Devlin

  by

  Parker Kincade

  Copyright © 2014 by Parker Kincade

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Parker Kincade. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy, available exclusively from Amazon.

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  Cover Art

  Fotolia

  Formatted by

  JTLW Design

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, places, brands, and dialogues in this book are a product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. This book contains content that is not suitable for readers who are 17 and under.

  Dear Reader,

  I have always been fascinated with mythological creatures. Being of Irish descent, the leprechaun lore is one I’ve heard about my whole life. Of course, in my dreams, leprechauns were much different than in the tales I grew up with.

  Devlin was written in the spirit of my dreams. Where leprechauns aren’t little men in green suits, but strong, alpha warriors—whose purpose is to protect mankind and mother earth. And, of course, to find their mate.

  Originally written for an anthology, Devlin is a sexy little story about such a warrior—and the bet he loses to his cousins…

  I hope you enjoy this story. If you’d like to hear from Devlin’s sexy cousins, please drop me a line and let me know!

  Happy reading,

  Chapter One

  “Face it, cousin. You lost.”

  Devlin glanced up from his cards. “Hand’s not over yet.” He tossed a few gold coins, adding to the large pile in the center of the table. “Call.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Rory said.

  Beside him, Flanagan snickered. “He’s right, Dev. Admit defeat. I call.” He added his coins to the middle.

  “They have a point,” Brogan agreed. “Call.” More gold.

  Not to be outdone, Brogan’s twin, Bronaugh, chimed in as he tossed his cards down. “I’m out. It’s over, Devlin. Time’s up.”

  “Shut up. All of you.” Devlin glared around the table at his cousins, allowing his irritation to show. “She’s an emotionless shrew. Not even Aonghus himself could seduce that woman.”

  “As if the Irish love god would care about one tiny fae,” Rory said.

  “Don’t think I didn’t consider calling on him, but I’ve never had a taste for cheating. Unlike some people.” Devlin looked pointedly at the twins.

  “We don’t cheat,” Bronaugh argued.

  “Manipulation isn’t cheating,” Brogan joked. “It’s creative.”

  Devlin shook his head. Someday, those two were going to get into big trouble. He hoped he was around to see it.

  For the last six months, he’d been consumed with this damned bet—seduce the fae known as Keira or do his cousins bidding for a month. Did they forget Devlin had been charmed with an allure women couldn’t resist? It was like a fucking pheromone that oozed from his skin. He could tone it down, but turning it off was impossible until he took a mate. And if he decided to turn it on thick … well … women didn’t stand a chance. There was no way he could lose.

  And then he’d met Keira. Once.

  He’d found her deep in the Amazonian rain forest, bathing in a hidden pool. Her hair floated on the water as she’d moved and swayed in a slow seductive dance that had made him hard. He’d settled on the edge of the pool, mesmerized by the tune she hummed. She was tall, her body curved in all the right places. The tattoos that banded her biceps shimmered, familial tattoos much like his own. Her muscles were well defined, indicating strength. He wouldn’t have to worry about hurting her if he took her rough. Knew instinctively she’d like it that way.

  He’d held his breath, waiting for her to turn … and when she did his whole body felt the movement.

  She was breathtaking. With eyes the color of fire and her breasts … sweet fuck, her breasts. Pert and round, her nipples barely visible through the hair that tumbled over them. But, not so hidden he didn’t see them pearl when she’d noticed him.

  Keira had approached him slowly, as if she’d been as entranced as he was. He’d sat, motionless, his purpose momentarily forgotten as she caressed a finger over his lips.

  They’d both jerked with the contact, and her curse burned his ears.

  And then she’d run. And kept on running until he’d exhausted himself with the chase. All over the damn planet he’d followed. Each time he caught up with her ended the same way. She’d calmly demand he leave her alone and then vanish again, leaving him perplexed and pissed off. He chased her until, finally, his time had run out and he came home.

  He’d failed, but damn, admitting defeat meant he’d be at the mercy of his cousins, a position he didn’t relish. He hadn’t lost a bet to them since they were kids, and, gods be damned, if they sent him to the fire pits to collect another Caorthannach egg, he’d kick all their asses. The shit that thing spit had melted the hair right off his legs. Along with some skin.

  He tossed his cards, face up, on the table. “I may have lost the bet, but I’m about to take your money. Ace high flush, fuckers. Beat that.”

  Groans filled the room, and Devlin took great satisfaction in raking the gold to his side of the table.

  Rory sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “We’ve discussed it and have come up with a fitting task for you.”

  “Let’s hear it.” Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. He could only hope.

  “You’re going on a trip.” Flanagan sounded way too happy for Devlin’s liking.

  “And just where am I going?” His voice was cautious, wary.

  “Where better for a leprechaun to go than Lucky’s?” Rory howled with laughter. “Get ready to shake your shillelagh, Dev. For the next month, you’re one of Lucky’s Charms. It’s all arranged.”

  Devlin relaxed and gave them a wicked grin. Oh, he knew the place. “What? That’s the best you could come up with? You want me to strip for a month? Not much of a challenge—” He broke off, narrowing his eyes at them. “Wait. Why? What’s the catch?” There was always a catch.

