Kat Bastion - Forged in Dreams and Magick

“Lass, I’ve been a wretched mess worryin’ about you. We all have.” Of course. Brigid and Iain’s entire clan had to know not only about my unexplained disappearance, but also my sudden return.

His hazel-green eyes gazed into mine for the longest time. Tears of joy blurred my vision at the incredible sight of his handsome face, the intoxicating scent of him, that rough Scottish brogue teasing my ears. I raised my hand, touching his cheek. I needed tactile proof that he was real and not just another vivid fantasy. He leaned into my touch, closed his eyes, and turned his head, trailing butterfly kisses from my palm to my fingertips.

The reality of Iain, flesh and bone, became my undoing. I burst up from the bed, assaulting his lips in a hard kiss, throwing my hands around his neck.

Every troublesome thought melted away like mud washed downstream in a cleansing rain as I held Iain in my arms again. Words escaped me. I couldn’t stop touching him. Frantic hands and hungry lips roamed everywhere—through his hair, across his jaw, to his ear, down his neck. My hot pursuit of every inch of his flesh was hampered only by his clothing and all of the ravenous attention he paid to me in kind.

I had to devour him. After days and weeks of not knowing for certain if I’d ever see him again, the need to physically touch the very thing I couldn’t for so long consumed me. Iain’s rough, urgent handling of my body told me he felt the same. We both needed a hard pinch to confirm the second chance we had didn’t dissipate into the wispy tendrils of a dream.

He bit my shoulder playfully and licked the mark he left. His short nails dug into my ass as he pulled me against his body, dipping his mouth to my breast. I cried out as he sucked my nipple, scraping it across the edges of his teeth, into his mouth. He growled, and his pure male satisfaction vibrated through me.

We tore his clothes off, literally. Iain ripped his shirt at the collar, yanking it over his head. My impatient hands unraveled his plaid. He grabbed the blankets in his fist and launched them across the room as he climbed between my legs. The cool air rushed goose bumps across my exposed skin as his every heated touch soothed me.

Iain paused.

Time stopped.

Firelight illuminated him from behind, igniting the ends of his chestnut hair into a halo around his head. He knelt between my thighs. Shadows darkened a face that beheld me in utter wonder as his gaze slowly traveled up my body with adoration. My chest rose and fell. His shaking hand touched the outside of my knee and skimmed up to my hip as he leaned forward.

“ Isa . . . ” The endearment fell from his lips in whispered reverence.

I sighed, drinking in his muscular beauty as the magnificent warrior stripped himself down to a mere mortal man, baring the incredible tenderness he felt deep inside for his woman. For me.

He lowered his head, placing a gentle kiss over my navel, and my stomach quivered. He trailed fingertips along my sides as he moved with methodic sensuality up my body.

“ So . . . ” He dropped another soft kiss on my ribs. “ Damn . . . ” He nipped between my breasts as I closed my eyes, arching up into the teasing touch of his lips. “ Beautiful. ” I smiled as he spoke the modern word in his thick brogue.

His shaft slid with slow, firm pressure through already-slickened folds. I gasped, curving my hips up into his, running my hands down his back until they rested above his flexed cheeks. He stilled, locking his body into perfect position over mine.

I opened my eyes, and he gazed down at me wearing that crooked smile I cherished. “Iain—” He swallowed my whisper in a hard, passionate kiss.

Our ravenous mouths slowed—teasing, sipping. We tasted . . . savored . . . as we nipped and licked. He drew his hips back, dragging his erection across sizzling nerves. The tip caught at my entrance, and he paused, pulling his face up. He stared deep into my eyes, infinite emotion radiating from those dark depths.

Iain gradually pressed forward, taking my body bit by bit while reclaiming my heart and soul. My eyes fluttered shut from the intense pleasure. His lips covered mine, muffling my low moan. In slow erotic torture, he branded me, imprinting that earthy scent, his salty taste, the tremendous feel of him deep within me as he claimed me as his . . . in every possible way.

Warmth infused into every cell of my body from the inside out. Only the two of us existed.

With fluid rhythm, he rocked back and plunged forward. The force of his thrusts increased. An aching pressure spiraled higher, and my cries grew louder. I dug my nails into his back as I hung on the edge of a precipice. He sank deep inside and stopped, dropping a damp forehead onto mine, his chest heaving in labored strain.

I whimpered at the pain of being denied, drawing in a ragged breath. He twitched inside, taunting me further. I moaned. So close.

The lack of movement only fueled my arousal. My breaths reduced to pants as the aching throb deepened. I arched my hips, seeking relief, but Iain shifted his legs over mine, leaning his weight back, pinning me down. He twitched within me again, his shaft bucking against sparking nerves. I gasped as a lone pulse fired hot around him in response. The single flash stoked the coals of my building inferno.

Iain’s hard body caged around me and, seated deep inside, remained motionless. I relaxed in his hold, opening myself to him, surrendering. His eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth curved. Pride washed across his features.

Iain owned me.

In slow rotation, he drew back and thrust forward. I fell at his mercy as his body commanded my ebb and flow.

Over and over, Iain rocked into me. A towering wave slowly built with incredible force. It crested, pulling us to the peak as it curled at the top. We gasped for air, gripping each other tightly by the shoulders. On a final hard thrust, I cried out as Iain shouted. We clung tightly to each other as the enormous pressure crashed into us, waves of ecstasy overcoming our bodies.

Two souls meant to be one—in the vastness of worlds unbound by time—had been reunited.

Brodie Castle—Thirteenth Century, Three Days after My Return

The warmth of strong arms enveloped me from behind. A delicious soreness ached everywhere as I stretched. I smiled, failing to remember how many times we’d made love. All through the night Iain brought me food and drink, seeing to my every need during short breaks before he attended to me all over again, ensuring every desire had been fully satisfied.

Morning light peeked through the crack on the edge of the tapestry. The mouth-watering aroma of brewed coffee and freshly baked bread wafted up from the kitchen. Iain’s fingertips traced lazy circles on my hips as his lips pressed a gentle kiss onto my shoulder blade.

I turned, lying on my back. Iain remained on his side, his head propped onto a bent arm.

His eyes searched mine. In silence, he sought explanation of all that occurred but feared to know.

Where to begin . . . how much to tell . . .

Lying naked together, freshly sated from poetic lovemaking seemed an inappropriate time to talk about another man. Instead, I asked the question plaguing my mind.

“Iain, what happened ?”

He shook his head. “I doona know. I sensed the moment you left. My heart lurched. A rift occurred in this plane and the disturbance rippled into me. I rode Dubhar hard back to the castle and burst into the room holdin’ the box. I felt the magick’s energy snap hot from its surface.”