The Order of Brigid's Cross - The Wild Hunt (Book 1): The Wild Hunt (18 page)

The gymnasium on the third floor was Em’s favorite place in
the entire church.
 
The tall ceilings,
polished wood floor and bright skylights gave her the sensation of space, a
feeling she rarely got in the city.
 
A
series of old, cotton gym mats were laid end to end on one side of the room for
Em to practice self-defense moves and yoga for concentration.
 
Rings, ropes and bars hanging from the
ceiling created an above-ground obstacle course for elevated parkour training.
And the old gymnastic equipment of parallel bars, balance beams, horizontal
bars and a pommel horse substituted for her days of roaming the woods and
fields near her birthplace in Ireland.

This morning she had searched through the old supply closets
to locate some old fencing gear including face masks, padded jackets and a
couple of jousting sabers in fairly good shape.
 
She sniffed the jackets and then held them out at arm’s length.
 
They could certainly use a good airing and
perhaps some sachets of lavender to hide their current aroma of old sweat and
mold.

She held up the mask and wondered if Sean would even fit
into one obviously designed for high school students.
 
He
certainly was not built like a teenager
, she thought with a smile, remembering
the view she received after his shower.

Even when wet, the golden highlights shone in his brown hair
as he carelessly had toweled it dry,
 
his
toned biceps and pecs flexing easily with the movement.
 
He had stepped away from the bathroom mirror
and glanced out of the room. His eyes, a dark hazel green, had been distant,
and she’d been sure he was contemplating her disappearance.
 
A smile had tugged on her lips as she had watched
him gaze around the hall once again, his white teeth worrying his full, lower
lip for a moment. Then with a brisk shake of his head and a sexy scowl, he had tossed
the towel he’d been using to dry his hair over the shower rod and turned
towards her.

She remembered her quick intake of breath when he had nearly
walked into her, and she had been barely able to move out of his way, so caught
up in enjoying the view.

He had walked past her towards his bedroom, a towel slung
low on his hips, and she’d had to bite back a sigh of pure admiration.
 
He was built like one of the statues she’d
seen in Europe, all smooth muscles and hard lines. The light dusting of hair on
his chest and legs only enhanced his masculinity. He had moved with effortless
ease and grace, a natural athlete, and Em’s only regret was that she had stood
behind him when he yanked off the towel, tossed it to the bed and pulled on a
pair of briefs.
 
However, she had to
admit, the view from the back had been more than pleasing.

Remembering the back view, she grinned and shook her head.
No, definitely not a
teenager.

The faerie watched her from the doorway. Em was so
distracted with her thoughts that he needed very little glamour to hide
himself.
 
Studying her, he saw her grin
and was a little surprised.
So, the
little warrior has been wounded by cupid’s arrow
, he thought with a smile
of his own.
Now this is an interesting
development. But which one is it that holds the key to her heart?

He turned his concentration to her thoughts.
 
He couldn’t dig very deep, but those thoughts
on the upmost part of her consciousness were easy to access.

Em placed the mask back on the shelf and picked up a saber, holding
it in her hand for balance. It would be far better for Sean to learn some basic
fencing skills with something this light than swinging the broadsword
around.
 
The memory of Sean as a young
man swinging the tree limb around, pounding the head of the Heldeofol, came
rushing back to her mind, and she shook her head with an ironic smile on her
lips.
Perhaps he was ready for a
broadsword.

The sound of the gym door opening brought her back to the
present, and she turned quickly, her hand reaching for her own sword. But when
she saw Sean standing next to the door, a hesitant look on his face, her heart
melted a little bit more.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she walked forward to meet him. “No, you
are welcome here,” she said.

He looked around the room slowly. “Is this your sanctuary?”
he asked, stepping forward to meet her.

She nodded. “It’s where I keep my skills sharp. It’s where I
practice.”

Stopping just in front of her, he lifted his hand to her
cheek and stroked it lightly. “From where I stand,” he whispered tenderly, “you
have no need of practice when it comes to warfare.
But what
of other skills?”

Em stood, transfixed by his touch.
 
The world seemed to have tilted just a bit
below her feet, and she was taken off guard, a feeling she didn’t really care
for.
 
The air around her seemed stifling
instead of open as it had only a few moments earlier.
 
And Sean’s scent was unusual, like dark woods
and musk.
 
She had a hard time concentrating
on his words. “I…I don’t understand,” she stammered. “What skills?”

Bending his head, he touched his lips to the underside of
her jaw bone, and she felt a tingle of electricity race through her body.
“These kinds of skills,” he breathed, continuing his path from her jawbone up
the side of her face to catch her earlobe between his teeth.
“The
skills between a man and a woman.”

“No!” she stammered, trying to step away but coming to the
horrifying realization that she couldn’t move. “I don’t want this. I don’t
believe in love.”

