Oath of a Scottish Warrior

by Sky Purington

  “Damn,” she murmured. “So we would know for sure that things are for real between us if it happened.”

  “Aye.” He dropped a feather-light kiss on her lips. “Some say dragon mates find each other again lifetime after lifetime. That it cannae be any other way ‘tis so strong a connection.”

  “But I was born over eight hundred years after you,” she managed as he peppered kisses along her jaw. “So it seems like pretty much an impossible idea for us.”

  His whisper came close to her ear as his hand found its way between her legs. “Who’s to say we’re both not simply living the first life since last we met. ‘Tis hard to know, aye?” She bit her lower lip hard and groaned as he worked at her swollen flesh. “Mayhap we were together hundreds of years before now. Mayhap my soul waited for yours to be reborn eight hundred years after mine.”

  Though she tried to respond it was impossible as his lips made their way down her body. His tongue twirled around her nipple before he latched on and sucked hard. Erin cried out, pleased when his touch grew more aggressive. He seemed to know precisely what worked for her. But again, that was the added bonus of being inside each other’s mind. They felt not only their own bodies but each other’s.

  It was wild and she wanted more.

  The ache between her thighs built like a volcano and she whimpered with relief when his mouth finally made it down there. Red flared in her vision as climax instantly found her. She half roared, half cried out and gripped at the grass to try to ground herself. Within seconds, he managed to tear another orgasm from her with an especially creative way of using his fingers, tongue and maybe even his teeth.

  Erin knew he was going to pull far more from her soon and she might be rendered useless. So she sat up and pushed him onto his back. Two could play this game. Another faint orgasm rolled through her as she traced her tongue along his tats then down his chest and abs, thrilled with the feel of all the hard muscles at her disposal.

  “Bloody hell,” he groaned as she made her way to his groin then took him into her mouth.

  As a singer, she had been trained how to use her vocal chords to full advantage. Rònan never stood a chance because she was damn good with her mouth and tongue. More than that, her throat. She could hold her breath longer than most and while his size was substantial, she did things to him that she knew had never been done before. Things that had him digging his hands into her hair with a vice grip. Things that had him thanking not only her but his gods over and over between long groans and, at last, a mighty roar as he found release.

  Erin licked her lips then kissed her way back up his body. He might have seemed done for and liquefied but when her mouth came close to his, the look in his eyes was ferocious. Grabbing the back of her neck, he pulled her lips to his. Their mouths were ravenous when they came together. No, crashed together the passion was so escalated. Teeth, lips, tongues, their kisses were far hungrier than ever before.

  Their need so great that tears came to her eyes.

  He sat and pulled her up until she straddled him. Their lips never separated. How could they? She'd never tasted anything so good, had never needed anything so much. Their bodies pressed together as he gripped her ass and slowly, carefully pulled her onto him. He might have just gotten off but it didn’t seem to slow him down any.

  They both growled as he filled her. Heat steamed off of their skin. Shaking, overwhelmed by what was happening, they pulled back and stared into each other’s eyes. Like hers, his were of the dragon. Brilliant and emerald green. She wasn’t frightened by the light sheen of glow that covered his skin any more than she was by her own dragon sheen.

  Then it happened.

  Trails of tingling sensation spread over her arms and shoulders moments before delicate swirls of ink appeared in their wake. Not too many. Just enough. A flourishing collage of designs she would always take pride in.

  Her very own dragon markings.

  “Ye couldnae begin to know how bloody beautiful ye look right now,” he whispered into her mind with not only lust but immense pride in his eyes.

  Forget heat, downright fire sizzled around them as she brought his lips back to hers. Legs wrapped around him, it almost felt like she separated from her body as they began to move. She had never wanted to become a part of someone until now. Though merging their bodies was astounding enough, she'd never craved such a heightened level of intimacy.

  Kissing, stroking, they worked the fever between them to a higher pitch. Fire flared at the corners of her vision and she swore she smelled smoke but was so far gone it might have been her imagination.

