“You have grown confused in this mortal realm. You cannot be happy with a human.” Murdina’s long, red hair flowed to her hips as she left the circle and walked toward the truck and to Sorcha.
“I am his now. He captured me. Is it not so? I could not leave him if I wanted to. Though as I told you, I choose to stay with him. I do.”
“You can leave him if we kill him.” To demonstrate, Tearlag clawed the air with her inhumanly long nails, each with a deadly point, as she parted her ruby lips and let out a loud, long hiss in warning.
“Stop.” A rush of throbbing rage tore through her. “Leave. Now.” Sorcha glared at her sister, clawing her with her eyes. Then she flung her arms out. Her own fingernails extended, lengthening to talons. “I won’t let you hurt him.”
She heard several footsteps and turned to see Ian’s brothers walking down the road to them, including Angus. Each moved behind one of the baobhan sith.
All six brothers grasped something in their hands. An old weapon she recognized. Prepared for battle, a little flame appeared in each of their hands when they flicked on cigarette lighters and lit strips of cloth tied directly behind the tips of the bolts loaded in the crossbows they held. Dark, heavy fear swept through her, leaving her feeling empty, powerless. She began to gasp but took a deep breath, fighting her panic. Someone had to stop this battle between her sisters and his brothers or they would all die. She had to stop it and she had to be calm to do it.
“After we got Angus from the hospital, we checked out the cairn. Made sure Tavish put the rocks back, you know how he is.” Malcolm stood stiff and alert. He kept his eyes glued on his target, Murdina. “We found them kicked loose again.”
“We tried to find cold iron, as the fey are vulnerable to it. We aren’t even sure what it is.” Errol held his crossbow with flaming bolt on Aithbhreac.
“We brought some tire irons, just in case.” Tavish aimed his crossbow at Eimhear as he spoke.
“We have a better weapon, bolts of fire should work fine.” Calin stood behind Mordag, ready to shoot her in the back.
“That’s right, we’re armed this time. You know how you girls like to dance? Well, we boys grew up shooting crossbows. A hobby of ours,” Lachlan said, targeting Fuamnach.
In an instant his flame went out and he lit the strip of cloth with his lighter again.
“Our father taught us.” Angus looked well, all healed and as strong as ever as he kept his eyes and his weapon on Tearlag.
Sorcha’s breathing grew faint, her heart rocked in her chest and her palms grew clammy. Angus aimed a flaming bolt at Tearlag, Errol stood beside him with his loaded crossbow pointed at Aithbhreac. Sorcha cringed as Tearlag leapt off the ground and soared through the air, launching herself at the foe at her side, not Angus but at Errol.
Sorcha’s body shivered as she watched. Fear and anger both rioted in her.
The bolt struck Tearlag. Her bloodcurdling scream rang in Sorcha’s ears. The green silk dress lit afire. Flames engulfed the material and she fell to the ground. The stench of cloth and flesh burning and the smell of smoke and fire filled the air.
“No, no one shoot. Stop.” Sorcha rushed to her.
Her sisters dashed forward as the brothers all stepped back, except Ian, who ran to help them. Sorcha reached toward her screaming sister caught in flames. She grabbed hold of the bolt with both hands, with no concern of getting burned herself, and yanked it out. Her sisters bent down, scooped up handfuls of dirt and threw them on Tearlag’s flaming body to smother the fire.
When the flames died, Tearlag lay on the ground, still alive and screaming. Most of her dress had burned and what was left of the green tartan silk was rags and soot. Blood poured out of the open wound where the crossbow bolt pierced her in the back.
Ian peeled his shirt off and ripped some of the fabric into strips, then handed them to Sorcha. Quickly she used the large part of the cotton tee as a pressure bandage and wound the strips tight around Tearlag’s upper body to hold it in place and staunch the bleeding.
“If you get her underhill she’ll heal, but you have to hurry.” Sorcha clasped her hands together, shaking them as she pleaded with her sisters.
