Her arms stretched for balance like a circus performer, Hannah picked her way faster through the protruding clusters of rock. Centuries of wind and waves pounding against the volcanic land mass had beaten the shores of the cliff to razor sharpness. In her haste, she slid, scraping her shin but catching herself before she tumbled headlong into a deep fissure yawning into inky blackness.
“Hannah!”
Well, so much for him not seeing her. Hannah picked up a loose stone and aimed for the direction of Taggart’s voice. Maybe she could scare him off as if he were a stray dog. As she drew back, she fell off balance and stumbled on the brittle stones.
He closed his hand over hers and curled an arm around her waist. “Now, that’s no’ verra nice. Ye could put out my eye by throwing such a sharp stone. Then how would I protect ye from all the evils of the worlds?”
Hannah blinked and almost lost her footing again. How the heck did he appear at her side when just a moment ago, he’d stood at the top of the cliff? Clutching at his arm, she pushed off his chest and peered down into the abyss below. Suddenly losing the ability to breathe, Hannah fought against the tightness crushing her chest. She would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught her. Irritation flared through her body. Of course, she wouldn’t have stumbled in the first place if he hadn’t appeared out of thin air. “How?” She glanced back up the cliff where he’d stood but a few seconds ago. She fixed him with a suspicious glare, tightening her fist around the rock she still held in her hand. “I thought you said your only magic was healing, not zapping across distances at super speeds.”
Taggart chuckled, pulling her closer while edging them to a smoother patch of ground. “I never said healing was my only magic. I just told ye I could heal.”
“You ...” Hannah licked her lips, her mouth suddenly very dry. The caress of his heartbeat tickled against her breasts. Her traitorous nipples tightened, straining toward him. Rebellious desire battled with her common sense. She wished he’d press her closer. No. I’m not going down that road again. She pushed against his chest. “You can let me go now. I won’t throw the rock and I’m sure I’ve got my balance.”
“Are ye certain, Hannah?” Taggart smoothed his hand up the middle of her back, pulling her closer as though he’d read her mind.
Damn his eyes. Hannah cursed their intense blue depths that fluctuated whenever he spoke. Hypnotic eyes ordered her to let him in, mesmerizing her into melting wherever he touched her.
The rock slipped out of her hand and she raised her fingertips to stroke the stubble of his jaw. “No.”
“No?” Taggart trailed his hand along her arm and laced his fingers into her hair.
“Don’t let me go,” she whispered against his mouth while leaning her body into his. A gust of wind shoved against her back as though urging her to complete the kiss. Icy spray peppered across her body, but only heat surged through her veins. She opened to him. It had been too long. He tasted of ale, fresh air, and the sea. Hannah molded her body tight against the hardened length of him. Dear God, she risked bursting into flames.
“Hannah.” Taggart pulled away, his breath ragged as he mouthed the corner of her lips. He curled his fingers deep into her hair. With a groan, he delved into her mouth with his tongue. He pulled her closer, the softness of her body tantalizing him. He smelled the fragrance of his home world’s orchids lingering in her hair. The aroma triggered visions of Hannah sprawled across the perfumed pillows of her Draecna bed. This was madness. He deepened the kiss. He scented Hannah’s need pulsating through her body; her senses called out to him. The caves. The mineral springs heating the nursery. He could take her to the seclusion of the caves. Damn the tenets. He would have her. To hell with the Guild of Barac’Nairn, his monstrous ancestry, and his past. She belonged to him.
With a groan, Taggart tore his mouth away from hers, shuddering as he lifted his head. Cradling Hannah’s face between his hands, he traced his thumb across the softness of her lips. “Do ye trust me, Hannah?”
With a silent nod, Hannah snuggled tighter against him as she slid her hands up his back underneath his leather coat.
“Close your eyes then,” he whispered. He couldn’t believe he dared risk it. But she had to know before. He wanted her so badly his entire being ached, but he wouldn’t deceive her, not his Hannah. He’d danced around the truth long enough.
