by LAURA HARNER
Gabhran dominated her with his big body; she was firmly between the proverbial rock and the hard place, between his chest and the wall. He sensed the awakening fear within her as she recognized the danger too late. He was going to take her. With her head still pulled back by his hand in her hair, he covered her mouth with a savage kiss, all gentleness gone.
Her police training could make her a worthy opponent in a fair fight, but there was nothing fair about the way he had her pinned. She was helpless to struggle against him, and that heated his desire to a painful intensity. She pushed her hands against his chest and tried to raise her knee to his groin, causing him to laugh darkly.
“So that’s the way of it, lass? A bit of a tease for you, then you think to cry off? Not this time. If ‘tis rough you be wanting it, lass, ‘tis rough you will be getting from me.”
Gav took his hand from her hair, and captured both of her wrists in one big hand and pulled her arms tightly above her head. When she took a deep breath, as if to scream, he swallowed it with a fierce kiss. When he pulled his mouth away from hers, she gave him a head butt that split his lip.
He covered her mouth with his free hand, her arms were still pinned above her head in the other, and her body was smashed against his. He forced one big thigh between her legs, and ground it against her mound. She shuddered at the intimacy.
Without releasing his hold, his mouth went to work on her breasts. They were deliciously exposed, and he ran his tongue over her silky skin, her nipples like firm pearls as he licked and nipped them. He pulled his head back and admired his handy work; her breasts had become tight and swollen from his kisses. He couldna resist returning to her nipple, drawing it deeply into his mouth, the hard suction making her whimper, whether with pain or pleasure, he didna know, didna care.
His cock was so hard he thought he might come right here on her porch. He needed this woman naked and beneath him. He needed to bury his shaft deep within her. He needed to hear her cry his name in protest or passion, it mattered not. In one swift motion, least she draw blood again, he removed his hand from her mouth and replaced it with his lips.
He was pressing bruising kisses on her lips, when he felt her mind sigh. Her surrender was full of sadness and layered with regret. The darkness celebrated its victory. Yet from somewhere deep within himself, his tattered and nearly broken honor roared, a rusty coat of armor, charging forward as though on a steed of old.
With a shudder, Gabhran steeled himself and waged an inner battle against the darkness. I’ll not take her this way, she’s far too important to me. The darkness flexed, refusing to lie down. I want her now.
With a groan, Gabhran pulled his mouth from hers, dropped his hands to his sides, and then turned his back to her. What the bloody hell am I thinking? Christ, I might not even be here tomorrow, I can never be with her.
His breath was ragged, blood roared in his ears. Had he not felt that sadness, not been able to read her despair, he would have succumbed to the vilest of temptations. He was disgusted with himself. What kind of man takes a woman by force?
“Gabhran?” Miranda asked.
He looked back at her, at her sleepy sexy eyes, her kiss-swollen lips, the uncertainty and fear clouding her face. Her hair spilled in soft waves down her back and around her shoulders. Her bare breasts were breath-taking in the moonlight. He bent over to pick up the bag near her feet, and tasted the scent of her on his tongue.
“You have had much to drink tonight, lass. Go to bed, I will see you on the morrow.” Before she could react, he took his bag, then went down the steps, and forcing one foot in front of the other, he crossed the courtyard to his own house.
****
Miranda stood glued to the spot, stunned at Gav’s abrupt departure. Emotions roiled within her. What the hell had just happened? She felt bereft, intoxicated by his passion, confused by the two faces of the man she had been with tonight.
Her nipples were hard and tight, and so sensitive that she moaned when the fabric of her dress rubbed against them, as she redressed herself. He’d been a gentle giant at first, then that door had closed and another person…another thing…emerged. A thing not quite human and definitely not Gabhran. Yes, it was possible that she was confusing gratitude he hadn’t raped her with real feelings, but she was sure it was more than that.
There were times that it had been Gabhran’s hands and lips on her, and other times when she recognized another presence with them, something dark, not of this world.
