Intuition: The Premonition Series (41 page)

We reach another room, which is very obviously his bedroom as proclaimed by the massive bed. It can probably sleep several people comfortably. The sheets are coffee-color silk. It also has a blanket made of a soft chestnut-brown fur with silk lining. It covers the entire expanse of the bed.
I’m calling PETA on him if I ever get out of here,
I think, blushing just imagining what probably goes on in that bed. Brennus chuckles next to me, seeing my reaction to his bed.

“Answer a question for me, pet,” Brennus says, and I stiffen at his disgusting nickname for me.

“Hmm?” I respond, trying to hide my reaction.

“Ultan and Driscoll said ye sleep alone in yer apartment, is dat true?” he asks.

“Who are Ultan and Driscoll? How would they know that?” I ask him rapidly. Immediately, I see that I have angered him by not answering his question. Trying to placate him, I say swiftly, “I do sleep alone.”

“Ye did na share a bed wi’ yer soul mate?” he presses.

“No,” I reply, and my blush drains away from my face when Russell is mentioned.
They know about him,
I think as fear makes it hard to remain outwardly calm.
They don’t have him,
I reason,
Alfred would have used that card to make me comply.

“Ever?” Brennus breathes.

“Not in the sense that you’re thinking… not in this lifetime,” I reply, feeling angry that I have to answer these questions. Alfred would’ve told him everything about my relationship with Russell. Why is he so interested?

“Den, ye’re a virgin?” he asks.

“Yes.” I retort because he had asked his question like an accusation. My answer is doing something to him, though, and it’s really interesting to watch. He looks a little drunk…like his equilibrium is off a little. “But, da Power
aingeal
…” he trails off in a leading way.

“Is an evolved angel and I am not,” I explain, seeing his expression of bliss when all the pieces come together for him. I stiffen because he has just confirmed a piece of what it is he wants from me. A suffocating dread shakes me and I have to beat down the instinct to fight him with everything that I have right now as images of what he wants are taking shape in my head.

“Dis way, pet,” Brennus says, leading me away from the bed and into the next room. It’s an old-world style bathroom. A very large copper tub adorns the center of the room. The tub is large enough to accommodate two people, I notice, blushing again. A wood-burning stove warms the room and heats large smooth stones in a large copper bin on the stove. Another wood-burning stove holds a copper pot full of water that is emitting steam into the air. It’s deliciously warm in here, and as I move toward the heat, I glance over and see my reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner.

I hardly recognize myself. The white blouse that I had put on days ago is almost unrecognizable as having ever been white. It tells the entire story of the struggle I have gone through to reach this point; the grass stains and tears in the fabric melt into the crusted matte of sweat and blood, while streaks of dirt and grime create fascinating patterns of hopelessness on the canvas of fabric that covers my body.

My leg is even more interesting, in a sick, macabre way. The blood that had oozed from the wound to my foot has made a maze of lines over my calf, making it look as if a spider has spun a terrifying web in which to entrap its prey. I look like I have survived some hideous explosion and I’m still walking around, dazed and confused by the sheer fact that I’m still alive, when I know I should be dead.

Not wanting to look at myself any longer, I turn and walk to the tub. Bending down, I dip my fingers in the water already in it, testing the temperature. It’s tepid, but it doesn’t matter because just getting the dirt off of me will be satisfying enough.

Moving to the stove that contains the water, Brennus lifts the pot off the stove with his bare hands. “Ye will have to tell me when ta stop,” he says, beginning to pour the water into the tub, heating the bath water rapidly.

“Isn’t that scalding your hands?” I ask in shock, because it has to be scorching hot, touching the copper pot that has just been on the stove.

“Me skin is na very sensitive to heat. ‘Twould take an intense flame ta burn me,” he replies, smiling at me because of the concerned look I’m giving him.

He continues to fill the tub until I say, “Stop, please.” He stops pouring and places the pot back on the stove.
He has to be super strong because he picked up that giant pot of water like it doesn’t weigh a thing,
I think dejectedly. “What else is different about you?” I ask.

