Hard to Handle

by Christine Warren

  But what if it was already too late?

  The precipice under her feet was so close, she thought she could feel the way her talons curled over the edge. It wouldn’t take more than a startle reflex, someone shouting “Boo!” for her to shift her balance and go tumbling over. And then what?

  And then, something inside her whispered, something that sounded suspiciously like her heart. And then you fly. Isn’t that why the Light gave you wings?

  Ash trembled, her breath catching in her throat, her mind all of a sudden blank, like the first page of an empty book. Every thought fled, but maybe that was what it took for her to finally feel.

  In that moment she realized that thoughts provided the static that obscured the pictures her emotions had tried to paint all along. Thoughts didn’t help to bring things clear, they just hung like fog over the truth. She wasn’t standing on the edge of a cliff; she hadn’t been for a while now. For days. She had already made her jump and had been riding the currents all this time.

  She loved him.

  Ash loved Michael Drummond. It was why she had returned his kisses, why she had shared her body with him and let him teach her the pleasures of mortal flesh. It was why she had felt crippled by the guilt of allowing his sister to be taken, and why she was willing to sink this island into the sea if it meant getting her back to him safely. It was why when he looked at her, when he took the seat beside her, when he curled his fingers around hers and tugged her hand to rest atop his thigh, it was why her heart expanded and her world narrowed and everything in between settled neatly into place.

  It was love.

  Ash had realized it too late to back away, and now that she knew, she would be damned if she’d take such a coward’s way out. Their time together would be limited by her mission, but by the Light she would wring from it every last measure of joy and wrap it around her to protect her against the chill of her stone prison. Just see if she wouldn’t, and the Guild and their traditions be damned.

  When the time came, she certainly would be.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  By the time Kylie ended the video chat with Wynn Powe and her Guardian, Knox, it was nearing three o’clock in the morning. Drum might be the only one who found that significant, but he felt quite certain the others would understand in just a few hours. Seven-thirty might not sound outrageously early for sunrise, but when accompanied by the crowing of the cock on a working farm the volume would increase substantially. Especially on only four and a half hours of sleep.

  At least he could see that they had spent the time constructively. The working outlines of a plan had been sketched out in electronic form with Kylie at the keyboard. The pencil and paper Drum had offered to fetch her had only offended her digital sensibilities. Besides, she reminded him, once she got it all down in a computer file, she could whip off extra copies for the troops.

  The troops. Drum scoffed. The way he understood it, their attacking army consisted of him, Ash, Kylie, Dag, and a single additional Guardian/Warden pair against an unknown number of nocturni sorcerers, shadelings, Shadows, hhissih, ghouls, and worse, as well as any other Demon-worshipping cultists. Oh, and if they really hit the jackpot, potentially some Demons themselves.

  Good times.

  Long, cool fingers squeezed his hand, and Drum glanced over to see Ash still seated beside him. Dag and Kylie had just stumbled into the living room to collapse on the makeshift pallets of quilts and blankets that Sorcha had laid out for them. The house was quiet, even quieter than it had been, and only a single light remained burning above the kitchen sink.

  He could feel exhaustion lurking in the background, knew he ought to be ready for nothing more than a flat surface and a down pillow, but somehow the idea of sleep felt alien. Anxiety and impatience itched beneath his skin, and now that he didn’t have the distraction of several voices bouncing ideas and friendly insults off each other, his mind wouldn’t stop spinning. What if they were wrong about what they would find in the cave? What if they mistook the timing? What if something went wrong?

  Beside him, Ash rose to her feet and tugged him gently after her. “Come. You look as if you could use a breath of fresh air before you will sleep. Walk with me.”

  They slipped out of the back door together.

  The night carried a distinct chill and the scents of early autumn. Green grass, ripe crops, and decaying leaves perfumed the air with an odor that smelled somehow rich with life, even as the year began to die around them. Barely a sliver of moon appeared in the sky, and Drum felt the dread of the approaching new moon like a weight on his shoulders.

  “I think I could count a million stars in this sky.”

  Ash’s murmur caught him by surprise and made him turn his eyes toward the canopy of twinkling lights. He hadn’t even noticed how bright they appeared. Without the moon’s glow obscuring them, the stars did indeed appear unusually bright and numerous. Drum had been so focused on what the lack of moonlight meant that he hadn’t bothered to think of the other opportunities it presented.

  Maybe he could learn something from that.

  A stirring of the breeze made him shiver, and he turned his eyes back to the ground, searching for a well-worn path in the clipped grass. When he spotted it, he pulled Ash toward it. “Follow me,” he murmured, and set off along the narrow trail.

  The path didn’t go far, just across the garden and a little way into the field beyond. It cut through a stand of birch trees that spread out to the left of a single, squat hawthorn and ended at the remains of a disused cattle shed. The tiny barn was constructed of native stone, joined with lime and sand mortar, and topped with a roof of thatched turf. Only two and a half walls remained standing, and part of the roof had caved in over the open side, but it provided decent shelter from the wind. As Drum had expected, John still used it to store extra bits of straw and hay, the most exposed bits of which had been covered by heavy canvas tarps.

