Enslaved by Fear

by Claire Ashgrove

  “Let me go.” She thrashed against his fierce hold on her wrists, dipped her chin so she stared at the ground. “Let me go, damn you!”

  In that subtle aversion, her vulnerability shone through the fury of her pride. Something inside Micah snapped. His annoyance faded, and his brain honed in on every miniscule place they connected. Beneath the soft cushion of her breasts, her heart beat wildly against his chest. Her hips fit against his like they were two halves of the same mold. Under the tight grip of his fingers, her skin was smooth and warm. So incredibly human.

  “No, I’m not letting you go.” His voice had lost its anger and now held a harsh, husky edge that even he couldn’t deny hearing. “I came back to touch you, and by God, I’m going to.”

  As Brigid’s head snapped up and her gaze locked with his, she stopped fighting. He used the moment to his advantage, dipped his head, and sealed his mouth across hers. A heartbeat passed, and then she was right there with him, meeting the hungry thrust of his tongue as if her life depended on it.

  A low groan tore through him, and Micah released her hands. They wound around his waist. Her palms pressed into the small of his back, urging him closer, drawing him deeper into the heady embrace of desire.

  Good lord, he’d wanted this for so long. So damned long. And she was so amazingly sweet, unlike the fire and brimstone she wielded with such expertise. He slid one hand through her thick red hair to the nape of her neck and curled his fingers in those satiny lengths. The stroke of her tongue unraveled something deep inside of his soul. The rasp of her breath against his cheek stoked heat through his veins.

  Unable to get enough, Micah guided her off the wall and slipped his other hand to the curve of her bottom. His fingers bit into the tight muscle there, pulling her body flush with his. He didn’t care about the wrong or rightness of Brigid. Didn’t concern himself with whether she was demon or woman. All he could make sense of was how right she felt. How she calmed the unsettling need that festered in his soul.

  ****

  Brigid’s world tilted at a dangerous angle. Micah’s hands tangled in her hair, his mouth claimed and plundered. And sacred ancestors above and below, he couldn’t begin to touch her in enough places to satisfy the hunger that arced through her veins. His warmth soaked into the icy spots of her soul. The strength that moved against her skin allowed her to be weak. She desperately needed that powerlessness. To be free from her chains of immortality and the dark might she’d devoted centuries of existence to.

  For now, for this moment, she needed to be a simple mortal.

  Micah demanded nothing less.

  His hand left her hair to roam the length of her side. Tingles broke across her skin, ran rampant through her belly. If he stopped touching her, stopped kissing her now, she’d go mad. Utterly and completely insane. This was what she’d craved, what she yearned for since he’d waltzed inside her room and pronounced her prisoner in her own home.

  No, longer than that. Since the day he’d strolled into the garden, announced he’d always been fascinated with the castle, and requested a tour. Six years of wanting Micah obliterated every logical objection she possessed.

  Micah’s hands gathered at her waist. Strong fingers gently gripped. His mouth left hers, and she let out a squeak of surprise. But before she could protest, he lifted her off the ground. She gave in to a shuddering sigh and wound her arms around his neck as she locked her legs around his waist.

  He dropped his head to her shoulder, raked his teeth against the side of her neck. “God, you feel so good.” His tongue swept out to trace a path of fire over the hollow of her collarbone. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Brigid.”

  She couldn’t speak; his confession stole the air from her lungs. The need to taste more of him gripped her hard, and instead, she straightened in his embrace to press her lips to the side of his throat. His mouth stilled against her shoulder, lips barely clinging as a shudder rolled down his spine.

  Then with a hoarse groan, he used his chin to nudge her mouth away and caught her lower lip between his teeth. A gentle tug begged for entry. Brigid swept her tongue out to tangle with his. As his rich masculine flavor filled her senses, she dimly connected with the realization they were moving. Across the room. Past the sofa. To her open bedroom door.

  In a moment of absurd panic, she cracked her eyes open to insure she hadn’t left her clothes on the floor, or anything else he might trip over.

