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Chapter One
Fiona Maguire was bloody fuming. She paced the cottage floor, trying to compose herself. Lorcan, the half-demon she was presently in a rocky relationship with, had been in a funk since she’d turned down his marriage proposal, and it was getting worse.
His brother, Faolan, and his wife, Angelique, who was like a daughter to Fiona, noticed the tension between them. Therefore, earlier this evening Angelique suggested going for a couple of pints at a nearby tavern. Faolan hadn’t seemed enthused. Fiona wasn’t thrilled either, but Lorcan, ever the extrovert, was all for it.
Fiona also disliked exchanging modern clothing for attire appropriate here in late-eighteenth-century Ireland. A magical barrier kept others away from the lighthouse and cottage, allowing them to dress how they wanted, but outings required a long, heavy, high-necked woolen gown. Grudgingly, she’d donned the scratchy garment, hoping a night out would cheer up Lorcan.
She should’ve expected he’d flirt with the serving women, but he’d gone out of his way to make Fiona jealous. The wenches were nearly falling over each other to serve him. She couldn’t blame them; he was tall, dark and sinfully handsome. He’d danced with all three hoping to get a rise out of her.
Fiona had been tempted to send some witchy vibes to the men who’d been eyeing her, just to see how he liked it. But she wouldn’t buy into his adolescent games.
It had been a hell of a long time since she’d been an adolescent.
Fiona turned, recognizing Lorcan’s approaching footsteps with a mix of relief and irritation. She lifted her hand, employing magic to draw the bolt on the door.
Maybe she wasn’t above being a little adolescent.
She smirked, hearing him try the latch.
“What the hell, Fiona? Open the bloody door.”
She didn’t.
“You know a lock isn’t going to stop me. Or a door for that matter. I’m the one who should be pissed. You guys just left without telling me.”
Fiona still didn’t reply.
“I could’ve been killed. I had to fight off a coven of pirate vampires all by myself.”
Her heart skipped a beat; she threw the door open.
“You fought a vampire coven?” she gasped.
He grinned. “Only two, actually. So easy-peasy.”
She dared to breathe as he stepped inside.
“Why the locked door, Boomer? Aren’t we still pretending everything’s hunky-dory or tickety-boo between us?”
She stared. “Hunky-dory? Tickety-boo? You sound like a boomer.”
He only threw her a sexy smile.
“I’ll sleep in one of the kids’ bunks in the loft,” she said.
“What? Why? We’ve spent several enjoyable nights together here.” He tipped his head to the four-poster bed with the patchwork quilt.
“You know damn well why.”
“At least let me help you out of that gown. Those laces are difficult to reach.”
If her gown came off in his presence they wouldn’t be sleeping apart. Or sleeping at all for that matter. The attraction between them was visceral.
“I’ll manage,” she sniped. “I was dressin’ and undressin’ myself long before you were born.”
“What the hell is that?” He pointed to the travel bag she’d packed.
“My suitcase,” she replied, snarky.
“I bloody see that. But we’re supposed to stay at least another week.”
“I’ve decided to leave come mornin’.”
He set the lantern on the table then took his toolkit, the satchel with items necessary for dealing with supernatural creatures, off his shoulder.
“Because you’re pissed I was dancing with other women? Not so long ago you wanted me to flirt with other women; hell, you insisted on it.”
“Be that as it may, your juvenile antics tonight could’ve proven dangerous. We’re no longer hiding our relationship, yet you purposely made me jealous. I was barely able to contain my magic. What if my eyes glowed red? Or if I’d thrown one of those pretty young things against the wall? Or exploded her into a million bloody pieces because she was smitten by your charm?”
He gave a shoulder shrug. “I’m confident you wouldn’t hurt anyone. You seldom let yourself get out of control…except in bed.” He winked.
She glared. “You enjoy playin’ immature games.”
“Yeah. Well you still take things way too seriously, Boomer.”
“My magic is growin’. So it’s better if I…just go.”
He gave her a side-eye. “You’d actually leave before Amarra and Danhoul return with the kiddos? How do you think your daughter will react when she learns you’ve spent weeks with Angelique and couldn’t wait a few more days to see her?”
Fiona whirled to face him. He knew Amarra envied her relationship with Angelique.
