“My grandmother told me stories of the fey.” Ian rubbed his chin. “I’ve never met a baobhan sith before, though. Wasn’t sure you were real.” Excited at having a real fey in his bed, he felt a light, energized sensation coursing through him. “Tell me though, with your sisters gone and you left alone above hill, what will become of you?”
She shrugged. “I’ll be all right if I can stay out of the sun.” She slid her hand to her mouth and nibbled on a nail.
“You rest. I’m going to check on my brothers and see if my Mum has breakfast for me yet.” He found it hard to tear his eyes from her and leave the room, but he knew it was best.
He and his brothers all worked the farm and it would be left to them one day. His mother cooked for them though they were grown, just as she’d cook for farmhands. That was not to say that they weren’t all spoiled by her and her good cooking.
* * * * *
He left, shutting the door behind him. Sorcha clutched her stomach with her other hand, trying to calm the churning sensation. She hoped she didn’t retch like Ian had. She nibbled harder on a nail. Why had she chosen him last night? Now she was caught by a mortal, alone in their world. His brother yet lived or surely they would have killed her.
Even now, she didn’t know why they let her live. Though grateful, she didn’t trust these humans. No fey did. They could stick her out in the sun to burn away at any time. Her stomach rumbled as the deep, rich scent of Ian’s blood danced in the air. She fought her hunger, yet his blood smelled so full and sweet.
The cairn had been in place so long, then last eve they were finally free to come above hill. The first man she saw was Ian. Though usually more interested in what the men she fed on tasted like, she’d gazed at Ian, drinking in the features of his oval face, his high forehead, the firm chin and those compelling azure eyes. The few days of unshaven fuzz on his face and his tousled hair added a rugged look to his handsome features. The man looked good, for a mortal.
All her sisters would yell crazy at her if they knew a flame flickered in her when she peered at that beckoning gleam in his eyes. When he stood or sat near her, Sorcha’s skin felt coated by warmth and tingled as if he stroked her flesh. Her six siblings weren’t here and couldn’t interfere unless something happened to that cairn.
She should be terrified, abandoned above hill with mortals, but the craving she had for Ian’s flesh, more than his blood, consumed her. She longed for the feel of his hot, firm flesh against hers, to taste his lips as they touched hers for the first time. He had become sick before she could run her tongue over those full lips and tug and nibble on them. With Ian on her mind, hungry to eat him up, she sank into the soft bed. She pressed the heels of both hands over her tired eyes. A weary, drained sensation from Ian wrestling her to the ground and the effects of sunlight overcame her. With the image of Ian in her mind, she let out a deep sigh as sleep took her.
* * * * *
Ian headed to the kitchen for tea and porridge. As soon as the burnt smell of deep-fried oil and the thick, meaty scent of sausage assaulted his nostrils, his mother and father assailed his eardrums with questions.
“Ian, what happened?” His mother clutched her apron, twisting it nervously.
He poured a cup of tea. As the warm steam tickled his nose, he wondered if he should offer Sorcha some. “Do baobhan sith drink tea?”
“I don’t know, Son.” A tinge of curiosity gleamed in his father’s eyes. “Is she joining us for breakfast?”
“Let the boy eat first before you go plying him with questions.” His mother playfully tapped his father on the shoulder.
“Me, plying him with questions?” His father picked up his cup and leaned back while he sipped.
His mother grabbed a plate from the cabinet. “I made your favorite.”
“Scotch eggs.” The hardback kitchen chair creaked as Ian plopped down in it. He hadn’t realized how famished he was until he sniffed the aroma of the salty bread and sausage-battered boiled eggs. He dug his teeth into a crunchy scotch egg, taking a gulp of Earl Grey between bites. “She’s sleeping,” he said around a mouthful.
“Is she now?” His mum’s eyebrows arched.
“Your brothers told us what happened. You stayed to save them all. Brave you are, Son.” His father nodded at him as he set the teacup on the saucer with a clank.
“Lucky you aren’t dead. The whole affair gives me the shivers.” His mother shook her shoulders to emphasize her point.