  Rory laughed. “The rules were set. You lost. No questions asked.”

  Devlin sighed, unable to believe his luck. “Well, cousins … it looks like I’m headed to New York.”

  Chapter Two

  New York City

  Four weeks later

  Midnight.

  As the outside world slept, in here, they were just getting started. Music pumped in time with the racing heartbeats, the smell of sweat and liquor heavy in the air. Time had no meaning in this place. The only things that mattered were that the booze kept flowing and the men kept shaking their dicks at the ever-growing crowd. Two things guaranteed at Lucky’s Bar and Strip Club.

  His last dance complete, Devlin changed into leather pants, leaving his chest bare. Dancing in a G-string on stage was one thing, parading around the bar in one was another. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He might be done shaking his ass on stage, but his bet demanded he remain until closing. That meant he was still on the clock and available to any horny female who wanted some private time with him.

  The last few weeks had been unremarkable. His cousins’ ulterior motive had yet to present itself. Hell, he’d had fun.

  Now, with two hours left on his bet, he was on edge. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  He propped himself up at the end of the bar. “Hey, Colm, can I get a whiskey?”

  “Sure thing, Dev.” Colm poured a generous amount of the amber liquid in a tumbler and slid the glass in front of him. He’d barely taken the first sip when the smell of cheap cologne filled his nose. There was only one man around that smelled like second-rate Old Spice. Padraig “Lucky” O’Reilly was a piss poor excuse for an Irishman if Devlin had ever seen one. He had a hard time believing the overweight, balding man standing beside him owned this place. It made him want to gag to think Lucky had actually been a stripper, back in the day. By the way he looked now, that had to have been a hundred years ago. Devlin was grateful he hadn’t been around for that.

  “Good crowd, tonight, eh?” Lucky’s grin was more of a leer as he shoved a fat, round cigar between his lips.

  Devlin shrugged, uninterested in the portly little man that actually believed he’d employed him. If Lucky knew the truth, he’d swallow his shamrocks.

  “You should stay on here. The ladies like you.”

  Devlin snorted with disgust as Lucky waggled his overgrown eyebrows. “I’m done when we close tonight. It’s time for me to go home.”

  “I’d make it worth your while.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Fucking humans. Blissfully unaware of their own ignorance.

  This asshole was offering him money. As if he didn’t have piles of gold stacked in the vault underneath his home, on his private island in the Muir Éireann. As the only son to King Bres, ruler of the leprechauns, Devlin’s only financial worry was how he’d make room for more.

  He snorted at the ridiculous image humans had of his kind. At six-foot four, his dark hair and gray eyes were a far cry from the tiny, golden-haired men of human lore. And you wouldn’t catch him dead in a green suit and goofy-looking hat. His skin wasn’t fair or freckled, but tanned and tattooed. The intricate designs that banded his wrists delineated his h eritage, an indication of his royal blood and warrior spirit.

  While leprechauns were indeed male, that’s where the truths ended. Rainbows didn’t house pots of gold in their roots, but the rain that caused them gave Devlin strength as the ground soaked up its healing tonic. He was nature’s champion, creating balance in a world destined to destroy itself.

  He could drink as much alcohol as he wanted without getting drunk. He could move with the speed of lightning when necessary, but he’d never run from a fight. He was possessive and would do anything for those he loved.

  And apparently, he wasn’t a half bad stripper, either.

  At least the guys here were cool. His kind thrived on camaraderie, and in truth, he missed his poker nights with his asshole cousins. As much as he looked forward to taking more of their gold when he got home, he’d enjoyed the playful banter of the strip club. He wasn’t much for human males, but for these guys, he’d make an exception.

  “Give me another month. Come on, what do you say?” A beefy palm reached out, and Devlin ignored it, signaling to Colm for a refill.

  “No.”

  Lucky frowned and dropped his hand just as a strange sensation surged across Devlin’s tattooed wrists.

  What the fuck?

  His magic might not be as strong in the human realm, but it was still powerful enough to wipe this strip joint off the map … along with every city within a thousand mile radius.

  Devlin’s gaze scanned the crowd, searching for what had triggered the sudden surge to his power. Lights flashed and the music blared to life once again as the next guy prepared to take the stage. Devlin darted his eyes away. The only dick he wanted to see tonight was his own. Preferably as it sank into the heat of a certain … fuck.

  Dammit, he enjoyed women. All women. Their luscious curves, soft and warm. He loved the sweet sounds of release that escaped from their pouty lips as he rode them, drove them over the edge while he found his own release. Human, shifter, fae … hell, he’d even done a vampire or two. But, he hadn’t done any riding of late, his mind too preoccupied with the only woman to ever deny him. Preoccupied, hell. He was fucking obsessed.

  Keira.

  Even her name had the power to make him rock hard. Her amber eyes blazed in his memory and fueled his arousal each night as he jacked himself off. He was certain her allure was grounded in the fact she’d rejected him. A new and unpleasant experience. One he didn’t care to have again.

