Keir glanced at Rhiannon to see her cheeks flush as she said “Er, let’s not be in too much of a hurry, ’kay?”
Silver released Keir, turned to Rhiannon, and hugged her. “I love you, Rhi.”
“I love you, too.” Rhiannon smiled. Silver gave another quick hug before she took Hawk’s hand and they wandered over to a table laden with desserts.
“Phew.” Rhiannon looked up at Keir. “Things went well at least with your brother.”
“Aye.” He and his brother had come to an understanding. Perhaps in the next two thousand years their rivalry would fade.
“Think we can get out of here?” Rhiannon said in his ear, her warm breath stirring his desires to be alone with her even more. She still wore the flowers on her auburn hair but the wreath was skewed to one side. She pushed it up with one hand while she squeezed his fingers with her other.
She gave him a mischievous grin. “I think we can do a little celebrating of our own. Alone.”
The thought of carrying Rhiannon straight down the hall to the Chieftains’ chamber, then taking her on the great dais crossed his mind and he nearly groaned aloud.
His breeches became painfully tight and he lowered his head and gave a soft growl in her ear. “I want to take you now. I do not know if I can wait much longer.”
Her tongue darted out to touch her lower lip and this time he did groan out loud. She grasped his biceps and raised herself on her toes to whisper in his ear again. “Think anyone would notice if we made our escape now?”
A rumble rose up in Keir’s chest and he tugged her with more purpose toward the door. No matter how they tried to make it through the crowd with a hurried pace, they were waylaid every step.
Lise stopped them just at the door. She and Rhiannon were the same height, and Lise took Rhiannon by the shoulders and kissed each of her cheeks again. Lise gave Keir a sly look before she turned back to Rhiannon.
“This one will need much work to keep in line,” Lise said to Rhiannon with a grin.
“Don’t worry about that.” Rhiannon returned a grin of her own. “He’s all taken care of.”
Lise laughed, reached up and kissed Keir on each cheek, then melted into the crowd.
“I like Lise.” Rhiannon watched as she disappeared into the crowd. “How do you know her?”
Their eyes met and he had the good sense to give her a general reply. “I have known many beings during my two thousand years of life.”
Rhiannon seemed satisfied with his reply and he gave an audible sigh of relief as they made their way from the great hall into the empty foyer. He could breathe again—the air didn’t seem stifling in here and the sounds not as loud.
He whirled her around, pressed her up against the wall, and took her mouth, claiming her as his. The soul-bond intensified the kiss.
She tasted of sweet wine and her own special flavor. He delved his tongue into her mouth, and she returned the kiss with just as much fervor.
When he nipped at her lower lip, her body vibrated beneath his and she wrapped her arms around his waist. In return, she bit his lower lip with her small white teeth and he groaned.
“Now.” Rhiannon was breathless, her face flushed as he drew away from their kiss. She ran her hands from around his waist up to his chest. “I want to be with you. Fully. I don’t want to wait.”
“I cannot wait to be with you, my treasure,” he said softly.
The intensity of his words made her smile. He hooked one of his fingers under her chin, tilted her face up, and brushed his lips over hers.
“I love your smile,” he said, his expression serious.
“You should smile more often, too.” She brought her hand up and stroked her fingers over his lips. “You are even more gorgeous when you do.”
He gifted her with the smile she asked for and raised her up and spun her around. She laughed and braced her hands on his shoulders until he set her onto her feet. Her beaded dress swirled around her feet.
Keir brought his hands up to hers and laced their fingers together. “Come. Let us return to our home.”
“Our home. Wow.” Rhiannon swallowed down the lump of wonder that had risen in her throat. “But we’ll have a home together in San Francisco, too.” She frowned. “We just have to find one.”
“Aye.” He kissed her again and released one of her hands and opened the door with his free one. “We will have two homes and we can travel freely between both as we wish.”
“I like that.” She smiled. “I like it a lot.”
As they went by the main door to the gathering hall, raucous laughter and chatter continued. It would probably go well into the night—a D’Danann excuse to party, no doubt.
They escaped without being seen. Rhiannon laughed as she doubled her steps alongside Keir’s. He seemed rather determined to get back to the cabin. As a matter of fact, so was she.
When Keir let her into the cabin, she saw Spirit had curled onto a cushion on one of the chairs. He gave a sleepy meow before closing his eyes again.
Instead of heading toward the bedroom, which was likely Keir’s destination, she went to his carvings and touched each one again. His warmth surrounded her, his breath soft against the back of her neck as she picked up the bust of herself.
She stroked the smooth, polished hair of the carving. It was like her own. “Amazing that you created this before we met.” He pressed his lips against her own hair as she spoke. “It’s missing something, though.”
“What is that?” he murmured.
“My scars.” She rubbed the burning marks with one hand.
“What scars?” he said, sounding serious.
She turned to face him, the bust between them. She pressed her hand to her cheek. “These, of course.”
He held his hand over hers. “They are a part of your beauty. I would have you no other way.”
“You are an incredible man.” She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his own scar. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you either.” She drew away and gave him a serious expression. “Except your griping about my going to fight with everyone else every time there’s a battle.”