  Then they started rolling.

  Him on top thrusting.

  Her on top thrusting.

  Then more rolling.

  At some point, he ended up behind her as she lay halfway on her side. Her chest was pressed against the ground with his over her. Because it had been heated and torn up so much, the scent of not only their arousal but fresh cut grass permeated the air. His teeth were clamped on the side of her neck as she gripped at the ground.

  Erin whimpered with pleasure as his thrusts only increased. They couldn’t say each other’s names enough as they struggled toward something far more profound than an orgasm. In and out, faster and faster, they moved their hips well, anticipating each other’s every move.

  He pressed her to the ground, dominating, before she grunted and he rolled so that she could once again straddle him and regain control. Yet as she gripped his shoulders and continued moving, something again shifted between them and it wasn’t just their bodies.

  No, it was far, far deeper inside.

  Soul deep.

  Hers.

  His.

  Theirs.

  “Rònan,” she mouthed and shook her head as she moved faster.

  Whatever was happening between them had his breath increasing along with hers. Sharp bursts of air that met their pace. Fire might still flare but it was nothing compared to the red that swamped her vision. Not total dragon but close.

  Tempting.

  She leaned down and kept her lips close to his as they continued to move. He would not take back control. He was giving this to her.

  Power.

  Him.

  Everything he was.

  Their lips hovered against one another’s as her pace increased, as not only her body but mind took him for all he was worth. Somehow through all the bliss and desire and lust, she understood her own self-worth.

  How much strength she had.

  Would always have.

  It wasn’t something she would ever lose. Nor was it something he would ever want to take from her. He saw her as an equal. He saw her as everything he wanted to be, no…was. The inner light within himself he never knew existed until she ignited it.

  Just like she ignited in a whole new way.

  Clear as day, she saw exactly who she was and had always been.

  A good soul.

  Never dark or bad in the least. Never a freak. Never a murderer. What she found in that singular moment was the stark truth about them both.

  Though different they were very much the same.

  One.

  How could she have ever thought otherwise?

  She wanted this man in every way possible.

  Mind, heart and soul.

  Hands pressed to the ground, she rocked forward one last time, released a strangled cry, and…took him. A throb of release didn’t just blow through her but pounded over her wave upon wave. Red blinded her as his mind wrapped around hers and the Earth trembled. Whatever happened now felt far better than sex.

  Far better than embracing her dragon.

  Whatever happened forced him to release and he wrapped his arms around her as his roar met hers with equal force. Sobs broke from her as she locked up against him and gave up on drawing breath. Everything seemed to shake and she had no idea if it was them or the ground itself.

  Sweet pain mixed with sharp pleasure ripped and shredded her to pieces as red continued
to fill her vision. Everything she felt, everything she was…was Rònan…and her. A mutual, shattering release and acceptance that had her aflame in surrender.

  Whatever happened after that was wet, hot and never-ending. Their minds, bodies, all that they were, seized around one another in a tight coil. It was everything she saw in her far future but still somehow right here and right now.

  Still within her control.

  Or was it?

  Lost, gone, wrapped around him, she didn’t much care. Nothing mattered but the bliss and freedom she'd found. The light at the end of a tunnel she had built long ago. An endless tight place that was long and thorough and without forgiveness.

  A forgiveness she finally allowed herself.

  The feelings fluctuating within not only mentally but physically were so strong she gave up…or gave in…she had no idea. All she knew was that she wanted to hold on to this man for as long as possible.

  Rònan MacLeod.

  Not just her friend.

  Not just a dragon.

  No, far more…far better.

  “We need to go,” he said from what sounded like far away.

  “No we don’t,” she whispered. “Trust me, I’m already gone.”

  Those were the last words she uttered before one reality got ripped away to be replaced by another. Erin had a split second to realize Cullen Stewart, Darach, and her Viking posse had joined them. Then she had less than a second to see how searing and bright Cullen’s eyes were before he roared, “We need to go now!”

