Page 64 of Wine & Warlocks

With a snort, Ronan rolled his eyes. “For you, maybe. I’m feeling as if I’ve been hit by a high-speed train.”

Ignoring him, she turned to Damian. “What can I do?”

“Sing.”

“Excuse me?” She darted a nervous look toward Eoin.

“Brenna. When I tell you to, I need you to sing to remove what’s left of Ronan’s magic.”

Her skin flushed such a bright red that Ronan was convinced she was about to spontaneously combust. With grim amusement, he waited, positive he knew what she would say. Dear Brenna, shy wallflower she was, didn’t disappoint.

“But… but… I don’t… I can’t… I… we…I can’t have sex with him!” she finally managed.

“Sex? What?”Dubheasa’s indignation nearly rattled the rafters, rivaled only by Eoin’s,“Fuck. No!”

The fierce effort it took Damian not to lose his composure was beautiful to watch. He opened and closed his mouth no less than seven times, and the struggle to contain his laughter caused his neck to flush fuchsia.

Alastair and Castor didn’t bother to hold back. Those two eejits held onto each other, barely able to breathe as they howled like a pair of fecking hyenas.

“Brenna…” Ronan compressed his lips to hold back his own laughter. It wouldn’t do to add to her embarrassment when she discovered she’d assumed incorrectly. “I believe what Damian intends is to have me drink whatever wicked concoction he’s about to brew up, then have you sing to draw out the contained magic.” He allowed a wicked grin. “And it’s not that I’m not flattered, but no shaggin’ is necessary, darlin’.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Oh! Right. Okay. Sure. I—”

That she almost sounded disappointed as she rattled on wasn’t lost on him.

Eoin, using his tried and true method, jumped to his feet and kissed her into silence. After a heated minute or two, he drew slightly away and touched his forehead to hers. “Are ya centered again, love?”

“Yes,” she gushed, all starry-eyed and glowing. “Thank you.”

“It’s me greatest pleasure.”

Ronan locked gazes with Dubheasa and lost his battle against the threatening laughter.

* * *

One hour later,Ronan was completely devoid of magic, and he fucking hated it. After having nearly undefeatable power, he had become useless, with the exception of his brawn and brains for a physical fight. Certainly, he was no match against anyone with abilities.

“How long into the wedding do you think it will be for Loman to show?” Trevor asked him.

“If I had to guess, when it’s time to repeat the vows and the officiant asks for objections to the marriage.”

Castor snorted. “That sounds about right. Loman prefers a grand entrance, and what better one is there than objecting to your marriage to the woman he considers the enemy?”

“Exactly.”

They were huddled in the O’Malleys’ kitchen, waiting for everyone to take their places and start the fake ceremony so they could teleport to the island. Alfred, Alastair’s butler, who Ronan had come to realize was better than the one employed by Batman, had dug up a rough map of the island and the layout of its buildings. No architectural plans existed of those structures, so they would be going in blind on that score.

“Damian will disrupt any signals to the outside world the instant we arrive, so even if Loman has alarms set, he won’t get notified.”

The nagging sense this entire plan would go wrong wouldn’t leave Ronan alone. “Every building will be rigged with explosives. It’s imperative you all realize that going in,” he warned the others. Then, ignoring the guilt at excluding her, he said, “I think Dubheasa should stay behind and hide in the Black Cat’s basement until we are done.”

Her expected protest was immediate. “Fuck no! I didn’t go through the binding of my power to be left behind as a sitting duck. I’ll do my part and save those puir bastards Loman is holding prisoner.”

“Love—”

“No, Ronan.” She tapped the rudimentary map on the table. “There are too many buildings and not enough of us to stage this rescue. The time we have will be limited, at best.” Swallowing hard, she shook her head and continued. “And none of you have said it, but we all know we may have to leave some behind to get out before Loman returns.”

“I’m not getting out,” Ronan retorted. When she gasped, he captured her hand and gently squeezed. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, Dove. I meant I’m staying to see this ended with Trevor and Castor while the rest of you return home.”

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