Born of Mist and Legend (Highland Legends Book 3)

by Kat Bastion

  Orion’s nostrils flared at the offensive suggestion. But he wisely said nothing.

  “Her power grows.” Skorpius glanced at Brigid. But she never shifted her calm gaze away from Orion. “And her essence—and the magick she wields—is more good than any I’ve known.”

  For the first time since arriving, his brother glanced at her. He gave her a respectful nod. “I am Orion, goddess. And I am honored to meet one of the ordained.” What angelkind referred to those rare beings gifted with immense power, like the Traveler.

  Brigid bowed her head to him, but said nothing. Façade cool, gaze sharp, she remained impassive during the entire encounter. And her magick had even mellowed again to such a degree, another would be hard pressed to detect she possessed any unusual energy at all.

  The vibe Brigid radiated? Serene. Humble. Not one fiber of superiority existed in her being.

  Unlike the chilly flock of the anti-welcoming committee.

  “Where’s Cass?” Skorpius just realized her unusual absence.

  Orion glanced over his shoulder toward their sparkling city. “The strategy hall, I believe.”

  Skorpius narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t the two of you summon Brigid?”

  “I did not. And Cass has been preoccupied.”

  Skorpius frowned. If not Orion or Cass, then who? No other angel would have the kind of power or imagination needed to create a tether on their own.

  Which left only two possibilities. Some unknown being who registered as “good” in Brigid’s perception. Or the Authority itself.

  When Skorpius turned to guide Brigid from the courtyard, Orion clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. And a ripple of awareness shimmered into his mind. A mental knock for permission to speak, brother to brother, without Brigid’s knowledge.

  Skorpius granted his request by relaxing open a mental channel.

  She’s not the only one who’s transformed, evolved. You have as well, Orion stated.

  What do you mean? Skorpius felt no different. Other than weak and healing after the crash. But he’d since been restored to full strength, in his refuge.

  Orion’s eyes narrowed, and he pulsed a slight probing magick through Skorpius. You no longer register to my senses as the same fallen angel. Your darkness appears to have altered.

  Good or bad?

  Orion inhaled an assessing breath, drawing in a miniscule amount of Skorpius’s energy as if tasting and considering. Different.

  Great. Plenty of that going around.

  Skorpius clapped a hand on Orion’s opposite shoulder, then gave his brother a grateful nod.

  Orion vanished into the mist in the next instant.

  Skorpius glared at the towering heart of the too-bright city, toward his former peers, where the Authority resided. And a heavy shiver quaked through him, like a wild animal ridding itself of excess swamp water.

  He stared his whole world down.

  Your rules are being rewritten.

  Chapter 23

  When Skorpius turned toward the countless castles that glittered as if frosted in ice crystals, Brigid sensed a growin’ volatility from him. Dangerous and powerful. Charged anticipation under the skin of a warrior eager for a long-awaited battle.

  But Brigid pressed a hand to his forearm to stay his action.

  Black hair ripplin’ in the electrostatic air, Skorpius glanced down at her. Those jeweled eyes sparked with energy. But he tilted his head in question.

  “’Twould please me to return to the glade.” A truth, soft spoken.

  Concern etched lines between his dark brows. “Are you all right?”

  “Aye.” She glanced toward the angels’ city. “’Tis beautiful, but bitter, cold. Just like her people.” After his justified aggression toward those who’d once considered him family, she withheld no words in her judgment. “I’ve seen enough. Unless you wish me to meet your…sister?”

  “Cass?” His brows lifted slightly, the fondness for her evident in the softenin’ of his eyes. “No.” He gave a headshake that further ruffled the ends of his hair. “If she’s in the strategy hall, she’s focused on a mission. Another time, perhaps.”

  At the mention of his sister, his aggression quieted.

  And as his excess energy faded, the air around him began to settle.

  Which gave the delightful coolin’ mist the courage to flow back in around her. Playful tendrils of iridescent white teased the golden ends of her flowin’ dress. Some of the mist peeked around her dress at him. Curiosity at the dark force in their domain instilled bravery, the molecules flowin’ around her to brush over his aura.

