Reluctant Adept: Book Three of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life (15 page)

Even as I said it, I knew it was the truth. Yes, Tíereachán had ample reason to be concerned about Fisk's growing animosity. The part-sidhe's attitude had gone far enough to breed distrust, something unacceptable in an ally who we needed to rely on, but that didn't warrant such an over-the-top reaction. Although, truth be told, Fisk's wound bore more resemblance to a severe cat scratch than a monstrous goring. Was the scratch any worse than Fisk receiving a split lip after a punch to the face? Probably not, but a knuckle sandwich wasn't a great solution either.

I held Tíereachán's gaze, and, even in the dim light, what he saw in my expression must have given him pause because an underlying emotion flickered behind his eyes. Something that might have been satisfaction, but it evaporated so fast, I didn't have time to know for sure. And the threatening expression that slid into its place increased my doubt that I'd seen an intervening emotion at all.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You would challenge my authority as flaith? As prince and heir?"

"No," Fisk said, and I jumped at the reminder of his presence so close behind me. "My lord, I beg your pardon. She doesn't have a goddamned clue."

Fisk moved in front of me to stare into my eyes. "You— " He stopped and then snapped his mouth closed. His brows dove together as his expression went from concern to consternation. "Why did you have to be so fucking
human
?" He blew out an angry breath and then barked at me, "He was within his rights and I deserved it. For once, shut your clueless mouth and stay out of it."

Was he kidding? Playing the human card
?
Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He was part human himself, the hypocritical jerk!

I opened my mouth to tell him off, but closed it when I took in his pointed, exasperated look. It said, 'Shut the hell up or you'll cause more problems for the both of us.' It was an expression I never expected to see on Fisk's face.

"You enjoy getting flayed alive? Fine. Next time, I'll sell tickets." I dug into my purse, mumbling under my breath to Red about the stupidity of idiot sidhe males, and then shoved a moist towelette packet at Fisk. "Here. You're a mess."

Tíereachán, apparently placated by Fisk's comments, watched placidly while I folded my arms and gave both of them the stink-eye. What had I been thinking? As soon as Tíereachán had dropped my purse into my lap in the car, I should have nabbed Red, sidestepped the two of us out of the freaking backseat, and not told Fisk or
his royal highness
a darn thing. Although, admittedly, in light of all I'd learned over the last few hours, running back to Kieran, rose-colored glasses in place, wouldn't have done me any favors.

After Fisk had staunched his bleeding and cleaned his face, Tíereachán jerked his chin at him. "Now that you remember who you serve, perhaps you'll appreciate the more troubling concern regarding our future queen's earlier, rather …
libertine
suggestion." He stared down his nose, evaluating Fisk coolly. "After all, you've already speared the heart of it, pointing out, as delicately as always, what you find so objectionable about her nature."

I frowned as I worked this over in my mind, trying to decide whether I should be offended, not liking the 'future queen' bit, wondering whether he agreed with Fisk's assessment of my 'objectionable' nature (whatever that might be), and, at the same time, puzzling over what 'troubling concern' he was worried about. With everything tangled up in my head, it took me a moment to recall what had prompted their altercation to begin with.

I'd proposed that Tíereachán share his power with me.

I flushed at the memory of Fisk's harsh response. He'd compared sharing power to unprotected sex, which struck me as odd since sharing power with Kieran hadn't felt nearly as pleasurable as sex. It was nice, sure. I wouldn't turn it down on a regular basis. Having the extra focus was a potent feeling, a rush, but not what I'd call orgasmic.

Obviously, his rebuke had nothing to do with unwanted pregnancy, so it had to be about something else.

Was it because the sidhe viewed sharing power as a private, intimate act? Or could the connection convey a disease of some kind? A mental STD? If so, Kieran had never once hinted at either scenario. My stomach lurched sickeningly as I wondered whether this was yet another place where Kieran had deceived me and taken advantage of my ignorance.

Fisk's puzzled expression shifted to alarm as he obviously connected the dots, which did nothing for the queasy state of my innards. Sadly, I hadn't found my way out of the dark.
As usual
, I thought. But knowing Tíereachán, I wouldn't be left clueless for long, especially if revealing the truth further illuminated Kieran's deceitful nature.

