Mists of Velvet

by Sophie Renwick

  “Bronwnn. Take me to the reflecting pool.”

  This time she heard him. “No, it isn’t safe. Cailleach,” she mumbled.

  “I want to see you beneath the moonlight. Walk with you, hand in hand in Annwyn. I want to see what my ancestors did. I want to feel, to understand my heritage.”

  There must have been something in his voice, because she sat up and brushed her hair from her face. “Now? You want to connect with your Sidhe side now? It’s the middle of the night.”

  He grinned and jumped out of the bed, tugging on the leather pants Drostan had summoned up for him. “Can you think of a better time? C’mon. Take me on a tour.”

  Tossing her his T-shirt, he motioned for her to get dressed. “And don’t even think of putting on that gown Cailleach dressed you in.”

  She smiled and held the white tee to her breasts. “You’re a wild one, Rhys MacDonald,” she laughed. “You know the Supreme Goddess is just waiting for you to defy her so that she can kill you, and here you are pleading with me to take you out into her world.”

  “Highlanders,” he said with a grin as he clasped the Celtic bracelets around his wrist and reached for the torc that sat upon the nightstand. “They’re a brawny, brave breed of mortal.”

  Slipping the shirt over her head, she pulled her hair back and knotted it up. Loose tendrils fell around her cheeks, making her look messy and well loved. It was a look he particularly took pride in, since he had been the one who had made her messy. When she was finished, she held out her hand and clutched his fingers.

  “Bring the adder. He’ll follow and guide you to the pool.”

  “And where will you be?”

  “Ahead. In wolf form. I can scent better that way. Make sure the oidhche isn’t following us.”

  Rhys grinned and impetuously parted her lips with his finger. “You wouldn’t have bitten Cailleach, would you?”

  She snapped at him and laughed. “Careful, or I’ll bite you.”

  He pulled her close and hugged her. “Biting, no. But a little nip here and there I’m game for.”

  “Come,” she whispered as she traced the wolf head on his torc. “I’m eager to see if the big brawny highlander can keep up with the wolf.”

  “The big brawny highlander has a few moves he hasn’t shown you yet.”

  The moon was still high in the sky as Rhys made his way through the castle and out into the night. The Sidhe king’s court edged the forest, and Bronwnn, already in wolf form, darted into the trees. She scented the forest floor, then lifted her head into the night, sniffing the air.

  Annwyn was calm and quiet. Nothing surrounded them but the smell of the trees and the passion they had shared.

  Behind her, she heard the slight rustle of leaves, mixed with the dry pine needles that had fallen to the ground. The sound was too light, too elegant, and too rhythmic for it to be Rhys. It was the adder.

  Blood rushed to her extremities, and a jolt of adrenaline infused her. Lunging deeper into the forest, she ran, padding softly along the floor, jumping over logs and twigs as silently as a doe. And all the while behind her, the adder slithered, leading Rhys to the sacred waters—and to her.

  The thrill of the hunt warmed her, and soon she felt her blood burning hot, her lungs heavy in her chest, until she found the clearing, and the moon that reflected on the water.

  She was about to break out of the foliage, triumph singing in her veins, when she was tackled to the ground and held in a pair of strong arms.

  “Got you, my bonny lass.”

  Bronwnn swiftly changed into her woman’s form and tangled her arms and legs with Rhys’. She was breathing heavily, and he was barely winded.

  “How did you beat me? The adder was behind me the whole time.”

  “Highlander,” he said with a leer. “We can sniff out a trysting place from miles away.”

  She smiled and ran her hand through his dark hair. His violet Sidhe eyes seemed to glow amethyst in the night. Perhaps it was only her romantic imagining, or a trick of the moon, but she swore she could feel some sort of magick in him, if in nothing but his beautiful eyes and the way they looked at her.

  “You’re a cunning warrior, Rhys MacDonald. Any woman would be pleased to have you fight for her.”

