Mists of Velvet

by Sophie Renwick

He would never forget the sight of her beneath him, or the way she felt, slick and hot against his fingers, or the taste of her on his tongue. That had been the biggest mistake, tasting her. Those memories made him hard and achy all over. Damn, it had been good—too good. But it was about so much more than sex with Bronwnn. It was dreams of forever; of nights spent holding her and mornings of looking at her across the breakfast table. It was images of a morning kiss and spooning together at night. It was all that normal shit he craved—a companion, a friend, a confidante, a lover. He’d actually dreamed last night of their Shrouding ceremony—what she would wear, and how she would look. He imagined seeing her round with his child.

  “Rhys, descendant of Daegan.”

  Rhys whirled around, dagger pulled and drawn, ready to fight in an instant.

  “You do not need that blade.”

  Hastily Rhys slid the dagger back into the sheath at his belt. The Supreme Goddess was standing before him, glaring.

  “I shall have to have a word with the raven. He did not divest you of your weapon.”

  He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend Bran, but he said, “It was well concealed.”

  The goddess stepped closer, her steady gaze scouring every inch of him. She was dressed in a long silver cloak edged in white fur. Her voice was soft, womanly, yet commanding.

  “You look like him.” She stopped before him and gazed up into his face. “He was my favorite consort, you know.”

  No, he hadn’t known. Daegan had never spoken of her, other than to remind Rhys of the curse she had cast.

  “It killed a part of me to banish him from our world. It hasn’t been the same without him.”

  “You could have taken him back.”

  She smiled, but there was no joy in her expression. “You’ve much to learn of our ways, Rhys MacDonald. Your great-great-grandfather offered an adbertos. Do you know what that is?”

  “A sacrifice.”

  “Yes.” She walked around him, her pale green eyes watching him. “A sacrifice cannot be undone. It is to be endured. That is the meaning of the word.”

  Rhys stiffened as she stroked her hand down his back. “The resemblance is uncanny,” she murmured. “I can feel his power in you.”

  “Were you lovers?” he asked as he watched her circle him.

  “No. I would have gladly given myself to him. And Annwyn would have been better for it if he had taken me. But he wanted the mortal.”

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” he snapped.

  She tipped her head and studied him. “My curse was not born of scorn, but of necessity.”

  Rhys held his snort of indignation. He didn’t want to do anything that might interfere with her loose tongue. He wanted to know more; to understand who he was and what he came from. He needed to learn about Annwyn, and what his role would be while he was here.

  “You have no magick,” she continued, “but there is something most powerful about you. Your destiny is in Annwyn.”

  “I guess my destiny trumps your curse.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You would do well to hold your tongue, mortal.”

  Biting back a reply, Rhys struggled to tether his temper. Instead of lashing out at her, he watched as a slender, pale hand emerged from the sleeve of her cloak, only to trail along the cold stone battlements.

  “Your presence here is a sign. It is part of the prophecy.” She whirled on him. “Do you believe that the prophecy is changeable? That perhaps not even your God knows how it will all turn out or how it will evolve?”

  “God is omniscient. All seeing. He knows what is going to happen.”

  “You forget there is another side in this war. There is magick in Annwyn. Your mortal rules do not apply here. And there is a Dark Soul—the Destroyer—to be fought over. There are many variables, and not even He can foresee what this Dark Mage will do. Just as I cannot see what will happen in your world. This is the beginning of a great battle. There is much at stake,” she murmured, “and not enough time to prepare. The birth of the Destroyer is upon us. Bronwnn has sensed it.”

  Rhys stiffened. “It’s treacherous to use her to find the Dark Mage. You put her very life in danger.”

  “We all have a role to play in this prophecy. It has been slowly evolving for the past thousand years. We must accept our part.”

  “And the Destroyer, does Bronwnn know who it will be?”

  “No. But I believe the mage already knows the identity of this Dark Soul, even though we do not.”

  “This soul, it is already born, then? It’s already turning?”

  “Yes. But it does not yet belong to the Dark Arts. We can still prevent it.”

