by Darby Kaye
Bann shrugged. “It’s not like I don’t have a fair number already.”
“True. But stop adding to the collection. There’s no prize for going under the cairn with the most.” She dipped a clean cloth in a warm bowl of brew she had put aside earlier and held it in place over the deepest of the cuts. Bann winced as the healing potion stung for a moment before fading. She repeated the act on the rest of the cuts, then checked his maimed finger and applied a fresh dressing. “Okay, arm next. Take a seat.”
Bann sat and held out his injured limb to her. She unwrapped the gauze and set it aside, then bent closer. “They look clean. I’ll leave the wrapping off for now—let oxygen get to the wounds. How does it feel?”
He opened and closed his fist a few times. “More tender than anything else.”
“I’ll bet.” She picked up the moonstone and cupped it in her palm until it began to glow with a cool, pale light. Holding it between thumb and fingers, she focused the light on the puncture marks. The holes were rimmed with clean, pink skin.
As the stone’s beam bathed the area, Bann felt a strange tingling. It grew warmer, pleasant at first—the magic of a moonstone in a Healer’s hand purifying the wound and speeding the healing. Then, he stiffened when the heat intensified, the beam of light growing hotter, like the sun’s rays through a magnifying glass on a summer day.
With a gasp, he jerked out of her grasp. “Damn, woman! Are ye trying to brand me?” He blew on his skin, attempting to cool it. “Leave off,” he snapped as she reached for him again.
Unexpected anger surged through him. He stepped to the sink and ran cold water on the spot. After patting it dry, he took his time folding the towel just right, trying to tamp down the swelling irritation. He tightened his jaw when she joined him at the counter.
“Don’t be such a wuss.” Shay reached for him again. “Let me see your—”
Rage flared again, a struck match. Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her wrist. His fingers dug into the flesh and muscles. “I said, leave off!” Heat flooded his body. Not like the heat of the warp spasm, which he had always associated with righteous anger. This heat was different—it filled him with a low, almost sexual, desire to hurt her.
To take her.
It frightened the seven hells out of him.
“Hey!” Shay wrenched free, her eyes narrowed. Nostrils flaring, she glared at him as she rubbed her wrist.
The anger faded, leaving him coated in an oily sweat. Blinking, he stumbled back and wiped the moisture from his upper lip with an unsteady hand. “Gods. Shay,” he croaked. “I’m… I’m sorry…”
“You’re lucky I didn’t deck you.” She shook out her arm. “I’m going to write that little stunt off to exhaustion and the last two days’ events. Just this once.”
The unspoken you pull that shit again and I will end you hovered in the air between them. He nodded in understanding. You have my permission—use my own knife, in fact.
Her annoyance morphed into worry. She stepped forward and pressed her palm against his forehead. “You feel warm. I bet your body is fighting an infection.” Moving her fingers to the pulse under his jaw, she said in a calmer voice. “Now, will you let me finish? And, no, I won’t use my moonstone, you big baby. Sheesh, it’s like I said before. You and Cor are such cranky butts when you’re tired.”
Wishing she had struck him, maybe had slapped him across the face so hard it would have cracked his jaw, Bann nodded again, guilt pulling his eyes to one side. He held out his arm.
Cradling it in her hands, she studied it, a crease between her fair brows and one corner of her mouth quirked in concentration. She ran her thumb along the puncture holes. “It doesn’t look infected.” She sniffed the wounds. “And it doesn’t smell like it, either. But, still, anything to do with Cernunnos makes me jumpy in the worst way.” She glanced up at him. “You sure you don’t feel any different?”
“As in?”
“Like not yourself?”
“Well,” he said, trying to lighten a situation that was becoming darker every minute, “I have been craving fresh, raw meat and feel a strong desire to howl at the moon.” He glanced down at his chest. “And will I need to take a razor to my body soon?”
Shay snorted and let go of his arm. “Dude. We’re Fey. We don’t do lycanthrope.” She turned him around and gave him a push. “Bed. Now. I’ll be along as soon as I clean up here.”
“Who am I to argue when a beautiful woman commands me to her bed?”
