The Phoenix Charm (21 page)

The waves of allure cascaded through her. With a cry, bone-melting pleasure flashed along her arms and legs, bursting out from the boundary of her body into her aura.

Dimly, on the edge of awareness, she heard shouting. Then the waves of energy swamped her. She floated on the warm swell of their pleasure.

Slowly, his power absorbed her allure and settled around her, held her in its embrace. The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered for a while, but the feeling of being one with Michael. She’d desired him from afar, but now that she knew him, her feelings ran far deeper than lust.

She raised her hand, watching it curiously as though it didn’t belong to her, then touched Michael’s hair, let a chestnut wave slide over her finger. She’d washed off her wards, made love with Michael, and no harm had come to anyone. He could handle her allure, so maybe she could have a proper relationship with him as she had dreamed. The more she got to know him, the more she loved this sexy rascal with his kind heart.

After long minutes, he roused, and pushed himself up on his elbows, levering most of his weight off her. His blue eyes were hooded with satisfaction, his expression lazy and sated. “Sugarplum, you’ve wiped me out.”

He dropped on his back beside her, with a long contented sigh. “Let’s sleep; then we’ll head home later.”

Sirens outside intruded on the lazy atmosphere of the
room. He turned his head on the pillow to look at the window. “Sounds like something’s going on out there.”

A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. “Ahh.” Michael rubbed his face. “What’s the point of a DO NOT DISTURB sign if people ignore the damn thing?” He rolled over and pushed up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You all right in there?” a man’s voice shouted.

“Hang on a minute.” Michael helped her beneath the duvet, then snagged the robe from the floor and pulled it on. Cinching the belt, he wandered to the door and unlocked it. “What’s up?”

Cordelia half listened to Michael’s conversation while sleep drifted over her, lazy and warm.

“The place has gone mad,” the man at the door said. “Some men in a business workshop on the floor below went crazy and attacked the women. The police are down there now. I’m checking that everyone up here’s okay.”

Shock jolted Cordelia out of her sleepy daze. She sprang up and wrapped the duvet around her, then stumbled to the door to catch the man before he moved on. “When did this happen?”

He stared at her, pink suffusing his cheeks. Without warning, he grabbed at her.

“Hey!” Michael stepped in front of her and jostled the man away. “What’s your problem, fella?”

The man staggered back, confusion on his face. Then he turned and dashed toward the elevator.

Dark and intense, horror thrummed her nerves. “It’s not his fault, Michael. It’s me.”

“It can’t be—”

“You saw his reaction. He was affected by my allure.”

She spun back to the room, tears burning her eyes. “The pen. Where’s the bloody pen?”

Michael stared at her. The warmth of his reassurance brushed her mind and, instinctively, she slammed down her defenses, pushed him away. Disbelief, then sadness, crossed
his face. He strode to the bathroom and returned with the pen.

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she couldn’t allow him to placate her. He didn’t understand how serious this was. She dropped the duvet, sat on the edge of the bed, and, with a shaking hand, started drawing over her solar plexus to block the most powerful energy center first. Tears tightened her throat while her hand quickly formed the familiar symbols she’d applied to her skin a thousand times before. Next, she moved to her heart center, then her belly.

When she’d finished her front, she looked up to find Michael frozen, watching her intently, his mouth tight, eyes bright with pain. Her heart clenched, but her urgency overtook all other emotion.

“I’ll need you to do my back for me.” She grabbed a sheet of paper from the desk and sketched the symbols for him to copy.

He came closer and placed a hand on her busy arm, halting her drawing. “Is this really necessary, love?”

“You heard him.” Fear and shame threaded steel through her voice. “I’ve caused innocent humans to do something terrible.
My
father was right. I should
never
remove my wards.”

“I didn’t lose control,” Michael said.

“You’re not human,” she snapped. “You’re not even an ordinary fairy. You’re”—she waved an arm at him impatiently—“you’re immortal. You’re massively powerful. You can probably walk through walls for all we know.”

