Hollow: Isa Fae paranormal romance (Fallen Sorcery Book 2) Page 8

  Niall fell asleep staring out the window at the swirling maelstrom, his mind on the life outside these walls he’d thrown away, and the girl sleeping only a few doors away. The only girl he wanted, who was completely out of reach.

  7

  Aisling

  The hours on the clock clicked by, and still Aisling did not sleep. The thought of the boy in the room down the hall kept her mind occupied. Was he struggling to sleep, too? Three times she yanked off the covers, swung her legs out of bed, and took the first steps toward the door, her body humming with desire for him. Each time, the part of her mind that still saw sense yanked her back.

  Your hormones are in overdrive because he’s the first man you’ve seen since the fae killed your father. He’s gorgeous, but he’s fae. Just because he’s now trapped here with you, doesn’t mean you have to have anything to do with him.

  Remember, it’s the fae who brought the Hollow here in the first place, who doomed you to this isolated life. Niall and his people view this house as a source of energy, a powerhouse they should be able to tap into whenever they choose. Despite what he says about coming to save your, his real motivation has to do with his father. He sees you as an amusement, nothing more. That is, if he didn’t lie to you, if he isn’t secretly here to kill you and claim the house for himself.

  He came to save me, Aisling argued with herself, round and round in endless circles. If he wanted to kill me, he could have done it already. He sees me in his dreams. Surely that means something?

  It means he’s very good at spinning a tale. He knows how to play a witch. Your sister is dead, and all you can think about is a fae. What kind of a person are you?

  At the thought of her sister, fresh tears welled in Aisling’s eyes. Bethany would have known what to do about Niall. Aisling had told her all about the dreams, and her older sister read all those romance books. She was the expert. She’d know why Aisling’s body felt like it was on fire every time he looked at her.

  But Bethany wasn’t here, when Aisling needed her more than ever. The only person here was Niall. And she couldn’t very well ask him. She knew from what her grandmother had told her that fae were sexually charged – they often used their magnetism to lure unsuspecting humans into traps, in order to steal their atern. In fae society, lovemaking was part of a magical binding. Sex made them stronger. A guy like Niall … he would have bound with many fae women. He wouldn’t be interested in a witch like her, even if she had appeared in his dreams. And even if he did, how did she know it wasn’t part of a plot to take her magic from her?

  Not that your magic is much good to you as it is. Aisling’s magical education halted at age thirteen, when her mother was taken by the void. She read what she could from the books in the library, and Bethany had taught her a few more spells, but without a coven member to initiate her into their secret family rites, she lacked the knowledge to perform all but the simplest of spells.

  Even without magical abilities, everything she knew about the fae and their nature told Aisling to beware. Yet, she couldn’t deny how Niall pulled her in, made her want to trust him. That easy smile, those haunting eyes that seemed to see right into her. The pain that crept into his voice.

  Stop it. Stop thinking about him. Go to sleep.

  It was past 3 a.m. before Aisling drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  She woke with a start, sensing a foreign presence in her room. She opened her eyes, scanning around her for the source of the uneasy feeling clenching her gut. But the gray light of morning had only just begun to creep across the bed, and all she could make out were the blurry edges of her furniture.

  “Rise and shine,” a deep voice whispered, close to her ear.

  Aisling shrieked and scrambled away. She whirled around. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could just make out Niall leaning over the bed, his handsome face inches from hers. He held something long and dark in his hands. A weapon?

  He lied. He really is here to kill me!

  Aisling dived across the bed, trying to kick her legs free of the duvet. She kept one of her great-grandfather’s rapiers in the corner of the room. If she could just reach it …

  Her leg broke free. She grabbed the rapier hilt and whirled around, directing the tip at Niall’s throat. “Get away from me,” she growled. I knew you couldn’t trust him, her brain screamed.

  “Hey now, is that any way to greet the bearer of breakfast?”

  “What?” She was breathing hard. Niall lifted his hands, holding the object in the square of gray light streaming from the window. He was holding a tray. On it sat two bowls heaped with porridge, topped with huge dollops of jam, and two small glasses of orange juice.

  A lump formed in Aisling’s throat. He’d brought her breakfast in bed. The last time she’d had breakfast in bed, she’d been eight years old and recovering from a fever. Her mother brought her dry crackers and the last of the cranberry juice. She’d gotten gritty crumbs all throughout the sheets. It wasn’t a very pleasant memory.

  Now, this handsome boy leaned across the bed, the tray poised on his long fingers, a mysterious smile playing out across his lips. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the hard muscles of his chest called her, begging for her to run her nails across the intricate tattoos winding their way across his pecs. He balenced the tray in one hand and with the other tweaked the tip of the sword with his finger, causing the blade to shudder. He grinned wider.

  “Do you even know how to use that thing?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

  Aisling’s whole face burned as she realized she was wearing nothing but a threadbare lace summer nightgown that had once belonged to her grandmother. The faded white material probably showed everything. She tossed the rapier aside and crossed her arms over her chest, hoping Niall wouldn’t see her nipples standing erect.

  Her mouth watered, and not just for the warmth of the porridge. Beneath her folded arms, her nipples rose like hard stones.

