He looked at me, reading the discomfort in my eyes and feeling the nerves that ran through my body.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. I couldn’t have agreed more.
He took my hand and led me to the door. Tara was standing in our way.
“Oh, hey, Norah,” Dayne said as he breezed past. I just smiled at her, knowing her night had been ruined.
The old engine roared to life. Dayne turned in his seat to face me. “I’m really sorry about that, Faye. I totally overestimated these people. I thought they would at least let us have a normal dinner. What a waste of time.” He shook his head, disappointed at how the evening was turning out and landed a weak punch on the steering wheel
“It certainly wasn’t fun, but time spent with you is never wasted,” I said, smiling at him, hoping to cheer him up.
“You know, you’re pretty amazing, Faye. I manage to totally mess up our first date and you make excuses for me.”
“It’s the truth. I don’t need to make anything official. I just want to be with you.” It was the truth. Making things right for the people of Clonlea was the least of my concerns. “I figured out a long time ago that normal generally doesn’t work for me.”
He shook his head and smiled at me. “So much for normal.” He felt the same way. “Well, I’m going to make this up to you. What’s your favorite dessert?”
“Mmmm…anything chocolate,” I said with an excited smile.
“Anything chocolate, she says. Ok, you asked for it,” he said matter-of-factly as he leaned forward to pull the car into gear.
We drove to the market a few streets over. He insisted I stay in the car. Once he was inside, I flipped open the console between the seats. I found a note pad, some pens, a pack of gum, loose change and some old CDs. I don’t know what I expected to find, but the ordinariness of his car caught me off guard. Maybe I was expecting top-secret fairy stuff?
I flipped through the Van Morrison CD that was playing, selecting “Into The Mystic,” my favorite song.
He was back before the song was over. “This is my favorite song,” he said.
“Me too,” I smiled at him, surprised he could be so normal.
“It makes me think of you.” My stomach flipped. He certainly knew just what to say to me.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t taking me home.
“If I can’t buy you dinner, I’ll make you dinner,” he said, pulling back onto the road and heading towards Ennishlough, the glow of the dashboard lights resting on his face in the darkness.
“You cook?” I said, a little surprised.
“I’ve picked up a few things along the way.” He said confidently as he adjusted his lights along the darkened road.
We made our way past Rose and Phin’s thatched roof cottage to the great iron gates of Ennishlough. It felt so different to enter the gates in the passenger seat of the owner’s Range Rover instead of Phin’s dilapidated little truck. A giddy feeling tumbled around my insides. Our path wound through the darkened fields where the sheep were already asleep and woods populated with the call of night birds. We popped over a little bridge, and then arrived along the manicured lawn leading up to the castle. Huge gas lanterns framing the door blazed in the dark, making the white walls twinkle against the blackness.
“Is Loren here?” I asked.
“Yeah, but she’s asleep by now. We have the place to ourselves.” He grabbed the bag of groceries from the car and led me into the house along a crushed stone path.
He flicked on the fluorescent lights overhead and an enormous, gleaming kitchen appeared before my eyes. The stone floors reflected in the polished stainless steel appliances dotted around the room. Long wooden cutting boards and back marble countertops lined the edges of the room beneath towering glass-fronted cabinets. I felt dwarfed by the size and scope of the room. Goosebumps began to stand up on my arm and I rubbed them away.
“You’re cold.” Dayne noticed my chill and immediately deposited the groceries on a countertop, moving to start a fire in the enormous fireplace along one wall. A hearth that was large enough to roast slabs of beef and whole pigs.
“A little,” I nodded my head and continued rubbing the cold away.
“Ok, you sit here,” Dayne said, walking me over to a chair near the roaring fire. “No peeking,” he said as he began unloading his ingredients onto a wooden work surface.
“Ok,” I said, thoroughly entertained by the thought of him cooking for me. “So, what did you used to do with yourself on Friday nights?” I asked, reaching for a book that lay on the table beside me, an ancient copy of Treasure Island.
“Read, watch movies, go for walks. Anything to pass the time. It gets pretty lonely.” He stirred ingredients together in a bowl.
“Do you ever go to LisTirna?” I couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t just go back to visit instead of staying here all by himself.
“Nope. I don’t cross over. I can’t leave my post.” He pulled out a large pan and fired up the gas on the professional looking, stainless steel stove.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I was impressed by he way he knew his way around the kitchen. I thought Loren did all the housework around here.
“You learn a lot when you’ve lived as long as I have. “ He held the bowl high into the air with a grand flourish as the contents dripped into the pan. “I’m going to have to blind fold you now so this can be a surprise.” He came over to me and held out a black scarf.
“Are you sure it’s not so you can have Loren come finish this for you?” I teased.
“Promise,” he said and tied the scarf around my head. I could feel him lingering there. His hand brushed my hair back, tucking it behind my shoulder. His lips brushed against mine, over my cheek, and then rested lightly on my forehead. Not being able to see anything heightened all of my senses. Chill bumps popped up all over my body in response to him. I reached out, but he was gone.
“That’s really not fair,” I said. He chuckled from across the room.
