The Clash of Yesterday Page 7

  Shuddering, I lay my head on his shoulder, looking at the blue lake below us. I took Ilona’s wings at this very spot because she dared to do the same thing I just did.

  Taking measure of the feel of Ronan’s muscles and the hard length of him still pulsing inside of me, I know this isn’t going to be the last time either.

  As we start to sink down, Ronan’s wings spreading wide to ride the air currents against gravity’s pull, I admit we could very well lose our lives over this.

  CHAPTER 9

  Ronan

  I look at my watch, noting my meeting was supposed to start ten minutes ago, but I can’t be overly irritated. Carrick Byrne requested it, and I’d sit in this waiting room for an eternity if necessary. Landing the small One Bean account is what I’m hoping is the start of an exceptionally long and lucrative career at Prima.

  Until I’m ready to relocate, anyway, which is something an immortal has to do as we “age out” of our colleagues and circle of friends. Of course, we have the magic of glamour, which is one of the main gifts left with our fallen angel ancestors when God tossed them from the heavens. The angels, and thus the Light Fae as we had become known, were simply too otherworldly to gaze upon, so glamour was needed.

  When I look in a mirror, I just see a guy. If I were to stand beside a human and compare us, there would be obvious differences. Our bone structure is perfectly constructed, our eyes a bit more luminescent, our hair lustrous, and even our skin has a tiny shimmer. As such, we use glamour to tone down our visages, so we remain living in secrecy. We then can age up if we really like a place and want to stay a long time, but, honestly… it’s not as fun once the act of an “old man” is necessary. As such, I tend to move around every twenty-five years or so. Since I just got to Seattle and I very much like it here, I’ve got a few decades before I need to decide my next move.

  Plenty of time to decide.

  What to do with my life.

  With Eliana.

  We’ve been back from the games—and that amazing night at Cernian Falls—for two weeks now, and we haven’t spent a night apart. While we haven’t officially talked about having a relationship here in the Earth realm, we’ve sort of fallen into it.

  We haven’t talked about our previous enmity, nor the fact our families hate each other with the type of passion that drives one to murder.

  No, we’ve acted like humans—particularly Seattleites—who enjoy going out for good food, exploring coffee shops, and hiking in the gorgeous parks around us.

  We do fuck a lot, but we’re fae. Our sex drive is as immortal as our bodies.

  It’s a given we come together at night after work and dinner, staying either at her condo or mine. But truly, we’ll get it on anywhere.

  It could be in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant or hiking in the middle of the woods. It’s simply a matter of me always craving her and being inside of her, so I press the opportunity when I can. And when I’m not pressing it, she is.

  So yeah… we fuck… a lot.

  Maybe with all that sex, we’re avoiding having the necessary talk we need to have because you can’t spend all that time with someone—much of it being incredibly intimate—and not start to develop feelings.

  I’ll probably only ever admit it to myself, but I started having some sort of feelings for the exasperating yet gorgeous fae goddess warrior when we first got down and dirty in Rome. I think it was rooted in respect for her then—not just in her prowess in battle—but that she had the guts to leave Brevala like I did and strike out to find her own fortune and happiness away from the family umbrella.

  Fortune is a literal milestone fae will achieve after spending centuries in the Earth realm. Unless a fae is immensely stupid or enjoys living in squalor, it’s impossible not to accumulate massive wealth. I honestly don’t even know how much money I have tucked away in banks worldwide or in vaults where I’ve garnered jewels or gold bars. I expect Eliana is the same.

  We don’t flaunt it, though, because money attracts attention, so while we might wear designer clothes and live in nice digs, it’s never more than what we could reasonably explain having from an inheritance or something like that.

  With that wealth, I could retire somewhere. Buy my own island, stock it with beautiful women, and live my eternity in paradise. But after living a few thousand years, it’s easy to get bored. It’s why we move around and reinvent ourselves. Hell, I’ve been to college so many times and gotten so many degrees, I could probably teach on any subject known to man. I even went through medical school about sixty years ago, and I practiced medicine in South Africa for about thirty years.

  I’ve seen so many things, been to far too many places, and had my pick of the most beautiful women for my pleasure, yet it all falls flat when compared to what I’ve got going on with Eliana.

  The fool watching from the outside in would say she’s only exciting because she’s dangerous and off-limits.

  It’s not that, though.

  There’s a connection that defies reason, especially given we were groomed to hate each other. The fact that we come together—spend time together—means we’ve transcended millennia of negative indoctrination.

  It means, if I would be so bold as to hold a romantic notion, which I never have in my life, that our hearts have somehow connected despite the adversity.

  That can’t be ignored.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” a deep male voice says, and my gaze snaps up to see Carrick Byrne watching me. Hands tucked casually into his pants’ pockets, which are hand-tailored along with his suit jacket.

  I have no clue how long he’s been there or if he thinks I’m a slobbering idiot for not knowing he was. I manage a sheepish grin and stand, holding my hand out. “You’d be wasting your money on my thoughts, I’m afraid.”

  Carrick laughs, shaking my hand, and then turns. I follow him into his office, and he shuts the door.

