She stirred and he smelled the scent of sandalwood and musk mingle with the air from her body. He inhaled it, recognizing Sayer’s scent. He had enchanted her. Damn the Selkie, he would cause nothing but problems claiming this one. But Sayer being Sayer, he felt he was entitled to any female, of any species.
Leaving Rowan to sleep, Bran climbed once more atop Clancy, who walked him to the living room and stood beside the couch. Bran perched himself on the arm and stood guard at Mairi’s head.
She was still agitated, her legs tangling in the blanket, which had fallen to her knees. She was wearing white panties and a pink tank top that had ridden up to her navel. Her skin glowed in the pale light from the window, revealing milk white skin and taut nipples.
Ordering Clancy to the foot of Rowan’s bed, Bran settled over Mairi, watching her sleep, sweeping the tip of his good wing through her hair. His sigils tingled, liking the energy he felt, craving more. Over and over, he stroked her, running his wing tip over her brow and down her nose. In a fleeting sweep, he brushed her mouth, watching her lips part beneath the black feathers.
For all of his three hundred years he had felt betrayed by his shifter half. He had wanted to be magnificent and strong—a mountain lion or a wild horse or an imposing white hart like his uncle Daegan. Instead he had been born a bird. All that seemed to fade now as he thought of Mairi naked, pressed against him, his wings beneath her, around her, their fluttering softness caressing her flesh, arousing her, protecting her. He thought of what it would be like to take her as his wings cocooned them both. She would be utterly surrounded by him, and the image made him feel possessive.
For once he gave thanks for his wings.
“Mairi,” he whispered, brushing her mouth once more, “I wish I’d had more time tonight to pleasure you.”
Those words came from a very dark place within him. He had never known this feeling with a mortal. He did wish he could have pleasured her. He wanted to know what it was like to sink deep into her, stretching her full of his cock. He wanted to learn her sounds, her movements beneath him. He wanted to know her, not the feel of the energy she would give or the magic she would create within him. He wanted to know her and he wanted her to know him.
“Bran?”
Her voice was husky with sleep and desire. He stilled, his wing hovering over her throat. The temptation to touch her was overwhelming. Her hand, fragile and pale, skimmed down her belly to where it slid beneath the waist of her panties. He could smell the perfume of her core. With her other hand she raised her top, revealing a perfect breast, the nipple hard. She tugged, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger in time to her hand, which was hidden beneath white cotton.
She purred—his name—and he stilled, wishing he could shift into a man and awaken her as he wanted, with his cock stroking in and out of her slick cunt.
Giving in to temptation, he stroked the tip of her beaded nipple with his wing. She moaned, pressed upward for more. He traced her shape, the sides of her breasts, then beneath, before circling her nipple and watching as she bit her lip and sunk her hand deeper beneath the waist of her underwear.
He teased her nipple with his wing, liking the image of his black feathers against her pure, pale flesh. He usually went for mortals who resembled Sidhe women. Tall, toned, small-breasted. But Mairi’s curves and her generous breasts captivated him. He couldn’t stop looking or touching, or envisioning those breasts cradling his cock.
Teasing her with brushing strokes of his feathers, he watched her writhe and felt her desire coalesce into energy, which his sigils absorbed. The power slowly ebbed into his veins, heating his blood. Yet he hadn’t touched her to make magic, but only for the sake of feeling her against him.
The scent of mutual desire coated the air and he inhaled it, bringing the scent deep into his lungs. Eyes shut, he concentrated on the sound of her breathing—rapid, harsh, nearing orgasm. Surrounding him was that alluring caress, the one that strengthened him, yet weakened him simultaneously.
Suddenly he was back in Nemed, his sacred grove. The image of his death vision rushed back, pulling him in. He felt his heart stop, his breath cease, and then there was complete and utter blackness . . .