“If ye get in da tub wi’ out fighting me, I’ll tell ye,” Brennus says, and my eyes widen in fear because I thought he would leave before I take my bath. When he was gone, I planned to rummage around the room and see if I could locate anything that would pass for a decent weapon, but now, I have a new problem.

Everything is an opportunity to begin to turn him to your will,
a small voice says in the back of my mind.
Pretend that he’s Reed.
I almost snort at that thought. That is nearly impossible because his cold skin is emanating near me like icy currents of air, chilling me. He also does not smell like Reed. His odor is sweet and potent, like a poppy, and Reed’s scent is masculine and…sexy.

Slowly I turn away from him. Reaching my hands up to unbuttoned the top button of my blouse, I find that it’s missing, along with the next button down. Realizing that the garment is a hopeless mess, I grasp both sides of the blouse, tearing it open. The remaining buttons of the garment make soft twinkling sounds as they bounce and roll across the floor. Allowing the shirt to cascade down my arms slowly, I glance over my shoulder to gauge Brennus’ reaction to what I have just done. He is still. His eyes have grown dark and dilated. Fear is making my hands tremble as I reach behind me slowly, unzipping my skirt, letting it fall to the floor in the next instant to puddle at my feet. My underwear is staying on because I won’t be able to get them off over the shackles and I don’t want to take them off anyway with Brennus watching me. Shielding my breasts with my hands, I turn toward him. I walk slowly to the tub, watching Brennus to make sure he stays where he is and doesn’t try to come nearer to me. He doesn’t move.

Never taking my eyes off of him, I have to sit on the edge of the tub, and then swing my legs over the edge together because of the shackles. The shackles clank against the metal of the tub as I enter the water slowly. I sit there stiffly, watching him watch me. “Dat’ twas different,” Brennus murmurs. He moves back from the tub to lean against the far wall of the bathroom where he observes me casually.

My eyes narrow. “What do you mean?” I ask with suspicion.

“I mean da way ye took yer clothes off…I’m used ta wans tryin’ ta entice me in da way dey disrobe, but ye’re just da opposite. Ye try na ta entice, try na ta flaunt yer beauty…” he replies with a seductive smile. I feel relief because I think that he is telling me that I didn’t turn him on when I took my clothes off. That belief is rapidly dispelled with his next statement. “Da contrast is breathtakingly sexy.”

Holding my breath, I duck under the water and stay down there until my air supply runs out and I have to surface. When I come up, he is still here. “You said you would tell me about being a Gancanagh, if I didn’t fight you,” I say, trying to turn the conversation back to where I want it to go and lead him away from lust for now.

“I did,” he replies as he goes to the cabinet that holds a basin of water and a bowl. Opening it, he pulls out a sponge and some soap. Nearing the tub, he hands them to me. Taking them cautiously from him, my eyes meet his. He asks, “Whah do ye want ta know?”

I want to know how to destroy you,
I think. “You are a faerie?” I ask, wetting the sponge and using it to scrub the dirt and grime from my body. I watch him return to his former position against the far wall.

“I was,” he says, and when I look at him for more information, he replies, “I was a faerie, before I was changed into a Gancanagh… before I died.”

“Oh,” I say as a million questions resonate in my mind. “How did you die and become a Gancanagh?”

“I was captured, just like ye. We were warriors, Finn and me, a long time ago… in a place ye never heard of because it no longer exists,” he says smoothly, crossing his arms in front of him and waiting for my reaction.

I’m startled by what he says. I have no basis for any of this, no insight into what he is talking about, unless I count the fanciful stories created by humans that I have read. But, they don’t come close to this because I can feel the coldness emanating from his skin from here. I can smell his sticky-sweet scent, like a tobacco flower that has gone past ripe and is now a little bit rotten and brown around the edges of its petals. I can hear the deepness of his voice and the way his words roll off his tongue, not like a being of this world, but one from another world—or lifetime. I was wrong to think he is Irish. He’s not even human and never was—no matter how well he may pass for one now.