  “Have a seat over there,” he says, motioning to the furniture grouping. I choose the end of a long couch, watching as he moves to a wet bar built into the wall.

  He pours two drinks—bourbon by the looks of it—into crystal glasses and brings them over. I’m shocked as I thought we were here to discuss business.

  Or maybe we are, and this is how he does it.

  Or maybe he’s gay, and this is a come-on.

  Regardless, I accept the drink with a smile. “I guess it’s close enough to quitting time.”

  Carrick settles onto the love seat opposite me, a low teak coffee table between us. Casually reclining with one leg over the other, he rests his drink on his thigh. “I didn’t bring you here to discuss business.”

  Shit. It’s a come-on.

  I take a small sip, wondering how to let down the man who could make or break my career at Prima. After I swallow, I casually ask, “What can I do for you?”

  Besides give you a blow job because that’s a hard “no” for me.

  He studies me, taking a sip of his own. When his glass is resting back on his thigh, he says, “I’ve been thinking a lot about you and Eliana Thompson.”

  The hairs on the nape of my neck rise. Just seconds ago, I thought he wanted to hook up, and an ordinary person might still think he means he wants a threesome with Eliana and me.

  But there’s no way that’s what this is.

  Shoulders tense, I wait for him to explain.

  “I know you’re both Light Fae,” he says, and it sucks the air out of my lungs. Not that it would kill me, but it leaves me stunned. “From Brevala, to be exact. Am I right?”

  “How?” I ask, refusing to confirm his suspicions. “How did you see past our glamours to know we’re fae?”

  I don’t bother denying it because he knows.

  But I don’t know how. He’s not fae at all—neither light nor dark. We can see through glamours, and I see nothing but a human before me.

  “It doesn’t matter how I know,” Carrick says dismissively. “I just do. And I’m particularly interested in the fact you
’re both from Brevala.”

  “What’s so interesting about that?” The tone of my voice is abrasive, but I can’t help it. Light Fae in the Earth realm guard their identities almost religiously. In my existence, I’ve never told a human about my true self, although I know some who have.

  “Brevalians are warrior fae,” Carrick says, a fact that tends to set us apart from those in Faere. “You’re trained in all kinds of weapons and fighting styles. You can fly, giving you a distinct advantage against an enemy.”

  A pit starts knotting in my stomach. “You make it sound as if a war is coming.”

  “What if I told you that was a distinct possibility?” he counters softly, and I don’t even think he might be crazy. His grim expression and the quiet confidence he exudes tells me he knows something big that might be going on.

  “Let me explain,” he continues, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. He sets his drink on the table. “I have it on incredibly good authority there’s a prophecy in effect. While I don’t have the details just yet, the general gist is that the Earth realm would most likely be destroyed.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, then take a healthy slug of the bourbon. I hiss over the burn, take in a breath, and ask, “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me how you know this or why someone who appears human would know such a thing.”

  “At this point, no,” he replies with brutal honesty. “But what I am doing is reaching out to Light Fae who might have a vested interest in helping to secure the safety of the Earth realm and to see if you would be willing to join forces if the need were to arise.”

  “You want me to commit to joining a war you’re not willing to tell me anything about?” I ask incredulously.

  “Well,” he drawls, eyes sparkling with humor. “I’d certainly tell you the details if it looked like this was going to come to pass. I just don’t know yet. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

  “But you know enough to target me specifically.” My suspicions grow even keener. “And you clearly know Eliana is a Brevalian, too.”

  “I know you’re a Bluff Dweller, she’s a Meadowlander, and your families hate each other. I also know you and Eliana do not hate each other at all.”

  Son of a bitch. There’s enough innuendo in his tone to tell me that he knows we’re together.

  “You had us followed?” I snarl.

  “Investigated would be more accurate,” he corrects. “And what I know is that you both hold sway with your families. It wouldn’t just be you and Eliana who I would want to join forces with, but all of Brevala. I had thought that since you two seem to be getting along so well, you could perhaps convince the families to join.”

  I’m shaking my head before he even finishes. “You don’t know the history of Brevala very well then. If you did, you’d know there is nothing in the cosmos that would get the Meadowlanders and the Bluff Dwellers to come together for anything.”

  Carrick studies me as he casually settles back on the couch once more. He ignores his drink while I finish mine off with a large swallow, setting the glass on the table.

  “Can I give you some advice?” Carrick asks. It’s such an off-the-wall question when we’d just been talking about war and earth’s doom that I’m startled into mutely nodding. “Love is what caused the rift between the two clans of Brevala. Love gone horribly wrong. Maybe it’s love that will fix it.”

  My heart starts hammering at his insinuation. “Love? Who said anything about love?”

  Because I don’t know if I love Eliana—isn’t that impossible? Not just because of the feud, but also because fae don’t believe in love. Immortals don’t love well because we become immune and dampened to emotion over time. We might mate, but that’s more about camaraderie than deep feelings.

  “You may not want to call it love,” Carrick says smoothly. “But the mere fact the two of you—hated and sworn enemies—are in a relationship means it’s definitely something big because you are both risking your lives.”

