GettingLuckyinGalway (9 page)

He jerked as if slapped, then moved to close the distance
between them.

“No,” she said as firmly as she could with tears
threatening. “Don’t touch me. We both know what will happen and as good as the
sex is, it isn’t enough to keep us together once the afterglow wears off.” She
turned away from him to rub furiously at her traitorous, watery eyes. “I always
thought mating would be easier, more natural. Goes to show you what I get for
thinking.”

“Calder, please.”

“I really can’t do this anymore, Roark. I’m up and down then
up again and that’s just in the past two days. I can’t imagine living the next
hundred years like this. I’d be as nuts as you are.” Taking a deep breath,
wiping her eyes again, she turned around to face him one last time. “Let’s just
say we tried and it didn’t work out. It’s not like the Fae believe in forever
and true love, right?”

He didn’t respond. Then again she really hadn’t expected him
to. She was the one with the breaking heart and a soul torn in two thanks to
the loss of her mate. “Have a good life, Roark.”

She wanted to give him a last kiss, but knew she couldn’t
get that close without begging him to change his mind, to love her. What few
tendrils of pride she had left, Calder was determined to keep. “Nob, I know
you’re listening, you sneaky brownie. You know it’s over so I ask that you
please send me home. I need my—”

Right before the world went black, Calder thought she heard
Roark scream her name, but knew she’d been mistaken. Roark never screamed out
for anyone, much less with tears in his bright leprechaun-green eyes while he
did.

“Calder!”

He was too late and Nob’s magic had already whisked away his
Liaria
. “Damn you to the bottom of the bog of eternal flames, Nob. Bring
her back!”

Nothing happened. No matter the threats he used or the
promises he made, his little house brownie refused to bring Calder back or
transport Roark to where his
Liaria
was.

“Still feel in charge of the situation? Still feel like a
male of worth?”

The damn and blast voice was back and just as useless as
ever.

“Now what?” Roark demanded of the unseen man. “You come to
rip out your pound of flesh as well? Have at then, mate, because you can’t hurt
me.” Not any worse than Calder’s leaving already damaged him. Even breathing
felt like a useless chore now. Not to mention the absolute agony in his heart.

His
Liaria
, his life, had left him and no pep talk,
no full-length mirror in the world would make him feel better about being
alone. Damn it, she’d woken in his arms as a woman not a cat. Didn’t that mean
anything to her at all?

Absently he rubbed the throbbing ache over his heart and
wondered how he would get through the rest of the day, much less the now
endless years of his life.

“For a man not willing to give of himself you seem slightly
disturbed by the woman’s leaving. She gave you what you wanted, didn’t she? A
few good tumbles, some laughs and then she got the hell out of your life. What
more does a Fae male want out of life?”

Roark slashed out a hand, wishing there were a body to take
his aggression out on. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Leave it
alone or show yourself and fight me.”

“Is everything brought down to meaningless physical violence
to you, young one?”

“Who are you calling young one? And it’s not meaningless
when pounding on you would make me feel better.” He didn’t bother looking for
the man behind the voice anymore. Instead he sank to the ground, drew his knees
up and rested his pounding head on them.

For a few precious moments, no words were bandied about or
insults traded as Roark let the absence of his precious Calder sink in. Damn
it, why didn’t he try harder to stop her or at least grab on to her before
she’d been swept away? He could have talked to her, seduced her into staying
with him long enough to understand what the hell was going on inside him.

Fae never mated for life, Calder had been right on that
score. What she didn’t know because he didn’t tell her was leprechauns did
mate…for eternity. Without Calder, his eternity looked less and less appealing
with each tedious minute ticking by.

A few truths slammed into Roark, almost knocking him over
with their glaring light. His mate was a shifter…so the fuck what? Most of his
people never met their soul halves in any life so why would they judge him?
Yeah, his family might be considered royal by, well, everyone, but only in the
Fae community. Calder wasn’t just good enough for him she was too good for him
and well above his snotty bickering family. Just once he would have loved to be
there to see his
Liaria
put them in their well-deserved place with only
a word or two.

It would never happen now, not once he’d allowed her to
leave believing he felt nothing for her but the passing fancy of a new fuck.

“Reality setting in there, finally?”

“Why are you still here?” he asked without his normal anger.
Too tired for anger, too depressed for a fight.

“Well, I’m wanting to see if you managed to grow a set. Or
if you’re going to spend the rest of your very long immortal life watching the
grass not grow in limbo.”

