by Donna Grant
He reached between them and covered her breast with his hand. Her fingers dug into his neck as she arched against him, a low moan mixing with their ragged breaths.
The desire raging in him swelled each time he held her, touched her. Kissed her. It grew more difficult to keep his distance, and he found he didn’t want to.
He wanted Sonya as his own.
He knew he didn’t deserve her, shouldn’t crave to have her. But he did. God help him, he did. He was ready to forget the curse, forget everything as long as he could have her.
Broc ended the kiss and cupped Sonya’s face to make her look at him. “I want you.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Sonya looked into Broc’s dark brown eyes and smiled. “Take me. I’m yours.”
It seemed to be all the answer he needed. He jerked at her skirts as she reached to unfasten his breeches. Their fingers tangled, causing them to laugh and share another hot, lingering kiss.
The trees had told Sonya Broc was there long before she opened her eyes to find him in front of her. Even if the trees hadn’t told her, she would have known.
Her body knew when Broc was near. She might not have the power of a god, but when it came to Broc, she was attuned to him in a way she couldn’t deny or explain.
“I love your hair,” he said as he pulled her gown over her head and tossed it aside.
“My hair is a curse.”
He shook his head and jerked off his boots. “It’s beautiful. Just as you are.”
They removed the rest of their clothing and fell together on the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Sonya sighed as Broc’s weight moved atop her. She ran her hands over his back and the muscles that bunched and moved beneath her fingers.
His mouth kissed down her throat and across her chest before his lips closed around a nipple. Sonya plunged her hands into his blond locks and cried out. He alternated between suckling the hard peak and swirling his tongue around it.
Sonya ground against him, seeking his arousal. She needed his hard, hot length inside her, needed to feel him thrust and fill her, to join their souls.
Her sex throbbed as her desire rose higher. Broc’s mouth and hands were everywhere, teasing her, tempting her. Their lips clashed with another scorching kiss.
Sonya burned for Broc. For his hands. His mouth. His body.
She pushed against his shoulder and rolled him onto his back as she straddled his hips. Sonya reached for his rod, but just before her hand closed around him, Broc had her on her back, pinned beneath him.
And then he was inside her.
Sonya cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist. He slid inside her deeper, stretching her. She rotated her hips, needing to feel the friction.
Broc buried his head in the crook of her neck and gripped her hip with one hand. He moaned long and low, the sound full of passion and need.
He leaned up and kissed her as he began to thrust his hips. Each stroke of his tongue matched that of his cock. It sent her spiraling all too quickly, her orgasm building fast.
Sonya tried to pull back, to delay that glorious moment, but Broc wouldn’t let her. He demanded she give all of herself. Since she could never deny him, she rose up to meet him each time he plunged within her.
His tempo quickened until he rose up on his hands. He thrust fast and hard, driving deeper each time. All Sonya could do was hold on to him as he took her to the edge of pleasure before she tipped over the side.
The climax was swift and powerful as it swept her up in its bliss, threw her into the stars, their light blinding her as her body clutched around him.
Dimly she heard Broc shout her name, felt him thrust deep enough to touch her womb once, twice, three times before a shudder ran through him. Sonya pulled him down to her and wrapped her arms around him. She held him as his seed poured inside her.
Tightening the bond between them.
* * *
Deirdre reached MacLeod Castle just as dawn broke the sky. Though she couldn’t see through the shield of Isla’s magic, Deirdre knew the castle. She had gazed at the gray stone of the castle many times, a castle she had watched burn.
That day so many centuries ago had been one of celebration. She’d had the three MacLeod brothers. Everything she had ever wanted would soon be hers. Or so she had thought.
Ever since the brothers had escaped, she had been trying to lure them to her side. When that hadn’t worked, she decided she would force them. That hadn’t worked, either.
Not even holding Quinn in Cairn Toul had been to her advantage as she had thought it would be. She had been overconfident. And it had cost her all she had amassed through the centuries.
