by Dawn Madigan
“The Hound,” Rowan said softly. “Back Up there, you made that extra push a little too hard, didn’t you, Brid? You made it possible for others to breach the Veil along with us.”
“But the Hound—it needs nighttime to change, and the moon, doesn’t it? Same as our kind?” Dara’s hand climbed unconsciously to her left shoulder, touching the spot where just hours ago an arrow wound had been. “Doesn’t it?” she demanded again, her eyes darting from the redheaded Sidhe to the bare-chested Irishman by her side.
She couldn’t help the shudder that racked her body.
Rowan noticed, but didn’t reach out for her this time, though he ached to.
Dara had just made it clear she didn’t want him touching her. She had a right to reject his touch. He’d almost got her killed. Had forced intimacy on her while she’d still been craving another. Had crashed into her life…
“The Hound might follow a different set of rules in the Otherworld,” Brighid was telling Dara, her voice drawing Rowan away from his tormented thoughts. “It is a creature of magic, after all, so it will likely grow more powerful here…might be able to shapechange during the daylight as well. And ‘tis always daylight here.”
“Why can’t we just go back Up, then?” Dara demanded. Her hands were balled into tight, sweaty fists.
“Up is no better,” Brighid replied faintly. “Up is where you almost got yourself killed, Dara. I prefer taking our chances here, where we might get some help. Look, we’d better get moving.”
“Don’t we have any say in this?” Dara’s voice was oozing sarcasm.
“We’re wasting precious time standing here!” the Sidhe snapped back.
“Hey,” Dara exclaimed, anger flashing in her eyes.
“Say, Brid,” Rowan swiftly cut in. “If the Hound grows stronger here, does it also mean the other rules don’t apply? That it might go for a kill not using arrows?”
“It probably will, you idiot!” the Sidhe snarled agitatedly. “If your mind went any slower, it would likely catch up with itself on the way back!”
Rowan’s temper heated instantly, but then his searing gaze fell upon Brighid’s fingers—clenched within the green woolen cloth of her gown.
“Wanna tell me what’s biting your arse, Brid?” His voice was cool again, the heat pushed back from his gaze.
“We’re in the wrong kingdom to have long, useless discussions, is all.” The wee banshee swiped her arm at the purple shadows of the mountains. “See there, this is the seat of the Knockfierna Mound. ‘Tis Prince Donn’s dominion. He…doesn’t like your kind.”
“Our kind?” Dara murmured, confused.
“Kanjali,” Rowan quietly told her. “Even if you have no knowledge of where you came from, Dara, there are always those who’d remember it for you.”
“Aye.” Brighid nodded. “The Gateway threw us in Princess Grian’s dominion. It shares a border with Knockfierna. Grian herself won’t attempt to harm you, but she’s either too weak or too unwilling to stop Donn should he find out you’re here.”
“Look, I know nothing about all of this mounds and princes blather,” Rowan spread his arms wide in a desperate gesture. “I want to bleedin’ trust you, Brighid. Goddess knows I do. But you’ll have to tell us a bit more than that!”
“You two want to die, is that it?” Brighid collapsed in the grass like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She sat miserably in the circle of crushed grass blades, her legs folded beneath her. “Aye, that’s what it is, a death wish!”
Dara stared incredulously at Rowan. He was crouching beside Brighid now, gently clutching her slim arms in his large hands.
“Not asking for a long lecture here, lass,” he told the reluctant banshee. “Just tell us where we’re heading.”
“To the kingdom of Midhe, city of Khree. ‘Tis the Lower Realm’s center, and holds a direct Gateway to Lia Fáil.” Brighid’s voice was dull, all the anger drained out. “We have three kingdoms to cross to get there. Mumha, Connachta, then Laighin.”
“Then we’d better get moving, aye? I trust you to lead the way. This—” Rowan gestured wearily over the endless stretch of whispering grass. “’Tis all the same to me.”
Dara had been watching the two of them in dumbfounded silence. She couldn’t make heads or tails of this mess.
Rowan straightened up, then reached down and yanked Brighid to her feet. “When we’re safely out of Mumha, then by Danu, I will ask you for that long lecture, Brid.” He shook his head. “’Tis all unbelievable, this.”
