He waves a hand dismissively. “My mother didn’t stand a chance against him. I admire her for saving herself.”
I swallow and try to look at the situation objectively. He’s right. There is no version of reality where Seven would have been removed from his father’s home.
“Even now, this can’t get out,” he says firmly. “You can’t tell anyone. I brought you here because it’s the only place I know he doesn’t have eyes or ears. He’s too powerful, and if he feels threatened, he’ll strike in ways you can only imagine. You understand that, right? It’s why I couldn’t tell you at the lake. I’ve been trying to get you back here for days.”
All those invitations for dinner. He wanted to bring me here. He wanted to tell me.
I’d say that no one would care about a leprechaun poisoning his own son with blue iron, but it would be a lie. No matter how many years had passed, theDaily Hatterwould lap it up. Poisoning another fairy with a prohibited substance, especially a child, is scandalous. The patriarch of the Delaney family doing it is media fodder. And he’s right that Chance would likely not suffer any consequences. Seven wouldn’t have any proof of what his father had done back then, and the fallout from a story like that would be devastating for Seven. His father would cut him off, and the tabloids would rake him across the coals. He’d be disgraced. He could lose everything.
And so could I.
If my name were dragged into the mix, my future and that of my family would be in jeopardy. My parents run a store they rent from a leprechaun. One word from Chance Delaney and that leprechaun could choose to raise their rent or force them out some other way.
“Please,” Seven begs. His tortured expression is incongruent with the demanding and arrogant man I know him to be. The man is made of suits, ties, and expensive scotch. I never thought I’d see the day he had a conscience. “Say you forgive me.”
There it is. The demand. His eyes hold me in their intense embrace, and his mouth forms a straight line, his jaw tight. I expect to feel his luck like I did on the beach, but my skin doesn’t tingle, and I don’t feel compelled in any way. Which means he’s left it up to me. He wants my uncoerced forgiveness.
Maybe that’s what does it. Suddenly my mental construct of him cracks, and all I see is the boy I knew, the one I liked and then later loved. I believe him. And I am floored by the vulnerability he’s showing. The pain his father caused might as well be an exposed wound over his heart. The entire situation is messed up.
I can’t carry my hatred for him anymore. Not now, knowing what I know. It’s too heavy. But my brain is reeling trying to process everything, and I can’t put into words what I’m feeling, so I simply blurt, “Yes, I forgive you.”
It’s as if I’ve dropped an invisible shield. He reaches out to cup my jaw, his fingers wrapping around the base of my head in an astonishingly possessive fashion. I barely get a breath in before his lips crash down on mine and my back and wings bump the wall behind me. Gods, the kiss takes me by surprise. It hits me like a force of nature, fierce and wild as a hurricane. If there’s any part of me that questions if this is a good idea, it sails away before I can examine it closely.
I tip my head and let him in, his tongue stroking mine in a dance that stirs up long-forgotten memories. Inside, that flock of butterflies takes flight, and then the warm rush of his luck stirs my blood.
Here’s the thing about kissing a leprechaun. When he wants to, when his focus is on me, all that power that saturates his body becomes a firebrand of pleasure. It feels like someone has popped the cork on a bottle of champagne inside my torso. My insides turn light and bubbly. My body feels effervescent. Everything comes alive. If kissing a man is like being lowered into a warm bath, kissing a leprechaun is like a warm bath full of Pop Rocks. This kiss is anevent.
It’s fireworks.
Among fairies, luck isn’t something we can see, but we can feel it. We can sense it. It’s as unique for each of us as a fingerprint. I’ve encountered Seven’s luck before but it never registered what exactly I was dealing with. Now, an image pops into my mind, formed from the size, the power, the temperature of thebeastin the room with me. Seven’s luck rises like a giant, hot-blooded dragon whose purr vibrates against my skin where it brushes me. Heat rushes to my core. I’m throbbing between my legs instantly as his fingers work themselves into my hair. His kisses trail to my ear, down my neck. Gods, his thumb feathering across my jaw almost makes me moan.
Seven tastes of forbidden fruit and interrupted destiny. Iwanthim. I crave him like a drug.
Luck purrs around the back of my neck and sinks, warm and intoxicating between my shoulder blades. It travels lower, tingling along each vertebra with firm but achingly effervescent pressure. I’m breathless as that hum shifts over my hip and down my lower abdomen to tease the tangle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. I moan into his mouth.
I’m playing with fire. This feels too good. I could lose myself in this kiss and then lose myself in him. What happened tonight is confusing enough. I forgave Seven. That’s a play I wasn’t expecting to make. Anything more is risking too much.
His fingers trace along the top of my bodice, a soft caress over the mound of my breast as his hips grind against mine, the hard length of him enticingly close to the ache between my legs.
Before I can lose my nerve, I plant both hands on his chest and push. “Seven, stop.”
He pulls back, panting. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to stop.”
“Why? You want me, I can feel it.” He moves closer again, and I push harder to keep space between us.
I close my eyes and try to put it into words, even as my blood sings in my veins and my core throbs with need for him. “I forgive you, okay, but that doesn’t mean we can go back to the way it was.”
He backs up a step. “No, but we sure as hell can create something new.”
I shake my head. “It’s been sixteen years. We don’t know each other anymore. Not really. When you kiss me, you’re kissing a memory.”
“Then let’s get to know each other.”
I’m speechless. It’s too much to take in. I hated the man only days ago, and I can’t sort out my emotions in the moment to respond. I want him, undeniably, but I haven’t had time to digest what a new relationship with him would mean for me. So I say nothing.
Silence stretches between us.
