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Lights shone warm across the grass, and the grand strains of Mozart came to him from an open window. Jamys, most likely. Ruan hadn’t the patience or Morgan the temperament that allowed for musicality. There was a pause and a few clunky ill-tuned notes followed by Ellery’s voice singing a plaintive soldier’s song. He pictured her and Jamys seated side by side at the pianoforte. Easy together. Comfortable in each other’s company.
Mayhap he’d chosen to push the assets of the wrong cousin. Mayhap Jamys was the better choice for Ellery. His chest knotted with an emotion so close to jealousy it frightened him.
He focused back on the sword, adjusted his grip on the stone. Started again.
He’d been relieved when Ellery’s early fury had driven her away from him. Had hoped that this would end it between them, but Simon’s attack—coming so close to losing Ellery to Asher’s brutality—had knocked him back on his heels. Driven everything but a leaping, blood-pumping need from his mind.
Keep your distance, he’d told himself. Don’t get involved. And then what had he done? He’d given in like some novice. Forgotten every ounce of training in a pair of seductive blue eyes and a body that didn’t give a man a chance.
A smile touched his lips. The woman could kiss. He’d give her that much. It had only taken one intoxicating flick of her tongue in his mouth to set him ablaze. But he could have stopped her. Stopped himself.
But he hadn’t. And now he faced the problem of what to do about it.
Laughter floated on the wind. And murmured conversation. Slamming his sword back in its scabbard, he stood to stretch. Wished for the hundredth time it was him in there with Ellery. Wished for the thousandth time he’d never allowed things to get so out of hand. That his course remained set—his goal clear.
He fingered the pommel, his hand closing naturally over the well-worn ridges. As easy as breathing. As easy as sex.
He ran a hand through his hair. Shook his head in disgust. When had duty become a four-letter word?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ellery leaned over the stall door, feeding the stolen bay gelding pieces of apple. The horse lipped at her fingers, his shaggy head drowsy, his eyes half-closed.
Conor stood watching for a long moment, deciding his next move. His attempt at coupling Ellery and Ruan wasn’t working. So if pushing Ellery away wouldn’t work, mayhap he needed to have her run of her own free will. She’d lost the natural fear of the prey for the predator. He needed to show her again that not all her wishing could make him the man she thought he was. And that was the point. He wasn’t just a man. Something else lurked beneath his skin. Something sinister. Bloodthirsty. Inhuman.
He stepped out of the shadows. “The horses are well enough to travel. Jock leaves for Evan’s place first thing in the morning.”
She jumped, swung around, her hand to her chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“It’s about time.”
She gave the bay one last rub of his nose. “Do you think Evan has smoothed things over by now? We certainly left him with a mess. Those men…”
“Were Mortal. What they don’t understand, they fear. And rightly so.” He shrugged. “Evan’s got the fast-talking tongue of a gypsy. If I know him, he’ll have them doubting their own existence before he’s done.”
She gave an unsteady laugh. Drew close enough for him to reach out. Brush her hair back from her face. Cup the luscious curve of her breasts. He did none of those things.
Instead, it was Ellery who touched him. Placed a hesitant hand on his arm. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look that way. Your eyes go bright, but the warmth is gone. It’s you—but not you.”
He grabbed her. Held her in a vise-like grip until she flinched. “That’s just it.” His words sharp and violent. “There is no warmth, Ellery. There’s nothing. I’m Other. I’m Heller. And I’m amhas-draoi. Any one of those things separately should make you think twice. All three and you should be afraid for your life.” He released her. Flung her away so that she stumbled back.
She straightened, rubbing her bruised arms. “Why are you saying these things?”
He advanced on her. Stood so that he loomed dangerously over her. “Because I need you to understand that whatever fantasies you’ve been spinning about us are way off the mark. There is no us. There never was.”
The stricken look in her face would have been heartbreaking. If he’d had a heart. It just made him angrier. More determined to put as much distance as he could between them. For her sake as well as his.
Her eyes flashed. Her chin came up. “I don’t believe you.”
“And why would I lie?”
“That’s a good question. I don’t know what your game is.” Ignoring his glowering stance, she stepped closer. The heat off her skin staggered him. And her scent—that musky exotic spice she wore—was intoxicating. She caught his face in her hands. Rose on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. She wove a spell with her body that smashed through his defenses like a battering ram. Molded herself so close he felt the hard pearls of her nipples through the thin cotton of her gown.
Why wasn’t she running? Gods, was the woman insane? Didn’t she know what he was? Didn’t she care? He groaned against the temptation to rub his rock-hard shaft against thev between her legs.
