Forged in Dreams and Magick hl-1

by Kat Bastion

  I took a deep breath and placed my hands on its cool, metallic surface. A warmth spread beneath my hands, but nothing happened. I stood there for several minutes, waiting.

  How anticlimactic.

  The electricity flowing through everything, including the atmosphere in the room, felt greater than on any other attempt, yet nothing completed the circuit. I drummed my fingers on the lid wondering what I could do to mimic what Iain had done.

  In frustration, I circled the pedestal, then went back around again, pacing. Minutes ticked by. Sunlight streamed further into the doorway, sending a shaft of light directly onto the box’s front surface. The sun’s radiant heat warmed my hands, and the box surged. We needed more power. Whatever blocked my easy transfer would only be overcome by a greater force on my end.

  I focused. Deep breaths inflated my lungs as I opened myself up to everything around me. Vibrating particles flowed into me from the air, the box, and the sun’s radiation. On an exhale, I forced every ounce of energy I’d collected down onto the box as I touched the surface again.

  The familiar orgasmic jolt shot through my body, and the box disappeared.

  I blacked out.

  CHAPTER Twenty-seven

  Brodie Castle—Thirteenth Century

  Loud groaning interrupted a deep sleep. Pain behind my temples finished the job, extricating me from the sticky hold of a vivid dream forgotten the moment my dry eyes pried open. A scratchy growl rumbled from my throat as my hand flew up to a throbbing head that acted more like the victim of a hangover than a neutral body part topping my shoulders.

  I blinked slow and heavy, willing moisture beneath my lids to focus on the blur above me. Something very wrong had happened. My prone body felt like lead, fused entirely to the floor. A soundless vibration pulsed into the air, quivering every cell in my body.

  I shot upright, and my lungs seized.

  Iain’s wall hovered so close to me, if I moved my right arm a fraction of an inch, I’d brush against the rippling surface. Fear gripped me as I scrambled away from the so-not-innocent architectural element while staring up at it openmouthed. I thought the enigma had seemed sentient before, but the slab that spanned the entire side of the room had come fully to life.

  The sparkling gray stone had transformed into what looked like molten platinum. Slight air-current disturbances made tiny waves undulate like invisible dragonflies had dipped onto a mirrored pond. Points of light that had once pulsed in response to my touch now streamed bright beams across the room, animating dust particles in luminescence.

  Unable to overrule my curiosity, I poked a finger at the liquid façade. A membrane resisted my touch, bowing fractionally before giving way. My hand disappeared, and incredible energy flowed into my arm from the connection. Startled, I pulled back.

  I jumped to my feet, hyperventilating, disoriented by the shock of electric energy and my unexpected locale. Whoever punched the time-machine coordinates had miscalculated the landing pad, sending me into the thirteenth-century plane nowhere near the box that had always been my portal. The unstable game kept throwing me curve balls.

  I felt nauseous. Someone needed to arm travelers with a cure for time-jump sickness or, at the very least, a bag.

  For breathing.

  Or . . . puking.

  With my arms spread wide for balance, I spun in a slow circle, scanning the room for the box, confirming that it hadn’t been moved there. Laser beams from the wall hit every part of my body, across my skin and the deerskin clothing I wore. I felt some residual heat, but only a fraction of the voltage charging through the actual wall itself.

  “What are you?” I addressed the light-show maker as if expecting a response. None came.

  The wall had clearly been the travel gateway in my recent go-round. Iain held the only knowledge to help me decipher the change in protocol.

  I darted through the doorway in search of him. As I moved through the castle toward the front door, queasiness unsettled my stomach. Like a dry-lander on the deck of a ship for the very first time, I shuffled sideways as the floor seemingly swayed beneath my feet.

  Everyone seemed unconcerned about, or totally unaware, of my arrival. People in the kitchen carried on with their duties as usual; I passed soldiers finishing a meal in the great hall; the wolfhounds sat at the end of a table, brows raised in anticipation, eyes fixed on their treats for the day.

  I burst out the front door into a day so bright, my hand instantly shot over my eyes to shield them. Squinting alleviated only some of the blindness. After several hard blinks in an attempt to adjust to the vision-shocking sun, I lowered my arm. And my jaw dropped with it.