The light was back in Brighid’s eyes. “If we all shapechange, we’ll be able to travel faster,” she said.
“I can’t shapechange at will!” Dara’s tone bordered on panicky. “I need the full moon for that kind of a trick. Besides, I’d never go full mac’tir if I had a choice. Way too dangerous.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”
“I have much better control than she, but I still need the moon’s Power to draw on,” Rowan sighed.
“So did the Hound, but it might be different for you all down here,” Brighid reminded him. She was beating grass out of the green folds of her dress. “So maybe you two can try and do your thing anyway?”
“No.” Dara shook her head, her curls hopping with the sharp movement. “I will not ‘do my thing’. I’d rather die human.”
Rowan slanted a glance at the sky’s soft-glowing blue. “When we transferred here, I felt something was strange about the way things looked. Now I know what it was. There’s no sun up there,” he pointed accusingly at the sky’s blue dome. “I thought of drawing Power from the sun, instead of the moon.”
“Rowan, you can’t,” Dara exclaimed. “That would be suicide!”
Hmmm…so she did mind his safety. That was good news. Rowan cast Dara a charged glance. “Goddess knows ‘tis dangerous, Dara, unheard of. The moon’s Power is like cool water, the sun’s touch is burning, deadly—impossible to work with. But problem solved, isn’t it, Brid? No sun in here. No moon. No Power to use.”
“No Power?” Brighid slowly repeated, her lips twisting into an ironic smile. “Kanjali, this place is Power.”
Rowan shot the Sidhe a stunned look. “By Danu, you may be right,” he murmured. “In that case…” He began loosening his fly.
Dara gave Rowan a funny look. “What the hell are you up to now, Mackey?”
He arched a fiery brow at her, tugging at his zipper.
“I-I don’t think you should do that,” she mumbled, yet her eyes seemed glued to his hands movements.
“What, this?” Rowan flashed Dara a lazy smile, slowly tugging his zipper down over his bulging erection. “You’ve already seen it all, sweetheart.”
“And I don’t wanna see it again,” she snapped, still staring at his hands intently.
“So why do you keep watching?” Rowan’s grin broadened as mild shock spread over Dara’s face. Her entranced look was an immense turn-on. He tugged the zipper lower, his hard shaft straining against his fly.
“Oh—” Dara flushed.
His zipper undone, Rowan’s massive erection forced its way out through his gaping fly. He slipped both his thumbs beneath the waistband. “’Tis just that I mean to shapechange,” he said matter-of-factly. “’Twould be foolish if I tried that with my jeans on, eh?”
Dara looked mesmerized. “I guess ‘twould— I mean, it would—”
Rowan grinned, slowly guiding the faded jeans down his hips, peeling them over his ass. His balls hung heavy and his cock was fully erect beneath Dara’s heated gaze, its engorged head pointing to his abdominal muscles. He paused in mid-crouch, the waistband hugging his thighs. “Want a rear view, too?”
“Ye—No!” Dara crossed her arms over her breasts, her face burning. “Shut up and get it over with, Mackey!”
He chuckled, slipping completely out of his jeans, chucking them onto the dewy grass. “Now, where was I?” he murmured, completely at ease. “Aye. About to look for some bleedin’ Power.”
Closing his eyes, Rowan eased the
tight hold controlling his own life force and let it uncoil, stretch out in a gentle search for another force to play with. Power eagerly answered his careful call. He gasped as tangling, vibrant energy snared his unprepared senses. Power simmered in the air he breathed, in the earth and the grass he trod upon. Sinking down to his knees, Rowan withdrew, tucking the battered shoots of his force back into their shields.
The world about him grew indistinct.
Chapter Eight
“Rowan!”
Dara gave him a third rough shake, and he still hadn’t responded. He stayed crouched on his knees, his back hunched. Dara was starting to get worried.
“Dammit, Mackey, snap out of it!”
That was loud enough to wake up the dead.
Rowan finally cracked his eyes open. Dara leaned closer, scrutinizing his face with concern. He shook his head, still looking out of it.
“Rowan, are you okay?” She squeezed his arms tighter.
“Aye, I’m fine.” He managed a smile, but his voice came out husky. “I wasn’t prepared when I reached out for the Power. ‘Tis a bit like putting your lips up for a chaste kiss, and instead getting a deep, full mouth workout.”
