8. Corbin

The day we’d waited for had finally come:

Maeve Moore was home.

Briarwood recognized her presence – the entire castle buzzed with energy, a charged atmosphere that was perfect for working magic. Or perhaps it was just all our pent-up tension unleashing itself.

Being in the same room as Maeve lit my body up like a bloody Christmas tree, and I could tell from the way the others moved and talked that they were the same. Even Flynn’s flamboyant personality was subdued today.

Maeve Moore; our queen, our goddess, our priestess. After everything the fae had done to try and destroy her, she was finally back where she belonged.

With us.

Of course, she had no idea who she was or what she was capable of, but we’d get to that. For now, simply having her here was enough to enhance Briarwood’s protections.

We exited the Great Hall and crowded into the narrow passage leading down to the old servant’s quarters and kitchens. Flynn grabbed Maeve’s arm and dragged her toward his workshop, which was outside in one of the Tudor barns. I was happy for him to lead the tour for now, mostly because I didn’t want Maeve to see the tent in my jeans.

When I’d seen Maeve at the fairground in Arizona, that had been the first time I’d laid eyes on her since I’d gone to visit my dad on one of his surveillance missions when I was twelve. I had no idea what to expect, but I sure as fuck didn’t count on the knock-out beauty standing her ground against Kalen.

Every time she moved, her curves swayed like some kind of hypnotic dance. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It took a burning Ferris wheel toppling to the ground to break the spell between us and my protective instincts to kick in.

As soon as I touched her to drag her to safety and felt her power leaping through her skin into my own, I was gone forever.

I was hers.

But even if she chose me – which I felt certain she would – and our combined powers strengthened the coven, Maeve could never be mine. No matter how desperately my body demanded her.

Not after what I’d done.

And now Maeve was here, at Briarwood. We all knew what that meant. Well, everyone except Maeve. But she’d figure it out soon enough, when her own hormones went into overdrive and she discovered the power she possessed.

Flynn and Arthur wanted to hit her with the news today, as soon as she walked in the door. They always did favor the baptism by fire approach.

But I overruled them. Until Maeve’s initiation ceremony, until she chose one of us as her magister, I was officially our leader. Maeve was still mourning the loss of her parents. We could gift her a few days, maybe weeks, to reclaim herself and discover things on her own.

I hated lying to her, but it was necessary. After all the years of listening to my parents talk about nothing but her, and of arranging her surveillance and listening to the guys tell me stories about her – I knew her. Maeve had a scientist’s mind – she wanted logical explanations, well-constructed arguments, everything neatly ordered and organized. What we had to tell her was going to sound like a bunch of New Age bollocks, and if she didn’t already sense her connection to the castle and to us when she found out the truth – if she wasn’t already aware of what was at stake – she’d run as fast as her curvy legs would carry her back to Arizona, and we’d be completely fucked.

Stop thinking about it.I forced myself back to the present. Just enjoy this time with Maeve while you still have it.

We followed Flynn down a short path to the barn that had once served as the stables when the castle had been a stately home. Maeve’s eyes widened as she took in the high pitched roof and the piles of rubbish stacked in every corner. Flynn called it his Viking horde, but it was – as Maeve would say – trash. Coils of rusty wire, old stained-glass windows with smashed panels, bits of marble tile, old pieces of farm equipment, broken bits of car engines. In the center of the room, Flynn’s latest project stood nearly as tall as the beams – a crouching dragon made from scrap metal and stained glass fragments. A single beam of sunlight reached into the room from a tiny, high window, hitting the dragon’s stained-glass scales so that it glittered.

Maeve walked all around the statue, her eyes wide with wonder.

Damn Flynn and his artistic talent. He always knew how to charm the ladies, and maybe Maeve would be no exception. Would the dragon win her from me?

In that moment, it certainly looked possible.

Flynn darted around, his arms flying everywhere as he spun Maeve in circles and pointed out his various projects. Flynn’s art brought in a decent amount of income – he could sell a large piece like the dragon and make enough to pay his bills for the year, but he got distracted easily and often abandoned projects unfinished.

“What’s this?” Maeve asked, pointing to the stepped fountain in the corner of the room. Flynn had fused together three giant cauldrons we’d found in one of the outbuildings and a stone and iron frame to create a series of cascading pools.

“Prepare to be astounded.” Flynn reached around and flipped a switch. Maeve squealed with delight as water trickled into the first cauldron, which overflowed into the second, the pressure of the water causing a tiny iron windmill to spin lazily as the water cascaded down into the third cauldron.

“I like to have water flowing when I work,” Flynn said. “It drowns out the voices in my head.”

