Eternity's Mark

by Maeve Greyson

  As he settled onto the couch beside her, Taggart slipped her book to the floor. Stroking the curve of her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he whispered, “God, I feared I’d lost ye again.”

  With a sigh, Hannah closed her eyes and turned her face into his palm. “I was a little worried there myself for a bit. But we’re together now and that’s all that really matters. I’m sorry it took me a while to realize it.”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah.” Taggart took her face in both his hands. “I’m so verra sorry I destroyed the gateway.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Hannah whispered. “All that matters is that I’m here with you.”

  “Do ye truly mean that, Hannah? With all your heart? I would never wish for ye to be unhappy.” Taggart searched her eyes and held his breath, waiting to hear her answer.

  “I promise with all my heart.”

  Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers as though they were delicate petals of a cherished rose. With a choking whisper, he placed a golden chain around her neck and kissed the closed lids of both her eyes. “I made this for ye, Hannah, as a small token of my love.”

  Hannah opened her eyes, looked down, and gasped. At the end of the golden chain was a carved locket reflecting every color of the rainbow. The oval-shaped structure of the locket itself consisted of gold with panels of polished shell refracting iridescent like abalone shell.

  “Open it.” Taggart nodded at Hannah’s questioning look.

  Hannah undid the intricate gold clasp, gasping again as soon as she opened the locket. With the power of his magic, Taggart had burnished Hannah’s image into one side of the oval and his own into the other.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered and caught her breath as the images shimmered to life and joined in an impassioned kiss. “How?” She raised her eyes to Taggart as the images separated and became inanimate once more.

  With a grin, Taggart cupped her hands between his own and closed the locket between them. “Ye canna expect me to reveal all my secrets just yet, my love. Ye have your whole lifetime to ferret them out. Is it to your liking?”

  “It’s wondrous,” Hannah sighed. Snuggling closer, she smoothed her hands up his throat and opened her mouth to his.

  “Aye, now that’s more like it,” Taggart rumbled as he settled into the kiss. God’s beard, she tasted better than before. Had her mouth been this wondrous last time? His mind flashed back to the other talented uses of her lips and tongue. With a groan, he smoothed her wrap down from her shoulders.

  “OUCH!”

  An electrostatic shock zapped the palms of his hands. Blue sparks crackled and popped in the air between them.

  “What the hell was that?” Hannah rubbed her shoulders and glared at Taggart as though he’d just slapped her.

  Working his hands as though he’d just singed his fingertips on a red-hot brand, Taggart shrugged as he fluttered his hands. “Son of a bitch! It’s no’ that cold in here and that’s a silk wrap. I would no’ have thought I’d have built up that much static electricity by walking across this floor.” Damn, if she hadn’t stung his fingers as though he’d touched an electrical grid.

  “That was a heck of a lot more than any static electric jolt I’ve ever gotten,” Hannah muttered as she twisted to eye the red marks on her shoulders.

  Pulling her close, Taggart grinned. “Here, I’ll kiss them and make them better.”

  As soon as his lips touched her skin, fiery sparks repeated, and Taggart jolted backward rubbing his mouth. “Dammit to hell!” His lips burned as though he’d kissed a fiery poker.

  “Okay, that’s it. You stay at that end of the couch.” Hannah shook a warning finger in his direction as she tightened her wrap around her throat.

  “Mother!” Taggart roared. “Show yourself. I know this has to be your doing.”

  Glittering gold dust filtered down from the crystal ceiling and formed a curtain with the image of the Goddess Isla’s face. “Did ye call me, my son?”

  “Ye know damn good and well I called ye, Mother. What spell have ye cast on me so that I canna even touch my mate?”

  “There will be no more pleasuring of one another until after the joining ceremony. It is not considered proper.” Isla fixed both Taggart and Hannah with a look as though they’d both been caught sneaking in after curfew.

  “Mother, I am over seven hundred years old. I have already marked Hannah as my mate and it’s no’ like this is the first time we’ve known the pleasure of one another’s charms.” Taggart risked a glance at Hannah’s face and couldn’t decide if her face burned that decided hue of red because she was embarrassed or because she was about to burst out laughing. His mother wasn’t being reasonable. And Septamus wondered why Taggart hadn’t returned home in over three hundred years? Septamus didn’t have a mother like Isla!

