Dawning of Light (9 page)

* * * *

The strangest sensation washed over Cecilia the moment she stepped into the tavern. It was an acute sense of awareness, and it tickled her senses so much that she felt her own magic flare as if she’d just done something very powerful or very emotional.

“You okay?”

She shook her hands as if trying to recharge her circulation. Sparks of magic shimmered in their wake. She forced herself to focus on Samuel, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Fine,” she said. “But I could certainly use a glass of wine.”

She could use something. A dip in the thirty-five degree lake, maybe? Why was she suddenly so hot and bothered? While Samuel snagged her hand and led her to the bar, she scanned the tavern for a clue as to why her senses would suddenly feel as if an electrical storm was brewing directly over her head.

Finnegan
.

She spotted him almost immediately. He was hard to miss in this place. It was bright as a sunny day, thanks to magical lights that emulated the sun, and he was the only dark-haired person in the vicinity. Not to mention he was twice the size of any other male in the room, and to Cecilia, it felt as if he had taken a bath in testosterone.

Now there’s a man
.

Finn’s female companion thought so too. Cecilia recognized her, but she wasn’t sure of her name. She narrowed her eyes and glared as the woman raked her slutty pink nails along Finn’s arm and smiled a confident smile. Had he already agreed to go home with her tonight? Hot jealousy bubbled up inside her.

“Here you go.”

Samuel pressed a wineglass into her hand. Cecilia blinked rapidly and then took a fortifying drink. “Thank you,” she said, and she took another deep drink. Samuel gave her a curious look as he sipped from his own glass.

“Why don’t we go sit over there?” she suggested as she watched Finn and his companion out of the corner of her eye. She could see the woman leaning over the table, giving Finn a hell of a show, letting him know what he could unwrap later if he was so inclined.

She did not wait for Samuel to acknowledge her suggestion. She hurried through the maze of tables, gulping wine as she went. When her arm deliberately brushed Finn’s back, she was maliciously pleased when his body jerked as if he’d been electrocuted.

“Pardon me. Oh. Hello, Finn,” she said when he turned and looked at her through narrowed blue eyes. The bright lights pulled out the coppery highlights in his longish hair.
Why does he have to be so attractive?

“Cecilia,” he said in response. “Samuel.”

Samuel nodded stiffly.

Cecilia drained her glass and then handed it to Samuel. “Would you get me another?” He did not look pleased, but he took the glass and strode toward the bar. Cecilia turned her attention to Finn and his companion.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” she said in a formally polite voice. “I am Cecilia Druthers. Cousin to princess Olivia.”

Tansy bobbed her head and smiled widely. “I know who you are. Tansy Gorman. Pleased to meet you.”

Cecilia did not return the greeting. “How do you know Finn?” she asked instead.

Tansy batted her eyelashes and ran her pink fingernails along his arm yet again. Cecilia wanted to grab those stupid nails and shove them into the other woman’s eyes.

“I just met him, although I’ve heard of him too. Of course, everyone has heard of the sexy shifters who have taken up residence in our coterie.” She giggled.

Sexy shifters?
If Cecilia wasn’t so outraged, she was certain she would be ill. The woman was far too forward, far too obvious. Far too close to Finn. Cecilia edged nearer to Finn’s side. He turned his head and cocked an eyebrow at her. She gave him a cool look in return. She could have sworn she saw his lips quirk as if he was trying not to smile.

Samuel returned with her wine, and Cecilia drank half the glass in one swig. “I had no idea you were such a drinker,” he remarked.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said, “I’m not, usually.”

“Something different about today?” Finn asked, too casually.

“Just feel like drinking,” Cecilia retorted. To prove her point, she lifted the glass and drained it. Then she offered it to Samuel to refill.

Finn snagged it from her hand. “I’ll get this one,” he said in that cool, I-am-in-control voice. Cecilia watched him walk away and wished to the lights and Fates above that he would lose control. Preferably with her, in a locked room. Clothing was optional.

“Cecilia, you look flushed.”

