Sword of the Raven (28 page)

“I see where you learned your leadership skills. I’m sure your father was proud of you, Rowan.”

“Aye.”
Right up until the moment I allowed Ceard to tear his still-beating heart from his chest.

“You didn’t
allow
that,” she whispered. “When are you going to stop blaming yourself?”

“Maybe when all those responsible are rotting in Hades.”
Maybe never.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Sleep now. I would sing you a ballad my Gran taught me when I was a wee laddie.”

“I’d like that.”

“Gran would’ve liked you.” Smiling, he combed his fingers through her tumult of fragrant curls. “She had red hair, too. And was as cheeky as the day is long.” He began to sing the quiet Gaelic tune, using the lyrical rhythm to push a subtle compulsion toward unbroken slumber.

When he was certain she slept deeply, he dissolved into mist. He re-embodied, gathered his clothes, quickly dressed. Then he transported out.

He and the Druid had unfinished business.

* * *

Rowan eased out of bed the next morning without disturbing Delaney. He stealth-showered, then dressed, letting her sleep until the last possible second. Yesterday’s events had depleted her mental and physical reserves.

He carried a steaming cup of coffee into the bedroom “Rise and shine, luv. War briefing at Archer’s in ten minutes.”

A tousled head poked from beneath the aqua paisley comforter. Blurry loch blue eyes peered at him. “Ugh. My heart won’t even be started by then.”

He waved the mug beneath her nose. “Starter fluid.”

She floundered upright. “Gimme.”

“I’m already on my third. You’ve got some catching up to do.” Chuckling, he sat beside her and filched a kiss from her sweet mouth. He intended to take his own advice to savor every moment.

Only four days left.

Too few precious hours before all hell broke loose.

Delaney gulped half her coffee, then set the mug on the opposite nightstand. She climbed into his lap, straddling him. His cock, always semi-aroused when he was anywhere in her vicinity, surged to steel. Her arms looped around his neck. “You do realize my withdrawal from you last night didn’t have anything to do with not wanting you, right? It was all me. The…killing screwed up my head for a while. But it’s on straight now. You can depend on me.”

“I ken, sweetheart.”

She nuzzled her face into the curve beneath his jaw.
“Yum.
You smell more scrumptious than the coffee. Any chance we have enough time for a proper wake-up?” She sat back, gave him a naughty grin. “Or better yet, an
improper
one?”

“It would make a sodding bad impression for the Enforcer to arrive late.” He stole a regretful glance at the clock. “I could satisfy
you,
with plenty of time left over for you to dress.” He rocked his hips while sending an erotic ripple of Power tingling into her. He watched her eyes glaze, and smiled.

She rubbed her cheek against his. “I’m not looking for just an orgasm, Rowan. I want a connection with you, a
real
one.”

His heart turned over. “Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait, then.”

“Damn. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

“Because you were fragged.” He playfully smacked her arse. “Get yourself up and clothed, wench. Before I can’t resist the urge to ravish you.”

“I think not.” She clambered off him. “It’s the wench’s turn to ravish.”

Laughing, and so brutally aroused he hurt, he carried the mugs to the kitchen. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Exactly three-and-a-half minutes later, Rowan rapped on Archer’s door. The Guardian admitted them, offered him a scowl and swooped Delaney into a hug.

A dark-haired, silent male sat at the breakfast bar with the otherworldly stillness of Elfkind, watching the ever-efficient Rini organize four large whiteboards on easels. Rowan had diagrammed tactical assaults under every imaginable condition; hell, he’d once used his own blood. But it’d be the first time he’d sketched battle schematics with colored markers.

As Delaney scored a second cup of coffee and fresh-baked cranberry scones, an exuberant Brian and Mike arrived. They each brought a friend. One was a female wolf Shifter, the other a male grizzly. The entire quartet carried bulging canvas satchels of food and six-packs of beer. Lunch, they explained with fresh grins.

In less than five minutes, two more Shifters followed, both male cougars. They also brought food and beer. Next came a trio of sensually lethal brunette Witches, who brought home-brewed wine and platters of fruits and veggies.

Natiri whirled in last, packing still-warm brownies and a fifty year-old bottle of Jameson. And a glaive…the glittering Fae weapon that was a wicked combination of spear and scythe.

Archer’s deep laughter rumbled out. “Nat, this is only a planning brief.”

The petite blonde Faerie flashed a fiendish smile as she handed the whisky directly to Rowan. “Never can be too prepared, ya know.”

