“You’re more than welcome to change your mind,” Arlo said, finishing his cigarette and flicking it out the back door to lie in a pile of other discarded butts. “I’ll even move your clothes for you, free of charge.”
“The more you protest, the more determined I am to stay,” I told him as Killian moved over to the bar and poured two drinks, bringing one over to me. I took it in steady hands and stared into the glass, my mind flashing with distant memory. As I closed my eyes and took a sip, sounds and sights came rushing back to me … a crowded bar, a man’s warm mouth trailing down the side of my neck, big hands on my hips. I blinked a few times and the memories flittered away like sprites in the wind.
And speaking of …
“There’s another one,” I said as I looked over and found a mottled-skinned little monster crouching on the windowsill. As soon as it caught me looking, it opened its wide mouth in a hiss, flashing sharp teeth, its see-through pixie wings thrumming as it tried to take flight.
“The fucking audacity,” Killian said, and with a flick of one, long tattooed finger, he had the sprite coughing and choking, wings fluttering as it tried and failed to fly away. It fell back to the windowsill, stumbled forward and collapsed inside the bar.
Moving over to it, I lifted it into my hands and found that its breath was frosted and cold, pluming in the air with little shards of ice clinging to its lips. As I held it in my palm, it took one, last shuddering breath and … died. I felt its spirit flee its body and then, I grabbed hold of it. It stuck for a few seconds and then shattered, flittering away like leaves in the wind.
“Its spirit …” I said, feeling my mouth water and sweat drip down the side of my face. I’d been about to eat it, that spirit energy. Hell, I felt like I was starving all of a sudden. And it wasn’t food or even sex that I was starving for …
“Sprites share one spirit,” Killian said, moving over to me, the steel toes of his boots appearing in my vision before he bent down to take the corpse. “Thousands of them make up one being. The punishment of being reborn as a murder of sprites is reserved for the worst of the worst.”
He stood back up and I followed, watching as he passed the tiny creature’s body over to Reece. The big Cajun man moved outside and paused with his foot on one of the dock’s extended legs.
“Hey, Meme!” he shouted as I stepped out after him and paused. Fireflies had gathered above the water, dancing in the early evening shadows. I watched them, curling my fingers against the legs of my jeans. “C’mere girl!”
Reece tossed the tiny carcass into the water and not ten seconds later, a gator’s head was popping up and grabbing it, dragging the mottled creature into the dark depths.
“Taking care of business …” I whispered, but it made sense. And gators needed to eat, too.
“Nice and clean, no dirty hands ‘round here,” Reece said, glancing over and noticing the expression on my face. Something about those fireflies … I shook my head to clear it and looked over at him.
“There could be more sprites around here,” I said, glancing up at the last fading orange and yellow lights of evening. “Listening in …” And the things I had to tell the boys, I didn’t want anyone else to hear. Except Amelie, of course. Somehow, deep down, I had a sick feeling about the sprites and whatever their agenda might be …
“You’ll have to cast a spell,” Kilian said with a long sigh, coming up to stand beside me. “There’re already several no scrying spells on the clubhouse, but the sprites are like … birds … or gators … just a part of the natural landscape. Or at least, they were. I don’t much like what I’m seeing from them now.” He glanced down at me, his ice blue eyes sharp in his handsome face. “You’ll have to cast a new spell.”
“Me?” I asked, because casting a spell seemed like a huge jump for someone who’d barely been able to remember her own name … and yet had called a Wild Hunt, gobbled up a soul, and grown wings….
“Oui, chéri.” Killian scuffed his shoe on the planks of the dock, sending some dried leaves skittering into the water. “We could, but with the sprites acting up…”
“It'll be stronger from you,” Arlo finished for him.
Glancing over my shoulder—past my wings—I saw him on the end of the dock with his huge arms folded over his chest and a scowl set on his face. He hadn't even bothered to put a shirt back on when we came downstairs, and his jeans hung low on his hips, drawing my eye.
“Would you like me to help?” Killian asked softly, pulling my attention away from the half-naked asshole and back to the task at hand.
“You can do that?” I was genuinely surprised. It wouldn’t have shocked me in the least if they'd simply said, “Do a spell, Ciarah!” and just expected me to know how to work it out.
“Oui,” Killian confirmed, holding out his hand to me, palm up. “The fundamentals of magic are similar, if not the same for all sidhe. What changes the outcome depends on our individual levels of magic.” Placing my hand in his, I stifled a shiver at his cool touch. Not that it was unpleasant, not in the least. Just, unusual.
“My own magic allows me to connect with your mind. From there, I will be able to guide you,” he continued, tugging me lightly until I stood toe to toe with him on the end of the dock.
“Like when you healed me?” I asked in a quiet voice, genuinely curious.
“Oui, just like that.” His other hand slipped into the heavy hair at the nape of my neck, and his ice-blue eyes met mine. “Ready?”
“Oui,” I replied, mimicking him in a way that echoed of familiarity. Maybe either she or I had spoken French at some point in time?
Kill wasn't one to fuck around, and before my brain even finished the thought, my vision was ensnared in the chilly depths of his eyes.
Just as before, the rest of the world faded away and all I could see for miles was blue. Frozen tendrils of Killian's magic snaked around me, caressing and soothing, telling me without words that I was safe.
My mind watched with eager fascination as Killian's mist-like magic showed me the correct way to place a spell. Feeling confident that I'd understood, I repeated what he'd done.
“Did that—” I started to ask, but my words were cut short by Killian's lips on mine.
The hand he had on the back of my neck pulled me in closer, and I sucked a surprised gasp. Confidently, his tongue slipped past my lips, meeting mine with a gentle, languid stroke that made me want more.
“Kill.” Reece's voice broke into our private moment like a hammer through ice, and Killian reluctantly pulled back from my mouth, just an inch.
“Yes, Reece?” he replied sarcastically, his eyes still locked on mine, but his magic retreating.
“Da spell be workin'. Thought you might wanna know.” My gaze still held captive, I didn't attempt to look over at Reece, but I could hear the grin in his tone. Bastard.
“How polite,” Killian remarked in a dry voice, blinking a couple of times and releasing me. “You're a natural, Ciarah.”
“At, um,” I floundered, feeling my cheeks flush, my lips still tingling from his kiss.