Waking Up (2 page)

She heard Leigh come into the bathroom. “I knew you should have let me scalp Michael for more money in the divorce settlement.”

“Let it go. I wanted to be rid of him more than I wanted his money.” Sometimes she still felt bitter about how it had all ended, but she’d rather he was out of her life than faking affection he didn’t feel.

Reluctantly, she shut off the faucet and got out of the shower. Leigh sat on the toilet and held out a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” Ciara reached for it with her left hand and almost dropped the bottle when Leigh grabbed her wrist.

“Nice tat! When did you get that?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. I don’t remember going to a tattoo parlor at all. It must have happened after I left you at the Bourbon Cowboy.”

“Honey, if you stopped at a tattoo place instead of going directly to the nearest flat surface with Mr. Hotty Hot Hot, I will be very disappointed in you.”

“I don’t remember going to one at all, but obviously, I did.”

“Whatever. If it bothers you, you can get it removed, but it should be easy enough to cover up with a wide bracelet or watch band. What is it anyway?”

“It’s a Celtic knot. Actually, I think it’s called a triskel. If I remember what my Irish Nana told me years ago, it stands for the three goddesses in one. When Christianity came about, they took it over to explain the Trinity.” She traced the interlocking lines forming a triangle with no beginning and no end. Again, a flare of lust shot through her as she touched the tattoo.

“Cool. I wonder why you picked that in your drunken haze?”

“It matches the one Declan has on his left pec.” The words were out of her mouth before her brain engaged.
Holy crap
. She’d forgotten all about that in her morning-after fog.

“I don’t even want to know why you decided to get matching tattoos. The whole point of a Divorce Weekend is to do crazy things to celebrate your freedom from a man, not get involved with another one.”

“We’re not involved. Hell, I couldn’t remember his name for the first half hour this morning. I don’t know why I got a matching tattoo, but it doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

“Please tell me you didn’t give him your cell number or email address.”

“I didn’t even leave him a note when I snuck out of his room this morning.” A fact that still bothered her a little. It just seemed
…
rude. She had given him her real name though, contrary to Leigh’s advice. She’d meant to come up with something exotic and sexy, but habit tripped her up and she gave him her full first and last name. She’d always considered Ciara to be kind of boring, but the way he said it had sent a shiver down her spine.

“I have taught you well, Grasshopper. Now let’s get moving. I think I promised to meet Gold G-string Man for lunch and I really can’t face that in the light of day.”

Chapter Two

Declan knew the minute Ciara left his suite. Relief warred with disappointment. He wouldn’t have minded another round with the delicious redhead, but he didn’t want to have to go through the awkward goodbye.

Although, for the first time in decades, he’d felt more than a tug of momentary attraction toward a woman. Something about her pulled at his gut. She was an odd combination of blatant courage and vulnerability.

And it didn’t hurt that she was built like a brick shithouse.

Over the years he’d seen and bedded pretty much every body type of woman known to man. He’d been with Viking women who’d matched him for height and strength, had spent a most memorable year with the lush concubines in the Ottoman Empire, had enjoyed the attentions of some amazingly creative madams in Asia, and in the end, it was a curvy redhead who’d attracted him the most.

Maybe she reminded him of home. Or maybe, he’d gotten sick of the stick-skinny women who seemed to be the rage in this time and country. Or maybe her enormous blue eyes held something he’d been missing in the innumerable conquests he’d had in his never-ending life—a chance for redemption.

He didn’t know what had attracted him to Ciara when he’d walked into the bar, all he knew was he’d wanted her and she’d more than lived up to his expectations.

And now she was gone without leaving her cell-phone number or even the name of the hotel where she was staying. Wasn’t that a little ego deflating? Declan felt a twist of irritation. He was usually the one who had to do the brush off. He should be glad she’d taken that burden off his hands. But he wasn’t.

He shook his head at his perverseness. Really, after over a thousand years of this, he should know his own mind when it came to women. A blow to his ego was a small price to pay to avoid a tear-filled goodbye.

As he reached for a clean pair of boxers, a blast of heat dropped him to his knees. Wave after wave of lust crashed over him. His cock went hard and his balls ached like he’d been celibate for months. Morrigan’s mark on his chest glowed like a ring of fire.

Then, it was over. His dick went back to its normal size and his muscles started working again.

Morrigan’s mark still glowed.

What did it mean? In a thousand years, the only time anything happened with her mark was when it healed him from a life-threatening injury, and then it only felt warm, it didn’t glow. He touched the triskel and immediately got an image of Ciara entering a hotel on Royal Street. Her thoughts were clear to him, embarrassment, shame and a raging hangover.

He had to find her again, explore what it was about her that made Morrigan’s mark respond like this. Could Ciara possibly be the key to ending his curse?

Okay, think. What did she say last night? Is she in New Orleans for the week or just the weekend?
He couldn’t remember. Better not take the chance. She hadn’t told him what hotel she was staying in but he recognized it from the vision. There was a coffee house on the corner of the street. He could grab the paper and wait there and casually run into her.

Yeah, that was better than stalking her in the lobby of her hotel. He didn’t want to scare her off before he knew what it was about her that affected the curse. Could his eternal torment be coming to an end? He couldn’t even imagine it.

Declan had thought with Christianity
almost completely taking over the old country, Morrigan’s powers would have diminished, but he’d been wrong. The curse had continued well beyond when anyone even knew about the goddess who was maiden, mother and crone. Sure, there were still some druids about, and some of the Wiccans he’d met over the years knew about the old gods, but none of them had the power of even the weakest priestess of his time.