His mother and father were so amusing, they kept him smiling. Still breathing and back home, he reveled in his life. He knew he had a lot to smile about. “It all began at the pub.” Ian took a sip of tea.
“I’ve warned you about drinking all night.” His mother leaned her head back, squinting up at him.
“Ooch, but Mum, for all the preaching folks do about it, drinking saved my life last night.” Ian shoved the last piece of scotch egg into his mouth.
“You don’t say?” His father's eyebrows arched.
“I’ll tell you why.” He grinned. “These women appeared. Prettiest girls I’ve ever seen and they wanted to dance with us. We all paired off and all my brothers were dancing, but I never learned how to.”
“You were always a shy one.” His father nodded.
“I stood there with Sorcha, nervous and drunk. Then I retched right at her feet.” Ian drained his teacup dry and with a clash set it on the saucer.
His father took a sharp breath. “No.”
“Saved my life. If I hadn’t been hammered, I’d probably be lying out in the McLeods’ field, dead.”
“Do not say that.” His mother clapped her hand to her forehead and her eyebrows slanted downward with worry.
“Now there’s the truth of it.” His father flashed a smug smile. “I’ve heard many a man in the pub speak of how whisky saved his life.”
“Have you now? And have you heard them tell of how whisky ruined their marriages?” His mum put one hand on her hip, sitting at the breakfast table. “Go on with you now. It’s foolishness and it’s because of you that he would say something like that.”
Fighting to keep a straight face and not laugh, he went on with his story. “Well, she stepped back from the smelly mess and had a look at her dress to make sure nothing splashed on it. Then Angus, his blood drained, dropped to the ground. I knew then they were baobhan sith. I grabbed Sorcha and held her down to avoid becoming her dinner. Her sisters piled on top of me to rescue her. I told my brothers, ‘Save yourselves. Run.’” He flung his arm out for emphasis. “There I was, alone, with one baobhan sith beneath me and six of them on top. They bit, scratched and yanked every inch of me, but I hung on to Sorcha. I knew the moment I let go of her, I was food for the dancing vampires.”
“That is what they feed on, human blood.” His father whispered the last two words.
“It’s what all the tales say.” His mother’s eyes grew larger.
“Then,” Ian paused for effect, enjoying the way they hung on his every word, “just in time, when I couldn’t hold on any longer, the sun rose.”
“Thank the good Lord for saving you.” His mother slapped her palm against her chest.
“And the baobhan sith vanished as if they had never been there at all. But Sorcha still lay trapped beneath me. Then my brothers came to rescue me.”
“It’s quite a tale, lad.” The kitchen chair squeaked as his father rocked it back on its rear legs.
“One to tell your grandchildren in your old age,” his mother added. “Mind you, after you eat, dab a swab of iodine on all those bites and cuts.”
“Yes, Mum, that I will.”
“I do not know what to say of Tavish, though.” His mother shook her gray-haired head. “He’s too old for this type of foolishness.”
“That he is.” His father finished his tea.
“I can hear the whole village now. Talking about us. Saying the cairn lay undisturbed since time out of mind, until one of the McDuff lads kicked it over and let a pack of wild baobh
an sith loose.”
At the sound of someone rapping on the door, his mother went to answer it.
“Hello, I just came to visit and I brought you one of my steak and scotch pies.”
Mrs. McDuff took the offering from their neighbor. “Thank you, Fiona, won’t you come in for tea?”
Once inside, Fiona turned this way and that, peering around. “I hear you have a visitor. A young woman, very bonny they say.”
“Ooch, we have one of the baobhan sith here, Fiona, but she’s sleeping. It’s still daylight you know.” As soon as Ian’s mother put the pie down, there was another knock.
“I’ll get it, Mum.” Ian stood, walked over to the door and pulled it open.
Mrs. Campbell from down the road pushed a basket of cabbage, carrots and turnips into his hands. “Good day, it has been so long since I dropped by. I just wanted to bring you fresh vegetables from my garden. Is your mother home?”
Ian pointed to the kitchen, where the other visitor already plied his mother with questions about last night’s events. He set the basket down and turned to his father. ”We should get a lot of goodies today with all the nosy women in this village.”
