by Shéa MacLeod
“Listen, Morgan. I know you’re freaked out about what happened between us. I know you’re confused about me and about Jack.”
I was surprised he was so perceptive, but I guess I shouldn’t have been. He was clairvoyant, after all.
I opened my mouth so speak, but he shushed me. “You may not understand why I’m doing this, but I’m letting you go right now.” There was sorrow in his eyes as he caressed my cheek with his thumb. “And the reason I’m letting you go now is because I know when the time is right you’re going to come back to me.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it.
Inigo swallowed hard. “I hate this. I hate that I have to let you go, but it’s the only way you’re going to know for sure that we were meant to be. Just remember, I’m still here when you’re ready.”
And then he kissed me. Hard and deep and thoroughly. The heat that was never far from the surface where Inigo was concerned came roaring back.
He was right. I didn’t understand it. Letting me go? What the hell did that mean? I wasn’t his to begin with. I didn’t know whether to be amused or angry or what. Instead I took a step back, turned and followed Jack outside. Before I shut the door, I gave Inigo one last look. For just a minute, his eyes glowed gold then turned back to blue. I shook my head a little. Must have been a trick of the light.
“Night Inigo.”
“Goodnight Morgan.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Instead of taking me back to my house, Jack drove to his. He pulled the car into the drive, but left the motor running. “You, ah, you want to come in?”
“Yeah.” Was that my voice all soft and husky? Good grief. “I’d like that.”
“I think we have things to talk about.”
He wasn’t kidding. I had a few questions for my own personal Sunwalker.
I followed him into the house and waited while he switched on a couple of table lamps. “You want something to drink?” Was he stalling?
“Sure.”
He disappeared into the kitchen, so I wandered over to the bookshelves. I pulled one off the shelf. It was a first edition Mark Twain. Signed. Holy crap.
“Interesting man, Samuel Clemens.” I hadn’t heard him re-enter the room. He set two mugs down on the coffee table and the scent of cardamom wafted under my nose. I was really starting to like his special blend of tea. “He was kind enough to sign that for me.”
I bet he was. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the fact that you personally knew people who are, for me, ancient history.” I curled up beside him on the couch. He handed me one of the mugs then slid his free arm around me. It felt really good leaning back into all that muscled warmth. I took a sip of the spicy tea and let out a sigh of contentment. I could get used to this.
“But you work with vampires nearly every day. I would think you’d be used to it by now.”
I shook my head. “I kill vampires nearly every day. It’s not like I sit down and have a conversation with them before I do it. Besides, vampires wouldn’t have had conversations with famous historical figures, they’d have eaten them.”
That made him laugh. He had a good laugh, all rumbly and deep. It made my thighs quiver and other places go all tingly.
“Morgan Bailey, you are one hell of a woman.” His fingers played with my hair.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.”
We were quiet, enjoying the moment. Stupid me, I had to go and shatter it. “Tell me about her.”
He didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about. He let out a sigh. “Her name was Lydia. At least, that’s the name I knew her by. She was over a thousand years old when I met her.
“When I left France after King Phillip had the Templar’s executed, I headed to Scotland. Scotland had been excommunicated from the Church, so it would be safe for me until such a time as I could reunite with those of my Brothers who survived the Purge.”
I couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must have been to be hunted like some kind of animal. “How did you make it out of France?”
“Lydia. The Key had shown me we needed to set up safe houses and that things were going to change, not in our favor. Many of our safe houses were run by Sunwalkers and Lydia was one of them. She took me in and hid me until she could smuggle me onto a ship bound for Scotland.” His voice held a distant, dreamy quality that sometimes happened when a person recounted old stories. I supposed most of his stories would be old.
“I convinced Lydia to come with me. If Phillip’s men found her, they would execute her, too.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Collaboration. Spite. Revenge. He didn’t need a reason, he was king.”
“So you got to Scotland all right, that’s obvious,” I prodded.
“Yes, we arrived safely and met up with others of my Brothers who had escaped. Nearly all of them were human.”
“Phillip killed the Sunwalkers first.” It wasn’t a question. I knew of men like King Phillip IV of France. Men whose overriding egos could only be assuaged by death and blood. He’d have had to kill the Sunwalkers to prove his manhood and soothe his bruised ego.