  “And why are you telling me this? I’m cursed, aren’t I? What good am I to you?”

  “Destinies change, mortal. And yours has.”

  The smallest flare of hope flickered inside him. “Bronwnn?”

  “Has offered an adbertos. In exchange for your life, she will wed the Shadow Wraith.”

  “No,” he growled. Heedless of the consequences, he reached for Cailleach and wrapped his hands around her elbows. She gave a little cry as he began to shake her. “Damn you, she’s mine!”

  “The sacrifice has been offered and accepted. You will live. You will aid Bran and his warriors in the hunt for Carden, and you will defeat the mage.”

  “No. I’ll offer another adbertos. My life. I’ll forfeit it before I do anything for you or Annwyn.”

  “You have Daegan’s temper, his drive. Put it to better use than hating me.”

  Releasing her, he bit back an oath. He didn’t want to be in Annwyn without Bronwnn, and he didn’t want to do fuck-all to help Cailleach.

  “Bronwnn has seen you,” Cailleach murmured. “You are one of the nine. She sees the future, and your future is here, among us.”

  “But separate,” he finished. “A mortal to be tolerated until the prophecy is fulfilled. And then what?”

  “I am not a seer. I cannot tell you what your future holds.”

  He could—an empty life spent watching the woman he loved mated with the wraith born to protect him.

  Fuck that, he thought as he moved away from Cailleach. He would make his own destiny.

  “Your anger is a useful weapon,” Cailleach called out to him. “Pit it against our enemies; not against things that cannot be undone.”

  “Go to hell,” he murmured. There was no way he was living without his mate.

  Clouds shadowed the room, darkening it. Beyond the window, the gray sky swirled, echoing what she felt in her soul—a tempest of swirling anger.

  Bronwnn watched as the wraith stepped closer to the bed. Dressed all in black and with his black hair, he was nearly indiscernible from the shadows. His hand came up from his side, as if he were going to wave. In a slow arc he moved it. Instantly, the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand flickered to life, displacing the shadows in the bedroom.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing—yet. I’ll leave it up to you.”

  She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. He speaks with Cailleach. He’ll know what I’ve done.”

  Still, she clung to the hope that something might change. It was the only thing that gave her comfort.

  “How is the mortal named Rowan?” she asked, thinking to change the topic that simmered between them.

  “Dying.”

  Bronwnn swallowed hard. She felt the wraith’s pain; she tasted his sorrow. “I’m sorry.”

  “You are sisters.”

  Brushing her hair from her face, Bronwnn slowly nodded. “I knew immediately when I saw her.”

  “I knew she wasn’t fully human.”

  Gazing up at him, she swallowed hard. He was a dark and difficult man; nothing like Rhys.

  “What do you know about her?” he demanded.

  “Nothing more. We are sisters. How she appeared in the mortal realm, I don’t know. I was told my mother died in childbirth with me. I do not know my father.”

 
; His gaze narrowed, clearly sensing her deceit. She knew her father was the Dark Mage. “It would be a betrayal to Rowan to discover that we are to be wed,” Keir stated bluntly. “I will not allow anything to hurt her.”

  “I understand. I promise not to speak to her of what will happen between us.”

  “After . . . she dies,” he said with a catch in his voice, “I will fulfill my part of your adbertos.”

  “Forgive me. When I offered my sacrifice, I was thinking only of Rhys and of protecting him. I didn’t stop to consider your wishes.”

  “My wishes are the same as yours. The safety of Rhys. But . . . you must understand my love for Rowan. I will not betray her in life.”

  Clearly he didn’t want to be with her, and Bronwnn shrank back, not knowing what to say or do. He sighed and put his big hands into his pockets.

  “It is not that I don’t want to be with you, but I think you know that in my heart, Rowan is my mate, just as Rhys is yours.”

  She gasped. “You read my mind.”

