Latchling Blood Moon: A Cassidy Edwards Novella - Book 3.5

by Carmen Caine

  The fire’s coals cast a dull orange glow about the room as I made for my cloak draped over the back of a nearby chair. Swirling the length of fur around my shoulders, I stepped to the door and reached for the iron latch.

  “My lady?” Marie queried softly.

  “Sleep,” I said without turning around. “I won’t be long. I need fresh air.”

  I didn’t wait for her response. Lifting the latch, I opened the door.

  I nearly tripped over him.

  Dorian.

  He lounged before the door, the dark shadow of his sword cradled on his chest standing out against the whiteness of his shirt. In a flash, he sprang to his feet, his green eyes glinting down at me.

  I peered up at him, the warm glow of attraction reigniting in an instant, spreading through every cell in my body.

  How I wanted to stay, to throw myself against his broad chest, but I knew better.

  “I need fresh air,” I repeated, wordlessly pushing past him.

  It was hard, but I forced my feet to carry me away and headed for the inn’s front door. Lifting the wooden bar, I pushed it open and stepped outside.

  A gust of bitterly cold wind tore my hood from my face. I closed my eyes and welcomed its clarity. After breathing deeply, I lifted my lashes. The dark night skies above me appeared as turbulent as the chaos ravaging my soul. Moonlight illuminated winter storm clouds rolling in the north, disappearing over the horizon as to the south, dark storms advanced, promising yet more wind and snow.

  But oddly, the skies directly above my head seemed calm. Still. An oasis in the bedlam above. The bright moon hung large, timeless, backed by a sparkling curtain of stars.

  Wondering how much I’d recovered from Emilio’s spells, I moved to the nearby water trough and waved my hand over its white, frozen surface, casting a spell even the greenest of witchling apprentices could master.

  At first, nothing. But then, slowly, ever so slowly, a dark hole appeared in the ice, small, only able to reflect a single shaft of moonlight with a few stars from the night sky above.

  I grimaced at the sluggish pace of my recovery.

  “Elizabeth.”

  I nearly choked. A thrill surged through my body at the sound of his voice.

  Elizabeth. Not ‘my lady’ … but Elizabeth.

  I turned, slowly, afraid he would disappear.

  Dorian stood behind me, the moonlight glinting on his wide shoulders and his white shirt, open at the collar, straining against his muscled chest.

  “I’m not supposed to fall in love,” I heard myself whisper, more to myself than to him.

  And I wasn’t. I had no time for such things. As a Stonehenge Latchling, destiny had given me a task. A task that consumed my every waking thought since the moment of my birth—until now.

  Now, in Dorian’s presence, my mind caught on other things, like … love. Love?

  I tried to resist. I truly did. I stared at him, telling myself I couldn’t afford a distraction from my task, but my heart revolted at the thought of walking away. My heart. My heart that had never led me astray.

  And then, as I stood there in the moonlight, it struck me all at once.

  Dorian was as much my destiny as Emilio.

  Tears wet my lashes and I closed my eyes, astonished that fate would hand me a gift of joy along with its curse. I’d never thought balance applied to me. After so many years of harsh cruelty, of struggling, of accepting Lord Rowle’s dark touch, I’d come to believe fate had only pain in store for me.

  As my tears slid down my cheek, I lifted my lashes to see a soft smile touch Dorian’s lips.

  He moved closer. “The heart canna be denied, lass,” he whispered, reaching out to caress my cheek. “I shouldna be here, yet … my own two feet brought me. Aye, I fear I am bewitched.”

  Bewitched. An odd choice of words when spoken to me. For a brief moment, I wondered if I’d fallen victim to yet another spell, but I already knew it wasn’t so and shrugged the thought away. No. I knew Dorian was a gift of Fate and a gift I would gladly accept.

  With a deep breath, I let the last of my doubts and reserve fade away and unfettered the hot desire crying to be set free. Yes. I burned for his kiss.

  He read my expression as only he could. He burst out laughing, held out his arms, and with a smile, I stepped into them. Heaving a sigh—was that his or mine?—he enfolded me in a close embrace. I lay my cheek against his broad shoulder and we simply stood there, arms entwined as the first white flakes of the newly arrived storm began to fall around us, pristine and silent.

