by Sharon Page
Alana chanced a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure he was really behind her and was relieved to find their trail empty. “I couldn’t leave you like that,” she hissed back. “What were you thinking!” She took the time to glare at him, since they’d apparently evaded the simulacra temporarily.
“I had to keep you safe.” Evidently somewhat recovered, he glared back at her, his chest flexing in outrage at her temerity in questioning his motives.
That moment when his fire had vanished as he’d disappeared under the simulacrum flashed before her mind’s eye. Right then she’d thought he’d died.
Alana swallowed with difficulty, her heart once more lodged in her throat. She grabbed his lapels to pull him down so she could search his face, the moonlight filtering through the canopy of little help. “Are you all right?”
Colin stilled, a faint crease appearing between his brows. She could tell he was debating whether he could fob it off as a minor inconvenience.
“It wasn’t fun while it lasted, but there’s no physical damage.” He shrugged both shoulders, as if settling a heavy weight. “It’s over and done with. I’d rather not dwell on it.” He touched her cheek, a featherlight caress that warmed her whole body. “Thanks for pulling me out. Now, let’s concentrate on winning.”
She suspected that was all he’d say about it. But he was right: they had other things to worry about. Respecting his wishes, she turned back downstream, trying to find the path that led to the grove she wanted and hoping nothing in the creek took offense at their presence while she did so.
“I’ve never seen plants grow that quickly, even with wood magic. How’d you do it?”
“My brooch is a charm,” Alana answered absently, keeping a lookout for water sprites. “It amplifies my magic.”
It was another nightmare flight, but this time she wasn’t alone. This time she had someone at her back, sharing her danger. Someone willing to die for her, if necessary. That seemed to make all the difference in the world.
A shrubby willow to one side caught her eye, arresting her cautious advance. Bent over the creek, it looked like a woman washing her hair.
They’d gotten far enough. If she remembered correctly, the break in the bank beside the willow joined a trail that led to the central grove she was heading for. Alana turned to leave the creek and its cold waters.
“Wait.” Colin stopped her with a warm hand on her shoulder. “Alcott’s tracking you. It has to be you. He probably isn’t that familiar with the malachite’s resonance.”
She frowned at him. “So?”
He dipped down and lifted her in his arms in one smooth motion, displaying miraculous powers of recuperation.
“Colin!” Alana squealed in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck instinctively to anchor herself against his chest. “You can’t carry me!”
He raised his brows at her. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. This way, you won’t touch the ground.” He hefted her higher in a heart-stopping bounce. “This where we’re going?” he asked with a nod at the break.
Still taken aback by his actions, Alana nodded back silently. No matter how much she wanted to stand on her own feet, arguing when he had a good reason for his actions would be stupid. They couldn’t make it easy for Bryce; thus far, the earthworm seemed to hold all the aces.
Colin scaled the steep bank, carrying her with an ease she found remarkable. She wasn’t as heavy as some women, but she was taller than average, which surely made her an awkward burden. Yet he bore her weight without any obvious strain, striding along the faint path without stumbling or banging her against anything, sidestepping obstacles without her assistance.
Suspended in his arms, she felt … delicate. Protected. Intensely feminine. A sentiment she never thought she’d ever experience—or crave.
Alana guided him through the woods, puzzled by her reaction. Bryce, who was much bigger, taller, and stockier than Colin, had never engendered such a feeling in her. Why now, and why with Colin? Was it simply because of circumstances?
She hadn’t found any satisfactory answers to her questions by the time they reached the end of the trail.
Still carrying her in his arms and breathing easily, Colin stepped into the clearing and out into the moonlight. To their right was a large stand of oaks right where she expected, the broad, leafy canopy stark under the full moon.
“Over there.”
The grove didn’t have any paths wending through it, but once past the shrubs ringing the clearing, the going was easier since the heavy shade deterred most bushes. To Alana’s relief, the trees were devoid of unearthly presence. They’d been lucky so far not to encounter any spirits; she hoped their good fortune would hold.
She pointed Colin to the central oak, which had battens affixed to it, climbing the massive trunk.
Supporting her body with his own, he set her feet on the wooden slats, obviously making sure she didn’t touch the ground. “Go on.”
She heard him scrape his heels clean before he climbed after her, staying close to her heels. He probably had a good view of her naked sex from his position.
The thought was perversely thrilling. It sent wild darts of excitement stinging her core and nipples, drawing a throb of restless hunger from the suddenly tight buds and cream dewing her nether lips. What an inconvenient time for desire to raise its head!
Alana slowed her ascent, worried that her distraction might cause her to slip and endanger both of them. After the way Colin had nearly sacrificed his life for her, she couldn’t chance that.
“Something wrong?” The soft question came with a gust of breath that warmed her lower calf. He definitely had a good angle on her.
“Oh! Ah, no.” She tried to climb faster, to get the awkward moment over with, but the clenching of her core was maddening.
“Something smells good.”
Alana’s cheeks heated at the lighthearted words. Colin had to be teasing her. After all the hours they’d spent in bed, he had to know the scent of her musk, considering he’d practically devoured her.