  No sun caused the sensitivity, because it had gone missing from the sky. In fact, the blue sky had gone MIA too. No ice-capped mountain panorama framed the landscape. All that appeared above the horizon line beyond the curtain wall was a misty iridescence, ebbing and flowing with atmospheric currents. It looked like a white aura borealis had swallowed the castle whole.

  Soldiers trained on the fields, women tended the garden, and a dark-gray plume of smoke still rose from the smithy’s smokestack. The entire clan acted as if the day held no properties different than any other day.

  Iain. Brigid. Someone needed to explain what the hell had happened to the world in the week I’d been gone, before I slipped into complete and irrevocable insanity. I glanced skyward, toward a Heaven I hoped still existed somewhere up there.

  “Really? Still with the tolerance lesson?”

  Determined to get answers to every question I’d restrained for far too long, I charged into the courtyard. Iain stood alone to the far side, overseeing about a dozen of his youngest soldiers training with claymores. He lifted his face and our gazes locked. I closed the distance between us as the anger of a thousand volcanoes threatened to blow.

  In a fluid movement, Iain twisted, tossed his sword point down into the soft earth, and strode toward me. Had I not stopped a few feet from him, we would’ve collided.

  “How dare you—” I yelled.

  “What the hell—” he shouted.

  “—keep valuable information from me—” I clipped out.

  “—do you think—” he growled.

  “—when I have every right to know?” I finished.

  “—you’re wearin’ in front of my men?” He glared down, moving in front of me to shield me from the view of others.

  I seethed, struggling to process what he’d said over my tirade. Comprehension seeped its way past my attitudinal huff. I looked down at my body. Lots of exposed skin shimmered in the brilliant light. The parts that were scantily covered boasted suede-hugged curves.

  He yanked me by the arm, dragging me back up the hill. I trotted to keep pace with his swift strides. Red faced and shaking, his level of anger trumped mine. He shouldered the oak door open, crashing it into the stone wall inside with such force, splinters flew and pieces of stone crumbled. I scrambled up the stairs for fear my arm would be torn from its socket if I didn’t keep up.

  We arrived at the threshold of our bedroom. Iain kicked the door open and threw me forward as he stood in the doorway, staring at me, his nostrils flaring. He stalked inside and closed the door behind him without ever breaking eye contact.

  I’d never been afraid of anyone before—let alone Iain—but he looked as if he’d gone mad, and I trembled in uncontrollable fear. He took measured steps over to me. I retreated until the backs of my knees hit the bed, and I sat down. I swallowed hard and remained silent. My eyes had gone dry from my wide-eyed shock. I took several hard blinks, looking up at him, my pulse racing.

  “You will not wear such lack of clothin’ outside ever again.”

  His words came out ominously calm.

  “No one yells at me in front of my men, including you.”

  I trusted his deadly composure far less than the shouting.

  “I will not tolerate your demandin’ anything from me when everything I do is for your safety and that of my people.”
r />   He leaned down, dropping his face to within an inch of mine, his tone just above a whisper. “I hated you being gone, knowin’ you were in another man’s arms, knowin’ he fucked you while I missed you so bad, my chest ached.”

  I exhaled. Iain was hurting. The animal he barely contained threatened to break free because he loved me.

  “Iain, I—”

  “No.” His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides, his nostrils flaring again as he snorted. “Clothes off. Now,” he growled.

  Iain stood nearly on top of me, ripping the material off with his eyes. His body shook with barely restrained power.

  Like a giant, fifty-ton pillar at Stonehenge, Iain towered over me, immovable. He forced me to rise while pressing against his body to comply with his command. I undressed as quickly as my shaking hands allowed.

  At some point escaping my notice, he’d dropped his clothes. The instant my last clothing item fell to the floor, he bore down on me hard, herding me to the center of the bed. He pushed against me, skin to skin, owning the space between my legs. In a powerful stroke, he filled my wet, ready body.

