Smoke in Moonlight (Celtic Elementals Book 1) (6 page)

Ronan knew damn well it had been more than that, but he let that go. "But, tonight," he prompted, "was this one no' so…typical?"

"No," Lacey said softly. "I...I've never felt anything like it. I woke up shaking...and sick. I walked for a minute," Her hand floated back and forth, indicating pacing. "Then I sat on the little couch. I didn't want to go back to bed, but I didn't want to wake anyone either. Then you came in. I kinda thought I was still dreaming at first. Until—" She stopped and looked awkward.

He understood. Dreams, even truly awful nightmares, didn't
actually
try to murder you. At least in not in the so-called 'real' world. And he was beginning to consider for the first time that Lacey might just be from that world.

Unfortunately for her, it didn't mean she couldn't be a pawn. And pawns could bring down a king. He'd seen it happen.

Ronan was no king—though he'd been used by a few. And like a king he had people to protect, a duty to bear. He couldn't afford not to consider every angle.

He leaned back on his heels, watching her face. Emotions flickered across it like light on water. Very normal, very
human
emotions: exhaustion, confusion, and fear.

The fear was the only constant, it emanated from her like the rays of a cold sun. He didn't miss her furtive, despairing glances toward the door.

Poor thing, alone. In a houseful of strangers, in a strange land. Plagued by vicious nightmares. Stalked by one of those strangers…attacked…

Ronan forced himself to think of all this from her point of view—if she truly was what she seemed—and hated himself more than a little.

He had enemies that could easily have foreseen his reaction to Lacey....or even induced it.

Aine.

How diabolical would it be, Ronan thought, if they were actually using a normal human to bring about the unseen doom the dream warned of? To get to him in the oldest of ways. Guilt tightened his throat again.

If that were true, what he had done—and what he would in all likelihood still have to do—was almost unforgivable.

But only almost. And only if it were true.

He was far too old to make the mistake of taking anything at face value. Even if wore a face and form this lovely.

"Tell me about the dream." It was a command, but he softened his tone, recognizing now that if she
were
just some female tourist, he was incredibly lucky she hadn’t already passed out on him.

Bewildered, but obviously terrified of refusing, Lacey closed her eyes and leaned back against the whorled cushions, in a clear attempt to calm herself. But Ronan could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin nightdress. He could practically hear her heartbeat. His hands clenched.

"I was in the woods...the woods between here and Lough Gur." From her pause, she had just realized that.

It was no surprise to him.

"I was running through those woods. I had scratches everywhere and blood here," her fingers indicated her forehead, her eyes remaining closed. "And there were all these aches and pains all over my body, like I'd been in a car accident, or had fallen over and over again, really hard—something like that— because everything hurt. But I couldn't stop running, it was too important. So important…. Something terrible was coming, and I felt awful, sick—like I wasn't going to get there in time."

"
Where
were ye going?" Ronan hissed, fighting to keep his voice low.

Lacey moved her shoulders. "I don't remember, but the urge to get there was overwhelming. I think I was headed… east? It went so fast, trees flashing by and all these shadows from the moonlight. It had to be the full moon, because it was so bright, but the shadows were...scary. I don't think they were
just
shadows either, but I didn't stop to look. There were too many images racing through my head, memories. Like when people say their life flashes before their eyes?  But I remembered some...things...that…" Her eyes fluttered open and she shifted uncomfortably, not looking at him but playing with the edge of her nightdress.

"What things?" Ronan snapped, impatient to hear if she was going to remember more details than he.

"Things that... haven't happened. That I haven't done, at least not with—" Even in the moonlight, he saw her flush, but she did manage to bring her eyes to his in the end. There was no mistaking her distress.

Oh
, Ronan thought. And felt a grim satisfaction that he wasn't the only one being tortured in that respect.
Good.
He wondered if he affected her the same way she affected him. That tantalizing thought had him going hard as stone, his throat dry, unable to speak.

Lacey seemed goaded by his silence. "Oh, for God's sake, let's just say, they were memories I don't have now. Memories I will
never
really have!" She looked at him mutinously.

Ronan didn't see the need to argue with her. Though he—and his throbbing body—hardly agreed. If either of them lived much longer, he
would
have her.

He inclined his head, and she continued, obviously relieved he wasn't going to comment. This time she kept her eyes open, but focused on a point behind him.

"I stumbled then, and my leg twisted. God! The pain was unbelievable and I was so scared, so sad because now I knew I could never make it. It was impossible. I was going to fail. I was crying by then."

Her voice had gone flat and empty, and Ronan could tell the emotions from the dream were beginning to steal back over her.

"I started to crawl. Then there was all this mist.... No. It was more like smoke. But not smoke from a fire somehow... I don't know how to explain it—it almost seemed
alive
somehow. It grew ahead of me, a huge cloud of it and for a moment, I was—" her eyes flickered to his face and Ronan raised his eyebrows in question, “—relieved," Lacey finished simply.

Ronan was taken aback.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to hide his surprise. If what she was seeing was him transform—which is what it certainly sounded like—relief was the last thing he would expect her to feel.

"But then...you came out of somewhere,” she'd continued without prompting. “You were so angry, really furious and...and awful really." Lacey's hand went to her throat and Ronan winced.

Then Lacey raised both her hands, covering her face, her voice growing very soft. "Then you...you...ahh.... Well. You turned into a...into a… Oh,
screw it!

"A wolf, okay? You were a
werewolf
." She peeked at him through her fingers.

"How remarkable," Ronan said dryly. "Continue, please."