She ached in the very core of her, between her legs, and still craved his hard shaft. She needed release from a tension she’d not known she had. She wanted him to fill her, to fulfill her fantasies, to take her burden. She was afraid of the feelings that had stirred within her tonight.
She’d long ago vowed never to be emotionally involved with another man. It wasn’t worth the cost. Yet somehow, Gabhran had nearly broken through her carefully erected barriers. She had no doubt, that despite the overwhelming sadness that had washed over her mere minutes ago, she would have taken him to her bed, if he’d only asked instead of tried to take.
She’d had too much to drink tonight, not enough to be sloppy drunk, just enough to relax her rigid rules. Enough to let down her hair, so to speak. All those years ago, she’d been in nearly an identical situation, drinking, dangerously flirting with sexual desire, hovering between should she or shouldn’t she. That time it had been she who had put a stop to it, but she’d waited a perilously long time, nearly too late to stop. She was young, a high school senior, and she just wasn’t sure enough. Bobby, her boyfriend of nearly two years had been royally pissed.
It wasn’t the first time they had flirted with going all the way, but it had been the closest they’d ever gotten. They’d actually planned for it, or at least Bobby had. She’d not told him no, so agreement was implied as far as he was concerned.
It was a sultry summer eve and they were parked on the access road that ran along the levee. Sitting in the bed of his truck, they watched the fireflies hover in the bushes while they drank beer from the cooler and spoke of their dreams. The sounds of summer were everywhere; crickets competed with the locusts, punctuated by the splash of an occasional fish jumping from the water.
It wasn’t until he began to slip her panties off that a cold slap of reality hit her in the face. She didn’t want to spend her life with him. She loved him, but in the way that high school kids loved. She felt no overwhelming sadness that their dreams would lead them to separate places. She was excited to go to college, to get on with life. He wanted nothing more than to marry her and raise babies. It was not the life she pictured for herself. Did she really want to give away her virginity to Bobby, to someone who would hold her back? To someone who had no real dreams after high school?
She stopped his hand just as it slipped between her thighs. Bobby had tried every trick in the book to get her to change her mind. He’d pleaded, begged, and called her a prick tease. And she’d agreed. She was, even though she hadn’t meant to be, not really. Then he’d told her his life would be over if she left him. His threats and name-calling had rolled off her like water on a duck. Randi was determined, she had made up her mind, saw her life through a new reality.
Feeling relieved by her decision, Randi stood on the tailgate preparing to jump down, when she was hit from behind, the way the high school star fullback could hit when he was fully pissed off. She flew from the truck bed, landing face first on the shell road. When she came to, the truck was gone and it was a long walk back to town.
She saw the fire long before she reached it, unsure what it was until she was nearly upon it. Bobby’s truck had gone off the road, careened over the top of a drainage ditch and head first into one of the giant live oaks that characterized southern Louisiana.
Randi screamed his name and tried to get close to the burning truck, trying to see if he was in there or if he’d been thrown clear. The hair on her arms singed, her lungs burned, she couldn’t see anything. Strong arms pulled her a
way from the fire and up to the road where she was placed on a stretcher and immobilized, before the ambulance whisked her away.
No one blamed her for Bobby’s death, they all thought she had been lucky to survive the accident. They thought she had been brave to try to get him out of the burning truck. They offered comforting platitudes, telling her he died on impact.
She didn’t tell them she hadn’t been in the truck. She didn’t tell them it was her fault. She didn’t tell them Bobby had done it on purpose.
Sadly, she turned and went into her apartment, alone. She wondered if Gabhran had done her any favors by walking away.
****
Sweet fucking heaven. He nearly doubled over with the pain when he’d closed the door. What was wrong with him, what had he tried to do to her? He’d lost his moral compass, was adrift on waves of desire, willing to resort to getting a lass drunk to have his way with her. He had very nearly forced himself on her. Nay, call it by its true name, he had nearly raped her.
