A Risky Proposition (29 page)

He gave me a rueful look.  “I was angry that night, Sydney—angry that such a beautiful young woman almost traded her soul to a death djinn—angry that I cared enough about stopping you to allow it to interfere with my job. 

“I was only supposed to be following Balthus; I hadn’t intended to make an arrest until I had more evidence against him.  But I couldn’t allow you to ruin your life.”

My gaze landed on a faded photo in an elegant gilt frame on the corner of Sparrow’s desk.  It portrayed a lovely woman with long, dark hair, standing beside a roguishly handsome man.  She appeared to be laughing at something he was whispering to her out of the corner of his mouth.  A heavy sorrow settled over me as I raised my eyes to meet Sparrow’s.

“You saved me that night, Sparrow, and I’m going to find a way to get out of this.” My voice held a quiet strength that I was surprised I actually felt.  Then I smiled at him teasingly.  “But it’s nice to hear that you were helpless to resist my charms from the beginning.”

“I’ve got some very definite plans for your charms, Sydney—plans that mostly involve you writhing helplessly beneath me,” he said in a silky tone as he pursued me around the edge of the desk.

I gasped with laughter and turned to flee to the other side of the small room, but Sparrow was too quick.  He grasped my shoulder, and placing the vial of immortality safely in a desk drawer, he turned me around to face him. 

Then he lowered himself into the rolling leather chair behind his desk and pulled me forward until I had no choice but to straddle him.  He eased me down on top of him so that the length of his erection pressed directly into the fabric of my tautly stretched jeans, right where it grazed the sensitive spot between my legs.

“Is that a promise?” I breathed, intoxicated by the feel of him and his heady aroma of woodland spice.  I ran my fingers through the softness of his hair and looked into his eyes.

“Yes, Sydney, it is.”  The certainty of his words sent a cascade of desire spilling through me.

He touched me unhurriedly, first cupping my face with his palms, then allowing his fingertips to explore the contours of my jaw and my neck, before slowly gliding down to tantalize my nipples and cup my breasts.  I grasped his thick shoulders in my hands and arched toward him as his fingers traveled lower, down the planes of my stomach, past my hips and over the tops of my thighs in a leisurely discovery of my curves. 

I moaned softly as those questing fingers moved, with maddening slowness, back up the insides of my thighs, tracing little circles until they reached my aching center.  He pressed one finger lightly into me, stroking me through the denim until I bloomed for his touch.

“Oh, Goddess, Sparrow,” I breathed.  My eyes fluttered shut and I leaned into his hand, my head tilted backward.  I felt him swell as he shifted against me, and I smiled.  “It feels like
you’re
the one who’s writhing beneath
me.
”

“We’ll be exploring both of those options,” he whispered hotly as he traced little circles over my clit.  He seemed to know exactly how to touch me—and if he kept it up I was going to come right there, fully clothed.

He leaned forward and captured my mouth with his, increasing the pressure of his fingers as his tongue teased mine.  “Come for me, Sydney,” he urged, his voice a seductive command.  A helpless sound escaped my throat and I strained against him as an explosion of mind-numbing pleasure expanded throughout my body.   

I shuddered and clutched his shoulders so that I wouldn’t be swept away.  His arms banded around me and he stroked my back, nuzzling me with his lips.  “You are so damned sweet, Sydney,” he murmured.  “You have no idea what you do to me.” 

I felt him still rock-hard beneath me as I regained control of my watery muscles.  I opened my eyes and stared into his bright blue ones, my body still on fire for his.  “I want you inside me,” I stated, the words stark with need.

He groaned and pulled me against him, muttering what sounded like a prayer in Gaelic.  “I’m taking you to my bed tonight, Sydney,” he said in a roughened tone, “just as soon as Lauringer leaves.”

Anticipation swept through me, leaving me edgy and tense.  As if in answer to our thoughts, a knock sounded at the door and Lauringer called out that she was finished.  Sparrow lifted me to my feet and pulled his shirt free of his waistband so that it concealed the evidence of his desire. 

