by S. Young
What was going on?
Aine flicked her hand again and Rose was in the room, naked, on her knees before Lir. The captain yanked her hair back with his ungloved fist, and as she cried out, Fionn lunged toward her.
“Uh-uh,” Lir taunted, resting the iron dagger at Rose’s throat. It touched her skin and she hissed in pain, tears filling her eyes.
“You bastard!” Fionn rushed toward Rose but Aine blocked his way.
He tried to push her aside but with fae strength, she held him back, laughing at his growing panic.
Fionn pushed and shoved and swung punches that she easily avoided, all the while keeping him from Rose as Lir cut her body all over with the iron dagger. Then his hand fell to the buttons on his leather trews, his cruel gaze fixed to Fionn. “I will rip her apart before I kill her and you will watch.”
Powerlessness burned like a hot brick in Fionn’s throat as he watched Rose.
Tears streamed from her eyes and she whispered to him, “Look away, mo chroí. Look away.”
Fionn panted, pushing himself up off the bed, and reality flooded in. Along with it came immediate relief.
Rose was okay. It was just a dream.
His hand trembled as he pushed his hair off his face and braced his elbows on his knees.
Fuck.
That dream had felt so real.
The need to find Rose, to feel her beneath his hands and know that she was alive and unhurt, was strong. Even more was the need to hold her, clinging to his need for vengeance at the same time wanting his mate in his arms.
Just a taste. Just a touch.
Something to take with him, hold to him, before the darkness welcomed him for good.
30
The castle library wasn’t an epic, vaulted, multilevel archive of books worthy of a Disney movie. In fact, the only high-ceilinged room in the building was the main hall.
Although larger than many of the other rooms, the library wasn’t huge. There was, however, a step ladder attached to a rail on the cases so the higher shelves could be easily reached.
Rose thought that was pretty cool, even though she could use her abilities to pull any book she wanted off the shelf.
Standing in the middle of the room, elbows bent, palms up, Rose did just that.
Romances.
An excited smile curled her lips as books floated out of their places on the shelves. Not for the first time, Rose wondered if she’d ever lose the thrill of almost childish glee she felt when her abilities allowed her to do something amazing.
She gently laid the books on the floor at her feet. Reading the titles, Rose realized most of the romances she’d pulled were medieval, tales of knights and chivalry and heroic deeds. A copy of Le Morte d’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory; The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer.
Rose wrinkled her nose. She was looking for something a little less dark. Finally, she came across a first edition of Jane Eyre. Not exactly easy reading but at least Rose knew it had a happy ending for Jane.
She held on to the book and with a flick of her wrist, the others floated back up into their spots on the shelves.
A shiver skated down her spine, tickling around her ribs and across her breasts. Hugging Jane Eyre to her, Rose turned, knowing she’d find Fionn in the doorway.
There he stood, watching her.
Intense and focused.
Rose shivered again, as a low flip deep in her belly caused a welling of anticipation inside her.
What was going on?
“Fionn?”
He walked farther into the room, his pace casual, his expression anything but. Those green, intelligent eyes wandered all over her body before locking onto hers with a fierceness that made her breath catch.
“I need to say something,” Fionn announced.
Tingles came to life all over. Rose nodded, her mouth dry.
“Whatever happens … I need you to know that I haven’t felt human in a long time. I even reveled in that fact, needing the simplicity of a purpose devoid of complex emotion. Purpose and revenge were all I needed. Everything else be damned.” His face darkened with something more intense than mere desire. “Until you, Rose. You make me feel more human than I ever felt when I was one.”
The ache that had lived inside Rose since she first realized she had deep, complicated feelings for Fionn bloomed inside her until there was no room for anything else. It pushed at her lungs until she was breathless. And only Fionn could breathe the air back into them.
“Fionn,” she whispered.
“Your eyes,” he said, his voice gruff. “They’re gold.”
Before Rose could respond, Fionn was a streak across the room. She felt his hands on her waist and then she was slammed against a wall. The book in her hand slipped to the rug-covered flagstones just as several books fell off the wall at her side to join it.
Fionn’s face bent close to hers, his fingers holding firm around her waist. His eyes were gold too.
“Tell me you want this,” he whispered hotly against her lips. “I need to hear the words.”
And understanding why turned the lust hot and thick inside her to something so much more.
She loved him.
Even knowing he would break her heart, Rose still clung to hope. And so she answered, every feeling she had for him blazing out from within, “I want you.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when he captured her wrists in his hands and pinned them above her against the books, holding her captive. They both knew Rose could escape, and the melting of her body into the wall made the gold of his eyes brighten to an otherworldly glow. Breathing heavily, his face now but an inch from hers, Fionn stared into her eyes as if there was nothing else in the world he’d rather do.
Rose’s skin flushed. Her whole body felt like it had been dipped into a hot liquid gold. She could feel her breasts swell against her tight T-shirt, and the tingling between her legs was now an insistent throb. The hitch in her breath caused Fionn’s expression to darken. He looked at her mouth, and he leaned his body more heavily against hers until his arousal dug into her stomach.
Squeezing her legs tighter together, Rose lifted her chin, reaching her mouth toward his. “Fionn. Mo chroí.”
