Eternal Bond (Edanholme Book 2)

by Catherine Fitzpatrick

  decorating his domicile, once it was constructed, filtered through an overactive brain.

  “Can I aid thee…?”

  Stepping out of the way as Alex shifted the ladder to another spot, he dodged the mess

  of gooey liquid secured tightly in her hand.

  “Do you even know what a paint brush is…?” Crystal blue eyes stared at him, scepticism

  and irritation evident in glowing depths.

  “Ah, no…” He had to admit a failure in comprehension. Paint brushes were not a feature

  of Sidhe realms where glamour alone supplied the need for artistic outpourings.

  “Not much use to me then…” Climbing up a couple of steps a patronizing female filled in

  the last of the gaps with speed and confidence. The ladder was a minefield of disasters

  waiting to happen with a clumsy angel rocking on them. She felt like a small tree being

  whipped by a strong breeze, ready to be uprooted and land on her butt at the Bards feet.

  “Tis a pleasing shade of lemon…” Teague offered a compliment in husky tones.

  An inadvertent disparagement of her home had brought about a hive of industry.

  “Tis a pleasing shade of Wild Primrose…” Alex corrected him, snapping out each word

  with acidic venom.

  “As you say…” The bard felt inadequate, a piece of flotsam adrift in the whirlwind of a

  morsel of channelled energy. Jumping off the last step with a sigh of relief, the same

  morsel looked him straight in the chest. Raising her gaze to a solemn face she itched to

  paint an ivory statue in varying shades of yellow.

  “What do you want Mister Frosty?” Teague took a step back, he had caught the wicked

  grin on generous lips, and he stood directly in the line of fire.

  “The Lord Turi extends an invitation to partake of a meal with the brethren…” A grumpy

  snort stopped him short of finishing the sentence.

  “As you can see, I’m a little occupied right now…” Brushing past the Bard’s lean frame,

  careful not to mar pristine leathers with yellow paint, Alex slammed brush and roller into

  the sink to run hot water and soap into the bowl.

  “Tell him thanks, but to party on without me.” Wiping suds off her hands with a kitchen

  towel she turned to face an immovable object, a frown forming a v of frustration over

  a smeared nose. “Why are you still here…?”

  Her tone was cold. The continuous invasion on her private space and time grew to be an

  annoyance, one she needed a day off from. Alex loved camping out with a hot-blooded

  mix of stunning men, but enough was enough. Tonight she wanted nothing more than to

  curl up in bed with a slushy romance novel.

  “Turi will not take no for an answer.” He was the one who didn’t care to miss a meal

  with Aingeal, didn’t wish to forgo an opportunity to sit close to an alluring female in

  a convivial atmosphere of relaxation.

  “Not my problem… I’ve still got to put the room back together.” Waving a hand in

  dismissal, she turned her back on a scheming male. The plan forming in his mind would

  cause consternation, in truth it may cause Aingeal to practise some profanity on him.

  The Bard found he cared not. If an independent piece of ill-tempered female chose not

  to join his brethren, then he would bring the enforcers to her. With an ingenious idea in

  mind, he translocated without further argument, materialising at the edge of a glassy

  lake minus one angel.

  Working the spit over a fire pit Turi lifted his head. A deep frown preceded a growl of

  frustration. “Where is the Lady Alex…?”

  A dark skinned bear of a male, the major muscle of the Queen’s enforcers barked with

  impatience at his brother’s failure to entice a lovely female to eat with friends.

  Arms held wide in resignation a cunning smile on his lips, Teague strolled over long grasses

  to hunker down at the side of the bonfire.

  “Aingeal is busy…. So she informed me. I made it known that you would be less than happy

  not to have her company…” Indicating he would take over the turning of the spit, violet

  shaded eyes watched a thwarted male mix a salad dressing, a wonderfully tart concoction of

  Turi’s design. “She implied it was your problem, not hers…”

  A laugh answered him, part mirth, mainly admiration. There were not many beings endowed

  with the courage to deny a summons of the Bear Lord, or the temerity to coldly turn down

  one of his meals. “Tis unlike La Nina to refuse an easy meal… The witch…”

  Teague shrugged, he did not mean for a belligerent wench to escape the company of his

  brethren. It would serve to ascertain her preference, in a gathering of many desirable males.

  On home ground, she may be more amenable, less wary of exposing her heart and desires.

  “There is a simple solution to thy problem My Lord Turi…” In lilting tones, a husky voice

  promised a resolution as dark eyes narrowed in enquiry.

  “And that would be…?” Wiping his hands free of lemon juice and crushed garlic, Turi

  wished to bellow at a solemn faced Bard. It would be less painful to pull out his teeth than

  get a straight answer from the Lord Teague.

  “I take thee to her…” A wily smile curved a firm mouth, canted eyes held a hint of unholy

  mischief. Turi did bellow, a hearty belly laugh that echoed across still waters startling a

  flock of twittering birds into instant flight.

  “Aye that would solve the problem. It may also incite violence…” The bear was well aware

  of Alex’s mood swings, as much so as the Bard. Invading sacred privacy was not a path he

  would tread without serious back-up. Teague would be that back-up. He had the ability to

  calm the wildest tantrums of an unpredictable female.