“Don’t you dare make me feel guilty! You’re basically forcin’ me to go.” She kneaded the back of her tight neck. “Whatever. I’ll stay, but I’m goin’ to the lighthouse; you sleep here.”
She felt more than heard him step closer. The sexual tension between them was always palpable. Refusing to look at him, she could smell his enticing musky scent. It made her skin tingle. She was resolute she wouldn’t respond to his appeal. When he touched her shoulder, she pulled away.
“Lorcan…I felt disrespected tonight.”
He was silent for a bit.
“Sorry,” he said, finally. “I didn’t intend to disrespect you.”
“You’re no longer the man I fell in love with. You humiliated me in front of Faolan and Angelique. You’ve been irritable and cold to me for days. You used to talk and sing to me and loved to make me laugh, and you promised you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I know.” He blew out a breath “And I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I admit I’ve been acting kinda shitty. You hurt me when you turned me down, Fiona. But I miss how it used to be, too.”
She closed her eyes, conflicted.
“I need you, Fiona.”
“No. You need sex. There’s a huge difference. Why didn’t you spend the night with one of the serving girls or maybe all three…like the old days?”
She hated how jealous she sounded.
“I swore I wouldn’t be with anyone else while we’re still sleeping together…but more importantly because I want you.”
She felt his breath on her skin and sensed his heat. Demons had higher body temperatures. Hearing the emotion in his voice, she finally turned to glance up into his appealing face. His smoldering gaze went to her lips and she licked them.
She knew she was done for—even before he pulled her to him for a lingering kiss. His mouth tasted of whiskey and ale and his kisses always made her wild. With his firm arousal pressing against her, her own body responded with quivering desire.
An expert at removing women’s clothing regardless of the type or the era, he disrobed her with ease, then she tore off his tunic and breeches. They fell onto the bed—their mutual need so fundamental they skipped extended foreplay and went straight to primal, heated sex.
So much for thinking she could leave him.
The following morning Fiona sat in the old-fashioned wooden bathtub, savoring the warm herbal-scented water. Suddenly, Lorcan burst into her quiet contemplation—literally—for he jogged straight through the wall.
She smelled the salty sea air on him. He and Wolf the Fifth, a large mixed-breed dog, ran together every morning. She heard the thump against the cottage wall and answering yelp. The canine seemed hopeful he could follow Lorcan through.
“Sweet dog.” Lorcan laughed. “Nice running companion, but magical or highly intelligent, he’s not.”
Fiona smiled.
“You’re looking lovely, Boomer.”
Initially he’d called her that, taunting her about her age. Now it was said in fondness. He seemed cheerful this morning.
“And sexy as hell with your flushed cheeks.” He winked. “Kinda like after we’ve spent time together between the sheets, minus the heaving breasts.”
Fiona sunk lower in the soapy water, giving his six-foot-four muscular physique and gorgeous face a once-over. No one was more appealing than Lorcan Wright, in her and a whole lot of other women’s opinions. And he knew it.
With wavy, collar-length jet-black hair, a sexy cleft in his chin and his recent rougher unshaven look, dreamy green eyes and broad lips, it was hard to tear her eyes away. His English accent, devilish charm, intelligence, friendly nature, impeccable fashion sense, and confident demeanor added to his appeal. Throw in a slew of magical abilities and… Fiona sighed. He was damn near irresistible.
That couldn’t be denied even if their relationship was presently complicated.
Previously when Fiona saw that relationship status on social media, she’d rolled her eyes. What did that even mean? Unfortunately, now she understood.
Initially, she and Lorcan fervently opposed being partnered at LAMB, the agency who located and assessed magical beings. However, after a few risky missions revealed they worked well together, they began a friendship that blossomed to unexpected, yet undeniable love. Despite her aversion to their age difference, Lorcan talked her into signing a contract uniting them romantically for one year.
They’d kept their relationship hidden from most co-workers. Her son and daughter-in-law were aware, and now Angelique and Faolan.
Fiona was relieved they’d accepted their relationship. Except now things had changed. She and Lorcan rarely talked anymore; there was a chasm growing between them that made her heart ache.
It began when she’d voiced her desire to stay in this simple life here in old Ireland. Lorcan preferred the lavish lifestyle of twenty-first-century Massachusetts. His whole life he’d been accustomed to wealth and opulence. She should’ve known he couldn’t give that up…even for her.