Rowan would make book everyone in the room was armed, although not so obviously. Twelve Supernaturals, plus himself, Archer and Delaney. A decent showing, considering the current depleted ranks of Supes.

Throat suddenly dry, he strode to the whiteboards. They’d be outnumbered twenty to one.

He faced the dining table where his tiny platoon sat eyeballing him. All except Archer, who leaned against the wall in the corner, massive forearms crossed over his chest. “I am Rowan MacLachlan, Clan MacLachlan.”

The grizzly Shifter started. “Man, you’re supposed to be dea—”

Rowan drilled him with a look, and the lad clamped his mouth shut. Rowan picked up a black marker. “How many here have combat experience?”

Everyone but Archer and Delaney stuck up a hand. The Guardian had clocked as many, or more, combat hours than Rowan, but would never deign to raise his hand like a schoolyard lad for an Enforcer.

Rowan disguised his astonishment. Everyone?

Except Delaney.

He tried not to dwell on the grim fact. “How many of you have fought together as a team?”

Again, every hand but Delaney’s lifted.

Rowan flicked a glance at Archer, who kept his expression impassive.
Bloody hell.
Archer had formed his own unsanctioned covert ops squad. Rowan shouldn’t be surprised. The Guardian had a rep for rule smashing, and wore the consequences. But in this case, Rowan was glad of it.

Their probability of survival had bumped from zero to slim.

He’d take those odds. “Right. Starting with you…” He pointed at Natiri. “I want your strengths, weaknesses, and weaponry skills.”

During the next five hours, the team studied the surveillance photos and discussed, diagrammed and dry-ran every possible scenario. Since Rowan and Delaney had been inside Zinter’s house, they provided target-specific intel.

Rowan’s suffering at Ceard’s hands was finally a boon as well…he had intimate knowledge of her tactics.

Everyone freely theorized and debated. Archer had assembled a courageous, intelligent, cohesive unit. Rowan’s opinion of their chances began to increase with each team member’s contribution.

“Ceard wants me,” he warned the group. “If I’m injured or captured, don’t waste effort and lives in a rescue attempt. I’ll deal with her. The rest of you carry out our objectives to free the hostages and neutralize the main players so they cannot perform the ritual.”

Scowling, Delaney shook her head. “What can you tell us about our enemies’ weaknesses?”

“Fomorian demons carry an instinctive fear of water because of their ancestors’ imprisonment beneath the sea. While I’m not aware of anything Ceard fears, she doesn’t have a liking for deep water herself after several centuries as a ‘guest’ of the sea god, Manannán Mac Lir.”

Ironic, is it not?
he silently messaged Delaney.

But being a water Mage gives you an advantage over Balor’s whore. “
So salt water is poisonous to the Fomorii?” she asked aloud.

“Aye, like acid.” He’d taught her the history and use of salt in purifying and repelling spells. No surprise she’d make the connection.

Maybe that’s why Zinter chose her yacht for her clandestine attempt to steal your Powers,
she replied.
Her demon buddies wouldn’t be able to interfere.

His lass didn’t miss a trick.

Lunch was a rowdy hodgepodge of music, joshing, and camaraderie—their wee band of warriors spitting in Death’s eye.

The she-wolf took a particular fancy to Delaney, but since her keen senses would pick up Rowan’s scent on the lass, her interest remained platonic. Not so much the Witches. A cornered Rowan amusedly, but politely, refused their sultry invite to “handle his big Scottish broadsword.” Even he knew better than to piss off a triad of skilled Witches.

After demolishing the midday meal, the team traveled to the rooftop garden to practice battle skills. Rowan had Delaney spar at length with each Supernatural, singly and in groups.

With the clock ticking down, the following two days brought a repeat of the team’s intensive dawn to dark training.

Rowan had Delaney spar with each Supernatural over and over, teaching her to attack and defend a dozen different fighting styles and weapons, and further honing her blade-work. On the third and final night, she was so focused, she didn’t notice when he disappeared for an hour, then returned.

Various configurations of the team sparred long after darkness floated down and the garden lights flickered on.

Finally, Archer stalked to the center of the melee. He held up a hand. Everyone sheathed their weapons and gathered in front of him. Rowan walked to Delaney’s side. When she drooped against him, he tucked her close.

Archer grimaced. “If we were gonna go with sappy, this is where I would give my brothers and sisters in arms a hoo-rah. I’d thank you for offering your blades, your lives.” The Guardian’s glance traveled around his team, pausing on each, lingering a fraction longer on Delaney. “I’d tell you boneheads how much I love you. That it’s a privilege to charge into battle beside you. How grateful I am to have each and every one of you at my back.”