  His penetrating eyes stared into the depths of my soul. Love, lust, and possession sparked his olive irises, dissolving my misguided fear. I arched up, pressing my breasts up against him, tasting his lips with slow, soft nips.

  Iain growled, pressing me down into the bed. No tenderness would soothe his raging beast breaking free. He devoured my mouth in a bruising kiss and slammed into my depths with such force, I grew certain his marks would be everywhere on my body from the inside out.

  An indefinable need tore loose in me too. My carnal met his primal. We consumed each other, desperate to release the tension under which we’d been suffering. With every hard drive into me, my hips met his, deepening the impact.

  The slaps of hot, slickened bodies mixed with labored grunts as sounds rebounded into the chamber. My climax built on a steady ache, simmering below a boiling point, driving me toward frenzied insanity.

  Pleasurable pain thrummed endlessly on a charged tightwire. Iain drove in hard then paused. The break in rhythm cascaded me over the edge, and my muscles clenched around him. A tremendous orgasm thundered through me, and I screamed.

  Iain went wild. He plunged into me as I buried my face into his shoulder. His unrelenting thrusts escalated my ecstasy, sending another set of punishing waves crashing through me. I gasped for air, gripping him so tightly, we became one. He roared and stiffened, his release overtaking him.

  Heart racing.

  Head spinning.

  Lungs tried to supply oxygen to my brain, and the rush of fresh air set off a chain-reaction epiphany.

  All had been set right in the world. My priorities had been reestablished.

  Iain was my world in his realm. Nothing mattered but Iain—not some historical imperative, not a sense of purpose, and certainly not a man who existed twelve hundred years in the past.

  Iain needed me . . . all of me . . . for every moment I could grant of myself. Hundreds in his clan depended on him for his selfless love and protection. He gave of himself completely to their needs every single day of his life. When Iain needed to be replenished—so that he had something of value to give to his people—I would be there to provide.

  I clung tightly to him as his protective body settled around mine. Iain’s massive arms and legs imprisoned me, allowing just enough room for my easy breath. I nestled closer, enjoying the security of his captivity.

  A hazy bliss descended, calming my mind and body. I sank into a peaceful state far beneath the surface, where thoughts were too buoyant to hold within my grasp.

  CHAPTER Twenty-eight

  Waves swelled and lowered, lifting and dropping, until motion sickness pulled me from restless sleep. My hand flew to my mouth. I almost dashed to the garderobe or a chamber pot, but the uneasiness subsided. On a deep breath, cold, crisp air filled my lungs. An attempt to open my eyes brought reflective light shining so brightly, my lids protested themselves shut.

  The disorientation grew when I attempted to sit up and discovered I already . . . stood. I lifted a hand to my brow, trying to shield my vision, but dropped it when equal light came from below. Unable to stop curiosity, I forced my eyes wide open.

  Speechless—because I’d gone completely thought-less—I blinked in disbelief, dragging air into shocked-frozen lungs. The world had done another complete three-sixty . . . into a fantasy wonderland.

  Microscopic, glittery particles hung suspended in midair, bouncing prisms off of each other. The refracted light seemed to come from everywhere, reminding me of a ski trip I’d once taken where the dry, freezing conditions had crystallized the air into billions of infinitesimal diamonds.

  I stroked a splayed hand through the vapor. Cool to the touch, the molecules parted, swirling into disturbed mist. A glance down told me not only had I been transported to Wherever Land completely naked, I floated upon the obviously buoyant, somewhat-solid particles. We undulated together in slow rhythm from a current I sensed by a gentle breeze against my legs.

  I took a hesitant step forward. My footing held, secure on the stiff, cotton-candy substrate. With no landmarks or features to gauge any direction by, I wandered aimlessly through the sparkling whiteness, seeking an explanation of my being deposited into all the soft-and-fluffy.

  Clearly, stress had breached into my sleep, gifting me a confusing “awareness” dream—a dream within a dream. My subconscious often tricked me into believing I’d awoken into a realistic façade before it shocked the hell out of me, continuing the nightmare.

  Only . . . the scenery around me resembled no realistic plane I’d ever been on.

  And . . . I couldn’t remember the nightmare.