She held out the drawing and waited for him to take it before she turned herback. “Please, just help me reapply my wards. The top one goes on my neck, then the rest mirror what I’ve drawn on my front.” She stood up, the race of her panicked pulse so loud it filled her ears. After what felt like forever, the pen touched her back and she released a breath tight with anguish for her lost dreams.

“What does this mean for us?” Michael asked softly, while the pen moved over her skin.

She licked her dry lips. “It means I made a mistake. One I can never make again.”

“What was the mistake, Cordelia?”

Her heart thumped so hard, her temples pounded.

“The mistake was leaving off my wards to make love with you.”

Using his uninjured arm, Nightshade carried Rhys up the stairs at Trevelion Manor, Eloise on his heels. They had stopped at a motel for the night, but none of them had got much sleep, and they were all still exhausted after the last few days. Thorn had gone straight to bed when they arrived home, but Nightshade and Eloise needed to settle Rhys safely first. Nightshade had little doubt that Ana, Michael’s leprechaun half sister, would welcome another baby with open arms.

When he reached the nursery, he halted in the doorway, taking in a sight he’d never expected to see. Troy sat cross-legged on the carpet. His golden hair was twisted up in an elaborate style and trimmed with peacock feathers that matched the color of his jacket. With a beautiful long-fingered hand, more at home wielding a sword, Troy pretended to pour from a small blue plastic teapot decorated with a teddy bear into a matching cup. Little Kea sat on his lap, his chubby fingers pulling at the gold-rimmed abalone buttons trimming the cuffs of Troy’s jacket. The soft glow from Troy’s skin blended with the early morning sunlight filtering in through the window.

As Troy watched the baby, his smile was so sad that Nightshade’s heart hurt to think that Michael might end up as world-weary as his father.

Ana sat beside the babies’ cot, knitting, keeping watch over Finian while he slept.

Nightshade continued into the nursery, Rhys stirring in his arms. “Ana, we need your help, please.”

When Eloise entered the nursery, she gave a little gasp. Nightshade didn’t blame her. The sight of Troy still took his breath away.

Troy angled his head with a studied casualness. “Is Michael well?”

“He is,” Nightshade replied, Troy’s feigned indifference not fooling him for a moment.

Looking down, Troy exhaled and ran a fingertip over Kea’s plump cheek.

“He’s not here,” Nightshade added, although Troy would be able to sense that. “The wise woman lost consciousness on the Darkling Road. Michael took her to a hotel to recuperate.”

“Michael will no doubt restore her spirits,” Troy said. “He has a way with women.” Kea grasped a button on the front of Troy’s jacket, frowning in concentration while he tried to push it out of the buttonhole. Troy’s poignant smile pulled at his lips again. “The little lad is desperate to undress me.”

Nightshade couldn’t suppress his wry smile, but forbore to add that he shared the boy’s fascination.

Ana had set aside her knitting and jumped from the chair. The tiny leprechaun woman waddled closer with her funny bandy-legged walk and smiled. “You have a son, Nightshade?”

“A half brother.”

“Oh, my.” Ana’s face crinkled in pleasure when he kneeled so she could see Rhys properly. “May I hold the wee one?” she asked, turning to Eloise.

Wide-eyed, Eloise blinked and nodded.

Nightshade passed his precious bundle to Ana, who oohed and ahhed while she cuddled the smiling child.

“He’s a good boy,” Nightshade said, pride filling his chest.
“No trouble while we escaped, and he slept most of the way home. I think he’s ready for breakfast.”

“And a dean diaper,” Eloise added.

While Ana and Eloise took Rhys to the changing table, Nightshade wandered toward Troy, who stiffened and looked up sharply when he moved too close.

“I’m no threat to you.”

Troy’s gelid gaze grazed over him, but the subtle tension in his body eased.

