by Tarah Scott
Margot stared at the hand. Did people dream of cutting themselves and, if they did, was it this real? Dreams always seemed real while in the dream state, but this…what if this is more? a small voice whispered.
Ridiculous. Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Beauty and the Beast, all fairy tales of enchantment, not legend. Yet, how could she explain knowing what he looked like, the buckle with the driftwood badge…even his kilt? In fairy tales, the princess had to be rescued by the handsome prince. Colin Morrison was supposed to be rescued by a porn queen. But the murdering Lord Morrison didn’t deserve rescuing.
What about the kinder version who had tended her wounded palm? Margot watched him carry the bowl and pitcher back to the table against the far wall. He had been banished to this place by a brother and his witch lover. So why was there a provision for Colin who wasn’t supposed to be here, but none for Logan who the spell had been meant for? Voodoo spells could always be reversed. There were counter spells, ways to reverse spells or bounce them back to the sender.
Disgust rolled through her. Spells, this place, Colin Morrison, none of it was real. Cat was real—and the only threat. Margot jarred from her thoughts as he lowered himself onto the bed beside her and covered her wounded hand with his.
“You are trembling.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “If I don’t wake up, I’m as good as dead. Cat won’t hesitate to kill me. Every time I’ve fallen into this dream, there’s been only one way out.”
She covered his cock with a palm. An answering pulse nearly made her want to cry. He lifted a hand to her cheek. Margot stilled, startled by the tenderness is his touch. He traced a finger along her cheek, across her lips, then gently pushed her back onto the mattress. She closed her eyes as his mouth descended on hers.
Moist lips covered hers and his erection lengthened beneath her fingers. She squeezed and the rod hardened to pure steel. His tongue gently thrust past her lips and tongues swirled in a wet dance that sent a jolt of desire straight to her sex.
He groaned and covered a breast with his palm. Margot yanked up her skirt and swung a leg over his hip. She wrapped the fingers of her good hand around his tool while carefully slipping a finger of the other hand into her panties, grazing the curls. Her clit tightened. He slid a finger into the dress neckline past her bra, and brushed the nipple. Margot arched into him as she thrust a finger into her wet heat. His tongue sparred with hers, mimicking the action of her thrusts into her channel.
She moaned and slid her finger upward to her pleasure point and flicked it gently. Margot released him, yanked up the kilt and wrapped fingers around his velvety steel. His mouth slid downward along her neck then the valley between her breasts. He made quick work of the buttons, then shoved aside the lacy bra.
“Kylyrra,” he whispered.
A thrill clenched her stomach muscles. He wants me.
He ringed a nipple with his tongue. She rocked against the finger massaging her clit, faster, pumping into the long digit. His hand covered the hand on her mound. She grasped his fingers and pressed them against the engorged nub. Warmth enveloped the nipple and his mouth closed over her while his finger massaged in quick movements.
Pressure built. She rocked against his hand, pressing him deeper into the wet folds. Pleasure tickled deep inside. He sucked harder on the nipple. His free hand snaked around her back, pulling her deeper into his mouth. Margot gripped his cock tighter and slid downward, stretching the skin tight, then upward in rhythm with his finger to her clit. She gasped with pleasure spiked through her.
He drew back and before she realized his intent he slid off the bed onto his knees and tugged her legs up over his shoulders. When his mouth closed over her mound, pleasure rocketed through her like wildfire. Margot cried out. His tongue thrust deep into her channel, then swept upward through the slick folds. She raked her good hand through his hair, fisting the thick strands between her fingers. He grunted, but the rhythm of his tongue thrusts didn’t falter.
She lifted her hips and pulsed against his mouth. His grip on her legs tightened and he pressed closer, his mouth sucking her in quick bursts. A luscious tickle shot from her sex to her core. She cried out and bucked against his mouth. Margot jammed her free hand inside her bra and rolled a nipped between forefinger and thumb. Orgasm burst across her senses. Her legs tightened convulsively around his head. He sucked harder. The orgasm intensified. Pleasure rolled over her in a wave that bowed her off the bed.