They finally made it to the top without any mishap. The tree house was exactly as she remembered it: a solid platform of wood nestled among the gnarled spreading branches of one of the largest oaks in the park. Plain balusters formed a low rail around the edge, more as a reminder of boundaries than for protection. Screened by the oaks’ branches, the tree house had a commanding view of the clearing they’d crossed.
An empty clearing, so far. Except for some pale lights bobbing in the shadows across the field, nothing moved beneath them.
And still no sign of pursuit. She allowed herself a sigh of relief. It was now past midnight: every minute they remained undiscovered was one that weakened Bryce and one more closer to dawn and the end of Samhain Night.
But there was only one way to ensure that Bryce wouldn’t win and that Colin wouldn’t sacrifice himself for her again.
Alana fumbled with the pin but eventually managed to release it. Turning around, she thrust her brooch at Colin with a trembling hand. “Do it. Rework it so Bryce can’t use it.” Even if its magic was lost, she would count herself well ahead if it meant Papa Dare wouldn’t be reft from Tir nan Óg. Her business might suffer without the brooch’s power to help her, but she would face that when it happened.
Colin stared at the ornate brooch, knowing what it cost Alana to make this choice. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to do this, but he couldn’t pretend Alcott wasn’t going to find them eventually. His reasoning earlier still held true: breaking Adair MacArdry’s link to the brooch was the only sure way of guaranteeing Alcott wouldn’t be able to use it to summon Alana’s great-grandfather from the grave.
But Colin’s fight with the simulacra had drained his reserves. And without access to the tools in his workshop, he’d have to use pure magic to rework the brooch. “If I do that now, I won’t have anything left for fighting Alcott. I can’t protect you.” It would be easier if he merely destroyed it.
“Y
ou don’t have to fight them alone. I can help,” Alana countered, her pale eyes sparking in her ferocity. “Even if the power of the brooch is lost, I’m not helpless.”
She caught his lapel with her free hand. “At least we can deny him this. Without it, maybe he’ll leave. He’d have nothing to gain in attacking us.”
Except their silence. The creation of simulacra was illegal necromancy, even for the military.
He took the brooch. “All right.”
Colin knelt on the platform, studying the malachite center stone and the baroque curves and twists around it, wondering what to make of it. The brooch really was a gaudy piece, heavy with gold and warm with magic. The change would have to be drastic to break its tie to Adair MacArdry.
How much easier to just destroy it: that would require less energy, leaving him more to fight with. But he couldn’t betray Alana’s trust, not when she’d finally given it to him.
It would be a challenge to rework it without ruining the spell. And make it a graceful example of his skill? He grinned inwardly, having to admit to a certain amount of conceit. Merely cutting the link wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his artistic ego.
Now, what to change it to that would complement Alana? He closed his eyes, praying to Brigit for inspiration.
He was answered with a vision of a necklace with fine golden links that matched Alana’s delicate features. Yes!
His power spilled into his hands with a billowing surge of heat, as though the door of a roaring furnace had opened.
The brooch glowed on his palms, the gold turning molten. It flowed in thin strands, a cobweb of light and metal obedient to his will. Moonlight made it glow silver, as if Arianrhod were lending him her grace.
He wielded the last of his magical reserves in a heady rush of power, completing the brooch’s transformation with a flash of sparkling light. Drained but exultant, he spread his tremulous hands, allowing the delicate necklace he’d crafted to hang between them, its fine chains describing a web that supported a malachite pendant.
A quick probe told him something still resided in the dark-green stone, but that could be merely an echo of the original spell. Only a wood mage would be able to tell for sure.
Colin presented it to Alana with a flourish, masking the weakness he felt with insouciance. The trepidation and sorrow on her face roused an inkling of tenderness inside him. No matter how well he’d plied his magic, she’d just lost her last link to her great-grandfather. Levity had no place here.
5
Alana placed trembling hands on the fine gold chains around her neck, conscious of the warm pendant nestling between her breasts. Gone were the baroque twists that hinted at hidden things; she’d loved to stare at them as a child, seeing flowers and sprites in their curlicues. Was its magic also lost?
“It’ll look better on bare skin.” The snaps of her blouse parted with a quick yank of Colin’s hands, the rapid clicks like fireworks in the silent woods, allowing the chill night air to waft across her bosom.
Startled, she jerked her head up to see him smile in approval, his golden eyes glowing with hunger. Dampness trickled down her thighs at the predatory smile that marked her as his rightful prey.
His hands closed over her breasts, hotter than before, so large to be capable of such delicate work. “That’s better.” In the moonlight, they were dark over her milk-white skin.
She caught his wrists, gasping when his thumbs played with her furled nipples. “What are you doing?” The fire in her blood made her knees weak, had her core throbbing with emptiness. How could she want him again when they’d already spent much of the night making love?
“What does it look like?” The intent look he gave her made no subterfuge as to his meaning.
A perverse thrill ran through her, seizing her lungs and scrambling her thoughts. “But—Now?” She searched the dark woods. “Bryce could be here at any time.”
“Exactly.” Colin frowned down at her. “I need to recharge.” Through sex. He needed her pleasure to replenish some of the power he’d expended reworking Papa Dare’s brooch.
