Mists of Velvet (24 page)

Rhys knew he wasn’t crazy. He’d seen enough magical, unexplainable shit in his lifetime to understand and believe that the Dark Mage could very well find Bronwnn through her vision.

He had to get her out of there, before the bastard found her. Both of them had suffered run-ins with the murderer. But it was Bronwnn he worried over. She was pale and shaking. His capable goddess was terrified.

“We’re leaving—
now
.”

She didn’t try to stop him. Instead, she ran to the table and wiped her face with a damp cloth, then pulled a white gown from the bag she had brought. She slipped it over her head, and, as the garment’s fabric slid downward, Rhys watched as it hugged her curves. The long hem slid over her thighs, covering the blue line of the tattoo.

He had touched her there, seconds before she had gone into her trance. That tattoo, he thought, was not simply a tattoo, but a portal of some sort. She saw that he was looking there, and she hurriedly covered her thigh.

“That’s how you had the vision, isn’t it? I touched you there.”

She nodded, then glanced away from him.

“How does the connection work?”

Shrugging, she avoided his gaze and packed up the bottles and jars into her bag. Then she pointed to the door.

Fine. They would leave, but this conversation definitely wasn’t over.

Reaching for the door, he inched it open and peered into the darkness. Trees surrounded them, and the first rays of dawn were too weak to penetrate through the tall trunks and thick canopy of leaves.

He listened for a second, then proceeded to take a step. He was blocked by a massive chest.

“Going somewhere?”

His heart stopped, then immediately started firing again when he looked up to find Bran, the king of the Sidhe, glaring down at him.

Keir was behind him. So were Sayer and two other men Rhys had never met. Gazing out over the gathered crowd, he saw Rowan and Mairi at the back of the pack, their eyes wide and their cheeks pink.
Shit!
Instantly, he placed his hands over his genitals.

“Drostan,” Bran commanded. “Summon a pair of pants for our friend. He seems to have misplaced his.”

The blond-haired warrior stepped forward and looked at him from head to toe with a distasteful grimace. “My summoning magick is for greater things than this. Besides, he’s a mor—”

“Do it,” Bran snapped.

Rhys found his lower body encased in black leather. Personally, he was a jeans type of guy, but leather would do for now. He nodded his thanks to the warrior, who continued to look at him with disgust.

“What took you so long?” he asked Keir. “I’ve been searching for you for days.”

“I couldn’t hear you.”

Keir had his arm around Rowan. No wonder Keir hadn’t heard him. He’d probably been too busy listening to Rowan’s sighs of pleasure.

Reaching for Bronwnn’s hand, Rhys pulled her out from behind him and heard Keir gasp. Rhys knew the wraith had seen her in Rhys’ dreams. Their gazes met, confirming what Rhys suspected. “
We’ll talk later,
” they mentally conveyed between them.

“We need to leave this place,” he announced as he stepped out into the night with Bronwnn in tow.

“You may both come back to the castle.” Bran’s gaze drifted over Rhys’ chest. “But what has happened?”

“The Dark Mage,” Rhys said. “We have information about him, but not here. This place isn’t secure.”

“Then let us be off.”

“Not so quickly, Raven.”

Rhys whirled around as the woman’s voice came from the forest. Behind him, Bronwnn clutched his forearm. Then, a woman wearing a long white gown and a white robe stepped out from between two trees. Her golden blond hair hung to her waist. She looked like a medieval princess as she glided over to them.

He knew who she was the minute her gaze turned upon him.

“Rhys MacDonald, descendant of Daegan, you are not welcome in Annwyn.”

Keir stepped between them, and Cailleach glared at him. “Your bond has no power here, Shadow Wraith. The mortal is mine.”

Rhys heard Bronwnn gasp at the same time she squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, letting her know everything was going to be okay.

“Rhys MacDonald, your life is forfeit, the punishment for trespassing in Annwyn.”

“Cailleach, you will stay where you are,” Bran commanded.

“Alas, your orders do not pertain to me, Raven. This is my curse, and I will deal with it as I wish.”

Keir stepped between them again, and the goddess raised her hand. “I could kill you, wraith.”

“I am prepared to die for him.”

“But not in Annwyn. Not this night. You are needed elsewhere, and so you will turn back and leave us be.”

Keir started to say something, but Cailleach pressed past him. He reached for her, but she sent him a lethal glare, then fixed her gaze upon Rowan. “Is he the only one you would die for, wraith?”

Rhys sensed Keir’s shock as well as the pain and rage that lanced through him. If he was fully prepared to sacrifice himself for Rhys, he was a thousand times more determined to protect Rowan from Cailleach.

“Leave us,” she commanded the small group. “He is mine.” She turned on Rhys and raised her hands, which started to glow. Rhys wondered how bad her zap of light was going to feel as it pierced his body.

“Now, Rhys MacDonald, you will die for entering Annwyn.”

There was a deep growl behind him, and then his wolf lunged at Cailleach, landing at her feet. It snarled and snapped, and the blue ink on the left hind paw glimmered in the moonlight. Rhys knew then he was looking at his goddess.

“Bronwnn, no!”

Cailleach narrowed her eyes, hatred shining in them. “You’ve been hiding things, I see,” she said to the wolf.

Cailleach raised her arm and pointed her fingers at him, but the wolf lunged, snapping at the goddess once more.

“You fool,” she taunted. “You do not know what you’re doing.”

The wolf—Bronwnn—circled the goddess, growling low in her throat. Cailleach watched her warily; then her gaze widened, as if she had just realized something important.

“Do you think this man is your mate?”

