Born of Mist and Legend (Highland Legends Book 3)

by Kat Bastion

  Skorpius had given all he had for her.

  Brigid had extended all she had for him.

  “We are quite the pair.” Rogue angel. Reborn goddess.

  Trust came hard earned.

  Loyalty even more so.

  And whether or not they both realized it, they’d given each other those things. And more.

  Skorpius settled beside her and draped a wing over her body. “Sleep deeply and well and in, goddess.” No one would miss them come sunset in a few hours, nor at the sunrise yet again.

  But all the worlds would need them at their strongest.

  To face a demon from the past who’d clearly conquered time.

  Whose power and influence had recruited the supreme among masters of magick.

  One who, perhaps, had a grudge to settle.

  Merlin.

  Chapter 17

  Energizin’ sunshine warmed Brigid’s cheek.

  A reddish glow brightened behind heavy closed eyelids.

  Soothin’ firmness and heat radiated from under the rest of her face, her nose, her hand.

  And a slow inhale ignited her senses with the strong spicy aroma of… cinnamon…

  “Snickerdoodles,” she murmured. A smile tugged at her lips as an image shimmered forth in her drowsy state of the decadent male, and his scent of cinnamon.

  The lazy stroke of firm fingers glided up her arm. “Have you tasted one?” Skorpius asked, tone low and calm.

  Brigid pushed herself up, yawnin’ as her mind tumbled over the puzzle of what she’d been asked. While she fully awakened to where she was—and with whom.

  “Skorpius?” Disoriented, she blinked at the brightness of the day and glanced around, takin’ in the glade, and tryin’ to recall what’d happened before she’d deeply slept.

  “The one and only.” He also pushed upright to a seated position and stretched his magnificent glossy black wings up and out.

  Then he held open a hand toward her. And upon his palm materialized a large copper-dusted fragrant flat cake.

  Mouth instantly waterin’, Brigid snatched up the baked tart the instant he lifted it toward her. When she took an eager bite, delightful tastes exploded over her tongue. Sweet. Spiced. “Mmmm…”

  “An actual snickerdoodle.” Merriment danced in his eyes. “The confection is called a cookie.” He raised his brows, as if in expectation.

  She then recalled Isobel had imparted the same definition mere days ago, when Brigid—and a well-aimed arrow—had officially introduced herself to Skorpius in the forest.

  Brigid consumed another heavenly bite, then a third. With half the cookie packed into her cheeks, she answered his unspoken question. “’Tis beyond anythin’ I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Well, good.” Immense satisfaction shone in his eyes. Then he angled a nod toward her as the last bite disappeared into her mouth. “That is a snickerdoodle.” His eyes narrowed, expression growin’ fierce. “I am not.”

  Brigid fought a smile at his gruff tone. “Agreed.”

  Skorpius resemblin’ a sweet cookie? Nay.

  Gaze alightin’ on dragonflies that soared overhead with their sticklike green bodies that glinted in the sunlight, she stood and stretched her stiff arms and legs with a frown. “How long’ve I been asleep?”

  “We’ve slept forty-three straight hours.” Skorpius stood and stretched his limbs as well.

  “But…I doona…for that’s—”

  “—almost two days—”

  “—impossible. ’Twas but a handful of minutes—”

  “—possible, needed, and exactly two thousand five hundred and eighty minutes ago.”

  Eyes narrowin’, Brigid stalked toward him. “How do you know that?”

  Skorpius’s eyes sparklin’ with mirth, he tapped a finger to his temple. “Internal clock. Keeps time: year, month, day, hour, down to the precise millisecond. It also tells me my geographical location to the last inch.”

  “Weel, then.” Brigid had no retort about the unusual and surprisin’ skill.

  Nor did she know how to react to Skorpius’s sudden playfulness. His mood seemed lighter. “Sleep agrees with you.”

  Skorpius held her gaze a moment, then glanced up at the protective magick shield she’d erected. The dome still held fast. “Would you mind powering that down a few levels?”

  “’Tis safe to do so?”

