by Unknown
“Tough crowd.”
He looked up her, and she got a weak smile. “Aye. They are. But they’ve been through a lot. Can’t blame them for being upset.”
“You handled them really well though. Like you’ve been doing this all your life. I’m impressed.”
“I’ll tell you the truth, Aspyn. I had a moment of doubt. Wasn’t sure I could pull this off.” He sat up, straightening his shoulders. “But it’s my place and my duty.”
“This is my home, even though I’ve not been here for most of my life. I’m needed here.” He looked around the hall. “It’s where I belong.”
“It’s a big change from being a gypsy. Do you think you can adjust to being in one place?”
“I have no choice. They need me. And I need them.” He shrugged. “It’s my destiny.”
Aspyn reached over and took Callum’s hand. His grip was firm, the fingers laced through hers warm. She leaned against his shoulder. I’m going to miss this when I’m gone.
He stood, pulling her to her feet. It was time to say good-bye, to get her few things from the inn and find a flight home. Tears prickled her eyelids but she willed herself not to cry. She wanted to go out like the warrior Callum believed she was. She wanted to leave with her head held high.
“You know, you learn more about someone at the end of a relationship than at the beginning. I’ve learned more about you in the last hour than I have in the last two days. You are meant to lead this Clan. This is your destiny.”
“Who says this is the end of our relationship?” Callum turned to face Aspyn. She took an involuntary step away from the intensity on his face, radiating from his entire body. “Who says I want this to end?”
“But…you’re an Alpha in Scotland. I’m a nurse from Chicago. You hate to fly…” She tried to offer him a half-hearted smile but failed. “Long-distance relationships don’t work.”
“But nothing.” He closed the distance between them with one long stride. “Do ye really want to go back to Chicago?” He gripped her arms, fingers digging into her flesh, practically lifting her up on her toes.
“What’s there for ye, Aspyn? Running from a stalker, living in an apartment that looks like a hotel room? Hiding yourself? Is that what ye want?”
He was staring down at her, dark eyes snapping with passion. And anger.
“Not until you listen to reason…until ye listen to me. I love ye, Aspyn. I’d move heaven and earth for ye, protect ye from everything bad in this world. I’d give ye a chance at a life…a chance to live your life. Here, with me.”
He was offering her everything she ever desired: the freedom to be who she wanted, and the love and security she needed.
“It is what I want.” She sniffled. He let go of her and she took a step back, angrily wiping away her tears. Then she stopped abruptly, staring at him. Wait. He said…
“You said you love me?” The tears were forgotten.
In his eyes she saw her answer. Callum reached out, this time with exquisite gentleness. He pulled her against him, hands sliding around to her back, circling her with his strength. She raised her hands to his chest. The beating of his heart was like the ticking of a clock, strong, sure, steady. On the other hand, her heart was fluttering in her chest like a caged bird.
“I love ye, Aspyn. I should have said it sooner, much sooner. But I’ll say it every day, every hour, if it means ye’ll stay.”
One lone tear spilled down her cheek. “You know it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to tell a man I love him.”
Her words seemed to have no effect on him. If anything the intensity in his eyes deepened.
“Right now, I don’t need words from ye, Aspyn. I just need ye, more than I’ve ever needed anything…or anyone. And I need ye to trust me. When you’re ready, the words will be there. But for now…” He drew her closer. “For now, just having ye here is enough for me.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer and then bent his head to kiss her. There was that briefest of hesitations, the slightly raised eyebrow as he watched her. Once she’d thought it was cocky and arrogant, his way of maintaining control until it was his idea.
But now it was familiar gesture and she smiled. He lowered his head the rest of the way, his lips touching hers, brushing softly at first, then with more pressure.
The kiss deepened and Aspyn wrapped her arms around Callum. He was warm and solid, a seemingly immovable rock. The swirling emotions inside her were suddenly quiet, as still as the loch she’d could see from the castle window. It was the first time she didn’t have an exit plan, a place to run to. Or something to run from. Maybe it was time to stop running.
