Shatter - Sins of the Sidhe (9 page)

On an inhale through her nose, Rowan pulled herself up onto her knees to get better leverage and ran her nails lightly down his back. The woman was like a cougar ready to have a long awaited meal. She let out another eager groan that told him not to stop. That act stirred a growl from his own throat.

Devlin drank her in. Christ, the woman could kiss. She tasted as good as she looked and felt even better. It took all his self control, which was quickly dwindling, to not rip the shirt from her wee body, peel off her tight jeans, lay her back on the bed and worship her like she deserved.

He broke the heated kiss on a gasp. He couldn’t breathe, for truly she was drowning his senses. She was panting herself, staring at him - hungry and eager for more. Aye, the woman was pure heat shaped like a dream. Eyebrows arched as if to dare him to come at her again, her body shook like a trembling leaf, and it was not from fear - that much he could tell. Her eyes were bright, wicked, and lusty with pupils dilated and… glowing? By Danu, the center of her eyes had shining pinpricks like the moon was trying to crack through them. Aye, the woman had magic in her. Did she not know, truly? This had to stop, now, before things went too far between them.

“Apologies my lady, I dinna ken what came over me.” Not knowing what to do, Devlin left the room with the excuse of seeing if dinner was ready and she was left with her lusty slutty self to sit in a warm puddle of rejection.

“No need to apologize,” she said to the now empty space on the bed.

Holy luscious lips, Batman
! That was incredible. She’d never had a kiss like that. Not to say she hasn’t had her fair share of kisses in her day, but this one blew them all out of the water. What a rush. She went from sad to flames to a puddle of mush in a matter of minutes. Honestly, Rowan didn’t know what came over her. Maybe it was just the need for something good in that moment. Maybe she was being stupid. Maybe you just have to take a good thing when it comes along because it might not stay long. It didn’t matter. She just hoped it would happen again. Devlin did things to her. She felt like she would never get enough of a man like that. Leaning back on her bed with a huff, Rowan watched as one of the flower pots on the windowsill trembled and then burst into purple blooms.
 

Lorcan sat on his throne watching the myriad of shadows slither and fly this way and that. Gnashing their teeth and hissing, some toyed with the newest collection of souls locked in cages. He was so close to his freedom. It had taken him centuries to gain enough strength start to resemble what he had once been: a deadly Sidhe Warrior. Lorcan was almost back to flesh and blood, he only needed to wait a little while longer before he could take what was his, the temptress who called him out of his cage, and together they would rule the Fae worlds together.

Just thinking about her made his groin swell and wings shudder. Lorcan stood and stretched all seven and half feet of himself and flexed his pitch black wings to their fullest extent. He was all golden skin, black hair, full lips and sharp teeth. Well, in shadow form for now. It will feel good to be in a body again, one of his own, and in hers as well. When he had hidden away in the caverns of his dwelling, he quickly grew too weak to go out in the sun and Lorcan was not able to feed on the blood of humans or any other life to sustain his body. Over time, he’d faded into a shadow.

For every gift there is a cost, and for the Sidhe living among the humans sometimes the cost was blood. For every drop spilled, the Sidhe was stronger in the human world and the payoff was that they used their gifts to balance the scales – repay the debt.
Every Fae feeds off an energy of some type. Lorcan was a Sidhe Warrior, and his energy came best through blood.
‘Twas how he’d grown stronger during every battle. War drips in blood, fields drown in the warm thick power of it.

However, Lorcan, having lost almost all strength and magic when cast out of the Faelands, had hidden away and had to devise a way to regain power and glory, but his body had dwindled away and turned to shadow and ash in the process. No matter, he was a patient Sidhe and knew what he had to do in order to be restored and have a throne of his own.

Black magic - forbidden magic. What cares had he now for the price of such evil? It was a means to an end and that was all.

Slowly, Lorcan added to his collection of servants. Souls lost or stolen, he’d feed from their fear and what energy they had left until they too turned as twisted and dark as he. Over the centuries his numbers grew, and the older ones were now nothing but warped mindless creatures that knew nothing but hate, suffering, and death. Lorcan grew a bit stronger as the souls grew darker. Stretching his tense muscles and walking over to a cage of newly collected spirits, he hissed viciously, causing them all to wail and keen.

“Master, I have news of the girl,” said a lanky boney shadow. Well, what was left of him at least. When the boy first came to Lorcan, he was dragged kicking and fighting. He was about seventeen years old, hung in his village for having killed his parents in their beds. He was full of anger and rage even in death. Lorcan enjoyed the taste of him, remembered it well even now. He was easy to turn into a demon. It was almost as though the boy looked forward to it.

“Tell me, how is my dark beauty this night?”

“Shhhhe has left her house. I know not where shhhe went or how long shhhhe will be gone.”

Well, that was not completely unsurprising. Rowan often took off to different places for small “getaways” as she called them. No matter, he could find her wherever she went. She had to sleep sometime.

“Did you see anyone else with her? Another woman perhaps?” Rowan had few friends and he knew them all and where to find them.

“Nay master, twas a man who escorted her out of the house. He didn’t look like a human, didn’t move like a human either.”

That was not the news Lorcan wanted to hear. His head snapped, baring fangs and he hissed at the demon. “What did he look like boy? Leave no detail unsaid.”

This was not good. Lorcan’s scout described what the man was like and Lorcan knew, without a doubt, it was another Sidhe. What the hell was a Sidhe doing with Rowan? She belonged to
him
. There was no way another Sidhe would just happen to make her acquaintance. No. Something else was going on. Someone else knows what Rowan is – the key to Lorcan’s making and his possible undoing.

