Sword of the Raven (25 page)

“Nay.” His brows lowered. “‘Tis not that.”

Don’t think about babies. About Rowan’s beautiful babies.

“Pills and other methods can fail. Mages have infallible spells to block conception.”

Relief trickled through her. Because she honestly did
not
want children. At least for a long, long time. With her family track record, maybe never. “Metaphysical birth control?
Geez.
You Mages have your asses covered six ways to sundown.” She wiggled her brows at his hard-muscled butt. “So to speak.”

He laughed again. “We try.” Moving closer, he leaned both palms against the shower wall, penning her in. “And it seems you’ve got yet another apology coming from me. A record number in one week.”

Damn, he looked good. And smelled
great.
All hot and sleek and wet…and very, very male.

“Delaney?”

“What? I’m sorry, you were saying…?”

“I’m
sorry, luv. I shouldn’t have been so hasty, so rough upstairs. When I get anywhere near you, I tend to forget you’re not used to this yet. I forget everything but having you.”

Her pulse stumbled. “No apologies necessary. You weren’t rough, you were….enthusiastic. And I
do
appreciate enthusiasm for a job well done.”

He nuzzled the delightfully ticklish spot below her ear. She shivered, goosebumps tingling over her skin as his hand glided downward to cup her damp curls. “Don’t be fibbing to me,” he murmured. “I know you’re tender here.”

“Only a…tiny bit. Not enough to discourage…”

“Shh.” His tongue dipped into the shell of her ear, his warm breath inciting an entire fleet of shivers up her backbone.

“Oh…”
She squirmed, and his erection twitched against her stomach. “I’m fine, really. Better than fine. Absolutely—”

He kissed her. Long and slow and deep. By the time he finally eased back, they were both panting.

Rowan’s sensual mouth curled in a smile that made her belly quiver. He went to his knees in front of her. When he looked up, his eyes were intense green fire. “I’m thinking it’s my turn to kiss and make better.”

Oh, God.

“Open for me, sweetheart.”

She didn’t hesitate.

Shower water cascaded over her shoulders, swirled around her nipples as Rowan’s callused fingertips trailed up her calves, her thighs…and gently parted her. He leaned close, blew softly.

OhGod,ohGod,ohGod.

One hot, wickedly languorous sweep of his satin tongue had her knees buckling.

“So sweet.” His whisper grazed her sensitive nub.

Her hands fisted in his hair as his broad shoulders edged between her legs, urging them wider. Then his mouth closed intimately over her…and the world disappeared in a haze of heat and need.

He took his time…his agile tongue and soft lips teasing, tormenting. Healing away all tenderness.

He made her ache for him. Made her writhe and beg.

Until he finally tumbled her mindlessly into crashing, blinding rapture.

Supporting her, Rowan rose. Breaths harsh, expression dark and primal, he lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around my waist, luv.”

Showing ruthless control, he slowly, exquisitely impaled her with his wonderful thick heat. Then he took her in measured, grinding thrusts against the slick tiles, simultaneously making the shower’s tingling water droplets caress every inch of her skin.

Until she thought she might die of pleasure.

Until she climaxed again, so fiercely…so long…she sobbed his name.

Uttering a guttural moan that sounded wrenched from his soul, he captured her mouth, devouring her as he let himself go, let her feel
his
pleasure flooding through her in glittering waves.

When she finally regained her senses, she was sitting on the shower floor. Water still rained down, and Rowan sat behind her, supporting her limp body.
“Mmm.
Rowan?”

“I’m here. You all right, sweetheart?”

A contented sigh escaped. “‘All right’ doesn’t even
begin
to cover it.”

“Think you can stand?” He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “I’m fair starved to death.”

“Maybe if you help me.”

As woozy as shipwreck survivors, they helped each other out of the shower.

Rowan dried them with a finger-snap. Delaney shrugged into her bathrobe. “How do you like your steak?”

“Bloody rare. And plenty of it.”

Of course he did. She tottered out to call in a food order.