Which brought him back to Ciara. Was she a believer in the old ways? Before he could ponder it further, another storm of lust bowled him over. This time he saw a tiny bathroom and Ciara in a towel. The combination of the sight of her bountiful breasts covered only by a scrap of material and the effects of his mark had him gritting his teeth in pain.

He closed his eyes and recalled last night when Ciara had ridden him, her head thrown back as her pussy clenched around his cock. That alone was enough to draw his balls up. He wrapped his hand around his erection and pumped.

It didn’t take long for the orgasm to hit and he came like a geyser. The head of his cock was almost purple and he was still hard, but at least he’d had a little relief. He didn’t know how often these blasts of lusts would hit, but he hoped they’d slow down. It could get very embarrassing to have a constant hard-on.

Ciara breathed a sigh of relief as she dropped her bags on the floor of her front hallway. It was good to be home. Her head still hurt and her stomach wasn’t up to more than some dry crackers, but she was home. For once, the silence of her apartment wasn’t depressing. It was comforting.

New Orleans was fun and exciting and the food and music were incredible, but she wasn’t cut out for The Big Easy. The constant noise and crowds of people had been energizing at first, but by the end of the weekend, she’d longed for the normalcy of her apartment outside of Hartford. Connecticut might be boring, but it was home.

She dragged her suitcase to her bedroom and left it on the floor. Tomorrow was soon enough to take care of it, for now she just wanted to crawl into bed—her own bed—and sleep. In the morning she’d be back to her boring life. There would be no more debauched nights with a gorgeous man making her body sing.

As she slid under the covers, she relived as much as she could remember from last night. Declan had played her body like a violin. He’d pulled sensations from her she didn’t even know existed. She’d felt things she’d only ever read about. Hell, he’d shown her things she hadn’t even read about in her romance novels.

She squirmed as she recalled his mouth trailing a line of fire down her back as his finger played with the cleft of her behind. When he’d bent her over and driven his cock into her soaking wet pussy, she’d come so fast her knees had almost given out.

Just the memory of it had fluid gushing between her legs. She thought about getting her vibrator out of the nightstand, but it seemed like a pale comparison to Declan’s thick cock. Instead, she parted her swollen folds and rubbed her engorged clit. Her wrist where she’d gotten the tattoo brushed against the wiry hairs of her mound and the sensation shot her over the edge. She bucked and gasped as the wave rolled over her.

Memories of Declan swirled in her head as she came down to earth. She’d tried to push him out of her mind all day, but he’d remained foremost in her thoughts—at least when she wasn’t wondering how she’d survive the worst hangover of her life.

Obviously, she wasn’t cut out for one-night stands. Leigh would have been able to sleep with Declan and forget him as soon as she walked out of his hotel room. Her friend was an expert at living for the moment. It was no big surprise that Ciara was not.

Part of her regretted not getting Declan’s contact information—or at least his last name. But would she have the nerve to call him if she had his number anyway? Probably not. It was better to enjoy the memories for what they were, an incredible night of sex, than to romanticize them and risk ruining it.

No, she’d never see Declan again, but he’d given her a gift that went beyond multiple orgasms. He’d made her feel like a woman again. A lush, vibrant, sexy woman instead of a dried-up stick. And if she’d felt a bit embarrassed in the morning, that was a small price to pay for reclaiming her femininity.

Her last thought before sleep claimed her was that she wouldn’t have the tattoo removed. Whenever she felt like she was shriveling up again, she’d look at the Celtic knot and remember feeling a hundred percent female.

Chapter Three

Declan couldn’t believe his rotten luck. Morrigan had to be behind this. Nothing had gone right today and he was beginning to feel a little desperate.

First, he’d gotten to Ciara’s hotel just in time to see her and her friend hop into a taxi with their suitcases. He’d grabbed the next cab to the airport while wracking his brain for a way to casually run into her there. Would she believe he just happened to be leaving at the same time as her? Especially if he didn’t have a ticket or luggage?

That had turned out to be the least of his worries because she’d been in such a rush, she hadn’t even noticed him getting out of the cab behind her. Then, before he could
accidentally
bump into her, she was through ticketing and in line for security.

Since he didn’t have a ticket, he couldn’t get in line behind her. Not that it would have helped because the security line had actually moved rapidly for the first time known to man. That alone was enough to convince him that Morrigan had a hand in all of this. There was no way anyone would have that smooth of a trip through the airport without divine intervention.

Declan had returned to his hotel and checked out of his suite before heading back to the airport. He remembered Ciara saying something about being from Connecticut and not handling the New Orleans heat very well.

Luckily, there was only one airport in Connecticut, so he bought a ticket on the next flight up north. Unfortunately, that flight didn’t leave for hours and he had too much time to think.

How was he going to find her when he got up there? There was a definite pull from his curse mark, but it wasn’t like a GPS. He couldn’t just wander around the state following a vague feeling in his chest.

And how would he explain his presence there when he did find her? Hello, stalker? Any woman with an ounce of self-preservation would freak out seeing someone she’d hooked up with in New Orleans suddenly show up on her doorstep.

He’d either have to come up with a really great explanation or tell her the truth.

He was so fucked.

Ciara’s thoughts drifted to Declan for the hundredth time that day and it was only noon. The food in the hospital cafeteria where she worked was usually pretty good, but today she had no appetite. All she could think about was Declan.

Damn it, why couldn’t she just let it go? It was the 21st century for heaven’s sake. A woman had every right to have a one-night stand and not turn it into some grand romance. Why did she have to overthink this?

“Ciara? I thought that was you over here by yourself. Mind if I join you?”

Ciara’s heart dropped to her stomach as her ex-husband stood a little sheepishly by her table. Yes, she really did mind if he joined her.