Taking a risk, Nightshade hunkered down beside him and rubbed a knuckle along Kea’s plump forearm. When Troy didn’t flinch from his proximity, Nightshade slowly laid a consoling hand on his arm. After the last few days, he shouldn’t have any energy left to feel compassion for another. But finding Rhys had woken an emotional side of him that sensed the anguish Troy hid behind his veneer of perfection.

“Michael will be back later,” he said softly.

Not acknowledging the touch, Troy kept his eyes on Kea, cradled sleepily in his arms, and smoothed the boy’s fine golden hair. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

Nightshade stood and stepped back when Ana shuffled across and placed a mug decorated with little green leprechauns down on the carpet. “Drink your tea, Troy. I’m thinking Michael will be pleased to see you.”

She held out her arms, and Troy handed Kea over.

“Unlikely.” Troy gave a wistful glance at Finian asleep in the cot. “Both Michael and Niall think I manipulate them.”

“Nonsense,” Ana said as she deposited Kea in a playpen in the corner of the room. “You do your best. ’Tis all anyone can ask.”

He gave her a sardonic glance. “Damned by faint praise, Mistress Ana.” He rose elegantly, his movements the agile stretch and flex of a highly toned physique. A flutter of desire
caressed Nightshade as he imagined sinking his fangs into the pearly skin of Troy’s neck.

Troy angled his head, eyebrows raised in question.

“Are my thoughts that obvious?” Nightshade grinned.

“Clear as diamonds of the first water.”

After a quick check to ensure Eloise and Ana weren’t watching, Nightshade decided his self-control was over and allowed the tips of his fangs to show.

Troy ignored his taunt. “I must away to Wales to deal with Gwyn ap Nudd.”

“It would have been nice if you’d done that earlier.” Nightshade favored his aching shoulder at memories of being smashed against the wall.

“Initially the situation served my purposes,” Troy said. “Then Michael asked me not to interfere. As far as possible, I respected his wish.”

“So now he’s out of there, you’re going to clear up his mess?”

“No, stalker.” Troy turned glacial blue eyes on him and a shiver raced down Nightshade’s spine. “Gwyn ap Nudd has always been
my mess,
as you so eloquently put it. I’ll look to my responsibilities, you look to yours.” He glanced across the room to where Eloise sat in one of the wing chairs with Rhys on her lap, nibbling a baby rusk. “I applaud your concern for your half brother and his mother, but be aware there are some who will consider you’ve stolen what is not yours.”

Nightshade’s grin faded, and he stared at Rhys, busy chewing as though nothing existed in the world except his food. “I considered the possibility of reprisals by the Tylwyth Teg, but I didn’t think they’d bother to follow Eloise once she escaped from Wales, and Dragon rarely sees the boy.”

“You’ll be amazed how much interest Dragon can summon when he discovers you’ve taken the child.”

After a final glance at his grandsons, Troy turned and
faded like mist in the sun. For a long time, Nightshade stared at the spot where Troy had stood, hoping he was wrong, fearing he was not. In his heart, he’d known there was a risk in bringing Rhys and Eloise to Cornwall. He hoped he hadn’t brought more trouble down on the piskies.

Cordelia had thought she was falling in love; instead, she was falling apart.

Her carefully controlled existence had shattered because she’d disregarded the one thing her father and grandmother had impressed upon her—to keep her wards intact and her allure contained. She’d sought pleasure; as a result, innocent people had suffered. To make matters worse, she’d hurt Michael’s feelings.

After they left the hotel, he drove the rental car in silence, an uncharacteristic grim tension around his eyes and mouth while he slammed through the gears. She stared out the side window as the Bristol suburbs thinned out to be replaced by fields. Wincing, she touched her sore tummy and chest where she’d pressed too hard with the pen. None of thes symbols Michael had drawn on her back hurt. He’d been gentler with her than she’d been with herself.