  He shrugged. “Our duty is to unite our races, and our powers. Together our divination magick will benefit our world, and perhaps the mortal realm. It is for the greater good, and the less selfish path. I can read thoughts, but once we are shrouded, I will give you as much privacy as I can. I’m usually successful at tuning people out. I’ll try my best with you.”

  Bronwnn felt her heart skip a beat, then plummet to the pit of her empty stomach. This was not what she wanted. She wanted Rhys. Somehow she had mistakenly believed she could bring herself to accept a union with Keir. Now she knew deep in her heart she couldn’t.

  Keir was mysterious and sexy. He was tall, handsome, with a sexual intensity that any female would desire in a man. But Keir wasn’t the one she wanted.

  “I’ll be kind to you. I’ll treat you with respect, and I’ll . . .” He swallowed, then nearly choked out his next words. “I’ll show you pleasure.”

  Bronwnn was speechless as she looked up at him. He was so virile and gorgeous, standing before her with his damp black hair and mesmerizing eyes. Yet, while she found him devastating to look at, she couldn’t help but think it wasn’t Keir she wanted pleasuring her.

  “We have no choice. Our personal preferences have no bearing on this. Cailleach designed this, and your offer of a sacrifice has ensured our union. If it pleases you, and Rhys, we could all pleasure one another. You needn’t give him up.”

  He had just voiced her secret hope, but the firm coldness in his voice made Bronwnn look up. Keir stood towering above her, his eyes frigid and devoid of any feeling. He studied her as if he were some sort of machine, programmed to perform a highly specialized function. It would never work. She knew that now.

  “This is a mistake,” she began. “I can see it. Hear it. There’s no inflection in your voice, no emotion. It’s empty; there’s no fire. No desire. Just duty, and duty is not what I want.” She wanted only the pleasure Rhys gave her. She wanted his warmth. His fire.

  Keir frowned at her words. “You’re very pretty.”

  “Keir—”

  “You have a beautiful figure. It’s . . . voluptuous. I like it.”

  She thought of Rowan’s figure, and she knew Keir was silently envisioning Rowan as he gazed down upon her. She didn’t want to be a substitute for his lover. And she didn’t want him being a substitute for hers. There must be another way to appease Cailleach.

  “Keir, I’m certain there is a way around this. You don’t really want me.”

  “We can have . . . passion,” he said awkwardly. “There would be pleasure between us. I can guarantee that pleasure. Rhys will join us in bed, and all will be well.”

  “But what about love?”

  His eye twitched, and he looked away, toward the stained glass window behind her shoulder.

  “There will be pleasure.”

  She wanted more. She wanted Rhys. Oh, God, what had she done, offering such an arrangement to Cailleach?

  Keir reached out and drew his fingers through her hair and down her cheek till they rested against the notch in her throat. With a few fluttery sweeps, he brushed her bounding pulse. “You worry for Rhys.”

  “I do. We’ve . . . shared intimacies. But I assume you already know that.”

  “I know you dream of him. That he dreams of you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She shuddered as his fingers skated over to her collarbone.

  “Rhys can be part of this.”

  “He won’t accept that,” she whispered.

  “We have shared before. We will share again. I won’t need your love, Bronwnn. I know it’s for Rhys, and I won’t ask for any of it.”

  “Do you touch him when you share your women?” She had no idea what prompted her to ask him such a thing, but she had been too afraid to ask Rhys. She couldn’t understand it, but there was jealousy there on her part. She didn’t want the wraith taking him from her.

  “We have. But I won’t, if you do not wish it.”

  “To survive, do you need to? Touch him, that is.”

  “No, not to survive. In the past, it has always been a mutual need, one that I can see no longer exists for Rhys. He has you now to fill that need—the empty place where one’s mate should reside.”

  She was relieved. She understood that need, that empty hole that was left open and wanting as one waited to find one’s mate. Keir and Rhys had taken care of each other, pleasured each other because it filled a void while they waited for their Anam Cara to take up the place where the emptiness beckoned.

