Kat Bastion - Forged in Dreams and Magick

Soldiers trained on the fields, women tended the garden, and a dark-gray plume of smoke still rose from the smithy’s smokestack. The entire clan acted as if the day held no properties different than any other day.

Iain. Brigid. Someone needed to explain what the hell had happened to the world in the week I’d been gone, before I slipped into complete and irrevocable insanity. I glanced skyward, toward a Heaven I hoped still existed somewhere up there.

“Really? Still with the tolerance lesson?”

Determined to get answers to every question I’d restrained for far too long, I charged into the courtyard. Iain stood alone to the far side, overseeing about a dozen of his youngest soldiers training with claymores. He lifted his face and our gazes locked. I closed the distance between us as the anger of a thousand volcanoes threatened to blow.

In a fluid movement, Iain twisted, tossed his sword point down into the soft earth, and strode toward me. Had I not stopped a few feet from him, we would’ve collided.

“How dare you—” I yelled.

“What the hell—” he shouted.

“—keep valuable information from me—” I clipped out.

“—do you think—” he growled.

“—when I have every right to know?” I finished.

“—you’re wearin’ in front of my men?” He glared down, moving in front of me to shield me from the view of others.

I seethed, struggling to process what he’d said over my tirade. Comprehension seeped its way past my attitudinal huff. I looked down at my body. Lots of exposed skin shimmered in the brilliant light. The parts that were scantily covered boasted suede-hugged curves.

He yanked me by the arm, dragging me back up the hill. I trotted to keep pace with his swift strides. Red faced and shaking, his level of anger trumped mine. He shouldered the oak door open, crashing it into the stone wall inside with such force, splinters flew and pieces of stone crumbled. I scrambled up the stairs for fear my arm would be torn from its socket if I didn’t keep up.

We arrived at the threshold of our bedroom. Iain kicked the door open and threw me forward as he stood in the doorway, staring at me, his nostrils flaring. He stalked inside and closed the door behind him without ever breaking eye contact.

I’d never been afraid of anyone before—let alone Iain—but he looked as if he’d gone mad, and I trembled in uncontrollable fear. He took measured steps over to me. I retreated until the backs of my knees hit the bed, and I sat down. I swallowed hard and remained silent. My eyes had gone dry from my wide-eyed shock. I took several hard blinks, looking up at him, my pulse racing.

“You will not wear such lack of clothin’ outside ever again.”

His words came out ominously calm.

“No one yells at me in front of my men, including you.”

I trusted his deadly composure far less than the shouting.

“I will not tolerate your demandin’ anything from me when everything I do is for your safety and that of my people.”

He leaned down, dropping his face to within an inch of mine, his tone just above a whisper. “I hated you being gone, knowin’ you were in another man’s arms, knowin’ he fucked you while I missed you so bad, my chest ached.”

I exhaled. Iain was hurting. The animal he barely contained threatened to break free because he loved me.

“Iain, I—”

“No.” His fists clenched and unclenched by his sides, his nostrils flaring again as he snorted. “Clothes off. Now ,” he growled.

Iain stood nearly on top of me, ripping the material off with his eyes. His body shook with barely restrained power.

Like a giant, fifty-ton pillar at Stonehenge, Iain towered over me, immovable. He forced me to rise while pressing against his body to comply with his command. I undressed as quickly as my shaking hands allowed.

At some point escaping my notice, he’d dropped his clothes. The instant my last clothing item fell to the floor, he bore down on me hard, herding me to the center of the bed. He pushed against me, skin to skin, owning the space between my legs. In a powerful stroke, he filled my wet, ready body.

His penetrating eyes stared into the depths of my soul. Love, lust, and possession sparked his olive irises, dissolving my misguided fear. I arched up, pressing my breasts up against him, tasting his lips with slow, soft nips.

Iain growled, pressing me down into the bed. No tenderness would soothe his raging beast breaking free. He devoured my mouth in a bruising kiss and slammed into my depths with such force, I grew certain his marks would be everywhere on my body from the inside out.

An indefinable need tore loose in me too. My carnal met his primal. We consumed each other, desperate to release the tension under which we’d been suffering. With every hard drive into me, my hips met his, deepening the impact.

The slaps of hot, slickened bodies mixed with labored grunts as sounds rebounded into the chamber. My climax built on a steady ache, simmering below a boiling point, driving me toward frenzied insanity.

Pleasurable pain thrummed endlessly on a charged tightwire. Iain drove in hard then paused. The break in rhythm cascaded me over the edge, and my muscles clenched around him. A tremendous orgasm thundered through me, and I screamed.

Iain went wild. He plunged into me as I buried my face into his shoulder. His unrelenting thrusts escalated my ecstasy, sending another set of punishing waves crashing through me. I gasped for air, gripping him so tightly, we became one. He roared and stiffened, his release overtaking him.

Heart racing.

Head spinning.

Lungs tried to supply oxygen to my brain, and the rush of fresh air set off a chain-reaction epiphany.

All had been set right in the world. My priorities had been reestablished.

Iain was my world in his realm. Nothing mattered but Iain—not some historical imperative, not a sense of purpose, and certainly not a man who existed twelve hundred years in the past.

Iain needed me . . . all of me . . . for every moment I could grant of myself. Hundreds in his clan depended on him for his selfless love and protection. He gave of himself completely to their needs every single day of his life. When Iain needed to be replenished—so that he had something of value to give to his people— I would be there to provide.

I clung tightly to him as his protective body settled around mine. Iain’s massive arms and legs imprisoned me, allowing just enough room for my easy breath. I nestled closer, enjoying the security of his captivity.

A hazy bliss descended, calming my mind and body. I sank into a peaceful state far beneath the surface, where thoughts were too buoyant to hold within my grasp.

Waves swelled and lowered, lifting and dropping, until motion sickness pulled me from restless sleep. My hand flew to my mouth. I almost dashed to the garderobe or a chamber pot, but the uneasiness subsided. On a deep breath, cold, crisp air filled my lungs. An attempt to open my eyes brought reflective light shining so brightly, my lids protested themselves shut.

The disorientation grew when I attempted to sit up and discovered I already . . . stood. I lifted a hand to my brow, trying to shield my vision, but dropped it when equal light came from below. Unable to stop curiosity, I forced my eyes wide open.

Speechless—because I’d gone completely thought -less—I blinked in disbelief, dragging air into shocked-frozen lungs. The world had done another complete three-sixty . . . into a fantasy wonderland.