Inexorably, her gaze slid to his strong hands gripping the steering wheel. The sinewy strength of his wrists and forearms made her allure simmer behind her wards. She tried to ignore his thighs and the other interesting parts of him hugged by faded denim. She swallowed and dragged her eyes away when her allure began to surge and roll, the pressure building inside her. Leaning her head back, she imagined diving into the cold Atlantic to calm herself.

Now she’d tasted the freedom of linking with him and loving him, the ache of need would torment her every moment
she could feel his presence. She no longer trusted the wards to contain her desire for him.

“I’ll have to leave Trevelion Manor—I’m not confident I can control my allure anymore,” she said softly, pushing aside the awful pain she felt at the thought of leaving Michael and her home and Thorn and all the piskies.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Then he glanced at her. “Where will you go?”

A stab of disappointment brought tears to her eyes. What had she hoped? That he’d beg her to stay?

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“So what happens to our bond?” he asked, his voice tight with reproach.

She turned to the side window and surreptitiously wiped her eyes. “I can’t remove my wards again.” She glanced over her shoulder at his tense jaw and narrowed eyes. “I can never be the woman you want, Michael. Anyway, we’re not even properly bonded because Tamsy holds my mind and spirit stones.”

He slashed her a sideways glance that stung her skin. “Where does that leave me?”

“Umm.” She sucked her bottom lip, trying to decide how to make this easier for him. “I’ll go far enough away that you can’t feel me. You can just go back to how you were before we left.”

The car swerved dangerously down a side turning. She clung to the door as the tires squealed. Michael bumped onto the grassy edge of the road and skidded to a halt.

Before she could move, he released his seat belt and hers and pulled her into his arms. His kiss crushed her mouth while the overwhelming force of his mind cocooned her with him in a humming aura of power. Instinctively, her lips moved beneath his. The simmer of desire roared to life with the speed of a sea squall, crashing into the wall of her wards. When her lungs burned for air, he finally pulled back, his hands gripping her upper arms.

“Know what that means?” he demanded, his eyes fierce.

She blinked at him, her mind racing with surprise at this domineering side of Michael she’d never seen before.

“It means I’m not letting you leave me,” he said adamantly.

Relief flooded her but stalled when her brain started to process again. “I can’t stay with the piskies. You know what happened in Bristol.”

“I’ll come away with you,” he said in a voice layered with subtle tones of reassurance.

“What about your pub? What about Niall?”

“Sod the pub. You’re more important.”

“Oh.” Her breath trembled in wonder when he pulled her closer. She sank against the strong warmth of his chest. Leaving Thorn would be upsetting, but he was old enough to look after himself. Maybe she and Michael could find a cottage dose enough to Trevelion Manor to visit, yet a safe distance from other men. Then she could remove her wards to make love to him.

Thoughts of making love shimmered heat through her until she could barely breathe from the power ready to burst out of her skin. Her hand found its way onto his thigh. Beneath the soft denim, his muscle clenched. His words whispered against her ear. “Cordelia Tink, I once thought you were straitlaced.”

“I was an innocent, hardworking wise woman until you corrupted me,” she whispered back, sliding her palm higher to rub the bulge growing underneath his zipper. She fumbled with the zip and button, thrilled by his little grunt of pleasure when her hand slid inside his jeans.

“Oh, yeah,” he said between gasps. “I intend to corrupt you a whole lot more when we arrive home.”

Michael stood beside the twins’ cot in the nursery at Trevelion Manor, staring down at the two little boys snuggled together.
Sadness tainted his sense of relief and satisfaction that Finian was safe and well and reunited with Kea.

When Rose and Niall returned from America, Michael would leave with Cordelia. He stroked the boys’ soft hair, wishing he didn’t have to be parted from them.

Even as Cordelia had announced she must leave, Michael knew he’d go with her. The decision came from his gut, or maybe his heart. But now the consequences of that decision had sunk in, his heart ached.

