Chapter 6 #2
He shook his head. “’Tisnae, lass. Bodach’s a begunk. Your blood magic came from the forest Fae. Mine came from druids who once worshipped the forests.” More than that he couldn’t tell her, for he couldn’t bear for her to look upon him with disgust. “We’re very similar.”
“Why do you think that?” Harper asked, her voice low and unsteady. “You don’t know me. I could be anyone.”
“I see you, woman, and ’tis all I may do to keep my hands from you.” Admitting it in a whisper seemed cowardly, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I wish to embrace you for hours and hours. I desire touch you all over, and put my mouth to yours, and all such things as lovers do.”
“I know about Inga Holm.” She said that gently, as if she feared hurting him.
“Aye, but she’s gone. You and I, we’re alive and here.” If she didn’t leave now he might even try to do some of those shocking things to her. “You should leave me now.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere.” Harper reached up and twined her arms around his neck. “I’ve never been kissed, have you?” When he shook his head she smiled as if he’d delighted her. “Then let’s give each other our first one, Blue Eyes.”
Rory gave into his longing, bent his head and put his mouth to hers.
Her lips, so soft they glided as damp silk against his, sent another cool thrill through him.
She tasted of herbs and honey, and made a small sound that struck him as deeply as a blade buried to its hilt.
As he slowly caressed her mouth with his, the chill they shared grew heated, like a fire built atop ice.
Every breath that passed from her mouth to his burned him as if he were drinking strong spirits from a frozen jug.
Beneath his hands her skin became sheened with tiny beads of sweat, echoing his own flesh.
I shall melt her, and melt with her.
He savored the sound that came again from her lips, which stretched out into a low hum of pleasure that sang harmony with the reckless desire pouring through him.
He gathered her closer, unafraid for once of harming a mortal female, for Harper had both the size and resilience to accept his touch without harm.
Now he understood why Farland and Grace disappeared together so often, returning hours later smelling of one another, their eyes slumberous and secret. They embraced like this, and more.
’Tisnae the same for us.
The clan’s seneschal and chatelaine were pledged to marry each other, Rory reminded himself.
He and Harper were hardly more than strangers.
He knew how men and women coupled, of course, for Tasgall had taken him aside after some maids had taken to tag-tailing after him all hours of the day and night.
His eldest brother had explained in detail how such intimacy happened, and in truth it had dismayed him to think of engaging in such an act with a small, fragile mortal female.
He’d never imagined finding himself wanting to do the same, but now he did.
“Bid me cease,” he murmured against her lips, unable to stop kissing her. “Remind me you’re no’ my woman.” He moved his lips across her cheek, up to her brow, and then down her nose to her mouth again. “By the Gods, I wish you belonged to me.”
“I belong to myself, but you can borrow me any time you like,” she whispered back, catching his bottom lip with her teeth before she used her tongue there as well. She sucked at him, and that sent a surge of hot blood straight to his cock. “You talk too much. Kiss me more.”
Rory slid his hands into the bright fire of her hair, and he did as he wished with her, tasting her with his tongue and luring hers past his lips.
It should have seemed unnatural to do such, for mouths were made for speaking and eating and breathing.
Yet as Rory kissed her she became his language, his feast, his air.
Never once in his long life had he been so entirely absorbed by something so carnal, or tempted to put his mouth in other places.
The curves of her body beckoned to him like ripe fruit; he wanted to kiss and taste and suck every luscious inch of her.
If only I could give her a bairn. To watch her belly swell, aye, ’twould be bliss.
That unfamiliar need pounded inside his baws and his head until he gave into imagining her in his bed, pumping his seed into her each night until they made a child together.
Aye, such a sweet fancy, Chomha’s voice came from his conscience, sharper than any time she had spoken to him in life. Did you forget to give thanks to the gods that you may never pass on to that innocent what you carry in your veins?