Fisk cursed and stalked several feet away, hand raking through his thick brown hair.

"Let me guess," I said dryly. "Sharing power isn't something that's condoned."

"Between a soulmated pair, where malfeasance is impossible to hide, it's common enough," Tíereachán replied. "But the fact that you are unattached and aware of this ability raises the troubling question: Is this an act you and Kieran have shared? Or merely a capability he, or someone else, mentioned in passing?"

I felt distinctly as though he'd asked whether or not Kieran had deflowered me. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Fisk turn, his attention focused on me, waiting for my answer. It was a struggle to avoid cringing, and I looked away, avoiding both men's gazes.

I nodded. "Kim mentioned it once." I shot a scathing glare at Fisk. "The first time Kieran shared his power with me, he did it to save me from Azazel's grasp when I touched that cursed necklace
you
tricked me into reading."

Fisk didn't flinch but his eyes widened at the accusation. Weeks ago, when Fisk had been introduced to me as an FBI agent in need of my professional expertise, I'd refused to read a piece of evidence that belonged to a serial killer—the same killer who'd orchestrated the murders of King Faonaín's emissaries. Not wanting to take no for an answer, Fisk found a way to sneak the necklace into the group of items I'd been scheduled to read as a part of a cable television show.

And he had the nerve to be pissy with
me
!

"The first time?" Tíereachán echoed, pulling me out of my memories. "He's shared power with you more than once?"

I nodded. After several seconds of grave silence, I blurted, "For God's sake! You're acting as if the guy did something horrible, like rape or something. He didn't! He shared his power to help me focus my magic, so I could break that necklace's evil spell and then to make it easier to sidestep five … no,
six
people when we stormed the telepath's stronghold. He did it to help not hurt me."

He'd also done it when I levitated the both of us across Puget Sound, so we could get to Kim and Jackie's house on Bainbridge Island, but I kept that one to myself. I was already embarrassed enough, which more than anything else pissed me right off. I had nothing to be embarrassed about, darn it!

Fisk muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'fucking clueless.'

"Yeah?" I challenged. "I wouldn't be so
clueless
if you guys took the time to educate me! Do you have any idea how goddamned condescending you all are? Clueless doesn't mean stupid. And if I'm clueless, it's because nobody tells me jack shit!"

"Lire, answers are coming, I promise you," Tíereachán said. "But, we need to know what happened. When Kieran first shared his power with you— " He hesitated and then sighed. "Forgive me for asking: Did he share his power before or after you succumbed to his advances?"

"Succumbed to …" I straightened. "You mean … sex? Are you seriously asking—?" I blinked at him, astonished, and virtually squeaked, "You want to know when Kieran and I first had sex?"

"Yes—whether it was before or after he shared power with you." He didn't even have the decency to bat an eyelash.

I tightened my arms around myself and considered ordering him to take a long walk off a short pier. My sex life was none of his damned business.

And then I realized
why
the question had me squirming.

I'd slept with Kieran after knowing him less than three days. It had been the first time I'd done something like that, mainly due to there being precious few men brave enough to date a clairvoyant. But even the times it had come up, casual sex hadn't my thing, no matter how touch-starved I'd been.

I straightened my spine. I absolutely refused to feel anything but good about taking Kieran to my bed. It had been close to ten years since I'd last experienced sex without the necessity of a skin-suit. To say I'd missed the pleasure of skin contact was a massive understatement. Kieran was caring, intelligent, drop-dead sexy, and, as a sidhe, immune to my magic—an irresistible combination. I had nothing to feel guilty over, and I sure as hell wasn't going to slut-shame myself!

"I can't believe you're asking me this," I muttered, but I was a grown woman, dammit. I was thirty years old. I could talk about my sex life without blushing. All bets were off at giving him any kind of blow-by-blow description, though.

A near-hysterical giggle almost slipped out of my mouth at my mind's unintentional double-entendre.

Get a grip, Lire.

"Timing-wise, the power sharing came first," I replied, my voice miraculously under control. "Kieran helped me break the necklace's compulsion spell and then—later that night, actually—we, uh, hooked up."

