Stolen Fate (17 page)

“Aye, we were.” They had been good times.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Fiona.”

Ian’s heart thudded.

“She’s miserable,” Loki said. “Tries to visit you, weeps all the time in her cottage. She recently left Scotland, headed I don’t know where.”

Misery surged through Ian’s veins. “Then let’s get out of here.”

“We can’t.”

“Shite. ’Course not.” The cell had magic in place that would alert the guards if it were ever empty when it wasn’t supposed to be. “Why the hell did you join me here if you canna get us out?”

Green mist swirled around Logan until Ian was looking at a mirror image of himself. Same face, same build, same clothes covered in the dirt of hell.

“Because it’s my turn.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Three days later
 

Off the coast of Spain

Fiona stared morosely at the horizon. Blazing sun beat down on the little boat, a rusted barge that had seen better days and now floated tranquilly on the deep blue Mediterranean. Spain could be seen a couple miles away, flat and baking in the sun.

The tropical heat should have made her feel better. It didn’t.

“Are you okay?” Claire asked.

Fiona turned to look at her colleague. She’d been paired with Claire on this project a week ago. Their job was to find an ancient Greek artifact on the shipwreck below and return it to the university for conservation. They were based in a little town called Murcia that was so full of pink British tourists that Fiona felt like she’d never left Scotland. Even the nice weather and nicer food couldn’t keep her mind off home.

“Fine,” Fiona said, trying to distract herself from her misery. The fact that she didn’t have the clearance to visit Ian made it even worse. No one could visit prisoners in that ward. She’d tried every day to visit him and been stopped at the desk. It had driven her crazy with misery until she could barely get off her couch.

When the university had wanted to send her on this project with Claire, she’d jumped at the chance to get into a new environment, hoping that it would break the cycle of ice cream eating while sniffling—she was a total cliché—and weeping into Fluffy Black’s fur.

Her heart had stung unbearably when she’d boarded the plane for Spain, and landing in Cartagena hadn’t made her feel any better. At least Fluffy Black could come with her. Years ago, after a terrible illness, Fluffy had been bespelled to be immortal. Like a witch’s familiar, but without the magic. She was connected to Fiona in a way that allowed her to follow Fiona on her trips, move from place to place, and not get put out like a normal cat.

She helped Fiona cope, even when she felt like an idiot for mourning a man she’d known for so short a time. And Claire had been really nice, she realized absently. She’d kept Fiona company while she’d drowned her sorrows in pints of Estrella and plates of tapas in the evening. The chill water always snapped her into work mode the next day, and it became easy to help Claire find the historic treasures she sought for the university collections.

The artifact at their feet was their biggest find of all, easily located at the edge of a small ballast pile and under some sand. Without her bloodhound senses for artifacts, it would have taken mortal archaeologists months or years to properly excavate and find the thing. For Fiona, it was the work of a dive, even when she was distracted by thoughts of Ian. The artifact they’d just found—another ancient computer-like device like the Greek Antikythera mechanism—should have thrilled her. It didn’t. She could barely care.

“Seriously, Fiona. I haven’t known you long, but I can tell you’re totally bummed about something,” Claire said.

Bummed was one way to put it, Fiona thought, as she looked out at the flat blue ocean. She’d been reinstated as an Acquirer for the Department of Magical Devices for two and a half weeks. Ian had been back in prison for three.
 

 
“Ready to go back to port?” the captain called from behind the wheel.
 

Fiona's head snapped up and she realized she’d been ignoring Claire. The sympathy in her new friend’s eyes made her own sting. Relief rushed through her when Claire turned away and yelled an assent to the captain. Holding it together was always easier when people weren’t being nice. It was like the dam she’d built up against her feelings got a crack in it every time someone was sympathetic to her misery.

Nothing was like she’d expected it to be when she’d dreamed of finding the book again. True, she felt the contentment she’d always expected from fulfilling her fate. She no longer had the threat of madness looming over her shoulder. She had her job back. She’d saved the world from the threat of divine war.

So everything should be perfect, she thought as she gazed out at the sun sparkling on the sea. She’d accomplished more than she’d ever hoped and had been reinstated to her old post with commendations and glory. Ian must have kept the collar and slipped it back on when Karrem and Loras had captured him. It was the only explanation for why she hadn’t been fired for letting him escape. They thought he’d simply overpowered her.

 
Yet without Ian, the victory was hollow. She enjoyed the work, but the evenings were spent with food and her cat. Both of which were good, but didn’t quite cut it.

Fed up with her own moping, Fiona pushed away from the boat’s rail and went up to the bow to grab the bow line and help Claire and the captain bring the boat into the dock.
 

They motored past dozens of small boats that sat cheek by jowl in their slips, all rolling on the light wake of the barge, their metal dangling bits clanking musically against masts and hulls.
 

It really was beautiful, she thought. Fat lot of good it did her. The captain pulled the boat into the slip and she and Claire tied off.
 

“I’ll take care of the dive kit,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Claire asked.