“What?!”
Rowan’s gaze dropped in response, and Dara’s eyes followed. She took a nervous swallow. The man was wearing nothing but a smile, and he was hard. His cock head was nudging her shirt—his shirt—Oh, dammit! Suddenly her face felt dangerously close to his, her hands clasped way too tight on his arms. Dara’s cheeks heated. She snatched her hands away from the impossible rogue and scrambled to her feet.
“Oh yeah, you’re definitely okay,” she muttered.
“Next time I’ll do it right. More gentle.” Rowan stayed kneeling, his eyes climbing from Dara’s dew-covered bare feet to her face. His smoldering gaze told her he’d been just discussing more than his shapechanging.
She found herself sizzling beneath the intensity of the man’s blatant, green gaze. He was looking at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world, both Above and Below. The impish twinkle in his eyes told her what he’d like to do to her right here, right now. His fully erect cock backed up that statement.
Dara drew back a step.
“Stop that,” she whispered.
“Stop what, Dara?”
“Stop looking at me that way. Don’t.”
“In what way?”
“That way,” she finally voiced. “Like I’m the most beautiful damn thing you’ve ever seen.”
“I can’t look at you any other way.” Rowan’s voice was soft, flavored with his rough brogue.
He continued staring up at her, kneeling naked in the grass beside his discarded jeans. Goddess, but he looked delicious! His sweat- and rain-soaked mane tumbled in wild tangles about his face, sweeping down his chiseled shoulders. A thin glaze of moisture sheened his well-defined muscles into gleaming masculine perfection. His huge erection jutted towards her. Not fair! Her fading logic screamed for mercy. Dara longed to touch Rowan again, to skim her hands over the velvet of his chest. To slide her fingers along the hard length of his shaft. No, scratch that. She wanted to try those things with her tongue.
She closed her eyes, drawing a quick, trembling breath. This couldn’t be! He couldn’t be talking to her this way, trying to convince her she was the most beautiful thing in the world.
She wasn’t doing any better herself. Naked or not, the man only had to glance her way, and her tongue lolled out like some horny teenager’s. Goddess, but this couldn’t be! She’d had love and she’d lost it. She didn’t believe in happily-ever-afters anymore.
Dara’s eyes flew open with a yelp as unmistakable, powerful arms enveloped her from behind. A soft, male chuckle of pure mischief teased wisps of her hair, as a rough, square jaw fitted itself perfectly into the crook of her neck. Something else, long and hard, fitted itself nicely into the curve of her back.
Mackey was a fast healer—and a fast mover!
“Come off it, Mackey,” she snapped, vainly attempting to break his hold.
“Come off what? You?” Rowan’s low laugh brushed her skin, and Dara’s body throbbed in response. “Mmmm, no, I don’t think so.” He started to nuzzle her neck in an extremely addictive way.
“You don’t think, Mackey. Period,” Dara ground out, twisting her head away from his. In her current position it only granted Rowan more access, which he liberally abused. One of his hands sneaked up and tangled in her hair, keeping her throat fully exposed to his mouth’s mastery.
Dara moaned, against her better judgment.
“I love it when you go all teacher on me, sweetheart,” Rowan murmured seductively, his trailing mouth now pressing beneath her jawline. He sent a nimble tongue out to explore.
“Mmmmggh,” Dara eloquently replied, her knees turning to mush. Rowan’s steely chest felt like smooth velvet behind her. His cock pressed shamelessly into her back, through her shirt. A sweet tingle started between her legs. Her nipples tightened, throbbing in unison with her cunt. She was hot all over, her pussy growing damp. Damn that Irishman! Helplessly she sagged against him, going pliant beneath his mouth, beneath his sure hands. Right now, she couldn’t spell judgment if someone held a gun to her head.
Both of Rowan’s hands were caressing the soft swell of her hips in a slow, inflaming rhythm. Dara sucked in her breath, shaken by a rough tremor. She was soaking wet.
“Where’s the banshee?” he unexpectedly hummed against her cheek, his tongue hunting one angle of her mouth.