He tucked her head under his chin and cradled her to his chest. God’s beard, he hoped he’d become enough for her. He prayed she wouldn’t run screaming back across the Atlantic. With a great shaking breath, Taggart reached deep inside and removed the barriers blocking his Draecna form from the physical world. As the barricade came down, every fiber of his body burned as though acid pumped through his veins.
As his body tensed, Taggart concentrated on not crushing Hannah in his arms. The metamorphosis to his natural form pained through his tissues like lightning splitting the air. He grimaced as wings erupted from his back and unfurled to the rising wind. He shifted as the ledge started crumbling beneath them. It was now too small to hold them.
Hannah opened her eyes and screamed.
Taggart’s already muscular body increased tenfold and sheathed itself in dark, iridescent scale-like armor. He shimmered a mesmerizing purple-black, depending on how the rays of sunlight hit him. His hands armed themselves with retractable, razor-sharp claws. His black leathered wings spanned out behind him as though he were a minion straight from Hell. Horns of blackest obsidian sprouted out of his forehead, glistening as though buffed to a high sheen and silver-tipped at the end of their long curved points. He retained the body shape of a well-muscled man, just amplified with Draecna attributes. Disbelief tore Hannah’s breath from her body as she squeezed her eyes shut, then reopened them. All Taggart missed was a Draecna tail on his deliciously defined derrière.
“Hannah, it’s still me. I will never hurt ye.” Taggart held out a clawed hand, a pleading look reflecting in his icy blue eyes.
Hannah winced, curled her hands to her chest, and tried to back away. This thing sounded like Taggart, even though the voice resonated much deeper and echoed as though coming from the center of the earth. What in the world had he become? Magic was one thing, but she’d never expected this demon thing standing before her.
“Please, Hannah. Look into my eyes. My eyes are the one thing about me that will never change, no matter what my form.” Taggart let his hand drop and waited, his wings folded against his back as he spoke.
She peered closer. “But, how is this possible? Why ... what exactly are you?” Hannah whispered, struggling to find her voice. She wrapped her arms around her body, hugging tight to keep from collapsing. A raging shiver, a sudden chill not caused by the blustering wind, shook her body. What she wouldn’t give to be back in Jasper Mills. Why had she ever followed him to Scotland?
With a sidelong glance at the darkening sky, Taggart exhaled a great, rumbling groan as he unfurled his wings and held out his hand. “A storm is coming. Let me take ye to the caves. I will try to explain everything there.”
Hannah clutched her hands about her throat and glanced first at Taggart’s wingspan and then the size of his outstretched hand. She could fit her entire ass in that hand and still have room to spare. Her heartbeat out-pounded the crashing waves battering the rocks below. Breathe, Hannah, before you pass out.
“Please, Hannah. Please try and trust me.” Taggart’s voice lowered to a throaty whisper; the pain in his eyes begged her to give him a chance.
She moved her lips, but no sound came out. Then she coughed and tried again. “I ... I will try.” She edged closer to him, touched the tips of her fingers to his palm, and flinched. She couldn’t help it. His new form made him look as though he was about to rip her to shreds.
Taggart remained motionless. He held open his hand. His corded tendons rippled as his muscles tensed while Hannah stared at his outstretched arm. She edged her hand deeper into his waiting hand and exhaled when she realized she’d held her breath. The feel of hi
s hand wasn’t that much different in this strange new form he’d taken. His palm scraped a bit to her touch; still warm, leathery, and maybe just a bit tougher, sort of like a tortoise shell, but still similar to a human’s touch. A bit strange, not what she’d expected. “I thought you’d be cold.”
That observation elicited a bitter laugh from his armored chest. “I’m not a reptile, Hannah. I am still just as warm-blooded as you.”
“I didn’t mean ... what I meant was ...” Hannah stammered when she saw the hurt flash in Taggart’s eyes. Her heart wrenched as she realized the depths of his pain. So this was Taggart’s secret, one of humiliation and pain. He’d been an outcast because of his Draecna heritage. “Taggart, I am so sorry.”
“Do not pity me, Hannah.”
