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you?”
    Her laugh was quick and bright. She shook her head and leaned sideways to brush a kiss across his cheek. “No. My word is good.”
    The matter decided, Mick straightened. As she tucked the loose papers inside his stepfather’s journal, he extended a hand. “You’ll have to let me read that later, you know.”
    “Absolutely. I’ll give it back, when I’m finished reading. This is something you’ll want to keep.”
    He already did, but getting her to agree had meant more.
    She slid her palm into his, her skin slightly roughened from the years of working with her hands. Strangely, that scrape appealed. It gave him more room to convince himself she wasn’t as fragile and delicate as he knew she was.
    Mick led her down the stairs, to his front hall, and opened the door. Leaning one shoulder against the painted white frame, he let his smile spread. A wisp of loose red hair had escaped her neat braid, and he reached between them to tuck it behind her ear. “See you in a little bit?”
    “Yeah.” She nodded nervously. “I’ll hurry.”
    Following pure impulse, Mick grabbed her wrist and pulled her in to indulge once more in the softness of her full lips. She yielded without a fight, and he took his time, sliding his tongue slowly across hers, drinking in the rich, exotic flavor. As desire hummed to life, ratcheting his heartbeat up by several notches, he willed himself into temperance and eased away. “See you soon, Rhiannon,” he whispered.
    As he watched her walk away, thoughts collided. What the hell was he doing? And why the hell couldn’t he stop?

Chapter Five
    Dáire was waiting in their living room, his gaze fixed firmly on the door and landing squarely on Rhiannon as she stepped inside. She faltered, the journal in her hands nearly tumbling to the floor under his intense perusal.
    Lounging in their sparse living room, his long legs stretched out before him, boots resting atop their coffee table. Unruly auburn waves tumbled over his shoulders and across his forehead giving him a youthful arrogance that defied his two thousand years of existence.
    He cocked a rapscallion eyebrow.
    Rhiannon ignored the silent demand for an answer. Likely he still wanted to know about the camping trip. And while she now intended to go, she didn’t want to discuss rituals, birthdays, and their father’s wrath when she had less than forty-five minutes to get back to Mick’s. Mick himself was a subject she didn’t want to broach.
    Not now, when she hadn’t had time to make sense of it all for herself.
    As Rhiannon wandered toward the stairs that led up to her room, Dáire arched his hips and fished in his front jeans pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he held a crushed pack of cigarettes. He plucked one out, stuck the butt between his teeth, and grabbed the lighter off the table. “Well?” he asked as the flame burst to life.
    She eyed the cigarette. “I thought you quit.”
    “Eh.” Dáire shrugged as he took a deep drag. “Why bother? It’s not like the damn things can kill me.”
    Rhiannon rolled her eyes. “I’m starting to agree with Cian—you sound more and more like Taran every day.”
    “Maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to settle my nerves if your emotions weren’t all over the place.” The low, flat ring of his voice matched the suddenly somber way he stared at her. “What in the name of the goddess did you get yourself into over there? And why do you refuse to get a phone?”
    Flinching, she set the journal down on the wide newel post. Much as she cherished Dáire, some days she despised the way they could read each other. It was like having another person in her head. She couldn’t keep a secret from him to save her life.
    “In the last hour you’ve hit the full spectrum, Rhi. We’re not talking small beans here either.” He took another puff, gave the cigarette a disgusted look, then snubbed it out in the ashtray. “What gives?”
    “It’s…” She shook her head. “I can’t right