Phoenix Rising I (32 page)

“That was before.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Before? Before what? Before you changed?” She leaned forward and caressed his shoulder.

As before, he jerked away from her, rolling over and getting to his feet in one fluid movement. The blanket dropped away and her eyebrows climbed again at the sight of his full erection.

She rose to her feet as well, then sidestepped to block him as he started for the door. “Oh, no you don’t.” Planting both palms against his chest, she shoved him backward until the short footboard caught him behind his knees. “Talk to me.”

His gaze zeroed in on her bandaged neck. “I
bit
you. I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t.”

Connor scowled and tried to move past her.

She gave him a good shove, toppling him back onto the bed. She hopped up and parked herself on his stomach, ignoring his small
oomph
. “You want to know what I think?” she asked, leaning forward and bracing herself with her hands on the mattress.

When he remained stubbornly silent, she shrugged. “All right. I’ll tell you. I think you were trying very hard
not
to kill me.”

His eyes narrowed. “I bit your throat. Explain how that’s trying
not
to kill you.”

“You bit me here.” She lightly touched the muscled spot where neck met shoulder. “Yes, it hurt and, yes, I bled.”

Leaning down further, she wiggled a bit, moving further down until his erection settled in the cleft of her ass. Even through the soft denim of her jeans, she could feel his hardness. “But if you’d really been trying to kill me, you would have bitten my throat. Not here.”

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But ...”

Mackey placed a soft kiss on one corner of his mouth. “But nothing.” There was so much pain, such deep sorrow in his gaze she could hardly bear it. Tears welled in her eyes and she tried to blink them away, but one dripped from her lashes and splashed on his cheek. “I love you, Connor. Even after seeing what you become, even after knowing what you can be capable of, I love you. And I know you love me.”

Hs eyes closed. “Aye, I love you,
mo chroi
. More than I can say.” Long lashes swept up to reveal his dual-colored irises with a dim light of hope. “And I want you with me, always. But only if I know for certain you’ll be safe when this bloody curse makes itself known.”

Another tear followed the first, now at his words. “I can’t be with you, Connor.”

His lips turned down. “Of course you can.”

“No. I can’t.” When he made to speak, she placed her fingers over his lips. “Just listen to me a minute. I’m not Fae. I’ve been banished from Cnoc Meadha by edict of the king. I can’t go back.”

“My father will lift the banishment, or
I
will not go back.” This time it was his fingers that went over her mouth as she started to disagree. His eyes were glazed with moisture of which he seemed unashamed. “I will be where you are, MacKenzie. If Finnbheara won’t allow you into Cnoc Meadha, then I’ll remain here. With you.”

He slid his hand around to the back of her neck and gently urged her down. Their lips met in a joining of breath and souls, a mingling of love and tears. Connor gasped against her mouth and she drew back. “What is it?”

“I … I don’t know.” He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, arching underneath her. A long moan left him, melding into a howl. His body became surrounded by a crimson glow which grew brighter as it lifted from him and hovered briefly in the air before dissipating. In the distance, another howl was heard, like the cry of a banshee.

“It’s gone.” Connor heard wonder in his own voice, and felt younger and more carefree than he had been since the curse was first visited upon him. His soul felt light, and he knew he was finally free.

He pulled MacKenzie down into a tight embrace, not caring that tears of joy fell from his eyes onto her skin. “You’ve ended the curse,
mo chroi
. After enduring two hundred years of hell, your love has ended it.”

She raised up, bracing her hands on his chest, and searched his gaze. “You’re sure?” Her voice held tremulous hope, a hope that was reflected in her sky-blue eyes.

A slow smile curved his lips. With a loud shout of victory, he urged her off him. Positioning her until she rested on her stomach, her hips at the edge of the bed, he covered her back, sliding his cock along the cleft of her buttocks. “I’m sure.”

He leaned in and kissed the uninjured side of her neck. Reaching around, he slid his fingers under her loose-fitting top, flattening his hand against her warm stomach. “What do you say we get these clothes off of you, and you let me make it up to you for hurting you?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

They laughed, wrestling together, trying to get her clothing off as quickly as possible. By the time she was naked, they were both breathing heavily with desire. He passed one hand over her breasts, the rasp of his skin over her sensitive flesh causing her nipples to peak.

She shuddered against him. “Connor, I want you. Now.”

He slid his hand between her thighs and found her ready, her arousal lying slickly on her labia. He dipped one finger into the well of her body. Her sheath clenched around him and he moaned. “By the gods, you’re so wet. So hot.”

