Page 41

Anger rises in me, hot and unexpected. How could she push me toward another woman so easily?

We have an attraction…more than just that.

I was certain that there was something real there, something deeper.

But perhaps I was wrong. McColl said that they’re sexual creatures by nature.

Xander mentioned something along those lines, as well, telling me to be careful.

What did he call them? Sirens of the land?

The cold indifference in her voice when she dismissed me reminded me, for just a moment, of her mother. That calculated detachment, that ability to set aside feelings for strategy. It throws me off balance in a way I don’t like at all.

I follow her to the table, taking the chair across from her.

We eat in silence, the tension between us growing thicker with each passing moment.

The delicious food might as well be sawdust for all I can taste.

Every so often, I catch her glancing at me, but when our eyes meet, she quickly looks away. I finish my plate, pushing it away.

“Did you enjoy the pies?” she asks.

It takes me a moment to realize what she is referring to.

“Delicious,” I lie, since I didn’t taste anything.

She goes back to eating. When I glance at her plate, I note that she’s barely touched her food after all this time.

The sound of approaching footsteps breaks our uncomfortable silence.

A tall man with dark hair approaches our table, and I can immediately sense the magic radiating from him.

Strong magic. He is wearing low-slung breeches and is shirtless.

His chest is broad and well-muscled. Everything about his bearing screams warrior – the way he moves, the confidence in his stride, the way his eyes constantly scan his surroundings.

One of the Children of the Veil, I’d wager.

He glances my way, dismissing me and focusing on her instead. “Hi, McColl.” His face breaks into a genuine smile. “By the goddess, it is good to see you.”

McColl’s entire demeanor transforms. Her face lights up with genuine joy as she leaps to her feet. “Blaise! I can’t believe it!” she says. “It can’t be you.”

They embrace, and I watch with growing irritation as the hug lasts far longer than any friendly greeting should. His hands rest low on her back, and she doesn’t seem inclined to pull away.

“You look incredible,” Blaise says when they finally separate, his eyes lingering on her in a way that makes my jaw clench. “Even more beautiful than I remembered,” he adds, his eyes on her breasts. He seems reluctant to lift them, but finally does.

Heat floods through me, and I grip my wine glass tighter.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” McColl laughs, and the sound is lighter than anything I’ve heard from her all evening. “Look at you! When did you get so…broad? I think you may have grown an inch or two, as well. Not that you needed it. You’ve always been tall. It suits you.”

“Training with the Children of the Veil will do that to a man.” He grins, flexing slightly in a way that’s clearly meant to impress her. “Would you like to dance? For old times’ sake? It would be great to catch up.”

“You haven’t finished your food,” I say in a tone that is clipped.

“I could come back,” he tells her. “I didn’t realize you were still busy.”

“I’m finished,” she says. “I’m not used to eating such rich food.”

“Shall we then?” He smiles at her.

McColl’s eyes flick to me, something uncertain in her expression.

Checking in with me, perhaps? After she just told me to go find myself a bedmate for the evening?

I’m not sure why she thinks she needs to.

She is her own person. Capable of making her own decisions.

It’s clear that we are under no immediate threat, even if we do need to be careful.

I force my voice to remain level. “You should go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll be right here.”

The words taste bitter on my tongue, but I’ll be damned if I show the jealousy coursing through me when she made it clear she doesn’t care what I do or who I do it with.

Something that looks like hurt flashes across McColl’s face, but it’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it. She nods and takes Blaise’s offered arm, letting him lead her toward the area where others are dancing around the bonfires.

I try to focus on the crowd in general, but my eyes keep drifting to where McColl and Blaise move together near the flames.

The celebration is heating up around us – the wine flowing more freely, the laughter growing louder, the dancing more intimate.

And in the center of it all, Blaise has his hands on McColl’s hips, pulling her closer than any mere friend should.

He leans down to whisper something in her ear, and she throws her head back and laughs. They continue talking, their heads close together, and McColl laughs again. What could possibly be so damned funny?

I’ve never felt jealous a day in my life, but I recognize the emotion burning through me now with crystal clarity. It’s ugly and possessive and entirely unwelcome. I don’t know what to do to stop it.

“Excuse me?”

I look up to find a woman standing beside my table, her blonde hair pinned up with silver combs. Her dress is long and cinched at the waist.

“I’m Celeste,” she says with a warm smile. “I noticed you sitting alone… I…um… Would you care to dance?”

I glance back toward McColl, who’s laughing at something Blaise is saying again, her hand resting on his chest. The sight makes something twist painfully in my gut.

“I’d love to,” I say, standing and offering Celeste my arm. It’s the last thing I want, but anything is better than sitting here brooding like a lovesick fool.

We go over to the dance floor, which is filling up by the second. But we’ve only danced one or two songs when I feel someone tap my shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” Lydia asks, not waiting for an answer before she slides between us.

Celeste looks annoyed but steps back with a polite nod. “Sure. Of course.”

Before I can protest, Lydia has pressed herself against me, her bare breasts against my chest, her hands roaming over my shoulders.

“You should take this off.” She fingers the collar of my shirt.

“I’m good,” I tell her, hoping the song will end soon so that I can make some excuse and leave.

“You need to relax.” She kneads my shoulders. “I know something that will calm you right down.” She presses herself against me again.

