Ensnared by Blood Page 9

  His words melted her. The simple affection, the raw feeling that vibrated through his lowered voice, combined with all the other churning emotion, and tears glistened behind her eyes. Dan had never needed her.

  No one had ever needed her.

  She lifted her head, sealing their mouths, unable to force words through the tightening of her throat. Unwilling to let him observe how easily he could affect her heart.

  His kiss was slow, thorough, and yet laden with underlying hunger. He stroked her again, and this time as she raised her hips in request, he pushed in slow and deep. Filling her inch by torturous inch, until he could sink no further, and he stilled inside her.

  Beth’s moan died beneath the tender onslaught of his mouth. She could handle the frantic way they’d come together the night before. This, however…

  She couldn’t come back from this.

  As a thin veneer of fear stole over her, she added more demand to her kiss and twisted her hips to spur him into movement. She had to hang on to herself somehow, before who and what she was became mixed up with who and what Fintan was. What he wanted from her.

  He refused to give her the control she needed. Resting on his elbows, he held her in place, responding to the insistence of her mouth, but remaining otherwise still. Dominating her subtly, giving her no other option but to confront the reality of his power over her.

  And oh how she adored that power. It would be so easy to believe in his impossible claims, let him convince her to stay in Scotland and walk away from America. So long as this magic between them never faded.

  Finally, finally, when she was on the verge of splintering into pieces, Fintan moved within her. One slow stroke left her trembling. Another had her clinging to him in desperation. Oh, yes, she definitely wasn’t coming back from this. He’d scarred her for eternity.

  Crying out in pleasure, Beth turned her head aside and lifted her hips, taking him deeper.

  ****

  Every miniscule portion of Fintan’s existence shook as he tried to maintain control. Beth surrounded him. Her soft sounds of satisfaction filled his ears pleasantly. The lift and fall of her body beneath his enveloped him with an enormity of feeling, forcing the two halves of his soul into battle. The dark half roared for control, taunting him with pleasure, urging him to fall into Beth and yield his heart. The light half, the portion that dominated his existence, ordered him to maintain hold over his senses, to keep her at a distance no matter how he wanted to succumb.

  She was everything he needed, and he would give everything he was to change their circumstances. To be normal. To be a simple mortal man capable of loving Beth Whitley. For he would do so in a heartbeat and devote the rest of his fragile life to making sure she never doubted his devotion.

  Beth’s hands glided down his spine, her nails curling into the top of his buttocks. Her insistent press drove him deeper, pushed him further into headlong abandon. The clench of her moist flesh around his cock made it impossible to remember why he must hold back, to consider anything but the pleasure that saturated his existence.

  He let out a groan and lifted to his hands, tearing his mouth from hers so he could suckle at her breast. When his lips closed around her nipple, her gasp cracked through the air. She bucked so hard beneath him that she nearly dislodged him. He thrust hard, need increasing his deliberate pace.

  Ancestors and sacred saints above…

  As pleasure surged in his bloodstream, he forced his thoughts away from Beth, to mundane numbers that couldn’t strip him bare. His cock pulsed, and pressure gathered at the base of his spine, warning him his efforts wouldn’t make much of a difference. The melding of their energies into one contented, languorously ebbing tide, only compounded bliss, making it that much more difficult to keep release at bay.

  He lifted his head to look at Beth and plummeted down a bottomless cavern when those jade green eyes locked with his. Affection glowed as warm as sunshine. Reached in to wrap around his heart and twist it painfully. In this moment, no matter the difficulties that lay between them, she gave him a glimpse of the honest woman he adored.

  The one who was comfortable in her skin, who stole glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking that revealed her heart.

  The woman he couldn’t imagine spending life without.

  He closed his eyes before her stare could overwhelm him into senselessness, and gave her nipple a firm pull. Her fingers latched into his hair, one hand curled against his scalp as the other dug into his lower back. As her feminine flesh gripped him tight, he lost the battle against desire. Lifting his head, he sucked in sharp breaths to temper the sheer force of need, and gave his body freedom.

