“I see the Eidolan every night now,” he said quietly.
Drake looked startled. “I didn’t know you were still having visions.”
“They began to increase once Iris came back. Now it’s every night. I wake up in a sweat, my heart pounding, the last thing I remember seeing is my Iris walking away, hand in hand with the Eidolan, never hearing me, never even seeing me. All she does is smile happily at that wretched figure, and walk with her like a pup to its mother.” His voice broke.
“All I want is to hold her, touch her. I nearly faltered watching her being fitted today. Fitted for a wedding feast that may never happen. How can I tell her, Drake? How can I tell her that I have brought death to her?” He let his head fall into his hands, the nights of seeing the vision overcoming him.
“Coward that I am, I cannot bear the thought of the rest of my life without her,” he said, wishing immediately he’d not said it, hoping Drake had not heard him.
“That’s not going to do it, brother,” Drake had heard him. “You need to be honest with her or send her home. This is unfair to the both of you.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? From the outset, I worried what loving her would bring to her. What danger I would place her in. She’s nearly been killed. Now I know she will die. How do I tell her? How in the name of the gods can I let her go?”
A gasp startled both Brennan and Drake.
“What are you talking about?” Iris’s shocked whisper was soft, yet thundered around the small study. She stood in the open doorway, radiant in her flame-gold gown. “What do you mean, I’m going to die?”
Chapter Thirteen
Iris
I couldn’t move. He’d said I was going to die. I was going to die. What the hell? What the hell did that mean?
Drake took one look at my face, and said, “I will be in my chambers if you need me. Excuse me,” and all but ran out of the room.
Thankfully, he closed the door behind him. I took a few steps in and clutched at a chair that somehow ended up in my way.
“What do you mean?” I whispered.
Brennan looked like his fingernails were being pulled out slowly, one by one. Something I might do if I got my breath and my balance back.
“Iris, please—”
“No, Brennan. This, whatever the hell this is, has gone on long enough.” I held out a hand to stop him from coming nearer to me. “You tell me what is going on, or I am done.”
He staggered back as though struck. “What?”
I put my hand back on the chair, so I could hang on for what came next. Breath in and out, in and out, I told myself. “If you are not honest with me this fucking minute, honest about everything, particularly that bit about where I am going to die, I. Am. Leaving.” I enunciated the last three words carefully, so he wouldn’t miss the point. Since subtlety had no effect up until now.
His face twisted in agony. “I cannot tell you, Iris. I cannot,” he said helplessly.
Breathe in. Breathe out. In through the nose, out through the mouth. I counted to five, and pushed myself up off the chair, letting my hands fall to my sides, and pulling my shoulders back as I stood up straight. I wanted to be tall and proud for this, even if I would probably crumble and break into a million pieces later. Brennan watched me with the intensity I loved.
Love. Not loved, not past tense. Not for me.
“If you do not tell me everything, tell me the complete and absolute truth, I cannot stay,” I said. My voice came out breathy, and almost a whisper.
He looked at me, and my heart wanted to break right then at the expression on his face. Awful and wonderful as it was, I could also tell he wasn’t going to tell me what I wanted—needed—to know.
“Goodbye, Brennan,” I said, and I turned around to reach for the door.
Before my hand even had the chance to grasp the handle of the door, strong hands grasped me from behind and whirled me about. His lips crashed down onto mine, and I fell, headfirst into the inferno that was Brennan.
His tongue pushed into my mouth, demanding. Without thinking, my arms went up and twined around his neck, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to me. He clutched me hard, almost angrily, and then his hands ran down the length of my body, lingering on my hips and then my butt. He pulled me to him.
Whatever it was that was screwing shit up between us, it wasn’t physical. I could feel him as he held me and devoured me with his mouth.
I wanted nothing more than to be eaten. I almost giggled at the many directions that idea could go in this situation.
One of his hands went up to cradle my head, and the other went back to cradle my butt. It sent a shiver through me like I’d never known before. I felt him lean forward a little, and then his hand went behind my knees, and the man literally swept me off my feet. He cradled me to his chest, and all the pain, all the frustration, all the hurt—left as though it had never been. I felt loved, warm, safe, and wanted.
“Bedroom,” I said.
He leaned down and kissed me again, and I closed my eyes and let myself get lost in him again. I could tell that we were moving, that he was walking, and I hoped we’d make it wherever we were going safely. I could feel his muscles moving as he walked, and the feel of him holding me made me think I might break into pieces from the shivers that coursed through me. How in the hell did he do it? I was ready to walk, and within like, twelve seconds, he’d reduced me to a quivering bowl of jello.
He leaned down, and I felt him let go of me as soft bedding cradled me. I opened my eyes, and saw him stepping away. “No. Stay,” I said.
“I’m not going anywhere,” his rich, low voice rolled over me. What was it? Honey. His voice, when he spoke like this, made me think of honey. All I wanted to do was roll in it.
Deliberately, with hard motions and without taking his eyes from mine, he began to undress. I hadn’t seen anything other than his neck and hands in so long, I almost gasped. I’d forgotten how lovely his chest was, how defined his muscles were.
