London pulled out the handcuff key and showed it to him.
His mouth set as if he didn’t believe her, but then he started talking again. “Are you sure we can’t talk about this? Maybe just a needle prick in the finger? You know? Something small. Something that won’t give off a lot of scent. How about that? Would that work? I think that’d be a perfect idea. Don’t you?”
London started to crawl through the open window as quietly as she could. She froze when Stephan’s claws pierced Kieran’s chest, high on his pectoral muscle. Kieran’s outcry ended with a growl of pain through clenched teeth as the wolf dug his claws in deeper. His eyes stayed fixed on London, his outburst covering any sound of her climbing the rest of the way through the window.
She drew her gun in her right hand, handcuff key still in her left. London charged them. Even as she leapt against Stephan to shove him clear of Kieran, she pressed the key into the Sidhe’s hand.
Had she not caught Stephan off guard, she’d never have been able to knock him back, even with the full force of her bodyweight behind it. He was that solidly muscled and she was on the lightweight side. London lifted her weapon, aiming it at the wolf’s heart. “Stay back!”
Stephan regained his balance and then gave London a onceover before laughing at her. “You’re one determined lassie. I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed.” He lifted his bloodied claws to his face and licked them. His pupils dilated from even so tiny a taste of the Sidhe blood. His good humor vanished into a snarl. The bloodlust hit him instantly and London knew when a wolf lost control of the lust there wouldn’t be enough of the prey left in recognizable pieces to even guess what or who it had once been. Stephan’s muscles bunched, a fraction of a second from pouncing on her.
London fired a shot. It hit Stephan center mass. The wolf didn’t even blink. A fleeting thought flickered across her mind. I should have grabbed the silver bullets.
The Sidhe’s arm grabbed her around the waist, jerking her back. He raised an outstretched hand before him. Nothing happened that London could detect, but Stephan howled in agony. He grabbed his ears, blood trickling from them. The other wolves in the house howled, pain in their song. Stephan dropped to his knees, grabbing his head like it might explode.
“Let’s go!” Kieran shoved her back toward the window, keeping his hand aimed at Stephan until he escaped through the window himself.
“What did you do?” London shouted as they ran toward the steps leading down from the veranda to the ground.
“Think death ray on the frequency of a dog whistle. Now, shut up and run!” He pushed her ahead of him, driving her toward the tall weeds that might conceal them. The motion detector picked them up and flicked on the outside lights.
The growls and snarls from behind them transformed from pain to fury. They certainly noticed the lights. The scent of Kieran’s blood, dribbling down his bare chest only to be stolen away by the leaves they crashed through, left a perfect trail that would only drive the wolves into a frenzy. That they didn’t already hear pursuers pounding the ground behind them meant the wolves were giving up any appearance of humanity, transforming into the wolf-human hybrid form that could easily overtake them. They had maybe an extra minute head start from the delay, but it would be immediately lost with the advantage of the werewolf shape.
London slipped, but Kieran caught her hand and jerked her back to her feet. “How far do the wards reach?”
The high grass slowed them down, and they weren’t going to lose the wolves that could scent them easily. “Run toward the car path. We’ll get farther faster.” She cut toward the road, pulling him with her. “I’m not sure how far the wards reach. Try teleporting.”
“I’ve been trying.” The ground on the car path had better traction for their footing. They ran full out, side by side, Kieran never releasing her hand.
A howl cut through the night, so much closer than London had hoped. “They’re coming!”
Headlights burst from a bend in the path up ahead, racing toward them. Kieran skidded to a stop, but London yanked him hard, getting them both clear before Selena’s sedan ran them over. The car rushed by and only once it completely passed them did it hit the brakes. Two more cars in close pursuit stopped in time to narrowly avoid rear-ending the one ahead of it.
The back door of Selena’s car flew open and the vampire rushed toward them. She wore form-fitting, black spandex— her workout clothes. Probably switched out of whatever slinky dress she’d been wearing into them on the ride over. Her long blond hair was swept back into a sleek ponytail. “London!”
