The Volatile Amazon

by Sandy James

  “What about the Seior? It’s gone?”

  “Nay,” Rhiannon chimed in. “You shall retain those powers as well. I suggest you use them wisely, for you are still in danger.”

  “Danger?” Ian asked. “What kind of danger?”

  “The danger that should her heart harden,” Rhiannon cautioned, “she will no longer be a benandanta but a witch of powerful black magicks—a force of evil in the world. She would be a creature much like Helen, though lacking some of the powers only given an Ancient.”

  “Sarita will never change. Her heart has always been pure,” Ganga insisted. “So, Rhiannon—will you do what you must to make this right?”

  “Not yet,” Sarita insisted. “Ian should have time to think about all of this. We’re rushing him into things.”

  The man’s entire world had changed, and he was never given time to figure out what he wanted from the future. What if his heart wasn’t nearly as entangled as her own? He’d be stuck with her—a woman he didn’t love—for the rest of his time on this Earth.

  Not only that, but should Sarita die in any of her battles as an Amazon—including the one they faced against Helen—his life would end as well.

  Ian needed to understand exactly what he was choosing.

  “He is your mate,” Ganga insisted.

  “Yeah, well...” Sarita nibbled on her lower lip. “Maybe he doesn’t think so. What if he wants to be a mortal? What if he doesn’t want to be involved in this crazy world?”

  Zach jumped in. “Why wouldn’t he? I’ve loved every minute of this life.”

  “Trust us, Ian,” Johann said. “You’ll never regret it.”

  “Stop it!” Resisting the urge to stomp her foot, Sarita scowled at the men. “He hasn’t had time to decide anything, and it’s not fair if you guys pressure him. He’s lived through hell. Literally.”

  “Nae hell, actually,” Ian murmured. “More like limbo.”

  “Like that’s any better,” Sarita said. “You’ve been given a new life, one where you can be anything you want to be and go anywhere you want to go.”

  “Not really,” Rebecca said.

  Sarita whipped her head around to face the Guardian. “What do you mean?”

  “In theory, he could do anything he wants to. But you’re forgetting Helen. In her eyes, Ian betrayed her. She’ll hunt him down without our protection.”

  Artair nodded. “What she’d do to him would make all he’s suffered seem kind. His best chance—and best choice—is to stay here with all of us.”

  “With you,” Rebecca added.

  “Might I remind you,” Rhiannon butted in, “that he was ally to Helen in her schemes and plans.”

  “Only because she offered him a chance at revenge,” Sarita replied. “He thought his own brother betrayed him. Might I remind you, when he had to make a choice, he put himself between me and Helen’s sword. He saved my life.”

  “He is safe in Avalon,” Ganga insisted. “Sarita will love and protect him.”

  Artair nodded again. “We will all protect him.”

  A tear slipped down Sarita’s cheek. How unfair this was to Ian! All she’d wanted was make things right for him, but the world constantly turned against him. Not only that, but everyone was arguing as if Ian wasn’t standing right there.

  He was a man, not a child. He should be able to make his own choices. He shouldn’t be burdened with a wife he didn’t want.

  “Ian...what do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  * * *

  Ian stared at Sarita, astounded.

  How could she not know his answer? After all they’d shared—the times he’d made love to her—how could she not understand what he felt for her?

  Her goddess claimed he was her mate. He wholeheartedly agreed. Had he been able to state his wishes before he’d seen Sarita kiss Freyjr, he might have blurted out how much he loved her. Even the jealousy of that was swept away by the love he held for her.

  Now he was being given a choice—to stay at her side or to remain a mortal and live in the real world. If only he knew what Sarita wanted, the choice would be plain.

  But there was that kiss, and she spoke only of protecting him, not of love.

  Yet hadn’t her actions screamed love each step of the way?

  She’d given Ian her innocence. She’d taken on dangerous powers because she thought she needed them to save him. And she’d put herself in mortal danger to come and take him away from Helen.

  So why did he want to hear it from her own lips?

  God, help me, I need the words.

  “Do you love me, lass?”

  Her eyes widened and she tugged her braid over her shoulder, running her fingers down the length. “That’s—that’s not important.”

  “Och, aye. ’tis verra important.”

  Her chin dropped. “You should be deciding what you want for your future without thinking about me. It’s your choice. Your life.”

  “’Twould be a bleak one without you. Do you nae remember my proposal?”

  “He proposed?” Gina asked, her tone more happy than curious.

  “Aye,” Ian replied. “I did.”

  “That was just because—because...you know. Because of what we did.” Sarita’s last words were a whisper.

  He didn’t feel any such constraints. One thing about Avalon was crystal clear—there were no secrets between the people who called it home. “I was your first. I took your virgini—”

  “Ian!” Sarita hurried to put her hand over his mouth. “Not here!”

  He smiled against her palm then gave it a reverent kiss. She was obviously feeling every bit as vulnerable as he was, which only meant one thing.

  Sarita loved him. Just as he loved her.

  “Why not here?” Ian asked. “These are you friends, your family. Your goddess is here as well. What better time to ask for your hand in marriage?”