She broke the kiss and pulled away. He looked down at her, brows drawn together slightly, the unspoken question in his eyes clear.
“I guess Scotland’s not such a bad place.”
His laugh was rich and deep. “Aye. Many fine people have enjoyed living here for many generations.” He set one finger beneath her chin. “Is that your backwards way of saying you’ll stay?”
She looked up at him, into his dark eyes. The love she saw there took her breath away. Reflected there she saw mountain lochs in misty sunlight, gray stone castles bathed in moonlight.
And she saw the chance to get to know someone who’d fight for her, who’d lay down his life for her safety. She saw hope.
“It’s my way of saying I’ll stay.”
* * *
Callum had taken Aspyn out on walks along the river, following the sinuous curves through the green fields and the small copse at the bottom of the valley.
“This should be good for fly fishing, if ye have an interest in that sort of thing.”
They were lying on a blanket beneath the trees, the sunlight making dappled patterns on Aspyn’s skin. They’d taken a picnic lunch along but it had been forgotten. As soon as the blanket had been spread on the grass, they’d lost interest in anything other than each other.
Callum lay back, eyes closed, the breeze cooling is heated skin. He could feel Aspyn’s warmth next to him, and he caught the delicious scent of their lovemaking, and the deep, rich of scent of the woman herself. Her scent alone was enough to drive him to want her, no matter where they were. He’d found himself aching for her while they’d been in Inverness, at moments in the castle when he was supposed to be looking after the Clan. It was all he could do to focus, knowing she was there, would always be there. And that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Aspyn rolled toward him, resting her arm on his chest. He reached up to stroke her skin, his fingers running along her arm. They ran across the raised scar on her forearm, the place where Malcolm had bitten her. He knew it was an angry red mark, but she’d assured him in was healing properly.
Callum frowned. It was the bite that caused the scar that bothered him, the only thing that cast a shadow on his days. It was the only secret he had from her, the only thing he’d never talked about to her. And it was breaking his heart.
She’d been bitten by a werewolf. By rights, she should be a shifter. But she’d not said she felt the call to change, or that she felt any different than the day she’d arrived. He’d tried more than once to put the thought out of his mind, to let the fact that she was perfectly fine calm him. Maybe she wasn’t changing because Malcolm hadn’t been completely shifted when he’d bit her. Or maybe there was some other reason she hadn’t changed.
He wanted to tell her his fears, but it wasn’t fear he felt, at least not all the time. It was guilt. Because deep inside, to have Aspyn be a shifter like him, to have some claim on immortality, endless health, to understand exactly what it was like to be him…he thought about it, played with the idea. And he found he liked the idea.
But then he’d see her, ask her if she was happy, and she say she was. It wasn’t exactly that he questioned her happiness, but he had some notion if she wasn’t happy, it was due to Malcolm’s bite.
Then he’d try to put the whole thing out of his mind. Be in the end, he couldn’t
let go of the thought that someday, at some time, she might become like him. She would be a shifter. And his life would be complete.
* * *
They’d been at the castle almost a month. The Clan had given them a large suite of rooms, and they’d gone to Inverness for a much needed trip to buy clothes. Aspyn had been happy to discover that the castle had running water and their rooms had a bathroom, complete with a large tub and shower.
“I told you the castle wasn’t still in the dark ages. We’re living in the present here, ye know. Not in the past.”
Callum was lying in the bed, watching Aspyn as she came from the bathroom. She’d taken a bath and her hair hung in damp tendrils down her back. She walked naked across the room, then climbed into be beside him.
“I didn’t say you were living in the past. I’m just surprised. Very pleasantly surprised.” She curled against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“And you’re happy here?” He ran his hand over her shoulder, winding a damp strand of hair around his finger.