In the last two years, the pisky troop had become his people. Yet although the loss hurt, he would still make the choice of leaving with Cordelia if she asked him again now.

He just wished he didn’t have to choose between her and his family.

Ana sat in the chair beside the cot. Her dark curls hung over her face while she dozed, watching over the wee ones. He dropped into the chair beside her and stretched his legs. His foot brushed something shiny on the carpet. After picking the wispy thing up, he placed it on his palm. Beneath the nightlight, the silky blue-green fibers of a peacock’s feather glowed against his skin.

Only one person he knew wore peacock feathers. Troy must have dropped it when he brought Finian home. If only his father had waited around. He’d be able to advise Michael about Cordelia’s allure.

Michael rested his head back on the chair and closed his eyes against a sudden stab of pain. Despite Troy’s emotional distance, he’d always believed his father cared for him. Yet Troy had given him up to the King of the Underworld and walked away with hardly a backward glance.

“Penny for them.” Ana’s sleepy voice pulled him from his thoughts. He rolled his head on the chair back to see her. She blinked at him, her dark skin and hair making her little more than a shadow in the corner of the chair.

“I’m going to have to leave.”

“You’ve only just arrived home, lad.”

“I’ve bonded with Cordelia. She thinks she can’t stay here.”

Ana frowned. “I’m not sensing her in you, lad.”

Michael sighed, his chest heavy with melancholy. “I don’t hold her mind and spirit. Her cat does.”

Nodding, Ana patted her stubby fingers on the chair arm. “’Tis not unusual for a witch to have a familiar, but I’m sad for you. I’m told ’tis the most wonderful experience being one with your mate.”

Silence fell between them. The gentle rhythm of the babies breathing soothed Michael after the turmoil of the last few days.

“Why must the wise woman leave?” Ana asked, drawing him from his pleasant stupor.

Cordelia had asked him not to tell anyone she was a water nymph, but his sister deserved to know his reason for leaving. “She’s a water nymph, she’s worried that—”

“She’s a healer?” Ana sat bolt upright, staring at him.

“Aye. She healed me in Wales when I was stabbed but she—”

“Why has she not shared her gift with the piskies?” Ana’s kindly expression hardened into myriad lines. “An important power like that carries responsibilities, a duty to use the gift for the good of all.”

“She has wards drawn on her body to contain her allure so she doesn’t attract men.”

Ana snorted. “She’s a silly girl. Of course her allure runs out of control if she doesn’t use the power for healing the way the gods intended.”

Rhys snuffled and whimpered. After sliding down from her chair, Ana went to the cot and lifted him into her arms, whispering, and stroking his back.

Michael watched, waiting for her to say more, but she concentrated on quieting the child.

“Cordelia’s expecting me to return once I’ve checked on
the boys.” Michael stood and stretched, then headed to the door. He glanced back before he left.

Ana stared at him over Rhys’s tuft of dark hair. “We don’t want to go losing you, darling boy. Make the wise woman see sense for all our sakes.”

Cordelia pulled her silky gown closed and cinched the cord before she wrapped a towel around her wet hair and headed for her small kitchenette. Tamsy stood on the counter, tail flicking as she eyed the tins of cat food on the shelf.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I should have fed you first.”

Once she’d filled Tamsy’s bowl, she checked the shepherd’s pie in the oven and glanced over her shoulder at the door. Michael’s presence beat insistently in her chest, each pulse sparking nerves beneath her skin. He had taken ages with the babies and she missed him.

When a knock sounded on her door, she wiped her hands and rushed to let Michael in. He grinned wearily and kissed her. Perversely, she felt more awkward with him now they were home. She wished she’d known him better before they went to Wales.

“I’ve made you some dinner.” She showed him to the nook in the kitchen, where he sat. His troubled gaze jumped around her tiny kitchen, from the pine-fronted cupboards to her collection of cat ornaments haphazardly arranged on a shelf by the door.

He stared at the plate she set before him, gaze unfocused.

