by Rebecca York
She hadn’t counted on Caleb’s confusing the issue. A half hour ago, she was sure Griffin had instructed Draden to summon her. And she still had to assume that Griffin needed her urgently.
“You have to let me go.”
“No. You came to me.”
Before she could answer, she felt the air ripple. And then he was with her. The way he had been before.
Not a man. But with so many of the attributes of a man.
Last time he had stood behind her, the front of his body pressed to her back.
This time, he was facing her. She could smell the appealingwoodsy scent that she remembered from before—and see a tall, lean man who seemed to be partially hidden by mist.
He took a step toward her, then another, until he was right in front of her. When he reached for her, she tried to push against his chest, but his hands cupped over her shoulders, holding her in place.
“Let me,” he murmured.
“No.” She got out that one syllable of protest. She was here because she had urgent business on the other side of the portal between the worlds.
But conscious thought evaporated as the warmth of his body sank into hers.
Warmth? How was that possible? How much of this was she making up?
Her eyes fluttered closed, and as she shut out the world, the feel of his body came into sharper focus.
He was real and solid and very sexy. And if she kept her eyes closed, he seemed entirely alive.
She wrapped her arms around his waist. He felt warm and muscular. And her own body fit against his so perfectly. As she pressed more tightly to him, the compression of her breasts against his chest was the most erotic thing she had ever felt.
She tipped her head up in invitation, sighing her pleasure when he rubbed his mouth against hers.
At the same time, he reached down, enveloping her small hand with his large one while he pressed his mouth more tightly to hers. She marveled at the firmness of his fingers— at the calluses she felt just below them. And, at the same time, at the softness of his lips.
“Open for me,” he murmured against her mouth as his hand squeezed hers.
She did. And the rich taste of him flooded through her.
She forgot why she was here, because suddenly she had been transported to a place and time she had never imagined— with a man as real and solid as one of the forest trees.
Greedy for more of him, she opened fully, so that he could stroke his tongue along the sensitive inner curve of her lips.
Then he was kissing her deeply, lustily, like a man drinkingsome exotic wine.
Her head spun, and she hooked her hands over his shouldersto steady herself, the intensity of her own need almost spiraling out of control. And it seemed to be the same for him as his hands moved urgently over her, stroking her hair, her arms, her shoulders.
She made a sound low in her throat, and she knew he took it for an invitation.
He eased far enough away to cup his hand around her breast, holding her gently in his palm, fueling her need as he molded her shape to his desire.
Her nipples beaded to tight points of sensation that begged for his touch. And he was glad to accommodate her.
Shifting, he stroked his fingers across the tip, and she moaned into his mouth as she instinctively moved her hips, pressing herself against his erection.
“You’re too tall,” she heard herself say.
He chuckled and moved the two of them backward. She went with him, keeping her eyes closed because she didn’t want to break the spell.
But she knew he had propped his back against a tree trunk and splayed his legs so he could bring her center against his cock.
“That’s so good,” she whispered.
His answer was another low chuckle.
She was already so aroused that there was no room in her mind for anything besides erotic thoughts.
Would he undress her? Would he make love to her? Here in the forest?
As if he caught her thoughts, the hand at her breast moved downward and pushed up her T-shirt. Because the band at the bottom of the bra was made of something stretchy, he could push that up, too.
She felt the cool morning air on her breasts. And then he bent to her, and the breeze was replaced by his hot mouth.
“Oh!”
He leaned her back over one of his strong arms so that he could move his head from one breast to the other, licking her nipples, making them tighten even more before he closed his lips around one and sucking strongly.
Her sexual experiences had been many years ago, with a boy named Brandon she thought she loved. Those were some of the best memories of her life, and she had held them close to her heart. What she and her first lover had done had been very, very good. But Brandon had not been Caleb Marshall’s equal. The sensation of his mouth on her nipple was exquisite, and the pleasure spun out of control when he used his free hand to tease its mate between his thumb and finger.
She cried out and moved her hips frantically against him as heat surged through her body.
She heard herself say, “I need . . .”
“I know.”
He lifted her up, and she clung to him, burying her face against his broad chest as he carried her a few strides across the clearing. She felt him lower her to a bed of leaves, then come down on top of her, more real to her than he had ever been before. Or was she changing him?
Welcoming the weight of his body over hers, she clasped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him to her.
He gathered her close, then rolled to his side, his hand stroking her breasts, then drifting tantalizingly down her body toward the juncture of her legs.
As her pleasure built, she reached for the fly of his jeans. But he stopped her hand when she tried to open his zipper.
He pulled her hands to his shoulders, then went back to her clothing. First he worked the snap at the waistband, then he lowered the zipper, inch by tantalizing inch.