  Skorpius stared at the bolder mist with his own curiosity, expression turnin’ puzzled.

  She outstretched a hand to him in invitation to lead their way again on the return trip back to their glade. For as wonderful as the welcomin’ childlike mist was, she’d experienced enough of the rest of his unkind world.

  The warmth of his large hand slid over hers.

  A magickal charge ignited between their palms.

  And with a bright flash, the white mist vanished.

  Pulsin’ out another heavy burst of magick, hand gripped tight with his, she arrowed them through the tempest forces between worlds, the dark-matter realm betwixt time. Wiser from the first time-space travel with Skorpius—when she’d been unaware of the necessity of protective magick and a pinpoint destination—she fired out a shieldin’ magick bubble around them. The destination? She kept in the forefront of her mind with crisp focus: their glade.

  However, landin’ safely in the next place proved to be tricky. When she’d arrowed them into his world within his lair, she’d visualized them standin’ upright the whole time. Even though it seemed they flew through dark-matter space like Skorpius did on Earth: head and feet level.

  Upon return to the glade though, even while she imagined the two of them upright, other images flashed into her brain. The most recent intimate images. Of Skorpius stretched upon on the ground, leanin’ back on one elbow—with Brigid draped over him.

  When Earth’s forces tugged harder on their bodies toward solid ground, she banished the thought of them layin’ down and forced the image of them standin’ up.

  Darkness, cool breezes, insect song, and the sweet scent of a recent rain rushed over her senses. Night had fallen over their glade.

  Yet with her jumbled image of them standin’, then layin’, then standin’, they touched solid ground with too much momentum; and their feet entangled, they stumbled, and then clinglin’ to one another, they tumbled sideways together over the soft grasses.

  “Och!” Brigid gripped him tight and burst another layer of protective magick around them. After the terrible crash he’d taken last time—while protectin’ her from her own folly—she couldn’t bear to cause him harm again.

  The strength of his body tightened around her as they rolled. But they came to an abrupt stop when Skorpius burst out his own pulse of magick and bent his leg to plant a boot onto the earth.

  Both of them sucked in heavy breaths from the exertion. But Skorpius dinna move. He said nothin’.

  Then vibration quaked through his chest. Rumblin’ low laughter teased into her ears.

  A gusted exhalation parted her lips, relief that he’d fared well through her misstep.

  Brigid relaxed her cheek against the warmth of his bare chest. “Nay. ’Tis not humorous,” she muttered.

  “Ah, but it is.”

  “Your apprentice is still learnin’.”

  Skorpius adjusted, tipped a finger under her chin, and forced her to look into his eyes. Mirth danced there. “You are no one’s apprentice. And you well know it.”

  “Mayhap,” she admitted. “’Twould help to practice a wee bit more.”

  “And not visualize us laying together on the ground.”

  “Och!” She gave his chest a pound with her fist. “You saw that?”

  “No.” Amusement still sparkled in his eyes. “Suspected.”

  Skorpius’s gaze turned h
eated as it lowered to her mouth. As hers drifted to his. When his full lips parted, warm air fanned over her face.

  Brigid drew in a stuttered breath, charged with anticipation, as her eyes drifted closed. You’re goin’ to kiss me.

  I am.

  Yet cool air brushed over her lips.

  Warmth floated over her nose.

  Then his lips pressed to the center of her forehead.

  You missed. She opened her eyes.

  Strong emotion shone bright in his eyes. “I hit the exact target I aimed for.”

  Disappointment sank into her chest.

  “Soon.” He shifted out from under her, then tugged her up from the ground.

  “There will be time?”

  Unable to stop herself, she stepped forward, closin’ the space between them. Her tremblin’ fingertips brushed over his bared abdomen, skimmin’ over taut muscles that lay beneath skin many tones darker than hers.

