“Surely as a mite you had playmates and parents.”
Martha shook her head and reached for her goblet to take a sip of water. “I’m empathic. I feel the emotions of others. That alone made me different. When I was little, it was hard knowing how everyone was feeling at any given time. It was confusing to me. Almost physically hurtful. Before I learned to control my gift, I had awful headaches and dizzy spells.”
“We do not have to talk about this now.”
She glanced up and saw the worry on his face, the concern. She sure as hell didn’t want his pity but, oh my, it was amazing to see the level of warmth in his golden eyes. He was a spectacular man, and knowing he’d been as lonely as she made her heart ache.
“No, that’s okay.” She sighed heavily and replaced the goblet on the table. “I knew what my parents felt for me and for each other. I was an oddity to them. They were very young and poor, living in a Southern community that was filled with religious zealots.”
Suddenly he jerked upright and stood so quickly his chair crashed to the floor with a crack of sound. “Did they try to burn you?” His rage, hot and savage, reached out to her. But then she realized he thought of witch-hunts and stakes. Bless his sweet heart.
She laughed a little, hoping to soothe his wild emotions. “No, that sort of thing doesn’t happen in my time but they sure as shootin’ thought I was strange. Eventually my parents moved away but they left me behind. I was raised in foster homes for the most part until my skills came to the attention of some doctors who studied people with paranormal gifts.”
Silas grunted as if satisfied he wouldn’t have to kill anyone and righted his chair before sprawling into it again. His arms were crossed over his bronzed chest as he looked at her. “Sounds a lonely life you lived.”
“Yes. I don’t…um…talk about it much. For now I live in the country as far away from others as possible. Cloverfield is a small town and pretty isolated. The people there seem to stay to themselves. They don’t pry into my life and I like it that way.” She shook her head. “I don’t go into town much though. I prefer being alone.”
He went very still. She sensed his emotions were in turmoil but she couldn’t read them effectively. They were too stormy and tumultuous. “Is there a man in your time? Will you begin to think about stepping back through that mirror to find him? Will he come looking for you?”
His tension reached out like a living thing as he waited for her answer. She recalled the men she’d dated over the years. There was just something about reading a man’s every emotion that was beyond disturbing. Several had felt ambivalence when they’d touched her. Others discomfort. Nope. Their thoughts hadn’t done a lot to create any long-term feelings of warmth and, in the end, it was just easier to not date at all. The last man had been a reporter whom she’d thought really cared about her, but eventually she’d peered into his emotions and felt avarice. Later she learned he’d been planning to exploit their relationship in order to write a book. He’d been using her all along. The jerk.
Martha felt Silas’ emotions begin to roil and shook herself from the bad memories. She stood and went to him. Taking his hand, she bent her head and rubbed her cheek against his knuckles. “No,” she breathed. “There’s no one.”
Then she gasped at the sound of his low growl and she found herself caught up in his arms and lifted. With one violent movement he swept the table clean and plates, goblets and other items crashed to the floor as he spread her out on the table. Before she could catch her breath from the quick assault, he’d whipped the flimsy, loose shirt over her head and tossed it aside. His teeth flashed white and strong as growled and his eyes burned with intensity. He pulled her toward the edge of the table, spread her legs and then dipped until her thighs were propped over his broad shoulders.
The warmth of his breath on her pussy made her gulp a breath, and then she felt his teeth sink against the tender dip at her groin. Moisture rained from her body as he probed her entrance with his finger, sinking deep into the heat of her. Delicious sensation rolled through her veins like wine.
“Now I dine.”
Jeez!
Had he really said that?
Martha’s limbs trembled and her hot, giving flesh pulsed as he dragged his tongue along the crease of her labia. She felt his fingers part her, felt him pause and knew he was examining every bit of her. Lambent desire rose as she arched against the slow stroke of his tongue. He flicked her clit quickly then took the bud in his mouth to suck.
Martha cried out and filled her fists with his long hair as he ate her out, breathed hotly against her drenched flesh, and just when she thought she’d fly apart against his mouth, he stiffened his tongue and drove it deep into her pussy. Clenching around it, she caught her breath as pleasure saturated her and then he went back to slowly sucking her clit. “Silas, Silas, please.”
He lifted his head and gazed at her with those hotter-than-hell golden eyes. His lower lip was slack and wet from her body. “You won’t leave me. Not ever.”
His emotions swamped her and his powerful lust, his devastating loneliness was so strong and true it seemed to suck the breath from her lungs. Her nipples tightened to diamond hardness. Silas went still and focused on them. Moving her legs from their place on his shoulders, he surged up her body to take one between his teeth. The pleasure-pain of that rough tug threatened to send her over. She gripped his hair to hold him close and writhed against his cock as it pressed her core.
Then he lifted her up, held her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist as he carried her from the table to the bed. When she lay sprawled upon the dark fur, he came over her. “You deserve the softest of places when I take you.”
Concern was sharp in his eyes as he nipped her breasts then flipped her to her belly. She gasped at the sudden movement but then sighed as he settled his lips at the base of her spine. His hands moved to her hips and lifted until she was on her knees.
“I want you this way.”