He lay back on the cool green grass and closed his suddenly
weary eyes. “How does any of this matter to a figment of my imagination?”

“Is that what you’ve chosen to call me?”

“Better than telling people the voices are talking to me
again. I’m sure there’s some wing in the palace for crazy relatives. As
miserable as I feel now I don’t think being confined and spelled would make me
any happier.”

“What would make you happy?”

“Calder,” he replied without thinking.

“Then why don’t you go get her?”

Still not bothering to open his eyes, Roark answered,
absently waving a hand in the air. “She left. She knows I’m the one who’s not
good enough for her. Too little too late, oh ghost of Christmas something.”

“It’s February,” the oh so helpful voice reminded him.

“I ran out of non-insulting names to call you. Deal with it
or leave. No, in fact, why don’t you just leave. Both of us will be happier.”

“If I leave you’ll wallow. And the good goddess knows no one
does wallowing better than a moody leprechaun. I can’t leave so you have to get
better or get over her.”

Chapter Seven

“Your face gets any longer and we’ll be able to use your
bottom lip to trap catfish.”

Calder let a quiet sigh escape before turning an empty smile
to her father. “Papa, my lip isn’t sticking out and there’s nothing wrong with
me.”

Instead of answering her, Jean-Pierre Douget sat down, his
long, jean-clad legs dangling off the edge of the pier as his bare feet swung
above the tea-colored bayou water. “Bébé, lying to your papa sends you straight
to hell.” He wrapped one tanned arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a
hug. “You’ll always be my baby, my little girl, and little girls should never
keep secrets from their papas.”

Oh how she wanted to spill everything out to the first man
she’d ever loved. Her father, leader of Louisiana shifters, had shoulders
strong enough to carry her burdens easily. However, the problem of sharing
involved giving the man who changed her diapers details of her sex life and
Calder knew neither one of them were ready for that.

“Oh Papa, I’m a silly fool and I let the mating heat suck
all the common sense out of my head.”

A gentle press of lips to her forehead. “Calder, you know
more about the mating heat than I ever will. The heat never came into play
between your mother and I, but we still had over sixty good years together. The
thing of it is, mating is different for everyone,
cher
, and only you can
say if you were wrong or not.”

“But he’s an ass,” she protested, even as her stupid heart
lurched at the mere thought of Roark and his stupid Leprechaun self.

“And he’s your ass. Now,” JP dropped his arm and his voice
turned alpha, “will this Irish bastard come after you? Or will your brothers
and I need to make a trip?”

“What’s the point? So the four of you can force a man to be
with me? One of us will disappear the first chance we get. No, he’s better off
with Nob and his own people. Besides, he’d be killed within minutes of stepping
foot in our territory. Roark is definitely on the lover side of the fence.”

Her father didn’t respond and a comfortable silence settled
between them as they enjoyed the peace of the bayou. The water ran swiftly
beneath their feet as various native birds flew and sang overhead. Snakes and
turtles plopped in the water, making the music of nature sing sweetly in her
ears.

“I’ve missed this.” Calder broke the quiet to lean her head
against her father’s muscled arm. “Missed you too.”

“And what about your brothers?”

“Haven’t you drowned them yet?”

“Nah, your mama, bless her soul, would haunt the both of us
if we let something happen to her precious baby boys.” A hint of laughter
carried in his deep voice.

“Those baby boys haven’t been babies in years. And a good
dunking might help clean their brains once in a while,” she teased back.
Family, she knew from painful experience, was allowed to do anything they
wanted to each other just short of death. However, let anyone outside the
family try to harm a hair on her head and her brothers would break out alpha
all over their asses. As Tommy Walt Sawyer learned the hard way when they were
juniors.

“Will he follow you here?” Her father, damn his stubborn
Southern pride, never let an issue drop until he’d squeezed every last drop of
information out of it.

She shrugged and tried not to let the idea of seeing Roark
in her home go to her head. “I doubt it. All he knows is I’m from Louisiana and
I’m a lioness. Good luck tracking me down with so little to go on.” If he’d
wanted to know more the man would have asked, right?

Calder inwardly winced as her conscience reminded her how
little time they actually spent talking. Roark had tried, but she’d been more
interested in sating her mating heat. Though in those few days she’d gotten to
know him even as she’d been trying to avoid it.

