War Bringer (28 page)

Fiona started forward, but Ace stopped her.

“Don’t open it,” Ace said. “Call your husband, Ivy. Do it now.”

Ivy took her phone out of her pocket and dialed Kit.
 

“Ivy-mine, s’up?”
he said. She had the call on speaker.

Ivy drew a deep breath. “Kit, there’s a problem. Well, it may be a problem. It’s probably nothing, just odd.”

“What is it?”

“A box was delivered here for Fee.”

“Is she there?”

“Yes. It’s just—no one saw anyone bring it.”

“Max, check the videos at the diner,”
Kit said, slightly away from the phone.
“Don’t touch the box, Iv. I’m on my way.”

Ivy hung up. “Let’s wait for them out back.”

A few minutes later, they saw one of the team’s SUVs drive up the alleyway. Kit and Kelan got out of the front, then Kelan held the back door for Eden and Tank.

Kit went over and hugged Ivy. Kelan looked at Fiona. She hadn’t told him she would be there with Ivy. He slipped an arm around her back and kissed her hair. “You all right?”
 

“Yeah.” She was great. Better than ever. Absolutely coming apart at the seams.

Kit and Kelan went into Ivy’s office first, clearing it for Eden and Tank. The girls stayed in the hall, watching them. Eden let Tank sniff around. He didn’t catch any scents that interested him. After a minute he sat and looked up at Eden, who shook her head. “No drugs or explosives. The box is clear.”

Kelan pulled a pair of nitrile gloves on and opened the lid. He held still a minute, then pulled out a card that was tucked inside the pink tissue paper lining. “Shit.”

Fiona covered her mouth.
 

Kelan handed the card to Kit, then showed him what was in the box.

“What is it?” Fiona asked.

“Nothing,” Kelan said.

“Kelan, what is it?”

He shook his head. “More bullshit from King. You don’t need to see this.”

Kit handed the card to her. It read,
Everything must die sometime. Remember our talk. A flower for your twenty-first birthday, daughter.
Inside the box was a black rose, withered and brittle.

Fiona handed the box to Ivy and hurried out the back of the diner. She leaned against the brick wall in the alleyway, sucking in big gulps of air.
 

King had known she was there.

And he probably also knew who was with her. Working here, living here wasn’t a safe option—for her or Ivy or anyone.

Oh, God.
 

She would never be able to outrun him.

Kelan came outside. He came right to her, catching her face in his hands. “Fiona, Mahasani, look at me.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t. She was frozen. Her lungs had quit pulling air.

He rubbed the knuckles of one hand over her sternum. “Baby, breathe.” He blew warm air in her face. Her breath caught. She lifted her eyes to him. He gave her a small smile, then stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “That’s it. Don’t let King’s stupid Halloween gag spook you. He’s an ass. Of course everyone, everything dies. In due time. In the proper order of things. Except him. He will die soon and violently, and far younger than he ever expected. Got it?”

Fiona reached for his wrists. “I wanted to leave.”

“No, you didn’t. You wanted to make us safer, which will only happen if we’re together.” He pulled her into his arms. “Come home with me.”

The others came out of the diner. “Max said a guy dressed like a farmer in a plaid shirt and jeans, wearing a baseball cap, came into the diner with a gift bag,” Kit said. “He went straight to the back, left the box on Ivy’s desk, then left. The cameras didn’t get a good shot of his face. I checked for bugs, but didn’t find any.” He looked at Ivy. “I think you should come back to the house.”

She nodded. “Just let me get my things.”

Fiona handed her the keys to the apartment. Kelan noticed that exchange and frowned. She avoided his eyes, looking at Ace instead.

“What about Ace?” she asked Kelan.

The guys looked at her. She shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She came over and gave Fiona a hug. “Think about what I said.”

“I will. And likewise.”

Ace smiled, then waved and went back into the building.

“What did she say?” Kelan asked.

“She said not to run.”

The hard look he gave her didn’t need words. That she would heed advice from a stranger but not him cut deep.

“I’m driving Ivy home,” Kit said. “I’ve got the box. Let’s see if there’s any info Greer can get off it.”

