Mists of Velvet

by Sophie Renwick

  Suriel bent lower and pressed his lips against her ear. “Rowan.”

  Cailleach stiffened beneath him. “Why?” she asked, still puzzled that Suriel had even known about Camael and Covetina. She had thought him too busy pursuing his own pleasures to take any interest in what she or the others were doing. “Why did you take their child, and into the mortal realm?”

  “To have my revenge on you, of course,” he whispered darkly in her ear. “When you spurned me as a lover, you made an enemy of me, Goddess. I knew that Covetina had given the child her amulet, enchanting it so that it would always follow the child’s soul. And I knew that one day, you would need that amulet. That’s why I wished to possess it—to keep it from you.”

  “You bastard!” she snarled. “You would ruin my world—and all the innocents of Annwyn—because I would not mate with you?”

  “Why not? You ruined mine. I left heaven because of you. Because I wanted so desperately to taste your flesh. But that was a thousand years ago, and I no longer lust for this body.” His hand moved insolently along her curves, touching, pressing. “It holds no more allure for me. I no longer think about what it would be like to sink myself inside you, or what you would look like sated and languid, your high-and-mighty Supreme Goddess sneer wiped away with my kiss. No, that has all been replaced by my vision of destroying you.”

  “You have no powers here,” she hissed. “Your threats are empty.”

  “True, I don’t. But I have power over the mortal who is destined to make rise to the prophecy. You can have no idea what power she holds. I can make her obliterate your beloved Annwyn. I can make her walk the path of my choosing.”

  “How?”

  “Because I am the most commanding angel on Earth. Because I have the power to bring death or resurrection. Because I know what her fate is.”

  “That is why Gabriel wants you,” she whispered. Finally, everything was coming together. “Gabriel wants the knowledge you possess.”

  “Gabriel won’t get it. And neither will you.”

  Cailleach narrowed her eyes. “What is it you want from me?”

  With a smile he pushed away from her. Darkness engulfed him, and he stepped back into the shadows. “I’ll let you worry about that for a while longer. Think on all the frightening possibilities, Goddess, and then make your thoughts a hundred times worse. That’s what I want from you.”

  The shadow swallowed him up entirely, and then he was gone, leaving Cailleach alone, and for the first time ever, truly frightened. Sliding down the wall to the floor, she clutched the white sheet to her body.

  He must never discover the truth about the prophecy. He had been close to the truth but had not quite uncovered it.

  Resting her head against the wall, she closed her eyes and thought of Covetina. She had been her handmaiden, her confidante, her best friend. And in a fit of jealousy, she had ruined both their lives, and the lives of two innocent children. Her envy had set the prophecy into motion. Her betrayal of her one true friend had cast a darkness in her heart that Cailleach had never been able to shed.

  No one knew of her part in setting about the prophecy—except Suriel. What would he ask for in return for his silence? She shivered. There had been a promise in those dark, obsidian eyes of his. He would be back for her, and she, the Supreme Goddess of Annwyn, dared not refuse whatever it was he wanted—not if she wanted her secret safe.

  Rowan rapped quietly against the door for the third time. Obviously Keir was sound asleep; either that, or he wasn’t in the room. She was about to leave when the door opened a crack and Keir peered out. Seeing her, he opened the door a bit more, revealing his gorgeous half-naked body.

  Rowan felt her eyes go wide at the sight. She would never, ever get used to seeing him shirtless—all those tattoos and the big, bulging muscles. Her mouth went dry as she looked her fill. Then she reminded herself that Keir was a friend. And that was all he was.

  She looked away from the six-pack abs and up to his face, and her heart started racing. The five o’clock shadow he was sporting made him look different, lent him an added air of danger and virility. This was a side of Keir she was certain no one ever saw. He always kept himself calm and in control, but now he looked a bit wild, and oh so gorgeous.

  “Are you okay?”

  She appreciated the worry she saw in his eyes, but at the same time it irritated her. She was dying, but she wasn’t dead.