  A loud sound burst over them that she could only compare to a sonic boom that broke the sound barrier. It was as if an F/A-18E/F Super Hornet jet fighter had just passed over.

  Then silence.

  Rònan had leapt to his feet but kept her close. Somehow they were both dressed. She in her dress and him in nothing but his plaid and boots.

  “Bloody hell,” Cullen muttered from a distance before their surroundings swirled away and she was standing alone in an unfamiliar armory.

  Darach appeared at the door, desperate eyes scanning the weapons.

  Erin frowned, totally confused. “Where are we, Darach?”

  He gave no response but stalked around the room, muttering, “I never should have kissed her. Now he knows how much she means to me.”

  “Kissed who?” she said.

  He didn’t respond but kept scanning the walls and talking to himself. “I need that sword. ‘Tis the only thing that can keep her safe.”

  “Darach?” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

  Then she realized…like it had been at the Viking fortress with Rònan, Darach couldn’t see her. Super. Back to being a ghost. But why?

  “Too much bloody passion betwixt us,” he said under his breath. “Rònan was right. I should have stayed away.”

  What the hell was he talking about?

  She was about to try to get through to him again but was swept away in a maelstrom of magic. The next thing she knew she was in the Celtic Otherworld. Baffled, she looked around before something caught her attention.

  A black, oily whip.

  Someone was being beaten. Her heart slammed into her throat when she realized who it was.

  Rònan.

  The three dark shadows and the demi-god were attacking him ruthlessly. They had even managed to singe his hair. Long hair. Though confused, she raced toward him. Who cared if she didn’t have a weapon. She would fight to the death if she had to. Anything to save him.

  But it turned out it went far easier than expected.

  Shock froze her in her tracks when her ring ignited a bright, glowing green. The demi-god roared in rage and his three minions squealed in distress before all of them vanished. Rònan remained face down and unmoving.

  “Oh God,” she cried and started toward him. “Don’t you dare be dead.”

  “Nay, lass,” came a deep voice before an old man with snowy white hair and a cane materialized in front of her. “You saved him well enough. He will survive. But ‘tis not the right time for him to meet you.”

  “To meet me? What are you talking about?” She frowned, aware that a beautiful blond was walking their way. Eyes on the man, she said, “Who are you?”

  A twinkle lit his eyes. “I am Adlin MacLomain.” Then he gestured at the woman. “And this is Chiomara the Druidess. My mother.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Scotland

  MacLomain Castle

  1281

  “WHERE IS SHE?” Rònan roared the second he realized Erin had not returned with them. The only people who stood alongside him were Cullen, Tait, and Bjorn.

  “Erin’s in here,” Darach called from another room in the armory.

  It might have been a few moments since they left Stewart land and traveled back to their own era, but not seeing her here immediately had his nerves raw. So he pulled her into his arms with relief when he laid eyes on her.

  “I’m okay,” she murmured, a stunned look on her face as her eyes drifted around the room. “Where am I now?”

  “MacLomain Castle’s armory,” Rònan replied.

  “I was just here…I think.” She pulled away and her eyes locked on Darach. “Are you real this time?”

  Darach frowned, as confused as the rest of them. “I dinnae ken, lass.”

  “And I wouldn’t expect you too. After all, I didn’t even know till now.” She looked at Cullen. “Do you know what just happened to me? Everything I just learned here and then in the Otherworld?”

  What was she talking about? Rònan was shocked to discover her mind completely closed off to him. How was that possible? Her eyes went to his. “I’ll fill you in later.” Then she headed for the door. “The shit’s gonna hit the fan any time now. We need to find Niall, Jackie, and little Robert right away.”

  “They’re here,” Grant said, arriving at the door at the same time as Erin. Rònan was pleased to see his mother as well.