With a curt nod, he scooped her into his arms, cradled her against his armored chest, and launched them both into the sky.
A myriad of caves honeycombed the land of Taroc Na Mor, hiding the location of the sacred nurseries. Several entrances dotted about the estate, all well hidden and guarded by mystical wards and trusted members of the Guild of Barac’Nairn.
Taggart touched down on a narrow strip of beach littered with weather-stained bones and debris. The tide was in and there was barely enough room to stand in front of what appeared to be a sheer wall of impenetrable rock bleached white by years of exposure to nature’s abuse.
Hannah pulled her collar higher about her face and glanced up into the black, thunderous sky. She’d kept her eyes squeezed shut while Taggart flew them the short distance around the tip of the cliff. Flying in an airplane was one thing. Hang gliding in the arms of a winged creature was a little more then she’d ever imagined.
A gust of wind yanked at her body, nearly jerking her off her feet. She grabbed at Taggart’s wing to keep from toppling into the chopping waves below. Taggart curled the leathery shield of his wing around her and waved a hand over a shimmering obelisk imbedded in the face of the sheer wall.
“Greetings, honored prince. Greetings, honored Guardian. Is it time for the clutch to be released?” The faint outline of an extraordinarily tall, wispy man appeared on the rock wall, his features elongated and wavering with the wind.
Taggart nodded. “Greetings, Luthor. No. Not at this time. We only wish to view the nursery, please.”
Hannah shivered, peeping out from the protection of Taggart’s leathery wing. What the heck was Luthor? A glance around her feet took in all the scattered bones. She swallowed hard against the bile burning at the back of her throat. Some of those looked like human bones. She pressed closer against Taggart’s side and tightened her arm around his waist.
A rumbling sound interrupted the hysteria hammering inside her head and the rock wall in front of them shuddered and began to shift. As Hannah watched, what she thought was a fissure in the impenetrable rock wall widened into a dark, yawning entrance.
“Thank you, Luthor. Please close it behind us. When we’ve finished viewing the clutch, we’ll leave through the internal passage and go up to the castle.” Taggart nodded his thanks to the transparent man as he pressed Hannah toward the opening in the wall.
“As ye wish, my prince. I am here to serve.” Then Luthor disappeared into the mottled surface of the limestone cliff.
As Hannah slid through the opening of the cave, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. “Why did he keep calling you prince?” she whispered with a shiver against the damp air of the cave. She wrinkled her nose against the wet, earthy smell. She’d never liked close places.
“Luthor is one of my oldest followers. He found it difficult. . . still finds it difficult to accept the fact that my father left the House of Cair Orlandis and the rule of Erastaed to my younger brother, Sloan.” Taggart waved his hand at the unlit torches along the walls, causing them to erupt with flames.
Hannah turned in a slow circle, blinded by all the blazing torches. “I see.” What other secrets had Taggart been hiding? She turned back to Taggart, now standing before her in his handsome, human form. “So, is your brother like you?”
Sending a bitter laugh echoing through the dripping rocks of the cavern, Taggart shook his head. “No, Hannah. Why do ye think my father selected him? I am the last of my kind.”
Hannah flinched at the acidic spike in Taggart’s voice. His bitterness oozed like a raw, open sore, tainting the air between them. “Taggart, I’m so sorry. But I’m a bit confused. How can you be what you are and then your brother not. Dammit! I’m trying to figure this out without hurting your feelings!” She wished she could reel back her words. It seemed like the more she babbled, the darker the pain flashed from the depths of his eyes.
“My dear sweet Hannah.” Taggart chuckled as he nodded toward a pile of large, rounded stones for her to have a seat. “Ye’re the only soul I’ve met in over seven hundred years who has truly given a damn about my feelings. Have a seat and I’ll try to explain exactly how my dysfunctional family tree is laid out.”
Hannah perched on the edge of the flat rock shelf. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she waited for Taggart to begin his tale. Poor Taggart. She noticed he always paced whenever he fretted, as though it enabled him to speak. If he didn’t stop soon and begin talking, he’d have a trench pounded waist-deep in the damp loam of the cave.