Arthur glanced at me and rolled his eyes. I resisted the urge to roll mine back. Typical Flynn, hogging the spotlight. Time to get Maeve out of here. We agreed – we all get a fair chance.

We entered the kitchen next – Rowan’s domain. Arthur and I hung by the door, giving him this small window to shine. Even Flynn stepped back a bit and kept his stupid comments to a minimum.

Rowan squared his shoulders. I could see him mentally counting the spice jars on the shelf as he took Maeve by the arm. None of us – not even Rowan – expected Maeve to pick him, with his strange tics and quietness and obsessions. But he deserved a chance, the same as the rest of us.

No one ever picked Rowan. Except me. Part of me wished Maeve would be different, but not at the expense of losing her for myself. This was too important.

Rowan showed Maeve around the space, pointing out the spice racks and explaining his comvoluted fridge-stacking system. Maeve listened attentively, and she didn’t laugh or poke fun of any of Rowan’s tendencies. The tension slipped from his shoulders.

She was affecting even him.

“What are you making here?” Maeve peered into the baskets of produce and empty preserving jars on the island.

Rowan’s face reddened and his shoulders hunched back up again. I winced. That didn’t last long. Maeve looked at Rowan’s face as his jaw locked. He stared at his feet and twirled the end of a dreadlock around his finger.

“Rowan, is something wrong?” Maeve’s voice tightened with concern. She reached out a hand to him, but he stepped back, leaving her arm hanging in the air. The awkward tension in the air ratcheted up a notch.

Time to save this situation.

I stepped forward and grabbed Maeve’s arm, doing my best to ignore the tingle of energy that shot through me when our skin touched. I’d have to get used to ignoring it. I dragged her across the room.

“This is really cool,” I said, opening a door at the back of the kitchen to reveal a narrow staircase. “This was installed when the castle was a grand stately home so the servants could rush meals up to the bedrooms without being seen in the main part of the house. It comes out near the staircase that goes up to your bedroom, so it’s a good shortcut down to the kitchen if you fancy a nightcap.”

“Duly noted.” Maeve sashayed across the room and peered up the narrow staircase. “Are the bedrooms upstairs? Can I see?”

At the word bedroom passing through her red, pursed lips, my cock tightened in protest. Don’t think about it. But that was like telling Obelix – the pudgy castle cat – not to think about all the delicious birds sitting in the tree outside the window.

“Sure.” I gestured to the staircase. “After you.”

Maeve started up the narrow steps, her gorgeous arse hovering inches from my face. I made to follow her, but something heavy slammed into my side, knocking me against the wall. I cursed as my elbow scraped against the rough stone.

“Sorry mate,” Flynn flashed me his devil’s grin as he leapt past me and followed Maeve up the stairs. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I believe you,” I mumbled as I followed them up. “Millions wouldn’t.”

At the top of the stairs, Maeve pressed her hands against the wood panel. “How do you get this open?”

Flynn tried to reach around her to unlock the clasp at the top of the door, but this time, I beat him to it. As I reached around Maeve, she turned slightly to press her back against the wall and her breasts brushed against my shirt, setting off a fire beneath my skin.

Her lips formed an O of surprise, and I couldn’t help but mentally fill in that O with the shaft of my cock.

Why am I thinking like this? This isn’t me.

I blinked, trying to stop thinking about her like that, trying to remember that it was the magic making me into this animal.

The air between us thinned, and an invisible force drew my body forward so that my arm brushed hers. A few inches more, and my lips would be pressed against hers?—

No. You can’t do this. You can’t encourage her to choose you.

“Well, isn’t this intimate?” Flynn shimmied his way through the gap so that he had his back against the opposite wall, his hands falling against Maeve’s hips. If he wanted, he could slide her back so her arse rubbed against his cock, and even though that was totally cheating, I wouldn’t even blame him.

I was cheating just as bad – my face in hers, my eyes begging for her touch. All I’d have to do was lean forward, press my lips to hers, and it would all be over…

But that’s not fair. You all agreed, and it was your idea. She’ll choose you in the end – it’s the only logical choice to make, and Maeve rules her life with logic.

Maeve’s lips parted a little, her breath hitching. The energy pulsing from her body warmed the air around us. It was as though a magnet extended between all three of us, pulling us together.

Right now, she had no idea who she wanted more.

Interesting.

The other two guys clambered up the stairs behind us. Maeve glanced away, and the spell broke enough that I could gain control of myself and pull back.

Flynn did the same, and he shot me a look over Maeve’s shoulder, a look that said, “how the fecking hell are we going to last around this bird without doing something unchivalrous?”

An excellent question. One I didn’t have an answer to.

