It made perfect sense. A woman who’d been practically alone for the last six years would need to be reacclimatized to crowds. Even if she hated him, being near him as opposed to a bunch of strangers was probably the more comfortable choice.
Her hands trembled as she handed her ticket and passport over to the TSA agent.
The agent cast a glare over Simone’s shoulder. “Could you please take a step back, sir?”
“Oh, we’re together.” No way was he going to let her get too many steps away from him. He didn’t think she’d run off on her own, but he hadn’t survived as long as he had by underestimating people.
The agent cut his gaze to Simone who was staring ahead at the people filing through the scanner lines. “Is he with you, ma’am?”
“Just check her ID and stamp her ticket,” Thom muttered.
“Come on, man, you’re holding up the line,” someone said from the back.
Thom turned, and shouted, “If you can’t be patient, get in a different fuckin’ line. His wife is afraid of flying. You’re making it worse, you sodding dickhead.”
“Sorry,” the guy muttered.
“Give me your stuff,” the agent said to Heath.
Heath dropped his passport and ticket onto the podium.
The agent flipped through the multitude of pages in his passport, stared at his credentials, and gave him another evil glower.
Heath couldn’t help the fact he flew a lot. Unfortunately, fairies weren’t equipped with teleportation abilities.
The agent stamped the ticket and thrust it and Simone’s at Heath. “Check the monitors for your gate number.”
Heath held his tongue as he passed the podium, then took Simone’s arm and guided her toward the conveyor belt. He tossed on his carryon and tucked their credentials into his jeans pocket.
“That…my passport says Horan,” she said.
He bent and untied her shoes, tapping them on the toes to indicate she should step out of them. “I imagine it does.”
“Didn’t say that the last time I looked.”
“I imagine it didn’t.”
“It’s not my name.”
“Technically, it is. Our name conventions are much like yours. Surname is that of the male spouse, and Horan is the name Siobhan and I use. Our father’s surname is much less pronounceable.”
“But—”
He stood and squashed her objection with his lips. He kissed her gently and whispered, “Ask questions later. Suffice it to say, there’s weird magic in play as far as Sídhe unions are concerned. Some things, like forms and contracts, update automatically as needed.”
He put her shoes into a bucket along with his jacket. He needed to get her a coat. It had to be freezing in Ireland. A quick glance at his watch told him they had about ten minutes to spare, so he guided them at a brisk pace toward the terminal and stopped into one of those overpriced clothing shops.
Thom leaned onto a nearby display as Heath pawed through the rack of coats. Simone hovered near a stand filled with travel aids such as earplugs and U-shaped pillows. “Any idea of who her mother might be?” Thom whispered.
Heath grunted. “Honestly, no, but I don’t believe it’s anyone younger than us. We know everyone who’s left in the last hundred and twenty-five years.”
“I was thinking the same. Her energy is…odd, huh?”
“Suppressed.” Heath plucked out a pink and gray ski jacket and searched for the size tag. “Hestia said her mother blocked it to make her harder to find, so I don’t know what she’s capable of, if anything.”
“If her mother was a major magic user, it’ll be easy enough to figure out who she is. There aren’t that many Sídhe of any age who can do more than simple magic tasks, and most of them work for your mother.”
The tag indicated the coat was a size medium. He took it and canted his head toward the register. “Aye.” The castle would be the first place he’d look for information. While Mum didn’t exactly keep personnel files at the castle, there were more than a few people in her employ with long memories. If they didn’t know who Simone’s mother was, they might know someone who did. Of course, suppressing her daughter’s fairy juice might have been one of the few things Simone’s mother was capable of. If she were just a run-of-mill citizen, she’d be harder to pick out from the list of runners. There were over a hundred names on the list at last count.
Simone joined them at the register bearing a tube of motion sickness pills. “Hopefully, they’ll knock me out.”
Thom clucked his tongue. “You’ll miss all the good conversation.”
“That was one of my secondary hopes.”
In a magnificent show of restraint, Heath pressed his lips together and opened his billfold. Maybe they’d have a chance to do some proper shopping later. She’d probably soon be wishing that she had packed that bag when he’d told her to.
The plane was already boarding when they made it to the gate, and Heath nudged her through the line. She was still dragging her feet. If they didn’t have so many sodding witnesses, he might have picked her up and carried her.
They paused in the aisle, waiting for people ahead to stow their carryon, and he bent to whisper, “Sorry I couldn’t get first class seats. This was last-minute.”
“Whatever. It’s not like it’s a honeymoon.”
He grimaced, because it kind of was. She hadn’t left Salvo in six years, and if she didn’t deserve a luxury trip, then no one did. Unfortunately, the honeymooning would have to wait until things settled down a bit. Their errand was an urgent one.
He stopped her next to a row over the wings and pointed right. “These are our three. You want the window?”
“I…I don’t want the window.”