* * *

Kelan sat on the edge of his bed later that night. He’d brought Fiona down for supper that night, then stayed with her in the billiards room afterward, when everyone gathered for some downtime.

Fear had such a grip on her mind that he didn’t know how to reach her. She’d been withdrawn the whole evening. He wanted to hold her, be with her while she worked through everything, but he’d told her he wasn’t going to put his needs before hers. So until she came to him, he was going to give her room.
 

The trunk sitting in the corner caught his attention. His mom had sent it out a couple of weeks ago. It was a big thing, full of the tools he’d need for their claiming ceremony. He’d been so excited to show it to Fiona, but now it was going to have to wait.

Kelan knelt beside the trunk and opened it. His mom had sent a ceremonial gown made of white deerskin for Fiona. He had no idea how old it was, but the beadwork had been restored a couple of decades ago.

The wrist cuffs he’d wear after their ceremony were in there, too—wide leather embossed with Celtic eagles. He pulled those items out and lifted the petite irons, four with straight, masculine lines and patterns, four with feminine ones of curving lines and knots—both sets done with Celtic styles.

There was the sage he’d use to purify their ceremonial space, and the paint he would use to mark the four directions, the four seasons.

Kelan put everything back in the box. He’d waited his entire life for his claiming ceremony with Fiona—he could wait until she healed, too.

* * *

Fiona began to doze, but startled awake. Took a minute to get her bearing. The lights were on. She was back at Ty’s. She was safe. For the moment, Kelan was also safe.
 

But every time she shut her eyes, the satyr would slip into her dreams. The ordinary would become distorted. The floor would come alive like it did in King’s rotunda. Things she thought were solid would change into something else.
 

She thought of the dead rose King had sent her and the threat it held. Sitting up in her bed, she folded her legs and began to rock. King had already killed three people in her life: her mom, Danny, Alan. He’d taken Lion and the watchers. He’d been playing this game for a long time. He knew its rules, its strategy.
 

Kelan and the guys were smart as hell, but nowhere near as devious as King. They weren’t on equal footing. It was not going to end well. And she would be to blame.
 

Fiona got out of bed and began to pace about her room. Maybe she should pull her savings from her bank. She could buy a beater, drive as far as it took her, then buy another. She’d pay cash for everything, find a job that paid her under the table.
 

Did King already have eyes on her bank account? If she moved her money out, would he know she was getting ready to run? He’d known she was at the diner. What didn’t he know about her?
 

Leaving meant losing everything. But staying meant that, too. Her friends here had taken her in when she had no home or family to turn to. How could she selfishly stay and be the cause of the terrible things King would do to them?

Fiona looked at her clock. It was late. She cracked her door and listened. The house was silent. She stepped out of her room, moving swiftly to Kelan’s. His door wasn’t locked. She went inside and shut the door behind her. Peeking around the corner of the short hallway, she could see he was sleeping soundly, one big arm bent over a pillow covering his face.

How she wished she could crawl into bed with him, but that would probably scare the living hell out of him. Instead, she tiptoed over to the armchair in the corner of his room. Folding her feet in front of her, she stared at him, knowing he was warm and solid and everything that was not a satyr.
 

Kelan stirred. He might have sniffed the air…she wasn’t sure, but he called her name, then lifted the pillow from his head. “Fiona?” A quick glance around the room, and he found her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I tried to be quiet.”

“Come here.”

She didn’t wait to be asked twice. She uncurled from her chair and crawled into bed with him. He pulled the blankets up over her, then moved his pillows so that she had what she needed to be comfortable.
 

“You warm?”

She nodded.

“I’m glad you came in.” He rubbed her back.

“How did you know I was here?”

He smiled. “Unless a big pink strawberry sprouted legs and walked into my room, I knew it had to be you.”

“My shower gel.” She pushed up on her elbow. “Is it too strong?”

“No. Makes me want to eat you, though.” He smoothed a bit of her short hair from her face. “Just thinking about it is making me very, very hungry.”

