Authors: Lisa Sanchez
Unable to put off the inevitable, I grabbed my purse and headed out the door for the library, deciding I’d grab something to eat after I did my research. After making sure the deadbolt was secure, I slammed into a two-hundred-plus pound wall of solid muscle head on. The wind flew out of me with a loud “Ooof!”
“Quinn?” My body came alive in his presence. My heart skipped a beat, and blood pooled to some of the more intimate areas of my anatomy. “What…what are you doing here?” I asked, shocked to see him. I unwillingly peeled myself from the steely expanse of his magnificent body, wishing to God I could somehow morph myself into a pair of low-rise jeans so I could hug his ass all day long.
He stared down at me with a wicked grin. “I’m taking you to the library.”
I frowned. “Quinn, I’m a big girl. I don’t need a babysitter. I can make it to the library just fine on my own.” As much as I craved his presence and secretly wanted to figure out what was going on with him, I sure as hell didn’t need a keeper. I’d taken care of myself for as long as I could remember, and did a damn fine job of it too.
Quinn’s smile curled into an exasperated frown. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. I know you can take care of yourself just fine. I need to do some research of my own. I have a paper due as well, you know.”
My knickers in a twist?
Where the hell was this guy from, and what the heck were knickers? “You’re not going to budge on this, are you?”
He widened his stance, crossed his arms, and shook his head.
“Fine then,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s go.”
The walk to the university library was brief and chock-full of prolonged, painful silence. Quinn stared at me the entire way, watching me as though some crazed lunatic might jump out at any moment and steal me away. It was unnerving, albeit slightly flattering, that he cared enough to bother.
Once inside, I found a secluded table near the back of the library and set my purse down. “Crap.” I’d forgotten my notebook. I let out an irritated groan, which won me a loud “shush” from a couple of nearby students who then gave me eye daggers as I passed them on my way to the stacks.
I heard a low snicker and turned to see Quinn fighting back a laugh. “Careful, lass. You’ve upset the nerd herd.”
I stifled the urge to flip him the bird. I noticed I wasn’t the only ill-prepared student out of the two of us. Unless Quinn had somehow managed to smuggle a laptop in under his leather jacket without my knowing, he was empty-handed and didn’t seem to care. If the man had a photographic memory, I was going to hang him by his toenails. Some of us had to write shit down. I raised an eyebrow and scrutinized him.
“What?” He shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence.
I bit my lip and grumbled. “Nothing.” Arguing with him would do nothing but get me worked up. The stacks, a popular place for playing hide-the-pickle, was not on my list of top places to get pelvic. Not that I anticipated sex with Quinn in any way. Both women I’d seen him with previously had been paper thin waifs, and well…I was a Marilyn. My hourglass figure was the complete opposite of what he seemed to like.
Frustrated, I pulled a thick book from the shelf and made my way back to the table. I sat down, opening the timeworn volume, and flipped through the pages, looking for something that piqued my interest.
A few minutes later, he came up alongside me. “So if you’re a psychology major, why are you taking a Lit class?”
“I’ve got English as a minor. Wait—” I looked up from my book. “How did you know I was majoring in psych? I never told you that.” We’d only had a small handful of conversations, none of which had anything to do with my schooling.
He ignored my question and focused on the book in my hands. “What have you got there?” Quinn pulled out a seat next to me and made himself comfortable with a volume of his own.
I lifted the book, enabling him to read the title on the binding.
An impish smirk crossed his mouth. “Irish Mythology, eh?”
Heat scorched my cheeks. “Yeah, you could say my interest in Irish heritage has been recently piqued.”
Oh, God. Lame!
My admission was met with an audible “humph” as he went about reading his selection. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I caught him hiding a smile.
His rugged beauty swept me away once again as I sat and watched him read. Quinn was magnificently made. His closely shaven hair allowed for a generous view of his profile, keeping nothing hidden from my hungry eyes. Everything about him was perfect, from his strong jaw to his flawlessly full lips. And his physique! Adonis had nothing on Quinn. All masculine, hard-bodied, and sensual, he was a deadly weapon sent by the gods to drive women mad, and a walking billboard for all things wicked and carnal.
