Oh.
I was trembling, but not in fear. No, as soon as Reece scooped me into his arms and pressed my thin, frail body against his chest, the warmth and smell of him overwhelmed me. This woody citrus and spicy scent mixed with the smell of sweat, a masculine concoction that made my chest feel tight and … other things.
I wet my lips as the bearded man—Donal—stepped in front of Reece and gave him a look that could cut.
“You sassin' me again, boy?” he asked as I leaned my head against Reece's chest and closed my eyes. The rapid thump bass beat of his heart soothed my own racing pulse and I sighed, laying a hand against the flatness of his pecs beneath his dark t-shirt. “Don't you go gettin' a big head because your daddy's the president. You have superior officers to answer to, brother.”
Donal paused his rant for a moment and when I cracked my eyes, I saw he was looking right at me. With a sigh, he waved his hand dismissively.
“Fine. Take 'er upstairs then but wipe that smirk off your damn face.”
Reece made a low growl in his throat that I don't think he meant for anyone to hear, but I felt it. It vibrated through my cheekbones and into my teeth. It made me wonder for a brief moment what that growl would taste like if I were to put my mouth to his.
“Reece?” a voice asked from my right. I heard the distinctive sound of want in the flowery, feminine words. Glancing over, I found a girl with glimmering gold skin and translucent wings, like a dragonfly's. Pixie, my brain supplied, yet another tidbit of information that made no sense in its sudden reveal. It was like my mind was a puzzle, and I was desperately collecting the pieces.
Remembering my own name would help substantially.
“Goddamn you, Reece,” Donal said as the man in question turned, ignoring the pixie's multifaceted eyes and heading straight for a set of rough wooden steps against the far wall, the ones with no railing. “This is why you should stick to club whores.”
I watched as the pixie girl came forward and lifted her lips in a snarl, revealing a row of sharp, gold teeth. It was clear her anger was directed not at Reece but at me.
“Sorry about that, girl,” he told me as we ascended the stairs and I watched the pixie lunge forward, dropping the blanket she was holding and revealing the smooth gold lines of her naked body. Donal stopped her before she got very far, and then we were up the stairs and on the second floor. “I try to be frank with 'em, but they never listen—it's da magic. They can't help themselves, no.”
Truth.
The bright bells of honesty rang with each word that fell from this gruff man's lips. Without really knowing what I was doing, I lifted a finger and touched the rough, torn surface of a fingertip to Reece's mouth.
Energy passed between us, like a kiss of lightning, drawing whatever it was that he had inside himself straight into me.
I felt it hit me like a shockwave, coalescing around the iron in my side and attacking it like it had claws. A scream ripped raw and ragged from my damaged throat, sparking the awful realization of a broken memory.
Iron burning my wrists, my ankles, my neck. Screaming but never being heard. Broken but never able to get whole. Pain, blood, darkness.
“The hell are you doing, girl?!” Reece asked as the piece of iron fell from my side and clattered to the floor, blood staining my threadbare cotton dress, dripping across the leather toes of the large man's feet.
When I lifted my head up and looked into his face, it was unrecognizable. Gone was the red-brown hair and short, scruffy beard, the skin teased to a warm brown from the sun … Instead, I was looking at someone else entirely.
“You cracked my glamour, you,” he said, blinking in shock. “Oh, and a whole hell of a lot of somethin' else.”
My tongue ran across my lips as a warm fire took over my lower belly, pooling between my thighs, making me ache. My nipples pebbled beneath my dress, so painfully tight that they made my breath catch.
What are you? I wondered as my body was wracked with even more intense tremors, my eyes taking in Reece's new form. His hair was now bloodred and his skin, it was a soft, muted gold color. His smile, that was savage … savage and sex.
I could remember sex—brief flashes here and there. I'd certainly had it, plenty of it, but it had been a while. It'd been a great many whiles.
“You feel it, don't you, girl?” Reece whispered, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned in, the scent of tobacco and leather mixing with his own unique smell. “You just borrowed a bit of ol' Reece's magic.”
He flashed a grin at me, his teeth white in the gently shimmering planes of his face. He didn't sparkle so much as he seemed to burn, like the sun. Oh the sun … I could hardly remember what that looked like.
But the expression on Reece's face and the feeling inside of me … My body remembered that, even if my mind didn't.
Coupling, heat, tongues and teeth, hands and fingers, cunts and cocks.
“You're gonna need more than just a rebuild of dat glamour, girl.”
I wet my lips again, but try as I might, I couldn't speak. Not yet. Instead, I cupped the sides of Reece's face and leaned in, pressing our mouths together. Heat was rolling over me, flames of lust that seemed to burn. The aching want I felt inside of me, it was almost painful.
Our lips brushed slow and hot, tongues teasing before he pulled back and looked down at me, nestled there in his arms.
“They woulda called me a dia gnéas back in the old country, you know? Before the famine drove all them Irish outta dere.” Reece moved down the hallway and kicked in a door at the end of it, letting us into a large bathroom with a clawfoot tub in the center. The floor was the same rough-hewn wood as the rest of the building, but burned into it were symbols, and as Reece and I walked over them, they glowed.
“That's a god of sex, in case you weren't caught up on your Gaelic. Dieu du sexe if we're speaking French.” Reece paused next to the tub, still looking at me as I squirmed with need and wet my lips. I didn't much care about the blood draining from my side either. Not that or anything else. Whatever I'd done by touching Reece, I felt this primal sexual need that had to be satisfied.
Bending low, Reece laid me on the cold, scratched porcelain and then flashed another terrible, wicked grin.
“Dress off, girl,” he told me, reaching down and curling warm fingers around my forearms, carefully avoiding the raw, bruised patches near my elbows. Reece lifted my arms above my head and then reached down, taking the ratty dress in his large hands, hands that shone like gold, etched with dark swirls that chased up the muscular curves of his own arms and beneath his shirtsleeves.