“Yes, it is so.”
When another person banged on the door, Ian decided he felt tired and eased into his room. He lay down on the other side of the bed. Stretching out next to Sorcha's soft body, he could feel the heat of her lush flesh. She looked so serene in her sleep. Her eyes were closed, fringed with thick lashes. There was a light pink tone to her oval face. Her red lips were closed in a silent pout. He slipped his arm over her shoulder, cautious not to waken her. A warm shiver coursed through him. He snuggled against her and shut his eyes. His body relaxed, sinking into the soft bed, cuddled next to this woman, this fey with smooth skin and soft curves. The whisky he drank last night and the energy spent holding her down before dawn had taken their toll on him. He drifted into a deep sleep.
Chapter Two
He awoke to a dark room. It was night. Rising on his elbow, he peered into Sorcha’s eyes. She was awake.
“Good morning.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Well, it’s good evening.” When he looked at her face, he thought of the sun and the moon, as her skin looked bright and luminescent. Gazing into her eyes, he saw the night sky and twinkling stars. Her long, silky hair laid a trail from her face to the rest of her treasures, draping her neck and curving over her shoulders, hanging past the gold belt she wore, emphasizing her tiny waist. He shifted his gaze to her firm, high-perched breasts then to her curved hips and her long, lean legs. The corners of the sweetest mouth he’d ever seen curved into a wry smile. None of that meant anything. She wasn’t a woman, she was a vampire. She’d tried to kill him and his brothers.
She moved into a sitting position in bed. “No, my day begins at moonrise, it’s morning. How are you?”
“Well enough, even with the bites and bruises from your sisters.”
“Do you mean to take revenge? Wound me with iron or leave me out in the sun to shrivel up tomorrow morning?”
“I had something else in mind.”
“What would that be?” She flashed a crooked, closed-lip smile.
“Not so fast. First I must ask, do you intend to drink all my blood?”
“I feel ravenous, but it isn’t your blood I’m wanting.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief, like someone with a secret. “So you’re the youngest? Your brother mentioned it.”
“I am. It hasn’t been the easiest of lives, not with my brothers. Well, you’ve met them. One of them knocked down a fairy mound last night.”
Her smile deepened into laughter. “I know what it’s like. I’m the youngest of seven girls. You met my sisters, they claw the blood out of humans and drink it.” Her face broke into a goofy smile. “As do I, or as I did. I cannot since you captured me. It is the lore of the baobhan sith. There are rules.”
“I have to say, it’s a relief to know you can’t drain my blood. We’re off to a good start. Your birth order is interesting. Even though I’m a seventh son, I never met a seventh daughter before.”
“I have.” She tilted her chin up as her mouth and eyes lifted in a smug expression. “I know another seventh sister very well. You see, my mother is the youngest of seven girls.”
“What a coincidence that is. My father’s the youngest of seven sons.”
“You are the seventh son of the seventh son?” Her brows arched.
“Yes.” He nodded. “You are the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter?”
“I am.” She cocked her head.
“No wonder,” they both said aloud at the same time.
“I guess it’s meant to be.” As Ian gazed into her eyes he felt a pull, a connection to her.
“We are like gorse and heather.” Her dark eyes sparkled with a sensuous gleam. “We belong together. Though I should hate you. You grabbed me, kept me from my sisters and trapped me in this dangerous place with iron and sunshine, both fatal to me.”
“Well, I should want you to die. You and your sisters tried to drink all the blood from me and my brothers.” He wouldn’t let anyone or anything harm her now. His heart raced and his skin tingled as she talked. He’d the same experience in that field when she strolled up to him in her green plaid dress, her hips swaying, her breasts jiggling, before he knew she was a baobhan sith. Even knowing what she was hadn’t changed one thing about the way his body reacted to her, yearned for her.
“We should hate each other.” Sorcha licked her red lips. “It would be the only thing that makes sense.” She peered at him seductively. “I am glad I’m here with you.”
“Me too.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her, though the image of her face was burned into his soul, as smooth as if carved from alabaster. A dainty nose set above full ruby lips and a flush of pink on her sculptured cheekbones.
