Concentric Circles Part 4

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, it's real." Suddenly he could only manage a murmur. The thrumming buzz journeying through his blood made him feel as though he was high.

Shayla's scent overwhelmed him.

He nibbled on moist skin, savoring her taste on his tongue. Arms tightened, lingering and unwilling to release their prize. A moan started somewhere-he didn't know its origin as it rumbled forth. "Real." Never did that before. Not afterward. d.a.m.n, feels good.

Her softness wafted through his five senses.

"Kal?" she whispered.

He moaned and snuggled even closer, if that was possible. With her hands still in his hair, he finally pulled away from her succulent neck. "Shay."

Melted eyes looked at him surrounded by an earthy seductive countenance. Her swelled mouth, always full anyway, deepened to a dark cranberry, looked luscious.

Parted enticingly, they called to him. He leaned in, placing his forehead against hers. "Beautiful." His hands found smooth skin. He expressed another moan. His heart muscle tightened even as it beat strongly in his chest. He tried to speak. "Sahya." Laughter bubbled up.

She giggled.

Her body, wiggling in laughter within his embrace, felt heavenly. "It's real. d.a.m.n." He stepped back drunkenly and braced his hands on either side of her.

The wall steadying him slightly.

Hair like black garnets, he thought. Glistening in the suns.h.i.+ne. He pulled a deep breath in and tried again. "Can you feel it?"

She nuzzled into his ear without saying anything, her hand brus.h.i.+ng a feather light caress on his jaw.

He tilted his head into the feel of her and let the sensation expand from his heart. "Cat got your tongue?"

She shook with laughter.

Its enticement pulled him in to taste it. He moaned deeply into her mouth and teased her tongue with languorous strokes. Still there, he joked within his mind, enjoying her wet slickness. He nibbled, his heart soaring when she wrapped her arms around his neck and delved seductively.

Her hair, between his fingers felt like divinely spun silk. He deepened their kiss and pushed her against the wall. Abbey. He groaned and pulled away with reluctance. Sacred. "Shay."

"Humm?"

Harry's voice laughed in his head, "I'd avoid the Abbey if I were you."

He pushed a hand through his hair. "Shay, we have to talk."

Her eyes, soft as a summer sky, smiled at him. He groaned and took another step back. It didn't change anything. Everything still thrumming. Oops. He wondered vaguely about Black Bry, and how this type of deep bond had affected him.

"Kal, what's wrong? You're frowning. Did I do something?"

He pulled up sharply, shaking his head. "No. I mean, you didn't do anything. It's me."

Her hurtful expression twisted his heart. In a rush, he moved back to her and kissed her lightly, trying to soothe the expression away. His heart flipped. Gotta tell her, Chilkwell.

Despite the ardent pull of his blood, he stepped away yet again, grinding his teeth as the sensation of separateness overwhelmed him. b.l.o.o.d.y Bryan, gonna kick his a.r.s.e.

"Okay, maybe I didn't do anything, but you're scaring me."

"I'm sorry. I guess, well it just seems like a lot." His voice disappeared somewhere. Wherever it went, he didn't know.

He turned and surveyed the expansive lawns of the Abbey grounds. An expressive sn.i.g.g.e.r came forth, born from years of conflict with the local gardener. Old man Lunn had apparently done his final mowing for the year, a ritual of preparing for the winter. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed it earlier. Wrong, Chilkwell. Beautiful enticing woman. Thrumming.

Meekal sat on the step between the broken arches of the Abbey's entrance and squinted up at her. "Sit down. We have a lot to talk about."

Her brow quirked in such a way it caused him another distraction. He swallowed the sensation and readjusted his seating position. "Shayla," he whispered, indicating the step next to him.

"I gotta admit," she said, her voice tinged with annoyance. "It's never happened this fast before."

"What? Oh no! That's not what I meant." A surge of hot jealousy burst forth. At least that's what he thought it was. He moved back against the arch trying to distance himself from it. He stared into her eyes seeing a sudden storm cloud there. "Shayla, that's not what it is. Honest. There's just so much and I don't know where to begin."

They sat, sheltered by the split crest of the main archway. Meekal tried to focus and organize his thoughts and decide how he was going to present them.

Magickal bonds? Soulmates? That doesn't explain anything.

He remembered something he's heard at many weddings... What G.o.d hath joined together, let no one put asunder. But they weren't married, not yet anyway.

Meekal stole a look at Shayla from the corner of his eye. She was chewing her lip again, looking across the grounds, frowning. He pushed his hand through his hair and realized they each had their individual little quirks. He released a sigh in the hopes it would help. It didn't.

He snuck another look, this time watching her fully when he realized her focus on the broken arch above gave him the advantage. His fingers tingled with longing to touch her.

Impa.s.sioned blood rushed through his body, pressing toward her with a magical urgency. Instead of succ.u.mbing to its power, he pressed firmly against the stones behind him in stubborn insistence against the magical pull between them.

Shayla's gaze fell to him.

He looked away quickly, trying to give the impression he had not been watching.

"Kal?" Her voice trembled, her eyes opened wide. He realized she was still fearful. She made a noise in her throat. "The beginning is a good place to start."

A sudden sense of relaxation soothed him. "I was just trying to figure out where that is." He tried to rea.s.sure her by showing off his dimple. "How did it make you feel when the White Lady appeared?"