  Skorpius drew in a loud gasp, chest expandin’, as the ropes of hard muscle beneath soft skin twitched at her unexpected touch. Those magnificent black wings arched a wee bit as her cool palms slid up over heated skin. Till her hands rested over his chest, covered his heart.

  His wings settled, and he enfolded her within his powerful arms. Then he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll make the time,” he vowed, voice graveled.

  But they’d waited when they’d been so close before. The topic of the grave “other” reason had come between them.

  Yet since then, another concern had manifested. Of greater import. The primal need to heal a part of Skorpius that her magick would never reach.

  “They doona see you like I do.” Bein’ the target of stares and whispers all her life, they shared common ground. But none of her clan had vibrated with hatred toward her. Sadness and pity, more often than not. For her havin’ to endure a brother who’d found it hard to reconcile her birth with two heartbreakin’ deaths.

  Skorpius stared down into her eyes, searchin’, as if for some answer deep within her soul. His eyes shimmered and sparked, alight with intense emotion. “How do you see me, Brigid?”

  “You’re a brave warrior, a fierce protector.” She tightened her fingertips over his chest. “You view yourself as different from the rest. Who I see? The most incredible male created.”

  Then her gaze tracked over what others had clearly taken note of. “Your midnight wings are more enchantin’ to me than the brilliance of a thousand stars.”

  Brigid slid her fingers up and entwined them with the dark locks that brushed over his collarbones. “And I’m fond of your bonnie raven hair, flowin’ wild and free.”

  Then she searched his gaze in return. “Your eyes, that swirl bluest sapphire and greenest emerald, glitter fiery life from the depths of your soul. Your colorin’ and magick may be dark, but all I see is your brightness. The light you try to hide from the world.”

  His expression darkened. He began to shake his head.

  But she slid her fingers along both sides of his jaw, then gently held tight to cease his denial.

  Pained eyes pinched shut.

  “Nay,” she argued. “Doona fight your true nature. Skorpius, you are a greathearted man.”

  Those eyes opened back up, doubt swirlin’ in their depths.

  “Even crushed beneath the weight of somethin’ I canna begin to understand, your light still shines through all the dark around you. When you’re near, I feel the goodness within you.”

  Skorpius’s mouth dropped open. Then closed.

  Soft lips that she craved to have cover her own hardened into a grim line.

  Chest expandin’ on a deep breath, his brows furrowed while firm hands cupped her shoulders. “You are wrong. I am not greathearted. Nor a man.”

  Brigid smiled at his denial and minor detail of their differences, emotion burnin’ a hole in her chest. “Weel, then. We’re a good match. For I’m no longer a woman.”

  And mayhap goddesses are not all greathearted either.

  While she stared up at him with that last statement mentally projected—like he’d been proddin’ her to do—his lips softened, then twitched at the corners, as if he’d been pleased she hadn’t been deterred. But then a low growl rattled in his throat, as if he’d become irritated at her adoration in spite of his perceived faults.

  When he remained rigid, keepin’ a firm grip of her shoulders to maintain their distance, she wrenched free and took a step back, breakin’ his hold.

  Skorpius let her go.

  They stared at one another, just out of reach.

  The cold air between them grew charged with every silent second that passed.

  With a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms. “What do you think I see?”

  Slow breaths expanded his broad chest.

  A muscle tightened in his jaw.

  Fists clenched and released at his side, and he let out a more forceful exhale.

  “You need to see what I truly am, Brigid. One who paid a lifelong mortal penance for committing grave sins. Then within an angelic realm meant to foster and protect for the good, I was resurrected, altered, and allowed to exist as an example. Forever condemned to battle alongside those who uphold our code and honor, I remain a constant reminder of the heavy price for straying off course. I’m the dragon living alongside innocent villagers. I am their monster.”

  With compassion burnin’ bright in her heart and unshed tears blurin’ her vision, she stared up at him without judgment and stepped closer. Liftin’ her hands to cup either side of a face at once rugged and bonnie, she smiled. And all the affection she felt for him burst through. The newfound magick within her radiated a golden aura around her, then expanded to embrace both of them together. The energy sparked into the crisp night with wee snaps and crackles.