  “Hellooo . . .” My voice sounded muted in the vast nothingness.

  Something soft whispered across my right shin. Mist swirled in the wake of a dark shadow moving in my same unidentified direction. I hurried to follow.

  As I closed the distance, I realized my pace hadn’t quickened. What I pursued . . . had slowed. The closer I approached, the more the creature’s details sharpened into focus.

  I jarred to a stop. Memories of a black-cloaked image flickered, and my heart slammed from zero to sixty, hammering permanent dents into my ribcage. A burst of air from an invisible source cleared the air around us as the creature stopped, its back remaining toward me.

  Midnight feathers covered enormous wings, the tops arching higher in agitation, the tips grazing the cloud-covered ground. Each plume rippled to attention as menace poured off the entity, sparking the air with its warning as if a cobra flared its hood, readying a strike. An undetected breeze tousled the figure’s long, glossy, black hair.

  “What are you doing here, human?” His voice poured out deep and silky smooth.

  Irritated that my subconscious decided to torture me, I laughed dryly. “Ha! Good question. When you find out, let me know.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly very aware of my nakedness and his extreme maleness. When I realized I couldn’t cross everything, and doing so would be hiding from my own fabricated fear, I dropped my hands, planting them on my hips, waiting.

  He rotated around in slow motion. Those extraordinary wings arched further. An angular profile gave way to a strong jawline and high cheekbones when he squared off with me. Thick, ebony lashes lifted, flashing obsidian eyes that shifted into glittering sapphire emeralds. A bared chest and corded abdomen led to black leather pants that hugged tapered hips. Worn combat boots—in badass black, of course—had laces yanked to the perfect state of undone.

  Deadly.

  Gorgeous.

  “Done assessing me like your next meal, female?” His gaze arrested mine as his head tilted down a notch, dark brows hooding those brilliant eyes.

  “Pffft. You wish, Batman.” I laughed.

  He dropped a scorching gaze down the length of my body, and chills covered every inch of my skin. My hands twitched as I fought the urge to shield my
hardened nipples.

  “Stupid woman. I could pin and fuck you before you ever knew what hit you.”

  “Oh, really? That phenomenal? Funny, I’d have pegged you longer than a ten-second slam.” I grinned, thoroughly enjoying the unexpected sparring match with my alter ego.

  A low growl ripped from his throat. He flashed from feet away to a breath apart. My lips nearly brushed against the expanse of a heaving chest, my breasts one deep inhalation too close to the top of his abs. The abrupt toe-to-toe forced me to angle my head up to look into those hypnotic eyes. The winged manifestation of my mind had to be a good seven-and-a-half-feet tall.

  “What’s wrong, Sunshine? Lil’ ol’ me ruffle your feathers?”

  Something stopped him. He didn’t touch me, even though he could have shattered every bone in my body with a wrist flick. His nostrils flared, heated puffs fogging over my face.

  Emboldened by the perceived restraint, I unfurled my cocky smartass flag to fly at full mast. “Sylvester got that tongue, Tweety?”

  A pulse of fury actually reverberated through my body, and my smile faded. I swallowed down the taste of his rage, detecting notes of resentment with an aftertaste of chaos.

  An additional voice sounded out. “Skorpius, is that any way to treat an honored guest?”

  Sunshine stood his ground like carved marble, glaring down at me with those prismatic eyes.

  Refusing to back down, I held my stance without a single blink.

  “Skorpius.” The voice layered, a deeper, undeniable command penetrating the surface tone.

  Sunshine snorted a final hot puff over my face and backed off, but only by arm’s length. Another leviathan stepped into view just beyond him. I leaned slowly to the right to see the newcomer.

  Twins. Not identical, but brothers beyond a doubt.

  I stared back and forth between the pair, amazed. In difference, they went polar opposite: brilliant day to darkest night, alabaster skin to tanned olive, platinum locks to inky jet. Wings of purest snow brushed against those of gleaming coal. The same chiseled facial features were softened by glistening silver eyes framed by gold lashes and brows. Bare-chested, and built in every way like his brother, he wore white linen pants and stood barefoot.