Fated for Sacrifice

by Claire Ashgrove

  Regret pulled through Dáire as he extracted himself from Reese’s heavenly embrace and slid into his jeans.

  “I thought he was overseas?”

  “He was. He decided I needed some company on my birthday.” Dáire pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Oh, that’s right. It’s tomorrow isn’t it?”

  He paused, reminded once more of the scroll Reese possessed and how detrimental it was to everything. “Yeah,” he answered quietly. The same scroll that was tucked into her coat, in the front room…where Taran was taunting the coyote. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Grabbing his phone off the nightstand he checked the message before dropping it into his pocket. Call me!!!

  ****

  Reese made it all of five minutes before old demons surfaced and she was reminded of how her relationship with Tom began. The mornings she’d spent in his bedroom, silent as a mouse when his mother dropped in unexpectedly. The numerous times she’d gone out of her way to avoid him at work so no one would tie them together intimately. How she had to mind her words when he finally did introduce her and be careful to say the right thing at the appropriate time. Or stay silent when everything inside her demanded she speak.

  Sitting upright, she stared at the door. Dáire hadn’t invited her to join him. But would he care?

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter if he cared. He’d said he wasn’t like Tom—time to put him to the test. She dressed quickly and ran her fingers through her mussed hair. Then, with a deep fortifying breath, she left the bedroom and stepped into the cozy front room.

  Both men’s heads turned at the sound of boards creaking beneath her feet. She kept her gaze on Dáire, waiting for the tightening of his jaw, the flash of disapproval behind his eyes. To her surprise, a smile played on his lips, even as he hurried to rid himself of the cigarette he held. If that smile quivered with a bit of hesitation, Reese didn’t care. Her heart soared as he motioned her to his side.

  She crossed the room quickly, oblivious to his brother’s presence, and slid under the comfortable weight of Dáire’s arm. Rising on tiptoe, she took the cigarette from his hand, smashed it into the ashtray, and kissed his cheek. Confounding her further, Dáire turned his head, meeting her kiss with his lips. Chaste and brief, that single gesture of acknowledgement meant more to her than any more intimate contact.

  When she looked up at him, however, a sliver of anticipation cut through her at the wariness behind his azure eyes. He didn’t look at her, instead stared straight at his brother. “Reese, this is Taran.”

  Hoping beyond all measure she’d make a good impression, Reese smoothed the front of her sweater and gave Taran a meaningful smile. “Hi.”

  Framed by wild, long black hair, eyes as dark as onyx raked down her body, taking her in as thoroughly as the way Dáire had touched her physically. A strange, unexplainable chill slid down her spine. When he lifted that all-too-seeing gaze to hers and those dark eyes flashed with something she couldn’t identify, the chill seeped deeper into her bones, striking unmistakable sparks of fear. Suddenly uncomfortable, she crossed her arms across her breasts.

  Taran’s gaze slid back to Dáire’s. “Nice birthday gift.”

  Something cold and malevolent passed between them, evidenced by the equally dark flash behind Dáire’s stare. Beside Reese’s foot, the coyote whined.

  Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

  Reese rubbed at her arms, trying to shake off the ridiculous fear that pricked the nape of her neck. This was Dáire’s brother, for heaven’s sake. She’d never get very far if her immediate reaction to his family was to disassociate as soon as possible.

  “Reese and I were just leaving, Taran.” Guiding her with an arm around her waist, Dáire turned her away from his brother. “So is our wounded friend.” He released Reese to hunker down in front of the coyote and stroke its head.

  Taking her cue, Reese picked up her coat, then grabbed Dáire’s as well.

  “Will you open the door, Reese?” Dáire asked.

  She felt the weight of Taran’s stare as she moved to the door and pushed it open. Her stomach twisted, her hand shook as she released the doorknob and backed up a step.

  As soon as she cleared the doorway, Dáire took his hand away from the coyote and it bolted to its feet, out into the cold, as if it couldn’t wait to be free of its temporary confinement.