“You can’t distract me, or I will never finish your dinner.” Dishes clanked on the counter and his footsteps shuffled around on the stone floor.
Something began to smell amazing, and the sounds of a busy kitchen filtered up to the raftered ceilings above. He was stirring and whipping and even pulled out an electric something at some point, the burr of its motor cutting through the peaceful quiet of the house.
The kitchen went quiet for a moment and then the rush of his arrival at my side whooshed over me with a smell that made my mouth instantly water. He placed a dish in front of me, and another to my side. The smells coming off the plate were unlike any I had ever smelled. My stomach growled loudly, and I clutched my middle to make it stop.
“Voila!” He said and pulled the blindfold off. In front of me sat an enormous stack of chocolate crepes stuffed with chocolate chips and topped with chocolate whipped cream. There was a beautiful little flower, carved out of a strawberry on the side of the plate, and a rich, steaming cup of hot chocolate. All of this was covered with chocolate shavings and dusted with powdered sugar.
“You said chocolate.” He smiled at me.
“Wow. This looks amazing. I am so impressed.” He shrugged his shoulders at me as if he ate like this on a regular basis.
He sat down beside me in front of his own plate piled high with crepes. “Ladies first.”
He handed me a fork and I scooped a heaping bite onto its tines, devouring the first bite greedily.
His crepes could have won a cooking contest—they were that good. Decadently chocolate and so warm and soft they melted in my mouth the moment the fork touched my tongue. I devoured the entire plate without even looking up.
“Those were amazing. I could eat them for every meal,” I said.
“Now you’re starting to think like me,” Dayne said, a wide smile on his face.
“I am so impressed. Where did you learn to cook like this?” I tucked my napkin under the side of my plate and t
urned to face him as he finished.
“I was a pastry chef in Paris ages ago. I picked up a few things.” Both of his arms rested at either side of his plate and he fingered the saucer of the cup in front of him.
“A chef in Paris?” I fell back against my chair and for a moment Dayne felt like a stranger sitting beside me. Of course he would have lifetimes full of experiences I would know nothing about. He nodded his head.
“Did you enjoy that life?” I asked as I crossed my arms surprised by the jealousy tightening my chest.
“It was a way to pass the years. Good wine, good food, beautiful women.” He checked off the list of famous Parisian pastimes as he stared at the rough surface of the wooden table, but I could tell he had not been happy.
“What’s your idea of a perfect life? If you could live any life you wanted, what would it be?” I pushed my plate away and with the jealousy gone from my voice, he finally turned and looked at me.
Without hesitation he said, “A normal human life. There’s something really beautiful about the simplicity of it all.” He leaned back, pushing his chair away from the table and propping one leg up between us. “They have one shot at life, one chance to get it right.” His voice trailed off to silence as he looked up at the exposed wooden ceiling beams. I reached out to his leg, interrupting his wordless thoughts and encouraging him to continue. “They work hard, play hard, and love with everything they have and then die, satisfied that they’ve lived life to the fullest, surrounded by the ones they love.” He made life sound like a Hallmark greeting card and he tucked his arms behind his head and leaned back with a contented smile on his face as he pictured his dream world.
“It’s not that glamorous.” I shook my head quickly, thinking of how far off my life at home was from his ideal. I leaned away from him and ran my fork through the remains of melted chocolate on my plate. His body followed mine and he now leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he reached out to me.
“It’s all I would need,” Dayne said, watching me.
“So what does Dayne DeLaney’s perfect human life look like?” I put the fork down and folded my hands in my lap, eager to hear every detail of what he wanted out of life, hoping I was in there somewhere.
He hesitated for a moment, playing with the tines of my fork and biting at the corner of his lips.
“Promise you won’t laugh?” He glanced from his plate, to me and back down again, a grimace played on his face as he thought about what he was about to admit to.
“Never,” I said holding up my right hand in a solemn vow of silence.
“I’d be a fighter pilot. Like Top Gun?” His shoulders moved up to his ears and he watched me, waiting for me to laugh.
My elbows fell to the table, quickly forming a cup for my chin so my fingers could cover my smile. Top Gun? No wonder he’d picked that movie the other night.
He shrugged, and I was able to nod, having recovered enough to keep my promise.
“There’s no way I could be anything other than a warren. It’s too ingrained in me.” He shook his head and put his hands on either knee. “Fighter pilot seems like the baddest fighter out there these days.” I was biting my lip now, picturing him in aviator shades and a leather bomber jacket. “You said you wouldn’t laugh,” he protested.
“I’m not laughing. I’m just imagining,” I said, smiling at him, loving his idea of a perfect life so far.
“I’d have a family.” His eyes were far away now as he longed for what he wanted most in life. “That’s the worst part about being who I am. The family bond is nonexistent.” The smile faded from his face. “We’re like animals in that respect. We raise our children until they are old enough to fend for themselves and then we go our separate ways.”
“You wouldn’t be close with your family even if you shared their views?” I said, hoping I didn’t upset him by bringing this up.
“No, I mean we would see each other, that’s a given, but other than sharing blood, family means very little. We’re loners. Some Sidhe bond with a mate for life, but most don’t. We’re the ultimate pleasure seekers. Monogamy isn’t in the genetic make-up of my kind.”