“Not only was my father the ruler of Cair Orlandis—” Taggart paused, inhaling a deep, groaning breath as he rounded another lap of the cave. “He was a time-traveling, sorcering, scheming bastard who always looked for ways to use the universe for his own selfish means.”
Hannah bit her lip and held her tongue. Wow. Surely the story could only go up from here.
As Taggart paced, he locked his hands behind his back, stared at the ground, and kicked a few stones from his path. Hannah’s heart hitched a sympathetic double-clutch as Taggart walked out his demons. Her body tensed as Taggart’s face strained with the effort of laying out his painful memories to the light of day.
“Some would say my father was a handsome man. And there have been several historical references of female Draecna enamored with humans. However, these feeling are usually not returned and these Draecna learned to put their unrequited loves aside.” Taggart paused; a thunderous scowl darkened his face as he raked a hand through his black, windblown hair. “But my father was also a powerful sorcerer; he decided to con a young Draecna female into giving him children. He couldn’t charm any of the Draecna of this century into giving him young. They wisely feared the insanity of the magical beings that would result from a mixture of Draecna DNA and my father’s tainted blood. So, my father traveled back in time and found a young unsuspecting female. He found my mother, Isla.”
Taggart’s words caught her off guard. Shifting on her cold, hard perch, Hannah couldn’t help but interrupt. “Taggart, you said children, but you said your brother isn’t like you. I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand.” Hannah rubbed her temples. She was having trouble keeping up. He’d sprung so many surprises on her lately; she wanted to get this one straight. She wished she could write it down.
With a heavy sigh, Taggart shook his head and turned another lap in his circle. “Sloan has a human mother. He is my half brother and is only thirty years old. Sloan is from this century and has very little magic flowing through his blood. But dinna make the mistake of underestimating him; he is quite capable of basic elemental magic.”
“Then where are your other siblings?” Hannah stood and rubbed the feeling back into her rear. Enough of that chilled, damp seat. She knew she remembered him saying his father conned Isla into giving him children. Taggart had spoken as though he had siblings.
Taggart fixed Hannah with a look that chilled her to the bone more than the stones of the cave. “They are dead, Hannah. I am the only one left. My mother killed them all.”
Hannah’s hands flew to her pounding chest. “What? What do you mean she killed them? Why?” She struggled against the nauseating bile rushing to gag her.
Taggart’s jaw rippled as he cl
enched his teeth; the pain in his eyes begged her to understand. “They were insane, Hannah. They were a danger to themselves and any world they happened to enter. The strength of their powers required a great deal of responsibility and they had no conscience at all. Mother tried guiding them, but when they refused to change, she made the only choice she could. That is why Mother is now a goddess among the Draecna. Her unselfish sacrifice to the race and the worlds has been deemed truly great.”
Hannah swallowed against the lump of emotions knotted in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. Draecna or not, the poor female had to kill her own babies to save the worlds from their cruel insanity. “How many?” Hannah choked on her whisper. “How many did she have to kill?” She almost couldn’t speak the words. She couldn’t fathom what Taggart’s mother had endured.
Taggart stopped pacing. A barely discernable shrug rippled across his shoulders as he stared at his feet. “There were seven of us in the clutch. I am the only one left.”
“Where is your mother now?” Hannah edged closer across the sand-covered floor. The echo of the wind howled through the cavern, magnifying the loneliness of Taggart’s life.
With a hollow laugh, Taggart stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ye never quite know where or when Mother is going to show up. She has a habit of popping up when ye least expect her.”
“Oh, so surprise tends to run in the family?” Hannah gently teased as she veered from the mouth of the cave and turned toward the rear of the cavern, heading for one of the darker tunnels. She sensed Taggart didn’t want closeness right now. He’d shut down on her. If anyone understood needing a bit of distance, she certainly did. With a shuddering sigh, she hugged herself. Perhaps a bit of distance would be better for them both. Besides, what would an emotional wreck like her know about helping an isolated soul like him?
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