His teeth bared in a savage grin. “But that ain’t how we roll.” He pumped his massive fist. “So take a day to recharge and get your battle-rattle on…because the day after tomorrow, we kick demon ass!”

Chapter 18

In response to Archer’s challenge, fists pumped the air and a collective war cry split the night.

The gathering scattered. Silent Elves glided toward the lift, followed by the chattier Witches. The Shifters and Natiri gleefully decided to continue the party downstairs in the nightclub.

Rowan watched Archer hang back to hug Delaney. “Tomorrow, we shove all the crap aside and celebrate the twenty-fifth anniversary of your arrival on this earth.”

“Fun.” Her voice was raspy and she was staggering. “Can’t wait.”

The Guardian fired a glare at Rowan as he ruffled her hair. “Get some rest, baby girl, so you can enjoy yourself.”

The three of them caught the second lift. Rowan and Delaney exited on the penthouse floor, while Archer continued on to Starry Night.

Inside her flat, Delaney stumbled down the hallway. “Gotta take a bath.”

“Are you hungry, lass?”

“Oh, yeah. I must’ve burned two million calories tonight alone. No wonder you guys eat like Jaws on crack. Want to call out for Chinese?”

“No need. I’ll make something, ‘twill be faster.”

Rowan grabbed a shower while she soaked in the separate tub. He wrapped a towel around his hips, then headed to the kitchen where he managed to fry a platter of eggs without mangling them and made toast that was only a shade dark. He returned to the bathroom to find Delaney dozing in her bath. He sat cross-legged beside the tub to eat his own meal, and woke her to feed her bites of egg on toast so she could linger in the berry-fragrant bubbles.

After she ate, he helped her step out. Desire beat thick and heavy in his blood as he held her luscious curves close and dried her with a whispered command, but she was so tired she swayed on her feet.

He scooped her, warm, naked, and smelling more tempting than a harvest feast, into his arms and carried her to bed. Stripping off his towel, he slid beneath the covers and gathered her close. “You’re done in. Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

She nestled nearer. Satin limbs slid against his. “I want to make love. It’s been eons.”

He chuckled. “It’s been thirty-five…and a half…hours.”

“Exactly.
Eons.”
She teased him with hit-and-run kisses.

Rowan threaded his fingers into her hair and kissed her deeply, thoroughly.

When her mouth went pliant beneath his and her breathing deepened, he drew back to look at her. She was sound asleep.

Laughing, cursing softly, he dropped his head onto his pillow and followed her into slumber.

* * *

Rowan awoke to velvety lips tickling his chest…and raging morning wood.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured.

“Good morning to you, too.” Delaney grinned up at him.

“Mornin’. Are you ravishing me?”

“I certainly hope so.” Rosy color bloomed in her cheeks. “I seem to have left you in the lurch the last couple of nights.”

“You’re going to be giving me a complex, wench. First time I ever bored a lass into unconsciousness.” He winked. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Uh, huh.” She rubbed against him, making his cock leap in anticipation. “That’s no surprise. Your Scottish broadsword is as dependable as the sunrise.”

Laughing, he scooted toward the edge of the bed. “True, that. However—”

“First things first.” Delaney’s mouth and hands got busy, and he forgot everything. Except her.

Delaney’s drugging taste, her warm, lush scent made him mad with need. Hardened him to the point of pain. He wanted to devour her in one reckless bite.

Her mouth was a deep, heated spring, her heartbeat a storm-tossed sea. She was trembling. For
him.

Engaged in a sensual war for dominance, they rolled across the bed, their Powers tangled around them, their limbs tangled with each other’s. Taking, giving—plundering strokes of tongues, shivering scrapes of teeth. His breathless groans, her gasping kisses in air gone too thick and hot to breathe.

Rowan’s muscles shook. Blood pounded through his veins and hammered in his ears. A typhoon of feelings he’d never experienced—didn’t want to face—battered his emotional dam. Opened relentless cracks in his heart.

For the first time in his life, he was in over his head. Gladly drowning…in her.

He desperately channeled the spiking emotional connection into physical sensation. Their mouths met in a soul-shuddering kiss, and a whip of Power lashed inside him. He flipped her beneath him, pinned her down. Sweat-slicked skin glided over sweat-slicked skin as she opened her thighs for him.