Shifters and Fae weren’t known to mix well or happily. There
were no records in their Mystic library showing a union between the two
actually working out. Then again, none of those had been results of both mating
heat and the
Liaria
bond. Something Nob tried to explain while she’d
stuffed clothes in her suitcase. Ignoring him and his logic had been so much
easier than ignoring Roark and his logical debates.

“Then maybe you made a mistake about the mating? Those
blessed by the bond are incapable of not learning about each other. It’s almost
a compulsion to be there for the other in any way they might need. Or so I’ve
always heard.”

“Yeah, well, there are others ways to spend your time,” she
muttered before getting to her feet. The warm, weathered boards under her feet
grounded her to the here and now, making her time in Ireland seem like a
distant but perfect dream. “Come on, let’s get to the house. Gumbo’s been
simmering long enough, don’t you think?”

Moving with a grace usually found in men much younger, JP
rose to his full height and pinned tawny eyes on her. “Just because you think
the conversation is over doesn’t mean it actually is. If you are indeed mated,
you’ll need your man around before your next cycle hits.”

“You would send me to a man just to prevent a few fights?”
Mating heat wasn’t pretty when the female was unwilling, toss in mated with no
mate in sight and things were bound to get ugly.

“Don’t be a brat, Calder. Your brothers and I will die to
protect you from any outlaws roaming, but unless you agree to house arrest then
one day we won’t be there when you need us.” The heavy weight of guilt in his
voice sent her heart spiraling. How could she ever think for a moment that her
family would send her away? The Douget family held this land since before the
upstart renegades dumped tea in the Boston harbor over two hundred years ago.

“I love you, Papa,” she said softly. Then quickly lifted to
her toes and pressed a kiss to his beard-scruffy cheek.

“You are my heart,
cher
. Make sure you keep yourself
safe.”

“I’ll do the best I can,” she responded as they walked
arm-in-arm down to the dock and back to the big house sitting uphill. Delicious
scents of gumbo wafted to them as a breeze teased them with the promise of
colder weather.

“All you can do, Calder, is your best. Anyone who asks for
more is a greedy fool.” JP stopped, lifted his nose to the air and positioned
his much larger frame in front of his daughter. “Get to the fishing cabin,” he
ordered curtly.

Calder lifted her nose but she smelled nothing but the
familiar scents of home and bayou. “What’s going on, Papa?”

“Now, Calder,” his voice stern as the alpha emerged. “Don’t
think to disobey me. Go now and don’t return until one of us comes to fetch
you.”

The power and will of her father and alpha pressed down on
her. If she hadn’t been a strong lioness in her own right, Calder’s knees would
have buckled beneath the sheer weight of his command. “Yes, Papa.”

Then she turned and ran for the small boat kept for quick
maneuvering through the tricky water. Without bothering to look back, she
untied the light aluminum boat, shoved off shore and flipped the key. The
powerful engine turned over with a rumble, and with a heartfelt prayer, Calder
smoothly maneuvered her way out of the shallows. Before long the familiar
tangle of moss hid her retreat from even the most discerning eyes.

* * * * *

They attacked all at once, an attack he expected so Roark
had plenty of time to throw up a defensive shield. Fighting was natural to a
man, but these creatures roaring and clawing at his invisible barrier might be
part of Calder’s family and he could take no chances if he intended to win her
back.

“Stop being fools, ya canna get to me. Back off, tell me
where my Calder is and I won’t hurt ya.” Reasonable, yes Roark felt very
reasonable considering he wanted to collapse to his knees and beg his way back
to the woman haunting his every waking and sleeping moment. Not to mention he
hadn’t had a decent meal or clean clothes since Calder left his home. Nob in
revolutionary mindset was a scary thing indeed.

“Boy, don’t toss out promises your ass can’t cover. You’re
in the middle of my pride. We could wait you out, your barrier wouldn’t hold
forever, then we’ll dispense with your remains and feed the gators at the same
time.”

“You have got to be related to Calder,” he said flatly.

“Lord love a nutra,” the tall, heavily muscled man groaned.
“You must be the Irish bastard who broke my daughter’s heart and sent her home
with her tail between her legs and her pride all but gone.”

Oh this wasn’t going well at all. Originally he’d planned to
sweep in, locate Calder, seduce her into forgiving him then when she was weak
from passion explain his bonding to her.

Instead he’d landed knee-deep in the lion’s pride with one
of the largest men he’d ever seen glaring daggers at him. Not to mention
questioning his parentage.

