Poor Moira. Emma heaved a weary sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. The woman suffered from a terminal case of cupiditis. If she wasn’t neck deep in a matchmaking scheme, Moira wasn’t happy. With a glance toward the still closed blue door, Emma blew out another heavy sigh. And apparently, she’d convinced Alex he needed to give chase. What a freaking mess that she really didn’t have the time to deal with right now. “I appreciate the fact that Dr. Mackenzie is a fine man, Moira. And I respect him for his work. But I am adamant about not dating a co-worker. It’s just not a good idea.”
“Fine.” Moira waddled around the counter and plopped down into her overly padded rolling chair. Adjusting her glasses to the end of her nose, she bobbed her head up and down while glaring at the flickering computer screen. “Your first patient will be here anytime. Ye’d best review the file while you’re having your coffee.”
Great. Now Moira was mad at her too. The day was off to a brilliant start.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“The first time is easier to find the harmony of the stones if ye close your eyes and just feel. Ye must learn to trust yer senses.” Torin took her hand and pressed it against the cold rough surface of the megalith towering beside them.
Emma swept her gaze to the top of the eerie spire then back down to the hard-packed ground from where it sprouted. A shiver prickled across her skin, standing every hair on end. Something just wasn’t right about this. It was just too—out there. But what if all the mystical mumbo jumbo Torin spouted was true? What would she do then?
Torin’s face fairly glowed with hopeful anticipation. Was it too late to turn back? A guilt-filled whisper of you owe him poked the most sensitive part of her conscience. How could she refuse this man who not only saved her life but set her soul on fire? “Torin, are you sure about this? Just because I’ve got this necklace, doesn’t mean I’m a…you know—just like you.”
Torin squinted at the sky toward the direction of the sun then placed his hand over hers. “‘Tis almost time for the alignment of the equinox. We should be close enough for ye to tap into the wheel’s full power.”
“What wheel?” Emma shivered again. Her body reacted to Torin’s touch, damning to the wind all the doubts racing through her mind.
Torin smiled down into her eyes. A knowing glimmered in the depths of his gaze as he glanced at his hand atop hers. His smile widened as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “The seasonal wheel. The energy of the shifting year. ’Tis an unstoppable force of the universe.” He fingered the amulet at her throat and gave a slight nod as a faint glow emitted from the center of the stone. “And if ye were not a true guardian, your amulet wouldna live and breathe whenever your skin touched the heartstone.”
Emma’s stomach flip-flopped at the emotions echoing in his deep, throaty voice. Or was it because of his touch? She wished she hadn’t worn such a heavy sweatshirt. The early fall breeze nudging against her back suddenly seemed overly warm. Stretching the ribbed neckline away from her throat, Emma pushed his hand away from her necklace. “It’s awfully warm out here. Could we please just get on with it?” Emma struggled to ignore the scent of Torin’s tempting body just inches away from hers. Male spice accented with a hint of desire. Her mouth watered at the prospect. Geez! Get a grip, Maxwell. You’d think she was some lusty co-ed on a manhunt during summer break.
Torin’s laughter rumbled across the hillside. “Aye, little Emma. Just follow my instructions and ye’ll get a glimpse of the wonders I’ve foretold.”
Returning her hand to the shoulder-high spot on the obelisk, Emma sucked in a steadying breath and nodded. It was now or never. Maybe once he discovered she was just plain old Emma, he’d realize the mistake he’d made. A snarky voice of self-conscious uncertainty nagged at the back of her mind. Would he still be interested in plain old Emma? Shaking free of the malicious whisperings of potential failure, Emma spread her fingers across the cold, grainy surface of the monument at her side. “Okay. I’m ready. What do you want me to do?”
“Close your eyes,” Torin repeated, returning his hand atop hers.
