His hands caressed her breasts, then slid down her belly. He pulled her against him, and found the sweet spot between her legs while he rubbed himself on her bottom.

  She rested her head back on his shoulder.

  “Kiss me,” he whispered, drowning in ecstasy.

  She angled her head. His lips found her mouth while he pleasured her. She wriggled beneath his caresses, making sexy little whimpers.

  When her hand slid down between their bodies, fingers brushing him in teasing strokes, he couldn’t wait any longer. “Turn around, sugarplum.”

  Water cascaded over the side of the tub as she rose and turned. He was ready for her, arms out, hands gripping her thighs, then hips, mindlessly guiding her to join with him.

  Her knees pressed his flanks when he pulled her tightly to him. The hair between her legs brushed his stomach, drawing a groan from him while he positioned her, the tip of his shaft brushing the soft folds of her feminine flesh. He grabbed a breath, paused to look into her languid gray eyes. She caressed his face, ran her thumbs along his cheekbones. “I love you, Michael.”

  Before her words had a chance to penetrate his passionate haze, she lowered herself onto him, the sensual stroke of her around his erection matched by the sensuous roll of her allure through his mind.

  Water sloshed around them, splashing on the floor as he gripped her hips, guiding her movements. His tongue found the silky wet skin of her breast, lips closing over the hard beads of her nipples, first one and then the other. He turned his cheek against her as the pressure inside him grew, wishing he held all of her Magic Knot so they could join completely in mind and spirit as well as physically.

  With a cry, she gripped his shoulders as she came, her fingernails biting into his flesh in a pleasure pain that arrowed to his groin, sending him overthe edge.

  For a long time they didn’t move. The water cooled around them, and his legs started to deaden. She raised her forehead from his shoulder. “When we make love, my allure is grounded through you.”

  “Aye. I’d sort of worked that one out.” He grinned, and she smiled back.

  “Maybe if we do this enough, it’ll keep my allure under control.”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to have a go at leaving your wards off?”

  She stared over his shoulder, eyes losing focus. After a while, she heaved a sigh. “Being without them frightens me, Michael. I’ll try for a few days to see how I get on.”

  He eased out of her, before turning her sideways on his lap for a hug. “I’ll stay with you as much as I can. Until Rose and Niall get home, I’ll need to spend time with the babies. But I’ll be with you every night.”

  She nodded against his chest, summoning a smile of relief from him. They’d made progress. If the next few days passed without problems, she’d gain in confidence. If she tried healing some of the piskies, that would help too.

  Through the open window, the crunch of car tires on the gravel parking area drew his attention.

  Thorn’s voice shouted his name. Michael clenched his teeth in annoyance. “I told Nightshade we didn’t want any visitors today.”

  “Maybe Thorn’s missing us.” Cordelia rose, grabbed a towel, and started drying herself.

  Michael stepped from the tub, rubbed water off his chest, and wrapped a towel around his waist. “I’ll go and tell him to wait outside for a few minutes.”

  He closed the bathroom door behind him and strode along the hallway, ready to tell Thorn to be more considerate. when he wrenched open the door, the words died in his mouth. Thorn stood outside, his face tight with worry, baby Kea snuggled in his arms. Ana was behind him, holding Finian, while Eloise hovered nervously at the back cuddling Rhys. “Nightshade sent us over,” Thorn said.

  “Best dress quickly, lad.” Ana rocked Fin, who’d started to whimper. “There’s evil coming toward the manor.”

  Michael froze in disbelief at the sight of the visitors; then their words penetrated his pleasure-sated brain. He swiped wet hair back from his face. What in the Furies was coming after them now?“Come in. Make yourselves at home as best you can.”

  He ran back to the bathroom and burst in as Cordelia was buttoning her dress. “There’s possible trouble at the manor Ana, Thorn, and Eloise are here with the babies.”

  Cordelia looked through the crack in the door while he yanked the legs of his jeans the right way out and stepped into them. “What trouble?” she asked.

  After pulling on his T-shirt, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

  “Michael, tell me.” She clutched his arm when he turned to leave.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  She hurried after him, her dress gaping open over her chest. “If the piskies are in trouble, I should come.”

  Turning, he gripped her shoulders. “I need to know you’re safe, or I won’t be able to concentrate.”