I reached up to straighten my hair and smooth my clothing, wondering if it was obvious that I’d just experienced one of the most intense orgasms of my life.

Lauringer stood outside the door, looking dazed and exhausted.  She forced a smile and shook her head, her lips tight with anger and disappointment.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything new.”

Sparrow cleared his throat and donned his detective persona.  “Well, on behalf of the Seelie Police department, I’d like to thank you for your efforts.  Personally, you have no idea how much I appreciate your help.  You can imagine how much pressure we’ve been under, with the need to release these captive souls one way or the other. 

“I’m sure it will ease the minds of everyone involved to know that we’ve exhausted every possibility in our attempts to discover these souls’ human counterparts before returning them to the Sea of Souls.”

Lauringer nodded.

“Yes, Lauringer, thank you so much for being willing to help,” I said, stepping forward.  “I’m grateful that you took the time to see me.”

She blinked at me with glazed eyes, and Sparrow took her arm when she swayed unsteadily.

“Are you alright?” I asked in concern.

“I need…” she mumbled, her words slurring together.  “I have to get home.”  And then she was gone.

I stared at the empty hallway.

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” I asked, turning to Sparrow with a worried frown.

“Spell fatigue can make you weak and disoriented like that.  But if the tales are true, Lauringer is more powerful than either of us can imagine.  I’m sure she’ll be fine as soon as she gets some rest,” he reassured me as he shut the door to his office with a soft click. 

“And at least we know we haven’t overlooked anything now.  She must have expended a great deal of magic to tire her out like that.”

He crossed his muscular forearms over his chest and perched his hip on the edge of his desk.  “I still can’t believe that you were able to get her involved,” he said with a smile.  “Do you have any idea how amazing you are, Sydney?”

My own smile grew as I moved toward him.  “You think so?” I asked, stopping just out of reach.

Sparrow nodded, his eyes blazing brighter.

“Let me ask you something then,” I said, raising my hands above my head in a languid stretch that thrust my breasts forward.

“Mmhm,” he agreed, his eyes riveted.

“Why did you have Galena spy on me?”  I lowered my hands and took a step back, watching him expectantly.

His gaze traveled to mine and an expression of self-deprecating amusement crossed his features.  “I was wondering when I was going to have to answer for that—Galena said you looked less than pleased.”

I gave him a saccharine smile.

“Look, Sydney,” he said uncertainly, “despite what you might think, the only reason I had you followed was for your own protection.  I don’t want any of the other death djinns trying to hone in on Balthus’ uncompleted contract.  I’d keep watch over you myself, if I wasn’t responsible for heading up this damned investigation. 

“And just so there are no misunderstandings, I
did
tell my superiors that you gave me information pertinent to the case, but were unwilling to reveal your source.  So on record, it looks like you’re being followed in an attempt to discover your informant.  But I swear to you—my sole motive was to protect you.”

I stared at him.

“Not that I think you can’t take care of yourself…” he added haltingly. 

He looked so anxious that I almost laughed.  It was a good enough explanation for me.  And a lot could be forgiven for an orgasm like the one he’d just given me.  But I still let him sweat it out for a few moments more, before I smiled and walked forward into his arms.

“Didn’t you say something about taking me to your bed?” I whispered, nipping at his earlobe.

His arms tightened around me and he muttered something low and fast in Gaelic, followed by a growled, “Little minx of a witch.”

Chapter 14 – Passing Time

Sparrow’s apartment was cozy and tidy.  It was a small one bedroom in Seelie City with a wall of windows overlooking the leaf-canopied main thoroughfare.  A worn, but comfortable, beige leather couch and matching recliner took up most of the living room—a large entertainment center took up the rest.  The carpet was dark blue and the pictures on the walls were mostly nature scenes, both photographed and painted.