She was starting over, and though it irked her, she had learned her lesson.
Her wyrran were loyal. They had proven effective in finding and bringing Druids to her. They had even captured several men who had housed gods.
But when it came to battling those at MacLeod Castle, the duty was best left to her.
She could walk into the castle now and kill everyone. But what fun would that be? She wanted them to suffer, wanted them to realize it was futile to fight her. She wanted to see all hope stripped from them piece by piece.
Her new plan was already in motion. She had thought to begin with Broc, but just as she had assumed, there was another who could gain access to the burial mound and the second artifact. Her new army of Warriors would begin with Malcolm. She had plans for every Warrior in the castle.
No one would escape her wrath this time.
Deirdre lifted the hood of her cloak over her head and moved toward the lovers who lay in naked splendor amid the forest.
It seemed that each of the Warriors who came to MacLeod Castle found themselves a Druid. In order to lure these powerful Druids, Deirdre merely had to turn their Warriors. It wouldn’t prove too difficult. They were men, after all.
Animals scattered from her path and birds that had awoken with the new day quieted as she neared. Men never paid attention to animals. If they did, they would know she was coming and prepare.
Deirdre halted ten paces from Broc and his flame-haired lover. Deirdre could sense her mie magic. Was she the healer Deirdre had heard about?
A moment later the mie’s eyes flew open and she sat up. “Who are you?”
Deirdre smiled and glanced at a still slumbering Broc. Her face was hidden by her hood, so the Druid didn’t realize the predatory gaze that was locked on her. “I’m here to deliver a warning.”
“What kind of warning?” The Druid put her hand on a tree to help her rise. Her long hair fell over her shoulders to cover her breasts.
“No one is safe with the MacLeods.”
“No one is safe anywhere as long as Deirdre is alive.”
Deirdre cocked her head to the side. “No truer words have been spoken. Heed my warning, Druid. Everyone has been marked.” Then she turned and walked away.
“Wait. Who are you?”
Deirdre chuckled as she continued on. Aye, this plan was going to be truly wonderful to watch unfold. Not to mention the glee she would feel as each of the Warriors and Druids succumbed to her.
And they would succumb.
Sonya stared after the cloaked and hooded woman as she faded into the trees. The warning echoed in her mind, growing louder and louder each time. She forgot her nakedness and ran after the woman. Sonya wanted to know who the woman was, but she also wanted to know how everyone was marked.
“Sonya!”
She slowed when she heard Broc’s shout. No matter where she looked, she couldn’t find a trace of the woman.
“What is it?” Broc asked as he came to a halt beside her.
Sonya took his hand to help stop her own from shaking. “There was a woman. She said everyone at the castle was marked.”
Broc’s gaze narrowed as it slid around the forest. “Where is she? Who was she?”
“I don’t know. I woke up and she was there.”
“Did you see her face?”
Sony
a shook her head. The trees began to sway, their whispers growing incessant. She rested a hand on one and listened.
“… Deirdre! Deirdre! Deeeeeeeirdre!…”
“… not safe. She was here…”
“… they’re all marked. Sonyaaaaa is marked…”
Sonya shivered as she turned to Broc. “The trees say it was Deirdre.”
“Shite,” Broc said, and pulled her behind him as he ran to their clothes.
They dressed hurriedly. Sonya had just grabbed her stockings and shoes when Broc’s arms went around her. In her next breath they were flying to the castle.
As soon as they approached, Broc began to shout for the others.
Sonya’s gaze was on the forest. Deirdre had been there. Within strides of her. Why hadn’t Deirdre taken her or tried to kill her? Why had she delivered the warning? Why hadn’t she tried to attack the castle? Or taken Broc again?
Broc’s arms tightened around her as he landed them in the bailey. “I should have sensed her,” he whispered. “She could have taken you.”
“I don’t blame you.” Sonya stepped out of his arms so she could see his face. “If she had wanted to take me, she could have.”
