Miranda was surprised by his words but didn’t have the energy to question him; instead, she said, “Well, anyway, I’m going to bed.”
“Okay then, I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” Jamison said, a look of disappointment on his face.
It was hard to ignore, but she left the kitchen, stopping by the study to get the book she’d been reading that afternoon, then went to her room. She changed into the lacy nightgown Abagail had given her, climbed under the covers, settled back, and opened the book. But it wasn’t long before her eyelids began to droop, and the book fell to the floor as she succumbed to the sleep she so desperately needed.
Her peaceful sleep wouldn’t last long; soon, she was deep in a nightmarish dream, tossing and turning in the bed, images of the past filling her dreams. She found herself standing almost naked in front of Malcolm as her mother burned the mark into her shoulder, the pain making her cry out and struggle against the bonds that held her. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire, but each time she opened her mouth to scream or to run, she felt the bonds holding her.
Then Malcolm strode over to her and grabbed her arms and began shaking her; this time, when she tried to scream, she felt her lungs respond, and the room was filled with the sound. The sound penetrated through the dream, and she opened her eyes just as another scream escaped her throat, only to find Jamison shaking her.
“Miranda, wake up. It’s only a dream,” he said. “Come on, come back to me.”
Another scream was ready to come out of her mouth, then she realized where she was and choked it back, but that only made tears come to her eyes and roll down her cheeks. Shaking, she looked over at Jamison, whose face was full of concern and launched herself into his arms. He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her, and rocked her as the tears ran down her cheeks.
“I was dreaming of the night my mother burned the tattoo into my shoulder; it was like I was there again; I could even feel the pain. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream,” she said into his chest.
Jamison didn’t say anything at first. “You were screaming just fine when I heard you,” he said.
She looked up at him to see if he was teasing her, and there was a little smile on his face. She slapped him on the chest and tried to sit up, but he held her there. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said, breathing in his scent, a mixture of something spicy and sweet.
“That’s okay, I wasn’t really sleeping,” he said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“I was...” he hesitated. “I was thinking about you.”
Miranda’s heart skipped a beat. “Thinking about me?”
Jamison sighed. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about you,” he said. “I think I’d better go now.”
He started to pull away, and she wanted to hold him there, but let him go. “Is it because of the tattoo?” she asked. “Is it because of the Unseelie?”
She was sure that he wasn’t going to answer, and she felt her heart break a little, but then he turned and looked at her, his eyes full of desire. “No, Miranda, it’s because when I’m this close to you, I want to kiss you, I want to touch you, I want to make love to you,” he said.
She gasped as her body began to throb and her breath stuck in her throat as thrill after thrill made her tingle in places no one had ever reached before. Jamison’s eyes pleaded with her to let him go, and she suddenly understood what it was costing him to be in the room with her, and for a second, she thought about covering herself up. But the longer their eyes stayed locked, the more she wanted him, and she felt the wounds that had held her back beginning to heal.
Imagining herself getting out of bed and going to him made her heart pound faster; the image of his hands on her body brought not the fear, shame, and humiliation as before, but a deep excitement that made her body hum. Still shaking, but this time with anticipation, she got out of bed and crossed the room, almost laughing when Jamison’s eyes widened with shock and panic.
She stopped right in front of him and looked up into his eyes. “I’m going to kiss you now,” she said.
His eyes got even wider, but he didn’t move, and when she reached up, cupped his cheeks with her small palms, and pulled him down, he didn’t resist. When her lips brushed against his, he sucked in a deep breath but didn’t move, letting her set the pace. But when she slipped her tongue into his mouth, he groaned and his arms came around her in a grip so tight, she almost couldn’t breathe.
Chapter Eighteen
Jamison
Jamison knew that he was crushing Miranda; she was so small in his arms, but he couldn’t help himself—he’d dreamed of this moment so many times with no hope of it ever coming true. Now, she was in his arms willingly, and he wasn’t sure what to do with her. He knew that what was about to happen was a bad idea, but with Miranda’s tongue in his mouth, he couldn’t make himself stop.
Her innocence was evident in the way she kissed him, her tongue tentatively gliding in and out of his mouth, making him want to take over. But he let her kiss him, knowing that he couldn’t just take her to bed and ravish her like he wanted to, that he’d have to take things slowly with her or spook her forever. It was a new and unique feeling to care so much about the woman he was with, strange to be more worried about her pleasure than his own.
He scooped her up in his arms, breaking the kiss, and carried her back across the room to the bed, laid her down, then stretched out next to her. Leaning up on one elbow, he looked down at her, then smoothed the hair back from her face and studied her for a second. She met his eyes, and although her cheeks were stained pink, she looked more confident than he’d ever seen her. A fresh burst of desire caught him off guard when he realized just how strong she really was, but as confident as she looked, he wasn’t going to rush.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
“Yes,” she said, a soft sigh escaping her parted lips. “I want you to take away all those awful memories, Jamison. I want you to make me forget, show me that’s there’s more than just lust, show me what passion is.”