Yes!
Arching her hips, she tore her mouth from his.
“Please.
Yes!”

Watching her face, he drove into her. Gloried in the catch of her breath, the stunned elation in her eyes.

“Mine,” he growled. Her body sheathed him tightly in hot, liquid silk as she rose to meet each hard thrust.
“Mine.”

Her nails bit into his back, and then she shattered.

“Rowan!”

A geyser of pleasure rocketed up his spine. Everything went hazy. His control fractured.

Rowan exploded in light and heat and fierce, perfect release.

He might have passed out, he wasn’t quite sure. When sight and hearing returned, he propped himself on unsteady elbows to gaze at her.

She trailed languid fingertips down his cheek.
“Holy wow!
That was—” She inhaled shakily. “I didn’t mean to come the instant you got inside me. I hope I didn’t wreck it for you.”

He’d
never
before lost himself in sexual completion. Physically
or
emotionally. Until Delaney. His body’s residual trembling wasn’t merely spent exertion. “I’m the one who should be apologizing for breaking a land-speed record, luv.”

“Do you hear complaints?”

“If you had any, would you voice them?”

“Hell to the yeah.”

Laughter banished his unease as he kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her mouth. “Happy early birthday celebration.”

“Who needs birthday candles when we’ve got skyrockets?”

“About my surprise…”

She undulated beneath him. “Again? That’s no surprise either, Enforcer.”

“Nay, but this might be.” Rowan levered himself off her to reach beneath the edge of the bed and extract two gold-wrapped gifts tied with lavish silver bows, one large box, one smaller. “I believe presents are the order of the day.”

“Oh!” She scrambled upright. “You didn’t have to get me anything!”

“I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

Glowing with excitement, she ripped open the smaller one first. Grinned when she held up the duplicate of the brown dress he’d ripped off her body. “You even got the exact size.”

“Aye, I have observational skills.” And he’d had his hands all over her sexy curves. Learned every delectable centimeter.

Delaney dove into the second, much bigger box.
“Oooo…!”
She beamed at the rainbow extravaganza of panties. “There must be almost a hundred!”

“A hundred even.” He smiled, slow and wicked. “I’m looking forward to tearing each and every pair off you.”

She choked up and her eyes sheened to deep pools.

His intelligent lass had caught his gift’s subtext. Not only did he expect them both to survive the coming battle, but he planned to stick around a while. He looked at her creamy complexion rosy from his touch. Her lips swollen from his kisses. Sunset tresses tousled by his hands. Happy and sated, his well-loved woman.

Without warning, all the oxygen rushed from the room, and he struggled to breathe. Not just his libido was involved here. Nor just Power.

Delaney Erin Morgan was firmly,
permanently
, entrenched deeply within his being.

Love.

The lie he’d vowed never again to swallow.

“Rowan?” She tilted her head to stare at him. “Are you okay?”

His heart was staggering, every pore sweating, his belly quivering.

Okay?
Feck no.

He was sodding terrified.

He’d thought he loved Paiton, and she’d gutted him. But what he’d felt for Paiton was a scant raindrop compared to the riptide of emotions that bound him to Delaney.

If his judgment was off this time…

Rowan wadded the gift paper that was as shredded as his equilibrium. “Aye,” he croaked. Hoping she couldn’t see his hands were shaking worse than a palsy victim, he threw off the blankets. “Couldn’t be better. We’d best get a move on. Don’t want to miss the party.”

First he had to brave brunch at Archer’s—apparently an annual tradition.

Vanessa was already there when he and Delaney arrived. Delaney’s best friend gave her a Bellini and a birthday kiss on the cheek. Vanessa handed Rowan
his
Bellini along with a serving of scrutiny sharper than a Cabal inquisition.

As Archer embraced Delaney and wished her many happy returns, Vanessa leaned close to Rowan. “Lanie’s been dished enough garbage. So if you’re planning on taking her for a joyride, then taking off, at least have the stones to be up-front about it.”

His half-smile held a hint of sadness. He didn’t blame Delaney’s friends for not breaking out the brass band. At the moment, he didn’t much like
himself.
“She’s lucky to have such staunch mates. Believe me, I’d give anything to keep her from being hurt.”

“Anything
covers a wide margin, Haggis Boy.”

“I mean what I say.”

Vanessa’s intent gaze assessed him, and her expression softened. “That’s the way the shortbread crumbles, huh?” She clinked her glass against his. “All righty, then. I’ll refrain from offering you an arsenic smoothie. For now.”

