Sacrifice (The Gryphon Series Book 3)

by Stacey Rourke

  “One, two, three, DRINK!” Bam, bam, bam, bam!

  Glasses slammed down, rattling the table my head was resting on and waking me with a start. I wiped the drool from my cheek and tried to figure out where I was and what the heck happened. Judging by the bar full of rowdy, liquored up cowboys, I had somehow found my way back inside the Purple Cactus. My guess was that the flaxen-haired dude next to me doing shots with random strangers had everything to do with that.

  “Aye! The lass has risen!” Rowan proclaimed a few octaves too loud. Clearly that wasn’t the first drink he’d slammed. “Gentlemen, I bid you adieu as I tend to the lady.”

  The faces of the three rough and tumble cowboys went slack, drained of all emotion. Like puppets devoid of independent thought, they rose from the table, pivoted toward the bar, and marched away. Rowan even had the courtesy to plop them down on bar stools before he turned control of their minds back over to the rightful owners.

  I said nothing, but shook my head at how he tiptoed around the moral grey areas of his power. “What happened?” I asked and ran my hands over my face to chase away the lingering grogginess.

  “Well, it seems my ex-boss isn’t as dead as we had hoped. You decided to handle this rather surprising turn of events by taking an impromptu siesta in the parking lot.” Rowan’s cavalier tone failed to hide the strain he felt. His eyes held the panic of a wild, caged animal and his incessant leg shaking caused the glasses on the table to shimmy.

  Not that I could blame him. The news sank in my gut like a weighted anchor. I swiped a napkin off the table and rolled it in my fingers. “A nap seemed mandatory. I mean, it’s not every day you find out that instead of just having one army of demons after you … you now have two. All systems had to shut down and reboot to process that fun little bit of info.”

  Rowan raised his glass to his lips but paused before taking a drink. “Not sure Barnabus wants ya dead, Mo Chroi. Seems to me if he did, you would be. I think whatever he has in mind is much, much worse.” He downed the remainder of his frothy beer.

  “I should’ve stayed asleep,” I grumbled and tossed the napkin aside. “Wait! Where’s Sophia? Is she okay?”

  Rowan wiped beer foam from his lips with the back of his hand. “Aye. They got her stabilized enough to take her back to the mansion. They were gonna recruit any feathered healers within a 1000 mile dimensional plane radius to come and amp up the wattage on her healing. I’m sure she’ll be right as rain by morning. As for me, I have successfully erased any and all memories of stripping angels from every single person in this bar and we are free to head back whenever you’re ready.”

  Back. I twirled the diamond and emerald ring on my finger and tossed that idea around. I needed to check on Sophia, but she was in more than capable hands—and back meant the return to flowers, dresses, and the big friggin’ festival of love. On top of that I now had the fun task of delivering the terrifying news that Barnabus survived. Nope, not one part of that made me want to return any time soon … if ever.

  “Or we could not,” I mumbled.

  Rowan rested his elbows on the table, leaned in, and gave me a ‘come hither’ eyebrow wiggle. “What else did you have in mind?”

  I rolled my eyes, but laughed. “Not that. Simmer down, sailor. I’m just … not ready to go back to the real world yet.”

  He nudged my shoulder with his. “Fancy a dance?”

  I turned to him with a mock look of shock and surprise. “Oddly enough ‘mortify self in front of strangers’ was not on my to-do list today. So, I’ll pass on the boot scootin’, but thanks.”

  Rowan’s warm breath tickled against my ear as he murmured, “You won’t mortify yourself if you let me guide you. I promise.”

  He slowly grazed the back of his hand over my bare shoulder. I held back a gasp at the chill that started between my shoulder blades and shot straight up my spine. I was about to mentally flog myself for responding to him like that when I made the connection that his touch had prompted it. What a sneaky and unfair ability.

  I scooted to the far edge of my chair. “No, thanks. I’m not really a fan of this song.”

  Rowan wet his lips and tried to suppress a grin. “Aye. It’s dreadful. Let’s see what we can do about that.” He fixed his gaze across the room at the DJ. “How about if we dig into his secret stash of music?”