  “Good to have you both back,” Torra said. “As Erin said, trouble comes verra soon. Gather as many weapons as you can.”

  Erin nodded, relieved when Niall, Nicole, and Jackie joined them.

  Nicole gave her a quick hug. “One sec you're at MacLeod Castle then poof, gone, before you show up here. Where’ve you been? I was getting worried.”

  “No time for that.” Erin’s eyes shot to Niall. “You need to give that sword to Rònan.” Then her eyes flew to Darach. “And you need to work through your crap and protect Jackie.”

  “Aye,” Grant agreed.

  Darach frowned and avoided Jackie’s eyes. “Of course, I’ll protect her.”

  Erin shook her head and looked at Grant. Whatever passed between them made a flicker of surprise then determination pass over his face before he looked at Niall then gestured at Rònan. “I’d say the time is right, lad.”

  Niall nodded, clearly having full faith in the advice because he handed the blade to Rònan. The instant he made contact with the sword, magic rippled over him. Not only the sword glowed briefly but something else.

  That’s when he saw it.

  Erin’s ring. More so, the stone at its center.

  A blazing emerald to match his eyes.

  When his dragon roared up, Erin put a finger to her lips and shook her head. But their eyes remained locked as happiness surged through him. Not only had the ring bonded them but something far better.

  Her dragon had claimed him.

  And his dragon had eagerly accepted.

  They were mates.

  “’Tis good to see your ring’s stone ignited, Erin,” Grant said, not missing a thing. “Despite the fact you stole it.”

  Erin’s brows shot up as her eyes locked with Grant's.

  “Aye, Torra and I always knew you came by that ring in an unorthodox fashion.” A tempered smile came to his lips. “As I learned from the Viking King, ‘twas the Broun in you that was drawn to it but ‘twas your dragon magic that allowed you to take it off on occasion.” Then he winked. “As to you stealing it to
begin with, it seems you’re just the sort of lass who will protect herself at all costs. Mayhap by taking another’s blade or even a ring. Though you didnae know it at the time, both your inner witch and dragon recognizes a weapon above all others when she sees it.”

  Ah, well that made sense.

  “Interesting,” she murmured, making no apologies for her sense of self-preservation even if it did involve a little bit of thievery. Sometimes you had to do what you had to do to survive…or to protect others.

  “Now ‘tis as Iosbail MacLomain said it must be.” Torra’s eyes met Rònan’s. “Niall gave you the sword when the time was right. Now you must trust your lass and do the same for Darach when the time is right.”

  Rònan would always trust Erin. His lass. His dragon. As he was just as much hers. Based on how little she wanted him to say aloud not to mention her closed off mind, it was clear she was purposefully keeping their recent bond from the enemy.

  Rònan eyed Darach, a challenge in his eyes when he said, “I will give the blade to you when Erin says to. As it is, this is one thing you cannae avoid, aye, Cousin?”

  When Darach’s eyes narrowed, Erin frowned and headed for one of the adjoining rooms. “Sorry everyone but I need a moment alone with these two.”

  “Aye,” Grant and Torra said at the same time.

  “Ye bloody well do,” Grant added.

  It seemed Uncle Grant might be as fed up with his son’s evasiveness as Rònan was.

  “We’ll grab our weapons and wait outside,” Torra said.

  Darach and Rònan followed Erin. They had no sooner entered the bow and arrow chamber when she spun, planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at them. “Whatever this is between you two needs to stop right now.”

  Her eyes locked on Rònan's. “I know you look down at Darach because you don’t respect him avoiding his responsibilities and becoming Laird.” Her brows slammed together. “But it seems to me you weren’t all that much better until recently. From what I've heard, you were a pretty immature leader. So cut him some slack.”

  Before either could respond, her eyes shot to Darach. “And you need to get over Rònan stealing a girl from you way back when. It obviously wasn’t meant to be. Besides, women are all over you and I’m sure they have been for a long time.”