  “It’s time to do so. We can’t hide forever. Power down, but perhaps also add another layer of that shadow-filter you created to heal me. Before we fully expose ourselves, it would be advisable for us to both be at full strength.”

  “Aye.” Warmth bloomed in her chest, that her powerful angel wanted her assistance. With the brush of her mind, she peeled back the first of the interior layers.

  A fine mist of golden dust showered down and Brigid offered him her hand.

  When Skorpius made contact, a delicious spark ignited. Closin’ her eyes, she focused upon it and kindled the flame of his essence with a surge of her own power. Then she burst his bluish black magick aloft. His darker energy sparkled forth and added another thick coatin’ over the curtain of magick particles.

  “Interesting,” Skorpius murmured, watchin’ with fascination as she wove their two magicks together.

  “Not unlike your test, when you entwined our magicks that first time.”

  “Nice. You’re a fast learner. And a master evolver.”

  “’Twas the only way I knew how to help you.” Her brow furrowed at the image that burned into her mind that she couldna banish: of her beautiful guardian torn apart. “I doona understand. I thought you were immortal.”

  “I am immortal. Under most circumstances.” Skorpius drifted his eyes closed, a peaceful expression washin’ over his face as her shadow-magick bathed him with cool replenishment. “Had that only been an earthbound injury, it would’ve healed faster. Hours, maybe. But I’d flamed out before we’d broken through into your realm. Yet had I not succeeded in that, the scouring energy of the timeline would have dissolved me as well.”

  Anguished at the thought, she huffed out a scorchin’ breath. “But you dinna perish.”

  “No.” He opened his eyes and his piercin’ gaze captured hers. “You saved me.”

  At the emotion blazin’ in those sparklin’ blue-green depths, romantic and sensual, a bold feelin’ overcame her and Brigid stepped close behind him. She hovered tremblin’ fingers over his silken black feathers.

  “Be certain.” He glanced over his shoulder at her with the repeated warnin’, voice deepened into a wolfish growl.

  Brigid flicked a glance at him, blew out a slow breath with a nod, then reached up into the arch of his glorious wing where it connected to his shoulders, to touch him. The same as she’d done after his crash. Only he hadn’t been conscious then. Nor known that she’d used more than the sun’s amplified power to heal him.

  You asked me to heal you further, she mentally reminded him, fully aware that his seductive warnin’ meant so much more.

  At her gentle touch, Skorpius sucked in a deep breath.

  But his shocked reaction dinna deter her.

  Hummin’ an ancient tune she somehow knew by instinct, and with a gentle push from her heart’s center, golden magick poured forth from her hand in a mist akin to faerie glow.

  Skorpius’s enchantin’ eyes brightened with blue sparks as her fingers stroked the soft feathers, root to tip. Then her thumb glided over the softer down under-feathers along the edge.

  Eyes driftin’ closed, Skorpius turned and lowered his body under her potent touch. He took a knee and bowed his head, offerin’ her full access to any part of his large body.

  “Aye, I’m certain,” she finally replied aloud. Certain of her actions. Certain of her heart.

  Brigid’s bold touchin’ of a male would be deemed scandalous, were there any present to witness their exchange. She dinna care if anyone saw. However, in the first tender moments of connection she shared with a guardian she hadn’t expected—with a soul so akin t
o hers—’twas as if the two of them had been ignited from the same flame. And she made certain their magick shield afforded them privacy.

  Dippin’ her head near his, Brigid pressed her lips to the heated skin at his temple.

  A shiver quivered through his body, pebbled the bare skin down his back.

  She smiled, pleased with the reaction her touch caused. Then she deepened the pressure of her strokes along his wing and infused the connection with the power of her healin’ magick. “We’ll borrow a bit of time for ourselves.”

  They needed that much. A gift unto themselves, for the moment.

  Because in the first seconds of the aftermath of his devastatin’ crash, Skorpius’s pulse had fallen to a bare flutter. Brigid’s heart had fully stopped beatin’ in frightful despair.

