Bedeviled

by Maureen Child

  He looked up into her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t.”

  He pushed one hand through his thick black hair, and just for a second Maggie considered doing it for him.

  “What are you thinking now?”

  “Hmm?” She smiled. “Nothing.” Nothing she was willing to admit. Nope. If he could pretend that there was nothing going on between them, then she could, too. Damned if she’d be the first to admit that she really wanted to get him into bed. Heck, she didn’t even want to admit to herself that she liked—okay, maybe more than liked—him. Much easier all the way around to keep this on the level of simple lust.

  Besides, she was twisted up into knots only because she was trapped in a tree! What she needed was to get out. To do something. Anything.

  Abruptly he stood up from the table. “I’ll help you with your training.”

  “You?” Maggie grinned up at him. “The great Fenian warrior is going to train me like a common pixie?”

  Steel was in his spine, but amusement in his eyes. “Bezel is no common pixie.”

  “That’s good to know. God, thinking about a whole race of pixies like Bezel is just too much.”

  “On that, at least,” he said with an almost elegant bow, “we agree.”

  Moving around the room, he pushed his furniture out of the way until the center of the room was bare but for a rug the color of spring grass. “Now we’ll train.”

  Maggie grinned as he came toward her. Lifting both hands, she said, “Then show me what you got, old man.”

  Chapter Ten

  He charged her, coming in low and fast. Caught in his eyes, Maggie waited until he was almost atop her before she shifted her balance, sliding out of his reach and moving to stand behind him.

  “Very nice,” he said with a brief nod. “But I could have stopped you if I’d wished.”

  “Yeah.” Maggie grinned and kept moving, sidestepping, watching him. “That’s what they all say.”

  His lips quirked slightly. “You think you can outdo a Fae warrior?”

  “Took you out with a milk jug, if I remember it right.”

  He winced. “That was different.”

  Probably not a good idea to taunt a warrior. But come on. He was just so tauntable. So damn sure of himself in everything. Though, she had to admit, with reason.

  He was circling her now like a tiger watching its prey. His pale green eyes were fixed on her as if measuring, judging what move she might make next.

  Her insides fisted as Maggie felt the power of his stare slicing through her. His features were flat, expressionless. Impossible to read, and Maggie suddenly realized what a formidable enemy Culhane would make.

  Facing him on a battlefield would have been seriously intimidating. Hell, facing him here in a tree, knowing he was on her side, was pretty damn fearsome.

  “You’re thinking.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” she quipped, still moving, keeping her position directly opposite him.

  “But you’re not thinking about battle tactics.”

  “Hello, have you met me? Glass painter. Not exactly a soldier.”

  “You have to be.”

  “Oh.” She stopped and dropped her fists to her hips. “Okay. Why didn’t you say so? I’ll just push my mental ‘soldier’ button and be right with you.”

  He rushed her in a movement so fast it blurred the air around him. Maggie didn’t even think. She reacted instinctively. When Culhane got close enough she reached out, grabbed two fistsfuls of his shirt and let herself drop. She rolled, using her feet against his midriff to toss him over her shoulder and slam him into the wall behind her.

  “Wow!” Maggie stood up quickly, looked down at him and grinned like a loon. “Did you see that? Did you see what I did there?”

  “Yes,” he assured her, jumping to his feet. “I saw.” He stretched his neck. “And felt.”

  “You’re way bigger than me, Culhane. How did I throw you that hard?”

  Irritation flashed briefly in his eyes and warred with admiration. “As I said, your power grows.”

  “Yeah, but . . . damn.”

  He rubbed the back of his head. “You hold the power of five slain Fae. As that dust overtakes you, your strength will be much greater than that of the average Fae.”

  “Stronger than you, too?”

  His mouth flattened. “Perhaps.”

  “Hmm. Not happy about that, are we?”

  “Of course I am happy.”

  “He said with a snarl.”

  Culhane straightened up to his full, very impressive height and looked down at her. “You did what I’d hoped you would do. The fact that you were able to throw me is a good sign. You’re not only coming into your strength, but you’re becoming more comfortable with it.”

  “No, I’m not.” Okay, yes, it was cool tossing Culhane across the room. But comfortable? No. She didn’t think she’d ever be comfortable with what he expected of her.

  “It was one lucky toss,” she said finally, and, keeping her gaze locked with his, she added, “You said yourself I’ll need luck, but that’s not going to be enough, and we both know it.”

  “You’ll have what you need when you need it. I’ll see to it.”

  “What? You’re going to fix the fight?” Her teasing smile faded as she watched him. “You can’t do that, can you?”

  “The fight won’t be ‘fixed,’ as you call it. But it will be on even ground.”