As soon as she closed her eyes, an iridescent light show of vibrant colors exploded through her mind. Emma gasped, lost her balance and nearly fell as multi-dimensional bursts of fiery reds, searing oranges, and blinding whites hurtled past her into a tunnel of sparkling lights. She couldn’t see anything and yet she saw it all. Every retina-piercing explosion enveloped her in a blast of mind-numbing colors. A spinning sensation threatened to knock her feet out from under her. Taking care to keep her eyes tightly closed, she batted her free hand through the air and grappled the edge of the stone for support. “Torin?”
“Keep your eyes closed. The energies are merely greeting ye. They’ve waited a long time for ye to connect and seek them out.”
The soothing warmth of Torin’s breath against her cheek neutralized the panic pounding in her chest. Torin wouldn’t let anything hurt her. The heat of his hand pressing atop hers transmitted security to her brain. The firm weight of his other hand supported the small of her back. She was safe. No matter what, she needed to keep that in mind. With Torin, she was safe.
Her breathing slowed, as did the hammering of her heart. Thank goodness. Now that she didn’t feel as though she was suffocating, she’d be able to pay more attention to her surroundings. The streaming explosions of mind-boggling colors gave way to what appeared to be a velvety black carpet dusted with twinkling white lights. Emma floated into the center of the cocooning blackness pierced with a galaxy of stars. Surrounded by the winking sparks of whiteness, Emma stretched out her hands before her. The points of light showed through her flesh as though her body consisted of nothing more than a pale-pink mist. “Torin?” Her voice echoed through the space and faded off into a tinkling softness like faraway wind chimes rustling in a breeze.
“Your spirit walks. Your soul has freed itself from your body. Dinna fear it. I’m here to watch over ye and keep ye safe.” Torin’s rumbling brogue filtered through the starlit darkness like a warm caress. “Stretch your hands out in front of ye, lass. Concentrate on your fingertips. Ye’ll see they vibrate with the golden glow of a guardian. All will know ye as a mystical being and help guide ye along your way.”
Torin was right. Her fingertips glowed, luminescent and golden against the blue-black void surrounding her. When she waved her hands across the space in front of her, a stream of shimmering particles echoed her movements, trailing her hands with phosphorescent shadows. A sense of buoyancy lifted her, propelled her through the endless space as though she levitated among the stars. She’d never experienced such a breathless freedom; a shiver of excitement rippled through her.
“Come back to me now, Emma. ’Tis time ye returned so I can show ye more of our ways. Ye lack the experience and the control to tarry long among the pathways.” Torin’s voice grew louder, echoed deeper as though inhabiting every particle around her.
“I don’t know how to get back.”
“Think of the stones. The blessed stones of Tursachan Chalanais will always serve as your anchor.”
Emma visualized the circle of towering megaliths dotting the barren hillside. She remembered the sharpness of their rectangular outlines, dark and shining as they cut into the glowing horizon of the yellow-white rising moon.
“Now open your eyes.” Torin’s lips brushed the side of her face, his arms circled around her.
Emma opened her eyes. The pull of gravity, the weight of the physical world crashed against her body with rude, demanding force. Her knees folded and her lungs clenched with the sudden inrush of air as she clawed against Torin’s chest to keep from going down.
Torin scooped her up into his arms as she gasped and wheezed to catch her breath. “Breathe, Emma. Take slow deep breaths. Ye’ll be fine. Returning to the physical plane isna always pleasant.”
“You could’ve warned me.” Emma coughed and spewed, struggling to hang onto his muscular neck as she gasped in great gulps of air.
&nbs
p; Torin chuckled, cradling her closer against his chest. “The spirit walk isna the sort of thing easily described.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The loosely stacked pile of jagged gray rocks sat undisturbed where Torin had placed them. Tiny white lines of quartz embedded in the smooth limestone sparkled beneath the sun. Emma spread her fingers wide until her outstretched arms shook, staring at the squatting rocky target as though it were about to sprout fangs and attack her.
Gritting her teeth, Emma slowly bent her arms at the elbow, then lunged forward and flung out her outstretched hands as though shoving an invisible barrier away from her body. The crystals in the boulders winked in the sunlight, completely undisturbed in the untouched pile of stones. The never-ending wind gusted a pile of dried grass between Emma and her intended “victim” as a passing seabird squawked overhead.