“We cannot leave you with this mortal.” Murdina threw her arms out and swung her head side to side as if torn between which sister to save, Tearlag or Sorcha.
“I choose him.” Sorcha wrapped her arms around Ian and pulled him to her. Their lips touched. She felt safe in his arms, like everything would somehow be all right. She gave herself into the kiss, the world drifted away. She felt connected to Ian. No one else mattered. His brothers whooped and hollered. Sorcha’s sisters all gasped.
When she eased her lips off his, she gazed into his eyes and peace filled her as he silently assured her all would be all right. She looked around and his brothers had all put out the flaming arrows and set their weapons down. Ian’s friends had piled back into the truck and driven off to safety. The sisters all lowered their arms and retracted their talons. She saw they all had short, normal nails once more.
Murdina walked up to her and held out her arms. “If he makes you happy, then we are happy for you.” Sorcha flung herself into her sister’s embrace. They released their hold on each other.
Fuamnach stepped to her. “He seems like a good man, for a human.” She wound her arms around Sorcha in a warm hug.
Mordag came to her. “We will never forget you. Take care of yourself.” She wrapped her arms tightly around her, then stepped back.
Eimhear strolled to Sorcha. “Best wishes and bright blessings, sister mine.” She swung her into the circle of her arms.
When she stepped back, Aithbhreac came forward. “Have a happy life.” She gathered Sorcha into her arms and held her snugly. Then she let go and they all turned and looked at Tearlag.
As the wounded sister lay on the ground, she smiled through her pain and told Sorcha, “Farewell, I shall miss you.”
Murdina knelt down by Tearlag’s head and Fuamnach and Mordag on either side of her upper body, with Eimhear and Mordag at her legs. Sorcha watched with teary eyes as her sisters worked together, lifting their sibling and carrying her toward the cairn to travel back to the world underhill. Flashes of scenes, memories, filled her. She recalled giggling with her sisters as they spoke of what gods were the most handsome and who they most wished to share their bodies with at the Samhain festival. She remembered all her sisters helping one another wind flowers in their hair, then dancing together at the Beltane festival. She smiled as she recalled picking golden apples in Avalon with her sisters and asking the wise Salmon silly questions to see if they could find one he couldn’t answer. This might well be the last she’d see of them.
She waved her arm and called out, “Farewell and blessings with you.”
With his arm still wrapped around Sorcha, Ian asked. “Will she be all right?”
“She will heal in full in the otherworld. It looks like your friends left in the truck.”
“They had to go. They didn’t get along well with your sisters.”
Sorcha burst out laughing.
He chuckled with her as his brothers gathered around.
“This is a crowd.” Ian waved his arm in the air. “We will meet you at the house.”
“We’re going into the pub for a pint, then.” Malcolm led the rest of his brothers toward the White Bull.
Ian took Sorcha by her hand. Warm tingles rippled through her arm at the contact.
He led her down the winding road. “We have time before sunrise, I want to show you a special place.”
They strolled across the road to a nearby field, where an ancient megalith stood. The delicate fresh scents of gorse, heather and wild thistles wafted in the soft evening breeze.
Sorcha shivered at the feel of his hot hands as he cupped the sides of her head and turned her to him. He gazed intently into her eyes as he grabbed her waist. In one fluid movement, he unfastened her belt and dropped it to the ground. She gasped as he yanked her dress over
her head and tossed it on the grass. As she watched him unfasten his belt and tug his jeans off, her body and mind agreed that Ian should take her now. Sorcha raked her gaze up his long, lean, muscular legs. Her gaze slid to his groin. Her pulse pounded. Sorcha gaped at the rigid, veined length of his full erection.
“Big.” Her gaze stroked every inch, from the mushroomed head down the long, straight staff and over the masculine girth, which thickened under the scrutiny of her eyes. “Your cock.” She burned and throbbed in the damp private place between her thighs. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” He flashed a wild grin. “I aim to please.”
