Morrigan's Cross
Page 20
“I see you made yourself at home,” Cian commented.
“Do you want it back?”
When she angled her head, reached for the tie, Cian grinned. Hoyt flushed.
“Don’t be encouraging him,” Hoyt said. “If you’d excuse us for a moment—”
“No, I won’t. I want the answer to your question. And I want to know if your brother gets a little peckish, is he going to look to me as a snack?”
“I don’t feed on humans. Particularly witches.”
“Because of your deep love of humanity.”
“Because it’s troublesome. If you feed, you have to kill or word gets around. If you change the prey, you’re still risking exposure. Vampires gossip, too.”
She thought it over. “Sensible. All right, I prefer sensible honesty to lies.”
“I told you he wouldn’t harm you.”
“I wanted to hear it from him.” She turned back to Cian. “If you’re concerned about me going after you, I’d give you my word—but why should you trust it?”
“Sensible,” Cian returned.
“But your brother’s already told me he’d stop me if I tried. He may find that more difficult than he believes, but... it would be stupid of me to try to kill you, and alienate him, given the situation we’re in. I’m afraid, but I’m not stupid.”
“I’d have to take your word for that as well.”
Idly, she fingered the sleeve of her robe and sent him a mildly flirtatious smile. “If I’d intended to kill you, I’d have already tried a spell. You’d know if I had. You’d feel it. And if there’s no more trust than this between the three of us, we’re doomed before we start.”
“There you have a point.”
“What I want now is a shower, and some breakfast. Then I’m going home.”
“She stays.” Hoyt stepped between them. When Glenna started to step forward, he merely lifted a hand, and the force of his will knocked her back to the doorway.
“Just one damn minute.”
“Be silent. None of us leaves this place alone. None of us. If we’re to band together we start now. Our lives are in each other’s hands, and a great deal more than our own lives.”
“Don’t flick your power at me again.”
“Whatever I have to do, I’ll do. Understand me.” Hoyt shifted his gaze between them. “Both of you. Dress yourself,” he ordered Glenna. “Then we’ll go get whatever it is you think you need. Be quick about it.”
In answer, she stepped back, slammed the door.
Cian let out a short laugh. “You certainly know how to charm the ladies. I’m going to bed.”
Hoyt stood alone in the living room and wondered why the gods thought he could save worlds with two such creatures at his side.
She didn’t speak, but a man who has sisters knows women often use silence as a weapon. And her silence flew around the room like barbs as she filled some sort of carafe with water from the silver pipe in Cian’s kitchen.
Women’s fashion might have changed radically in nine hundred years, but he believed their inner workings were very much the same.
And still, much of those remained a mystery to him.
She wore the same dress as the night before, but had yet to don her shoes. He wasn’t certain what weakness it spoke to in him that the sight of her bare feet should bring on an unwelcomed tinge of arousal.
She shouldn’t have flirted with his brother, he thought with considerable resentment. This was a time of war, not dalliance. And if she intended to stroll about with her legs and arms exposed, she’d just have to...
He caught himself. He had no business looking at her legs, did he? No business thinking of her as anything but a tool. It didn’t matter that she was lovely. It didn’t matter that when she smiled it started something like a low fire in the center of his heart.
It didn’t matter—couldn’t—that when he looked at her, he wanted to touch.
He busied himself with books, returned her silence with his own and lectured himself on proper behavior.
Then the air began to simmer with some seductive aroma. He shot her a glance, wondering if she was trying some of her women’s magic. But her back was to him as she rose on the toes of those lovely bare feet to take a cup from a cupboard.
It was the carafe, he realized, filled now with black liquid, and steaming with an alluring scent.
He lost the war of silence. In Hoyt’s experience, men always did.
“What are you brewing?”
She simply poured the black liquid from carafe to cup, then turned, watching him with chilly green eyes over the rim as she sipped.
To satisfy himself, he got up, walked into the kitchen and took a second cup down. He poured the liquid as she had, sniffed—detected no poisons—then sipped.
It was electric. Like a quick jolt of power, both strong and rich. Potent, like the drink—the martini—from the night before. But different.
“It’s very good,” he said then took a deeper drink.
In response, she skirted around him, crossed the room and went back through the doorway of the guest room.
Hoyt lifted his gaze to the gods. Would he be plagued by bad tempers and sulks from both this woman and his brother? “How?” he asked. “How am I to do what must be done if already we fight among ourselves?”
“While you’re at it, why don’t you ask your goddess to tell you what she thinks about you slapping at me that way.” Glenna came back in, wearing the shoes, and carrying the satchel he’d seen her with the evening before.
“It’s a defense against what seems to be your argumentative nature.”
“I like to argue. And I don’t expect you to flick at me whenever you don’t like what I have to say. Do it again, and I’ll hit back. I have a policy against using magic as a weapon. But I’ll break it in your case.”
She had the right of it, which was only more annoying. “What is this brew?”
She heaved a breath. “It’s coffee. You’ve had coffee before, I imagine. The Egyptians had coffee. I think.”
“Not the like of this,” he replied.
And because she smiled, he assumed the worst of it was over. “I’m ready to go, as soon as you apologize.”
He should have known better. Such was the way of females. “I’m sorry I was forced to use my will to stop you from arguing the morning away.”
