He looked away, as if he couldn’t meet her gaze. “Me. You. A night with us.”
She blinked rapidly, not sure she’d heard him correctly. This beat the bombshell about the note and the necklace all to hell. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? I’m supposed to be some kind of ritual sex sacrifice for this guy?”
Nodding slowly, he finally met her eyes. “I’ll be with you.”
“So, a threesome, then?”
He nodded again and pinned her with his gaze. “Before you came back—before I held you in my arms again—I thought I could handle sharing you. But now…”
Hadn’t she just wondered what it would be like with two guys? She couldn’t deny the way her pussy clenched with need at the thought. If Kieran slipped his hand inside her panties, he’d find them drenched. She pushed her longing away. She didn’t want anyone but Kieran. But he’d be with you the little voice in her head whispered. “What happens if I say no?” she asked.
An expression of utter misery crossed his face. “Then I’d have to leave you.”
“You’d dump me for not doing your long lost relative?” Anger made her voice sharp.
“No! God, no!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly. “I wouldn’t go because I wanted to. I’d be banished from the mortal realm.”
A chunk of ice dropped into her stomach and it hurt to breathe.
“I wanted to follow you back to Michigan—more than anything, but he laid a geis on me after you left. He cursed me to remain here until you returned.”
She fought the impulse to wrap her arms around his neck. “Did he hurt you?” she demanded.
A hard, short laugh shook his body. “Only when I tried to get to you.”
Conflicting urges warred within her. She wanted to believe Kieran, but it all sounded like something out of a fairytale. Or the ravings of a lunatic.
After everything that had happened today, she couldn’t believe she was adding contemplating a ménage to the list.
“This is…I don’t know Kieran. I need to think.”
Chapter Three
Beckett stood in the centre of a seven-pointed star within a circle in a grove of hawthorn trees and contemplated her sanity—or the serious lack thereof. Why in the hell had she let Tara talk her into this? Her friend had promised her that everything would be okay, but as the sounds of chanting and drumming grew louder, she wondered about Tara’s definition of the word.
Peering at the people who surrounded the circle, she looked for Kieran. Supposedly he was here—unless this was just an elaborate joke at her expense. She didn’t recognise anyone other than her so-called friend. Of course, everyone wore hooded brown cloaks, making identification impossible. She tried to focus on the people and the words flowing around her. Maybe, if she could make sense of what they were saying, she could figure out exactly what to expect—other than a threesome with Kieran and the King of the Sidhe. Sighing, she realised they chanted in Gaelic. While she might know a few words and phrases, it wasn’t enough to get the details she needed.
She wasn’t sure when she started buying into the idea that faeries actually existed. She wasn’t even sure she really had, but Tara had convinced her that Kieran needed her. So here she was—feeling like a freaking idiot. She shifted uncomfortably in the white, silky dress her friend had been adamant she wear. She was so not a dress person, but Tara had insisted that the king preferred a whole lot of pomp with his circumstance.
She’d also confessed that she’d participated in the ritual herself, a few years earlier. She’d insisted that Beckett wouldn’t regret it, but that ship was about ready to sail. Regret loomed large on the horizon. Beckett wrapped her arms around herself and forced a sense of calmness she was far from feeling.
Squinting, she searched the crowd for Kieran, willing him to appear. Over the last few days, she’d realised he was worth the risk to her heart. She’d never stopped loving him. The time and distance spent apart hadn’t done anything other than to make them both miserable. Protecting herself from the possibility of problems that had no basis in reality made no sense. A guy who stayed faithful for five years with no encouragement from her wasn’t going to abandon her when things got difficult. He was in it for the long haul and so was she.
The realisation didn’t make her any less nervous when she thought about what would soon happen. As she looked again for Kieran, the figure of the star traced into the ground at her feet began to glow with an unearthly blue light, pulsing in time to the rhythm of the drums. Fear slipped like ice through her veins as the colour grew brighter. Panicking, she tried to cross the glowing line, but an invisible wall stopped her, making her skin tingle. This wasn’t possible. Her palms grew clammy and her breathing accelerated. The scent of heather and warm, country air filled her nostrils. From the corner of her eye, she saw the people around the circle join hands.