  He pulled away and helped her up. Reaching for her hand, he strolled to the reflecting pool and sat down on the grassy bank. He was about to put his feet in the water, when she stopped him.

  “Don’t. You’ll disturb the nymphs.”

  “Nymphs?”

  She didn’t like the way he cocked his eyebrow as if he were intrigued by the notion of naked sea women who lusted for men. The last thing she wanted was for Rhys to be accosted by a pack of nymphs. They were sexually promiscuous beings, bent on seducing any male. Their numbers had been dwindling for centuries, their men dying of a mysterious water illness, leaving the women unable to procreate. The nymphs were desperate for sex—and children. Rhys would make a delightful specimen for their amusement.

  “Are they beautiful?” he asked, teasing her.

  “Not as beautiful as a goddess,” she said haughtily as she sat down beside him in the grass. She noticed the adder was curled around his bicep.

  “As sex obsessed as the fairy tales claim they are?”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Are you testing me?”

  He laughed, caught her face in his hands, and kissed her. “Never, my love.”

  She huffed and glanced away. “Very well. Nymphs are stunning creatures and sexually bold. They come into . . . heat”—she blushed, not knowing what other word to use—“at every full moon. They’re insatiable.”

  “Then I shouldn’t put my feet in the water, should I? Because I already have an insatiable goddess, and I’m a poor mortal caught under her spell.”

  She slapped him, and he laughed before cuddling her closer. “It is gorgeous here. I love the water. The house that the Cave of Cruachan lies beneath was built by Daegan. He built it on the edge of a lake. It’s beautiful. I like to lie awake at night and hear the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.”

  She sensed the peace that stole over him as he spoke. “I would like to lie there with you.”

  He glanced at her, touching the ends of her hair before letting them slip back against her neck. “Then you will. As soon as it is safe to go back through the cave.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  “You mean a mortal?” He shrugged. “I thought you knew. You know . . . from our dreams.”

  “No, I mean, why didn’t you tell me you were kin to the king, and to Daegan?”

  “I guess I didn’t think of it. Our . . . common ancestry is not something Bran takes pleasure in. He made a sacrifice for Daegan to be with Isobel, and he was cursed because of it. I think he sees Daegan’s weakness whenever he looks at me.”

  “I see only strength and courage. And those Sidhe eyes that see much more than anyone thinks.”

  He flushed and looked down, then pulled a few blades of grass free from the earth. “You’re one of two people who think I have something in me that might prove helpful in this prophecy.”

  “You speak of the wraith.” He nodded, and Bronwnn felt his emotions, so strong and powerful, all tied with the Shadow Wraith. “You care deeply for him.”

  “I do. Ours isn’t the normal wraith-mortal relationship. In my family, it has always been a female to offer protection. But Keir came to me, and it . . . Well, it works for us.”

  Bronwnn knew little of wraiths, other than that they existed by absorbing emotions and feelings. In shadow form, they could take without knowing. She found herself wondering what the wraith took from Rhys.

  “You should know that Keir and I are inseparable. We . . . share everything. Including women.”

  She should have been alarmed by such an admission, but instead her heart leaped. Suddenly all she could think about was how her adbertos might not keep her from Rhys after all. She had promised the goddess she would mate with
the wraith, but if the wraith would share her with Rhys . . .

  “It doesn’t come as a shock to you?”

  She shook her head, daring to imagine how she might still find pleasure in Rhys; how they might stay together. “The ways of Annwyn are not foreign to me. I can accept what mortal women might not be able to.”

  “I don’t think I can share you,” he said quietly. “As much as I love him, as much as I care, I can’t. What I feel for you is more”—he swallowed hard—“more than what I feel for Keir.”

  She stopped him by placing a hand on his chest. “No, not more, but different. Our feelings are different than your bond with the wraith. But our bond is no more special than yours with Keir. You must not think that way, Rhys.”

  He held her hand and gazed deeply into her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about Keir. I want to know about you.”

