Rhiannon Lee (rhiannon_lee) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-07-23 08:07:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | rhiannon lee, ~cian o'neill |
Meeting Siofra
Who: Cian/ Siofra & Rhiannon
What: Cian lets Rhiannon see his were form and they talk at length
When: Present day, evening
Where: Searchlight
Rating: PG
The nighttime temperature in Searchlight hovered around eighty-two degrees fahrenheit, far more manageable than the scorching heat of midday, with just enough humidity to keep it from seeming as though she’d relocated to an alien planet. Rhiannon lowered her frame into an adirondack chair. The pair were crafted of red cedar, a splurge gift to herself. A small table jutted between them. It held a drink, ice cubes melting into a mixture of alcohol and tonic water.
A soft ball of fur nudged the frame of her chair. Rhiannon reached down and let the stray cat rub its head against her hand, her fingers turning to work in the pliable flesh of the animal’s neck and upper back. It wandered away to investigate the perimeter of her patio. It was a simple space of concrete that required frequent sweeping, bordered by large succulents in varying-sized pots and a couple of solar torch lights, their golden glow just enough to illuminate the outline of her furniture and the steps to her home.
Rhiannon lifted her hands and studied them. The backs were pale except for a couple of freckles and a tattoo of a bird near her right thumb. She twisted a silver ring round and round. It often decorated the third finger of her left hand. She slipped it off and let it rest in her palm.
The soft rumble of the motor cycle engine rolled across the land, rippling through the silence like wavelets on still water. Cian hadn’t found it difficult to follow her scent, only using third gear on the bike as he made his way down the road to where her trailer was located at the end of the road. The soft glow of the torches gave him plenty of light to see the outline of the two chairs, one of them occupied. He smiled to himself when he saw the company she had, and wondered if it would hang around once he had approached the patio.
As he removed his helmet and lowered the kickstand he listened to the silence that rolled back now the bike’s motor was still. It was rare there was real silence, the white noise of the night even more discernible to his ears. It was soon added to by the sound of his jacket unzipping and his boots crunching on the dry ground as he made his way across to the patio. As he unzipped his jacket his hand grabbed the six pack of beers he’d bought on his way out.
“I come bearing gifts,” he said, stepping into the circle of light generated by the lamps.
“You’re the real deal.” Rhiannon smiled at him from her chair. “You can put them wherever,” she offered, her arm opening in a loose gesture that encapsulated the patio table and the door of her house. The curtains of her kitchen window were open. There was a refrigerator visible inside, if he wanted to keep a few of them cold. She retrieved her drink in order to make room for his can on the table, the ice cube splintering and buckling as she sloshed it around. She sat forward to take a sip. It was cool against her lips.
“Don’t mind my friend,” she said as the cat scampered around the undercarriage of the trailer. “I’d take him in, but sometimes I’m out of town for days. So he just visits me.” From the looks of things, the cat visited more than one house on her street. He didn’t seem to be hurting for food and he wasn’t afraid of people.
Rhiannon arched in the chair and tucked her ring into the front pocket of her shorts.
Cian smiled as the small feline stuck its head out from beneath the trailer as if looking for something. He crouched down, setting the cans down on the ground as he waited. Slowly the cat came forward, the confusion in its face clear as it could sense another feline, but could only see the bulk of the human in front of him. Cian clicked his tongue softly, reaching his fingers out and gave it a scratch behind the ear, the young cat slowly turning his head as Cian’s fingers found the ‘right’ spot. Its eyes closed and the purr started rumbling in its tiny chest.
“Sorry buddy, beers are getting warm, and that’s not a good thing,” he said, giving its ears a friendly rub before standing again. He quickly made his way to the fridge, put 4 of the cans inside and returned outside with the two cans. He walked to the empty chair and sat down, putting one of the cans on the small table, and opening the other. “Nice place,” he offered, eyes already having scanned the surrounds, taking in the wide expanse of uninhabited land.
