by Poppy Flynn
Hah! So maybe Siarl did have more in his mind to guard against than she imagined.
But unless she gave him the option, she’d never know.
And alternatively, they might uncover some of the truth.
Chapter Eight
Still standing within the circle of Siarl’s arms, Seren closed her eyes, bowed her head, and emptied her mind.
It was an invitation.
All her mental shields were down, the ones she had strived so hard to learn only a few weeks ago, the ones she had perfected since, and her mind was an open book. The way she felt about him was now on full display along with a whole host of other secrets.
It occurred to her for a moment that it might be possible for Siarl to take advantage of the situation. To dive into her head and mine her thoughts and memories without allowing her joint access to his own. She had more faith in him than that, but if he undermined that belief and broke her trust, then at least she’d know he wasn’t the honourable, ethical sorcerer she thought he was. That alone might make it easier for her to get over him.
She knew a moment of panic when she recognised Siarl’s tentative steps inside her head. She was certain he’d know the depth of her feelings for him when this was all over, and she detested the vulnerability that knowledge imbued and the amount of power it gave him over her. Seren took what solace she could in the knowledge that if he took advantage of that gift, then it would absolutely, undoubtedly change the way she felt. Because that, too, would prove he wasn’t the man she thought he was.
She didn’t really know what she was doing. They hadn’t stopped to discuss or work out what they wanted to achieve from this, and Seren was just hoping that Siarl, with his eons of knowledge, had a better idea of how to go about it than she did.
She was kinda glad that he hadn’t stopped to question her intentions. That would have given her too much time to second guess herself and get cold feet.
She wondered if it was purely fanciful to imagine that she could feel him tiptoeing inside her mind, opening doors and rummaging around in her hidden, secret places.
He was like a presence inside her head and it was unbelievably intimate.
And then it happened. He found the neural pathway which led to the memories of last night. Her determination to follow all the ancient customs and traditions of Imbolc. The making of the cross and the Brideog. The lighting of the candles and the altar. Leaving the gown for Brigid to bless and the final raking of the ashes in the fire, which she just now realised she hadn’t even checked.
Finally, there she was, going through her bedtime routine. Dressing in the comfortable, old t-shirt that she normally slept in and climbing into bed. It was like a vindication. But what came next?
Seren swallowed and submitted to the fine trembling which had overtaken her limbs. Siarl held her tight, his forehead pressed against hers, and she realised she had been so focused on her own memories that she hadn’t even recognised that she, too, was inside his mind.
She made a couple of unsuccessful attempts to inhabit his memories, but this was nothing like she’d expected it to be. There were no handy doors or compartments to open. There were no signs to show her the way or tell her where a particular direction might lead. Just a string of neural pathways and synapses which simply looked like a jumble of spaghetti. How had Siarl located hers so easily?
But then it was as if he were right there with her, holding her hand; guiding the way. She tentatively explored an evening and trusted that he had led her to the right one.
Seren looked around. She recognised the living area of his own suite of rooms from her visits there in the past, so at least she was in the right place.
He was working on his laptop and she automatically checked the time and date that he was logged on. St. Brigid’s Eve, shortly before midnight.
In her own memories, she was asleep. Alone. In her little turret room. Time passed. The witching hour came and went, and Siarl executed his own evening routine and went to bed.
For a while there was nothing. Just a heavy blanket of silence and darkness. Seren was just thinking that the process had stalled when suddenly there was a blinding flash of light. Somewhere in the background, Seren was still in her little turret room, asleep, and by the same token, Siarl’s evocation mirrored her own.
They each watched as the occupants of two different beds became restless. Tossing and turning, kicking at the covers and moaning in their sleep like they were each viewing some out-of-body experience.
But wait, there was someone else here. Something incorporeal, just a wisp of white and movement. It flitted around Seren’s room, just a visage of something that wasn’t quite there, and yet both of them could clearly see it.
Then… it was as if something synchronised between the two sets of memories, and suddenly there was only one.
But instead of seeing everything from a distance, like they’d done before, they were reliving it.
Siarl gasped as he and Seren were catapulted back into the heart of everything that had transpired between them the previous night. He had realised immediately, the trust she was placing in him when she offered the memory exchange. He’d been tentative at first, he’d already said he believed her, and he did, didn’t he?
Yes.
He wasn’t such an arse that he needed categorical proof from her, willing to take her word at face value, since he’d never known her to lie.
Well, not outright to a direct question, anyway.
But there was an opportunity here to find out more. Not about the secrets that he could feel her shuddering over him knowing; he didn’t want to invade her privacy. But between them they might find something that was missed in the heat of the moment. Something which might shine the light of comprehension on whatever in hellfire was going on.
Because it was. not. normal.
In some distant corner of his consciousness, he could feel Seren trembling in his arms in the here and now, but for all intents and purposes they seemed to be reliving what had hitherto been an almost shrouded experience.