She was curled on a comfy oversize floor pillow in front of the fireplace when Rowan emerged from the kitchen wearing a dark green terry robe. She didn’t ask where he’d gotten it, and he didn’t say.

He offered her a glass of Columbia Valley Cabernet from the bottle he’d opened. She took an appreciative sip. “Thanks. I ordered our dinners, they’ll be here as soon as the steaks cook, which in your case won’t take much time.”

He joined her on the rug, stretching out long legs. “Sounds brilliant.”

They savored their wine in contented silence until the doorbell buzzed. Delaney flicked an uncertain glance at Rowan. “Would you mind zapping out of sight while I get this? I’m not bothered by you being here or anything, but I’d prefer if the entire club wasn’t in on our personal business.” Especially not before she had a chance to talk to Archer.

He faded into mist without comment. She answered the door to see Brian, one of six security guards on duty that evening. Archer didn’t allow wait staff in the living quarters. The tall, dark and engaging young man handed her three bulging bags containing their dinners, spent a few moments in friendly banter, then departed.

Rowan reappeared beside the fireplace. “He bleeding well knows I’m here.”

“No way. You were invisible.”

“You really have no idea, do you, luv?”

She carried the food to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Archer’s club is a bastion of Supernaturals. Your lad Brian is a panther. The other guard at the door with him tonight, Mike…a rare white tiger. The cheeky little bartender, Natiri? She’s Faerie. Rini, the manager, is Elfkind. Elves are masters of organization.”

Delaney’s jaw dropped. “Are you messing with my head?”

“Not a wee bit.”

“Holy...”

Everything
about her own life wasn’t real.

Rowan began pulling out the fragrant food containers. “They’ll all sense your Powers. And the Guardian knows I’m here as well. Archer knew the second I crossed his wards.”

But not what they’d been doing, or he’d be up here ripping out Rowan’s throat.

Subdued, she began to eat.

Rowan poured her another glass of wine, and started asking questions about her driftwood and sea-glass collections. Before she realized his intent, he’d expertly finessed her out of her funk.

Who could be gloomy after good wine, great food, and spectacular sex with an intelligent, charming Mage?

Rowan set his empty plate on the wicker coffee table and stretched. “Aye, and that hit the spot. I’m wanting dessert, now.”

“Dessert?” She ditched her own ravaged meal before glancing at the generous slices of strawberry cheesecake awaiting them. “Oy, aren’t you full yet?”

He tickled her instep before stroking a fingertip over her ankle and up her calf. “I never get my fill.” His dark head bent and he kissed the tips of her toes. “Of you.”

“You have
got
to be kidding me.”

He tossed aside his bathrobe.

“Whoa…obviously not.”

Grinning, he prowled up her body on his hands and knees, opening her robe as he went and kissing a burning path upward.

Delaney undulated her hips as a moan escaped. “Okay…maybe I can muster up some enthusiasm for dessert.”

Rowan made long, slow, sweet love to her on the rug in front of the fire.

Hours later, too sated to move, she snuggled into his chest and listened to the crackling flames as his even breaths lulled her toward sleep.

Only as oblivion descended did she realize that all evening Rowan had openly shared his body with her. Shared his pleasure. Shared random thoughts.

But he’d kept every emotion securely locked away.

* * *

Delaney startled awake, gasping and thrashing.

Curled behind her in bed, Rowan tightened his arm in a reassuring hug. “No need to fear, Delaney,” his deep brogue rumbled in her ear. “You’re safe.”

He must have carried her to the bedroom sometime during the night. She turned her head to look at him. “Zinter’s at the beach house. And brewing up something bad.”

“I’ve watched her house from the sea for the past two days and seen nothing. How do you know this?”

So he’d been at the beach during his absence, somewhat of a relief. “Connor just alerted me in a dream. Like before, he texted me on his phone. Only it was in my apartment instead of the lighthouse. We need a war meeting.”

Without leaving Rowan’s embrace, Delaney fumbled for the landline on the nightstand. Punched numbers. “Hey, Archer, sorry, I know you probably worked all night and it’s…” She peered at the clock. “Ghastly early…but I need to come over and talk.”

