Waking to the gentle music of birdsong and soft pink light, Alex stretched wide in an
unfamiliar bed. The fog of sleep clearing, she turned over to look beyond the open door.
Last night’s bonfire had burnt down to a pile of white ash, the remains of roasted boar
removed from the empty fire pit, to goodness knows where.
Her stomach grumbled a low thread of gurgling sound. So much for taking up running and
swimming to lose weight, she was always starving. It was well worth the effort, she’d never
felt so fit and well.
Her I-phone sat on the basic dresser at the side of the bed. Teague’s source of music had
dried up, the battery had died. Swinging her legs from the bed Alex slid into leather toe
post sandals spotting her bag lying on the bare wooden floor bulging at the seams with
yellowing parchment. Returning to civilisation, or at least an alternate civilisation, to go
on-line and follow up the ideas that spawned in her head was a priority. First and most
importantly she needed a bathroom, like now… Paradise came with a shovel to dig your
own hole. Yuk… Not for this product of modern technology. She wanted porcelain and
a flush handle. Secondly coffee called, with the lament of longing, known only to a dyed
in the wool caffeine addict. Without an early morning fix, grumpy was her middle name.
Pushing strands of bed head behind her ears and smoothing a crumpled t-shirt over denim
shorts Alex headed for the open door, bag hanging from her shoulder. As she stepped
out onto the little veranda ready to make a run for it, a lean form unfurled from the lush
grass to greet her with a low bow and a seriously unnerving violet gaze.
“Hast thou slept well Lady Alex?” Teague’s throaty voice made up for the lack of early
morning caffeine, bringing high colour to her cheeks and a warm tingle of useless desire
to creep over her skin.
“Yes thanks…” She smiled shyly at a figure appearing more imposing than she remembered
from the scramble of yesterday’s reveal of paradise.
Alex had been too caught up in the wonder of a new world to be overly intimidated by the
menacing aura of the warriors. Today was a whole new experience, one she had to get a
grip on fast, or drown forever in deep pools of lilac mist.
“I don’t suppose you could give me directions to Cat’s house? I can manage to find my way
to the portal leading to the truth pool. Beyond that….” She shrugged slim shoulders beneath
a crumpled t-shirt, accompanied by a small grin of defeat.
With the slightest inclination of his head the Bard held out one hand to Alex.
“Iscatya bid that I carry thee to her home as you wake. A repast has been set, to take at thy
leisure.” The bard’s face showed no emotion, distaste or otherwise, only calm serenity.
The type of blandness you’d expect to find on a marble statue.
Gingerly touching his fingers static electricity ran up Alex’s arm as his hand closed around
hers in a firm grasp. In the next breath the opaque shimmer of the portal stood between
them and a country where her damned phone would work. With a long stride Teague
crossed over the barrier tugging Alex in his wake. There was no sensation of movement as
she was hoisted from one reality to another.
The surface of the truth pool rippled as a steady breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding
oaks with a light flutter of summer rain. Before she had chance to recover from the mind
bending disorientation of her molecules being forced apart and reorganised, vertigo took
her to within a microsecond of nausea.
Closing her eyes on a wave of dizziness Alex fell into the muscled side of a long body as her
inner ear failed to register which way was up. Strong arms held her steady as she bent over
to still the churning of a rebellious stomach. Gripping tightly to the bare skin of her thighs
Alex took several deep breaths.
“What ails thee Lady…?” The Lord Teague’s voice was harsh at the fragility of the human.
“I feel like I’ve been tossed in a spin dryer for hours…” Alex gasped on a shaky breath.
An uncomprehending silence dragged out.
Straightening up she got a good look at the faint hint of irritation on a stunningly cute face.
“Forget it…” She growled heading into the sleekly modern kitchen of a rambling old house,
arms thrown out wide in a gesture of resignation. Eyeing the fruit and cereals laid out ready
for her breakfast she couldn’t face a mouthful, her stomach still insisted on doing unruly
cartwheels. Teague shadowed her every step, looming large in an immense kitchen.
“Look, Lord Teague, I appreciate the transportation but right now all I want to do is go
home, after I’ve used the bathroom. Thank you for all your help…” She waited for him to
take his leave. No… He stood firm, as immobile as the carved statue he resembled.
“Iscatya wishes that I stand guard over thy body, wherever that may take thee.”
A firm tone brooked no argument, or dismissal of his services.
“Great… I’ve got myself a bodyguard. God what next…?” Dropping her bag on the counter
top Alex cleared the table, returning an offer of breakfast to cupboards and fridge, loading
up the dishwasher she reluctantly turned off the caffeine machine. The bathroom was an
annoying ache she couldn’t ignore for much longer. Cat was at work, which left only the
presence of Lord Drusal the Silent one to avoid whilst she invaded the downstairs loo.
“Where’s Lord Vardon…?” It was an abrupt and probably rude enquiry, better that than an
accident. If she came face to face with a humungous taciturn male, she would probably wet
her pants out of sheer panic.