He’d sprung it on her that he’d purchased LAMB and was now the CEO of the massive worldwide organization that monitored and policed mystical occurrences and supernatural creatures.
Fiona agreed she’d return to their time to help Lorcan deal with the dangerous MBs and other problems LAMB must address. They’d be making a forward time jump after they visited with Amarra and Danhoul and the children who were expected back later this week.
Surprisingly, what caused the biggest rift was something that should’ve been something lovely and romantic and…it had been. Lorcan had shocked her by proposing at the top of the beloved lighthouse overlooking the stunning seascape. But she’d turned him down.
Lorcan was younger…a lot younger. He claimed the age gap was nothing—that love was love. Full stop. But she worried one day it would become a problem.
Dammit, she’d liked the status quo.
Why did he have to ruin their blissfulness by insisting on a lifetime commitment?
Believing she’d never agree to a long-term relationship, he said he was tired of trying to make her see what they had could last forever. He’d been so upset he’d told her he was ending their love affair. In his fury, with his demon strength he’d tossed the ring case far into the ocean without showing her the engagement ring.
She’d been heartsick at the thought of losing him. But he’d seemed adamant he was done. Soon after, he realized staying away from each other wasn’t realistic—maybe even impossible. They loved one another and the chemistry between them burned white-hot. They’d compromised agreeing that when they returned to the future, they’d go back to being friends, co-workers, roommates, and secret lovers.
Fiona disliked this new aspect of their relationship. Lorcan was cockier. That wasn’t really new. But previously, he’d pursued her. Now, he gloated at how much she needed him—in and out of the bedroom.
Few women on the planet or any realm would turn down a proverbial roll in the hay with Lorcan Wright. Before Fiona, he’d been happy to oblige them all—short term—when he maintained his rule of three—three dates, three days, or three sexual encounters.
Those with demon lineage required alcohol and frequent sexual relations to curb darker tendencies. He’d need sex with someone and she’d be crazy jealous if it was with anyone else. Yet, she couldn’t commit to marriage. And he might one day insist on a lifetime commitment.
Yeah, it was bloody complicated.
Lorcan pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the chair. “You okay, Boomer?”
She tried to ignore his impressive tanned muscular chest and arms.
“Just grand, Junior.”
He kicked off his shoes, leaving a trail of sand, peeled off his running shorts, and leapt over the side of the large bathtub. As he landed beside her she grabbed for a handhold when the tub teetered precariously. Water sloshed over the side and he grinned like the damn Cheshire cat.
She put her palm to her throat. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, sometimes you act like you’re fourteen, not thirty-four.”
She probably sounded like she was ninety-three not fifty-three.
“Just aiming to please, Boomer. You said you want me to make you laugh.”
She shook her head at the puddle around the bathtub. At least he seemed happier. He smiled, pulling her to him for a torrid kiss.
Fiona wrapped her arms around his taut neck. “How are you not exhausted?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Demons have remarkable endurance. Even half-demons.”
She was aware. She took the herbal soap and washcloth, made some suds, and then scrubbed his swoon-worthy chest. “But you’ve just been out runnin’…plus we barely slept last night.”
He grinned. “Are you complaining? Because you seemed agreeable to everything that kept us up…well that kept me up.” Again he did his eyebrow waggle while gesturing to the disheveled bedding. “How about a repeat?” He glanced at his unmissably grand, erect manhood.
Pretending to ignore him and that, she tilted her head to the bundled plants near the hearth.
“I summoned sage from our time,” she said. “I’ll smudge the cottage to erase any echoes Amarra or Danhoul might see.”
“Yep,” he agreed. “It would be bloody shocking if they, especially Amarra, found out we’re together by witnessing any erotic echoes we’ve made in their cottage.”
Fiona felt her brows furrow. “Especially when we’re not actually together anymore.”
How difficult it would be to return to how it was before they’d become a couple. Lorcan had been the top agent at LAMB and he slept around a lot. While she, jaded about men and admittedly lonely, immersed herself in solo missions and intense training.
After they’d quarreled she’d finally told him she would marry him if it was the only way to be together. With his pride wounded he’d refused, believing she’d resent being forced into marriage.
