Taken By the Vicious Highlander (Taken by Highland Devils #5)

Chapter 20

20

“ T he infuriating man had the nerve to smirk at me as if he’d planned for there to be only one room left,” Lilith ranted.

She was finally venting to Ariah about the nights that she and Damon had spent at the inn in Branloch.

Ariah chuckled, but Lilith was too wrapped up in her tirade to notice that her friend swayed slightly on her feet. It wasn’t until Ariah pressed a hand to her temple, wincing, that Lilith finally stopped pacing and watched her as she continued.

“I swear, he finds joy in seein’ me frustrated. He thinks he’s charming, aye, but can ye believe that he was thrilled about it?”

Ariah hummed noncommittally, but Lilith had caught her.

“Are ye sure ye are well?” she pried.

Ariah sighed and waved her off. “Ach! I’m well! Just tired, really. Tell me more about that night, Lil!”

“His eyes…” Lilith started before her memory carried her further away. “His eyes are like twin blades of ice, cuttin’ through me patience every time he looks at me. And dinnae get me started on the fact that he just stands there, all smug and brooding, like some charming, arrogant Highland warrior carved out of bloody stone all the time?—”

The savory scent of dinner wafted from the kitchens and into the Great Hall. Lilith inhaled the lovely aromas before her eyes snapped to Ariah’s when she heard her let out a curdling burp, as if she were about to lose her lunch.

“What on earth, Ari!” She jumped into action, mentally smacking herself for getting lost in thoughts of Damon. The thought of how he made her feel when he was between her thighs.

“Stop fashin’!” Ariah swatted at her hands and stepped away from her, plucking another book off the shelf. “So, things are goin’ well between ye and the Laird, then? He’s treatin’ ye well?” she asked, her brow slightly glistening.

Her voice had been light but tinged with something Lilith couldn’t quite place.

Christ! I did it again. Focus!

Lilith felt warmth spread through her chest at the thought of Damon. “Aye, I told ye before, with him it’s different. He’s nae cruel. I’m nae sure wherever that thought was even born from, Ar. He’s…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “He listens to me— truly listens. And he includes me…”

Ariah was nodding, but her shoulders started to droop. Her usually bright eyes dimmed before her knees gave out, throwing her off kilter. She waved her arms wildly, catching herself on the arm of a chair.

“Ariah! Smith! Ar—” Lilith called out loudly.

“I’m fine , Lil. I’m just exhausted,” Ariah admitted with a weak smile. “I forgot to break me fast.”

Lilith frowned, eying Smith, who had entered the hall from behind a long tapestry. “It’s almost dinner, Ar. Ye havenae eaten all day?” she stated more than asked, worry etched on her forehead. “Go rest. I’ll bring ye somethin’ from the kitchens.”

Smith nodded firmly and silently urged Ariah out of the hall and up to her room. Ariah protested weakly, but Lilith waved her off and made her way to the kitchens.

So bizarre…

The scent of roast meats and stewed vegetables tickled her senses again, and she was struck with an idea that excited her instantly.

I’ll take over Night Six and prepare a meal for us! For him!

It would have been normal for Ariah to help Lilith prepare the dinner and set the small, cozy chamber with her, but this time Lilith was doing it alone. Her friend was still resting in her room.

The chamber didn’t have much to it. Just the table and chairs, but the hearth was so ornate. Seemed out of place to have something so lovely tucked away like that. Sharing this room with Damon would peel back another layer of her exterior. Sharing this room with him would be sharing a glimpse into one of her favorite spots in the entire keep.

This was her mother’s space.

Not even Magnus knew where it was. Willow and Lilith used to hide in there for hours on end whenever he was in one of his rages, and Ariah would sneak them snacks so they wouldn’t starve.

Lilith called out Damon’s name, to practice beckoning him. The sound of his name on her lips made her pause. It felt… right.

Her stomach fluttered. She liked saying his name. More than that, she liked him .

The realization made her hands tremble slightly.

Nothin’ wrong with likin’ me own husband. Still, I willnae give him an heir. Nay matter how… how…

“Me Lady!” A kitchen boy ran up to her, breathless. “The Laird is at the forge with Ryder. Did ye wish for me to fetch him after I found him?”

Lilith smiled at the literal interpretation of her orders. “Nay, I’ll go meself, lad. Thank ye.”

She left the warmth of the castle and made her way toward the forge. The sound of hammering rang through the cool evening air, the glow of molten metal casting long shadows over the yard. She stopped just outside, watching the men work. It wasn’t just Ryder and Damon, but also Hunter and Fionn Parrish.

Damon was stripped down to his waist, his muscles flexing beneath the flickering light—a sight that made her breath hitch. The way he moved—fluid, precise, powerful—held her in a trance.

