Morrigan by Jonathan King (cat reading book txt) 📕

and ale, skirmishes with the toughest of warriors and beasts. Nights of wild passion.”

Abel gulped.

“And you won’t even commit to a tattoo?” Morrigan finished.

“I’m sorry,” said Abel. “You’ve been around thousands of years, and you’ve experienced more of the world, and you expect me to have goals the same as you? Me, who spent the seventeen years of his life sheltered under the strictest of rules, who hasn’t even figured out what’s really good or bad?”

Morrigan shook her head. “No, you’re right. I guess I just expected more.”

Abel squeezed his fists until his knuckles turned white. “More flirting too?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Morrigan. “You don’t need to flirt. You’ve got a certain innocent charm without it. But I was flirting with you. You … well, like I said, you tried.”

“You made it seem like you liked it.”

Morrigan shrugged. “I liked you.”

“Like you’d like a trained dog.”

“Will you let that go? I was out of line there. I know that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a trained dog anymore,” said Abel. “I’m a puppy that follows you around everywhere. Cute, but embarrassing.”

“I’m not embarrassed by you!” said Morrigan.

“Embarrassed for me, then,” said Abel.

Morrigan hesitated. “I just think you could be doing more with your freedom. That’s all.”

Abel balled up the Freedom List and dropped it into his beer glass, watching the paper soak up the foul liquid. “Forget it. It was a stupid list, anyway.”

Morrigan replied, but Abel couldn’t hear her over the pounding in his ears. Had nothing been real this whole time? Mere moments ago he’d thought they’d had something. Now he saw it had all been an act. Or he’d read too much into things. Or it had been real, and he’d ruined it. He honestly wasn’t sure which was worse.

Sound finally broke through the clouds in his brain, but it wasn’t Morrigan or her relatives. It was a song, the words in a language that was probably Gaelic, the melody honey-sweet, bringing tears to his eyes. He’d heard the saying “voice of an angel” before, and now he knew what it meant.

He turned and saw the angel standing among the musicians, swaying to the rhythm of their instruments. The sunlight from the window haloed her golden hair and soaked into her red silk dress. He’d seen her in the back of the pub when he’d first come in, but only now that she was singing did he really notice her. In fact, every eye was on her now, every man and even a couple of the women gazing at her with obvious longing. Even Boyle stood motionless except to wipe his eyes as he gaped at the vision in red. But she only had eyes for Abel; her azure eyes stared straight at him and through him and into him, stealing the breath from his lungs as if to feed the song.

“Táim sínte ar do thuama

Agus gheobhair ann de shíor mé

Dá mbeadh barra do dhá láihm agam

Ní scarfainn liet choíche…”

Each word trailed a delicate finger across the back of his neck, setting every nerve tingling.

Then the song ended, and the applause from the patrons broke the spell. Abel shivered. Something had connected them, something he’d never felt before. Something he longed to feel again.

He watched her go back to her booth across the room and then glanced at the paper beer pulp that was the Freedom List. It was time to mark one off the list.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll prove I can flirt.”

“Sorry, what?” Morrigan blinked. She and the gods had been deep in conversation, reliving some past battle of note. Abel doubted they’d even heard the song or seen the woman.

“I’m gonna flirt with her,” Abel nodded to the woman, who sat with her back to them.

Morrigan followed his gaze, and her eyes popped wide. “Her? But she’s—”

“Out of my league?” Abel finished for her.

“I was going to say not likely to be as kind to you if you fail.”

“Not like you, then.”

Morrigan sighed. “You always assume you know what I’m saying.”

“You didn’t see the way she was looking at me,” said Abel. “I can do it. I can impress somebody here, even if it isn’t you.”

“Sounds like the beer is affecting him already,” Mac whispered to Brigid.

“It is not!” Abel said, although he felt warm and more than a little loose.

“Now Mac, there’s no reason at all she wouldn’t find a young man like him attractive,” said Brigid.

“Every man is attractive to a woman until he starts talking,” said Mac.

“That’s it.” Abel slapped the counter. “I bring back her phone number, or the next round is on me.”

“Now we’re talking,” said Mac, shaking his hand. “It’s a deal. But you’d best make good out there, lad. I’m a hearty drinker.”

“Don’t encourage him,” said Morrigan.

“Worried I’ll get hurt?” Abel asked.

“Yes, I am.”

Abel chuckled and shook his head. “I’m more capable than you think I am. And I’ll prove it.”

Brigid adjusted the edges of Abel’s cardigan, then took him by the shoulders. “Don’t forget to be yourself. That’s all women really care about.” Her gaze shifted, not to the woman in red, but to Morrigan.

Abel smiled. “Thanks.” Thanks, but she doesn’t see me like that. Not anymore. Maybe she never did.

“It’s what I do.” Brigid stepped out of his way, clearing a path toward the booth.

Abel squared his shoulders and walked forward. I can do this. I’ll show her. I’ll show them all I can run with the gods any day of the week. No problem.

Then the woman looked at him with those hungry blue eyes, and his confidence melted away, threatening to take his body with him.

Oh gosh, he thought. I’m gonna die.

13

Okay, strategy. What are you going to say to her? Compliment her on the song? Ask if she’s waiting on anybody? Tell her she’s pretty? Oh, sure, that’ll go over well. “Hey, you’re pretty. Please like me.” Oh Lord, please don’t let those words come out of my mouth.

Before he could make up his mind, he found his path blocked. Another man had