Fiona exhaled again. Of course she wanted that and the happily-ever-after she’d never had. Who wouldn’t? If only she could believe it would last. She’d been married once—long ago to a despicable, abusive man twice her age. Lorcan was nothing like George Winterbourne. Still…trauma from past abuse could be life-long.
Lorcan continued washing his firm body and grazed her thigh. She jumped at the instant thrum of arousal. He soaped her shoulders and back, sending warmth throughout her body.
She moved, unable to continue their serious conversation when he touched her.
“Can you imagine how difficult it would be for your sister…my daughter…to witness such an echo?”
Lorcan waved off Fiona’s concern about his adopted sister, giving her one of his dazzling smiles. Her body tingled from scalp to toes when he moved closer, nuzzled her neck with his chin and caressed her breast.
“If I know Amarra—” he nibbled her ear, sending more shivers through her “—she’d be more pissed about the water on the floor.” He glanced at the puddle. “Well…maybe equally pissed.”
She sighed. “If that was meant to make me feel better, it didn’t.”
Gently grasping her shoulders, he looked into her eyes.
“Your son accepted us back when he basically hated my guts. My brother and his wife are surprisingly accepting of us together, so even if Amarra’s a bit weirded out at first, she’ll come around. If we wanna tell her, that is.”
Fiona rested against the bathtub. “You know her far better than me. Still, to learn her brother’s sleepin’ with her mother…well…”
“Whoa! You’re making us sound all incesty, Boomer. Yeah, I couldn’t love Amarra more if we were biological siblings. She’ll always be my baby sister, but she is my adopted sibling.”
“And I’m her mother, yet I barely know her.”
She closed her eyes, trying not to bemoan the past or stress about the future. Amarra was her daughter, but the story Fiona had been given was that she and her baby had gone into distress when she was in labor. She’d undergone an apparently urgent C-section. After coming out of anesthesia, she’d been told her baby didn’t make it. The hospital staff, part of the cruel ruse, placed a stillborn baby girl in her arms while she was still groggy. Memories of that heartache still sent pain as sharp as any blade through her chest.
In reality, her healthy newborn daughter had been taken by the nefarious Dark Lord Odhran. He named her Amarra after his sister, Mara, then raised her as his child with his biological son: Lorcan.
Fiona hadn’t learned the truth for two decades. That was nearly nine years ago. Still, an uncomfortable distance remained between them.
“Hey, Boomer.” Lorcan pulled Fiona closer. “Don’t let it upset you. We’ll smudge the cottage. Amarra never needs to know we’re having mad sex.” He winked again. “We’ll be back to our time soon anyway. We can pretend we’re only friends for a few days. We did that for months with our co-workers.”
That didn’t sit well with Fiona either.
“I’m about starved,” Lorcan said grazing her hip. “After we’re through here I gotta eat.”
“After we’re through?” She pulled a face. “How romantic! You’re makin’ it sound like havin’ sex is a necessary chore that you can’t wait to get over with.”
He shrugged. “Technically, it is necessary, maybe even for you since you’ve taken on some demon tendencies. But it’s never a chore, Boomer.” He grinned. “I’m happy to make it last. You know I have incredible staying power.”
She rolled her eyes at his boastfulness, even if that was true.
“But I’m hungry and Angelique’s making breakfast. I smelled pancakes from the beach and popped in to sample one hot from the frying pan. My usually friendly sister-in-law gave me the cold shoulder and my brother barely barked a hello.”
“They weren’t thrilled with your behavior last night either.”
“I got that loud and clear. I tried to suck up and told Angelique I’d cook dinner. Faolan’s leaving on a short voyage but intends to return by tonight.”
“You don’t want to go along?” Fiona asked.
“Hell no,” he scoffed. “I’d have to suffer his lectures on not acting like a demon.”
“Or an unfeelin’ juvenile arse,” she said.
“That, too. Besides, I’m happy to stay with you. Maybe we’ll spend all day here.” He looked at the bed again. “While we have time alone. Once we’re home and have to deal with the shit-show undoubtedly waiting at LAMB, we won’t have that freedom.”
His fingers traced her lips and she gave an unwitting moan. The powerful attraction still took her breath away, even though they’d been together intimately for months.