  The record scratched. Country music stopped and inappropriate hip-hop pumped through the speakers. Bar patrons booed and pelleted the DJ with peanut shells from the buckets on each table. The poor DJ ducked behind the table out of firing range, wearing a look that was a swirling mix of shock, fear, and absolute mortification.

  I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in my chair. “I have no idea what my ‘azz’ is, but I can guarantee I won’t be ‘backin’ it up’ any time soon.”

  Rowan threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, right. Fair enough. Let’s try another.” Again he tipped his head at the disc jockey. This time the hard-edged voice of Joan Jett filled the room. The cowboys approved enough to stop pelting him with snack foods. “What do you say? Care to admit you hate yourself for lovin’ me?”

  Despite my better judgment, I was actually enjoying myself. “Presumptuous and completely false. Try again.”

  Something flashed in his topaz eyes. Pain? Acceptance of the dare? Whatever it was vanished too quickly for me to know for sure. He peered around the room until his gaze settled on a woman and two gentlemen seated two tables away.

  “There’ll be no resisting this,” Rowan said with a wink and fixed his stare on the trio.

  They rose from their table and strode straight for the stage. The older man with the salt and pepper beard and slender build strapped on the guitar. His lanky friend with the handle bar mustache took a seat at the drums. The stage lights clicked on and the girl stepped up to the mic. Her white cowboy hat with its peacock feather band blocked her face from view as she adjusted the microphone stand. Then, mic in place, she tipped her head up. The light glistened off her cascading platinum locks like sunlight off of fresh fallen snow.

  With a slow and steady rhythm the two men built a beat for her. The blonde’s voice came out a low, throaty melody as she gave a country twang to Tracy Chapman’s Give Me One Reason.

  Rowan stood up and extended his hand. I peered at it as if it might bite. “I can’t. Sophia was almost killed tonight. Not one, but two armies want me dead. Dancing is the absolute last thing I should be doing right now. Not to mention the whole sucking at it element.”

  He kept his hand raised. Its open invitation loomed between us. “Aye, and that is why you must. Once in a while you have to sacrifice what you should be doing for what you want to do.”

  “I never want to dance. That’d be like saying I woke up this morning with the burning desire to speak in public whilst naked. Not gonna happen.” I laughed nervously and brushed my hair behind my ear. My hope was that my little joke would end the conversation all together. No such luck.

  Rowan bent down beside me, his lips curled in a smug smile. “This is for your own good, remember that.” He closed his hand around my wrist. His influence instantly removed any hesitation I felt. I argued no further and let him guide me from my chair.

  On the small, scuffed up dance floor he turned and gently placed his hands on my waist. “Just trust me, Mo Chroi,” he murmured against my neck.

  I somehow managed a forced nod.

  To the beat of the soulful lyrics Rowan showed my body how to move. Slowly at first, my hips began to sway. The rhythm took hold and I churned in perfect time to it. Rowan moved with me, his body answering every question my own dared to ask. His hand wandered down and linked with mine. He drew me to him then twisted my arm behind my back and spun me out. With a little tug he brought me back. His arm swung over my head and caught me around the middle, holding my back tight against his muscular chest.

  As the raspy-voiced blonde belted out a verse I rocked my hips side to side.

  “Now you’re gettin’
the hang of it,” Rowan muttered with a throaty growl.

  I decided to give myself over to the first fun I’d enjoyed in a long time. I grasped Rowan’s hand and spun away from him. When I glanced back, the desire that darkened his stare stunned me. It made what we were doing wrong—I had enough control over my own senses to know that. Yet there was a part of me that responded to him. For a moment I couldn’t help but wonder what if …

  Rowan yanked me back with just the right amount of force. I slammed against his chest. His eyes were pools of intensity that I allowed myself to wade into. Nothing but a thin veil of energy separated our lips. With one hand he traced his fingers down my waist, over my hip, past my thigh and hooked under my knee. As the song wound to its close he brought my knee up and leaned me back in a deep dip.

