Sword of the Raven (18 page)

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Still rocking, he rubbed her back in soothing circles. “You couldn’t leave the cabin without me knowing. ‘Tis warded.”

“My neck.” She touched her aching throat again. “Are there bruises?”

A gentle hand tipped up her chin, and she looked into steady silver eyes that warmed her, chased away the cold terror. One callused fingertip lightly stroked her cheek, glided down her throat. When he touched the chain resting there, tingling Power arced over her skin. “Not a mark on you.”

“Everything seemed so
real,”
she whispered, slumping against him. “Nothing like
any
dream I’ve ever had.”

“I assume it’s not the first nightmare about your stepfather.”

“I used to have them all the time. But I haven’t had one for years. And
never
as awful—or realistic.”

Sure fingers kneaded her nape, easing the stiffness. “After reliving Graves’ assault on you while relating it to me earlier, a nightmare wouldn’t seem unlikely.”

“No…I suppose not. But how did I know you’d killed a demon on the pathway?”

His heartbeat thumped reassuringly beneath the heated muscle against her cheek, “You surmised I’d gone to battle a demon when I left the cabin, aye?”

“I knew you went to confront something. And you mentioned cleaning up a mess.”

“Well, then. Your subconscious merely inserted the logical conclusion into the dream. You’ve had a frightening, difficult sequence of events to process. ‘Tis no surprise you’re struggling to assimilate everything.”

“Did that demon come after me? Are they stalking me, already?”

“It might have been here for me. Either way, it’s dead.”

Right. One crisis at a time. “What if I really did go somewhere…but was out of body? I was glowing.”

“No, even your essence couldn’t cross without triggering my wards.”

“Okay.” She closed her eyes, listened to his heart beating sure and strong. Breathed in the comforting scent of the ocean that surrounded him.

Tell Rowan.
The memory of Connor’s text message flashed in her mind’s eye, and she jumped. “I meant to tell you before I fell asleep…when I was at the prison, visiting Connor, he cut his finger on the table and sketched bloody symbols into my palm. Kind of like the ones you put on the door. For protection, I guess. That’s when I got my first surge of Power.”

She didn’t stop for him to comment, pouring out the entire confession in a rush. “It knocked down the guards. Stunned them. I think I started the riot. I mentally projected something about Judge Zinter’s flunkies frying in hell, and then I found out later the warden and some other guards got badly burned by inmates. When Zack was here, he told me he thought the warden and a few guards might be working with Zinter. So I
did
hurt people—”

“Whoa.” He’d gone very still. “Loss of Power control isn’t unusual for a novice. Back up, though. Connor warded your palm with his blood? Did he say anything?”

“Yes. The pronunciation was strange, though. Similar to yours, but not exactly like any Gaelic I’ve heard from you.” She repeated her brother’s murmured phrases.

Rowan pulled away, stared down at her. “What about before and after? Concentrate, lass. ‘Tis very important.”

“When I knocked down the guards, Connor looked at me all bewildered, and whispered…um…‘What have I done?’ Like it was his fault I got upset. And when they dragged him out, he said, ‘What was mine now belongs to you.’ At that point, he knew his parole wasn’t being granted and they were putting him into gen-pop. I figured it was a verbal will, you know?”

“Show me what he drew.” Rowan held out his palm.

As she traced the pattern in his hand, the outlined symbols glowed molten silver.

“‘He was reported to possess the
Aillidh,
’” Rowan muttered the statement Balor had made referring to her brother. “And Connor admitted he’d gotten himself into the Abyss, aye?” His teeth ground together.
“Shagging unbelievable.”

“What’s the matter? What did my brother
do?”

“‘Tis
impossible
…but somehow, he managed to transfer most of his Power to you. With a very primitive invocation. Slightly askew, but still effective. Then his essence fled, separating from his body to protect what was left of his soul before Zinter’s men could steal it from him. Only since Power transfer is lethal—or at least has always been so before—the recoil flung him into the Abyss. His fool move should’ve
incinerated
his essence.”

She’d thought herself past being shocked. “I put protection around him, out in the prison parking lot. Maybe, somehow, that kept him alive?”

