Unholy Blue (5 page)

Sighing in frustration, he raked his fingers through his hair, digging the tips into his scalp, trying to lose the tension and slight disorientation that the long flight had brought on, before dragging them down his face to give the stubble on his jaw a good scratching, too.
I best tell her
. He continued to her room.

Max's kennel was gone from its spot in the corner near the window that looked out into the back yard. A queen-sized bed, sans any headboard and covered with a plain cream-colored comforter, took up the middle of the room. A mismatched nightstand and a tall dresser completed the sparse décor.
As bare as a nun's bower
. His father's old expression rose from memory. Across the room from the window, a door led to the attached master bath. He could hear the
whoosh
of running water.
Feeling every minute of the last year, he walked over to the bed—the bed he had hoped to share—and sat down to wait.

Shay appeared in the doorway of the bathroom a moment later, still dressed in sweater and jeans, but barefoot. A toothbrush poked out of one corner of her mouth. “What's wrong?” The words came out like
waf wong
.

“Cor wants me to continue to sleep in the guest room with him. I offered him a puppy, but…” He shook his head.

She pulled the toothbrush out. “But he still thinks Max can come back, somehow.” She disappeared for a moment, then came back patting her lips with a hand towel. Tossing it on the nightstand, she sat down and swiveled around to face him, knees drawn up. She slid her bare toes under his thigh, then blew out a long breath as if coming to a decision. “You're not going to like this, and I'm not thrilled about it either, but maybe…maybe we
shouldn't
rush this. This
between us
stuff, you know?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, things have been moving pretty fast around here. For all of us. Hell, we just met a month ago. And in that time, we managed to kill a god. Well, sort of. You almost died.” Her toes curled up, poking the back of his leg. “Then you left for Pennsylvania only two days after we found out about the whole born-again Max thing. But through all that crap, Cor's managed to hold it together. Most kids would've lost it. So, if he needs some Daddy time to help him find his equilibrium, then I say we give it to him. I mean, if
you
think that's the right thing to do?”

Feeling like the entire universe was conspiring to keep him from sharing a bed with Shay, including Shay herself, he gave up. “I suppose you're right.”

Disappointment flickered across her face. “You do?”

“Aye.” He looked down at his hands. Rune-like scars marked the backs of them; he wished he could read the right decision in them. “When did you become so mother-wise?”

She rested her chin on her knees. “Not so wise,” she said, almost to herself. “I just want what's best for him. Over this past week, I've gotten to know him a bit better. Now, he's not perfect—gods know, he's got a stubborn streak just like Papa. And I've had to figure out when to hold him accountable and when to let things go.”

Bann almost asked, but then stopped himself.
I've got to trust her
.

Shay continued. “But he's also smart as a whip, has a big heart, and loves being part of our extended family.”

“Yet you wish us to move ahead more cautiously.”

“Yes. No. I don't know.” A line appeared between her fair brows. “It seems like the right thing for him, doesn't it?” She plucked at a loose thread hanging from the cuff of her sleeve. “Unless you had some other, um, plan?”

He thought of the small box. “No. Nothing worth mentioning.”

“Oh.”

“Right.” Bann looked away.
Damned either way
.

For a long minute, they sat in awkward silence. Not sure where the conversation had left them and feeling rejected in a way he couldn't explain, Bann stood up.
“Well. Goodnight, then.” Without another word, he left.

Entire body weighed down by frustration and guilt over resenting having to be Daddy all the time, he edged into the bedroom he seemed doomed to share with his son. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to one side, dropped his wallet on the nightstand, then sank down on the bed next to his duffle bags and pushed them out of the way.

The small box stared up at him. Daring him.

Never one to back down from a challenge, he stared back at it as he removed his boots and socks. He glanced over to Cor asleep in the other bed, then at the door.

“
Faugh a ballagh
,” he whispered.

