Dark Embrace (26 page)

He seemed even more impossibly aroused. He tugged on the snap of her jeans and slid his hand into them, his large palm cupping her beneath her panties. She closed her eyes and gasped, flooded with pleasure and desire, vibrating with the need to soar and peak. But he was very still.

Brie somehow looked up at him.

His expression was strained, his entire body was quivering. His chest rose and fell wildly and sweat dripped off his brow.

He wanted her, she thought, the love surging hard against her chest. “Let me feel it.”

“Aye,” he said, low and rough. “Aye, I want ye, Brianna.” His desire erupted and Brie cried out, shocked by his urgency, his hunger. And then he yanked her boots off, and then her jeans and underwear followed. His desire was pulsating so frantically in her that she raised up, and he caught her face in his hands and kissed her while pushing huge and hot and hard against her soaking flesh. His muscular body shuddered uncontrollably.

Brie lifted her leg to wrap it instinctively around his hips, kissing him back. He caught her calf to help her. She began to spin as he lifted her other leg. She clawed his back, wanting to scream with the growing urgency, the shocking need, and then she felt him push inside, and she went still.

He slowly filled her. She gasped, shocked by the sensation of their union. She quivered around him, loving him so much it hurt. The pressure he was exerting grew and grew.

He whispered her name.

Brie's eyes flew open. She looked up into his intent, fierce stare, and he smiled at her.

She knew what that smile cost him and her heart leapt in joy.

And watching her, he thrust carefully, deeply, exercising a vast control.

Brie gasped against a brief, slight pain, and then she was full as never before. For one moment she lay utterly still, stunned. She wished to engrave that moment in her memory forever. He also lay still, and as they looked at each other, she knew he was as surprised as she was. Yet somehow, their union was so terribly familiar, like déjà vu.

“Brianna,” he whispered again. And she felt him memorizing the feeling of their union, not just of their bodies but the depth of their passion, their caring and connection, their love.

His gaze flickered. He made a harsh sound and began moving inside her, urgently—all control gone. Brie clung and let him take her where he wished. She heard him now,
aye, high above the world,
and the frenzy began. She shattered and sobbed, insane with the indescribable rapture. He cried her name.

Brie wasn't sure how long he swept her through the stars in passion and ecstasy, but it seemed to go on forever—she wanted it to go on forever. She would love him forever, no matter what happened to them. She wept with love and rapture. His mouth moved over her face, her hair. She stroked his hard shoulders. He kissed her softer ones. His rhythm slowed and was even more excruciating. They wept together, this time.

 

H
E OPENED HIS EYES
, saw the tent ceiling above and sat bolt upright.
He had fallen asleep.

Only for a moment, but it hadn't happened in sixty-six years.

He stared down at the woman snuggled against his side, stunned to see her there. Shock turned to horror.

What had he done?

He slid from the bed, throwing on his leine and stepping into his boots, refusing to look at her. He recalled every moment of their time together now. He took his brat and stepped outside into the dark dawn, and then he began to run toward the ridge, past what was left of his camp. Royce and Malcolm stood by a fire near their tent and they turned to stare at him. He didn't care. He ran up the ridge, pounding hard, away from her.

He had not been making love to her. It was impossible.

Deamhanain did not make love.

On the top of the ridge he paused, panting. His mind raced. He saw Brianna as she had been dying on the plain after Moray's attack. He had been terrified she would die, and he had found his healing powers.

He recalled her finding him in the wood. He had crawled back to her in agony, across miles, so he could die in her arms. He had been so relieved just to look at her again. There had been so much comfort when she had held him.

Last night he had been frantic to soar with her into the light, away from the darkness. He hadn't lusted for power, not once. There had only been a stunning desire. He had sobbed in rapture and relief. There had been
joy.
There had been
delight.

No!
Aidan went still. The wind whipped him, blowing fiercely, indicating that snow was imminent, and he wanted to be chilled thoroughly, so there would be no feeling and never joy.

He could not forget his son!

He could not do this—he could not give her what she wanted. What was happening to him?

Deamhanain did not care about anything other than power, destruction and death. They did not care about anyone except themselves and they did not heal. They did not have friends or lovers; they had objects and victims, whom they used and destroyed. They did not know the meaning of joy. They only knew the meaning of pain, cruelty and death.

He turned and stared down the ridge at his black tent as the gray sky shifted, but didn't lighten. The first snowflakes fell.

There had been so much joy.

In that moment, he knew he had made a colossal mistake, one that threatened his entire existence and his very life.

He breathed hard.

He hated the gods for taking Ian, and he would never forgive them. He would never return to Iona and the Brotherhood. He was the son of a deamhan. He didn't want or need her love or her friendship. She could touch him a thousand times—no, a million—and they could
fuck
again, but he was filled with evil. He needed power, not pleasure, not love and not joy.

He only wanted revenge for Ian.

He must never forget that.

His temples pounded in pain. His heart hurt him.

He had spent sixty-six years in a self-imposed exile. Taking whores and courtesans to bed did not count, as he had not allowed them their humanity. Passing his servants in the hall did not count, as they lived in terror of him. His mercenaries and the villagers also feared him and avoided him. He had lived alone for a reason—it was his vengeance against the gods—and it had kept him inhuman and ruthless.

Yet somehow, in the past few very short days, after long, endless decades of isolation, he had rescued her, healed her and taken her to bed as if he had come to have a concern for her, as if they were lovers, as if they were friends.