He slowly moved his other hand up her arm, caressing her
skin with his fingers. “So soft,” he sighed.
“So inviting.
 
So ripe.”

Her breath caught and her body trembled at the power of his
touch.

“How does this make you feel?” he asked softly as he
continued caressing her.

She moaned softly as he pulled her body against his and
slipped his hand into her hair, grabbed a handful, and immobilized her so she
couldn’t turn away. He lifted his head and held it just inches from hers. She
could feel her body pulsating with need. Her breath was escaping in small gasps
and she was feeling light-headed.
 

He smiled triumphantly as he looked down at her flushed face
and widened eyes. “How does this make you feel?” he demanded.

“Frightened,” she confessed, wondering if this
heart-pounding panic was really what humans desired in their relationships. “Please,
I don’t—”

“You don’t want to disappoint me,” he interrupted.
“How sweet.”

She was at war with her own body, caught under some kind of
spell.
 
She didn’t want to desire him,
didn’t want to feel out of control. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“I’m not ready,” she pleaded as the fog of desire clouded
her reason.

His lips curved in a vicious smile. “Good.”

He crushed his lips against hers with an aggression that
bruised her lips and ground her delicate inner mouth against her teeth.
 
She tried to pull away, but he clenched her
hair in his fist and yanked her head back, forcing her mouth open. He then
plundered it mercilessly. He pushed against her, tripping her backwards until
she was against the wall, pinned against his hard body. She felt his free hand gliding
underneath her shirt and moving from her waist down her side, slipping into the
waistband of her yoga pants and pushing them down.

No!
her
mind screamed through the fog.
I am not my mother.
I will
not end up like my mother
.

She struggled against him, trying to stop his hand, trying
to get some space between them, trying to stop the onslaught against her
body.
 
Finally, she grasped his upper
arms and pushed with all her might, forcing him to release his hold on her.

He stood only inches away, his eyes glittering with
dominance and satisfaction.

She lifted her hand to her swollen lips and stared at him in
shock. “I don’t understand,” she sobbed.

He took a quick, shuddering breath and smiled coolly. “No
you wouldn’t,” he said with a contemptuous manner. “Although I have to admit, I
am both surprised and disappointed.” He straightened his jacket and shrugged. “I
thought since your mother was a whore, you know, you might have inherited some
of her passionate tendencies. But no such luck.”

Reeling back as if he had struck her, Em shook her head.
“No,” she breathed. “What are you saying?”

Sean shrugged and walked towards the door. “I’m just saying
you should stick to fighting,” he replied with a smirk.
“Unless,
of course, you want to bore a man to death.”

He walked out, closing the door sharply behind him.
 
Em stared at the door, slowly sinking down
against the wall until she was seated on the floor.
 
She gasped for breath as the pain of his
words sunk in, and she felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her
chest.
 
She stared at the
door,
her vision clouded by her tears, and screamed, “I hate
you, Sean O’Reilly, you bloody bastard! I hate you!”
 
Then she buried her head in her hands and wept.

Sean parked his car back behind the church and texted Ian
that he’d arrived.
 
He opened the back
door of the car and picked up a camo-colored canvas shotgun case that now
housed the broadsword.
 
It doesn’t look great,
he decided
, but for now it’s better than carrying the
exposed sword everywhere.
He slung the case over his shoulder and walked towards
the back door.

Ever since he’d left the station, he’d had a nagging feeling
about Em, and he’d feel a lot more comfortable when he could see for himself
that she was safe. Ian opened the door before Sean reached it and greeted him
with a cheery welcome. “You going to do some duck hunting today?” Ian asked.

“Yeah, right,” Sean replied, following Ian into the church
and securely closing the door.
“As soon as I finish up with
my faerie hunting.
I had a wild time last night at Pete’s place.”

Gillian joined them in the hall. “What happened?”

“Some femme fatale faerie decided to try her luck with
Pete,” he said. “I had to convince her that the party was over with my sword
and some holy water.”

“They’re not going to be too happy with you,” Gillian said.
“You’ll need to watch yourself.”

Sean shrugged. “I’m not too worried,” he said.

“How’s Pete?” Ian asked.

“He was fine when I left him last night, once we
faery-proofed his house,” Sean replied. “I called this morning, but he was
already in meetings.”

“Well, do you have a moment?” Ian asked. “Gillian and I have
some things we’d like to show you.”

Sean nodded. “Yeah, sure,” he said, and then he looked
around. “Where’s Em?
 
I thought she’d be
down here with you.”

Gillian smiled. “Well, I think she’s up on the third floor
in the gym,” she said. “Em mentioned that she wanted to look at the old fencing
gear so she could teach you how to use your new weapon.”

Sean unzipped the gun case and pulled out the sword. “Yeah,
I’m all about learning the ins and outs of this baby before I slice a foot
off,” he agreed. “Would you mind if I went up first?”

