Page 20 of Evil Eyed
Rubbing my cheek against his chest, I made a soft, pleased sound. “I just wanted you to feel as much as you make me feel.”
The mattress dipped. Exhausted, I managed to pry my eyes open enough to look up at Doran as he joined us. His big palm settled on my lower back, a heavy, comforting weight. “You healed his scar too.”
Keane’s head jerked up, his shoulders lifting so he could see down the length of our bodies. “Ha, take that, Donn Cúailnge! Now I won’t have to remember the feel of his horns tearing me apart every time I take a piss.”
I grumbled sleepily under my breath and he lay back down, wrapping his arms around me. “Thank you,mo stór. You’re truly a treasure beyond compare. How can I repay you for removing that nasty scar? Breakfast in bed for all eternity? French toast, eggs, bacon, biscuits… You name it.”
I yawned, sinking deeper into sleep. “There’s only one thing I can think of.”
“Aye? Anything you wish, it’s yours.”
I couldn’t believe I was going to say it out loud. But I couldn’t get it out of my mind. “Next time I get to sink my teeth into your ass.”
13
Opening my eyes, I stared up at a dark room and tried not to cry. My throat ached and my heart hurt so much that I couldn’t take a deep breath without letting out a sob, and I didn’t want to wake the guys.
“Too late,” Aidan whispered against my ear. “What’s wrong?”
“Besides, we never really sleep,” Warwick said on my other side. “Not when we have the chance to be with you.”
I wasn’t sure how many hours—or even days—had passed since the feast. The guys had taken turns cycling in and out of bed with me a few times, but I had no idea what day it was or even what time, other than night.
“Just a bad dream,” I finally replied.
“Do you want to talk about it, or just go back to sleep?” Warwick asked.
I let out a long, soft breath that turned into a sigh. “It’s already fuzzy in my head. I just remember holding Vanta and being so glad that she was okay. In the dream, I was thrilled that losing her had just been a bad dream, but the real nightmare was waking up and knowing that she’s gone. Really gone. I haven’t seen her since I left Jonathan that night.”
I rolled over on my side to face Warwick. “Do you know what kind of fae she might have been to be able to come back despite the horrible things that Jonathan did to her?”
“It’s sorry I am, love, but I don’t know. She could be a High Court fae sent to act as your guardian, or just a friendly brownie masquerading as a cat.”
“Do you think she’s dead? Like dead dead?”
“Not if she be fucking fae,” Aidan replied.
I craned my neck to look back at him over my shoulder. “Then why hasn’t she come back?”
He scowled. “The fuck if I know. Maybe she’s simply waiting for you to ask her.”
My eyes widened. I hadn’t even remembered that she existed until Jonathan used that memory to try and bring me to my knees in the cave. I sat up enough to fluff up my pillow so I could lean back against it, propped against the headboard. “I’d love to see you again, Vanta.”
I waited, my heart pounding, straining my ears to hear her purr again. But as the minutes went by, my shoulders drooped. Maybe Jonathan had finally managed to kill her after all. Or he’d sent her to some kind of horrible prison like Fhroig’s lair. Though if sweet, loyal Vanta was suffering like that for all eternity…
Wait. I’d used one of my wishes to send the changeling to that lair.
I still have two wishes.
“I wish—”
Warwick quickly lay his finger against my lips. “None of that, now, love. There’s no need to waste one of your wishes on bringing back your beloved cat. The power to bring her back is yours. It’s been yours all along.”
My gift had always been art, even before I knew about the treasures. I’d even painted us to the cave when the guys had tried to send me away to safety. “I guess I should start carrying around some of my art supplies, or at least keep some in here for emergencies.”
Warwick winked at me. “Now why would you need to carry around supplies when you have a leprechaun delivery service at your disposal? What kind of medium does my lady wish to use?”
“Um, does it matter? I used watercolors to get to the cave but my normal medium is oil.”
