CHAPTER TWELVE #4
Her mother had reached out to her from the dead, again. And she had been frightened. Had she been asking for help? Had she been trying to warn her? What did this mean?
Allie stepped from the chapel, shaken to the core.
She glanced around, but it was a dark night, filled with shadow, clouds clearly having come in that afternoon.
The various buildings beyond the chapel were lit from within with fires and torches, but she saw no one moving about.
Even though the grounds were holy, she strained her senses. The night was vacant of all evil.
A man materialized from the dark shadows, striding purposefully toward the chapel.
Allie knew it wasn’t Royce from his far lither silhouette, just as she knew he was a Master, his aura filled with holy power. But it was also filled with uncertainty, which surprised her—as if he did not quite know himself. His strides suddenly faltered as he sensed her.
His gaze turned instantly to her, and he paused, not entering the chapel.
Torches had been lit by the monks and the garden and path outside the chapel were illuminated. Allie saw a very young, golden Master. His wide gaze turned to very smug, male appreciation and he undressed her with a look. “Ye must be the Healer.”
Allie put her thoughts of Elizabeth aside. “Yes, I am Allie. You are?” She had to smile. This man was probably no more than twenty-one, but he was pure beefcake. Sam would lick him up, all over.
“Seoc.” He grinned and approached. “Ah, they said yer beauty is unrivaled, but I dinna quite believe it.”
Allie smiled with some amusement. “I’m hardly unrivaled in beauty. You should see my two best friends. Not only are they beautiful, they’re blond and tall.”
“I dinna mind someone so small,” he said with deep dimples.
“I’m with Royce,” she said softly. Better to head this one off at the pass, she decided.
He sighed. “Aye, I heard that, too. I heard he canna stand ye lookin’ at another man.” He grinned. “I dinna care. Ye can look at me anytime. Are ye certain ye wish to be with such an old man?”
Allie had to smile. “How old are you, Seoc?”
“Old enough to please you very well.”
“Twenty-one? Twenty-two?”
He shook his head. “My age doesna matter, lass. An’ I’m glad to prove it to ye.”
“Royce will take yer head—at least,” Allie said flatly.
“Probably,” Seoc agreed affably. “But I have nay doubt it will be well worth it.”
Allie laughed. “I think you were on your way to pray?”
“I’m newly chosen. My brother has ordered me to some penitence.”
And Allie saw the resemblance to MacNeil in Seoc’s vivid, long-lashed green eyes, but otherwise, his features were far prettier. “MacNeil?”
“Aye.” He held out his hand. “Let’s converse some more. I can pray for guidance later.” But he turned to glance over his shoulder.
Allie had already felt Royce approaching and her heart leapt in excitement. She saw him striding up the road and she went still. His aura was an inferno of crimson and gold. Not rage—just burning desire.
Although she didn’t move or breathe, her pulse exploded, beginning to pound in unison with the blood rushing in his veins and filling his loins. He was coming for her—and there was no mistaking his intentions.
She didn’t know what had happened, what had changed. Suddenly it didn’t matter. He wanted her now and he was going to take her. And suddenly she could feel the rapture awaiting them. It was so close…and every inch of her body expanded, heating impossibly.
Royce came out of the shadows, and the first thing she saw was his hot, silver gaze. Then she saw how terrifically his leine thrust out. Desire made her feel faint. Her flesh began a distinct throbbing, swelling and already seeking his.
“Well,” Seoc said. “Well.”
Allie didn’t even notice him slip past her, into the chapel.
She somehow wet her lips, trying to regain some control over her mind.
Royce was on the rampage for her now. Her own body was rejoicing—and joining him in that rampage.
She needed him, hot and hard, inside her small, tight body.
But she needed the words, too, didn’t she?
He reached her, grasping her shoulders, his hands uncompromising. His gaze locked with hers, and so much lust burned there, she spasmed.
He knew. His face tightened.
Allie gasped at the torturous wave of pleasure.
He pulled her close. “I canna tell ye I love ye,” he said thickly. “Not now, not ever.”
It was a warning. Allie tensed. She tried to breathe—tried to think. Instead her hands clasped his hips. Her pulse drummed frantically now everywhere—he pulsed between them, against her. “What is it?” she managed to ask.
“Ye can heal me,” he rasped, his blazing eyes holding hers. “Here, now, tonight.”
She tried desperately to understand. “With sex?”
His mouth came closer. “Aye. Ye can heal me with yer body.”
She stared into his eyes and saw more than lust. She saw urgency, even desperation—and fear. She started, touched his rough jaw. “What is it? Please, what’s happened?”
“Everything’s different now.” His arm swept behind her back, his hand cupping her buttock. “Just let it be.” But his gaze was searching.
“Ailios, I need ye,” he said.
Allie reached for him.