  “You really want to marry me?

  “I love you, Sarita.”

  Her chin trembled. “I love you too.”

  “Donnae cry, loving. Will you be my wife?”

  After a ragged breath and a couple of sniffles, she smiled. “Yes. I’ll be your wife.”

  “Then it is settled.” Rhiannon butted in on the magical moment. “The vows have been exchanged.” Pushing between Ian and Sarita, she pressed her hand against each of their chests. Her hands glowed orange.

  Fire shot through Ian, sending tingles racing from his head to his toes. He struggled to draw a breath and glanced at Sarita to see if she was having the same difficulty.

  Her hair was white again, the same ethereal glow from Rhiannon’s hands shone from Sarita’s eyes.

  Then all was as it was before.

  “’Tis done.” Stepping back, Rhiannon glanced at Ganga. “We should leave now. We anger many of our kind by lingering here.”

  “First,” Ganga replied, “I must congratulate the bride.” She put her hands on Sarita’s shoulders and kissed her cheeks.

  “Bride?” Sarita’s indignation mirrored what Ian felt.

  Could it all be over and done so quickly? “That was our wedding?”

  “Aye,” Rhiannon said. “You both pledged your love and I joined your life forces. ’tis done.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The fountain in the courtyard of her new home calmed her. Watching the water stream from the mouths of the marble fish did Sarita good. Soothing her. Pacifying her.

  She plunged her hand into the water.

  Koi swam closer, touching her skin with nibbling kisses. Such beautiful fish, their white and orange scales shining in the moonlight.

  Her heart was never going to settle into a normal rhythm again. All she’d done was tell Ian she loved him in f
ront of witnesses after he confessed his feelings, and—whamo!—she was a married woman. Not only that, but her husband was now tied to her in every possible way.

  The day she died, he would follow right after.

  Part of her wanted to crawl on the roof and shout her happiness. Ian was truly hers. But another part wanted to weep—he was in danger each time she picked up her sword. Although she had faith in her abilities, especially now that she was a—what was the word?—benandanta, she’d not only risk her own life. She’d risk Ian’s as well.

  Sarita let the water trickle through her fingers, tempted to throw off her workout clothes and jump in. Ganga had made the fountain big enough to swim in, after all.

  There was too much to talk about first.

  I’m married. To Ian.

  Wow. Just...wow.

  “What are you thinking, loving?”

  Closing her eyes, she let his brogue wash over her like healing water. Ian might have had other plans for his life, but the Fates had brought him here. To her.

  And now he was her husband.

  As she opened her eyes, she smiled. “Sit. We should talk.” She patted the marble ledge.

  He sat close enough, their thighs rubbed. “What is there to talk about?”

  “Um, I don’t know. The queen of England? What do you think we should talk about?”

  “What’s done is done, Sarita. Leave it be. ’tis what I wanted.” His hand covered hers where they were clasped on her lap. “Is it not what you wanted as well?”

  “Yes, of course. But—”

  “There is no but. You’re my wife now, as you should be. Not only do I love you, but I claimed your innocence.” Ian nudged her face toward him. “And I do love you, Sarita MacKay. Now tell me again.”

  “Tell you what?” She couldn’t ask the question with a straight face. Pretending had never been her strong suit, which made it next to amazing she’d been able to keep up the ruse of being Earth. “I love you, Ian. I should have told you sooner.”

  “When did you first know?” The vulnerability in the question was endearing.

  “A lot longer than I was willing to admit—all the way back to when we were together at dorcha àite.”

  Ian leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. “If only things had been different. I could have courted you properly, in my clan’s way.”

  “I don’t know about that... From the stories Artair’s told us, if a Highlander wanted a woman, he didn’t court her. He just took her. Isn’t that what you did? Took me?”

  He chuckled. “Aye. I wish I could tell you I’ve loved you that long, but it took my wee mind a bit longer to discover all I felt.”

  She pressed her palms against his cheeks. “As long as you know now. So do you think you can handle being married to an Amazon warrior?”

  “Nae just a warrior now, lass. Yer a white witch as well.”

  The word witch made her frown. “It’s not fair.”

  His brow knit. “What’s not fair? I thought I told you, I wanted to marry you and—”

  “Not that. It’s not fair that I’m a witch and it’s a good thing. But your clan punished you when you weren’t a warlock.”

  Every time they’d talked about his death at the hands of his clan, Ian had been so angry, his body stiffened in response. But as they spoke about it now, he stayed relaxed.

  It was a good start.

  “As I said—what’s done is done.” His hands covered hers, then he frowned. “You have no ring.”

  “Neither do you. Does it really matter?”

  “Aye, it matters. I will get ye a ring of gold. I promise. And I’ll be a good husband, loving.”

  She rested her forehead against his. “And I’ll be a good wife.”

  Ian stood, pulling Sarita up as well. “Then ’tis time to begin our honeymoon.” He marched toward the bedroom, taking her with him.

  With Helen’s threat looming large, there was no way they could have a true honeymoon. So if Ian wanted to call going to bed a honeymoon, who was she to argue?

