Page 20 of Shamrocked
“Then why does it feel like I know you, and them, when I just met you?”
He lifted my hand to his mouth and softly brushed his lips over my knuckles. “You know them because they’re your destiny. Only you can bring the treasures together and bring the world back into balance.”
“And if I fail…?”
“Then you die. The treasures die. And your world slides more fully into Balor’s grip. The light grows dimmer every day, and if we lose you and the treasures again…” His lashes fluttered down over his eyes and he pressed the back of my hand to his cheek. “I fear the treasures will be lost forever. Balor is too strong in this world. He’ll imprison all four of them, as he’s trapped Doran, rather than allow them to return to the Otherworld. Your world will be overrun with demon spawn.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. It slid down into my stomach and lay there cold and heavy like a ball of lead. “Balor is…?”
“Balor of the Evil Eye, the Fomorian king of demons. He wants the treasures’ powers as his own, and if he gains access to them, your world is doomed.”
His cheek was soft against my hand, not rough with stubble at all. Such a small thing, but a stark reminder that he wasn’t human. His hair was even softer, like the delicate down on a baby duck. I’d never dated a man with long hair. I liked it. A lot, actually. I pushed my fingers deeper, loving the way the strands curled around me, clinging to me. Begging me not to stop. I thought it might be all in my head, but as I touched him, his hair grew longer, magically spilling down his shoulders, a thick, black wave of silk, called by my touch. As if…
He leaned closer, letting his hair tumble forward over my arm. “As if grown simply for your enjoyment, aye. If you want my hair trailing behind me on the floor, I can make it so.”
The thought of all this black silk sliding over my skin made me shudder. I wanted his hair falling down around me like a curtain, sleek and soft, smelling like—
I leaned closer and lightly touched my face to his hair.
He smelled green and fresh and lush, like a jungle of flowers and fruit, bursting with life. His skin smelled even better. Warmer, richer, like chocolate and furs before a fireplace, soaking in the heat. His pulse beat strong and steady against my mouth. I opened my lips and touched the tip of my tongue to his skin.
In a heartbeat, he scooped me up and strode toward the bed in the corner. My heart hammered, with anticipation and anxiety, both. I clutched the gargoyle to me, afraid to look into his stony face. Afraid to close my eyes and see Doran grimacing in my dreams, accusing me of being unfaithful. Of betraying him. He’d already threatened to kill Warwick, for fear that he’d hurt me.
But how could I be unfaithful… when I’d never met him outside of a dream?
Was this all an impossible dream?
Warwick lay me down on the mattress but only sat beside me. I stared up at him, relieved, but also disappointed. His lips quirked, revealing his dimple and the wicked twinkle in his green eyes. “I would never dare climb in bed with a gargoyle, unless he invited me.”
My cheeks blazed and he laughed, his eyes glowing with warmth. I shoved the gargoyle off my thighs to the mattress beside me, though yes, the statue was still in bed with me. Glaring.
“You wondered if I was only interested in you because you’re the treasurekeeper.”
Biting my lip, I nodded.
He leaned down and braced one forearm beside my head. His hair fell down around me, like a black silk curtain. Exactly as I’d pictured before. “You stepped intoShamrocked, an unknowing, mortal woman. Granted, you had to have some excellent luck to find yourself crossing into Faerie, but I didn’t know you were the treasurekeeper. Not until you saw Doran on the shelf.”
My eyes widened. Yeah, I remembered that. We’d been chatting and laughing, and I’d let myself think about taking home this insanely sexy, laughing bartender. The better to kiss my old life goodbye, right? I was a free woman, the first time in years. I did hesitate at the thought of taking a stranger to Vivi’s house without her approval. That was the only thing that kept me from scribbling my phone number down on a napkin for him. Or simply asking what time he got off work. I’d sat there drinking Guinness and imagining what it’d be like to have another man in my bed. A man not my ex-husband, for the first time.
And then bam. Everything had changed.
I stared up at him, my lips parting with surprise. He really had been attracted tome.
Riann.
Not the treasurekeeper.
He lowered his head and sampled my lips in a soft, delicate nibble. His breath sighed out and he lifted his head enough to look into my eyes again. Emerald starbursts swirled in his irises, spinning and sparkling in a dizzying array. “Alas, I dare not indulge in more than a sweet morsel to tie us over. You would regret more until you’ve freed Doran and hear his opinion of me directly from his lips.”
He made perfect sense. But that didn’t stop me from surging up from the pillow and trying to kiss him again. Deeper. I wanted to taste the dark hollows of his mouth. Feel his tongue stroking mine. Would he taste like exotic fruits and dark chocolate too? Or would he taste like whiskey? Or something else entirely?
His eyes spun brilliant green arcs throughout the room. I felt his mouth again, the softest touch. His whisper against my lips. “Sleep,mo stór.”
My eyes were so heavy. I fought to stay awake. To touch him. Taste him. It was like swimming up through miles and miles of ocean. My arms were so tired. I started to slide into darkness. Too fast. My nerves shrilled with fear, my stomach pitching. I had too much to do. I couldn’t sleep—
Doran’s arms closed around me, his grizzled cheek rough against mine. “Now it’s my turn,mo stór.”
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