“You just keep thinking that way, big guy.”
Smiling in relief as the easy exchange helped minimize the incident, he headed for their room. After a thorough shower in which he lathered and rinsed every inch of himself—using Shay’s body wash that he normally scorned—he crawled into bed. Smelling like lavender, and rather enjoying it, he stretched, easing his stiff muscles and reveling in the simple pleasure of clean cotton. The sound of Shay moving about the kitchen filled him with a deep contentment.
And a nagging worry.
It was just weariness and the aftermath of battle that brought on that bit of temper, he thought. Think instead of the future and all the good things it will bring.
Just before he fell asleep, he thought he heard the voice laughing at him.
26
THE FEEL OF A hand on her hip woke Shay the next morning. She kept her eyes closed against the gray light seeping around the blinds. Smiling to herself, she recalled Bann waking her in the middle of the night with another mug of sláinte tea. They had shared the warm brew, passing it back and forth, not talking, but simply enjoying the healing power of the potion—and the healing power of a shared bed—before drifting back to sleep.
Now, the mattress rocked as Bann scooted closer, curling his body around hers. His erection, already encased in a condom, pressed between her buttocks. She had been delighted to discover how often the man wanted sex first thing in the morning. Like, every morning.
The hand that had woken her traveled down her hip to her stomach. One finger took a moment to toy with her navel, then it joined the others to glide up to her breasts. Her nipple hardened as the fingers stroked it, then massaged it, gently at first, then harder. Warmth turned to heat and traveled in a straight line from nipple to pelvis. The hand followed that warmth and slipped between her thighs, doing things to her that had her pushing her hips against that oh, so talented hold. Time slowed. All she could think about was that spot and those fingers and the dance between them. She moaned softly.
Sensing her readiness, Bann urged her over onto her stomach and rolled on top, spreading her legs with his. It was one of his favorite positions. His morning ride, he called it.
She gasped when he entered her with a thrust that was more aggressive than usual. Not that she minded it. Someone’s feeling better this morning. Pulling her elbows beneath her, she raised herself to a better angle. Still inside her, Bann sat up, pushed the covers off, and took her hips in his hands.
He rode her.
With each thrust, she could feel his balls slapping lightly against her. She knew she wouldn’t climax in this position, but that was okay. The speed increased. With a breathless gasp, then groan, Bann came as he always did first thing in the morning—abruptly, as if he had been holding it all night.
Only this time was different. Pulling out, he rolled her over, repositioned himself between her legs, and entered her again. Squeezing her eyes tight, she gasped from the pleasure of his still iron-hard manhood and the second round. He plunged into her, hard enough to slide her along the sheets. Each thrust was applauded by their bellies slapping together. Just as she thought he was going to peak before she was ready, he increased the pace with a savage grunt.
Excited—okay, be honest, turned on—by this more aggressive exhibition, Shay slitted her eyes open and looked up at Bann’s face. His lips were drawn back in concentration as he moved, the cords in his arms standing out as he braced himself, his hips never ceasing their movement.
“Come fo
r me,” he growled. He slowed, pressing his pelvis against hers and rocking with small, subtle movements. Grinding against her in a way that always sent her spiraling right into an orgasm. “Now.” He picked up the pace again.
Eight deep thrusts. Then, with a cry she only barely contained, her body exploded from the center and shot tremors along her arms and legs and out the top of her head. Dimly, she was aware of Bann holding still, letting her enjoy the moment. She could feel her body contracting around his manhood, like a hand clenching and unclenching around the haft of a weapon.
Then Bann began again, riding out his own pleasure until he came a second time, breathing heavily through his nose. He shuddered, then collapsed on top of her, panting, his body hot and slippery with sweat. She could feel his heart thudding against her breast.
Fingers buried in his thick hair to keep him from rising before she was ready to let him go, she dozed for a brief time, enjoying the feel of his weight and the scent of their lovemaking. After a few minutes, she shifted, aware of an impending cramp in her thigh. A faint twinge deep inside reminded her of how aggressive he had been. Not that she didn’t enjoy the hell out of it. “Feeling a bit randy this morning, weren’t you?”
