Moon Cursed (23 page)

Everyone was staring.

“Liam,” she whispered.

“Dinnae worry about them.”

“Maybe we should—” She stepped back. His arms, still around her waist, held on, and she stumbled into his chest.

He kissed her, and she forgot that everyone was staring.

He still tasted of sinfully expensive chocolate, of midnight and seduction, with a side of nut-brown ale. His tongue was warm, but his lips were cool, a blessed oasis amid a sudden heat.

She’d been right. A kiss wasn’t enough. She had to touch him, bury her fingers in his silky black hair, run a nail down the side of his neck until he shuddered, hardening against her belly, which was pressed tightly to him, shielding him as he’d promised to shield her.

What on earth was going on? Kris had no idea, but she didn’t want it to stop.

Of course it did. Nothing good lasts forever. And something that great … well, it only lasted a minute, maybe two, before a voice interrupted.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

CHAPTER 17

Dougal Scott barreled toward them, fists clenched. Kris wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to Liam.

Dougal swung. Liam ducked. Kris tried to, but she wasn’t as quick as Liam and the fist caught her on the cheek. Everyone gasped.

Light exploded, then the pain. Kris didn’t fall, but she staggered. Liam turned, caught, then righted her. She thought he would hold her and she even began to go into his arms, but as soon as she was solid on her feet he was gone.

His arm was a blur, shooting out, popping Dougal on the chin. The blow seemed too fast to pack much punch, but it must have, since Dougal went down like a house of cards in a sudden wind.

No one came forward to help. No one stepped in to stop them, not even Johnnie. Back home, a place like this might keep a shotgun under the bar, or at least a bat. But here, the owner just watched, as did everyone else.

It was weird.

Dougal lay sprawled on the dance floor, the hand that had hit her now rubbing his own chin. His gaze went past Liam to Kris. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Kris wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t “all right.” Her cheek hurt like a son of a bitch. She was going to have a bruise, if not a black eye. But he did seem sorry, and he hadn’t meant to hurt her. But what the hell had gotten into him?

“Here, dearie.” Effy appeared at her side with a dish towel of ice. “Press this right there.” She showed Kris what to do.

“None for me?” Dougal asked.

Effy sniffed and ignored him.

Dougal got to his feet and shoved past Liam, headed in Kris’s direction.

Liam grabbed him. “Ye willnae go near her again.”

Dougal drew himself up, towering over Liam, yet Liam was the one who appeared fearsome.

“I’ll kill ye if ye hurt her,” Liam vowed.

“Whoa,” Kris said—ignoring Effy’s murmurs of, “Shh, dearie.”—“Calm down.”

Both men turned, blinking as if they’d forgotten Kris was there. Which they couldn’t have considering they’d been talking—no,
arguing
—over her.

“You slept with him, didn’t you?” Dougal demanded.

The question was so shockingly inappropriate Kris’s mouth fell open. Then her cheeks flamed, giving him the answer he did not deserve.

Dougal made a disgusted sound. “Of course you did. Women can never help themselves around a pretty face, a perfect body. I’m sure he’s got a cock the size of Inverness.”

Kris winced.
Nice.

“Dinnae listen to him,” Effy said. “Sometimes Dougal can be—”

“Honest?” Dougal interrupted. “Forthright?”

“An ass,” Liam muttered.

“Takes one to know one,” Dougal returned, and Kris couldn’t help it; she giggled.

Dougal’s face flushed, and Kris blurted, “Sorry! It’s just so school yard. Fighting over a girl and ‘takes one to know one.’ It struck me—” Dougal turned on his heel and strode out. “Funny,” she finished as the door slammed behind him.

The room remained silent for several ticks of the clock, then broke into loud conversation as if nothing had happened.

“What
was
that?” she asked. “He and I— We— Didn’t. I mean, we talk. We were friendly. But—”

“Dougal tries so hard to fit in,” Effy said softly. “But he cannae. He must have thought, in you, he’d found a kindred spirit at last.”

Kris cast her a quick, suspicious glance. Did Effy know she and Dougal were fellow skeptics? How?

“Yer both American,” Effy continued. “Newcomers. Interested in Nessie and the like. I’m sure he felt ye were his special friend.”

“Not anymore,” Kris muttered.

Liam pulled the ice pack away from her throbbing cheek. He grimaced when he saw what lay beneath.

“Mo gradh,” he whispered. “Tha me duilich.”

When he spoke to her like that she forgot who she was, who he was; she only remembered what they’d been like together.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Liam shook his head, gently putting the ice pack to her cheek once more and holding it there with his hand atop hers.

“‘My love,’” Effy translated, considering gaze on Liam. “‘I am sorry.’”

“If I wanted her t’ know,” Liam growled, “I could have told her myself.”

Effy winked at Kris, then returned to her table.

Silence settled between them. This only made the loud conversation, the tinkling of glasses, the music, which had started up again but now played a rousing, modern tune, seem to pulse all around, separating Kris and Liam from everyone else.

“Why didn’t you want me to know what you said?” Kris asked.

Liam shrugged and looked away. “We’ve just met. I shouldnae be callin’ you
my love.
”

Except Kris didn’t want him to stop.

And that was probably her most foolish thought of all in a day that had been full of them.

Couples jiggled on the dance floor. Liam took one glance at their gyrations, made a face, and clasped her hand. “I’ll walk ye home,” he said.

Considering everything, she’d let him.

As they made their way to the exit, Alan Mac’s large form sprouted from the crowd. Perhaps Johnnie had not been as nonchalant about the fight as he’d seemed. Perhaps instead of pulling out his gun or his bat, he’d pulled out his telephone and called the cops.

Several people spoke at once. Alan Mac frowned. When someone jabbed a finger in Liam and Kris’s direction, he followed it, and his eyes widened.

