Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II)

by Scott, Amber

  He dug his fingers under the wet hem of her pants and made a fist. He had to stop. Lord, but he craved tugging the material down her hips, down her thighs. He wanted to explore every inch of her, yet take her fast, hard, and make her cry out in shocked pleasure. He let go of her pants, knowing he could not fully take her.

  But she had begged for a bit more.

  Just a bit more. He explored above her navel, cupping her breast. She gasped in pleasure. He rubbed his thumb over her rigid nipple, pinched it. She moaned. Her hands roved up his chest, pausing at his chest to palm then back down his belly.

  Again, he broke the kiss.

  “Nay,” she pleaded. “I’ll go mad, Quinlan. Please.”

  He shook his head, easing his hips back. “I must, Ailyn.” He could not marry her, even if such things could exist between her kind and his. He had naught to offer her. No property as yet, little else.

  Her eyes pleaded, her legs wound tighter, bringing his erection hard against her softness. “It is a hunger I’ve never known, Quinlan. It’s driving me to distraction. Please.”

  His body urged him to give in, but reason bore through. “There are commitments that come of such things here, Ailyn. Commitments I canno’ make to you. Do you ken?”

  Her brow furrowed as understanding seeped into her expression. “I understand. I canno’ stay, Quinlan. And you canno’ go with me. I realize this. But it only makes me want you more.”

  A pang shot through his chest. He kissed her nose and her forehead and pulled away. But she wouldna release her hold. “I canno’ compromise you, Ailyn. I couldna live with myself.”

  “And living all your years wondering what could have been is better?”

  “Aye. If there were a child….”

  Pain flashed over her eyes. She nodded, shutting them. Quinlan bent to kiss her nose once more. If there were a child, he would find a way to never let her go. But there would be no child because he was mature enough, honorable enough, to recognize the long repercussions mere moments of pleasure could bring. He kissed her sweetly just once more, memorizing the feel of her full lips against his; knowing in his gut that he could never, ever let this happen again.

  To do so would be reckless.

  She deserved better.

  She returned his kiss and pulled his shirt a bit higher. Perhaps he could at least give her what her body craved in part. He tugged her pants loose enough to delve a hand down her stomach. Ailyn’s pelvis writhed to meet him, her legs widening to accommodate the room he needed.

  Soft curls met his touch, damp and hot. He slid his fingers over the fleshy mound, his prick begging to explore the slippery folds his fingertips touched. So velvety soft. So hot. Such a narrow, tight passage. He should not take her so far. But her words rang true. There would be regret. A deep, primal part of him wanted to leave an indelible mark on her—to brand her with his name.

  He found the nub of her sex with his thumb and gently pressed it with the heel of his palm as he slowly stroked one finger into her tight, wet heat. She bucked in pleasure, sending his fingers even deeper. She’d known no other; that was clear. The knowledge gave him possessive feelings he had no business allowing. He should stop. But good sense warred with the hunger he too felt. He could give her relief. He could remove at least one regret yet keep her safe from the risk of bearing his child in her world alone.

  He kissed her neck, cradling her head in his other hand. “Ailyn,” he whispered at her ear. “You bring me to my knees, lass.”

  Her body responded to his words. Pride washed through him as the first grips of her climax clenched his finger. Soft, sweet moans escaped her lips as she held to him. He pulled back to watch the pleasure wash over her face. Again and again, her body throbbed until at last she fell still and opened her eyes.

  Wonder stared back at him. Quinlan grinned, separating from her enough to wrap both arms around her. His body ached to bury inside her. But he refused.

  The sound of movement to their left sent Quinlan to his feet, sword in hand. Ailyn swiftly followed suit, pulling at her tunic and pants. A dark blur of gray charged at Quinlan.

  “Colm! No!” Ailyn screeched, throwing herself in front of Quinlan, arms out.

  The wolf. Quinlan adjusted his sword to deflect rather than kill as the beast sidestepped Ailyn and leapt at Quinlan, fangs bared and murder in its eyes.

  Quinlan shouldered the impact, barely knocking the wolf off balance. It recovered quickly and leapt again. Ailyn screamed again, ordering it to stop. The creature ignored her. Quinlan might not be able to spare the animal’s life. It knocked him onto his back. Quinlan’s sword fell to the ground. He rolled to the right, nearly losing his throat as he did. The animal’s gnashing teeth echoed in his ears.