Rory had always been aware that he could not sire children, thanks to his Fae blood. Even if he had been capable, he would have never willingly done so, for he would taint them with the dark magic in his blood. The reminder made him break off the torturous, wondrous kiss.
“Now we’ve gone and done it, Blue Eyes,” she said, resting her brow against his before he could step away. “We’re in a whole heap of trouble.”
“We neednae do more.” He ignored the ferocious desire pounding inside him and kissed the place where her forehead met her fiery hair. “Mayhap we shouldnae act so reckless.”
“I agree,” a cool voice said.
Harper stiffened, and suddenly ended the embrace, turning around to face the other woman. “We’re a little busy right now, Lady A. Can you come back later, like tomorrow afternoon?”
Rory dropped his arms as he looked at Ava, whose stunned expression quickly faded into a pleasant smile.
“I wish I could, but we have a problem in the gardens,” the laird’s wife said.
Before Bodach left the old prison cemetery, he ordered his new army of revenants to march from there to McKeran’s Castle.
He had planned to load them into the back of the rental truck, but there were too many.
One by one the dead criminals formed a single line and proceeded to do just that.
He parked the truck a half-mile up the road, waiting until he caught sight of the first revenant trudging in the right direction before he drove away.
He wanted to be sure that the containment spell he’d cast over them would keep their bodies from literally falling apart on the long trek.
All I need them to do is remain intact until we cross over into the spell trap, and the enchantment will do the rest.
Their gruesome appearance would terrify the McKeran’s vassals, but it was their memories Bodach was counting on to do the most damage.
At the castle he would bespell them to reenact the crimes they had committed during their mortal lives as they attacked Dun Talamh inside the spell trap.
Since the revenants had in life been some of the most vicious repeat offenders in the country, that would result in some spectacularly horrific assaults.
Bodach drove the rental truck from there to the storage facility that he’d bought after closing down the tours of McKeran’s Castle, and used his passcode to open the back gates.
He’d had all the furnishings and possessions belonging to the clan moved and stored here in the event he would need them again, and was very glad now that he had.
Will they recognize them? he thought as he parked by and unlocked the first of the units. A slight weariness made him wish he’d brought a few revenants with him, but he ignored it as he grabbed the first crate marked “Dun Talamh artifacts” and carried it out to the truck.
Being a thousand times stronger than a mortal should have allowed Bodach to retrieve what he needed in only a few minutes, yet the more crates he loaded, the more exhausted he grew.
After he’d taken all he’d need from the units, he reached into his pocket for a red crystal to eat, only to pull out a handful of colorless dust. A search of his other pockets revealed the same thing had happened to nearly all of the crystals he’d carried.
He also saw sores had formed on the back of his hands, which had turned an odd pink color.
His guise spell should have maintained his appearance as the handsome Renard Beaumont, but that seemed to be fading.
Two of the bigger shards of crystal from his pockets remained a healthy dark red, and Bodach ate them quickly, savoring the torrent of power they sent coursing through him.
“I didn’t use that much magic tonight,” he muttered as he climbed into the truck.
He drove back to the castle in time to meet the long line of his revenant army waiting in a single file outside the gates.
That presented a problem, as dawn would arrive in half an hour, at which point commuters would start driving past his property.
If they saw hundreds of rotting dead waiting to file into the castle they wouldn’t ignore them.
Phone videos would appear on social media, someone would call the police, and before noon the castle would be swarmed.
He needed to get them all inside quickly.
Bodach hated using up more of his power for such a mundane task, but he had no choice.
He got out of the truck and opened the gates, walking a short distance up the drive until he could see the outer wall closest to the spell trap entry.
Lifting his hands to remove it, the glow of his power shot out, racing up and along the old casing stones and making them shake.
He controlled the magic, forcing it to absorb the sounds and stone dust as the wall developed cracks and fissures.
By the time it vanished and exposed the interior passages, he’d nearly exhausted his power.
He walked back to the front gates and said to his revenant army, “Walk up to where I removed the wall.”