Page 25 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

Eoin’s heart melted a little.

“Odessa, then,” Alastair concluded after a long pause. He rubbed his jaw, appearing deep in thought. “Why would she curse her own niece?”

“I can’t imagine why she would. She believes I’m useless.” A surge of blood rushed to Brenna’s face, and while her chin remained high, she dropped her gaze to the floor, as if struggling to find a reason Odessa wasn’t right about her.

“Far from useless,” Eoin told her. “You’ve run the bulk of her business as she flitted about from one party to the next, preying on men.”

“Succubus,” Alastair said grimly. “I should’ve recognized what she was instantly.”

“Brenna’s no Succubus.” Shaking his head, Eoin met her startled gaze. “I’d know.”

It seemed the eyebrows of every occupant shot to their hairline at his pronouncement, and he felt his own blush rising.

“Not like that,” he snapped. “We shared a kiss, and didn’t I live to tell the tale? No weakness, no ill effects.”

Narrowing his eyes, Alastair stepped toward Brenna until there was barely a whisper of space between them. “May I?”

“Fuck no!”Eoin charged forward, ready to stop Alastair from kissing Brenna at all costs. That was the absolute last image he needed in his head.

Turning enough for Eoin to see what he was doing, Alastair held up her glasses. “Calm down, son. No one is making time with your mate.”

“She’s not my mate!”

“I’m not his mate!”

Both Eoin and Brenna had denied Alastair’s comment in stereo. She looked as if she would be ill at any second, and she refused to look at Eoin. The contrary part of him that had taunted him withwhat ifsearlier, now woke up and snorted a laugh at the denial. Both his and hers. That devilish part of him mocked and said stupid shite like, “But you want her to be. Almost as much as she wants you.”

If he didn’t fear being thought of as mad, Eoin would’ve yelled at that little voice in his head to shut the feck up as he was prone to if he was alone in his studio.

Alastair, damn him, smirked, and the shrewdness in his eyes chaffed. “Duly noted. You may want to back up a few steps, my boy. Any closer and you risk a reaction from Ms. Sullivan.”

Frustrated beyond belief, Eoin backed away.

The older warlock returned his attention to Brenna. “Sing, child.”

“Excuse me?” She acted as if he’d demanded she strip down and parade naked in front of the pub. Likely hers and Eoin’s worst nightmare. He wouldn’t want to fight every man in the place, but he would if they looked her way.

He rubbed his forehead. Feck, his obsession was getting out of hand.

“I asked you to sing, Brenna,” Alastair replied, unperturbed by her reaction.

“I-I can’t. I p-promised Gran I w-wouldn’t.”

“Your grandmother made you promise not to sing?” Alastair asked sharply.

Brenna once again focused on Eoin, as if the sight of him calmed her in situations like these.

Eoin nodded and gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s all right, love.”

Cian, presumably to put her at ease, began a popular Ed Sheeran ballad, and Brenna, after taking a bracing breath, joined him. Her large soulful eyes locked on Eoin, and she sang for him. Her irises brightened with each word she lovingly crooned, and every thought flew from Eoin’s mind.

Every. Single. One.

With the exception of touching her, making her his.

Need engulfed him, and he charged across the room, determined to scoop her up and steal her away. Only when she stopped singing, grabbing for her cheeks, did the spell she’d woven break, and Eoin was left shaken and confused by his Neanderthal response.

“Siren,” Alastair concluded, sounding a little shaken himself. “Our dear Ms. Sullivan is a Siren.”

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