Rhiannon watched him pet the stray, a look of appreciation softening her features. There was nothing worse than a man who proclaimed that he hated cats because they wouldn’t do as they were told.
“I love it here,” she said, letting her hair rest on the cedar planks of her chair. “I didn’t expect to. I’m used to cold. Loud. Tall buildings. People everywhere. Front porches getting that…” The hunter put her hand in the air, a flat plane that she tipped to one side. “Distinctive lean.” A trace of good humor and whisky warmed her voice as she described them. “I’ve always known everyone and exactly what they’re having for dinner.”
Rhiannon eyebrow twitched. “Not that I wanted to.” She let her head drift to the side so she could see him sitting there close, within arm’s length of her. Cian had a strong profile, a great nose. “You said you were gone but you came back. Why?”
“Y’ could say m’ job was blown out of th’ water,” he replied with a chuckle. “I worked down at the marina in the Cove, and was asked t’ skipper some boats down in the Caribbean by some guests. They made it difficult to say no, so I went down there almost 4 years ago.” He turned and looked at her, “was a nice life, good pay, some nice yachts in the fleet and couldn’t complain about the scenery, or places to explore. But between Dorian and Lorenzo, and all the other hurricanes that came through last year making a pretty big mess of the place, the fleet took a hiding. Along with all the islands. The insurance company is being difficult, lawyers are involved, so I decided t’ head back up here and catch up with some folk back here.” He took a swig from the can. “I missed the country up here,” he added, eyes looking out beyond the ring of light. “Sounds odd, I know, but there’s something about this place that just…” His voice trailed off for a moment before he added, “... got under m’ skin,” he finished.
“How long’ve you been in Searchlight?”
“It’ll be a year in October,” she said. If she had the timeline right, that meant that Cian’s job in the Caribbean began to wrap up right around the time she started studying hot zones for supernatural activity and putting pins in maps. One had to wonder about this piece of desert and the interconnectedness of places and people. If she asked around, how many who passed through Clark County would say they felt it stirring at that time?
Rhiannon swallowed the last few drops of her drink and let the glasswear dangle from her fingertips, just above the ground. “I know what you mean about places getting under your skin. Nothing ever fit before. Somehow I always knew I wasn’t staying. I knew I hadn’t found my tribe, even though I wanted one, even though I had one. God,” she laughed under her breath. “I felt so bad about it! When people give you.... everything!” She shook her head in disbelief. “And you still can’t be what they want, because it’s just not f--”
Her throat cut the word short.
Rhiannon rubbed a tender spot near her temple. “I’m talking too much.”
His mind felt like it jerked to a stop when she cut her flow off, mid-word. His forehead creased for a brief moment, a small frown flickering across his brow. He wondered who had wanted what of her that they had given ‘everything’, and she hadn’t been able to return it. He cut short his examination of her by taking a long pull from the can held lightly in his fingers. The amber ale still cooled his throat as he swallowed,
“We can’t always be what others expect,” he agreed after the beer had smoothed down his throat. “I’ve been lucky, m’ boss at the Cove, he made me part of the family when I was first here, and it w’s thanks t’ him I had the chance to be down the Caribbean.” He paused momentarily, face softening a little as he thought of the old Alpha. “Sadly he passed, but his son and wife are just as good people, following his path. They’re the main reason I’m back here, or at least the reason I have a job here that I c’d come back to.” He talked a little about the family’s business, the boats on Lake Mohave, happy to give her time to move past whatever had cut her off in mid-flow.
“They sound sweet. Kind.” Her knee bent and drew closer to her chest, a long limb swaying lazily in the night air.
Rhiannon marveled at how settled Cian seemed, how at peace with who he was and his life. Was it possible that being part of a pack, by its nature, lent to that sort of mentality? There was no automatic kinship among hunters; bloodlines might create a bond, or they might just be a means to an end, a genetic propagation of their capabilities. One hunter after the next, a repository of mystically-influenced DNA passed on through the generations. Did she wish for a situation like Cian’s? Or was she getting comfortable in her new role, interested to see who she might become if she didn’t have any constraints?
