“You spoil all my fun,” Myron pouted.
Cyrus shook his head and closed the door in her face.
Too close to prevent his shift, Shim dropped onto all fours, calling forth his jaguar. The familiar snap and twist of bone and sinew—a pain he would always welcome—and his body shifted to his animal form. Nails elongated to claws; black fur rippled over his skin, washing down his spine. His tail sprang forth. Bracing the pads of his thick paws on the cool tile floor, he flexed his claws, shaking out the last aches of his shift. His jaguar chuffed at Rekkus, the tiger’s strong musk an irritant in such close quarters. The big man curled a lip and gave him the finger.
Cyrus crouched before him, tapping a finger under his powerful jaws. He lifted his head higher, permitting the Wiccan to examine his eyes. For a few blissful moments, he embraced the unity with his other self, thanking the Fates for delivering his mate and ending his suffering.
A slow burn, a familiar and dreaded itch, started between his shoulder blades. He rolled his neck, not wanting to acknowledge it. The man before him blurred, a ripple of agony danced along his spine, and the curse struck. Roaring in despair, he forced the jaguar down and resumed his human form. The pain continued to prickle along skin always sensitive post-shift, and he flinched away before the man could touch him.
A square of white cloth dangled before his streaming eyes. He reached for it, blowing his noise, wiping his cheeks. “That’s a no, then.”
He shrugged, trying to make light of the situation, ignoring the raging fear inside. He would find a way to break the curse. Struggling into his clothing, he appreciated their discretion when the two men averted their eyes. His nudity didn’t bother him. Shifters didn’t think twice about stripping before each other. He knew they were giving him space to adjust to the disappointment of still being at the mercy of his curse.
“Have you completed the mating?” Rekkus asked.
He shook his weary head in response. “I think Ceara needs a little more time to come to terms with parts of our relationship.”
Rekkus snorted. “Which parts, exactly?”
Shim gave him a rueful grin. “The relationship part.”
He sighed, enduring the loud burst of laughter from both men as they left the room. The noise drew a glaring Sarka out of her office, and she clicked her fingers in an imperious gesture at Shim.
“Time for your potion, snot boy, and this one is gonna be a doozy.”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.
Chapter Nine
Sage left after introducing Ceara to a small wizened man. Add a red pointy hat and a beard and he would be the perfect image of the ceramic garden gnomes humans loved to decorate their gardens with. He shook her hand, his skin surprisingly soft for all its wrinkles and liver spots.
“A pleasure to meet you, my dear. My name is Robert, and I am honored to assist a Shining One. Lie back on the table and we’ll get started.” She hesitated, and he gave her a kind smile. “If it makes you more comfortable, you can leave your clothing on. I don’t need to touch you to carry out my psychic scan.”
Settling back, she tried to relax. Soft music and the sounds of a rippling stream filled the room.
“Close your eyes, my dear. Just listen to the music and try to forget I am here.” Robert’s kind voice matched the twinkle in his gray eyes, and she did as he bade.
An image from the previous night rose in her mind’s eye. Shim leaning over her, rocking tenderly into her body. Their first fierce coupling melting into delicate intimacies and moments of sheer bliss. She’d cried at the unbearable perfection, and she remembered the soft press of his mouth when he kissed the tears from her cheek. She’d fallen asleep cocooned in his warm embrace, the drape of his body over hers so good, so right. For the first time since the accident, the chill had been banished from her body.
Soft snores woke her just after dawn. She’d lain there for a moment, relishing their closeness. Letting herself drift and daydream, she imagined waking beside him every morning. Instead of dread, calmness took root deep within her.
But then the wash of guilt knocked the wind out of her—she had no right to happiness in the wake of causing so much death and destruction. The wives and girlfriends of the men on her team would never again sleep in the comfort of their embrace. Their children would never feel the soft brush of Daddy’s kiss on their forehead. Self-loathing forced her from the warmth and comfort of the bed and into the shower. The confusion on his face when she avoided his touch became another layer of guilt. He’d taken everything she threw at him, let her vent her anger and pain on his flesh, without complaint or censure.