Sure, Kieran and Tara had said faeries and magic existed, but until right this minute she hadn’t entirely believe either of them. Now, however, she was willing to consider it. Turning, she pounded her fists against the unseen barrier that surrounded her.
“Kieran,” she called out, hating the way her voice shook. “Where are you?”
She tried to swallow past the fear that choked her. Frightened tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, but she swiped them away.
Tara drew back her hood and stepped away from the others. Raising a small silver knife that glinted in the moonlight, she moved closer to the glowing blue lines.
Beckett’s stomach twisted. Wasn’t it supposed to a sexual sacrifice? This was looking like something else all together.
In a low voice, Tara chanted counterpoint to the others, drawing arcane symbols in the air with the blade as she walked the circumference of the circle. The symbols hung suspended in midair, glowing with that same eerie light. Seven symbols—one for each point of the star. What did they mean?
The drummers subtly shifted their rhythm, creating a more sinuous, seductive beat and the chanting grew quieter, but more intense. It was as if the words and the rhythm caressed Beckett, stroking her nerve endings. The throbbing beat was hypnotic...arousing, and despite her fear she began to sway in time to the music. The anxiety began to drift away. Was there such a thing as musically induced Stockholm Syndrome?
She couldn’t look away from the man’s long tanned fingers pounding the head of the instrument. Something about his hands looked familiar, making her wish they were touching her rather than that damn drum. God, what was the matter with her? Where the hell was Kieran?
Using her knife, Tara cut openings through the lines that held Beckett captive, sealing them behind her until she reached the centre.
“What the hell is this, Tara?” she demanded.
“Midsummer Night’s Eve.” A secretive smile curved Tara’s lips and her eyes danced with excitement. Looking towards the people around the circle, she gestured to one of the drummers.
He reached up and drew back his hood, catching Beckett’s gaze. She caught her breath at the sharp flash of lust in his deep, green eyes. Kieran. Finally.
Handing his drum to the man next to him, he rose gracefully to his feet and slipped off his robe. Beckett’s throat suddenly dry, she swallowed hard at the glorious expanse of his bare, muscled chest. His long, golden brown hair hung loose past his shoulders, and he looked more god than man. Despite the fact that she’d had him not more than a few days earlier, she wanted him now with a need bordering on desperation.
Tara motioned him forward. He withdrew his own blade from the sheath at his belt and whispering an incantation, entered the circle much as Tara had. His low, seductive words penetrated Beckett’s body, intensifying the knot of longing in her womb. The accent made his gravelly voice that much sexier. She couldn’t wait to have him pounding into her again.
Holding her gaze with heated intent, Kieran cut through the last of the magical boundaries. She wanted to plaster herself against him, breathe him in, take him inside her. Swallowing th
ickly, she watched as a wicked, toe-curling smile curved his lips. A hint of worry shadowed his eyes as he cupped her cheek and dropped a searching kiss on her upturned mouth.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” he murmured against her lips. The heat rolled off his body enveloping her, and he settled his huge hands at her hips.
His touch set off ripples of need through her body. It had only been two days without him, but it felt like years. She met his heated gaze. “I wasn’t sure I would either.”
His eyes softened. “There’s time. You can still leave.”
She knew what would happen if she made that choice. He’d be banished from the mortal realm and she’d never see him again. “I’m not going to lose you. Not now that I’m smart enough to figure out what you mean to me. I love you, Kieran.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she laid her finger across his lips.
“As long as you’re with me, it doesn’t matter.” She quirked a smile at him. “Besides, it might be…” She let the sentence drift off unsure how he’d feel about her involuntary arousal. Desire twisted in her belly and her nipples hardened into near painful knots. The more she’d thought about sex with Kieran and another man, the more appealing it had become.
