by Brenda Joyce
Royce moved over her, seizing her face. She met his wide, blazing eyes, aware he was as shocked as she was. He surged deep, stretching her tight body wide. He roared with pleasure. She wept with her own release, riding far and wide, higher and higher still. The climax intensified for them both, in unison. They were somewhere above the earth now, shooting through and exploding in the stars. Allie knew she never wanted to touch ground again.
And he delved deep again, not just into her hot, wet body but into her power, her light, her soul, and Allie embraced him, shattering in rapture and joy.
HOURS LATER, Allie held hard on to Royce’s big body as they both finally became still. Although stunningly spent, she was spinning mentally, physically, emotionally. Every time she slept with him, it was off the charts, and better than the time before. But this time, Royce had made love to her. She was sure of it. This time, there had been a connection, a union, that wasn’t physical. She felt as if he had somehow reached into her, entwining her soul with his.
His arms tightened around her.
Allie smiled against his slick chest. He probably didn’t know it, but he was hugging her. And she became aware of how exhausted she was.
For one more moment he held her, and then he moved away, onto his back, beside her. Allie was too tired to move.
They lay outside the chapel on his plaid, staring up at the dawn, for a long time. He finally said, “Did I hurt ye?”
Allie sighed, gathered up her wits and will, and turned onto her side and touched his hard rib cage. His gaze was on her, wide and searching.
She smiled at him. “No. That was incredible. What happened?”
For one moment, he didn’t answer. Instead he sat up. “How do ye feel?”
“Sort of beat.” And she moved closer to snuggle, not really wanting to fight to sit up.
His hand closed on her shoulder. “Can ye sit?”
Of course she could sit. Allie did so, with Royce putting his arm behind her back, as if to prop her up. Instantly she snuggled against him. “I’m cold,” she said. It was probably freezing out, as it was almost dawn, but she hadn’t noticed yet.
He hesitated, then lay back down, pulling her down with him, close to his big, warm body, his arm around her.
It was another victory and Allie smiled, somehow refraining from kissing the skin covering his ribs, his chest, his neck. Love burst in her heart.
He reached past her and covered her with half of the plaid they lay on. “Is that better?”
“Yes, much.” She snuggled even more closely. “What happened, Royce? There was a union between us that was apart from that of our bodies.”
“La Puissance,” he said abruptly.
She had to peer to look up at him. He wasn’t smiling. She wanted him to be as happy as she was. “The Power?”
“Aye.” He gazed down at her. “I told ye, I can take power from anyone. I tasted yer power, Ailios. It was good.”
Shockingly she became entirely aroused again, never mind how weak she felt.
So did he.
His lids drifted down. “T’is forbidden, to take power fer pleasure.” Then he gave her a very male look. “But power makes the pleasure so much better.”
“It sure does. Who cares if it’s forbidden?” she cried. “It was the best.”
He suddenly sat up and looked away, appearing dark and unhappy. “The gods gave us the power to take life so we can defend ourselves from evil or heal ourselves if mortally wounded. They dinna give us such a power to use it for common bedsport.”
“What they don’t know…” Allie said, sitting up with an effort. Aware of the cold now, she tugged her half of the plaid over her shoulders.
He met her gaze. “A Master can lose his mind when the power floods his veins. He can easily take too much life—a maid can die if he does.”
“You didn’t take too much from me,” she said, stroking his chest. “I’m not dead, just beat.”
“I have control,” he said. “I’m nay young an’ hot.”
Allie laughed. She couldn’t imagine what he had been like when he had been “young and hot.”
He gave her a long, strange, intense look. He was serious when he spoke, his tone hushed. “Yer power is so pure. I dinna ken any power could be so good.”
Allie became as serious. She recalled the way his aura and his body soaked up her white light the few times she’d dared to try to heal him.
“Yer holy. Yer power is holy. I dinna think the Ancients will be pleased with me,” Royce said flatly.
She didn’t like the sound of that. “They won’t know.”