The endless loop of her thoughts threatened to drive her insane. Pushing back the memories, she drew a breath and held it for a count of five before releasing it for the same count, using the breathing exercises she’d learned in Trixie’s classes. The willowy fae had been kind, if a little wary of Ceara, a natural reaction from one of the Seelie Court raised to believe every Unseelie was the monster lurking under their bed. In Ceara’s case, the monster was one of her uncles by marriage, although he’d cut down on his child snatching since her aunt disapproved of it.
The deep breathing helped, and Robert surprised her with a very light pat on her arm as he told her to sit up. He turned the background music down low, rolling a stool over to the side of the couch so he could sit close without invading her personal space.
“Well, my dear, I think I see the problem. There is evidence of a catastrophic injury to your soul, of a magnitude unlike any I have seen before. It’s a miracle you are still able to function.” The old man’s eyes shone with sympathy, and she rubbed her chest in reflex.
“The good news is there is also some evidence of healing. The best way I can describe what I ‘see’ is a huge bruise. The edges have started to fade. I expect the mating bond will further improve the damage.”
Ceara raised her hand to interrupt him, “Mating bond?” Her voice rasped, and she cleared her throat before trying again. “What mating bond?” A faint tremor started in her arm, and she couldn’t control it. Her hand shook so hard she tucked it under her other arm to hide it. Random synapses firing in her brain, she tried to process what the psychic meant.
A look of alarm creased the old man’s face. “Oh! Oh my dear girl, I assumed you knew! The bond looks new made to me. I don’t have a great deal of experience with them, but Rekkus’ mate, Dana, has been kind enough to let me study their bond a few times.”
A gentle tug freed her hand from beneath her armpit, and he curled her fingers around a large glass of water. Holding it steady, he encouraged her to take a few sips. The shock of cold sliding down her throat roused her sufficiently, and she gripped the smooth surface, taking another drink. Nodding her thanks for his assistance, she drained the water. Robert retreated to his stool, rolling away and giving his patient a little more space.
“I understand you have suffered a shock, my dear. I must apologize again for my crass insensitivity. But if you will indulge an old man, then I would say this mating may be just what you need to heal. At the moment, the link is tentative. Your mate will always be connected to you, but the bond won’t flourish until you complete the ceremony and share your soul with him.”
Ceara rolled the cold glass over her forehead, trying to gather her scattered wits. Shim had mated with her. How the hell did we go from mortal enemies, to lovers, to potential mates in such a short space of time? The bloody Fates must be laughing their asses off.
She thought about the prophecy and shuddered. Maybe Isolde had been right, apart from assuming she was the one frozen, and not Ceara. Prophecies tended to be spouted by lunatics, their fevered brains touched by the Lord and Lady. You could never rely on them making sense. The gods loved to put a sting in the tale. And the queen knew her location, would be looking for her when she left the island.
She placed her empty glass on the couch and rubbed her face. “I don’t want this.�
� Tears trickled down her cheeks. A soft hand rested on the top of her head, and Robert stroked her hair.
“Poor girl, you must forgive yourself for what happened. Your loss of control was not a deliberate act. Sage explained to me about the presence of the faebane. In my opinion, the damage to your soul is self-imposed. Would your friends want you to suffer so? Whoever laid the trap for you will win if you let them ruin the rest of your life.” He pressed a tissue into her shaky grasp then crossed the room. Busying himself at the little sink, he rinsed and dried her empty glass.
Wiping her eyes, she slipped down from the couch and moved to the door. She paused, fingers curled around the handle when Robert murmured, “Speak to your mate, my dear. Give him a chance to explain. And remember, the Fates gifted you this precious connection for a reason.”