S
HAY'S HEART SANK AS
Bann closed the door behind him. With a groan, she flopped back on the pillows and stared up at the ceiling.
Well, shit. I thought he was going to…
She refused to finish the notion, superstitious enough to think she might jinx it.
What the hell did I just do?
A voice in her head snickered before answering
. Why, you just talked your way out of a night of gods-I've-been-dying-to-have-sex-with-you sex, you idiot
.

She scowled.
I totally understand that he's got to put Cor first in our relationship. But does it have to be every stinking time? Can't he put
us
first? Once in a while?
The pettiness of being jealous of an eight-year-old made her feel even worse.

Hey, it was
your
idea to suggest that you two slow things down
, the voice pointed out.

“Well, he didn't have to
agree
with me,” she muttered.

Mentally kicking herself, she rolled off the mattress and finished getting ready for bed. After changing into a plain T-shirt and flannel pajama pants—
because why dress all sexy when the man of your dreams is sleeping down the hall with his kid
—she slid under the covers and clicked off the bedside lamp. She lay in the dark, staring across the room. The moon's light shone through the
uncovered window and formed a piece of art on the far wall.

Shay wondered why this was hitting her so hard. She had always been able to hitch up her big girl panties every time a relationship soured, taking a secret—albeit a kind of twisted—pride in putting her profession ahead of any happily-ever-after scenario with some guy.

Until Bann, with Cor in tow, had appeared in her life. An old-school warrior as well as an old-school gentleman, he had been resentful of his clan for turning their backs on him after Cernunnos had killed his wife. Weary from a year on the road, trying to keep one step ahead of the shapeshifter, and determined not to be the cause of another Fey's death.
And mule-headed stubborn as the day is long
, she reminded herself.

But slowly, over the following few weeks, they had become friends. A friendship that had slid into love as gently and gradually as the sun welling above the eastern plains, eager to kiss the mountains, before either of them was aware of it. Shay snorted.
Well, certainly, we were aware of the
lust
side of things. We are Celts, after all
.

It was the evening they had fought side-by-side, defeating a pack of Fir Bolgs who had attacked her house, when Bann admitted how much he missed having a friend. Later that night, they had become lovers.

Friends and lovers.

Tears burned her eyes at the thought of losing that.
Maybe this
isn't
going to work after all. Between us
. She blinked furiously.
Knock it off!
Swiping at her face, she started to roll over when a faint rap on the door stopped her.

“Come in,” she called, knowing—
hoping
—it was Bann.

The door swung open. Bann stepped into the room. The torc around his neck shimmered gold in the moonlight while the same light tinted his bare torso in shades of pewter. “Shay.”

“Yes?” She sat up, holding her breath.

“You were wrong, Shay.”

“Wrong about…”

“About us.”

Her heart clenched into a tight, little knot. Fisting her hands under the covers, she dug her nails into her palms. “Oh?” She fought to keep her voice level.

“We are
not
moving along too quickly. In fact…” On bare feet, he walked over and turned on the bedside lamp, then took a knee next to the bed. He held out his hand. A small, square box rested on his palm.

At the sight of the jewelry box, her pulse broke into a gallop. She picked it up, the purple covering kitten-fur soft under her fingers, and opened it. A trio of slender rings, each crafted from a different metal in a wavy pattern, rested on a bed of plush velvet. The rings were cleverly shaped to form an intricate Celtic rope pattern when worn together.

“‘Three rings for my love,'” Bann quoted the ancient words. “Will ye have me for yer husband, Shay Doyle?” Hope and wariness vied in his voice.

Tears blurred her vision as she leaned forward and kissed him, the box still clutched in one hand. His arms wrapped around her.

“Is that a yes?” he murmured against her lips.

“Oh, yes!” Blinking, she sat back and waited while he removed the rings from the box and placed the container on the bedside table. Then he took her left hand in his.

“Bronze for the Maiden.” He slid the bronze ring onto her ring finger. “Gold for the Mother.” The gold followed. “Silver for the Crone.” The final ring slid into place. He smiled, gazing down at her hand. “My betrothed.”

