by Cecy Robson
The giant just finishes pouring my drink when the gnomes roll back. Andrew snatches the glass and hands it to me, his reflexes no match for the overly-amorous little folk.
“I haven’t seen you in a while, pretty girl. What have you been up to?”
“I’ve been busy at the firm. What about you? How is your residency going?”
He kisses my cheek and nuzzles my neck, a strong indication that his residency is the last thing on his mind. His smooth skin tickles and . . . that’s about it. It pretty much sums up our last night together.
We talk for a while. Dahlia remains on the dance floor, stirring it up with a dwarf doing the lawn mower. Dwarves aren’t known for their dance skills. Or grace. Dahlia’s dance partner is no exception. He knocks over a group of leprechauns like bowling pins, earning him a magical zap. The dwarf, being of tough-skin, brushes off the spell and moves on to the “Robot.” Dahlia laughs. She’s flirting and having fun, until Frankie shows.
Frankie crosses the dance floor, evidently having given up his post at the door. His hands find Dahlia’s waist and pull her away from the dwarf. Dahlia’s lavender eyes and smile light up the dance floor. She flutters her sparkling lashes, inviting Frankie to kiss her. And does he ever.
Their hips sway, matching the rhythm of Rhiannon’s sexiest song. With each movement, their bodies commit to spending the night, vowing to please, to claim, to entice. I glance down at my empty glass. Dahlia shares more heat on the dance floor than I’ve ever experienced in the bedroom.
Andrew lifts my glass from my hand and places my glass on the bar, his attention sweeping from Dahlia to me. The intensity in his features promise to raise the temperature of bedrooms past. I’m not as certain and unsure whether I should try.
He gathers me to him, whispering low into my ear. “Dance with me, Olivia. Let’s start our night off right.”
I allow Andrew to guide me, cringing when the lawn gnomes pile into a set of glasses and send them crashing to the floor.
“Son of a banshee’s whore!” the giant hollers.
Those gnomes, I envy them, as I do all the beings clutching each other around me. No one else exists except their partners and nothing matters except pleasing and loving them.
Andrew stops a few bodies away from Dahlia and Frankie. I love to dance. At home, there are days we lock up our apartment tight and Dahlia enchants the living room to mimic a mystical forest. She doesn’t possess much more magic than that, but it’s enough to permit a little fun. I slap on fake wings and prance around with my bestie, singing to music and spinning with joy.
I don’t share the same enthusiasm with Andrew, but I decide to try, allowing him to pull me close.
He nibbles on my ear. It feels wet, although I’m certain it’s supposed to feel good. I groan, frustrated. There’s something wrong with me and it’s not due to the lack of wings or magic.
Andrew is cute, damn it, and the sex was . . . acceptable. Stars know the elf tried. Passed out right after, bless his little heart. It must be me. I’m clearly not giving in to my pixie nature. I mean, look at Dahlia and Frankie. They have no issue surrendering to their mystical halves. It amplifies their attraction and drives them to please and explore.
Wings and magic deficient or not, I’m still a Fae.
I close my eyes and surrender my body to Andrew, mimicking the movements of my kind who know how to take and receive pleasure.
I rock my waist, front, side, back, the perfect rhythm to show Andrew that I need him. Front, side, back, again, and again, and again, trying to make it feel natural and not so forced.
“Jesus,” Andrew murmurs. My shoulders slump when something hard pushes into my belly. Andrew doesn’t have to force anything.
Andrew allows me to lead him, willing to let me do anything. It doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel right. I close my eyes, allowing my mind and body to seek someone I can surrender to.
I sort through men I find handsome, Colton Haynes, Tyler Posey, and Chris Hemsworth. My delicate senses should respond to one of these sexy icons. Instead a male who has no business occupying my thoughts, shoves the others aside and makes his presence known.
“Olivia,” his throaty timbre whispers.
The lean body in my grasp vanishes, replaced by hard muscle and a tall rigid frame. I dig my nails into his shoulders, surprised that he’s here, but unwilling to let him go.
“Olivia,” he whispers again. “My Olivia.”