“Your love for him is strong, and emotion amplifies your Powers.” Rowan’s eyes narrowed in assessment. “You and Connor seem to be breaking all known laws of Magic.”

“Connor never breathed a word to me about any of this. How did he know he had Power? How did he know how to give it to me?”

“He’d probably only recently come into his Powers. Happens at different times for everyone. He wouldn’t have understood how to wield them, anymore than you do yours.” Rowan shook his head.
“None
of what Connor did was possible. Did he hook up with a mentor? Anyone new in his life, someone he spent a lot of time with?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Bitterness tinged her reply. “But apparently, I wasn’t totally in the loop about my brother’s life.”

“Don’t fault him, luv.” Rowan’s voice was as gentle as the hand stroking her back. “Even if he’d wanted, Connor couldn’t have told you without triggering a Discord. Not until you came into your own Powers.”

“Rowan?” Her teeth sank into her lower lip. “Connor managed to bequeath his Powers to me. Would…would I be able to relinquish mine to someone else? Go back to my normal world?”

Rowan’s glance flicked to the mantel where she’d set her engagement ring while she tried to decide what to do with it. He went quiet for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. “Would you honestly risk your life in order to give them away? Return to Za— “ He cleared his throat. “Your previous life?”

“I…I don’t know. Maybe. After I rescue Connor from the Abyss.” She locked gazes with him.
“Could I?”

 “Until you’re sure of what you want, it doesn’t matter.” Thick, dark lashes shuttered his expression. “Feeling steadier now? Think you can go back to sleep? A bloody lot of hard work is on tap for tomorrow.”

She might never sleep again after that nightmare. But he’d had a long day himself. “Yes,” she lied.

He climbed off the mattress. As he tucked her in, she studied the black cotton drawstring pants that rode low on his ridged abs. “Can you conjure up a new wardrobe at will? ‘Cause that’d be a Power I’d keep. Especially shoes.”

“I’ve noticed you do have a passion for boots.” He chuckled. “‘Conjuring’ clothing’s a useful skill, but a waste of energy. Mages usually buy their clothes like everyone else.”

The master of the non-answer. MacLachlan had honed evasion to an art form.

“See you in the morning, lass.” He switched off the lamp, and she watched his shadow drift toward the doorway.

Don’t go.
The faint, desperate plea whispered inside her mind.

Rowan froze. “What?”

Her fists crumpled the sheets. Don’t be a baby. Keep your dignity and let him walk away.
Stay with me tonight.

He turned. Vibrant tension pulsed from clear across the room. “Exactly what are you asking me for, Delaney? Be very clear.”

I’m afraid if I dream…
She drew a shaky breath. Damn, this was hard to admit, but the realistic nightmare had rattled her. Badly.
I…don’t want to be alone. The bed is big enough for both of us. To just sleep.

“Last time you awoke with me in your bed, you weren’t happy.”

I know, and I’m sorry. I won’t freak out on you this time. I’m sure.

Once more, he hesitated so long, she was positive he’d refuse. Then he prowled soundlessly across the floor. “Scoot over, then. I sleep nearest the door.”

Of course he did.

As Rowan slid in beside her, Delaney suffered a panicked flash of
what-the-hell-were-you-thinking.

Either she’d overestimated the size of the bed, or seriously underestimated the size of the man.

He rolled onto his side, facing her, but even then the mattress wasn’t wide enough to avoid touching him. “Go to sleep, luv. Nothing will harm you.”

As heat and comfort flowed from his big body, she relaxed. “Thank you, Rowan.”

“Sòlasaich,”
he murmured.

Listening to his even breaths, sleep descended fast and easy.

* * *

Delaney floated to wakefulness wrapped in a heated blanket. She sighed contentedly…and breathed in Rowan.

He surrounded her. No denying that Rowan owned—no,
commanded
—everything around him. His space, his weapons. The woman sharing his bed.

She kept her eyes closed amid spiking awareness. She was laying on her right side, her nose nuzzling crisp chest hair, the front of her body plastered to his. His head was bent, tucking hers into the hollow of his throat, their hair intertwined on the pillowcase. One long, proprietary leg sprawled across her thighs. His arm wrapped her waist, his wide palm cupped her bottom…pressing her close to his impressive arousal.

