I felt my face twist up. “What do you know, that he doesn’t?”
“Many things,” Brann said with a wicked smile. “Your ancestor, The Morrigan, was from a clan of magic users called the Tuatha Dé Danann. They landed in Ireland, and burned their boats as a symbol of their commitment to their new land. Edward told you about the war, so I’ll skip past that. But the superstitions? In particular, the ones about dark magic...” He paused, his dark eyes so intense I felt they drew me inside him. “Those are anything but ‘cryptic bullshit’. They are true.”
I looked around the table, waiting for the laugh. Nothing. “The magic of the Danu still runs strong. Even in you.”
I opened my mouth, shut it, shook my head. “After all the weird stuff happening,” like that fucking weird smoke in Edward’s office for one, “I’m kind of inclined to hear you out. Seriously.”
“The Morrigan is associated with ravens. She could take on their form herself, or use them to carry the souls of the dead as offerings.”
Keegan’s voice cut in. “Did you say ravens? Those things aren’t shitting on my car, are they?!” He practically skidded up to the table, plopping a glass down next to Weylyn. “Here, got it, finally.”
“‘Bout time it’s your shout, ya poormouthning’ rainbow rider.”
Brann shook his head at Keegan. “I’m afraid my studies don’t extend to bird shit on your car.”
“Well, that sucks,” Keegan grumbled. “Oh, hey! You’re the girl with the nice shoes! Keira, right? Did I introduce myself?”
“Only if your name is Keegan,” I said with a smile.
“Keegan McDonough,” he added, and executed a courtly bow complete with hand gestures and all.
“Do you happen to know a Patrick McDonough?” I asked, spotting another ‘small world’ connection. “He’s supposedly the guy that manages my family’s finances.”
“Indeed, he’s me Oul Da!” Keegan exaggerated his brogue, and Brann rolled his eyes. The connections continued piling up. “Hang on. Were all four of you Edna’s ‘wards’?”
“I think that’s safe to say,” Brann said. Orin nodded as confirmation.
“Sorry guys. This is all... ah, shit.” I plunked my head into my hands. Don’t tell me I found four sizzling hunks who to turn out to be some kind of step-brothers or whatever. This is fucking torture.
Orin could read my mood. “What’s the matter, Princess?”
“Meeting all of my dear Granny’s adopted progenies is the opposite of what I came here to do. I just want to dance, and have a drink or three.” And get laid, damnit!
“And that’s absolutely fine,” Weylyn said. He turned to Keegan. “You heard the lady. Get her a drink, why don’t ya?”
“Me? I just met this girl, and you’re already trying to horn in?”
“So now, you’re too good to get the lady a drink?” Weylyn’s grin twisted into something darker. He chugged his beer, and slammed the glass down with such force that the table shook. “Sorry, don’t know me own strength sometimes.” No shit? I’d heard wood crack. And this table is thick, solid oak.
Orin turned on his brother, and a gravely noise came out, very much like an animal growl. Even Brann pushed back slightly, as if expecting violence.
Oh, boys, don’t fight over little old me. Tonight I feel horny enough to handle all of you. But before I could sort through all this macho nonsense, I heard Weylyn laughing the incident off. “You want to dance? So, let’s dance.” He stood up, eyes glittering at me, and extended his hand.
I was trying to figure out a way to back out before this whole night got out of hand. Then I realized Weylyn was on the dance floor now, fixing me with a hungry, almost feral look that nearly made my heart jump straight out of my chest. I shook my head, mouthing the word ‘no’ to him, but that just seemed to egg him on.
Keegan leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. “I thought you wanted to dance,” he said with a sly grin.
“Bite me,” I grumbled, as I rolled my eyes at Keegan.
Weylyn was still crooking his finger. Keegan and Orin burst out in laughter at the sight of him, and anger hardened his face. What the hell, I thought. This shit isn’t worth a homicide. Besides, fuck it, I DO want to dance.
I got up, smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles from my clothes, and made my way toward Weylyn. His pupils grew wider with my every step. I walked right up and slowly ran my finger down the center of his shirt, not stopping until my finger reached the top of his pants. He pulled me flush against him, and I placed both hands on his chest. His hands found the small of my back, putting just enough pressure for me to look up at him.
I’ll just say it. Weylyn oozed sex. The way this man moved was positively indecent. He pressed his leg between mine, and pulled me even tighter. I could feel every move his rock hard body made.
“Fuck, you can dance,” he breathed in my ear. Quickly, he spun me around and caught me, so my ass is pressed up against his crotch. He started to grind slowly. I looked back over at the guys – they were all glaring at us, from across the room. It was exciting, intoxicating. I shot them a mega-watt smile.
I could see at least three women shooting daggers at me with their eyes. I thought one of them might be Ms. Walk of Shame from this morning.
Suffer! This one’s mine tonight.
I wrapped my arms behind Weylyn’s neck. I pushed my ass against him even tighter. He placed one hand on my hip, and with the other, pulled the hair away from my neck. His face pressed against my hot skin, as he took a dainty but distinct sniff-sniff.
Wait. Did he just sniff me, like a dog?
“You have an irresistible scent,” he crooned. The tip of his nose trailed along