Broc opened his mouth to say something when the MacLeods came rushing into the bailey. Hayden jumped from somewhere atop the castle and landed beside them.
“What happened?” Fallon asked.
Broc looked at the gate and then down at Sonya. His heart still pounded, the acrid taste of fear filling his mouth. “I think we need to wake everyone.”
“Aye,” Sonya said. Her hand still trembled within his.
Broc didn’t release her as they followed the others into the castle. When Sonya took a seat at the table, she pulled him down beside her.
But Broc couldn’t sit. He paced the great hall as everyone came in.
“Broc? Sonya? Someone please tell me what has happened,” Fallon said.
Broc ran a hand down his face and tried to tamp his god down, but the fury and fear were too great. His wings flapped, the force of them sending a current of air around the others and blowing hair into their faces.
He growled and focused on calming himself. Once he had control of his god and his emotions, he looked at Sonya, who sat watching him with worried, filled eyes.
“There was a woman in the forest,” Sonya said. “She … she was cloaked with her hood over her face. I never saw her.”
Broc cursed and leaned his hands against the wall. He pushed his claws into the stones as he thought of how close Sonya had been to Deirdre. Deirdre had to have known Sonya was a Druid.
Why had Deirdre not taken her? Just what plans did she have?
There was a slight pause before Lucan said, “I gather by Broc’s anger this woman said something to you.”
“Aye,” Sonya said. “She said everyone at the castle was marked.”
Broc dragged his claws out of the stone and whirled around. “God’s blood! It was Deirdre! She was here!” he shouted.
Marcail’s face lost all color. Quinn and Hayden rose from their seats and headed toward the door. Duncan, Ian, and Arran were right on their heels.
“Hold!” Fallon shouted and jumped to his feet.
Hayden shook his head as his skin turned the red of his god and small red horns protruded from the top of his head. “I’m going to find her.”
“She’s gone,” Broc said.
Sonya glanced at Broc. “He’s right. The trees waited to tell me who she was until she had left. I think they feared what I might do if I knew.”
“None of this makes sense,” Camdyn, another Warrior, said. “She had already captured Broc a few days ago. We all know how desperately she wants Druids. Why no’ take one or both?”
“A damned fine question,” Broc mumbled.
Sonya wrapped her arms around her middle. “It was as if she was gloating, as if she wanted us to know we were marked.”
Ramsey blew out a breath. “Deirdre doesna do anything without a plan. There was only one reason for her to tell us she has marked us.”
“Fear,” Ian answered.
“Aye,” Ramsey said with a nod. “She wants us looking over our shoulders, wants us to be extra careful.”
Reaghan rubbed her hands together as if seeking warmth. “Do you think she has managed to capture some of the Warriors who escaped? Like Phelan?”
“Or Charon,” Arran added.
Sonya watched Broc walk to her and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. She hated the worry she saw in his dark depths.
“The only thing I know is that we have to be vigilant. She didna take me or Sonya today. There is a reason for that, even if we doona know it yet,” Broc said.
Fallon rose to his feet and looked at each Warrior and Druid. “Nothing has changed. Deirdre is still out there.”
But everything had changed for Sonya. She loved Broc. And he had nearly been taken from her again.
THIRTY-FIVE
Sonya quickly plaited her hair and walked into the kitchen. She needed something to do with her hands, something to take her mind off the fact Deirdre had come to see her.
She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, and then Cara said, “It will be all right.”
“She’s right,” Reaghan said with a firm nod.
Marcail sat on a stool and put her hand on her stomach and her unborn child. “I wish I had your optimism, Cara.”
Isla handed Marcail a bowl and a spoon. “Stir that for me, please.”
There was a pause before Marcail did as Isla asked.
Isla moved to stand beside Sonya. “Deirdre marked all of us the moment our men stormed her mountain.”
“Aye,” Larena said with a soft sigh. “As soon as we heard she hadn’t died, we all knew her retaliation would be swift.”