Selena barely reached them before the pack burst through the tall grass. Most of the other vamps hadn’t even managed to step out of the vehicles before the werewolves attacked. Screams and roars mingled into chaos. Selena shoved London and Kieran. “Last car! Go! Get away!”
Kieran reached it first, claiming the driver’s seat. The engine hadn’t been turned off, so he shoved it into reverse just as London got into the passenger seat. The Sidhe twisted around as he drove backward as fast as the car would go. London yelped as she saw a werewolf lunged at Selena and the vampire catch the beast by the throat. The last thing London saw before they cut the turn was a werewolf bursting past the battle, racing after them on all fours. She screamed at Kieran, “Don’t slow down!”
The werewolf flung himself onto the hood.
“Kieran!”
The Sidhe spun the car. The wolf flipped off, cast deep into the greenery and out of sight. In the spin, they’d done a complete one-eighty. Kieran shoved the gearshift into drive and stomped on the gas. In another minute, they cleared the path and skidded back onto a main road. Kieran didn’t slow down, heading back west toward Kilkenny.
Chapter Five
“You weren’t lying about the wolves going bonkers.” Kieran sped back along the M9. It wouldn’t be long and they’d be back on his home turf. “I’ve seen vamps act friggin’ mental, but never ran afoul of weres before. Damn it. Bloody, wicked beasts.”
Without the high of the fight-or-flight panic driving her, London felt herself crashing. She pressed her hands against the screaming agony of the addiction that wanted to split her skull open with a migraine that would have brought even one of the blood-lusting wolves to their knees. More than the addiction, something else surged within her. Something she fought against with all her soul. As bad as she needed the Touch, she had to let Kieran go. Letting him go meant torment and likely death by her own hand when she couldn’t bear it any more. Selena had called London a ‘huntress of the Sidhe.’ Of course to a vampire like Selena, if you needed something, like blood, you stalked your prey and you took it from them. But London wasn’t a vampire and stealing magic from a Sidhe wasn’t as easy as biting him on the neck. Nothing about this whole encounter felt right, but she couldn’t lose herself, couldn’t surrender into enslavement. Damn the Sidhe!
“Are you hurt?” Kieran asked. “Did you hit your head?”
“I didn’t hit my head,” she mumbled. Even just hearing his voice unraveled the fury she clung to. If not for her self-righteous anger, she had nothing left. Nothing to hold her together.
London didn’t look at him, though she felt him watching her. She slumped against the door of the car. She kept her eyes closed, even though memories of the werewolves raging over Kieran’s blood haunted her. She couldn’t let that happen. Not ever. Not to Kieran. Nor any other Sidhe. The urge to protect fought to bloom within her, and she strangled it down.
“What is it, then?” Kieran’s voice was more guarded than truly concerned. Not that she could blame him, after the night she’d put him through. In a way, she suspected he talked more to fill the silence, or maybe to help himself calm down after the adrenaline rush. Perhaps he was just trying to figure out what more to expect from this lunatic in the car with him.
“The curse.” She trembled; even just admitting it made it worse. “Tearing me up inside.”
The silence stretched between them. London hugged herself, st
aying huddled against the car door. Kieran would drive himself home. Likely, he’d never see her again and be the happier for it. The car slowed and she opened her eyes long enough to see they were exiting the freeway. It surprised her when Kieran broke the silence. “You weren’t lying about that either, were you?”
“You have no idea. No idea at all. It’s,” she shivered, “bad.”
She felt the car park. Waited to hear the door open and close. Waited, but nothing happened. Had he simply teleported away? She glanced over.
Kieran watched her. Sitting sideways in the seat, with one arm on the wheel and the other against the headrest, he just regarded her. She stared back at him. The flow of blood from the punctures on his chest had ceased, but the tacky, half-dried blood still smeared over his bare and sweaty chest. Even with his hair a mess and the dirt smudges, he was still one of the most gorgeous creatures she’d ever laid eyes upon. He fixed her with his gaze, those chocolate-colored eyes making her body surge just to bear the weight of his attention.
