by Donna Grant
He didn’t look behind him to see if she followed. The keys to the Ducati were with him, and he seriously doubted if she would take off in such a storm.
Once inside, he chanced a look through the windows and spotted Aisley with her arms wrapped around her and her head hanging down.
Phelan continued into his room where he positioned himself to look out the window at her. “Come inside,” he urged her.
If she walked away now, he would let her leave for good. Or he would try. He had tasted her, knew her wonderful body and what it felt like to be inside her. Phelan wanted her again. This insatiable hunger for her alarmed him, but not enough to make him run.
“Trust me, Aisley,” he said.
When she started toward the house, he let out a sigh before he walked into the bathroom and turned on his cold shower.
MacLeod Castle
Larena stood in the dark with her arms crossed over her chest staring out one of the large windows in the bedchamber she shared with Fallon. Since neither she nor Fallon were Druids, they had no sense when the other left.
Yet, she’d known the moment he departed the castle.
She hadn’t gone looking to see who else left with him. She knew who the other culprits were. Larena was furious with her husband, but the melancholy that had taken her wouldn’t allow her to show it.
A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table showed it was 4:16 in the morning. Fallon had been gone for over five hours.
Her enhanced hearing picked up a scrape of a chair on the stones downstairs. They were back. How long would Fallon sit with his brothers and talk before he made his way up to their room?
A year ago Larena would have gone down to him and given them all an earful.
A year ago she would’ve confronted him the first night he left her bed without telling her where he was going.
A year ago she would have demanded to go with him.
She no longer knew the person she was. What confused her more each day was why none of the Druids were as upset about not being able to start families as she was.
Many times she evaluated her need. She wasn’t sure why the need to have children was so strong when she’d been—not exactly content, but understanding—about having to wait four centuries.
She could only surmise that after Declan’s demise, she had a year where she thought she and Fallon could begin their family.
Then the search for the spell to bind their gods had taken precedence. Now there was another drough to fight.
The door to the bedroom opened. She knew the sound of Fallon’s footfalls as well as she knew her own. He paused for just a moment before he closed the door and walked toward her.
“Baby, what are you doing out of bed?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around her.
“How many more nights are you, Lucan, and Quinn going to search for Jason? How many more nights do you think can pass before the other Warriors learn what you three have been about?”
There was a soft sigh before Fallon said, “I doona know. How long have you known?”
“From that first night.”
“Why have you no’ said anything?”
She shrugged, since she had no response.
It didn’t surprise her when Fallon turned her to face him. His forehead was deeply furrowed as he looked at her. “You’re no’ angry.”
There was no need to answer, since his words weren’t a question.
“Why?”
She dropped her arms to her sides and wearily inhaled. “I don’t have an answer. I should. Something is wrong, Fallon. I’m not myself. It’s not just the fact we’re putting off having children again. It’s more. It’s as if part of me is missing.”
“For how long has this been going on?”
“Since I died this last time.”
He pulled her against him and rested his chin atop her head. “We’ll figure it out, love. I promise.”
“I fear there isn’t an answer. I should be yelling at you for searching for Jason on your own. Yet, I’m not. It’s like there’s some kind of … veil,” she said for lack of a better word, “that’s covering me. It’s dulling the world. I find no happiness, no laughter, no joy in life.”
“We need to talk to Charon then.” Fallon rubbed his hands up and down her back. “He died from the X90s as well before we could bring him back.”
She lifted her head to look into the deep green eyes of her husband. “The difference is he was brought back by healing magic. I wasn’t.”
“Then what brought you back to me?”
“I don’t know. I was dead. We both know that, though we’ve never spoken of it. You never asked what it was like.”
“Because I refuse to believe I truly lost you. You came back to me, so you couldna have been as dead as you think you were.”
She grinned and stepped out of his arms. “We had Jason to battle, so I allowed you to ignore the fact that I had truly died. Not come close as I have before, but died, Fallon. You know it. There was nothing the Druids could do to heal more, and no amount of Warrior blood reversed what the X90 did.”
“Stop,” he said and turned away.
Larena understood then that she had done wrong by letting Fallon ignore the truth. Everyone had. She’d been so happy to be back that she hadn’t wanted to question it.
However, that’s all she’d been able to do for the past several months. If she had been dead, just who had brought her back? And why?
“No,” she stated. “I’ll not stop now. We need to address this. All of us, not just you and me. If this happened to me, it could happen to one of the others. Charon might not have spoken to you about it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
Fallon raked a hand down his face and turned to lean against a chair. He propped his hands on the chair back and shook his head. “You know I’ll do anything for you.”
“I know.”
“What is it you need?”
“This damned depression is like mud. I’m knee-deep in it and can’t get out. I haven’t the will to fight it.”
“Then let me.”
