Wicked Fantasy Page 7

  Conall ignored her comment while he studied Asima. “What were you doing here anyway?”

  Asima did a cat shrug. “Curiosity. A weakness of my species. I wanted to see her wardrobe.” She glanced at Gerry. “Your clothes are extraordinarily unremarkable. Can we say boring? You’re like a ball of clay waiting to be molded. Beware if the slut queen takes an interest in what you’re wearing. Do not listen to her. I’ll be around to help you pick out a few tasteful outfits once you settle into your new room.”

  “Slut queen?” Too late. Asima disappeared.

  “Sparkle Stardust. The two of them together is a scary happening.” He raked his fingers through his damp hair. Then he looked at her. “You’re wet. I like it. Change.”

  “You’re naked. I like it. Put something on.”

  His sudden smile heated her all the way through. It was unexpected and so sensual she glanced down to make sure steam wasn’t rising from her jammies. Nope, no steam. But every inch of the wet material clung to her fore and aft. Oops.

  She tried for a normal walk as she went to the closet. But she could feel his gaze cupping each cheek as she moved. Was her butt wiggling? God knew there was enough there to wiggle and jiggle to their own rhythm. Talking about jiggling, she held her shorts and top in front of her chest as she backed toward the bathroom.

  “You disappoint me.” Something hot and primitive moved in his eyes. “You could almost redeem the whole Kavanagh clan.” He thought about that. “Okay, not the whole clan. Maybe two or three.”

  Gerry couldn’t herd her thoughts into one spot long enough to concentrate on them. Who’d tried to destroy her and make it look like an accident? What was she going to do with this luscious but dangerous man standing in her room? She should leave the castle, but that would guarantee she wouldn’t have a shot at apprehending the wife killer. Would Conall get the wrong idea if she walked over and ran her fingers over all that wet, gleaming skin?

  She reached behind her to feel for the bathroom door. His gaze never reached her face. He had some concentration problems, too. Good. “By the way, how’d you know there was a fire in here?”

  “Sometimes the curse tunes me in when a Kavanagh’s in danger. It doesn’t always work. It worked this time.” Conall shrugged. “Something woke me, and I smelled the smoke.” He finally met Gerry’s gaze. “I’ll get dressed. Once you’re in your temporary room, we’ll talk.”

  Gerry pushed the door open and slipped into the bathroom. Then she shut the door and flipped the light switch. Temporary room? Didn’t Holgarth say there weren’t any more empty rooms on the vampire level?

  Closing her eyes, she leaned her back against the door. She’d worry about that after her shower. She needed to feel water pouring over her, washing away the smell of burned cloth and the memory of a hard male body. And for just a few minutes she’d stop wondering who wanted to kill her.

  Conall dried himself off while he tried to block out how good Gerry had looked. Good? Not a word he’d ever used in the same sentence as “Kavanagh.” The only “good” Kavanagh was an old wizened one with one foot in the grave. Right now, though, he had to convince her to accept his protection.

  First he called Eric to let him know about the fire and what he planned to do about it. Eric would tell everyone else. Then he pulled on jeans, a T-shirt, and shoes before returning to Gerry’s room.

  While he waited for her to come out of the bathroom, he took a look at the partially burned candle and then paced a lot. If he hummed to himself, he could block out the sound of the shower and the vivid erotic images that went with it.

  She opened the door and walked into the room just as he noticed the plant. “Jeez, Houston looks like shit.”

  “Houston?” She walked to the couch and sat down.

  Conall needed something for his eyes to focus on besides her long bare legs and the thrust of her breasts against the green top she was wearing. Nothing really sexual in the clothes, but on her . . . “The plant. The owner bought him in Houston and thought he looked sort of alpha with the thick stems and big green leaves. Now look at him.”

  “Yeah, it needs water.” She glanced toward the candle. “That wasn’t there when I fell asleep at dawn.”

  “You’d better pack.”

  “Right.” She stood, walked to the closet, and began pulling clothes out to put in her open suitcase. “The door was locked. How did he, she, or . . . it get in?”