At his graveled reply, she gripped the phone tighter. “Yes, he’ll be there, too. Okay, see you then.”

She hung up and turned her head to look at Rowan a second time. “He said to give him twenty minutes.”

His eyes shone bright green. “Know what I’m thinking?”

With the silky steel of his impressive morning erection rubbing her buttocks…um, yeah. “I’d have to be dead not to. But twenty minutes is barely long enough for us to shower.”

He palmed her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple. “I’m thinking I’d like to have you in a bed for a change, sweetheart.”

Her stomach pitched. “Unfortunately, we do
not
have time for—

His knee parted her thighs, and his tantalizing fullness slid into her from behind.

“Oh!”
Still soft and moist and primed for his touch after last night, her inner muscles rippled in pleasure. She rocked her bottom into him, pushing him deeper.
“Yummm…kay.
We’ll…skip...shower.”

His sinful groan vibrated against her back, his breath hot in her ear. “Plenty of time for both.” His fingertips glided down her body, between her legs, found the perfect spot. Instantly electrifying every nerve ending, his fingers stroked in the same seductive rhythm as his hardness stroking inside her.

He was right. Breath-stealing, body-shaking, mind-blowing bliss didn’t take long at all.

Afterward, they shared a fast shower and then dressed. Her in skinny jeans, short boots and a yellow turtleneck, and Rowan again appearing in clean black denims and a black sweater from who-knew-where. She
had
to convince him to teach her that skill.

“Delaney, what did you find on the flash drive?”

Crap! She’d spent the first forty-eight hours preoccupied with his vanishing act, and the next twenty-four by his return. “I didn’t have a chance to look yet. I’ll get it from my safe, and we can plug it in at Archer’s.”

“Not certain ‘tis a grand idea to allow the Guardian access to our data.”

“Do you have the ability to decode it?” At his frown, she nodded. “Thought so. He’s protected me most of my life. If I can’t trust him, I can’t trust
anyone.”

When she opened the safe to extract the drive, she couldn’t help but notice the way Rowan’s taut attention arrowed on the engagement ring she’d tucked away. But he said nothing.

Following the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee, Delaney preceded him down the long hallway toward Archer’s apartment, her skin still glowing, system still humming. “Morning sex is a way better wake-up than a triple espresso.”

He laughed. “Won’t be hearing opposition from me.”

And she wouldn’t mind waking up to Rowan MacLachlan every morning. For the rest of her life.

She tripped. Where had
that
come from?

Somewhere along the way, he’d breached her defenses and sneaked into her heart. She cared about him more than she wanted to.
Far
too much for her own good.

Rowan had warned her, and she’d better listen. A dedicated warrior wasn’t a forever kind of guy. She’d seen the same symptoms in her brother, who never stayed with the same woman longer than six months. At the most. Rowan was not only married to his mission, but badly burned by a previous lover. Whatever they had together, no matter how fantastic, was temporary.

Even if they both managed to survive the imminent clash with Ceard.

When Rowan left, it was going to hurt worse than she’d ever imagined. She knocked on Archer’s door.
Stay in the moment.

And avoid—as much as superhumanly possible—thinking about her lonely future.

Chapter 16

Archer swung open the door before Delaney’s brisk rap died away. He looked at her. His nostrils flared. When his scowl shot to Rowan, her fake nonchalance died faster than her knock.

Archer lunged at Rowan. “You
sonofabitch!”

She leapt between the men. “Get off him!” Punching Power into her shove, she pushed Archer back. “Who I let into my bed is
not
your business!”

Fury stamped his face. “It is when—”

“You have a dangerous habit, Guardian.” Rowan gestured at Archer’s left shoulder. “To overstep.”

“You’re
begging
to die.” Archer stalked to the window. Turned his back to them.

Delaney stared at the tattoo on her friend’s left scapula, marking his injured wing. Maybe one day she’d get the story out of him. She studied his broad shoulders, vibrating with the effort of restraint.