She gasped at the double meaning of his words. Still breathless, her gaze clung to the hard, rippling muscles of his chest, lightly powdered with golden whorls of hair. She burned as he jerked her against him. His mouth covered hers. Sorcha could taste, smell, feel the raw hunger in him. It mirrored the same longing in her. As his lips stroked hers, she yearned to have his big, thick, powerful cock stroking her inside.
His hot hands slid down her back. She moaned as he grasped her shoulders and nudged her back against the hard, standing stone. Her skin prickled as sensations of fire and ice swept through her. She squirmed as he trailed feathery kisses down her arm. Taking her hand in his, he slipped his wet mouth over her finger and sucked. She shivered with pleasure. One by one, he slid his mouth up and down each finger of her hand. His tongue felt smooth and warm upon her skin. Moistness pooled between her legs and her heart hammered.
Sorcha quivered as his wet mouth found her breasts. She let out a soft mew as his lips pinched her nipple. As he suckled the erect peaks, spirals of heat surged through her. He cupped a breast in each strong hand. She closed her eyes and gave in to the fire consuming her. She moaned as his wet tongue whisked her nipples. She felt her breasts bounce as he kneaded and stroked them.
In all the long years of her life, which stretched to time out of mind, she had only seduced men for want of their blood. To feed. Never before had she felt a hot breeze blow inside her when she looked at a man. She’d never been unable to take her eyes off a man before. Her breath hadn’t ever gone shallow as her heart raced so hard and fast she thought it would leap out of her chest. Those moments she lay covered by Ian’s body as the sun rose, the rays must have got to her brain somehow and damaged her. It had to be that. She had a hunger only he could quench, and it wasn’t for his blood but for the way he made her blood boil. Needing him to take her, to fill her full. The seductress had been seduced, and it was the most incredible, breathtaking, heart-rending night of her long life.
She slid her hands up to his silky hair and pulled, winding it around her fingers. Sorcha didn’t even try to hold back the deep, raspy moans. Her blood boiled. Her pussy throbbed with need.
“Sorcha.” Ian called out her name in a husky, lust-muted voice. Her name uttered from his mouth with such passion sent a jolt of heat through her. It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.
Grabbing her arms, he pulled them over her head and pushed them against the standing stone. “I want you.”
“Yes, oh yes,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”
He entered her with a driving thrust and buried his thick hardness deep inside her heat. The walls of her pussy stretched with his jabbing thrust. His erection felt as hard as oak. She took all he had to give. Her entire body burned from his heat. Her breasts rubbed against the hair-roughened skin of his muscular chest as he drove into her. With every wave of pleasure, she released a desperate whimper. Harder. Faster. She could take it. Wanted it. Needed it. With each stroke of his thick cock, her body squeezed and thrust and burned hotter.
She said between pants, “I am yours. Take me. All of me.”
Pushing back against the stone, she used it as leverage and thrust her hips forward, drawing him deeper into her. The moment he freed her hands from where he’d held them, she grabbed his back and slid her palms down his hot skin, slick with sweat, to his tight ass. With a hand on each cheek, she dug her fingers into his flesh and pushed hard, jamming him higher into her.
She gasped. “That’s it. There. There.”
She clamped her muscles on him, pleading for more with her earthy moans. Sorcha’s heart pounded in a rhythm as wild and fast as Ian’s thrusts. He crushed her throbbing pussy. She ground his cock. So near release, on the edge, blazing. So close. She had to quench the fire.
Their bodies thrashed together. He let out long, uninhibited groans. Her pussy clenched. Ian stiffened against her. An expression of deep pleasure crossed his face as he burst inside her. Engulfed in flames, her entire body quivered against his.
Still huffing, he said, “Sorcha, I could spend the rest of my life loving you.”
They wrapped their arms around each other and he backed her away from the stone.
“Are you all right?” He caressed her cheek. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I cannot imagine feeling happier.”
He drew out of her and, still holding her in his embrace, he swung her around so her back pressed against his chest and they both eased into a sitting position. As he leaned against the megalith, she pressed her body against his muscular chest. He ran his hand through her hair and kissed the nape of her neck. His hands came to rest on her firm breasts. He palmed them as she moaned. Ian flicked the taut teats with his thumbs. Hot shivers coursed through her.