Only this time it was in high-definition technicolour, and they were both present and participating like it was happening at this very moment. In fact, it was hard to believe it wasn’t.
Chapter Nine
His fingers ached to feel her and finally settled on her pale, creamy skin. He teased around her straining nipple, circling the areola but never touching the peak. Her breath fractured and her back arched, her breasts thrusting out and silently begging for his touch.
He moulded her curves, learning her shape with his hands, then his mouth. Nibbling at her throat, the curve of her shoulder and across her collarbone. He smiled in deep satisfaction as he watched a trail of goosebumps follow the sensual assault.
“Just a little lower,” she begged and Siarl chuckled, clamping her hips in his hands to hold her still as she writhed and arched, trying to goad him into action.
She’d learn. He planned to take his time and enjoy every moment. And he’d make sure she did, too.
“Patience, there’s no need to rush. It will be worth the wait.”
Of course, Seren never was one to lay back and submit. Instead, her fingers went on an exploration of their own.
Siarl sucked in a breath as she drew her blunt fingernails across his pecs and down his abs, then lower. Of course, she wasn’t above a little teasing and her clever fingers seemed to be everywhere, raking, massaging, except where he wanted them most.
“You little minx,” Siarl gasped as Seren licked and nibbled across his chest, her hair adding another sensual layer of sensation as it tracked softly in the wake of her mouth. Praise the oracle, he wanted to know the feel of that mouth on his aching cock!
Seren laughed. “Surely what’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” she taunted, grazing over the small brown discs of his nipples. Who knew they could be so sensitive? Had any woman before ever taken the time to learn his body like this and feed his desire? Siarl arched into her touch and
rolled to his back.
Seren wasted no time climbing over and straddling him, and Siarl filled his hands with her fragrant mass of curls and fisted it as she nipped and sucked at his skin.
He thought he might go off like a horny damn teenager when she settled her hot, silken folds against the straining ridge of his shaft. In delicious desperation, he found himself grabbing her by the hips and holding her in place as he ground his pelvis against her swollen clitoris, skin against skin. Scorching against wet.
She swept back like a glorious siren, rubbing against his throbbing member, her labia clinging to the bulge of his erection. All he wanted was to feel her slick heat surrounding him; to fill her to the brim.
Except… there was a reason this shouldn’t happen. Wasn’t there?
He held her hips in a rigid hold, calling on every bit of control he possessed while he tried to remember.
And all the while, she writhed on top of him like a woman possessed.
Possessed… there was a consideration there. Something important.
But he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.
His will was weak, his good intentions stretched beyond their boundaries. His moral compass skewed. And she was so close. He could feel the heat of her scorching against his arousal. He could smell her desire and her own sensual desperation.
She moved atop him mindlessly, like nothing was more important than this moment.
This deed.
And the sheer wildness - the promise of it all - stirred his inner beast.
Why was he hesitating?
His hands moved, coming up to cup her breasts through the gauzy, white gown that was almost no barrier at all.
Wait, had she been wearing this before?
It didn’t matter.
Seren cried out and threw her head back as he palmed the heavy weight of her breasts and thumbed the fabric across the tips of her nipples.
“Oh, sweet Saint Brigid, please…” she begged, and Siarl was lost.
He pinched her pouting tips between his finger and thumb, pulling and twisting. He felt her liquid heat slicking his cock as she shifted against his hard, throbbing flesh. She was so wet he could probably just lift her hips and slide right in.
In fact… yes.
Seren lifted onto her knees and Siarl’s cock bobbed up, pointing unerringly towards her like he knew the way and that way was home. He felt the tip of his rock-hard erection line up with her slit and in that moment nothing mattered more than the carnal coupling that ran like wildfire through his veins, obliterating all conscious thought or the consequence of repercussions.
All that existed was burning lust and greedy hunger and the uncontrollable need to satiate the animal instincts that overwhelmed his hungering body.
He was right there, as hard and ready as she was slick and eager.
Seren dropped herself down onto his waiting erection, crying out as she impaled herself on his shaft.
There was a blinding light and a moment of clarity. “Seren!” he shouted, his eyes widening in shock. He blinked as if he’d seen her for the first time. What was going on? How did she get in here? Why did he think there was something wrong with this entire scenario?
Siarl dropped his hands from her breasts and caught her by the waist as he dragged in a ragged breath. Seren shook her head and looked around as if she too was only just taking everything in. A frown settled on her flushed face and Siarl inhaled deeply as he scrambled to get ahold of himself and make sense of what was happening.
Except the movement tilted his pelvis further into her soft heat and a sexy, throaty moan was torn from Seren’s lips. She tightened her inner muscles around his throbbing length, and that was all it took for him to forget himself again.