“Yes. Not a single one survived in France, and only a handful elsewhere. I realized I had to leave my brother knights if only to keep them safe. So Lydia and I and another female Sunwalker named Aicha hid out deep in the Highlands until memories faded and it was safe to live elsewhere.”
“What happened to them, Lydia and Aicha?” I wanted to know. I had a feeling Lydia especially had been more than just a friend.
“Aicha died in 1640, shortly after we arrived here in the New World.”
He’d come in 1640? Holy cow. “How did she die?”
“She died of starvation.” He didn’t say any more and he didn’t need to. I’d studied enough history to know just how many people had died from lack of food during the early colonization of North America. I could also see the guilt riding him. Guilt that he’d survived and she hadn’t. That he couldn’t die. I squeezed his hand and he squeezed mine back before continuing. “Lydia lived until twenty years ago. She was home alone with the amulet when Darroch’s men came. She couldn’t fight that many, so he killed her and took the Key. Slit her throat from ear to ear then cut out her heart to make sure she didn’t heal.”
Darroch was such a bastard. As if I needed any more proof of that. I was glad we’d handed him over to Trevor Daly and the government’s not-so-tender mercies.
“Were you and Lydia lovers?” I couldn’t help it. I had to know.
Jack grinned a little. “Jealous?”
I just shrugged. No way was he getting that confession out of me.
“At first,” he admitted. “But after a while we were just … I don’t know. We just were. I loved her, she was my family just as Aicha was, but we weren’t in love anymore. More like brother and sister, I guess.”
I suppose that happened when you lived with someone for nearly seven hundred years. “What did Darroch mean, blood calls to blood?”
Jack shook his head. He sat his mug down and then wrapped his arms around me. Damn, that felt really good. “I’m not sure. Maybe he meant that descendents of Atlantis could sense each other, or maybe he recognized that we are both Sunwalkers.”
I so wasn’t going to go there. I wasn’t ready yet to admit that I was a Sunwalker. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready.
“Did you know the first time you met me? That I was like you? Part Atlantean, I mean.”
He frowned. “No, I didn’t.”
“Well, that can’t be it, then. Maybe it has something to do with the amulet,” I speculated.
“That’s as good an answer as any. We can’t exactly ask him now and I doubt he’d tell us the truth anyway.”
I sighed. There were still so many questions and it was doubtful we’d ever get all the answers. There was one question, though, that I knew he could answer.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?” He was still playing with my hair,
letting silky red strands slip through his fingers.
“What did Darroch mean when he said you were in love with me?”
I felt him go deadly still and I held my breath. I wasn’t sure what answer I wanted to hear, but I knew it was important.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned me around in his arms so I was facing him, my legs straddling his muscular ones and his ocean blue eyes staring deep into my green ones. My heart was thumping so loudly in my chest I was sure he could hear it.
If he did, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he leaned over and kissed me with those gorgeous velvety lips of his. He hadn’t exactly answered my question, but for one minute I stopped breathing, stopped thinking. I just held on for dear life and kissed him back for all I was worth.
He pulled back a little and I nearly whimpered at the loss of him. He didn’t let me go though. “Morgan,” he voice was a little ragged which made me feel better. I wasn’t the only one affected by our kiss. “I’m over nine hundred years old. I’m not sure I know how to love anymore. It’s been so long. But I want to try … ” He hesitated.
I cut him off with a kiss. I didn’t want to hear any more than that. I wasn’t ready to talk about love or commitment. I was OK with here and now and seeing where this thing would take us. I didn’t need more. Not yet.
I wrapped myself around him and kissed him for all I was worth. My hands slipped under the soft fabric of his T-shirt to lose themselves in the feel of his hot, velvet skin underneath. His fingers were working their magic with the hooks on my bra.
His tongue slipped into my mouth as I squirmed in his lap, trying to get closer. He pushed me back a little and I made an irritated sound, but it was only so he could rip my shirt and bra off. The look in his eyes when he saw my naked breasts was enough to have me smirking. What was it with men and boobs?
He dipped his head so he could take first one nipple in his mouth, then the other. I could feel the hard length of his erection prodding my stomach. I couldn’t help myself; I rubbed against him until my panties were soaked and I was practically out of my mind with want.