“I can’t make up my mind if I envy you or not,” she said. “But I like to listen to you talk.”
“Annie always said I talk like I swallowed the Blarney stone at times,” he chuckled, putting the empty can down on the table. “I said it weren’t possible, Shane had already bolted it down.” He turned and gave her a lop-sided grin. “Neither of us ‘ve ever been t’ the Castle,” he added. “There’d rarely been a quiet moment at home, either of them,” he continued, “and spending m’ early adult life in a pub meant there were always folk to be talkin’ with, or needin’ an ear t’ bend.”
He picked up the second can and cracked the seal, lifting the ring and pulling it off the can before dropping it inside the empty one. “It’s why I like t’ be able t’ get out and away, let the silence wash away all the noise and distractions, help clear the head.” He lifted the can toward the dark space beyond the light that encompassed them. “GIve me the chance t’ think,” he added, voice a little softer.
Rhiannon, who had closed her eyes to listen to his voice against the chirp and rustle of the desert, found herself smiling over the Blarney stone. That tracked. “Mm, my brain goes quiet out here,” she said, shaking her head. “I let it run wild when I’m painting or writing. Whatever comes to mind, I don’t stop it. That’s the only time, really. When I’m fighting, I have to stay so focused.”
She watched him hold the beer can aloft. “What do you think about? Or is that private?”
He looked out into the dark, considering the question. “Depends,” he finally replied. “Whether it’s me, or him,” he continued. “An’ whether he lets me,” he added softly, before taking a sip from the newly opened can.
He. Rhiannon reflected on that use of pronoun. He had another being, one that he carried around inside him always, taking turns. Maybe it wasn’t always fair. She’d never heard a therianthrope admit that they didn’t have the upper hand on their animal, outside the full moon.
“You have a way of skipping the answer,” she said, naming it but not nudging. “Is he here now, behind… all this?” Rhiannon gestured at his body. “Or do you call him?”
He stretched out his legs, settling a little more in the chair as he answered. “He’s always with me. I c’n sense things, that he’s wary or not, relaxed, alert, curious, on guard, wanting to run,” he admitted, staring into the dark as he spoke, the beer can held between his two hands resting on his abdomen. He paused then shook his head lightly, looking across at her a little ruefully. “But I can’t always tell what he’s been up to if it isn’t … shall we say ‘dramatic’ in nature.”
He’d always known results of fights, and any situation that involved adrenaline, but other times were regularly a blank for details. “Took a while to develop that, it’s what brought me here in th’ first place. Group up in Chicago who were able t’ help me ‘n him get in touch, and be able t’ control the change.” He rubbed his shoulder against his ear, an unconscious action he was hardly even aware he did. “But there’s still more, I c’n feel at times he wants me to know more, and there’s just somethin’ that’s keepin’ it from happening.”
“Well, I also have a group in Chicago,” she said, a wry smile dimpling the corners of her mouth. Placing her hands on the armrests, Rhiannon pushed up and sat forward in her chair, coming to perch at the edge of the seat. “When I was… still learning about myself,” she began, “A lot of it came easy because it had always been there. I was born strong, fast. I just needed to learn how to apply it to the right things.” The brunette pinched her thumb and forefinger in the air. “The one aspect of it I couldn’t get a handle on was the sixth sense. Knowing when I was near one of us. Everything else I inherited seemed normal. Y’know? Just a heightened version of a regular body, and it was all within my control. But that one gift was supernatural. It wasn’t part of my physical self. It was magic. A thing that, the better I got at it, happened to me, whether I wanted it to or not. It took me ages to get comfortable with that. It was so alien. I had to give in.”
It was almost like she was describing how he felt sometimes, and he couldn’t help but stare at her as she described the feeling, and how she managed it. As she raised her fingers, her focus on describing the feeling, he could feel the touch of those fingers on his neck again, and it was a sensation he hadn’t felt before. Deep inside he felt a stir, a stretch and roll of shoulders pushing outward, encouraging him to follow suit. He controlled it, shifting slightly in the seat to turn toward her a little.