  He didn’t bother with the lights. Not that they were necessary—the waxing harvest moon illuminated the windows his wards forbade her to open. Nor did he stumble over the robe she’d left discarded in a heap. She broke the kiss and stole a glance at his face. Drawn by the hard lines of beauty in his profile, she flattened her palm to his cheek and brushed her thumb over his mouth. His gaze caught hers for a heartbeat. The hint of a smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  Her world spun away again as he laid her on her canopy bed and his body bent over hers. She scooted back into the pillows. The mattress shifted as he set a knee between her thighs.

  “Lean forward,” he murmured huskily. “Let me look at you.”

  When she leaned off the lightweight throw, he grabbed her blouse and pulled it over her head. His gaze traversed her body, taking her in inch by inch. Deep, dark desire flared as he stroked a fingertip over the swell of her breast, across the satin edge of her bra. When he closed his fingers around her flesh and gently squeezed, a gasp ripped from Brigid’s throat.

  “Micah,” she whispered as she tipped her head back and arched into the pleasure of his palm. “Don’t stop touching me.”

  “I have no intention of doing so.” He leaned forward, and his breathe tickled her skin.

  She barely had time to process the feathery touch before the clasp on her bra gave and his mouth latched onto her nipple. Shock after shock of ecstasy zinged through her as his lips pulled, his teeth pinched, and his tongue assuaged. Where she held herself upright on the mattress, her nails curled into the sheet.

  Sacred elements, she would burn to death with want of him. Her body was on fire, the growing ache in her womb intolerable. She shifted her hips to ease the discomfort and let out a throaty moan.

  Swallowing, she managed to connect enough words together to plead, “For the love of the ancients, take off your clothes.”

  A soft chuckle answered. But the mattress lifted as he stood. She watched in fascination as he peeled away his shoes, his socks, his shirt…his jeans. Six feet of intimidating power stood before her in the moonlight, bared for her delight, begging her hands to slid over the planes of muscle and inspect the hard ridges with her fingertips.

  Her gaze dipped to his groin, and a pull of fierce need clamped her womb in on itself as his erection nudged his abdomen. Her veins turned to liquid beneath the intensity of his gaze. The grin that taunted her to madness pulled at the corner of his mouth. One dark eyebrow arched.

  “What?”

  His grin deepened as he gestured at her body. “I think you forgot something.”

  She blinked. Looking down her body, she sighted what he saw—her jeans still fastened, her bra still dangling from her shoulders. “Oh.” With the first true humor she’d felt in years, she scrambled to her knees and made quick work of her clothes. They landed on the floor in a careless pile.

  Micah knelt on the bed, straddling her thighs. His body came over hers, bending her into the pillows as his hand fastened into the small of her back. The sweetest bliss imaginable soaked into her pores as his warm skin glided across hers.

  Contentment lasted all of a heartbeat, before urgency gripped them both again. She fought his hands and mouth as much as she sought to keep them on her. No touch satisfied. No caress quelled the intolerable burn. More would break her, and yet, nothing was enough.

  With a grunt, Micah grabbed both her wrists in one hand and thrust them over her head. “Stay still, damn it, you’re scratching the hell out of me.” Though he scolded, humor remained in his chuckle.

  Brig
id let out a frustrated whine, but let her arms go limp.

  His lips fluttered against hers. “Do we need protection?”

  She traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue as she tried to rise up into his embrace. But the tightening of his fingers on her wrists made it impossible to do anything more than lay beneath the weight of his body and the taunting press of his cock against her center. “No.” Her answer came out with the vibrato of a whimper.

  His free hand slid between their bodies, and he aligned himself with her. She held her breath, parted her legs a little more. And with one slow, never-ending push, her world splintered apart as Micah sank inside.

  Blessed elements of nature…

  In centuries of existence, she had never experienced anything more sublime. More perfect than the way he stretched and filled her. She could spend the rest of her immortal years right here, trapped beneath Micah, feeling the pulse of his heart in the core of her being.