  “But Michael—”

  “Stay here!” he commanded, loading his words with every scrap of compulsion he possessed. Her eyes rolled back, and her knees buckled. He caught her in his arms. “Damn.” He’d forgotten that his existing powers had probably been enhanced by his resurrection. After carrying her into the sitting room, he settled her in a chair. Ana followed him inside the room, rocking Finian in her arms.

  In an agony of indecision, he ran his fingers back through his hair. He didn’t want to leave Cordelia like this, but he must get away from Merricombe Cottage. If it were the Tylwyth Teg coming to seek retribution for being cheated of their blood price, they would search him out. Arian and the other gatekeepers must not be allowed anywhere near Cordelia or the children.

  He stroked wet hair away from Cordelia’s eyes, gently finished buttoning the front of her dress to preserve her modesty, and kissed her lips. With a reassuring pat on Ana’s shoulder, he turned to leave. “When she comes to, tell her I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to knock her out. I’m not used to me enhanced power yet.”

  Ana’s brown eyes widened in her wrinkled face. “You’ve taken after Troy, have you not, Michael lad?” She gripped his hand, tears overflowing her lashes. “May the gods give you strength to face your enemies.”

  Nightshade stood in the center of the lawn behind Trevelion Manor, watching the sky. The dark, malevolent presence oppressed him, growing stronger by the second. The creature approaching must be powerful to exude such an overwhelming psychic force. He’d never felt his father, but he knew instinctively the evil tainting his senses came from Dragon.

  Although Nightshade had sent for Michael, this was his fight.

  He pulled the sling from his arm and tossed it away. He couldn’t afford to wear an obvious badge of weakness. Flexing his injured shoulder, he flapped his wings and lifted a few inches from the ground before finding his feet again. His shoulder still ached but was healed well enough to fly.

  A tiny black dot appeared in the distance, high among the feathery clouds. Most humans who chanced to glance up would mistake the dot for a bird, but not all.

  His father’s audacity was staggering. Apart from emergencies, Nightshade flew at night so he wouldn’t be seen.

  When Dragon descended, he came at such a rate, Nightshade half expected him to crash. But the strength in his father’s wings pulled him up in time to land elegantly on his feet. Three glowing orbs accompanied him, scattering into shards of light before forming into Arian, Olwyn, and Dai.

  Dragon scanned the garden and house before his gaze settled on Nightshade. Bleached, brassy-blond hair fluttered around his shoulders. He dwarfed Nightshade in bulk and height, standing at least a head taller. Nightshade gritted his teeth with frustration while his muscles quivered in anti
cipation of battle. Eager as he was for retribution for all the suffering his father had caused, he doubted he could defeat a creature of Dragon’s size and strength by brute force.

  Dragon’s lips pulled back to reveal his teeth, in what could have been a smile or a snarl. “I’ve come for my son.”

  The words hit Nightshade like a punch in the gut. He’d fantasized so often that his father would stand before him and say this. Yet now the time came, the words were not for him.

  “I’m standing right here, Father.”

  Dragon laughed, a thunderclap of sound, scattering the small birds from the shrubs. The gatekeepers remained still and silent while Dragon wandered forward nonchalantly. He halted just out of reach and cast a disparaging glance over Nightshade. “You were a lost cause from the moment of conception. The piskies are farmers who live uninspired lives. I could not call such a creature son.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt and circled Nightshade.

  Turning to keep Dragon in sight, Nightshade watched the leashed power of his father’s movements. His anger escalated together with a demeaning sense of helplessness. All his life he’d prided himself on his strength and boldness. Yet the sheer size of his father drained his confidence.

  “Now Rhys is a different matter,” Dragon said, tossing back his hair.

  Nightshade straightened his back, gathered his defiance. “His mother’s human. How does that make him better than me?”

  “He was to be raised among the Teg. With their influence, he stood a chance of finding a backbone.”

  “If you think so little of the piskies, why did you bother to spend time here?”

  “I found it amusing that they hated me, but were too cowardly to tell me to leave.” Dragon snapped his wings against his back. “Anyway, there was a young female that interested me. A water nymph.” He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. “Is she still here?”

  His father hadn’t just come for Rhys; he’d come for Cordelia. Even as shock turned Nightshade’s blood to ice water, years of practice kept his expression blank. “I know of no water nymph.”