  Suddenly she felt for Keir, for his pain, for the loneliness and despair. If they shared each other, he would be the third wheel, the odd man out. He would be the one to watch but never feel; to yearn, only to be left hungry—and empty. “I’m sorry I am not the one who can fill the need in you.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve always known your feelings. But some things can’t be changed. For the sake of Rhys’ life, and for Annwyn, we will do this. And we will make it work.”

  Bronwnn watched him walk away, but before he closed the door, he turned to her. “You will spare Rowan the knowledge of this?”

  “You have my word.”

  He nodded and tilted his head to study her. “It will work.”

  Bronwnn watched as he closed the door. She didn’t want to do this, but it was the only way to save Rhys. She would do anything for him. Endure anything.

  Rhys pounded down the stone steps of the castle toward the opposite wing where Bronwnn was being kept from him. Ahead of him, the adder weaved over the gray stones, leading the way. His blood boiled; his anger, volatile and threatening, was erupting inside him.

  How dare she give herself to Keir? How could she after what they had shared? After he had vowed to fight for her, to give her a Shrouding ceremony? She had looked into his eyes and made him believe that he was her true mate; that all the dreams they had shared were about them, and not Keir.

  Damn it! He wanted answers.

  Stopping at a door, the adder curled up, signaling that this was where he would find her—his goddess; his mate. And God help her once he did.

  Taking a deep breath, he reached for the latch and forced himself to exhale slowly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he did want to know what the fuck she was thinking. She was not mating with Keir.

  Inching open the door, Rhys watched as Bronwnn rose from the tub, the water sluicing over her curves. Her back was to him, and he watched the graceful movement of her spine as she reached for a towel and covered her body. He was seething mad; more angry than he had ever been in his life. He could feel the anger flooding his blood, but desire and longing swiftly replaced his anger.

  Why was she doing this? Did she think him weak? Unable to protect himself because he was a mortal?

  Christ, just looking at her made him want to lunge at her and take her, claim her as his. She wasn’t going to Keir—no fucking way.

  Coming up to her, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. Pulling the towel from her
body, he threw it onto the floor and pressed her naked body to his. Having removed his shirt, he was now clothed only in jeans, and the feel of her silky skin against his chest made him rock hard. She moaned, whispering his name, and he whispered ruthlessly in her ear, “Yes—Rhys. Your mate.”

  With lightning speed, he turned her around so she was facing the wall. Reaching for her wrists, he held them above her, and Bronwnn gasped as he nudged the front of his jeans against her gorgeous ass.

  He pressed his hard body against her back. She gasped again when her breasts grazed the cold wall, but he didn’t ease his hold.

  “I love that sound,” he murmured as he licked her neck. “It makes me hot and hard. Makes me want to sink my cock deep inside you, fucking you hard so that you never forget who you belong to.”

  He thrust against her once more as he nipped the tender flesh beneath her ear. “Who do you belong to, mo bandia?”

  Bronwnn had never seen Rhys like this, so masterful and dangerous. She was aware of the barely controlled emotion simmering within him.

  He clutched her fingers in his hand, his other hand, warm and soft, stroking the length of her back to her hips. Bronwnn held her breath, sensing the struggle waging deep inside him. He was hurting and no doubt feeling betrayed. She wanted to reach out to him; yet she instinctively knew he was beyond listening. He was all male now. Hurting and aching. And so was she. She wanted this—his desire; his power.

  “How I love you like this. Bare-assed and willing,”he drawled, sliding his hand down her bottom and cupping her. “I’ll bet I could make you beg for it. God, I want that,” he groaned, thrusting his erection against her. “I want to hear you beg me for it.”

  Between her thighs, she was wet and aching. His words unleashed an intense desire within her. She was completely at his mercy. “If that is what you want, I will beg you.”

  Rhys put his knee on the window bench and lifted her leg so that her foot was on top of his thigh. Coolness caressed her flesh, and she felt his fingers stroke her throbbing sex.

  “Wet and throbbing,” he drawled, trailing his tongue up the length of her spine. “I want to fuck you, just like this.”

  She tried to turn around, to release his hold, but Rhys only squeezed her hands and pressed them harder against the wall.