He took another step back from her, and Natasha could tell that it was because her brow continued to furrow rather than to smooth.
“It’s fine,” she said, trying to reassure him. After all, he couldn’t possibly know that such a statement would trigger her past issues with possessive, domineering men. She knew that Ronan wasn’t like that, but still—hearing such an unexpected statement from his lips had thrown her back into that place that Matthew had kept her, fair or not.
“It’s not fine,” he said. “I can tell by your face that it’s not, and I understand. All I meant was…I feel drawn to you. And I jumped from that to…maybe you’re the one who’s meant for me. And that’s way too much.”
“It is,” Natasha agreed. Although as she adjusted to the moment, she was less panicked by what he’d said. “It’s not the end of the world though. I’ll take it how you meant it—that you’re drawn to me.” She offered him a renewed smile. “Good enough?”
He smiled back. “More than. How about I go get us tickets to Ireland? I could fly us myself, but with Charlotte coming and with my recent problems with shifting, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. So I’m going to book us tickets.”
Natasha had to laugh slightly. “Well, as disappointed as I am not to be flying across the Atlantic Ocean on the back of a dragon, I suppose that you’re right.”
“I will take you flying though,” he promised her. “Over there. You and me. If you want to.”
“I do,” she said, and she knew she really meant it. “I would be honored.”
That made him smile, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, standing there looking like the most gorgeous, infatuated man that she had ever seen. It made the butterflies go off in her stomach, and she found herself squirming, longing to touch him again.
“Go back,” he urged. “I’ll handle everything else. Three tickets. For the next flight.”
For the first time, Natasha allowed herself to consider the reality that she was actually going to Ireland, somewhere she had always dreamed of visiting, and she was leaving in a matter of hours. She had never been out of the country before, and now she was on the verge of flying over the Atlantic Ocean and landing in a country that, to her, was the most magical place anyone could ever be.
“What part of Ireland?” she asked, thinking back to all she had read about the majestic country.
“We’re from Donegal, in the Republic,” he told her. “The coast. I hear it’s beautiful, and the pictures I’ve seen confirm that.”
“You haven’t been?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve never gone there—none of us have from the last few generations. It’s time we got back in touch with our roots, and I’m glad I’m doing it with you.”
She was beaming, hardly able to wait to call Charlotte and tell her. “Me too.”
Chapter Eleven
Ronan
Immediately, Ronan liked Charlotte. She was all kinds of positive energy, wrapped in a tiny package, and he could tell that she was good at what she did. The moment she had seen him, she’d smiled. “Your Nana. She’s here, and she’s worried about you. She says that now you’re like you were when you were seven—like the time when you transitioned into your dragon form at the dinner table and knocked over the table and all of the dishes. Your father was angry, but your Nana calmed him down, reminding him what it was like to be young and just learning how to transition. It makes her laugh, now, to think of you just popping into a fun-sized dragon.”
Fun-sized dragon. His Nana had said that all the time, and he had known without a shadow of a doubt that Charlotte really did have an avenue to the other realm. When he compared interacting with her to interacting with Josiah Webb, he could see that they were night and day. Josiah Webb had been all show, refusing to demonstrate his power until pressed and then bringing just a silent image—one that he could have conjured from anywhere. Charlotte was one with her gift. To her, it was like breathing, and that was evident in the way that she spoke.
As Ronan sat on the airplane next to Natasha and Charlotte, he felt more confident than he ever had about the mission that he was on. He was flying to his homeland, where there had to be answers. There just had to be.
It was dark on the flight, the hour late and the sky outside of the window jet-black. Below them would only be black ocean, endless in its breadth and depth. They would land in Dublin in what would feel, to them, like the wee hours of the morning, but in Dublin it would be almost noon. There, they would have a brief layover and then fly on to Dublin where they would catch a train that would take them away from the capital of Ireland and into the countryside. Ronan could hardly wait to set his foot on Irish soil for the first time, and he knew that it would be a moment he would never forget.
Beside him, Natasha stirred in her sleep, her head dropping onto his shoulder as she tried to get comfortable.
Ronan smiled, resting his cheek against her hair and breathing in the light, fragrant scent of her perfume. She had panicked, earlier, when he’d called her his mate, and he understood why. He also understood that she really was the woman who was fated for him. To anyone outside of his situation, it would seem insane, but Ronan had watched each of his friends fall in the love over the past year; he had seen the change in them when they met the person that was meant for them.
When he looked at Natasha, he saw nothing else. He had entertained, purposefully, the thought of Elena or Jessica coming over to spend the night with him, and while that idea had appealed that morning, before he’d met Natasha, now that he knew her, no other woman held any appeal.
It wasn’t just physical, although their connection in that realm was undeniable. Who she was—that was what captivated him. And maybe it would take them time to learn each other and for her to see what he saw, but he knew too much not to see who she was supposed to be for him.
And he wasn’t going to let her get away.