“Darkness find her! FIND HER NOW!”

On shrieks and screams, thousands of shadows and demons zipped out of their realm through a black hole in the flames of his fires. They had better find her or they would pay a dear price for their failure. If someone told Rowan about what her powers could do, she may be able to fight back when he took her. For make no mistake, Rowan belonged to Lorcan. And he was out of time.

Rowan pulled herself together and went out into the hallway. She could practically follow the whiff of delicious cooking smells into the kitchen. There was a pot of vegetable and bean soup in a tureen, fresh bread, butter on a white plate, and wine. Yum. Rowan loved soup. It didn’t matter what kind it was, any soup was the ultimate comfort food to her. She looked around to see if there was anyone else around. She was starving (again) but didn’t want to be rude and start eating without the host, but her stomach was getting louder by the second.

Fintan slid in from the back doorway and came to her side. She smiled and thought,
yup, no end of begging
. She bent down to give him a scratch when Devlin walked in through the same back door. He looked nervous - probably because of her behavior in the bedroom. Well he started it.

“This food smells amazing. I’m starving. Where’s Adam, because I honestly don’t know how much longer I can wait before digging into that soup.”

“He willna be joining us lass. Adam left to find a friend who will hopefully shed more light upon our current situation. ‘Tis just the two of us for dinner.”

Devlin grabbed the bottle of wine that was sitting out and poured two glasses. Rowan opened the lid and ladled two bowls of soup and tore off some bread. Sitting across from Devlin at the large kitchen island, Rowan sipped her wine and they ate in silence. Fintan sat stubbornly by her feet and she finally caved and threw him a piece of bread and winked at him.

“I told ye he’d beg.” Devlin made a small chirp noise and Fintan swallowed his treat, walked out of the kitchen, and curled up by the fire in the other room. Smiling to himself, Devlin couldn’t help but think of how sweet she was to the wee beast. He glanced at her and saw she was staring at him like a curious hawk.

“So, Devlin, have you always lived in Ireland?”

“What?”

“You sound a lot more Scottish than Irish. Your brogue, it’s so...” She didn’t finish her sentence. Stupidity was trailing out of her mouth and she was trying to suck it back in.

What the hell was that?
What was Rowan now, a brogue expert? Rowan didn’t even know where that question had come from. It just blurted out. And ashamed that it did, her face turned red almost instantly. She was acting like such a stupid idiot, but the man was too interesting and she wanted to learn all there was to know about him.

“Och, are ye are an expert on the brrrogue now, lass?” He smiled wickedly and made sure to roll the r and stretch it out a wee bit as he watched her face turn red. He could tell she was embarrassed… and turned on. It made him want to talk more but he stopped himself. The woman did things to him and it was nice to know he had the same effect on her.

“Have you always lived in Ireland?” she repeated.

“I’ve lived many places,” he said and left it at that.

“Hmm.”

Och, the woman was driving him mad. She always has a question. You know what they say about the curious cat? Mmph.
But to her credit, she was right. Devlin was a Scot that had to turn Irish. He’d moved there when he was a young lad and changed his name, only he’d never lost the Scots accent.
Ye can take the Highlander out of the Highlands…
he let the rest of the saying trail away in his head. His Irish Gaelic was well enough though. Devlin switched from one to the other like he was double speaking when he was lost in his thoughts or hellfire angry. No matter, he’d not be speaking any of it to her. This was business. He kept his words silent and ate the blasted soup.

Rowan watched his emotions play all over his face. She’d struck a nerve and didn’t mean to. Clearly he wasn’t going to say more on the matter. Rowan decided to change the subject again.
“So, what’s next Devlin?”

“What do ye mean?” Again, there she goes with more questions.

“You know what I mean. What do we do to beat this thing? Adam said I have training to do and I’m not sure what that means. I’m not going to wield a sword or something, am I?” Rowan could just picture herself now trying to swing one of those huge, heavy swords from the medieval times. Yup, she reads too many books. And yup, she was sounding like an idiot again.

“Och lass, I doubt it’ll come to that. But we need to see how much magic is in ye, and teach ye how to control it. There’s a spark about ye to be sure, Adam is thinking the spark will be a great asset in this war.”

War. As in battle? War meant death, pain, sadness. Rowan thought she was prepared, but not for war. Honestly, she figured it wouldn’t be too hard - light some candles, pour some salt, say some Druid spell and all will be well. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. She should’ve known it wouldn’t be that simple. Nothing is ever simple in Ro’s life.

They ate the rest of their dinner in uncomfortable silence. Rowan wanted to bring up the kiss but there really wasn’t a reason to. She could tease him about it and shrug it off like it was a silly emotional mistake on her part. But that wasn’t the truth. The truth was that she wanted more. He did things to her body she had no idea was possible. More wine can help with that. Yup. Best pour another glass and drink those lusty thoughts away… her elephant mouth was threatening to open, like always.

Voices carried from outside into the house. Adam walked in first and trailing behind him was a chattering redhead in a black pea coat. Rowan recognized her instantly. Holy shit, it was the gypsy tarot card lady from the faire. She took her coat off and made herself at home instantly. Walking over to their table, she gave Devlin a small peck on the cheek and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and got herself some soup.

“Ah, ‘tis grand to be back here! I see Nora is still cooking up a storm. She’s probably thrilled to finally have someone around to cook for since Adam doesn’t eat … food.” Giving the Sidhe a wink, she promptly started blowing on her spoonful and gulped it down.