“I’m just as happy as the last time you asked me.” She raised her head, smiling up at him. “I’m not going anywhere. I told you, I’m staying.”
He leaned down, kissing her gently. “Aye, so you’ve said.”
The full moon was rising outside the window, casting a pale swath of light across the bed. Aspyn sat up, leaning down to kiss him. Her lips tasted like honey and wine, and as usual, her scent aroused him. Before she’d even shifted her body over his, he was hard, aching to be inside her.
He swept the sheet away from his body as she straddled his hips. Her smile said everything, that she knew how he felt, what she did to him. And that he did the same to her.
Wordlessly she guided him into her, lowering her body until he was sheathed inside her molten center. Their bodies began the dance they’d done countless times, but that was new and different each time they came together.
His hands rose to her breasts but that wasn’t enough. He sat up, pulling her against him as he bent his head, his lips brushing across her skin, the softest skin he’d ever known. Within seconds he had her nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking, pulling at her with his lips and tongue.
Aspyn moaned and he sucked harder. He felt her contract around his cock, felt the first heated trembling of her body. He slid one hand down, cupping her ass, flexing his hips as he drove himself into her.
Then she was coming, her body contracting around him, pulling him further into her heat, drawing him with her. He broke away from her breast with a harsh cry, his body jerking, hips thrusting hard.
He clutched her to him, head resting on her breasts, as he spent himself, as her shuddering and trembling slowly subsided. They stayed locked together, rocking slowly back and forth, until they slid down onto the bed.
“It’s like a summer storm.” Her voice was soft and dreamy. He was on the edge of sleep and he rolled toward her, arm wrapped around her waist.
“What is?”
“Us…this. Sometimes it’s like thunderstorms we’d get back home. All crashing thunder and wind, over in a heartbeat, everything washed clean, ready to start again. Sometimes we’re like that between us, all sudden and intense and amazing.”
He tried to follow her words, but he’d hit that place after love where he was awake but not awake.
“Aye. Sometimes it’s like that.” He pulled her close, enveloped in her warmth. He’d be ready soon, ready to give her something more than a brief summer storm. For now he wanted to enjoy this heady state he’d been left in, with her close by his side. But there was one more thing before he drifted off.
“I love ye, Aspyn. Storms or no, I do love ye.” He sighed, ready for sleep to overtake him.
“I love you, too, Callum. Storms or no.”
He was pulled back from sleep by her words. “So you can say ye love me after all?”
“I can. In my own good time. And this is the right time.”
“Say it again.”
He heard her sigh, but he could tell she was smiling. “Fine. I love you, Callum McCourt.”
“Aye, I knew you’d come to your senses in good time. I have that effect on ye, don’t I?”
She swatted at him, laughing. He caught her hand, and she let him hold it against his chest. “You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?”
“Aye. I’ve had it on good authority that I am.” He kissed her hand. “And I’m thinking ye wouldn’t want me any other way, would ye?”
“Not on your life, shifter. Not on your life.”
Roots & Fangs
Skye Eagleday and Ripley Sage
Copyright 2014 Skye Eagleday and Ripley Sage
Chapter One
“Yep, I’m doing it,” McKay said as he put his passport back into his pocket. “I fly into Chicago and then it’s straight on—you know I really mean gaily forward—to Edinburgh.”
“You’ve sure been talking about it long enough. Ever since we met as high school freshmen both you and your grandfather talked about going to Scotland as if it were your destiny,” his friend Karl sighed. “Well, good on you for making your dream come true. I’m just wondering if the whole country is as hunky as you are or if they sent all the really good looking ones out here to the colonies.”