  He helped her by retrieving the few things she’d left lying around. “Here’s the deal about the Castle of Dark Dreams. Lots of paranormal entities stay here. Word has spread that the guys who run it are like them. They figure we’ll understand their needs. It’s possible that a few of them have powers like Asima.”

  “So locks mean nothing. Some nonhuman bad guy could appear in my room anytime he wanted to. Gee, I feel really safe.” Gerry glanced around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything before closing her suitcase. “Let’s go.”

  Conall ignored her sarcasm. He picked up Houston and the suitcase. Somehow he didn’t think Gerry would want to come back to this room even after the cleaning crew finished with it. He didn’t blame her.

  Opening the door, he waited for her to pass him. She slipped past and the scent of vanilla trailed her out the door. Free association brought up the words “hunger” and “dessert.” Not words he wanted to think about when he thought of any Kavanagh.

  As he closed the door, Conall realized that for the first time the name Kavanagh didn’t ignite his automatic response of frothing rage. “Follow me.”

  “Why did you bring the plant?”

  “Houston needs someone to care, too.”

  “How about you?” The first teasing note crept into her voice.

  “Not me. My stem and leaves are just fine.”

  “I’m talking love, O’Rourke.” She wasn’t going to let it go.

  And he wasn’t going to satisfy her curiosity. “Houston doesn’t need love, he only needs sex.”

  “You’re joking.”

  Good. He’d distracted her. “I’ll explain later.” He stopped in front of the huge wooden door, put down the suitcase, and pushed open the door. It made its usual loud grating noise. He flipped the switch just inside the door.

  Gerry picked up her suitcase and followed him into the . . . “Dungeon? You’re putting me in a dungeon? What’s the star rating here? Bet you’ll lose a few after this.”

  She peered around at the usual dungeon stuff: rack, iron maiden, whips, chains, and a bunch of other props. Fake sconces and an electric hearth gave the place tons of atmosphere. There were two doors on the opposite wall.

  Before he had a chance to explain, the furniture he’d ordered when he called in the fire arrived. He waited while the men set up a bed, night table, lamp, TV, couch, coffee table, and two chairs. They hung a few clothes hangers from the handcuffs attached to the wall.

  Gerry watched with open mouth as they left. “Well, isn’t this nice. Home sweet dungeon. If the maid doesn’t make my bed right, I can chain her to the wall.”

  “Sit down, Gerry, and let me explain.” Good thing he didn’t have to work tonight, because this was going to take a while. He sat down and put Houston on the floor beside him.

  She perched on the edge of the other chair, but he had the feeling she was ready to bolt.

  “I can honestly say this has been the second most surreal night I’ve ever lived—using the term loosely—through. Guess I shouldn’t make assumptions about life though, because the night’s not over.” She smiled at him, but it was ragged around the edges. “The only night that tops it is the night I was made.”

  Conall wanted to know about that night, and the fact that he did bothered him. “Once in a while we get too many vampires wanting to stay here. This is the only floor that’s light free. So when we run out of vampire rooms, we put the dungeon off limits for the castle fantasies and let someone use it.”

  “Oh.” She looked around.

  “There’s a bathroom behind
the door on the right. The door on the left opens to one of two break rooms for staff. This one’s for the nonhumans who work here. You can lock the break room door while you’re here because there’s another entrance.”

  She brightened. “Well, then that’s okay. Sort of.” Her expression said he and everyone else in the castle were so far out there they probably didn’t even belong to this galaxy.

  He took a deep breath. Time to make his pitch. “Someone tried to kill you tonight. Not Jinx because he doesn’t have the power to get past your locked door. It wasn’t me because I’m committed to protecting you.”

  “Whoa, don’t cross yourself off the list. Whoever lit the candle was trying to make it look like I just got careless. If this Morrigan couldn’t prove it was murder, she’d have to release you from the curse. And I don’t think that connecting door would stop you. Sounds like a plan to me.”

  Her expression said she was turning over possibilities. “Jinx is a thief. He’d know how to pick a lock. But he realizes killing me wouldn’t free him, so yes, I agree it wasn’t Jinx.”