  A feeling Reese could relate to. As far as she was concerned, this one encounter with the rogue brother she’d heard bits and pieces about, the black sheep of Dáire’s family, was more than enough.

  When Dáire clasped her hand in his and pulled her out the door, she’d never been more glad to leave family behind.

  Chapter Eight

  Sunlight beat down on Daire’s yellow Mustang as he eased down the mountain road, alluding to warmth that hadn’t quite made it into March yet. A chill clung to the air, much like the frost that clung to his bones. Taran knew Reese’s purpose. Dáire had witnessed that hateful understanding behind his brother’s stare. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure it out, given that in the several weeks Taran had been with Dáire not once had a woman entered conversation. Reese showing up, two days before Daire’s birthday, their circumstances evident in her mussed hair and her familiar greeting, only made it easier for Taran to come to his conclusions.

  But that chilling gaze held more than the awareness that Reese held the potential to claim Daire’s heart. Taran knew about the scroll. How, Dáire couldn’t fathom. Yet the knowing was clear, the silent warning as loud as if he’d shouted it: You will not succeed.

  And if Taran had pieced together enough truths, if he had sensed the contained magic of their mother’s scroll, Drandar would know soon enough as well. Drandar who would be able to locate Reese no matter where she went.

  This no smoking thing was going to kill him.

  He eased around another curve, resisting the urge to slam the accelerator to the floor and speed away from Taran as fast as possible. He didn’t want to hide Reese away, but damn it, he wished like hell he could revert time and warn her against coming out of his bedroom.

  “That was…odd.” Reese broke the silence.

  “I’m sorry, Reese. It’s Taran. He’s just—”

  “You’ve mentioned him before. I just didn’t expect he’d be so…obvious.”

  Dáire reached over the gear shift and picked up her hand. “I’m really sorry.” Equally as sorry about what he had to do now with their inevitable separation looming. He couldn’t spend the entire day by her side, waiting for opportunity to convince her into giving him the scroll. If he left her alone—utterly and completely alone as he ought to—he couldn’t safeguard her if Drandar made a sudden appearance.

  His phone chirped from inside his coat pocket, the ringtone once again Rhiannon’s. Annoyed by his sister’s refusal to respect his silence, he stuffed his hand in his pocket and cut the upbeat tune off.

  “So what do you say about dinner?” He glanced sideways at Reese. At the same time he gave her fingers a distracting squeeze, he reached out to her subconscious. Guilt rifled through him as her energy, now accustomed to his intrusion, readily blended with his. It was all he could do not to close his eyes and groan. Ancestors above, he shouldn’t be this familiar with her.

  Their link locked with barely a flinch from Reese, although she did lift her hand to the base of her neck and rolled her head on her shoulders. A light chuckle escaped. “If I can fend off this headache, I’d love to have dinner. Out, or in? I’ll cook, if you want.”

  A home-cooked meal with Reese appealed to Dáire on a level he couldn’t comprehend. But spending another evening alone with her, where he fought against the incredible pull of desire and combated the yearning in his soul would only spell deeper trouble. Better that he take her out, where they had the public to distract him. Then too Drandar or Taran would be less apt to nose around. He could obtain the scroll, make a discreet exit, take it to his siblings who had alre
ady made a stand against Drandar, and come tomorrow evening, Dáire could indulge in everything Reese.

  “Out. But I’ll take you up on dinner in night after tomorrow.”

  She gave him a heart-stuttering smile. “You pick where then.”

  “Deal.”

  Dáire had only a heartbeat to take satisfaction from his craftiness before Reese’s energy hit him with a tsunami’s force. Every muscle in his body contracted as a vision burst to life of him and her, entangled in her four-poster bed, moonlight casting a silver sheen over her ivory skin. As vivid as the remembrance of their morning together, the fabrication of her subconscious awareness rocketed straight to Daire’s groin and left him rock hard behind the tight confines of his jeans. Drawing in a shuddering breath, he shifted position to alleviate the sudden discomfort.