Marcail dropped the spoon and wiped at her eyes. “What does it mean, though? ‘Marked’?”
“I think it means she has something in store for each of us,” Sonya said. “She didn’t say as much, but it was implied.”
“Did you see her?” Reaghan asked.
Sonya shook her head. “I saw nothing other than her cloak. She held it together in front of her, and the hood was pulled up in such a way that her face was obscured.”
“Why the ruse?” Larena asked.
Marcail snorted. “Precisely. Why not show Sonya who she was?”
“I suppose it has something to do with her plan,” Isla said.
Cara rolled her eyes. “Whatever that might be.”
The subject was quickly changed. Sonya paid no attention to anyone. Her mind still went over every word Deirdre had spoken to her again and again. There had to be something she was missing, something that would help them.
“We’re very happy for you,” Isla said as she began to knead the dough.
Sonya glanced up. “Happy?”
“For you and Broc.”
“Oh.” Sonya shrugged and continued to clean the fish they would have for their noon meal.
“Sonya,” Isla said. “There is no need to deny your feelings for him any longer.”
She smiled then. “I’m not.”
“Is he?”
“Nay. We just haven’t had a chance to…”
“Talk,” Isla finished. “I can understand that dilemma. Hayden and I had the same problem.”
Sonya turned to her. “I knew our chances of returning weren’t good. I didn’t want to die without knowing him.”
“No one can blame you for that. We’ve all seen the way you look at him and he looks at you. You both needed to come together. If you care for him, fight to keep him.”
“Listen to her,” Cara said.
Marcail nodded, her many small braids atop the crown of her head moving with her. “These Warriors are fierce in battle but can be very stubborn. Especially when it comes to the women they care about.”
“Our mortality,” Cara added.
Sonya wiped her chin with the back of her hand. “He’s not said as much, but I believe the
fact that I’m not immortal bothers him.”
“Nay,” Isla said. “It is his immortality which troubles him. He will have to endure long after you are gone.”
Reaghan grinned and nudged Marcail’s arm. “Make it so Broc has no choice but to see you as his, Sonya. Once he has claimed you, there will be no turning back for a Warrior.”
The women erupted in laughter.
Sonya smiled, but she wasn’t convinced. It was going to take much more than that. It was going to take persuading him his “curse” couldn’t hurt her.
* * *
Broc stood with Ramsey and Quinn atop the battlements. He had tried to convince Fallon to allow him to look for Deirdre, but Fallon had said it didn’t matter where Deirdre was, that they needed Broc at the castle.
“I agree with Fallon,” Ramsey said. “I think Deirdre is gone.”
Broc stared at the forest. “I’d like to find out for myself.”
“If she had wanted in the castle, she could have gotten in,” Quinn pointed out.
Ramsey put a hand against the sawtooth battlement wall. “For whatever reason, Deirdre left you and Sonya alone. Rejoice in that.”
Magic, strong and pure, sizzled around Broc. He recognized the feel of Sonya’s magic and turned toward it. She walked from the kitchen to Cara’s garden.
Her hair was pulled away from her face and was once more in a braid. The thick plait slid over her shoulder to hang in front of her as she bent over to tend to a plant.
“We’ve all been waiting for you to claim her,” Quinn said.
Broc frowned and glanced at the youngest MacLeod. “Was my attraction so obvious?”
“Aye,” Ramsey said. “As was hers for you.”
“She’s mortal.”
Quinn smiled wryly as he faced Broc. “So is Marcail. Lucan faces the same obstacle with Cara.”
“And Galen and Hayden have yet to know if Reaghan and Isla are still immortal,” Ramsey added.
“What I’m trying to say,” Quinn said, “is that if you love her, then it shouldna matter.”
Love. Did Broc dare to admit it, did he dare to dream of sharing a life with Sonya? Did he dare to subject her to the curse or, worse, test it to see if it was gone?
