Ancient Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Huntress #1)(17)

I liked him. I even liked that he was a little bit dangerous. Which definitely meant I needed to set up an appointment with a shrink. But for now, trapped in this plane, I just wanted to focus on how good this felt.

Too soon, he removed his hand. Disappointment surged through me. But as my mind cleared, relief came. Touching Aidan had been a bad idea. Something so little had clouded my mind. That was way too risky. I needed to stay sharp. Keep my guard up. I tried to shake the memory of his touch away and moved my leg.

Good as new.

“Thanks,” I said.

That was my cue. I liked him. Too much, and I had to get out of here.

“I’m going to hit the hay.” I stood and eyed the couch at the back of the plane. It looked divine. Squishy and soft. “Is there a blanket for that couch?”

“Take the bed,” he said. “The door in the back leads to a bedroom.”

“Is there only one bedroom?”

“Yes, but I’ll take the couch.”

I eyed his tall frame. “You’re not exactly going to fit on it.”

“I’ll manage. Take the bed.”

I was so tired, and I really wanted some space to myself. A door between me and Aidan would help me get my head on straight.

“Okay, thanks.” I grabbed my bag and headed to the back.

The gleaming wooden door opened to reveal a luxurious bedroom suite. It was modern and sleek, but the bed looked like heaven. I passed out in seconds; the last thought in my head was of Aidan’s hand on my leg.





I got lucky. If I dreamed of Aidan, I didn’t remember it by the time I woke. The jolt of the plane touching down on the runway jerked me from sleep. I scrambled out of bed and threw on fresh clothes. Just a change of underwear and shirt. My jeans were fine. I usually wore them till they were destroyed anyway. Laundry was lame.

When I entered the main cabin, the exterior door was open, and a fresh breeze blew inside.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Aidan said. He stood in the small kitchenette, looking refreshed and way too handsome after sleeping on that tiny couch all night. “I made some coffee to go. Want some?”

“Sure.”

“A lot of cream, right?”

“How’d you know?” I didn’t like him knowing things about me. Even innocuous things like this.

“You ordered a latte last night, so you like wimpy coffee.”

And he was observant. Dangerous. “Wimpy coffee? I suppose you drink yours black?”

“Black as my heart.”

I laughed. I didn’t trust him. But I liked him. “You got a muffin to go with that?”

“Blueberry or bran? There’s a basket here with both.”

“Bran. It sounds healthy, but tastes delicious.”

He pulled one out of the basket and handed it to me along with my coffee.

“Ready?” he asked. “There’s a car waiting. We can head to the coast now. I’ve got a boat on stand-by.”

“Is there a type of transportation you can’t access immediately?” This guy had everything.

“No.”

“Spaceship?”

“My company, Origin Enterprises, is in the final testing phase of a shuttle that’s meant to carry valuables to a safe deposit bank on the moon. If you can wait a year or so—until we’re sure it won’t blow up—I can even get you a seat on that.”

“The moon?” I’d really thought I’d stump him with the spaceship thing.

“Safest place for valuables. Even you can’t break in there.”

I frowned. “Huh. That would really kill my business model.”

“No doubt.” He nodded to the stairs. “ Ready?”

“Yeah.” I made my way down the stairs to a white Range Rover. The rolling green of the Irish countryside spread out before me. The scent of grass and the lingering bite of jet fuel mingled in the cool air. I climbed down the rickety stairs, hoping I wouldn’t fall on my face. These little landing stairs were always the worst.

On the ground, a red-haired man greeted us. He was in his forties with freckles and a friendly smile.

“Welcome back, sir.” He handed Aidan a set of keys.

“Thank you, Patrick,” Aidan said.

“Not a problem. I hope you have a fine visit.”

“Give my best to your wife.”

“She’ll be delighted to hear it!” Patrick nodded goodbye and walked toward the terminal.

“Where are we?” I asked. I’d only ever been through the Dublin airport.

“Secret location.” Aidan held the passenger side door open for me, and I climbed in, balancing my coffee and my bag.

“Seriously though, where are we?” I asked before I sipped my coffee. Not bad.

“Private air strip in the southwest. We’re headed to the coast now.”

It took us about an hour to get to the little port. I was silent most of the drive. Though Ireland was beautiful, being here put me on edge, like I was walking along the Cliffs of Moher in a strong easterly wind.

If I was Irish—I hated that I couldn’t say for certain because I didn’t remember—this might be the place that we’d fled. The person we ran from might still live here.

When Nix, Del, and I had awoken in the field, we’d quickly figured out that we were in America. But Irish had been far easier for us to speak. We still didn’t know why, but maybe we’d run from here.