Orgasms! Get your orgasms here. Hot and juicy! Just how you like ‘em!
As I continued eye-fucking him, my eyes came across something I hadn’t noticed before: another tattoo. Centered on the back of his neck, partially obstructed by his shirt, was an enormous tattoo of the Celtic Tree of Life. The intricate detail of the body art was wicked cool. I battled the urge to tug at the neckline of his shirt so I could see the entire thing.
He looked up from his book and smiled. “I thought you needed to do a bit of research?”
Damn. Caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
His satisfied smile made it painfully obvious he enjoyed the fact I’d been drooling over him.
Smug bastard.
“I am researching. Look here. I’m learning about Bloody Bones.” I shoved my face into my book and began reading aloud. “Oh…oh, God,” I said as I read the horrible description of that particular story. “Listen to this. Also known as Rawhead, Bloody Bones is said to live near places of water and under sink pipes. Bloody Bones terrorizes naughty children by dragging them down the sink pipes and drowning them in water. He is also said to be able to turn the children into objects, such as pieces of trash, which are then mistakenly thrown out by the unwitting parents.”
I looked up at Quinn, horror stricken. “That’s a horrible myth, way creepy.” After reading that little gem, I was sure to have nightmares.
“Yeah, he’s a real pile of shite, that one.” He went back to reading, but I noticed his skin had paled and a tic had formed in his jaw. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say he looked nervous, though I had no idea why.
I refocused on my book. “Hmm…this one doesn’t seem quite as bloody as the last. Have you heard of the Gancanagh?”
Quinn’s head shot up from his book and he stared at me wide eyed for a moment before regaining his composure. “That’s not a very interesting tale. Why don’t you read about banshees or the Dullahan? He’s the inspiration for the Headless Horseman tale.”
I shook my head. Scary didn’t interest me. Especially not after the tale I’d just skimmed. “This one sounds pretty interesting, but there isn’t much information about it.”
Figures. I find something I’m interested in, and there’s barely any info on it.
I pulled the book closer and lifted it off the table. “The Gancanagh, or Love Talker, is a male faerie in Irish mythology, known for seducing women. The Gancanagh is thought to have an addictive property to his skin, which charms the women he seduces into a deadly obsession. The affected women typically die from withdrawal, pining away for his love, or fighting each other to the death for him.”
I looked up to see Quinn staring at the table. His fists were clenched alongside his book, his jaw rigid and the muscles in his neck rippling and flexing.
“How awful! A man-whoring faerie that loves ‘em and leaves ‘em. Well…at least it’s not bloody.”
Quinn slammed his book shut and shoved it across the table. “I wouldn’t call him a man-whore. There’s a bit more to that particular myth than what you’ve read.” He rested an elbow on the table and placed his head in his hand. Apparently, I’d hit a nerve.
I leaned forward. “You know this story?”
He closed his eyes and breathed in a long, slow breath through his nose. “Yes, I’m quite familiar with it.”
I grew more uncomfortable by the second and had the sinking feeling I’d insulted him somehow. Obviously, I needed to be careful with my words when discussing anything about Irish culture with him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or your heritage. I’d love to hear more about this particular myth, if you wouldn’t mind telling me.”
He lifted his head from his hand and turned to face me. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” he asked, mimicking my words from our walk earlier.
I shook my head with a large grin. “No.”
He drew in a deep breath, sighed, and turned in his chair so his entire body faced me. “Very well, then. Where to begin?” He drummed his fingers on the table. “How much do you know about Irish mythology? Faeries, their queen?” He pursed his lips and waited for my response.
I shook my head. “Nothing. I don’t know a thing.”
“I see,” he said, and he sat back in his chair. “I suppose I should begin with a bit of history then. The Fae were an ancient race of beings that came from the great islands of the North. After being defeated in a series of battles with numerous otherworldly beings, as well as the ancestors of those who currently inhabit Ireland, the Fae retreated to the Isle of Apples, or Avalon, as you may have heard it referred to.”