  “Damn.” The oath hissed from behind his clenched teeth. He dropped his head to her shoulder and pulled in a ragged breath. “You fit me perfectly.”

  For once, they were in agreement. A smile formed on her lips, and she closed her eyes as she pushed her fingers through his short hair. But the way he pulled back, only to slide inside her once more, stripped the smile away. Pleasure crashed over her. She mewled against sensation that was so acute it brought sweet pain.

  Lost to feeling she couldn’t describe, Brigid surrendered to the glide and thrust of his body. He held her close, that hand against the small of her back tipping her just so, making every stroke as sharp as lightning. They moved together in timeless rhythm, his hushed murmurs blending with hers, his ragged breath a chorus to her own.

  Ecstasy stole through her. Lifted her high. Threw her down deep valleys to raise her up again and buoy her on the next dangerous crest. She pulled on her arms, needing to touch Micah, needing to somehow ground herself before she fell too far.

  He let go, and she clutched at his shoulders. Deeper hunger struck. Darker needs her sire’s blood begged for.

  “Micah.” A trace of panic tightened her lungs.

  “Let go,” he whispered at her throat. “Let go, sweet Brigid.”

  Whether it was his unexpected endearment that pushed her over the edge, or the quiet strength that his voice harbored, she couldn’t say. But she sailed past the precipice of pleasure and arched into the thrust of his hips with a moan. Warmth infused her skin. Bliss shot tiny sparks behind her closed eyes.

  His hips spasmed against hers. Through her haze, his hoarse groan rang in her ears. Gradually, his body slowed, and he lowered his pleasant weight into her arms. She held him tight, tucked her cheek against his shoulder.

  Quiet engulfed them. No words, no promises neither could break or keep. Just the sound of their ragged breathing to lull them through the silence.

  Micah’s hand slid over her hip. He turned his head and caught her mouth. In the sweetest, softest kiss Brigid had ever known, she tasted the true calling of her heart.

  Chapter Six

  Micah woke with a start. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  He opened his eyes, momentarily dazed by the strange surroundings. The sheets beneath his naked body weren’t his. Morning had yet to light the sky. Where…

  As he lifted to his elbows, Brigid’s perfume tickled his nose. Memories slammed into him, vivid pictures of her body gliding against his, her soft lips parted with the sounds of her raspy breathing. The silken nature of her skin as he tucked his arm around her waist and drew her back against his chest before he fell asleep, exhausted beyond all means.

  So where was she now?

  His eyes went wide as his heart skipped a beat. Son of a bitch, he’d forgotten to update the wards. By now, there’d be nothing left of them. Had she run?

  As panic seized him, he struggled to free his legs from the tangled sheets. Damn it all, he’d allowed her to drive him into carelessness. No doubt, she’d planned this somehow, and Fintan would have his hide if Brigid had escaped. Not to mention his reputation would take a heavy blow. He’d be hard pressed to find another assignment if word spread he’d let a demon escape like this.

  He froze as his eyes caught Brigid’s silhouette against the far window. One bare shoulder resting against the stone, she twined a lock of her hair in one hand as she stared at the landscape beyond. Her long hair brushed the top of her tailbone, mussed and tangled from their bout of passion and whatever sleep she might have had. She’d made no attempt to cover her nudity, and her long lean curves sparked warmth through Micah’s veins all over again.

  Why didn’t she run?

  The thought flickered through his mind, and he cast it aside before his brain morphed it into something more than what it should be. She hadn’t, and he could thank the stars for that small gift. She must not have noticed.

  The tightening in his chest loosened, and he kicked his ankle to dislodge it from the sheets. Rustling covers drew her attention off whatever held her riveted to the window, onto him. Her gaze swept over his body, auburn eyes flashing bright with appreciation, before connecting with his. For a moment, Micah would have sworn she intended to speak, her expression turned so thoughtful. Then, emptiness replaced the bright gleam, and without a word, she turned away.