That brief moment of clarity snapped and Siarl pumped his hips upwards, filling her at the same time as she ground herself against him, then she lifted and plunged again. And again.
Blind, carnal urges took over and Siarl rolled her underneath him, ploughing into her forcefully with none of his usual sensitivity and composure. He was like a savage brute, rutting, pounding into her hot, wet sheath over and over.
And she felt like heaven and hell all rolled into one exquisite package.
He watched her breasts bounce through heavy-lidded eyes with each jarring lunge. Listened to her litany of nonsense words, the vows and the curses and the choppy little breaths she struggled to suck in before he fucked them out of her again.
Somewhere in the vaguely conscious part of his brain, he wondered what he had become in this moment.
What had come over him and turned him into such a base and unrestrained brute, so unlike himself?
There was more here than met the eye. Things that needed careful consideration. But he couldn’t focus on what they were when the feel of Seren’s body enveloped him just as if she was wrapped around him for real.
Because this was. not. real!
But in the name of everything magical, it felt real. And yet he knew it was just a memory.
He tried to steel his conscious mind against the climax he knew was coming because the realism of it all made his mind believe that he really was experiencing the way her contracting inner muscles tightened around his shaft as extreme pleasure hurled them both over the edge. A veil of gauzy white clouded his vision - that odd sensation that everything was not quite as it seemed again.
His concentration was pulled from both his thoughts and the memories as Seren quaked in his arms and he realised she wasn’t as adept as he was at controlling her environment. Another important point he needed to remember when they dissected all of this.
The maelstrom of whirling emotions took her. Took them both and all Siarl could do was hold on to her as they were whisked into a cyclonic fury that lifted them physically off the ground.
Seren clung to him, her head thrown back and her chest heaving as a very real orgasm sucked her into its grip.
And damn, but she was incredible to watch.
Siarl felt the heavy weight of desire spread through his limbs, but this time it had nothing to do with the realistic experience they had been reliving and everything to do with the incredible, sensual witch in front of him.
She was magnificent in her ecstasy.
He ought to be concerned with how much he was giving away of his own innermost secrets with the mind-meld, but right now, he didn’t think she was aware of anything but the throes of the powerful climax that was wracking her body.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you baby,” Siarl crooned in her ear while he held her tight and stroked her hair.
They’d levitated completely off the floor and the air seemed to swirl around them as if it too was caught up in the ravaging emotions, but he didn’t think Seren was aware of that.
As the ebullience eased, the artificial environment around them subsided.
Seren sucked in noisy breaths while she tried to regain her equilibrium, and in the next instant the pair of them were dumped back down on her bed.
Although he tried to manoeuvre himself in a different direction, Siarl collapsed on top of her, glorying in the feel of her curvaceous body trapped beneath him, with an uncanny feeling of déjà vu.
Seren was completely, utterly spent.
He rolled to his side, not wanting to crush her with his weight, and tried to make sense of everything that had transpired, though he wasn’t convinced that there was any.
Sleep clawed at him and he fought against it. No! Not again. He needed his wits about him to work this out.
Something else caught his eye, but he was no longer certain whether it was here or in the past. He squinted and tried to focus. Was someone there? A silent swathe of white moved across the line of his sight.
A visage.
Siarl blinked, and it was gone. Had he imagined it? Was it real or was it a figment of his memories?
His eyes drooped.
His head nodded.
Still, he clung tenaciously to the half-formed, ephemeral thoughts before slee
p claimed him, determined to hold on to the abstract impressions and theories that were forming in his mind.
This was the phenomenon that needed further investigation.
Chapter Ten
When Siarl woke up an hour later, it felt kind of like Groundhog Day.
Of course, being Imbolc, February 2nd, or Candlemas as mortals referred to it, technically it was Groundhog Day.
Except this time Siarl was not in his own cold bed and when he reached across, instinctively, rather than deliberately, his fingers encountered a handful of warm, soft witch.
Seren stirred and snuggled up to him, flinging an arm and a leg across his torso and using his shoulder as a pillow. But she didn’t wake.
He knew he shouldn’t allow this to continue, no matter how innocent. It was neither right nor proper, but she looked so comfortable and settled that he didn’t have the heart to move her.
Instead, he curled his arm around her back and held her close, surprised at just how right she felt in his arms.
His mind wandered back over the replay of their shared experiences.
Had there been any actual revelations? Not really.
And that was frustrating. They hadn’t even found their way past the culmination of what had been an undeniably erotic shared experience, whether it was real or imagined he still wasn’t certain.
It felt real, but Seren was right in that there was no evidence to show that she had come to him deliberately, and that was a puzzle.
Would it be wrong to look inside her mind while she was sleeping? He supposed it would, though technically she had already given permission and they’d only inadvertently brought things to a halt when the intensity of the mind-meld brought them to exhaustion.