  She answered his increased rhythm, met him thrust for agonizing thrust. Bliss tripped through his veins with each push, each clench of her flesh, each broken fall of her breath. It burst to one shining point of light that blinded him to centuries of tormented existence, then shattered like a combusting star, filling his closed eyes with a starburst of bright color. Her name tore off his lips, and he gathered her into his arms, needing to be somehow closer, to meld them in every way possible.

  Dimly, he heard the call of her voice, recognized the hoarse sound of his name. Felt the clench of her womb and the tightness of her arms. His body slowed, and pleasure seeped through his pores as he grasped frantically for grounding. He was lost and flailing, terrified that he’d done the unthinkable. That in making love to Beth tonight he had taken the final step and damned her with his curse.

  But gradually sense crept into his awareness. His heart hammered against his ribs. His limbs were shaking. His thoughts, however, held none of the vileness his father cursed him with. As he gazed down at Beth’s tender expression and pushed a damp tendril of hair out of her face, he knew infinite peace.

  Somehow, he’d held on. Thank the blessed spirits watching over him.

  Fintan exhaled hard and dropped a chaste kiss on Beth’s swollen lips. “You’re perfect, Beth Whitley.”

  Her smile filled him with warmth. “I just hide my flaws well.”

  Chuckling, he eased himself away from the warm haven of her body and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She fit neatly against his side. Head tucked into his shoulder, her long hair spilled over his arm. The narrow valley of her waist made a divine resting place for his hand. He gave her hip a squeeze. “I like your flaws.” Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Very much.”

  “Mm,” she murmured contentedly. “I like it here.”

  Then perhaps she would stay. Maybe not forever, but long enough she could help rid him of the curse, so he could follow her to Manhattan and badger her about painting there. Where he could freely fall in love with Beth.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Moonlight streamed in through Beth’s window, casting the room with faint light. She lay awake, listening to the sound of Fintan’s easy breathing, unable to find the peace he knew in dreams. The combined events of the last two days pounded at her skull.

  She’d let Fintan in, deeper than he belonged.

  Restless and plagued by confusion, she gave up on finding sleep and slid off the mattress. Her robe caught under Fintan’s bent knee, forbidding her complete escape. To avoid waking him, she shrugged completely out of the terry.

  His earlier words accompanied her to the window. Running won’t change anything, Beth. We can’t solve this with an ocean between us. I need this, Beth.”

  She flattened a palm against the cool glass and stared out at the moon-kissed mountaintops. No, they couldn’t solve this with an ocean between them, and she needed his presence as much as he needed her touch. But Scotland? She couldn’t practice law in Scotland. She couldn’t paint either, and she’d be damned if she subjected herself to the level of control Dan had over her life by becoming dependant on Fintan.

  Yet…

  She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the pane, biting back heartache she couldn’t deny. Nothing made sense anymore. She didn’t want to leave, cou
ldn’t stay.

  I am over two thousand years old, my sire is a demon.

  How was she supposed to believe that? And still…how could she not when Fintan recited glimpses of her dreams as if he’d stood there and dreamt at her side. How could she ignore the very real truth that she knew exactly where to find the column of runes on the monolith?

  Lightning that did not come with clouds.

  It hadn’t ever accompanied a single cloud in the sky. Stars burned bright. Beacons of light that offered…hope…she shouldn’t feel in a dream. Hope. She experienced hope when that light flashed across the midnight sky.

  Oh, this was insane.

  Opening her eyes, she curled her fingers into her palm and stared at the landscape stretching beyond the window. The circle of standing stones peeked through the sparse trees, bringing to life once more her plaguing nightmare. As she looked at the hidden glade, the pounding of drums pulsed in her blood. A strange tingling prickled her skin, lifting the fine hairs along her arms.

  Sometimes we are given knowledge we don’t necessarily want. For reasons we don’t necessarily understand.