But that concern was now over. He would never touch her again, much less bed her. There would be no more long looks and smiles. Last night had been an exception, and it would never happen again. She was his bridge to Ian. That was all.

He roared into the night. He roared again, in frustration and rage and, maybe, in grief. The wolves began coming from the nearby forest. They did not join him; they sat waiting, by the trees.

When his throat was sore, he quieted, but he was not soothed. He was in the midst of a great war, and Moray already knew she was his weakness. Moray might even know she was a vital link to his son. She had almost died because of his war. He had no doubt that Moray would use her again, if he could. And that was all the more reason to take power, as a deamhan should.

Then he would hunt.

The vicious determination arose. The murderous fury crept over him. It was time to end this war, one way or another, and he must do so today. As he moved his mind into the perfect focus of a hunter, the wolves knew, standing one by one. They began to howl.

Their long, lustful cries filled the night.

 

T
HE WOLVES AWOKE HER
.

For one moment, Brie didn't move, buried under too many covers to count. As her mind awoke, she realized she was deliciously naked—and that Aidan had just spent hours making love to her.

Her heart leapt. She peered through the darkness at his side of the bed, but it was empty.

Slowly she sat up. Tears began, but they were tears of happiness. Her heart was explosive, so much so that she had to cover it with her hand. She had loved him before; she loved him madly now.

Brie prayed that their lovemaking had finally healed him.

The wolves had quieted. Surely Aidan wasn't with them.

She groped the bed, but all of her clothes were on the floor. He had left a single taper burning, so she slipped to the ground, shivering, and found her black plaid, which she wrapped around herself like a blanket. She was hopeful, but she reined herself in. He was a complicated man who had lived with a terrible tragedy for decades. One night might not miraculously redeem him.

But his every touch had been drenched in emotion.

Brianna stepped into her fur-lined boots, went to the tent flap and lifted it. Outside, it had begun to snow heavily. Traveling would be hell. Maybe he'd turn the rest of his men away from Inverness and order them to go home. That would be a huge relief and one problem solved, for now.

Then she saw him approaching, his strides long and hard.

It was a shadowy, gray dawn, and Brie couldn't see his face until he reached her. He wasn't smiling. He glanced from her eyes to her plaid-cocooned body, and she was pretty sure he looked right through the wool. “Aidan?”

“Ye'll freeze,” he said brusquely.

She smiled uncertainly and hopefully at him. Couldn't he smile back at her? “Good morning,” she whispered.

He nodded shortly. “'Twill snow most of the day.”

She bit her lip. Was he going to ignore what they'd spent hours doing? “Are you coming inside?” A snowy day like this cried out for more lovemaking; it would be perfect if the day was spent together in his bed.

“Aye, for a moment.” He walked past her.

Brie followed him inside. He put on his sword belt, his back to her. She tensed. He was shielding his emotions, but she was pretty sure she knew what he intended. “You're hunting.”

He didn't answer, but he turned and stared at her, his expression hard and set. “Ye should dress.”

“Are you hunting as the Wolf, or are you going like that?” she managed, an ice-cold fear consuming her.

“I'll hunt from the tower at Awe,” he said tersely. “With Moray in Alba, in this time, I will find him. Unless he shows himself and finds me
first.
”

Brie was afraid for him. She didn't want him to go. Worse, she desperately wanted to talk about last night. She wanted him to hug her and smile at her, just once.

His face seemed to tighten.

She was pretty certain he was reading her mind. He had been conscienceless in that regard since meeting her, so why would it change now? “Last night was wonderful,” she whispered.

He made a harsh sound. “I'm glad yer pleased.” He turned his back to her and removed his shortsword, then began inspecting the blade.

Brie hugged herself. “You don't seem pleased.”

He sheathed the sword and poured red wine into a mug. “I was pleased enough.”

He was so cold, so distant, so uncaring. “Aidan? Can we talk about last night?”

He whirled. “I dinna wish to hurt ye, but I canna give ye what ye really want. Ye can go to Seoc for that—or another man. Last night was a mistake, Brianna.”

She was shocked.

“I need power, not sex,” he added flatly.

“Last night was wonderful,” she gasped. “Don't do this.”

“What do ye think Moray is doin', even now?” he demanded harshly.

Brie sat down hard on the edge of the bed. Was he rejecting her? Or did he mean that their worst enemy had a part of the Duisean, and was probably enhancing all of his evil power with even more life-taking, while they had been making love? Still, that didn't excuse Aidan's cold behavior. She trembled. He seemed entirely unmoved by their affair, and his behavior seemed very much a rejection. “Can you admit that something special began for us last night?”

His gaze was searing. “Last night was an ending—not a beginning.”

Brie covered her mouth with her hands. Last night had meant everything for her—but it had been her first time. He was a man of vast experience. He'd had many, many women. She became terribly uncertain. He had seemed as moved as she was, as emotional, but what did she know?

She swallowed. “This friendship we have, this attraction that's between us…I thought it was a big deal, but it's not, is it?”

He slowly set his wineglass down, his back still half turned to her. He glanced at her briefly and looked away. “I dinna ken yer meanin'.”

She hugged herself. His brief look up had been enough for their eyes to meet. “I just realized you've had hundreds of women, and what happened last night might be pretty run-of-the-mill.”