Iniquity (The Premonition, #5)(2)

“I’m not your queen! You tried to kill me. I’m divorcing you or dethroning you—whatever! We’re done!”

“Ye really hurt me. No one has hurt me like dat—ever.” Brennus looms near me. His skin is a softer color; it’s not just the lighting. His bare chest is like that of an angel’s. It’s almost like he burns brighter now. His wings move with an elegance that would be hard to copy. He notices me staring at them. A crooked smile crosses his lips. “But, den, ye gave me back me wings...dey’re na da same color as was born ta me—dey once were white.”

“Do they work? Can you use them?” I have an impulse to go to him and pet his wings to see if they’re soft like velvet—black velvet.

“Oh, dey work grand. Dey’re stronger dan me old ones. Finn is envious.”

“Finn...he’s alive?” Something within me exalts knowing that I didn’t kill Finn when I’d unleashed my wrath of energy against Brennus and his soldiers.

“He was na among dem.” He sees my relief and tries to suppress a smile. “He is yet undead and more dan a wee bit angry wi’ me, truth be told. He blames me for losin’ ye again. He tinks dis is all me fault.”

“It’s not your fault. I just love someone else,” I breathe.

“Ye love me, too—ye love me da most.”

“I don’t—”

“Ye do love me da most. Ye have ta fight it, shift it ta hate because ye fear it. Ye only hate me because I will na play by yer rules. I make ye abide moin.”

“I hate you for what you did to Reed,” I snarl.

“I let him live,” he seethes with his jaw clenching. “He’ll na be so fortunate should he try ta come between us again.”

“I love—”

“Ye just met him first. But ye’ll need a god o’ war if ye intend ta survive and so ye’ve made one. Me. Ye made me stronger wi’ new found power.”

“That was an accident, Brennus. I was trying to kill you, like I killed all of your men.”

“Den we’re even and so we can begin again—and ye only emptied da cradle. Dat was but a few of me newest warriors ye ended, na even close ta all o’ dem. Ye can na drown da fire wi’out me. Ye feel it now? ’Tis na cold between ye and me—’tis fire.”

He’s right; the closer he gets to me, the warmer it becomes between us. He sits on the sheet as I draw up my legs away from him. The bed sags under his weight. He’s really here in my dream. He has a physical presence; he’s not just a ghostly shape, but is as real as I am.

Barely breathing, I watch him reach for my sheet, tugging it lightly so that I have to clutch it to keep myself covered. The supple fabric trails over my flesh anyway, feeding his hungry eyes. I pull harder on it, but Brennus flicks his hands and my arms splay wide and are tied behind me to the headboard of the bed.

My eyes narrow as I glare at him, feeling the sheet slip lower on my breasts as I struggle against the binding on my wrists.

Brennus’ eyes go from sultry to frustrated when he pulls the sheet lower only to find me fully clothed in a baggy t-shirt and jeans, brought about by my hastily cast spell. Smirking at him, he pouts as he looks into my eyes. I rub my wrist that I unbound using my own magic.

“Dat’s no fun, Genevieve.” He flicks his hand at me, and when I look down at myself I’m attired in a silky black corset pulled tight enough to crack my ribs. Skimpy black panties and black-gartered stockings complete the ensemble.

He reaches for me, but I growl and flick my hand at him. He is thrust backward to the wooden poster of the bed. His hands are bound behind him and a metal manacle around his throat keeps his head from turning away from me.

“Is that fun?” I ask, getting up off the bed and approaching him with my hands on my corseted hips.

“Honestly?” he asks me with a raise of his eyebrow. “’Tis, mo chroí.” Then he smiles his wicked smile that touches me everywhere. I conjure a black trench coat and hastily tie the belt at my waist.

I turn away from him, not wanting him to see how he affects me; the ache to touch him is there, just under the surface. Brennus’ arms slip around my waist from behind, startling me, not only because he freed himself from my spell, but also because his arms are warm against me, not cold. They cause a riot inside of me.

“Brennus,” his name falls from my lips in surprise.

“Do na fight me, Genevieve. I have someting important ta tell ye and it can na wait.”

I allow him to hug me as I grow still. “What do you need to tell me?” I know him, he’s calm on the outside, but his voice betrays something...it sounds like concern—deep concern.

“I was wrong about ye,” he brushes my hair away from my neck, breathing in the scent of it.

“This is bad. You rarely admit to being wrong.”

“And ye’re very stubborn. Ye rarely relent ta listen ta yer demon, unless ye need him...and ye do,” he says, running his fingertips over the curve of my throat.

“You’re my demon?” I ask.

“I am,” he affirms. “Yers and no other’s.”

“You keep shifting on me, demon, and I can’t keep you happy,” I wait for him to coil in retort, but he doesn’t. “You’re ruthless.”