  “Nay,” she murmured fiercely, liftin’ on tiptoe to press a kiss to one corner of his mouth. “You are no monster.” She brushed her lips across his, then pressed a soft kiss to the other side. “Within you is a goodness only one truly worthy of receivin’ your grace could ever see.

  “I’m honored to know you, Skorpius. I’m forever blessed to have been chosen for your protection. I may have once been your ‘mission’, as you’ve called it, but with the strong bond that’s grown between us, I’ve become more. Not a goddess. Not your apprentice. I am your humble servant. I stand here unharmed by you and am the better for it. If you’re a dragon in your own eyes, know in truth what I behold before me: the most amazin’ male. Wings or not, rules or not, sound explanation or utter madness…to me you are a breathtakin’ly bonnie male.”

  Skorpius’s nostrils flared. His shallower breaths rose and fell.

  But before he ventured another denial, she laid claim to the fiery emotions churnin’ hot within her breast. “And you, Skorpius, are more than your sins. You’ve become more than an angel. More than my guardian. You, from your bright soul to your good heart—no matter what color it may be—are mine.”

  If her earlier words had failed to move him, the last appeared to shock him immobile.

  Even his breaths halted for long seconds.

  And a gatherin’ of tears glittered over his dark eyes.

  Brigid’s smile returned, wider. Greater warmth ached in her chest. Another joyful flare of her golden magick radiated out, then sizzled and sparked into the night.

  “Brigid…” Warnin’ glittered in his gaze.

  She lifted a single finger to his lips to silence his protest.

  Skorpius’s eyes drifted shut, a tortured expression washin’ over his face.

  But she’d allow none of it. “Doona speak of how unalike we are. It matters not how we appear, what we’re built from, nor what different worlds we come from. We were brought together by somethin’ you said yourself you dinna understand. Cease tryin’ to understand it.”

  His eyes drifted open. Deep emotion sparked in their depths.

  “Surrender to what’s developin’ between us,” she murmured.

  The ground began to swa
y under her feet. She snapped her eyes wide open in alarm at the way the world seemed to have…tilted…and dropped her hands from his face to grip his shoulders and steady herself. Then her stomach rumbled like rollin’ thunder.

  In the next heartbeat, Skorpius waved a cool wave of magick through her. Then he shot her a stern look of disapproval. “You’ve depleted your energy too far again.”

  Brigid exhaled in relief, drifted heavy eyelids closed again, then lowered her cheek to rest a wee bit against his chest. “’Twould seem I have.”

  Skorpius chuckled, the slight movement jostlin’ her head. She felt the pressure of his hand stroke down the back of her head as his lips pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re hungry.”

  She groaned, buryin’ her face against the dip under his shoulder, mortified that she’d failed to account for the energy use, to follow his simplest command. “Aye,” she admitted with a sigh.

  “Then we will eat.” Arms wrappin’ around her, he drew her down to the ground.

  Mouthwaterin’ aromas wafted under her nose upon her next inhale.

  And when she opened her eyes, her clan’s plaid had stretched beneath them. Fat beeswax candles weighted down each corner. Then the candlelight flickered with a sudden displacement of air as the most delectable foods, hot and cold, appeared on silver platters of all sizes: stewed meats and root vegetables, sliced cheeses and crusty rounds of bread. Shallow baskets held ripe, boldly colored fruits. Crystal bowls overflowed with crisp fresh vegetables and leafy greens. One platter even displayed half a dozen various baked tarts.

  And a large snickerdoodle.

  She snatched up the confection first and took a large bite. Once she chewed and swallowed, she arched a brow at him. “‘We will eat? I’ve yet to see you replenish your energy with food.”

  Skorpius ran a tongue over his teeth, then gave a shrug. “Figure of speech. I meant you.”

  She scanned the temptin’ bounty in wide-eyed wonder, marvelin’ at the appearance of so much food where none had been seconds before. “Och!” she whispered. “I canna believe this.”