Chapter 5—Bella
FINNIGAN’S PRIVATE Gaming Hall glows like a runway strip with elaborate external lights and magic sparkles, while its windows are tinted with magic that keeps prying eyes from seeing inside. The building itself is unassuming—a two-story brick structure with a hand lettered wooden sign that simply reads “Finnigan’s Lucky Charm’s Pub.” No indication of the extravagance that waits upstairs.
I smooth down my green hair, wishing I’d worn something fancier than jeans and my favorite emerald sweater. Next to me, Seamus looks perfectly at ease in his fitted shirt and dark trousers, the Celtic embroidery along his collar catching the moonlight.
“Ready?” Seamus asks, his hand hovering near the small of my back without quite touching me.
“As I’ll ever be.” I adjust the strap of my purse, where Hecate is currently hiding. Her tiny head pokes out just enough to see.
“This place smells like expensive regrets,” she whispers, her nose twitching. “And something old.”
Fergus greets us at a side door, his grin wide and mischievous. “Cousin. Bella. Welcome to the finest establishment this side of the veil.”
He leads us up a narrow staircase that opens into a space so opulent it makes my jaw drop. The ceiling stretches impossibly high for a two-story building—magic at work—with chandeliers that don’t hang from chains but float, their crystals shifting colors with the mood of the room. The walls shimmer with gold leaf and enchanted murals that move subtly, revealing scenes of ancient fae revelry playing out in endless loops.
Patrons lounge on velvet couches or cluster around gaming tables, their laughter musical and dangerous. I spot several high fae, their otherworldly beauty almost painful to look at. A vampire deals cards at one table, and his movements are too fast for human eyes to track. In the corner, a group of wood nymphs giggle over drinks that change color with each sip.
This is the closest Evershift Haven gets to having a seedy underbelly, and I’ve never stepped foot inside before. Even when Seamus and I dated before, he never invited me here nor showed any sign of wanting to come either.
“Quite the crowd tonight,” says Fergus, guiding us through the room. “Lady Maeve is in rare form. She’s won three fortunes and gave them all away just for the drama of it.”
I feel gazes tracking our movement across the floor. My witch senses prickle with awareness of the old magic saturating the air that is powerful and unpredictable. Seamus walks with casual confidence, but he’s constantly scanning the room, and his posture remains alert despite his relaxed expression.
In my purse, Hecate has gone unusually quiet. When I glance down, I see her charm has turned a murky gray, revealing her anxious color. That, more than anything, puts me on edge.
“There she is,” says Fergus, gesturing toward a circular table in the center of the room.
Lady Maeve sits like a queen holding court, her silver-white hair cascading down her back in intricate braids interwoven with what look like living fireflies. Her skin has the luminous quality of moonlight on water, and her eyes—a startling violet—seem to see right through me when they flick in my direction.
“Seamus O’Connell,” she says, her voice like honey drizzled over ice. “How delightful. I was beginning to think you’d never accept my invitation.”
“Lady Maeve.” Seamus bows with perfect formality, though I catch the hint of wariness in his eyes. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“As does yours.” Her gaze slides to me, looking mildly intrigued. “And you’ve brought a...friend.”
“Bella Brewster.” I introduce myself before Seamus can do it for me. “Owner of Moonwake Café.”
“Ah, yes. I do enjoy your monthly metamorphosis specials. I sometimes have servants fetch them since I couldn’t be seen in a coffee shop, you understand.” She says it like it’s a preposterous notion.
I smile sweetly. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed them, Lady Maeve. You are free to come inside yourself if you prefer though. No one will mind.”
Her eyebrow arches, and for a moment, I worry I’ve overstepped. Then she laughs, and it’s a sound like silver bells that makes several nearby patrons turn in appreciation. “Sit,” she commands, gesturing to the empty chairs. “Fergus tells me you’re looking for something I might have.”
We take our seats. The table between us is inlaid with mother-of-pearl that shifts and swirls like clouds across a night sky. No cards or chips are visible, but I sense they’re just a gesture away.
“Perhaps,” says Seamus carefully. “We’re following a trail that led us here.”
“A hunt.” Maeve’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “How entertaining, and what makes you think I’ll simply hand over what you seek?”
