Irish soil once again, and breathe Irish air.” His voice broke with emotion. “The world was meant to have fae in it, Elizabeth. It had fae in it long before the first human was a glint in some apelike creature’s eye.”
She grimaced at him. “I still don’t understand what’s so bad about life in here.”
Niall said nothing. He finished building up the fire at his leisure, then stood and walked over to her, coming very close, close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face. She fought the urge to take a step backward, hating the soft, excited curl in her belly that seemed to always be present when he came near her.
He leaned in so close he was almost kissing her. “I have no life in here.” The words whispered against her lips. His eyes looked dark, haunted.
Her heart pounded out a crazy rhythm. Her body softened and her lips parted. For an awful, wonderful moment she thought his lips would touch hers. Then he was gone, across the room, and the chilly air closed around her like a lonely embrace. She hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms against the cold.
Disappointment weaved a bitter thread through her before she forced sense into her mind. Her libido needed a smackdown. This was the worst man in the world to feel attraction toward. She chalked it up to too much alone time in the woods. Stupid. Silly.
Dangerous.
She needed to watch herself. Never let her defenses falter. And tamp down this irrational reaction to him at any cost.
Drawing a deep breath, she forced her heart rate to ratchet down and walked into the living room. “You’re wealthy, live in the Black Tower, have a brother here, friends. Doesn’t seem so bad to me.”
He looked at her. “How do you know about my brother?”
“The Quinn brothers? Everyone knows about you, even a reclusive nature fae like me has heard of you and Ronan.”
The Quinn brothers were known not only because they were siblings, which were rare enough in the fae world, but because they were mages. Through some trick of fate or by deliberate motion of the goddess Danu’s hand, the brothers had been born to a fae woman by a Phaendir father. That made them part-blood Phaendir and fae. It was completely unheard of. In all other known cases of Phaendir siring children with human or fae women, the offspring always turned out 100 percent Phaendir and always,
always
, male.
She took a step closer to him. “What was it like, living with them?”
“The Phaendir? We didn’t live with them for very long. By the time our magick began to manifest it was clear that we were fae, not Phaendir, at our cores.” His lips curled in a bitter smile. “We were called
abominations of nature
and were turned out by our father from the Phaendir enclave in Ireland.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t kill you.”
“Looking back on it, so am I. It was the final mercy of our father, I guess.”
Hugging herself against the chill in the cottage, she walked over and sat down on the edge of the couch. “So you went back to live with your mother in the fae community?”
He looked away from her. “She was dead by then, one of the very first of the fae to succumb to Watt Syndrome. No one even knew what it was back then. She just got sick and died. I don’t think she would have accepted us, anyway.”
“Why not?” She was so close to her mother, loved her so much and was loved in return; it was hard to imagine how any woman could reject her own child.
“She was Seelie, and the Phaendir magick in us made us Unseelie. Our magick was so versatile and could harm and kill in so many ways that we were considered to be dark fae.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Your mother couldn’t have been that pure and perfect. After all, she’d slept with a Phaendir.”
“The story goes that our father forced her into marriage with him. They lived together long enough to sire us, just ten months apart. Then our father took us from her and forced her back to the Seelie Court.
She grimaced at him. “I still don’t understand what’s so bad about life in here.”
Niall said nothing. He finished building up the fire at his leisure, then stood and walked over to her, coming very close, close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face. She fought the urge to take a step backward, hating the soft, excited curl in her belly that seemed to always be present when he came near her.
He leaned in so close he was almost kissing her. “I have no life in here.” The words whispered against her lips. His eyes looked dark, haunted.
Her heart pounded out a crazy rhythm. Her body softened and her lips parted. For an awful, wonderful moment she thought his lips would touch hers. Then he was gone, across the room, and the chilly air closed around her like a lonely embrace. She hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms against the cold.
Disappointment weaved a bitter thread through her before she forced sense into her mind. Her libido needed a smackdown. This was the worst man in the world to feel attraction toward. She chalked it up to too much alone time in the woods. Stupid. Silly.
Dangerous.
She needed to watch herself. Never let her defenses falter. And tamp down this irrational reaction to him at any cost.
Drawing a deep breath, she forced her heart rate to ratchet down and walked into the living room. “You’re wealthy, live in the Black Tower, have a brother here, friends. Doesn’t seem so bad to me.”
He looked at her. “How do you know about my brother?”
“The Quinn brothers? Everyone knows about you, even a reclusive nature fae like me has heard of you and Ronan.”
The Quinn brothers were known not only because they were siblings, which were rare enough in the fae world, but because they were mages. Through some trick of fate or by deliberate motion of the goddess Danu’s hand, the brothers had been born to a fae woman by a Phaendir father. That made them part-blood Phaendir and fae. It was completely unheard of. In all other known cases of Phaendir siring children with human or fae women, the offspring always turned out 100 percent Phaendir and always,
always
, male.
She took a step closer to him. “What was it like, living with them?”
“The Phaendir? We didn’t live with them for very long. By the time our magick began to manifest it was clear that we were fae, not Phaendir, at our cores.” His lips curled in a bitter smile. “We were called
abominations of nature
and were turned out by our father from the Phaendir enclave in Ireland.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t kill you.”
“Looking back on it, so am I. It was the final mercy of our father, I guess.”
Hugging herself against the chill in the cottage, she walked over and sat down on the edge of the couch. “So you went back to live with your mother in the fae community?”
He looked away from her. “She was dead by then, one of the very first of the fae to succumb to Watt Syndrome. No one even knew what it was back then. She just got sick and died. I don’t think she would have accepted us, anyway.”
“Why not?” She was so close to her mother, loved her so much and was loved in return; it was hard to imagine how any woman could reject her own child.
“She was Seelie, and the Phaendir magick in us made us Unseelie. Our magick was so versatile and could harm and kill in so many ways that we were considered to be dark fae.”
She frowned and shook her head. “Your mother couldn’t have been that pure and perfect. After all, she’d slept with a Phaendir.”
“The story goes that our father forced her into marriage with him. They lived together long enough to sire us, just ten months apart. Then our father took us from her and forced her back to the Seelie Court.
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