I cleared my throat. “Thank you. For saving me.”
Bres didn’t say anything, just sat there in a perfect crouch as I tried to get my bearings. I was in the king-sized bed, pillows supporting every side of me. The table where the Fomorii had sat to eat was still there, as was the roasting pig—if that’s what it actually was.
“Why were you mean to me, when we first met?” I asked.
He stared at me, his eyebrows lifted high. “Ta prophecy says that you be meant for Luke. And since you seem to have bought into ta whole pile of destiny crap they be feeding you, I didn’t think you’d like me tempting you away from him. I wondered if I’d be able to without any real ability to Charm.”
I laughed even as I flushed. “You, tempt me? Please. Just now? I was just . . .” I fumbled for the right words.
“Leading me on?” Bres offered, the corner of his lips turned up. Hiding a smile.
I nodded, then winced. “Yes. Exactly. You are a Fomorii. I can’t be with you. Don’t want to anyway. I thought you were Luke for a minute there. It was the tattoo.”
His eyes hardened reminding me very much of his father. “Luke is half Fomorii you know.”
I nodded. “Yes, but he doesn’t act like it. You do.”
“Do I? Hmm. Well, if one is going to be accused of a crime, might as well commit it,” he said, his eyes back to their devious twinkling that made me think he was laughing at me.
He lunged towards me and I fell backwards onto the pillows, his body pressing mine into the soft bedding. Noses touching, I stared into his eyes, drowning in those violet depths. My breath came in short sharp bursts; it must have been the wounds. Heat pooled in my belly, spreading through me; it must have been a low grade infection from the claws. I would not feel for Bres.
“What would you do if I claimed you as me own?” he whispered and my eyes widened, lips parting involuntarily.
“You can’t do that. I’m not some trinket to claim,” I said, trying to be tough, my words coming out breathy at best.
“No, that you aren’t me beautiful lady.” He dropped his lips to mine and every other thought I had was washed away in the pleasure of his skin, the cold fire that thrilled through my body. My hands found their way to his hair, holding him tight against me, demanding more. Power swirled around us, I could feel it escalating, our energies twinning, tangling, becoming more together than they ever would be apart. More even than I could be with Luke. Ah, shit.
A weak cry escaped my lips as I tried to roll to one side, breaking off the kiss, the deep wounds feeling as if they were pulling me apart.
Bres sat up, stared at me a moment and I was glad to see his face looked as shell shocked as I felt.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he muttered, got up and walked over to the table laden with food.
With his back to me, he picked at the feast. “You might as well get some sleep. We won’t be leaving here until your wounds be at least partially knitted.”
“How am I going to rescue anyone when I can’t even keep myself in one piece?” I whispered, barely able to see him through my tears. “I’m no good to anyone, I can’t be the one the prophecy speaks of. I can’t even get over my fear of water! I can’t even be faithful to Luke!”
Bres turned and came back to the bed, sitting down beside me. With great care he pulled me into his arms. Tears poured out of me as all the fear, worry, guilt, shame and anxiety over Ashling and my mom flowed along with the blood that trickled down my skin.
He held me through it all as I slowly pulled myself back together, my heart still aching, the guilt still reminding me of the things I had to make right. The emotions were, in a way, sharper than the claw wounds in my body—I knew they would take far longer to heal.
I lay my head against his chest and let his body warm me. Minutes passed and the proximity of his body and mine became a rather acute thing.
“Quinn.” His voice startled me and I jumped, the blanket that had been covering me slipping down, baring my shoulders and the tops of my br**sts.
He stared at me with a hunger so fierce I found it hard to breathe. Bres reached out, his hands sliding down my shoulders and arms then settling on my waist, the tingle from the poultice setting my skin to singing, the blanket pooling in my lap.
“You can’t move yet,” he said. “Ta wounds, they be needing time to heal. Traversing ta Labyrinth is dangerous enough without an injury.”
“How long?” I asked.
I raised my hands, once again tracing the patterns of his tattoo, my fingers dancing across his hard abs, swirling them downwards to settle on his hip, thumbs caressing the soft skin. Heat flushed through my cheeks at my own brazen behaviour but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. No; I had to. Luke was waiting for me.
I watched him swallow hard, and a bright edge of pleasure filled me and I embraced it. Better than the guilt and shame I’d been feeling. It took him a second try to get words out.