  My sire is a demon…

  Tears blurred her vision. He wanted her to believe the impossible. One moment he offered her a glimpse of heaven in his arms, the next he fed her whimsy by encouraging her to paint, and in the next he spoke like a madman.

  And no matter how she tried, she couldn’t quite convince herself Fintan wasn’t sane. He knew things few scholars understood. People all over the world sought out that knowledge. A crazy man couldn’t claim that level of esteem without someone picking up on his instability.

  But how could he possibly be telling the truth?

  Even better, how did she fit into this equation? She was American. Her home in Manhattan, her life in the States. She was Baptist. She didn’t believe in reincarnation, and she certainly didn’t buy into the claim of his immortality.

  Did she?

  No one on this earth would believe him.

  Everyone would say she’d lost her mind as well.

  Her mother would disown her if she moved to Scotland.

  Hot salty droplets trickled down her cheeks, though she ordered them not to spill. Each wet trail made the next fall faster. She no longer knew who, or what, she was. No longer understood her place in this world. Two days ago she’d been so convinced…

  Or had she? Two days ago she’d fled a caseload just for a few impromptu days with Fintan.

  She couldn’t leave, she couldn’t stay, and the only person who could offer comfort wanted her to believe in a crazy story about immortality.

  ****

  The sound of crying tugged Fintan from dreamless slumber. Not moving, he opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust to darkness. When they had, and he identified the source of the quiet sniffles, the choked back sobs, he grimaced. Beth leaned against the window, her bare skin washed in silver, her slight shoulders trembling as she wept. Around him, her energy swirled in chaotic waves that lacked direction. He had caused this. Brought her to tears and torn her to pieces.

  He’d hurt the one woman he would rather die than wound. And her pain tripled the ongoing ache behind his ribs.

  Slowly, he sat up. “Beth? What’s wrong?”

  She turned around surprised, giving him an agonizing view of the tears that glistened on her face. With a furious swipe of the back of her hand, she wiped them away. “It’s nothing.”

  “No, it’s something.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Talk to me.” She couldn’t leave him twisting in the wind. He’d done something—and he suspected he knew a portion of her upset—but he was genuinely clueless what caused her such distress.

  “Why do you want me here, Fintan? What use am I to you? What do you gain?”

  What use was—he blinked. What did he gain? His stomach did a long slow roll as it wound into a knot. Didn’t she understand he wasn’t like her ex, that all he wanted was her? Beth when he woke up each morning, smiling that beguiling smile. Beth covered in paint as she tuned out the world and became lost in the one thing she would love more than any man.

  Beth touching him in the mesmerizing way that somehow stitched the two halves of his divided soul into one contented entity.

  “What am I supposed to do with this, Fintan?” Her voice trembled. “I don’t know what to do with any of it. What it means, what you mean, what you want. I don’t know how to…accept the things you say.” She worried a shaky hand through her long, tangled hair. “And I don’t know how to walk away, either.”

  Fintan sat as still as stone. Wanting to go to her. Unable to move. For as she tucked her face into her hands and yielded to a heartrending sound of pain, his heart failed to beat. A feeling swept over him unlike anything he had ever before experienced. Tying him together, tying him into her.

  The last conscious thought he’d had before sleep dragged him under clanged in his head. I love you, Beth.

  And that love stormed through him as he watched her grieve, witnessed her physical fight between her heart and her head. With the intolerable knotting of his lungs came a sinister pleasure. The sick delight that she would feel pain, that he had subjected her to the torment tugged at the back of his mind. Even deeper lurked the taunting call that her death would satisfy him even more.

  His eyes widened in horror. No. He’d let her in too far. Damn his vile sire!

  Curling the quilt into his fists, he fought down the rising darkness, called on every last vestige of his lighter soul. He hadn’t spent two thousand years practicing his mother’s teachings to end like this. Hadn’t reached the vast power he possessed only to succumb to the dark blood that lurked in his veins.

  He would not harm Beth.

  Deliberately he stood, picked up his pants, and back-stepped from the bed. “I’m sorry, Beth.”

