“Sheesh, where’s the trust, I ask you?”
“Hah! I know you too well.”
Her sister’s face took on a dramatic, pained look of hurt. “And just when have I ever steered you wrong before?”
Té’s words were forcefully blunt, though her lips quirked up at one corner in a little half-smile. “J.D. Worthy.”
Evan groaned. “Not fair, Té. How was I supposed to know he was a sniveling little sleazebag? He was valedictorian, for crying out loud. I thought he’d be a little saint!”
Té clucked her tongue. “You should’ve done your research before you weaseled him into taking me to the prom.”
“You were excited,” Evan insisted, setting a decadent piece of chocolate fudge cheesecake on the top shelf of the refrigerated case.
“I was stupid!”
Evan blew out an exasperated breath. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“How would you know?” she laughed, bracing her elbows on the counter. “You didn’t have to listen to him go on about how much he wanted to cultivate my love flower.”
Evan was choking on a giggle when Kieran and Lach reached the counter. Sensing them at her back, Té turned and damn near did some choking of her own. Christ almighty, they were even more gorgeous up close. Six-foot plus inches of rock-hard, solid, mouthwatering male, the testosterone-based energy pouring off of them broadsiding her like a roaring, towering wave, sucking her under as the powerful force retreated once more into the raging, volatile sea.
She felt her face go pink, and knew she was blushing like a schoolgirl as the auburn-haired one smiled at her, while the black-haired beauty did, indeed, appear to be eating her up with his intense, smoldering gaze. Her body went hot, and she felt a tiny trickle of moisture dance down her spine beneath the soft cashmere of her sweater, another sliding between her lace-covered breasts. God have mercy, she’d never seen anything like them.
“Té,” Evan wheezed around a fading chuckle. “Allow me to introduce you to my husband, Lachlan.”
“It’s a pleasure, lass,” the handsome Scot drawled, engulfing her little hand within his wonderfully warm, large grip.
She smiled, feeling her face flush with heat, but unable to do anything about it. Thank God she’d managed to acquire a nice golden tan down in Mexico, or she knew she’d probably be blinding them with the hot color on her normally fair skin. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she replied, lips feeling tight, her gaze darting repeatedly to the dark, dangerous man standing at Lach’s side. She knew it was rude to stare, but God, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. Not that Lachlan McKendrick wasn’t a fine specimen. Damn, Evie hadn’t been joking when she’d said her husband was drop-dead gorgeous. But there was something about the other man that…enthralled her. It was the only word she could think of to explain the bizarre reaction pumping through her system, setting her on a keen, simmering burn of anticipation.
“And this brute is his cousin, Kieran.”
The man opened his mouth as if he’d say something, but then his beautiful lips pressed together in a hard line and he gave her a curt nod instead. He did, however, reach for her hand, and the sudden heat of his rough skin against her own damn near made her melt. That, and the intense force of raw, masculine energy zinging through the point of contact between their palms. It was such an innocuous touch, and yet, it felt inexplicably seductive, as if he were actually rubbing the tender, aching folds between her legs.
She had a sudden mental image of her laid out naked, thighs opened wide with utter abandon while that deliciously male palm held her possessively, those tantalizing calluses teasing her swollen, humid flesh. She blinked up at him, eyes going glassy, and nervously licked her lips. His midnight gaze narrowed and he opened his hand with an almost audible hiss, as if he’d been burned, and she could’ve sworn she heard him groan beneath his breath, but then Lach said, “So what brings you to us now, Bronté? It’s the truth we’ve all been anxious to have you here.”
She struggled to pull herself together and smiled up at the tall Scot, then sent a questioning look at her sister. “What makes you guys think I’m not just here for a friendly visit?”
“Because we’re not stupid,” Evan drawled. “We’ve been asking you to come for three months, and then you just suddenly show up out of the blue.”
Té watched her sister as she shifted the tray of glass plates, rebalanced the precarious load on her other arm, and began arranging them again in the display case. “Well…”
“Out with it, Té.”
