Page 40 of Cocktails & Cauldrons

Perhaps that’s where his true fascination lay—her expressive face. That hauntingly gorgeous face. The beauty of those soul-branding eyes finally made sense. Only Eoin had seen behind the hideous tortoiseshell frames, and he now suspected it was because he was the only one she’d truly cared to look at, to watch from her safe place. So when their gazes had connected time and again across the crowded room, he somehow knew she was so much more than the person she’d portrayed.

Fecking Odessa!

Buthe also owed the woman a small thanks, because if Brenna had transitioned into a beautiful swan earlier, she and Eoin might not have met, and she wouldn’t be infatuated with him now. He wasn’t being arrogant in his assessment of her feelings. Every look, every gesture, every amorous thought shehad, they all spoke to some beast within him, and that savage brute wanted to claim her in a very bad way. From the instant she stepped onto the airplane with him, he’d been able to sense her churning thoughts and wayward emotions. And since she set foot in his bedroom, they’d shared a psychic link. And damned if that didn’t scare the bleedin’ hell out of him,butit fascinated him, too. Especially when one small smile from him could overheat her about as much as her adoring eyes could set him alight.

Eoin wasn’t ready to label his desire and preoccupation as anything other than what they were. He certainly didn’t intend to throw the term “true love” into the mix, but he did care about her welfare, and he was invested in the outcome of this current drama.

And he discovered he hated to see her upset. The overwhelming need to put her at ease and to protect her in all ways confused him. Not that he was cruel or wouldn’t look out for an underdog regardless, but for Brenna, he would move mountains and crush skulls simply to see her eyes shining, and catch a glimpse of her shy smile.

Feck! He was a drowning man, in over his head, with no life preserver in sight.

Her “thank you” rang inside his head, making him feel ten feet tall and bulletproof.

His wink and her snorted giggle had put them back in sync and assured him she’d never harm a living soul if not for her blossoming abilities. He only hoped Damian Dethridge had a solution to their little problem.

CHAPTER 17

The Dethridges’ English estate was picturesque, and though it didn’t really look like the centuries-old house from Downton Abbey, Brenna’s favorite show, she still felt as if she were traveling back in time as she climbed the stone steps to the terrace. Morning dew clung to everything it touched, and the rising sun highlighted the subtle shifting mists hovering above glorious green fields. Enormous oaks towered over benches and small outbuildings like sentinels, ever at the ready. Brenna didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with a place, but if one could, this Gothic home was it. She never wanted to leave.

Then she met the owner.

He was as hauntingly beautiful as his place.

Until she set eyes on Damian Dethridge, the Aether and Mr. All-Powerful himself, she believed she’d seen some of the most handsome men in existence—Eoin, models, Eoin, the men associated with the Thorne family, Eoin, Ronan O’Connor, Eoin…

She sighed and leaned slightly forward to peer around Alastair at Eoin’s proud profile. Brenna had Eoin O’Malley on the brain, and her ability to concentrate on anything else wasnil. But he wasn’t looking her way. All his attention was for the drool-worthy guy at the top of the stairs.

However, the Aether’s focus was locked completely on Brenna.

She shivered.

The man saw too much.

A light flared bright in his eyes, and her entire being warmed in response. When she reached the landing, she inhaled his heady scent. The sublime smell of marshmallows and a crackling fire with a hint of citrus filled her nostrils, and the Siren within her sat up and took note from where she’d been pouting in her boudoir on her red velvet chaise lounger in boredom.

A trilling began in her head, and Brenna compressed her lips to keep the sound inside. If she allowed her inner seductress to gain control, all hell would break loose. That horny bitch desperately wanted the black-haired, black-eyed man in front of her, with his soul seemingly as old as time, and it wasn’t only for his sex appeal. Here was a man who had experienced all life had to offer and who could make a woman beg for a mere drop of his magical nectar, and he heldpower.

She stopped short and caught herself in the act of licking her lips, appalled by the Siren’s naughty thoughts on every which way she’d bang this guy. Ride him like a cowgirl all the way to Sunday—it was only Tuesday—and make him plead and scream for more.

Damian lifted a single dark brow, and his arch, knowing look sent a wave of fiery heat through her. If he couldn’t read her thoughts, he could damned well guess at them.

A darting glance at Eoin showed him scowling at her for all he was worth.

“What the fuck, Brenna?”

The “fuck” in her head sounded like “fook.” Even telepathically, his Irish accent was so strong it came throughtheir connection. The righteous anger caused her to bite her lip against a laugh. Helpless, she shrugged.“Sorry.”

“If you’re to be ridin’ anyone like a cowgirl all the way to Sunday, it sure as feck won’t be him. You’ll only be shaggin’ me from here on out, got it?”

She did laugh then. His indignation came through loud and clear, as did the claim he’d just staked, although she doubted Eoin had registered it.

“Ms. Sullivan, Mr. O’Malley.” The Aether’s smirk practically guaranteed he’d heard their internal conversation. His following words confirmed it. “If you’re done hashing out your plans for the week, I suggest you come in so we might discuss your options.”

Brenna almost turned around and walked away then and there, so acute was her embarrassment over her Siren’s thoughts.

The Siren inside scoffed.Yeah, keep telling yourself it was me, girlfriend.

Shut up, you bitch.

---