  “I, ah . . .” she said, wetting her lips, trying not to make it appear that she was checking him out when she obviously was.

  “Rowan?”

  Even his voice was deeper, more enticing, alluring. Oh, how she wanted him. Despite her past; despite never having been able to enjoy the touch of a man, she wanted him. She wanted so badly for him to be the one to push past her fear and break down the barriers.

  “Can I come in?” she asked at last.

  His beautiful violet-rimmed eyes flickered with emotion. “I—I don’t think so. Let me get my shirt, and I’ll come out.”

  “No, wait”—her hand shot out to hold open the door—“I’d really rather do this in private.”

  With obvious reluctance, Keir opened the door and stood back, allowing her into his room—or perhaps “tomb” would have been a more fitting description.

  The door closed behind her, clicking into place, thrusting the room into a darker shade of black. The candle flames flickered with the movement of air, and Rowan blinked several times, trying to accustom herself to the darkness.

  “Have a seat.”

  Keir tossed a stack of books onto the floor, freeing up a chair beside the bed. She cast a glance at the bed and saw that it was a huge antique four-poster. The coverings were black, as were the curtains. The walls were painted black, and even the dozens of burning candles were black.

  As she sank down onto the chair, she watched Keir shrug into a white shirt, which he didn’t bother to button.

  “You’re nervous.”

  “No, I’m just—”

  “Nervous,” he said again.

  She laughed uneasily. “Just a little. I don’t know why.”

  “It’s the black. It affects you.”

  “I suppose,” she muttered, looking around the room. “There certainly is a lot of it.” Jeez, it was like something out of a gothic novel, with all the candles and the silk and the black.

  “It helps me think,” he said, passing her a glass of water he had just poured from a carafe on a table beside the bed. “There is no distraction, nothing to intrude on my thoughts.”

  “What were you doing?”

  He waved to a circle on the floor. Tarot cards were spread out in the shape of a Celtic cross. He bent down and picked up a card, passing it to her. “The Empress.”

  “And that means?”

  “You. She is a powerful psychic; yet she keeps a part of herself hidden—like you.” He glanced at her, then back at the tarot spread. “All the cards are there. Everything about the prophecy; it is there, just waiting to be interpreted—discovered.”

  “And which is you?” she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse. He passed her the card and watched her face.

  Death.

  The card dropped from her fingers, landing faceup on the carpet.

  “It is not what you think. This is the card of rebirth, a time of change. A time for something to end, but also for something to begin. It is the phoenix rising from the ashes. Death is not the end; it is only the precursor to resurrection. It’s a powerful card.”

  She stood up, needing to control her thoughts, but he reached for her and stroked her arm.

  “I’ve frightened you. I’m sorry. Many consider the tarot an invitation to evil. But much can be learned from the cards. I do not use the cards for the Dark Arts, but to shine light in the darkness.”

  Rowan slowly looked at him. It was now or never. Her time was drawing to an end, and she needed some answers. “Is that why you isolate yourself, why you come here to this black room?”

  She he
ard his breath catch and saw him turn away from her, his face a beautiful mask concealing his thoughts and feelings. “I don’t isolate myself.”

  “It’s only you and Rhys. And when you’re not with him, you’re alone.”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes dark and stormy. “Have you ever noticed how a house can be full and bursting with life, yet one can feel utterly alone in it?”

  “Yes.” She had felt that way, too, especially now, staying with Bran and Mairi. People surrounded her, people who cared for her; yet she felt utterly alone.

  “You and I are very much alike. Few people, I think, would even acknowledge such a thing.”

  Rowan nodded and glanced about the room. “Perhaps that is what draws us to each other. We are alike.”

  His eyes turned violet, and his voice dropped to a bone-melting purr. “Is that the only thing that draws us to each other?”

  Her stomach did a little flip, and a million butterflies were suddenly set loose inside her. She couldn’t answer his question. It was too personal. It was too risky to tell him the truth. Instead, she let her gaze wander around the room as she thought of an answer.

