Chapter 2 #3
Twisting his head until he was looking up, Ruairí looked into the deep hollow darkness where her eyes should’ve been.
Fetid breath coated his face as the Illusionist taunted, “Will you spend forever so deep in the Earth that not even that bitch, Mother Nature can find you? Or at the bottom of the sea, where you spend eternity drowning and reviving in an endless circle of torment? Will the flames of Hell burn the flesh from your bones over and over for all eternity? Or will you feel the barbs of the Executioner’s whip and bleed endlessly? ”
Throwing back her head, the long, inky, tangled tendrils resembling hair jerking to and fro, she shrieked, “May he know it all! May he suffer endlessly? May he never know peace as he pays for the lives of our brothers and sisters he killed! May he pray for freedom, and his soul be crushed when I rip the heart from his Fated Mate yet to be born.”
Throwing Ruairí’s head downward with such force that his nasal bone shattered when it made contact with the hardened leather of the embossed fender of his saddle, her insane pleasure at his pain echoed to the Four Corners.
And there was nothing he could do. Nothing but watch blood flow freely down his face and huge drops of the crimson liquid hit the ground with an audible plop, plop, plop.
“Take him away,” the Sorceress hissed. “Lock him in his tomb and let him wait. Let him wonder what we are doing to his brothers. Let him imagine their torture.”
Trying with all his might to stop the onslaught of memories, not wanting to see anymore, the sweetest sound that ever danced through the Ether reached his ears a split second before his sanity was completely lost. The dulcet tones were sweet, soft, and so pleasing that they literally infused his heart and soul with something he was sure he’d lost, something he’d never thought he would feel again, something he hadn’t known he’d missed until that very moment– Hope.
Her voice was a gentle melody that soothed his battered soul and called to his wounded heart. As harmonious as an expertly played harp, it didn’t matter that she was talking to someone else; it only mattered that he heard her and that she never stopped speaking.
The longer he floated along the lyrically beautiful waves of her voice, the clearer the image became and the more he was sure that not only was she the one whose Magic had called to him, but that she was the most beautiful creature who’d ever existed.
Letting his eyes slide closed, the vision burst to life, the picture so real the scent of wildflowers and fresh rain filled his senses.
There, right before him, stood the most breathtaking woman ever created with big, brown eyes that sparkled with a mischief he wanted to experience every day for the rest of his forever.
The soft waves of her hair, the color of perfectly roasted chestnuts highlighted with gold and red from the sun, hung past her shoulders, glistening and shining like the finest silk.
He longed to slide his fingers through those long, soft tresses as he kissed each and every tiny freckle adorning the bridge of her nose and apple of her cheeks.
Then she smiled, and his heart skipped a beat.
Not only was the sound better than any composition by any great musician, but the accompanying smile made his nearly dead heart sing.
He simply couldn’t look away, didn’t want to see anything else. From the top of her head to the tip of her toes and every inch of her curvy figure that he longed to explore, the woman was nothing short of utter perfection.
Slowly letting his preternatural senses reach for hers, it took every ounce of control he had left not to rush.
Inch by tenuous inch, he let the Magic that had been with him the day of his birth slide ever forward.
Just over the threshold of the last of the beautiful woman’s mental blocks, a flash of warm, golden light exploded in his mind’s eye as the brush of soft, reddish-brown fur decorated with black spots and stripes rolled over and around everything, including the special place in his psyche where King Dorman slept.
Shocked when the Ancient Dragon didn’t so much as stir, Ruairí’s focus had just returned to the very special woman when everything became clear for the first time since his capture.
His hands, shackled at his sides by silver chains, ached to touch her peaches and cream complexion while memorizing her every expression.
As his mind stayed connected to hers, he could see her insecurities, how she constantly worried over what she ate and how much she weighed.
Shaking his head, ignoring the searing pain of the caustic metal holding him, he prayed the day would come when he could assure her that she was perfect in every way.
“Tamsyn…” Her name appeared in his mind as if it had been written upon his soul. It was as if… “Mate…”
His next thought was infinitely louder and absolutely undeniable.
Tamsyn Elizabeth Ryder was the one woman in all the world made for him by the Universe.
She was the Light to his Darkness, the other half of his soul, the one being that completed him in every way possible.
She was the only person in all the world who could bring him back from the brink of madness.
Lost in the plethora of sights, sounds, and memories, the Guardsman moved through her consciousness as if it were his own. He saw everything from the day she was born to that very moment with incredible clarity.
He saw her first Shift from human to Bobcat Shifter and shared in the joy and wonder when the Queen she shared her soul with, Bridgette, explained the Destiny that lay before them.
He chuckled when she and her younger sister fought over toys, and his heart nearly overflowed when her dad took her into his arms and she told the older man she loved him.
Opening his mind even wider, he inhaled deeply, preparing to speak to his Mate. What should have been the happiest moment of his very long life ended in heartbreak as their connection was severed.
Cursing his waning strength, he cussed the last Circle of Mages, the ones who’d unceremoniously dumped him into a deep hole in the Earth when they realized there was no way to reach King Dorman.
His fists shook with the need to reconnect with his Mate, but he knew he had to sleep.
Had to rest. Had to regenerate as much strength as he could before doing so.
Forcing his eyes closed, he inhaled until his lungs were full, then exhaled slowly. Repeating the process, summoning the calm needed to meditate and rest, for the first time in centuries, he fell into a deep sleep with no visions of the past, only hope for the future and one name on his lips…
Tamsyn….