“So you’re saying that if I don’t go with you, all these horrible things will happen?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“I know.” Lachlan’s eyes were as piercing as ever. Something in him seemed so strong, Gwynne thought; as though he simply knew his purpose in life. There was never a moment of confusion or hesitation with him; just knowledge. He was a true leader, and in that sense he was her complete opposite. She was being told her purpose, and yet it didn’t make sense; her instinct was to analyze it all to death. It was all so new, so foreign.
In some ways it would have been so easy to hop on a plane, forget why she’d come to Cornwall, and head home. But how could she ever do such a thing when her life had altered so drastically?
The shifter stood, his bare chest beaded with sweat, and looked down at Gwynne.
“I will never force you,” he said. “I will never ask you to act against your instinct or your own wishes. I have never wanted anything but your welfare and your happiness.”
“I believe you,” she said, standing to meet his gaze, “I need a little time to think. This is a lot to take in, you understand.”
“I do. But I will tell you that the man in me, the animal in me, both want to take you for ourselves. Here, now. I would spend the next two years pleasuring you if you allowed it. And so while I will protect you, and while I won’t force you into anything, I will unrelentingly tell you how much I want to taste you.” Lachlan leaned towards her, his eyes eating her an inch at a time. “How much I want to fuck you.”
Gwynne gasped more loudly than she wanted to. She was unaccustomed to men who were quite so forward.
“I…”
“You don’t need to speak, Gwynne. I can smell you. I know what your thoughts are before they enter your mind.”
All of a sudden the ache between her legs felt like a betrayal. Surely he knew how wet she was for him. How much she wanted his body. But it wasn’t like she could just have him, here, now. Why was it all so damned complicated?
She looked away, forcing herself to pretend she hadn’t been deeply affected by his words.
“Meanwhile, what are we going to do? Stay here until Mr. Birdman disappears?”
“I’m afraid that’s our only option. The place is fortunately stocked with food, though nothing terribly fancy. We’ll have a bite and get you settled in. You must be tired.”
“I am,” said Gwynne, “but more confused than anything.”
Lachlan fetched some supplies from the small kitchen; cans of soup, which he heated on the wood stove, and a bottle of wine.
“Well, this isn’t bad,” said Gwynne, as she approached and looked over his shoulder. “You’re pretty domesticated, for a dog.”
A smile spread across the shifter’s face. “In my day you would have been seriously punished for throwing such an accusation around,” he said.
“Domestication was really such a crime?” Gwynne joked.
“Almost. But be sure, if you ever do meet Rauth, not to call him a dog.”
“I was under the impression that he was a dragon.”
“Another misconception. He’s not the dragon.”
“Then who is?”
Lachlan didn’t answer. Instead, he walked out to the living room and proceeded to kindle a fire in the small hearth.
“We’ll need to keep warm tonight,” he said. “In the morning I can bring you back to Trekilling, if that’s what you wish. There will be risks, but if we set out early enough we may be able to get away without too much injury.”
“Lachlan,” said Gwynne, sitting on the edge of the old couch in front of the fireplace, “Will this Kapral hunt me for the rest of my life?” The thought had only just occurred to her; this hunt of hers for her story had turned on itself, and she was now prey in something larger than herself.
“Yes,” he said. For once he didn’t look at her.
“I see.”
In front of the fireplace was a soft rug, worn by years of feet scraping its surface. Gwynne pulled a cushion and wool blanket off the couch and lay down, her head by the newly set fire. So she was a prisoner. Not only in this house, but in her own life.
Her cellmate looked at her now, affection written all over his face as he stood over her as though in protective stance. Finally he took the soup off its heat source then returned to lie next to Gwynne. He wrapped a strong, warm arm around her and from behind and within minutes, he slept.
* * *
Encounters 9
October 8, 2014
When Gwynne awoke the sun was casting rays across the floor between the iron bars which covered the cottage’s windows. Lachlan’s arm was still around her and his heat permeated her body as though she were swaddled in a thick blanket. She could hear his deep, calm breaths and feel his chest rise and fall against her back.
Then she felt something else.
At first she thought she was imagining the rock-hard length which seemed pressed into her from behind, but as she lay regaining her senses, she realized that it was exactly as she thought: he was aroused in his sleep. The cock which had teased her outside was now doing so from a very intimate distance, its entire shaft firmly pushed against her, its thickness making her mouth water. The thought of it was delectable; a gorgeous man, a beautiful cock. For a moment Gwynne pondered the ramifications of taking him inside her. Would it be so wrong? A fling with a shifter from another time? But he’d spoken of mating, of rituals. Surely she couldn’t just have him and then take off back to the States.
As though the sleeper were reading her mind, Lachlan’s hand shifted a little, so that now it grazed her breast. Oh, dear God. She felt her nipple harden under his gentle touch and wondered if he was even remotely aware of what he was doing to her.
She reached for his arm, stroking it lightly, just to see if he was awake. Lachlan let out a quiet moan and tightened his grip on her before pressing himself into her again. The scent of him, the feeling of his body against hers were intoxicating.