  Devlin drained his glass. She posed a challenge. That was all. Nothing more.

  At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

  Another surge to his power pulled his gaze to the entrance. His lungs seized as liquor spewed from his lips. Standing in the doorway, looking entirely too edible in her skintight jeans, was the woman who’d haunted his dreams.

  What the hell was she doing here? Was she looking for him?

  The way she glanced around the bar, he doubted it. She appeared to be whispering to the guy manning the door, whose name Devlin couldn’t remember. The guy waved her through, and she handed over a wad of cash before he directed her toward the stairs on the left. The guy turned and signaled Liam, Lucky’s newest charm, to come over.

  Damn, with that amount of cash, she’d either be in a private room the rest of the night, or Liam was about to receive a very large tip.

  Keira’s ass wiggled as she shifted from one foot to the other, hesitating briefly at the bottom of the stairs. Nervous, was she? She should be.

  Of course, Devlin had no intention of letting Liam touch her. Aside from the fact that it was Liam’s first night and he looked a little nervous, there was no way another man would get his hands on Keira. Not tonight anyway. Tonight, she was all his. He’d have her … oh yes, he’d have her, all right.

  And then he’d be able to get her out of his head once and for all.

  Chapter Three

  Devlin abandoned his drink and went to head off Liam. Disguised for his act, Liam was dressed in a cape and domino mask, a getup that would make the women around here crazy. They loved a man of mystery. He wondered if that’s why Keira had asked for him.

  The thought sent a surge of unexpected jealousy through his veins, which he promptly shut down. He had nothing to be jealous about, for gods’ sake.

  Devlin stopped Liam at the door with a grin. “Liam, buddy, I have a proposition for you.”

  Liam’s eyes went wide behind the mask he wore, and Devlin laughed.

  “Nothing like that, man. Relax. I want this private dance. You can keep the money, but turn around and walk away.”

  Devlin felt Liam’s relief. “Thanks, Dev. I’m a little wound up preparing for my first stage dance. I won’t take the money, though.”

  “I don’t need it, trust me. And it’ll be worth every penny if you let me go up. I take full responsibility, I promise.” Not that Keira would complain. But she would scream. He’d make sure about that.

  Liam clasped his shoulder and squeezed. “She’s all yours. Good luck.”

  Luck. He took the stairs two at a time and rounded the corner at the top. He reached out with his power, sensing the room she was in. He approached the door and whispered a few ancient words to block her from disappearing on him again. He’d make his own luck tonight.

  He entered the room. The door closed behind him with a soft snick. He turned the lock, further securing her—them—in.

  “Hello, Keira.”

  She spun around to face him, her surprised expression quickly turned to panic. “What are you doing here?”

  Her voice was like sweet honey for his taste buds, smooth as silk, seductive. He closed his eyes for a moment and savored the sound. Blood filled his cock, causing it to bulge against his leather pants. “Hmm. Does it matter? I’m more interested in what you are doing here.” He circled around her, surrounding her with his scent.

  Her nostrils flared, and she waved her hand around the room. “You son of a bitch. Did you gate this room?”

  “I did.” It was a spell only he could break. “We have things to discuss. Like what you’re doing here.”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “I must say, I’m surprised. I thought you weren’t interested in this kind of thing.”

  “Who do you think you are? You don’t even know me. You think I’m not interested in men … in sex? Just because I didn’t—I don’t—want you? Obviously, you were mistaken.”

  This woman infuriated him. He glanced at her lacy tank top. Her nipples were hard. His mouth watered at the memory of their shape, their color.

  Didn’t want him, his ass. He could smell her arousal, her need. She wanted him all right. And he would prove it.

  “Obviously.” Devlin walked her back until she fell onto the couch. “You paid for a lap dance—”

  “Not from you.”

  “Ah, sweet Keira. But, it’s me you get.” He leaned over her and braced his palms against the back of the couch, caging her in. She smelled so fucking good. A mixture of sweet honeysuckle and rich red wine. He wanted her scent all over his body. In his mouth, on his skin. He wanted to roll in it until no amount of showering or soap would rid him of it. He put his mouth against her ear, felt her tremble. “What’s it going to be, mo pheata?”

  “I’m not your pet. In fact, I’m not your anything. Can’t you take a hint?”

  He grabbed her hands before she could push him away. He bit back a groan at the contact, her soft skin an assault to his senses. “If you’re so unaffected by me, then you won’t mind letting me do my job. You paid for a dance, a dance you will have.”

  He’d laid down the gauntlet. She couldn’t refuse him once money had changed hands. All the fae, his race included, were bound by honor, commitment. Once their word had been given—in the form of words, a handshake, or money—it could not be broken. It was the reason he’d spent the last month in New York, stripping for strangers, unable to fuck anything but his own hand—both because of this woman.

  She wouldn’t deny him again.

  Her chest expanded as he straddled her hips, keeping his weight from pressing her into the couch. “We have a no touching rule.” He clasped her wrists and pulled them over her head. He conjured a set of handcuffs, attached to the floor by a chain behind the couch, and shackled her in one quick movement.

 

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