Dark Magic, page 13
part #3 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
“Hey. It’s so good to see you.”
What could he say to that? She had been family, in a way.
“It’s so good to see you, too, Rosie.”
She smiled again. Then she startled him by stepping forward and hugging him hard.
Chapter 17
There were about fifteen of them at the large, rectangular dining table, all eating a feast of a dinner that involved some food Leila hadn’t tasted before: Irish delicacies, as they called it. Everyone was kin to Ovie except two: Mary’s husband, Patrick, who wasn’t quite as quiet at the table as he was in the ring—
And Rosie. Rosie, with her perfect blonde curls and sweet smile. Rosie, with her pretty yellow dress, making her more delicate than she already looked.
Rosie, whose sparkling green eyes kept glancing at Ovie and gentling, as if she were recalling something about the past.
Rosie, who had apparently been Ovie’s ex-girlfriend before he went with Edward and left Ireland.
It made Leila want to scowl, though she couldn’t give in to the luxury as the young woman wasn’t being anything but polite to both of them. Plus, she couldn’t, not when she needed to behave and put out her best self, as a couple of decisions lay on the line.
So she ate her food…appreciated it, honestly complimenting Mary as she did so. Mary didn’t smile, but she did look pleased. That was progress. Conversation flitted around the table, mostly casual but with a certain underlying tension. There were subgroups talking to each other about different topics, catching up. Beside her, Ovie was as at ease as ever, seemingly not affected by it at all.
“When I heard you were here, I just had to come,” Rosie was explaining, voice tinged with excitement. “Aunt Moira couldn’t believe you came back, and I couldn’t believe it either. I just had to see. You look really good, Oliver.”
While the words were mostly meant just for Ovie’s ears, Leila could still hear it, and it had her stomach tightening at the use of his full name. She cut her steak with a knife, forcing her fingers not to be aggressive with the movements.
“You look good, too.”
“I can’t believe you’ve gotten into underground fighting…although fine, a part of me does believe it. I remember the time we were teenagers and would wrestle in the barn, and then we…”
Rosie trailed off, then straightened as if realizing what she’d been about to say. Her cheeks reddened.
Leila tried very hard not to glare as she stabbed a piece of pork and smoothly, calmly took it in her mouth. Chew, chew, chew, because why waste a perfectly roasted dish?
“Fooled around, yes. Those were the days.”
Oh, he did not just say that in front of her.
Another stab, another slip in the mouth.
Leila wanted to stab him.
Before the entire unpleasant conversation could die, Moira Fitzgerald leaned over, ears perked.
“That’s right. I forgot. You were both dating back then. Wasn’t he your first love, my dear?”
Rosie glanced at Leila, then squirmed in her seat. “First boyfriend,” she clarified. “We were each other’s firsts, but we both took different paths in life. It’s nice to see him so settled and peaceful now.”
“Hmm. It must’ve been a great young love, then. You probably couldn’t keep your hands off each other,” Moira commented offhandedly, making Leila want to stab her now. It wasn’t easy to find out that Rosie—soft, perfect Rosie—had been Ovie’s first, except Leila didn’t even know why she was reacting this badly.
She and Ovie were pretend.
There was nothing more to this.
“It was a long time ago,” Ovie muttered.
“And now you’re married to a city woman who looks like a socialite,” Moira added. “It’s a crazy turn.”
Leila gripped her fork hard, then looked up with a cool smile. “I am a socialite, and it’s wonderful. It keeps me in touch with a lot of social circles and people’s lives, and it’s a good reminder to get off my high horse. Ignorance is the ruin of mankind.”
There was no mistaking whom the comment was directed to, and Moira had the audacity to look outraged before she swallowed the rest of her words in. While the older woman scowled at her plate, Leila glanced around, prepared for everyone’s mocking stares. But there was only surprise for some, speculation for others, and a mild curiosity from Patrick. Mary was frowning, but she didn’t look like she cared either way.
Marie had a small smile on her lips.