“When I was turned it took longer ‘n I care t’ think to come to terms with it,” he admitted softly. “And if it weren’t f’ Annie, and then Shane and Oonagh, I don’t think I’d’ve managed.”
Rhiannon nodded. His features were harder to distinguish in the dark, but Cian gave away a lot in the timbre of his voice. One thing she’d never know was how it felt to have all choice taken away. It was a lot to bear. In every circle of hunters, there were stories of people who lost too much of themselves in transition, whether to therianthrope or gifted or vampire. Too much trauma. Pieces gone.
“They must’ve done a good job, because you’re impressive. You hit me like a ton of bricks back there,” she confessed. “For a second, I didn’t know what year it was.” Rhiannon laughed under her breath. “Not something that happens with every were. You must be--” She shook her head, trying to put words to it and failing.
“Lucky,” he offered, again with a soft smile. “Annie’s special, m’ ma and she were coven sisters, so I was lucky t’ve been who I was,” he continued, the irony something he’d never been able to ignore when using the word. Lucky was the last thing he’d felt for many years after that day. It was amazing the difference that distance and time can make when reviewing parts of ones life, and he was all too well aware of how differently his own life could have gone, and ended.
The fact he had the blood of an ancient line of witches running in his veins had never really felt that it had had much influence, but as he spoke about Annie, telling Rhiannon about her work in helping him learn to deal with the change, her knowledge and experience guiding him through those terrible events, and her patience keeping him on track and believing things would get better despite everything, he started to see the threads weaving through one another, patterns he’d never seen before coming into shadowy view. They were still not clear to him, but he’d seen more in the time he’d been talking to her about it than he’d ever seen before. Again he wondered silently what it was about her, about this area of Nevada, that was so different.
He hadn’t spoken of his immediate family, just the one formed after the event of which he had not spoken. He didn’t go into the reason he’d been up on the moors that night, planting the oak sapling, and the reason why he could no longer return to his homeland. That was a story for another time, he was more focused on what he was seeing as he spoke of Annie, Oonagh and Shane. “It were Oonagh ‘nd Annie who gave him his name,” he told her. “Siofra,” he added with a soft laugh. “It means elf, or fairy, and they thought it was amusing, given that was the last thing anyone would mistake him, or me for during the full moon back then. Or even now,” he explained, then continued.
“It was Oonagh who found the group here who could help, in Chicago, and Shane who came with me, stayed with me and kept track of me when needed.” He huffed a soft laugh at the look on Shane’s face when they’d parted at the airport, Shane returning home knowing he may never see the were again. ”You’ll see me in y’ dreams,” he said teasingly. Shane had rolled his eyes and retorted with ”They wouldn't be bloody dreams, they’d be nightmares!” he had joked back, their banter something the both of them knew they would miss too.
He felt the stirring again, the push to roll his shoulders and give Siofra some space.
There it was. Rhiannon’s brow lifted. As she’d told him earlier, there was power in sharing names, and Cian had trusted her with an important one: Siofra. Speaking it had brought that other consciousness into their company. She knew that it stirred, because Cian wasn’t as still as he had been before. The animal wanted out and that was fine. It could run for miles from her back door and never run across another soul. It was just a matter of whether Cian wanted Rhiannon to see it.
Rhiannon got up from her chair and stood in front of Cian. Gently, she slipped the beer can from the were’s hands and set it on the table. She held a hand out to him in invitation.
“It’s okay if he wants out. You can run for miles from here and never see another soul. I’ll leave you to it. But if you want to show me first, I’m ready when you are, Cian.”
A soft rumbling sound echoed in his chest followed by a huffed laugh as he reached up and took her hand, standing up. The contact with her hand again confirmed there was definitely something happening, and he felt the stirring that he was no longer resisting. “Wait here,” he said, giving her hand a light squeeze before releasing it and walking off into the dark.