“Sorcha, I need you again.”
Her breasts tingled. The slick, hot cleft between her legs still throbbed with need. As she sat on top of him, she felt his arousal growing rock hard beneath her. His thickness pressed against the tight entrance to her anus.
“I want you, Ian.” Heat and tension coiled in the lower portion of her body. She had to have release. “Now…please.”
“I cannot get enough of you. Sorcha, you have the most beautiful ass. I want to fuck you there.”
Her heart raced and heat throbbed through her body. Her stomach jiggled with nerves. A man had never taken her there before, but Sorcha was up for anything as long as it was with Ian. She rasped, “Yes.”
She rose from his lap and onto her knees. He grabbed his jeans off the ground and slipped his hand into the pocket, pulling out a thin silver tube smaller than the one of toothpaste she’d seen in his bathroom at his parents’ house.
“What’s that?” She crawled to the standing stone.
He dropped his jeans on the ground. “Just lube, to make it easier for me to make love to you there.” He’d obviously anticipated this opportunity and come prepared.
She watched him twist off the tiny top and squirt a stream onto his palm. He smeared the lubricant up and down his long, thick cock. With the tube in hand, he walked to her.
Sorcha pressed her palms against the sacred rock for leverage. Ian knelt behind her. She felt his hot hands on her as he spread her butt cheeks. He stroked his slick palms up and down, massaging her derriere. She quivered from a cool, wet sensation as he squirted cream from the tube into that tight, sensitive area. Her skin tingled from the cold lubrication and his hot fingertips. He spread more cream around the rim of the tiny opening in slow, circular motions. She gasped as Ian dipped his lube-coated finger inside, stretching her.
He withdrew his long finger and she squirmed as the head of his erection rested against the taut opening. He eased just barely inside. She sucked in a breath as he slid further, partway inside the forbidden cleft. His iron-hard flesh felt like a firebrand inside her. The tightness eased as he stretched her inner walls with gentle prodding. Sorcha let out a deep groan of pleasure-pain.
With slow strokes of his cock, he eased in and out, sliding further into her each time. Sorcha’s insides coiled in tension, demanding release. She arched her hips, taking him deeper. She panted as he drove into her throbbing heat. Inside, she turned into liquid fire. The pleasure was intense. Maddening. She was going to explode.
As he rammed into her, the cheeks of her ass bounced against his balls, slapping them hard. At the same time that she c
ouldn’t take much more of the pounding his cock gave her, she never wanted it to end.
She whimpered. Ian’s groans turned to feral growls. He rode her hard. With his right hand, he slapped her hip with the same rhythm of his thrust. Goading her into a frenzy, pushing her to the finish line.
Pressing both his hands on her shoulders, he squeezed and pulled, arching her toward him. She was seized by a rush of sensations so intense she released the final cry of sweet ecstasy. They peaked together in a blood-rushing climax.
She released her grip on the standing stone and rocked back. He caught her in his strong arms. They sat on the soft, cool grass as their breathing and pulses slowed to a steadier rhythm.
“You are amazing,” he said in a hoarse voice.
Still heady from the dizzying, explosive orgasm, she said the first thing on her mind. “I loved that.”
He let out a rich, hearty chuckle. Ian rose to his feet and gave Sorcha a hand to help her up. She picked her green plaid dress off the ground, shook the dirt off of it and slipped it on. Sorcha fastened her belt as Ian tugged on his jeans. Then they slipped on their shoes.
As they walked back to the winding road, with Ian’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, she felt so warm, so happy.
“You know, my family will never approve of our relationship, what with your sisters almost killing Angus and all.”
“I dare say not. My sisters left, but they don’t really approve either. They still think you and your family are nothing more than food. A once-a-year snack.”
“Then again, who really cares if our families are against the relationship?” Ian grinned.
“It’s not their business.” Her long, loose hair swung across her back as she tossed her head.
DanceoftheVampires Page 4