And maybe not.

“Look guys, I don’t know your history, and I have a sneaking suspicion neither of you is about to volunteer it. But we don’t have time for this.” She marched into the kitchen and helped herself to a mug of coffee. “Either whip ‘em out and measure ‘em, or chill. Save the energy to fight our real enemies.” She drilled Rowan with a stare. “Archer brews excellent espresso. Want some?”

His lips twitched. “I can never get enough espresso.”

“Coffee, Archer? Or perhaps you’d rather have humble pie?”

Her friend pivoted and stalked into the kitchen. As she turned to get a mug from the cupboard for Rowan, Archer leaned over her shoulder. Snagging a cup for himself, he murmured in her ear, “Don’t trust the Enforcer as far as you can toss him, baby girl.”

“So he says.”

Archer stiffened. “He warned you off?”

“At the risk of repeating myself, he’s not the enemy.”

“Don’t be too sure.”

Their glowering host produced muffins, yogurt, and fruit. They ate sitting around his dining table while they briefed him about recent developments and discussed options.

Finished, Archer booted up his laptop and Delaney plugged in the flash drive. Surrounded by his big body on her left and Rowan’s on her right, she leaned over the table and slowly scrolled the screen. “It’s definitely encrypted. Anything jump out at you, Archer?”

“This appears similar to transmissions we intercepted during the war. I have some contacts who can take a look.”

“War? You didn’t serve in Iraq or Afghanistan.”

“Didn’t say it was that war.”

She sighed.

Beside her, Rowan tensed. “Wait. Scroll back.” He pointed to several long unintelligible lines of text. “There.”

“What is it?”

“Magic symbols. They’re Clan MacLachlan Mage. Nothing else like them exists, and each is individual and specific. This one is my own…Water. Followed by all these numbers and letters. Go forward.” He swallowed hard. “This one on the next page…is Braden’s. Fire. Followed by more numbers and letters. Forward again. This is Declan’s. Air. With different numbers and letters. And on the last page, is Sebastian’s. Earth. Again, different numbers and letters.”

“Could be coordinates,” Archer said.

“Or spells,” Delaney added. “I skimmed a huge book on Celtic incantations in Zinter’s library that had similar symbols.” Her pulse leapt into overdrive as she stared at the symbols. “Do you suppose…
Oh, my God!
Rowan, you thought Ceard didn’t kill you because she wanted to torment you, which is true. But Ceard is all about deception…and
Power.
She craves Power. And she’d be reluctant to destroy the strongest Powers she ever had her hands on!
All
of them.”

“Nay.” Voice raw, he shook his head. “I saw them die.”

 “You
believed
you saw them die.” She spun toward him. “But did you, really?”

Doubt creased his face. “I…”

“Ceard makes lies seem real. She conned Morrigan’s husband, conned Morrigan’s entire army. Conned the sea god. She
makes things appear what they’re not.
Is it possible your cousins might be imprisoned like you were, while she and her twisted cohorts try to figure out how to steal their Power?”

Rowan recoiled. “Bugger me,” he whispered. Every ounce of color leached from his face. “I didn’t consider— Never thought—” He sucked in air. “Holy fecking saints above!” he roared.

Storm clouds boiled up until the morning went blacker than midnight. Thunder exploded, vibrating the high-rise, and jagged lightning sliced the darkness. Shoving his hand through his hair, Rowan paced the apartment in jerky strides while rain and hail pounded from the sky and battered the windows. “How sodding gullible could I be, then? I let that bloody buggering degenerate hag make me think—”

His fist shot out and rammed a gaping hole in Archer’s wall in conjunction with another cannon of thunder, making Delaney jump. “And if my lads
are
still alive, you can take it to the shagging bank she’s been torturing them, while I sat on my fecking arse and did bloody nothing but grieve!”

Rowan’s tsunami of invective swirled into Gaelic, and Delaney bit back the urge to console him. He’d been holding everything inside for a year. Healthier to let him release the pressure.