  “Even ground? Is that possible? Me against a queen?” She shook her head, looked around her at his home and then shifted her gaze back to his. “This is a mistake, Culhane, and you know it.”

  Culhane blew out a breath and told himself to be patient. To remember that she was new to this. But his own impatience for change made that difficult.

  She was finally beginning to use her growing strength—as evidenced by the fall he’d just taken. Not that he couldn’t have stopped her if he’d wanted to, he assured himself. He’d been taking it easy on her. Wanting her to feel the thrill of victory. Confidence was important. She needed to feel as if she were able to defeat the queen.

  An internal voice called him the liar he was. He hadn’t expected that she would react so swiftly, so smoothly to his attack. She’d surprised him—as she had since the moment they met.

  She was more than he’d thought at first, but, more important, she was more than she believed herself to be. If she were to be queen, Maggie would need to feel that she’d earned it. That she was prepared for it. Bringing her to Otherworld was an important step.

  Culhane had had to show her this place. Make her realize it was real and just as vital as her own world. She’d had to see the Fae and recognize that in many ways her people and his were much alike. How could he expect her to fight for a place and a people she didn’t know and only half believed in?

  Now it was time to take the next step in her training. To show her all that rested on her shoulders. To make it plain to her that there was no avoiding any of this. There was nowhere for her to go but forward.

  To show her that this was what she had been born to do. Her entire life had been leading her to this time.

  She was worried, and he’d noticed that the blue of her eyes darkened when her thoughts were rushing through her mind. She was thinking of the coming battle, of the future that stretched out in front of her, unknown, unseen. And she was mentally pulling back from the confidence she’d only just gained.

  Perhaps the answer, then, was to silence her doubts with a distraction. Give her something else to consider. To fill her mind.

  Culhane moved in closer, and with every step he took he saw her eyes narrow with suspicion.

  “What’re you doing?”

  He gave her a slow smile. “Something we both want.”

  “Now hold on a second. . . .”

  “You want me.”

  She blinked. “No ego problems here.”

  “This is not about ego,”
he told her, and came close enough to catch her scent. It was the simple truth. Yes, he knew she wanted him, but he wanted her as well. Never before had he been so haunted by a woman. Never before had a female reached him beyond the physical.

  Maggie filled him, drawing him in, and in moments everything seemed to change. He’d thought to distract her. To use the heat between them for his own purposes. Now, though, his own want and need had eclipsed his desire to redirect Maggie Donovan’s thoughts.

  His hands itched to touch her.

  “This is weird. Just a minute or two ago I was thinking that . . . Well, never mind. But now? Seriously, Culhane, this might not be such a good idea.”

  “Probably right,” he agreed, knowing that he was already tempting the Fates by having Maggie here in Otherworld. The risk of Mab finding out about her before it was time was a dangerous one.

  Here at the Warriors’ Conclave, though, Maggie was safe from Mab. The tree was warded, heavy spells concealing the interior from prying eyes—even the queen’s. Mab wouldn’t find out about Maggie until the right moment—as long as Culhane continued to resist the urge to have Maggie in his bed. During sex their powers would blend, merge, link them together in a soul-deep connection that Mab would sense immediately because of the hold the Fae queen continued to have on Culhane.

  He couldn’t have her. Not yet. Not completely. Indulging in his fascination with this part-Fae would only be increasing the risk. And yet . . . her hair shone in the pale light of the fire burning in the hearth. Her skin seemed to glow. She backed up a step. Her mouth . . . She licked her lips, and Culhane wanted to follow that action with his own tongue.

  “Why do you fight this?” he asked, actually curious. He’d felt her desire for him. Seen the way her eyes followed him. A man—Fae or mortal—knew when the woman he wanted returned that desire.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to. . . .” She glanced behind her as if to make sure she wasn’t about to trip on something. “It’s just . . . I think there’s enough going on right now, don’t you? I mean, the whole ‘chosen one’ situation and, um . . .” She sidestepped, moving closer to the fire until she was backlit and the dark red of her hair shone and burned like an inferno. “I mean, if we, you know, did the hokey pokey or whatever—”

  “Hokey pokey?”

  “You know. Sex.”

  “Ah.”

  “Well, it would only make things even weirder, don’t you think?”

  “No,” he said, still advancing, still watching her eyes, seeing the hunger she fought to deny glittering at him. Though he couldn’t have her completely, he could have a taste of what would eventually come.

  “Culhane . . .” She looked around as if seeking escape, but there was nowhere to go.

  He moved in closer and saw emotions churning in her eyes. Her breath came fast and hard, and he knew her heartbeat was thundering in her chest. As was his.