A few moments later, at the outskirts of the reach of the light from the lanterns, a pair of eyes could be seen, what had been green with flecks of gold now a pair of solid golden orbs, split down the middle of each by a narrow dark line. One step forward and the outline of head and shoulder, chest and front legs took shape. The head lifted turning slowly from one side to the other, nose testing the air as if reading the identity of every thing in the vicinity. He remained there, appearing not to be willing to come into the light itself, the soft movements discernible to anyone watching and indicating the large cat was now seated, as if ready and waiting.
A piece of hair had gotten caught in the clasp of her necklace. Rhiannon worked at the strand and opened the metal ring, the chain twirling as she set it on the table in a long, liquid cord of silver links and pendant. She took her time approaching, thinking that it made perfect sense, in hindsight, that he would be a tawny, gold-eyed cat. Its sleek fur displayed the musculature and sinew underneath. Cougars were well-suited to the mountainous terrain of Nevada. No wonder both Cian and the wild cat loved it here.
“You’re a handsome one,” she murmured. Rhiannon left the circle of light and stepped onto the loose earth. She waited for Siofra to come closer, if he wanted, one palm and wrist turned outward in greeting, her scent and energy offered for his perusal.
The eyes were hooded, alert, aware and seeing beyond the approaching figure. Having already been ‘sensing’ her Siofra knew her blood and the strength it held. With movements that were almost imperceptible until one blinked he slowly rose and came closer, tail flicking from side to side and as if on the lookout for anything untoward approaching from beyond his detection as he appeared to focus on her.
The animal stopped a few feet away, head again turning slightly, eyes appearing focused, but taking in much beyond the range of human sight. Small darts and twitches of the long tail slowed, lowering, the rear haunches following and again he sat. There was sufficient room for her to crouch without crowding, and the cat’s entire body stilled appearing statuesque but still alert. His shoulders stood approximately 36 inches clear of the ground, and appeared to be around 160 pounds of lean muscle, bone and fur. And eyes. For if one looked in his eyes, studied them, they would see that the gold was in fact at times appearing flecked with emerald green.
Lowering herself to haunches, Rhiannon could see him better now, her vision adjusting until just enough ambient light revealed his features to her: wide set eyes, nose, whiskers, the set of his jaw around sharp teeth. Rhiannon let him see her hand one more time, to smell the stray she had touched before, to find them empty and gather her intentions. In an unconscious mimic of what she’d done before, she rested the backs of her fingers on Siofra’s neck, watching his ears and the angle of his head for reaction. She began to stroke his fur at the pliant scruff. “I’m Rhiannon,” she said, introducing herself to this other being that occupied the same structures and space as Cian.
The large cat blinked slowly, almost nonchalantly, as the hunter spoke, hooded eyes belying the awareness that lay just behind the nonchalance. As her fingers worked into the back of his neck a sound seemed to roll across the ground, a low rumbling, a soft and deep purr. For normal ears it would have been difficult to pick up the source, but it was clear with the closeness between the two.
Again imperceptible movements of his head allowed eyes to survey the surrounds from beneath the lowered lids, the movement of the head leading it to brush against the palm of her hand, the upright shell of the ear pressing against the heel of her hand, almost requesting more pressure there.
“Oh yeah?” She smiled, happy to oblige the cat’s wishes, opening her palm to let him nuzzle, pushing back with a pleasant force. Then, leaning closer, she took in the distinctive scent of the cat's fur. She remained there for a while, enjoyed the contact as they got to know one another, finally lowering her hand to her knee and standing to full height. If Siofra wanted to run, she couldn’t blame him for it. It was a beautiful night, the sky clear, stars winking. If Cian wanted to come back, she would welcome that, too.
As she rose to full height Siofra stood, watching her briefly then turning, and within a few seconds was gone from sight, silently making its way across terrain that posed no challenge, but gave him opportunity to run.