“I was turned by da method ye were too stubborn ta follow,” he says with anger, and my hand stills in the water.

He endured what I endured, but he was unwilling to truly die, so he was made a demon.
I almost feel sorry for him—almost.

“My sire was named Aodh,” he says, and I can tell there is not a lot of love between them.

“Was—not is?” I ask, feeling cold despite the warmth of the water.

“He made us his slaves,” Brennus says with cool detachment. “There was no will but his and da only means of survival was ta abide his will or perish,” he explains. “It was not like it is wi’ dis clan—we are united, we are brudders.”

“Really? So, what happened to Aodh?” I ask, because I have a feeling Brennus didn’t become the leader of this clan because of his charming personality. I also hope he will tell me how he had killed Aodh, so that I might find a weakness to their strength.

“I defeated him. None of us will be slaves again. I am the leader and dey will all follow me orders, but dey also have freedoms dat did not exist under Aodh—and so shall ye,” I shiver when he says that. If this is better than being a slave under Aodh, then Aodh was the devil.

“How were you turned into a Gancanagh?” I ask. “How do you do it exactly?” I try to ask casually, but my heart is racing as fast as my mind.

“Ye will find out soon enough,” he says with an easy smile, and I want to scream in frustration, but I keep my face as serene as possible. Washing my hair with the soap that he gave me, I rinse it in the steaming water.

“Do you have a razor?” I ask, and he frowns at me, distrusting my intentions. I raise my legs out of the tub just enough so he can see the stubble on them. His eyes run the length of my legs slowly as a smile inches to the corners of his mouth. He again goes to the cabinet, pulling out a straight razor. Killing scenarios rapidly fire through my head again as he hands it to me. I resist them all because there are four huge Gancanagh outside his suite of rooms, blocking my way to freedom, along with a dozen more in the main hall.

“Thank you,” I say, trying to figure out how to shave my legs with an archaic razor.

When I figure out how it works, I look up triumphantly to see that Brennus is watching me, captivated by what I’m doing. “So…a faerie, huh? What’s that like? Can you fly…do you have wings?” I ask, trying to distract him from the sensual twist I can see on his face.

“Do ye see wings on me?” he asks in a soft tone as the arch of his dark brow extends a bit.

My eyebrows raise in an innocent expression. “No,” I reply, and then I retract my wings instantly. “Do you see mine?” I ask sweetly when my wings have completely disappeared into my back.

Brennus’ slow smile travels to his eyes this time. “No,” he answers in a low tone. “I had dem, wings, a long time ago, but I couldna keep dem as a Gancanagh. For faeries, dey do na survive death.” He must have seen confusion in my eyes because he adds, “Ye are an
aingeal.
I believe yers will survive. Dey will make ye very powerful in death.”

I let my wings fly back out because what he just said disturbs me. My wings splash a bit of the bathwater on him because of the powerful way in which they expand. Brennus touches the droplets that have landed on his skin, brushing at the water with his long slender fingers that look capable of anything. “Don’t feel bad—about your wings. I can’t fly either and most of the time, they’re just irritating,” I admit, trying to stamp down the compassion that is rearing up inside me for his loss. Instead, I try to concentrate on not cutting myself in front of the Gancanagh. I’m not sure if he has eaten yet today and I don’t want him to think of food now.

“Tanks, Genevieve, I’ll try,” he replies. He seems different now, like he is really trying hard not to smile, but he is losing the battle.

“Can you go outside during the day, or are you nocturnal?” I ask.

“Whah?” Brennus ask in confusion, like he honestly doesn’t understand it.

“Alfred said the Gancanagh are like vampires, so I was just wondering…” And I have to stop talking because Brennus is laughing really hard. “Not nocturnal, huh?” I ask in a disappointed way, but when he clutches his side and can’t stop laughing, I continue on in frustration, “So, can you go out in the sunlight, or not?” He doubles over and almost falls on the floor. I finish shaving while he tries to pull himself together.