He slid his hand from the back of the seat, reaching for her slowly. His hand, larger and stronger than hers, closed around her wrist. The expression on his face softened so slightly she almost missed it. And then, he Touched her.
The magic flowed with a thick warmth that soaked deep into her flesh before climbing her arm. London anticipated the sexual frenzy to erupt within her as it had on the previous occasions, but this time it didn’t happen. Instead of jolting her instantly to heights of pleasure beyond her ability to endure, this Touch caressed her soul with hesitation. “I’ve never Touched a human before,” Kieran admitted. “It feels… different.”
Every drop of magic raised her bit by bit from the depths of her despair. As it spread from her arm across her chest, it chased the chill from within like submerging into a hot bath. It saturated her, relaxing and renewing like nothing else could. As it reached her lungs and her heart London gasped, drawing the magic deeply into her system. From her heart, it entered into her bloodstream, pulsing through her body. She hardly noticed or cared about the whimpering that escaped her control.
“Such an odd sensation.” Kieran drew her forward by her wrist and she didn’t resist him. He pressed her hand to the solid muscle of his chest. She could feel the beating of his heart beneath her fingertips. His other hand cupped her jaw and then slid back beneath her hair to cradle her head. He lifted her to him, her face tilting up toward his. The press of his lips was the sweetest sensation of her life. The Touch flowed heavier now. It lifted her soul like a tide. The power hummed gently, awakening every cell in her body to the power of the man that kissed her. London opened her mouth to him and Kieran deepened the kiss. She felt more than tasted his magic, vibrant and demanding as it spilled across her tongue.
His magic brought her back to life. The shackles of torment vanished like they never existed. All she wanted, all she needed, was in this Sidhe’s Touch. As they made out like lovers, he filled her, completed her, and made her free. It wasn’t enslavement in the magic of the Sidhe, but life and freedom. That’s what her mind told her, even though she knew that it lied.
When the magic filled the void within her and she could contain no more of it, Kieran drew back from the kiss. She still felt the pressure and heat from his mouth lingering upon her lips. “Definitely different,” he said. “It was as if you were hollow inside. Empty. And I filled you.”
“Yes. It’s the emptiness that hurts and longs to be filled with the Touch. The magic doesn’t last long though. Only a few weeks and then it will fade away.” London still felt the beat of his heart beneath her palm. She searched his eyes. “What happens now?”
His expression lightened. “I have no idea.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and then returned to her eyes. “But I know someone who will.”
Chapter Six
Much to London’s discomfort, Kieran wouldn’t allow her to bring her weapons with her into the fey-only club. Even though she’d willingly surrendered her firearms, Kieran still gave her a swift pat-down, finding nothing but her business card, which he pocketed. She’d slipped both guns and their holsters under the seats before he interlaced his fingers with hers and teleported them inside.
Kieran’s didn’t release her hand as they walked into the Glamour Club. The lights suspended from the ceiling like neon golf balls illuminated the dark dance club with flickering spotlights of color. A sea of fey from various races danced on the black glass dance floor to the music from a live band. The bar stretched the length of the far wall. A pool table hid in a nook in the back corner behind the tables and booths. The place smelled of the greenest of forests with a slight hint of alcohol and cannabis.
“That’s Donovan.” Leaning close, Kieran pointed to a tall, dark man in the center of the only clear section of floor space in the packed club. The force of his presence alone appeared enough to earn him the respect of breathing room. Not an excessive amount of space as to make him seem separate from the fey surrounding him, but a good foot or so of elbowroom where others had to mill against each other in the packed crowd. Even in the low light London could tell his hair was a true and vivid black. In dark slacks and purple silk shirt, he appeared perfectly at home among the patrons. Tall and athletic, without being excessively bulky, the Sidhe carried himself like the force of nature as she’d heard him described.