“No problem. I know you’ve got a date.” Claire had been over the moon about the fact that her boyfriend was visiting from Scotland.

“Thanks! I’ll make it up to you!” Claire grabbed her day bag and ran up the dock.
 

After checking the lines and the engine, the captain trundled after her, his lunch sack flopping against his thigh with every step. He’d leave her to clean up her dive gear, since his only concern was the boat.

Fiona sighed and turned back to the boat. She was hauling the air tanks off the deck when she caught sight of a tall figure striding down the dock, passing behind the occasional mast or pilothouse, which cut him off from her view.
 

They’d been coming out here every day for a week and had yet to see the weekenders on their boats. It was Friday and only about two in the afternoon, so maybe he was getting the day started early. Just another boater.
 

But she squinted harder, unsure of why he caught her eye. She could barely make out his face or his—

Her heart dropped her feet.

Ian.
 

It was Ian striding down the dock, his steps long and sure on the bobbing surface. But how? He should be locked up a thousand miles away back in Edinburgh.

She stared dumbly. Ian was only five meters away now, so close she could see the green of his eyes. A smile kicked up the corner of his mouth and still she stared, blindsided and stupid.

Soon, Ian was standing in front of her, something she’d dreamed about in her wildest imagination yet never expected in a thousand years.
 

“Hello.” He held out a hand for the heavy tank in her arms.

“Hi.” She dumbly handed it to him.
 

He set it down on its side.

“Oh my gods, you’re here!” It finally hit her and she leapt off the boat, stumbling onto the dock like a moron but past caring.

She threw her arms around him, laughing when he swept her up and squeezed her to him.
 

“How?” she asked against his shoulder. “How are you here?”

“Long story.”

“Gods, you have to tell me all of it. I just canna believe it. Are you out? For good?” She leaned back and looked at his face, thinner than when she’d last seen it, but so handsome her heart felt like it would burst.
 

“I am.”

“Good.” She kissed him, hard and fast, joy in every movement.
 

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” Ian muttered against Fiona's lips.

“Likewise.” She pulled him onto the boat and into the pilothouse. Thank gods the captain had left. “I want to hear about how you got out, but no' yet.”

She tore at his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his, hot and warm and so perfect.
 

Within seconds, he had her pants around her ankles and she kicked them off. She reached out greedily for his cock, and a fierce wave of satisfaction roared through him when he felt her hand.

“Wait.” His voice was rough as he reached between her legs. “I need to make sure you’re ready for me.”

An animal noise escaped her when his fingers parted her sex, slipping between the slick folds to stroke. Soon she was wet and trembling, her need and joy clear.

“Now,” she gasped.

“Aye.” He picked her up and pressed her against the wall of the pilothouse, then brought her down upon his cock. He thrust inside of her, groaning at the feeling of her wet heat enveloping him.
 

She arched against him, picking up a rhythm that matched his own.
 

Soon they were straining against one another, desperate to chase away the memory of their separation. She was lean and strong, her body an intoxicant.

Gods, he was going to come too soon.

He grabbed the rail on the ceiling, focusing on the bite of the wood into his palm instead of on the wet heat of her pussy. It didn’t work.

Ah, gods, he was going to lose it. With a groan, he pulled free and slid down her body. He propped her against the wall and set his mouth to her. Her cry of frustration was replaced with one of pleasure.
 

She was gloriously wet and slick, and when he thrust his tongue inside of her, he tasted the bite of his own pre-cum. A beastly possessiveness in him made him growl against her, the animal he’d professed to have contained.
 

Desperate to get her off before he lost it all over the floor, he moved his mouth to her clitoris and pushed two fingers inside of her. The feel of her heat closing over him drew a groan from him and he stroked her with his tongue.

Within seconds, her whole body stiffened and her hips pushed against his face, her pussy spasming around his fingers.
 

Fuck.
 

He withdrew from her and rose up quickly, thrusting inside of her so that he could feel the remnants of her orgasm. She cried out and clutched his shoulders as he lifted her, her face flushed and beautiful.

His hips lost any semblance of rhythm or grace as a second orgasm tore through her and lit up his own. He heaved over her, lost. A guttural cry escaped his lips as his back arched and the orgasm pounded up through his shaft and broke him apart.

When it was done, he saw nothing but white light and collapsed against her, held up by sheer luck. Dimly, he recognized that she was still shuddering from her orgasm, perhaps in the grips of another. But as much as he wanted to reach a hand down to her clitoris to help her along, he hadn’t an ounce of strength in his body.

A minute later, once she’d stilled and he’d caught at least a bit of his breath, he opened his eyes to see her looking at him, a satisfied smile on her face.
 

“Apparently we just had to get that out of our system,” she said.

He laughed roughly and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I guess I was worried I’d never get to again.”

She grinned, an energy and a lightness about her that he’d never seen while they were on the hunt for the book. “And these are some big windows in this pilothouse. Thank gods the marina is empty. Now tell me how you got out.”

He looked over at her, memorizing the face that was so new to him, yet so cherished.