  “There is nothing more to know. I am a goddess.”

  “You mentioned something about women liking me to fight for them. What did you mean?”

  “In my order, when we come to our sexual maturity, warriors are assembled before us. They fight one another for the honor of mating with us. It is a great pleasure for a goddess to have a male fight for the right to claim her.”

  “And now Cailleach has robbed you of it, by arranging your future with Keir.”

  There was no censure in his voice; only concern. “I will do as I am told.”

  “But you’re sad. I see it in your eyes.”

  “Not about the fighting. But the Shrouding. I wanted that—to be shrouded with my true mate.”

  “Is the Shrouding like the Sidhe fating ceremony, where the wrists and hands are tied?”

  “A bit. But it is more sacred and beautiful. A goddess lives for the night when her mate will lift the golden shroud from her body and claim her. It is a union of the body and soul.”

  “You’ll have that, I swear it,” he said in a hard voice that brooked no objection.

  “No, I won’t.” She gazed at him, showing him everything she felt. “You’re my true mate. I wouldn’t want a Shrouding with anyone other than you. Besides, the shroud can only be given by the Supreme Goddess. She will not bestow it on me, because she does not hold me in esteem. She never has. And now, now she is livid that I gave myself to you.”

  “Just a lowly mortal, right?”

  She shook her head, but he caught her cheek in his palm. “Bronwnn—”

  “No, Rhys. Let us talk no more about it. The Shrouding ceremony is not to be mine.”

  “I’ll get you the damned shroud, and it’ll be me pulling it off you.”

  She smiled and pressed forward, kissing him. “I would like that. Your body climbing over mine, your scent covering me.”

  He made a little growl in his throat and kissed her, slipping his tongue between her lips. The hoot of an owl in the distance made them break apart.

  “We must go,” she hissed, jumping up from the grass.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, tugging her back down till she was sitting on his lap. “I will fight for you, Bronwnn. I will. I’ll prove I’m your true mate, and we will be shrouded. Believe that.”

  She wanted to. How badly she wanted that. But it wasn’t to be. She had offered an adbertos, and once offered, it could never be taken back.

  “Come,” she said, pulling him up. “Back through the forest to the castle. The oidhche will be there soon.”

  He pulled her up short, her body colliding with his hard chest. “We will be mates. And I will see you in the morning.”

  And then he kissed her, filled his hands with her bottom, and lifted her up against him, kissing her fiercely. She returned the kiss, fearing it might very well be the last time they were alone.

  But the owl hooted again, and the adder on Rhys’ arm began to hiss. They parted, and Bronwnn changed into her wolf form, silently following him back to the castle. When she was certain he was safely inside, she turned and made her way to the temple, where the goddess would be awaiting her.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Rhys sat up in bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “What time is it?”

  “Dawn.”

  Peeking through his lashes, he saw Keir standing in the room. Beside him, the bed was empty. How long had he slept, and where was Bronwnn?

  “She’s speaking with Cailleach.”

  “Now?” Rhys snarled. Jumping from the bed, he snatched his pants from the floor and pulled them up over his hips.

  Keir shut the door behind him and prowled into the room. Rhys watched him, sensing his discomfort. Something was wrong.

  “The Supreme Goddess has also spoken with me.”

  Rhys wondered when his turn would come, although he had no desire to meet with that coldhearted bitch. “When did you see her?”

  “Just now.”

  Damn. He’d slept through a lot. And, of course, he’d been left out of everything—again.

  Keir’s gaze dropped to Rhys’ chest. “I haven’t apologized for leaving you. I am ashamed I left you unguarded.”

  “It’s not a big deal. The way I see it, it’s fate. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have found my mate.”

  Keir actually winced. “About that,” he murmured.

  Something about Keir’s tone put Rhys on the alert. “What is it?”

  “You really need to talk to Bronwnn.”

  “About what?”