“They ken all. So does MacNeil,” he added darkly. He seemed very unhappy now.
She grew nervous. “Royce, what happens when a Master violates the Code? Does he go to jail?” she quipped. But she didn’t smile now.
“A fall, or worse.”
“A fall—like the way an angel falls?” She was incredulous—and then, finally, alarmed.
“I willna fall, but aye, Masters have been turned to the dark by tastin’ such power, by takin’ what doesna belong to them, by discovering La Puissance an’ needing it time an’ again.”
Like a drug addict, Allie thought. And in that instant, Allie got it. It was the exact flip side of a pleasure crime. “The demons take all the life from their victims during sex. Obviously it turns them on. Oh my God. Taking power…life…during sex…it’s a huge turn-on for a Master, too.”
“The more power, the grander La Puissance.” His gaze was steady on hers. “The temptation when ye start becomes terrible to resist. I had to touch yer light. I only meant to touch it, Ailios. Just a single time.” He suddenly cupped her jaw, his hands stunning her because they were so gentle. “An’ then I tried a sip. A small sip o’ pure white power. I needed ye, lass.”
Allie felt his pulse pounding all over again. He was thinking about her healing power running in his veins. He was thinking about the violent yet beautiful ecstasy they’d shared. “And my power in your veins felt good. I know—because everything you felt, I felt, too. You became stronger, you had more stamina, you were insatiable—and if there’d been a battle, you’d have been invincible, too.”
“I could have stayed in ye fer days. But ye’d likely be dead.” He stood. “T’is fortunate I can control the urge. Others cannot. I willna take yer power again. It belongs to all of man, an’ I have no rights.” He was fierce as he spoke.
Allie stood, as well. Her power did belong to mankind and there was no point in arguing that. “So what else can happen now? What did you mean when you said you could fall—or worse?”
He made a sound. “There’s suffering an’ death, Ailios. Even Masters pay for their crimes.”
She inhaled, thinking about his death in the future—which they were going to undo. “I am fine. And the Ancients know it if they were spying on us.”
“Are ye?” He reached for his leine and shrugged it on.
Allie bent and wrapped herself in his plaid, worried that he might pay some price for having tasted her power. “Of course I’m fine.” But the moment she spoke, she realized her senses were dulled.
She was still in tune with Royce. But the night around her felt stunningly vacant, when she should have felt the life force of every cricket, every bird, even every leaf and every tree, as well as all the human energy in the buildings beyond them. She strained and finally sensed the power coming from the Masters and monks in the monastery, but it was muted.
Panic arose as she faced Royce.
“What?” he asked sharply.
“I can just barely sense the men in the monastery. I can’t feel all the life that I know is around us, right now!” She strained anew and finally felt the barest whisper of energy coming from the insects, flowers and fauna in the woods.
Royce took his dagger and sliced his thumb.
Allie stared as the blood welled from the thick pad there.
“Heal me,” he said.
She hesitated, then reached for her wh
ite light.
To her surprise, and then to her dismay, it took a vast effort to find it and bring it forth. And then it took even more effort to stop the bleeding from the paltry cut. By the time she’d stopped the cut from bleeding, she was perspiring and out of breath. Slowly she looked up. How could this be happening?
“T’is forbidden with an ordinary maid—but I took power from ye, a great Healer.” He bent and began retrieving her clothes.
She touched him. “We won’t tell anyone. How long will this last?”
“I dinna ken.” He straightened, handing her the garments. “Neither one of us was very quiet, Ailios.”
She felt herself blanch. Royce had been roaring his head off in triumph after triumph—and she had been weeping mindlessly in ecstasy, too.
“Dress yerself,” he said.
THE SUN WAS EDGING upward into the sky, amidst many dark, ominous clouds, as they walked together toward one of the longer buildings, centered in the monastery. Royce was so grim that Allie had become very worried, too. And as they passed several Masters, also heading toward the rectory where they would eat, no one looked at them.