  Ailyn kicked it in the ribs, hollering. “Colm, I’ll kill you myself if you dinna stop at once! D’you hear me? It isna what you think!”

  That gave the wolf a change of interest. It turned on Ailyn and stalked toward her. She backed up step by step.

  “Dinna look at me like that. You have too many of your own secrets to judge me. Or are you ready to share what Maera truly means to you now?”

  Quinlan got to his feet despite the thudding pain in his head and ribs. He held his sword ready but allowed Ailyn to continue, as she clearly now had the animal in hand—its head lowered, its hackles smoothed down.

  “I’ll strike a bargain with you, Colm. I’ll share mine if you’ll be telling me yours.”

  Her words didna seem to soothe the beast so much as quiet it. Perhaps subdue it. It made a growling sound, as though communicating back to her its frustration.

  “Aye, well imagine my mortification upon finding you witnessing a very private moment.”

  It gnashed its teeth, growling again, walking toward her.

  Ailyn ran a hand over her face and hair. “Enough,” she said.

  It growled again, snapping at her feet before trotting back into the wood. Ailyn watched him go, shaking her head in dismay.

  “Your wolf found you twice, lass. I’m sure he’ll do so again.”

  “Aye. I doubt he’ll leave my side for even a moment now.”

  Quinlan decided pointing out that the beast just had left her side would not behoove him. He shut his mouth and allowed what had transpired between them return to his thoughts, watching for signs that it had returned to hers as well. After long moments of her contemplating the dense trees, she turned to him.

  He doubted he would like what she was about to say. Guilt trickled through him, but he braced himself for what could only be remorse over letting passion rule.

  “He’s not just a wolf, Quinlan.” Ailyn squared her shoulders and met his stare. “He’s my brother.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Your what?” Quinlan shouted, sword ready.

  “My brother,” Ailyn said, arms wide, praying Colm would stay back.

  He didn’t. With a deep growl, he charged from the north thicket, leaping for Quinlan’s back.

  “Stop!” She ran at the wolf in hopes of putting her body between the two. Before she could make contact, though, the wolf emitted a piercing shriek and fell to the ground.

  Quinlan pounced on the opportune moment, straddling the wolf and taking a fist of his neck scruff. “Stay back, Ailyn. Whatever affection this beast holds with you, it is not worth a life.”

  Colm writhed under Quinlan’s massive hold, the awful sound becoming a gurgle in his throat. “You’re hurting him,” she said, pulling at his arm.

  “I’m subduing it,” Quinlan said, his arm not budging any more than his gaze as it held hers.

  Ailyn let go, seeing a change in the wolf that turned her stomach. Its limbs twisted at odd angles. Colm’s snout receded, the fur shedding in thick, dark tufts. The beast’s cries took on a distinctly human, male tone that sent dread down her spine and into her stomach.

  Colm lay curled up and prone, shivering. Blood spotted the ground. Ailyn quickly retrieved a blanket, fear for her brother careening throug
h her. She put a hand on his forehead. Hot. Too hot. “I need to cool him,” she said.

  Quinlan knelt next to her, placing a hand on her forearm so that she looked up. Gently, he tugged her back, lowering the blanket as well to Colm’s hips. He exposed her brother’s legs. “Dinna crowd him, lass.”

  There was more to his concern than Colm’s comfort, though. She could sense it in the wary way he moved. “He willna hurt me, Quinlan. He’s my brother.”

  “Ailyn, you canno’ be certain he knows who or what he is. He could be more dangerous now than as the wolf ready to tear out my throat.”

  She hated it, but he was right. Begrudgingly, she stepped back a pace. “I need to know why he’s come. How he found us.”

  “In due time, lass.” He put his hands on her shoulders and maneuvered her back further. “Let him wake.”

  Quinlan’s hand no longer held scruff, but skin instead until he couldn’t hold it at all because the muscle and flesh beneath took its previous form. He shot to his feet, eyes bulging at the once-wolf, now-man groaning at his feet.