My eyes narrowed in confusion. I’d never heard jack about the Fae, which I assumed were faeries. “Avalon? Like from the Arthurian legend?”
“Yes,” he said with a nod.
Huh…you learn something new every day. “So, uh…where’s that located?”
“Avalon? In the Otherworld, of course.”
I felt like smacking myself on the forehead.
Oh, of course. The Otherworld. I should have known!
I squelched my sarcasm and let him continue.
“The Fae queen, Morgana, was eternally young and beautiful, and desired by many, including one young and foolish courtier. Exceedingly handsome and gifted with the ability to charm those around him, the young libertine ravished his way through Morgana’s female courtiers, wooing them into his bed one by one. Narcissistic in the extreme, the young faerie cared not for the feelings of the women he took advantage of, and he boasted openly about his conquests to all who would listen.
“He was, in fact, so sure of himself, the vainglorious idiot attempted to beguile the beautiful queen, claiming she would be his greatest conquest. Upon hearing his plan, the queen became enraged, cursing the young faerie. For five hundred years he would walk the earth, seducing women, a slave to their passion, driving them to insanity with lust and the illusion of love. His touch brought about a euphoric reaction to the women he courted, filling them with desire and longing.” He stared at his hands as he spoke, as though they were the spawn of the devil, and hastily placed them in his lap, out of his line of sight.
Hot and dizzy, I inhaled sharply, unaware I’d been holding my breath. I stared at Quinn, willing him with my eyes to continue, as my breath came in shallow pants.
“Nothing he did was real; it was all an illusion. Every touch, a lie. Never would he know true love or passion, as every woman he came across fell prey to the magic of the curse.” He paused for a moment and stared off into space as if he were remembering the story firsthand. Darkness flashed in his eyes. “For a time, he became angry, indifferent to the plight of the women. After ravishing them, he left, letting them pine away for his touch. There were a few women who became deadly, killing any other that dared to cross their unrequited love’s path.”
He stopped talking when he heard me gasp, and looked down, refusing to meet my eyes.
“What…what happened?” I asked, my voice barely registering above a whisper. His story was riveting.
“The faerie was unable to live with the destruction that lay in his wake. He discovered he had a few other talents that enabled him to strip the memories of those he seduced, saving them from their inevitable spiral into madness.”
“So he sleeps with his prey, and then erases their memories?” My hand shot up to my mouth.
“Yes,” Quinn replied quietly, his voice filled with shame. His head hung low, and he refused to meet my eyes as he spoke.
I reached out to him, wondering why he was so worked up over a work of fiction. “Quinn, it’s all right. It’s just a myth. Th—”
“No.” He shot up out of his seat, jaw clenched in anger. “It’s not all right. It’s torture.” His voice broke. His whole body shook, throwing off waves of anger, frustration, and sorrow. “To know every moment of your existence is a lie, a farce. To live each day knowing the women you touch will either have no memory of you when it’s all said and done, or suffer mindless insanity is pure, unadulterated agony!” He threw back his chair and stormed off, leaving me shocked and speechless.
My mind reeled.
No way, Ryann. Don’t even go there. You like to reside in a little place called reality, where there are no such things as faeries.
His story was so compelling, though. The tale he wove seemed to meet all my unanswered questions about him. Not to mention, he spoke with such conviction, as though he lived it himself.
Could it be?
Twice I’d seen him at the bar with some random Betty, and twice he’d left them in a whacked out, hypnotic state. Could he have swiped their memories from them? Seemed a bit farfetched to me. Well…okay, it seemed a lot farfetched. But with nothing else to go on, his description of the cursed faerie seemed pretty convincing. Not to mention that orgasmic touch of his. Just thinking about it got my juices flowing.
I had to find him. Gathering up my purse, I tucked the book under my arm and raced out of the library, searching for answers from the only person who could give them to me: Quinn.
“Q
UINN
!” I ran out of the library, frantic and shouting.