A hand rested on top of hers under the table, making her nearly jump up in alarm. She glanced at Ovie, who was calmly eating his bread with his free hand. He squeezed her fingers, then circled his thumb over her knuckles. It was meant for comfort, an assurance, but it didn’t stop the electricity from traveling down her core. The intensity of her reaction had her nearly bending the fork, and she had to snatch her hand away.
Conversation continued, with some asking what Ovie was up to now and clueing Leila in that aside from the main aunts, the rest didn’t know about what had happened. When they asked why he’d returned, his answer was simple: wanting to see an Aunt Merle about important matters. Mary and Marie exchanged looks at that, seemingly understanding what he was truly saying. But they didn’t comment on it.
It was pleasant enough and stayed pleasant until dessert, bringing relief from the earlier tension…until Moira stuck her head out again.
“Are you sure you two are married? Because if so, you’re probably the coldest couple I’ve met.”
Oh, this aunt was asking for trouble.
It was Ovie who replied with a lift of his glass of wine. “This is our first family meeting, and we honestly didn’t know how everyone would react to the news of my return and marriage to a non-Irish. Let’s just say we’ve been trying to keep it low.”
“And let’s just say that’s horse shite, because it’s tradition to have a couple kiss after dinner. You may have gotten it in your head to be a city boy, but tradition is tradition and shouldn’t be broken.”
It was ridiculous, perhaps the most ridiculous tradition Leila had ever heard. She opened her mouth, on the verge of telling the old woman that new traditions needed to be embraced, too, and Moira could keep her trap shut and let everyone eat in peace—
A hand settled behind her neck, squeezing lightly. Leila’s head snapped up, and she peered up at Ovie, who was giving her a smile.
Who was drawing nearer—or maybe pulling her nearer?
“I suppose you’re right. Just one kiss,” he acquiesced, loud enough to carry around the table. Soft enough to let her know it was asking permission from her in his way.
She didn’t budge, allowing his lips to press against hers. It was a soft kiss, barely touching. Then his mouth moved, angling to one side and deepening the kiss, his hand tightening on her neck as he flickered his tongue over her lips, lightly grazing it in between…inside.
There was nothing hot about it, nothing demanding. But a craving inside her burst open as she leaned forward, returning the kiss and trying to bring it to another level. He stilled for a second.
Ovie responded to her quickening of pace, kissing her more fervently now as if he needed her mouth to function. As if he needed this, and it made her lose any rational thought as she clung on to his arm and tried to fight the urge to climb his lap.
To demand more.
His tongue flicked inside and met hers, once, sucking softly as his thumb rubbed her jaw.
Then he was retreating from the kiss, leaving her blood roaring in her head and her heart beating fast. Achingly empty from the disconnection, painfully aroused with every fiber of her being, Leila tried not to squirm as she struggled for control.
“There you go,” Ovie said to the crowd, hand moving down to her knee. It was some kind of comfort again, and she had to bite her lip to keep from asking him to move that hand higher.
“Moira, you’re going to turn us into sex fiends if we keep this up,” she mused, not looking at him. Instead, she looked at Moira, who frowned but didn’t say a word. “I can barely keep my hands off him as it is.”
And crazily enough, that was the truth.
God. She needed a break from this. Now.
A few minutes later, Leila got that break when she was excused from washing dishes. Pretending to use the loo, she practically flew to the back door and kept walking until she was at the side of the cottage, where no lights came on save for the moon’s glow. Oh, how she wanted to shift—to get rid of the extra energy running inside her from Ovie’s kiss, which she could still feel until now. Hell, but the man could kiss—and she had a suspicion it wasn’t just kissing he knew how to do well, but a lot of other things. The thought alone was enough to make her body ache.
She leaned her head against the wall, struggling to ride that ache. When it didn’t abate, making her fingers itch to do something, she walked that ache off, pacing back and forth at the side wanting to punch something.
Like the wall, Aunt Moira. Or Rosie, who didn’t even do anything except be lovely.