  Colm had grown very still as they spoke. Too still. Hot and unmoving. Vulnerable to the elements and to a dramatic physical change. What did this mean? Where was Maera? Daniel. He must have gone to Breanne. Perhaps Breanne sent Colm, their location thereby known. Or mayhap Breanne had a vision. What other answer could there be?

  She begged any goddess who would hear to spare her brother and grant him his life. Let him recover. Let Colm have come in Daniel’s stead. Let this journey end so they could all return home.

  “I ken now why he likened to tear open my jugular.”

  Ailyn broke her stare at her brother to look at Quinlan, quizzical.

  “Your brother saw us, Ailyn.” His tone was somber.

  The heated embrace Colm must have witnessed flashed through her mind. Heat washed her face. Ailyn wanted to burrow into a deep, deep hole. Fast on the heels of embarrassment came the memories. A new level of shock kicked in. She’d become so wanton. Dangerously so. Unlike she imagined she could ever be. Certainly unlike any experience she’d had afore. A few stolen kisses over her few years in life could not compare to the world-altering experience Quinlan had given her.

  Ailyn shook her head. What Colm did or did not see mattered little now. There was a difficult truth about that embrace, but one she couldna deny—she was irresistibly drawn to Quinlan. Good sense abandoned her when he got too near. She would guard against repeating such intimacies, lest she lose sight of what truly mattered. Getting home.

  “Upon return to Tir Conaill, we shall be forced to marry.”

  His words threw knots into her stomach. She stammered, bewildered. “Why would we be forced to marry?” She stepped toward her brother, but Quinlan barred her with an outstretched arm. She pushed his arm away, kneeling next to Colm. His forehead was so hot. “We need to cool him.”

  Quinlan pinned her with a hard stare. “Ailyn, your brother witnessed me compromising your virtue, lass. Clearly, he’ll demand no less than my honoring you by wedding you.”

  “He’ll demand nothing if he doesna live, Quinlan.” She attempted to get under her brother’s arms to drag him toward the pool. Giving up, she strode to the water’s edge and scooped the icy liquid into two hands.

  Quinlan grunted something unintelligible. He fetched the other blanket, rolling it and placing it under Colm’s head. Ailyn poured the water over her brother’s chest, watching for him to react. He didn’t. She scooped more water, pouring it on his head, running her hands over his brow and hair. Praying. Was he cooling? Or getting hotter? She couldna tell.

  Bind her life to Quinlan’s? What an inane notion! She forced the thought away. Colm needed her. “Please prop his head so I may pour water into his mouth,” she said, ignoring that her hands trembled. Quinlan complied, thankfully.

  Ailyn trickled water onto Colm’s lips, getting some into his mouth. Quinlan tipped Colm’s head so that the water slid back.

  “He will recover, Ailyn. Is it not better to face what happened before he does?”

  She glared at him. “There is naught to face. I’ll not let it happen again.”

  His gaze narrowed on her. “You’ll not?”

  “Aye. Nor will you. As you said, you’ve no desire to marry.” Neither did she. Well, that wasna true. She hoped to one day bind her life to a man’s. Perhaps have children, if her first duty to Maera and the kingdom allowed. If she ever found a man who completed her in the way her mother had oft described: a safe harbor in life’s fiercest storms. The one person she could cling to without losing herself within him. It was a rare thing for any Fae to find such a beautiful match. But worth holding out for.

  For as much as her parents’ love she’d grown inside, Ailyn also witnessed its opposite. She had no interest in a life feeling claimed, ruled, and stifled.

  “This is a matter of honor, Ailyn. My own selfish desires will never supersede honor.” His tone sounded grim. “Your brother will feel the same.”

  Aye, he believed Colm would “force” his hand to hers. Was that it? “Dinna speak for him.” She brought more water to her brother. He was cooling. The water was helping. Her pulse slowed as hope eased through her.

  Quinlan was looking at her rather oddly. A mixture of determination and…interest? Was that it? She’d have no man who needed forcing. Besides, Quinlan was a mortal man. She was Fae. Such a pairing only happened in tragic tales designed to warn Fae children to never, ever risk their lives for magick.

  “If it was my sister, she’d be wed by sunset.”

