Page 6 of Shamrocked
She came back to me and cupped my face in her hands, searching my eyes. "Are you sure you weren't assaulted that night? Maybe I should take you to the hospital and get you examined."
"I'm fine. I didn't hurt the next morning. I was a little hungover, but I'd had quite a lot to drink. I didn't feel any worse than I expected to feel."
"Humph." She wrapped her arm around me and we walked down the hall. I hesitated outside my room, staring at the canvases propped up all around the room. While the gargoyle wasn't here to torment me any longer, all the paintings he'd inspired were. The three other men. The image of the church ruin and the statue. For the first time in my life, I regretted my skill. Because staring at that huge gargoyle glaring back at me, demanding his freedom, was too fucking real. He scared the crap out of me.
"Come on." She tugged me to her door. "You're sleeping with me tonight."
"Are you sure?"
"It'll be like the good old days when we used to sleep over at each other's houses."
Her bed was cushy soft with dreamy pillows and silky sheets topped with a fluffy down comforter. Yet I couldn’t close my eyes. I was afraid he was there, waiting for me. The gargoyle. Doran. The man with the broken nose, standing in a lost, forgotten church graveyard.
I shivered and Viviana tucked the comforter around me and snuggled close with a giggle. “See? Just like old times.”
I laughed, trying to relax a little. “You used to tell me about all your conquests, even back then. So who’s after the gorgeous Vivi now?”
“A guy at work. His name’s Michael.”
“Not boss man?”
“Oh no. Boss man likes me too much as his assistant to risk boning me and messing up our relationship entirely. Michael’s a hotshot fresh out of law school.”
I gave her a fake gasp. “A younger man? You cradle robber.”
“You didn’t ask whoIwas after. You asked who was afterme.”
She kept talking about how the new guy was trying to get her attention, and I drifted off to blissful sleep.
3
“Riann.”
The low, growly voice was insistent, stabbing the back of my mind like a hot poker. I recognized it. The same jerk had been yakking in my head ever since I brought that fucking gargoyle home. “Give it a rest, you hulking block of stone. My fingers are cramping, my eyes are burning, and my head is pounding like a jackhammer took up residence behind my eyeballs. I can’t paint anymore.”
Doran cupped my cheek in his huge palm, rough with callouses but incredibly tender. “It’s not safe. You’ve been marked by Faerie. You’ve got to find us, love. Now.”
I yawned and nestled my face deeper into his caress. I loved his rough brogue, even when he pissed me off. “Why? Why is it suddenly so important that I find four guys I’ve never met in real life?”
“You won’t believe me.”
I forced my eyes open and rolled over enough to look up into his face. He squatted down beside the bed, but his size was still intimidating. His shoulders blocked out the moonlight from the window. I knew his face, now, after so many dreams. It wasn’t a face that would stop traffic because of his beauty. Far from it. But there was a certain majesty in the heavy brow and jagged nose. The kind of majesty a scarred lion king wore as he glared at the latest batch of young challengers, running away with their tails tucked between their legs, without ever unsheathing his claws.
“I don’t believe in ghosts. Let alone fairies.”
“Oh, but you will, love. Mark my words. You will.”
“How did they mark me?”
“You walked into Warwick’s pub. No ordinary mortal should be able to cross that threshold unless you have dealings with Faerie.”
“Who’s Warwick?”
“The asshole who flirted with you in front of me.”
“The cute bartender?”
“Bollocks.” He glowered at me. “He’s notcute. He’s a fucking leprechaun.”