  Conall wondered if she could hear him grinding his teeth. “Not Asima, because she doesn’t have a motive.”

  “Hate to interrupt again, but she didn’t bust her little kitty butt trying to wake me up.”

  “Right.” This wasn’t working. Rather than roar at her, he stood. “I’ve got to water Houston.”

  “Water Houston?” She looked bemused. “I must’ve turned left and the conversation went right, because I’ve lost it.”

  He was afraid he’d shout at her, so he didn’t answer as he yanked the bathroom door open, filled a glass with water and poured it into Houston’s pot.

  “So won’t he die in here without light?”

  “He doesn’t live off light. He lives off sexual energy.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “These plants belong to the owner, and they live off the energy generated when guests have sex.” He sat down again.

  She stared at him blankly.

  He couldn’t stop his grin. “Houston here has been deprived for a long time. Since he’s yours for the duration, guess you have an obligation to him now.”

  “You’re not kidding, are you?” She rubbed between her eyes. “Of course, you’re not. A plant that gets off on sexual energy instead of Miracle-Gro.” She shook her head. “Makes perfect sense in the Castle of Dark Dreams. Do you know how creepy that sounds? Hey, I feel for Houston, but he’ll have to hunker down and hang on to his leaves, because there won’t be any sexual energy floating around in here.”

  Conall didn’t think this was the best time to talk about her lifetime protection policy underwritten by Morrigan, but it had to be discussed, especially after the attempt on Gerry’s life. “Look, we have to talk about—”

  “No talk. My head is going to explode if I have to think about one more thing.” She stood. “I’m going for a walk. Alone.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to speak. “I know. You have to guard me. Just don’t get in my way.”

  As she turned toward the still-open door, Conall heard the sound of flapping wings in the hallway. He stared at the ceiling. Oh, crap.

  A huge crow flew into the dungeon, circled a startled Gerry, and landed on the iron maiden.

  Conall rubbed the back of his neck. Not that it did any good. No tension relief when the bitch goddess was in the room.

  “Hello, Morrigan.”

  5

  “Morrigan?” Gerry stared at the crow.

  The crow returned her gaze with beady-eyed intensity.

  “What brought you back?” Conall wore no expression.

  Gerry thought she understood. No emotion equaled no fun for Morrigan.

  Gerry felt enough emotion for both of them. The total insanity of the last two nights washed over her, and she came up sputtering with rage, ready to lash out at someone. And Morrigan was that someone.

  “You know, you picked a great form. The old crow is you.” She wanted to shriek at the top of her lungs and shake the feathers off the disgusting bird. “Who gave you the right to mess with people’s lives?”

  Gerry heard Conall stand and then felt his hand on her shoulder. He pulled her back against him, but the press of his hard body did not calm her.

  “Easy.” His voice was low and controlled.

  Well, hers was loud and way out of control. “No one deserves to be punished for eight hundred years. And get out of my world. I don’t want you manipulating my life just to satisfy your warped need for vengeance.”

  The huge black bird fluffed up its feathers so it looked even bigger and cawed at her. The little black eyes began to glow red. Urp. Had she said too much? Perhaps she lacked sensitivity. Even evil black birds needed a hug now and then. Nah.

  “You will not speak to me in that tone of voice, puny vampire.”

  Wow. Morrigan sounded like a female James Earl Jones. And if Gerry wasn’t so mad, she’d laugh at that sound coming from a crow.

  Since she’d already ticked off the goddess, she might as well keep on truckin’. “What’ll you do, destroy me? Oh, wait. If you do that then you’ll have to release Conall from his curse. Wow, you have a situation here, goddess.” She couldn’t seem to stop running her mouth. A lifelong weakness.

  She heard Conall’s low curse just before he stepped in front of her.

  “She’s had a lot of weird stuff happen to her since she hit the castle, Morrigan. We’re together, so what’s the problem?” His grip on Gerry’s arm easily kept her behind him.

  Damn, what good was vampire strength if she couldn’t get away from one blasted man? “Let me go. I can fight my own battles.”

  “No.” He never took his attention from the crow.