  “This is not negotiable, Taggart. Ye will not know the rapture of Hannah’s flesh again until after the union is blessed.” The golden curtain shimmered and Isla gave a haughty sniff as though daring her son to challenge her. “Now, bid Hannah good night so she may return to her reading. Gilda waits in the hall to show ye to the new chambers ye will use until after the ceremony.”

  With a growl, Taggart swiped his arm through the golden curtain and scattered Isla’s image into the air. “I canna believe she’s cast a spell of celibacy upon us! Of all the controlling, manipulative, scheming—”

  “Taggart,” Hannah interrupted with a giggle. “It’s not going to be that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” Taggart roared as he grabbed her to his chest. “Woman, I needed to make love to ye until the sun crests over the horizon!”

  “Take care, my hot-blooded Taser. You’re gonna get us zapped again.” Hannah wriggled out of his arms, cringing as she skipped away before the next electrical shock hit.

  “The spell will only zap us if it senses we are attempting to go too far. It allows us minimal physical contact.”

  His mother had pressed her limits too far this time. As soon as they’d freed Erastaed from Sloan, he’d make sure it was another three hundred years before she laid eyes on his hybrid arse again. Which reminded him, he needed to speak to Esme about blessing Hannah with immortality.

  “By the way, how do ye feel about growing old?” Rubbing his chin, Taggart circled Hannah, pretending to eye her body up and down. He needed her to crave immortality. He couldn’t bear the thought of watching Hannah die and leave him behind. If Hannah didn’t accept the concept willingly, Esme’s blessing wouldn’t take hold.

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed into a pair of suspicious green slits. “Well, you certainly veered off onto a different subject.” Pulling the belt on her silken wrap, she turned and faced Taggart while he circled her. “Growing old doesn’t bother me. A lot of people never get the chance.”

  That’s not what he wanted to hear. Why couldn’t she be one of those vain women who were terrified of growing old? “But as a human, Hannah, your life is so short. Do ye not often feel cheated by the lack of years ye’ve been given?” Maybe that was the route to take, not growing old but the fact that she didn’t have as much time as he did.

  Hannah’s eyes darkened as she stared off into space and an intense sadness filled her face. “Not so much cheated. I feel like I’ve wasted time I’ve been given because by the time I’ve finally figured things out, it seems like I’ve frittered away my very best years.”

  “If ye had an endless supply of years, or at least what seemed like an endless supply added to your lifespan, then I doubt I’d see the sorrow and remorse for wasted time shining in your eyes.” Taggart ignored the stab of guilt gnawing at his gut. He’d stirred her painful memories with his query. He avoided the directness of her gaze.

  “What are you getting at, Taggart?” Hannah sighed as she bent to scoop her book off the pile of pillows beside the couch.

  As Hannah bent, she treated him to an unhindered view down her décolleté to her luscious, forbidden breasts. Taggart groaned as his groin tightened with a lust-fil
led throb. Dammit, Mother, I will see to it that you never lay eyes upon your grandchildren. Scrubbing his face, he shifted his stance to adjust his leather breeches. “Esme has the power to grant ye immortality so the years of your life mirror mine.”

  Hannah hugged the leather-bound book to her chest, clutching it as though it were a life preserver helping her stay afloat. She curled her brightly painted toes into the plush carpeting as she stood slightly weaving to and fro. “You’re saying Esme could hocus-pocus some sort of spell over me and then I would live forever?”

  Taggart took a deep breath and edged a step closer, taking care to keep his voice to a low rumbling purr. Careful, lad, choose your words well or she’ll bolt. She’s barely nibbling at the bait. “All Draecna females are born with the Fire of Immortality. If Esme so chooses and you choose to accept, ye can increase your lifespan by thousands of years.”

  Hannah curled her toes tighter into the loops of the rug and bit her lower lip. Tucking the book under her chin, she repeated, “Thousands of years?”