Her heart fluttered as it always did when he looked at her with longing, love, and desire. A tear fell down her cheek. “I’m a Warrior. I should be able to do this on my own.”
“Warrior or no’, you’re my wife, Larena MacLeod. We stand together, fighting, loving, and living. I’ve faltered in my promise to you. I’ll no’ falter again.”
She let the thin straps of her silk gown fall down her shoulders. With just a little wiggle of her hips, the gown pooled at her feet.
“Then start by making love to me.”
Fallon straightened and yanked her against him. “I doona need to be told twice.”
They shared a smile before he kissed her, backing her to the bed as he did.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Aisley might be in dry clothes staring out the living room window of the cottage, but in her mind she was still standing in the rain with Phelan. What might be happening now if she had said yes?
Would they be making love? Laughing? Sharing more secrets?
How she wanted to believe he would be understanding when he learned she was Jason’s cousin, but she knew all too well what would happen.
If only he had given her more time that afternoon. She might have been able to find the magic she needed. Her last resort was contacting Satan, and she refused to do that with Phelan near. He would be able to feel the evil. And all her plans would be for naught.
A glass of red wine was placed in front of her. Aisley lifted her gaze to find Phelan beside her, his expression unreadable.
“You look like you could use a drink,” he said before he walked back to the kitchen.
Aisley did need a drink. She needed the entire bottle, actually, but she would settle for the glass. Her hand wrapped around the stemless glass as she brought it to her lips and took a drink.
“Will the storm last long?” she asked.
His chop
ping paused as he asked, “Can no’ wait to get out of here, can you?”
She never wanted to leave, but she couldn’t tell him that. “I told you it was a bad idea to bring me here.”
“You’re the one making this complicated, beauty. Why can you no’ trust me?”
Aisley turned in the chair and rested her arms on the back while she looked at him. “Do you trust me?”
His lips parted, but no sound came out. It was just as she expected. Not that she blamed him. He was right when he called them two of a kind. They had both endured betrayals, and their lives had been altered by that fact.
“It takes me awhile,” he finally answered.
She nodded and got to her feet when she saw him put the meat in the skillet to cook. “So you can take all the time you need to trust, but you want me to do it now?”
“Aye. Nay.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“I’m not,” she said and slid onto the stool to watch him cook. “It was a question derived from what you’ve asked of me.”
He turned slightly and looked at her over his shoulder. “I doona trust easily.”
“Neither do I. We both have our reasons. Can’t you just leave it at that?”
He went back to cooking. “Nay, I can no’. You are in need of help.”
“Ah. And you want to be my hero.” The sad part was, she very much wanted him to be her hero and save her from all of it. If only her story could be altered as it was in books and movies.
“Perhaps.”
She had hurt him again. It wasn’t her intention, but if she didn’t keep him at arm’s length she would never be able to accomplish her goals.
Because if she let herself, she could easily fall in love with Phelan. He was that kind of guy, wonderful and kind and intense.
The kind she knew she could always count on.
The kind who would see to whatever need she had.
The kind who would gladly hurt anyone who harmed his family.
He was the kind of guy she had always wanted and feared didn’t exist. If only she had waited for him. If only she’d had the strength to get past her grief and get on with her life she might have been able to tell Jason no.
But she hadn’t.
There was no sense in wishing for things that could never be. This was her life, and she had to accept that.
“Is there anything in your life you would change?” she asked.
He flipped the meat and nodded. “I wouldna have left my family. Deirdre might still have gotten to me, but it would’ve been later. What about you?”
“I would have said no.”
“To the man who got you pregnant and left you?”
She winced. “Well, yeah, I’d have said no then as well. I was thinking of something else, but if I hadn’t moved in with him, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”
“And we wouldna have met.”
She lifted her eyes to find Phelan staring at her. “That might be for the best.”
“I doona regret our meeting.”
He didn’t now. He would later. She would bet her soul on it—if she had a soul to wager. “You really would keep things the way they happened to you just to meet me? I don’t believe that.”
Phelan shrugged and went back to cooking. His statement rattled her so badly that Aisley rose and walked onto the porch. Her emotions were running too high for her to respond to Phelan as she should.
She remained on the porch drinking her wine until he announced dinner was done. Aisley sat at the table and refilled her wineglass before she filled Phelan’s.
It wasn’t until he sat down with her that she realized it was the first time since her parents kicked her out that she had sat down with anyone for a home-cooked meal.
Instead of commenting on that fact, Aisley ate in silence, a wall coming between her and Phelan she couldn’t seem to tear down.
It saddened her tremendously, but even as she wanted to change things, she couldn’t seem to find a way.
Emotion clogged her throat, making it difficult for her to have an appetite. She ate as much of the meal as she could before she pushed her plate aside.
“Was it no’ to your liking?”
His words were hard, brittle. “It was delicious. I’m just not very hungry.”