  He could have picked a more romantic trysting spot, but not one that offered him room to breathe and the chance to look up at that blanket of stars. Now that Ash had pointed them out, he felt as if he had to keep his eye on them, or they might disappear as quickly and easily as Maeve.

  Maybe, just maybe, his current behavior had crossed a line from rational to superstitious Irish nonsense. Definitely, most definitely, he didn’t think he cared.

  Drum chose a spot where a bale of hay had fallen free of its ties and collapsed into a pile of sweetly scented bedding. He settled onto it, leaning back against a stack of intact bales, and pulled Ash down after him. Spreading his legs, he tugged her into the lee so that her back pressed against his chest, and his arms wrapped around her to share his warmth. Not that the cold ever seemed to bother her, but the gesture gave him comfort, as did the feel of her in his arms.

  Somehow, in the last few days full of chaos and fear and danger, this inhuman woman had become Michael Drummond’s true north. Whenever he looked around, his compass pointed straight at her. She had become an object of strength and faith, a place he could lean when he grew weary, and a power he could trust to always protect him and the ones he loved. She had told him she would get Maeve back, bring her home safe and sound, and he knew that when Ash gave her word, she would kill or die to keep it. That knowledge filled him with both awe and peace.

  And it made him wonder what she could possibly get from him in return. He already knew how he felt about his Guardian, but what if she felt no such love in return? She had been created to fight battles. Could he really compare to the rush of power and adrenaline such duties provided?

  With a sigh, Drum forced such thoughts from his mind. He had come out here to forget his worries for a few minutes, not to add to them. He felt her weight fall back against him, and in response he dropped his chin to rest on her shoulder until he felt wrapped around her like a blanket. She didn’t try to turn to look at him, just rubbed her cheek against the bristle of his late-night stubble and gazed out and up at the twinkling stars.

  For sev
eral minutes they just sat there, breathing in the night air and the scent of good, clean hay while the sounds of the country buzzed quietly in the background. Finally, it was Ash who spoke. “I told you we would get her back, Drum. And we will. That’s a promise.”

  His arms tightened around her. Then Drum gave his head a very small shake. “I don’t want to talk about it. We’ve been talking about it all night. I’m talked out.”

  She seemed to tense for a moment, then her muscles softened and she slid a little bit to the side so that she could see him if she turned just an inch or two toward him. “What do you want, then?” she asked quietly. “Tell me what you need.”

  Drum shook his head. He couldn’t. But he could show her.

  His lips claimed hers in a kiss he had intended to be hot and possessive, something to force both of them to forget the problems they faced and simply feel. His mouth, though, hadn’t gotten the memo. Instead of attacking, it surrendered, giving her everything before a single demand could be made. He sank into the soft, sweet flavor of her, the warmth that provided such a decadent contrast to the chill in the air, and Ash gave him everything right back.

  Her hand came up, reaching back to cup his cheek in her palm as they sipped from each other. He felt himself tremble at her touch and then marveled when she echoed his show of weakness with a shiver of her own. He might have wondered if the cold had touched her for the first time if the motion hadn’t been echoed in a soft, throaty moan, the kind that expressed decadent pleasure and changed the fit of his jeans in an instant.

  Drum figured she noticed. The first clue came when her lips curved against him, and the moan turned into a purr without minimizing its effect. In fact, the problem in his pants only seemed to increase, no pun intended. The second clue expressed her appreciation for his dilemma when she shifted her hips to rub against the sensitive ridge of his erection. He might even have thought she wanted to drive him crazy.

  She certainly didn’t want him to think. If she had, she wouldn’t have tried to encourage all of the blood in his body to flow out of his brain and pool somewhere significantly lower. Somewhere that throbbed painfully when she slid her free hand down and closed it around him.

  Shite. Maybe crazy wouldn’t be so bad?

  * * *

  Ash seized her moment.

  Greed welled up inside her, to touch, to take, to possess. To store up every sensation, every sound, every breath against the centuries of cold sleep to come. She wanted to take Drum inside her, not just in her body, but inside whatever animating spirit she contained that passed for a soul. If she made him a part of her, then she could never lose him. Not until she lost herself.

  Her hand stroked up his straining length, squeezing to tease and entice. Based on the way his hips thrust up beneath her and his lips crushed over hers, she thought she might be on to something.

  She shifted her weight and turned until she could change her position to straddle his lap. Her hands reached for his sweater, tugging it up and over his head before dropping it onto the hay-strewn floor. Her fingers immediately slid across his chest, drawn to the warm, bare skin like iron filings to a magnet. To touch this man made her feel more alive than breathing, than moving, than wielding her axe in battle. To share this connection with Drum was to live, and she would live with enthusiasm for every moment fate granted her. She knew there would be far too few of them.

  Curving her lips into a smile, Ash brushed her lips lightly across his mouth, then dragged them along the curve of his jaw. His prickly stubble made her skin tingle, as if the tiny bristles were waking it up from a long nap. She wanted to strop against him like a cat, but for every inch of him she explored, her greedy inner voice urged her to search out another, and another, and another one after that.