“I never assumed you would,” he says. “I imagine you’d want something in exchange.”
“Smart boy.” She leans forward, and her gown, which seems to be made of actual starlight, shimmers with the movement. “I want to be entertained. It’s so rare these days to find anything truly novel.”
With a flick of her wrist, a deck of cards materializes on the table. The backs are golden and embossed with a familiar symbol—the same one from our previous clue.
“A game, then. Poker, but we won’t be wagering anything as mundane as money.”
“What are the stakes?” I ask, earning another appraising look from Maeve.
“Truths,” she says simply. “Seamus will play against me. Each hand he wins, I reveal something of value. Each hand I win, he tells me something true.” Her smile turns predatory. “I do so love collecting secrets from handsome men.”
Seamus doesn’t flinch. “And if I win the game overall?”
“You get the deck.” She taps it with one long, pearlescent nail. “Which I suspect is what you’re after.”
“And if you win overall?” I press.
Her violet eyes gleam. “Then I get to keep him for a night.”
My stomach drops. “That’s not—”
“Deal,” he interrupts, his expression unreadable.
“Seamus.” I hiss.
He gives me a look that says trust me . I want to argue, but Maeve is already dealing the cards with elegant precision.
“Five-card draw. Simple enough even for mortals to follow.”
I sit back, fuming silently as the game begins. Hecate peeks out from my purse, her tiny eyes narrowed at the fae lady.
The first hand goes to Maeve. She smiles triumphantly. “A truth, Seamus O’Connell.”
Seamus considers for a moment. “I once stole a kiss from a princess of the Winter Court. She turned my lips blue for a month.”
Maeve laughs delightedly. “Naughty boy. Titania’s youngest, I presume? She always did have a temper.”
The next hand goes to Seamus. Maeve sighs dramatically.
“Very well. A truth from me.” She taps her chin. “The cards you seek were crafted by my great-grandmother, who had the gift of foresight. They show not just what is, but what might be.”
Seamus nods, clearly filing away this information as he deals the next hand.
As the game progresses, I watch Seamus carefully. He’s very good at reading Maeve’s tells with practiced ease. He loses when the stakes are low, offering up amusing anecdotes about his misspent youth that make Maeve laugh but reveal nothing truly important. When the hands matter, he plays with ruthless precision.
Maeve seems more amused than annoyed by his strategy. “You’ve played this game before,” she says after he wins a particularly crucial hand.
“I’ve played many games.” He shuffles the deck with nimble fingers.
Through her “truths,” we learn that the Golden Path Deck is more than just a set of cards. It’s a magical artifact that can guide its owner to what they truly seek. We also learn that someone has been asking about us around town, someone Maeve refuses to name but describes as “old and patient.”
The final hand builds with excruciating tension. Maeve’s gaze never leaves Seamus’s face as they each discard and draw new cards. The air around us seems to thicken, the ambient noise of the gaming hall fading away until all I can hear is the soft sound of cards against the table.
Seamus reveals his hand first. He has a full house, kings over tens.
Maeve’s smile doesn’t falter as she lays down her cards, revealing two pair of aces and eights.
“Well played,” she concedes, pushing the golden deck toward him. “The deck is yours, as promised.” She smiles again. “Of course, it will return to me when it has served its purpose in this little game.”
Seamus collects it carefully, tucking it inside his jacket. “Thank you for the game, Lady Maeve.”
She leans forward, dropping her voice to a silky murmur. “Until next time, Seamus O’Connell. Bring your little witch again. She has spirit.”
We watch her glide away, the crowd parting before her like water.
“We should go before she changes her mind.”
I nod and follow him quickly out of the gaming parlor. Outside, the night air feels shockingly normal after the magical intensity of Finnigan’s. We walk several blocks in silence before Seamus pulls us into a small alcove between buildings, away from prying eyes.
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he says, producing the deck.
The cards feel warm to the touch, almost alive. Seamus spreads them in his hands and immediately, one card seems to glow brighter than the others. He pulls it free, revealing the Crossroads Card, showing an old stone well surrounded by wildflowers.
“’Where time stands still and echoes of the past remain, seek what was left beneath the rain,’” I read the golden inscription aloud. My heart skips a beat as recognition dawns. “That’s your old cottage. The wishing well in the back garden.”