Ceara gave a mirthless laugh. He had such a romantic soul and far more faith in the Fates than she did. “You see a gift. But I fear this bond will deliver our doom. Happy ever after is for fairy tales, Robert, and I am not a fairy. I am fae. Unseelie fae.”
Wanting to avoid the reception area, she slipped instead out a side door. Needing some peace and quiet to contemplate her next move, she followed the winding path along the cliffs behind the Haus. The ever-present fog bank lurked just offshore, ringing the island. The heat from the sun seemed powerless to burn back the haze. Rounding the corner, she pulled up at the sight of a yoga class spread out across the grassy area overlooking the bright-blue sea. A mixed group, the majority humans, with a couple of paras spread through them. Including her mate. An incongruous sight—Shim braced on all fours with his fine, firm ass sticking up in the air.
A couple of human women were positioned behind him, and she didn’t appreciate them paying more attention to her lover’s ass than their own posture. A wave of jealousy, black and strong, swept through Ceara. She reached for her fire without conscious thought. Emptiness echoed in her soul, but the flash of emotion proved strong enough to capture her mate’s attention. He flowed from his yoga stance to his feet.
Caring and concern glowing bright in his eyes, he wove through the group. Such a glorious sight, strength and surety in every move of his delicious body. Few would consider him handsome, but his rugged, hard face appealed to her. Used by life. The kind of partner who could be relied upon, given the opportunity. He paused less than a foot away; the heat radiating off his body called to her like a beacon.
“You mated me.” The calmness of her voice surprised her.
A snicker of laughter came from behind them, where the two human women sat cross-legged on their mats, watching them avidly.
“These two are the gift that keeps on giving,” the brunette said to her friend, and they giggled again.
Shim growled, capturing her attention, and the humans were forgotten.
“You mated me,” she repeated, and he nodded once.
“I did. Don’t ask me to apologize, flamita, because you will be disappointed.” The absolute certainty etched on his features rocked her back on her heels. His jade eyes glowed, his jaguar close, the duality of his being obvious now she knew what to look for.
“She’ll kill us for this,” she whispered.
His vicious snarl scattered the humans to a safer distance. “Your sister is dead if she comes near us. I swear it.” The surety in his voice made her step into him. Strong arms banded around her, lifting her until she clung to his solid body, legs about his hips and hands hooked around his thick neck.
“I’m not talking about her. Isolde is the least of our worries.” She sighed and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. She pulled at the immense heat rolling from his body, drawing it deep to chase away the chill gripping her heart.
He carried her away from the group, leaving the harassed instructor to restore order behind them. His steps didn’t falter. Cradling her in his arms, his long legs covering the ground, he strode to the cottage. He kept his hands in constant motion, soothing over her back, stroking her hair.
“I love you, my little salamander. You are mine now, mine forever, and no one will come between us.” He whispered the vow against her ear.
She should stop him, make it clear their mating had been a mistake, but she kept silent, wanting to pretend just for a few more moments this could be her future. He crossed the threshold, shoving the door closed with his heel. He carried her to the side of the bed, setting her on her feet. Stepping back long enough to strip his clothing, he turned his attention to hers. She hesitated when he tugged at her top, and he growled low in his throat.
“I need to be inside you, mi tesoro. Stop thinking so damn hard and let me love you.”
Her clothes disappeared, and gentle fingers turned her body liquid. She needed this, too, needed one perfect moment of unity with this beautiful, brutal creature. A memory to cling to.
Cupping his stubbled cheek, she tugged his face down. Her mouth sought his, sucking at his thick lower lip until he groaned and claimed her, thrusting his tongue deep. He turned them both until he sat on the edge of the bed with her straddling his lap. His thick cock slid through her wetness, once, twice. She lifted her hips and guided him home. The utter rightness of him stretching and filling her body was a unique pleasure. She paused to catalogue every moment of it. The soft, cool cotton beneath her knees, the heat from his thighs, the scratch of the hair on them against her ass. The love shining in his eyes.