Ugh.
Jealousy was a bitch, and it didn’t have a place here. She kept pacing, wishing she had a cigarette. The wine she drank with his family had been red, thick, and delicious, but it did nothing to alleviate whatever was raging inside her now. She could always take wine like a champ, anyway, and what she wanted to do was something else.
Well, someone else.
Goddamn it. Bloody hell.
No, no, fucking no—
“Leila.”
The sudden call had her jerking to a stop, then turning to face the speaker. Ovie was striding towards her, his face serious and his steps purposeful. There was an intensity to his movements, a certain tension vibrating from his body and traveling to her skin. She shivered at its power.
She held that shiver in and lifted her chin, already in defense mode.
“I needed some air.”
“Leila…”
“I’ll be back inside shortly.”
“You—”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m not going to do anything rash. A few minutes of peace, and I’ll be good. I’ll be—”
Her words stopped short when he was swiftly in front of her, and she was being backed away. Her back firmly met the cottage’s wall, the darkness illuminating the shadows and sharp lines in his blazing gray eyes.
That was all she managed to take in before his hot, hard mouth was on hers, kissing her without warning. Unlike earlier’s soft kiss, this was pure fire—pure lust in the form of his tongue plunging inside her unapologetically, seeking hers out before sucking. It was the kiss of someone who was starved, and he didn’t just stop there as he pressed his body against hers, aligning their hips and letting her feel the…
Oh. Oh.
Electricity scrambled her mind at the feel of his erection pulsing against her, heavy and hard…huge. He was huge, her brain registered, before the thoughts scattered and she could only kiss him back, helpless against the delicious assault and wanting to get more. She wanted to climb the man, wanted to rip his clothes off. Instead, she arched against his pressed body, feeling him tremble before he groaned in her mouth, deep and delicious.
God, but he was so delicious. It was unreal.
He was trapping her hands, but she wasn’t about to have that. She broke free almost immediately and let those hands snake under his shirt, where she had the delight of finding his muscles contract at the touch of her fingers. He pushed her back, removing her fingers…snapping her hands up so that he could trap them against his hands and the wall. When she tried to break free and trail her hands down again, he was faster, skimming his under her silk dress and caressing her trembling, heated skin.
That hand slowly moved up, firmly, resting just below her breast and making her nipples jump in response. His tongue plunged repeatedly, exploring every inch of her mouth as if he craved every little bit. A sound ripped from her throat as she was unable to keep it in anymore and just wanted more.
She called his name, once, barely a whisper against his lips.
Ovie stilled as if hearing it loud and clear. Then he was pulling apart and breaking the kiss, hot air trailing against her lips as he kept his head inches close. That talented thumb rubbed against her upper torso, insanely good, before stilling, too. In the span of that short break, they breathed each other in, absorbed everything that one kiss had provoked.
He pulled back, or he tried to. But her hands were already there, trying to yank him back in—wanting another kiss and not caring if it was no longer warranted. He couldn’t just leave her like this: kiss her, break it off, and expect her to walk away not wanting more. She wanted, and she was too selfish to let it go this easily.
Too hungry, too, as he’d started the fire. Leila opened her mouth to say so.
Someone cleared their throat in the background.
“Well, you’ve certainly put on quite a show. This is a nice way to catch up with you again, Oliver Fitzgerald—with you up against a woman and charming the knickers off her.”
Chapter 18
The moment the words were uttered, and Leila stilled against him, he knew something had broken between them—a connection, perhaps, and one he didn’t realize he had with her in spades until recently. There was no missing the alarm on her expression, but that alarm was going to be the ruin of them if they didn’t play this right.
So Ovie played for both of them, casually backing away from her and sending the speaker a slightly apologetic look. Not too much to seem rehearsed, but just enough to make it seem like he hadn’t expected to be caught. Maybe it helped that his heart was racing for real and that his blood was still roaring.
