Authors: Anna Windsor
Bound by Flame (44 page)
No smile. No expression at all.
What are you feeling?
Her heart pounded harder.
“Usually, cords of leather or cloth were used, but leather and cloth won’t be lastin’ long around our kind.” Mother Keara held up the bands. “We have these for the ceremony. They’re a bit more durable.”
Dumbfounded, Cynda stared at Nick.
When he looked at her, he winked. “I’m ready if you are.”
Cynda’s mouth came open. She just stood there like a huge idiot, gaping at Nick, barely processing when Mother Keara said, “Cynda Flynn, do you come here of your own will and desire, to join with this man?”
Somebody nudged Cynda.
Riana. Or Merilee. They were both behind her now.
“Yes, I do,” she choked out, heart beating so hard she was sure she’d explode any second. Smoke billowed off her feet and hands. She needed all her control to slow it down. And she didn’t slow it much.
“Who accompanies you, and offers you blessings?” Mother Keara asked, sounding way past happy and pleased with herself, puffing up a little, like a preening bird.
“We do,” Riana and Merilee chorused.
Andy raised her hand at the table. Water dripped from her fingertips. “And me.”
Cynda’s head swam.
Nick faced her and smiled, and stroked her arms with his strong but gentle hands.
There’s no one but you,
his gaze told her.
You’re mine now, and always
.
“Approach me,” Mother Keara commanded.
Nick offered Cynda his arm, and she took it. The pounding in her heart gave way to a light, hot sensation, like a ring of perfect flames fueling every beat and breath.
Together, they walked to the table and the Mothers, and stood, arm in arm.
Mother Keara beamed now. Cynda had hardly ever seen the woman look so excited, and that doubled her happiness. “By air, fire, earth…and water…may your love be natural and strong, constant and eternal. Let wisdom guide you, let your wills bind you, let love and passion bring you joy.”
She picked up the larger of the two bands. “Nick, I don’t have the power to bind you. Cynda, this right belongs to you. If it’s your wish to join this man to you, speak now, and ask him to place this ring on his finger if he agrees.”
Hand shaking, Cynda took the ring and felt its cool strength.
Yes.
Tungsten.
A ring that won’t ever burn, no matter how hot things get.
She gazed at Nick.
Just like him.
“I join you to me,” she whispered, and held up the ring. “Do you agree?”
Nick slid his finger into the band.
Cynda stared at the beautiful metal circle and tried to breathe.
“Cynda, I don’t have the power to bind you,” Mother Keara said. “Nick, this right belongs to you. If it’s your wish to join this woman to you, speak now, and ask her to place this ring on her finger if she agrees.”
Nick picked up the smaller band and held it up. He locked eyes with Cynda, and in a deep, spine-tingling bass, said, “I join you to me, firebird. Do you agree?”
Shaking so badly she almost couldn’t hit the target, Cynda slid her finger into the ring. Nick kept her hand in his, resting his band over hers. Joined. By the bands. By the heart. Cynda still couldn’t breathe. The metal felt cool against Cynda’s hand, so she warmed it. Nick’s hand gave off a soft golden glow in response to her heat. He dipped his head and kissed her fingers before turning her loose.
Dazed, too happy to even begin to think straight, Cynda watched as Nick took the ceremonial drink from the chalice, then offered it to her. She sipped the rich liquid, and almost coughed.
Fire came out of her ears.
Literally.
Goddamn. Irish whiskey.
Mother Eileen gave her a wink.
That
cleared her thoughts a little.
Her knees threatened to buckle, but not completely because of the joy of the moment.
Nick ate a bite of bread from the plate, then offered her a bite, which she accepted, kissing his fingers as she swallowed.
Fire broke out along Mother Keara’s arms, then ringed her completely as she smiled. “In the name of the Goddess who resides within all of us, and by the fire in my heart and soul, I witness this handfasting, as do we all.”
“As do we all,” the Mothers proclaimed, with Riana, Merilee, and Andy, too.
“Cynda and Nick, may your love endure.” Mother Keara’s smile got even broader. “And may we all be back here in a year and a day, to do this again—bigger and better.”
Nick pulled Cynda to him and took her lips with his, joining his mouth to hers soft at first, then harder and hotter and more demanding. She didn’t even try to control her fire as she pressed herself against him, surrendering everything to his glow, his embrace. The scent of ocean and musk washed over her. Wintergreen stung her tongue as she tasted him.
Mine. Mine forever.
Her body ached for more. Always more, with this man. She knew she’d never have enough. A year and a day, ten years and ten days, forever. Never enough.
From somewhere a million miles away, Mother Keara said, “This conclave is over. Go in peace.”
Cynda kept kissing Nick, vaguely aware that her triad was leaving. That Andy and the other Mothers were leaving.
Go in peace
.
But she wanted to stay right here with Nick, forever. Or anywhere. Even a shack in the woods would be just fine with her.
Nick pulled back and gazed at her, dark eyes dancing with his own inner fire. “Guess we should go, too, firebird.”
Oh, did that
ever
sound like a plan. The perfect end to the perfect handfasting.
“Not you, Nick,” Mother Keara said, startling Cynda out of her haze. “You can’t go yet.”
She came from behind the table and approached Nick, flames dancing at both shoulders. “Tonight marks the spring equinox, one of the four times a year a Sibyl can’t control her own reproductive abilities. Sacred nights belong to the Goddess, you understand, so we need to talk.”
Nick went stiff in Cynda’s arm. “About what?”
Mother Keara’s green eyes glittered, and Cynda had a sinking feeling about where this little conversation was headed. So much for an entire day of hot sex—she’d have to wait a few hours.
Damnit.
“We must discuss sex, of course,” Mother Keara said to Nick. “Conception. The facts of life as they pertain to fire Sibyls and Cursons.”
Nick’s neck flushed a deep red.
The color slid slowly to his cheeks, finally claiming his whole face. “Cynda.” His voice sounded unnaturally quiet as he let her go. “Help me out, here?”
She rubbed her palms against his T-shirt, enjoying his muscled chest, and brushed his stubbled cheek with her lips.
This man.
I’ll love him until the day I die.
But some things, she just couldn’t save him from enduring.
Cynda stretched on her toes, pressed her mouth to Nick’s ear and murmured, “I’ll see you back in our room.”
For a second, Nick looked hopeful.
Cynda sighed and gave him a little push. “As for the sex talk with the Irish Mothers…sorry, big man. You’re on your own.”
Acknowledgments
As always, I extend my appreciation to my readers. I hope this story burned you up in all the right ways.
A loud and special thank-you goes out to New York City’s Irish Arts Center, and specifically to instructor Alexei Kondratiev, who offered his expertise in correcting the Irish words and phrases used in this book.
Extensive thanks to Cheyenne McCray, who forfeited a vacation to critique this and set me straight. Also, to Tara Donn, for her time, skill, and knowledge. I count on you ladies more than you know. Without you, these stories would never sparkle.
Again, I had the benefit of two editors on this piece. First, my thanks to Charlotte Hersher, who slipped this story in under the wire. Additional thanks to Kate Collins for working on this story. I’m blessed to have such intelligent, insightful women to guide my writing.
To my wonderful agent Nancy Yost, I extend tremendous respect and appreciation. You’re still making it fun, and I owe you even more chocolate.
Copyright © 2008 by Anna Windsor
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