“Mmmm …” she sighed softly in her sleep, and he couldn’t help but kiss her hair.
To his surprise, she looked up at him through sleepy eyes and smiled slightly. “Good morning. Are we almost there?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “No. We still have almost four hours. You should try to sleep as much as you can. Are you comfortable enough?”
Natasha scrunched her nose. “I’ll live. The middle seat isn’t ideal.”
Ronan looked past her to Charlotte, who was fast asleep, curled up on her side in her seat, her head on the armrest. She was so small that she took up no room at all. “Lean against me,” he urged Natasha, nudging her back and then lifting the armrest between them so that he could draw her to his side more comfortably. “How’s that?”
“It’s nice,” she murmured, her head resting on his shoulder. It fit perfectly in the curve there, and he rubbed her arm, relishing the sensation of her pressed so close against him.
“It’s nice,” he agreed, shifting himself so that he could give her even more space to lean into him. “Your family …they didn’t like you coming with me,” he said. He’d wanted to make time to talk to her about her parents’ reaction, and now was as good a time as any. “They’re very protective of you.”
She nodded.
“Is there a reason for that?”
Ronan could feel her tense against him, and he regretted his question. But at the same time, he longed to know the answer. He felt so connected to her already, and not just because she had taken all the pain away from his body and become part of him. He wanted to know her inside and out, and it was clear to him that there was something in her past that haunted her. She had taken his pain, and he wanted to do the same for her, somehow.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “There’s a reason.”
“A man.”
“Yes,” she said again, nodding against his shoulder. “A man. My husband.”
It was Ronan’s turn to tense, his arm that was around her tightening ever so slightly. “You’re married.”
“Technically, yes,” she murmured. �
�It’s easier than…confronting him.”
“Did he hurt you?” Ronan’s voice was dark and threatening, his body engaged for war just at the thought.
She laughed softly, but without humor. “No. Nothing can hurt me. Remember?”
“Physical pain is not the only kind.”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not. Emotionally, he destroyed me. If you really want the honest answer.”
He swallowed hard, unable to keep the bile from rising in his throat at all the possible things that her husband might have done to her. “Natasha…”
“No,” she said, looking up at him. “Don’t feel badly for me. I don’t want it. I got away from him, after he beat me to death. See, I can’t be killed that way. Not when my body can heal itself as it lies there, on the floor, bleeding and bruised.”
“Stop,” Ronan said sharply, the emotions she was evoking in him too much for his body, still cursed, to handle. He could feel the energy vibrating within him, and although he was still in control, he might, if she kept talking, not be. And if he transitioned while on the plane, it would destroy the entire craft and kill every single one of the passengers.
He was suddenly furious with himself for even risking such a thing, and he grabbed Natasha’s hand, pressing it to his heart. “Heal me. Do something. Steady me. I feel shaky—like I could explode with rage. And if I do …”
She understood, without him saying anymore, and he felt her energy flow through him, wrapping around the ball of uncontrollable energy that lived within him now and slowly soothing it. He laced his fingers with hers as they pressed their hands together against his chest, and slowly, gradually, he felt the moment of panic pass. The nerve endings in his body no longer felt like live wires, and his hands no longer trembled with the need to lift toward the sky and transform into dragon talons that could claw the face off any enemy he met.
Ronan let his eyes close, relaxing into her touch as he breathed in and out steadily. “Something just happened to me.”
“The curse,” Natasha murmured. “It weakens your control over yourself and your power. Strong emotion isn’t something your body can process well right now. The curse is designed to attack you from within, slowly robbing you of your control and your abilities.”
“But I felt so much more like myself.”
“I told you,” she told him gently. “You’re not healed. Right now, I’m like a Band-Aid for you. That’s all.”
He finally looked at her, falling into her beautiful eyes even in the dark. “Natasha, your husband—”
“Shhh,” she said, shaking her head and placing a finger against his lips. “Don’t think about him. I try not to. Especially not when I want to sleep. Or be at peace. Or imagine what it will be like to step foot on foreign soil.”
She was asking him, without saying as much, not to press her on the issue right then, and he would respect that request. He regretted bringing it up at all, given what it had brought out in him. And yet he couldn’t unknow what she’d said, and there was no chance in hell that, wherever her husband was, Ronan wasn’t going to make him pay for whatever he did to Natasha.
It would be his gift to her, once he was really himself again. He would give her freedom. Freedom from her memories and her fears and her insecurities. It was the least that he could do after all that she had done for him already.
But for the moment, he wouldn’t press it.
He nodded, smiling softly at her. “Lie against me and go back to sleep. When you wake up next, we’ll be ready to land in Dublin. And a few hours after that we’ll be at our destination. We’ll walk along the coast and wander in and out of temples and castles. Picnic on beaches. Eat Irish Stew and get drunk on Guinness.”
His words had their intended effect, and Natasha’s smile became genuine again as she laid her head down on his shoulder. “That sounds beautiful.”