  “Damn it, Rhys,” Keir snapped. “Just do it.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. I’m not myself.”

  “I can see that. What’s the problem?”

  Keir glanced at him. “There’s more than one.”

  “Rowan?”

  “She’s one of them.”

  “How is she?”

  Keir shrugged. “Weak. The weakest I’ve ever seen her. And this morning”—he swallowed hard—“I couldn’t wake her. She was exhausted.”

  “You okay?”

  Keir turned away from him and looked out the bedroom window. “I have to find a way to save her.”

  Rhys finally understood the consuming need that ran through Keir. He loved Bronwnn. He’d do anything, sacrifice anything, in order to keep her safe, just as Keir would for Rowan.

  “I can feel her slipping away,” Keir murmured. “I can see the light fading in her eyes.” Glancing over his shoulder, Keir pinned him with his silver eyes. “Be thankful for your mortality.”

  Rhys didn’t know what to say to that. He’d always believed he’d gotten the short end of the stick. But now he realized that immortality had its drawbacks—especially now. Keir was immortal. He’d live forever without the woman he loved.

  “You need to feed?”

  “No.”

  “To talk?” he prodded. Damn it, Keir needed something. He could sense it; he just couldn’t understand what it was, or if he could even provide it.

  “I came only to tell you that Cailleach wishes to see you.”

  “Why? To fry my ass?”

  Keir barely cracked a grin. “She would have done that already if she was going to.”

  “Have you told him yet?”

  Rhys whirled around to find Bronwnn standing in the doorway. He smiled and gathered her up in his arms. “Morning,” he murmured in her ear. “You look good enough to eat.”

  She melted into his arms, and he held her close, savoring her. He felt like shit, considering that Keir was standing there worrying about Rowan, but Rhys couldn’t help himself. Bronwnn was his, and he had only so much time with her. He was already thirty. The MacDonald men lived long, healthy lives, but they couldn’t match immortality. One day, he would be parted from her, so he wanted to make every moment count.

  “I missed you when I woke up.” She smiled up at him and traced her fingertips over his lips. “You should have woken me when you were summoned by Cailleach.”

  “It was something I had to do alone.”

  The edge in her voice made him suspicious.

  “Rhys, shake your ass.”

&n
bsp; It was Bran. He was standing in the hall with his arms braced over his chest.

  “I guess the goddess can’t be kept waiting, huh?”

  Bronwnn stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his chin. “I will be here when you return.”

  “Good. And be waiting in that bed,” he whispered, “because you aren’t getting out of it for the rest of the day.”

  Leaving the room, Rhys closed the door, but not before he saw the shared glance between Keir and Bronwnn.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The wind was up, and the temperature had dropped. Rhys could see his breath—gray smoke, wafting up to the slate-colored sky. It wasn’t a spring sky, but a winter sky with heavy gunmetal gray clouds that hung low on the horizon. As the darkness permeated more deeply into Annwyn, the trees had begun to drop their leaves, and as a consequence, the wind howled through the branches. It was a low, melancholy sound that wailed through the Otherworld. Even from up here, high atop Bran’s castle, the sound swirled around him.

  Rhys should have been cold, standing in the ramparts hundreds of feet up where the wind blew wild through the stone turrets. He wore only a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. The cotton was thin and well worn, and his arms were bare, except for the bronze cuffs, and the tattoo on his arm. Yes, he should have been shivering. But he wasn’t. He felt nothing. He was numb.

  A firebird circled overhead, and Rhys watched its graceful rises and falls, the dips and turns as it circled. He knew the Supreme Goddess had sent the phoenix Melor to watch him. He was a prisoner here. But he’d have it no other way. This was where Bronwnn was, tucked inside her chamber. There was nowhere he wanted to be except close to her.

  As always, his thoughts were of Bronwnn. Last night had been incredible—the best ever. The way she whispered in his ear drove him wild. Her voice was sultry, sexy, then soft and lulling, like that of an angel.