  “No matter… Aingeal will relent at the sight of one of your feasts.” Teague hoped he was

  right, or his plan would crash and burn. A favourite phrase of an angel, when her plans for

  Edanholme did not follow the course she wished.

  “Given a choice of heaven or hell, the Lady Alex is stubborn enough to choose the latter…”

  A muscle bound male groused in a deep bass rumble. To be transported to a domicile

  ensconced in the human world without invitation could prove to be just that, sheer hell.

  “It was but a thought…” Indifference clouded every word of seeming resignation.

  “Aye a good thought, but you will be the one vilified for intruding upon home ground.”

  Turi was beginning to realise the Bard was not so detached from reality as his retiring

  demeanour suggested. He was playing the game of courtship in his own way.

  A devious male employed stealth to insinuate his way into a distant heart. An angel’s

  anger could easily lead to passion, a ploy that may just work.

  “We do it…” The Bear Lord had little use for temporising, if he wanted something,

  especially a female, his desires were blatantly obvious. It may serve to enlighten him

  on the underhanded ways of winning the prize by watching the Bard at work.

  “Transportation will have to occur in tandem, Aingeal’s home is not a large space…”

  The only location he could envision materialising without creating havoc, would be

  a small hallway between rooms.

  “Call the brothers together whilst I gather the food…” The Lord Turi was on a mission,

  as were they all, to win the right to be one with a delightful angel. He planned to

  start with her ever
huge appetite, and work out the rest as the night unfolded.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Alex stood leaning back against the sink, running a nit-picking eye over her handiwork.

  The living space assumed an air of bright cheerfulness, scatter cushions of differing

  shades of lemon and gold delivered by Freddie himself, lifted the solid grey of sofa and

  the single armchair. A hopeful man intrigued by a radiant smile had proffered a gift to

  add to her purchases. A stoneware fruit bowl embossed with white and yellow daisies.

  Feeling a tad guilty at a friendly gesture, she’d added two huge floor cushions of deep

  green to a bulk buy, defying anyone to call her home bland ever again.

  Work surfaces gleaming, the last of the paint brushes and rollers washed free of sticky

  paint, she laid them side by side on a pale excuse of a balcony. It was either that or the

  bath, a bespattered body planned to make full use of her bath to soak away an

  accumulation of yellow measles. Fragrant candles and a good book in mind, the evening

  sun disappearing over a built up horizon, a dishevelled angel sighed in disgust as a blue

  shimmer in the hallway heralded Teague’s return. The sigh turned to a groan as Turi

  materialised at the Bard’s side, the pair of them bracketed in a narrow hallway.

  “By the Fate’s Angel, you are a mess…” Shouldering his way past a softly smiling Bard,

  the Bear Lord began to unload a feast on a spotless breakfast bar. An ice blue gaze of

  blistering reproof flicked to the lean figure of a male in deep shit. He’d gone, leaving

  her alone with a woman hungry warrior of the Sidhe. Arms crossed over her breast,

  Alex turned a fuming glare on Turi.

  “What’s going on…?” She hissed at him through compressed lips, tiredness made a

  usually more joyous soul extremely ungracious, a deadly insult to a noble male.

  All she wanted to do was toss her clothes in the trash, and then hit the bathroom for

  a couple of hours of blissful entertainment with her favourite author. Okay, so she

  hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. The aroma of roasted boar tickled her nose and made

  her stomach grumble with anticipation. Being in an enclosed space with so much

  unleashed testosterone filled her heart with panic. Alex knew the Lord Turi would

  never cross the line without her consent, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

  “Declining an invitation to dinner is not an option angel. The consensus of opinion

  elected that we convey the party to thee…” White teeth revealed in a stunning smile,

  the Bear Lord spread a banquet across the counter top.

  Wild salad leaves, accompanied by tomatoes and tiny new potatoes lay ready to tuck

  into ensconced in a modern plastic containers, unique salad dressing sitting at its side.

  Juicy chunks of boar meat, chicken and salmon covered a huge flatbread. All prepared

  by a very clever cook, with a magic touch for seasoning bland morsels to perfection.

  A ravenously hungry female wanted to send him packing, but the lure of food she didn’t

  have to prepare or pay for held her tongue still as she piled silent insults on a hunky chef.

  Teague solidified once more in a cramped space with the Lord Kynthelig in tow. With an

  elegant bow to Alex, an intrigued Sidhe noble attired in soft leathers and a plethora of

  long blonde braids with little knowledge of modern human living, began a short but

  thorough exploration of a two bed apartment without a word being spoken in greeting.

  Leaving the Bard to his fate, in the shape of a disgruntled and dirty angel, Turi wafted off

  to Edanholme to transport the remainder of the brothers and more fuel for hungry males.

  “Have you got a serious death wish Teague…? I thought you’d abandoned me to the bear

  Lord’s well intentioned, but unasked for attentions.” Fingers curled into fists, she really

  felt an impulse to pummel his chest with punishing blows. A wasted wish to inflict pain

  on a rock hard body, one that would in all probability lead to broken bones.