  Taggart held his breath. He wanted to shout, “Say yes!” but he held his tongue. What was there to decide? She’d be with him. Isn’t that all that mattered?

  Tapping her thumbs on the cover of the book she hugged against her chest, Hannah eased closer to the hearth to stare down into the fire. “What exactly does this Fire of Immortality entail? Besides a longer life, I mean.”

  The tightness in his chest gradually uncoiled as Taggart heard acceptance in Hannah’s voice. With her curiosity piqued, she’d only move forward. He could tell by the lift at the end of her words and the shift in the hue of her aura. She warmed to the idea even now. He blew out his breath and realized he’d been holding it, waiting for her reply.

  “’Tis just a small rite. Quite painless. We can add it to our joining ceremony.” Brushing her hair back from her neck, he risked nuzzling the silk of her throat. “Then nothing can ever part us, Hannah. We’ll be together for all time.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Isla’s stronghold, the Crystal Caverns.” Sloan traced his fingertips around the top of his wineglass as he stared into the swirling ruby liquid. “So obvious. So bloody, bloody obvious. We should’ve known they’d go there from the beginning.” He wrapped his fingers around the bowl of the goblet and crushed the glass in his hand.

  Corter cringed, shifted back a step, and widened his stance on the elaborate Turkish carpet. “He waits outside for your orders. He said the ceremony is to be held in three days’ time.”

  “Three days,” Sloan repeated as he plucked out the shards of glass embedded in his hand. Three days gave him plenty of time to plot the perfect revenge. As he licked at the blood streaming down his wrist, he savored the copper, salted tang. His brother’s blood would taste the same after Sloan ripped him open with his own dagger. “Tell him to listen and relay any more news. Tell him he has done well. Give him his usual payment. In fact, Corter, pay him double.”

  “Double?” Corter’s mottled face darkened into a frustrated scowl. “Do ye know how scarce virgins are these days? And ’tis no’ like he uses them for pleasure. He just eats them, ye do realize that?”

  “I don’t give a damn what he does with them. It’s his payment. Their bodies are none of my concern.” Sloan rose from his settee, wrapped his hand in a silk handkerchief, and tucked the ends into his sleeve.

  “In three days’ time, balance will be returned.” Sloan strolled about the room, wandering around the collapsed columns and blown-away walls still left from Taggart’s attack. Revenge against his brother would truly be sweet when he held Hannah’s dripping heart in front of Taggart’s face and took a slow, succulent bite.

  William snickered as Taggart entered the room.

  Septamus arched a brow and glanced first at Taggart, then back to William, who stood with several of the young Draecna hatchlings.

  Stalking to the front of the training room, Taggart homed in on William. His lips tightened as he contemplated the irreverent hatchling. “William!” he thundered. His voice echoed off the crystals imbedded in the walls and rattled the torches on their hooks. “Step forward and explain the Eleven Tenets of the Draecna Elders of Barac’-Nairn.”

  William’s horns sagged and his wings drooped as he shuffled to the front of the cavernous room. The rest of the young hatchlings stood tall and silent, their iridescent eyes narrowed into sidling glances toward one another. They lined up, eased back a step, and locked their front claws behind their backs.

  William turned, faced his peers, and assumed their stance even though he was half their size. With a sheepish glance at Taggart, then one at Septamus, he squinted one eye closed and mumbled. “The first tenet says—”

  “William! Ye will explain the texts with proper etiquette and format. Begin again.” Taggart loomed over the young Draecna, circling around him until the youngster’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  William dropped his head. “I cannot,” he whispered. “Forgive me. I am so ashamed.”

  “Then I suggest ye concentrate on learning your lessons rather than mocking your elders.” Taggart jerked his head toward the rear of the cavern. “Find your place in the back of the training room.”

  William shuffled to the farthest corner of the classroom, his Draecna scales shimmering to a brilliant hue of embarrassed pink.

  “Well done,” Septamus murmured. “Ye’ve grown nearly as fearsome as me.”