It felt neat, but lived-in, and faint traces of Sparrow’s scent lingered in the air—a spicy forest musk that sent tendrils of awareness curling through my veins.  I paid a visit to his bathroom to freshen up, the clean towels and spotless floor reinforcing my initial impression of how he kept the place.  I was happy to find that he wasn’t a slob.

“I like your apartment,” I commented as I padded up behind him in the kitchen.  He was staring into the open door of the refrigerator, his tanned feet bare against the tile floor.  I’d never been inclined toward foot fetishism, but there was something sexy about Sparrow’s feet.  They were long and well-shaped, with small symbols tattooed in diagonal lines across the top of each one.

He smiled at me over his shoulder.  “Thanks.  It’s not much, but it’s home.  I’m afraid the strongest thing I have to drink is beer.”  He gave me a rueful look.  “I can pour you a glass of water or juice.  Or I could make coffee…”

“What kind of beer do you have?”

“Triple A—Argyle’s Aerie Ale.  It’s a local brew made from hops grown in the nearby valleys.  It’s kind of a lighter version of your Sam Adams.  Are you a beer drinker?” he asked in surprise.

“Actually, yeah,” I said, playfully mimicking his surprised expression.  “Sam Adams is good—I’ll give it a try.”

He snorted.  “I guess I’d just pegged you more as a wine kind of girl.”  He grabbed two bottles and reached up to retrieve a couple of tall pilsner glasses from a maple-wood cabinet.

“I like that too, although I usually stick with reds—or champagne.  But I’ve been hooked on tasting obscure beers since I was sixteen.  My godmother used to go camping cross country every summer and she’d always bring back lots of funky microbrews for us to try.” 

I accepted a glass of the golden liquid, tiny bubbles of carbonation chasing each other up its length to the surface.  I inhaled the fresh aroma of hops and took an experimental sip.  “Mmm…that’s good.”

“It’s my favorite—I’m glad you like it.”  He grinned.  “You were saying about your ‘godmother’?  Who’s that?”  He placed a hand on my back as he led me to the sofa.  His touch sent warmth radiating down my spine and my body tingled to life.

“My mother’s best friend,” I explained, intensely conscious of his knee brushing mine as we settled onto the couch.  “It’s kind of a tradition, I guess.  When you have a baby, you choose a close friend, or couple, to be the godparents as a sort of honorary acknowledgment.”

“Are your parents still alive?” Sparrow asked.

“Yes.  My mom and my step-dad live in New York, and I see them every few months.  My real dad, though…we haven’t spoken for years.”  I shrugged.  “We send cards during the holidays.  I got a birthday card a couple of months ago, so I won’t hear from him again until December.”

Sparrow gave me a questioning look.

“It’s a long story.”  I sighed.  “My parents got divorced when I was a baby.  My dad was emotionally and physically abusive toward my mom.  I had a relationship with him off and on when I was younger, but he started the emotional shit with me and I eventually came to realize that I was better off without him in my life.  It’s not something I spend much time thinking about.” 

I nibbled my lip in silence for a moment and gazed searchingly at Sparrow as I continued.  “Maybe that’s hard to understand for someone who grew up without their parents.  But I believe life’s too short to force yourself to be around someone who treats you badly, no matter who they are.  My mom and I have a great relationship, and there are a few other relatives I keep in touch with.  But better to create your own family than stay with one that causes you pain.

“I have close friends who are more like family to me than any blood tie could ever make them.  Like Sunny—and a few other people I’ve been lucky enough to find.”

“I can understand that,” Sparrow said softly.  “I’ve kind of created my own family, too.  I have my sidhe aunts and uncles and cousins on my father’s side, but the people I’m actually closest to, who I call Aunt and Uncle, aren’t related to me by blood. 

“When my parents died, all of my aunts and uncles were already focused on raising their own families.  Uncle Connor and Aunt Shea never had children, and they kind of adopted me after I came to live with the sidhe.  My closest friends, who are like siblings to me, aren’t my blood relatives either.”

“You said they live in Ireland.  Do they live in the faerie realm or the human realm?” I asked, eager to hear more about his people.