For a long moment he looked at her. “You are a great warrior. You have my promise that I will never hold you back in any way. I will fear for you, and protect you with my life. But I trust you to make the decisions that you feel are right.”
Rhiannon set the bust of herself down on the windowsill then turned back to Keir and flung her arms around his neck. “I love you, Keir. Everything about you.”
“You have my love for all time.” He scooped her up and she gave a surprised laugh. With determination in his steps, he strode away from the carvings, through his—their—small living room, and down the short hall to the bedroom.
He laid her on the bed and looked at her with such gentleness it tugged at her heart. Slowly he began to take her dress off as if he were unwrapping a treasure. The thought choked her up, causing her eyes to tear a little. That was what he always called her, his treasure.
After he slid off her slippers, he looked upon her for a long moment. “You are so very beautiful.”
She swallowed and held out her arms. “Come to me.” With every movement he made as he stripped out of his clothing, Keir’s well-defined muscles rippled. She hungered for him beyond words as he toed off his boots then tugged off his shirt and tossed it aside.
When he was naked, she sighed as she gazed upon him. Their first lovemaking had been wild and exciting. She knew this would be even more precious. Her soul-bonded mate, her husband.
Keir moved onto the bed beside her and stroked his finger gently down her side, to the indentation at her waist and over her hip to her thigh. His dark eyes held hers the entire time.
“I never doubted one day you would be mine,” he said with a serious expression. “Yet now that it is true, now that we are soul-bonded, I feel such wonder that you belong to me.”
“Don’t forget that you happen to be mine, too.” She traced the Fomorii scars on his
neck and lightly touched the bandage from the battle at the stadium. “Even if we weren’t soul-bonded, I would never let you go.”
He caught her hand in his and lowered his mouth. His lips hovered just above hers. “You are the most precious gift a man could have.”
His kiss was so tender, so sweet. His tongue gently danced with hers and she again tasted his flavor that she loved so much—incredibly masculine and uniquely Keir.
Keir gathered her into his embrace and held her tight.
She snuggled closer to him and he murmured in his sexy Irish accent, “My treasure. All mine.”
Excerpt: One Breath
Dark Sorcery novella, book 4
1
If only she could fly like Conlan, she could get herself out of this mess.
Sydney Aline gritted her teeth and clutched the ledge over her head as tightly as she could. The toes of her jogging shoes barely reached a much narrower ledge on the outside wall of the abandoned hotel.
Her and her damned divining.
She sure hadn’t seen this coming. What good was a D’Anu witch who couldn’t divine her own future? Especially when it involved dangling from a friggin’ ledge.
The adrenaline pumping through her body helped keep her moving and glued to the side of the hotel. Sydney took a deep breath and started to inch her way toward one of the hotel’s second-floor windows.
Now that she was up close and personal with the building’s wall, she could smell the age of the bricks and the pollution coating them.
Once she reached the window, if she held on to the ledge with one hand, she could use her other to release her magic and open the window. End of problem.
Please let it be that easy.
She’d scraped her fingers raw catching herself when she’d slipped from the third-story ledge that was now above her head instead of under her feet. She’d been creeping along, doing just fine, until a part of the footpath crumbled.
She’d slipped and barely grabbed an intact part of the ledge. She could have fallen three stories instead of one. Even though she was a witch, she wasn’t likely to bounce and recover from that kind of fall.
Now she just had to get to that window.
And Conlan. Where was that Tuatha D’Danann warrior, anyway? The one who could sprout a pair of wings whenever he wanted to. The one who, sure as the goddess, could help her out, right about now.
That gorgeous hunk of a man who makes me hot with just one look.
Sydney groaned and moved another inch closer toward the window. Her arms ached and trembled. The only reason she should be thinking about Conlan at this moment was to save her butt. Dear Anu, how she hated being in a position where she needed his help.
Okay, skip that thought. Her pride would remain intact if he would return from scouting for demons, swoop down, and get her out of this mess.
When she had climbed up the corner of the building, she’d been so sure she could just ease herself toward the window because that ledge was fairly wide. She wasn’t afraid of heights. Well, maybe right now she was.
She hadn’t been crazy about the idea of him flying her up there, so they had planned to meet at the third-floor window. No biggie. She’d just started without him.
Another inch.
She bit her lower lip, putting all her focus into making it to the second-floor window instead.
When she’d divined that they would possibly find a dark warlock here—a bastard named Darkwolf who happened to be in possession of an evil god’s stone eye—she’d certainly not seen herself outside in the foggy, dreary, San Francisco afternoon, clinging to the side of a hotel.
Too bad her Doberman familiar, Chaos, wasn’t here to alert Conlan to her situation. She could use Chaos’s magic to bolster her own. But his barking might draw Darkwolf’s attention—if she had divined correctly and he really was here.
Her skin felt sticky against her body armor, which was covered by her T-shirt. Her jeans stuck to her legs, and her arms were coated with the fine mist from a heavy fog.
At least she’d spelled her glasses to resist fog so that she could see on these kinds of days, which were frequent in San Francisco.