That voice pulses lower, to my feminine regions and deeper into my core. It prods, begging access in while strong hands rake down my waist and seize my backside. I lift my face, disbelieving who is here.
My breath releases in shaky bursts. Ryker is with me. I reach up, smoothing his short dark hair, feeling the spiky softness roughen as my fingertips sweep down to touch the tiny hairs crawling along his jaw. I stop when I reach the indentation on his chin and circle it with my tongue. It’s delicious, salty, sweet, the perfect taste of male.
Ryker fastens his gaze on mine, his blue irises firing with danger and desire. I should look away. But I can’t. They’re a beautiful peril I don’t wish to escape.
His jaw tightens as does his hold, every bit of his flesh demanding to know my secrets.
I’ll tell him anything for a chance to lay naked in his bed.
“Do you want me?” he rasps.
“Yes—”
His mouth cuts me off, his tongue forcing mine into submission. His hands, those amazingly large hands, clutch me, keeping our bodies cemented. He wants me. Ryker Scott wants me.
My neck arches as I come up for air, giving him space to play. He nibbles my chin, his teeth lightly searching my flesh. I moan, begging for more.
Lips, soft and hungry, explore my mouth while his hands hunt me, pleading to my body to finish surrendering to his.
I fasten my arms around him, nipping his neck and stroking his ear with my tongue. He’s challenging me to be aggressive and I answer the call.
Before I’m ready, he abruptly breaks away. “I knew you wanted me,” Andrew gasps.
I stagger away, sweeping the area. Ryker is gone. Only Andrew remains, his face flushed and his arousal clear.
He pants. “Let’s go to my place,” he says. “It’s closer.”
I blink back at him. What just happened? I cover my forehead, fighting the urge to pass out. Why was I thinking about Ryker? I hate Ryker. Don’t I?
Andrew reaches for me, his lust clear. “Olivia, come on. We have all night. I’ll drive you back home in the morning.”
I drop my hand away as that strange fog I was under starts to lift. “Livvie,” Andrew laughs. “What’s wrong?”
Dahlia’s scream freezes everything, cutting through Eminem’s hard tirade.
I hurry to her, scared that she’s hurt. Nothing prepares me for what I find.
Magic burns through the enchanted mist where Dahlia’s talisman lies in pieces at her feet. The stone at the center is shattered and the pearls from her necklace bounce free along the floor.
I look up in horror.
Frankie hauls her to him, his glowing predator eyes scanning the area for someone or something.
Another scream to my right. Then one behind a group of trolls. A fourth sounds near the DJ stand. It’s then I see the cause.
A little gremlin materializes, his green body trembling yet his face determined as he reaches for a banshee and snatches her talisman.
A pop shoots in the air, followed by a by a furious roar. The giant bartender sobs, lifting his broken talisman away from the slick wood.
The flashing club lights explode in shards of raining glass and the music grinds to a deafening halt. Scattered cries bounce from all directions, hidden and sharper by the sudden darkness.
My vision adjusts as Death declares its presence in an ensemble of ravenous howls.
Screams punch through the air. Each loss of a talisman is luring the Cù-Sìth closer.
Two more gremlins materialize, shattering talismans with growing
urgency. They’re common Fae. Why are they working with Death?
Someone shoves past me. Then another, and another. The crowd stampedes forward, trampling over each other to reach the exists.
I catch sight of Frankie as I’m pushed further away. He removes his talisman and places it around Dahlia’s neck.
Dahlia sobs into her hands. “No,” she tells him. “I won’t take it from you, baby.”
Andrew wrenches me to him. “We have to leave, Oliva. We have to leave now.”
I break away from him and force my way toward Dahlia, reaching out through the throng of running Fae. “Dahlia. Dahlia!”
Tears stream from her beautiful lavender eyes when she sees me. She shakes her head, her expression breaking. “Run, Livvie. Run!”
Andrew snags my waist and lugs me back. I struggle against him. No way I’m leaving my only family behind.
I jerk free from him and throw myself against the crowd. I’m almost to Dahlia when a small green hand reaches out, ripping the talisman from my neck.