Seamus nods, his expression guarded. “It has to be.”
“We should wait until tomorrow,” I say, remembering his neat garden, which has probably become overgrown unless there are new tenants at the house Grizelda made from a lily. “It’s late. It would be safer to tackle the wishing well with daylight.”
He nods. “I’ll walk you home.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“Humor me, Bella.” He looks somewhere between stern and pleading. “Please.”
I sigh, nodding my agreement. Hecate pokes her head out of my purse, looking between us with obvious interest.
“That was quite a show,” she says as we start walking. “Lady Sparkle-Pants seemed very interested in our leprechaun friend.”
“She’s a high fae,” Seamus explains. “They collect interesting experiences like humans collect souvenirs.”
“Is that why she wanted to keep you for a night?” I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
Seamus grins. “Jealous, Bella?”
“You wish.” I roll my eyes. “I just don’t like the idea of you being someone’s plaything.”
“I wouldn’t have lost,” he says with quiet confidence.
“Your arrogance knows no bounds.”
“It’s not arrogance if it’s true.” He frowns. “Besides, I had a feeling from the minute I entered that I was always supposed to win.” He shrugs. “It was just an instinct.”
I harumph to show how I feel about his instinct. I certainly didn’t have that confident assurance when we stepped into the gaming den, but I was never meant to be the one who participated in that game, so maybe that’s why.
We fall into easy banter as we walk, discussing Finnigan’s outrageous clientele and the ridiculous bets we overheard.
“Did you see that satyr betting his left horn?” Seamus chuckles.
“Not as bad as the nixie wagering her favorite reflection.”
“Fae bets are serious business,” says Hecate. “Not like you mortals with your boring money wagers.”
“Says the dog who claims to be part dragon,” I tease.
Hecate sniffs indignantly. “It’s not a claim if it’s true. My great-great-grandmother on my mother’s side breathed fire. That’s why I can turn invisible—dragon magic.”
“I thought it was because you’re tiny and good at hiding,” says Seamus with a straight face.
Hecate disappears in a huff, though I can still feel her weight in my purse.
We reach Moonwake Café all too soon. The building is dark and quiet, my apartment above waiting with its empty rooms and cold bed. I fish out my keys, suddenly reluctant to say goodnight. “Thanks for walking me home,” I say, lingering at the door.
Seamus stands too close, his presence warm in the cool night air. “Anytime.”
I should say goodnight. I should send him on his way. Instead, I hear myself saying, “Do you want to come upstairs? To look at the deck more carefully?”
He hesitates, searching my face. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
No. It’s a terrible idea. “We should examine the cards more thoroughly,” I say instead. “There might be more clues.”
He nods slowly. “Lead the way.”
My apartment welcomes us with familiar shadows. I flick on the fairy lights strung across my living room ceiling.
Seamus looks around, taking it all in. “Still warm. Inviting. A little chaotic.” His lips quirk up. “Beautiful. It’s very you.”
I set down my purse, and Hecate immediately hops out to trot to her cushion in the corner, still invisible but leaving tiny paw prints in the fabric.
I busy myself making tea, needing something to do with my hands. “Let’s look at those cards.”
We sit on the couch, the Golden Path Deck between us. Seamus spreads out the cards, and we examine each one carefully. They’re exquisite—hand-painted scenes that seem to shift subtly when viewed from different angles.
“Maeve said they show what might be.” His shoulder brushes mine as he leans closer.
I pick up a card showing two figures standing beneath a full moon. Their faces are indistinct, but something about their posture suggests intimacy. “What do you think that means?”
“Maybe they show possible futures? Paths we might take.”
I’m acutely aware of how close we’re sitting, and the warmth radiating from his body. His achingly familiar scent—earth and whiskey and magic—fills my senses.
“Bella?” he says softly.
I make the mistake of looking up. His eyes are dark with an emotion I don’t want to name. Two years of anger and hurt and longing crash over me like a wave.
“I missed this,” he whispers. “I missed you.”
Something inside me unravels. The cards scatter as I reach for him—or maybe he reaches for me. Our lips meet in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly blazes into something desperate and consuming.