  No sooner than he moved, her energy shifted, encompassing him with something wholly dangerous. Peace, comfort, and soul-deep feeling that radiated outward from her, embracing him. Emotion that superseded simple desire and bordered dangerously close to the one emotion Dáire couldn’t acknowledge—love.

  Good guardians of the elements, the woman was going to break him into pieces. How was he expected to focus on the convincing her out of the scroll when every time he connected with her, she sideswiped him with the depth of her affection? He frowned. How had he been so completely clueless to Reese’s feelings for so long?

  He pulled into her driveway, torn between conflicting needs. One half of his soul yearned to accompany her up the stairs to her bedroom and delve into exploring the world of sensuality she offered. That half, however, he couldn’t trust. Darkness hummed beneath the craving, promising that if he surrendered to abandon, he would soon regret the decision. It urged him to let go, to accept his fate and thrill in the more fulfilling promise of taking Reese’s life with his own bare hands.

  The other half of him, the far more rational side of his nature, urged caution for all the same reasons he didn’t trust his baser instincts. He couldn’t traverse this path freely. He cared too much for Reese already.

  “You want to come in?” she asked as she reached for the door handle.

  “I better not. I need to see what Rhi wants. I’ll stop by her place and call you a little later.” Distance. He needed physical distance until he could sift through the chaos in his head.

  She opened the door, and with one foot on the pavement paused to lean across the center console and feather her mouth across his. Dáire’s breath caught. The hand he kept on the manual gear shift curled tight around the control. By the ancestors he had never experienced a sweeter, more enticing mouth.

  With effort, he ordered his hands to remain still, to allow her to control the kiss. If he stripped that control from her, he’d be doing exactly what he shouldn’t—following her inside that house where he’d certainly lose himself in all she was again.

  Reese drew away, a smile on her full lips and lighting her soft brown eyes. “See you later tonight, handsome.”

  “You betcha,” he whispered.

  She climbed out of the car, then abruptly stopped. “Oh, by the way. My camping gear is still out there.”

  “I’ll bring it back this evening.”

  With a wave of her fingers, she shut the door and ascended the stairs. Dáire watched, enchanted by the flare of her hips, the swing of her long loose hair. When her front door closed, he yielded to the groan he’d clamped behind his teeth. Just what had he gotten himself mixed up in now?

  ****

  Inside her house, Reese sank against the door and freed the ecstatic smile she’d been holding back since Dáire made sweet love to her. Somehow, she doubted that following instinct and jumping up and down on his bed, squealing, “Yes, finally!” wouldn’t have amused Dáire.

  Either that, or he’d have gloated over it. And the last thing she needed presently was another way for Dáire to see through her defenses and recognize all the cravings, the vulnerabilities she wasn’t ready to reveal. This was new territory. It had been a while since she’d played the dating game. But one thing she clearly remembered from her days of being single—a woman didn’t tell a man she was in love with him after the first romp in his bed.

  No, that nonsense had a way of making men run far, fast.

  But she hadn’t fallen for Dáire because he gave great orgasms. No, the mind-boggling sex only opened her to the truth she’d been trying to run from for the last several years. Somewhere along the way, from the time they’d worked together, through the years of hanging out with him as Tom’s girlfriend, her feelings for Dáire took on far more depth. Dangerous depth that she’d never allowed herself to explore.

  She’d fallen in love with him years ago. Making love to him this morning only solidified that fact.

  As she pushed herself off the door to head for a shower, the phone in the kitchen rang. For a moment, she considered letting it go to her answering machine, then remembered her cell was stuffed in her sleeping bag out in the middle of the woods still. Her father had mentioned flying into New York for a business meeting; he’d asked about getting together for dinner.

  Humming softly to herself, Reese wandered to the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Reese, thank God. What took you so long? I’ve been calling since last night.”

  At Tom’s scolding tone, Reese glanced at the answering machine’s digital face. Twenty-seven. What made him think she’d have answered even if she had been at home?

  “What do you want, Tom?”

  “What do I want? I wanted to make sure you got home okay.” Exasperation laced his words.

  “Maybe you should have considered that when you left me up there.”