His breath hissed through his clenched teeth, and his cock throbbed urgently against her belly. He slid his hands upward until his thumbs rested under the curve of her breasts. “It could be what?” he asked.
Unable to form a coherent thought, she tried to slow her rapid inhalations. “Hot?” she choked out.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he drew her closer, his thumbs stroking the underside of her breasts. A shiver snaked through her at the sensation of his callused skin catching on the soft silk.
“You’re mine, Beckett.” The unmistakable promise of sexual fulfilment glinted in his eyes. “You’ve always been mine.” His eyes hardened, and he frowned. “But not mine alone—at least, not tonight.”
Her tongue darted out, moistening her suddenly dry lips.
With the hunger of a starving man, he followed the motion with his darkening eyes. “But you’re right.” He heaved a huge sigh, bright slashes of colour high on his cheeks. “Jesus, Beckett, I don’t want to share you, but I can’t help but think of how hot it’s going to be to have you spread between both of us. How good we can make you feel.”
Slowly, he lowered his face to hers, and his warm breath coasted over her skin before he finally closed the distance between their lips. He took her mouth with a hot, needy kiss—as if he had all the time in the world to taste her—as if they weren’t surrounded by a group of people avidly watching them. Recalling their audience, she stiffened in his embrace, but he seduced the thought away with the touch of his work-roughened hands. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, swallowing her groan as she trembled beneath his touch.
Splaying his hand through her hair, he cupped the back of her head and angled her nearer as he devoured her. She clutched at his bare shoulders, and he groaned as she opened beneath his fevered kiss. She couldn’t get enough of him—not two days ago and certainly not now.
He stroked her tongue, the inside of her mouth, all the while tightening his grip on her hair and pressing her against his unyielding body. Trailing his lips along her jaw, he moved to her neck, slipped his hand into the deep V of her dress and cupped her aching breast. Her nipple peaked into his palm, and he plucked at it, drawing a whimper from her. He smiled against her skin, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her.
“I can’t wait to spread your legs and bury my face in your pussy.”
A fresh rush of moisture soaked her panties, and she wondered why she’d bothered to put any on tonight.
“But,” he continued, “I may have to fight with Aodhan for the pleasure.” He growled against her neck.
Her body clenched at the sound of his desire-coarsened voice. God, she wanted him inside her. Now. At this point, she didn’t even care that friends and complete strangers watched them.
From the hazy edges of her awareness, she felt Tara draw near. “We must begin, the moon grows old.”
Reluctantly, Kieran lifted his head and mouthed the word mine. Releasing his hold on her, he stepped behind her, his erection prodding her backside and his chin resting on the top of her head.
Tara trailed her fingers through Beckett’s hair much like a lover would. Was Tara coming on to her now? More importantly, did she care?
Tara took Beckett’s left hand in her own and rubbed it sensuously. “Just relax,” she murmured, stroking her skin.
Beckett felt her body go slack against Kieran’s as she allowed his nearness and Tara’s touch to cloud her thinking. Without warning a searing pain cut across her palm. Beckett’s eyes snapped open to see blood—her blood—dripping from Tara’s knife and her own hand.
“What the hell?” When she would have pulled away, Kieran locked his arms around her, keeping her securely in place.
“Trust me,” Tara whispered. “You’re about to experience something few mortals ever even dream of.” With that she closed her hands over Beckett’s and squeezed ruthlessly until blood dripped steadily on the ground between them.
Beckett followed the droplets of blood as they soaked into the earth while Tara continued to squeeze. The ground at their feet began to shift and surge. Dirt rolled in waves where her blood had been spilled. Heart in her throat, she pressed against Kieran, but he refused to budge.
“What’s happening?” she gasped.
No one answered.
Keeping one bare arm wrapped around her waist, he pinioned her to his chest. He extended his other arm past her body towards Tara. She grabbed his hand and opened his palm with the still bloody blade. Making a fist, he squeezed so hard his arm shook with the effort.