  After some time—I truly know not how long—he moved away and catching my face in his hands, tilted my chin up. Our gazes locked and as if in a dream, I watched him slowly lower his lips to mine.

  Again, the kiss started with a gentle brush of his lips, a silent seeking of permission, and a request I granted with an immediate parting of my own lips. His tongue swept over mine in a tender exploration, slow, sweet, and languorous. One of his hands threaded through my hair as the other slid down the length of my spine, cupping my behind and pulling me hard against him. Even through the fur cloak, his touch burned my skin.

  I returned his kiss with a desperate hunger, a hunger I tried at first to rein in, fearing my strength would drive him away, but he quickly laid that unspoken fear to rest. He matched my passion and drove me into an even deeper, scorching exchange of desire. My very being flared to life, desire ascended to consume me, turning me almost liquid with an insatiable need.

  Wanting all of him and quickly, I pulled away from his kiss to whisper in his ear, “Do not play with me, Dorian.”

  He chuckled, dropping his mouth to kiss the side of my neck before briefly catching my lobe in his teeth and then swore in a low, husky voice, “Never.”

  He caught me up in his strong arms and carrying me back to the inn, navigated the dark common room in long, purposeful strides. A moment later, we stood once again in my assigned small, windowless chamber. Someone had tossed a log on the dull, red coals, and the room now flickered with a golden light.

  I glanced around for Marie, and as usual, Dorian read my thoughts.

  “She’s safe and comfortable,” he murmured, stepping up behind me to capture me in a muscled embrace. “I carried her pallet to the kitchen with the other maids.”

  I blinked, surprised at his foresight. Laying my head back against his hard chest, I mused aloud, “How do you know me so well?”

  He answered at once. “Methinks you’ve been etched in my heart since time began, lass,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips against the back of my neck.

  It was the last of our small talk. He pulled my hair free of its braid and buried his face in the silky strands as they fell over my shoulders and down to my waist. I shivered and reaching up, untied my fur cloak. As it fell to the floor, his hot hands unlaced my gown and shift, and in seconds, they slid off my hips to join the cloak.

  I stood there, naked, exposed. An unexpected flash of vulnerability raced over me.

  But again, Dorian swept me past my momentary inhibition. Catching me closer, his large, strong hands dropped over the soft curves of my hips and as I shivered, I felt him smile against my neck. Slowly, gently, he trailed his fingers down, over the velvet skin of my thighs before skimming up to the swell of my breasts, leaving a burning trail of fire.

  As his hands cupped my breasts, he moaned, and the genuine passion in that sound released the last of my fears. I closed my eyes and leaned into his embrace, feeling only the heat of his fingers awakening both overwhelming and foreign sensations.

  So, this was love. Lust. Raw desire.

  It was powerful. Beyond anything I’d imagined it could be.

  I twirled in his arms and ran my hands over his chest. I’d felt his hard muscles before. Now, I wanted to see them. Pulling his head down towards mine, we shared a wild, frantic kiss as I unbuttoned his shirt and dragged it down over his shoulders. He moaned into my mouth and began walking me backwards to the bed. Once there, h
e tipped me onto the linen coverlet and quickly unbelted his plaid.

  The green material fell away as he shrugged out of his shirt sleeves and at last, he stood before me, magnificent in his nakedness, the golden firelight accentuating the lean hardness of his muscular body, his skin tight and smooth.

  Want blazed through me. I opened my lips to say something, but he spoke first.

  “I will taste every inch of you, lass,” he said, leaning down, pushing me back into the bed with his lean, hardy body.

  His mouth, wet and warm, captured mine as one hand moved to cradle my head and the other cupped my breast. A ripple of fire blazed through me as my arousal began to build. My back arched up from the bed of its own accord, pushing me up against his solid, firm chest.

  With his full, sensual lips still drinking mine, he fanned his fingers over my hips and thighs in a touch so tender. This was love. A gift. A precious gift. He moved off me to kiss his way up one leg and down the other. I closed my eyes, scarcely able to breathe with the strength of passion building, gathering deep inside me. And when he returned his attention to the roundness of my breasts, I began to writhe with desire. Indeed, under the heat of his mouth and hands, I couldn’t hold still.