“Sweet Christ,” she groaned, and pumped harder.
Another wave radiated through her, then another and another until she collapsed on the mattress, breath coming in heavy gasps. Her heart pounded with a final echo of pleasure and she opened her eyes. The curtained canopy of the four poster bed snapped into focus. Margot yanked her gaze down and met his stare. He still knelt on the floor between her legs.
She bolted upright. “Why am I still here?”
He gently shifted her legs from his shoulders and rose. A sheen of moisture glistened across his forehead. God, it looked so real.
“I feared as much,” he said.
“What?” she demanded.
“Lass, you shall no' escape so easily this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Catraoine.”
Margot rose, shoving the dress strap back over her shoulder. “If I don’t wake up, she’ll kill me.”
“It is not her who has the power to kill you, but Colin.”
“So I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t?”
His mouth thinned. “You should have left Castle Morrison while you were able.”
Her insides shook. “Does the fact I can't wake up mean I’m too far gone?”
“Nay, lass, ye are as alive as you have ever been, as alive as I am.”
Margot shoved his hand aside. “You’re not real.” She started for the door.
Strong fingers closed over her shoulder. Margot whirled, seized his wrist, and bent his arm around his back. She propelled him toward the bed and dashed for the door. She was out of the room and down the hallway when his shout of “Stop!” echoed off the stone walls. Margot raced to the last room where she’d found the woman’s decaying body.
“Lass,” he called as she burst into the room.
She stopped beside the bed and stared at the decaying body. Stink of the decaying flesh filled her nostrils. She grimaced.
He appeared in the doorway. “God help us.”
Margot jerked her gaze onto him. “This is going to be me if I don’t find a way out of this.”
His mouth turned down in a grim frown. “Aye.”
Her heartbeat accelerated. Margot lifted her wounded palm and looked at it. “This didn’t shock me awake and climaxing didn’t wake me. I’m not going to wake up this time. There’s nothing—” she broke off.
He started toward her, slowing beside the bed, where the putrefying body still lay covered with the quilt. “Diolain,” he muttered in a dark tone. He reached for Margot. She retreated, but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his side. “Come, Kylyrra, this is no place for you.”
She jerked her head up and met his gaze. “Why? Because she died in a lover’s embrace and I’ll go when Cat decides to throw my body over a cliff?”
Cat believed Margot would break the spell and free Colin. How long before Cat realized that wasn't going to happen?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Margot turned with Colin and her gaze caught on a piece of paper peeking out from beneath the quilt several inches from the corpse. She pulled from his grasp and snatched the paper free of the covers.
“What is that?” he asked.
Margot walked to where the hallway light better shone into the room, and read:
Dearest Colin,
I hope my latest offering pleases you. I know she can't replace the one who is soon to come, but she will sustain you until you are free and we are together again.
Love,
Cat
Colin stepped up beh
ind her. Margot realized her hand was shaking.
He grasped her hand and steadied it as he read out loud, “She will sustain you?” He snatched the paper from her. “By all that is holy. He knew she could no' save him, yet lay between her legs knowing that night would be her last.” Colin wadded the paper and threw it with enough violence that it bounced off the cold fireplace and fell to the carpet.
He swept Margot off her feet and strode from the room, down the hall to his bedroom. He laid her on the bed and pulled sheet and quilt up. She couldn't tear her gaze from his large hands as he carefully tucked the covers around her chin as if she were a child. According to Cat's files, Logan was the younger brother. But he was a blip on the map—except for the mention of how both brothers had disappeared shortly after their thirty-fifth birthdays.
Nothing in the files explained how Colin became a casualty of the spell. Something nagged Margot about Cat leaving out the fact the spell had been meant for Logan and that Colin had unwittingly become a victim. Why do that? And why was Colin claiming to be Logan when Cat said Colin was the one stuck inside the painting? Her blood chilled. Because only one brother remained: the brother who wasn’t supposed to be there. The brother who had murdered the other: Colin.
