Bedeviled Read online

  Now if only she could get someone to tether her ankle and pull her the hell down!

  “Come on, help.”

  Frowning, Culhane pushed himself to his feet and walked a few steps until he was standing directly beneath her. Which, of course, was when Maggie remembered that she was wearing her nightgown, and he was no doubt staring straight up at her personal space.

  “Close your eyes,” she ordered.

  He actually laughed, and the change in his features was breathtaking. The man went from gorgeous to flat-out amazing. Only the fact that he was laughing at her made it possible for Maggie to keep from drooling.

  While she bounced around on the ceiling like an escaped helium balloon, she tried to hold the hem of her short nightgown close to her legs, which wasn’t easy.

  “Are you sure you’re not doing this to me?”

  “No, the trapped Fae dust from the pendant is doing this to you.”

  “Fabulous,” she muttered, twisting her head this way and that, still looking for a way out. But there was nothing. No long, dangling chain holding up a chandelier. No handy floor-to-ceiling pole lamp. Just cobwebs. Lots and lots of cobwebs. She really had to do more housework.

  “Are you going to help me down or not?”

  “Will you listen?”

  “Yes, all right? I’ll listen. If you want to sing some songs, I’ll listen. You want to read the phone book, I’m your audience. Just get me off the damn ceiling!”

  “Aunt Maggie?” Eileen’s voice came, calling from the hallway. “Who’s here?”

  “Go back to bed!” Maggie shouted. The last thing she needed was one more person seeing her rolling around on the ceiling.

  “Are you never alone?” Culhane asked.

  “Was wondering the same thing myself.” Her gaze shot to the hall as Eileen naturally ignored the order to go to bed and walked down the zigzag stairway Grandpa had built. Over thirty stairs to go up about two feet.

  The man had really had too much time on his hands.

  “Maggie, how come you’re on the ceiling?”

  “Her power grows,” Culhane said.

  “Cool,” Eileen added.

  “Go to bed!” Maggie shouted.

  “I knew you’d come back.” Eileen had transferred her attention from her floating aunt to the tall, dark warrior standing in the middle of the room. The girl was really taking all of this much better than Maggie was. But then, Eileen wasn’t bumping her head on wooden beams, was she? “I went on the Internet to do some checking after you left, and—”

  “Hello?” Maggie spoke up, her voice as filled with sarcasm as she could make it. “If you two don’t mind, maybe you could chat later . . . when I’m on the floor?”

  “I was talking.” Eileen threw herself onto the couch with enough energy that Sheba woke at last. Looking up, the dog spotted Maggie, whined piteously, then dove under the coffee table, where she shivered so hard, Maggie’s forgotten wineglass trembled in response.

  “And I’m still floating.”

  “I have never experienced so much trouble dealing with one mortal woman,” Culhane grumbled, his voice deep and dark, rumbling through the small living room like a runaway freight train.

  “Two,” Eileen reminded him.

  “Yes, of course.” He merely glanced at the girl, then waved one hand and she was silent, her eyes still fixed on him but with an empty, vacant stare.

  “What was that?” Maggie slapped one hand to the ceiling, gave herself a shove and came really close to being within slapping distance of Culhane. Then she was bobbing back up again like a cork in water. If she weren’t so mad, she’d be really freaked out right about now. “What did you do to her? Eileen’s never quiet or still—”

  “I silenced the child.”

  “You did what?” Okay, gorgeous or not, this guy had to go.

  “It’s only momentary. She’s unharmed.”

  “She’d better be, buster, or when I finally get down from here I’m gonna make you sorry you ever heard of Maggie Donovan.”

  “Believe me, I already am.”

  “Well, that’s really nice!” She looked at Eileen again and worried. But she didn’t look injured. She just looked . . . stunned. Who was this guy? “I didn’t ask you here, you know. You’re the one who keeps popping up out of nowhere. I’ve had a completely crappy day, and instead of helping me, you look up my nightgown like a perv, put some kind of spell on my niece and scare my dog.”

  “You scared your dog.”

  She huffed out an impatient breath. “Fine. I’ll give you that one.”

  “You are the most irritating woman I have ever known.”

  “Don’t I feel special?” She stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Hard to believe that you are the prophesied one.”

  “Can we have this conversation when I’m on the floor?”

  Without another word Culhane rose up, floating effortlessly and with a lot less flailing about than Maggie had. His long black hair ruffled in the slight breeze his motion created. His gaze was fixed on Maggie, his mouth set in a grim, straight line. He hung in the air beside her for a long moment, and Maggie couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to get better-looking the closer he got to her. Which really wasn’t the point at the moment.

  “Your destiny has arrived,” he said, “and I am here to see that you accept it. I am a warrior of the Fae, and you are the chosen one. The one who will defeat Queen Mab and free the males of the Otherworld.”