“Dammit!”
“Ye must use yer instincts. Stop thinking so hard about what ye must do. Feel the magic. Allow the natural flow of the energy to move through ye and gain strength until yer ready to release it.”
Emma shot a fiery glance back over one shoulder. “Stop using that tone of voice with me. I am not a child nor am I stupid. Maybe you were just wrong about me. Did that ever occur to you?” Emma yanked her arms down against her body, pressing her stiff outspread fingers tight against her jeans. Her lower lip quivered across clenched teeth. The muscles of her jawline displayed her anger with an irregular tick.
Torin bit the inside of his cheek. Lore, he loved it when her temper flared. It turned her aura such a tempting shade of red. If only she could see the stubbornness of her expression. Emma reminded him of a beloved pouting child. “Emma.” Torin drew in a slow deep breath. “If I was wrong, which I never am when it comes to a guardian, how do ye explain the spirit walk?”
The slightest rumble of an irritated growl sounded low in Emma’s throat as her mouth tightened into a frustrated sneer. Her brows knotted into a vicious scowl over narrowed eyes.
Torin chewed down harder on the inside of his mouth. Perhaps ’twas a good thing Emma couldn’t quite focus her powers just yet. She surely wouldha singed his arse with the anger flashing from those eyes. “Take a deep breath and relax into the energies. You can do this. Now try it again.”
Emma scrubbed her hands over her face and curled her fingers back through her hair. Tightening the lopsided ponytail with a determined yank, she spun on one heel and turned back to frown at the unsuspecting pile of rocks.
“Now remember what I told ye—”
“Just be quiet and let me do it! I can’t do this if you keep fussing at me.”
Torin clamped his lips together, took a step back and folded his arms across his chest. Cupping his chin in one hand, he tapped the tip of his nose with his index finger. She’d never do it, not until she relaxed and felt the energy coursing through her veins. Torin sighed, dropped his hands to his waist and hooked his thumbs in the top of his kilt. This century had tainted her, taught her that everything must be explained away with purely logical reasoning. As Torin watched Emma’s frustration grow, a sense of loss weighed heavy on his heart. Poor Emma. The lass had lost touch with the wondrous feel of believing in the impossible. Torin studied the frustration etched into the lines of Emma’s scowl. Why did she fight the defensive side of the energy? She’d managed the spirit walk easily enough.
Emma stiffened her arms and aimed her tensed hands at the pile of rocks. Bending her knees and easing forward into a lunging crouch, she shook both of her stiffened hands at the boulders and roared, “Be gone!”
“Be gone?”
Emma straightened while tucking her arms back against her sides. “Well, what would you say if you wanted to make something disappear?”
Never taking his gaze from Emma’s face, Torin rendered the stones non-existent with a single flick of his wrist. “I would nay say a word. I would just make it so.”
Emma stared open-mouthed at the bare patch of ground where the pile of rocks once stood. Spinning around to face Torin, she dismissed his accomplishment with a shrug. “You know, Torin, nobody likes a smart-ass.”
Torin chuckled. Damnaigh, but he loved the way her anger colored her skin. His fingers itched to follow that rosy flush disappearing beneath her neckline. An insistent throb nudging between his legs echoed a hearty amen.
A distant tremor of grumbling thunder pulled his attention away from visions of Emma’s blushing breasts. Concentrate, man. He shook his head against the erotic daydreams. Later. Emma must master the power and the sooner he connected her with the magic the better.
Shifting his gaze to the ground, Torin’s attention focused on a fresh pile of sheep dung steaming close to his right foot. Torin sniffed. The aromatic pile of green-black pellets had to be less than an hour old. A nearby baa from just beyond the hill carried to him with the wind. Torin glanced beyond the rustling tips of the swaying grasses. He could just make out the dingy white source of the greasy pile of ovine beads. Torin stroked his thumb across his lower lip. Perhaps the sheep dung was just the answer. Emma needed to react without thinking. Come to think of it, she wasn’t particularly fond of the sheep or their pasture presents. She’d curled her nose and held her breath while giving the harmless fluffy beasts a particularly wide berth when she’d made her way to the middle of the field.