He paused, and she lifted her gaze to his. He returned her stare as if he had nothing to hide, as if he hadn’t drained those women's life force until the final sliver of light had winked out—just as Cat had done to Donny.
His eyes softened. Margot’s heart leaped. Had that gentle look lured those women to their deaths? Had they, too, thought he was their only way out? She’d sworn she wouldn’t let a serial killer touch her. What if it meant her life?
Margot pulled a hand free of the cover and slipped the arm around his neck. He stiffened.
“You going to pretend you don’t want me, sugar?”
He stared down at her. “A man would be a fool not to want you.”
“And you’re no fool.”
No, that honor was reserved for her.
She pulled his mouth down to hers. His lips softened, molding around hers. Margot startled at the sense that they’d been doing this their whole lives. She tugged him down onto her. His weight pressed her into the mattress with a comforting sense of power. He shifted and Margot wrapped her other arm around his back. She’d never experienced such powerful longing. Everything about this dream had been amplified from the smells and colors to the hard muscle of his back beneath her fingers.
Margot dug her fingers into that muscle. He flexed beneath her touch. His mouth moved on hers. She thrust her tongue against his lips. He groaned and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. She shifted and he lifted onto elbows as she threw back the covers. Margot rolled him over so that she was on top. She straddled his hips and pulled the dress waist high. He stared, eyes dark with desire as she drew aside the thong, then lowered herself onto his hips and rocked against his length through the kilt. Rough wool slid along her moist folds. He lifted his hips, giving her better access. She groaned. Closer, she needed to be closer. She lifted his kilt.
His hand covered hers. “I will not send you to your death.”
She stared. “So, as long as he kills me, you’re absolved of guilt?”
“I did no' know about those women until Colin had lain with them. The last one, the one whose room we were in. She came to me—I kept her here with me, begged her to stay. I would have—” He shook his head.
Her heart tore at sight of the pain in his eyes, but she demanded, “Would have what?”
“I would have died to protect her. But I fell asleep and she slipped from the room.”
Margot laid a hand on his arm. “Would you have me be confined to this room for the rest of my life? Can you live with worrying every minute I’ll disappear? Think," she insisted. "Have you known anyone else to come and go as I have? You said my coming here this time was different, but my leaving was different as well. Maybe I can't be killed. Maybe I'm not like those other women.”
“I—”
She leaned closer. “No arguments. God knows how much time I have." Margot shoved aside the thought of her body completely at Cat's mercy and rocked her pussy against his cock.
He closed his eyes and rolled his hips against her as if he couldn't get enough…as if he hadn’t fucked any of those women—any woman—for three centuries. Margot tugged his shirt free of the kilt and unbuttoned it. She pushed aside the fabric and pressed her lips to his chest, breathing deep of his male scent. His heart beat against his chest, the thump, thump, thump against her lips. How easily she could fall and not worry about waking up. She placed her palms against the muscled flesh and traced her tongue around a nipple. He sucked in a harsh breath. The salty taste of his skin teased the tip of her tongue. She closed her lips around the tiny bud and sucked.
Colin groaned. Margot slid her mouth to the other nipple and flicked her tongue against the tip. He cupped her face and brought her mouth to his. His soft touch bellied the strength in his rod. Here was the man she’d conjured in that first dream. Strong, yet gentle. His tongue thrust inside as he pulled down her dress and bra strap. Cool air washed over her breast and the nipple puckered the instant before his warm hand covered the mound.
Margot arched into his palm. Warmth penetrated past the firm flesh to her heart. He brushed a thumb over the pebbled areola. Margot leaned close for a kiss. His mouth covered hers and he pulled her against his chest. His belt buckle dug into her belly. He slid her from his hips onto the bed and stood, then undid the belt. The kilt loosened, he tossed aside the belt, and unwrapped the kilt. His engorged rod jutted from a thick patch of dark hair. Her throat went dry. If this didn’t get her back into her own bed, nothing would.