Maeve didn’t look upset. In fact, her heavy-lidded eyes and ragged breath as her eyes flitted from mine to Flynn’s to Arthur’s and Rowan’s suggested she was pretty into the idea of one of us.

Or all of us, who knows?

Stop bloody thinking about it.My fingers brushed against the catch, and I let it off. The door swung out, and all five of us tumbled into the hall in a mess of limbs.

“Here, I’ll help you.” Arthur managed to untangle himself first, and grabbed Maeve’s hand. Flynn reached for her other hand, but she was already using it to leverage herself off the floor. Flynn swiped it out from under her, sending them both rolling across the hallway.

“You guys are nuts.” Maeve stood up and dusted herself up. “I’m not an invalid. I can get up by myself.”

“Point taken,” Flynn mumbled, picking himself up from the floor. There was an imprint of the carpet across his cheek.

“I mean, the way you’re acting, it’s as if I’m some damsel in distress…” Maeve’s words trailed off as she caught sight of the large portrait at the end of the hall. She stepped toward it, her eyes wide.

A shaft of sunlight fell across the frame from one of the small skylights above the hallway, illuminating the figure who appeared to smile down at Maeve from her spot on the wall.

It was impossible to miss the family resemblance.

The woman in the portrait had Maeve’s enormous eyes – although where Maeve’s were hazel, hers were an icy blue – and the same bow-shaped lips, lightly colored with red so they stood out from her pale skin like a droplet of blood. Her long brown hair fell in luscious waves down her back, and her hips and breasts swelled from her old-fashioned gown, revealing that hourglass shape that oozed sexiness.

She sat on a chair in the library, a few books stacked on the table beside her. She kept her hands folded in her lap, and on her right index finger, she wore a ring embedded with a citrine crystal. Around her swan-like neck was a larger citrine amulet, and a third stone was set in the diadem that encircled her forehead. Her face was serene, content in her power, and the corners of her mouth turned up into an enigmatic smile.

Maeve reached up with her hands, touching the canvas right against the citrine ring. “Is this… my mother?”

I ran to her side. “Yes, that’s Aline Moore. Have you never seen this portrait? The famous artist Robert Smithers painted it. He was a friend of hers, apparently. A smaller copy of it hangs in the National Gallery, but this is the better of the two.”

“I just… wow.” Maeve’s eyes wandered all over the canvas, drinking in the details. “I knew she lived here, but I just never expected to see…wow.”

“Do you need a minute? We can all go downstairs?—”

“No, I’m fine.” Maeve placed her hand over her chest, swallowing hard. “I was wondering if—argh!”

She leapt back as a dark shape streaked across the side table beneath the image, sending a Wedgwood bowl spinning toward the edge. I flung out a hand and managed to save it before it crashed to the ground.

“Obelix!” I growled at the giant ball of black fur.

But Obelix wasn’t listening, because he was a cat, and cats didn’t listen to the help. He was too enchanted by our newest resident. He perched on the end of the table, stretching out a fat paw toward Maeve in greeting.

She stared at the paw, her hand tapping her chest, which rose and fell as she tried to calm her heart rate. I could relate. That blasted cat had given me enough heart attacks to last a lifetime.

“You gave me a hell of a fright, cat,” Maeve admonished him.

“He wants to shake hands,” Rowan said quietly.

Maeve snorted, but when Obelix didn’t retract his hand, she reached out and touched his paw. ‘This is ridiculous,” she said, but her face burst into a wide smile as Obelix wiggled his paw up and down, his fat body erupting into a loud purr.

Okay, so maybe Rowan didn’t have the confidence of Flynn and I, but his ability to teach large furry creatures ridiculously useless tricks might see him win over Maeve yet.

If only he could teach Flynn not to be Irish.

“He’s adorable,” Maeve breathed, rubbing Obelix behind his ears. He collapsed against the table, his eyes rolling back in delight as he shoved his head against her hand to beg for more.

“He’s a total pain in the arse,” I growled. “But it looks like he has a new favorite human, so maybe he’ll stop trying to hog my desk chair.”

“Does he like to be picked up?” Maeve didn’t wait for an answer. She slid her hands under Obelix’s shoulders and lifted him against her chest. The cat practically sighed in contentment as he nestled his fat head against her breast. All four of us clenched with jealousy, totally wishing we could be where that cat was right now.

Maeve had been in the house less than an hour, and this is what it had come to? I was officially jealous of a cat.

I was starting to regret my decision to keep her in the dark about her power. At this rate, we’re all going to die of blue balls by the end of the week.

“Here are all the bedrooms,” Flynn skipped down the hall, kicking open each door with his big, filthy boots. Usually, watching him track soot and sawdust over the immaculate rugs made my hair stand on end and Rowan break out into hives, but today it couldn’t bother either of us – not with Maeve here.

