Wicked Magic by Cheyenne McCray Page B

vanish.
    â€œTagged the bastard,” Rhiannon said with a grin as she tossed her bag onto the couch. “Definitely Fomorii.”
    â€œHot damn.” Mackenzie raised her hand and the two witches gave a “high five” to one another. Mackenzie jerked her head toward the stairs. “I’ll tell Jake. A group can track the demon tonight.” She turned and left, her shoes making sharp taps as she trotted up the steps.

    â€œI do have a score to settle with you, Mackenzie,” Rhiannon yelled after her, but the other witch had already disappeared upstairs.
    â€œWhat in the gods’ names did you think you were doing?” Keir bellowed at Rhiannon, jerking her attention to him. “Going to a Fomorii. Alone.”
    Rhiannon marched up to him and pointed her finger at his face, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparking green fire. “I don’t answer to you, Keir. You’d better get that straight and now.”
    â€œFool of a woman.” He pushed her hand down so it was no longer in his face. “You never should have gone alone.”
    â€œOh, sure.” She looked pointedly at his clothing, his sword and dagger. “Like I’m supposed to take someone who looks like a reject from a Renaissance fair.”
    Keir had had enough. He took her by the wrist. “You will never go near a Fomorii alone again.”
    â€œBite me.” She tried to turn away from him, but he kept his grip firm. “You’d better let me go,” she said, her jaw tight with anger. “Or I’ll spellfire your cock again.”
    With a quick movement, he caught her other wrist and pinned them both behind her back so she couldn’t use her magic if she tried.
    He pressed his body tight to hers and outrage flashed across her beautiful face. Her light citrus scent combined with her natural musk nearly sent his head to reeling.
    â€œWhoever hurt you should be gutted,” he said in a rough voice and her eyes widened in surprise. “Tell me his name and I will do it myself,” he added before he captured her mouth with his.
    Rhiannon gasped as Keir kissed her, and lightning zinged from her belly to her now-damp folds. The fact that he had recognized her pain from past relationships made her head spin nearly as much as his kiss did.
    He thrust his tongue through her parted lips and took her in a thoroughly possessive kiss. Every inch of his hardness pressed against her through his leather tunic and pants, from
his heavily muscled chest and abs to the rigid erection between his thighs.
    She struggled against his hold, tried to tear her mouth from his, but he wouldn’t relinquish control.
    And suddenly she didn’t want him to.
    Before she even realized it, she was kissing him with the same intensity. Hard. Rough. She cried out her passion when he nipped her bottom lip. He smelled of leather and male musk, of something wild and untamed as he was. Something that made her crazy for him.
    This is nuts, Rhiannon!
    But she couldn’t stop.
    It was crazy—all wrong. He was a big, hulking Neanderthal.
    But, goddess, could he kiss .
    The next thing she knew he had her back to a wall, his body snug against hers. He kept her wrists pinned behind her back with one of his hands, his other was free. Her entire body trembled as he stroked her curves with his fingertips.
    She squirmed, yet arched into his touch at the same time. It was only then that he relinquished his hold on her mouth, but didn’t release her wrists. All she could do was moan. She struggled, yet that only made her even more filled with lust.
    â€œYou are wet for me, little one,” he said in a low rumble, his rich Irish accent sending more thrills through her body. “I could fuck you against this wall and you would scream my name.”
    Between panting breaths she said, “Arrogant bastard.”
    His sinfully dark eyes held hers captive. “You want me.”
    She could picture his naked