  Around us bar patrons clapped but it barely registered as background noise to me. A tumultuous inner battle of desire and guilt devoured me. Rowan and I stared at each other. We searched each other’s faces, willing the other to make a move. Slowly, Rowan bowed his head to mine. I told myself to pull away but … didn’t. Instead I ran my hand around his neck and tangled my fingers in his hair to draw him closer. His breath warmed my face. Electricity sizzled between us, threatening to spark at our touch. Just as his lips brushed mine, I saw a bright red flash out of the corner of my closing eyes. I jerked my head toward it, and searched the crowd for the pale skin and crimson locks of the Countess. While she was nowhere to be seen, reality had just found a way to inject itself into my moment of insanity. The magnitude of what I had almost done slammed into me, the effects far trumping even the iciest of showers.

  Forcefully I pushed Rowan away and sprinted out the door.

  CHAPTER Twenty-eight

  I don’t know what I expected to find outside—maybe a talking unicorn that could fly in on a rainbow and answer all of life’s questions for me—but what I found was sweltering night air so thick its oppressive moisture made me claustrophobic.

  Rowan burst out the door behind me. “Celeste, wait!

  I spun on him, fully intending to unleash an onslaught of ugliness even though I knew it would be directed more at me than him. Instead, I spoke the desperate words of my heart. “Take me to the water!”

  He stopped abruptly a few feet away. His brows drew together in confusion. “What? What water?”

  My hands trembled as I raked them through my hair. Caleb had never told me where our “special spot” was. But maybe the sea itself could make me feel close enough to him to still the hurricane of emotion raging inside me. “The ocean. Take me there, please?”

  Rowan gave a resolute nod and closed the distance between us. His fingers laced with mine and my forehead fell against his broad chest. I squeezed my eyes at the disorienting rush that comes with transforming into a churning, rolling cloud of black smoke.

  I didn’t open them again until the heels of my shoes sank into the sand and salty sea air clung to my skin. I opened my eyes and gasped in crushing disappointment. Calming tranquility could not be found here. Not tonight. An angry wind slammed the waves against the rocky shoreline. From our vantage point on a dune ledge we overlooked the violent spectacle below. White water sprayed up with each assault. Birds seeking a safe place to roost for the night attempted flight, but found themselves at the mercy of the torrential winds. My hair lashed against my face hard enough to make my eyes tear. Somehow all of this seemed fitting. Caleb had been my peace and serenity. This tumultuous display represented my life without him. Violent chaos.

  I glanced over my shoulder at Rowan. He stared at me expectantly with his hands buried in the pockets of his trousers.

  “Why?” My voice came out a dry, croak that got lost in the roaring wind and waves. I swallowed hard and tried again. “Why did you do it?”

  “Last time I checked, poppet, linking your hand around a fella’s neck and pulling him to you isn’t the sign for ‘no thanks, not interested’.”

  I tried to wet my lips that had suddenly gone dry. “But … Caleb.”

  “Caleb has been gone for six sodden months.” His strong jaw tensed. His clipped words came through clenched teeth.

  Tears of frustration threatened to spill. “I know that! But I can’t even bring myself to take off his ring!” I held my hand up for him to see. In the cloud covered night the emeralds appeared a deep forest green, as if darkened by my almost betrayal. “Plus, you can barely stand me! Why would you try to kiss someone you don’t even like?”

  He cocked his head. Locks of wavy golden hair fell across his forehead. “Do you really believe that?”

  “With the things you’ve said, the way you’ve behaved, and your history of selling me out to the enemy? I’m not the best at math, but I’m fairly certain that adds up to you not being my biggest fan.”

  He bridged the space between us in a blink. His warm breath tingled over my skin as he growled, “Then you truly are an infuriatingly daft girl.”

  “Mo Chroi,” I couldn’t help the quake in my voice as I whispered, “I’m your burden to bear.”

  “Are you?” he scoffed with a dry laugh. “Caleb once told me you can read Gaelic, but can’t speak it. That true?”

  I nodded.

  His gaze scoured the beach until he located a yardstick-sized piece of driftwood. He strode over and scooped it up. Stabbing it into the sand he drew the giant letters. Then, as his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, he waved his hand inviting me to read it.

  My mouth fell open. All these months … All this time … “Mo Chroi … my heart.”

  His shoulders sagged and he tossed the stick aside. “Now you know.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, but the entire English language momentarily fell out of my head. Finally, I managed to stammer, “What … what am I supposed to say to that?”