“At least a few hours. Maybe more,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. I understood then. This had to be my choice.
“I’m not supposed to move?”
He shook his head, dark hair falling over his eyes; he peered out at me through the strands. I pursed my lips in thought. “And the poultice has to be on the wounds to help the healing?”
“Yes.” His voice was thick and his hands were trembling as he held my waist.
I was going to regret this moment, I knew I was. But I also knew that I wasn’t completely in control of my faculties. Massive injuries, adrenaline and lust didn’t help when making decisions. So I did what I knew my mother would want me to, to keep from throwing myself into the arms of someone I barely knew.
“I should sleep for a while then.”
Bres nodded. “Here, drink a little of this, it will help you sleep and heal.” He handed me a silver flask, the cap already unscrewed. I sniffed the contents.
“What is it?” I asked, naturally suspicious.
“It’s an elixir; it will help. I promise,” he said.
I did as he told me to, the flavour one of honey and springtime air, lavender and mint.
“That’s really good,” I said; then I hiccupped. And giggled.
It was when I tried to stand and he attempted to stop me that I wondered at what just was in the drink. Bres took my hands.
“No, you need to lie down Quinn.”
I swayed on my feet and wondered why he was looking at me so strangely.
“I didn’t think this would happen. You have too much human blood to handle this,” he said, his face carefully blank, giving nothing away.
I grinned at him and put my finger to my lips, distantly realizing I was more than a little tipsy. I didn’t have it in me to wonder how potent the stuff was that a single sip could have me this sauced in less than ten seconds.
Bres shook his head and lowered me back to the bed. “You should get some sleep,” he said, crouching beside the bed as he brushed his fingers across my cheek.
I blew a raspberry. “I couldn’t sleep now. I want to talk.”
He closed his eyes. “That’s what I was afraid of, damn Fairy Honey.”
“I’m your fairy honey?” I asked, confused at what he’d said and, to be honest, somewhat delighted by the nickname.
“No, fairy honey is what I gave you. For ta human blood in you it’s intoxicating beyond any alcohol and makes you talkative, blurs painful memories for a time, as well as . . .” He looked as if he was going to continue so I waved him to silence with a floppy hand.
“That’s boring. I want to talk about other things,” I said, then giggled and imitated his Irish accent. “Tings, I want to talk about ta tings.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. “Like?”
I frowned, knowing that there were things I needed to know, important things, but they slipped through my mind like water through a sieve. So I went with the obvious.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
Bres’ eyes popped open wide and he choked on a cough before answering. “Maybe.”
I pursed my lips and set my chin in my hands. He really was so fine to look at. All those hard angles and beautiful violet eyes; made me want to lick him all over.
Bres flushed a slow creep of red that spread up from his neck right to his hairline. I blinked at him and tipped my head, sending the world to swirling around me. I lay back on the thick blankets, laughing. “What did I say?” Were all my thoughts just popping out of my mouth?
“Yes, they are,” Bres answered. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Now go to sleep Quinn, you’ll feel better in a few hours and then we can get going.”
Then I remembered what I’d been thinking. “You don’t want me to lick you all over?” I rolled onto all fours and crawled towards the end of the bed. Tears started to prickle in my eyes. “I’m not pretty enough am I? Probably the girls you know are just like you. Stunning, long-legged dark beauties.” I let out a sniffle.
Bres leaned forward and lifted my chin with his finger. “No, that isn’t true; you are beautiful Quinn.” His voice grew soft and I leaned into his fingers. “But this can’t be, lovey, much as I might want it to.”
There was a little voice, deep inside my mind, screaming at me to control myself, that I was acting like a complete and total hussy. But the fairy honey cut me off from all my inhibitions.
I stepped off the bed and wrapped myself around him, slipping my arms around his neck. “I changed my mind; I don’t want to sleep anymore. Kiss me Bres,” I whispered, the slur in my voice thick.
He smiled up at me, his eyes dilated with a hunger I knew my own echoed. The hunger faded, replaced by a sadness so deep my heart ached for it as he unwrapped my arms from around his neck and lifted me off his lap. “You need to sleep right now, let your body heal.”
My bottom lip pouted and I let go of him and tumbled back into the bed, deliberately ignoring his wry smile. “Sleep easy Quinn, I will be close by.”