Unholy Blue (35 page)

Fingers buried in his thick hair to keep him from rising before she was ready to let him go, she dozed for a brief time, enjoying the feel of his weight and the scent of their lovemaking. After a few minutes, she shifted, aware of an impending cramp in her thigh. A faint twinge deep inside reminded her of how aggressive he had been. Not that she didn't enjoy the hell out of it. “Feeling a bit randy this morning, weren't you?”

Bann lifted his head. His eyes were half-closed, those long lashes hooding the blue. “A bit. I dinna hurt ye, did I?”

“Yeah, right.” She cocked her head. “I kind of liked it.”

“As did I.” A corner of his mouth quirked. He kissed her lightly.

A tap on the door. “Shay? Dad? Can I come in?” Cor's voice was heavy with sleep.

“No,” Bann said. “Go away. Whatever it is, it can wait until spring.”

With a huff, she slapped Bann's shoulder. “Just a moment, Cor,” she called, then lowered her voice. “You might want to get off of me now,” she whispered.

“You mean
out
of you.” He kissed her again with a loud
smack
, then rolled off.

As Bann plucked a tissue from the box on the bedside table and took care of the condom, Shay pulled on the baggy T-shirt and flannel pajama pants she had started keeping by the bed, just in case, then scooted back under the covers. She glanced over at Bann. “Well?”

“He's seen me nude all his life.” Still, Bann flipped the covers over his lower body.

“Okay, Cor.” She shoved a pillow behind her, protecting her back from the wall.
We should get a headboard
, she thought idly.
Maybe after the wedding
. “You can come in now.”

Cor staggered in, dressed in a T-shirt that had once belonged to Bann and thus reached to his knees. His hair stuck up on one side. “Shay? I think Sam's sick.” His face was creased from sleep and worry.

“Why do you think that?” She was already rolling out of bed even as she spoke.

Cor followed her back down the hall. “He won't come out of his crate.”

Reaching the boy's room, Shay slipped inside, hoping that the puppy was simply worn out by the last two days' events. That hope failed when she saw him crouched on all fours in the farthest corner of the crate. Squatting down by the open door, she snapped her fingers. “Here, Sam.” The puppy didn't move. In fact, he squeezed tighter into the corner. She reached inside and scooped up the puppy one-handed with a grunt. “He's sure grown in the last week.”

She dragged him to her, then sat on the floor and crossed her legs, trapping him in the cradle of her limbs. After running her hands over his body and legs and paws, she peered into his eyes, ears, and nose, and even checked his anus and testicles for any sores or swelling. He squirmed and tried to lick her the entire time in proper puppy fashion.

“Well,” she said to Cor, who was hunched down next to her, anxiously awaiting word, “he seems fine. Let's see if he wants to pee, then eat.” She placed Sam on the floor next to her.

Just then, the puppy stiffened. His ears flattened as he crouched down and attempted to burrow under Shay's leg, digging with his front paws.

The hiss of bare feet. Bann appeared in the doorway, dressed in jeans and buttoning a flannel shirt. “And how is the wee one?” He stepped closer, eyebrows raised in question.

Sam gave up trying to hide. He simply rolled over and exposed his belly and throat.

“Dad! Go away!” Cor pushed at his father's legs. “You're scaring him.”

“Not at all.” Bann reached down. “He's always been a bit skittish around me…” His voice trailed off when urine dribbled out and wrote damp lines along Sam's fur in a message of surrender. Bann drew back. Without a word, he turned and left the room.

Shay brushed aside the faint whisper of warning in her head. “Guess he doesn't need to pee now. Go see if he wants to eat.” She waited until Cor and Sam trotted away before going in search of Bann.

She checked the bedroom. His boots were gone, as was his jacket. Glancing out the window, she tightened her lips, then snagged her hoodie, pulling it on as she stuffed her feet into a pair of Ugg boots under her pajama pants. Hurrying through the kitchen, she passed by Cor scooping food into Sam's dish.