  Together, both hale and whole, they’d been given a blessed second chance. Brigid’s heart now beat because of him. And she vowed not to squander the scant time remainin’ before a battle that would test their limits. “’Twould seem your heart beats strong because of me as well,” she murmured, feelin’ their deep connection on an emotional level.

  With a low moan, Skorpius turned toward her. He arrowed her with a fierce gaze before his focus lowered to her mouth. Then his soft lips brushed over hers. “Because of you. And for you.”

  A confession he dinna need to make.

  Playful kisses danced light upon her lips, ’twas as if soft butterfly wings brushed over her, trailin’ a warm afterglow of the sun through her mouth, flutterin’ all the way down her throat, and fillin’ her with a delightful wellspring of heated magick.

  On a contented exhale, Brigid sighed in soft surrender, kissin’ him back. Emboldened when he opened his mouth on a gasp, she suckled a wee bit at his full lower lip. “’Tis the same for me,” she murmured. “A warm ache burns in my breast. For you.”

  With a low grunt, Skorpius tore his lips away.

  A cool breeze chilled across her moistened lips, and she licked them, still tastin’ his delicious spice on her skin.

  He reclined down onto thick grasses. Mirth sparked in his gaze, tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Only in your breast?”

  “Nay.”

  Untried in the pleasures of her body, Brigid dinna have the words to describe the sensations.

  Aye, she’d been kissed as a lass before, but by sweet love pecks from a human man, which bore no resemblance. But since she’d ceased bein’ mortal, the whole world had changed regardless. ’Twas as if a pure spring rain had cleansed her new.

  Skorpius’s assessin’ gaze pierced hers, right through to the verra heart of her. “Certain. Without doubt. No regret.” The strong tone vibratin’ beneath the words seemed like no question toward her, but a solemn vow from him.

  “Aye.” Brigid affirmed with a confident nod. “Certain. Without doubt. No regret,” she vowed in reply. For in their private glade, under the shield of their entwined magick, they had only the present moment. The past no longer existed. For either of them.

  The future? Remained to be seen.

  Chapter 18

  Within Skorpius warred the greatest conflict of his immortal life.

  Brigid stood just out of reach.

  Trusting silvery eyes stared straight at him, down to his blackened soul.

  Sparks of potent magick flared in their depths.

  Stark need and raw emotion brewed there too.

  Yet something even more powerful in that bewitching gaze held him captive. As if the fierce warrior goddess knew him down to every last cell, and beyond, to the power that fueled them—energy she herself had infused there to keep him alive—and further still. Into the very heart of a fallen angel.

  And that hardened heart—that fractured and clearly flawed heart—ached. For Brigid.

  Fool! Stop this insanity. Because too much was at stake. For him. For all the worlds.

  Take what you can. Because too little had been offered. To him. From any other soul.

  She’s too…young. A babe in the woods. Tempting a starving black wolf.

  Only in human years. On the cusp of becoming a master. Alpha of all wolves.

  Nevertheless, she’s good at her core.

  Immaterial. And not merely good. Incorruptible.

  Incorrect. No being is above being tainted by darkness.

  Enough! You’re not that dark.

  Selfishness won the inner argument. He sighed heavily.

  Brigid’s confidence and eager readiness aside, he needed to be certain. For all of their sakes. “We need to discuss what I’ve done.”

  Understanding washed over her expression. Sliding her hands down the front of her golden diaphanous gown, Brigid slowly sank to her knees before him. “’Tis of no consequence.”

  “You say that now.”

  “’Twill always be so.”

  “There are some things, certain actions, you may find unforgivable.”

  She searched his eyes for a deep breath, then replied in soft-spoken words. “No action is so.”

  When he opened his mouth to debate the point, she placed a firm finger over his lips.

  He glared at the stubborn female.

  “Skorpius.” Her tone brooked no argument as she leveled an unyielding look at him. “You’re on a noble quest. I’m human…weel, I was. You were human once as well.” On a hard swallow, her expression darkened, pensive. “Not every wee thing I’ve done would make my clan proud. I’ve lied to my family. To my friends. And I’ve broken more vows than I can count.”