“I don’t know if the United States was ever considered a colony of just Scotland. I skimmed through some history until I got bored. I got confused over the King of England also being the King of Scotland. I know that’s how Charleston came to be in South Carolina, but I don’t know if that really qualified it as a colony of Scotland by itself because it was originally Charles’ Town and named for King Charles. ”
“Yeah,” replied Karl. “I’m still not exactly sure how the United Kingdom works and I’m from Canada. It’s the 21st Century and you’re required to pledge allegiance to the Queen. Imagine my surprise when we moved to the States and I was told I was now supposed to pledge allegiance to a piece of cloth with a questionable design. But as a Canadian, I also won’t try to understand American history. However I know for sure the province of Nova Scotia was an official colony of Scotland.”
“And this is why I got bored trying to sort through the history. My eyes just glazed over.” He let an older flight attendant in a hurry rush past him.
“Then let’s go back to something more interesting, meaning you. I was curious if the pretty factor in Scotland was high or if you’re a fluke.” He heard Karl’s cat in the background. This happened every time they talked and McKay wondered if using the phone got the cat’s attention the way opening a can of anything did. “Maybe your grandfather was exiled for being too devilishly handsome. Based on the gif you emailed me of him in a kilt on the cover of a magazine when he was your age, I’m willing to believe that.”
“I suspect the Pretty Gene for Scots is just as random as it is for most places. However, speaking as a proud ginger I am pleased to report Scotland has the highest percentage of redheads in the world.”
“Funny--I would have guessed Ireland.”
“Ireland came in second.” He paused in front of the Departure display screen to reassure himself his flight was still on time. “But I can see where you might make that mistake.”
“What do I know? I’m Ukrainian where we’re all Ice Queen blonde. The only one in my family who’s a redhead was Aunt Sophie and we all thought it was Lady Clairol and not genetics. Look I gotta go—my mom’s just pulled up in the driveway. I wasn’t expecting her for another hour. Promise to check in with me regularly. Everything worked out fine with my cousin taking over your place here so that’s one thing you won’t have to worry about.”
“Always good to hear. I’m also renting out my Granddad’s condo, which will relieve me having to pay the mortgage for the next six months. I gave them the option of renewing the lease if I decide to extend my stay in Scotland but this also gives me the option of relocating where I choose to go to grad school. Listen—I’ll let you go. Say hello to your mom for me and I’ll call you next wee
k when I have a better idea of where I’ll be.” He stopped in front of his gate and found an empty seat. As he was putting his phone away into his bag he lovingly touched the leather cover of the journal he had found in his grandfather’s things.
He had never associated his grandfather as the type who would keep a diary. Still, it had taught him a lot about things Logan McKay must have considered important. Unfortunately there were whole sections of things written in words he didn’t recognize. Google Translation had whimped out on him. The journal was just a little smaller than the new tourist guide that was also in the bag and he stacked one on top of the other.
He reached in and held the small stone in its tanned deerskin bag. It was the last thing his grandfather had given him before he died. He had had trouble speaking and McKay only knew his last words were to return the stone to where it belonged. But then Logan died without providing him any directions and he had found nothing in the journal that was actually helpful. He hoped by discovering Logan’s home that would serve as the place the stone should be brought back. For all he knew, even stepping on Scottish soil might be enough but in McKay’s experience things were seldom so simple.
He had shown the stone to Mahihkan Macdonald, the Metis artist he had met when he had returned to deal with Logan’s estate. As an artist, Mahihkan specialized in using stones for ceremony. He was also a Loup-Garou, a Canadian version of a Werewolf. But even Mahihkan was stumped.
“I’m sorry—I’ve just never seen anything like it. I can tell you something about the triskele design carved on the surface—its three spirals differ in interpretations depending on history and place. It can mean creation-preservation-destruction, spirit-mind-body, life-death-rebirth, or even mother-father-child. I can see it’s an ancient piece. I know stone carving but this technique is unique. The only other thing I can tell you is I’m not sensing anything magical or spiritual about it. Something treated with such care and something this old should have absorbed something. But it just feels like a rock picked up randomly. That makes even less sense to me, but I can only tell you what I know.” He returned the stone to McKay who put it back into its pouch. He hadn’t taken it out again.