  Maggie’s head thumped into a beam on the ceiling. “Uh-huh. Chosen one. Like Buffy. Sure.” Scrambling to push herself down off the ceiling, she at last admitted, “Okay, I give you that something completely weird is going on. Obviously I’m floating, so yeah. Problem. But, chosen one? Come on.”

  “You don’t believe.”

  “Is that what you need to help me out here? Because if it is, then okay. I believe you,” she assured him.

  Culhane studied her for a long moment, then shook his head in disgust.

  “Give me your hand.” Not a request. An order.

  She’d have held hands with the devil himself if it would have gotten her back on the ground. Maggie held out one hand, and when Culhane’s fingers closed over hers, heat suffused her body. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head, what felt like fire rushed through her veins, bubbling under her skin, and she had to wonder if holding hands with the devil wasn’t exactly what she was doing.

  Chapter Three

  Once safely on the floor again, she sat on the couch and held on to the arm to anchor herself. Her eyes were wide, and when the dog crawled into her lap looking for comfort, Maggie transferred her tight-fingered grip to the animal. “It’s okay, sweetie, I was scared, too.”

  “Your dog is a pitiful source of protection.” Culhane looked at the dog with disdain.

  “She’s sensitive.”

  “And a coward.” Sheba was sprawled across Maggie’s lap and looking pleased with herself. As Maggie’s fingers dug into the golden fur, Culhane almost envied the animal. Not a thought he enjoyed entertaining. Maggie was luscious and tempting and more infuriating than anyone he’d ever known. And she stirred something inside him. Something he preferred to ignore.

  “Wake Eileen up,” she commanded.

  Both black eyebrows lifted in surprise that she would think to order him to do anything. “In a moment.”

  “Now. No more talking until I see for myself that she’s all right.”

  Rather than drag this meeting out even further, he blew out a breath, waved one hand over the girl, and instantly she was back with them.

  “How’d you get down, Maggie? When did Sheba come out from under the table and—”

  “Go to bed, honey.” Maggie sounded tired now, and Culhane felt a moment’s sympathy for her. He had been waiting an eternity for this night. She was waking up to a world she’d never suspected existed. He must give her enough time to become used to the idea. To come to see that she was indeed destined to lead.
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br />   It would require patience. Diligence. Tolerance.

  “Who’s Mab?” Maggie’s gaze was on his as if she were attempting to stare directly into his brain and pluck out the answer for herself.

  “I know!” Eileen called out from the stairway. “I was trying to tell you before that I looked up Fae on the Internet, and on Wikipedia it has all kinds of great information, and I was reading up on the warriors and all of that stuff—”

  Culhane sighed. He’d never been fond of children, and this one in particular, though brave, seemed to constantly be interrupting. Did no one teach children to be quiet anymore?

  Maggie grunted, shoved the heavy dog to one side and turned to glare over the top of the couch. “Hey, information girl, you know you’re not supposed to go on the Internet unless I’m around.”

  “Please. Mom is soooo overdoing the whole look-out-for-child-molesters-on-the-Internet thing. I’m not an idiot, you know.”

  Culhane rolled his eyes and waited—as he had all day. Already it seemed as if this day had lasted an aeon. If this was the hope of the Otherworld, then his people were in for a disappointment. The woman’s mind couldn’t stay focused on any one thing for longer than a heartbeat.

  “Not an idiot, but still a kid.”

  “Teenager—”

  “Not yet.” Maggie had a tight grip on the couch, but even so, her legs lifted off the cushion a bit. “Besides, you know the rules.”

  Eileen gave a dramatic sigh and pouted for good measure. “Yes, but this was an emergency, and we needed information—and you should be grateful, because I found out about Mab and about him.“ She stabbed her index finger at Culhane.

  He didn’t want the girl telling Maggie anything until she’d heard it from him. Besides, who knew what this Wikipedia was saying about him and his people?

  “Want me to tell your mom?” Maggie smiled.

  Eileen huffed out a breath. “That’s just mean,” she said as she started up the zigzag stairs again, clearly realizing she’d been beaten. Her head was down, shoulders slumped, and as her bare feet clomped up the ridiculous flight of steps, she muttered under her breath.

  “If you’re finished . . .” Culhane shifted his gaze from the now empty hallway to the woman glowering at him.

  “Oh, excuse me,” she snapped, not actually asking pardon at all. “Have you been put out? Are you having a bad day? Feeling crabby now, are you? I’m so sorry to hear it.”

  “We have—”

  “Not your turn yet,” she said, and groaned when the dog threw herself across her lap again. “You will never, ever do that to my niece again; you understand me?”

  His insides rippled with anger, and power tingled through his system. To be dressed down by a woman who was younger than him by centuries was more annoying than he could say. Culhane lifted his head, squared his shoulders and looked down at her with all the fierceness of his bloodlines. “I will do—”

  “Nothing to her,” she interrupted. “Ever.” The dog whimpered, and Maggie grunted and groaned as she shoved the hairy beast onto the couch cushions. Standing up, she folded her arms beneath her breasts, tossed her hair back and warned him, “You do anything to her again and I’ll . . .” She paused, tipped her head to one side while she thought about it, then sighed. “Fine. Can’t come up with a good threat, so never mind. My point is, Eileen’s not a part of this . . . whatever the hell it is, and you’re going to leave her alone, got it?”

