Page 30 of The Scald Crow

“What do you want to know?” The groan in his throat fed my hunger. His arms embraced me, his hands sliding lower, pressing into my lower back.

“Everything.” I pulled at his lower lip and swept my tongue against his. I was only vaguely aware of his chin scraping mine.

“Aye.” He smoothed and warmed my skin, cupping my breasts and tweaking each taut nub with a circling thumb.

Every nerve ending I possessed ignited. Embers burst into fiery flames.

“Let me please you.” His voice filled with passion, his face mirroring my need. He ran his big hand between my shoulder blades, and the air cracked.

“I want you, Colm.” Heat pooled between my thighs. He made my blood burn. I dug my fingers into sculpted pecs and hung on for dear life.

“Calla, was it Ciarán? Was it my brother you spoke with?” His rumbling voice brought me back into the here and now. He stood in the courtyard, one hand clasping my shoulder, the other holding my walking stick. “You mentioned you saw him at the pub? The Black Horse. And then again at the wake. You had a conversation with my brother.”

The pixie on his T-shirt tossed glitter into my eyes, tearing me away from the beautiful dream. I could no longer deny the obvious. I was the problem, unable to carry on a normal conversation with a man without zoning out and losing myself in the land of lust.

“Look, just forget it, okay?” My throat closed, and my voice left me. I turned away, watching the fog bank retreat into the honeycombed crevices in the mountain’s face. A moment ago, his hands made love to me.

Hallucinations were one thing, but that was something entirely different. He seemed utterly unaware I had kissed him. Dear gods, what was wrong with me?

“We searched for years. Followed every clue. TheBean Feasawas called upon to cast her spells. Nothing helped. It was like Ciarán had walked off the face of the earth.” His voice cracked.

I wanted to throw my hands over my ears. Why was he sharing his pain with me?

“Look, I’m sorry about your brother.” Rays of light beamed from the sky, setting every blade of grass on fire. I threw my hands to my face and rubbed my eyes.

“Calla, are you all right?” He gripped my shoulders, squeezing gently. His eyes showed concern.

“You need to leave.” My stomach heaved. Bile rose in my throat. I backed away from his embrace.

“Calla, please, Calla. Is he with the Good People?” His soft voice caressed my soul as if I even had one.

“The Good People? Is that a cult?” I gave him a sly smile. He needed to walk away before I did something I might regret. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

“Ciarán could see Them. He had the sight. He may have left willingly. But why? Why would he do that?” He spoke in a monotone, lost to his demons, giving me a glimpse of the real Colm O’Donnell—a broken man obsessed with loss.

Were we so different?

“I’m not who you think I am.” The adrenaline that had rushed through my body moments before dissipated, leaving me weak-kneed and so tired.

“What did he say, Calla? What did Ciarán say?” He cradled my elbow—the same hand that had inflamed my desires and made me feel.

I leaned into him, waiting for the ghastly vision to show itself. It would come, and it would go again.

Lightning struck the skies as three horsemen, red-haired and red-faced, frocked in crimson raiment, galloped head-to-head straight at me. As black as night and crazed with bloodlust, their three mighty steeds kicked up the earth, fiery flames shooting from their dead eyes. Banished from their home, the three horsemen rode between worlds, never veering or changing course. No, they would thunder through me, their ghostly spirits leaving me broken inside. Their message held a warning.

If only I knew what it meant.

“What did he say, Calla? What did Ciarán say?” His face contorted with pain.

I couldn’t unsee it.

“You need to leave.” My heart raced. My mouth dried. I couldn’t help him. I was not that person, and I didn’t want to be.

“Calla, please.” His cajoling voice turned pleading. His eyes tortured.

My unbridled lust for Colm was one thing. Visions I could handle, but I refused to be a medium between worlds. I did not sign up for that.

“I can’t help you.” I pressed my hands into his chest, holding him away. I could touch him—at least I had that.

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