  The corners of his lips twitched as he fought a smile. She spoke of the natural expressions of discovery and of independence in her short human life. “A little Brodie rebel? Lies and deceit?”

  Those mercurial eyes narrowed. Then they widened, alighting with humor. “Sarcasm. You tease.”

  Skorpius arched his brows. “You’ve listed minor indiscretions.”

  “And yours is not.” Statement of fact, seriousness weighting her tone.

  All humor drained from him. He gave a slow headshake, gaze never wavering from hers. “My transgressions far exceed yours.”

  That adamant stare held his. Then she gave a nod. “I understand.” Her gaze wandered along the length of his wing. “’Tis what made you midnight black, from snowfall white.”

  “From wings to heart.” Skorpius blinked hard, shocked as her last word registered through. White. “How do you know I was once white?”

  “I’ve been to your world. Remember?” She glanced at her now-empty hand then at the bottom of the satchel.

  His journal. The only way she could’ve obtained it.

  “You saw other angels?”

  “Aye and…somehow…I saw you.”

  “Me?” Confusion clouded his mind. Because the journal hadn’t existed when his wings had been white. Skorpius had never heard of a concussion among angelkind, but then, he’d also never heard of any other angel crashing to Earth from the dark matter of the timeline. “When?”

  “After you’d saved me. When you clung to the barest thread of life. While I pushed all the magick I had into you to try to mend you, the world outside the shield slowly vanished. Then when I needed more and gathered healin’ energy from the sun’s rays, the glade around us within the shield also fell away. You were no longer there. Nor was I. Even so, I remained aware. And visions floated into my mind. I saw you. A past you. As you were.”

  “Describe it.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I’m not certain I can.”

  “Try.”

  She gave him a clipped nod, then exhaled a heavy breath. “Heavenly mist floated about. Your hair was not raven, ’twas flaxen, whitish gold like the sun.” Brigid’s expression softened as she scanned his face. “Your eyes were not dark sapphire with deep emerald, sparkin’ wildfire as they are now; they’d been pale blue, like the top of the sky with a midday sun. You shouted in a piercin’ tone and tongue I dinna understand. Then you chased after a lad and lass who looked verra much like you.

  “You unsheathed twin
swords from a harness betwixt your wings and leapt high into the air to fly over the clouds after them. Cool wind bathed my face as I somehow flew with you. The lad conjured up a ball of blue fire then hurled it toward us. You threw up a golden shield and gusted a great wind his way, extinguishin’ his fire. And you laughed. A deep and true joy. After a moment’s pause, the lad and lass laughed with you.”

  Her eyes searched his. For confirmation.

  Orion and Cass, close friends. When they’d all been mere fledglings. Fully fashioned, yet newly aware. That specific day, they’d begun sparring to gain further experience, get a feel for the vastness of their powers and the strength of their magick.

  “Impossible,” he breathed. “You time traveled. On your own.”

  “Mayhap, not alone. I’m thinkin’ your spirit, while our magicks intertwined and your broken body began to heal, led me there.”

  “To the past.”

  “To your past.”

  “Doesn’t explain how you came to possess my journal. Which you had long before we crash landed.”

  “Aye. It does explain. You see, I dinna only see you when you were young.”

  “Inexperienced. Not young.”

  Brigid deadpanned him, took a deep breath, then continued. “’Twas only a moment’s time after the fire-play with your friends that everythin’ faded away again. Only glitterin’ mist remained for a time. White, silver, gold, and all the colors of the brightest Highland rainbows reflected in the tiny particles. After that, we traveled afar to…Brittany.”

  “Brittany.” Northwestern France. Legend, fable, and fact. Where his transgression began. Brigid’s emphasis on the locale drew almost as much attention as her expression. Almost.

  Compassion shone in her silver-sparking eyes. She let out a slow exhale, then spun and took a seat beside him. A gentle hand rested on his forearm.

  Compassion. The only way Brigid would view him. Not pity. Like so many others had done.

  “You saw my mortal past.” A subject dead to him. Until now.

  Never before had he wanted anyone to know.