  Morrigan looked like she was considering murder and mayhem, but then decided to let the “puny” vampire live for the moment. “What did you mean by, ‘What brought you back?’ This is my first visit since you began serving Mick Kavanagh.”

  Conall tensed. “The hell it is. You hopped into my mind right after Mick died to let me know the last Kavanagh was living in Galveston. You told me to get a job at the Castle of Dark Dreams and wait for further instructions. Then last night you showed up in my bathroom, perched on my sink, and said that the Kavanagh would be at Wicked Fantasy. I went. She was. And now we’re here.”

  Morrigan’s eyes were doing the red and glowing thing again. Uh-oh. She was not a happy crow. The goddess turned her attention to Gerry. “Why were you at Wicked Fantasy last night?”

  “Not that you need to know, but I got an anonymous tip that a thief I was after would be there.” Gerry frowned. Coincidence? She didn’t think so.

  Morrigan didn’t think so either. She let out a mental shriek that rattled around in Gerry’s head. “Jeez, would you tone it down a little?” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this one out. Someone had impersonated Morrigan in order to manipulate them.

  Morrigan flapped her wings and made angry crow noises. “Where is this thief?”

  “Umm, down the hall. Room three.” She wouldn’t, would she?

  She did. Jinx suddenly appeared in the room wearing nothing but red boxer shorts and a confused expression. “A dungeon? What, you’re going to torture me now? I only stole the freakin’ ring.”

  “Be still, puling human.” Morrigan cocked her head to get a better angle on Jinx. “You are exceptionally unattractive.” She hopped to the back of the nearest chair.

  Jinx laughed. Surprisingly, laughter made him almost cute. In a happy-ferret kind of way. “This coming from an ugly black bird? Whatta you do when you’re not scaring scarecrows? Oh, and I’m a shape-shifter, not a puling human.”

  Gerry noticed he wasn’t as confident as he sounded. His hands were shaking. “Leave him alone. He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  Morrigan ignored her and kept her piercing gaze on Jinx. “I am Morrigan, Irish goddess of war, destruction, and almost everything worth having power over. Respect me, human, or die.”
>
  Jinx swallowed hard. “Got it. Lots of respect coming your way, goddess.”

  Gerry could feel the anger thrumming through Conall, but he remained silent.

  Morrigan studied Jinx like he was tasty roadkill. “Why were you at Wicked Fantasy last night?”

  Jinx shrugged. “Got a tip the Bimmel woman would be there wearing a hot rock. Said she tended to get careless with her jewelry. Took her rings off and set them down in places perfect for snatching.”

  “Who gave you the tip?”

  “Anonymous. Didn’t know if it was legit but decided to give it a try.”

  Morrigan nodded. “You may leave.”

  Jinx didn’t wait around to hear more.

  Gerry edged out from behind Conall. He didn’t try to stop her. His attention was focused on Morrigan.

  “Interesting game. Looks like someone is making your moves for you.” Conall didn’t seem upset by that. “Whoever it is knows about your curse and doesn’t give a flip about pissing you off. I’d like to shake their hand.”

  “You’d better shake it quickly, because when I discover who the guilty party is, I’ll scatter their body parts over all of Galveston.” Morrigan flew into the air and disappeared out the door.

  Gerry shuddered. “Bloodthirsty bitch, isn’t she?” God, that was one scary woman.

  Conall exhaled deeply. “She has a right to be. She decides who lives and dies on the battlefields. There’s no softness or mercy in that goddess.”

  “Hey, there’s always someone bigger and badder. I don’t believe her Supreme Nastiness is as powerful as she thinks. She’s an ancient goddess, ancient as in old and complacent. Can I say, we’ve come a long way, baby? I don’t roll over and play dead every time crow woman caws.” Now all she had to do was find this bigger and badder being.

  He stared down at her. “Still interested in that walk?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Well, no, but climbing into bed and pulling the covers over my head would be just another notch on the goddess’s belt. I let her intimidate me, she wins.”

  He smiled. And rearranged her internal organs—heart in throat, flip-flopped stomach, and brain hovering somewhere south of her belly button.