There it went again, her lower lip between her teeth.

"Scared. I thought I was dying." She dropped her gaze to one of her black boots and fidgeted with the tiny bra.s.s buckle on the side.

The urge to protect her welled within him. He reached for her hand and made a point to draw her attention from her boot. "She talks to me quite frequently. You needn't be afraid," he added, caressing her new purple tattoo.

"Well, apparently it's different for you," she said in agitation.

"It was your first time. I suppose it would be a shock." He paused and chewed his lip. A sudden realization of the action ended it abruptly.

Too soon to mirror habits. He changed tactics. "Didn't your mum ever explain things to you?"

A shocked expression washed over her face. "What do you mean? What does my mom have to do with any of this?" Her brows furrowed low over narrowed eyes as she waited in antic.i.p.ation.

"Well," he hesitated, pressed his back against the stones again, and then shrugged. "Mostly it's pa.s.sed down through families. That means you should've known."

Obviously, that made her angry.

He watched as her face changed from shock to growing anger. One, two, three. Ah, there it was, the proverbial glare. "Shay-"

"My mom was orphaned at five! We don't have any family other than each other. There's no way she could've known about any of this." Moisture welled in Shayla's eyes and she reached to wipe it.

He took a shaking hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize, although that explains a lot."

She pulled away, turning to look over the expansive lawn.

The new distance between them, wrenched him in a desperate, twisted separation. In a search for renewed closeness, he reached, touched her chin, and pulled it gently around to face him squarely. "You're magical. Are you telling me you've never done something others couldn't or wouldn't understand?"

She stiffened under his touch. "I don't practice magic. It's just something written about in books."

Through their new bonding, he forced himself not to feel her angry emotions. "Shay."

"I'm twenty-four years old. Not a kid. I don't do magic. Sure funky things happen sometimes, but that's not spells and casting," she said, with eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

He took a deep breath and held her gaze like an embrace.

She didn't flinch or change her stance. He stood and began pacing the distance between the walls of the broken arch. His mind in a maelstrom, he mumbled, "Strong willed. Okay, maybe show, don't tell. d.a.m.n."

Shayla remained sitting on the step, knees tucked up under her chin, watching with apparent annoyance.

He continued to mutter and picked up speed. Pacing was something he started when he spent so much time with Black Bry, now this. For once, it was having no effect in helping to sort through everything.

"Frustrated?"

He ran his hand through his hair, not caring that it remained spiked in agitation. He stopped abruptly, studied her frown, and narrowed his eyes, calculating his decision. He took the plunge. "What if I showed you? Would you believe then?"

Skepticism flew across her face. He flinched at its potent power. "Well?" He pushed the issue, bracing for possible denial.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice grated like a fingernail down a chalkboard. "A card trick? Bouquet of flowers?"

His annoyance spiked at her sarcastic disbelief. He'd chosen this way and now had to follow it through. He shook his head vehemently, resisting the effects her emotions had on him.

Instead, he held her gaze tightly, and then looked around them. The Abbey grounds were empty. They were alone.

He pulled in a cleansing breath and released it, avoided her watchful countenance and pointed his index finger horizontal to the earth. He drew a circle around them, focusing on the proper incantation in his mind. It was done. He met and held her eyes.

Shayla quirked a brow and raised a shoulder.

Meekal swallowed his anxiety. "Don't be afraid? Promise me you won't be."

Silence.

"Shayla. Promise. I won't hurt you. No one can see because I just put a circle of obscurity and protection around us."

"I can't really promise if I don't know how this will affect me-and everything."

"It's the only way. Are you ready? Just say the word."

"Promise." She glanced past him to the green lawns and broken abbey stones, and set her jaw. "Show me what you've got."

He transformed.

Shayla gasped, and stood in shock.

At least she didn't faint. He could feel her trepidation as she stared down at his black cat persona.

She sat on the step hard, shaking visibly, her breathing ragged.

He approached her cautiously and rubbed against her leg. "Meow." he blinked, waiting for a response.

"Kal?"

"Meow. It's just me."

She groaned and lay back on the thick gra.s.s. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l."

"Shay, are you all right?" He climbed up on her chest and nudged her chin with his paw.

She raised her head and looked at him lying on her chest.

He purred, trying to calm the racing heart that he felt beneath him.

"d.a.m.n, Meekal. How much is a person supposed to handle in one day with you? How is it I can understand what you say?"

"This ain't all of it, love." He transformed again and caressed her cheek, trying to soothe her in a human manner. "Shay."

Her bubble of trepidation propelled itself up in the form of a gut wrenching sob. He felt its journey acutely.

"Shush." He kissed her closed eyes and murmured against her cheek.

"It's not right. You don't understand. I've never understood just exactly who I am."

He sighed and picked up a lock of her black-red hair. "Well," he whispered. "If it's any consolation, I tend to think you are Fae, maybe a little bit of witch mixed in."

He licked at the salty moisture on her cheeks with the tip of his tongue.

"How can you tell?"

He braced himself up on his hands and gave her his most radiant smile. "Because Morna's Fae."

Lightning shot through them. Shayla sat up straight and pushed him off in rough anger. Her boot slipped in the gra.s.s as she tried to propel herself away. "Eugh! Are you saying we're related?" she asked, voice croaking with shock.

Meekal laughed, enjoying the sensation.

She glowered.