Awe flashed across his face and then Fionn’s lips were hot against hers, his tongue licking at hers. The bristle of his stubble on her skin as he deepened the kiss caused Rose’s nipples to harden swiftly.
No one had ever kissed her like Fionn.
Like she was air. Life. Food and water all in one.
Rose let out a little gasp of excitement as he released her lips to trail kisses down her throat. He squeezed her wrists as she arched against his mouth, wishing she wasn’t wearing a T-shirt.
A chill skated over her skin as Fionn lifted his head, a pleased smirk playing with his mouth. Rose frowned and glanced down.
She’d literally wished her T-shirt off.
Poof.
Gone.
A bubble of giddy laughter left her lips as she locked eyes with him.
Amusement colored his words. “I hope you let me do the rest.”
“No promises,” she whispered.
“Then I best get on with it.” Fionn released his hold on her hands, his gaze caressing her face.
Rose’s lower belly did another flip at the hungry promise in his eyes.
Fionn slipped his fingers under the straps of her bra, and then stopped when his eyes caught on the scar on her chest. Rose wasn’t bothered by the scar. She wore it as a badge of honor. The look on Fionn’s face, the intensification of his desire, told her he liked what the scar symbolized too. Bending toward her, he pressed a sweet, warm kiss to the scar that brought tears to her eyes.
Raising his head they shared a look that made her lips part with need and she arched her back slightly with impatience. With a deliberate slowness that escalated her arousal beyond bearing, he lowered the straps of her bra, tugging on them until she was completely exposed. Her nipples drew even tighter into ha
rd little points that begged for attention. Fionn made a guttural sound in his throat as he cupped her breasts in his large hands. He looked up at her, watching her as he gave them a gentle squeeze, his lips parting as she moaned and arched into him.
“Fuck, Rose.” He kneaded her, thumbs strumming her nipples, as he flexed his hips against her.
The hard press of him, digging into her, almost made her eyes roll back in her head. She wanted the impressive arousal she could feel against her belly thrusting inside her instead.
However, Fionn seemed determined to savor her. His head descended, and she cried out at the provocative stimulation of his mouth sucking on her nipple. Rose reached for him, curling her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. She moaned, her head falling back against the books as he licked and sucked before moving on to her other breast.
Her senses were overwhelmed, the lights flickering in the room as the tension deep in her belly tightened and tightened with his attention. His scent, his heat, his power, and the promise of all that inside her … Rose was surrounded by him. Already invaded.
Yet it wasn’t enough.
She wanted to conquer and be conquered.
Rose writhed against him, and Fionn groaned against her breast, the sound reverberating through her deliciously. He didn’t feel like an all-powerful being in that moment. He was flesh and blood and need and lust and want.
He was just a man who hungered for a woman.
For her.
Fionn ground his body deeper into hers and lifted his head to kiss her again. This kiss was hunger. Desperation. A mimic of what was to come. Her fingers curled in the hair at the back of his neck as she licked and sucked and flicked her tongue against his, her kiss as deep as she wanted him to be inside her, not just physically.
Rose slipped her hand under his sweater and traced his hard, ripped stomach before pushing her fingers down inside his jeans.
He broke the kiss on a hiss, thrusting into her hand as she tried to curl it around his erection straining against the confinement of his jeans.
Finding that difficult, Rose set to work on unzipping him, moving to slip her hands past the waistline of his black boxer briefs.
Fionn made a sexy growl as he took hold of her wrist and pinned it at her side. He gave her a slight shake of his head. “Me first.”
He demonstrated his meaning by using his free hand to unzip her jeans, his fingertips tickling her belly as he slowly dipped his fingers beneath her underwear. “Keep your eyes open and on me,” he demanded.
The gold in his eyes mingled with the green, but as his touch found her wet and she whimpered, lashes fluttering, Fionn’s eyes glowed a solid gold.
He groaned as he pleasured her, his breathing escalating along with Rose’s as he watched her thrust against his hand. Her fingers bit into his forearm and waist while she clung to him through the building tension. Her body was on fire, the pleasure causing her lashes to flutter closed with her mounting gasps for completion.
“Look at me,” he demanded again, his lips almost brushing hers.
Rose’s eyes flew open and locked with his as a climax rolled through her in obliterating pleasure.
She was still clinging to the orgasm when Fionn crushed his mouth over hers. Magic tingled the air, and she felt the telltale breeze between her legs and across her skin. Her jeans were gone.
His skin was naked beneath her touch.
Rose opened her eyes and saw he wasn’t wearing a sweater. And she knew if she looked lower, she’d find him naked there too.
Rose chuckled into his mouth. In answer, Fionn grabbed hold of her naked hips and hauled her up the wall. Her stomach flipped, like on a roller coaster in a steep dip, and she gasped. She had presence of mind, however, to wrap her legs around him.
An explosion of sensation had her gripping his nape, pulling back from his deep kiss to pant against his mouth as she felt him hot and nudging at her center. She saw the final question in his eyes and loved him for it.
Rose nodded.