“The Queen’s Consort is out hunting…” Perfect white teeth were revealed in a grin. The first
sign of real emotion on a placid face, albeit one that held callousness in a threat to a morsel
of humanity. “Great, at least I won’t trip over him in the house…”
Making a run for the nearest loo Alex didn’t give a sod what he was hunting, as long as
it wasn’t her. Teague was left to ruminate over the vagaries of his Liege Lady in taking
a liking to a tiny creature with no stamina and less manners.
Unearthing car keys from the dim recesses of a capacious bag Alex trotted out the front
door, skirting the house, to home in on her trusty mini cooper. It was an original, not the
precision built BMW version, but small and perfectly formed as God in the form of John
Cooper had intended it to be. Hoping to evade an unwelcome protector she tip-toed over
the gravel driveway to find Teague waiting for her, arms locked across his chest, eyeing the
miniscule vehicle with raised brows. His Queen had assigned him the task of guarding the
life of her sister. He had not envisioned folding his body into a rusted structure of portentous
death. Translocating would be a simpler form of travel. With an unknown destination, the
choice was taken from his hands at the bidding of a surly female. The satisfied triumph he
felt in her aura goaded him to shift to a more suitable companion for a mortal female.
Shimmering from head to toe he shrunk six inches, coarsened his features and lost flowing
silver locks to a mass of ash blonde shoulder length curls. Imitating his brother Drusal’s
informal attire, faded jeans and white t-shirt moulded straining muscles in a second skin.
“Wow…” Alex sucked in a breath, as a human he was gorgeous, but she preferred the
original, even if he was beginning to get on her nerves. “I bet that hurts…”
She grinned at his obvious discomfort. “Get in….” She cranked open the passenger door
with difficulty, it was rarely used and as stiff as hell.
“The sooner I’m home, the sooner you can become mister unbending Sidhe again.”
Shaking her head as he crammed long limbs into a tight Recaro seat, her smile was a hair
short of malicious. Throwing a bulging tote bag onto the ledge known as a back seat, Alex
crossed her fingers, hoping Marigold was in a better mood than she was. To be locked
in a tin can with a very desirable man, a dream of an opportunity. One she would pass
on if given the chance, he didn’t like her much, and she couldn’t really blame him.
A reluctant passenger’s skin had assumed a hue more pasty white than ivory when Alex
finally parked in the permit zone, the engine chugging its way to a halt. The mini was basic.
It had a choke, a hole drilled into the floor to drain off accumulations of rain water that
breached windows barely fitting the frames. Ok it was a veteran that needed a retirement
home. But it was all hers and she loved Marigold the mini.
“Is this what it feels like to be tossed in a spin dryer…?” Violet eyes met hers in a moment
of complete accord, a silent sharing of amusement.
“Welcome to a human form of travel.” Alex laughed huskily, enjoying the soft satire of an
inaccessible Sidhe warrior.
“Twas torture, not travel…” The sly tilt to his lips was worth seeing, even if it was on a face
not even remotely resembling the Bard’s more usual features.
CHAPTER TWO
Safely inside her apartment Teague shifted back to his normal shape with a satisfied sigh.
Violet eyes took stock of the open plan living area, striding to investigate the rooms that
lead off a cramped entrance hall.
Heading for the coffee maker Alex relaxed, feeling a smidgeon more in control in her home
environment. Setting her I-phone on charge she unearthed an I-pod shuffle to plug it in
along-side it’s big brother.
“Do you want coffee…?” She called out to the warrior assessing the extent of a compact
apartment. “I know not what this coffee is…” Returning to the living area he scanned the
expanse of windows overlooking a busy plaza in amazement. It was a box of little rooms
that felt claustrophobic to a being more used to running wild in forests and meadows.
The glazed wall allowed light into a blandness that held no greenery. The mass of bodies
milling in and out of a multi-hued structure crowding the view made him shudder. If this
was an example of the human world, he wanted none of it.
Pushing a steaming mug of sweetened, creamy coffee in his hands Alex directed him to the
sofa. Turning on the flat screen TV, she scrolled through the listings to find a music channel.
MTV would either seduce the Bard, or cure him of the need for music. Lady gaga gyrated
across the screen, encased in white leather complete with mask.
“What form of creature is this…?” Teague leant forward his eyes glued to a writhing female.
“Lean back, close your eyes and just listen, don’t judge by appearance only. I’m going to take
a shower then make breakfast, Ok…?” She instructed him with a hint of a chuckle in her voice.
If he thought Lady Gaga was strange he was in for a rude awakening. Worse could be seen on
the streets every weekend, especially when the students let loose. Edging towards the door
Alex watched the warrior take her advice, eyes closed he succumbed to the music.
She locked the door against any intrusion, she hoped. Relief was uppermost in her mind,
the relief of being on home ground. The fear Teague would decide any minute to guard her
body up close and personal, a niggling constraint on her freedom, she showered and
dressed in record time.
