“Did he leave on his own then?” Ronan asked. “Or did you manage to …dislodge him?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Charlotte shook her head, sitting down on the ground and hugging her slim legs to her chest. “He was just gone, and I can’t tell if that’s because I was pushing him out or because he chose to leave.”
Natasha interrupted them. “Why was he so angry? What did he mean—figure it out?”
It was Ronan’s turn to say, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I tracked Josiah Webb down through different references because he was a medium, and he was willing to work with me. Or he said he was. To my knowledge, that’s the first and only interaction we’ve had, and I thought that he cursed me because he knew that he was about to die. Somehow.”
“It seems like it’s a lot more personal than that,” Charlotte pointed out. “It felt really, really personal.”
Ronan didn’t disagree, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine what personal connection he could have to Josiah Webb. He had never met or seen the man before, and he knew no one else by the last name of Webb who might be a connection between them. “Clearly I need to look into my past files,” Ronan said. “Maybe there’s some connection to a case I’ve worked. My life is my cases and my responsibility to the clan. That’s about it.”
“What about the women you’ve dated?” Natasha asked.
Looking at her in surprise, Ronan had no choice but to nod slowly. “Well, yes. True. I suppose it could have something to do with some past…dalliance.” Pulling out his phone, he fired off a group text to all four of his friends back home, asking them to look through his alphabetized files and to research the name Josiah Webb for any other possibly connections between them. It was something that would be far easier for the four of them to handle at home.
Then he looked around the open space they were in and tried to get them back to their original purpose for being there. “Charlotte, the first person who came through—that really was Patrick O’Donnell, wasn’t it? I really did talk to him.”
She nodded. “Yes. I could feel him there. There were others too. Others who, had they gotten a chance, would have come through to talk with you. The connection here—it’s strong. They’re still part of this place. This land. They live here as much as any of the other citizens. We were right to come here to do this, because if we had tried it in Boston, I don’t think that the channel would nearly have been as strong or wide.”
It was good to get confirmation that there was something going right. He might be no closer to finding an answer than he had been six months ago, and he might be sporting a deeply rooted curse, and he might have just endured the sensation of being burned alive for long, miserable minutes. But he had, at the very least, spoken to the person who he was absolutely certain would be able to point him in the right direction.
Natasha’s hand landed on his arm, and he turned from his thoughts, looking down into her beautiful face. She was another thing that was going very right. “Try again,” she said quietly. “Try once more. If it’s Josiah Webb again, I can handle whatever he throws at you. I’m strong enough.”
He touched her cheek, looking into her dark, sincere gaze. “I know you’re strong enough, but I don’t want to hurt you. We don’t know how much power he has, Natasha.”
“Nothing can hurt me.”
“That’s not true,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Someone taking advantage of you hurts you, even if the physical pain involved doesn’t.”
She covered his hand with hers, pressing gently. “You’re not taking advantage of me. We’re here to try to talk to your ancestors. If Charlotte feels like she can—do it again. I’ll be ready this time.”
He knew that part of what she wanted was a chance to prove herself, because she felt guilty that she hadn’t immediately rushed to him when she’d seen him there, lying on the ground, seemingly on fire. There was no need for her to feel guilty, but the truth was that he did want to try to reach Patrick O’Donnell again, and if it would help Natasha as well, then it was a win-win.
Ronan turned to Charlotte, who nodded, and he braced himself, all of them having learned from the first experience to be ready for anything.
Just like that first time, Charlotte leaned her head back and opened herself up, her eyes drifting closed as her own consciousness drifted away, paving the way for another to take its place. But unlike the first time, nothing seemed to happen. There was no movement from her, no sound, no flicker of presence or power that Ronan could detect.
He looked over at Natasha, hoping that she was seeing something that he was somehow missing, but she shook her head, silently agreeing with him that there was nothing happening.
Ronan had experienced a great deal in his lifetime, and much of it had been in the realm of the supernatural. He had worked with werewolves, battled ghosts, worked with shapeshifters, and spent most of his nights soaring through the skies with the rest of the Dragon Clan. But he had very little experience with contacting the other realm, having never before needed to work so closely with the dead. When it came to such things, he was out of his element, but he also wasn’t the type to sit around and wait for something to happen. Even when the curse he was under had had him wholly in its grip, he had still worked day after day to try to find some answer from the safety of his home.
Now there was an open channel to the other realm right before him, and he wasn’t going to start sitting back and waiting now.
“Patrick?” Ronan called. “Patrick O’Donnell, if you’re there—please. Speak with me. You once led the Dragon Clan to greatness by figuring out a way around the curse that had been placed on them. You made them great, and they still are. But it’s time to make them even greater, and how can I do that without you? Talk to me. Tell me what I need to do. A good leader knows he doesn’t have all the answers, Patrick. Together, we can conquer this.”