  “I must,” he whispered, bending to her, cupping the back of her head in his palm. “I must at least have this, Maggie. We must.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  She closed her eyes as his mouth came down on hers. Instantly heat jolted through Culhane with the sizzling blast of a lightning strike. His body shook with the force of the desire pushing through him. This was more than he’d expected. More than he ever thought possible. He parted her lips with his tongue and she opened for him eagerly, tasting him as he tasted her. Their breath tangled, their tongues mated and their bodies yearned, pressing together, wanting, hungering.

  Need pulsed into life in a desperate frenzy that forced Culhane to draw on every drop of his warrior’s strength to resist it. He shifted his hold, wrapped his arms around her, his hands moving up and down her spine. His hips rocked against hers, and she lifted one leg to hook it around him, pulling him even closer.

  The kiss became more frantic, more fierce. A groan slid from her throat and fed the flames already consuming Culhane. He was hard and ready and knew nothing would be more satisfying than burying himself inside her. It was all he could think of. All he could want.

  And he couldn’t have it. Not yet.

  “Gods take me,” he muttered thickly as he tore his mouth from hers. Body aching, he took a step away from her, as he didn’t entirely trust himself to keep his distance. She stood there, her mouth swollen from his kiss, her eyes dazzled with passion and need, and he was forced to call a halt. For both their sakes.

  “What?” She lifted one hand, pushed her hair back, then leaned against the wall as if she didn’t have the strength to stand on her own. “That was . . . amazing.”

  “For me, as well,” he told her, keeping his gaze shuttered so that she couldn’t see just how deeply he’d been affected.

  “Okay.” She nodded, pulled in a deep breath and then let it slide from her lungs again. “Clearly you were right. I do want you.”

  “I know.” He lifted one hand to his mouth and rubbed at his lips gently, as if he could still feel her mouth on his.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s no secret now,” she said. “But more than I want you, I want to go home, Culhane. I need to see my sister. My niece. Feed my dog. Paint some windows.”

  Impatient that she continued to cling to what she was destined to leave behind, he said, “That life is behind you.”

  Her eyes went wide. “No, it’s not. It’s my life, and I need to get back to it.”

  “You can’t leave yet.”

  Now she frowned, and the desire in her eyes was swallowed by a flicker of anger that burned more brightly with every passing second. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. You can’t keep me here.”

  “And how will you leave?” His gaze met hers for a long, heart-stopping moment, and what she saw in his eyes made her own narrow in response. She was understanding. Good.

  “Make no mistake: Here I do as I please.” His own desire was draining away as if it had never been, and Culhane could hardly believe that only a moment ago he’d been willing to risk the very future of his world for the chance to bury himself in her body. A Fenian warrior? Defender of the Fae? For centuries only his will, his sense of pride and duty had led him.

  Why was it now that his own body chose to betray him?

  Culhane would not be led around by his cock. He would keep Maggie Donovan in her place. Remind her who was in charge here. That she was in his world now. Until she’d proven herself to be committed to the cause for which she was born, she wouldn’t be returning to her world.

  Before he could speak, though, there was a soft sigh of sound behind him. Instincts rearing, Culhane spun about, dropping into a crouch before Maggie, prepared to meet whatever attack came. He waited, knife in hand, blade shining with the light from the fire as a doorway magically appeared in the air.

  “Ifreann take you, Culhane!” Bezel’s scratchy voice appeared before he did, and as he stepped through the magically drawn portal into Culhane’s home the pixie was still shouting. “You could have told me Quinn was taking Nora today! This is trollshit. What am I supposed to tell the kid? You know I don’t like kids. I don’t even like my own!”

  “Take Nora?”

  The pixie stopped shouting long enough to look up at Maggie and then to slant a glance at Culhane’s furious face.

  “Oops.” Bezel made as if to step back through the already closing portal, but Maggie was too fast for him. Pushing past Culhane, she grabbed the pixie by the collar of his green velvet suit and held on despite how he kicked and squirmed.

  “What do you mean, Quinn took Nora?”

  “Probably went to a movie,” Bezel said, giving her a smile that displayed every one of his jagged teeth and in no way appeased her.

  “Culhane?” Maggie turned on him.

  “Bezel, you cursed excuse for a pixie, why are you here? How did you get into the Warriors’ Conclave?”

  Bezel waved a long hand at him. “Pixie play. Easy enough to go where I want when I want.” His eyes narrowed. “And if you didn’t want company, you should have told me what was goin
g on!”

  “You knew the plan.”

  “What plan?” Maggie demanded.

  Neither of them looked at her.

  “Not when it was going to happen!” Bezel twisted again to get free, but Maggie’s fingers dug into the soft material of his jacket so he hung from her fingers as he would from a coatrack. “ ‘Great Fenian warrior,’ my pixie ass! Didn’t exactly keep me in the loop, did you?”