With a great deal of willpower, she pulled her mind back to the present. Too late, she recognized that she had spoken the truth to Finn regarding her drinking habits, and she could already feel the effects of the wine she’d just slammed. Unfortunately, when he returned and handed her a drink, their fingers made contact, Cecilia felt that all-too-familiar rush of sensation, and to combat the urge to throw herself at him, she downed half a glass of wine instead.

Samuel stepped up to the small cocktail table, so that Cecilia was sandwiched between the two men. She inched closer to Finn. He looked as if he found her drunkenness amusing. Tansy was fast losing patience with the gathering.

“I’m ready to leave, Finnegan. Are you?” she asked.

Cecilia leaned into Finn, deliberately brushing her breast against his arm. He jerked his arm away, but then his hand twisted round her upper arm and pulled her into a standing position.

“Excuse us,” he said to Tansy and Samuel. “I need to speak to Cecilia privately for a moment.” When Samuel stood as if he meant to accompany them, all Finn had to do was glare at him for a few moments, and he reluctantly sat down again.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Cecilia slurred as she stumbled along next to him, while he led her through the tavern.

“What?” he asked as he pushed through the front door and then walked around the side of the building, to the only area that wasn’t enclosed by glass, the wall behind which the restrooms were located.

“The way you looked at Samuel. You didn’t even have to say anything and he sat down as if you were his father and he’d just been reprimanded.”

Finn sighed and whirled her around, pressed her back against the wall, and then planted his feet a shoulder’s width apart and crossed his arms. “Too bad your propensity to obey isn’t half that good.”

“Hey,” Cecilia protested.

He sighed again. “What do you want, Cecilia?”

You
.
In my bed
. “What do you mean?”

He waved his hand at the entrance to the tavern. “In there. Flirting with me. Acting like a bitch to Tansy. Drinking like a damn fish.”

“I didn’t—I wasn’t—I—” Cecilia blustered, but Finn cut her off.

“Bullshit. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. What the hell do you want from me?”

“Sex.” The word was out before she could stop it. If she intended to stop it in the first place. In her drunken state, she couldn’t be sure.

“No.” He said the word flatly, without hesitation. It could not have been more clear that he was not interested. She’d obviously imagined his reaction every time they touched. It hurt, but she was drunk and therefore apparently lacking in all sense of pride.

“Why not?” She leaned forward, deliberately ran her fingernails along his arm, just as Tansy had done earlier.

Finn pushed her hand away. As rigidly as his jaw was set, she wondered that the bones did not snap.

“I’m not interested in what you’re offering.”

The man was an expert at saying hurtful words. Luckily, the wine was acting as a barrier and allowed Cecilia to plow on, even when common sense tried to intrude and suggest that she should back off and walk away.

“Really? You sure looked like you were contemplating what Tansy offered.”

He shrugged. “I was.”

“And what’s the difference between her and me?”

He got into her face then, so close that their noses were almost touching. His eyes were narrowed and glowed faintly. He looked furious. He stabbed his finger into her shoulder as he talked.

“Because Tansy is nothing but a one-night stand. You have
complication
written all over every damn bit of flesh on your body.”

His words did not really register. He was far too close, her hormones were in hyper-overdrive. Magic sizzled in the air. She felt as if she was caught in a volcano, and it was bubbling up, preparing to explode.

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He was so shocked by her action that he stumbled and fell into her, flattening his palms on the wall on either side of her to keep from banging his head. Before he could pull away, she kissed him. She held tightly to his neck, stood on tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his, slanting her head slightly and closing her eyes as a cacophony of emotions and magic roared through her system.

And that’s just from a simple kiss
, her wine-soaked brain comprehended. Her body hummed with desire, so strongly that she gave serious consideration to having sex with him right there, against the wall of the tavern. She wiggled her hips impatiently.

He groaned and kissed her back. Hard, demanding. He twisted one hand into her hair and mauled her mouth, his stubble scraping the sensitive skin on her face. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, found her tongue and waged war, battling for dominance.