I ignored the annoyed stares and disapproving looks of several strangers as I darted down the front steps and onto the grassy area in front of the building. Standing on a bench to get a better view of my surroundings, I craned my head in search of Quinn. He couldn’t have gotten far. I left the library just a few moments after he did. This bizarre disappearing act was becoming somewhat of a habit where he was concerned. I thought back to the first day I met him at the bar. He’d vanished then as well.
Well…if he’s a faerie, he’d be able to do things like disappear.
I shook my head to clear the crazed thoughts taking over. I needed to get a damn grip.
There’s no such thing as faeries, Ryann. Pull it together, girl, or someone’s going to send you to the nut house!
Disappointed with my inability to find Quinn, I stepped off the bench with a sigh and took a seat. My stomach twisted and churned, defeat quickly becoming my new best buddy. Had I offended my new friend? Friend. Is that what we were? I wasn’t sure how to define our few brief interactions. We didn’t have much of a relationship. We’d only been together a handful of times.
Still, despite our rocky start, there were definitely feelings between us, something I wanted to explore more than anything. I didn’t normally argue so much with members of the opposite sex—ass grabbers not included. I was generally pretty agreeable. There was just something about Quinn that drove me insane, causing me to call him out whenever he acted cocky.
Was I trying to hide my attraction to him with defensive behavior, like some sort of bizarre foreplay or something?
Foreplay?
Was that what our arguing and attitude was?
Whatever the case, I hoped my chances of getting to know him better weren’t destroyed. I needed to work on my impulse control. I was always sticking my foot in my mouth.
I stood, gathered my purse and my accidentally pilfered library book, and decided to head home. Quinn was most likely pissed and not coming back, and I was done making a spectacle of myself. I’d trudged all of ten feet before I heard a loud “Ahem” from behind me.
When I turned, there was Quinn, shooting daggers at me with his beautiful baby blues.
“Have I not told you that it isn’t safe to be walking about on your own?”
I let out a loud huff. Bad Boy sounded like Yoda.
Safe to be outdoors, it is not.
“Excuse me. You left. What was I supposed to do? Sit and wait in the library until you decided to come back? It was obvious you were angry and didn’t want to talk. I mean…you did storm out of the library like a man on fire.”
He gaped at me like I’d grown another head. “I didn’t leave. I just needed a few moments to myself. I’m not mad at you either. It’s just that damn, fucking legend…I…ugh!”
The angrier he became, the more pronounced his accent grew. When he spoke the word “not” it sounded like “no.” I had a thing for Irish and Scottish accents, and his was like liquid sex cascading over every inch of my body.
I stepped forward and raised my arm, wanting desperately to comfort him with my touch.
He shrank away, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of rejection.
My arm felt like it weighed ten tons as it fell to my side. “Fine then,” I said while burning him with a hot stare. “I won’t touch you. I only wanted to comfort you. My mistake…
won’t
happen again.” I bit the inside of my cheek and turned my back to him, fighting the urge to do something stupid like slap him. It was easier to let my anger take over than to admit I was hurting because he didn’t want me near him. I was done making a fool of myself. “I am
so
out of here.”
“Ryann, stop!”
Curse my wretched body. My legs stopped moving, my feet frozen in place by his words. I wanted to run. I wanted to stay. I wanted to scream. Mostly I just wanted to know what the hell was going on.
Why was I so freakishly drawn to him? I hardly knew him. The mix of emotions I felt were too much, an overload. Hot traitor tears welled in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. I didn’t turn to face him, but I didn’t walk away either. There was no way I’d let him see me cry. I’d never give him that satisfaction.
In an instant, he stood behind me. My body jumped as warm breath wafted across my ear and down my neck. “I want you to touch me.”
His close proximity, combined with the delicious minty scent of his warm breath, sent a fevered chill over my skin. I spun on my heels to face him, once again reaching out.
“You can’t!” he shouted, stepping back. His eyes went wild, the muscles in his neck straining as he cursed to himself.
I gaped at him, confused. “But you just said—”
“I said I want you to touch me,” he interrupted, “but that doesn’t mean you can.” He shook his head and paced back and forth, scrubbing at his closely shaven head with his hands.