  “Maybe I should have—Reese, but Dáire was five minutes away. You were completely fine, Miss I want to camp in Alaska.”

  Why didn’t it surprise her that once again Tom was clueless? But the years she’d let him dominate her had passed. It was beyond time he realized this. “You’re right, I was fine. What is it, exactly, that you want? I don’t believe you answered.”

  “Where have you been, damn it?”

  “It’s really none of your business. We’re done, Tom.”

  “Oh, come on, Reese,” Tom chided. “It’s not like we haven’t had a fight or two before. Dáire was there, wasn’t he? He didn’t let you stay out in the cold.”

  “No…no, he didn’t.” The urge to tell him just how warm Dáire kept her sat on the tip of her tongue. But goading Tom before she’d had a chance to discuss tactics with Dáire didn’t seem wise. “This isn’t about fights, Tom. I’m done. I’ve been done for a long time. I won’t be the little trinket you flash around when you want praise, and there’s just nothing in this that’s good for my sanity.”

  “Reese, did Dáire talk you into this? Let me guess, he told you I went to Roxanne’s, not that I called him because Louis wanted to go there.”

  Roxanne’s? Reese blinked. The club was known for its back-room excursions not only after hours, but during. Dáire’s voice echoed in her head. I know things that would destroy him.

  “I didn’t go, Reese. Do you think I’m that stupid? I’d have to pay off everyone in that building to set foot inside it.”

  Something that wouldn’t affect Tom’s wallet much. Although, more than likely, he wouldn’t have used the front door. All his personal driver would have had to do was go inside, pass a few bucks to the manager, and they’d have let Tom inside through the kitchen if he wanted.

  So the bastard had been cheating on her. She frowned as she bit back a dozen oaths. “Dáire didn’t have anything to do with my decision. You left me a long time ago, Tom. I just decided I didn’t need your bullshit any more. Good luck with your campaign. Call me again, and I promise you’ll lose.”

  “Reese, wait a goddamned minute! Don’t you dare threaten—”

  She hung up before his tirade could build into an explosion. As silence settled around her, a smug sense of satisfaction rippled through her veins. She’d
done it. Survived the final confrontation with dignity.

  Well, maybe not the final confrontation. When and if he caught wind of her involvement with Dáire, he’d spin stories about her fidelity so no one could question why Tom Martin’s girlfriend had left him. Knowing Tom, he’d probably even weave the tale further in his favor by claiming that he couldn’t accept her opposing beliefs or the disrespect she showed him by making them public.

  Screw him. She didn’t need him. She never had.

  Feeling much more in control of her life and her future, Reese lifted her shoulders, glad to be free of the weight of her farcical relationship. Time to shower, to indulge in the utter pleasure of being a woman whose partner truly desired her. A man who was ten times the one she’d spent entirely too much of her life with.

  Halfway through her living room, a commotion outside her front door gave her pause. Metal tore like a brisk gale off the ocean had ripped it from its hinges. She cocked her head, trying to make sense of the noise.

  Before the nerve-grinding sound died away, her front door heaved. Wood splintered. A hinge pinged across her tiled entry way as the door collapsed inward. Reese recoiled with a shriek. Stumbling backward, her foot connected with the end table and she tripped. As she fumbled to regain her footing, her gaze latched onto long windblown black hair and chilling dark eyes.

  “That’s right, scream. You’ll be doing a lot more of it tonight if you don’t give me that scroll.” Taran took two steps into her home, then kicked what remained of her front door closed.

  Chapter Nine

  Damn Tom.

  Dáire punched the base of his palm against the steering wheel and gave in to the darker half of his soul by allowing it to bask in the many ways he’d like to reduce Tom Martin to a bloody pulp for upsetting Reese. He’d sensed her agitation not long after he left her house. Concentrated on her energy enough to glean the clear message where it came from, or rather who produced her anxiety.

  That she’d calmed down a few minutes ago did little to soothe Dáire’s own agitation. Between the push-pull of Rhiannon’s worry and Reese’s discomfort, he could barely concentrate on the highway. One of them needed to get the hell out of his head.