She did not let him win. She battled right back, just as demanding, just as hard. When she felt his other hand slide down to cup her backside, she lifted her leg and draped it over his hip. He pushed against her, mimicking sex. She tugged on his shirt, slipped a hand under the hem, scraped her fingernails across his back.

“Fuck.”

“Yes.”

“No.” He wrenched himself away, moving as if the action took him a great deal of effort. He staggered several steps away from her and then bent over and placed his hands on his knees, hanging his head and breathing as heavily as if he’d just run cross-country at top speed.

Cecilia pressed her back against the building and did not move, for fear that her legs would not support her. Her brain was mush, her nerves were jangled, her hormones were screaming for more. She likened herself to one of those jack-in-the-box toys, tensed and waiting for the explosion that she was sure was coming, but did not know when.

Samuel found them like that, a short time later. He came upon them, stopped short, and let his head volley between them several times before he spoke.

“What’s going on here?”

Cecilia waved a hand in a lackluster fashion. She couldn’t speak.

“She was feeling sick,” Finn replied, sounding cool and in control. Anger over the knowledge that he was not nearly as affected by the kiss as she spurred her to find her voice, to gather together her composure. She did not want him to know how she felt.

“Samuel, I’m ready to leave now.” She straightened away from the wall and felt a distinct sense of relief that her knees did not wobble beneath her weight.

“Okay,” he said, while Finn watched her through narrowed eyes.

“Take me home,” she said deliberately to Samuel, while sending Finn a triumphant smirk. Excitement sparked in Samuel’s eyes.

“I don’t think so,” Finn said.

Cecilia batted her eyes innocently. “Well, do you have a better idea?” she asked too sweetly.

“Yeah,” he growled, and he once again clamped his hand around her upper arm.

He took her to the beach house.

“Finnegan Hennigan is an uncaring bastard.”

“He brought you here last night so that you wouldn’t do something you would regret later—like go home with Samuel,” Olivia responded to Cecilia’s whining complaint. She pushed the platter of toasted bread toward her cousin. “Eat some more. It will help you feel better.”

Cecilia toyed with a piece of buttered toast. “That isn’t why he brought me here last night,” she muttered.

He brought her to the beach house because he did not want her to keep throwing herself at him. The realization, by the dawn of the next day, hurt. Her pride, her emotions, everything inside her felt battered and bruised this morning. Finn had been so insulting, so cruel last night, and yet she’d forced herself onto him, acting like a drunken, wanton woman with no morals or pride to speak of.

If she never saw him again, it would be too soon.

“Do you think Tanner would consider sending him to that pack down near Detroit?” she suggested hopefully.

Olivia offered a sympathetic smile. “Probably not. Just because he saved you from yourself while you were drunk does not warrant banishing him, I’m afraid.”

“He didn’t save me from myself,” Cecilia protested, even though, in truth, that was exactly what he’d done. If she’d gone home with Samuel, she would most certainly have regretted her actions this morning. If she’d somehow persuaded Finn to take her home with him instead, she had a feeling she would not have wanted to leave his bed.

He really
had
saved her from herself. That irked anew. She was already furious with herself, furious with him. The fact that he had been right to do what he did last night only added salt to an open wound.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

“Have you changed your mind about Samuel? Why did you go to the tavern with him?”

“He insisted he only wanted to have a drink at the tavern, but now that I think about it, I cannot imagine he wasn’t hoping a drink would lead to more…fortifying activities.”

“You know he wants to mate with you.”

“I know,” Cecilia said as she slumped against the back of her chair. “Just please do not suggest I ought to thank Finn. I don’t not think I could bear to do it.”

Olivia smiled and nudged the platter of toasted bread again. “Eat something.”

“Dried-out bread doesn’t sound appealing.”

“Protein,” a male voice announced from the doorway to the breakfast chamber. A moment later, Finnegan walked through the arched entrance, a plate in each hand. Whatever was on those plates smelled delicious. Steam billowed behind him as he walked.

“An omelet,” he said as he placed one of the plates in front of Cecilia. “Sausage and cheese. Carley even threw in some vegetables, despite my protests.”