Then he kicked off his boots and began to undo his trousers. Slowly, carefully now, still branding me with his stare.
I couldn’t look away. He literally took my breath away. I felt myself breathing in small gasps, trying to get enough air into my Brennan-starved brain.
I’d been craving this. This. This closeness, this heat, this everything. I had an idea this wouldn’t stop. Not like the last time. This time, he meant to deliver what he promised, and not leave me red faced and gasping with want for him.
My hands went to my gown, to undo the ribbons of the bodice. He saw it.
“Don’t,” he said.
I stopped.
He let his trousers drop. My mouth dropped open at the same time.
Holy. Shit.
The guy was…the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Not to mention, he was in the same sort of gasping excitement I was, if his body was any indication.
“I am yours,” he said. “You cannot leave me.”
And he came to the bed.
Smoothly, almost so fast I didn’t see it, he was on top of me. He propped himself on one elbow, and then reached down to my ribbons. He plucked at them, kissing me as he did so. Each time he undid one, he ground himself into me just a little, just enough to let me know he was there.
Like I could forget.
“Watching you today, being sewn into this dress, was like watching the sun readying herself for me. When you turned to smile at me, I knew it was so. And all I wanted to do was unwrap the sun,” he murmured.
Ribbons undone, he used both hands to pull them apart. I had nothing on underneath, as I’d been at a fitting. Fae didn’t wear bras. I was lucky to get some old fashioned underwear.
My breasts were free, and the air made my nipples hard. He sucked in a breath, and I felt giddy at the thought that seeing me might have the same effect on him as seeing him had on me.
“You are my sun, Iris,” he leaned down and kisse
d me, and I was lost. There was no leaving now, no matter what. I could die in five minutes, and I still couldn’t leave. There was no way I could walk from this, ever.
This must be what Mara was talking about.
He moved from my mouth and nipped along my jaw, gently biting my earlobe. I could feel a rush of wetness between my legs. Then he worked his way just behind my ear, and down my neck. When he reached my collarbone and nibbled, my knees went to water.
He pulled back slightly, breathing on my skin. Then his mouth closed around my nipple and my back arched, bringing me closer to him. Still wasn’t close enough.
One arm slid under me, and supported me, pulling me closer as if he, too, wanted to dive into my skin. He sucked harder, and I thought I might be seeing stars.
“Oh, dear god, Brennan,” I gasped.
He didn’t respond, but lifted his head and kissed the other breast, and then fastened his mouth onto it. I wrapped my arms around him. If I had to die, let it be like this.
How long he sucked and nibbled at me, I don’t know. All the while, I could feel his hardness next to me, and I wanted it with an intensity that felt frightening. I found I couldn’t think rationally. When he lay me down, and pushed himself up, it was hard to open my eyes and look at him.
“I want you, my love. More than anything I’ve ever wanted, more than anything I shall ever want. I wanted this to be gentle, and to take our time, but…I am—”
“Dying?” I breathed.
He laughed, and it was a wonderful, ragged sound. “Yes. Holding back is killing me.”
“Makes two of us, pal. Stop it.”
His eyes brightened, and the feral grin I’d seen before spread across his face. “Do you mean that?”
I nodded. “I am going to burst into flames if you don’t move things along.”
He laughed, and the misery and pain of moments—or days—before vanished. He leaned further back, and found the hem of my dress.
“Let’s take this off so that we don’t—”
“No.” I stilled his hand. “Let’s not. Leave it.”
His smile had a wicked bent. “It shall be so, my lady.”
He tossed up the hem and encountered my old granny panties. His hands found the waist, and then the drawstring. He untied it deftly, something I hadn’t managed once yet, and then began to inch them onto my hips.
Once more, I stilled his hands. “You’re strong, aren’t you?”
“I believe so.”
“Then just rip them.”
His silence suggested that I had shocked him. Shit.
“Rip them?” He whispered.
“Yes. Please,” I asked.
He gave me a small push, and I fell back into the pillow. He ran his hands along the waist of the grannies, then gripped them and pulled. They shredded along the seams with a sound that thundered in the quiet of the room.
His eyes met mine. I could see the inferno in him that I’d felt when he first kissed me tonight.
“Now come here,” I said.
A moment—and he was upon me. The feel of his naked body next to my clothed one brought friction that heightened every movement, every shift. His hand went between us and cupped between my legs.
I’ve always heard it’s hard the first time—hard to relax, hard to enjoy things—but this didn’t feel anything but right. As his hand touched me, I drew my knees up a little and let them fall apart.
“Iris, my love,” he breathed into my hair.
“Remember my complaint about holding back? You’re doing it again,” I whispered into his ear. I felt him shiver at my words. “Don’t,” I added.
“Is that your subtle way of telling me you’re ready?” I could hear the humor in his voice.
“Since like ages ago,” I said. “Slowpoke!”
He chuckled, and I felt the honey of his voice spread over me, blotting out everything else. “Are you sure? We haven’t spoken about—”
“Brennan, stop. Talking. Right. Now.” I punctuated my words so he would know I wasn’t kidding.