By contrast, the younger Sidhe speaking with Donovan wore jeans with blown-out knees and tennis shoes that were not even a passing resemblance to the original white. The black T-shirt, emblazoned with the name of a metal band she thought she recognized, hung untucked. Leather bands circled about his wrists. Almost as tall as Donovan, the earthborn had a thinner, more youthful frame.
As the younger Sidhe’s gaze slid past Donovan to her, London’s heart gave a stutter-beat of recognition, stunned by the memory of a shared moment of intimacy. Apparently, the feeling was mutual. The young man’s dark eyes widened. His lips parted with an inhale she had the impossible sensation of hearing in the noisy building. His handsome features seemed even more youthful and innocent in his surprise. London remembered their kiss. The magic of it. How his mouth had tasted. The warm, wet caress of tongues. London had not even known his name.
That lasted all of perhaps three-quarters of a second, but time felt suspended between their locked eyes.
And then the young man changed.
A snarling fury replaced his calm. He jerked a knife a good ten inches long from a sheath on his thigh. He sounded more vicious than a werewolf as he launched himself at London, with the blade in a reverse grip to bring down upon her in a strike at her heart.
Kieran didn’t react fast enough. His “Whoa!” of surprise and the jerk of her arm as he tried to yank her clear came way too slow.
A hand snapped out, hitting the young man in the sternum and bringing him from the air right back down to his feet. Donovan. He never even closed his fist in the T-shirt. Just the flat of his hand ended the assault and brought the young man to a halt right in front of him.
As Kieran belatedly maneuvered London to a safer distance, she watched Donovan lean close and speak tersely to the youth. The lad pointed his finger accusingly at London, saying something she couldn’t make out.
Finally, Donovan turned toward London, his glare as stone-cold in his insanely handsome face as the rage had been uncontrolled in the youth’s. He pinned London with that glare like a cobra. She forgot to breathe under the power of it. At last, Donovan murmured something to the young man.
As immediately as the rage had taken him, the young man seemed to chill out. He jammed the knife back in the sheath. Without another glance at London, he turned and wove through the crowd and out of sight.
Donovan watched him go and then turned back toward her and Kieran. He gave Kieran’s state a quick assessing glance. Though the wounds no longer bled, blood and dirt still smeared his chest. The punctures from Stephan’s claws had begun to scab over. “You two. With me.”
They followed him on a direct path
through the crowd that parted for them. A hallway she’d not noticed appeared before them as they passed through a layer of Glamour. Donovan pushed open a door and strode through it. London and Kieran followed. The office was nice-sized and expensively furnished with solid oak and leather. “Close the door,” Donovan instructed and Kieran complied.
The Sidhe leaned against the front of the desk, his arms crossed, his expression stone-serious. “Explain.”
London cleared her throat. “I just want to start—”
“Not you,” Donovan cut her off. “I want to hear it from Kieran.”
Kieran released her hand and leaned against the door. London felt the uncomfortable certainty that he meant to block her escape. “This here’s London, a human of the enchanted variety. Figured she could take the Touch by force. Snatched me off the street with a gun and a pair of silver handcuffs. Only, turned out a pack of werewolves were squatting in the love nest she planned to use.” He waved toward the wounds on his chest. “We barely got out of there with our skins more or less intact.”
Just bloody brilliant. She stammered, “Look, I didn’t—”
“Silence.” Donovan didn’t need to raise his voice to cut her off. He didn’t even look at her. “Anything else?”
“She’s mates with a vampire.” Kieran crossed his arms and cut a less-than-friendly look her way. “Not a fan of vampires, just so you know.” Then he shrugged, giving Donovan his attention. “I think that covers the basics.”
Donovan gave a curt nod. “Have Dawn take a look at those wounds.”
Dismissed, Kieran spared her a moment’s glance. “Silver burns like hell, by the way.” He pulled her handcuffs from his back pocket and dropped them on the bookshelf by the door as he left. She hadn’t known he’d kept them.
Remnants of Magic (The Sidhe Collection (Urban Fantasy)) Page 3