Her words sunk into his brain, each one touching him in a place he’d never thought anyone would ever reach. “I think you’re the one who’s teaching me,” he said, then lowered his mouth to hers.
He brushed his lips across Miranda’s, willing her to open her mouth to him, then rejoiced when her lips parted, and his tongue slipped inside. She wound her arms around his neck and scooted closer to him, the silky fabric of her nightgown brushing against his leg, her breasts pressed up against his chest. Reminding himself to take it slowly, he kissed her until she was breathless, then kissed his way down her neck and nibbled on the sensitive skin behind her ear.
She moaned softly and moved restlessly under him, but he took his time enjoying the taste of her before sliding one hand onto her hip, then slowly up her stomach. He stopped just under her breast and waited for her reaction, pleased when she arched her back and whispered his name. When his hand finally slipped over her breast, she sucked in a gasping breath and arched her back, and he marveled at how perfectly the soft globe fit in his hand.
***Miranda***
Pleasure washed over Miranda when Jamison’s hand cupped her breast, his thumb brushing across her hardened nipple, and she arched her back. His hand was warm through the thin fabric of her nightgown, but she wanted more, wanted to feel his rough hands on her soft flesh. She had no idea how to communicate this to him, but then felt his hand move off her breast and slide down her stomach, and a deeper need sprang to life.
It was so intense that for a moment, all she could do was ride the feeling out, gasping for breath and fighting the urge to spread her legs. “Jamison,” she whispered when he started lifting the hem of her gown.
He looked into her eyes as the gown slowly crept up her legs, and deep inside, the pounding pleasure that had only just begun intensified, scaring her and making her whimper his name again. “I think there’s something wrong with me,” she said,
the pleasure almost painful.
Jamison shook his head, sliding his hand up inside of her thigh, making her spread her legs with a gasp as another wave of pleasure and anticipation make her tremble. “You are perfect in every way,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her breathless.
When the gown slid easily over her head, she felt completely exposed as his eyes roamed over her naked body. But then he whispered. “Absolutely perfect,” and slipped his finger between her folds.
Her hips came up off the bed as pleasure swept over her, taking her to a place she’d never been before, wave after wave of pure sensation driving her to an unknown destination. When her pleasure finally crested, she cried out Jamison’s name and clutched his shoulders, feeling like she was going to fly away as her body bucked and trembled.
She heard Jamison groan and felt him shift between her legs, his swollen manhood throbbing against her sensitive flesh. The pleasure deep inside her erupted again as he carefully guided himself to her throbbing opening and she unashamedly spread her legs further. His eyes met hers, a question in their blue depths, and the pounding deep inside her became almost unbearable, so she wrapped her legs around his hips.
He was trembling as much as she was, his muscles straining as he slowly slid inside her, then broke her fragile barrier with one hard thrust. Pain shot through her, blocking the pleasure for only a moment, but Jamison remained still, letting her adjust, and soon, she felt the need to move her hips. One wiggle was all it took for the pleasure to return twice as strong as before, the heavy weight of Jamison filling her so wonderful, she shivered with pleasure.
Jamison groaned and slowly slid out of her, then filled her again, his powerful hips barely moving as he tried to take it slowly, but she wanted more, wanted to feel him filling her over and over. She wrapped her legs more tightly around him, then lifted her hips, making him groan and thrust into her harder. Throwing her head back, she took each thrust, feeling him fill her deeper until the pleasure that had been carrying her along slowly suddenly burst to life.
Desperate for release, she thrust her hips up to meet him, then slid her hands down his muscular back and cupped his butt. Jamison thrust into her even harder; she felt the dam break and pleasure hit every nerve in her body as he emptied himself inside her, his swollen throbbing member pulsing, his cries of release music to her ears.
When Jamison collapsed on top of her, she was still trembling beneath him, floating on a haze of pleasure unlike anything she’d ever imagined. Her breath was coming in short gasps, and her heart was pounding in her chest, but she didn’t think she’d ever felt so wonderful. But when Jamison finally rolled off her and gathered her into his arms, she felt another kind of wonderful and wondered if it could possibly be love.
She looked up at him and he smiled down at her; a wave of dizziness washed over her, and for a moment, she couldn’t think straight. “Are you okay?” he asked, sitting up in bed.
“I’m fine,” she said. “In fact, I think I’m better than I’ve ever been in my life.”
***Jamison***
Jamison thought that his heart was going to burst with happiness, a feeling that was new to him, but not unwelcome. His head felt light, and there was a buzzing in his head every time he thought about Miranda, but he wasn’t sure what it meant. He decided not to work too hard at figuring it out, couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the woman in his arms.
Then it hit him; he’d fallen in love with a witch, a witch who was as stubborn as she was strong, as innocent as she was wise, a witch who had no idea the power she had over him. Expecting panic to blossom in his chest, he waited, letting it set in, then discovered that there was nothing but satisfaction pulsing through him. Gathering her a little closer, he reveled in the feeling that he’d finally found someone he could love.
“I think I feel the same way,” he said, looking down at her.