  On a table beside the bed, a square of shiny black satin lay beside a candle. On the fabric was a lock of blond hair. Crumpled beside it was a piece of paper.

  Keir suddenly stood in front of her, blocking her view. “What is that?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Keir—”

  “Nothing that concerns you, then.”

  Rowan felt her heart crumble to dust. Did Keir have a lover? Was it Bronwnn? The blond hair was light enough. Oh, God, was Keir with her . . . sister? It was possible. Rhys and Keir shared things—all things—or so Sayer had told her. Maybe they were sharing her.

  And why wouldn’t they? Bronwnn was gorgeous—and thin, which was something Rowan was not. Figured. She would discover she had a sister, and that she was the ugly one, all in the matter of an evening.

  “What brings you to me tonight?”

  It was a question, but his words and the huskiness of his voice made it sound downright seductive.

  “I—I don’t know.” She glanced away, unable to meet his gaze. “I suppose I needed someone to talk to. And Mairi . . . Well, ah . . .”

  “She is with her mate,” he supplied. Taking her glass, he set it behind him on the table. “What is it you wish to talk about?”

  He advanced upon her, and she backed up. He followed her, not allowing her any space.

  “I . . . ah . . .” She tried to think of something to say, anything but the truth, but it flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  His eyes grew darker and his chest broader as he continued to swallow up the space between them.

  “Tell me these thoughts.”

  “Tonight,” she whispered, licking her lips nervously. “Bronwnn. What I am.”

  “No. The other thoughts. Of me. Of you.”

  Of course, she had thought of them together. But now she wished she hadn’t, because she didn’t know how to go on. She wanted him. But she needed him to make the first move.

  “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice darker, more commanding. “Let me into your thoughts. You thought of us together, didn’t you?”

  “A journey,” she blurted out. “You know, to learn more about me. What I am? Don’t you want to learn more about me?”

  He was forcing her back, and she wet her lips once more, her body responding to the aggression she felt pouring off him. “Yes, I want to learn more.”

  She smiled in relief, which faded when she felt the bedroom door press against her back. Rowan was forced to look at him as he loomed big and male over her.

  She tried to speak, to ask him where he wanted her for the divination, but he held a finger up to her mouth to silence her.

  “I’ve wanted to learn how you would feel in my arms. Taste on my tongue. I’ve wanted to learn your body, what you like, what makes you wet and moan. I want to know what it’s like to be so deep inside you that I can feel you pulsing around my cock.”

  She could hardly think as he reached out and touched her, pulling the quartz necklace from beneath the neckline of her dress.

  “I want to know what it’s like to have you naked beneath me, your eyes focused on me as I show you how much I want you.”

  She gulped and saw his gaze drop to the fluttering pulse in her neck. He inhaled and pressed his eyes shut.

  “I already know your scent; it clings to me. But what I don’t know is how you will smell when you’re aroused. When I’ve marked you with my scent.”

  “Keir,” she whispered, afraid to touch him, afraid that this last minute might have been a dream, and any second now she was going to wake up alone in bed, her body weak and chilled, her head hurting from the growing tumor.

  “All this time I have kept myself apart from you because I believed you feared me. I was afraid I would hurt you. My desire . . .” He lowered his head and nuzzled her ear. “My desire for you is so strong. It’s grown, and I’m so hungry for you, Rowan. Tell me, do you feel the same way? Have I guessed wrongly that the real reason you’re here tonight is not for a divination journey, but another sort of journey altogether?”

  She was literally trembling all over. Yes, he was right. She had come to him in the hope that he would show her passion. She wanted—needed to know—if he felt anything for her.

  “Have you come to share your body with me?”

  She blinked, and then she nodded like a mute idiot. She couldn’t speak. She was so damned nervous.

  “How long?” he whispered, and she heard the door lock behind her. His hands reached for her shoulders, and he smoothed his fingers down her arms. “How much longer will I have to wait to learn everything about you?”