He shrugged off his shirt and settled on top of her. His cock lay heavy against her abdomen. She pressed into the mattress and tugged the dress up. A prick to her ribs startled her before she realized it was the lock picks in her pocket and she pulled the dress farther up so that his length lay in direct contact with her stomach. He thrust gently against her flesh as he pulled the other strap down her shoulder, exposing the second breast. Moist lips trailed a slow kiss down the curve of her breast to the nipple. She gasped when he sucked the nipple into his mouth.
Margot wrapped a leg around his hip. He rocked against her. A dizzying current of desire streaked through her. Sweet Christ, the man was pure male. Was this how he’d gotten those other women? His cock thrust against her stomach. She shifted so that his length nestled in her curls and locked her second leg around his hip with the other one. She wrapped her arms around his back and hugged him close. He moved against her, the edge of his cock sliding along her swollen nub in agonizing torture.
“Closer,” she whispered.
He reached between them and slid a long finger between her folds and into the heat that begged for his touch. Margot sucked in air. Colin pulled his finger out and dragged the wetness up to the swollen bud. A quiver radiated through her. He spread her folds, then slid his cock between them until the tip teased her sensitive spot. She threaded her fingers through his hair.
Margot arched her hips, rubbing against his rod. He covered her nipple with his mouth. She pulsed against his cock as he suckled. She reached between them and wrapped a hand around his rod. A groan reverberated through his chest. She placed the mushroom tip against her clit and rubbed. He sucked harder on her breast. In one swift movement, she drew back her hips and shoved his cock into her wet channel.
Colin stiffened, but she clamped her legs tighter around him and thrust her hips so that he rammed into the back of her channel. He buried his head in her neck and began moving inside her. Pleasure rippled through her. She tightened her arms around his back. He moved faster. A warm hand covered her breast, and Margot gasped when he rolled the nipple between finger and thumb.
She braced her hips as his thrusts picked up speed. He slammed into her channel. Pressure built. She slid her hands down his back and grasped his ass. Muscle clenched beneath her fingers. H
e abruptly released her breast and yanked back from her. Margot grabbed for his shoulder, but he seized her waist and flipped her onto her stomach. He shoved her legs apart, knelt between her legs and pulled her ass to him. One arm around her waist, he fitted his cock to her channel opening and shoved inside.
Her walls tightened around him and she braced on her elbows against the force of the deep thrusts. He gripped her hips, yanking her hard against him with each plunge of his rod into her. He tilted her ass upward and pleasure radiated from her core. She gasped and angled further upward. Pain lanced through her wounded palm with the action, but she didn't care. She wanted him. Margot twisted and looked over her shoulder. He stared, eyes blazing, jaw set like granite. His powerful chest clenched with effort. Eyes locked with his, she traced the line of her lips with her tongue. His fingers tightened around her hips and he thrust harder.
He plunged deeper, balls slapping her with each plunge. A tremor rocked her stomach. The man was possessing her. If he was real, was what he seemed to be, she would give her life to get him out of this hell. Panic pushed her heartbeat faster. What if he wasn’t the honorable man he appeared to be?
Pressure built.
How had she dreamed of him before seeing his picture?
Her pussy clenched.
What about Bree Cullen's face hidden in the ivy of the painting—and Rita Jones' image?
Margot’s chest tightened.
Those things were real.
This was real.
He is real.
Pleasure ripped through her.
He groaned. Orgasm rolled over her in a massive wave. Margot dragged in a ragged breath. Air, she needed air. Light erupted behind her eyelids. Air rushed around her in a raging cyclone. She dropped onto the bed, Colin on top of her, pounding into her heat from behind, one arm wrapped in an iron grip around her waist. He slid a hand between her and the bed, found the sensitive nub hidden in the curls, and massaged it in quick spurts. Margot cried out. His breath, hot across the flesh of her neck sent her over the edge of a second orgasm that spasmed her body. She clutched at the sheets in an effort to slow the spiral. The rush of air grew in intensity.