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"You're hurt. I'm a friend, here to help," Mananan tried to explain.
"I'll see everything if you touch my bare skin. I can't… I can't be touched."
Mananan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"P-Psychometry," the woman stammered.
"Oh. I have mental shields. You won't see a thing, I promise." Mananan made sure said shields were in place before he held a hand to her. "Here."
The woman lightly tapped his fingers with her own before taking his hand properly. Her gray eyes went wide. "Oh. That's…amazing." Her wonder changed to agony as she curled in on herself. "Fuck, it hurts so bad."
"It's okay. We can help. Permission to lift you off the floor?" he asked, needing her to say yes but unwilling to push her. Psychometry gifts left most people skittish of touch.
The woman was breathing heavily, sweat beading on her skin. "Okay?"
Slowly, he scooped his arms under her legs and shoulders and lifted her up. She bit her lip hard, groaning in pain.
"I'm sorry. Taran will fix it," he said, trying to soothe her. He set her down on the couch once more and got her a glass of water. She looked at it a little suspiciously before draining it.
"Thanks. Sorry, I don't know your name?" she said.
"Mananan." He placed the empty glass on the table before he started to unbind the bandages on her leg.
The woman frowned. "Mananan…Like Mananan Mac Lir?"
"My father's name was Nuada, but yes, I have been told you humans know me as Mac Lir. Gods only know why," he replied.
"I really was saved by the god of the sea. Fucking hell." She let out a choked bubble of laughter. "I'm Marella, but you can call me Ella. Am I going to die?"
"Not today, Ella," Mananan replied, the smallest smile lifting his lips. She smiled back, and relief flooded him. She was going to be okay; he would make sure of it.
4
Ella might have had a fever, but her imagination wasn't good enough to conjure the male fae in front of her. He was huge and broad with a silver and dark blue braid hanging over one shoulder. Smaller plaits threaded with pearls glinted white amongst the strands. He had the most piercing eyes, the color of the sea in summer.
Somewhere in the ether, her grandmother was howling with laughter. If Deidra had been alive, she would have asked him on a date already.
"I need to take these stitches off and check your wound. The horde creature was…poisonous," he said gruffly.
"You hesitated just now. Is it not poison?" she replied, trying to sit up. One big hand went to her shoulder and held her down.
"Don't look at it. It will just frighten you," Mananan said, blocking her view. "Stay still. I will get these stitches off before Taran gets here."
Ella lay back. She had no energy to fight him. Her head and leg were both pounding. "Who's Taran?"
Mananan undid her zip stitches. "My brother Taranis."
"The good looking one," a new voice said, and two more fae males walked through her house. The owner of the voice had black hair, red eyes, and a smile that made her want to pull her shirt down further over herself. He looked at her legs and cursed. "Well, this is a mess. Bayn, go boil some water. Manan, we will need some towels."
"You mean he's the bossy one," Ella said and looked at Mananan. "Linen cupboard is next to the bathroom."
"Iambossy, and it's going to save your life," Taranis replied, kneeling beside her legs. "I must say you are lucky to still be alive."
"What do you mean by that?" she demanded, panic already starting to squeeze her chest.
Mananan reappeared and dropped some towels beside his brother. "Stop fucking upsetting her, Taran."
"I was merely telling her the truth," came the reply.
