“So, that’s a yes?” he asked.
“Ya’ know it is.” Farren wasn’t sure how much more of his shite she could take before bringing him right to Caitlin and letting her work her air charms on the man.
“I’m sorry you lost your...beta. But what does that have to do with me and the old woman at the pub?” There was genuine regret in his tone, and for a moment, she softened her attitude.
Until she squeezed her eyes shut and saw Fergus’s face as he carved a part of the sigil into her side. The glee. The sick, disgusting smile and his sing-song voice. Fuck. She’d never forget that voice. It haunted her dreams.
“That woman was a practitioner. And we’ve been lookin’ for her ever since Fergus met his end. If we don’t find her, a group of practitioners callin’ themselves the Thirteen might come searchin’ for...people I care about, and we won’t be able to defend ourselves.”
“You just threatened to chase me down and tear me apart,” he said sharply. “And you’re telling me you can’t defend yourself? Hardly.”
“Against practitioners?” Farren scoffed, and the urge to grab the bottle of whiskey in her bottom desk drawer and top off her coffee welled up stronger than she wanted to admit. “Ya’ don’t mess with practitioners, Eli. No one does. This scar?” She yanked the hem of her sweater up far enough she could see the edges of the sigil, and swallowed the panic rising inside her. “If Fergus had finished the damned thing, the Thirteen would have been able to control everythin’ I did. They could have forced me to murder my family, to hunt down elementals to be tortured and killed…”
The rest of what she wanted to say caught in her throat, and Eli stood, blocking her path. When he reached for her hand, she hissed, “Don’t touch me.”
“Farren. Take a deep breath.”
She couldn’t. Not if her life depended on it. With a shake of her head, she sidestepped him, but he matched her movements.
“I won’t hurt you.” He offered her his hand once more, and this time, she couldn’t ignore the honest concern in his voice. Taking a risk, she let him link their fingers and draw her over to the well-worn leather sofa opposite the coffee machine. “Sit. I’ll get you a refill.”
The caffeine wouldn’t help much, but the familiarity, the taste…it often settled her, and she sank back against the cushions while he retrieved her mug and topped it off. When he returned, he sat close enough she could feel the heat of him seep into her. And the man’s scent. What was it? Spicy. Woodsy. It brought memories of her first run through the woods behind her property. Freedom and wild abandon.
Back then, she’d been at peace. She’d known who she was. Had a purpose. An ache welled up deep inside her as Eli sat quietly, not touching her, not trying to get her to talk about her feelings.
After a couple of sips of coffee, she forced a long, slow breath. “The past few months have gone sideways, and havin’ to explain things…”
“I wish I could say you didn’t have to go on, but I have no bloody clue what an elemental is. Or how I’m supposed to help you find this practitioner.Shefoundmein that pub, and she disappeared before I could ask her to explain why I had to come here.”
Eli dug in his pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch. “She gave me this. And told me the silver wolf would need it.”
Once he loosened the ties, he upended the bag over Farren’s outstretched palm. The silver pendant drew a sharp gasp from her lips, and her gaze darted from the intricately crafted tree of life to Eli and back again. She’d seen this image before.
Stamped in the corner of half a dozen pages of Diedre’s book.
Chapter Five
Farren
Bringing Eli back to her house was a bad idea. Cade and Liam would be pissed, but the silver pendant in her hand was proof the man next to her had a purpose here.
“Can ya’ stay in town for a few days?” she asked, running her thumb over the glittering charm.
“I work for myself. My agent will expect to hear from me, but he doesn’t need me back in London for at least another month.” Flexing his fingers on his thighs, he continued. “I need to work. I’m not someone who can sit idle. But along with sculpting, I create sand art, and you have a lovely beach across from the hotel.”
“Sand art?” She couldn’t help herself. The very idea of playing in the sand as a job was so foreign to her.
He pulled out his phone and brought up a photo of a massive phoenix under gray skies. “This was the last piece I created before everything went pear-shaped.”
The majestic creature looked alive. She could imagine it breathing, dripping flames as it flew over the countryside. Tryingnotto show how very impressed she was, she nodded. “Nice.”
“I’m so glad it meets your approval.” With a noise that was half snort and half huff, he shoved the phone back into his pocket. “That was a solid eight hours of physical labor, for your information.”
Be nice. You need him.
With a sigh, she stared down at her own hands clasped in her lap. “Small talk isn’t one of my talents.”
“Clearly.” After a beat, he shook his head. “Apologies, Farren. I’m shattered. If I’m staying, I should make sure Doolin House has a room for me for the week. And perhaps take a kip.”