  So, he does know a bit about Brevala. He knows our families would want to kill each other if we were found out. It could even cost Eliana her wings.

  “Look,” I say, standing from the couch and not giving a damn if I offend the man who awarded me an ad campaign. “I don’t know how you know the things you do, but the fact you do and won’t tell me means I don’t trust you. So, I’m going to have to politely decline your request to join your little prophecy team. As for Eliana, it’s her choice, so you should bring it up to her.”

  “You’ll bring it up to her,” Carrick replies confidently as he stares up at me from his seat. Even though I’m towering above him, he exudes a surreal amount of confidence and power.

  Maybe it’s because he’s richer than sin and most people jump to do his bidding.

  I’m not one of those people.

  “If my unwillingness to help you with this prophecy changes things with the One Bean account, let me know now.”

  “It changes nothing.” Carrick stands, then offers his hand across the table. “You still had the best pitch and deserved it.”

  I shake his hand, a little unnerved by his easy acceptance of my refusal to participate. My brain is also racing over his insinuation that Eliana and I have something deeper than I’d been thinking.

  We definitely need to talk about it.

  CHAPTER 10

  Eliana

  The door to my condo opens, but I don’t turn away from the bubbling pot of spaghetti sauce to see who is walking in without knocking.

  That would be Ronan, who I gave a key to.

  He reciprocated, so we have evolved further into our relationship.

  A smile comes to my lips as I give another stir before setting the sauce-stained wooden spoon on a small plate. I have monumental news, and we will potentially evolve again because of it. Now whether we do so together remains to be seen.

  I turn as I hear him enter the kitchen, my breath catching as it always does when I see him. Throughout the centuries, you’d think he’d be dull to look at now.

  But nope… still as hot as ever.

  Still makes me want to drag him off to bed every single time, and more often than not, that’s how we start our evenings together. But I’m caught off guard by his expression.

  Not quite grim, but profoundly serious indeed.

  “What is it?” I ask as I move around the kitchen island to greet him. The last few weeks, we have slipped into a comforting ease together and there’s no hesitation when I walk into his arms and he presses a kiss on my mouth.

  It’s how we greet each other at the end of our workdays. How we greet each other when we wake up.

  Both times, usually when our mouths touch, it leads to other things. But I can feel the tension within his body, so I pull back and ask again. “What’s wrong?”

  Ronan shakes his head like he’s going to deny it, but then his shoulders sag slightly. “We need to talk.”

  Now that does sound grim, and my defenses come up.

  This is it.

  He’s going to break up with me because of the old family feud. I know it can’t be for any other reason because we are practically perfect together in all ways but that.

  And now I’m not so sure we’re going to evolve the way I thought we had a chance to.

  I’m glad I didn’t just blurt out my news when he walked in because, depending on what he has to say, it may change my line of thinking where Ronan is concerned.

  “Let’s go sit in the living room,” I suggest, my neck starting to tighten with tension.

  He nods, shrugs out of his business jacket, and loosens his tie. Casting a glance into the kitchen, he remarks, “Whatever you’re making smells incredible. I’m starved.”

  My shoulders loosen a bit. How bad can this talk be if he’s planning on eating dinner here?

  I sit on the couch, angled inward, and cross my legs Indian-style. I’d changed into yoga pants and a loose t-shirt when I’d come home from work about an hour ago.

  R
onan plops down beside me, his thigh pressing against my knee, and then his hand comes down to rest on it. The warmth of his touch further reassures me.

  His head goes to the back cushion and then rolls my way with a smile. “You look great, by the way.”

  I grin, the last of the unease I’d been feeling melting away. “You look great, too.”

  Squeezing my knee once, he says, “Carrick Byrne invited me to an impromptu meeting at his office this afternoon. It’s why I was a little late getting home.”

  He called this home. My heart actually sighs a bit, because these last few weeks, it has become more and more lost to this man.

  “What did he want?” I ask hesitantly. “To cancel your One Bean contract?”

  Ronan shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “Actually… he wanted to let me know that he knew you and I are Light Fae.”

  “What?” I practically screech in alarm, my butt coming off the cushion as I lean into him.

  “Not only that,” he continues with a slight hint of disgust in his voice. “He knows we’re from Brevala, he knows about the feud, and he knows you’re a Meadowlander and I’m a Bluff Dweller.”

  “But… but… how?” I stammer.

  Ronan shrugs. “He wouldn’t say, but he did admit to having us investigated and so he knew that you and I are seeing each other.”

  My pulse fires with fear. “He’s going to tell our families. It’s blackmail, right?”

  “Actually, it’s not,” he replies grimly. “He apparently knows something about a prophecy that is supposed to doom earth, and he wanted to know if we could help get Brevala on board to fight.”

  The sound coming out of me is half snort, half scoff as I settle back onto the cushion. “He truly doesn’t understand the feud then. That’s impossible.”

  “What I told him.” Ronan shifts his body toward me. “He then asked if you and I would fight with him if needed. I declined.”

  “Fight what?” I ponder. “Details would be nice.”