Bann lifted his head. His eyes were half-closed, those long lashes hooding the blue. “A bit. I dinna hurt ye, did I?”
“Yeah, right.” She cocked her head. “I kind of liked it.”
“As did I.” A corner of his mouth quirked. He kissed her lightly.
A tap on the door. “Shay? Dad? Can I come in?” Cor’s voice was heavy with sleep.
“No,” Bann said. “Go away. Whatever it is, it can wait until spring.”
With a huff, she slapped Bann’s shoulder. “Just a moment, Cor,” she called, then lowered her voice. “You might want to get off of me now,” she whispered.
“You mean out of you.” He kissed her again with a loud smack, then rolled off.
As Bann plucked a tissue from the box on the bedside table and took care of the condom, Shay pulled on the baggy T-shirt and flannel pajama pants she had started keeping by the bed, just in case, then scooted back under the covers. She glanced over at Bann. “Well?”
“He’s seen me nude all his life.” Still, Bann flipped the covers over his lower body.
“Okay, Cor.” She shoved a pillow behind her, protecting her back from the wall. We should get a headboard, she thought idly. Maybe after the wedding. “You can come in now.”
Cor staggered in, dressed in a T-shirt that had once belonged to Bann and thus reached to his knees. His hair stuck up on one side. “Shay? I think Sam’s sick.” His face was creased from sleep and worry.
“Why do you think that?” She was already rolling out of bed even as she spoke.
Cor followed her back down the hall. “He won’t come out of his crate.”
Reaching the boy’s room, Shay slipped inside, hoping that the puppy was simply worn out by the last two days’ events. That hope failed when she saw him crouched on all fours in the farthest corner of the crate. Squatting down by the open door, she snapped her fingers. “Here, Sam.” The puppy didn’t move. In fact, he squeezed tighter into the corner. She reached inside and scooped up the puppy one-handed with a grunt. “He’s sure grown in the last week.”
She dragged him to her, then sat on the floor and crossed her legs, trapping him in the cradle of her limbs. After running her hands over his body and legs and paws, she peered into his eyes, ears, and nose, and even checked his anus and testicles for any sores or swelling. He squirmed and tried to lick her the entire time in proper puppy fashion.
“Well,” she said to Cor, who was hunched down next to her, anxiously awaiting word, “he seems fine. Let’s see if he wants to pee, then eat.” She placed Sam on the floor next to her.
Just then, the puppy stiffened. His ears flattened as he crouched down and attempted to burrow under Shay’s leg, digging with his front paws.
The hiss of bare feet. Bann appeared in the doorway, dressed in jeans and buttoning a flannel shirt. “And how is the wee one?” He stepped closer, eyebrows raised in question.
Sam gave up trying to hide. He simply rolled over and exposed his belly and throat.
“Dad! Go away!” Cor pushed at his father’s legs. “You’re scaring him.”
“Not at all.” Bann reached down. “He’s always been a bit skittish around me…” His voice trailed off when urine dribbled out and wrote damp lines along Sam’s fur in a message of surrender. Bann drew back. Without a word, he turned and left the room.
Shay brushed aside the faint whisper of warning in her head. “Guess he doesn’t need to pee now. Go see if he wants to eat.” She waited until Cor and Sam trotted away before going in search of Bann.
She checked the bedroom. His boots were gone, as was his jacket. Glancing out the window, she tightened her lips, then snagged her hoodie, pulling it on as she stuffed her feet into a pair of Ugg boots under her pajama pants. Hurrying through the kitchen, she passed by Cor scooping food into Sam’s dish.
“Dad’s outside,” Cor said, picking up the kibble that never made it into the bowl. “I think he’s mad about something. But it’s not my fault,” he added hastily. “I didn’t knock until you and Dad were quiet.”
Shay smiled weakly. Not wanting to go there with the boy, she stepped outside.
Bann was standing at the back gate with his hands in his jacket pockets, gazing out at the rocks made ridiculous by toupees of leftover snow. Taking a deep breath, the cold air stinging her nostrils, she joined him.
