Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

A va bolted herself in her room and walked around it for a time as she tried to calm herself. Although the laird already knew how much she was attracted to him, she didn’t have to parade it in his face. The sympathetic look Darro had given her just before she’d left them still made her cringe, too. Finally, she sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace and watched the dying flames until she relaxed and dozed off.

In the dream that came to her Ava stood surrounded by tall bales of hay, so many that they formed high walls. They also wouldn’t move, and when they began catching on fire she crouched down, covering her head with her arms.

“Dinnae fear me, my lady raven.”

The sound of Tasgall’s voice made her stand and cry out his name, and then the walls of hay fell away and left her standing in a cool darkness with the laird, who had removed his tunic. Seeing all that beautiful smooth bare chest made her swallow hard.

“I’m not a-scared of you.” She sounded like the ignorant girl who still lived in the trailer park, and not for the first time she wished she’d come from anywhere else. “I sure don’t like fire, though.”

Tasgall walked up to her, lifting her off her feet and swinging her into his arms as he carried her into a forest that looked as if it had been painted with watercolors. There he lay her down on a bed of soft, sun-warmed moss, and then stood again and watched her. Since Ava knew it was a dream, and she could do anything she wanted, she began unbuttoning her blouse.

“What do you now, woman?” the laird asked, his voice going so deep it rumbled from his bare chest.

Should she tell him the truth? He’d never really know.

“You try not to ogle me, but I see how you steal glances.” She opened her blouse and unclipped her bra. “You want to know what I look like under my clothes. I want to show you, too.” She exposed her breasts to show him how full and curvy they were, and his hot gaze made her pink nipples tighten painfully. She’d had wet dreams in the past, but nothing like this. Then she recalled something Tasgall had told her.

An effect of the spell trap. When we sleep, it creates for us fancies of what we most desire.

“Even here you torment me. Come to my chambers. I’ve a bed covered in fine silk. I wish to see your lovely skin and silken black locks against it.” He reached behind his hips and tugged at the laces of his pants, and then slid them down to expose his long, erect cock. “I’ve much I wish do with you there. Only you.”

Ava wondered how a dream could be so detailed and saturate her senses so completely. “You might hurt me.”

“Never,” he promised her. “We’d take our time, wouldnae we? For I’d never force myself in you. I’d but use this to give you all the pleasure you desire.”

Ava rolled over and braced herself as she lifted her hips. “Come here and show me.”

Tasgall loomed over her, his hands trembling slightly as he tugged her pants down over her buttocks. For a moment she closed her eyes, aware that he could see all of her, and then gasped out loud as he pressed his cock up against the wet folds of her sex. His shaft seemed so hot it nearly burned into her.

“Here I’d come into you,” he told her, almost whispering the words against her ear as he rubbed his erection slowly against her wetness. “Deep and hard, or slow and soft. You’d command me, my lady.”

“Then show me. Come inside me,” she said, the words rushing from her along with the breath she’d been holding.

“No’ yet.” Tasgall kissed her shoulder and covered her breasts with his big hands. Slowly, as if it was all he wanted to do, he kneaded her mounds. “Gods but I adore your chebs.”

“They sure like you, too.” Why wouldn’t he give her what she needed right now? “How much longer are you going to make me wait?”

“Patience.” he said, the words rasping as he watched her face, and reached down to stroke her pussy with his free hand. “If we fack, my lady raven, we shall only do so in the flesh.”

Ava arched up as he bent his head and clamped his mouth over one breast, licking and sucking at it as his fingers toyed with her sex. He penetrated her with two fingers and used his thumb to rub her clit with the same rhythm he used to stroke her tongue with his. All the sensations this onslaught created made her whimper, and then he shifted up, pressing his cockhead to her lips just as she began to orgasm…

She opened her eyes to see the flames had died out in the fireplace and groaned. From the darkness outside the window slit she had been asleep for hours. Her face blazed with heat, and her breasts had pebbled so tightly she thought her nipples had turned to stone. Between her thighs so much wetness had collected that no doubt she had come while she’d been dreaming. Was the laird sleeping somewhere right now, dreaming of doing such things to her? Could she find him and wrap her lips around him while he slept, so he would come in her mouth in his dreams?

Happy Trails-er Slut, go on home and blow your Daddy.