“Mmmm,” Mairi purred, feeling her dream lover’s chin against her cheek. His jaw was covered in scruff, abrading her throat as his lips kissed a path down her neck. Beneath her hands the thick muscles of his shoulders rolled and bunched. His hair, long and black, slid over her breasts, rubbing against her nipples. His breathing was hard, just like the cock that brushed against her sex.
“Let me in,” he commanded, nipping her earlobe.
“Not yet,” she moaned, smiling at the sound of torment that ripped from his throat. God, she loved this, the power she had over him, the control to keep him at bay as he pleasured her. His big hand slid down between their sweat- slicked bodies, brushing her belly before sliding down the soft rise to the slick folds of her pussy.
She was wet, drenched with liquid desire. He tasted it on his fingers as he pushed against her with his erection.
His hand dropped to her thigh, his fingers squeezing as he spread her. “Fuck me,” he commanded.
“No.”
She pushed him back so that he kneeled before her, his cock thick and full. He reached for it, stroking it, making it grow until Mairi looked away, gathering her control. She wanted to cradle him in her hand, feel the fierce strength in him, bring her mouth to him and shatter his willpower. Yet she refused to give in to her body’s needs.
She didn’t understand it, why she felt this need to keep him at arm’s length. But it was there, a feeling that she must do this. For her own good. For her protection.
Slowly she looked him up and down, from the muscled thighs to the chiseled abdomen, which quivered with pent-up need. Up farther to the bounding pulse in his thick neck, to lips that still glistened with the slickness of her sex. And then she met his eyes, one pewter, one gold, and stilled, frozen in a dream she had experienced so many times yet now was so very different.
Bran?
She was asleep, she knew that, dreaming of the man who had come to her these past weeks. Yet she had never seen his face, till now.
“Mairi?”
He was in his male form, kneeling, naked on his bed, his cock in his hand, pumping up and down. He was not dead, but alive and in Mairi’s dream. She was lying on the bed, the sheets rumpled in a mound beneath her as she balanced her upper body on her elbows. Her long dark hair was draped back over her shoulders, leaving her fully open to his gaze.
With hungry eyes he devoured her lush form, which was illuminated against the white sheets. He reached for her ankle and turned it so that her thigh opened, showing him her core. She had pubic hair, and he stroked his fingers through the wet curls. Sidhe women were hairless there, but he liked Mairi’s dark curls, liked seeing his hand in them.
She watched him, her eyes wide. With one hard tug he pulled her to him. She fell back, flat against the bed, her breasts bouncing, her thighs wrapped around his waist, his cock poised to penetrate her in one hard thrust.
“Mairi,” he whispered as he pressed forward onto her. But then something caught his eye, at the corner of the bed—iron.
“Ah, Mairi,” he whispered painfully, realizing that this dream was part of his death premonition. That she was. “Have you saved me tonight so that you can kill me later?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rowan smiled as she snuggled deeply into the sofa cushions and Mairi covered her with a blanket.
“How you feeling, Ro?” Mairi asked as she gave her friend a big hug.
“Like I got hit with a truck.”
“Well, you needed a whack of lorazepam and Valium to stop the seizure. You’ll be feeling dopey for hours yet.”
Yawning, Rowan nodded. “I can’t seem to keep my eyes open.”
“Sleep as long as you like. You don’t have to keep me company.”
“I got a mean craving for Chinese food,” Rowan mumbled.
“Let’s order some for lunch, okay?”
“Your vision,” Mairi murmured as she looked at the raven in the crate. “What do you remember?”
“Rabid dogs, and you, a weird place.”
“Nothing else?”
“Nope.”
Mairi hoped the tumor wasn’t growing. She didn’t think she could stand it if she was to lose Rowan.
Rowan fell asleep and Mairi walked over to the cage to rebandage the bird’s wing. This morning, when she had checked the bandage, she had spent more time studying the bird. The silver stripe on his back was most curious. Clancy chose that time to clomp over to her. He rested his head on the table and whimpered. Mairi glanced at the clock and realized it was past time for the dog’s meds.
