Velvet Haven

Annwyn.
    His suspicions were confirmed. Rowan was not all mortal. She was at least partly of the Otherworld. Perhaps her mother had even been a goddess. He pocketed the knife to bring back to Annwyn.
    “I’ve finished questioning her. Basically the meanings are the same,” Sayer announced.
    Bran flexed his arms, tension rippling down his back. He didn’t like the feeling. Something was not right here. Mairi’s name was cropping up more times than it should. And now this information about Rowan. It was all tied together somehow.
    “Ask her what she knows of Mairi,” Bran ordered, his insides in knots.
    “I dream of her,” Rowan suddenly whispered, her gaze clouding, unable to focus on either him or Sayer. “I see her in a magical place, standing in a grove. She’s wearing a long gown, white, flowing. Her face is covered by a veil, but I know it’s her. She’s holding out her arm, and a black raven flies to her, landing on her arm.”
    “What does it mean?” Sayer asked, glancing back at him. “What place is this you see, Rowan?”
    “Heaven,” she answered.
    “No,” Bran roared. “She does not die. She will not .”
    “She dies by your hand, Raven. Your refusal to believe is the knife that cuts.”
    Suddenly Rowan collapsed, and Bran felt as though his world had come crashing down.
    “What now?” Sayer asked as he held an unconscious Rowan in his arms. “Shall we bring her to Suriel? For certain she is no simple mortal.”
    “She will come to Velvet Haven,” Keir demanded. “I don’t want Suriel near her. I don’t trust the bastard.”
    Bran nodded as he struggled to right his reeling senses. Did he believe in Rowan’s dreams? Why shouldn’t he? He believed in his own.
    What was he going to do? He would not kill Mairi. Despite the fact that she was destined to murder him, he would not— could not —lay a hand on her.
    “Where now?” Sayer demanded.
    With a curse, Bran fisted his hands at his side. “To the place where all our information keeps returning us. To Mairi.”

    One thing was for certain, Pretty Boy Sanchez sure did look good in tight-fitting jeans and a plain white T-shirt.
    “Thanks.” Taking the beer from her, he tipped it to his sinfully seductive mouth.
    “I have beer glasses if you want.”
    “Nah, I’m a bottle guy.”
    Mairi watched him drink and swallowed hard. She must be ovulating, she thought with disgust, because she was like a dog in heat. All she could think of was sex and how she wanted it. Even Sanchez would do. Although she knew she’d be pretending he was Bran.
    But who cared? Maybe once she finally had sex she’d get the constant thoughts of Bran out of her head.
    She’d dreamed of him last night. She couldn’t remember the details, but she knew she had. In her dream, she’d been in control, straddling his hips, making him burn.
    “So, I like this,” Sanchez murmured. “Having dinner at home.”
    Mairi shrugged. “I like to cook and don’t often get to do it.”
    “I’m honored.”
    Inwardly she cringed. She was leading him on, and all so she could get her rocks off. She hadn’t wanted to go out tonight. She’d wanted to get down to business. Damn Bran and the feelings he’d awakened in her. She had been perfectly content with her solo sex life until he had entered the picture and made her want.
    “Hope you like pasta,” she asked over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen to check the sauce.
    “Sure do,” he called. “And I’m liking your ass in those jeans.”
    Mairi bit her lip. She didn’t do this sort of thing. She didn’t have guys over to sleep with them. But this fever in her blood, it wouldn’t go away. Sometimes she actually felt weak with the need, the hunger for sex.
    It was crazy. Her whole life was becoming one big hallucination. Ever since she’d taken that book, reality had been skewed and bizarre things had happened. Like Bran.
    I wonder what he’s doing. She stirred the sauce, tasted it, then added a little more garlic. Probably back at Velvet Haven getting lucky. Probably with a blonde with artificial boobs. Bet he isn’t leaving her naked and alone, like he did to me.
    Damn it, why couldn’t she piece together the events of that night? There had been his touch, his tongue on her pussy, a blinding orgasm, and bam! Nothing. Not until the moment when she pulled up to the red EMERGENCY sign at St. Mike’s.
    But she had had plenty of dreams of him . . .
    “I brought you something.”
    Probably a