Finally, she lifted his arm and pulled herself away, standing to admire him. Lachlan pried his eyes open.
“Everything all right?” he asked, apparently unfazed by his enormous erection, which created a delightful bulge in the front of his pants.
“Fine, fine,” she said, turning her back to walk to the kitchen. “Just hungry.”
* * *
As he watched her, Lachlan silently willed his hard cock to calm itself. “All in due course,” he said internally. “You’ve waited this long. Just a few days more.”
Gwynne’s scent was exactly what he remembered; heavenly, sexual, heady. When he’d lain down next to her it was all he could do not to allow himself the pleasure of running his nose over her entire form to take it in. But that would have led to more, and he could not force himself on her. He could not in fact have her until she’d agreed to the ritual. And even then it would be considered bad form to take her before he’d brought her to Rauth.
He was a strong believer in the laws of fate; that Gwynne had arrived on the shores of Cornwall for a reason. And that she would come to see it, with or without his help. For now his task was simply to steer her, to guide her and to protect her. She had no idea of her own power. But it was not for Lachlan to tell her all of her own secrets. She would know them soon enough.
When at last his erection had calmed a little, Lachlan rose and approached Gwynne, who was heating the previous night’s soup again.
“You all right?” he asked. He smelled her again, her aroma stronger than that of food.
“I’m fine,” she said. “A little distracted is all.”
Lachlan smiled, wondering if perhaps he knew where the distraction came from.
“Well, soon all will be clear for you, I hope,” he said.
“Yes.” She turned to him now. “Lachlan, if I say no to you…if I leave…will I ever see you again?”
“No.”
The thought of it was unbearable to him. But it was the truth. He wou
ld have to let her go.
“I see.” She went back to her stirring, seeming to ignore the exchange they’d just had. Lachlan turned to leave the room.
“Then I’ll stay,” said the voice behind him.
His head shot around to see if it was actually Gwynne who had said the words.
“You will?”
“Yes.” She poured some soup into an old porcelain bowl. “I will. It seems that this is my fate.” She handed him the bowl. “And I would be a fool to run away now.”
Taking the offered food, Lachlan smiled. “You’ve made a good choice,” he said. His cock twitched as though in agreement. Now it would only be a matter of time before he would be inside her, pleasuring her. He’d waited so long for this.
“Well, the way I see it,” said Gwynne, “There are worse things.” With that she smiled, picked up her own bowl and headed back to the living room.
* * *
Now that a plan was in motion Gwynne was settled on leaving the details to Lachlan, given his authoritative nature. But the fact remained that they were, at least temporarily, trapped.
“Kapral is circling overhead,” Lachlan said as he looked out the window mid-morning. “I would try to draw him away, but unfortunately stupidity isn’t one of his shortcomings.”
“So what do we do? Can’t you bounce back in time and grab reinforcements?”
“If only it were so easy,” said the shifter, walking back to where Gwynne was seated on the couch. “We need a portal. The closest one is at the ruins of Dundurn. And getting there will mean risk. Best to do it at night; his eyes aren’t as sharp as mine in the dark.”
So there were hours to kill yet before the adventure truly began, thought Gwynne. Before she was to meet this man for whom she’d apparently been intended not only in this life, but in another.
“Tell me,” said Lachlan, who observed her fidgeting with the corner of her blanket, “about your youth.”
“All right,” Gwynne replied, gratefully recognizing what he was attempting to do. Lachlan sat down next to her, his knee close to hers so that she could feel his heat. He was always so warm.
“I grew up in a little town on the east coast. Pretty, by the ocean, like this. I suppose that’s why I feel at home in Cornwall. Well, that and the fact that apparently some other version of me lived here.”
“And were you happy?”
“I was. Until my mother left. I had a great childhood. And as I recall she was a sweet woman, and lovely. I never knew why she left though, and I suppose I have to admit that it hurt. A parent should never abandon their child.”
“I agree. But you know that she had to, don’t you?”
“Did she really? Does this mean that one day I’ll abandon my own?”
“I hope for your sake that you do not. It can’t have been easy for your mother,” said Lachlan, who put a hand on her knee. Gwynne found herself trembling now despite his heat, her teeth threatening to start chattering with the excitement of his touch.
“I’m sure it wasn’t easy for her, no,” she managed. “I just wish she hadn’t done it. Not only for myself, but for my father.”
“He suffered, I take it?” Lachlan’s hand stroked her gently; a sympathetic gesture that was nonetheless arousing.
“He did. It broke his heart.”
“I’m sorry, Gwynne.” With that, the shifter moved closer and put a long arm around her. Those amazing, protective arms. She allowed her head to rest on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said. “I believe you are.”
Now it was she who put a hand on his leg, idly caressing through the thin cotton pants which he wore. It was stunning to feel the outline of his defined muscles which, even in their relaxed state, were chiseled firmness. Gwynne felt the ache of arousal between her legs at the thought of having this man to herself. Whatever the “ritual” was, as long as it involved them together, she felt somehow that she’d been rewarded for some good deed in her life.
