Page 10 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

His eyes swept her troubled face. When his gaze focused on her mouth, a shiver ran the length of her spine. Goodness, she wanted him to kiss her again, to make her forget who and what she was—a pathetic hanger-on with no resources of her own.

“Why did you kiss me?” she croaked.

Eoin’s eyes locked with hers. The slow, wicked smile that blossomed caused her already weak knees to tremble. “Because it was the most pleasurable way I could think of to shut you up.”

Brenna’s mind bypassed the word pleasurable and settled onto shut you up. She’d been shut up and shut down all her life. Now that she was out from under Odessa’s iron fist, she needed to be more outspoken and stand up for herself once in a blue moon.

Drumming up the outrage, she placed her hands on her hips and glared for all she was worth.

“Sure, and the little kitten has claws.” His smile widened as he strode to where she stood. “You’ll need that fire in the coming days, love. Hold on to it, yeah?”

Uncertain what he meant, she nodded. She could only assume it was regarding her current predicament and not about sexual games.

Brenna wasn’t quite sure what she’d intended to say in response, but her need to reply was squashed when Dubheasa O’Malley sailed through the door and carelessly tossed her keys next to her brother’s.

Again, Brenna winced.

“You’ll never guess who showed up at my flat tonight—oh!” Dubheasa stopped short the second she realized company was present. “Brenna! Lovely to see you again, it is!”

Brenna couldn’t help but smile. Dubheasa O’Malley, like her twin brother, was a force of nature. But unlike Eoin, she was engaging and open, with a ready laugh or quip for everyone. “And you, too.”

Eoin led them into the living room and dropped onto the leather sofa, sprawling out and tucking a bent arm behind his head.

Brenna’s body overheated in an instant from his unintentionally sexy pose, and her mind blanked when he caught her stare and winked.

Acting as if she wasn’t standing, starstruck, he addressed his sister. “Ronan O’Connor.”

“How did you guess?” Dubheasa demanded with a severe frown.

“We saw the bastard at the pub around the corner. He’s an arrogant fecker, that one.”

Brenna wanted to say he was the pot calling the kettle black, and because she had years of practice holding her tongue with Aunt Odessa, she managed to refrain from commenting. Whatever problems the O’Malley twins had with Ronan was their business.

“What did you intend to say, love?”

Brenna’s gaze snapped to Eoin, carefully registering and cataloging his watchful expression. How had he guessed at her thoughts? And why was he concerned with her when no one other than her gran had ever been?

He lifted a brow, and a teasing light entered his eyes. “Sure, and you know you wanted to.”

She wanted to do a lot of things where he was concerned. A tidal wave of heat washed over her, and she was certain her cheeks were a fiery red, clashing with her bland hair and dull gray dress. “I-I… Nothing. I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Scarlet is your mam for the lies you tell.” He grinned when she scowled. “Keep your secrets, Brenna Sullivan. I’m not after stealing them.”

No, he was after stealing her heart, but she couldn’t say that either.

Eoin didn’t knowwhy it was suddenly necessary to cause Brenna’s blush. He’d felt uncomfortable in the past whenever she turned those wide, guileless eyes his way. But after one taste of her, he found himself craving more, and amorous stirrings were beginning to take up important real estate in his mind. With a commission for a new series sitting in his account, he needed a clear head to create. Allowing himself to be consumed by her was a disaster in the making. She wasn’t the type to fit in with his hedonistic, worldly friends.

Purposefully, he turned his attention and kiss-haunted thoughts away from Brenna to look at his sister. Dubheasa was in crisis mode over Ronan O’Connor, and he knew he should hear her out or she was likely to turn to murder, and then where would they be?

“What did O’Connor want?” he asked her.

“He was spoutin’ malarky about Guardians and baby Aethers. Said the Oracle has decreed I’m to be his mate, as if that’ll be happenin’ in this bleedin’ lifetime.” In her rage, Dubheasa had lost her Americanized way of speaking and reverted back to their traditional speech pattern. It told him just how angry she was, because she tried hard to blend in here.

A choked noise had him turning in Brenna’s direction.

“You’re to be his mate?” She appeared somewhat scandalized and fascinated at the same time. “What does that even mean? Is it something the residents of your country often do, this claim-a-mate thing?”

The struggle not to laugh was real, and Eoin barely managed to choke back the sound. Dubheasa looked right horrified—as if Brenna were a small child with wet finger paint about to touch her mother’s white skirt. His sister gave him an “is she for real?” look, to which he responded with a grin.

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