Page 75 of Her Irish Treasures
He smirked. “Lucky guess.”
“Bullshit. I bet you texted Vivi.”
“I don’t even have Red’s number. You look like a decadent, chocolate croissant to me. So that’s what I got. I cleaned them out.”
Now that was a compliment if I’d ever heard one.
I took a bite and fought the urge to shudder with bliss. So good. Washed down with cappuccino. The breakfast of champions. “So what’s on the agenda today?”
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped. “Our first priority is to get this place as secure as possible. One of us will be on the lookout every bloody minute we’re here. Plus we’re bringing in our weapons cache and several of the men offered to help guard the perimeter.”
“Sounds like you’re getting ready for war.” I tried to keep my voice light, but the faint quiver betrayed me.
“We are.”
“Because of me?”
He shrugged. “It’s our purpose.”
Sitting here in the quiet room with no distractions, I concentrated on him. In my mind, he was like a steel and concrete high-rise tower. No windows. No doors. Infinitely strong and so tall that the walls disappeared into the mists above. I flicked my focus to each of my other men briefly. As soon as I thought of them, Ivarr’s glow filled me, endless warmth and burning energy of the sun when needed. Keane’s luscious purr of satisfaction backed with a formidable hunger that would never end. Warwick’s lush green energy and riotous garden of colorful flowers.
Even Doran Stoneheart was wide open to me. As soon as he felt my faint touch, his gargoyle turned toward me, wings unfurling slightly, talons unsheathed, ready to leap into the air to rush toward my defense.
We were open to each other. Little bits of thoughts and emotion flowing between us on the same currents of magic that allowed us to communicate silently. I brought them together. They couldn’t do their job without me, and I needed all of them to feel the spinning wheel inside me evened and balanced so the magic could flow.
Aidan was here, the closest to me, yet he was completely shut off. I couldn’t sense any of his emotions. Could he—
“Aye,” he said hoarsely. “I do. I listen to you constantly. You know why I’m shut off. It’s for the best.”
When he’d first kissed me, I caught a few images from him. War, death, pain, suffering. He’d apologized for letting any of that touch me.
Fighting back tears, I whispered, “I can’t imagine how much effort it takes to keep all those memories locked away in such a massive tower.”
He shrugged again and picked up his cup. “It’s the least I can do.”
I watched silently as he drank, draining the cup in a few long swallows. My heart ached for him, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t need to reach him or break those walls down. He was here. He was with me. He wasn’t avoiding me any longer in some misguided attempt to spare me. The wheel was balanced enough to cast their magic when they needed it.
But was that enough? Or would I do more harm than good if I tried to get inside those formidable walls?
He thumped the cup down on the table so hard that the bottom edge crumpled. “You’ve done more than enough,mo stór.All I need you to do is survive as long as possible.”
Pain splintered in his voice. Unspoken heartache after heartache. He had suffered so much through lifetime after lifetime, only to blame himself for losing Doran. Without their leader…
He’d taken on that role out of a sense of guilt. He’d carried their failures himself, an endless punishment. He died the hardest. The worst possible torment. He took the riskiest approaches when they tried to free Doran, paying his due over and over again. Wallowing in pain and death, deliberating trying to pay in suffering to bring Doran back.
Trying to make amends. To atone for his mistake.
My throat ached, my chest tight, but I held back the tears. I didn’t want to add to his guilt by making him think he’d made me cry. But I couldn’t sit here and leave him hurting, either.
I set my cup down, quickly stood, and dropped down into his lap before he could react. Straddling his hips, I curled up against him, nestling down into his body so I could put my face against his throat.
He swallowed, his heart thudding heavily against me. Rigid and tight, thighs and chest braced for impact or war. His hands settled on my back gingerly, as if afraid I might explode, a million jagged fragments that might injure him. Or tear that massive wall down.
“I don’t care about that,” I whispered against his skin, trying to soothe him. “You don’t have to let me in. I just want to hold you.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to let you in,” he grumbled, rubbing his mouth against my hair. “I don’t want to hurt you with all those memories. You’re light, Riann. I’m darkness and pain and death. I’d rather die than let any of that taint you.”
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