Unbelievable.
I'd uttered the words 'hooked up.' That was something Monica would say, I thought disgustedly … and then froze.

Here I was all worked up about being slut-shamed for sleeping with Kieran, and yet … ever since she'd been hired as our receptionist at Supernatural Talent & Company, I'd been doing practically the same thing to Monica. Never out loud, of course. I'd never be so heartless. But I'd been plenty judgmental inside my head. My heart sank. No—not just inside my head—I'd gossiped about Monica to Julie, once. I cringed, recalling what I'd said. Why had I done that? Monica had never treated me badly, but based on her provocative, highly styled and flirtatious mien, I'd labeled her a man-trolling bimbo. I'd been Miss Judgy Judgmental. My inner voice and I needed to have a long talk about this, I decided. Apparently, I had some hangups about sex.
Hell
, I could chalk up half of my reaction to green-eyed jealousy and the other half to being self-conscious about my lack of experience. And the combination, it seemed, had turned me into a self-righteous snob.

"At that point, you'd known him how long?"

Tíereachán's question jolted me back into the here and now, as did his frown.

"Look," I said, exasperated. "Do we need to have this conversation
now
? The night's not getting any younger and the draíoclochs are waiting."

"I spoke with Michael while you were asleep in the car. Kim will not come for them tonight. They are safe for many hours yet. We can spare the time to … educate you."

"I think you're confusing education with titillation."

Tíereachán's eyes narrowed. "If you believe I enjoy hearing of Kieran's exploits, especially with regard to you, you are mistaken."

Okay
. That was one comment I did not want to touch.

I pursed my lips and then blew out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he wasn't going to back off. I sounded like a grumpy schoolmarm, but damned if I could help it. "Not quite three days," I bit out, jutting out my chin, daring him to criticize.

"Based on past experience, would you say this is typical behavior for you?" he asked.

"Sex with men? Yep. I'm not into women," I replied breezily. "Although, I did kiss a girl once, in ninth grade. You want to hear about that too?"

The pointed look he gave me said he wasn't fooled by my deflection. Surely, my jutted chin and narrowed eyes had nothing to do with it.

Sighing, he stepped closer, almost near enough to touch me. "Lire, there is no right or wrong in this, no judgment to make or receive. Sidhe hold a different view of what constitutes acceptable social behavior, one that isn't biased toward a particular gender, orientation, race, or, even to some extent, species." He shook his head chidingly. "The proclivity for guilt in pursuit of pleasure between consenting adults is a human inclination, one I've never understood, frankly." He leaned in, saying quietly, "I realize this is a sensitive subject. I wouldn't ask you this question if it weren't important. Is it your habit to share such favors with someone you've known for a matter of a few days?"

Despite his reassuring words, I took a step back. "No. It's not my
habit
. Hard to have a habit when you've got little or no experience with something. Most guys run in the other direction as soon as they see the gloves." I raised my hands and wiggled my fingers. "And the ones who don't … they're just out for the novelty. A night of freaky psychic sex. The bragging rights to tell all their friends about how they lived on the weird side, banging a clairvoyant." Disgusted, I blew out a loud breath. "With Kieran, for once, it wasn't about that. It was about me. He wanted
me
and the gloves didn't matter." On the last, my voice splintered, but I bit my cheek and embraced my anger before any further hint of emotion seeped out against my will.

His expression softened, but the last thing I wanted to see on his face was sympathy.

"Don't," I growled. "I don't need your
pity
. Tell me why my screwed up sex life is so damned important to you."

He eyed me, his expression returning to his more neutral, superior slant, and then stepped back. "Sidhe rarely share their magic with anyone other than their mate, and, if they do, it's reserved for immediate family members, specifically their children.
This
for good reason, because without the intimacy of the soul connection, the recipient is blind and open to any offensive magic that might be used against them by the donor. Curses or enchantments that you might have otherwise detected and countered can ensnare you without your knowledge. The fact that Kieran lent you his power is troubling enough. That he did so without warning you of the risks is both unscrupulous and abhorrent, and it prompts us to question his motives."