He pulls me onto his lap, and I straddle him, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants. He groans and slides a hand under my sweater, stroking my lower back. His touch sends shivers of pleasure through me, and I press closer, wanting more.
His other hand slips between our bodies, cupping my breast through my bra. I arch into his palm, moaning as he teases my nipple with his thumb. Seamus teases me until it becomes too much, then dips his fingers inside my bra to stroke my bare skin.
I gasp at the sensation of his calloused fingertips against my sensitive flesh. My nipples tighten, sending sparks of desire straight to my core. I'm wet and aching for him, and I can't wait any longer. It's been too long since I saw and touched his body. My fingers shake slightly when I begin unbuttoning the fine linen shirt with the Celtic knotwork embroidered on the neck. I push aside the fabric, baring his chest.
Seamus inhales sharply as I trace his collarbone with my fingertip. His skin is smooth and taut over lean muscle, and his pulse beats rapidly under my touch. I trail my finger down his sternum, enjoying the way his muscles tense and quiver. I pause to stare at a tattoo on his shoulder. It's magical and wasn't there two years ago. The closer I look, the more I realize it's shifting. I let out a gasp when it suddenly coalesces into "Bella" and stays in that state. "You have my name tattooed on your shoulder?"
"Aye. I wanted to keep you close."
My heart melts. I bend down to kiss the tattoo, tasting salt and magic on his skin. He shudders and grips my hips tightly.
"Do you remember the first time we made love?"
"Of course." How could I forget? We'd just met a couple of nights before at the LoveLuck Festival and had been at his room at the Moonlit Inn. We'd been talking until we suddenly weren't. I don't remember who reached for the other first, but somehow, we were kissing. And touching. And tearing off each other's clothes.
"Remember how we couldn't stop laughing because we kept bumping noses?" he asks with a smile.
"And then we finally got it right," I say, smiling back.
"That was the best night of my life."
"It was the best night of my life too."
Seamus kisses me again, and I lose myself in the taste and feel of him. His lips are soft and warm, and his tongue traces mine with tantalizing skill. I moan and grind against him, feeling his cock harden even more.
He breaks the kiss and pulls off my sweater and bra in one swift motion. Then he cups my breasts, teasing my nipples with his thumbs. Pleasure shoots through me, and I cry out.
"Shhh," he says with a grin. "You'll wake the neighbors."
"Nope. None of the nearby shopkeepers live about their home. I can be as loud as I want." I think about Hecate, who has made her tiny self invisible to give us privacy. I doubt she's in the room with us either. "Other than risking scarring my dog familiar for life, we can be as loud as we want."
Seamus laughs. "Then by all means, please continue making those delicious noises."
He bends his head and takes one of my nipples into his mouth. I cry out again as he sucks and flicks his tongue across the sensitive peak. I bury my hands in his hair, holding him close as waves of pleasure wash over me.
Seamus moves to my other breast, giving it the same attention. I writhe against him, needing more. He seems to know exactly what I need, sliding a hand between us to cup my pussy through my jeans.
The pressure feels amazing, and I grind against his palm, desperate for release. He rubs me harder, matching the rhythm of his tongue on my nipple. I'm so close, but I need more.
Just as I'm about to beg him to take me, he releases my nipple and looks up at me with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I believe these need to go," he says, tugging at my jeans.
I stand up and hurry to strip them off, along with my panties. Seamus does the same with his trousers, freeing his impressive shaft. I stare at it for a moment. He's as big and thick as I remember, but how did I forget the unique shape of his cockhead? It's almost like a shamrock. "Is that a three-leaf clover?"
He laughs. "More like nine."
I laugh. "I meant the shape of your cock, not the length."
Seamus winks at me. "I know. I also remember you making a similar joke the first time you saw it but asking if it was a four-leaf clover."
I roll my eyes. "Well, it's definitely a nine-leaf clover now."
Seamus shrugs. "What can I say? I've missed you, Bella."
His words send a rush of warmth through me. I've missed him too, more than I realized, but I don't say that aloud. Instead, I climb back onto the sofa and straddle his lap. His cock presses against my slick entrance, and I slowly lower my hips, taking him inside my pussy inch by glorious inch.