Clancy was old and his hips were bad, but Mairi couldn’t even think of putting him down. So she just kept popping him full of aspirin and dog treats and as much love and affection as she could.
“Almost done, Clance,” she murmured, as she tied a knot in the bandage, securing it.
He was facing the bird cage and watching the raven like a hawk. Nothing had changed since last night, Mairi realized. They were still staring at each other, but the struggle for power was over. The bird was in charge. It was so strange how they had stared each other down before Clancy just backed off.
As she went to the cupboard and reached for the aspirin bottle, she thought of Bran, for no reason other than the onyx raven reminded her of his hair. It had been so black and silky. God, she was pathetic.
Really pathetic.
But she found herself wondering what he was doing. Who he was with. If he had even thought of her after he’d left her naked.
“Hey, Mairi,” Rowan called from the living room. “I’m hungry. What about you?”
“Starved,” she answered back.
“I’m fantasizing here about an order of jumbo shrimp.”
“I’m on it,” she said, reaching for the phone book and searching for the number of her favorite Chinese restaurant.
“Mairi? How’s your friend doing today?”
She glanced up from the phone book and looked at the bird, who was watching her with a look of rapt attention in its strange eyes. He was truly beautiful, though it was so damn weird of her to think so. He’s just a dumb bird, she reminded herself, but she couldn’t resist looking at him once more.
Rowan sat up on the couch, catching Mairi’s attention. She saw Rowan studying the cage. “Feed your raven,” she murmured. “He needs energy.”
“How do you know?”
Rowan sank back on the pillows, closing her eyes. “I saw it in a dream last night.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, some guy named Suriel told me to tell you to feed and care for that bird.”
The phone book dropped, and Mairi, white with fear, faced Rowan.
“What did you say?”
“He’ll save you, that bird. But first you’ve got to feed it.”
“No, the other part, about Suriel.”
“Oh. Yeah. He thought he was in your dream, but then he realized he wasn’t.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Rowan sighed and closed her eyes. “Honest mistake, Mairi. I was in your bed, after all.”
And then she heard a familiar voice. A voice from her childhood, the one she used to hear when she hid beneath her bed when her father was drunk and destroying the house.
“There’snothing to fear, Mairi. I’m watching over you.”
“Here, try this.”
Bran watched as Mairi took a crust of white bread from Rowan and rubbed it between her palms, littering the bottom of his cage with bread crumbs.
“What bird doesn’t like bread crumbs?” Mairi asked her friend.
This one, he thought.
“He’ll eat. Sooner or later.”
Mairi stepped away and stretched up on tiptoe to reach into her cupboard. She pulled out a blue box with white lettering. “Frosted Mini-Wheats?”
“Can’t hurt to try it.”
Again she crumbled up the cereal, which rained down over the bread crumbs.
Why did she insist on crushing everything?
“Go on,” Mairi said gently, prodding him with her hand. “You’ll like it.”
Not likely. He’d much prefer a steak, or some of that food in the white containers. It smelled delicious. Chinese food, they had called it. He’d never had it, but the aroma filled the small apartment. Grudgingly he admitted that he had come to like human food. As a Sidhe who commanded the elements, he did not need food for nourishment. His magic was his food source. But years of mingling with mortals had taught him to eat, and crave, certain culinary delights. And bread crusts and cereal weren’t going to cut it.
“Maybe he wants some egg roll?” Rowan asked while she scraped the leftovers from her plate into the wastebasket. “He’s big enough to down one whole.”
Mairi grimaced. “You don’t think he eats mice, do you? Or garbage?”
Bran flapped his good wing and fluttered about the cage. If she stuck a mouse in here, he was going to be pissed.
“Fussy-assed crow,” Mairi grumbled as she shoved another Mini-Wheat into his crate.
“I don’t think he likes to be referred to as a crow.”
He cocked his head and thanked the goddess for Rowan. Despite his strange, and alarming, sexual connection to Mairi, it was Rowan who seemed to understand him in his animal form.