Which he did. Loping off he circled the location where her van stood, the full tour taking just less than ten minutes and providing the information sought. A few minutes later and some soft sounds that were easily confused were soon followed by those that were unmistakably human in origin. The deep drawing of breath into newly reshaped lungs, exhalation slow and controlled, expelling the residue of the shift were only half muffled by the quick donning of clothing again.
Rhiannon watched him leave. In the time the cougar was gone, Rhiannon gathered the glass, empty cans, and jewelry from the table and took them into her compact home to wash up.
The air conditioner hummed a low mechanical whir in the background, a noise she no longer noticed. She cut through the small living and dining area, which primarily consisted of a breakfast nook where she kept her art supplies, a couch, and a trunk doubling as a coffee table. Its storage compartment was filled with leather-bound books and small weapons. Back in her bedroom, she hung her necklace from a peg on the wall, attention lingering on an ornate arrow that hung from it.
Rhiannon remembered something. She dug in her pockets to produce her silver ring and folding knife, then tossed them on the nightstand and went back outside.
A moment later, she heard Cian coming back. “I must have passed the test,” she offered, “Because we’re both still alive.”
Cian approached the circle of light, tucking his t-shirt into his jeans. The sound of the sand caught on the soles of his boots told of his return to the concreted patio as he looked to see what her reaction was.
“Y’ must’ve,” he agreed, eyeing her thoughtfully as his hand absently reached up and rubbed lightly at the back of his neck and giving his ear a gentle tug, unsure why he’d done it when he realised what he was doing. He let his hand fall to his side again and nodded slowly. “He seems t’ve settled now,” he added, shoving the errant hand into his jean pocket and retrieving his watch. As he quickly replaced it on his wrist he gave a wry smile.
“Thanks,” he added, his eyes darting down to her now bare neck, the silver chain and its charms now noticeably absent.
Rhiannon saw him look at her neck. “For what, this?” She touched her collarbone; she felt strangely naked not to have the familiar weight of her jewelry there. Silver was part of any hunter’s arsenal, not only as an instrument designed to draw blood, but one that could be rendered useful in an emergency, too. “It’s hard for me to come to the table with a vampire if they keep their fangs out, and they probably don’t like it if I put a stake between us. I didn’t want to distract him with it. Or you.”
The brunette left it unsaid, but it was also a sign of growing trust between them. Willingness to let him close with her guard down.
He nodded, acknowledging the thoughtfulness again. It felt a little odd, he didn’t really know what had happened, and it seemed odder still that he ask her. Instead he lightly scratched the back of his head as he took a couple of steps to close the distance between them.
“He seems t’ be happy with what he learned,” he said quietly. “And that’s what I wanted t’ know, whether I was reading him right.” The space between them seemed warm, and he studied the shadows and light on her face. “He trusts you, ‘n so do I.”
Rhiannon inched closer, too. “Come here.” She reached out, first to touch again, and took hold of his arms below the elbow, then retreated the full length of them until she found Cian’s hands. Her thumbs mapped the calluses and lines that told of the work he did, the life he lived. He was a few degrees warmer than her, a blanket of heat and strength that she wanted to wrap around herself.
Taking a breath, she guided his arms around her waist, content to be near him. She closed her eyes, her temple coming to rest at his cheekbone, and for that instant, it didn’t have to be anything more significant than this to affect her: stepping into the field of energy that they had created together, being mindful of the way her lungs struggled to expand and collapse, how she could almost feel the atoms vibrating in her body.
As his arms came to rest on her waist, his hands pressed lightly against her back, fingers splayed out as if to make as wide a contact as was possible, Cian felt that unfamiliar stirring again. There was no doubt in his mind that he found her attractive, physically and mentally, but this was different, and he swallowed the question he felt rising, questions he would think about later. Where his cheekbone felt the touch of her temple there was a current, and it was accentuated through his whole body as hers was so close. His arms drew her closer, the slightest of pressure bringing them into full contact, and the sensation almost took his breath away.