“Bastard’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” he questioned
while still holding his barrier against the large, growling group looking at
him as though he were a midday snack. “I’m the proof of my parents’ loving
devotion to each other.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” a dark-haired shifter
exclaimed.

Roark shrugged. “Me, I like to think a pretty white stork
delivered me to my innocent virginal mother as a reward for her pious
behavior.”

“You’re not the only one about to lose their lunch,” another
shifter complained. “This guy’s nuttier than Great Aunt Gertie and she talks to
socks.”

“Eh, there’s nothing wrong in that,” Roark objected. For
some stupid reason he couldn’t explain, he rather liked tweaking these lions’
tails. “So long as she doesn’t expect the socks to talk back.”

At his words, the rest of the four-footed warriors shifted
back to their human forms, clothes and all.

The big blond leader crossed massive muscled arms over his
chest, stood with his legs apart and shook his head. “Ah hell,” he muttered,
his head dropping nearly to his chest before he looked up again. His tawny gaze
held a world of disappointment. “We can’t kill him.”

Those around him objected, some more vehemently than others,
before the pride leader hushed them with a slice of his hand. “Our pride never
kills the young, the old or the mentally challenged.” He tilted his head in
Roark’s direction before continuing, “I think we can all agree this one falls
in the nuts category.”

Murmurs of assent followed his words even as Roark tried to
work up some righteous anger. Nothing but amusement filled him instead. “I’d
rather be barmy than sane,” he quietly agreed, forgetting about the super
shifter hearing.

“Then I’d say you should be pretty damn happy right about
now,” a younger version of the pride leader said, stepping closer to the
invisible shield. “Since we’ve agreed not to kill you—”

“Yet,” another voice spoke out.

“Then you can drop your pretty shield and convince us why
you deserve to live after making my sister unhappy,” the other man continued as
if he hadn’t been interrupted.

Well shit, Roark cursed inwardly. Didn’t it just figure his
Liaria
would be the daughter of the mountain masquerading as a pride leader? Taking a
chance his in-laws wouldn’t kill him without checking with Calder first, Roark
called the magic back.

The bubble disappeared without a sound and the man claiming
to be Calder’s brother closed the small distance between them and threw his arm
around Roark’s shoulders.

“Let’s talk then we’ll have a drink, brother.” He gave Roark
no chance to object and pulled the magic-wielding leprechaun in the direction
of a large log house complete with wraparound porch.

“If you offer the drink first it’ll make the talking a mite
easier,” Roark countered, feeling the desperate need for a drop or twelve of
liquid courage.

Never in his long life had Roark ever feared anyone or any
situation. However, in this time and place he couldn’t use magic to defend
himself, not if he ever expected Calder to speak to him again.

“Oh we’ll have those drinks, then you’ll tell me the secret
to getting my sister to close her mouth for longer than it takes her to draw
another breath.”

“You think Calder talks too much?” A complete shock to Roark
as he hadn’t seen any signs of her being overly talkative. They’d talked, but
never too much in his opinion. “Aye, Calder’s brother, we’ll talk, but not
about your sister talking too much. I think she’s perfect as is. Maybe it’s you
who needs a change of mind.” He swung his own arm around the taller man,
feeling lighter than he had in days.

“The name’s Trevon Douget, Calder’s older and better-looking
brother.” By this time they’d reached the front door.

“Ya know,” Roark offered as he stepped through the door, “I
can fix that slight eyesight problem you have.”

Dropping his arm, Trevon walked through the large open room
to grab two beers out of a huge, restaurant-size refrigerator. “What eye
problem would that be?”

Roark grabbed the beer, twisted the cap off and downed half
the contents before answering Trevon’s question. “The wee problem where you
think you’re anywhere near as attractive as your sister. It’s obviously not
true so therefore you have an eye impairment.”

Prepared for numerous scenarios, Roark almost jumped his
skin when Trevon laughed out loud instead of physically or verbally attacking
him. “Your family’s a bit on the daft side, did you know that?”

Wiping tears of mirth from his tawny eyes, Trevon leaned
over, hands on knees as he caught his breath. “You’re perfect for each other.
My sister has no common sense either. Between the two of you you’ll give my
father a grandkid warped enough to keep his attention off my brothers and I.
Thanks for that.”

Not sure what to make of this change in attitude, Roark
rested his hips against the dark granite countertop and took a good look at his
surroundings.