“Yes. Oh yes.”
When he began to stroke the globes of her ass with his long fingers, she sucked in a breath and dropped her carefully guarded shields. She felt his lust beating through her mind, felt the red haze of passion that consumed him as he sank his teeth against her skin. His fingers kneaded, stroked her, and she was lost in the sensation.
“Beautiful.” He growled the word against her then moved until she felt his hot breath against her drenched pussy. Silas widened her knees and buried his face against her core. He drew his tongue through her cream, and the thorough, decadent tasting threatened to send her over the edge. When at last he kneeled behind her, she felt the broad head of his cock poised at the entrance to her body.
“Yes. Please,” she whimpered as his hands gripped her generous ass and he thrust deep.
“Ah Martha. So tight. So tight and hot.”
His words inflamed her and she backed against him, needing more, needing it deep. Silas’ hands flexed, gripping harder as he slammed into her repeatedly.
“Faster. Harder. Oh yes.”
He growled and pumped deep. Circling his hips with each downward stroke, he hit her G-spot with every pass. Sensation flashed over her skin from her knees to her scalp and she cried out at the wicked pleasure. No one had ever brought her to this fever pitch of desire. He ground against her and Martha felt his balls, tightly drawn, press her.
As the sensation wound sharply through her vagina, she stiffened. A wild cry broke free. Silas bent low over her back and reached beneath her to pinch her clit. He went still, his teeth clasping her shoulder as she flew apart. Roaring his pleasure, Silas followed her into the bright red haze of pleasure.
In the quiet aftermath, he lay sprawled across her back. Martha felt the heavy thrum of his heartbeat. Contentment such as she’d never known before stole through her and buried itself deep in her heart.
When he rolled from her body and drew her into his arms, she sighed and nuzzled his chest. “What have you done to me?�
�� she whispered.
“’Tis my hope you will stay.”
She looked up, opening her heart and her mind, feeling his worry. “Do I have a choice?”
“I do not know and the not knowing makes me want to kill. I only know that at the time of the curse, the witch proclaimed that only a woman of pure heart could break the spell.”
“Then does it mean I could cross through the mirror as if it’s a time portal? Could I get some of my things and come back?” She laughed a little. “I can’t see myself living her without a stitch to wear.”
Suddenly he grinned. “Ah, lass, I could envision it quite well. You naked and ready for my attentions.”
“Get serious.”
“I am serious, dearling. But to answer you earnestly, I do not know, and the thought of you going through the mirror terrifies me. What if you could not come back?”
A thought occurred to her and she came up on an elbow. “Come with me. We could try to go through the mirror together.”
The suggestion had no sooner left her mouth than a roar of cold wind whipped through the air. Martha’s curls rose and blew back from her face. Silas growled savagely and grabbed her up to thrust her behind him. She saw his back muscles draw up tight and his fists clench.
“And that, my dear, will never happen. The MacAdam is mine.”
Martha peeked around Silas’ heavy arm to see a woman smirking at them from her position near the foot of the bed.
The witch.
Tall and slender, she looked like a goddess, but Martha knew better. Her dark eyes burned with hatred despite the slight tilting of her lush mouth. Embeth wore black leather from head to toe. Martha looked for the whip of a dominatrix but a witch would have no need for toys when it came to wielding power. Strength fairly oozed from the beautiful but wicked woman and her hair, a startling red, lifted like a fiery nimbus around her face. Her maniacal laughter filled the room as she pointed at them.
“The little woman is hiding? I thought females of your time were strong, not pathetic, cowering creatures.”
“Silence,” Silas roared.
“How dare you?” Embeth said with a sneer. “You have no power over me.”
Rage burned through Martha at the vileness of this creature. How dare she appear here after all she’d done to cause harm, to hurt Silas? She moved to step around him and fought off his restraining arm to face her.
“Who’s cowering? Not me, that’s for sure. Leave us alone. He doesn’t want you.”
The coldness in the atmosphere increased and Martha fought not to shiver. Silas moved to stand beside her and wrapped his arm around her to draw her close. The witch took in his actions and Martha swore she felt pain emanate from her.
Finally Embeth curled her lips in a semblance of a smile. “He wanted me once.”
“Never again,” he growled. “The curse is broken. Begone from us.”
“Ah The MacAdam, ever the savage wolf. Never fear. I shall be gone from you but not before I deal with my business.”
Martha opened her mouth to speak but the cold air whipped up and over them with the force of a hurricane, ripping her from Silas’ arms. She spun through the air like a top gone mad and she heard his cry of outrage as if from a distance. She heard the witch’s laughter too. The breath left her body.
The witch’s laughter rose up to greet her as her body was whipped through the room like a rag doll. Silas growled and she saw him shift crazily from man to wolf in a blur of speed. Then with a sizzle and pop of sound she was propelled past the end of the bed and through the mirror’s surface to land in a naked heap upon her own bed, in her own time.
“Nonononono.”
Despair rose up and she wailed with it. Tears rolled hotly down her cheeks as she struggled from the cold sheets to the mirror. Flattening her body against the glass, she stared through it into the past. The witch was gone. Silas stood there looking back at her with anguished eyes, his hands flattened against the surface of the mirror. His teeth flashed white as he seemed to snarl.