  When they reached the archway to her room, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. After setting her back on her feet, he pushed her hands away when she tried to pull her shirt over her head.

  Married in a T-shirt and yoga pants.

  How romantic.

  “Let me,” he said. His sensuous voice made her breath catch.

  Ian peeled off her shirt, moving in quickly while her arms were raised to brush his lips against her collarbone. He removed her bra. Casting it aside, he ran his hands up her stomach to her breasts and covered them with his palms.

  Sarita wanted more of his magical touch. He ignited a fire deep inside her that started in her core and fanned through her limbs.

  With no warning, he dropped to his knees. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her forward until he could rest his cheek against her stomach. “You’re really mine now. ’tis so hard to believe.”

  “I’m really yours.” Tears burned her eyes as she combed his hair with her fingers, hoping he’d grow it back out. She missed it being long. “I’ll always be yours.”

  He looked up at her, his green eyes sparkling. “Then let me make you my wife in truth.” He dragged her pants down and tossed them aside. Her panties followed right behind. Before she could undress him, he scooped her up and put her on the bed. With nothing more than a couple of tugs, his plaid hit the floor. His impatience was clear when he jerked his shirt open, sending the buttons flying.

  Goddess, but he was a handsome man. Not an ounce of fat. Tan skin over rippling muscle. Firm, hair-roughened thighs. She could look at him all day and never want to tear her gaze away.

  His heart and soul were every bit as handsome. Even though he had little memory of all they’d shared at the castle, probably thinking of her as nothing more than a woman who’d come to share some heated memories with him in the night, he’d put himself between her heart and Helen’s sword.

  With a smile, she opened her arms to her new husband—the man she loved more than life itself.

  His body blanketed hers. The heat was incredible, seeping into her and spreading like wildfire through her veins. The length of his erection pressed against her thigh at the same time his lips captured hers.

  There was no teasing, just desire flaring between them. Ian’s tongue swept into her mouth, rubbing against hers as she whimpered in impatience.

  Stroking up his back, Sarita resisted the urge to drag her nails across his skin. The last time they’d made love, she hadn’t realized she’d left long furrows across his shoulders. When she’d seen the marks, she’d been shocked. Her only excuse was that whenever Ian touched her, she went crazy.

  * * *

  Ian shifted to press his lips to Sarita’s slender neck. Her skin was silken soft, and he breathed in her jasmine scent, thinking this was about as wonderful as life could get.

  Damn, but he was having a hard time accepting that she belonged to him. After his memories had returned, he’d feared he might have put too many obstacles between them to be able to find himself back at her side.

  From her perspective, she must have believed he’d done nothing but use her to sate his lust then cast her aside to follow Helen. Yet here she was, his wife, reaching for him, love alight in her eyes. He never would have been so merciful.

  Sarita had not only forgiven him, she’d come searching for him to offer a way out before saving him from sure death.

  “You really do love me,” Ian whispered in her ear.

  He didn’t give her time to confirm what he already knew, capturing her mouth for another deep kiss.

  Her breasts branded his chest, drawing him down her body. He nipped at the swell of one and soothed it with a lick. Giving her no warning, he drew her taut nipple into his mouth and s
uckled.

  Sarita dug her nails into his shoulders, the sting adding to his pleasure because it meant she was letting go and feeling without guarding her reactions. She’d come so far so quickly as he’d taught her about making love. He wanted to make her forget everything except his touch, his love.

  After he laved her other breast, savoring her passionate moans, Ian rose above her, staring down into her eyes. They’d darkened with passion—the color of a stormy sea. Without breaking her gaze, he used his knee to spread her thighs and rubbed his cock against her entrance.

  She opened up, lifting her hips and offering herself to him.

  “Now, you belong to me.” Clutching her hips, he thrust deep inside.

  Sarita gasped and closed her eyes. “Oh, my goddess—”

  Ian smothered any other words with a kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She replied by wrapping her legs around his hips and sucking hard on his tongue.

  Again and again, he pushed into her as her body rose to meet his thrusts. Release was in his grasp, but he wouldn’t leave her behind. Ian tore his mouth away, stared hard into her eyes and whispered. “Come with me, loving.”

  Her eyes widened and then closed. Her thighs squeezed him tight. “Ian... So close...I’m so close.”

  “Come with me.”

  In that moment, where their hearts beat as one, she tightened around him as he found his own fulfillment in a blazing orgasm.

  Long minutes passed, and Ian was content to let them slip away while his rapid heartbeat roared in his ears. The scent of their lovemaking filled the air, and he wanted nothing more than to stay in her arms forever. Nothing could make the moment better.

  “I love you, Ian.”

  He’d been wrong.

  Those four words made his life perfect.

  * * *

  Gina greeted Sarita when she walked into the lodge for supper the next evening. “Wait. We’ve got something special planned for you and Ian.”

  “Special?” Sarita asked as Gina placed a wreath of flowers on her head.

  The day had already been heavenly. She’d awakened to Ian kissing her breasts, and he’d made her come twice before he’d let her leave their bed. They’d spent the afternoon in Eden, sharing a picnic lunch the changelings had left for them.