“Stop talking.” She wiggled against him and they both groaned at the feel of his hardness sliding against the cleft of her body. “Take me.”

He leaned further onto her, careful to keep his weight braced on one hand, but letting her feel the heaviness of his bigger body. Drawing his finger out of her clinging depths, he clutched her hip. “Like this?” He rubbed his chest against her back and she gasped.

“Yes. Like this. Wild and primal. Real.” She pressed back against him, looking over her shoulder, eyes dark with passion.

“Real,” he agreed, and pushed into her.

And in the hot clasp of her body, he finally found his home.

Epilogue

Queen Una leaned back in her chair and smiled. Her husband leaned over and murmured, “I suppose you’re feeling proud of yourself, talking me into letting her back in.”

Her smile broadened. “Oh, a wee bit, aye. But would ye look at them?” She motioned toward Connor and his new wife, waltzing the nuptial dance in the middle of the ballroom. “They’re so lovely together.”

“Aye.” Finnbheara took her hand, linking their fingers, and brought it to his mouth. Pressing a kiss against her knuckles, he said, “Perhaps we should begin thinking about making our journey to Tir Na n’Og.”

Una turned her attention to her husband, hardly daring to believe what he’d said. “Finn, are ye serious?”

“Aye.” He waved his hand toward the newlyweds. “It’s only been a few months since Connor brought MacKenzie back to Cnoc Meadha, and already I can see how well-received they’ve been. He no longer bears the curse; she’s the one who freed him of it. They’ll be fine.”

Una squeezed his hand. Finn was right. She’d never seen her son look so happy, and it was all due to MacKenzie. As she watched them, her son leaned down and pressed a passionate kiss against his wife’s lips, a kiss which was enthusiastically returned. “Aye. Let’s go to Tir Na n’Og. After our first grandchild is born.”

Her son swept his wife into his arms and strode from the room. Una smiled again. She didn’t need to look into the Well of Sight to know she and Finn would be traveling to Tir Na n’Og within the year.

The Wolf of Cnoc Meadha was home.

The End

By

Alicia Sparks

Prologue

Piano music drifted up to anyone who at 3
AM
couldn’t sleep. Anna stood on the edge of the third floor railing, her arms folded over the banister as she closed her eyes, allowing the music to enrapture her as his image filled her mind.

The stoic figure in black sat at the piano, his long coattail sweeping the floor behind him. His head was thrown back in an appearance of creative agony as his long white fingers glided across the keys, demanding obedience from the ivory keys.

Opening her eyes, she wondered why a lone creature would seek out the hotel lobby at such an hour. Weren’t there rules against noise? If there were, no one seemed to notice or care as the night clerk nodded off against her hand.

The ice bucket at Anna’s feet was forgotten amid the late-night scene. Everything about the man fascinated her--from his lone presence to the sad melody pouring from the piano.

His long, dark hair twisted into a mass of curls that brushed against his lower back, swaying as his shoulder moved, forcing his arms, his fingers, then the keys to cry out his anguish.

In another place and time, he might have been the phantom captured by a songstress whose beauty infected his soul. Tonight, he was an alabaster god, crying out for a goddess to end his loneliness. Tonight, she wished she were such a woman.

Instead of spending time on fancies that would not come to pass, she pushed away from the banister, knocking over the ice bucket as she moved. Crystal slivers and cubes spilled onto the paisley rug the second the music stopped.

As she bent over to retrieve the ice, her breath hung in her throat, and her heart refused to beat as he stood to his full height and moved silently from the piano. One hand closed over an ice cube. As the cool chill crept into her body, she blinked. When she opened her eyes, the figure in black had disappeared.

Tossing the remaining cubes into the bucket, she made a quick escape into her room, her heart pounding as if she were being pursued by the past, chased by demons whose faces she couldn’t see when she was awake. All the while, she couldn’t shake his music from her head. Nor could she erase the solemn figure who seemed to be in mourning.

Placing the ice bucket on the desk, all she felt was loneliness permeating her body. His loneliness, her loneliness, the heartbreak of living ....

Though they didn’t speak that night, Anna came to know the soul residing in his body and knew instinctually that she would see the man again. Something had called her out of her room that night in Memphis. That same something drove her to take the job at
Metal Alloy,
a magazine specializing in rock music .... That same force placed her directly in the path of the reluctant rock star the world only knew as Grey. It was more than just intuition. Something deeper than “a feeling” drove her to find a way to become closer to him.