Carefully, in a way that showed me how much control he exercised, he eased himself into me, just a little.
If this was just a little, once again, I might die. Is this what he meant, I thought hysterically? That he’d kill me with his body? Because I might die. Holy hell.
I was so caught up in the small intimacy, I didn’t realize he’d fitted himself inside me.
It felt complete. It also hurt. I’d read it would hurt, but I didn’t think…
“I could…” I began.
“Be like this forever,” he finished.
The look on his face stopped me from complaining. “Yes,” I pushed myself back in the pillow so I could look at him. I put my hands on his face. “Yes.”
A tear slid from his eye. Just one. I felt my body convulse ever so slightly watching it slip down his beautiful cheek.
“Love me, Brennan,” I whispered. “I love you so.”
He began to move, slowly, then a little faster, and then…oh dear lord my god…move…more…oh god do not stop or I will hurt you. The pain from a moment ago disappeared as though it had never been there.
“Are you all right?” He whispered. “I know this is the first time—”
“Yes,” I breathed. “I have never been better.” I didn’t break eye contact with him. His eyes seared into my soul, and I knew I looked into his. My hands went down his shoulders, moving with him as he moved into me, his breathing coming in gasps, and then panting. His hips rocked into me as we learned each other. His hips pinned me to the bed, and I pushed up a little, wanting to get closer, closer.
A welling, a feeling of…I didn’t know what, but it got bigger, closer, and I felt myself wanting to have more and more…then a moment where everything stopped, and all I saw was the light in his eyes, and I fell, fell so hard that my body shook.
His eyes slanted closed a little, and he gripped my hips hard, stilling for a moment. “Mo shíorghrá,” he whispered. The shaking I felt traveled to him, and we shook as one.
He rested his forehead on mine. I could feel the sweat on both of us, my hands feeling slick against his skin. Then his body relaxed, and I felt myself cocooned between Brennan and the bed. He slid down a little, resting his head on my chest.
My heart pounded as though I’d run a marathon. I wondered if he could hear it, feel it against his cheek. Not sure how he could miss it.
We lay together, the layers of my flame dress all around us. I’d never been happier.
“What did you say, right at the end?” I asked.
“Oh, mo shíorghrá?” He asked.
I nodded, my chin nudging the side of his head. He chuckled a little.
“It’s fae, it means, well…” He stopped.
Okay, what the hell had he called me?
“Best translation, it means my forever love.”
Oh. Well.
“Back atcha,” I said, running my hands through his hair, feeling the sweat at his temples and loving that I put it there.
He laughed outright.
“Who was it that said women were the more romantic of creatures?” He asked.
“I’m romantic, I am just not as formal as you are. I love how formal you are,” I hurriedly finished, not wanting to offend him right after we had finally had sex.
“And I love your straight talk, my Iris,” he said.
“Since you love it so, let’s get to it,” I said. I didn’t want this moment to end, and holy hell was I glad the moment finally came, but there was still business to be settled.
“Tell me why you think I am going to die.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brennan
He sighed into her chest, the feel and scent of her muddling his brain even as he struggled for a way out of her questions.
Being with her, finally making her his own—it had been everything he had heard it could be with your true love. He knew he should get up, should find Drake, should plan, should do…but all he wanted wa
s to lay here with Iris, surrounded by her love, the love he never thought he’d find, the love that shone like a thousand suns. He never wanted to leave it.
He owed her honesty. To the point where he would need to confess his cowardice. Please, don’t let her love fade when she knows the truth, he begged—of whom, he didn’t know. The heavens? The old gods? He didn’t care, if it meant he could have her for just a bit longer. Let me keep her a while, he thought.
He took a breath, and then another. “Have you read fairy tales, Iris?” Not that he liked using the term, but he knew she’d understand what he was talking about if he did.
Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. He felt her start of surprise.
“Sure, a long time ago.”
“In them, have you ever read about an old woman who is the bringer of death?”
“Not that I remember, but that doesn’t mean anything. Why?”
“In our legends, there is a woman. She dresses in red, and you seldom see her face. Fae do not dream, because the world we live in is the dream world, but sometimes we have visions. While you were back with your parents, I began to have visions.” He stopped as the Eidolan loomed in his memory.
“Okay,” Her voice encouraged him to continue.
“In them, I see the Eidolan. That’s our woman of death. She’s in front of me, and then you come walking towards her from off to the side somewhere. She’s looking at me, and I see caverns of death in her eyes, but she holds a hand out to you. You take her hand, and I call out to you, begging you to turn around, to see me…” he closed his eyes, not wanting to see it yet again, but finding it came to him with no urging. “You do not. You take her hand, and you walk along with her, almost happily. You never see me, you never turn around. The two of you walk away from me.”
“How often have you seen this?” He could hear the shock in her voice.
“Every night since you returned to me.”
She held him to her tighter. What must she think? Even if cost him her love, he had to tell her the truth. “I know what the Eidolan means. I grew up on tales of her. When I saw it, I knew she would find a way to take you from me.” He took a breath.
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