  His anger at the insult of her tone was immediate and instinctive, but not permanent. It couldn’t be. He needed her, damn the gods for sending her to him. Though he fought to restrain his fury, a part of him stood back and applauded her ferocious defense of one she loved. Looking into her eyes, he saw that fighting her on this would only make things more difficult. So he inclined his head in a nod.

  “I give you my word that no harm of any kind will come to the child.”

  “Damn right it won’t. Okay, good.” She smiled a little, her mouth curving up at one corner, and Culhane watched the motion with a hungry gaze. Ridiculous to be attracted to a woman who had given him nothing but trouble from their first meeting.

  “Glad that’s settled.” Maggie started floating again, but this time Culhane reached out, grabbed her and pulled her back down.

  “You must focus. Concentrate on standing still.”

  “I have to concentrate to keep from floating? What kind of dumb-ass power is that? And why am I suddenly going all antigravity, anyway? What the hell is going on?”

  Patience, he reminded himself, and wished that he had a larger supply of that virtue to draw on. Most certainly he was going to need it. “I’ve been trying to explain. There’s much to tell you. Much you have to learn.”

  “Yeah, probably.” Her fingers curled over his forearm as she frowned and fought to keep from lifting off her feet. “How about we start with why this is happening to me?”

  The lights in the room were soft and dim. The sound from the television was an annoyance that was easily taken care of. Culhane waved his hand and the set shut off, its now dark screen like a blind eye staring into the room.

  “Will you quit doing that?” She looked at the TV. “Now how will I know which bachelor demon gets picked?”

  “Demons.” Culhane hissed the word.

  She sighed. “Well, they’re not really demons. It’s some bigwig’s idea for a gimmick, that’s all. Unless . . .”

  He laughed shortly as the truth dawned on her. “Of course it is real. Demons are real. Fae are real. And the power overtaking you now is real.”

  She shook her head, hitching her folded arms high enough that the tops of her breasts peeped out of the neckline of her nightgown. He’d already seen much of her. Enough to make him hard and hot for her. But that time would come, and he could wait. First he had to make her see and accept her destiny.

  “This is really a lot to take in, you know? I mean, sure. Weird shit is happening, but—”

  “You killed a demon today,” he said, and watched her eyes darken at the memory.

  “She was a demon?” Maggie took in air desperately. “I was trying earlier to figure out what that thing had been, but I never thought of . . . See, the word demon doesn’t really spring to mind, generally. But your saying it so matter-of-factly, it’s hard to argue with. Of course she was a demon. What else would she be? All those teeth, the tail. What she was doing . . .” She took another breath. “And I killed . . .”

  The hand on his forearm tightened until he could feel the bite of her short fingernails through his coat. “Oh, God. Yes. I killed her. It. Whatever.” Her gaze lifted to his. “I didn’t mean to; it just happened, and if I hadn’t she would have eaten me just like she did Joe, so I can’t really be blamed for—”

  “The pendant,” his voice boomed out, interrupting the incessant flow of words from the woman. “The demon you killed wore the pendant. It carried the dust of slain Fae.”

  “That tornado of gold dust was dead Faeries? Ohmigod.” Her eyes went wide and horrified. “It was all over me. I was breathing it and . . .”

  She wobbled, and he gave her a nudge that sent her falling backward onto her couch.

  “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  “You won’t.” He dropped into a crouch in front of her. Her hair was a wild coronet around her head. Her eyes looked glassy, and her skin looked as pale as porcelain. Culhane laid one hand on her knee, felt the sting of electricity flow between them, but ignored it and stared into her eyes. “As a descendant of Fae, the Faery power is taking hold of you quickly.” He waited while she accepted that much before adding, “You’re destined to become a Fae warrior, and it’s my job to help you defeat Queen Mab. Once you’ve done that, you will be queen.”

  Since looking into a possible future and seeing Maggie on the Otherworld throne, Culhane had been keeping watch over her, biding his time. Centuries of battle had honed his skills for strategic thinking. And, he realized, he would need all of those skills to deal with this one woman.
She must accept her destiny. Must fight and defeat Mab. Everything depended on it. A human female, though trouble, was more malleable than her Faery sisters. A fact Culhane was counting on. When the battles were over and Mab deposed, with Maggie on the throne, Culhane planned to rule Otherworld himself as her consort.

  With that thought firmly in mind, he trapped her gaze with his. “This is your destiny. Accept it.”

  “Easier said,” she pointed out, still working her mouth as if swallowing back nausea. “Okay, being a queen doesn’t sound so bad, but please. Me? A warrior? I can’t even get myself off the ceiling!”