He chuckled. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Yeah, well, the cop shop finally gave back my Louisville Slugger. So don’t live to regret it.”

The Bellinis were followed by leisurely conversation over ricotta-stuffed crepes topped with brandied blueberry sauce, a side of spicy sausage patties, and Archer’s admittedly superior coffee. Archer and Rowan called an unspoken truce for Delaney’s special day and managed to behave fairly civilly throughout the prolonged meal.

Afterward, Archer gifted an ecstatic Delaney with custom made pewter and garnet earrings that matched her Celtic charm.

 The sprawling state park was a forty-minute drive out of the city, set amidst mossy spires of old-growth forest. Rowan and Archer each carried a cooler, and Vanessa and Delaney toted bags of food through resplendent autumn woods and across a clearing of wildflowers. The secluded campsite boasted a fire-pit and table with benches. A boat dock bobbed atop a sparkling loch that reflected the azure sky, and clean, crisp air tingled his nostrils. It was one of those rare, exquisite fall days that made you rejoice just to be alive.

Delaney plunked down her bag. “It’s a gorgeous day! We’re gonna have a blast!”

In the middle of unpacking the food, she looked up, shaded her eyes with her hand. Her brow creased. “Somebody forget to tell me something?”

Rowan pivoted to see Zack and Jason ambling across the field.

“Lanie, don’t be mad.” Vanessa fidgeted with the cooler clasp. “Zack called and asked when we were celebrating, and if they could come. I couldn’t
not
invite them. It would’ve just been too rude. And I figured…well…without Connor here this year, maybe…you’d want the familiar gang around.”

“Don’t worry, Van,” Delaney assured her friend. “Nothing’s going to spoil today. Besides, now we have more players for our football game.”

Zack and his partner strode up to their table. Jason Kim gave Delaney an elegantly wrapped present. “Happy Birthday.”

She opened it to reveal the latest best-selling crime thriller. “Thank you, Jason. But you shouldn’t have.”

“Zack said you liked this author.”

“I do. It was very thoughtful.” She eyed Zack. “Of both of you.”

Zack handed Delaney a chocolate brown gift bag stuffed with hot pink tissue and topped by a curly froth of pink ribbon. “Live long and prosper, Lanie.”

She pulled out a box of imported raspberry liquor-filled truffles and a Starbucks gift card. “My favorites!”

“And if you’d like company while you enjoy that coffee…I’m available.”

“Yeah, I have your number, Walker.”

He winked at her. “You certainly do.”

“You stalking me, Detective?” She chuckled. “I might have to call the cops.”

“I live to protect and serve, babe. 24/7.”

Fists clenched, Rowan turned away to stare at Delaney’s raven wheeling over the rippling waves. He had no right to the proprietary jealousy that seared his guts. These people were Delaney’s family.

He was the outsider.

A hike around the loch was first on the agenda—another tradition. Amidst jokes and merriment, the group trooped into the shady woods. Delaney moved into step beside Rowan, tucked her hand into his. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she murmured.

Zack caught up from several paces behind. His gaze shifted to their intertwined fingers and he shot a glower at Rowan. “Don’t take ‘guarding her body’ too literally, Gun-for-Hire.”

“Zip it, Zachary,” Delaney ordered. “If you’re gonna be a jerkwad, you can just leave.”

Rowan swallowed a laugh as Zack deflated like a pricked balloon. His lass didn’t let anybody take the piss out of her.

Nope, not even you, Braveheart,
she silently arrowed at him.

Whoops.
He caught her mischievous grin, and his heart did a slow loop-de-loop. Followed by a shaft of fear. Dammit! If he wasn’t vigilant, she’d figure out…

He went cold all over and killed the thought before it could fully form.

Delaney squeezed his hand, and he resolutely squashed the doubt demons. Not today.

They stopped frequently. To skip stones into the water. Watch quicksilver flashes of rainbow trout leap into the sunlight. Admire a stalwart regiment of golden-brown mushrooms encamped around a fallen log. It was Rowan’s most carefree interlude in well over a year…except for constantly having to shore up his emotional shields.

A little over two hours later, the party wended back to the campsite. Archer lit a cheerful blaze in the fire pit, then put baked beans in a sturdy covered pot to heat over the flames. They all roasted hotdogs on sticks and ate them on mustard-slathered buns accompanied by beans, coleslaw, and potato crisps, which the Yanks referred to as “chips,” along with ice cold sodas.