“Oh!” She’d forgotten about that in the dread of the moment, faced with the loss of her memento. Of course, Colin wouldn’t let her face Bryce alone, wouldn’t want to be next to powerless when he could do something about it. “All right.”
Pushing her ponytail to a more comfortable position, Alana lay back on the platform—like a virgin sacrifice of old, back when life was slower, and cities were the exception. Probably a silly reaction, but she couldn’t shake the excitement coursing through her, raising gooseflesh on her arms, making her wet and hungry and aching for his possession.
Her senses sharpened, anticipating Colin’s passionate lovemaking. She could feel the grain of the worn planks beneath her fingers, the long strands of hair against her back, her pendant heavy between her breasts. She could smell her desire in the air, mixed with the scent of dry, dusty wood and green moss. The trees rustled approval and encouragement.
She lifted her skirt in invitation, baring her swollen nether lips to his gaze and the caress of the night wind. She played with herself, gliding her fingers through her cream and circling her erect clit. Pleasure sparkled through her, calling her to move, to rejoice in the carnal dance. To reward him with ready power.
“That’s it. That’s right,” he crooned, almost singing to her.
His eyes seemed to glow in his face, his nostrils flaring, a distinct flush spreading across his cheeks as he watched with predatory intentness.
Alana immersed herself in her craving, letting her need consume her, moving her hips as her fingers dipped into her sheath. Her inner flesh quivered, sensitized to the slightest touch from so many hours of lovemaking, and responded with a gush of cream.
“I want you here,” she whispered huskily, desire stealing her voice.
“You’ll have me there.” Silhouetted against the full moon, Colin lowered himself between her thighs, dark fire gleaming in his short hair. He covered her legs with his body, blanketing her with his male heat.
He kissed her creamy fingers, his tongue darting out to lick their slick lengths and dipping down to join them in exploring her depths, impressing shimmering delight on her avid senses. He parted her lips, nibbling on her tender flesh and pricking her with his stubble.
Alana moaned as her labia caught fire at a thousand needle points of pleasure. Her nipples throbbed, echoing the exquisite sensation. She stroked them with her free hand, trying to soothe the aching buds, though her meager efforts were like nothing compared to his firm touch.
Colin devoured her with relentless greed, mingling his fingers with hers in her channel and caressing her delicate inner membranes. Lapping her cream, he drove her up the path of ecstasy with breathtaking haste, sending molten desire surging through her body.
She eagerly embraced the pleasure coursing through her, scaling the now-familiar heights with willing fervor, knowing that doing so would bring him more power. The knowing touch of his mouth and tongue on her sex as she played with herself served as piquant spice, fueling her excitement.
The first tremors of her imminent rapture rumbled through her, a precursor of glorious release. She pursued it avidly, unfettered by lingering worries about selfishness.
As though he also sensed it, Colin slipped his tongue behind her fingers, teasing her clit with artful swirls, unleashing a wild torrent of burning bliss through her body.
Her back arched at the violence of her release, the waves of blistering delight curling her toes in their ferocity. She cried his name in the throes of her ecstasy, wanting him to share the wonder of her climax.
He rose over her, aiming his cock at her nether lips with dispatch. He took her with equal haste, his thick length scraping along her swollen, hypersensitive inner membranes in wonderful friction.
Alana groaned as his possession magnified her pleasure, ramping it up several levels. She’d thought she’d learned all her body was capable of during the long hours of lovemaking a
t the HardWood; now she discovered she knew precious little.
He pumped her with that relentless cadence, his slim hips pistoning above her, grinding his pelvis against her mound.
A fresh surge of delicious sweetness burst over her, foaming through her veins. “Oh, Colin!”
He grinned down at her, a roguish slash of bright teeth in a shadowy face haloed by dark fire. “There’s more,” he promised in a throaty growl. “Much, much more.”
He hooked his arms under her knees, trapping her thighs between them, propped her ankles on his shoulders, and raised her. He plunged into her again, deeper this time, the head of his cock finding and chafing her joy spot with assiduous attention.
Rapture exploded through her like a fireball of pure, undiluted ecstasy, drowning her in utmost sensation. Alana screamed, needing to voice her release. A cry of triumph she couldn’t stifle. It went on and on—heat and pleasure and delight—rolling inexorably, catapulting her to the heavens.
Colin continued thrusting into her, his cock still hard, a blunt instrument of erotic compulsion. Cupping her breasts, he caught her furled nipples, tweaking them with a knowledgeable touch that lanced her core with darts of sensual lightning.
Swift Flidais! His stamina was remarkable! How could he still be erect? She didn’t realize she’d actually spoken aloud until he answered her.
“I could keep this up for hours.”
She gasped at his confident statement, too breathless to say anything more. It made sense that he was such a superb lover since he drew power from her pleasure. As her focus narrowed down to the tumultuous delight rampaging through her body, she was profoundly grateful that her magic allowed her to tap the strength of the trees; otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to walk straight for some time.
“Alana!” The gravelly bellow that shattered the early morning silence was unmistakable. An insistent bass she never wanted to hear ever again. “I know you’re here.”