Chapter One

Grey stalked off the stage in a fashion only his six-foot-eight frame could muster, with a touch of grace and more than a hint of a hunter on the prowl. Tonight had been one disaster after another. He knew he was no Hendrix, but tonight, he felt every miniscule disappointment. The club couldn’t have been more than a thousand square feet in size. He and the guitar player had practically tripped over one another trying to get onto the stage. And then there was the crowd.

Loud, rude, pushing. They lost three of their strobe lights before the end of the opening song. It made him long for the days when clubs kept the bands behind fences or in cages even. Grey had hated the cages at the time, feeling more like an animal than ever before. But tonight, all his buttons had been pushed.

And it had ended with a brawl between a couple of drunks up front and one of the men’s girlfriends. In the end, he had slammed his bass onto the stage floor and dove into the audience, coming up grasping two ponytails, one for each man. He shoved them toward the security guards, reclaimed his bass, and walked off stage.

He could hear the guy from the radio station right now, trying to calm the crowd. If they would behave, he’d go back on stage and finish the show. He hated to let everyone pay for the actions of a couple of assholes.

He checked his watch. His ninety-minute set was only half over. If the DJ could get the crowd back under control, he’d play another ninety minutes if the club owners allowed it. The bar didn’t close until two
AM
, so he could still give the crowd more than their twenty dollars’ worth. Hell, he’d even hang out in the parking lot afterward to show his appreciation, something he rarely ever did these days.

“What the fuck?” he asked, arms outstretched in frustration. His manager had finally ducked into the tiny alcove near the stage.

“Calm down, Grey. We’re getting it under control,” Dave promised. Still, his fingers shook as he lit his cigarette. Grey knew he intimidated the hell out of the man, but this was business. Everyone could lose money on this.

“You better fucking get it under control,” his Brooklyn accent reverberated in the room.

“It’s being handled.”

“What about the goddamn lights? Those fucking things cost me three thousand dollars,” he tossed a towel at Dave, who ducked, and then pulled his hair from its wayward ponytail. Fuck, but it was hot in this club! The sweat practically poured from his fingers as he slid them across the bass strings.

“Calm, down, Grey,” Dave encouraged, careful to keep his distance. “We’ll take care of everything.”

Determined to finish the set, he moved back to the stage, shooting a glaring look at the security guard standing with his back to the crowd.

“It would seem,” he began, speaking into the microphone, his eyes not focusing on any one person but rather on the bar at the back of the room, “there’s some assholes in here wanting to shake things up a little.”

Cheers, curses, and applause rang out.

“I’ll kick your ass personally if things get out of hand again.” The warning was one he meant. He was going to lose money on tonight’s show. And there was one thing that he had learned after forty years. Money meant more than anything else.

He raised his commanding jaw and nodded toward the other band members. They followed his lead. They didn’t fear him like most people. They had known him practically since birth and weren’t affected by his intimidating presence.

He watched as James stepped onto the stage and flung his guitar over his shoulder. He gave Brick a chance to get behind the drum kit, and Merlyn a chance to make it over to the keyboards before he spoke again.

“This time,” he scanned the audience, “I want all the ladies up front.”

He folded his hands across his ample chest and stood, legs spread, awaiting obedience. The drones of females rushed to the stage. Spaces that had been filled with a bunch of drunken guys were now occupied by scantily clad women of all ages, shapes, and sizes. Now he could finish the show.

He gave a quick nod to James and began pounding on the bass. The women wouldn’t fuck with the equipment.

He went into the first song, a heart-retching saga of an unfaithful woman and the miserable sap who falls for her lies. He rolled the “r’s” in the lyrics, taking on a false French trill. He didn’t dare look at the audience. It was a trick he had learned years ago. Never look them in the eyes. But don’t alienate them either. Instead, leave them there, begging for eye contact, for something he wasn’t able to give any of them.

There had been a time ….

He ran his hand across the bass strings, focusing on the lyrics. They detailed Isabella’s affair. They exposed a bit of his soul. But they didn’t expose anything about his unnatural situation.

He closed his eyes. He still loved the way the music reverberated through his body. He wondered if the audience could feel it, too. If it moved through them, capturing something that had been long buried.

He wasn’t thinking. Before he could stop himself, he let his eyes wander to the right. To the crowd. The place he swore never to look. He only turned for a second. Not a full second even. But it was long enough, and he recovered quickly. No one would ever know that he had broken a promise to himself, made sacred so long ago.

She didn’t even see him, he was sure. Her eyes had been closed as her lips moved along with his lyrics. Pain twisted a face that would have otherwise been pretty. She felt it. She knew the pain that he felt, too.