  Her broken bones… “Bringing all the enforcers to my flat may save your skin, for now…”

  Kynthelig chose that moment to curtail a limited adventure in human-ville, a wide grin

  on a gorgeous face, excitement in brilliant onyx eyes. It was an interruption the Bard

  was inordinately grateful for. “I’m not happy Teague…”

  A low voiced threat reached his ears as a tremor of disquiet rocked his heart. Mayhap,

  he had made a mistake in assuming Aingeal would succumb to relaxation with his brothers

  to entertain her. Anger blazed in crystal blue eyes, the smeared rags a luscious female

  wore, served to emphasise the beauty and grace of a curvaceous figure rather than

  detract from it.

  “Aye Aingeal… I can see this.” Hands held out palms up in a sign of peace, Teague

  waited with baited breath for spitting venom to assail a bent head. A little morsel

  of torment was rarely held back if she was displeased.

  “Oh for chuff’s sake, stop with the pathetic little boy act. You did this on purpose to

  annoy me, don’t pretend otherwise…” Levering away from the sink, Alex stepped

  around Teague to greet the other noble warrior to her home with a warm hug.

  “Welcome My Lord…” A radiant grin on her face, she conceded a reluctant point to

  the Bard. The choice had been taken out of her hands, the least she could do was to

  offer her guests the semblance of a willing hostess.

  Sitting at the breakfast bar Teague at her side, Alex had to smile at the sight of five

  heavily muscled males decorating her living room in a living breathing mass of untamed

  and shamelessly sensual Sidhe warriors. Turi and Kynthelig lounged like well-fed house

  cats on either end of the sofa. Phelan graced the one armchair, chin planted on the palm

  of one hand, narrowed eyes resting on restless twin brothers, just waiting for some form

  of mayhem to ensue.

  Charon and Fintan made use of the floor cushions, bright red heads resting on clasped

  hands as they absorbed the vision of Angelina Jolie kitted out as a stunningly super fit

  Lara Croft. The noise level had been kept to a minimum out of courtesy for the other

  residents in a thin walled apartment block, and under dire threats of reprisal from a

  an angel who knew too well how unrestrained the twins could be. A monster of a feast

  had been eaten neatly, accompanied by her reserves of red wine. It was comfortable,

  a really pleasant moment of repletion and friendship. Teague had actually done her a

  huge favour, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of telling him so.

  Two bowls of sweet popcorn had been nuked in the microwave oven to add to a cold

  dessert of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Much to the delight of males unused to easy and

  sinful delights of a junk food fest. A shopping trip loomed on the horizon, the fridge

  and freezer had been raided, leaving behind forlorn shelves in need of defrosting and

  cleaning. Another bloody chore she could have done without…

  “Come sit with us Angel…” The Bear Lord offered her a sultry smile as he patted the

  meagre cushion space between him and Kynthelig. Alex laughed at a brazen move to

  get her in a position where skin met skin along flank and thigh. It was a toss-up which

  one would smother her first in a crushing embrace. Flicking popcorn at a dark haired

  piece of seduction, she watched a monster of a male catch ever
y missile with graceful

  ease.

  “I’m content where I am, thank you…” She was content, surprisingly. Teague lounged

  at her side, a surfeit of stunning males crowded her flat, what was there to be upset

  about in that scenario? A wistful smile flashed across a peach skinned face under the

  narrow eyed stare of a love starved male. Teague sat by the side of a volatile witch,

  failing to understand why she would refute the offers of mating, whether blatantly or

  subtly delivered.

  “Angel…?” Fintan rolled off the floor cushion a bemused expression on an adorable face

  as he sat cross-legged to stare over the breakfast bar. “Do all human females, have the

  unique talents displayed by this one…?” Lara Croft defied gravity and bullets, to remain

  unfazed, beautiful and unfailingly perfect, in complete contrast to Alex’s present state.

  “No Lord Fintan… It is pretence, fabrication, fiction, a form of art meant to amuse and

  entertain, nothing more than light relief to ease the stress of human angst.”

  A gurgle of laughter caught in her throat at the disappointment in lovely eyes. She had

  phrased her answer to suit the comprehension of a male who had been denied any form

  of female company for over a hundred years, other than the favours of a former Queen

  who devoured the males like a box of delicious chocolates.

  Every one of her guests had been unwilling partners to a seriously depraved female, one

  who had claim on them body and soul, as a Leige Lady and Sovereign of the Sidhe realms.

  It would serve no purpose to pander to illusions, better they face the reality of a world

  where the females where either non-talented humans, or snot nosed noble elite.

  “Tis a shame… I rather like the idea of a warrior female as a mate.” With a gusty sigh

  Fintan returned to the fast paced life of Lara Croft.

  “You love my brothers…?” The Bard whispered close to her ear, a husky rasp meant

  for Aingeal alone. A little tremor of desire ran over her skin, a wake-up call that she

  was up close and personal with the one male she could love forever, in a different life,

  one where she was close to immortal.