She sat opposite him, his obvious discomfort twisting her gut. Maybe now he was home with his nephews, he’d changed his mind about leaving.

“You don’t have to come with me.”

His gaze searched her face, the blue of his eyes darker than usual. “You don’t have to go.”

His words made her ache to stay in the home she loved, keep Thorn near her, and have Michael as well.

“Why don’t you use your healing powers?” he asked.

Cordelia rubbed her temples. “I thought you understood that the healing power is part of the allure.”

“Ana said if you use your energies to heal, then they wouldn’t get out of control.”

A flash of annoyance made her slam down her silverware. “I’m the one who’s lived with this all my life.”

“Have you ever tried to heal anyone?”

“Yes, you!” she shot back defensively.

They stared at each other, tension filling the air. His hand closed around hers on the tabletop. “I’d like to stay here, Cordelia. I’m sure you would too.”

“Of course, I don’t want to leave here, but I can’t risk humiliating myself by letting my allure affect the piskies. They’d despise me.” She imagined the male piskies losing control like the human men in the hotel, and bile rose in the back of her throat. “Oh, gods and goddesses.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “The last thing my father did before he died was call me a shameless hussy like my mother.”

Michael stroked her arm, the sweet comforting touch of his fingers and his mind perversely making her tears flow. “Maybe we can stay in one of the cottages on the edge of the estate,” Michael said. “Niall has three empty places awaiting renovation. There’s one on the cliffs overlooking Merricombe Bay about a mile away.”

Now she was home, she really didn’t want to leave everyone. Michael’s suggestion was worth a try. “Maybe I can try healing the female piskies to see if using my power helps control the allure.”

Smiling, he cupped her cheek, his hand warm and strong. “I’ll stay with you, lass. You’ll be fine.”

He rose and came around behind her. While his fingers worked the tense muscles in her shoulders, his lips brushed her ear. “I want you again, Cordelia,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes. A dreamy trance fell on her at the
pleasure of his touch. He unwound the towel from her head, releasing her hair over her shoulders before gently rubbing the strands dry.

“Can you make love to me while you’re wearing the wards?”

“I want to.” Her head dropped back against him. “But there’d be no way for the buildup of allure to escape.”

“Clean off the symbols,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll draw them back for you immediately we’ve finished.”

“Not here, Michael. Not after what happened in the hotel.”

His fingers gripped her shoulders. “Then we move to Merricombe Cottage first thing tomorrow.”

Nightshade had spent all morning helping Michael and Cordelia move furniture into Merricombe Cottage, even though his injured shoulder still ached. Now he wanted to spend time with his baby brother.

He strode out through the back door of the summer kitchen at Trevelion Manor toward the happy gathering on the lawn. Ana sat on a red and blue tartan rug under a sunshade beside Finian, who giggled while he whacked colored buttons on a toy, making little animals pop their heads up. Close by, Kea kneeled, digging a hole in the grass with a jumbo plastic screwdriver.

Rhys stood silently watching everyone, one thumb in his mouth, his other fist closed over the arm of the wooden bench where Eloise sat. Nightshade wished the boy would laugh or chatter. Compared to Niall’s twins, he seemed unnaturally quiet.

Rhys’s silver eyes followed Nightshade as he approached. Pausing, Nightshade spread his wings to catch the warmth of the sun. It was important Rhys get used to the idea that wings were normal. He didn’t want the boy going through the agonies of self-doubt he’d suffered. Rhys sucked harder on his thumb; his little cheeks dimpled.

“Hello, little man.” Nightshade crouched and smiled. He gently tugged Rhys’s wet thumb from his mouth. “You going to say hello to me?”

Grinning shyly, Rhys turned and pressed his face into Eloise’s skirt.

“Sorry,” she said, flushing. “He’s not used to anyone paying him attention.”

With a silent pledge to make his father pay for hurting the child, Nightshade exhaled his anger.