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Chapter Two
Ronan
Sunlight blasts my eyes like a nuclear flash. Slinging my arm over my face, I lick my desert-dry lips. Bloody hell, it feels as if my tongue has grown fur overnight.
As I stretch, I encounter a soft, warm body. Peeling one eye open, I stare at the stranger sleeping on her stomach, face turned away.
Dark hair tangles across her naked shoulders. Vaguely, I remember feeling my way down her sleek back, palming her small waist, and groping her firm backside. I don’t recall her name. In fact, I don’t recall much after leaving the Witch’s Brew except consuming a half bottle of scotch and insisting the woman dim the lights so I could pretend I held Kari.
This morning, I have no illusions. The brunette beside me isn’t the woman I want. And fantasizing that I made love to Kari didn’t sate my ache.
Lately, I’ve repeated this pattern. Every night, a different woman in a different bed. Still, my need for Kari keeps growing.
There must be more to life than shagging random females. What is the point of living for centuries if they’re full of empty embraces and quiet misery?
Sitting up, I scrub my hands across my face. Time to leave, before this stranger wakes. Where the hell are my clothes?
Ignoring my pounding head, I slide off the edge of the bed and scan the shadowy room. The November chill needles my skin as I pluck my discarded garments from among the woman’s. Her bra tangles with my socks. Her dress sits under my pants. Her knickers lay atop my shirt.
“Going somewhere?” the woman rolls over and asks in a sleep-rough voice.
She has lovely brown eyes with thick lashes, flushed cheeks, and lushly swollen lips. Abrasions from my stubble redden her jaw and breasts. I’m betting her thighs, too. I did that. While thinking of another woman. It isn’t fair to her. Or to me.
Though I have nothing against whatever her name is, I can’t look at her anymore. She provided a distraction last night, and in turn, I gave her pleasure. Now I merely want a drama-free farewell.
I do my best not to wince as I spew my usual lie. “I’ve got a busy morning. Running late, in fact.”
She hums a noncommittal reply. I don’t know whether she believes me or not.
Shoving down guilt, I grab my clothes and yank them on. I’d use my magic, but last night, Raiden chose two very human ladies.
The brunette tugs on the sheet self-consciously, covering everything below her neck. It’s a relief, really. She’s attractive, but I can’t deny my disinterest in the harsh light of day.
“Cuppa?” she offers.
I’d love some caffeine, but… “Don’t trouble yourself. Do you know where my brother has gone?”
“With Lily. Two doors down, corner unit.”
Splendid. With Raiden elsewhere, I can teleport home without a dressing-down from my twin. What I’ll do then… No idea. Part of me wants to drown my sorrows in more scotch, but drinking before eight a.m. seems a bit irresponsible, even for a Wolvsey.
Once I finish donning my clothes, I nod her way. “Right. Goodbye, then.”
“Before you go…”
“Yes?” I pray she won’t ask me to fix some bit of plumbing for her or, worse, climb back into her bed.
“Let’s not see each other again.”
Perhaps I should care that she’s insulted my masculinity or my prowess or some such. But I only feel relief. “Agreed.”
With a sharp nod, I exit, jogging down the hall and bypassing Lily’s flat, where my brother is presumably sleeping. Or shagging. Raiden is a grown wizard who knows his way home. The sooner I leave here, the better.
I race down the stairs. Once in the building’s empty lobby, I tuck myself into a dark corner and picture the manor I share just outside London with the other Wolvsey wizards. Then I dissipate from the spot before materializing back home.
I crave a shower to erase the scent of the stranger. And a steaming cup of coffee. I hate that it’s impossible to have both at once, but my hangover wins. I head first for the kitchen, only to realize I’m not alone.
“Early morning or late night?” my father quips.