He reached out and cupped her chin. His fingers felt warm from the touch. He pulled her face to his. His kissed her chin, gentle as a whisper, then brushed his lips against hers. He pressed harder, covering her mouth with his, devouring her softness. He hungrily moved his mouth over hers. Her lips were moist and hot. A heady sensation overcame him. During the lingering kiss, he wrapped his arms around her. He felt her wrap her silken arms around his back. A jolt of heat thrust through him. The flesh at his groin throbbed as his lips tugged urgently against hers. He quivered as she ran her smooth palms down the plane of his back. He parted her lips with his and slipped his tongue inside, deepening the kiss, plundering her mouth. He flicked his tongue in and out. His pulse sped at the sound of her mewling moans.
Ian eased his lips from hers. “I want you.” He peeled his tee-shirt off and tossed it to the floor. His blood rushed.
“Yes.” Sorcha unfastened his belt.
His cock drew tight, swelling. He ached with need as she slid his jeans off his legs. He kicked them off his feet. He watched Sorcha’s gaze drift from his chest to his hard arousal. Grabbing her waist, he hooked his fingers beneath her golden belt and unfastened it. When he gathered up the silk plaid with his hands, the sensation hit him of dipping his fingers into liquid flower petals floating in water. He slid her dress over her head and with a whiplike motion flung it to the floor. His gaze roved over her bare body. Her flesh had a sheen to it. The orbs of her breasts jutted out and the dusky pink nipples grew hard and erect under the scrutiny of his gaze. He wanted to grab the long, loose hair tumbling down her milky skin and yank her to him. Pressure built in his groin to the point of pain.
In that moment his head was full of nothing but rushing blood and a throbbing need for Sorcha, no other thoughts penetrated his mind. In one fluid motion he straddled her, wedging Sorcha’s creamy thighs between his. Ian cupped her breasts and kneaded and shaped them. A moan escaped from deep within her.
He breathed in her zingy, sharp, floral scent. His senses reeled. “Kiss me.”
His mouth met hers in a warm, wet kiss. He twisted his lips against hers. Ian forced her lips o
pen with the thrust of his tongue. His erection grew harder, more rigid as he flicked his tongue in and out of her mouth.
His lips left her mouth to sear a path down her neck and her shoulders as his hands still crushed her breasts hard. His tongue was still coated with salt from the scotch eggs and it blended with the wild yet delicate taste of her skin.
He had to have more of her. Sorcha’s nipples tightened beneath his palms. Her skin was so hot against his hands. A shortness of breath hit him. He moved his mouth to her breasts and captured a hardened nipple between his lips and suckled. Cupping a luscious mound in each hand, he squeezed the smooth, billowy flesh. As his tongue whisked her erect peak, he fondled the fullness and softness of her breast, kneading and stroking. He lashed one nipple with his tongue as he rolled the other between his fingers. He was on fire.
He slid his mouth to her other erect peak. Wetting it, he lapped it with his tongue as he nudged the other with his fingers. He caught the hardened teat between his teeth and tugged gently as he pinched the other nipple. He couldn’t breathe. Her breasts thrust forward. She let out soft mewls of delight as he squeezed, stroked and suckled her silky skin.
When she arched her hips, his swollen erection pressed against her lower belly. He needed to slide down, into her wet, fiery center. Every fiber of his body pulsated with desire.
“More,” she rasped.
Her palms felt like warm satin sliding over his bare back. He moaned as she pressed her fingers into his soft flesh. She ran her hands down to the curve of his ass. His burning flesh throbbed to the point of pain. He had to have her. He couldn’t hold back much longer. Had to plunge his hardened arousal into the moist center of her heat. Her soft palms cupped his ass cheeks and pressed down hard, guiding him into her.
“You wild woman.” The head of his cock touched the hot, wet folds of her sex.
Hot shivers rocked his body. Ready to plunge, he let out a sharp intake of breath as she swung her hips forward, which jerked his cock deep inside her, buried in her moist heat.
DanceoftheVampires Page 2