Helplessly, frantic now, she settled her palms against the glass but no warm hand reached through to pull her into his arms.
“No!” she cried. “No! We can’t let her win!”
Silas’ gaze was desolate. He stroked the mirror as if he could touch her. His mouth moved but she couldn’t hear his words. Still his emotions reached out.
Lost. He was lost and so was she.
With a cry, she sank to her knees and stared at the man she couldn’t live without. A stab wound to the heart wouldn’t have hurt so much. Her throat burned and her mouth opened on a silent cry.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
She reached for the glass once more and saw nothing now, nothing but her own shattered expression in the mirror’s surface.
Chapter Four
Over the course of the next three days, Martha stumbled through her world like a person near death. Any animation she’d once possessed was with Silas, wherever the hell he was. Martha now sat in the dark, wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Probably didn’t even match, but what the hell. She cared about nothing now. Did she live? Did she die? It didn’t matter if she couldn’t be with him. But surely there was a way to recapture the magic of the mirror. There had to be.
Martha sat on the floor in front of the mystical antique with her legs curled beneath her. Listlessly she peered into the silvery depths, searching for any sign of the man she’d left behind when catapulted back into her time. Reaching out, she stroked the smooth surface. She’d never been a particularly religious person but now she prayed, prayed harder than she’d ever done on any lonely night in her past.
She prayed for the return of Silas’ touch on her body, his fiercely wicked grin, the way he’d brought her lonely soul back to life. Whether here or there, she wanted to see him again. She wanted to touch him again. Tears made silent tracks down her cheeks.
“Oh Silas, where are you?” she breathed. Silence answered her and then she heard it. A faint whisper of sound in her mind made her go still.
Are you there? Silas? Are you there?
I burn for you, dearling. I rage at your loss.
God! Me too. Are you all right?
Martha pressed herself against the glass, practically willing herself to see him, and then finally, like a miracle, the silver cleared and she gasped as she saw him pace in wolf form at the end of his bed. The huge black beast turned toward her and she knew he saw her too. He padded toward the mirror and focused his gaze on her before morphing into the man she dreamed of.
Naked, he stood and settled his hand against hers as if magically they would be touching again. Tears welled in her eyes and fell but she didn’t bother wiping them.
What will I do without you, Silas?
Survive. You will survive and go on.
No!
You must until I can find a way to be with you again. You must believe.
Aching, she looked into his eyes until some movement in the room behind him caught her attention and her eyes went wide. Silas! Behind you!
Horrified, she watched the witch Embeth advance from across the room and Martha’s heartbeat sped. She lurched to her feet as Silas spun toward the intruder.
“You are mine now,” she said, practically crowing the words.
Martha gasped because now she could hear what was being said on the other side of the mirror. What had changed? Why now? But she didn’t have time to think about it. The scent of battle was in the air. She could feel it in the emotions coming from both Silas and the advancing witch.
“Never! Get thee gone. Have you not caused enough pain?” Silas growled the words low and Martha felt his rage, his need to kill. His mouth changed shape as his jaw elongated and lupine fangs sprang from his gums. Embeth was powerful but Silas showed no fear as he stalked closer.
Fear rose sharply in her. She’d never known a more powerful being than Silas unless it was Embeth. The woman was the epitome of strength and hatred. Martha felt her hatred and it made her
physically ill. She clutched her stomach and watched horrified as Embeth whipped her arm toward Silas, sending his big body flying through the air to crash into the stone wall.
She had to get to him. She had to get to him to help if she could. Frantic, she prayed and stroked the strange designs on the frame of the mirror as the witch sent him crashing through the room to fall across a chair or roll over the bed or hit the walls again and again. Tears poured from Martha’s eyes. “I love him. Please, please. Let me in. I love him. I love him.”
Once the final words of the mantra had left her lips, the air in her bedroom changed, grew charged. A knowing came upon her as she thrust her body at the mirror and, with a pop of sound, she went tumbling back into the past. His room was like a battle scene. Dear God! She didn’t have time to think of how this miracle had occurred, but leaped to her feet and took off at a dead run. Silas was struggling back to his feet as the witch advanced but then she screamed in rage as Martha tackled her from behind. A three hundred pound defensive end couldn’t have done better.
“Leave him alone,” she screamed.
“You little bitch,” Embeth snarled as she reached around, trying to throw her off. Martha clung, knowing she had to give Silas time to regain his feet, and then he was there, grabbing the witch by the arm and tossing her across the room. Martha fell to the floor in a heap, but then jumped to her feet when she saw Silas pause to see if she’d been hurt.
“I’m fine, honey. I promise.”
His head whipped toward Embeth, who lay in a crumpled heap against the wall. When he started to advance, Martha ran up and grabbed his hand.
“Wait! Look at the mirror! Look!”
Together they saw the mirror swimming with color and light. The silver shimmered, sending out a warmth that seemed to reach for them, draw them closer.
He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing but Martha didn’t know how much time they had. “Will you come with me? Tell me now, Silas MacAdam.”
Highland Beast Page 3