“No problem. Go and find Em,” Ian suggested. “Then bring her
down and we can show you both what we found.”

Nodding, Sean hefted the sword over his shoulder and hurried
down the hall towards the stairs. “Great, we’ll be down soon,” he said.

When he reached the third floor, he saw the double doors
with the words “Gymnasium” painted over them in black, block letters. It
brought back memories of his days in high school.
 
He hurried over to the door and pushed it
open.
 
Em was standing on the other side
of the gym, her own sword in her hands, performing a series of moves that
looked like something out of a martial arts movie.

“Hey, good moves,” he called out, eager to see her smiling
face again.

She froze in her steps, but didn’t turn his way.

“Em?” he called, slowly walking towards her. “I’m sorry; I
didn’t mean to startle you. I thought we could go a few rounds, you know, just
for practice.”

She stood still, listening to his footsteps echo on the gym
floor. He dare approach her?
 
What did he
think? They’d go another round just so he could assault her and leave her once
again?

Just minutes earlier she had pulled herself off the floor
and turned her pain into anger.
 
How dare
he treat her in such a way?
 
How dare he
touch her without her consent?
 
How dare
he taunt her with insults about her own mother?
 
The rage she felt inside was just beginning a slow simmer, but she was
more than fine with turning up the heat.

Her sword clasped in both hands, Em turned and, with a wild
war cry, charged Sean.

“Whoa!” Sean cried out, backing up quickly. “Hey, give me a
chance. I’m new at this.”

But she wasn’t retreating, and if the look in her eye was
any gauge to her mind set, he was going to get his ass kicked big time.
 
He lifted his sword in front of his body and
shifted his weight so he was resting on the balls of his feet for more agility.
“Okay, let’s have it,” he said.

She lifted her sword and set it crashing down against
his.
 
He felt the hit all the way to his
shoulders, but he was able to knock her sword to the side and pivot
 
sideways, bringing his sword up against hers
in a cross blow.
 
She spun around and
then swept her weapon around at shoulder height, causing Sean to jump back in
astonishment.

“Hey!” he yelled. “You almost took my head off.”

“That might be an improvement of your looks,” she spat back.

Puzzled, he shook his head. “Um,
Em,
is there something we should talk about?” he asked.

“No,” she said, lifting her sword again. “The time for
talking is gone—now it’s time to defend
yourself
.”

She rushed him, but in her anger, she overstepped her
abilities.
 
Rattled by the earlier
incident, she knew she was thinking clearly or strategically.
 
Although she was more agile than Sean, he was
a few inches taller and quite a bit stronger.
 
She should have calculated that strength and height
into her attack, but instead, she wanted to punish him and scare him away. Instead
of retreating, however, he stepped up and met her parry for parry, pushing her
slowly backwards.
 
She fought hard,
swiping and lunging, but his counters were every bit as solid and she started
to feel her muscles tire.

“Do you want to stop?” Sean asked, seeing her fatigue.

“Why? Do you think I can’t take it?” she demanded. She
lifted both arms over her
head,
the sword clasped in
both hands, and ran towards him with a cry of anger.

A little surprised at her advance, Sean knew she thought
he’d retreat, giving her more room to maneuver.
 
So instead, he grabbed both the hilt and the blade of the sword in his
hands and charged her, using his broadsword like a quarterstaff and catching
the blade of her sword against the flat of his own.

He continued to charge forward, forcing her back until
finally she was against the wall, her arms and sword captive by his.
 
She looked up at him, his face only inches
away, his eyes filled with triumph, and suddenly she was frightened. She turned
her face away, her cheek pressed against the cool brick of the wall. “Please
don’t hurt me again,” she pleaded.

“What?” he exclaimed.

She dared a glance at him. He seemed truly puzzled. What
game was he trying to play?

She could feel his heat, she could see his exhaustion, she
could smell…
 
She stopped and inhaled
slowly. His scent was different. It wasn’t dark woods and musk. It was more…

She thought back to his apartment, to the scent that wafted
from the steamy bathroom into the hall.
 
It was more masculine, less…less fae!

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. “How long have
you been here?” she asked, a horrible realization coming over her.

“Here, like at the church?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I spoke with Ian and Gillian for a
few moments downstairs, and then I came up here to work on sword handling.”

“You’ve only been up here once today?” she asked.

He looked down at her as if she was losing her mind, and,
God help her, maybe she was.
 
He lowered
his arms and his sword, but didn’t step away from her. “I’ve only been up here
once,” he said. “When I walked through that door a few minutes ago, it was the
first time I’d been in this room.”

She lowered her sword to her side, closed her eyes and shook
her head. “I’ve a great deal to apologize for,” she sighed. “I’m ashamed of
myself, twice over.
 
Once
for believing them and once for doubting you.”

“Would you like to repeat that?” Sean asked.
“In English?”

“We’ve been compromised,” she said, her voice firm. “And we
have to warn the others.”