  “Sorry?” Her head snapped up, shock parting her lips. “Where are you going?”

  “I can’t…stay.” Not until he managed to curb these intolerable thoughts, to stop the twisted visions of her blood spilling on the Imbolc altar. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

  His back hit the heavy wood door, and he reached behind him to lift the deadbolt. He possessed sense enough to murmur words of warding at her threshold to keep Brigid, Drandar, even himself away, and then he backed into the hall, closing the door on her ashen expression.

  She didn’t understand. Couldn’t possibly comprehend why he couldn’t stay when she most needed his reassurance. But tomorrow, when he’d dug through his mother’s ancient spells and found a means of temperance, he’d tell her the last tidbit of Selgovae heritage she needed to know.

  With luck, she wouldn’t bolt as she had tonight. Fintan didn’t know how long he could fight off the curse. But in time, it would claim him. Nothing but mortality could lift damnation.

  ****

  Beth stared at her unmoving bedroom door, unable to logic what had just happened. She’d turned to him in tears—her first mistake. Men didn’t like weepy women. Dan taught her that. Taught her emotions only left her open for more hurt. She should have known better than to trust the contented feeling Fintan stirred and trust her instincts instead.

  Worse, his abandonment shouldn’t hurt the way it did. Like claws ripped through her, she gasped against the fire in her chest. Her stomach rolled violently, churning with each painful beat of her heart.

  He’d turned away.

  Clearly, she’d let him creep past her barriers further than he belonged. She’d become caught up in passion, desire that spurred meaningless words and allowed Fintan to go to her head. Worse, if he’d said one word that enforced his earlier confession about needing her, if he’d hinted he cared about her, she’d have come running into his arms. Thrown away her career, the life she understood, for him.

  Her gaze skipped to her suitcase, now toppled on the floor. She had to get out of here. Somewhere between flying across an ocean and making love to Fintan tonight, she’d lost herself. Stay in Scotland? A bitter laugh gather
ed in her throat. Scotland could sing to her heart timelessly, but she would never belong in these majestic mountains.

  She was an attorney. An American. A woman who had veered away from following her heart and slid down the same damnable path of letting a man influence her decisions.

  When dawn broke, she’d catch the first flight out of Edinburgh. She was too exhausted, too at the end of her limits, to finish packing right now. Then, when she’d landed once again in Manhattan, she’d sort her thoughts, consult Emily, and decide which way to go, how to resolve these feelings for Fintan McClaine, or whether she resolved them at all.

  Maybe the best thing she could do was never look back. Move forward as she’d initially planned, take the knowledge Fintan gave her, and bury the past.

  Flopping onto the bed, Beth waited for the burning in her eyes to yield tears. But they didn’t come. She’d already cried all the ones she had to shed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Death stained the barren ground with blood and broken flesh. Steel sang against steel, a staccato accompaniment to the sturdier whump of arcing quarterstaffs. The brittle harvest wind whipped through the redhead’s hair as she charged at the altar with a murderous wail. Beth stood near the edge of the stone table, the lifeless child’s palm a fraction away from her pinkie. Steam rose from crimson rivulets that dripped onto her feet.

  Ealasaid leapt onto the altar as Nyamah murmured an ancient phrase. Drandar drew back, his face a mask of pure rage. A horrific sound, incapable of coming from the throats of men roared over the clang of weapons and the muted grunts of expiring life.

  Beth’s gaze locked on the sharp pick in Ealasaid’s hand. It flashed against the light of the full moon as she lifted it above her head. The words she spoke were guttural, unintelligible, and laden with fury that matched Drandar’s explosion. She slashed the weapon downward. Beth winced, anticipating the way it would sink into his chest.

  To her amazement, Ealasaid’s hand connected with her forearm, tearing a deep gash in ivory flesh. Blood spurted forth, coursed down her elbow to stain the rough stone beneath her bare toes. When the first rich drop pooled on the smooth surface, the heavens flashed with blinding light.