Ava staggered to her feet and fed some wood to the hearth before she went to the wash stand, where she splashed her hot face with cold water. Remembering that taunt from high school wasn’t the problem. She had to stop torturing herself. Yes, she had a strong attraction to the laird, but she had no time or space in her life for him. Her job was waiting for her on the other side, a serious job that did a lot of good and was her whole life. She didn’t need this man or his outlandish drama to mess that up for her.

Not everyone is going to die on you, Legs.

“My folks did. You did.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, and then heard something slide inside the wardrobe.

A fter checking through a gap in the panels to assure Ava Travars had gone to bed, Alec stepped out of the wardrobe and soundlessly moved to the side of the bed. The long mound the outsider female’s body made under the coverlet reminded him of her size and what Darro had said about her being a stave fighter in her world. He’d been right in reckoning the need to restrain her before she came fully awake, and took the leather strips from his belt as he climbed over and straddled her.

A dagger appeared under his chin a second after he realized he was sitting atop a mound of fabric, and the woman he needed to interrogate knelt on the bed behind him.

“Now why would you sneak in here in the middle of the night?” Ava pushed him down, rolled him over and perched on top of him. “Thinking of hog-tying me so I can’t fight you off?”

Alec hated that his body responded to her question as if she’d offered herself to him.

She waited for him to say something in response, and when he didn’t she parked the sharp edge of her blade under his nostrils.

“You’ve got a right beautiful nose,” she said. “Best I’ve ever seen on a man. So why would you come on in here and attack an armed law officer? Do you want to look like a real pretty jack-o-lantern for the rest of forever?”

He looked up at her and understood why Tasgall had been so tempted by this long, lovely creature. The weight of her added to his arousal, making his blood run hotter. Unlike his body he wanted nothing to do with her; he wanted her gone so he would not be torn between his muddled head and his blind, stupit cock.

“I’m Alec, war master of the clan. I came so I might question you.” As she pressed the blade in just enough to draw blood, he hissed in a breath, and revised his answer. “I wished torture you, wench, so you’d confess you’re Dark Fae.”

“Torture me, like it was nothing. Maybe you’re Dark Fae.” She frowned as if she’d just realized something. “Why on earth would you suspect that I’m one of them?”

“’Twould explain how you’ve managed to enchant the laird with such ease and speed. Dark Fae females, they’re said to be the most seductive of otherworldly women.” He considered disarming her, but if he accidentally harmed her Tasgall would beat him senseless. “’Tis my duty, ensuring my lord’s safety. I dinnae ken you, nor trust your words.”

“Course you don’t. You didn’t bother to meet or talk to me. You just went straight to breaking and entering and torturing.” Ava gave him an exasperated look before she took away the blade and climbed off the bed.

Alec sat up to watch her pour water from a pitcher into two mugs. “Admit to your true nature and intentions, woman, and I shall leave. I dinnae desire drink with you.”

“Then don’t drink. You barged in here to get answers, so get your butt over here and we’ll talk.” She sat down in one of the chairs by the hearth and sipped some of the water. “Let’s go, boy, I ain’t got all night.”

Alec eyed the door before he stalked over and sat across from her. “I’m no’ a lad.”

“Funny, you sure act like one.” She set her mug aside and gazed directly at him. “Let’s get some things straight from the get-go. My name is Ava Travars, not wench or woman . I’m human—mortal, you call it—and I came here same as everyone else from the outside. I’m also stuck here, just like all you all are. My only intentions are to find a killer and get the hell out of here.”

“Then why do you hang on the laird all the day?” he countered.

“I like Tasgall, and he likes me. We’re working together presently. That’s what folks do when they don’t try to torture each other.” Ava regarded him for a moment. “All right, I get why you don’t like that, but you can stop fussing over me, War Master. I can’t stay here and be his girl. My work is waiting on me. Soon as I find Marianne James, and a way out of this trap, I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back. I’d like to help you all do the same, but if I can’t or all you all won’t, I’m still going.”

For the first time since meeting the newcomer Alec wondered if his assumptions about her were wrong. She had the same moonlit night coloring as he possessed; looking at her brought back blurry memories of his mortal màthair, Ebrel of Stranraer. Unlike that long-dead lady, Ava had vividly colored dark green eyes, however, and the sort of boldly exquisite features that suggested at least some royal Fae blood ran through her veins. Indeed, she reminded him a little of Rory’s unearthly good looks.

