11. Aurora
Aurora
I tossed and turned, my mind racing, fighting to keep thinking. Mac had been the perfect gentleman, cradling me against his body as he walked us out of the caves. It had felt right—natural—like this was where I was meant to be. I could hear the blood pumping through his heart as though he were any other man. But he had stolen that blood from a living creature. Was it alive or dead?
And then he stood there, at the edge of the circle, holding the lineage, both mocking and guarding me. I should have taken it back from him instead of just marking it. Tomorrow, I would, but today, I had no way to fight him. My finger throbbed as it healed, threatening to force me back to wakefulness.
Would I see him in the morning? Or would he try to run with the lineage? Only a fool would after I had marked it. I realized I had never asked Mac how old he was, but he seemed ancient. His tone was so formal, with a slight Irish accent to it. Had he been born there, or had he lived there long enough to pick it up?
I forced my breathing to slow and steady. If I focused just right, I could hear my mother humming a lullaby. There were so many questions, yet all I wanted was sleep. I could confront them tomorrow. But right now, just sleep...
I stood in a meadow, wearing a long, flowing dress with long sleeves. A cloak hung from my neck, providing much-needed warmth. Green grass stretched away from me on all sides, but I could hear waves crashing in the distance. Stone walls delineated one green space from the next. Gray skies held the ominous threat of rain. A copse of ash and hawthorn trees stood in the direction of the waves. Among them stood a cottage.
Where was I? I reached out to feel the magic surrounding me in the dream. It felt prophetic, as though these events had never occurred, but the setting was the past. But whose past was it and whose future? The only way I would find out was to surrender until I saw everything I needed to. I would have no control until the dream released me. My pendant burned against my chest as a calm washed over me, and I handed myself over.
“Rory,” Mac called. I turned to see him clambering over one of the stone walls. He jogged toward me, his raven hair hanging long over his shoulders. His movements were unencumbered by the black linen tunic that fell just below his knees, his dark green cloak pinned at the shoulder. He wrapped his arms around my back when he reached me, lifting me from the ground. His mouth met mine in a delicious, deep kiss. I felt his tongue against my own as I relaxed into his warmth and tenderness, feeling his hand on the back of my head. My body sprang to life at his touch, a warmth spreading before concentrating at my core.
“What are you doing out here, my love?” Mac asked as he set me down.
“I don’t know,” I stammered. My heart fell. This was not what I intended, but there was no way out.
“You could have waited for me in the cottage.” His voice held a sultry quality. I could feel his hard cock graze my stomach through our layers of clothing as he pressed his hips into mine. “But since you are here, I have an idea of what we can do in the few minutes without my family around.”
I smiled and dropped my voice low. “Only a few minutes?” I could feel the material rise around my legs as he gathered it in his hand before releasing it around his wrist and sliding his fingers into my wet folds.
“Are you going to need more than that?” He groaned in my ear as he added a third finger to those he plunged into my waiting heat. He kissed me behind my ear and down my neck, his fingers gliding in and out of my wetness with ease, drawing a moan from my throat. The fire rose inside me. I wanted more. I raised my chin, inviting his kisses as they trailed down my neck. But what was it I desired?
As if in answer, his fangs sank into my flesh as he buried his fingers to the knuckles inside me, and my cunt started pulsing with pleasure.
I screamed as I shot upright, sweat pouring from my neck, my body shaking. I was alone in my hammock with an unmistakable wetness between my legs.
“Rory, are you alright?” Mac’s voice floated from beyond the protective circle.
I swallowed. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” I called through the material. What time was it? The light of the day cast a familiar blue hue over me, but the tent was warm, almost uncomfortably so. It must be midmorning. I looked around before remembering I had left my phone in my bag.
The events of yesterday flooded my mind. I looked down at my ankle, wondering if it would hold my weight this morning. I would need to find a bandage to wrap it and some medication. But I had a vampire standing guard outside my circle. My dream radiated through my mind, causing me to clench my thighs together. I found my pants and struggled to get them on in the confined space.
I unzipped the hammock’s cover and stuck my head through the flap. “How are you this morning?”
Mac sat with his back against a large oak tree, his knees bent, staring at me. On the ground next to him, nestled in the leaves, I spotted the top of a white bottle. He shook his head as he stood. “You don’t get to change the subject. Why were you screaming?”
I shrugged a bit as I swung my legs over the edge. I would have to be careful with my landing. Taking my time to judge the distance, I sprang from the bed onto my right foot. “It was just a dream,” I said after I landed. I tried to ignore the blood rushing to my cheeks.
Mac smiled. “It must have been some dream. Was I there?”
I shook my head and fixed my gaze into a glare. “Keep dreaming.” Could it have been his doing?
He shrugged. “I’ve never had the power to manipulate dreams,” he said as though he had read my mind.
“Were you out here all night?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
“Most of it. I left for a while to get you a few things—if you’ll accept my help.” He pointed at a flat rock just outside of the barrier. Sitting on it, as if it were an offering, were bandages and comfrey.
“How did you know that’s what I’d want and not something modern?”
“You’re a witch from an ancient line. I’m sure, as a child, the mothers of the coven took turns teaching you the basic first aid of the earth.”
I limped to the rock and picked up the supplies. “Thank you.” I sat down on the rock, placing the bandage and leaves on my lap.
“I did figure you would go more modern for this, though.” He bent down and picked up the bottle.
He closed the space between us in two steps and held the container in front of him—ibuprofen. I smiled and nodded, accepting the medication. “You’ve thought of everything.”
“Just trying to show you we can work together. Maybe our next goal will be to find the Cure.”
Opening the bottle, I removed three brown pills, popped them into my mouth, and swallowed them without water. My eyes narrowed as I surveyed my leg and the options to wrap it.
“Let me help you,” said Mac, kneeling before me.
“I can—”
“I know you can do it, but I can also help.” He lifted the hem of my black pants to see my ankle. The skin stretched over the large bruise covering the outer part of my foot.
“How are you even out in the sunlight?” My mind whirled as I looked over him.
He shrugged. “I’ve always been able to.” He wasn’t going to tell me more. Mac gingerly placed a layer of gauze around my ankle and foot. The juices from the plant’s leaves ran green over my hand as I smashed them into a poultice, softly muttering the incantation to magnify the herb’s healing power.
His soft hands were careful as he worked with my injury, nothing like one would expect from a vampire. His gentle caresses as he bandaged me made my head spin. I spread the poultice across the gauze.
“Where did you learn to do this?” I asked, focusing on anything but the man in front of me.
He smiled. “Would you believe in a field hospital during the Civil War, not far from here?”
“Is that where you died?”
“I’ve never died,” he said, gazing into my eyes.
“Then how...” I didn’t know how to finish the question. “How old are you?”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I was born on the winter solstice in 1176.”