Although now that she’d seen him lose it, she understood why he so highly valued control.

A rattling groan trembled through the building as all the water pipes started to thump and shake. The kitchen faucet blasted on, followed by the bathroom sink, shower, and tub. She flicked an uneasy glance at Archer, who stood legs spread, hands taut at his sides, ready to go for his knives. “Don’t you dare,” she murmured. “Let him work through it.”

“He steps within four feet of you, I’m taking him down.”

“Rowan won’t hurt me. If he decides he needs to touch me, you
let
him.”

“What the hell kind of hold does he have on you, Delaney? Don’t you understand what he could do—”

In the middle of a shout, Rowan shimmered into molten silver steam…and disappeared. The water faucets stopped gushing, the pipes quieted. The storm outside vanished just as quickly.

“There. You see?” Delaney said. “He
could
. But he
won’t.”

While waiting for Rowan to return, Delaney and Archer scanned the entire flash drive, but couldn’t decipher any intel.

An hour later, Rowan reappeared beside her, and Delaney yanked her head up. He stood silent, tense, and pale.

She rose, turned and wrapped her arms around him. The scent of the ocean lingered on his skin, and she knew where he’d been. “It’s okay, Rowan. Everybody loses it now and again. At least now you have some hope for your cousins.”

He stayed still. Scary calm. “Hope can be dangerous.” He stepped out of her embrace. “Zinter’s built new warded barricades in the last twenty-four hours. They’re impossible to see through.”

Archer shut down the computer. “The added camouflage wards plus the judge’s mutant pet patrol means we’re not getting anywhere near the place without tipping her off.”

“What if we do a fly-over in your helicopter?” Delaney asked.

“They’ll see it. Hear it.”

Rowan shook his head. “Not if we go in cloaked.”

Archer snorted. “Cloak a chopper? Get real, Enforcer.”

“I’ve done a castle fortress.”

“Castles don’t travel 130 miles-per-hour, while emitting 105 decibels.”

“There’s a way. If Delaney and I combine Powers.”

Archer outright laughed. “Yeah, and monkeys might fly outta my ass.”

Delaney swallowed. “We can mingle our Powers. We have before.” So far, only during sex, but if Rowan thought it would work…he wouldn’t gamble on blowing their cover with Zinter.

 “You’ve co-joined Powers and channeled them at a single target?” Archer’s stunned stare bored into Delaney. “Never been done.”

Rowan shrugged at Archer. “It has now.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Delaney cast an uncertain glance at Rowan.
You didn’t tell me combining Powers had never been done.

You didn’t ask.

So what else should she be asking him?

Archer shoved off the table. “The sooner we finish this, Enforcer, the sooner you’re out of our lives.” He locked the flash drive in his safe, then scooped his digital camera off the breakfast bar and tossed it to Delaney. “Let’s go.” He ushered her out the door first.

Behind her in the hallway, she heard Rowan say quietly, “I’ll be patching your wall later.”

“I can handle it.”

“I fix what I bugger up.”

“I care fuck-all about the plaster,” Archer snarled sotto voice. “But if you hurt Delaney, I will destroy you.”

Rowan’s even reply was somber. “If she gets hurt, you won’t have to.”

* * *

Inside the chopper skimming high over the autumn landscape, Rowan held Delaney on his lap, careful to shield his tumultuous thoughts. She’d sat with him because he’d let her assume they needed to touch to join Powers. He didn’t want to incur Delaney’s questions, and the Guardian was already plenty suspicious.

Truth was, since their first intense lovemaking, even if he wasn’t anywhere near Delaney he could now hijack her Power. Anytime he chose.

Although it weakened her horribly. She’d damned near passed out when he’d drawn a boost from her to reassemble the rooftop garden. But he was running a series of obscure incantations in an attempt to solve the problem.

He strove to concentrate on the immediate goal…and blockade his feelings. The trouble with emotions was once you let them loose, they were twice as tough to lock down again.

Braden, Declan, and Sebastian might be alive!

Hope. The most deadly emotion.