  He’s used the last of your jam, her sensible self scolded. And that’s at least six days of porridge in those bowls. You should be scolding him.

  Instead, Aisling managed a small smile. “Thanks,” she said, her stomach flipping.

  “I figured it’s the least I could do, after barging into your house yesterday.” Niall set the tray down on the bed in front of her, like a peace offering. He climbed across the covers and settled himself against the headboard, leaning on his side with one strong arm behind his neck. He patted the bed beside him. “Shall we?”

  Aisling’s body hummed with electricity. Ignore it, her brain screamed. It’s just his fae magic. He makes everyone feel like that. But somehow, she didn’t quite believe it. Without even realizing she was doing it, Aisling slid down beside Niall on the bed, laying on her side so she faced him, propped up on her elbow. The tray sat between them, a barrier of precious food.

  Niall’s eyes blazed a trail across her body. Aisling positioned her arm across her chest and reached for the bowl closest to her. Niall reached out and brushed his fingers across her knuckle, and sparks of electricity shot up her arm, straight toward her heart.

  She jerked her hand back. “Why did you do that?”

  “You feel it, too,” Niall said, his eyes burning into hers.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her fingers fumbling with the spoon.

  “The energy … whatever it is … that flows between us.” Niall’s voice lowered. “Whenever we touch, it’s like I’ve stuck my finger in a light socket.”

  She stared down at her bowl, trying not to notice how close his leg was to hers. If that tray hadn’t been between them, she could reach out and touch—

  No. Don’t be ridiculous. He’s fae.

  “And when you combine it with the dreams I’ve been having,” Niall continued, his fingers creeping across the sheets toward Aisling’s. She gulped, but couldn’t find the words to reply. “It all points to something connecting us. Something I don’t think has anything to do with this house. But wh
y do I have the dreams, and you don’t?”

  Aisling squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t tell him, she warned herself. Don’t give him that power.

  “I have dreams, too.”

  Great. Way to listen to yourself, Aisling.

  Niall’s body shuddered. “You do? Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  “I didn’t know if I could trust you. I still don’t. But you’re right – there’s something very odd about you and me. We should both have all the information if we’re going to figure it out, especially if it will help us stop your friend. That’s only fair.”

  “How long have you had the dreams?”

  “About the last five years. You?”

  “My whole life.” Niall’s long eyelashes blinked across his eyes. “What do we do in the dreams? Is there a shadowy figure?”

  Aisling’s entire body surged with heat. “No shadow. We … lie like this,” she whispered. “Usually we’re on a beach, but sometimes we’re other places. Never inside the house.”

  “What do we do?”

  “We talk, and … other stuff.” Oh, that the floor would open up and swallow me now. In this house, that was at least a reasonable request.

  Niall grinned. “We fuck?”

  The way he said the word, so crass, so oddly human, and yet, so confident, a flicker of interest darting across his tongue. A shiver ran through her body that had nothing to do with the cold.

  Niall placed his hand on her thigh, the thin material the only thing separating their skin. Energy surged through his fingers, darting through Aisling’s body. Everything in the world ceased to exist save that hand, those fingers, so close to her … to where she ached …

  He’s fae he’s fae he’s fae he’s fae …

  Aisling grabbed the bowl and gulped down a spoonful of porridge, barely tasting it. She had to change the subject, quick. “I’m sorry you’re trapped here. You might not see your family again.”

  “I don’t have much of a family anymore.” A shadow passed over Niall’s face. “Besides, I forced my way inside. It’s my fault. I was so desperate to find a way to talk to you, to stop Odiana from hurting you, I didn’t really think. But that’s okay.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’ll find a way out.”

  “Excuse me? We?”

  “Sure.” Niall lifted his hand from Aisling’s thigh. She wished he’d put it back. Instead, he picked up his own bowl and scraped a ring of porridge from the sides. “I’m a fae. You’re a witch. This place is a literal powerhouse of atern, just ready to be channelled. Between the two of us, we should be able to find some way to stop the fae from getting in here and break whatever charm is locking the door.”

  “What makes you so sure I’m a witch?” Aisling picked up her glass. The sickly sweet juice slid down Aisling’s throat. Niall hadn’t even watered it down.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” He gestured around the room. “Only witches got pulled into the fae realm when we opened the rift. There weren’t any humans left. Plus, you’re living in a magical mystery house that’s humming with atern. I’m simply using my powers of deduction. That, and you told me last night.”

  “Okay. fine. You’re right. I’m a witch. But that isn’t going to help us.”

  “Don’t be modest. It’s annoying, and a waste of time.”

  “I’m not being modest. First of all, I’m not very good. I’ve practiced as much as I can, but without a coven to learn from, my magical abilities are pretty unimpressive. Second, I’ve been through every inch of this house, tried every spell I know to break the enchantment that holds it here, that keeps me inside. There’s no way out. You’re trapped here, just like me. And finally, even if I wasn’t trapped in here, I don’t think I’d want to go outside, not given what you fae do to us. I’m not walking out of one prison only to enter another.”

  Niall had the decency to look mildly apologetic. “I guess that’s fair. So we’re stuck here for now. What do you do all day?”