He didn’t dare look again. Someone pure, someone hurt would never understand his nature. She would want something he could never give. Hell, she was probably just like the rest. One night with the rock star was all she wanted. A moment to shine in his light.

He couldn’t help but smirk as he automatically delivered the lyrics. His light hadn’t shone for years.

Someone shouted “I love you” above the noise of the crowd. No one loved him. They loved what they saw. The man who would pose in
Playgirl
, appear on a talk show. Do anything for a buck.

He took a sip of the red wine that sat on top of a trunk labeled “
Morpheus
.” He felt the wine seep into his system and knew he couldn’t face the crowd without the fire in his belly.

He replaced the wine just as James’s guitar solo was ending. The next song was mellow. He wondered if he could steal a glance at her again. He knew she would still be there, clinging to her beer bottle, singing right along with him. Pain was written on her face, writhing through her body.

“This next one’s for the ladies,” he crooned and then gave a half smile when the frenzied screams met his ears. He still didn’t know what they saw in a big oaf like himself, but whatever it was had caused him to sell out this tiny joint in No-where-ville.

This one was about love and consequences. This time, the woman loved him back, but she twisted his heart. She turned him into her servant, a man who would do anything for her. Who would burn to death in her arms if it would cause her to bestow her love on him.

Burn together. Even as he said the words, he felt the loneliness. How many would it take tonight to ease his pain? Three? Five?

He wanted to look again. He fought the urge. Something told him tonight it would only take one. And that thought scared the hell out of him.

“This is a new one. We wrote it on the bus a couple of hours ago,” he grinned.

The band went into the familiar theme from the
Adam’s Family
. The whole place started screaming as they recognized his ode to an old lover. This was the band’s most popular song.

He stopped the music as soon as they reached the chorus. “Your turn,” he held the microphone out to the audience who led their own chant of the chorus. “Aw, you’re all drunk,” he scolded, to which he received a chant of “Hell, yeah!”

This was their last song, and he still hadn’t looked back into the audience. He managed to make it through. He even swallowed that little bit of disappointment creeping up on him. He wished he had the nerve to look her in the eyes, just to see if she would react. Just to see if she would see something else in there that no one else had ever been able to see.

The show ended. What had been a crowd of devoted, adoring fans now dispersed into an empty space. He hid in the shadows, scanning the abandoned room. Everyone had gone outside where it was cooler.

He watched the roadie who had given out “After Show” passes earlier. He was still working the group of young girls gathered around. Tonight’s meal. His stomach turned.

“Hey, you about ready?” Tod called, finally escaping the groupies. He stepped into the shadows with Grey.

“Not especially,” he shrugged.

“They said you should probably hide out in the office back there until they get most of the crowd out of here. You know, for your safety.”

Grey threw him a nasty look as Tod lit a cigarette. “I don’t think I need protection from the crowd.”

“There’s some wild women here tonight,” Tod wriggled his eyebrows.

“I didn’t see any especially interesting,” he lied, trying to keep his mind from wandering back to the redhead who had forced him to break the solemn vow.

“You want me to bring them in to the office or wait till later?”

Grey snapped back to the present. He didn’t really care. The purpose could be served either way. Whether he had them on their backs or bent over a desk didn’t make much difference. All that mattered was that he feed off the sexual energy of the crowd, particularly the women. He had been cursed with this need ever since he was ousted from his prior post as Morpheus, lord of the dreams.

“Office,” he finally said. Maybe he would find peace tonight on the bus.

He watched as the girls lined up, one by one. He wouldn’t look in their eyes as he took them. They were all willing. Gushing. Thrilled to be with the man. They would leave here tonight and talk about their conquest. How they had seduced the rock star.

Tomorrow, they would call their friends and brag. Three years from now when they heard his name mentioned, they would relive the moment down to every detail. He would never even know their names. Wouldn’t remember the faces he hadn’t looked into.

One face would haunt him tonight. If he were honest, he would admit it was the face that always haunted him. The one set of eyes he had looked into and seen his own soul. And it wasn’t Isabella. It was someone else. A very long time ago.

“The redhead. She was up front. She get a pass?” he asked Tod as he kept his distance from the drawing crowd of young girls. They looked like kindergartners in their mother’s make up and high heels.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember a redhead,” Tod scratched his head.

“Her,” Grey’s gaze led Tod to her direction. She was standing by the mixing board, talking to one of the members of another band. Jealousy surged through him as he saw the exchange. She laughed, tossed her hair back, revealing her profile to Grey. “That’s the one.”

As soon as he said it, she turned. Her eyes met his for a brief second before he turned away. She was coming this way. He grumbled to Tod, “Get her back here.”