“Betrothed?”
Is he thinking what I think he's thinking?
“As in?”

“Aye. I thought we would follow the old customs.” He looked up at her through his lashes, which made Shay pretty much melt on the spot. “And perhaps wed on the full moon of November.”

The sooner, the better
. Heat flooded her belly at the thought of some of those customs. “I'm game if you are. But for now”—she scooted over—”get your ass in this bed.”

Bann stood up. “A moment.” He hurried out. A faint
snick
from the hallway, then he returned. “I closed Cor's door.”

“What about—”

“He'll be fine.” Bann sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her. He stood fishing in his back pocket for a moment, then paused and looked at her. “I left my wallet…”

“Bathroom. Left side drawer.”

Moving with an eagerness that made her grin, Bann darted into the bathroom. A drawer opened and shut, then he returned and dropped several condoms on the nightstand.

She made a show of counting them. “Is four enough?”

“I thought of bringing the entire box, but I dinna want to show off.”

He unzipped and dropped trou with an offhanded nonchalance that made Shay grin even wider as she shimmied out of her shirt and pajamas. Kicking his jeans aside, he ran his fingers through his hair as he walked closer.
Damn, he's hung. Me for the win
, she thought as he clicked off the lamp and slid under the covers with her. The moonlight lay like a spare blanket over their bed.

Reclining on his side and propped up on one elbow, Bann studied her, his eyes darkening with desire. He leaned over and kissed her, sliding his lips along hers, softly at first, then more firmly. The tip of his tongue flicked lightly, urging hers to open. To yield. She sighed softly as he explored her mouth.

Wanting to prolong their lovemaking—
not that Bann lacks endurance
—she moved her mouth and shifted her focus to the spot under his jaw. The rasp of his stubble on her lips set her nerves on fire. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled his scent, clean and musky at the same time. With a proprietary gesture, she ran a hand along his ribs, did a loop around his chest, then finished at his hip bone. Warm skin and hard muscles and the scent of maleness and just the right amount of hair in all the right places. She traced the knob of bone, then followed the crease down to his groin. Ignoring his erection, she cupped one of his testicles, drawing out a soft groan from him.

“On your back,” she whispered, knowing he liked it when she took command of the pace. She waited until he repositioned himself, then leaned over and took his manhood in her hand. For the next few minutes, she stroked and squeezed and fondled every inch, reveling in this particular power she had over him. The power all women had over men.

Shay felt like the war goddess, Danu herself.

She shifted closer, still stroking in a languid rhythm, fingers playing the ancient tune, and pressed the length of her body against his. Chest hairs scratched deliciously along her breasts, their nipples tightened from the friction. Lowering her head, she kissed him again, teasing the corners of his mouth with her tongue. Her hand sped up.

His hips followed her lead. Then a strangled “wait.” He grabbed her wrist, stilling her movement, chest heaving. She could feel the sweat break out along his torso as he let out a shuddering breath. “Gods, ye're killing me, woman.”

“You don't like what I'm doing?”

“Too well.” His voice was thick. “But I've had enough of hand play this past week, missing you night after night.”

The image of Bann pleasuring himself in the dark as he thought of her sent a hot flush through Shay. The feeling intensified when he rolled over and pushed her down on the bed and lowered his mouth to her breast. Pleasure spiked through her as he suckled gently, then harder, using his tongue and teeth. Releasing her nipple, he shifted his hips between her thighs, nudging them wider, then guided the head of his member to her
opening and held it there, teasing with little movements that almost hurt, it felt so good.

“Shit, Bann,” she gasped. “Enough already.”

“Oh, not nearly enough, darlin'.” He planted a kiss between her twin mounds, then straightened up and reached for the nightstand. Shay stopped him.

“No. Let me.” She grabbed a condom, scattering the others to the floor. For a split second, she debated going after them.
Screw it—we know where they are
. Her fingers shook as she prepared him, unrolling the latex sheath down the impressive length—
and girth. Let's not forget about girth
—as gently as she could.