Phoenix Rising I (29 page)

“What’s wrong?” The remnants of sleep hoarsened her voice, the hand on his stomach moved with languid strokes.

Connor forced a smile to his face and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetling. I was just thinking of … something.”

She propped up on her side. A frown dipping between her brows, she said, “You’re a terrible liar, Your Majesty.”

To distract her, he said, “And you’re an incredible woman, MacKenzie McCallum.”

“It’s not going to work, Connor.” Two slender fingers and her thumb gripped his chin and turned his face toward her. “Talk to me.”

Although he was fully cognizant that she had a right to know, thoughts of telling her about his beast made him restless. He slid out from under her caging arm and sat on the edge of the bed. With a sigh, he scrubbed his hands over his face. When he felt her slender hand touch his back, even that small touch was too much.

Cursing, he rose from the bed and pulled on his jeans.

“Connor?”

Connor closed his eyes at the sound of the uncertainty in MacKenzie’s voice. He’d put that wobble in that voice with his abrupt withdrawal. Turning to face her, he saw she’d drawn the sheet up over her and clutched it to her as if she needed the security, as if the sheets would shield her from the words he was about to utter.

He drew a deep breath and blew it out hard. “This isn’t easy for me,” he muttered. He sat beside her and cupped the side of her face. Then, unable to remain still, he stood and began pacing.

“Connor, you’re freaking me out, here. What is it?” Mackey gripped the sheet tighter to her chest and watched him, wondering what he was going to say that was so difficult. She blinked, trying to bring more moisture to her eyes. She’d fallen asleep with the tinted contacts in her eyes, and now they were too dry.

Another heavy sigh left him. He stared at her, his shoulders slumped. His eyes took on an unfocused look that suggested he wasn’t really seeing her but, rather, looked inward to something only he could see.

“About the time you were caught in the middle of Da’s … assignations, I was at Cambridge gaining an education.” He trailed off and his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Yes.” Mackey’d been aware he’d been gone, and she’d missed him dreadfully. Nobody sneaking any snacks to her had broken her little doggy heart. And then all of a sudden she’d had to deal with boobs and only one set of legs … well, that had taken all her concentration at the time.

“You’ve heard of Scotia?”

“The
cailleach?
” Mackey sat up a little straighter. She’d heard stories in the royal court of the Fomorian witch, and they had made her hackles rise. She’d always been grateful there was such strong magic in Cnoc Meadha that the old crone couldn’t trespass there.

“Aye.” Connor raked both hands through his hair. He turned away from her and braced his hands on the back of a chair at her small Edwardian writing desk. “One day, as I was walking in The Commons at Trinity College, she appeared to me and demanded I wed her daughter.”

“Why would one of the most hated of the Daoine Sidhe enemies want to tie themselves together through such a union?” Mackey frowned and cocked her head to one side. It didn’t make sense.

Connor straightened and turned, and she bit her lip at the dark despair on his handsome face. Even his eyes seemed to be affected by his emotion, the irises changing to a glittering tawny.

“She told me that only I would do,” he responded, his voice muted. He shrugged, looking like he was trying to appear nonchalant about the whole thing, but Mackey wasn’t fooled. Her instincts told her something horrible had happened … she could
smell
it.

“Scotia told me the great King Finnbheara owed it to her people.” Another shrug and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I reckon they want restitution for being driven out of Ireland and into the sea.”

Mackey stretched out her hand and lightly touched him. When he didn’t shy away from her as he had before, she made her touch more firm, stroking over the hard muscles of his upper back with a loving touch. When he didn’t continue, she prompted, “What happened?”

“I laughed and told her to find another dupe.” Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees and loosely clasped his hands between his thighs. “So she cursed me.”

“Cursed you!” Mackey scrambled around until she could see his face. His expression sent a chill coursing through her. “Connor, how could she curse you? You’re the son of the High King.”