  “Hmm.” Taggart grunted as he watched William skulk to the back corner of the room. He didn’t like shaming the lad in front of the others, but with the war, disrespect could not be tolerated. Everyone knew Hannah favored William because Hannah had discovered him first and the boy was the only hatchling allowed to mature at a natural rate. He’d not melded with Taggart. William remained an innocent youngster. The lad was more or less Hannah’s baby and she’d spoiled him rotten. Taggart had to bring him under control before they engaged in full battle. William’s life could depend upon it.

  With a glance at Septamus, Taggart inhaled a ragged breath. “Any word on whether Sloan has advanced?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he returned his attention to the group still standing tall with their feet spread. They looked good. Strong. Well-trained. But the only direct confrontation they’d had so far had been the breakout at Tiersa Deun. The young Draecna had done well. Not a single hatchling had been lost. But freeing Erastaed from Sloan’s rule would be a different battle altogether. Sloan would expect them and be prepared; his claws would be fully unsheathed.

  Septamus cleared his throat and leaned closer to Taggart. “More provinces have been destroyed. Nearly a third of Erastaed lies in ruins. The villagers ...” Septamus exhaled a pained sigh. “He’s truly slipped off into madness, Taggart, worse than ever before. We must take a stand soon or there won’t be any Erastaedians to save. The cruelty of the bastard.” Septamus shook his head. “Are ye quite sure you and Sloan share a bloodline?”

  Taggart shrugged. “Perhaps I’m a throwback or maybe I’m the one who’s insane. My heart tends to rule more than my head. Mother had to destroy all the siblings of my clutch. Perhaps she missed and destroyed the wrong one.”

  Septamus shuddered. “I remember your siblings. I had to help your mother hunt them down. Trust me, Taggart—you’re not the one who’s insane. The truth of your heart is a boon.”

  Looking over the room at all the young Draecna still standing proud, Taggart swallowed hard. He didn’t want to lead them to their deaths, but Erastaed cried out for a cleansing. Curling his hands into fists, Taggart gave the group a curt nod as his voice echoed across the room. “I am proud of each and every one of ye. Your dedication is beyond compare. Ye not only saved the guardian from her death but ye saved my beloved mate. Tomorrow, Hannah will accept the Fire of Immortality and our blessing rite will complete our joining.” Taggart took in the dedication shining in their eyes, his heart swelling at the electrifying bond of trust pulsing through the room. “If not for your strength and protec
tion, tomorrow wouldna be possible. Ye have my eternal gratitude. And once we free the world of Erastaed, the people will be grateful to ye as well. Never forget the sacred honor of the Draecna race. Always take pride in your heritage.”

  As a group, the young hatchlings raised their snouts and filled the ceiling of the cavern with brilliant flames.

  Taggart raised his hands, clapping them together with a sharp report. “Warriors!” Taggart clapped once more. “After the ceremony, we will declare full war.” As the Draecna warriors raised their muzzles to blast their flames again, Taggart lifted his hands for silence. “More Draecna have joined us from the farthest reaches of Erastaed. The mercenaries of Ruarke and the assassins of Glenoc Mur are also counted as our allies. Our numbers are great enough to flank Sloan on every side. After tomorrow, we will seize control. Erastaed will know freedom from Sloan’s bloody reign before the next double moon.”

  “Oh, it’s absolutely beautiful,” Hannah breathed. She twisted and turned in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the gown Isla had sent to her chambers. The white satin framed her bare shoulders. The heart-shaped neckline accentuated her throat and the corseted bodice uplifted her bosoms. Seed pearls and crystals sparkled across the length of material wrapped around her waist. Layers of silk and chiffon swirled like veils around her hips and whispered down to the floor. Shimmering white ribbons strung with more diamonds and pearls trailed from the back, creating an eye-catching train.

  Hannah fingered the locket hanging at her throat and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Who would’ve thought? Gilda stood behind her fussing with her hair, using both claws and the tip of her tail to adjust all the curls. Hannah stifled a giggle. Molly the hairdresser back at Jasper Mills always wished she had an extra set of hands.

  “Is something wrong?” Gilda asked, pausing with the tip of her tail wrapped in a strand of Hannah’s hair.