She sighed and curled a little closer to him, then closed her eyes. “I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open, but I don’t want to go to sleep,” she said. “I’m afraid I’ll wake up in the morning and this will have all been a dream.”
Jamison ran his hand up and down her back. “I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” she mumbled. “I’m not going anywhere either.”
Relieved to hear the words, he allowed himself to drift to sleep, wondering how something so wonderful could come out of such a terrible situation and finally understanding what Colin, Reese, and Keaton had experienced. He now understood why they had all been so willing to buck the traditions and laws, why they’d risked their lives to save the women they loved.
It all seemed so clear as he drifted off to sleep, and he promised both Miranda and himself, that he’d do whatever it took to save the fragile love they’d discovered. The universe had given him a rare gift, one that only came along once in a lifetime, and he wasn’t going to squander it or let it slip away only to be destroyed by the evil in the world.
Miranda’s safety had suddenly become the most important thing in his life; he no longer cared what laws and traditions changed in Ballantine: he just wanted to know that she was safe and would stay that way. It was a relief to know that his family would be coming; he needed some help, and although he hadn’t exactly been their favorite person lately, he had no doubt that they’d come.
He had a lot of back peddling and explaining to do, but he was confident that if he were honest, he’d be forgiven. Darby might be the most resistant to him, he had made her life a bit of a living hell at the castle every chance he got, but he knew deep down that she’d forgive him. The eight of them would make an interesting little group, but their differences were their strengths, and together, they’d find a way to beat the Unseelie and save Miranda.
With his mind more at ease than it had been in a long time, he slept deeply, Miranda’s bare skin against his filling him with a deep comfort that was impossible to explain. He woke feeling more rested than he’d been in weeks, the uncertainty of the future not so overwhelming now that he’d found the love he always assumed he’d be denied.
Chapter Nineteen
Miranda
Miranda woke with a start and opened her eyes, wondering what had woken her. Jamison was still snoring softly beside her, and although it appeared to be well past sunrise, the cabin was quiet. She closed her eyes to go back to sleep when a shooting pain in her shoulder made her open them again and nearly cry out. Stifling the scream, she slipped out of bed, her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps as the pain increased.
Stumbling into the bathroom, she looked in the mirror, horrified to see the tattoo pulsing with a strange light, the skin around it red and raw. Another sharp burst of pain nearly knocked her off her feet, but she turned and grabbed the sink for support knocking over several bottles with her hand, gritting her teeth as another wave of pain made the tattoo feel like it was coming off her skin.
She was only vaguely aware of Jamison’s hands on her hips, but his voice cut through the fog of pain. “Miranda, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice nearly at panic level.
“My tattoo,” she managed to say before another wave of pain hit her.
Jamison’s hands were the only thing that kept her from tumbling to the bathroom floor, and it was a relief when he picked her up in his arms. She felt him carry her to the bedroom, and the hard bed under her body, but the pain kept coming, relentlessly pounding at her until she was sweating and limp. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the pain was gone, the tattoo stopped burning, and her mind cleared.
She lay gasping, her face buried in the pillow, her shoulder almost numb now that the pain was gone. Jamison hovered over her, then she heard his footsteps go back to the bathroom, the sound of water running, and the relief of a cool damp cloth on her body. He made the trip back and forth several times before she was recovered enough to roll over and look at him. She should have been embarrassed by her nakedness, but
the concern in Jamison’s eyes washed it away before it could even begin.
“Are you okay,” he asked, covering her up. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Something woke me up and then my tattoo began to throb and burn; the pain just got worse and then suddenly, it was gone.”
They stared at each other for a long time, neither able to voice what they were both thinking. Finally, Jamison smoothed the hair back from her face. “I think you should try to get some more sleep. I’ll go take care of the animals and come back and make breakfast. Then we’ll talk.”
She nodded, her eyes so heavy, she could barely keep them open. “Okay, but don’t be gone long. I don’t think I can go through that alone.”
“I’ll be right back, I promise,” he said, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. “You just try to sleep.”
When she woke again, the sun was high in the sky and she knew that she’d missed lunch, but she felt much better. She was just climbing out of bed when she heard the front door slam open and the sound of hurried feet in the hallway, then she heard Abagail’s voice.
“Miranda are you here?” she called, banging on the closed bedroom door.
“I’m here, Abagail, hold on,” she said, sliding into her robe and slippers.
When she cracked open the bedroom door, Abagail came bursting through. “Are you okay?” she asked anxiously. “Why aren’t you dressed?”
“I slept in,” Miranda said, thinking it wasn’t completely a lie.
“Until noon?” Abagail asked, narrowing her eyes at Miranda.
“We had a bit of a problem this morning,” Jamison said, suddenly in the doorway. “Miranda’s tattoo started hurting when she woke up and by the time it stopped, she was exhausted, so I made her go back to sleep.”
Abagail stared at Jamison for a second, then looked over at Miranda dressed only in the robe, her nakedness clear to anyone, then over at the rumpled bed. “What did you two do?” she asked, looking from one to the other for an explanation.
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