He grimaced. “I guess that wasn’t enough to save me.” Closing his eyes, he started reciting words Mackey knew were burned into his memory. “ ‘
The East be my witness, the West see my pain, North wind a squall, South wind a bane. Dark child of woe, not friend, but foe. The Wolf’s spirit will follow where’er you go. By our great goddess I lay this
seis
. Under the full moon shall we see your true face, None of Danu’s children shall be safe until the love of a fae unmakes that which I have made.
’ ”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“For the three nights of the full moon--the night before, the night of, and the night after--I am banished to the human realm where I become a werewolf as soon as the sun sets.” He stared down at his hands, his shoulders hunched like an animal that had been hit too many times and expected blows, not love.

“That’s not possible.” Mackey mulled it over and didn’t see how it could work. “How can you be a werewolf? You’re Fae. As the son of the High King and Queen, you’re one of the most powerful of the Fae. She couldn’t possibly have cursed you.”

“Yet it’s real, and something I’ve borne for two hundred years now.” He turned his face toward her, and it wore such an expression of sadness she bit her lip against tears. “So, you see, you don’t have it so bad after all, do you?”

In the midst of the disbelief and sympathy she was feeling for Connor, it took a moment for his words to register and, when they did, she blinked. Surely he wasn’t comparing their two situations and telling her she had the favorable end of it? “And just what does that mean?”

His brows lowered. “I mean, things could be worse.”

That’s what she’d thought he meant. Climbing off the bed, she wrapped the sheet around her and looked at him. She had to steel her heart--he looked so damned sincere with what he was saying, she knew he believed it. Even if it was a load of bull hockey.

“So, you’re saying that my situation, the one where I stay relatively the same age and either watch everyone around me age and die or, when I can’t stand it anymore, move away to a new place with new people … things could be worse than that? You arrogant son of a ...” Tears clogged her throat and she broke off before she finished, a growl leaving her as she whirled around and walked away from him.

“Now, just a minute.” Connor got off the bed and she heard a loud thump just before she was jerked to a halt.

She twisted to look behind her, and saw him standing with one big foot on the corner of the sheet she’d been trailing behind her. Even his feet were attractive: long and narrow with well-shaped toes and very little hair. For some reason, that made her even more irritated. For a guy with a curse, he was practically perfect in every other way. Mackey narrowed her eyes. “Get off.”

“Not ’til you explain why you’re upset with me.”

She wrapped her hands around the sheet and tugged and, when he shifted his weight to hold the sheet in place, she growled. “Connor!”

“Explain.” One word, full of command and the expectation of obedience.

Royal pain in the arse
. “You don’t know what it’s like. You’ll
never
know what it’s like to watch people you love get sick and die.” She bit her lip and brushed at the tears that always came whenever she thought of her sweet Rory.

“You’re thinking of your husband?” Connor started toward her and she took the opportunity to yank the sheet away, but otherwise didn’t move. He deserved to know why she was acting--and even she acknowledged it--somewhat irrationally.

“What do you know about that?” She wasn’t sure why she felt defensive, but there it was.

He held up his hands as if in surrender. “I only know what my mother told me, which is you’d fallen in love and married a young man who later died.”

Mackey drew in a breath through her nostrils and held it, then let it out slowly through her mouth. She walked back to the bed and sat down. Waiting until Connor had settled next to her, she told him about her husband. “His name was Rory McCallum.”

She smiled, remembering his boyish charm and exuberance. “He was nineteen when we met, twenty when we married.” Her smile faltered, then faded. “And twentyone when he died.”

Connor’s strong arms came under her and he lifted her onto his lap. He made no overtures, seemingly content to offer comfort. “How did he die?”

“Of course, this was a hundred and fifty years ago, you understand. There were many diseases of which doctors were ignorant. Rory just continued to lose weight, running intermittent fevers, growing weaker and weaker until he hadn’t even the strength to get out of bed.” Mackey rubbed her cheek on Connor’s shoulder, the warmth of his embrace heating through the chill of remembered loss.