Ryder caught sight of her first and smirked before quietly bringing along Hunter and Fionn, leaving her alone with Damon.

Lilith stepped forward, and Damon glanced up, wiping sweat from his brow. His gaze raked over her in an assessing manner, then softened.

“Come to drag me away, have ye?”

She tilted her head playfully. “If I must. I have a surprise for ye.”

His eyes darkened slightly at the teasing lilt in her voice, and he set aside his tools. “A surprise, eh?” He stepped closer, heat radiating from him even in the cool air. “Ye have me interest piqued, wife.”

Lilith opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, he moved. One moment she was standing before him, and the next he had her pressed against one of the wooden support beams. His calloused fingers traced a path down her arm, his breath warm against her temple.

“Ye came all this way just to fetch me?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Her pulse thundered. “I… I…” she trailed off as his hand found her waist, his fingers splaying over the dark fabric of her dress. A delicious heat coiled in her belly.

As if smelling her arousal, his mouth found hers greedily.

She parted her lips slightly, begging for air and granting him permission. His kiss grew more heated, stealing her sanity. When he pulled back, she was trembling with desire.

His thumb brushed over her swollen lips, pressing beyond their seal and between her teeth. “Tell me to stop now, lass.”

She didn’t.

Instead, she reached for him, emboldened by the way his body tensed up at her touch. She let her hand wander, tracing the ridges of his exposed abdomen, the deadly strength beneath his skin. He inhaled sharply, and that sound alone sent a shiver down her spine.

With a low groan, he spun them, pressing her back against the beam as he dipped his head to her throat and pulled her skirts up to her hips. His other hand slid behind her head, gripping the hair at the nape of her neck wildly. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer.

The heel of his hand pressed against her hot, slick arousal, and the moan she let out was almost guttural. It was primal, the need she had for him to set her free. Push her over the edge with each frantic circling of the soft pads of his fingers. One and then two fingers slid inside her, pulsing in a punishing rhythm, and she felt like she would fall off the edge of the world if he stopped.

A scream built in the depth of her throat until, finally, she found her release. Her body convulsed at the movements of his expert hand like a puppet.

What’s me name?

He smirked knowingly. “Tell me to stop, lass.”

“Nay. I…”

Words failed her again, and his hand teased her this time, slowly. He was waiting for what she would say… or do.

What do I do? What can I do?

She pressed her hips against his hard length, and the thought of all of him inside her made her core pulse with desire. Especially since his fingers alone had just sent her to the moon.

“I—” she managed, but this time her hand slid down his torso and caressed his long girth.

He watched her hungrily. Patiently.

“I want…” she said, this time her hazel eyes locking onto his. “I want to pleasure ye, husband.”

Damon twisted his neck, cracking the joints with untapped desire. At her words, he stopped pumping his fingers in and out of her. His entire body tensed up with surprise.

“Is that yer surprise?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Nay, there’s more to come, but now…” She slid her hand up and down his length. “Now is somethin’ different.”

His eyes grew heavy-lidded, his body rocking back and forth to her steady rhythm until she finally slipped her hand beneath his waistband and gripped him.

He’s soft like fine silk yet rock-hard like the hilt of a dagger. How ? —

Damon groaned, his length pulsing in her grip as he rocked into her hand. Lilith recognized the rhythm that sent her over the edge and started matching his body’s movements. The change made him tense up further.

The hand that had been gripping her hair had only tightened, and she felt a deliciously painful sting in her scalp. The other hand had dropped her skirts and gripped her waist with unyielding force. All she wanted was more.

Another loud, guttural groan tore out of Damon’s throat until, finally, he fell over the edge. His body twitched with each heavy breath he took to steady himself, and his head fell and rested on Lilith’s chest, pressing into her with deep need.

“If we dinnae stop now, I willnae be able to…” he managed to say through impossibly gritted teeth.

Lilith pulled her hand out of his pants, and he grabbed it quickly and cleaned off the shiny fluid that had collected in her palm with a nearby rag. “Thank ye.”

“Ye daenae want any of this to stain yer skirts,” Damon said, smirking, tossing the rag into the fires of the forge behind him.

“And… daenae ye have to do the same for, um…?” the embarrassment of discussing something she had no words for suddenly stole her voice.

Understandin, Damon held up his own fingers, puckering from her wet arousal, “This?”

“Aye,” Lilith said sharply, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Nay, nae this. This is life’s nectar,” Damon’s eyes darkened only slightly before he licked each finger clean.

Both horrified and curious, she blurted out the first question that came to mind, “Does it… Do ye think I taste good?”

Recalling the salty, musky, floral smell on his breath on their fourth night together, her thighs clenched with anticipation, the memory of his stubble scraping between them flashing across her mind. The way he had held her open, pinned beneath him, his mouth devouring her until she was nothing but gasps and trembling limbs—it left her aching. She instantly wished for more of him in this moment.