  Dragging a long, harsh breath, I gripped his shoulders tightly.

  He knew I needed more. Positioning himself, he leaned over me, and propping himself up with his strong, muscled arms, he buried himself deep inside me, never taking his eyes off mine.

  I bit his lip and held it between my teeth, branding him as my own.

  He chuckled a little, moving his hips in slow, purposeful moves as he dipped his head to return the favor, catching my lips gently between his own teeth.

  I kissed him hard, loving the feel of his smooth, tanned skin beneath my hands. A new urgency began to build and I pulled at his shoulders. He responded, easing his weight down on me, covering my body with his. My breasts rose against his chest as we slipped into love’s ancient rhythm, our breathing the only sound filling the air.

  I pushed into his hardness, willing it would never end, but even as I thought it, the first wave of ecstasy sparked deep inside me, eliciting a gasp from my lips. Astonished at the sensations I’d never before felt, I found myself carried away as a new kind of explosion ripped through me, a blinding flash of passion. My breath caught in my chest as my whole body contracted, tightening around his.

  As a cry escaped my lips, he rose onto one arm and threw his head back. Groaning, he clasped my hand to his heart as he spent his passion, his fingers tightening around mine as I lay there beneath him. Finally, his eyes found mine once again and with a deep breath, he kissed me again, collapsing at my side, the both of us panting, pink with pleasure.

  I felt at peace, desiring nothing more than to stay there for a lifetime, our legs tangled in the linens and the heat of our skin touching one another.

  I felt safe with him.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I lay a finger upon his lips and shook my head.

  I didn’t want words to break the spell, the magic surrounding us.

  He understood and gave a deep rumble of a laugh that made me feel warm inside. Drawing me close against his chest, he kissed my neck and soon, fell asleep.

  For a time, I lay there, listening to him breathe the deep, even sleep of the just, and finally, feeling truly loved, I fell asleep in his arms.

  * * *

  I awoke at dawn, or at least what I thought to be dawn. With the darkness shrouding the room it was difficult to tell. I felt Dorian’s hard muscles against my back. Neither of us had moved.

  I smiled, melting deeper against him.

  “What is it?” he asked, the sound of sleep heavy in his voice.

  I turned in his arms then, a fierce, aching fire searing through me. “I am right famished,” I whispered, lacing my fingers through his hair. “But not for food.”

  With a jerk, he pulled me even closer against him. He seemed as famished as I. His tongue immediately swept over mine, delving delightfully into my mouth as his hands caressed my breasts, hips, and thighs. As I ran my hands over his shoulders, our kisses turned feverish, and soon, he covered my writhing body with his own and angled his hips to take me again.

  My body sang for him. He teased me, tormented me, and all too quickly, I surged in spasms as the pleasure of love rocked my soul. He joined me, a deep groan escaping past his gritted teeth turning into a roar of release that reverberated in the rafters.

  As he lay back by my side, gasping for breath, I slid my palm up his chest and smiled against his skin. “I fear those in the inn will think a beast has devoured me,” I suggested playfully.

  He snorted as his long thigh snaked over me, pinning me to the bed. “Aye, but a beast has,” he chuckled.

  Leaning over me, he brushed his nose lightly against mine and then, rising from the bed, stretched to his full height. “’Tis dawn, most likely,” he said with a yawn. “Rest, lass, while I see if the storm still rages.”

  I heard the faint rustle of cloth as he draped his kilt over his lean body and then his footsteps receded to the door. As it creaked open, I lay back amidst the pillows, reliving the wonders of the night.

  It wasn’t long before Dorian returned, dropping his plaid to slid between the covers next to me.

  “We canna travel this day,” he crooned in my ear as I burrowed into his shoulder. “The snow falls too heavily.”

  “And may it do so, forever,” I breathed back.

  We slept in each other’s arms, and when I awoke, hours later, it was to Marie stoking the fire with kindling.

  “And a good afternoon to you, my lady,” she said, her blue eyes dancing with what could only be approval.

  Feeling strangely shy, I sat up in bed, my hair falling around my naked shoulders like a curtain.