“Aisle?” He and Thom were going to be fuckin’ cramped sitting right next to each other. Seats in coach class weren’t typically spaced with Sídhe height considerations in mind. Six-two for a fairy male was right around average.
“No.” She plopped into the middle seat and wadded her new coat against her belly.
He looked at Thom.
“You had aisle last time.”
Heath squinted at him, disbelieving, but slid in past Simone’s knees, anyway, since there was an impatient queue in the aisle behind them. They really needed someone in their crew with a pilot license. Oliver—Matt’s father—had one, but he wasn’t exactly available at the moment. He was busy being chieftain of the desert-dwelling clan of witchy Vikings out in New Mexico. The fact he was chieftain was part of the reason Heath had taken Matt into his crew. And soon, the crew would be someone else’s responsibility.
Heath leaned forward and waited for Thom to finish fiddling with his seatbelt. “You know, we’ve never talked about what would happen after I found my mate and could leave the crew.”
Thom grunted and squeezed his legs into the tiny space in front of him at the flight attendant’s request. He’d likely put them right back out after takeoff. Heath’s legs were in space borrowed from Simone. She hadn’t complained yet, but then again, she didn’t seem to be quite there. She was fiddling with the coat’s zipper pull and staring at the static on the in-seat television monitor in front of her. He would have reached for her hand if he didn’t think she might have pulled away from him. They were way too early in their trip for him to be pissing her off.
Thom unbuttoned his duster and slouched a bit more in his seat. “We’ve been running together for, what?”
Over a hundred years. Heath wasn’t going to say that aloud. “A long time.”
Lots of Sídhe had cycled in and out of his group as they started and finished their service periods. Some had been with him for longer periods than others, depending on his mother’s mood on the days they were given their assignments. Mum had been in an extremely foul mood the day Siobhan was assigned. She couldn’t leave service until she was pregnant, and given their low fertility rates and their preference to hold out for their fated mates, she could be waiting a very long time. Most of the others,
aside from Thom, had more clear service periods. Matt had seven, prorated because of his more human lifespan. Perry had a typical thirty. Caryl and Daryn had forty because their father had somehow managed to piss off Heath’s father and Mum got revenge in his stead. Thom’s service period was directly linked to Heath’s because of the nature of their friendship. He was meant to serve for one day longer than Heath. So, it followed that if Heath left, Thom would soon after. The crew would be left without experienced leaders. Siobhan was good, but wasn’t always as aggressive as she needed to be when circumstances called for it. Maybe he should have been more attentive regarding that weakness when he’d been training her.
“Wouldn’t the group have to disband without a leader?” Thom asked.
“I imagine so, but where would those folks go to finish their conscription? To Mum? I’d like to avoid doing that to them. They’ve served me well.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Heath imagined Thom wouldn’t spend any extra time serving once Heath left because he had his own house to put into order. He had a sticky mate situation of his own to untangle, the problem being his curse. It impacted his ability to…well, perform.
The cabin attendants ran down their list of pre-flight instructions and informed the passengers their light dinners would be delivered once the plane was at cruising altitude.
Simone popped a couple of the motion sickness pills dry and closed her eyes.
“When’s the last time you flew?” Heath nudged his window shade up a few inches and watched the runway blur beneath them.
Simone reached across him and put the shade back down. “The year I graduated from college. It was a cross-country flight, Raleigh to Los Angeles with two stops and one plane change. All three legs were so turbulent that the moment I set my feet on the ground in California, I swore off air travel.”
“How’d you get home?”
“Train. Took nearly a week, and if I had to do it again I would. Fortunately, my company let me start work late. They were understanding about it.”
“What was the job?”
“Marketing assistant. Most of the accounts I worked on were hotel chains. Ironic now, isn’t it? My job was to find ways to convince people to stay at our clients’ resorts, hotels, and motels, and now, I spend my days hoping no one comes to mine.”
“Ironic, indeed.”
She closed her eyes again.
Heath caught Thom’s gaze over the top of her head. Thom had that look in his eyes—the scheming look Heath had come to know all too well in a hundred and twenty years of acquaintance. He mouthed, “Behave.” Thom was the sort of character who’d probably burn the motel to the ground in an effort to exterminate one bug.
Thom snorted.
Fairies were a protective bunch when it came to their friends and family members. Anyone in Heath’s crew would protect Simone at any cost, not just because he was their prince, but also because she belonged to the Sídhe people. Thom would probably think it was his job to figure out some dastardly loophole to absolve Simone of her little curse. Of course, seeing as how the originator of his curse was the same as Simone’s, he was probably doubly inclined to raise a little hell.
The in-flight movie started and Simone sank a little lower in her seat. Within moments, her eyes glazed and lids drooped. By the time the flight attendant came through with her little pad and asked if they required the vegetarian meal option, she was asleep. Her head drifted and finally landed on Thom’s left shoulder.
“For fuck’s sake,” Heath muttered.