Jack growled low in his throat and yanked down the zipper on my jeans. It took a bit of aerobics on my part, but we managed to get them off. He got rid of my panties, too. I tried to pull the tab down on his zipper, but there wasn’t enough give. Swearing, he managed to get the thing down and shrug his jeans off.
Oh, Lordy, he’d gone commando. My hand found the smooth hot length of him and I stroked. “Morgan,” he hissed. I just grinned against his lips then stuck my tongue in his mouth. Most effective.
Not to be outdone, Jack slipped his own hand down until he found my slick folds. His finger rubbed over my clitoris and I nearly came then and there. I couldn’t take it anymore. I jerked his hand away from me.
“I want you now. Inside me,” I breathed in his ear.
He hissed out a breath and grabbed me by the hips, lifting me a little. I positioned him at my entrance, the tip of him teasing me with pleasure. In one smooth move, I lowered myself on him until he was inside me. Filling me. I arched over him. Gods it felt so good. I thought I might burst with the sheer pleasure of it. “Jack.”
He nipped my ear then kissed me hard, his tongue tangling with mine even as I found my rhythm. The thrust of our tongues mimicked the thrust of our bodies, the pressure winding tighter and higher, building until in one moment, pleasure burst over me like a wave. My muscles contracted around him, milking him with my orgasm.
Jack groaned, his face taut as he flipped us over so I was on my back with him on top. I wrapped my legs around him as he thrust into me again and again, the tension twisting tighter and tighter. His last thrust sent another orgasm rippling through me, and this time he joined me.
For a while we just lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs slick with sweat. I nuzzled his neck and slid my hand down to squeeze his delectable backside. I loved the salty taste of him, the feel of him against my skin. The man was simply too delicious for words.
And then the phone rang in the other room.
“Goddammit,” he hissed.
“Ignore it. Just ignore it,” I begged. I so didn’t want this moment to end. It felt too good.
“I can’t. It might be important.” His voice was rough, breathing labored. It thrilled me to my toes that he was as affected by me as I was by him. “Stay here, OK? Don’t move.” He gave me a quick, hard kiss before pulling on his jeans.
Still lost in the afterglow, I just gave him a dopey smile and sank back into the soft couch cushions. I’d probably kick myself for my sheer lunacy later, but for right now I was living in the moment.
As he disappeared into the other room, my gaze shifted back to the amulet which he’d left wrapped up in its velvet cover sitting on the coffee table. Curiosity got the better of me so I wrapped myself in the throw we somehow managed not to dislodge from the back of the couch. Then I reached out and gently lifted the folds of cloth away from the amulet, the Key of Atlantis. I wondered vaguely why Darroch had called me the Key. Probably a slip of the tongue.
It might be next to useless without the Bloodline, but it was still pretty. A sudden urge came over me, that same urge you get when they offer you free samples in a chocolate shop. I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and caressed its surface, smooth and cold under my fingertips. As my fingers brushed the center stone, a blaze of rich blue light suddenly shot out of the gem, bathing the room in blue fire just as Jack returned.
“What the heck?” I jumped back a good ten feet at least. “It’s glowing!” I screeched. “Why is it glowing? Is it supposed to do that?”
Jack just stared at me, face white and eyes wide. He opened his mouth, closed it then fell to his knees. “My lady,” he whispered, his voice gone hoarse. He bowed his head and placed his right fist over his heart in the same salute I’d seen in my dreams. “My lady, I am yours to command, now and always.”
I glanced from Jack kneeling on the wood floor to the glowing amulet in my hand and I suddenly understood. Or thought I did. Apparently Jackson Keel, former Templar Knight, immortal Sunwalker, Guardian of the Key of Atlantis, had finally found a member of the Royal Atlantean Bloodline. And she was standing in his living room. There was really only one thing I could say.
“Oh, shit.”
*
Electronic Edition
COPYRIGHT (c) 2011 by Shea MacLeod/Pamela Meliza
Published 2011 by Sunwalker Press, London, UK
The right of Shea MacLeod/Pamela Meliza to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons either living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art: Amanda Kelsey
Cover Model: Anais Gryspeirt
Makeup Artist: Magdalena Stankowska
Edited by: Lauren Dee
Thanks to my fabulous critique partners Lois and Tamra. You made this novel shine.
Please visit Shea MacLeod at http://sheamacleod.wordpress.com/
Table of Contents
Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
/>