Lacey dropped her hands, staring at him. "Well, that's it. I woke up—and then you came in and tried to kill me." For the first time, she sounded a bit angry.

"Just what in the
hell
is happening here?! You really were going to kill me, weren't you?" Her eyes were looking too bright, it was as if she was just now catching up to everything that had happened to her in the last few minutes, finally taking it all in. "Ever since my plane landed, crazy things have been happening. I have wanted to come here my
whole
life! It was supposed to be perfect. Instead, everything is so...so damn
insane!
And nothing makes sense and...and…"

Her voice continued rising and Ronan knew that she was nigh to her breaking point. He yanked her into his arms before she had a chance to think about the possibility. Lacey's voice didn't so much trail off as
shut
off—like someone had flicked a switch. Her heart pounded against his, fluttering like a bird’s. She stared up at him, obviously speechless with terror.

Ronan wished he could ease her fear of him, but that wouldn't be right. It wouldn’t be honest.

She should fear him. Not that it would save her, but still…

He could give her some measure of peace for this night, and give himself a chance to think this over. He quickened his breathing and in seconds cobalt light had formed around them. Lacey arched away, her face panicked.

"Nae," he whispered, holding her easily as his magic spread. In overlapping tongues of blue flame this time, it licked over her tension-racked body. Her eyes fell shut and her heartbeat slowed. Her body relaxed.

Almost immediately, she turned into him, one arm thrown around his neck, a silky splash of fiery gold hair tickling his skin, a soft cheek pressed against his hard shoulder and her warm lips brushing his bare chest.

It rocked him to his very core.

Ronan stared down at her for a long moment, unable to breathe, his own pulse starting to roar in his ears. Sweat popped out along his shoulders and the backs of his arms. His muscles ached with tension and his cock throbbed. Fighting the darkness inside himself had never been harder than at that moment. He wanted to throw her down on the floor and
take her.
Now. To see if she tasted as good as she smelled, if she was as soft as he was hard.

"Lacey," He forced himself to say her name and it grounded him, even as he shuddered with need. She was Lacey. Lacey Ryan. She had a sister and a home. She could be human and innocent and absolutely unaware of what she had stepped into.
And he was not that far gone.

Not yet.

"I was going to kill ye." He whispered the words, knowing that it was still a possibility, a damn likely one. The thought made his stomach recoil. Ronan knew if it was proved necessary, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He would do anything to protect his family. Anything.

He wondered though, if maybe that act would be the one that finally took his soul for good. That could even be the whole point. He sighed and for a moment his shoulders slumped and his head bowed.

Sometimes he was so fucking weary of trying to play this game. Keeping up with gods and demons, trying to stay one step ahead…

His forehead brushed Lacey’s and Ronan jerked upright.

"But now is no' the time. Nae yet." Pray the gods’ mercy, not ever. But the gods were so rarely merciful, the bastards.

He strode to the bed, but when he tried to lay her down, she surprised him again by refusing to let go, her arm tightening around his neck even though her eyelids could barely open.

"No dreams?" she breathed in his ear.

"Nae, no' tonight, lass." he agreed. Her hold on him slackened and Ronan eased her between the mused sheets.

But the dreams
would
return. And Ronan knew he wouldn't try and halt them again. Not when he needed so very badly to know just what in the hell was going on.

"Sister, sister, sister," Aillen's customary growl was strangely subdued as he circled her. Aine tried not to show the fear that was licking up her spine like the cold tongue of some undead beast. She would not turn to follow as he paced, but stood straight, going for an air of casual disinterest.

They were in Aillen's cavern, below Knockdoon, the huge bald hill that Lough Gur was nestled around.

Aine had loved the mountain, just as she loved her lake. She never thought that when she'd invited her brother here he would poison her against it. But she'd underestimated him...in so
very
many ways.

Even for a demon, Aillen was crazy. Stony. And far more ambitious that she'd ever dreamed.

She swallowed when he stopped his circling to pause in front of her. He smiled and she got a glimpse of those jagged incisors. "Tell me again how this is going to go down."

Aine forced herself to look at him, reciting in a bored monotone. "Ye need to kill the werewolf before ye can attack Lugh and the others. But all these years, ye have no' been able to do it. He's too strong as a werewolf, but as a true human, 'tis basically a cakewalk—if he donna have the sword. So ye need to break my spell while he is a werewolf and no' carrying it. I know, I know."

"And yet you vex me by refusing to undo it yourself." Her brother whirled to sit in his chair, a carved monstrosity of bones, soaked in blood. A mockery of Lugh's thrones in Ti'rna No'g and the Otherworld. Aillen liked to pretend he was already a king—though if she had her way that was never going to happen—

Unless she died first, which was a distinct possibility.

She took advantage of Aillen's back being turned to allow herself a shudder before saying calmly.

"I would if I could, dear brother. But Lugh's counter spell sealed my magic. I canna undo it now. I've told ye tha'."

"So, Lugh fixed his pet's fate. Interesting, yes. Does Fitzpatrick know this?"

"Of course no', ye bloody fool! Lugh donna even know it himself. They think I'm just being a bitch. I've n'ver seen fit to tell them otherwise." It was a gamble to irritate him in his own lair, but she had to make him think she wasn't scared of him. Had to make the effort, at least. "But as I told ye—as yer
own
damn seers told ye, this American chit can break it for ye."

"But you want me to wait. I'm heartily sick of waiting, sister." His dull blue eyes made her feel as if she'd stepped in something slimy.