Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles (30 page)

“Your card is in the pencil basket on the counter. They don’t take credit cards at the farmers market.”

Shay decided to push his luck and take a step forward into the open room that served as work space, bedroom, kitchenette, and sitting room. Mari blinked, her eyes narrowing for a moment before settling again into that non-committal expression he was growing to hate. Shay took another step and then another. He hadn’t thrown the deadbolt before he started moving. Shay was banking on his speed and dexterity to overtake her if Mari decided to make a run for the door.

“You decided to punish me by going to the farmers market?” Shay said moving incrementally closer, hoping against hope Mari didn’t know he was almost within grabbing distance.

“At first.” She shrugged like they were discussing the weather. “Then I decided to take a page from your book and politely leave you alone.”

Fuck that.

“Yea? How’s that working for you?” Shay crossed his arms across his chest and inched closer. He widened his stance, flexing his knees as he readied for battle while trying to calm the painful pounding of his heart as it pushed hot blood through visibly throbbing veins. Mari unwound her legs and moved closer to the edge of the chair, leaning toward him. “Relatively well. At least it was working until you unlocked my door and inserted yourself into what is now my domain. Without invitation.”

Shay straightened, dropping his arms to his side and inched closer into throw-you-over-my-shoulder-and-toss-you-onto-the-bed range. “Are you asking me to leave?”

“Would you leave if I asked?” She cocked her head at him looking more like the sweet girl he’d left behind than the complex, irritating and wickedly devastating to his senses woman she’d evolved into. He didn’t know where to begin to mend what he’d broken so long ago and he was sick to death of trying to tip-toe around it. Jumping into the deep end seemed to be the most expedient way to move along what was proving to be a painfully frustrating process.

Shay surprised himself by answering honestly before his brain had time to check his response. “No. I’ll not be leaving you again. Not while I’m breathing, anyway.”

Mari got up, bridging the gap between them. She didn’t stop until he could feel the heat coming off her skin as it radiated up and around him, encapsulating him in her scent: moss and heather, wind and rain, warm sunshine, freshly cut grass and a drop of honey. It had changed some since he’d brought her here, more fresh air, less sweetness. Her attitude revealed less bending of the willow and more cold steel.

Mari reached up, caressing his cheek with her palm. Shay leaned into her small hand, relishing this freely given intimacy. “I’ve been told you have a tradition here of gifting small but meaningful items.”

Shay didn’t know what she was talking about and as long as she kept rubbing him he didn’t much care. He made what he hoped was an affirmative noise, wishing Mari would stop talking and kiss him. He missed her every day and he yearned for her forgiveness and acceptance more than his next breath. “Umm.”

She stepped away from him and dropped her hand to her side. Mari’s warm green eyes turned the color of frozen peas as all the warmth drained from her. “Your present is wrapped in brown paper on the counter. Leave the key O’Shay and don’t let the door smack your lovely arse on your way out.”

The no nonsense look on her face told Shay strategic retreat was the only path to peace, so he took it and the present as he went out the door. He didn’t leave the key. “I’m only a short walk from your door, Mari-girl. I’m not going anywhere without you ever again.”

She turned away from him, back stiffened, and made a snort of disbelief that made Shay want to scream his frustration and pound his fists into the next poor fool who wandered across his path. Shay tried to slam the door, and as sure as hell is hot, the door hit him in the ass on his way out. Not very dignified as far as exits went, but he wasn’t feeling particularly dignified.

He was halfway to the big house before he remembered the present in his hand. Shay unwrapped it, stared in disbelief and then threw his head back and laughed. In his hand he held a tall hand-crafted stoneware mug. On the top in a circle of brightly colored scales was a lovely, obviously female dragon, with long lashes and green eyes. A lecherous, evil looking tiny male leprechaun was captured and flailing from her sharp she-dragon teeth. Under the beautifully crafted image was the quote:
Even Lucky Leprechaun’s get Eaten when they Dance with Dragons.

“Oh Mari-me-girl. We’ll be dancing soon and you can eat as much of me as you can swallow.” Shay headed back to the house he shared with Jesse. He needed to be alone to think and scheme and come up with a plan his inner evil, lecherous and much taller leprechaun would be capable of enacting to tame a dragon.