Liam sighed as the constable headed toward them. Kris prepared to tell Alan Mac just who was at fault in the altercation. She didn’t get a chance.

“What are you doing here?” Alan demanded.

Kris turned to Liam. “Why is that the first question everyone asks you?”

“I dinnae get out much.”

Alan Mac choked; then he started to cough. Johnnie appeared at his side with a pint, which the big man chugged like water. When he lowered the empty glass and handed it to the bartender, his face had gone as scarlet as Dougal’s.

“What’s going on?” Kris handed the now-sopping dish towel to Johnnie as well. “Everyone acts like you’re a hermit. If they aren’t saying they never heard of you.” She narrowed her gaze on Alan Mac. “
You
told me he was a ghost.” She filled her palm with Liam’s ample biceps. “He doesna feel like a ghost t’ me,” she mocked.

“Ye were talking about him?” Alan Mac shoved a finger in Liam’s face. Liam appeared ready to bite it off.

Kris’s head began to ache. “Let me guess. You grew up together. It’s hard for you to think of him as anything other than Billy.”

“How’d ye know?” Liam murmured, his gaze holding Alan Mac’s.

The constable remained silent.

Johnnie brought Alan another pint, and he took it, breaking eye contact with Liam to down this one nearly as fast as the first.

“Should you be slamming those while on duty?” Kris asked.

“Not.” Alan Mac wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shoved the glass at Johnnie. “On duty, that is. I’ll have another.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I need it.”

Liam straightened. “What happened?”

Alan Mac glanced around as if afraid they’d be overheard. Considering they were in the middle of nearly a hundred people, he had a legitimate concern. Except everyone had lost interest in them and returned to their drinking and dancing. Nevertheless, the constable lowered his voice: “Another body. This one caught in the lock at Dochgarroch.”

“Woman?” Liam asked, and Alan nodded. “Same as the others?”

Kris cast Liam a sharp look. How did he know so much about it?

“No,” Alan Mac said. “Not bopped over the head and drowned. Not this time.” He took a breath. “Maybe it’s not the same killer.”

Liam lifted a brow. “Because two would be better?”

Alan Mac’s broad shoulders slumped. He obviously hadn’t thought of that.

“If not drowned,” Liam continued, “then what?”

“Knife to the chest.” Kris stilled. “But that wasnae the strangest part.”

“A third dead woman, this one with a knife in her chest, isnae the worst of it?” Liam asked.

“I dinnae know about worst, but strange, aye?” Alan Mac took the pint Johnnie brought and drank it more slowly than he had the others. “The knife was silver.” His gaze held Liam’s. “And not just silver plated, ye ken? Pure silver, through and through.”

Uh-oh,
Kris thought. How many pure silver knives could there be in the area?

It didn’t matter. She was pretty sure this one was hers.

*   *   *

Silver,
Liam thought. Could Edward Mandenauer still be in the area?

Ach, no.
If the dead girl had been a shape-shifter, she would be ashes. No body left behind to become stuck in the lock at Dochgarroch. Edward, for all his faults, was very good about not stabbing humans with knives meant specifically for the inhuman.

Still, everyone made mistakes, and Mandenauer
was
getting quite old. Though it would be best not to tell him that and meet the pointy end of another silver knife.

Alan Mac continued to stare at Liam, lifting his brows up and down like a demented Groucho Marx. As if Liam didn’t know what silver meant. But if Alan kept it up, Kris soon would. If she didn’t already.

Kris wasn’t a
Jäger-Sucher,
but that didn’t mean she wasn’t something else.

Mandenauer had come here off and on for decades, if not centuries—Liam was not all that certain the man wasn’t immortal himself—and he’d never discovered their secret. However, Liam wouldn’t put it past the wily agent to pay someone like Kris—smart, resourceful, with an agenda of her own that paralleled that of the
Jäger-Suchers
—to keep an eye on things, then call Edward if anything turned up.

Hell, Liam wouldn’t put it past Mandenauer to kill a few women, toss them in the loch, blame it on Nessie, then wait for her to show up and—

Pow!

Liam had gone so far into his thoughts, he actually jerked as if he’d been shot. Stabbed. Blown up. Whatever.

Alan Mac frowned. Liam shook his head just once.

Not now,
he thought, then shifted only his eyes to the left.
Later.

Alan Mac’s chin dipped in a nearly imperceptible nod.

Liam glanced at Kris, expecting her to be staring at him with lifted brow and a
do you think I’m an idiot?
expression. Instead, she stared at the door with longing. The dark shadow of a bruise already marred the perfection of one cheek.

He’d promised to care for her, and less than a minute later she’d been hit. He’d said he’d see her home, yet he stood in the center of a pub while she became paler and paler.

“Time to go,” he murmured.

Her eyes met his, and something shifted in Liam’s chest, so sudden and startling, he rubbed at the spot. What was that? Both pleasure and pain, which left behind a sense of joyful sorrow. He’d never felt anything like it before.

Outside, the night was cool and dark. Clouds had moved in, covering the moon and the stars. Liam didn’t mind. Sometimes the moon only reminded him of things he’d prefer to forget.

Kris slid her arm around his waist, leaning into him. The warmth of her caressed; the scent of her soothed. He’d never strolled down the street with a woman before. Never held her to his side, matched his steps, his very breath, to hers. When Kris left, he was going to miss her for the rest of his days.

When she left, the ghosts would come back. They would torment and haunt him. But it was nothing less than he deserved.

Liam shook off the sudden melancholy. Kris was here; so was he. Yes, she’d leave, but that was for the best. If she stayed—

He stiffened, pausing mid-step as Kris continued on. They came unstuck, and Liam was suddenly as cold as if he’d just dived into the loch.