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Knowing what I do now, I suspect he had some sort of cancer, that he’d had it a long while before we even met.” Tears slid from beneath her lashes and, before she could reach up, Connor’s hand was there, tenderly brushing the moisture from her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,
m
o mhúirnín bán.
” Connor brushed a kiss against her forehead, then placed one on the tip of her nose, and both corners of her mouth. His breath blew sweet and warm against her cheek. “I wish you’d never had to suffer that kind of loss. I do. But--”

“It could be worse,” she finished for him. Thinking of the months of caring for Rory and watching the life drain out of him minute by minute, she just didn’t see it. Wearily she opened her eyes. “Tell me how it could be worse, Connor.”

His jaw tightened and memories flickered in his eyes. She watched them turn molten gold and her eyebrows raised.

“Even before this curse, I never felt welcomed by my people.” He gestured to his hair. “Dark hair, two different colored eyes. I never really felt like I had a home.” A sigh left him and he shook his head. “But for you … yes, it could be worse. You could attack and kill your own people.” His statement was raw and filled with remembered horror.

Mackey jerked away from his shoulder, sitting upright. He grimaced, his big hands going to her hips to readjust her on his lap. “Sorry,” she muttered, then asked, “What do you mean, kill your own people?”

Connor wrapped his arms around her, trying to draw on her warmth. He hated this part of his life, of himself, and was angry and frustrated because he was powerless to do anything about it. “‘
None of Danu’s children shall be safe
,’” he quoted.

She huffed. “Well, that’s just not right.” With a frown, she brushed an errant strand of hair from his face. Just that light touch sent spikes of arousal through him. From the expression in her eyes, he knew she felt exactly when his cock got the message and took interest.

At least she didn’t seem put off by the idea of another round of bed play.

“Have I told you how beautiful and adorable you are?” He slanted his mouth over hers, lips rubbing gently, then with harder pressure. He eased up and whispered, “
Mo chroi
.”

She pushed against his chest, and he was astonished to see tears trailing down her cheeks. “Oh, no, Connor. Oh. No.” She struggled against him and he held firm.

Connor felt her mental withdrawal as much as the physical one. “Where are you trying to get off to, lass?”

“Don’t call me that.” She gave up the fight and ducked her head.

“Call you what? My heart?” He cupped her chin and nudged until she looked at him. “I’m thinking you are. You
feel
like a piece of me, even if I’ve only known you for a matter of hours. Don’t you feel it, too?”

“You don’t even know me.” Not answering his question, her voice hitched on a sob.

Placing his mouth on hers, he gently nipped at her lips. “Don’t I?” he whispered. “I know you’re beautiful and empathetic and loyal--”

“Just like a dog,” she muttered.

He grinned and kept nibbling at her mouth. “You’re kind and ready to defend--”

“Again, like a dog.” She pulled back and stared into his gaze with solemn eyes. “Connor, you’re of royal blood. And me … I’m just a dog.”

He rolled them over, coming gently down on top of her, imprisoning her in the clasp of his arms and his weight over her lower body. “I must disabuse you of that notion, sweetling. The things I did to you, I would
never
do with a dog.”

One side of her mouth twitched, then a smile slowly blossomed on her lips. “All right, I’ll give you that,” she said. “But--”

He put two fingers over her mouth. “No. No buts. I make my own decisions, and that includes who I fall in love with.” His heart stopped, then started pounding in a slow, hard beat that echoed in the pulse in his throat. “Unless ...”

She shook her head and looped her arms around his neck. “I think maybe I’m falling in love with you, too.” A blush of shyness tinted her cheeks with lovely color.

“Weel, now,” a lilting feminine voice interrupted. “I almost hate to interrupt somethin’ so sweet. Almost.”

Connor reared off the bed in a fighter’s stance. He frowned to see the young woman that he’d seen earlier at the faery ring--the redhead he’d sensed was familiar. She was leaning up against the door frame, her arms crossed, one foot crossed over the other.

Her gaze slid down his body until it got to his groin, where the outline of his erection under the denim was visible. “Aren’t you the bonny one, Prince Connor? It’s nice to see ye haven’t lost any of yer manly attributes.”

He heard MacKenzie scrambling on the bed behind him, then her feet bounced to the floor and she stood next to him. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m not here for ye, bitch.” The redhead waved one hand and whispered, “Sleep.”