As if watching the memory himself, his features shifted, his stormy gaze darkening. He exhaled slowly, his tongue darting out as if he could still taste her on his lips.

“Ye taste like the sweetest honey,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “It’s… addicting. Intoxicating.”

Lilith shivered, her breath catching as he spread his hand on her torso, his hand twisting so fingers trailing downward, slowly and deliberately.

“Do ye ken what it does to me?” he continued, his palm sliding higher, spreading heat in its wake. “The way ye melt on me tongue? How it drives me mad knowing I could live off ye, that I could spend every night between yer thighs and never tire of it?”

She swallowed, her pulse hammering. “Aye?” she breathed, her voice unsteady.

His lips curled into a smirk, his fingers precariously close to her throbbing core, teasing. Watching her. Measuring her reaction.

“Aye,” he murmured, dipping his head toward her ear. “And now I ken… ye crave it just as much as I do.”

Lilith exhaled sharply, heat pooling low in her belly, because God above, he was right .

And when his lips brushed over hers, still speaking against her mouth, she knew she was already undone.

“Have ye done this before?” she asked, watching him as he cleaned off the rest of the so-called ‘nectar’ before answering.

“Nothin’ like this, lass.”

Before Lilith could ask another question, Damon ran his fingers through her hair, putting it back in place and patting the dust off her dress. He then stepped back and offered her his hand.

“Come. Show me this surprise before I forget every bit of strength I have.”

Lilith giggled shyly and grabbed his hand. The hand.

That hand. Christ above, help me.

The short walk back to the castle was cold, but Lilith was still burning inside. She felt like an entirely new woman, exactly how she felt after their last encounter. She shoved away her earlier hesitation and focused on the night ahead of them.

Night Six.

Tonight was her night. Whatever he might have had planned for their sixth night, she hadn’t even considered. She wanted to do this for him. The need to share this with him felt right.

However, the moment they stepped inside the private chamber, Lilith felt her earlier confidence waver. Damon, ever observant, smirked at her hesitation.

“Suddenly shy?” he teased, settling into his chair as she moved to serve the meal.

She rolled her eyes, but her face burned. “I just… I wanted to do something nice for ye.”

His smirk softened into something warmer. “And I appreciate it, truly.” He looked around curiously. “I dinnae think I’ve ever been in this room before.”

“Ye wouldnae have.”

“Why is that?”

“Only four people alive ken about this place,” Lilith said carefully.

“Alive?” Damon echoed, looking around thoughtfully. “Alive…”

The food was already on the table, steaming delightfully, but the wine was brought in by Smith. Lilith smiled at Damon’s obvious confusion, though he asked no questions.

They ate in companionable silence at first, but Lilith found herself stealing glances at him. He looked… content. Relaxed but thoughtful. And the realization made something in her chest tighten.

“So,” she began, and he raised an eyebrow with interest. “This was me maither’s private study.”

Damon swallowed the bite of food in his mouth and nodded silently, allowing her to continue.

“As I mentioned before, only four people alive kenned about this place.”

“Smith, ye, and I assume Willow…” Damon trailed off.

“And Ariah.”

“Ah, Ariah, of course. Nae Ryder? Or yer braither?”

“Nay. Willow and I used to hide here whenever Magnus tore through the keep in rage, and Ariah and Smith would sneak us food so we didnae starve.” Lilith recounted the memory. The thought of her sister warmed her chest.

Her eyes met Damon’s, and he looked at her with understanding, offering her his hand across the table. She took it gratefully and basked in the feel of his rough hand against hers.

“Thank ye for sharin’ this space with me. I’m honored that ye feel I am worthy of kennin’ about it.”

Lilith smiled a genuinely joyful smile, and the weight of what she was feeling became undeniable.

I love him.

The thought sent a thrill of panic and exhilaration through her.

Can I truly overcome me fears? Can I face the possibility of children, of the unknown, if he is by me side? Can I share that with him?

She swallowed, gathering her courage. “Damon, I?—”

A sharp breath caught in her throat. The room spun, her vision darkening at the edges. Confusion struck her.

I’m nae panickin’ or overwhelmed… What’s happenin’?

Her hands clamped down on the edges of the table as her entire body grew impossibly tight, and she felt trapped in her own skin.

Damon’s chair scraped across the floor as he shot to his feet. “Lass?”

“Damon! Help me!” she tried to say.

She tried to scream with every last ounce of effort, but nothing came out. Her hands couldn’t reach for him. She was falling. Fading.

“Lilith?”

She tried to respond, but her limbs felt heavy. Her head swam.

The last thing she heard before the darkness took her was Damon’s voice, sharp with fear, calling out her name.