“Oh.” The fun of the evening drained from me as I stared down at the cold stone floor between us. Monogamy hit me hard and I was reminded once again of the gaggle of girls that followed Dayne around just waiting for their turn. Things between us seemed so real, so honest. It was easy to forget. Facing this truth made me want to vomit.
“Not me, Faye,” he said sensing my reaction to the word. He took my hand in his and bent his head down in front of me so I had no choice but to look at him. “There is nothing I want more than to live a normal life. To work hard all day and come home to a wife and kids and a house so full of love it’s about to burst.” He stroked the back of my hand but I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that had crept up inside me and my eyes fell back to the floor below. He reached out for my neck, tucking his hands up under my hair and pulling me forward so I had no choice but to look at him again.
“But you couldn’t. I mean, your powers would fail or something. The kids would know.”
“You forget our kids would be half mine.” My heart stopped beating when he said ‘our’ as if I was already installed in his perfect world. He brushed away a smile and put his hand on my knee, which did nothing to help the whole heart thing.
“So it is possible?”
“Of course. A while back I lived normally with my family on this side. It was a little experiment in human behavior if you will. My sister and I were still young. We needed to learn the ways of this world so we would know what to do once we lived alone.” He lost himself in the memory, landing a fist on the table when he snapped back from it, the silverware jumping just as I did. The look in his eyes was almost murderous. Probably shouldn’t go there, I thought to myself.
“So where was this life?” I slid a spoon back to the place it has skidded away from.
“Not too far from here. We lived in relative seclusion. I still keep the house. It was the best life I’ve ever lived, even if it was fake.”
“I’d like to see it sometime.”
“And I would love to take you,” he said, scooping a fingerful of chocolate whipped cream off his plate and dotting it on my nose with a beyond naughty grin.
I giggled, relieved to have something lighten the mood. Our conversation had veered dangerously close to dark places, and I didn’t want to be all serious on our first official date.
“Ewww, get it off,” I said, with fake annoyance, fanning my hands out to the side like one of the super high maintenance girls that followed him around town might.
“Gladly,” he said, pulling me to him so I landed in his lap as he licked the whipped cream off my nose.
It was all the encouragement I needed. I had been behaving all night. No one was around to see us now. With all the joking gone from my face I turned to him, swinging my leg around so that I straddled him in the chair. His kisses left my cheek and continued down my neck, barely brushing against my skin, teasing me as they slowly moved down to my shoulder.
His progress was painfully slow. The blood boiled in my veins, needing him in a way that was entirely new to me. I felt like a starving, insatiable junkie, falling off the wagon of sobriety and loving and every minute of it. The power of my craving for his touch became stronger than the need to breathe and I pulled feverishly at his hair as our lips crashed together.
I sighed deeply at the feel of them—his soft, velvety, perfect lips. I pulled him to me, unable to get him close enough. He responded immediately. His strong arms pulled me closer still, his kisses harder, more urgent than they had been before. Hands ran all over me, wanting to explore the places they hadn’t been. The tips of his fingers were cool, pulling my skirt up until they were replaced by the heat of his palms on the bare skin of my legs.
The feel of his touch didn’t scare me like it should a girl who lacked any intimate experience, it only pushed the accelerator down further. Fear pric
kled somewhere deep in my stomach, but the fever of my desire for him overcame the fear. I knew what I wanted, and I wasn’t going to let the fear of inexperience get in my way. I kissed his neck, his ear, anything I could get my lips on. I pulled at the buttons of his shirt. They gave little protest, opening easily, exposing the warmth of his chest hidden below.
He was in overdrive, too. The plates from the table scattered to the floor shattering in a million pieces at our feet as he cleared the way with a single sweep of his hand. He stood up from the chair, holding me against him, my legs wrapped around his waist, unwilling to let go. He leaned over, laying me on the table where the remains of our decadent dinner had sat seconds ago. He pulled away for a second, ripping the unbuttoned shirt from his body and tossing it to the floor beside us.
I felt him pressing against me. My legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer. The heat of his body radiated against the coolness of my skin. I tore at the straps of my dress, trying to free myself of the clothes that separated us. His hands were everywhere, in my hair, down my side, under my skirt, pulling it up so I felt the roughness of his blue jeans against my leg. His lips left mine and began to make their way down my neck again.
His body arched away from mine as his kisses moved further down my chest. I took advantage of the space and reached down with my hands, straining for the belt buckle he always wore. My fingertips found the cool metal and I began pulling against it, trying to free it from his waist.
His body tensed. He grabbed my hands and pulled them back, pinning them beside my head. He hung over me, breathing heavily, catching his breath, his head buried in my hair. The damp heat of his breath was in my ear as my own chest rose and fell with the panting breaths of interrupted desire. I wiggled under him, trying to free my hands, wanting to finish what we had started, but his hands were locked like handcuffs around me.
“Faye, no.” His broken words were as difficult for him to say as they were for me to hear.
Heir of Earth (Forgotten Gods) Page 30