She played with a stray strand of red-gold hair, tucking it behind her ear, and stroked the silver hoop in her brow, all obvious signs of nervousness. After shooting a quick glance at the two studs standing to her left, she narrowed her gaze back on Evan. Her sister’s determined expression said she wasn’t giving up anytime soon. “Oh hell, fine.” She took a deep breath, and then said one word. “Palo.”
Evan squealed and jerked her arm, which sent the tray crashing to the wooden floor in a splintering sound of shattering glass and bouncing metal.
“Shit!” they all four exclaimed at the same time, every eye in the café zeroing in on them.
“Oh crud,” Evan sighed, looking up from the floor behind the counter to her husband. “Um, babe, now promise you’re not going to freak out.”
Lach arched one brow in an amused expression. “Because you’re a klutz, sweetheart?” He started around the corner of the display case. “I’ll help you get it cleaned up. I dinna want you cutting yourself on that glass.” But he stopped when Evan held up her hand, halting him.
Her smile looked strained, and Lach’s own smile fell. “What is it?”
She looked down, swallowed, and then quickly looked back up, her complexion going strangely pale. “I’m afraid I’m an even bigger klutz than you thought. And I really should’ve worn my jeans today.”
“What the hell’s going on?” he grunted, rushing around the counter, drawing up short when he saw the blood beginning to pool beneath Evan’s left ankle, the fragile skin having been sliced open by a sharp shard of broken glass. Her plaid miniskirt and Mary Janes had been absolutely no protection against the flying glass as it bounced off the floor. “Oh fuck. Bloody fucking hell.”
Kieran and Té leaned over the counter as Lach dropped to his knees, getting a closer look at the wound.
“Oh my God!” Té yelped, while Kieran said, “Aw, Evie. What did you do to yourself, lass?”
Lach looked around for a clean cloth to staunch the steady flow of blood. He found a neat stack of white towels on the shelf to his left, and immediately pressed a soft strip of terrycloth to the raw wound, cursing beneath his breath the entire time, his hands none too steady.
Evan smoothed her hands through his thick hair, trying to soothe him, and Té said, “She’s going to need stitches in that.”
Lach looked up at his wife, his green eyes burning bright with purpose. “Nae. I’ll be handling this myself.”
Chapter Three
Té’s eyes rounded with surprise. “You can help her?”
Lach nodded, his strong hands incredibly gentle as he lifted Evan in his arms and carried her to their back office. Evan smiled at the two employees working the front counter, calling out that she was fine as Kieran and Té followed them.
The stylish office looked like something right out of the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog, and Té looked around with a warm appreciation while Lach set Evan down gently on the modern little black leather loveseat placed beneath a large window. Kieran handed him another clean towel, one he’d picked up on their way back, and Lach began cleaning the edges of the seeping wound.
Té looked over her brother-in-law’s wide shoulder, relieved to see the bleeding was beginning to slow. “You said you’ll take care of this yourself. You’re a doctor, then?”
Kieran gave a soft chuckle beside her, the only sound she’d heard the beautiful man make other than his sympathetic words to Evan, but Lach only said, “No’ reall
y.”
“An EMT?”
“Uh…no.”
Té was starting to get suspicious. “A nurse?” she asked hopefully.
He looked up at her from beneath his dark auburn brows, and his look said it all. No, definitely not a nurse, and beginning to get irritated with her questions.
Too damn bad.
“Then how are you going to help her? It’s not that deep, but it’s definitely going to need stitching.”
He returned his attention to the gash, pressing a clean part of the cloth to the wound, but Té could see the sensual line of his mouth go thin. “Evan?” he groaned, seeming to be at a loss as to what he should say.
Despite the fact that she must be in pain, her sister smiled at his put-out tone and winked at her. “He wants to use his Magick to heal me, but he’s worried about your reaction.” She paused, giving her husband a very direct look. “Not that I’ll let him use it.”