  She trailed kisses down the side of his neck and across his collarbone, triumph rushing through her when she made him shiver or groan in a deep, need-roughened voice. The adrenaline went to her head faster than a combat victory and spurred her on to chart further territories with lips and hands.

  The tip of her tongue darted out to play in the hollow of his throat, followed by the edge of her teeth scraping gently across his Adam’s apple. That time, she felt the growling noise he made vibrate against her lips and it made her mouth water.

  Little nips of her teeth stung the broad expanse of his shoulders, but she followed the tiny insults with tender attention from the flat of her tongue, savoring the taste of his skin. His flavor tasted rich and earthy, of salt and soil and woodsy musk.

  But it was his heat that continued to seduce her. He felt like solid, living embers against her cool skin and she pressed closer, wanting to feel that warmth surrounding her.

  His arms wrapped obligingly around her, his hands slipping up beneath her jacket and shirt to scuff across the skin on either side of her spine. His hands were lightly callused, not like someone who labored on the land, but like a man who didn’t fear hard work or getting the job done for himself. His touch urged her closer, but the layers of fabric between them frustrated her. Snarling, she lifted her hands from his flesh long enough to grasp her own collar and tear her top open all the way to the hem. With an impatient shrug, she sent both garments slithering away behind her.

  In the darkness, Drum’s eyes sparked with a sharp uptick of desire. “That is so fecking hot,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her again and yanking her bare torso against his.

  Ash smiled and rubbed her breasts up close, the hard points of her nipples scraping across already sensitized nerve endings. Shivers sent them burrowing even further into each other. Unable to resist the driving instinct, she leaned down and caught the thick muscle running across the top of his shoulder between her teeth. Her jaw exerted pressure, not enough to break the skin, but enough to draw the blood to the surface and leave the impressions of her teeth in the smooth, hot skin.

  He answered with a muffled roar and mirrored the action. She felt him clamp down on the curve where her neck met her shoulder and felt a rush of primitive emotion. They were marking each other, like animals holding their mates in place and leaving evidence of their claims on each other’s skin. The idea appealed to her. She wanted anyone who looked at this man to know that he belonged to her, and that as long as she remained awake and aware on the mortal plane, she would surrender him to no one.

  Drum tugged at the waist of her jeans, fumbling with the button as he tried to strip off the heavy denim. Her mind scrambled over ways to remove the obstacle without separating them and came up empty. They would have to break apart to strip, and if they were going to do that, Ash was going to make it fast.

  She rose in a blur of movement, using her Guardian’s speed for a cause even more worthy than the destruction of evil, she decided. In the space of a single heartbeat (and her heart was racing) she ripped her jeans open at the seams and then crouched to deal with Drum’s. He shifted his weight to help her, and she made a throaty noise of satisfaction when she tugged them away and cast them aside.

  “So, so hot,” he muttered, reaching for her again.

  Ash had no issues with letting herself be caught.

  She tumbled into his lap and let him continue the momentum until she lay on her back in the thick bed of straw with her man hovering over her, blocking out not just the starlight, but the entire world beyond their cozy, private nest.

  The prickly stalks of hay scratched at the thinner skin of her human form, but she didn’t care. She could block it out. By the Light, she was pretty sure she could block out tornados, forest fires, and plagues of locusts at this point, so long as Drum never stopped touching her.

  Her entire body seemed to vibrate to the rapid beat of her heart. She could hear it in her ears, feel it in her fingertips. Then Drum settled his weight atop her and her awareness dissolved into nothing but the pleasure of his body over hers and the aching need at her core. She wanted him inside her with a fierce longing.

  She issued the invitation with a deliberate spreading of her thighs and a
long, slow caress of her hands over the smoothly flexing muscles beside his spine. Her knees came up to bracket his hips, clamping him in place, and her nails bit into his flesh to urge him onward.

  He rumbled out a sound that began low in his belly and made her shiver even before it spilled into the cool night air. She stiffened a moment when he reached around behind him to capture her wrists in his hands and move them around to rest against the hay on either side of her head. It took less than an instant to relax, to sink into the scratchy bedding and let him stretch and shift above her like a big cat contemplating its pounce. It appeared clear he intended to pounce on her, so how could she lose?

  She couldn’t. She could only gain, gain the hot, hard pressure of his lower belly against hers, the kind that made her nerves tingle and butterflies dance in her stomach. His gaze held hers, pinned her in place, somehow looked into her, even as his hips pressed forward and he sank his cock into the welcoming heat of her pussy.

  Ash’s mouth fell open and her neck arched as she struggled to remember how to breathe in the wake of the shattering pleasure. Every nerve in her body seemed concentrated between her legs, in the desperately gripping muscles of her center, parting in welcome and then clenching with the instinct to trip, to hold, to never lose the perfect sense of fullness and completion that came from being joined to this man.

  Her mate.

  The cry burst from her throat through no act of will on her part. She felt torn open, not in her body, but in her heart. Realization, bright and blinding, lit up behind her eyes and made her dizzy, weak, and unable to think. Drum was her mate. He wasn’t just the man she had fallen reluctantly, desperately, and hopelessly in love with. He was the man that fate and the Light had created to be her perfect Warden and partner. The missing half of her inner being.