Maeve peeked into each of the rooms, taking in mine and Arthur’s heavy metal posters, Flynn’s enormous Irish flag, and Rowan’s immaculate white space in a single glance.

At the end of the hall, a second winding staircase led up into the tower. At the top was a small wooden landing with an arrow slit overlooking the inner courtyard below. I turned the huge key in the lock and swung the wooden door open.

“This is your room.”

Maeve’s gasp sent a shiver through my body, right into my cock. I imagined that sound coming out of her mouth as I drove into her, my fingers digging into that gorgeous arse of hers as she bent over the bed I’d chosen especially for her?—

“Fuck!”

I spun around in time to see a small ball of flame burst from Arthur’s hand, licking the wooden door. He slammed his hand against the door frame, grimacing as he snuffed out the fire before it could catch.

He caught my eye and nodded.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one struggling to control myself around Maeve. At least Air couldn’t burn the castle down.

Luckily, Maeve hadn’t seen the flame or heard Arthur’s curse. She stood in the middle of the tower room, mesmerized.

We nailed it.

Ever since our solicitor informed us Maeve would be arriving, the four of us had scrambled to decorate the tower room for her – mostly led by Flynn, who had an artist’s eye for these sorts of things. I had to admit that it looked pretty good.

Tall banners hung from the ceiling, painted with Celtic knotwork and figures depicting some of the history of our coven. A dark-framed wooden four-poster bed stood in the center of the room, facing the largest mullioned window, and framed with diaphanous curtains. A second, smaller window was cut low into the wall – right near the floor, and we placed her desk in front of this, with one of the Louis XVI chairs from the other side of the castle angled so it looked out into the gardens below. There was no wardrobe, so Flynn and Arthur knocked up a set of shelves with a hanging rack and baskets and hid those behind an Edwardian privacy screen, also pilfered from the other half of the house. We’d even stuck up some old fashioned astronomical charts I’d found at a local antique shop, and a lamp beside her bed cast a galaxy of stars around the room with a single touch.

Flynn shrugged, as if the hours of work to get it finished were no big deal. “We hope you like it. If not, you’re out of luck. It took me three days to paint those banners.”

It didn’t, actually. Flynn had drawn the designs and Arthur and I had filled them in while Flynn went to the pub. Not that I’m bitter or anything. I rubbed my knee, which still ached from kneeling for hours with a tiny brush in my hand.

The look on Maeve’s face made it all worth it.

“All this… is mine?”

“Of course,” I said. “You’re the landlord. If you want to change any of it?—”

“No!” Maeve blushed. “It’s perfect. But… all this must’ve been so expensive. I can’t… I don’t…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur said, his back resting against the charred patch on the door. “We all chipped in, and lots of the furnishings come from other areas of the castle, so it didn’t really cost that much.”

“Please don’t feel like you owe us,” Rowan added in his quiet voice. “We wanted to do something nice. We wanted this to feel like a…like a home.”

Maeve’s face twisted, and for a moment I thought she might burst into tears. Instead, she grabbed Rowan, and embraced him. Rowan’s body went stiff under her touch, but he softened just enough to pat her shoulder awkwardly. “Thank you, thank you so much.”

“I’m bored,” Flynn announced. Maeve let go of Rowan and he shot Flynn a grateful look, which was perhaps the first time anyone had ever been grateful to Flynn for anything.

“How can you possibly be bored in this place?” she asked him.

“You mean, how can I stand living under the same roof as my English oppressors?” Flynn wrapped an arm around Maeve’s shoulder. “Well, I’ll tell you, Maeve, it takes a fiesty Irish spirit and my body weight in Guinness just to see me through the day. Speaking of which, I think it’s time we hit the pub.”

“Flynn, it’s lunchtime.”

“The pub does lunch.”

“Rowan was going to cook,” I protested. We hadn’t even finished the tour. I hadn’t got to show Maeve my library yet.

“The pub is fine,” Rowan said quickly, his eyes darting to the door. I realized that he wasn’t ready to cook for Maeve yet. Of course. I should have thought. Yet another way I’ve let Rowan down.

“I’m starving. And I’ve heard good things about these British pubs of yours.” Maeve sniffed the air. “Hey, what’s that burning smell?”

I leapt forward, but Flynn was faster, sliding in between Maeve, blocking her view so she couldn’t see Arthur frantically trying to put out a fire on the corner of the banner. “That’s the smell of these Protestant infidels after I beat them all at pool. Now, to the pub!”

I followed behind the others, my cock already aching with need. One thing was for certain, when Maeve Moore learned how to harness her power, Briarwood Castle was going to be shaking right down to its foundations.