He’d known for a long time there was more to his mother’s abilities than merely just being able to read incantations and combine items and ingredients to create wards and potions. Annie had taught him, had told him, and had shared with him, reminding him he was a combination of both his mother’s heritage and the bloodlines of the were who’d turned him. “There’s no’ much written in the texts that I’ve been able t’ find,” she’d told him before he left Ireland. “But y’ know Oonagh will continue her search t’ find whatever there is out there. Siofra and you are one, but two by whatever it is keepin’ y’ both separated, which could be good, or it could be a limitation, we don’t know.”
He believed he now knew it was a limitation, that whatever was happening here, whatever the combination of their energies was doing to him was a good thing, albeit a little scary too. It was like the pieces were starting to fall into place, like the pull he’d felt that had drawn him to Searchlight all those years ago, and the pull that had tugged on him in the last six months, since the dreadful hurricanes, were all pieces of a puzzle that had come to being that night on the moors.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself absorb what was happening, wanting it to go on, but also knowing he needed to understand more, to safeguard… everyone.
She leaned against him, he could feel her arms, feel her body, hear the blood sing through her veins, the beat of her heart and the flow of her energy as it blended into his. He had no doubt she was just as aware of this being different as he was. “As much as I don’t want to, I think it best we go,” he murmured, eyes now open again, his arms still holding her.
Rhiannon nodded, the quick, sharp breath an attempt to rattle herself loose from the reverie. “Yes. Definitely.” She needed space to think, to avoid doing a rash thing that couldn’t be walked back, to research the science behind a random release of oxytocin and why this was definitely not it. If she kept holding onto him, she was going to do an impulsive thing that required zero thinking.
She lowered her arms, took a step back.
A funny thought occurred to her. “So listen, I know we just met, but can I get your number?”
The question jerked him back from the reverie he’d been lost in, a laugh bubbling up as he looked at her. “Oh aye, I think I c’n give y’ that, at least,” he replied teasingly. He reached behind and pulled his phone out of the back pocket he’d only just returned it to, entered the security code and after opening the SMS window passed it to her. “Send y’self a message,” he said with a small smirk and twitch of the eyebrow. “Then y’ll have it.”
“At the very least,” she murmured. Rhiannon took the phone, its screen a bright-glowing beacon between them. “This is all a ruse to see if I can spell your name.” She thumbed in her cell phone number and an identifier — ‘Cian - Sex on Legs’ — tapped send, then passed it back to him.
“And now you’ve got mine.” Rhiannon looped her thumbs into the hip pockets of her shorts and settled into a relaxed posture. Her heartbeat had come back down, and she thought that a cold shower or standing with the refrigerator door open would take care of the rest.
As he shoved the unread phone back into his pocket he nodded and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the sight of her standing there, relaxed and confident. It all added to the file his mind had started, recording everything about her, committing it to a memory shared, that they would both be able to access. It wasn’t often he had that feeling but it was definitely something happening now. Before the moment stretched too long he stepped forward, a finger coming up to lift her chin slightly, his eyes closely watching hers as the gap closed between them.
As he leaned in a flicker of gold flecks appeared, highlights in a sea of green. He pressed a light kiss to her mouth, inhaling lightly through his nose. It was a soft, undemanding melding that hinted of what was being held back, with great effort.
Oh, there it was again. That feeling of one-hundred tiny butterflies beating their wings in her rib cage. She felt her weight tip forward, a subtle tug in a direction that neither one of them made. She wanted so badly to take his hand and drag him into her house. Rhiannon broke off contact with his mouth, nose resting alongside his for a second, hand coming to rest against his chest. “You have got to get out of here,” she breathed, shoving gently away with a smile.
“Goodnight, Cian.”
“Goodnight, Rhiannon,” he returned, letting his hand fall back to his side. Again it struck him how synchronised they seemed to be, but it didn’t surprise him quite as much now. Siofra’s investigation of the hunter had given legitimacy to the sensations, in whatever world it was that he drew his instincts from. Without any hesitation he gave her one last smile, turned and walked away, comfortable knowing that it would not be long before they were to continue on this path, wherever it may lead.