Thom laughed softly and gave her head a little pat. “Antagonizing you even in her sleep. If you two aren’t a match, I don’t know who is.”
“Aye, you go on and get your chuckles in now. You just wait. I’m sure I’ll be on the other end soon enough.”
Chapter Six
Simone came to and found her seat-back tray had been let down and a chicken dinner sat atop of it. She didn’t spend much time assessing the meal, because even half dazed from a nap that had likely been far too short, she knew something was wrong. Her skin prickled and heart raced. The heaviness of dread pressed against her, making her anxious for no reason she could discern.
Thom had turned slightly into the aisle and was casting frequent glances down it.
Heath was being somewhat more discreet in his stares, but it was evident he was on high alert. Those bright blue eyes she’d found so playful now held a glint of seriousness—the edge of a man at work. A man who was good at his job. His jaw was clenched tight, and the fingers curled around their shared armrest were white-knuckled.
“Heath?” she whispered, not wanting to jar his concentration.
“Yes?” His glance down at her was barely a second long.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing at all. Are you hungry? You should eat that. It’s tolerable enough. You should eat it before Thom does. He’s been eying it for ten minutes.”
She toyed with the plastic wrap over the meal and swallowed down her nerves. They weren’t air travel jitters. She knew what those felt like. “What’s going on?”
Heath took her left hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her wrist. Immediately, her anxiety ebbed a little. And the fact her nerves had receded so easily made them roar right back.
“What did you just do?”
He did it again, and once more, that nervousness retreated. “Just moving some energy around a little. Don’t fight my magic. Please eat. You’ll feel better once you do.”
Sighing, she peeled back the wrap. The aroma of chicken and pasta sparked the rumbling of her belly. She couldn’t deny she was hungry, but who could eat when there was obviously something wrong? She tapped Thom’s left shoulder.
He turned and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my lady?”
“Uh, don’t call me that.”
“Would you prefer princess?”
“I don’t like that either. My name is Simone.”
“Simone Horan, and you now have a list of names that come after that which if written down would be as long as my arm. My lady seems appropriate given the circumstances.”
So, they were going to insist that she’d magically become Heath’s wife. She sighed again. They could argue later—when they were on the ground and there weren’t so many strangers with open ears around. Already, the woman in front of her was peering back through the crack between the seats. Simone put her hand up to block her lips from the woman’s view and mouthed, “What’s going on?”
He grunted, leaned to the side, and pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. He typed:
Five minutes ago, a man walked past us on the way to the bathroom. Part Sídhe. We generally leave people to their own devices if we accidentally happen upon them, but this is an individual we need to contain.
She looked at Heath, who was now grinding his teeth. He divided his focus about sixty percent to Simone and the rest to the man in the back. The people behind them probably thought he was hungrily gazing at the flight attendants rattling down the aisle with their food cart.
She gave Thom a nudge. “How?”
He wrote:
Carefully. We can’t really do it on the plane without causing a ruckus, but we don’t want him to slip past us, either. He didn’t seem to notice us on his way down the aisle, so we’re hoping to have the element of surprise.
“When?”
As soon as the flight attendants clear the carts from the aisle.
Heath settled into his seat and reached for her left hand once more. “You should eat. Our schedule is going to be erratic over the next couple of days, so you’ll want to be putting food into yourself at the times your body expects. We might not have a chance for a while after landing. It’s an in and out trip.”
“We’re flying all the way to Ireland for an in and out trip?”
“Mm-hmm.” He didn’t elaborate, and she was starting to understand that she shouldn’t expect him to. Still, she had to ask, “What are you going to do?”
Tho
m slid the phone over again.
We just need to keep him from getting off the plane too quickly when we land. Heath can slow him down a little, but we don’t want him to recognize us before Heath does what he has to do.
She picked up her fork and twined some noodles around it. Maybe the situation was exactly what she deserved for having wished she had some excitement in her life. Or maybe she was dreaming. She slipped the spaghetti between her lips and chewed. Really, it was a scenario straight out of a movie. Ordinarily, she might have swooned and instigated some very naughty daydreams about the handsome hero of such a film, but it seemed she was somehow married to him and that made him infinitely less attractive…which still left him very attractive indeed.
She swallowed. Sighed. Stared at the video monitor in front of her that played a romcom she’d already seen four times.
Heath leaned in and whispered, “You need to go to the bathroom.”
“No I don’t. I’m not five. I think I can decide when I need to or don’t need to.”
“I don’t mean you need to go, but that I need you to go.”
“Why?”
Thom leaned a few inches toward her and whispered, “Distraction.”
“Oh. Now?” She set down her plastic fork, then changed her mind and picked it up again. If she were going to walk past a potential madman, she wanted to be armed. While those spindly tines would likely break upon impact with flesh, at the very least, she would scratch him a little. Better than nothing.
Beyond The Veil: A Paranormal & Magical Romance Boxed Set Page 78