Paiton had stolen his hope when she’d betrayed him and butchered everyone he’d treasured. No shred of hope had remained after he’d been chained for so long, starved and burning with thirst, and abject grief.

The only thing he’d had left, the only thing he’d clung to, was the consuming desire to mete out justice. That alone had kept him fighting to see each dreaded rising of the unrelenting sun.

Balor’s Sorceress had murdered Rowan’s hope along with his family. And with the absence of hope came the absence of fear. After her treachery, he had nothing more to lose. He feared no pain. Nor did he fear death. He didn’t expect to survive to see the final, ultimate battle. Hadn’t cared that he had no future. His priority was Balor and Paiton’s annihilation. As long as
his
was the only life at risk, he wasn’t afraid.

Then he’d met Delaney. His arms tightened around her.

Every time they made love, her Powers amplified his. The stronger their connection, the stronger his Magic grew. But the more Delaney shared her generous essence, unfailing optimism, and audacious spirit with him, the more he attached he became to her. The more he wanted to live.

He’d begun to think about, wish for, a future. Begun to believe there might be a way to win the battle
and
the woman.

Hope, that insidious bastard, had crept in and twined around his heart. Pried open a chink in his armor, where any opening could be fatal. Not only to him, but to Delaney. Now, perhaps to his cousins.

He owed them a debt he could never repay.

Suddenly, he had
everything
to lose. All over again.

That
scared him witless.

She stirred on his lap. “Rowan?” her voice asked softly through the mic’d headphones they all wore to muffle the rotor noise. “Are you okay?”

He was shielding like a madman, but some of his inner turbulence had to be bleeding through. “Hungry,” he lied. For the first time since his escape, the thought of food made him queasy. “Yogurt and melons don’t stick.”

She turned, and her smile sliced through his chest more keenly than any blade. “When we’re done here, I’ll cook a feast. Anything you want, you name it.”

His throat constricted. He didn’t dare voice what he wanted. “We’re nearly there, are we not?” he asked Archer. “I recognize that stand of trees.”

“Target in four minutes. Whatever you two do, fire it up.”

Rowan had to drop his shields in order to link his Power to Delaney’s. He bolted shut his heart. Shoved every thought out of his head except the mission. Then he let her in.

Her Power whirled around him, dove inside him, honeyed and feminine while packing a tremendous kick—like chugging hot buttered rum. Adrenaline and arousal surged through him and he went stone hard.

Flashing him an impish grin, she wriggled.
Hello! You’re suddenly feeling perkier.

He stifled a groan.
Are you trying to get me killed, wench? Notch it down before the Guardian decides to use my bollocks for billiards.

Can’t help it.
She squirmed against his hard-on, and he broke out in a sweat.
I feel you all big and hard, and all I can think about is you behind me this morning, thrusting—

Stop.
His cock twitched and his fingers clamped down on her hips. He’d made no secret of the fact that her sweetly curved arse turned him on…and she was taking full advantage.
Sit still, dammit. Or I’ll be embarrassing the both of us.

She muffled a snort, drawing Archer’s frown. Rowan sent her an amused mock glower. At least his gloom and doom had fled.
Concentrate on cloaking the chopper.

Yes, my mighty Enforcer. But when I get you home, I’m gonna—

Save it for later,
he warned. But he was thrilled she’d decided to freely embrace her sensuality. “There’s Zinter’s house,” he announced with no small relief.

Delaney dug out Archer’s camera and started snapping. Their combined Powers easily penetrated the wards so they could see in. “There’s Godzilla, roaming the grounds.” She yanked the camera away to peer downward. “And
holy crap!
Are those—”

“Aye, a demon platoon,” Rowan replied. A long column of demons snaked through the forest toward the house…leading dozens of bound humans. “With mortal captives.”

“For ransom?”

“Blood sacrifices,” Archer said. “A
lot
of ‘em.” He banked the chopper in a wide circle. “They’ll have to perform a motherfucking atomic ritual to pull Balor out of the Abyss.”