“I don’t understand.” It was the understatement of the century. “Why not?”
“Because…I have feelings for you.” Quinn’s voice broke, sounding as though he were crushed.
I ran my hand through my hair and took a step forward. “You’re not making any sense.”
Quinn held up his hands in caution. “Please, just stop and listen.” He grimaced and balled his hands into fists. “Fuck! I’ve gone and made a right hash of it, haven’t I? Goddamned, bloody idiot!”
I stood closed mouthed, not wanting to further aggravate him, and watched as he paced like a madman. I feared for the concrete if he kept up with the back and forth. He’d dig a hole to China before the night was over.
Finally, he stopped and pierced me with his eyes. “I am he.”
My head snapped back. “Huh? You’re who?”
“The Gancanagh. I am the Gancanagh. The legend is real.”
His words hung in the air as the world had gone still. Had I heard him right? If my ears were indeed working correctly, then I’d just witnessed Quinn admit he was a mythical being. He’d confirmed my suspicions that there was something more to him than met the eye, but a faerie? I was crazy for even thinking it. He was insane for believing it about himself. Hell, we were both cuckoo. Maybe we deserved each other.
I stood gawking at him for what seemed like an eternity. Speechless for once, I didn’t know what to do.
Quinn growled in frustration. “Say something!”
I hesitated for a moment before jutting out my chin and lowering my eyelids. “Prove it.” If he was who he said he was, my little challenge should be small potatoes for him. “This is insane. Faeries aren’t real. Mythical creatures don’t exist. I mean…Seriously? You really expect me to believe you’re a faerie?”
My head was screaming at me to run, to get away from the crazy man who thought he was a mythical being. My heart? Yeah, it had other ideas. An intense ache tore through my chest as I chanted over and over to myself.
Please be real. Please be real. Please, please, please be real.
Quinn hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again moments later. He scanned the area, shook his head, and frowned. “Too many people. Follow me.”
My mouth felt dry as I trailed him to a more secluded area behind the library, free of curious onlookers and random gawkers. What the hell was he going to do? Perform parlor tricks? Uncertainty became my new best friend, and I didn’t like it.
He stopped in the center of a small, bench-lined clearing and turned. I watched in awe as he broke into a glorious smile. “Now you see me.” He vanished into thin air. “Now you don’t.”
“Holy shit!” I picked my jaw off the ground and spun around, searching for him while my mind tried to come up with some sort of rational explanation for what I just saw.
“Aye, that’s ‘bout right.” I whirled around. He stood a mere two feet from me. With his head lowered, he looked at me through his lashes and pursed his lips. It was evident he was waiting for a response from me.
Shaking, I opened my mouth only to slam it shut moments later. What do you say when someone disappears before your very eyes?
He scrubbed at his face and groaned. “Say something. I’m shittin’ bricks here!”
My voice barely registered above a whisper. “Impossible.”
“Impossible? Maybe. But very true, nonetheless.” He evaporated before my eyes again and reappeared seconds later, standing on a nearby bench.
My mind spun, and I felt like I was trapped in some kind of bizarre sci-fi reality show. Was I being punked? “Amazing! How are you doing that? Is it like time travel?” My mind couldn’t wrap itself around what I’d witnessed.
“No, I’m not traveling through time. I wish.” He let out a nervous laugh. “If I could travel through time, I’d go back and stop myself from trying to seduce the queen, and prevent this wretched curse. No…I merely have the ability to render myself invisible.”
Merely?
He spoke of his mind-blowing ability as if it were no big deal, like rolling your tongue or snapping your fingers.
“Is there anything else?” I asked, unsure of how much more my mind could absorb.
A priceless, shit-eating grin lit up his face, and for a split second, the sadness behind his eyes dimmed. It was like an enormous weight had been lifted from him, and his newfound ability to share with me set him free. After a quick scan to ensure we were alone, Quinn hopped off of the bench, and picked it up with his left hand, raising it high above his head as if it weighed no more than a piece of paper.
