twitching.
“No!”
Maeve threw herself at Oren, touching his face. She slid her knees on either side of him, straddling him in his seat and dropping her head to his chest. His heart was beating and she could feel him breathing.
What had she done?
He had no magic in him, no natural barrier to protect him from the beyond that she touched when she Saw. When she pushed into that beyond—the Everafter—looking for his future, she must have drawn him too close to something no human mind could understand or experience except through the allegories created by their religions.
Terrified, Maeve put her hands on either side of his head, not touching him. She waited, but the churning need to wail didn’t come. He was not dying. If he had been, she would have felt it.
She could always feel death. Her ancestors, the fae Bean Sí of Ireland and Scotland, had been advisors to the great kings, looking into the future and warning of approaching death. When death came, it was the way of her kind to cry out, mourning a passing that had yet to happen. In human myth, they’d been accused of bringing death with their wails, when really they only warned of the approach.
And now Maeve had hurt a human, something she hadn’t wanted. She’d been careless, more interested in experiencing Oren’s company than in planning out how she would use her powers to confirm or dismiss his involvement.
Under her, Oren stirred.
Maeve pressed her hands to his face, holding his head as he woke. Relief flooded her as his eyes fluttered open.
His eyes widened when he saw her. His lips were puckered up like a fish’s due to her hands pushing on his cheeks, and it made him look silly and cute.
“I’m sorry,” she said, releasing his face to stroke his hair. It was soft under her fingers. He licked his lips, drawing his attention there again. Maeve leaned away, her back against the steering wheel, surprised as she felt something deep inside her stir to life. His gaze met hers and something moved between them, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“What are you?” he asked.
Tentatively, Maeve explored his face with her fingertips, letting this half-forgotten feeling he’d woken fill her. She touched his lips, and his gaze flew to hers.
“I’m a banshee.”
Chapter Five
Cali
The mood on set was killing the production.
Cali stalked across the lot, walking over snaking cables and skirting around tents and outdoor set ups.
Since the meeting where they’d told everyone about that damned blog post, the entire cast and crew had been on edge. The tension was palpable and it had slowed everything down. It was taking longer for shots to be set up, they were doing up to fifteen takes when last week they’d been nailing everything in six to eight and she’d overheard several of the makeup artists making calls about other jobs.
The movie was falling apart around her and Cali wasn’t sure how to hold it together.
She had a few minutes where she could go and center herself. Darryl and Cody were supervising the crew setting up the cameras for the next shot. Cali rubbed her head as she mounted the steps into her trailer. She threw off her headset and battery pack before dropping onto the long bench seat. She leaned back and took a few deep breaths, visualizing the completed project and the accompanying success.
“Cali.”
Seling was standing just inside the door. He must have entered while she was practicing her visualization.
He looked good enough to eat in tight jeans and a slim-cut black leather jacket with a priest collar. His chest was bare and streaked with fake blood. One of the scenes being filmed today was a fight between Luke and Seling. It was the scene where the hero—Henry—realized that the bad guys—Runako and Seling—were in town and planned to kill Henry’s beloved, Akta, because a relationship between a human and a monster was forbidden. Henry catches Seling following him and they fight.
“No!”
Maeve threw herself at Oren, touching his face. She slid her knees on either side of him, straddling him in his seat and dropping her head to his chest. His heart was beating and she could feel him breathing.
What had she done?
He had no magic in him, no natural barrier to protect him from the beyond that she touched when she Saw. When she pushed into that beyond—the Everafter—looking for his future, she must have drawn him too close to something no human mind could understand or experience except through the allegories created by their religions.
Terrified, Maeve put her hands on either side of his head, not touching him. She waited, but the churning need to wail didn’t come. He was not dying. If he had been, she would have felt it.
She could always feel death. Her ancestors, the fae Bean Sí of Ireland and Scotland, had been advisors to the great kings, looking into the future and warning of approaching death. When death came, it was the way of her kind to cry out, mourning a passing that had yet to happen. In human myth, they’d been accused of bringing death with their wails, when really they only warned of the approach.
And now Maeve had hurt a human, something she hadn’t wanted. She’d been careless, more interested in experiencing Oren’s company than in planning out how she would use her powers to confirm or dismiss his involvement.
Under her, Oren stirred.
Maeve pressed her hands to his face, holding his head as he woke. Relief flooded her as his eyes fluttered open.
His eyes widened when he saw her. His lips were puckered up like a fish’s due to her hands pushing on his cheeks, and it made him look silly and cute.
“I’m sorry,” she said, releasing his face to stroke his hair. It was soft under her fingers. He licked his lips, drawing his attention there again. Maeve leaned away, her back against the steering wheel, surprised as she felt something deep inside her stir to life. His gaze met hers and something moved between them, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“What are you?” he asked.
Tentatively, Maeve explored his face with her fingertips, letting this half-forgotten feeling he’d woken fill her. She touched his lips, and his gaze flew to hers.
“I’m a banshee.”
Chapter Five
Cali
The mood on set was killing the production.
Cali stalked across the lot, walking over snaking cables and skirting around tents and outdoor set ups.
Since the meeting where they’d told everyone about that damned blog post, the entire cast and crew had been on edge. The tension was palpable and it had slowed everything down. It was taking longer for shots to be set up, they were doing up to fifteen takes when last week they’d been nailing everything in six to eight and she’d overheard several of the makeup artists making calls about other jobs.
The movie was falling apart around her and Cali wasn’t sure how to hold it together.
She had a few minutes where she could go and center herself. Darryl and Cody were supervising the crew setting up the cameras for the next shot. Cali rubbed her head as she mounted the steps into her trailer. She threw off her headset and battery pack before dropping onto the long bench seat. She leaned back and took a few deep breaths, visualizing the completed project and the accompanying success.
“Cali.”
Seling was standing just inside the door. He must have entered while she was practicing her visualization.
He looked good enough to eat in tight jeans and a slim-cut black leather jacket with a priest collar. His chest was bare and streaked with fake blood. One of the scenes being filmed today was a fight between Luke and Seling. It was the scene where the hero—Henry—realized that the bad guys—Runako and Seling—were in town and planned to kill Henry’s beloved, Akta, because a relationship between a human and a monster was forbidden. Henry catches Seling following him and they fight.
Similar Books