Go find another woman, now.
“No!” This was not him, this was some debauched stranger taking him over, freeing the darkness. He would not have it. He roared with the pain, fighting it, denying its bloodlust.
He stomped upstairs determined to wash away this lust with a cold shower. He saw his gris-gris on the bathroom counter and pulled it over his head, praying it would bring release from the darkness he felt consuming him. As soon as the pouch lay against his chest, his vision blackened, the roaring in his ears reached a crescendo, and his heart pounded. He fell to his knees on the hard tile and leaned his face against the cool porcelain of the toilet, unsure if the bile in the back of his throat would stay there.
Unable to move for a very long time, he thought of Miranda, of what he’d tried to do tonight, and of what had happened to Brianna. What had possessed him to risk Miranda’s life? Because he knew that was what he had done, he would not have stopped until she was dead. Whether by his own hand or another’s, God help him, he would not have stopped.
Chapter Eight
Gabhran slipped into a pair of shorts and the gris-gris he'd removed before his shower, still feeling shaky after his internal battle. He wished he knew who’d won, and although the cold shower had helped tame the dark lust, he sensed it lurking just beyond his reach.
What was he doing here, in this strange city, this strange country? He needed the Highlands. Perhaps a discreet phone call to his attorney would tell him if his name was connected to Brianna’s murder in his own country, or if he would be able to safely return. Of course there was no telling how long he would even remain in this version of reality. Not much longer if the past was any indication. He grabbed a bottle of single malt and a glass and wandered into the courtyard, trying to glimpse the night sky, so vastly different from that of his homeland. Clouds and city lights gave nothing away.
Hooking a chaise lounge with his foot, Gabhran pulled it over next to the fountain. He lay there, drinking and brooding for a long time.
****
Liam lurked in the darkened courtyard of the hospital where Gabhran spent his days and wondered what had brought him here. He could sense strong magick from somewhere inside. Who is it? Why here? Could it have something to do with the woman Gabhran had met earlier in the day? Liam had not been able to get close enough to use his Druid senses then, not with Gabhran around. Still, the woman was the only patient Gabhran had met with outside.
Perhaps tonight, once everyone was asleep he would don his spell of reflection and walk unseen through the corridors until he found the magick. If the magick was strong enough, he would commandeer the vessel for his father’s collection. Artifact or person, it mattered not.
He’d known it was safe to return here tonight, he was not needed at the townhouse. The darkness was working on Gabhran even now. Liam was willing to wager it was stronger than Gabhran e’er felt it before.
He’d watched as MacLachlan walked the lass to his place. He’d not missed the way Gabhran’s hand stroked her back, the side of her breast, the possessive manner with which he surrounded her body. Good, Liam thought. Even if Gabhran fought off the darkness tonight, he was close to the edge, and soon there would be no turning back. Then he would be trained in the ways of the Order of Etarlam, the Druid ways. He would serve at the pleasure of Liam’s father, and eventually at the pleasure of Liam himself.
****
So that was the way of it, Marie thought. She was standing just outside the courtyard, watching the man in the shadows as he watched the windows of the clinic. She had been drawn here by the force of his power. His power was primal and vast, she sensed death about him and great passion. He woke something within her.
At first, she’d thought it was the other Druid, Gabhran, who had returned to the hospital. She knew better now. This was far more powerful than any she’d yet encountered. Gabhran’s power might someday be as strong, however, for now it was latent, hidden from him. This one knew he was powerful and had the spells of his Order. He was certainly more powerful than she was, and far more dangerous.
Marie had been near this clinic every day; there was much magick hidden here, and she felt the need to protect someone, although she had been unable to see who it was that needed her. Someone whose spirit was ephemeral, someone lost like Gav.