  Ailyn stood up. “How would forcing a mortal to bind his life to me be honorable?” Her mind circled around the word “forced” again. Had he any idea how insulting such a suggestion was? It didna matter. Colm recovering from his violent transformation mattered.

  “Focusing on my choice in wording doesna change the truth, Ailyn. Your brother witnessed much.”

  “Aye. How much he witnessed, we dinna ken. And I, for one, would rather never discover the answer.” Heat washed her cheeks anew as memories flooded forth. “Regardless, my brother canno’ force my hand. Trust me, Colm learned long ago that I willna be forced.”

  “You would prefer to be ruined?” Quinlan asked, gaping at her in such a way that for once his chiseled face did not steal her breath away with its beauty.

  She rather liked seeing him flustered. “Ruined?” Ailyn nearly snorted. Their worlds clearly did not align in all things. “I’m not of noble blood, to be handed about as a pawn for peace, Quinlan. Who I bind my life to is my choice.”

  “Exactly how many times has your brother attempted forcing you?” His face was getting a bit mottled.

  She thought of Colm’s attempts—sending her home whilst he scaled a particularly tall tree in their childhood, refusing to teach her to ride, even most recently in ordering her back to the keep. “More than I can count.”

  “More than you can count?” Quinlan fairly sputtered.

  She didna understand what he found so offensive. “Aye, more is what I said. Colm has never let the fact that I am his elder stop him from trying to dictate my destiny.”

  Or failing. Miserably. Which mattered little.

  What did matter was his limp, contorted form lying before her. She knelt again, touching his forehead. Still too hot, by half. “Can you bring Breanne here?”

  He knelt beside her, his gaze searching hers. He raked a hand through his hair. “Nay, lass. I’ll not leave your side.”

  “I’m no healer.” She swallowed against thick emotion. “Please. I canno’ watch my brother die.”

  “He’s not dying, lass. Trust me. I’ve seen death, and it is not this.” He jabbed a hand in Colm’s direction. “He’ll wake soon enough, and we’ll then see who is right.”

  Quinlan turned on his heel and strode away. “Where are you going?” Ailyn called.

  He waved his hand dismissively. Ailyn scrambled to her feet, not about to allow him to simply walk away. But as soon as she stood, Colm’s ha
nd snaked around her ankle. With a gasp, she landed on her knees. She yanked her leg away, facing him. Relief overcame her irritation. She hurried to his side. “Colm! You’re well?”

  He nodded, blinking his eyes. Adjusting, he groaned.

  “Dinna move. Your body has suffered a great ordeal.”

  He gave her a look that was two steps away from an eye roll. He thought her dramatic, did he?

  “You might like to know that you were a wolf not more than an hour ago. And you nearly killed a man.”

  “He’s right,” Colm said, his hoarse voice barely audible.

  Ailyn ignored the statement. “Shh, Colm. Rest. There will be time to talk once you are well.”

  She touched his arm. The fever was nearly gone. A sheen of sweat beaded over his skin. Better that he save his strength. Better to find out where Maera was, why he’d come through the veil too, and—most importantly—how they could return. Perchance she should abandon the entire plan of finding the three stones. The chaos the kingdom must be in with Tullah gone, Maera missing, and Kristoph in power.

  You don’t belong in the guard, Ailyn. You belong upon a throne.

  The memory and possibilities heaped in her mind, making her feel ill with fear. She covered Colm’s chest with the blanket, moving to his legs. His hand around her forearm stopped her.

  “He’s right, Ailyn,” Colm said, his voice stronger. His eyes searched her face.

  She didna want to ask, didna want to know what he meant. She pulled her arm free but gave in. “Who is right, brother mine?”

  “You will marry him,” Colm said, closing his eyes, wincing.

  Ailyn’s stomach tipped. She shook her head. “I’ll not marry a mortal, Colm. You’re fevered. You dinna ken what you’re saying.”

  Colm winced, leaning upward, only to sag back down with a huff. “You’ll marry him, Ailyn. It is their custom.”

  “Fae and mortals cannot join, Colm. I’ve no care for what their customs dictate.”

  “You should, and you will. Some Fae can join with mortals.”

  “Aye. Some. Not a brown-blood like you or me.”