He stroked a loose strand back from her face and cupped her chin in his hand. “Mate with me, Ceara,” he urged. “Open your soul to me and complete our bond. Make me yours, as you are mine. I love you, flamita.” He rocked his hips, and she arched her back when his pubic bone nudged against her clit.
“If I mate you, then we will complete the prophecy. The queen will be waiting when we leave the island and our lives forfeit, for she will tolerate no rival to her throne.”
Soft lips kissed away the tear rolling down her cheek. His mouth shifted to nibble her jaw then lower to lick the spot where his mark rested. Lightning speared through her body to her pussy. She clenched around his cock and moaned.
“Now you’re just playing dirty, you bastard,” she muttered, her voice a husky laugh. His sharp teeth grazed the mark, and the muscles of her sex gripped his shaft.
Green eyes blazing, he captured and held her gaze. “Mate me, Ceara. Fuck the future.” The press of his fingers on her jaw tightened to the point of pain. “I’m serious, my love. We have four more days on the island. If that’s all the time we are fated to share, then I’ll take it. But I won’t give you up without a battle. I’ll fight for you, for us, with all I have. I’ll kill for you, raze your clan to the ground to keep you.”
She sighed, tracing the thick muscles of her mate’s shoulders. If both their gifts were intact, then it might be possible to fight, but what would be the point? She had zero desire to rule. “I don’t want to be queen.”
He smiled, thrusting his cock into her. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you are already a queen. I am the last of my clan, therefore, King of the Naguar.” The smile faded, and he grew serious again. “Mate me, Ceara. Four days. Four years. Four centuries. Whatever the Fates have woven into the pattern for us, let us live it to the fullest. Be mine, flamita.”
The growl in his chest vibrated through her being, and she didn’t want to resist him any longer. Reaching deep inside, she gathered her bruised and battered soul, pushing it out. Her beloved mate captured her lips in a kiss of infinite sweetness. The connection between them pulsed, a jolt of electricity shivering through her body. Shim took her offering, surrounding it with his own soul.
His body flexed as though he battled against his shift, and the pressure between them built, stealing her breath away. She hovered on the brink, lungs burning, terrified he would reject her when the horrors of her past were laid bare before him. Their souls entwined, and a sense of peace settled over her. He broke their kiss with a gasp, and she threw her head back. The bond between them rang deep in her soul, f
illing every empty corner with a love so sure, it humbled her.
Hot lips captured her nipple, and her laughter faltered into a moan of pleasure. He used the edge of his teeth against her sensitive skin, reigniting her passion. Hard hands captured her hips, holding her still while he bucked against her. The bond magnified every sensation, and she knew her mate was right as he drove them both into oblivion.
Four days. Four years. Four centuries. Whatever time remained, it would be enough.
Chapter Ten
Their final days on the island passed in a blur of love and laughter. Shim savored every moment of his time with his beloved mate. If anyone had told him his trip to the island would result in his falling in love, he would have laughed in their face. The Fates should never be disregarded.
Stepping out of the shower stall, he wrapped a thick towel around his hips. The portal would be opening in less than an hour, and he had kept Ceara pinned to their bed for every possible moment, reveling in her body until he made them both boneless with exhaustion.
He studied her now, his gorgeous woman standing before the bathroom mirror, lining her luminous brown eyes with a thick kohl pencil. Her battle mask, she’d said with a laugh, laying out the borrowed makeup on the countertop. Stepping behind her, he wrapped one arm around her waist. He wrapped the other around her throat, drawing her head around to capture her lips with his. He ravaged her mouth, claiming every inch of it until she drew back with a gasp of breath.
“Just as well I haven’t done my lipstick yet.” She smiled, meeting his gaze in the mirror.
The contrast between them struck his heart, her delicate beauty so at odds with the ferocity of her spirit. He remembered the fury in her face and his jaguar exulted. Their mate matched his own dominance. His hand collared her slender throat, the utter trust and love blazing in her eyes reflected the look in his own.
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