“Dad's outside,” Cor said, picking up the kibble that never made it into the bowl. “I think he's mad about something. But it's not my fault,” he added hastily. “I didn't knock until you and Dad were quiet.”

Shay smiled weakly. Not wanting to go
there
with the boy, she stepped outside.

Bann was standing at the back gate with his hands in his jacket pockets, gazing out at the rocks made ridiculous by toupees of leftover snow. Taking a deep breath, the cold air stinging her nostrils, she joined him.

“Bann—”

“Do not make more out of this than needs be. The pup is simply reacting to the fright of the last two days.” He looked up as a hawk soared past on its way to its favorite hunting ground, its tail a badge of crimson against the flint-gray clouds. “And he's always been a bit timid around me. Why, he's probably still associating
me with the shapeshifter. He didn't want anything to do with me yesterday when I stank of the creature.”

She frowned, remembering how it had taken Max longer to warm up to Rory after her cousin had accidentally frightened the adolescent dog the first time they had met. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe you're right.”

“I'll woo him with extra treats and affection. Now,” he took her elbow and began guiding her toward the house, “our lovemaking has made me ravenous. Coffee, then breakfast.”

During breakfast, Shay watched, without trying to
look
like she was watching, Sam's behavior around Bann. She brightened when the puppy crept close enough to take a piece of bacon from Bann's hand, the man admonishing his son to not bleedin' think about feeding your dog at the table, boyo.

Paranoid much
? she chided herself, relieved when a second treat was offered and accepted. “I need to go check on each of the wounded Knights. I'm not sure how long it will take. What do you two have planned?”

“The shipment from Pennsylvania is due to arrive sometime today. I'll store the items in the garage for now since we might be moving sooner than later. Well,
most
of the items.” A pleased smile ghosted across his face.

“And just what are you grinning about?” she asked.

“Why, not a thing.” He winked at Cor, who winked back by scrunching up one side of his face.

“Fine. Be that way,” she grumbled, secretly pleased by her guys' more upbeat moods. Hoping she wasn't ruining the moment, she braced herself, then spoke in a nonchalant voice. “Say, before I leave, I want to check your arm.”

A muscle in Bann's cheek jumped. Then, a polite nod. “Certainly.”

After setting Cor to work clearing the table—the boy complaining until Bann snapped at him in a tone that startled both woman and boy—Shay indicated their bedroom with a tilt of her head. She gathered up a bowl of nettle brew, a clean cloth, and her moonstone, then followed the man.

Bann was waiting in the bathroom. He had rolled his sleeve back and was examining the bite marks as she walked in. He held out his arm to her. “See? Already starting to close up.”

“Yeah, this particular batch of nettle brew is supercharged; Boulder has a large and very active group of Healers, and they recently came up with a new way of drying the leaves. It seems to have made a difference in its potency.”

“Why are there so many Healers in Boulder?”

“Celestial Seasonings Tea Company.”

“Oh.”

She set her supplies next to the sink and juggled her moonstone in one hand. “Ready to try this again?”

“Do I get a lollipop afterwards if I'm good?”

“Sure, whatever rocks your boat.” She closed her fist around the stone. The cool lunar light welled out. Once the glow was steady, she ran the beam slowly along the back of Bann's hand. Old scars stood out like runes. She could sense him tensing up when the light traveled to his wrist. “Okay so far?”

“Just get on with it.”

She continued. The moonstone's glow reached the wound. A moment later, Bann jerked his arm back with
a hiss. “Son of a bitch!” A flush darkened his face and throat.

Damn
. Shay stepped back, chewing on her lip as she tucked the stone into her pocket. “I need to talk with someone who knows more about this kind of stuff than I do.”

“Who?”

A certain witchy witch
. “Orwren O'Siobhan. The druidess who did our wards.”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because there is nothing wrong with me.” He rolled down his sleeve in short, savage tugs, brows pinched together. “Outside of my future wife trying to set my arm on fire.”

