Page 34 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

“Jaysus!Stasis?” Eoin ran an hand over his face, then froze, slowly turning to face Brenna more fully. “You put yourself in stasis, love? How?Why?”

“I don’t know. I… I was there, and now I’m here, and I don’t know how!” she cried tearfully. “What is stasis? Am I dead? How can you touch me if I’m dead?”

And why couldn’t she see Gran? Weren’t loved ones supposed to greet you when you crossed to the other side? But she wasn’t, was she? If she were deceased, that would mean Eoin was, too.

Alastair took command, perhaps sensing her panic with his empathic ability. “Eoin, I hope you’re dressed because I need you to teleport here, with Brenna if possible.”

“Look, and isn’t there some universal law about the same person appearin’ in the same time and space as their earthly counterpart?”

“She’s one in the same, and it’s my fervent wish she’ll merge when she returns here.”

“Aye. I…” A look of dawning horror filled Eoin’s face, and he scrambled off the bed, far away from her. “What if this isn’t Brenna with me now? And if it is, how is it we can touch when we couldn’t earlier?”

“I don’t want to know why you were touching, son, but I’m almost positive it’s Ms. Sullivan with you now.” Alastair sounded less perturbed and a lot amused by what they’d been up to. “I’ll text you a picture of my patio, and you try to teleport her here. I’ll have my head of security meet you both and bring you inside.”

“But this Brenna looks different. Like a feckin’ beautiful goddess different.”

“So does this one. The caterpillar shed her cocoon and became a stunning butterfly, my dear boy. I’m afraid you’re sunk.”

“Sure, and what the fuck does that mean?”

“I think you know. You have two minutes to arrive, Eoin. No more, no less. My wards can only be shut down that long without cooking you like a Christmas goose.”

Eoin didn’t bother sayinggoodbye as he disconnected and hustled to find clothing. Brenna perked up the second he dropped his sheet, and her sharp-eyed gaze locked on his half erect shillelagh. Blushing like a girl of thirteen, his hands flew to cover himself. “Don’t be appreciatin’ my lad with hot eyes, Brenna. We’ve only got a minute more to get to Alastair’s estate and no time for shaggin’.”

Her laugh was spontaneous and throaty, and he finally saw the Siren she was meant to be. Alastair was right—he was sunk if she decided to seduce him. And how the hell had that happened? When did his shy Brenna become worldly?

He groaned when she licked her lips. “None of that, ya hear? You’ll be saving that for a time when you aren’t in stasis, yeah?” The thought of her in a coma sobered him, and any desire faded when the seriousness of the situation penetrated the sexual haze she’d woven around him. “And when did you start wearing perfume?” He took a tentative sniff, and when the unique scent of jasmine and bourbon with vanilla notes washed over him, he forgot why it was urgent to return her to Alastair.

Taking a step forward, he reached for her.

She rose up on her knees and opened her arms, ready and willing.

A pounding on the door snapped him out of the spell she was weaving, and it flew back on its hinges to reveal his sister. Hand shielding her eyes and rolling pin in hand, she looked as irritated as he’d ever seen her. “Why am I getting a call from Alastair Thorne in the middle of the night, telling me to rescue you from the clutches of Brenna? And why is he telling me you have less than one minute to get your arse to his garden?”

“Feck, Bridget! I’m not dressed!”

“Then get yourself dressed and hurry your eejit arse.”

Without bothering to match his clothing, he drew on the jeans hanging over the end of his bed and a wrinkled shirt from a pile in the corner. If he smelled like week-old worn socks, it couldn’t be helped. Within ten seconds, he’d clasped Brenna to him and pulled up the image on his phone.

“Hold tight, love.”

“Mmm, yes,” she purred.

Goddess help him, the delicious fragrance her skin was putting off was driving him mad, and he wanted nothing morethan to take her somewhere they wouldn’t be found. Shaking his head and trying to clear the enchantment, he visualized the stone terrace, praying with his total lack of concentration he didn’t imbed them in the damned railing.

There were two armed guards waiting for him along with Alastair’s wife, Aurora. Her meaningful look caused him to shift uncomfortably as she wordlessly separated them and rushed Brenna toward the house.

“Wait!” he shouted, only to have his forward progress blocked by the guards.

“Sorry, Mr. O’Malley, but you need to wait here. You can’t interrupt the process.”

“What bleedin’ process?”

But they were gone.

“What the hell is happening here?” he demanded of the guards.

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