Free Brighid's Mark by Cate Morgan Page B

spoke of between . That nothing filled with everything New Orleans, everything him. Its music, its energy, its connection to the Loa. She gathered it around her, and reached for a different light. She reached for Liam’s.
    The ground shifted beneath her feet, Liam’s arms tightening around her. It felt so, so safe. So much so she hardly noticed when everything stopped between one heartbeat and the next. One heartbeat, they were still in the narrow street surrounded by swirling music and spinning bodies. The next heartbeat, they were on Liam’s balcony.
    Liam relaxed his grip, enough for her to settle back from the balls of her feet. When she moved to step away, he dug in again. “Wait. Give me a second.”
    Callie exhaled. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. Are—”
    His mouth descended on hers.
    Her reaction was electric, her body still pulsing. She was filled with light and music and living. It was the breathless feeling of the Tír , of New Orleans after being away a long time. Her body surged forward before her brain started spouting stupid rules.
    The iron balcony railing dug into the small of her back as he pushed her against it, one hand in her hair, his other arm wrapped around her torso. Her center of gravity shifted, and she had grab onto him to keep from losing her balance.
    “Where the hell do you come from, Callie?” he said between kissing her. “It’s you. You’re what I’ve been waiting for, all this time.”
    “Yes,” Callie breathed. “Oh, yes.” Suddenly, it was the simplest thing in the world, being with him. The simplest and the most right.
    He pulled away suddenly, breathing hard. He looked at her with liquid dark eyes. “If you’re going to stop this, now would be the time.”
    Callie considered it for about half a second. She almost laughed at herself. “No need to play the gentleman.”
    He grinned. “I’m always a gentleman.”
    He lifted her from her feet and spun her away from the railing. He set her back down long enough to dig the pins out of her hair and bury his hands in her multi-hued curls. They stumbled against the crumbling brick façade, cushioned by ivy and moss. Then he stepped to the side and tumbled them through the open French window.
    Callie started to scream, then burst into laughter when they landed in bed. Tension unfurled, released and dissipated.
    He looked down at her, amused. “That wasn’t quite the reaction I was going for.”
    “Ah, but it was exactly the one I needed, Irish-man.” She continued to laugh, unable to stop herself. “Very gentlemanly it is, shoving women through windows.”
    “Better than having to pull them out of the paths of demons for their own good.” He sobered. “Since I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them. In fact, I can think of nothing else.”
    She touched his face, feeling a little out of her depth. “We only have one chance.”
    “Well,” Liam decided. “I suppose we had better get it right.”
    They took their time, because they didn’t know how much they had left. They sat upright and entwined on cool, soft, white linens, bathed in cool, white moonlight and the music of the French Quarter. Appropriately, someone nearby was playing the slow, silky jazz one could only find in New Orleans. Hands tugged fabric aside, smoothed over bare, warm skin. Mouths followed hands, searched out secret places. Callie flinched when his fingers found the rough patch of scar tissue on her ribs.
    “What happened?” he wanted to know.
    “What else? Demons. A pack of loup-garou.”
    “Haitian lycanthropes? You took them?” He sounded impressed.
    “Eva and me.”
    He stared a moment longer, then framed her face in his palms and kissed her tenderly. “You are extraordinary.”
    She exhaled. “Liam—”
    He stopped her. “One chance.”
    He pulled the covers and sheets aside, laying her back against luxuriant pillows. Cool air whispered across her skin, teased strands of her hair. His hands soothed and smoothed