There was a strange silence for several beats. Finally Té frowned and said, “So you’re a magician?”
Lach’s hand jerked so suddenly that Evan yelped, socking him in his wide shoulder. “Fuck no!” he muttered, clearly insulted.
“Sheesh, okay…I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” Evan explained with another smile, this one tight as she glowered at her husband. “He’s normally not so grumpy, but I think the sight of my blood has the poor thing feeling a bit on edge.”
Lach growled something under his breath that Té figured she was better off not hearing. The man definitely seemed upset.
Hmm…this was getting stranger and stranger. She looked to the one named Kieran, but his expression seemed trapped somewhere between amusement and dread, those black eyes guarded as he watched her.
What in the hell was going on here?
“Okay, then, I give up.”
Evan sighed. “I was going to explain this better tonight, when we could be alone, but he wants to use his power, Té.”
“His power,” she repeated slowly, watching as Lach rose to stand beside her. He was as tall as Kieran, towering over her rather average five-foot-five frame like a freaking giant.
A small smile hovered around the edges of his mouth. “That’s right,” he drawled, “and I’m sorry for barking at you, lass.” He looked down at Evan’s injured ankle. “It’s the truth I’m a bit…upset at seeing her hurt.”
Té shot a questioning look at Evan. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t get it.”
“Aunt Ellie,” Evan said with a wry twist of her lips, as if that would explain everything. “Believe it or not, I guess some of those crazy things she used to tell us really are true.”
Big, dark blue eyes blinked in fascination. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am.”
Té’s jaw dropped. “Leprechauns?”
Both of the men made an odd sputtering sound, and Evan turned beet red, shaking her head. “Uh, no…the other one.”
Kieran’s shoulders were trembling, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked down at the hardwood floor. Té had a sudden sneaking suspicion that he was trying very hard not to laugh at her. “Your aunt believes in leprechauns?” he wheezed in his deep voice, still not looking her in the eye.
“Believed in leprechauns,” Evan corrected him. “Actually, she believed in lots of stuff. But her two favorites were leprechauns and,” she looked back to her sister, “something else.”
“Honestly?” Té whispered, leaning closer.
“On Peter Erickson for a prom date,” Evan teased, using their favorite “promise keeper” as crushed-out teens who would dream of being asked out by the drool-worthy Pete, star of the varsity football team.
Té felt as if she’d been poleaxed between the eyes, the import of what her sister was claiming registering in her system like a heavy, stunning jolt of caffeine, while Lach grunted, “Who the hell is Peter Erickson?”
“No one important, babe,” Evan evaded, which had him muttering under his breath something that sounded like “stubborn woman” and “judge of that” along with some rather choice cursing.
“Holy shit,” Té breathed, using both hands to brush her hair back from her flushed face. “Honest to God Magicks?”
“In the flesh,” Evan drawled.
Her eyes found them again, narrowing, dark blue gaze piercing, as if she’d see right through them, beneath their rugged clothes and tanned skin and well-defined muscles, down to what really made them tick. The kind of look a schoolteacher could use to wring a confession out of the most recalcitrant five-year-old bully. It would have made Kieran smile, except that there were things there…hungers inside of himself that he didn’t want her to see.
He swallowed, feeling the ridiculous urge to fidget, unsure how she’d take the information, or if she’d even believe it. His cheekbones went hot beneath her intense examination, and he wondered for about the hundredth time in the last ten minutes what it was about this woman that so utterly sent his world reeling out of orbit. She was fine, no doubt about it. More than fine, in fact, but he’d had beautiful women since he’d first been old enough to appreciate them, and none had ever made him feel like…this. Like she could make or break him. As if she alone held the key to not only his happiness, but his soul.
And as exhilarating as it was, he felt an instinctual need to rage against it, knowing that with the promise of ecstasy came the reciprocal threat of pain. It always did. Anything worth having was always something that could be taken away from you. It was one of the fundamental facts of life, for mortals and Magicks alike.