They could not share a bloodline, surely.

Ebrel had been born out of wedlock, and abandoned by her own màthair the day after she was born. Later his sire came, made her belly swell, and then abandoned her as well, leaving her to die a miserable death from the red plague when Alec was but a wee lad. There, that might be the cause: Ava could be ignorant of her heritage; Alec would have learned nothing of his own if his grandfather hadn’t gotten so minced one night he’d told him all.

“Do you ken both your parents, and from whence they came?” he asked.

“Wish I didn’t, but yes. They were from the wrong side of town and met while working at a meat packing factory.” She tilted her head. “Wasn’t anyone else involved in making me, if that’s what you suspect. My dad was tall and had the same black hair, and I got my chin, eyes and feet from my mama. I lived with them until I was eighteen and left for school.”

Alec saw sadness in her eyes, and almost felt sorry for her. “Did a stranger ever take you from them? Mayhap to tell you of another family.”

“Wasn’t no other family, War Master. Child welfare sent social workers a few times to the trailer park, but my folks taught me to say I’d got hurt from playground fights.” Her lips curled slightly. “I should have told them my parents liked to beat on me when they were mad, drunk, or for any old excuse. Maybe they would have taken me away. Still, they say foster care’s worse.” She met his gaze. “Now why do you look sorry for me? I survived it fine.”

For a moment Alec returned to his own memories of sleeping in the barn beside one of the old cows for warmth, and how his own cuts and bruises had often throbbed all night while his empty belly twisted. Was that her game, now, playing to his sympathies? Tasgall had likely told her about Alec’s dreary life before he’d come to the clan.

“You want me to show you pity?” he asked gruffly. “For others, they’ve suffered the same. Aye, and worse, and never speak a word.”

Ava studied him. “We’re too ashamed to tell anyone the truth. Laws, I used to claim I got into fights with my brother when other kids asked me why I was so beat up. I never had a brother or sister. What did you say?”

“I’m no’ the same as you.” Unable to bear thinking about Eric, he stood. “I’ll leave you in peace, Agent Travars.”

She followed him to the door but put a hand on it to stop him from opening it. “Is there any sure fire way I can prove I’m not any sort of Fae to you? One you’ll believe.”

Would she be that foolish as to try? Alec decided to let her. “Follow me.”

He escorted her from her chamber to the armory, where Rory looked up from his worktable and frowned as they entered.

“Give me a piece of that old yett ,” Alec told him as he pulled on a pair of gloves. Rory did the same before retrieving the small, badly rusted section of the grate, which Alec then offered to Ava.

“I don’t get any gloves?” Before he could reply she took it from him and examined it. “This thing is too rusted out to reuse, Mr. Armorer. Might as well toss it in the next melting pot.”

Rory made a low sound of agreement before he went back to his table.

Alec snatched the yett from her and tossed it back on the scrap heap before seizing her hands. Although flakes of rust still clung to her skin, no burns appeared.

“You’ve no Fae blood,” he told her, oddly shaken as he took out his kerchief and reached to wipe the rust from her hands.

“Thanks, but I’ll do it.” She took the cloth from him. “How do you know I don’t?”

“Iron sickens pureblood Fae. If they hold it as long as you did, ’twould end them.” Alec watched her face for any show of fear. “For halflings like us, touching the metal burns our skin.”

“Good to know that. Next time I catch you sneaking in my room, I’ll have iron tucked under my pillow.” Ava winked at the armorer, who was staring at both of them, before she sauntered out.

Rory rubbed his eyes before he gave him an exasperated look.

“Dinnae you judge me for protecting the clan,” Alec snapped, and threw out his arms. “As Ben says, ’tis my driving force.” A sledge came hurtling through the air, and smacked into his hand as he caught it. “Give me something to hammer now.”

The armorer picked up a pair of long, wide door latches and thumped them beside the anvil before making a particularly rude gesture.

“Oh, shut your mouth.” Realizing how ridiculous it was to tell the most silent man in Dun Talamh to be quiet, Alec picked up a shaping tool and positioned a latch over the anvil before he made the first strike.

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