“That's exactly
why
I want to talk with her. The moonstone shouldn't have that kind of effect on a normal wound. She might know about any possible connection between Cernunnos and—”

“I said no.” He started past her.

“Not so fast.” She planted a hand on his chest. “We're not done discussing this.”

Bann's mouth was a hard line. “Remove yer hand,” he said in a low voice.

She raised an eyebrow at the threat in his voice. “Rein it in, big guy. I'm speaking as your Healer here.” She stood her ground, waiting for him to back down.
And what's with these sudden flareups
? She blinked in surprise when he elbowed around her, crowding her against the counter.

“I've work to do,” he flung over his shoulder as he left the room. “As do you.” A few moments later, she heard the front door open, then shut with a
bang
.

Four hours later, Shay waved good-bye as she pulled out of the driveway of the last Knight on her list. Her face ached from keeping a smile on it. The smile turned real for a moment at the fact that her patients were mending well. And the gratitude from each Knight's family had helped soothe the anxiety that had weighed her down all morning like a baby with a loaded diaper.

And I'm going to do something about it right now. And a certain stubborn jackass of a man can just deal with it
.

She headed west on the state road that connected High Springs with the neighboring town of Manitou Springs. Only a fifteen-minute drive away, the small town was nestled at the foot of the celebrated Pikes Peak. The bull-necked mountain rose from the plains like a granite Titan. Enjoying the proximity to the famous mountain, Manitou Springs boasted a more bohemian lifestyle, a blend of New Age and granola and a struggling, but fiercely determined, artist community. A town where most of the mortals wouldn't notice a practicing druidess. Or wouldn't care.

As Shay sped along, the last of the snow melting enough on the asphalt to turn into a dirty slop and force her to turn on her windshield wipers, she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to keep her apprehension at bay. Bann's reaction to the moonstone's light
kept looping through her brain, as well as his bizarre surges of temper.

“Oh, shit!” Hitting the brakes and wrenching the wheel to the right, she just managed to catch the Manitou Springs exit ramp in time. “Get your head in the game,” she muttered to herself.

Rolling along Manitou's main street, she sat up straight and shook herself, focusing. After a few blocks, she slowed in front of a row of small connecting shops with matching stucco finishes. Each business catered to the tourists that swarmed the town during the summer months. The shops all sported glass doors, their frames painted with bright colors as they labored at being quaint. At the end of the row, an even smaller shop, painted in a monochromatic brown, sat by itself, as if ashamed of its bland appearance. An alley separated it from the others. On its other side was a parking lot with only a lone vehicle.

Shay pulled into the lot, parked, then climbed out. Grabbing her medical pack, she slung it over her shoulder and walked around to the front of the shop. Its large picture window was dull with grime and an odd symbol was drawn in the dust on the inside of the pane.

As usual, a sign on the glass door read
Closed for Remodeling
. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she peered inside. The room was empty and all the lights were turned off. She knocked anyway. After a few minutes, a woman appeared from the back and sauntered across the bare shop. When the door opened, Shay felt a tingle go through her, accompanied by a flash of pale light, as if a moonstone had flared to life, then was hidden in a closed fist.

“Shay Doyle.” The woman's voice was a low purr. Shay wondered if she practiced sounding like Lauren Bacall, or if it came naturally. “
Céad mile fáilte
, Healer.”

“Orwren O'Sioban.” Shay nodded once at the druidess and fellow Tuatha Dé Danaan.

Orwren's hair—black and glossy as a sable stole—hung down her back. Her blue eyes seemed bluer against her olive skin. Shay had always secretly wondered if the druidess had a distant ancestor who had journeyed from the Mediterranean area to Ireland.
Certainly, she has magical powers that aren't common among us Fey
. Dressed in black jeans and a white silk shirt unbuttoned enough to show off just the right amount of cleavage, Orwren stepped aside and waved Shay in, then closed the door. Again, the tingle and the flare of light.