He was a man who obviously knew how to undress a woman—and how to tease and tantalize her.
Spreading the fabric aside, he reached inside, his fingers tangling in her crinkly hair, playing with her there before sliding lower, pressing his finger over the hood of her clit to bring her up to a higher plateau.
She cried out again, lifting her hips, silently begging for more of what he offered so freely.
She was close to climax when a jolt of static in her brain pulled her rudely from the heated encounter.
CHAPTER FIVE
Quinn, where are you? What are you doing?
The question rang in her head like someone clanging a gong, and she felt her heart clunk inside her chest.
“Great Mother!”
Her eyes flew open, and she looked up, expecting to stare into the face of the man whose weight pressed her down into a bed of leaves.
He felt so solid, but with her eyes open she could only vaguely see his features. Mostly, she saw right through him. He was a gray shape hovering over her in the dawn light. Not a man at all. A ghost who had stopped her as she’d hurriedtoward the portal.
As he’d turned her blood molten, she had forgotten what he was. Worse, she had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing.
Draden had summoned her, and she must hurry back to Sun Acres. But when she tried to push Caleb off of her, he wrapped his arms around her and brought his mouth close to her ear. She could feel his warm breath on her flesh. And she knew that if she closed her eyes, she would be right back where she had been moments earlier.
“Everything’s all right. I only want to give you pleasure,” he murmured.
“No, I can’t.” Desperately, she pushed against his shoulders.They felt so solid, but she understood that was only an illusion. Still, she might as well have been pushing against a giant boulder.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gritty.
“I told you, I came here to help Zarah. She’s pregnant and in danger from attack by the enemies of her husband, Griffin. He’s calling me. And I
have to go there.”
Caleb didn’t stir. “Called you—how?”
“A psychic message. From one of his adepts. Something bad must have happened. I have to bring her through the portal.”
“I called you.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
So that was why she had been confused about the message.Draden had called her—and so had Caleb.
“Why did you contact me now?” she whispered.
“I knew . . .” He stopped. “I’m not sure. I just knew I had to.”
She thought his ghostly senses had picked up Draden’s message, and he’d tried to stop her from leaving, even if he hadn’t understood what he was doing. But there wasn’t time to discuss that at the moment.
“I don’t want to go,” she answered honestly. “But I promisedto protect Zarah.”
She waited with her heart pounding. He had the power to hold her here if that’s what he wanted to do.
“All right,” he said as he heaved himself off of her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, relieved and at the same time sorry their encounter had to end.
“I’ll go with you—as far as I can.”
She hadn’t counted on that.
“Why?”
“Because you will be in danger. And I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“What am I to you?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“You are the first human being who has spoken to me— touched me—in seventy-five years.”
The way he said it sent a shiver over her skin. Seventy-five years of being alone. She couldn’t imagine how horrible that would be. And she knew that if she’d finally connected with someone after all that time, she wouldn’t want to give up that contact.
“How far can you go from this place?”
“A few miles. The farther I go, the harder it is to hold on to myself.”
She didn’t ask what that meant. It sounded unpleasant. Wondering how long he could stay with her, she scrambled to her feet, put her clothing back in order, then started through the woods again, running to make up for the time she’d lost.
Shifting her gaze to the side, she saw a man to her right, his long strides easily keeping pace with her. She could still see through him. But as he moved, she had a better idea of what he must have been like in life.
He was tall and strong looking. And she knew he would have had a formidable presence when he had been alive. He was still formidable.
She slowed her pace when she came to the outcropping of rock where the portal was located. It wasn’t a perfect hiding place, but it was the best that Griffin’s adept could manage.
“You came through there,” Caleb remarked.
She stared into the dark opening. It looked like the mouth of a cave, and for the first few yards, that was true. At the back was what appeared to be a rock wall. When you pressed your hand in the right place, the rock lost its substance, and you could step through—into another universe.
She started to hurry into the darkness, then remembered something else.
“My clothing.”
“What about it?”
“I can’t travel through my world dressed like this.”
She glanced toward Caleb. “I have to change.”
“Go ahead.”
“Don’t look at me.”
He laughed. “You trust me to not look?”
“I have to.”
This was another distraction she didn’t need. Turning her back, she marched to the clump of brambles where she had hidden the clothing from her own universe.
After pulling out the plastic box, she kept her back turned, hoping Caleb was still where she’d left him. Quickly, she took off the fanny pack and put it into the box. Then she pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked the bra.
Trying to ignore the prickly sensation at the back of her neck, she quickly changed her outfit, then shoved the box back where she had found it.
“You have a nice body,” Caleb whispered, his mouth so close to her ear that she jumped.
“You’re not supposed to look.”
“That was your rule, not mine.”
Probably, he was expecting she’d stay and berate him. But she didn’t have time for that.