Aisley gathered her plate and walked to the sink to begin cleaning. They worked side by side, and all too soon the kitchen was clean, leaving her with nothing to do.
And a six-foot-two-inch immortal Highlander to remind her of the pleasure they had shared the night before.
She glanced outside to see it was still raining.
“I willna stop you.”
Aisley jerked her gaze from the window to Phelan. His blue-gray eyes were steady, daring as they watched her.
“Nor will I follow.”
After all the time he had taken tracking her, his words were like a punch in the gut. “You’ve done enough.”
Phelan wanted to hit something. How could such a beautiful woman be so infuriating? “You would walk away so easily?”
“It’s for the best.”
“Ballocks.”
She shrugged and backed up a step. “I wanted one night.”
“Well, I want more.”
“We don’t always get what we want.”
He smiled, though he knew it was cold and calculating. “I do.”
“Not this time,” she stated and squared her shoulders.
Phelan hadn’t taken centuries to learn the art of seduction for nothing. He took a step toward Aisley only to have her retreat. It was easy enough to maneuver her so that she was trapped in the corner of the countertop.
He leaned forward as if he were going to kiss her, and at the last minute shifted so he could lick the lobe of her ear. Then he whispered, “Tell me you didna enjoy last night.”
“You know I did,” she said, though her voice was unsteady.
“And you doona want to be pleasured so again?”
She put her hands on his chest and tried to push him away. “Stop. I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he said as he took her hands and gently lifted them to his mouth so he could wrap his lips around one of her fingers.
“Phelan,” she said breathlessly. “You’ll regret this later.”
“Then I’ll regret it later. I want you now. Tell me you doona want me, beauty. Tell me, and I’ll walk away never to bother you again.”
Her fawn-colored eyes darkened and her body leaned into him. “God help me, but I want you.”
Her lips parted and her pulse at her throat grew erratic. He inwardly smiled at her reaction. This amazing Druid, this beautiful woman was turning him inside out. Yet he couldn’t get enough of her.
Zelfor roared his approval inside Phelan. And Phelan agreed. There was no other woman like Aisley. Phelan had walked the land for four centuries and never met another like her.
He could walk the world until the end of time and never find anyone who could compare to her.
His fingers plunged into her hair and held her head as he kissed her. Phelan poured all of his passion, all of his yearning into that kiss.
She molded her body to his, open and accepting of anything he demanded of her. The more she gave, the more he wanted. That want became a burning need.
His body was ablaze with desire. The flames licked at his soul, urging him to make her his. Now. Forever.
He moved his arm between them and palmed her breast. When he encountered material, he let a claw extend and then he ripped her dress down the middle and jerked it off her.
In seconds he had her bra removed, and with two swipes of his claw, her panties followed her dress. His hand found her breast again. She moaned into his mouth when he tweaked her nipple. Phelan had never felt such lust flare in his blood before. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to explode.
For the second time that day, Phelan jerked off his clothes,
this time with the help of Aisley. When he was naked, he jerked her against him and stared into her eyes.
“Tell me again,” he demanded.
She kissed his chest before she looked up at him. “I want you.”
Phelan tightened his hold around her. He dropped to his knees, pulling her down with him. There was a smile on her face when he fell onto his back and looked up at her.
She splayed her hands on his chest and straddled him. Phelan watched in spellbinding awe as she rose up on her knees, her gaze fastened on him. Then she took his aching cock in hand and brought it to her entrance.
It took a herculean effort to remain still instead of raising his hips and plunging inside her, but somehow he managed it. Barely.
Aisley’s head dropped back when she lowered herself onto his rod. He gritted his teeth together and let her remain in control. She impaled herself on him slowly, her wet heat surrounding him.
She rocked forward, wringing a low moan of satisfaction from him. Phelan gripped her hips so he could urge her faster or slower, but his hands itched to touch more of her.
Her breasts jostled as her movements grew quicker. She was wanton and passionate, beautiful and reckless. And all his.
Something primal, primitive grew inside him as he stared at the woman who had fascinated him from the start. He didn’t care about her past. His only thought was of the now.
And the future.
He cupped her breasts. Each time she rocked her hips, he raised his. The movement was taking each of them higher, the pleasure calling them onward.
The turgid peaks of her nipples grazed his palms as he massaged her breasts. He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger adding pressure as he did.
She cried out and lifted her head. With her hands once more braced on his chest, she met his eyes and rode him hard and wild.
There would be no holding back for either of them, no prolonging the exquisite release. The need was too great, too intense to be denied any longer.
Only Aisley, beautiful, mystifying Aisley, could bring him to the edge of a climax so easily.
“Come with me,” he urged.
She gave a small nod in response. Phelan ducked his head and took her nipple in his mouth while his hands palmed her fine ass. He held the peak gently between his teeth and ran his tongue back and forth over the nipple.