The loud clanking noise filling the air? Yeah, that was my jaw hitting the floor again. The solid steel bench had been anchored to the ground.
Quinn smiled at my reaction. “I’ve got a fair bit of strength.” After placing the bench back where it belonged, he appeared in front of me, moving so quickly all my eyes registered was a faint blur. He stared down at me and took off again toward the center of the lawn area at light speed.
I shook my head, desperately trying to come to terms with what I knew was possible, and what I was seeing play out in front of me. Quinn had mad super powers. “Oh. My. God.”
In a flash, he stood a few feet in front of me again, as if by magic. “Nope, not God. Just a horny faerie.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
I sucked in a breath. “You heard me? I barely whispered and you were yards away.”
“Aye,” he said, pointing to his ears. “Told ye. I’ve got good hearing.”
Was there no end to his abilities? I’d lost my mind. There was no other explanation. This couldn’t be real. I’d had an aneurism or something. I was trapped in a dream, and I just wasn’t waking up.
Did I really want to, though? Here was this incredible being, standing a scant two feet away, who admitted he harbored feelings for me. No. I’d happily reside in the Land-of-the-Loonies if it allowed me to be with Quinn.
I held up my hand while I struggled to pull my thoughts together. “Let me get this straight. You have the power of invisibility. You’ve got mad strength, super speed, and have crazy good hearing?”
He laughed, and the musical sound of it sent my heart flying. “Among other things, but yes, that about sums it up.”
I swallowed hard. “Other…things?” What else could there be? X-ray vision? Mind reading abilities?
Only one way to find out.
With my mouth clamped shut, I focused on his godlike features and sent him a wordless proposition.
I want your body like a fat kid wants chocolate cake. Kiss me.
Silence filled the air for a moment as I repeated my silent plea. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. Could he read my mind?
Quinn did a double take and scratched his head. “Are ye all right, lass? You look a bit…hell, I hate to even say it…constipated.”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. Okay, so he wasn’t a mind reader, but now he was under the impression I suffered from irritable bowel syndrome.
Smooth move, ex-lax!
I shook my head and waved him off. “I’m fine. Sorry. Please continue on with your laundry list of super powers.”
He raised his eyebrows and grinned, but there was something else hiding behind his chipper façade: relief. He shook his head. “I cannot tell you, lass, how good it feels to finally be able to share myself with someone. Let’s see…I’m pretty skilled in the art of seduction, and I’m fairly persuasive. I can also remove all traces of me from your memory if I wanted to.” His voice was flat as he spoke these last words, his smile fading into a somber frown.
A shudder ran through my frame at the idea of not being able to remember him. The very thought of a world without Quinn was inconceivable to me, and I instinctively recoiled from it.
Desperate to steer the conversation on to less painful things, I reminded him of a power I’d witnessed firsthand. “There’s also your love touch.”
The mention of his “love touch” elicited another smile, and I was thankful I could brighten his mood so easily.
“Yes, there is that as well.”
“Is it really addictive? Your touch, that is?” I thought back to the first time I’d met him at the bar and the sensation that coursed through my veins when our skin came into contact. His touch was complete, sensual bliss. My circulatory system kicked into overdrive at the memory of it, and I tried my best to calm down. Could he hear my heart racing?
My answer came with a wide, knowing grin. I couldn’t keep anything hidden from him.
So not fair!
“It depends,” he said.
I crossed my arms and stepped back, staring at him with my jaw tight. I expected a better answer.
He inhaled deep and stared at me with a look that clearly said he didn’t want to answer my question. “Just touching you won’t bring about the madness. You’d only lose your mind if I were to shag you.”
“Shag me?” I said, slightly taken aback. Were we trapped in a Mike Myers film and I didn’t know it?
“Sorry,
a ghrá
,” he said, treating me to an eye roll. “Make love. Is that more to your liking?”
I flushed and looked down, unsure of how to answer him. Changing the subject seemed like a better idea. I shoved my thumbs into the back pockets of my jeans and bit my lip. “What is that you keep calling me? Do I even want to know? Is it Irish slang for dipshit?”