Torin glanced at Emma. She stood with her hands shoved deep in the back pockets of her jeans, scuffing the toe of her boot against a clump of dried grass. Swallowing hard, Torin decided. Emma would either find her magic in the next instant or she’d wring his neck for what he was about to do.
In one smooth motion, he dropped to a crouching position, scooped up a handful of the sheep manure and lobbed it toward Emma’s chest.
Emma’s eyes widened and her mouth flew open. Her lips shaped into a shocked O as she ripped her hands free of her back pockets. With her fingers spread wide, a pulsating light shot out from their tips and exploded the flying glob of sheep pellets into a cloud of greenish mist.
“Have you lost your mind?” Emma whirled on Torin, hands still raised and her eyes flashing with righteous fire. “I can’t believe you just threw a pile of sheep shit at me.”
“How did it feel, Emma?” Torin countered, widening his stance as he forced the smile tickling across his lips back into submission. He best take care. As angry as Emma was right now, she might open fire at him.
“It felt…” Emma swallowed hard, shuffled her feet and looked everywhere on the hillside except at Torin’s face. “It felt pretty freakin’ awesome.” One corner of her mouth twitched up and down as though Emma fought against a prideful grin. “But that’s no excuse. You could’ve found some other way to show me. What if I hadn’t figured it out in time?”
“Then yer lovely white top wouldha been splattered green with sheep shit.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Do you mind if I ask you something?”
Torin tensed at the ominous echo in her voice. He thought she’d finally relaxed enough to sleep. The gentle rhythm of her breathing had been a steady whisper brushing across his skin. Staring up into the darkness, he tightened his arm around her and barely tickled his fingertips along her bare thigh. “What would ye ask me, Emma?”
“Your scars, the severe ones, was it a clan battle or something different—something from the other side?” Emma snuggled closer, making it increasingly difficult for him to think with her warm, firm breasts pressed against his side.
Thank the gods. The lass was only curious about the eternal reminders of his battles. Blowing out a relieved breath, Torin traced his fingers across the raised pattern of the widest scar running across the center of his chest. “A distant sister to the goddess needed my help destroying a deranged beast.” Torin flinched as the memory of the searing pain tingled across the taut raised line of flesh puckered across his skin.
Emma’s silence weighed heavily through the darkness. Torin sensed her mind whirring at lightning speed. Uneasiness writhed through his gu
t. By the holy goddess, what would the woman ask next?
“What kind of a deranged beast?”
As long as Emma concentrated on his battles as a guardian, her questions caused no pain. A growing furor of dread clamored louder in his mind. What if she asks about life as clan chieftain? Torin hugged her closer, snuffing out the voices of doubt with the touch of her velvet skin. “‘Twas a hybrid. An unholy mix of a sacred race and a mortal sorcerer from another world. The result was an amazingly powerful beast but he was insane and intent on destruction. The abomination escaped its mother and made its way through the gateway into our reality. The goddess needed my help capturing the beast so the mother could strike the killing blow.”
“The mother killed it?” Emma raised herself up on one elbow and peered down into his face. A shocked expression glimmered across her pale skin set aglow by the bit of moonlight streaming in the window.
Torin brushed the back of his fingers along the curve of her cheek, willing her to understand. “Aye, Emma. The mother had to kill the beast. The creature was part Draecna. They can only be slain by their own kind.”
“So the goddess sent you after a monster she knew you couldn’t kill?” The dark outline of Emma’s brows against the whiteness of her skin arched to her hairline. Fire flashed from her eyes, betraying the chaos of emotions whirling through her mind.
Her protective indignation warmed through him like a sweet, welcomed tonic. His heart melted at the shadows of concern dancing across her face. She cared for him. If he’d doubted she’d ever be willing to accept him, he didn’t doubt it anymore. “When the goddess calls ye to save the world, ye dinna have much of a choice.”
Stone Guardian Page 17