The body armor had been supplied by Jake Macgregor, captain of the San Francisco Paranormal Special Forces. Right now it was weighing her down, making it harder for her to move.
Slowly she worked her way toward the window. She did her best to ignore the pain in her arms and legs from clinging so tightly to the ledge, and from the tenseness in her body.
The wind whipped up, causing her hair to fly into her face and get caught in her glasses. Now she could see only out of one eye.
Sydney wanted to scream. But she couldn’t let Darkwolf know she’d figured out his hiding place if he was here. Then he’d likely change locations and none of her sister D’Anu witches would be able to find him.
Not to mention the D’Danann warriors. The warriors were winged Fae fighters from Otherworld who had been helping the witches repel an invasion of demons.
Four of the warriors and witches had paired up—a witch with a warrior—and had been tracking Darkwolf for the past few days, each searching one quadrant of the city.
Now, Sydney was sure she had finally figured out where Darkwolf was and she was going to fall to her death before she caught the S.O.B. If Darkwolf was here, she’d contact the other witches and D’Danann before making contact with the warlock.
Darkwolf had started the whole invasion. The warlock bastard had summoned powers and beings too great for him to control, even with his with dark sorcery.
For starters, he’d called on Fomorii demons who worshiped the ancient, wicked god Balor, and his murdering bitch of a wife. Now, both Balor and Ceithlenn were here with the Fomorii, and things had gone from horrible to impossibly worse.
Sydney ground her teeth. They’d been dealing with the totally evil goddess for weeks now.
Because Darkwolf had brought her to San Francisco, the she-goddess from hell had been able to slaughter thousands of humans and call her husband up from the depths of Underworld.
Balor was here, now.
Thank Anu, Balor hadn’t found his eye yet. And he wouldn’t, if Sydney could keep herself alive and snag Darkwolf before he forked it over.
By the Goddess, when I get my hands around that warlock’s throat...
Taking a deep breath, she moved another inch closer to her destination. Now maybe two feet away.
Her hair was driving her crazy the way it was stuck in her glasses.
I don’t know enough swear words to express how I feel right now.
On the other side of the window she was headed toward was a balcony with sliding glass doors. Why couldn’t she be closer to that?
Whose bright idea was it anyway, to walk along a ledge to get in through the window on the third floor?
Mine, stupid.
Before Conlan left to scout out the rest of the hotel by flying around it, she’d told him she planned to climb up to the third floor and walk along that wide ledge to the first window.
Conlan had raised an eyebrow and given her a look that said, "Yeah, right,” only probably in Gaelic, and likely not that charitably. More like, “You should know better than this, but you ’re a big girl. If you want to break your neck, who am I to stop you?”
His teasing winks and sexy looks had made Sydney wonder what it would be like to kiss him—to more than kiss him.
Only she didn’t get involved with the playboy type. She didn’t do casual sexual relationships, and Conlan had one-night-stand written all over him.
Sydney grunted as she worked her way along the ledge. She would get herself out of this.
She neared the window. Her arms were nearly numb and her fingers felt like she was shredding them with every movement she made along the ledge.
One would think that as a descendent of the Ancient Druids and as a witch who practiced gray magic, she’d be able to use her powers to get along this ledge a little faster. But like other D’Anu w
itches, she had to have her hands free to use her powers.
Friggin’ inconvenient.
Almost there.
When Sydney finally reached the window, she almost cried with relief. She was going to do this. She was going to make it.
Carefully, she pried the fingers of her left hand from the ledge. All her weight was now on her right hand and the toes of her jogging shoes.
Trying not to make any sudden moves, she lowered her left hand and blue sparkles of magic flowed from her palm to the window. She heard the click of the window unlocking. She tensed her jaw and moved her hand from the left to the right, opening the window with her magic. It made a screech like nails across a chalkboard that grated along her spine and sounded loud in the foggy afternoon.
What if Darkwolf heard it?
Sydney reached her left hand up to grasp the ledge again so she could climb in through the window.
The fingers of her right hand slipped.
Terror ripped through her as she scrambled to grab something. She came up with air.
She fell.
A scream tore from her throat.
At the same time she let loose a magic rope from her palm. It shot straight at the balcony on the other side of the window.
The rope wrapped around the top railing. She jerked to a hard stop. For a moment all she could do was hang onto the rope as it swayed beneath the balcony.
Sydney’s heart beat as if it would explode while she clung to the blue magical rope with one hand. With a burst of effort, she swung her other hand up and grabbed the rope.
She almost sobbed with relief—and from the pain in her arms and hands as her own weight almost jerked her shoulders out of their sockets.
Idiot, idiot, idiot!
Thank the Ancestors she’d kept fit at the gym. She’d never been good at climbing the rope in gym class, but she had the willpower to do it now.
It seemed like it took forever, but fraction by fraction Sydney worked her way up the rope and to the balcony railing. Blood pounded in her ears and sweat covered her body.
When she grasped the railing, she pulled herself up so that her toes were on the edge of the balcony. She swung her left foot over the railing and tumbled into an ungraceful heap as her other leg followed.
The Wicked Page 35