* * *
When he felt her hand on him, Lachlan sensed the animal in him straining to emerge; the feral desire to take this woman fighting his common sense and his duty. It wasn’t that Rauth would forbid his touching her; indeed over the years Rauth had encouraged Lachlan to take any woman he wanted. But this one was special; sacred. Everything about her was to be revered and would be, not only by the lord but by his subjects and his clan, who had awaited this day nearly as eagerly as Lachlan had, but for entirely different reasons.
He laid a hand on top of Gwynne’s and turned to her.
“We must stop. For now,” he said. “I need to get you to your destination.”
Gwynne pulled her fingers away, feeling a combination of embarrassment, disappointment and unsatisfied hunger.
“All right,” she said, rising from the couch.
“I’ve made you feel bad,” said Lachlan. “I didn’t intend to.”
“It’s fine. I haven’t sorted how things work yet. I’ll get used to the rules.”
“If I had it my way, Gwynne, there would be no rules. Just you and me. Here, on the floor, until we wore one another out. And then again.”
Gwynne felt a surge of chemicals strike her like a mallet. The very idea of tiring herself out with this man, of exhausting one another to the point of collapse. But she had to begin to approach life with a sense of duty, which she knew meant painful resistance.
She would wait. She could wait. Just a little longer.
* * *
Encounters 10
When night fell they left the cabin behind, jogging under the cover of darkness back towards the ruins. Their hike was only a kilometre or so, but that was plenty of time for Kapral to see them with his sharp eagle’s eyes.
Lachlan kept a watchful eye out, his blue eyes flickering reflectively in the dim light cast by the moon overhead, which attempted repeatedly to penetrate a thin veil of cloud. The two had agreed not to speak unless necessary and Gwynne did her best to keep up with him, holding onto his hot, strong hand as he led her. Her eyes weren’t as accustomed to the dark as his were.
Gwynne was certain that they’d gone a good distance when something interrupted the still silence of the night. A bird’s cry overhead.
“You’d think that guy would learn not to make a racket when he’s stalking people,” Gwynne whispered.
“He’s communicating,” said Lachlan. “That isn’t the same cry as the others. It’s a signal.”
“You mean he’s got friends around?”
“Most likely. Come, we need to pick up our pace.”
With that, Lachlan began to run at a faster speed, taking Gwynne along with him, though she wasn’t at all convinced that she could keep up with the incredibly strong man at her side.
Shapes began to emerge in the air around them, swooping in front of her, lunging but not touching. At one point a wing clipped her side and she stumbled forwards, fearful of landing with a thud on the ground.
But Lachlan caught her, stopped, and propped her up, shielding her as she rested for a moment. He remained silent but looked at her briefly as though to ensure that she was in one piece.
“Trust me?” he whispered when he was satisfied.
Gwynne nodded silently.
Lachlan tore his clothing off rapidly and handed it to Gwynne, who took the pile in her arms. The man before her altered again in front of her eyes, and the large grey wolf stood in his place, turning towards their destination.
Shapes were still swooping about, now lunging at Lachlan’s wolf as though attempting to frighten him off. He began to run, Gwynne at his side, and occasionally he’d leap at one of the giant birds. One of them he caught by the wing before Gwynne heard a crunching noise. She realized that the creature’s neck had been shattered by the wolf’s great jaws.
When the shadow of the ruins appeared on the horizon, the largest of the birds seemed to grow desperate and flew directly at Gwynne, who found herself ducking towards the ground as Lachlan leapt upwards. The bird’s talons caught hi
m on the back of the neck and managed to lift him for a moment before being forced under his enormous weight to release him. Gwynne found herself wrapping fingers in his long fur before continuing their run. The terror within her was met only by the resolve to remain safe.
Lachlan led her towards the shattered walls of the castle, where an ancient doorway stood open to the air, and Gwynne could see that it was their destination, though she didn’t quite know why. It now seemed so close, so accessible. And Kapral, it appeared, was staying back. No one had lunged at them in some time; perhaps they were too frightened of the wolf who accompanied her.
Only twenty or so feet now stood before her and the doorway and she found herself in full sprint. And then it happened.
Stones began to fall around her like a violent, deadly hailstorm. The projectiles hit the ground with heavy thumps, barely missing her feet as she went, throwing dirt up around her. The birds were assaulting her from above.
She could hear Lachlan emitting a low growl as if in threat and to say, “Don’t mess with us.”
But it didn’t matter. In a second they would be through the doorway, which Gwynne told herself meant salvation.
As her right foot hit its threshold, though, the world went black.
* * *
Encounters 11
October 8, ____
Gwynne found herself waking again in a strange place. This time her head pounded, though at least there was light.
Her eyes seemed to want to remain shut in spite of a curiosity to know where she was: a prisoner, or in another safe haven? She used her other senses to gauge her whereabouts: her hands touched soft sheets, which covered her body. Her body, which was dressed only in what felt like a thin nightgown. She was in a bed. All right, that much was clear. But where?
In the air she smelled the welcoming aroma of wood burning. A cool breeze met her skin from the right side.
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