Chapter Five
I’ve faced the Cù-Sìth three times in my life. Once, when we crossed the Fae realm into Earth. The last time I saw my father. The next was as at the train station in England. I was ten and actively searching for Platform 9 ¾. My brother Kaelen watched me as Mama instructed, laughing at my naiveté.
Mama paged through a tourist book she’d purchased. She loved photography and this volume included bright beautiful pictures. She was trying to decide whether we should continue along the countryside or head to Italy the next day.
My sisters loitered close to her, keeping a safe distance from the young men stepping off the train en route home. It was the first time I noticed how taken humans were with their beauty and I wondered if there would come a time a boy would look at me with interest.
I skipped back and forth along the pavement, smiling at the way Mama’s long red hair swayed in the breeze like bits of flame. She returned my smile each time. There were five us, but she always had a way of making us feel special.
I was still smiling when a vagrant hurried past me with his head down. My nose crinkled from his scent of old whisky and sweat, but also from the feel that something was wrong. He dove at Mama like a falcon, wrenching the talisman from her neck and running too fast for someone so drunk.
It didn’t seem real. None of it. Not my mother’s paling skin when she grasped her bare collar. Not the echoing howls of the Cù-Sìth bounding down the tracks.
My mother stilled. The rise and fall of her shoulders her only movement. The veil the talisman provided was gone. She knew her time had come.
My sisters refused to accept her fate. They tried to haul Mama away. She yelled at them to be quiet and run, smacking at their hands, pleading with them to leave her.
They wouldn’t listen to Mama and tried to protect her. When the hounds tackled Mama, my three sisters flung themselves on top of them, sobbing as the pack shredded her soul. Their shrieks of rage and sadness drew more attention than their talismans could muffle. It took mere seconds for the pack to sense them and turn on them.
My families’ bodies vanished from human eyes following the first lethal bite. Except for a mist Death used to camouflage their presence and squelch their victims’ cries, nothing had changed for the humans.
But I wasn’t human.
I heard and saw it all. The last image was that of my eldest sister, Mary, screaming when Cathasach dug his fangs into her soul and dragged her off to eat.
My brother hauled me behind where platform 9 ¾ should have been, clasping my mouth, but not my hazel eyes. They screamed my terror in the form of endless tears . . .
* * *
My third brush with Cù-Sìth was in Bill’s office. Now, was the fourth. As I gape at the broken chain that symbolizes my shattered veil, I realize it will be the last.
The fleet of haunting cries draws nearer. Thunder strikes, rattling down the club walls and vibrating my feet hard enough to knock my teeth together.
Like the other times, Cathasach returns. His vicious and familiar howls echoing above the chaos.
“Olivia!” Andrew calls for me. His handsome face twists in fear. He’s fighting the throng of Fae trying to escape to reach me. His efforts cease when he catches sight of my bare neck. With a pained sigh, he turns, moving with the crowd fighting their way to the exit. He knows my life is over. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing left to do.
The dance floor empties out except for those of us without talismans. A fairy. The giant. A banshee. An elf. Me and Dahlia. And Frankie who refused to abandon her.
Frankie speaks low into his earpiece. “Death is here. I need fire and I need it now.”
Dragon fire is the only thing capable of warding off Death. But it’s temporary and the number of hounds will certainly drain the flame.
Black and green smoke filters through the walls and vents in a rush, billowing out to form the giant, shaggy bodies of nine Cù-Sìth. Drool drips from their fangs over the cluster of tasty souls gathered before them.
The pack circles us, Cathasach at the lead, sniffing and growling as they decide who to eat first. They’re patient, unlike last time. With nowhere for us to run, they have that luxury.
More swirls of green and white appear, whisking past us and out the exits. More of the pack arrives, prowling after those who tried to escape.
We inch back as they circle. Except for the banshee. She shrieks, racing through an opening. The closest hound severs her neck in one bite. She never stood a chance.
Translucent hands reached up from her body only to be ripped by a second hound anxious for a taste. Her murder sets off a frenzy of excited howls. The fairy takes flight, reaching the elevated ceiling before two Cù-Sìth sandwiched her in midair. The giant is next, followed by the elf. They jet in opposite directions.
So do five hounds.