“Do you want it back?”
When she angled her head, reached for the tie, Cian grinned. Hoyt flushed.
“Don’t be encouraging him,” Hoyt said. “If you’d excuse us for a moment—”
“No, I won’t. I want the answer to your question. And I want to know if your brother gets a little peckish, is he going to look to me as a snack?”
“I don’t feed on humans. Particularly witches.”
“Because of your deep love of humanity.”
“Because it’s troublesome. If you feed, you have to kill or word gets around. If you change the prey, you’re still risking exposure. Vampires gossip, too.”
She thought it over. “Sensible. All right, I prefer sensible honesty to lies.”
“I told you he wouldn’t harm you.”
“I wanted to hear it from him.” She turned back to Cian. “If you’re concerned about me going after you, I’d give you my word—but why should you trust it?”
“Sensible,” Cian returned.
“But your brother’s already told me he’d stop me if I tried. He may find that more difficult than he believes, but... it would be stupid of me to try to kill you, and alienate him, given the situation we’re in. I’m afraid, but I’m not stupid.”
“I’d have to take your word for that as well.”
Idly, she fingered the sleeve of her robe and sent him a mildly flirtatious smile. “If I’d intended to kill you, I’d have already tried a spell. You’d know if I had. You’d feel it. And if there’s no more trust than this between the three of us, we’re doomed before we start.”
“There you have a point.”
“What I want now is a shower, and some breakfast. Then I’m going home.”
“She stays.” Hoyt stepped between them. When Glenna started to step forward, he merely lifted a hand, and the force of his will knocked her back to the doorway.
“Just one damn minute.”
“Be silent. None of us leaves this place alone. None of us. If we’re to band together we start now. Our lives are in each other’s hands, and a great deal more than our own lives.”
“Don’t flick your power at me again.”
“Whatever I have to do, I’ll do. Understand me.” Hoyt shifted his gaze between them. “Both of you. Dress yourself,” he ordered Glenna. “Then we’ll go get whatever it is you think you need. Be quick about it.”
In answer, she stepped back, slammed the door.
Cian let out a short laugh. “You certainly know how to charm the ladies. I’m going to bed.”
Hoyt stood alone in the living room and wondered why the gods thought he could save worlds with two such creatures at his side.
She didn’t speak, but a man who has sisters knows women often use silence as a weapon. And her silence flew around the room like barbs as she filled some sort of carafe with water from the silver pipe in Cian’s kitchen.
Women’s fashion might have changed radically in nine hundred years, but he believed their inner workings were very much the same.
And still, much of those remained a mystery to him.
She wore the same dress as the night before, but had yet to don her shoes. He wasn’t certain what weakness it spoke to in him that the sight of her bare feet should bring on an unwelcomed tinge of arousal.
She shouldn’t have flirted with his brother, he thought with considerable resentment. This was a time of war, not dalliance. And if she intended to stroll about with her legs and arms exposed, she’d just have to...
He caught himself. He had no business looking at her legs, did he? No business thinking of her as anything but a tool. It didn’t matter that she was lovely. It didn’t matter that when she smiled it started something like a low fire in the center of his heart.
It didn’t matter—couldn’t—that when he looked at her, he wanted to touch.
He busied himself with books, returned her silence with his own and lectured himself on proper behavior.
Then the air began to simmer with some seductive aroma. He shot her a glance, wondering if she was trying some of her women’s magic. But her back was to him as she rose on the toes of those lovely bare feet to take a cup from a cupboard.
It was the carafe, he realized, filled now with black liquid, and steaming with an alluring scent.
He lost the war of silence. In Hoyt’s experience, men always did.
“What are you brewing?”
She simply poured the black liquid from carafe to cup, then turned, watching him with chilly green eyes over the rim as she sipped.
To satisfy himself, he got up, walked into the kitchen and took a second cup down. He poured the liquid as she had, sniffed—detected no poisons—then sipped.
It was electric. Like a quick jolt of power, both strong and rich. Potent, like the drink—the martini—from the night before. But different.
“It’s very good,” he said then took a deeper drink.
In response, she skirted around him, crossed the room and went back through the doorway of the guest room.
Hoyt lifted his gaze to the gods. Would he be plagued by bad tempers and sulks from both this woman and his brother? “How?” he asked. “How am I to do what must be done if already we fight among ourselves?”
“While you’re at it, why don’t you ask your goddess to tell you what she thinks about you slapping at me that way.” Glenna came back in, wearing the shoes, and carrying the satchel he’d seen her with the evening before.
“It’s a defense against what seems to be your argumentative nature.”
“I like to argue. And I don’t expect you to flick at me whenever you don’t like what I have to say. Do it again, and I’ll hit back. I have a policy against using magic as a weapon. But I’ll break it in your case.”
She had the right of it, which was only more annoying. “What is this brew?”
She heaved a breath. “It’s coffee. You’ve had coffee before, I imagine. The Egyptians had coffee. I think.”
“Not the like of this,” he replied.
And because she smiled, he assumed the worst of it was over. “I’m ready to go, as soon as you apologize.”
He should have known better. Such was the way of females. “I’m sorry I was forced to use my will to stop you from arguing the morning away.”