Though he had a feeling he wanted little Té Hayes bad enough that he just might be crazy enough to risk it.
And he really, really wanted a taste of her. Just wanted to spread her open and let his tongue feast like a cat given its favorite bowl of satisfying, decadent cream. Lap her up, drop by delicious drop.
It was a nice fantasy—a great one actually—though they were racking up pretty quickly right about now. Fantasies about him and the little gnach, of hot bodies and savage hunger, of sweat and uncontrollable passion as they rolled across his tangled sheets, their flesh burning with ravenous need, desperate to get as much of the other as they possibly could.
There was just one damn problem, and no way to get around it. She may, by some miracle of her upbringing and this crazy Aunt Ellie, be able to believe he was Magick, but no way in hell was this pretty little gnach ever going to lie down, spread her legs, and let a Lupine sink his tongue, his cock…or his bloody teeth into her.
And that, more than anything, meant that he couldn’t have her—ever—whether he wanted her or not.
Too bad his cock, and his soul didn’t appear to give a damn.
Finally she laughed, those magnificent eyes sparkling and clear, like a window into her soul. It was strange, but for all her secrets, she seemed a remarkably direct, refreshingly honest, utterly spellbinding woman.
“You’d think I’d be more surprised,” she admitted with a slow smile, “but looking at you two, it somehow seems to make perfect sense.”
Evan shot a smug smile at the men. “I told you she’d believe me.”
Kieran looked at Lach, his black brow arched in humor. “She is taking it rather well, wouldn’t you say?”
Lach shrugged his wide shoulders. “I’ll admit I was a bit worried, but Evie told me she’d no’ have any trouble accepting the way of things.”
“Still a bit strange, though,” Kieran replied thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.
Té set her hands on her hips, blowing out a frustrated breath as her humor quickly faded into irritation. “Don’t you two know it’s rude to talk about someone as if they aren’t in the room, when clearly they are?” She frowned at Kieran, wondering why she couldn’t get over her fascination with the man. God, she just wanted to keep staring at him…forever. “And I’m not strange.”
He shot her an amused smirk, towering over her petite height. “Aren’t ya now?” he drawled, black eyes sh
ining with what looked oddly like pleasure, and maybe a tad bit of relief.
Her smile felt brittle. “No, I’m not.”
“So you truly believe what Evan says?” he murmured, walking slowly toward her as she back-stepped to keep the distance between them, his movements speaking of mouthwatering power and strength and masculine grace. “Even though you’ve had no proof?”
She snorted—a delicate, feminine little sound that made him want to keep smiling. “Of course I do. I was raised to be open-minded about the world we live in. Only an idiot assumes they have all the answers.”
“Wise words for a mortal,” he murmured softly, his expression one of clear, seductive intent.
Her lids lowered. “You know, I don’t think I care for the way you said that.”
His smile flashed, white and charmingly sexy. “Then I’ll have to be more careful, won’t I?”
“You’ll have to be something,” she mumbled, wondering why bantering with him was getting her more excited than the foreplay she’d enjoyed beneath the hands of other men. Granted, she hadn’t had that many lovers, but certainly there was someone in the short list who should’ve been able to compete with a sexy Scottish devil. She racked her brain, but came up with nothing. Not even Lexi, and despite the fact he was a spineless bastard, he’d been the best lover she’d ever had.
Still, he’d never gotten her juices flowing even close to the way Kieran McKendrick’s wicked, knowing gaze did.
She shivered, her trembling body going hot and cold, and his sinful smile became an even sexier grin, her traitorous knees going weak at the sight. Christ, he even had a dimple in his left cheek—a perfect, sexy little indent that she very much wanted to explore with the tip of her tongue.
And holy hell, where on earth was this stuff coming from?
He moved closer, her eyes all but devouring him as they began an inspection that started at his scuffed boots, traveled up the long length of his lean, muscled, powerful body, and didn’t stop until she reached the sparking fire of his midnight gaze.
A Bite of Magick Page 4