Four tackle the roaring giant. The other one has fun with the elf. The blood curling rips of tearing muscle twists my stomach into a merciless knot. But it’s their sorrowful and defeated sobs that puncture my heart.
Nine hounds have a taste. None are full.
Only Dahlia, Frankie, and I are left. But they can’t see Frankie.
Frankie placed his talisman back around his neck. In refusing to take his necklace, Dahlia denied its power. It will only spare Frankie and he’s not going down without a fight.
He leads Dahlia to my side. “I love you,” he whispers, causing her tears to run faster. I clutch Dahlia’s hand, trembling. It’s time for Frankie to fight. Backup has arrived.
Six dragons stalk forward, spreading out along the dancefloor, fear and defiance etching deep lines into their faces. Frankie steps away from us, takes a breath and transforms into his dormant form.
Silver scales run the length of a Clydesdale-sized body and fierce yellow eyes target the advancing hounds. With a flick of his spiked tale, Frankie curls his long reptilian body around us, the chain of his talisman tight against his throat.
One by one, the other dragons assume their mammoth and lethal counterparts. With a roar, Frankie unleashes a funnel of flame, catching the hounds that pounce.
The Cù-Sìth yelp, caught unprepared. They scamper back in funnels of smoke, struggling to avoid Frankie’s rapid bursts of flame.
Dahlia and I huddle against Frankie’s belly when the other dragons shoot their fire, our bodies shaking violently as we try in vain to quiet our cries.
Speakers explode like bombs. Wires short-circuit in a wash of blinding sparks. A rafter snaps in half, crashing onto the bar. Bottles of liquor shatter, spilling the alcohol and igniting the bar in a sea of flames.
The Cù-Sìth dodge and veer, hunting and sorting through the chaos. The dragons strategically set off their flames. Alternating their streams and changing direction, making the hounds work to find them.
The dragons demand revenge for our kind. But the Cù-Sìth won’t easily abandon their prey. They want more souls and they aren’t without friends.
The gremlins reappear, materializing in a series of pops. With shaking hands, they snatch the talismans of three dragons. The fight leaves us and the war between dragons and Death begins.
All the hounds attack. Except for one.
Cathasach prowls toward us. Another gremlin appears, pointing wildly in Frankie’s direction. Frankie snatches him up and swallows him whole, but not before Cathasach homes in on his location.
He bulldozes into Frankie, sending him spinning like a gargantuan top into the cinderblock wall. The wall caves in and another beam breaks from the ceiling, burying Frankie.
Frankie doesn’t move after that. Either he’s dead or he will be. We’re on our own.
Two more dragons meet their fate, their gurgled roars abruptly silenced in sickening bites. They don’t matter to Cathasach. He lurks forward, his blood red eyes catching like fire as he licks his jowls. With fangs that appear to smile and a devilish gaze that recognizes me, Cathasach bypasses Dahlia. He’s chosen his meal. I’m next to die.
I scream and so does Dahlia when he tackles me. Air leaves my lungs in an agonizing rush. He pins me to the blistering dance floor, one paw at my throat, the other burying into my stomach. I choke out a cry, struggling to draw in air. He answers my efforts by pressing more of his weight.
Dahlia screams. All the remaining Cù-Sìth strike her at once, shoving her between them like a toy, their anticipation and arousal growing with Dahlia’s increasing terror.
I twist beneath Cathasach’s hold, swearing and out of my mind with fright. I’m scared. But I’m more scared for Dahlia.
“No . . . no . . . Dahlia!
Green smoke encloses Cathasach. The filthy hound with the shaggy green fur disappears, replaced by a naked male with iridescent jade hair falling like a matted curtain around my face. He reeks of sweat and murder, his glowing red eyes chilling my racing heart. Death can take many forms. Strange that I fear the man more than the beast.
I scream, flailing madly when Dahlia’s wings are ripped from her body.
Cathasach looms over me, tightening his hold on my throat. Grimy nails scrape and tug, puncturing my skin. I expect unfathomable pain and a slow death. He’s taking his time, writhing with pleasure as he claims my soul. But with every squeeze, his hold diminishes.