His damned cock didn’t seem to catch the memo, too, hard and pressing insistently against his pants, taunting him to continue where he’d left off.
“Sorry. I can’t keep my hands off my wife and didn’t want to be near prying eyes.”
“You didn’t peg me as the type who’d care about what other people think.” Merle Fitzgerald removed the hood of her black coat, showing Ovie a face that was less wrinkled than Marie’s, but less youthful than Mary’s or Moira’s. Being the middle sister, that made sense.
“I don’t, but Aunt Moira hasn’t exactly been kind.”
At that, Aunt Merle wrinkled her nose, her lips thinning. Then she shrugged. “That’s my sister for you. Step into the light now. I want to see you and your wife.”
Movement beside him had him glancing, where he found Leila had already obeyed the request. Her face was a mask of serenity as she stood poised and unfazed. But her hair was still a bit mussed from their earlier wrestle, and her swollen lips…
He swallowed a harsh flare of desire, then stepped forward into the moonlight as well. Aunt Merle studied them both, infinitely quiet, but already deep in observation.
“I heard about the dinner, and I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t been informed you’d be here. Of course, you really should’ve called ahead. I had some business in Dublin and had to cancel a few things to be here, you know.”
“Sorry about that, Aunt Merle. It wasn’t a planned thing for us, either.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Leila added, tone polite but careful. The charming tone from earlier was gone, taken away by Aunt Moira’s malice and Rosie’s presence.
“Hmm. I guess it’s nice to meet you, too,” Aunt Merle finally replied. Her gaze was focused on Leila, intensely so. To Leila’s credit, she didn’t squirm. She merely stood there, confident as she allowed that observation. “You’ve got some spine.”
“How do you know?” Leila asked.
“Because you’re still standing and looking like you couldn’t care less about whatever my damn sister had to say. She’s always been a shit-stirrer.”
The words had Leila’s eyes flaring, and her lips tightened. Ovie had a feeling it wasn’t of displeasure, but the stifling of a laugh.
“Also, I don’t hear a commotion inside, which means you hadn’t stabbed her.” Aunt Merle shrugged. “I’ve wanted to do that myself plenty of times now.”
The choking cough from Leila had Ovie’s mouth quirking as he met his aunt’s gaze. While her tone was serious, her eyes had started to sparkle, showing off a gray so dark that they were almost black. Those eyes widened a fraction at Leila’s casual reply.
“I don’t think stabbing the aunt of my husband is good for a future dinner conversation, ma’am. Plus, all that blood would be so messy. I would hate it if it ruined my silk dress.”
Silence.
Then Aunt Merle broke into a smirk. “You not only have spine, but it’s made of steel. I suppose you’re here to show more of that steel, or are you all talk?”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Leila returned lightly.
“Aunt Merle, I thought it would be nice to visit and catch up—”
“Oh, miss me with that crap. You’re here for one thing, that’s why you brought your wife with you. You can’t even hide it.” A pause, as she glanced pointedly at Leila. “I can feel it running in her veins.”
“You can?” Leila echoed, sounding alarmed.
“You’re trying to hide it, obviously, but it comes out when you’re feeling high emotions. That means you’re raw—practically a child in diapers, really, who’s as ignorant as they come.”
In response, Leila tilted her head. “Children grow up. So can I.”
“Arrogant, too. You’re probably used to getting what you want, aren’t you?”
“I can tone that down, too, with some help.”
“And clever, for not contradicting my words.” Aunt Merle looked very pleased. “We’ll talk about this later. Come on. I’m starving, and I need to eat first and greet the family.”
Greeting the family involved Aunt Merle announcing her presence with a grouchy look to the adults and kisses to the children, then marching to the table where she waited for Aunt Mary to serve her a plate of food. Some silent exchange passed between Aunt Marie’s and Aunt Merle’s eyes, while Aunt Merle gave Aunt Mary an almost fond look. When Aunt Moira wandered in and attempted to call Aunt Merle out for being late, Aunt Merle leveled her with a look.