  Regret stabbed through him at the far-away look in her eyes. That hollow stare was enough to replace the warmth in his veins with an icy chill. He could fault himself for the sadness that cloaked her. His magic bound her to this stone prison.

  Slowly, Micah slid from the bed and crossed to her side. He wrapped his arms around her narrow waist, drew her slender back against his chest, and dropped a lingering kiss to her exposed shoulder.

  Brigid stiffened. “Don’t,” she whispered.

  Surprised, he released her. Not exactly the reaction he’d expected after what they’d just shared. But then again, with Brigid, he never could predict what she might do next. She was as curious and mystifying as the vast expanse of stars overhead.

  Every bit as fascinating too.

  He brushed her hair away from her neck and ran his hand down the length of her spine. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing,” she murmured absently.

  Translation—nothing she cared to share with him. He knew her too well to buy into her words. What Brigid said seldom held the traditional meaning. To his surprise, her refusal to share her thoughts produced a tiny stab of pain behind his ribs.

  “You should get some sleep,” he whispered as he drew his hand through her silky hair. “It’s late.”

  She nodded slow and thoughtfully. “It is late. Almost morning.”

  A quick glance at the star-filled sky told him morning wouldn’t come for several more hours. She was dodging, and he began to suspect her distant stare had more to do with him than any longing for the world outside. He backed up a step, uncertain how to proceed. Did she want him to go?

  Micah frowned at his momentary self-doubt. There was only one way to find out what she wanted—ask. He swallowed the cobwebs that turned his throat into a sticky mess. “Do you want me to leave?”

  Brigid twisted around to face him. Her eyes searched his face…for what?

  “I think it’s best if you do.”

  He closed his eyes against the sudden fierce knotting of his stomach. He should have known better than to think tonight had changed anything between them. Hell, he was a fool for wanting things to change. Demonic blood ran in her veins. If he possessed an ounce of sense at all, he’d put this night behind him as quickly as possible. Move on. Forbid himself to remember.

  Demons and mortals weren’t designed to exist on the same plane, let alone build a life together.

  But to his shame, longing hollowed out his gut. He wanted more from her. Something tangible and reliable. And he wanted her back in that bed, chasing away his sanity with the brush of her lips and the flick of her tongue.

  He moved away and silently picked up his clothes. Balling them under his e
lbow, he strode for the door without a backward glance. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how her rejection stung.

  Micah stopped in the living room to refresh his wards. Let her think he didn’t care, that he was unaffected by the intensity of their lovemaking. If he acted indifferent, maybe he could convince himself he didn’t give a damn.

  ****

  Brigid watched the tall trees sway in the breeze, feeling that gentle air as if she stood amongst the whispering branches. She was part of the forest, of the sky, of the river that ran through the gangly saplings. She was a Celt, damn it. Born to the freedom of the wild, a part of nature as much as it was a part of her. And each day spent behind these stone walls shriveled portions of her soul.

  She ached for the wind, the crisp clean air, the wild abandon of a bonfire. Even Micah’s warm body, the scent of him that lingered on her skin, couldn’t sate that yearning. For he was as much a part of her misery as he was the splendor she’d experienced at his masterful hands.

  He was her jailor. True, her brother devised the plan, but Micah controlled her freedom. For that, she wanted to despise him.

  The other half of her traitorous soul wanted to tumble back into the bed and exhaust herself all over again. Wake up to the melody of songbirds. Roll over and inspect the playground of his body in the bright daylight. Spend the afternoon luxuriating in the peace he brought.

  That she had believed she could have something so normal, even for a fraction of a moment before reality crashed on her shoulders and drew her from the bed, infuriated her. What they’d shared was passion. Intense, blinding desire, nothing more. They couldn’t have anything more—not so long as she was half demon and he a demonologist devoted to eradicating her kind.

  For Pete’s sake, he’d had a date only a handful of hours ago. That alone told her he wasn’t considering them on a long-term basis.