  “Shouldn’t we be focusing on trying to stop your friend? Isn’t that why you came?”

  Niall waved a hand. “Oh, we have plenty of time for that. Go on, entertain me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you don’t just lounge around in diaphanous lace negligees, waiting for fae servants to bring you your every desire?” He grinned that wicked grin again. “Not that that’s a bad way to spend the day or anything …”

  “You like lounging around in lace negligees yourself, do you?” she shot back, relieved she could use sarcasm to cover for the fact her body was flushing at the idea of a shirtless Niall giving her her “every desire.”

  “Ah, she’s a quick one.” Niall moved the tray to the small table beside the bed, and sat up, leaning toward her. She breathed in the scent of him, heady and masculine and somehow woody, like the smell of the hardwood furniture that filled the house. “Go on, what’s fun in this house?”

  I know what would be really fun …

  “I don’t know,” she managed to choke out, shrugging her shoulders. “I read. I play with Widdershins. I walk around and make sure the house hasn’t lost another room. My sister and I would play games sometimes. We have chess and backgammon and—”

  Niall wrinkled his nose. “That’s it? That’s what you’ve been doing your whole life?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Fine.” Niall swung his muscular legs off the bed, and headed for the door. “Throw on some clothes and let’s go to the library.”

  On the way to the library, Aisling happened to peer in at the kitchen, and got quite a shock.

  She marveled at how he’d managed to use nearly every spoon and saucepan in the large kitchen in order to make two bowls of porridge. There were sticky globs of porridge stuck to the stovetop, the floor, even the ceiling.

  Aisling helped Niall wash the breakfast dishes, although she made him chisel off the porridge. While they cleaned, Niall made jokes and asked an endless stream of questions. “How come you still have so much food left?” He threw open the pantry and gestured to the shelves of boxed and canned supplies. “I’ve never even heard of Frosted Flakes and KitKats. This is all food from the human realm. It should have run out years ago.”

  “We’re witches, remember?” Aisling shut the door, not wanting him to take any more of her precious treats. “The pantry has a replicating enchantment on it – any item that’s removed and eaten will magically be replaced by a new box. It’s a very powerful piece of magic worked by my grandmother and mother when the Hollow was being pulled through to the fae realm. But since they’re both dead now and I have no idea how to fix it, it’s wearing down. It used to take minutes for a new box or can to appear. Now, it takes months. If I don’t ration carefully, we will run out of food.”

  “And the water? Where’s that come from? The house can’t be hooked up to our city supply.”

  “It wasn’t on city water back on Earth, either. The house collects its own rainwater. Lady Greymouth had the system installed when she built the house. My grandmother enchanted it to collect the water in the storm clouds outside, and to filter out the radiation.” Aisling ran the tap to wash her hands. “Thankfully, that system still works perfectly. If it broke down, I’d be dead before I knew it.”

  When the kitchen was spick and span, they went to the library.

  “This woman is everywhere.” Nail jabbed his finger at the gilded frame that hung on the wall beside the library door. Inside was one of Aisling’s favorite portraits of Lady Greymouth, wearing a beautiful pink gown and holding a matching feathered mask on a stick. Her face was rendered in soft brushstrokes, her hair cascading down her back in luscious curls, and she stared over her shoulder at someone outside the portrait, a half-smile playing across her lips. “She’s the woman in the entrance hall, and there’s a portrait of her in my room, as well.”

  “She was my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, the Lady Greymouth I mentioned. She built this ho
use. When you build a house like this, you get to stick your portrait everywhere.”

  “That’s a lot of greats.”

  “Well, she deserved them. She was an amazing woman.”

  “You look a lot like her,” Niall observed. “I mean, she’s clearly older, and I can’t imagine you wearing quite such a frilly dress. But her eyes, her facial features … you could be sisters.”

  Despite herself, Aisling beamed. Her family often told her she looked like Lady Greymouth. But hearing it from Niall made her feel warm all over.

  “She was quite remarkable,” she babbled, desperate that he understand. “We don’t know a lot about her, but there’s this story of how she came upon the land for the house. She was on her horse, riding across the country to meet with her solicitor or something, when she decided to take a shortcut through the Wilcox estate. Unfortunately, the horse threw her and she fell and hit her head. In the middle of the day, in the hot sun, she could have died! Luckily, one of Wilcox’s slaves – a man named George – stumbled upon her, and woke her up. She was so smitten with the view that greeted her when she opened her eyes—”

  “Oh, I bet she was.” Niall winked.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” He face flushed. “I was talking about the view of the landscape, not George. Anyway, Lady Greymouth immediately demanded George take her to his master. She presented Wilcox with a proposal – he would sell her the field where she had fallen, as well as the eight fields surrounding it, and George as well, into the bargain.”

  “See, she did fancy him.”

  “Will you let me finish?”

  He gave her a little bow, and she continued. “Wilcox hadn’t even intended to sell, but there was no arguing with Lady Greymouth. She gave him some gold she had on her person, got her land, built this house, and granted George his freedom for saving her life.”

  “That’s a pretty cool story,” Niall said. “I think I would have liked her.”

  “Even the setting her slave free part?”