We both groan as he fills me completely. I pause for a moment, savoring the sensation of being stretched and filled so perfectly. Then I begin to move, riding him slowly at first as we reacquaint ourselves with each other's bodies. He feels even better than I remembered, and I pick up the pace, eager for more.
Seamus matches my movements, thrusting up to meet me as I grind down on his cock. He grips my hips, pulling me closer as he drives deeper inside me. I cry out, losing myself in the pleasure of his touch. Nothing else matters except this moment, the two of us moving together in perfect sync. I never want it to end. Recalling how abruptly he left last time, I almost stop thrusting. For a second, it robs me of the mood.
Then he cups my chin in his hand and takes my mouth in a fiercely needful kiss. I melt into him, kissing him back with equal passion. I can feel his desire for me along with his need to reclaim what we once had. And I realize that I want that too. I want to recapture the magic we shared before, to experience the connection we felt when we were together.
Right now, nothing else matters except this moment. We have tonight, and we can worry about tomorrow later. All I care about is being with Seamus, showing him how much I've missed him and how much I still care for him. I'm nowhere near ready to tell him that, but I can admit it to myself in this moment of vulnerability.
As our bodies move together, I let go of everything else and focus on the sensations coursing through me. The pleasure builds, higher and higher, until he moves his hand between us and finds my clit. He rubs it in slow circles, sending me over the edge. My orgasm rushes through me, intense and overwhelming, and I cling to him as waves of ecstasy crash over me.
He holds me close, thrusting deeply as he chases his own release. A few thrusts later, he groans, burying his face in my neck as he comes. His cock pulses inside me, filling me with his seed. I wrap my arms around him, holding him against me as we ride out the aftershocks of our climaxes.
Afterward, we lie there for a while, tangled in each other's arms. It feels good to be with him again, to share this intimacy and closeness, but it won't last. Tomorrow will come, and reality will intrude once more. For now, I push those thoughts aside and enjoy the feeling of being with him as we drift off to sleep, holding each other without speaking. Words will only destroy this gossamer moment.
MORNING LIGHT FILTERS through my curtains, painting stripes across the tangled sheets. I wake slowly, then freeze as I register the warm body pressed against mine. At some point, we moved from the sofa to the bed, but it’s all a hazy blur of passion mixed with snatches of sleep. Seamus still dozes peacefully, one arm draped over my waist, and his face is relaxed in a way I rarely see when he’s awake.
Reality crashes in. What have I done?
I carefully extract myself from his embrace, gathering scattered clothing from the floor. My mind races as I dress, trying to make sense of last night’s lapse in judgment.
It was just physical, I tell myself. Two years of pent-up attraction finding release. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t mean I trust him again.
Seamus stirs, his eyes opening to find me fully dressed and clearly panicking. He sits up, the sheet pooling around his waist. “Morning,” he says cautiously.
“I’m going to make coffee,” I say, fleeing to the kitchen before he can respond.
I busy myself with the familiar ritual at my personal espresso machine, measuring beans and heating water with shaking hands. By the time Seamus emerges, dressed but with his hair still adorably mussed, I’ve composed myself enough to face him.
“Do you regret it?” he asks quietly, accepting the mug I thrust at him.
I focus on stirring sugar into my own coffee. “We should get an early start to your cottage. The well might take some time to investigate.”
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
After he leaves, I sink onto a kitchen stool, cradling my coffee. What am I doing? One night of passion doesn’t erase two years of heartbreak.
“So,” Hecate materializes on the counter, her tail swishing with obvious satisfaction, “That happened.”
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “Not now, Hec.”
“He still looks at you the same way, you know,” she says, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. “Like you’re the sun, and he’s been living in darkness.”
“Poetic for a dog,” I mutter.
“I’m just saying—”
I toss a dish towel at her, which she dodges by vanishing again. “We have work to do,” I say firmly. “The well. The gold. That’s what matters.”
Not the way Seamus’s hands remembered every inch of me. Not the way he whispered my name like a prayer. Not the way I fit against him as perfectly as I always had.
I drain my coffee and head to the shower, turning the water as cold as I can stand it. I have a job to do, and I won’t let last night’s mistake distract me from finding Seamus’s gold and getting him out of my life again.
Even if a traitorous part of me whispers that maybe, I don’t want him to go.