  “Please,” she pleaded, and she hated the bit of fear she heard in her voice. She wanted him. Her body was crying for his, but her past would not give up its claim on her.

  His head lowered till his mouth was resting against her ear. “How long since you had a man inside you?”

  Rowan closed her eyes and allowed herself to drown in the sensation of his face pressed into her hair. “Keir,” she said huskily as his fingers brushed her hair over her shoulder, baring her neck.

  “Have you ever had a man kiss every inch of your skin?” He pressed his warm mouth against her neck. “Have you ever had him explore every part of you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue?”

  “Please,” she whimpered. But was it a plea for him to stop or to continue?

  She felt him reach around her hips for the hem of her dress. He pulled it up slowly, teasing her with the movements of his fingers and his breath against her neck. Her legs shook as he slid the lace from her shoulders and kissed his way down her arm until the dress fell silently to the carpet. She stood before him in her panties, watching as his gaze roved over her body. Instinctively she covered her chest with her arms.

  “Don’t.”

  His command was harsh—dark—and her nipples beaded tightly.

  “I’m going to look at you. Feel you. Taste you. And I can tell you right now that I’m going to love everything I feel and touch—and the taste of you”—his gaze lifted to her face—“is going to be ambrosia.”

  Nervously, she allowed him to pull her arms away from her body.

  “Perfect.”

  One word, said in his dark, passionate voice, was more powerful than any she could imagine. The hunger, the desire she saw in his eyes made her stand a little straighter, a little prouder of her body, away from which he seemed unable to look.

  “How long since a man has tasted your skin? Felt between your thighs, and made you come?” Never, she wanted to scream, but she could not. She could only gasp as Keir’s large hand cupped her breast. His hot palm pressed into her soft flesh as he rubbed his hand along her nipple, making it hard and beaded as it strained against his hand.

  “Tell me how long, Rowan.”


  She turned her face to his and watched as his hot gaze passed over her face, then down to where his hand cupped her breast. He used his fingers to feel her and send her nipple and areola puckering. Sharp stabs of need shot through her, straight to her belly, and suddenly she felt the desire to curl her fingers in his hair and guide his mouth to her breast.

  “Don’t be afraid, Rowan; don’t,” he whispered softly, gazing up into her eyes. “I won’t hurt you. I only want to be with you. To give you pleasure. To have you take it from me.”

  As if aware of her desires, Keir lowered his head to her breast and closed his eyes, running the tip of his tongue along her searching nipple. The sharp spark of desire ignited deep in her belly and made her knees weaken. She reached for him, her fingers biting into his upper arms—arms that felt so solid and strong.

  She watched as he curled his tongue around her nipple, then slipped it gently between his lips, sucking her. She had never seen anything so damned hot, and arousal swept through her, making her moan. She reached for his thick, silken hair and ran her fingers through it, clutching it tightly as he built the pressure up inside her. Not even her own fingers tugging at her nipples felt this arousing. Keir’s mouth was pure decadence, and she encouraged him further with little moans and whimpers.

  He lifted her up as though she weighed nothing, then turned her so she was kneeling on the bed and his mouth was level with her breasts. He was pushing both her breasts together.

  “So beautiful,” he rasped as he cupped her and brought her breasts together in his hands. “I want to do so many things with these. I could look at you forever. I could feast on you forever.”

  “Yes,” she said in a long rush of breath and whispered words as he ran his tongue along both nipples. He released her, nuzzling the scented valley of her breasts before capturing one nipple between his teeth and nibbling gently so that she called out and was forced to smother the sound in his hair.

  His hands slid down her waist to grasp her buttocks, and he cupped her, pushing her forward so that he took her breast into his mouth and suckled her fiercely as he kneaded her bottom. His finger found the cleft of her sex through her panties, and he pressed his finger against her, wetting the fabric. “Have you dreamed of me kissing you here?”