The contrast from the day before, when every Master had smiled invitingly at her, was glaring.
Allie’s unease increased.
Then she saw Seoc standing on the porch, arms folded, his gaze hooded but directed toward them. Allie sensed his speculation, his curiosity, his interest, and she felt herself blush. Seoc turned and walked inside. “Are we in big trouble?” Allie asked, low.
Royce didn’t have the chance to answer. MacNeil walked out of the rectory door, his face set in hard lines. He stepped down to the ground and asked Allie, “How are ye?”
She smiled brightly, falsely. “Fine—perfect, in fact.”
He made a sound. “Yer power’s compromised.”
Allie tensed. “It was my fault. You know—Adam and Eve, the whole bad woman thing.”
“Ye need rest. I’m hoping ye’ll be fine in a few hours.” He clasped her shoulder and gestured toward a small bungalow. “Ye can take my bed.”
Allie expected Royce to go ballistic, but he stood there, his face perfectly impassive, not uttering a word. “It really was entirely my fault and I am not going anywhere without Royce.” She shook his hand off.
MacNeil’s expression hardened. “Yer mother was nay so difficult.”
Allie shrugged.
MacNeil looked at Royce. “The Queen is on her way to Carrick.”
Royce started. “Yer sure?”
“Seoc arrived last night—he encountered her retinue on the highway.”
Allie looked back and forth between both men. “The Queen—as in the Queen of Scotland?”
MacNeil glanced at her. “Aye.” Then he said, “Royce needs to return to Carrick. Ye will stay here.”
Allie was in disbelief.
“Aye,” Royce said grimly.
“I’m going with you!” Allie retorted.
MacNeil firmly grasped her shoulder. “Ye canna be hurt again.”
She wrested free. “No one has hurt me. And certainly not Royce!”
Royce looked at her, his face so tight now, it might have been made of plaster. “MacNeil is right. I compromised yer power. T’was not my right. Ye’ll be safe here. Yer Fate is here, Ailios.”
Allie was furious. She stepped closer to Royce, facing MacNeil. “You do not control me. You do not own me and you cannot order me around! Where Royce goes, I go.”
“One night like last night an’ ye will turn yer back on the gods an’ Fate?”
Allie tensed in dismay. “It is about more than one night and you know it.”
“Aye, I ken ye love him deeply. Did ye not take vows—the same vow as yer mother did? Can ye turn yer back on any pure creature, human or beast, if in need?” MacNeil asked seriously. “Are ye not sworn to heal those who suffer? Can ye heal a broken bird now?”
She didn’t know what she could or could not do, and the lack of power was frightening. “I have never turned my back on suffering, and I never will,” she finally said.
MacNeil nodded, satisfied. “Then he leaves an’ ye stay.”
“No!” A terrible alarm filled her. “You don’t get it. I need Royce with me when I heal. He can guard me while I heal, MacNeil! And I swear, we will never cross the line in bed again!” She was panicking.
“There’s hundreds o’ Masters to guard ye,” MacNeil said bluntly. “I will summon Aidan to do so.”
Allie felt Royce’s heart rate surge. She turned and looked at him in despair. But he said, “Aidan will defend ye. I approve of the choice.”
This can’t be happening, Allie thought. “Why are you agreeing to this?”
His color rose. “I dinna ken what might happen the next time I bed ye.”
“What does that mean?” she gasped.
“He means he doesna ken what he will do when he canna think at all,” MacNeil said bluntly.
Royce didn’t trust himself. “I trust you,” she said. She stared and he stared back. “I have always trusted you. I always will.”
“No good,” Royce said slowly, “can come of yer being in my life.”
She cried out. “You’re turning away from me now?”
His face hardened, and that was answer enough.
Her heart seemed to break apart. She had not expected this. And it was hard to think clearly, when she was beginning to hurt so much. Royce was trying to protect her once again. In a way, they were right. She and Royce had compromised her destiny last night. She needed all of her powers back. But as soon as they were back, she could join Royce. She would simply make certain he never took any power from her again.