  “Dorian’s gone to tend the horses,” she explained, rising to nod at the table with her chin. “I’ve brought you something to eat.”

  Food. I felt ravenous. Still avoiding direct eye contact with her, I slipped out of bed and donning my fur cloak, quickly took my seat at the table.

  The food was simple, but good. A loaf of fresh bread, tea, and wedges of creamy cheese.

  But I should have known Marie wouldn’t let me escape without any form of teasing. As I downed my second cup of tea, she drifted casually by the table, asking mildly, “Is it hard to eat with such kiss-swollen lips, my lady?”

  I choked a little and finally met her warm, loving gaze.

  “You should run away with him,” she said, her eyes dancing in outright approval even as her expression straddled an odd line between genuine concern and good-natured teasing. The concern won. With her brow knitted, she added in a low voice, “Don’t go back to him.”

  Him.

  We both knew who that was. Lord Rowle. I heaved a sigh. I didn’t want to think of him, but already, I knew I could never tolerate his flesh on mine ever again. I frowned, not wanting to ruin my hazy sense of pleasure with thoughts of the man.

  Thankfully, Dorian chose that moment to return and, reaching over to squeeze my hand in fond farewell, Marie departed the room.

  Dorian came to me, his green eyes warm, inviting, and then our hands were upon each other once again.

  As the winter storm raged outside, we spent the day and the next in bedsport, dining on fresh bread and cheese, or playing checkers before a crackling fire. I hadn’t known such pleasantness existed, and when the storm clouds finally sped away, I was loath to leave what to me was paradise.

  We set off in the morning of the third day, the sunlight reflecting off the fresh-fallen snow with a painful brightness. We traveled north, our horses plodding forward, slow and steady, but with the laughter and conversation Dorian, Marie, and I shared, time seemed to pass in a blur of speed. We took our rest early each day, and after a warm, restoring meal, Dorian and I retreated to our chamber to continue our sensuous explorations long into the night.

  Days passed this way. I lost count of how many exactly
. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care. Romance and love had caught me fast in its grip, and Marie, bless her soul, sought only to prolong our travels as far as she could.

  “I’ve never seen you so happy, my lady,” she told me one afternoon.

  I never had been. I smiled, allowing my gaze to drift over to where Dorian rode on his massive horse a few yards ahead.

  The afternoon sun struggled to peer out from gray clouds thickening overhead. It would snow soon. I smiled at the thought. Snow meant we must seek shelter, and shelter meant Dorian’s arms holding me tight.

  But then, we rounded a bend in the road and my heart sank.

  My idyllic interlude had just come to a crashing halt.

  Before me, the mighty walls of Dunnottar Castle rose, perched atop its cliff on the very edge of the sea.

  Dunnottar.

  It was time I awoke from my dream.

  Heartbreak

  A party of men wearing red and green Fraser hunter plaids rode out of Dunnottar’s mighty gates to greet us. Charmed, the lot. Where Dorian saw a handful of Scottish warriors cantering our way, I saw two warlocks, several shifters, and a perimancer—all loyal first to the Stonehenge Druids before Lord Rowle.

  I pushed past Dorian and rode out to greet them, the wind from the sea nearly ripping my fur cloak from my shoulders. Our conversation was a quick one, the only thing of note: Lord Rowle and Emilio had recently retired to Urquhart Castle in the west. I nodded, pleased they were still a fair distance away.

  The news exchanged, the Frasers fell in line behind me as I urged my horse up the narrow, steep path leading to Dunnottar’s gatehouse. Relief coursed through me, for as I approached, I felt the magic of the stones rolling my way in healing and invigorating waves. Here, I would restore myself and gather strength for the fight I knew lay ahead.

  But, unfortunately, with that thought came another. Yes, here my fight began anew, and that meant I must leave Dorian behind. My heart revolted. The pain cut so deep, I had no choice but to push the thought away and deny its existence.

  Passing under the gates, I rode up to the tower house and dismounted, striding at once to the stone wall to lay my cheek against its cold, rough surface. Dorian must have thought I sorely missed the place, but then, I suppose it was true in some sense of the word. I did long for the stone’s harsh, healing strength, the mana of Stonehenge, my heritage.