It wasn’t as simple as all that, of course. They both knew there was a mission at hand, and they both knew it could be dangerous. Ronan didn’t know what would happen to his body under stress, and he didn’t know how far he would have to tax Natasha’s power or Charlotte’s connection to the other side.
Everything was unknown, except for the fact that she felt right, as she leaned up against him. For now, that was all he would let himself think about. Everything else …it could wait.
Chapter Twelve
Natasha
Stepping off the train into the open-air Moville train station was like stepping into a different world for Natasha. The landscape that spread out all around them was rugged and wild, with mountains that cut jagged lines into the gray sky and ocean that stretched out as far as she could see. The air was fresh, and the grass was greener than she had ever seen. She could have just stood there, drinking it all in for ages, but then Charlotte was behind her, nudging her forward, and the initial magical spell broke amid the bustle of gathering luggage and staying out of people’s way and trying to figure out where to go from the train station.
She had her suitcase in hand and was trying to look at the train station signs when Ronan walked up beside her, whispering in her ear. “Look at where we are.”
Those simple words brought the amazement all rushing back, and she grinned at him as they walked away from the train station, stepping foot on Irish soil for the first time. They had landed in Dublin just after five o’clock in the morning, but the ride from Dublin to Moville, all the way across the island and slightly to the north, had taken almost four hours. The morning sun, always weak in Ireland, cast a gentle, gray light over the world, and, as exhausted as Natasha was, she could have basked in it for another four hours. “I can’t believe it,” she told him. “I always thought I would travel, but to actually be here…”
His smile said that he understood, and they shared a brief moment of quiet happiness together before the demands of reality once again intervened.
“Where are we going from here?” Charlotte asked, yawning. As it turned out, she had been to Ireland several times, and while she loved the island, she wasn’t as swept up in it as Natasha and Ronan. “I’m absolutely beat.”
“You slept through most of the flight,” Natasha said, laughing at her. “Do you really not want to explore?”
Charlotte looked at her apologetically. “No …I’m sorry. I’ve been here before, and I love it—but I need my beauty rest. Do we have a hotel set up?”
“We do,” Ronan told her, pulling out his phone as they stood on the curbside of the street just outside of the train station. “It’s nearby, and I think we can walk there. And Natasha, as much as I want to explore too, I think we all need to get some rest and then figure out the first steps for what we’re going to do here.”
Natasha sighed, knowing he was right. It was obvious, just by looking at him, that he still was not himself. He looked infinitely better than when she’d first met him, but his skin had taken on that grayish color again, and he looked tired and worn. The curse that lived inside of him was still consuming him, however much she had done to hold it off. That had to be her first priority. “Of course,” she agreed, touching his arm. “Let’s get to the hotel and get settled in. Where are we headed?”
It took them about fifteen minutes to locate and walk to their bed and breakfast, and another fifteen minutes to get checked into the small, quaint building with white walls, brick fireplaces, stone floors, and old hand-carved furniture. Ronan had gotten them each a room, and they were the only people at the bed and breakfast, which only had a total of four rooms. It was like having a house to themselves, and Natasha immediately loved the little place, sitting down on her bed with its lace coverlet and plush pillows and staring out her window at gentle sunlight glinting off of choppy ocean waters.
“Knock, knock.”
Natasha turned back toward the door to her room, which she had left cracked, and saw Ronan standing there, leaning up against the doorjamb. As always, the sight of him, particularly when it took her by surprise, sent her heart hammering. She smiled
, motioning for him to come in, and he did, closing the door behind him.
“What do you think?” he asked, looking around the room. “Nice place?”
“Very,” she agreed, standing up and walking toward him. “Come here. Sit down. I need to help you again.”
He didn’t protest, letting her guide him to sit on the edge of her bed. When he was there, she got behind him, sliding her hands over his shoulders and up into his hair again, releasing the effects of the curse from his body with each stroke of her fingertips. As she did, he leaned further and further back against her, until his back was resting against her chest, and his head was falling back on her shoulder, her arms encircling him to keep him upright.
They were entangled with each other, the way she never was with a client, and Natasha let herself fall into it, resting her cheek against his as her hands slid down his chest and her legs draped over the bed, on either side of him. Every place they touched ignited something inside of her, and when he turned his head, looking into her eyes, Natasha knew that she was in deep.
Their lips drew closer, then touched, and the kiss lingered, both of them waiting to see what the other one would do as time seemed to stand still around them.
And then Ronan reached up and cupped the back of her head, pulling her mouth against his and deepening the kiss with one slide of the top of his tongue against the seam of her lips. Her lips parted, her tongue meeting his, as the kiss became deep and urgent and needy. She slid her body around him, leaning him back onto the bed as she straddled his hips and kissed him with a kind of passion that she hadn’t known she possessed. It wasn’t an act—it was a desperate need that she had to be closer to him, wrapped around him, inside him. She wanted him to be inside her.
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