Fionn thrust into her, and too many sensations hit her all at once. The hard slam of her back against the bookshelves, his bruising grip on her hips, and ultimately the powerful, scorching thickness of him buried inside her slick heat.
He was perfect.
Heaven inside her.
The bliss was too much.
Lights blew out around the room, but nothing could diminish the heat between them.
“Oh, mo chroí.” Fionn braced her against the wall, his hands holding tight to her hips as he drove in and out in smooth undulations. His expression was taut with need, his teeth bared as he seemed to strain to stop himself from fucking her savagely. This only made Rose hotter, her fingernails biting into his forearms as he took her against the wall.
The climax to end all climaxes captured Rose in its visceral, primal spell. She was barely aware of Fionn falling against her, burying his face in her throat until his drives inside her grew wild. She clung to him, palms flat to his lower back as he chased his pleasure through the hot pulses of Rose’s own.
Fionn tensed, his hot mouth on her neck, and then his hips juddered hard against her as he swelled, his release throbbing and potent and causing another wave of reaction inside her.
“Rose …” Her name was a deep groan against her skin as Fionn melted into her.
His hands caressed down her hips to her outer thighs, and he ground into her as if he needed more. “Fuck, Rose.” He lifted his head, face slackened with awe and, if she was not mistaken, shock.
Rose fought to catch her breath. “Is it always like that?”
Fionn shook his head, a little dazed. “It …” He glanced down at where their bodies joined and thrust again, hissing through his teeth. “Ah, fuck, Rose, it’s the mating. It’s heaven.” He kissed her, hard, deep, still needful. When he came up for air again, his voice was hoarse. “It’s heaven inside you.”
Squeezing her arms and legs around him as tight as possible, Rose could only agree. Nothing had ever felt like this. It was an otherworldly bliss she could quickly become addicted to. She smiled, giddy. “Can we do it again?”
Fionn didn’t smile. Instead, he bent his head toward her mouth and growled, “Fuck. Yes.”
31
Sex had always been just a need for satisfaction. Even when Fionn loved Aoibhinn, their coupling had been a passionate, quick, albeit love-filled, encounter before sleep. There was no time in their world to savor each other through the night, for sleep was a more important fuel in times of constant war.
Aine savored him, yes, but Fionn was so emotionally detached from their interludes, it didn’t count.
Other women had given themselves to Fionn over the last three centuries—human, werewolf, and even vampire. That was fucking. Quick, satisfying, to the point. Even with mistresses like Alice.
It was wonderfully strange and new, then, for Fionn to discover the euphoria of an entire day and night spent in bed with a woman. And not just any woman.
With Rose.
She slept in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest, her small, elegantly strong body sprawled across him. The woman was an addiction. Fionn suddenly understood the thrill of the mating bond. It wasn’t just a deep abiding affection or the feeling that some piece he’d been missing his entire existence had finally slotted into place.
It was extraordinary sex.
The fae weren’t just all about finding their mate because of the emotional connection—they wanted this drugging, blissful, otherworldly physical bond.
Fionn couldn’t get enough of Rose. He’d conjured food from the kitchen in between sessions, but his woman was absolutely wrung out with multiple orgasms by the time she collapsed against his pillows and murmured she needed rest.
Unbelievably, blood pumped hotly in his groin as Fionn caressed her rounded, pert arse. Surely the lusting would fade a little over time.
He hoped.
There were things to be done.
Plans to be executed.
&n
bsp; Eternity could not be spent rolling around in his big bed with his small, luscious fae mate.
“Fuck,” he muttered, gazing at the stone ceiling above. Actually, that sounded pretty grand to him.
Aine. Revenge. Remember that?
Looking down at Rose’s sleeping face, he felt a knifelike discomfort in his throat. It all meant leaving her to fend for herself, and although he knew Rose was quite capable of looking after herself, it hurt to think of her alone. Of something happening to her when he should have been by her side. Even before she fell asleep, she’d whispered her promise to try not to dream-walk him, and he’d heard the hint of anxiety in her tone.
It wasn’t a talent Fionn was familiar with, but there had to be ways to help her control the ability—and he should be the one to help her do it.
His mobile phone buzzed from somewhere in the castle. Fionn uttered an inward curse hoping Rose wouldn’t wake. It wasn’t loud but with their fae ears, they could hear more than humans. He conjured the phone into his hand and answered. “Bran?”
“Aye, it’s me. Why are you whispering?”
The gods, the vampire’s voice sounded loud down the line. “Give me a second.” Fionn gently slid Rose off him, his lips twitching as she flopped against the pillow, dead to the world. While eight hours of sex with a gymnast turned fae had only invigorated Fionn, his mate desperately needed rest.
Slipping out of bed, he strode out of the bedroom, heading toward the library where he’d left his clothes so he didn’t wake her. He could conjure his jeans like he’d done to take them off, but Fionn tried not to get lazy with the magic.
Disappearing into the library, he immediately regretted choosing it as a destination. As he pulled on his jeans, memories of fucking Rose against the bookshelves were fresh and vivid.
Damn, he’d never look at his library the same way again.
Turning around, he headed downstairs toward the main hall.
“Are you there?” Bran asked impatiently.