Feversong (Fever #9)(110)

Barrons understood and met it in kind.



Later, I lay in his arms, head on his chest, listening to the peculiar sound of absolutely no heartbeat, and knew he’d leave before long.

That was okay. I’d dumped a pent-up storm of emotion on his body, punished him with it and let him punish me in return. We ran the full range of sexual appetites in bed, from tender to tortured, white bread to dark, nutty stuff, and it was all good. We were young, strong, and unbreakable.

I was fairly certain Barrons was drifting in that deeply inward meditative state he sometimes sought and was just about to drift off myself when he jolted me awake by saying softly, “Lor choked you?”

I smiled against his cool skin. He always got cool when his heart stopped beating. This was my man—testosterone rising, ready to turn on his comrades for harming me. But it was unnecessary. I’d held my own. “Yes.”

Deep in his chest an atavistic rattle stirred. “I told you that barrier wasn’t going to be strong enough. Fae magic doesn’t work on us.”

“Cruce’s shield worked on you and the Unseelie princess’s magic worked on Lor in Ryodan’s office.”

“I told you why his did. The princess’s only worked on Lor because the Sweeper altered her. And that’s one fuck we need to get rid of. Not the princess. She’s well enough out of the way for now.”

He fell silent and I began to drift again, wondering distantly why the Sweeper was beyond the laws that applied to the Nine. I’d eventually get around to asking but not now. It was peaceful. I was sleepy. And I had no doubt tomorrow would be another eventful day.

As I was fading, he jarred me awake again with an impatient growl, “Are you going to tell me what the bloody hell you did or do I have to I go find Lor?”

Oooh! We were firmly ensconced in a new phase of our relationship. I beamed. Barrons wanted to know something, hated having to ask, and asked anyway. And it wasn’t about an OOP or anything business related. Nor was he dashing off to beat up Lor and avenge the fair damsel. I liked these changes. Sleepily, I mumbled, “I killed him. What did you think I did?”

Barrons stiffened, went motionless then stiffened again, dislodging me from his chest, jarring me fully awake. He propped his head on a fist, making all those gorgeous muscles bunch, and stared down at me, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Oh, give it up. You know you want to. Just do it. I know you’re badass. An occasional laugh won’t disabuse me of the notion.”

Eyes glittering with mirth, he demanded, “How?”

I told him.

He threw his head back and laughed, white teeth flashing in his dark face.

I lay back on the couch, watching him, reached up and touched his lips, and he kissed them then bit gently. Then harder.

Then he was on me again like a sirocco, gusting over and inside me, taking me down and deep to that beautiful wild place we go when we’re alone and free.

When he finally got up to leave, the bookstore was carpeted with lush, fragrant flowers and a small tree was blossoming near the sofa.

My life was strange.

Good. But strange.





MAC


I blew out a frustrated breath and rubbed my eyes.

I was tired and hung over, and what a load of bullshit that was. I could handle pretty much anything, but I still needed time to recover from chasing beers with tequila.

Admittedly, I’d chased a lot of beers with a lot of tequila. But late last night when Alina texted and I remembered my promise to meet her, there was no way I was missing a chance to hang out in Temple Bar with my sister.

We’d talked for hours. About stupid things. About serious things. We’d reminisced. We’d grown maudlin. We’d laughed over silly stories. I’d told her about her funeral (morbid!) and about Barrons (amazing!) and my past year (traumatic as hell).

She’d told me her story, too, from the day she landed in Dublin, to the first time she’d seen a Fae, to discovering what she was. How she met Darroc and had loved him almost instantly.

Still, from day one, something in her gut had warned her not to confide, so she’d lied about her family and me. Then the Sinsar Dubh had begun playing games with her, very similar to those it played when I’d arrived.

Together, they’d learned about themselves—my older sister and her beautiful, exotic fallen Fae. And learned about each other. Over the months, she’d begun seeing significant changes in him, making me wonder briefly what might have happened if I’d met V’lane before I’d met Barrons. I’d have been fascinated, found him frightening yet somehow irresistible, at least for a time, and might even have tried to convince myself he was one of the good guys, blaming his ruthlessness on his alien nature, maybe even convinced myself I could help him evolve. As Darroc had evolved, according to Alina, growing increasingly more human. He’d lost the vestiges of that Fae iciness he’d often evidenced in the beginning of their relationship, that ancient remoteness that had prevented her from telling him many things. He’d become invested in her world, her concerns, and in their future together.

When Darroc asked her to marry him, although she’d been astonished he was willing to be part of such a human ritual she said yes.

Two days later she’d followed him to 1247 LaRuhe and discovered who her future husband really was and what he’d been doing all along. When he’d glanced up and seen her, she’d run, certain he would give chase, but he hadn’t. She’d walked the streets for hours, finally coming to the decision to call me and return home.