It was time to invite the dragon to dinner and ask her to dance.

Shay almost ran Jesse over on his way home. He was so lost in thought about soft dragon under-bellies that he just avoided crashing into Jesse by inches.

“Hey, man, you know that deed you kept for me after Jordon gave me the five acres next to your gardens?” Shay asked.

“Yeah, what about it?” Jesse didn’t look the least perplexed at the choice of topic. In fact, he looked relieved to have his headlong journey interrupted.

“Is it still in the wall safe?”

“Three certified copies. I filed the original with the registrar of deeds when I executed it years ago.”

“I asked you not to.”

“I didn’t listen.”

“Good. I’ll be starting construction tomorrow.”

That garnered Shay two raised eyebrows and a low whistle. “What’s the hurry?”

“I have a dragon to tame, or slay, or-”

Shay waved a hand around in a take-your-pick gesture before continuing.

“- whatever trips your trigger and I don’t want you to be disturbed when she starts bellowing and spewing fire.”

Jesse whistled low in his throat, shook his head in what Shay decided was a silent ‘good-luck-to-you-fine-sir’ affirmation of Shay’s all-around-awesomeness.

Now it was Shay’s turn to whistle. As long as he was about to embark on a Quixotic adventure, he chose
Dream the Impossible Dream, Goulet’s deep voice echoing in his head.

He heard Jesse’s bark of laughter and smiled. For the first time in a very long time Shannon O’Shay knew exactly what fate had in mind when she threw Mari back into his world.

…

She’d forgotten her pills when she left Sham’s house. Mari had left in such a hurry she left everything there, her drawings, her clothes, her heart. She thought it would be difficult sneaking back in, since the security system was like nothing she’d ever heard of or seen before, but it wasn’t. She simply opened the door and walked to her suite of rooms. No one stopped her. In fact the house appeared empty. Open and empty…
odd.

Mari felt a momentary flash of danger. That feeling quickly faded. A small amount of uneasiness took its place, like she was being watched. Mari shook off the thought. She’d get her things and get back to Finn’s cottage with no one the wiser. She opened the door to what had been her bedroom, and shut it quietly behind her.

Tip-toeing like a naughty teenager sneaking in after missing her curfew, Mari headed for the bathroom. Pills first. Clothing and supplies after. It was dark, and she kicked the trashcan, knocking it over. “Shite.”

The light next to her bed flashed on. “They say
shit
in this country, Mari-girl. If you’re going to stay, you should get it right.” Sham was lounging on the bed. The bed she’d spent her nights in when he was gone, worried about him, missing him, touching herself while thinking about him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, breathless.

“Waiting for you.”

“How did you know I’d come?”

His smile was lethal, it practically oozed sex. She was in danger, just not the kind she had anticipated when she stepped through the door. “Why Mari-mine I knew you’d come because I summoned you.”

Mari’s throat was suddenly dry, making response difficult. The fact that he was bare-chested and barefoot wasn’t helping either. She loved the way he looked, always had. And now he was more defined, more muscled, more dangerous to her equilibrium. She ignored his ridiculous statement about summoning since he’d done no such thing, and asked what she really wanted to know. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“You asked me to.”

“And since when do you do what I’m asking, Shannon O’Shay?” She meant to sound sharp but what came out sounded a lot like yearning. Damn the man six ways from Sunday.

Shay got off the bed and shucked out of his jeans. He didn’t wear under garments and he was fully aroused. Mari was stunned. She couldn’t look at him, well not at his face anyway, and she couldn’t look away. That part of him bounced at her. She wanted to leave, she wanted to run, she wanted him to throw her on the bed and take the choice away from her. Instead, she stayed rooted where she was. Shay laid back on the bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be naked in front of her again after twenty years.

Shay retrieved a devise that looked like a small phone and tapped on it. All the doors and windows locked in unison, the
cha-chink
sound it made was ominous. He set the small devise back on the table and lifted a brow daring her to come and get it. Shay always had the ability to melt her insides with a smile. He wasn’t smiling now.