Beckett watched in sick fascination as Kieran’s blood dripped onto the roiling earth at their feet. She hardly noticed when Tara left them alone in the circle. However, if the churning dirt were any indication, they wouldn’t be alone for long.
Grass fell aside as the dirt and clay meshed together rising up as if the earth was expelling an impurity. In a matter moments, the mass loomed over her—it was nearly as tall and broad as Kieran.
She tried to swallow past the rock that apparently lodged itself in her throat. Torn between the need to scream and rapt attention, she froze in place watching as the mass of earth took the shape of a man. An eerie golden light emanated from within, pulsing in time to her pounding heart.
Beckett’s breathing quickened as her panic rose. She had to get the hell out of here—as far away from this freak show as humanly possible. Thrashing in Kieran’s arms, she tried to break his hold on her. He tightened his grip, murmuring soothing sounds in her ear. It didn’t help. Tensing her arm, she ploughed her elbow backward into his rock hard stomach. He grunted, and his hold loosened enough for her to scramble away and throw herself against the glowing blue barrier.
Energy raced over her skin as she slammed into it again and again. It wouldn’t give. Desperately, she made a grab for the knife at Kieran’s waist. He grasped her arm and twisted it behind her, locking his forearm over her chest and immobilising her against his body.
“Calm down, Beckett. It’s okay.”
The sound of Kieran’s voice might have soothed her at any other time, but not now. “No, it’s not okay! How can you say that? It’s not even remotely close to okay!”
She struggled harder, her head slamming backward against his chest.
“You’re safe with me,” he soothed.
She waved her bloody hand in the air. “Clearly, I’m imagining this painful knife wound, then. And I—”
Movement her caught her attention. The dirt fell away in clumps from the figure before her to reveal a pale, perfectly sculpted man. A perfectly sculpted, perfectly naked man. His skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, and his long inky hair flowed nearly to his waist.
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
Kieran stilled behind her, but he hadn’t loos
ened his hold.
She stared at the man who’d materialised before her eyes. If not for his pointed ears— not to mention the fact that he’d risen from the ground at her feet—she would have thought him human.
Violent tremors shook her body. Even if Kieran released her, she wouldn’t have been able to move. Other than her harsh, gasping breaths, the night was silent. She watched the rise and fall of the man’s chest as he took slow, measured breaths.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, and she stood transfixed. Awash in a swirl of colours, it seemed the entire universe existed in his irises. Constellations collided in a night sky while brilliant autumn leaves blew across a windswept lake. The effect was almost overwhelming, and for a moment, she felt like she teetered at the top of a rocky cliff. Only Kieran’s arms around her kept her from sinking to the ground.
“Beckett. You’ve been too long from these shores.”
The soothing sound of the man’s voice steadied her, until she realised he spoke telepathically.
“Not long enough,” she muttered. Be careful what you wish for, she told herself, you just might get it. Her childhood dreams had come true. She was staring at a freaking faery.
We prefer Sidhe. His voice was an amused chuckle inside her head.
And he could read her mind. Wasn’t that just great. Curiosity got the best of her as she continued to stare at him.
“I am Aodhan, King of the Sidhe.” He radiated a sense of peaceful quietness that calmed her strained nerves. He frowned slightly. “You’ve kept me waiting a long time for what is mine.”
Before she could answer, he lifted her hand and turned her palm upward. His touch was even more comforting than his voice. Gently, he traced a spiral over the bloodied flesh. As she watched, the blood vanished and her skin knit together, leaving nothing more than a faint scar.
After he did the same to Kieran, he raised his hand, and the area around the circle shimmered and changed. The hawthorn trees bent towards each other and wove together. As she watched, the branches formed a bed draped in rich, green and gold silks. Beckett tilted her head to the side. The bed vanished, the trees righted themselves and the fabric looked more like leaves by the moment. She blinked again and the bed seemed to occupy the same space as the grove of trees.
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