When she reached for the nearby towel, he grasped her arm. “Whoa. Where do you think you’re going, Boomer?”
“I’m goin’ to get dressed. You’re hungry anyway.”
“Hungry for food. But I’m ravenous for you.” He made his voice sound sexy. Sexier.
“Maybe you should go find the wenches you flirted with last night.”
“Nah. I want you, Fiona Maguire. Only you.”
She tried to let on she wasn’t madly aroused.
“Come on, Boomer. Can’t I talk you into a quickie before breakfast?”
“Possibly.”
Undoubtedly…with another smoldering look.
The electricity between was as charged as the air before a thunderstorm.
“Should we get out of the bath?” he asked.
“The water is gettin’ cold.”
He caressed her peaked nipples. “Is that what’s caused this?”
She gasped at his touch. “Yes, that’s absolutely the reason.”
Then she swirled her hand in the water and the temperature rose immediately. The water churned and bubbled like a modern-day jetted bathtub.
“Wow! Now, you have Angelique’s witchy ability of controlling water temp and movement?”
She shrugged. “I am an immerser.”
An immerser was a rare mystical being who possessed the exceptional gift of adopting other magical beings’ supernatural abilities.
“I s’pose it was bound to happen.” Fiona continued. “Angelique’s a water witch and we’ve spent loads of time together in the lagoon these past weeks.”
Lorcan and Fiona’s eyes met and locked. Their lips soon followed. He grasped her hips, effortlessly lifting her atop him, and she guided his erect manhood inside her. They sighed simultaneously at the primal sensation of being one, then moved together still gazing into each other’s eyes.
“Jesus! You feel good, Boomer,” he whispered huskily.
“And you,” she gasped.
“It’s never been like this with anyone else, Fiona.”
His voice held a sincere vulnerability that touched her—heart and soul. Combined with the intense pleasure she experienced when their bodies met, it had never been like this with any other man either.
She knew it never would. He’d recently said she’d ruined it for him with other women. He’d done the same. If he did end this, how could she consider being with another man? Yet he’d also awakened a sensual part of her she couldn’t ignore.
She writhed her pelvis as Lorcan moved harder, making her delectation escalate rapidly. More water spilled over the tub as climactic waves of fulfillment washed over her. He kissed her again heatedly, then groaned reaching his own culmination. No matter how uncertain their relationship was, their sex life was bloody fantastic.
She was startled when Lorcan’s gaze snapped to the loft.
“Have you been watching us the whole time, you perverse little shit?” he blared.
Fiona thought perhaps Newt, the resident ghost, had appeared although he wasn’t little. When she turned to where Lorcan was looking, she recognized the small creature. Wolf, an elgnorf—part elf, gnome and dwarf. Angelique’s magical guide and protector for years; he often remained near her or her children.
He must’ve been away with the children, for she hadn’t seen him while she’d been here. He looked like a grumpy garden gnome with a long white beard and a tall, pointed yellow hat.
Lorcan turned shielding her nakedness as she leaned closer, pressing her breasts against his chest.
“Hello, Wolf.” She cringed at her state of undress and still being carnally joined.
“Fiona. Lorcan.” Wolf nodded, unruffled. “I wasn’t watchin’…but for a few seconds. However, unless you wish your sister…er…Fiona’s daughter to find you in such a compromisin’ position, I suggest one of you leave.”
Lorcan’s head jerked toward the door.
“Bloody hell! Amarra and Danhoul are coming from the stable.”
“Aye,” Wolf said. “Did I not tell you? I’m guessin’ they’ll step through that door in half a minute.”
Lorcan’s Demon hearing might’ve alerted them earlier if they hadn’t been preoccupied.
Wolf’s bushy white eyebrows bunched. “Young Amarra is not in a congenial mood, for she and her Druid are…bickerin’. I doubt she’d be receptive to seein’ you two in this manner…well…at any time, but in her present state…” He clucked his tongue then disappeared.
“Shite!” Fiona gasped. “What should we do?”
They hadn’t ended their intimacy.
“Maybe use your witchy magic and disappear? I could walk through walls with super speed, but not as fast as you simply vanishing.”
Fiona nodded and flicked her wrist, using her power of selective invisibility as the door opened.
End of Excerpt