She moved to lie on top of him and wrapped her hands around his shoulders. “I wish we’d been together last night.”

“I wanted to. I’m trying to give you the room you need to heal.” He cupped the back of her skull. “I just don’t really know how to do it. I tend to tackle things head-on, but I think you need a softer approach. I was waiting for you to come to me. Like you did tonight.”

She pushed up from his chest, still sitting on him, and pulled her tank top over her head. He sucked in a sharp breath as he looked at the skin she bared. He ran his hands up her belly, over her ribs. His hands on her breasts were warm. He flattened his palms and rubbed them over her tight nipples.
 

He moved his hands down her ribs, to her waist, then her hips, where they stopped at the fabric of her pink flannel pajama bottoms. “Can we get rid of these?”

Lifting up to her knees, she pushed them down her hips, then sat back between his legs to take them all the way off.

Kelan smiled as he sat up, then leaned over her, moving her back against the mattress. He braced himself over her. The soft light touched his face, letting her see the intensity in his dark eyes. She reached up and took hold of his silky hair as it fell forward; it was the only soft thing about him. She tugged it until he was close enough to kiss. And then his lips were against hers. She wrapped her hands around his neck.
 

He lowered his body over hers, holding some of his weight on his elbows. There was no sadness in his eyes, no hint he knew she was leaving.
 

This was the Kelan she wanted to remember always.
 

He touched her face with one of his hands as he kissed her again. His mouth opened. She held her palms against the hard line of his jaw as his tongue entered her mouth. His breath, warm and sweet, mingled with hers.
 

Her body felt so small under his. She moved her hands to stroke his wide shoulders, the muscles of his back that were so tense. She moved her hand lower, to his hip. He spread his legs, settling himself between hers. He wore a pair of black boxer briefs, and she resented that thin layer of fabric between them. Her hands made the return path up his back, over his shoulders, down his big arms as he kissed her chin, her neck.
 

He arched his back and kissed lower. Her collarbone. His beard pricked her sensitive skin. When he moved lower still, she almost complained, but his mouth was still on her, his breath still hot as he kissed and licked and nipped her.
 

His hand cupped a breast, and his mouth covered her nipple. She felt him flick it with his tongue, then roll it between his teeth. Shivers raised gooseflesh all over her body.

She looked at him as she forked her fingers into his dark, silky hair. He lifted his face, meeting her eyes. God, she loved this man. He lowered his head to her body, kissing just below her breast, then moving his mouth down her ribs. When he reached the skin just above her navel, it sort of tickled. She sucked in her breath. He smiled and bit her skin. Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t utter an intelligible word, so she clamped down on her lip instead.

He moved lower, swirling his tongue around her belly button. Fiona braced herself on her elbows, fascinated at the feel of his face and lips and tongue as he went down her body. He kissed one hip, then opened his mouth and gently clamped down on her hipbone.

And then he was there. Between her legs. Dear God, the feeling of him spreading her legs, opening her for the stroke of his tongue. Fiona gasped at the soft, wet feel of him licking her.
 

“Kelan—”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I like that. A lot.”

He looked up at her and grinned, his big white teeth glowing in the soft light from the window. “Good. Because I intend to do this a lot.”

He eased his arms under her legs. One of his powerful hands rested against the soft flesh of her lower belly while his other reached up and fondled her breast.

Fiona settled back against the bed and gave herself over to the crazy sensations his tongue sent through her body. He mouthed her clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it. He went lower, penetrating her. His thumb touched her clit. She felt a flood of heat and moisture. Her breathing was coming in ever faster and shallower gasps.
 

He owned her body. It responded to him as if he was its master, not she. Her legs were draped over his shoulders. She braced her heels against the bed, on either side of his ribs. Heat carried her straight into waves of release so fierce she cried out. His arms tightened on her. He kept his face there, riding her passion, teasing, touching, tasting.
 

When the storm eased a little, he straightened, pushed his briefs down. His erection was heavy and pointed toward her. She pulled a long, hissed breath. He kicked free of his briefs, holding himself, easing his hand back and forth over the wide crown of his penis.