Once clean to the point of wrinkly, I had gingerly toweled dry and dressed myself in the clothes that Reece had left for me.
Tiptoeing down the stairs, I chewed on my chapped lip and debated my options. There was clearly an argument going on in the living room where I had first met Reece and Donal, and it sounded like there were several more men present which scared me on a primal level.
The few fractured memories I had regained spoke of violence, torture, and pain. What if these people had something to do with it? Why else would I remember what a bayou was? Or a gator?
“Girl?” Reece's rumbling voice broke through my spiraling thoughts and I gasped. He stood at the foot of the stairs I was frozen on, looking up at me with an amused, hungry look on his face.
My body flushed with heat under his gaze, and my nipples hardened to rocks once more. It had to be his magic. What had he said he was? A god of sex?
“Don' you look at me with them accusing eyes, girl,” he warned, reaching out a huge arm and snagging my hand to pull me the rest of the way down the stairs. “Ah, ah. I know what you be thinking, bebelle. But Old Reece ain't never forced magic on the unwilling. What you be feelin' is just because you got the hots, y'hear?”
I couldn't exactly respond, so just narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. His words rang with truth though, so I had no choice but to believe what he said. Whoever I was, or whoever I had been, I was apparently overwhelmingly attracted to huge, red-haired Irish-Cajun men with fingers like damn magic.
“Now you c'mon through here so Killian can patch you up. See if he can't sort out that voice situation for you, no?” He arched a brow at me and gestured through to the common room where the voices had all but stopped their argument.
“There she is,” Caley announced as I stepped into the room. “Hey girl, you look way better after a shower! Sorry the clothes are a bit big for you.”
The clothes in question were a pair of cut-off denim shorts which hung loose around my narrow, bony hips, and a teal green tank top. No undergarments had been provided and I was acutely aware of my nipples standing firm like headlights under the heavy gaze of four men and Caley.
“Should be fine once I get her healed.” This came from the one man who I didn't recognize, so must have been Killian. Donal and Arlo, Caley's boyfriend, were both standing with arms folded across their chests, watching me.
The new one, Killian, was just as huge as the other guys but with ink black hair and a scruffy shadow of stubble over his face. As he came closer to me, I tensed and flinched back a step. His cold, ice-blue eyes seemed to see straight through me into my soul, uncovering information I didn't even possess.
“Don' be scared, bebelle,” Reece murmured, laying a hot hand on my lower back and keeping me from retreating any further. “Kill is all bark and no bite, unless you ask 'im real nice like. That trick 'e's doin' with his eyes is just checkin' you for damages.”
“I apologize,” the dark-haired man said in a quiet voice, one that held danger and intrigue. It simultaneously scared me and made me curious. I mean, Reece called him Kill … and I got the feeling it was more than just his Cajun-Irish way of shortening words.
“Let the damn girl sit, Kill!” Arlo snapped, glowering at him.
“You shut it, boy,” Donal warned. “You could have really fucking screwed the pooch sendin' her off to the damn 'ospital, ya know.”
“I know.” Arlo's mouth turned down in a frown as he glared at me. That same level of annoyance and disgust was still there, the same way it had been at the diner when Caley had first found me.
“You better be damn glad ya sister was a quick thinker, or who knows what level of fuckery we coulda landed in from that tracking spell, yeah?” Donal glowered at Arlo and he finally dragged his intense gaze away from me.
Sucking in a deep breath, I realized I'd all but stopped breathing under the combined weight of Arlo's, Reece's, and Killian's stares.
What the fuck was going on? And did Donal just say that Caley was Arlo's sister?
“Here, sit.” Killian gestured to the couch and I hesitantly perched on the edge of it. He sat himself down on the coffee table, but he was so huge his knees ended up pressed to mine. “You're pretty badly beat-up, especially for a fae. We heal so quickly as it is … They must have used a lot of iron.”
Whips tipped in metal, cutting through my flesh like it's made of butter. Blood. So much blood.
I flinched as the memory slapped me in the face. What the hell had happened to me? What had I done to deserve such violence?
“Make sure ya sort 'er voice box, Kill,” Reece added, “so she can tell us who she be. And what.”
“She's fae. What makes you think she's anything more?” Arlo scowled, coming to perch on the other end of the couch.
“Ya didn't see 'er without da glamour,” Reece grunted. “She ain't no fae I've ever laid eyes on. And she triggered my magic with jus' a touch of 'er thumb ta my lips.”
Both Killian and Arlo jerked back and glared at Reece while Donal sighed wearily.
“Reece, you didn't …” Killian exclaimed, looking mortified.
“Nah, I'm old enough fer a bit more self-control than dat. Old Reece jus' did what was needed for da magic—nothin' more, nothin' less.” The heat in Reece's gaze spoke volumes on the more that I still so desperately wanted from him.
“Get on with it, Kill,” Donal interrupted. “I'm going to take care of some shit, but I expect this one healed and singin' like a bird by the time Fionn gets back. Understood?”
“Oui, sir,” Killian responded, and the bearded man left us alone.
Curiously, only Reece and Donal spoke with the thick Cajun-Irish mix. Killian sounded French, while Arlo and Caley just sounded straight-up clean American, with maybe a hint of a Southern accent.
“Ready, cher?” Killian murmured to me, recapturing my gaze in his frosty ice-blue stare. It sounded like he said sha but my complicated brain knew it was cher. I nodded hesitantly and his lips pursed. “Alright then, let's begin.”
His huge palms cradled my face as he brought his own close enough to mine that everything else was blocked out around us. All I could see was the bottomless, cool blue of his eyes, and smell his crisp, fresh scent. Like early morning frost on a dead still forest.
“This is going to feel strange. Don't fight it.” His words echoed around my head and I was unsure if it had been said aloud or not. I tried to nod my understanding but my face was held firm in his hands.
Killian sucked in a slow, deep breath, then as he exhaled it seemed like his breath rushed all through my body from head to toe and everywhere in between. He was inside me, exploring every inch of me with ice-cold mist. As he travelled, he paused routinely, paying extra attention to various injuries on my body, both old and new.