Still, nothing happened, Charlotte’s body limp and motionless as she offered it up for occupation. Ronan sighed, turning his back on Charlotte and dragging his hands through his thick hair. He wasn’t giving up, but he needed to figure something out—something that he could try to use to bring Patrick back from wherever Josiah’s interruption had sent him.
“Patrick—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. He had been standing at the edge of the cliff when he began to speak again, Patrick’s name the first thing on his lips. But before he could finish his thought, he felt a shove against his back that sent him toppling forward, the sole of his left foot teetering on the edge of the cliff.
Ronan righted himself, shifting his center of balance to his right foot to keep himself from toppling over the edge. He tried to whirl around to face whatever attacker was coming at him now, but as he turned, hands grabbed around his throat from behind, shaking him. At the side of his vision, he saw Natasha rushing for him, reaching for his arm, but his left foot was already all the way off of the cliff, and though it was happening in slow motion, he could tell that he was about to fall.
“No!” Ronan shouted, warning her to stay away just as her hand grasped onto his. The invisible hands around his throat shook him once more, then shoved him backward, sending him tumbling off the cliff with Natasha falling right behind him.
All he could see as he careened off the cliff toward the water was her body above his, and all he could hear was her panicked scream as she flailed in the air.
There was no hesitation. There might be people around them, somewhere, but he had to take the risk. Ronan shifted in midair, his clothing scattering into the water below him as his wide, strong, black wings stretched out, his tail thrashed through the gusts of wind pulling him downward, and his sleek, steel-like body sailed effortlessly above the water. He swept under Natasha’s body just moments before she was about to crash against the choppy water, and she fell against him with a gentle thud.
Ronan could feel her safely on his back, and he realized that his first and only thought had been of her once they
were falling. It wasn’t heroism either. It was just her.
He flew her in slow circles just above the water, giving her some time to regroup before he started to lift them higher again, intending to return to the top of the cliff where Charlotte—and potentially whatever had attacked them—waited. But as he began to soar higher, Ronan felt something strange come over him. He felt sick, a sensation he had never before experienced in his dragon form. He felt weak, unbalanced, and faint, as though he was struggling to draw in breath.
Ronan began to lose altitude, and as much as he struggled to regain the height, he fell lower and lower, until the waves were lapping at his underbelly. He began to panic, knowing that while he would be all right even if he sank under the waves, Natasha would be lost amidst the deep, frigid sea. Struggling, he tried to stroke his wings through the air, but he could make no progress, and a searing pain began to move through him, radiating to the tips of his wings.
He lashed at the water with his tail, trying to keep them both above the waves, and his legs kicked, jostling both he and Natasha back and forth. It was exhausting in a way that it never should have been though, and Ronan suddenly felt a tremor move through him—one that should never have been there. He had never, not once in his life, ever struggled to stay in his dragon form, but he could tell that his body was rebelling against him now.
His wings went limp, and he began to shake, and then, without there being anything he could do to stop it, his body transitioned back into its human form, falling straight into the choppy, freezing waters and beginning to sink. He kicked his tired, weak legs and swept his equally burdened arms out in front of him, trying to keep his head as close to the surface as he could, but his thought really wasn’t for him at all.
His only thought was Natasha and how he could find her and push her to the surface, even if he couldn’t make it there with her.
Chapter Fourteen
Natasha
Shock-cold water surrounded Natasha, dragging her deeper and deeper. Her lungs burned with a desperate need for oxygen, but that pain, like any other pain, had no true impact on her. It certainly didn’t make her forget that Ronan was drowning below her. Without oxygen, she would eventually die, just like anyone else. Her body could heal itself, but it couldn’t produce its own air. But she would have more time than most, and whatever time she had, she was going to use to fight for Ronan.
There was no doubt in her mind and no hesitation in her body. The sight of flames consuming him had given her pause, but she would never make that mistake again.
Natasha kicked as powerfully as she could, turning herself in the water so that instead of facing the surface, she faced downward. Then she stroked her arms out and backward, displacing as much water as she could to push herself further and further into the depths. The currents worked with her instead of against her now, and she found herself growing closer to the dark mass below her that had to be Ronan. The water was too murky for her to see clearly, and the salt burned at her eyes, but it was just pain, and pain was nothing to her.
Her mind began to grow fuzzy as her need for air dominated everything. But her outstretched arm was just inches from Ronan, and she couldn’t allow herself to surface without him. One more push and she was touching his arm, her hand wrapping around his wrist. The weight of his body pulled hers down further, and now she was truly in trouble, because she had only moments of consciousness left to reach the surface, but now she had to fight against the current and his dead weight only added to her burden.
A shiver moved through her as his hand wrapped around her forearm, and she didn’t understand when he tugged her toward him instead of helping to push her toward the surface. She was drowning, every second passing like an age as her lungs demanded relief. But Ronan was pulling her into his arms and wrapping himself around her, burying his face in her neck, and she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand, and she couldn’t push him off as he clutched her, suspending them both in the cold sea.