Hair blown dry in feathered strands that teased her shoulders, trim figure attired in
tailored white linen shorts and a lemon vest, she entered the living area to witness the
bard singing in counter harmony to Sam Smith. His voice was wonderful. Husky, ethereal
and intensely sensual. Silently she warmed croissants placing them on the breakfast bar
to sit and watch a Sidhe male fully immersed in foreign music. Turning to her, his face
was infused with excitement, the first true emotion she had seen on a blank countenance.
“Tis magic Aingeal… This music reaches to the soul and wrenches it apart.” Each rasping
syllable held wonder at the diversity of music on offer.
Alex frowned ‘Ang-hull’ didn’t sound like a name she would like, the syllables were too
harsh and guttural. It sounded like a cough with an accent. Offering a plate of croissants,
liberally laced with blueberry preserve to an incredulous warrior, she asked what it meant.
“What is that word you used, Ang-hull…?” Bristling at the thought she may have been quietly
insulted, Alex matched his former coldness.
“Tis the name for an angel in the old language…” Taking a bite of buttery pastry, he licked at
his lips before devouring every last crumb.
“Oh…” She paused for a second. “Fine, I can live with that.” A happy little thought wove
through her head. He had given her a pet name, life with him dogging her steps could be
nearly bearable. Who was she kidding? With the Bard dogging her steps, she was rapidly
approaching seventh heaven. Plying a Sidhe warrior who had lived off the land for eons,
with more addictive coffee and sinfully fattening croissants, she looked him in the eye.
Take control Alex, be the manager Cat trained you to be, or just be a complete bitch...
She liked the second option better.
“Are you happy to listen to more music while I unearth the resources to make your new
home something less than a camping trip?” Dropping down on the sofa next to a long
limbed, mouth wateringly desirable hunk, Alex opened her laptop, balancing it across
tanned thighs ready to play a while.
“I understand some of the import of thy strange words. I am happy to learn more of these
music makers, if you will allow it.” Forehead creased in bemusement he surprised a laugh
from Alex.
“We’re making progress Teague. Using the word you, instead thee or thou marks a step
forward in accepting a new reality.” A deep chuckle came close to his husky tones.
A frown marred his forehead at her swift perception of an unintentional lapse.
“I beseech, that thou teach me the use of a strange technology, human magic which
weakens the might of the Sidhe nation.” Grinning, Alex logged onto google.
“I can do that….”
Finding a website presenting luxurious living under canvas, Alex zoned in on the task of
offering some form of accommodation to the Sidhe without the complication of human
construction workers. Yurts… Yurts and tipis answered her prayers. Once the basic
structure was secured on the grounds of Cat’s residence, the warriors could transport the
finished article to any point in Edanholme.
“Tell me what you think of this idea for communal living?” Nudging his arm, she laid the
laptop across Teague’s legs. Leaning over she scrolled down through the images depicting
the erection of woode
n latticed walls overlaid with canvas. It would be a quick and simple
solution for an influx of families she envisioned would flock to a safer haven.
Running the tips of long fingers over the images unfolding in sequence, Teague nodded his
head at the vista of squat, multi-coloured domiciles Aingeal offered to his brethren.
“I find this form of housing acceptable, as would my brothers…” Longing for a quiet niche
to name his own, shaded the Bards voice with the desolation of the recent past.
“It would be a magnificent gift.” His murmur was low, unused to expressing gratitude or
thanks, it was all that he could offer.
Reaching across the laptop her arm brushed his jerkin, static electricity laced over her skin
to lift the hairs at the base of Alex’s neck. The screen flickered once and died.
“Dammit what now…?” Tugging the laptop free from contamination by a being who was
more deadly to a computer than a Trojan virus, she re-booted the hard-drive, hoping her
files had been saved. Screen flashing up auto save, she stabbed at the keys before it went
to black. Running her hands through her hair Alex breathed out on a strangled sigh.
Yep saved….
Teague was at a loss, he had no experience with the enchantment of human toys.
“Did I cause harm to thy device?” Arms crossed tightly over his chest he inched away
from any contact with a colourful little box. Patting his arm absently, Alex re-booted the
system with a whoop of triumph.
“No, it’s alive and in full working order.” The smile on her lips wasn’t directed at the Bard,
it was a happy little moment of accomplishment.
“If I can get Cat to agree to this, I want a yurt too, far from the cabins, preferably near water.”
Teague wanted the same, to keep an angel secluded from the depredations of his insensitive
brethren. Any approachable or willing female had been expunged from the old Court, in a
purge to divest the Queen of rivals for her breeding males. He had no doubt the other
warriors were placing wagers on whose charms Aingeal would succumb to first. The thirst to
have a female would be fierce after a long drought, the competition hard fought and ruthless.
A wary bond was forming, one that he had eschewed for eons. This bond offered the spirit
Eternal Bond (Edanholme Book 2) Page 2