She bent forward and reached her finger into the cage, touching him. “He has lovely markings. I wonder how he got them.”
“I’m worried he won’t eat.”
His heart softened as he saw the concern on Mairi’s face. “He’ll eat. Eventually.”
Mairi nodded and brushed her hands on her pants. “You look exhausted.”
“I am,” Rowan murmured. “I called Dillon to come pick me up. He’ll be here any minute.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I would have taken you home.”
Bran looked between the two women, wondering who the hell Dillon was. No doubt Sayer already knew, since he’d been in Rowan’s mind, enchanting her.
“That’s what I pay him for,” Rowan said with a tired smile. “Besides, who knows how long I’m going to be out for, and he needs the money for school.”
“Well, tell him to be careful. He drives that flashy little Nissan way too fast.”
“Yes, Mom,” Rowan said with a laugh. “I’m going to wait outside for him, clear my head with the fresh air. I’ll call you later.”
Mairi watched the door close behind her friend. In that moment, Bran felt the pain and anguish she was feeling, and he vowed, as he watched her, as he wished he could go to her and hold her in his arms, that he would do what he could to understand Rowan’s lineage and get her the help she needed.
If she was not all mortal, then maybe the magic of Annwyn was what she needed to rid herself of whatever disease was making her ill.
The phone rang and Mairi picked it up.
“Hello?” She grimaced when she heard the voice on the other end.
Bran could hear a male voice, and he saw red knowing that Mairi might have interest in another man. For some absurd reason, he thought of her as his. Especially now that she had healed him.
“I can’t tonight, Sanchez. What about tomorrow night?”
The man mumbled something and she nodded, said good-bye, then hung up.
“Oh my God,” Mairi groaned into Clancy’s upturned face. “If I didn’t love Rowan so much, I’d kill her for making that deal with Dr. Sanchez. Can you believe it, Clancy? Sanchez only released Rowan from the hospital after she begged and she agreed to get him a date with me.”
The dog stared up at her blankly, but the vessels behind Bran’s eyes began to pulsate. Mairi with another man? No. Never. But then he stopped and realized how foolish his thinking was.
She couldn’t be his. He shouldn’t be anywhere near her. If what he’d seen in her dream last night was true, she wa
s the mortal who would destroy him.
But she had healed him, the voice inside him whispered. For what purpose if only to destroy him later?
He watched Mairi pace the small living room, lost in thought. Finally she sat on the couch and rubbed Clancy behind his ears. “What am I gonna do?” she whispered to the dog. “I don’t want to go out with Sanchez. I don’t want . . .” She trailed off and smiled. “That’s a lie. I do want someone, but I’ll never see him again.”
Bran stilled. Was it him she wanted? Half of him longed for it to be true, the other half feared it, knowing she sought only his destruction.
“And what am I doing spilling my heart to you, huh?” With a laugh, she ruffled the dog’s ears, then jumped up from the couch and headed to the bookshelf. She picked up a small book bound in leather. On the front cover was the symbol of Annwyn.
Ah hell, he thought to himself. This was the book that Cailleach wanted. Damn it, he didn’t like the way their paths weaved. The book. This death vision. Everything led back to Mairi and he didn’t understand it. Couldn’t figure it out.
How had she gotten the book? And how the hell had she been able to pull him into her dream?
He watched her for a long time as she flipped through the pages, carefully separating the thin vellum. She sat up and reached for the notepad and pen that sat on the end table and scribbled something down, then returned to the book.
He wondered what language it was written in, the Gaelic tongue of Annwyn, or English. He wondered what secrets the book contained. Secrets Cailleach had not told him.
Did Cailleach know about Mairi?
She stood up, stretched, and he watched her walk across the apartment to the bookcase. Curiously, she hid the book behind her stereo, then disappeared inside the bathroom. Bran heard the taps turn on and the old water pipes groan, followed by the spray of water hitting tiles. From his perch he saw the silhouette of Mairi pulling off her top, then bending at the waist, tugging off her jeans.
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