I put my hands on her waist, holding her at arm’s length. “Lydia, I think I need to set—”

“Don’t think,” she interrupts, her fingers trailing down my chest. “Just feel, Kian. Let me show you what real pleasure can be.”

I’m about to tell her exactly where she can take her offer when another voice cuts through the music. One I recognize well.

“Excuse me.” McColl’s voice is ice-cold. “I believe you promised me a dance, Kian.”

When I turn and see her, my mouth goes dry. She’s removed her little jacket, and the neckline of her dress shows the creamy swells of her breasts. My balls pull tight.

Lydia’s face twists with displeasure. “You had your chance with him, little McColl. Go find your own dance partner.”

“Actually,” McColl says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “Kian is my guest… He’s mine, full stop, so you can move on. Also, you may need your eyes checked; I’m not little anymore. I haven’t been little in the longest time.”

“He’s yours?” Lydia snaps, choking out a laugh. “I don’t think so. I know a happy, satisfied man when I see one, and Kian is neither of those.”

“This is not something I’m going to argue over, Lydia. I will never fight over a man, king or otherwise.” McColl puts her big, beautiful eyes on me. “Kian, would you care to dance?”

I give her the biggest smile I can muster. “I would be honored,” I say, taking her hand and stepping away from Lydia.

Lydia’s face flushes with anger and embarrassment. “This isn’t over, McColl,” she hisses before stalking away.

McColl doesn’t even watch her go. Instead, she looks up at me as I pull her into my arms, and I can’t help the smirk that crosses my face.

She frowns. “What’s that look for?” she demands, though I can see she’s fighting her own smile. “You’d better wipe it off your face.”

“You’re jealous,” I say, unable to keep the satisfaction out of my voice.

“I’m so not.” She shakes her head. “I could see you were uncomfortable and wanted to help. Lydia infuriates me. She always has. That’s all it is.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I pull her closer, loving the way she fits against me.

“Next time, I’ll leave you to get pawed. How about that?”

“McColl.”

“Yes?”

I lean in, whispering into her ear. “I like that you were jealous.”

“Stop it.” She tries to pull away. “I wasn’t jealous. Stop saying that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. I was jealous, too…watching you dance with what’s-his-name?”

“Blaise?” She laughs. “He’s Meredith’s younger brother.

You saw Meredith earlier. The lady with the baby.

We were very good friends for years. Blaise was the annoying younger brother.

He’ll always be that to me. The fact that Meredith and I both had annoying younger brothers is probably part of why we got along so well. ” She gets this look.

“You’re worried about them.”

“Yes, but they’re fine. It’s all going to be fine. It has to be, Kian. You know what? Let’s enjoy this dance. It doesn’t help for me to agonize over something I have no control over.”

We move together to the music.

This is right – her in my arms, the rest of the world fading into background noise. Her hand rests on my chest, right over my heart, and I wonder if she can feel how fast it’s beating.

She looks up at me, her lips slightly parted, and I find myself leaning down toward her. Her eyes flutter closed, and I can feel her breath against my lips—

A loud groan interrupts the moment, followed by rhythmic grunting and feminine cries…of pleasure.

We both turn toward the sound and freeze.

Against the nearest oak tree, a man has a woman pressed against the bark, her dress hiked up around her waist, her legs wrapped around him as he moves inside her with powerful thrusts.

Her head is thrown back in ecstasy, and she’s crying out with abandon as other celebration-goers simply continue their conversations nearby as if nothing unusual is happening.

I stare in shock. I hadn’t truly believed McColl when she’d warned me about this aspect of witch celebrations, but here it is, raw and uninhibited, right in front of everyone.

McColl and I look at each other for a moment, and then we both start laughing. The absurdity of it. The shock.

Although McColl is laughing, her cheeks are stained blood red. She might be a witch, but she is indeed different.

“Come on,” I say, taking her hand. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“Yes, please.”

We run from the celebration like children escaping their lessons, both of us still laughing.

But underneath the amusement, I’m acutely aware of how tight my pants are.

I’m turned on and not by what we just saw, but by her.

By McColl. By the way she felt in my arms, by how close we’d come to kissing, by the warmth of her hand in mine. Her scent. Her.

By the time we reach the carriage, the laughter has faded, replaced by that familiar tension that seems to follow us everywhere. I help her into the carriage, trying not to notice how her dress rides up slightly.

I look away.

The ride back to our temporary home is silent, both of us lost in our thoughts. When we arrive, I help her down from the carriage, our hands touching for just a moment longer than necessary.

We go up the long stairs until we reach her bedroom. Mine is just down the hallway. Just a few steps away. We look at each other for a few charged moments. Her chest heaves. I work to keep my eyes on hers.

“Good night, McColl,” I say quietly.

“Good night, Kian,” she replies, her voice low and husky. Then she turns and goes inside, the door clicking shut.

Like an idiot, I stand in the hallway for a long moment, staring at that closed door, my hand on the cold wood.

I want to knock.

I want to…

Gods, how I want to. I want to push through that door and tell her how I feel, consequences be damned. I want to kiss her properly this time, to show her with my hands and mouth and body how much she means to me.

Instead, I whisper, “Good night.”

Then I force myself to walk away.