Instead, she hurried into the darkness of the cave, with Caleb right behind her, then stepped up to the rock wall, palm flattened to access the secret pressure point.
“Stay here where I can keep you safe,” he whispered, his hand gripping her shoulder.
“I can’t. I could never live with myself if I let something happen to Zarah.”
He didn’t speak again, but the pressure of his hand eased.
She saw the rock thin and stepped into what had been a solid barrier. As she walked forward, she felt the familiar resistanceas the membrane between the worlds tried to hold her back. It was like the sensation of walking through water— with your whole body submerged. You could move forward, but the water dragged at your limbs.
She fought her way through and came out on the other side, into another cave that was similar to the one she had entered in Logan’s world.
But the barrier had stopped Caleb. She knew it immediately,because she didn’t think for a minute that he would have hung back if he could have come with her to the other side.
He had committed himself to her in a way she couldn’t understand. With the portal between them, she felt his loss.
She thought she heard him calling her. But the sound was faint. Was there some way to bring him through?
“Stop thinking like that,” she muttered to herself. “He can’t cross over because he died in his own world.”
She didn’t know if that was true, but it made as much sense as anything else.
“QUINN!” Desperation driving him, Caleb shouted her name, raising his voice to the highest level he could manage. It was very loud. It seemed to boom inside the rock walls of the cave like a clap of thunder.
He could make noise. But what good did that do him? He was only scaring the little animals who lived in the underbrushoutside the cave. And he was sorry for that.
He closed his mouth, and the forest was silent again. He knew that shouting Quinn’s name was an exercise in futility. Like his whole existence since that fight with Aden.
He looked toward the rock wall. Quinn had been there, standing right in front of him. Then she had pushed forward—and she was simply gone.
Teeth clenched, he walked up to the solid barrier and pressed his hand to the exact spot that she had touched. But nothing happened.
Because her palm was solid. His was something else. Energy,he supposed. For years he had been nothing more than a transparent being of pure thought floating somewhere above the forest floor.
Then he had started to change, little by little. And the change had come stronger and faster when Quinn had stepped into the forest. He had sensed her and knew she sensed him. And as her awareness of him grew, so did his awareness of himself.
In some way he didn’t understand, she brought him back to himself. He didn’t have a physical body. But he was feelingthings he had forgotten about years ago.
The wind in his hair. The ground under his feet. The feel of her body under his hands and lips. That was the best part, the erotic contact with her that had become as important to him as . . .
He might have said breathing. But he didn’t breathe, althoughhe could imitate the sound.
Balling his hands into fists, he felt the pressure.
He had been like a radio program. Waves of energy went out from a tower and arrived at the receiver in a person’s home. But you couldn’t see the waves or feel them—or hear them until the radio captured them. He had been the energy waves, and she had been the radio.
“I need you,” he cried out.
But she was gone to a world where he could never follow. She had said she had a mission—to bring another woman back to his world. She could be lying, but he didn’t think so.
That meant she would
return.
He should wait for her here. He could wait a long time. Her entire lifetime. But what good would that do him if she never came back?
Despair threatened to swamp him.
He wanted to howl. He wanted to tear the tops off the trees and scatter them around the forest.
He had caused a landslide—working slowly and patiently over many days, using his mind to dig away at the soil below a large boulder. Now he wanted to call a fork of lightning from the sky and strike the rock that hid the portal.
That was beyond his abilities. But from the depths of his desperation, something else emerged. For the first time in three quarters of a century he felt a hidden stirring inside himself. As frustration roiled through him, a line from the Celtic language stole into his head.
Taranis, Epona, Cerridwen.
At first he didn’t even know what it was.
Taranis, Epona, Cerridwen?
As he focused on the strange syllables, memory flooded into him, like a weakened dam finally bursting.
The words were a Celtic chant. The chant his ancestors had said down through the ages that turned the Marshall clan from man to wolf.
Caught in the wonder of it, he remembered the first time he had said the whole thing. He had been sixteen. A boy facinga terrible rite of passage. His father had taken him to the forest, and they had both known that he might die a painful death in the next few minutes.
But he had taken off his clothes and stood shivering in the wind, his body rigid as he said the ancient words.
He remembered the pain. The twisting of muscles and tendons. The blinding agony that felt like the blood vessels in his head were bursting.
Somehow he had come through it. And when he came down on all fours, he knew that he had survived the change from boy to wolf. No—man to wolf. Because now he was a man, one of the Marshall men who stalked the earth as no human could.
He couldn’t tear the tops off trees or bring down lightning from the sky. But he could say those words—loud and clear— surprised at the way the syllables flowed off his tongue.
Taranis, Epona, Cerridwen.
It was like that first time, only different.