“Take off your clothes, Mari.”

She shook her head.

“I’m done doing what you
say
you want me to do. We tried it your way. Now we’re going to try it mine.”

Mari found her voice. “Seems to me, Sham, you always did everything you wanted the way you wanted. You left me sure enough. My wanting had nothing to do with that.”

A muscle clicked at the side of his jaw, but other than that he looked unmoved by her anger. It wasn’t half as righteous as it should have been. She was having a hard time conjuring righteous condemnation when he was naked and hard and smoldering with luscious wickedness. She shivered in the summer heat and closed her eyes against the sight of him.

Mari didn’t hear him move, but suddenly he was beside her, so close the head of his penis butted against her stomach. She felt the heat of him sear her through the thin layer of her cotton tank dress. One hand caressed the side of her face, over her collar bone, rubbing the small space in the center, below her neck. “I’m only going to say this once, then never again will I allow you to question my motives or my honor in the matter. I had to leave because your life was in danger and so was mine. I got in with a bad sort and couldn’t get out. While I was with Jesse this time, I visited the north alone and resolved the problem. End of story. Now there is no danger. Not to you. Not to Magnus. Not to Seamus. It’s over.”

By the ‘north’, Mari knew he meant Northern Ireland. She knew very little about what he’d been involved in, but she knew enough to know it could have been lethal. Even twenty years later. So she had a choice. She could forgive him for leaving or she could leave.

“And what of you, Shannon O’Shay? Is Mrs. O’Shay’s little boy safe as well.”

He seemed surprised by her question, dropping his hand, he answered. “Aye.”

“Good.” When he didn’t respond to that she continued. “So what are we to do now, Sham? Forgive one another and start over?”

“Yes.”

Mari pushed him, but he didn’t budge. “You expect it’s going to be that easy?”

“With you nothing has ever been easy, love. I don’t expect that to change now.”

“Unlock the door.”

“No.”

“I want to leave.”

“Not going to happen until I’m good and ready. I’m sick of you dancing around like a fool pretending that what we had is in the past and not worth more than a polite how are you when we discuss
our
son.”

She turned around and made it exactly one step before he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I knew you hadn’t forgiven me. And ye never will.”

He pulled her back to him forcefully, slamming her body into his. “There’s nothing to forgive. Not anything having to do with Magnus anyway. We’ve worked it out. That’s enough for us. It should be enough for you.”

He shook her and changed the subject. “How many men have you taken to your bed since me Mari-mine?” His hand reached under her dress, cupping her mound. “How many men have fucked you? How many have tasted this.” He pressed up, grinding the heel of his hand against her, making waves of heat course through her. Brigid help her, she was wet and swollen and aching for him no matter how coarse his words were.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “How many?”

“Two.” She answered honestly. There had been exactly two in the last two decades.

“I stopped counting after the first twenty.” His softly spoken words stung and as much as she ached for him, she hated him at that moment. She twisted violently trying to dislodge his hand from her arm and from her core. “Be still.” He hissed. “I’m not done.”

“I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Too fucking bad.” His tone was as harsh as his words. “Do you know what I saw with my cock buried deep inside them as I pounded away trying to forget you? Do you know what I saw each and every time.” He wasn’t asking now, he was accusing.

White hot anger coursed through her at the images he was making her see and a single tear escaped her eye. “No. And I don’t care. Stop. Please just stop.” She hiccupped, her breath catching painfully in her throat.

His grip eased, but he didn’t let go of her arm or her groin. He rubbed her again, more gently this time, making her groan. “I thought of this. Of how
you
taste. Of how you feel.” His forehead fell to hers and his voice changed to a thing of raw pain. “I saw your eyes. Your emerald eyes, and your sweet smile in my mind’s eye. It was you Mari. It was always you. Every goddamn time.”

Something inside Mari shattered, whether it was the truth in his words or the need she had swimming in her blood like a dark visitor that she couldn’t deny. She would never know what made her anger shatter, and right now she didn’t much care. The truth was she wanted this. She wanted him. And, she never wanted him to be inside anyone else ever again.