The wolf growled, then glanced over her shoulder at Rhys, then back at Cailleach, who was beginning to laugh as she glanced between Keir and Rhys.

“Stupid girl, your protection is ill placed.”

Bronwnn—the wolf—snapped at Cailleach, whose face turned dark with anger.

“You think he is the wraith. But you have no clue, do you?” Cailleach replied, her voice dripping venom. “He is nothing but a mortal, cursed by my own spell.”

The questioning glance in the wolf’s eyes made Rhys step forward. There was hurt in those blue eyes—and pain. Had she not realized who he was? Bronwnn swung her head in Keir’s direction and sniffed the air; then her gaze fixed on each man, all except the king, and Cailleach laughed.

“Silly little fool,” she snapped. “You’ve given yourself to the wrong man. You’ve defiled yourself for a lowly mortal.”

Suddenly the wolf vanished, replaced by a naked, kneeling Bronwnn. Rhys ran to her, but Bronwnn held out her arm, halting him. And a piece of him shriveled up. Did she no longer want him because of his mortality? Who—or what—had she believed him to be?

Her bowed head slowly lifted to look into Cailleach’s chilly eyes. “Supreme Goddess,” Bronwnn murmured, her voice lilting and beautiful—a sound that would haunt him forever. “I wish to offer you an
adbertos
.”

Bronwnn waited anxiously for a response from Cailleach. She could feel the curious stares on her back, but mostly she felt the hard glare of Rhys, whose anger clouded the air. She could almost taste it as it wrapped around her.

Closing her eyes, she fought back the tears that had started to form. He was a mortal, not a wraith. He was not her mate, yet she had dreamed of him . . .

Cailleach circled her, and Bronwnn fought the urge to feel shame and humiliation. She had given herself to Rhys because of her dreams. Because inside herself she had felt Rhys was her mate. Why she had dreamed of Rhys and not the wraith, she didn’t understand. But it did answer the puzzling question about his scent. It was a mortal’s scent. And it covered her own flesh like a blanket. She never wanted to be washed of it. Yet she knew the connection they shared was at an end. Her fate was tied to the wraith—not to a mortal.

“You’ve broken your vow of silence,” Cailleach uttered in a cold voice. “You must have great feelings for this pitiful creature to come to his defense and to break a vow you have held for so long.”

“I can defend myself,” Rhys snapped, and Bronwnn glared at him. Cailleach was already livid. Rhys’ insolence would only enrage her further.

“What is it you’ll sacrifice to me for this mortal’s life?”

“May we please have this discussion in private?” she whispered. What she had to say, she did not want Rhys to hear. She did not want to see him, because if she did, she might no longer possess the will to do what needed to be done. She would save him at any cost, because he had become her ideal. In her heart, he was more than a lover. The past two nights had been more than sexual pleasure. In her soul, he was her mate. And a woman did not allow her
leathean
to be slaughtered by a vengeful goddess. She could resign herself to living without him, as long as she knew that Rhys was alive, and living in his world.

Cailleach paused to stand over her. “All right, then. I will grant you your request. We shall speak of this in private.”

“If you touch one damned hair on her head,” said Rhys as he took a few steps forward, “I will not tell you, or your nine warriors, what I know of the Dark Mage. And after my run-in with him, I know a lot more than anyone else.”

Cailleach whirled around then, her rage palpable as it radiated through the air. “Who do you think you are?”

“The great-great-grandson of Daegan MacDonald.”

“You have none of his powers. You’re a pathetic mortal, and no match for me, or anyone in Annwyn.”

“You once thought Isobel MacDonald was no match for you, either. But her love for Daegan proved you wrong.”

The goddess did seethe then. “Your arrogance will be your undoing,” Cailleach stormed.

“My pride is the only thing that kept me alive while I was suffering under the mage. My mortal soul and drive prevented me from becoming his next victim. Humans, Cailleach, are different from you, but we are not inferior.”

“Rodents, all of you,” she snapped. “I have the power to crush you with the flick of my hand. Do not tempt me to use that power.”

“But then you won’t know what I saw. And thinking you can torture the information out of Bronwnn would be a mistake, because I’ve not burdened her with my ordeal. I am the only one who knows, Cailleach. And I can be just as stubborn as you.”

“You will share what you know, or you will die, mortal.”

Rhys stood tall, his chest filling with indignation. “I’m not afraid of death. If my destiny is to die with dignity while standing up to you, then so be it.”

“There will be no dignity in your death,” Cailleach taunted. “How well do you think you would hold up against my torture?”

“No!” Bronwnn launched herself toward Cailleach, falling to the goddess’ feet. “I will do whatever you want, Supreme Goddess. Anything. Just . . . spare him.”

“Don’t,” Rhys beseeched her as he gave her his hand to help her up. “Don’t do this. I can handle whatever she tries to do. You don’t have to lower yourself before her for me.”

Shaking her head, she tried to convince Rhys to let her be. He didn’t understand Cailleach’s powers. He could have no way of knowing how powerful her magick was—or how she never backed down from a challenge. “I know what I’m doing,” she whispered. “Let me save you.”

“Not if it means you’ll be taken from me. No. I’ll face her.”

“Raven,” Cailleach commanded, her expression as dark as the clouds that now covered Annwyn. “Take your warriors and this mortal back to your realm. I will speak with you later.”

“The hell you’ll order me around like I’m a fucking kid,” Rhys snarled, his fingers curling into fists.

With a blinding flash of white, Rhys was gone, and Bronwnn’s scream echoed through the forest.

Within the blink of an eye, Rhys was thrust forward, landing on his ass inside a castle.
Fucking magick.

He really hated it, especially when he had none of it.