“Who?” Dara struggled to regain focus. “Oh, B-Brighid. It’s odd, you know—I wasn’t looking for barely a sec, and she disappeared.”
“Banshees have their ways,” Rowan drawled as he swirled his tongue around the delicate shell of her ear, setting it afire.
“You think she maybe shapech—? Mmm…Goddess, Rowan, what’re you doing?”
His lips had just fastened on her earlobe, drawing it into the searing heat of his mouth. He gently tugged and let go, his tongue next tenderly penetrating her ear’s sensitive, dark passage.
Dara gasped sharply, at a loss for words. Talk about tongue-tied! The man was sure taking his sweet time to reply.
“I want to show you how you look in my eyes, Dara.” His answering whisper brushed her blazing ear, caressed her sensitized nerve endings. His hips gave a subtle forward thrust, teasingly bumping his cock against her derriere.
Dara didn’t mind Rowan showing her whatever he damn wanted, as long as he didn’t stop what he was doing. As his mouth captured her earlobe again, tugging with gentle teeth, she renounced all coherent thought. As his talented lips skimmed down the contour of her neck and sucked their fill, she all but melted into a boneless puddle.
Rowan bit back a smile, breathing heat over Dara’s flushed cheek.
“Close your eyes, Dara. Let me show you what I see.”
“Rowan—”
“Cream,” he whispered against her contrary ear, sliding his hands from her hips to the curvaceous thrust of her thighs. His fingers crinkled her masculine t-shirt as he oh-so slowly dragged the cloth up. The fact that she was wearing nothing but his own oversized shirt aroused him fiercely.
He finally touched skin.
She was hot, smooth silk, just as he remembered.
“Sweet cream,” he softly uttered in her ear.
Dara released a long-held breath. He felt her narrow rib cage heaving and falling within his embrace.
His hands drew up her thighs, nudging her shirt further up her body. His fingers converged over the dark, moist curls. Dara’s head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut. Her taut fingers curled against his forearms.
“Rich, dark honey,” Rowan breathed in her ear, gently stroking over the raven-black pelt above her mons. Again his hips gave a gentle forward thrust, trapping her sex between his hard cock and his hungry hands. Dara let out a half-sob, her sooty lashes trembling. The excited, quick pulse in her neck drummed against Rowan’s pressed face.
<
br /> “Mmmm…like the juiciest of apples.” Rowan moved his hands around Dara’s thighs, each finally cupping a lush ass cheek.
She seemed to be under a spell. With a soft sigh she leaned further into him, her back arching, her body now fully supported against his solid chest and his nestling hands. Her subtle change of posture beautifully arched her full breasts beneath the crumpled shirt.
Rowan’s hands roved up the subtle swell of her tummy, and stroked sensual paths up her slim waist. His hands’ movement rolled her shirt up ‘til it was stopped by her dagger’s leather harness. His fingers splayed against the underside of her breasts, teasing the supple flesh with feathery circular strokes.
“Even more sweet cream,” he whispered against her throat as each of his hands supported a breast, his tone softly teasing.
“Oh please,” she whimpered, and he understood perfectly.
A sultry, pleased grin quirked Rowan’s lips as his hands moved from play mode to business.
Dara couldn’t help but cry out as Rowan nestled her breasts with a firmer grip, his kneading hands giving her just the right amount of rough. Those long, devilish fingers of his stroked around her blushing areolas in tightening circles, caressing everywhere but there. His sizzling touch honed her nipples to aching peaks. She hissed like a cat and writhed against the man’s front like there was no tomorrow. And what a hard front it was, too… Dara’s wanton undulations seemed to have an effect. It was Rowan’s turn to hiss in sweet agony.
He caught Dara’s jaw, turning her face towards his. Their eyes clashed, two pairs of smoking embers. Rowan angled his head down to Dara’s and covered her mouth with his, his tongue swiftly sinking between her unresisting lips. He growled, his tongue eagerly exploring the dark, sizzling hollow of her waiting mouth.
“By the Morrigu! But you two are at it again!”
Her two Kanjali tore their mouths from each other as she changed to her womanly form and shrilly announced her arrival. Brighid grinned impishly. She hadn’t made her presence known immediately after landing—for a brief moment she’d simply enjoyed watching the two Upper Realm shifters.