Desire flooded, clenched low in her belly—right where his thick shaft teased receptive nerve endings. Beneath the thermal shirt, her nipples tightened to stiff peaks.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Rowan’s sleep-husked burr vibrated in his chest. “No more bad dreams?”

Her eyes popped open. With her nestled to every square foot of magnificently hard Highlander, no way could he have missed her body’s awakening. “Um…” She dragged in a breath, which rubbed her nipples against his pecs. His erection twitched in response, and heavy, impatient need spiraled deep in her core. “I…no.”

“Good.” Rowan leaned down and kissed her, his morning beard adding a sensual graze. He claimed her hard and fast, with a demanding possession of talented lips and satin tongue. Then he rolled away, rose from the bed and stretched, powerful bronzed muscles rippling. “I’ll be having a shower, then.”

Leaving her hollow and aching, he strolled from the room.

* * *

Inside the shower, Rowan put his back to the purposefully icy stream and sudsed up. He could still smell Delaney on his skin. Taste her on his lips…autumn sunshine and wild ripe berries.
Damnation.
The woman was sheer temptation. She had no idea of the torture she’d put him through last night. Once the tantalizing lass had raised his libido from the dead, it had roared to life hungrier than a barracuda.

There were a dozen reasons to keep his hands off her, and to
hell
with all of them.

Need taunted him, and he gritted his teeth. He’d better slam a lid on it and fast, before he did something they’d both regret. If he took anything from Delaney, it would be because he’d made a cold, calculated decision—with his brain.

His soapy fingers lathered the lower half of his body, and he groaned. A frigid shower wasn’t dousing the fire. His balls were tight and achy, his cock so hard it hurt to touch.

Delaney was just as attracted to him, and sensing her need ramped up his own.

He could warm the water and invite her to share the shower…odds were in his favor she’d come. A wry grimace tilted his lips. They both would.

Then what?

The thought was more chilling than the cold spray. They’d be irrevocably tied to one another, each vulnerable in so many ways they’d both despise.

Rowan sighed. He wasn’t willing to again trust another woman with his body. Or his Power.

He slid his hand to his cock, squeezed hard. Pressure didn’t ease the engorgement, in fact, made it worse. He stroked down the slick, rigid length, just once. Bit back another groan.

Shite.
He hadn’t resorted to jacking off since he was fifteen years old.

He spun, flipped the temperature lever until steam billowed. Turning his back to the jets again, he let wet warmth wash over his shoulders, trickle down his chest, his belly, swirl around his cock to his swollen sac.

Not helping, either.

Just give it up, lad.
Quick and clinical—scratch the itch. Planting his feet wide for balance, he swiped his palm with lather, then closed his fist around his shaft.

But as he stroked, unbidden, unwanted visions of Delaney shimmered in his thoughts. Smiling, she stepped into the shower with him, naked and flushed with desire. Her willing body arched against his, creamy skin sleek and wet. Stiffened coral nipples teased his chest. Soft, generous lips sought his mouth in tantalizing kisses as he palmed her lush breasts, his thumbs stroking until she whispered a breathless moan.

Begged for his mouth on her.

He sucked her sensitized nipples while his hands explored the curve of her hip, then gently kneaded her sweet arse—skimming down the tender crease until she moaned again and parted her legs for him. His hand slid lower, his fingertips dipping in to brush damp feminine curls.

Rowan, please,
she panted.
I want you.

He thrust his fingers into wet silken heat, and screaming his name, she climaxed.

Rowan tipped back his head, spread legs trembling, every muscle strained as water poured over him. His hand pumped rapidly, chest heaving, breath sawing in his throat as he came—his entire body jolting with violent release.

* * *

In the kitchen cooking bacon and eggs, the erotic image of Rowan climaxing in the shower blazed into Delaney’s mind. Her knees buckled on a blast of desire so intense, she doubled over and grabbed the counter for support.

Oh. My. God.

As the heat-flash sizzled out, the carnal vision faded, but tingling need lingered. Her body teetered on the verge of orgasm…not quite able to get there.

She blinked. Slowly eased upright. Her heart pounded, she couldn’t catch her breath, and her panties were damp.

Okay, she’d been turned on ever since waking in Rowan’s arms—but spontaneous combustion?