  A poof and he stood in front of me. He raised his hand rose to stroke my cheek, but he held back from actually making contact. “I want you to say that you aren’t gonna tie yourself to Caleb’s ghost forever. That someday—not today, but someday—there will be even the slightest chance that you’ll open your eyes and see what’s right in front of you.”

  “Caleb’s not dead, he’s … ”

  “He’s gone, Celeste. Gone!” Anger darkened his eyes to a deep sapphire blue. His chest expanded with the deep breath he inhaled to calm himself. “For centuries now I’ve been driven by one thing, my need for vengeance … ”

  “Against who?”

  “Tale for another day, lass.” This time his smirk lacked any of its normal smugness. A hint of pain swirled in his eyes. “But even that vendetta I would give up to be with you.”

  If I were a computer I’d have that blue screen of death and a flashing Fatal Error message. “Rowan, my heart still belongs to Caleb. You have to know that.”

  His lips pressed together in a thin line. “Aye. I do. But I also know that there’s something between us. Has been since the day that puff ball of a dog chased you into me arms. Can you at least admit that?”

  The intensity of his gaze added pressure on an already stressful conversation. What I needed was time to think. Maybe a walk to clear my head, without him staring at me like he was trying to will the right words to leave my mouth. “This is all a lot to take in, could you give me a little time to digest it? Maybe think things over?”

  “There’s nothing to think about.” He shrugged. “It’s a simple yes or no. Is what I feel for you completely one-sided?”

  I opened my mouth to say—something. No? Yes? I don’t know? Stop pressuring me you maddeningly pushy pirate? But the words that found their way past my lips were, “I … I don’t think I can ever fully trust you.”

  He jerked as if I’d slapped him. Hurt and resentment fell on him like a cloak, sharpening the lines of his face and clouding his eyes. “I really wish you hadn’t said that.”

  “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out the way I meant and I definitely didn’t mean it to hurt you.” I reached out for him, but he backed away from
my touch.

  “You said exactly what you meant, poppet. So all this time all I was to you was an emotional release?” Even though I completely deserved the accusation in his tone, it still stung.

  I wanted to retract my words. To reel them in and take away the hurt I caused him. But that particular skill I didn’t have. “No! Well, yeah, maybe at first. But it became more after that. I don’t know what exactly. But at the very least I consider you a friend.”

  He glanced at the words he wrote in the sand. The wind had blown the sand around enough that all that was left was a slight impression of what had been. “That’s it then.”

  “That’s what?” A terrible foreboding feeling hatched in my belly. Rowan’s posture suddenly went too rigid. The muscles in his arms and neck became too taut. “You put me on the spot. I’m sorry if I said something wrong. I truly didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I didn’t want it to be like this.” Slowly and deliberately—like a predatory cat—he slunk toward me. The dark intensity of his gaze made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “I was never going to follow through. I thought when the time came I would be able to sway you. But you just can’t see past that sodding Irishman.”

  Instinctively my hands balled into fists. “Rowan, whatever you’re thinking of doing right now—don’t.”

  “All you had to do was give me one reason not to go through with it. But now it’s too late.”

  His behavior was so erratic I didn’t know what to expect. I absolutely was not prepared for him to weave his fingers into my hair and kiss me with a fierce intensity that took my breath away. An intoxicating rush of lust-filled heat raged into me the second his lips touched mine. Completely at the mercy of this invading emotion I wrapped my arms around his neck and molded my body to him. I was so caught up in his tongue teasing mine that I didn’t even notice when our corporeal forms turned into black smoke …

  CHAPTER twenty-nine

  I didn’t know where he transported us, and honestly I was too distracted to care. My hands wandered up Rowan’s back, enjoying the feel of him. With one arm around my waist he roughly pulled me to him. A throaty groan I didn’t know I was capable of escaped through my parted lips. His mouth never left mine as he guided me across the room until my back smacked into what I assumed to be a wall. Not that I cared, I was in the middle of loosening the buttons of his shirt. Rowan caught one of my hands and in a swift, sudden motion brought it down and clamped a metal cuff around my wrist.