“Bann—”
“Do not make more out of this than needs be. The pup is simply reacting to the fright of the last two days.” He looked up as a hawk soared past on its way to its favorite hunting ground, its tail a badge of crimson against the flint-gray clouds. “And he’s always been a bit timid around me. Why, he’s probably still associating me with the shapeshifter. He didn’t want anything to do with me yesterday when I stank of the creature.”
She frowned, remembering how it had taken Max longer to warm up to Rory after her cousin had accidentally frightened the adolescent dog the first time they had met. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“I’ll woo him with extra treats and affection. Now,” he took her elbow and began guiding her toward the house, “our lovemaking has made me ravenous. Coffee, then breakfast.”
During breakfast, Shay watched, without trying to look like she was watching, Sam’s behavior around Bann. She brightened when the puppy crept close enough to take a piece of bacon from Bann’s hand, the man admonishing his son to not bleedin’ think about feeding your dog at the table, boyo.
Paranoid much? she chided herself, relieved when a second treat was offered and accepted. “I need to go check on each of the wounded Knights. I’m not sure how long it will take. What do you two have planned?”
“The shipment from Pennsylvania is due to arrive sometime today. I’ll store the items in the garage for now since we might be moving sooner than later. Well, most of the items.” A pleased smile ghosted across his face.
“And just what are you grinning about?” she asked.
“Why, not a thing.” He winked at Cor, who winked back by scrunching up one side of his face.
“Fine. Be that way,” she grumbled, secretly pleased by her guys’ more upbeat moods. Hoping she wasn’t ruining the moment, she braced herself, then spoke in a nonchalant voice. “Say, before I leave, I want to check your arm.”
A muscle in Bann’s cheek jumped. Then, a polite nod. “Certainly.”
After setting Cor to work clearing the table—the boy complaining until Bann snapped at him in a tone that startled both woman and boy—Shay indicated their bedroom with a tilt of her head. She gathered up a bowl of nettle brew, a clean cloth, and her moonstone, then followed the man.
Bann was waiting in the bathroom. He had rolled his sleeve back and was examining the bite marks as she walked in. He held out his arm to her. “See? Already starting to close up.”
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br /> “Yeah, this particular batch of nettle brew is supercharged; Boulder has a large and very active group of Healers, and they recently came up with a new way of drying the leaves. It seems to have made a difference in its potency.”
“Why are there so many Healers in Boulder?”
“Celestial Seasonings Tea Company.”
“Oh.”
She set her supplies next to the sink and juggled her moonstone in one hand. “Ready to try this again?”
“Do I get a lollipop afterwards if I’m good?”
“Sure, whatever rocks your boat.” She closed her fist around the stone. The cool lunar light welled out. Once the glow was steady, she ran the beam slowly along the back of Bann’s hand. Old scars stood out like runes. She could sense him tensing up when the light traveled to his wrist. “Okay so far?”
“Just get on with it.”
She continued. The moonstone’s glow reached the wound. A moment later, Bann jerked his arm back with a hiss. “Son of a bitch!” A flush darkened his face and throat.
Damn. Shay stepped back, chewing on her lip as she tucked the stone into her pocket. “I need to talk with someone who knows more about this kind of stuff than I do.”
“Who?”
A certain witchy witch. “Orwren O’Siobhan. The druidess who did our wards.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because there is nothing wrong with me.” He rolled down his sleeve in short, savage tugs, brows pinched together. “Outside of my future wife trying to set my arm on fire.”
“That’s exactly why I want to talk with her. The moonstone shouldn’t have that kind of effect on a normal wound. She might know about any possible connection between Cernunnos and—”
“I said no.” He started past her.
“Not so fast.” She planted a hand on his chest. “We’re not done discussing this.”
Bann’s mouth was a hard line. “Remove yer hand,” he said in a low voice.
She raised an eyebrow at the threat in his voice. “Rein it in, big guy. I’m speaking as your Healer here.” She stood her ground, waiting for him to back down. And what’s with these sudden flareups? She blinked in surprise when he elbowed around her, crowding her against the counter.