When she had arrived tonight, it was to find this other Druid already here. This Druid was curious about the magick inside the clinic, he was considering acquiring it for his own uses. Marie knew he had done dark things, and he was planning to do so again. Was he the dark looking for the light? Or was he the light that was being consumed by the darkness? Perhaps there were more players she had yet to encounter. Time would tell.
For now, Marie had a use for him, a need he could fill far better than the others she’d considered. It wouldn’t be easy. She smiled. His magick was strong, but this was her city. She stepped away to make a phone call, certain that her plan would work.
****
Alysone stepped out of her room, closing the door softly behind her. She was dressed in black, with her hair pulled up under a ball cap. She just wanted to get away for a few hours, to escape the constant scrutiny of the medical staff. It was humiliating to have to describe your every feeling and every bodily function to strangers. Well really, everyone around her was a stranger, but still, she was tired of feeling so exposed.
She had no cash, so tonight it would be a quick walk through the French Quarter, just to stretch her legs. Then she would return to face her dreams once again. She hoped the dream of the master didn’t visit her tonight. That had been truly disturbing, and she was positive it had been the source for her sense of unease all day.
There was no one about, and she headed for the parlor, to the French doors that led into the courtyard. Corridor after corridor, the clinic was quiet. She crept down the stairs to the ground floor near the nurses’ station and spotted the night nurse going into a small room to the side of her desk. Alysone took that opportunity to scurry across the hall and into the parlor.
Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest, now she was faced with the moment of truth. If she was caught now, she could still lie; claim she had just wanted to walk a bit. No one would believe it, since she was fully dressed, and all in black, no less. Still, they wouldn’t be able to prove anything. Once she went through that door, however, she would be in clear violation of clinic policies and the judge’s order. Then, they could return her to the state hospital in Baton Rouge. She couldn't resist, she needed to be free, if only for an hour. If the worst happened, Gabhran would just have to fix it for her. Her hand clutched the doorknob, and it twisted easily. The door opened noiselessly as Alysone slipped into the night.
****
Miranda couldn’t sleep. Closing her eyes made her head swirl, the after effects of too much whisky or too much something else? Or not enough of something else, a little voice whispered inside her. Maybe putting her feet in the cool water of the fountain would quiet her rattled nerves. She threw on
a robe and stepped into the steamy New Orleans night.
She was struggling with who, or maybe what, Gabhran was. She had always been so good at reading people that it had become second nature to her. He was the one exception, she only had brief glimpses, and they were confusing.
Some moments he seemed nothing more than what he presented to the world, a doctor, a man who mostly kept to himself, with an immense appetite for living. Minutes later she sensed a great gnawing hole, as though the real Gabhran was hidden behind a black veil. Maybe she could think of some way to describe what she felt, and then ask him about it. He owed her some explanations after tonight.
****
He heard her approach and tension gripped his body.
“Did you bring your gun, lass? You can put me out of my misery. Otherwise get the fuck away from me.”
Apparently deciding to ignore his comments, Miranda brought a chair over next to his lounge. She tightened the belt on her short, crimson silk kimono wrap as she sat and crossed her ankles demurely. She began quietly, “All my life I have been able to get a read on people, to sense when they were telling the truth or lying, to tell if they’re good or bad in the overall scheme of things. It’s a large part of what makes me a good detective. Why can’t I read you Gabhran?”
“Go away, lass. I doona want to be near you, not tonight, not ever. I owe you an apology the likes of which can never be made; you should have me arrested or shot. Please, lass, just go away.” His voice shook with the strength of some emotion.
“Do you know what I sense from you, Gabhran, shall I show you my skills? In the Hall, every time I’ve seen you, your soul is soaring with the music, following it to the highs and lows, dancing on the notes with the heart of a musician. There is no doubt that you are a good man.”
Gabhran snorted.
“Then tonight, something changed, there was a part of you that was different. No, that’s not right,” she interrupted herself impatiently. “It’s not a part of you, but something foreign inside of you, something that belongs to someone else. Tell me your story, Gabhran,” she said, placing her hand on his arm.