And then, as though the thought whispered from his mind to hers, she realized what he wanted. They weren’t going to make it to the surface in time with just the two of them kicking against the pull of the ocean. They needed his power, and his power needed her power first—to heal him.
Denying every instinct she had, she stopped fighting for her own life and she poured all of her strength and healing power into him, squeezing her eyes shut and willing her body to give him what he needed. He began to vibrate in her arms, and then his hold on her went lax. Panic gripped her as she worried that they had pushed it too far and he was slipping away, dooming them both, but then she was blown back from him, rocketing backward through the water as he transitioned back into the dragon form that had faltered.
She was tumbling again and again, seeming to fall through the water as though it held no resistance whatsoever, and then something snatched at her, grabbing her from behind and beginning to pull her out of the watery grave she was headed for.
Everything was going black as she soared upward, and then, without any warning, she was suddenly out of the water, hovering over it and gasping for air. She dragged oxygen into her lungs, the sensation so full of relief that it sent tingles shooting throughout her entire body. Natasha clung to the talon surrounding her midsection, coughing and gasping for air as she rose higher and higher and then landed on the edge of the cliff.
Ronan dropped her on the softest part of the grass, and she rolled onto her stomach, still heaving. The reality of how close she had come to death hit her hard, and the tears began to flow from her eyes. It wasn’t that she was devastated or afraid any longer, but the intensity overwhelmed her for a moment, and she had to have some way to release it.
Arms surrounded her from behind, Ronan’s face buried in her shoulder as he rocked her back and forth. “You’re all right. You’re all right, baby.”
She turned, not second-guessing her need to wrap her own arms around him and crush him to her. He was wet and naked, but she didn’t care, and he let her ease him back onto the ground so they could lie there together, catching their breath.
His fingertips lifted, skimming her cheek gently as he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “You saved us.”
“You saved us,” he argued, shaking his head. “It was all you.”
“It was us,” she decided, covering his hand with hers and pressing it closer against her cheek, his palm somehow warm against her icy-cold skin. “Are you all right? What happened to you out there?”
His face grew grim, and he shook his head. “I couldn’t stay in my Dragon form. I lost it. That’s never happened to me before—being in my dragon form is like being who I really am. It’s the human form that’s less natural…usually. But I just couldn’t stay there.”
“Josiah has made the curse much worse,” she said. Then, behind him, movement caught her eye, and she hurried to her feet, going to catch Charlotte as she wobbled toward them. “Charlotte! What happened to you?”
“So much evil,” Charlotte said, leaning against Natasha, even though Natasha’s clothes were soaked through. “An open channel and that much evil…”
They were all three in bad shape, Natasha realized. They needed to get back to the hotel before any of the power that lingered in the air on this cliff manifested into something else that could attack them. Originally, they had come out here to connect with Ronan’s ancestors, but all they had managed to accomplish was blocking the connection between Ronan and Patrick O’Donnell and giving Josiah a perfect opportunity to wreak further havoc on Ronan’s body, mind, and life.
It was hardly a successful night, and Natasha needed it to be over.
She hugged Charlotte, starting to heal her, but Charlotte shook her head and stepped away. “No, I’m okay. I’m tired and disturbed by what I felt, but I’m not hurt. You two …you need strength more than I do.”
“We all need rest,” Charlotte told her friend, walking over to Ronan as he got to his feet,
gloriously naked in the oncoming moonlight. She cleared her throat, and he turned to face her, seemingly undisturbed by his manhood on display. Charlotte turned away, and Natasha told herself to do the same, but she couldn’t help but stare at him, recognizing once again how perfectly formed he was. God, the man was gorgeous.
She flashed back to the bed and breakfast room, where they had lain together, all wrapped up, after he had given her more pleasure than she was used to from a man. Despite how cold she was and the horror of what they had just endured, she couldn’t help the way her body reacted to him.
Ronan cleared his throat, taking the wrap that Charlotte had removed from her own outfit and handed to him. He draped it around his hips as Natasha watched him, and as her eyes lifted, they met his, the heat between them so strong that it began to warm up their cold-shocked bodies. Natasha flushed, but Ronan was clearly unabashed, and he gazed at her for a long, lingering moment before finally bringing himself back into reality and looking around them.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said, staring up at the sky, as though still searching for Patrick O’Donnell. “We need to regroup.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ronan
Back at the bed and breakfast, Ronan lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Despite traveling and the long day, he was wide awake, with sleep nowhere in his near future. He had slept all afternoon, but it wasn’t just that his body wasn’t craving rest. His mind was far too active, circling back through the intensity of making brief contact with Patrick O’Donnell and then the chaos that had followed.
Chaos caused by Josiah Webb, who was far more connected to Ronan than he had thought. The first thing Ronan had done when getting back to the rooms for the night was to make sure that both women were all right, both physically and emotionally. The second thing he’d done was to call Eamon, update him, and ask for his help in figuring out how Josiah was possibly connected to him. Eamon was the one with access to all of Ronan’s case files, so he could much more effectively research.
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