And an image flashed in her mind’s eye, a terrible recollection of how his aura and his body had rapidly soaked up her white light the few times she had tried to heal him.
She faced MacNeil. “How long will you keep us apart?” she demanded.
MacNeil turned his intense green regard on Royce. “Until he forgets what yer power can bring him.”
Allie cried out. “What does that mean?”
Royce now refused to meet her eyes.
Allie knew she was never going to forget the passion of that night. Neither would Royce. “Like hell,” she spat. “This is temporary. As soon as I am better, as soon as my power is back, I am going to Carrick!”
“Ye canna have both worlds. Ye belong to mankind or ye belong to love. And we both ken yer choice.”
Allie felt dazed. The ground under her feet felt skewed. Her entire life she had known her Fate was far bigger, far grander, and far more significant than finding a romantic or true love. She’d never dreamed there would even be a choice. But damn it, secretly she had dreamed of someone like Royce; she had dreamed of finding her soul mate.
“I’m sorry, lass,” MacNeil said. “I must think o’the greater good, not worldly passion an’ not worldly love. Say yer farewells.” He smiled grimly at her and walked back into the rectory.
Allie couldn’t move. Her heart shrieked in protest. Her mind, however, began reminding her that people needed her. The world would be a horrific place without her white healing powers.
Royce smiled sadly at her. “Ye’ll see me again. This is best for us all.”
“No! It’s not best! What’s best is having both worlds—you and me together—and my powers as strong as ever!” she cried, seizing his hands, afraid if she let go, it might be forever. “When will I see you again, Royce? When?”
He grasped her hands firmly. “Have I ever told ye that yer light is the most beautiful part of ye?” he asked softly.
She was crying. “That’s because you need my healing,” she whispered.
“I have lived this way for hundreds of years. Save yer healing for those who truly need it,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. He needed her healing—he needed her—and she needed him. But mankind needed her, too. “We have just started, Royce. This cannot be the ending,” she implored, sliding her hands up to his
chest. “Please, fight this stupidity with me. Help me find a way…why did you have to take power from me last night?”
“I dinna mean to,” he exclaimed. “I wanted yer body, Ailios, an’ then, it wasn’t enough.”
Allie leaned against him and he embraced her. “This is not the ending. This is the beginning.”
Against her hair, he said, “MacNeil is the wisest of men. And he must think of the gods, the Brotherhood an’ Alba. I’m no ordinary mortal man—an’ yer nay an ordinary woman. Ye belong to Alba, Ailios.” His tone had become strange and thick.
She looked up at him and saw that his gaze glistened. “Will you admit now that this saddens you? Will you admit now how much you care?”
He took her face in his hands. “I care.”
She inhaled and began trembling wildly.
Royce let her go. A moment later, she was staring at him as he walked through the buildings and out the monastery gates, upon the road that would take him away from her.
ALLIE SAT BENEATH a towering fir tree, her knees clasped to her chest. She had been left alone for the morning, which was just as well. No matter how many times she told herself that she and Royce would be together—for a lifetime—and that they would get past this dreadful dilemma, just then, her optimism refused to arise. Her heart hurt. She wanted to cry. She was uncertain and hope eluded her. She just didn’t want anyone witnessing her grief and sorrow.
It began, finally, to rain.
She was wearing a plaid over her jeans and T-shirt and she pulled it closer. Worse, she was worried about Royce, and it was more than fear over his hunting Moffat, the man who would one day kill him if they did not change the future. She had a strong sense of unease, even of dread. Something was wrong—she could feel it—and whatever was happening, it was about Royce.
She was never going to forget the look in his eyes when they’d said goodbye, or the sound of his voice when he’d told her he cared.
“Allie?”
At the sound of Claire’s voice, Allie leapt to her feet, whirling. Her senses were still dulled, she realized with some panic. She should have sensed Claire’s power as she approached.
