Fated (7 page)

"Didn't you hear the voice?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What voice? The evil, spooky one that says you're an overbearing bastard who thinks too highly of himself?"

Patrick snorted, shaking his head. "No, the voice saying that we've been chosen for the rite."

Sabrina fumed silently as she turned around and began beating on the invisible wall once more. "Ignore him, Sabrina, and maybe he'll just disappear."

"I can hear you, you know," he said, grabbing her hands and jerking her away from the wall. She fought against his hold, but only succeeded in touching him even more, languid heat seeping through her body.

"Stop it," she hissed furiously, her cheeks burning. "You don't have any right to touch me anymore!"

The world seemed to spin and she couldn't focus.

A soft voice began to echo in her head.

"What was given before shall be given again and the Earth shall rejoice. You have been chosen; your body is the vessel. Soul shall find soul, through the depths of time. What was once before shall be again."

As quickly as it began, it ended and she came out of the fog-like trance that had overcome her while the voice spoke. Glancing up, she realized Patrick stared down at her, a concerned expression on his face.

"Brina? What happened?"

"Sabrina," she said automatically, looking up at him once more. "My name is Sabrina, not Brina."

He grinned, lacing his fingers with hers. "I know what your name is, Sabrina. I certainly shouted it out enough when we were together."

"Bugger off," she snapped irritably, a frisson of heat coiling in her stomach at the look in his eyes.

Damn traitorous body! So what that it'd been almost four years since she'd had a decent kiss—why did her body have to remind her of that fact
now
?

"Let me go," she said quietly.

"No."

Her gaze jerked upwards once more, locking with his. "Yes!"

He pulled her closer, releasing one of her hands to curl his around her back, fitting her neatly between his heavy thighs. "No. You heard the voice, Brina. You and I both know the only way we're going to get out of here is if we do what it wants."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what precisely does it want?" And seriously, what the fuck? Now he believed in spooky voices and the paranormal?

He laughed softly. "Think about it, sweetness. It's Solstice, we're in the middle of Avebury Plain, and the voice of the Goddess just spoke to us…"

Her eyes widened when the implications of his words sunk in. "Absolutely not!" she screeched, jerking backwards, ignoring the way her body protested the loss of his solid warmth.

Freezing cold in this damn place! Her nipples must be rock hard and completely visible. Damn Ronnie and this stupid outfit anyway! If she'd just let her wear what she wanted, she wouldn't be so damn cold. A short skirt and skimpy low-cut top were just not enough for a dreary, dank barrow.

Patrick let his gaze travel slowly down her body, lingering on the tight nubs of her nipples that strained against the nearly sheer cloth of her top, down to the slight dip of her navel and then the soft, rounded flare of her hips, snugly encased in the dark blue denim of her skirt. The skirt ended high on her thighs, and he swept his gaze slowly down the length of her legs.

Sabrina's cheeks were flaming, the flush spreading down her neck and blooming over her chest. She couldn't seem to get enough air when he continued to stare hungrily, the look in his eyes making the tight knot of tension in her stomach coil even tighter.

"Stop that!"

He smirked lazily; his eyes drifting slowly back up to rest on her face. "Stop what, sweetness?"

She very nearly stomped her foot; only the realization that it would make her look completely childish and idiotic stopped her. "Stop looking at me like you want to eat me!"

He laughed, long and low, his eyes darkening with lust. "But I do want to eat you."

Her mouth fell open and she hastily snapped it shut. "Just because some voice told me I'm the vessel and have been chosen does not mean I am just going to sleep with you!"

He began walking towards her and she backed up slowly.

He continued at the same lazy pace until she ran out of space, the wall of the barrow against her back. "We won't be doing much sleeping, I can promise you that."

Sabrina took a deep breath, regretting it instantly as the spicy scent of his cologne filled her senses. Her limbs felt heavy and if the wall wasn't behind her, holding her up, she wasn't sure her knees would be able to. "You don't even know me anymore," she whispered as he stopped before her, a hairsbreadth away from touching her.

"I know you, Sabrina, more than you think I do." His hand came up to gently cup her chin, tilting her face up to his. "Cripes, you used to drive me crazy when you'd disappear into your head and overanalyze everything. You want things to be tied up in a neat little package, but they can't and it's driving you mad. Quit thinking so much," he said thickly, curling his other hand around her hip, pulling her closer. "Kiss me, Brina," he whispered, his lips brushing against hers.

Sabrina's mouth opened on a sigh when his tongue traced the seam of her lips, her hands gliding up his chest to tangle in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Warm lips covered hers, skillfully coaxing her into a deep, languorous kiss.

She moaned and her body drifted towards him, fitting neatly against his, her hips nestled tightly against his thickening cock, his heavy thighs framing her body as his arms drew her ever closer.

Sweet, hot fire raced through her body, drugging her, pulling her deeper into the spell of his touch. It'd been so long, but her body responded like it'd been yesterday. His big hand molded over her breast, kneading the soft flesh, the pebbled tip of her nipple pressing eagerly into his palm. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs and she gave up any pretense of holding back when he bent his knees, pulling her atop him, her legs straddling his waist, curving to lock around his back.

She couldn't think, couldn't resist the mind numbing intensity of his kisses, the hot slide of his hands over her body, easing away their clothes until only the soft cotton of her panties and his boxers were between them.

His hands framed her face, his lips leaving hers reluctantly. Her eyes were wide, lips swollen from his kisses.

"Brina." His voice was thick, and deep, sounding as drugged as she felt. "You're so beautiful."

Behind him, an altar appeared, a low bench of stone covered with a white woven cloth. Symbols covered the fabric, woven in deep tones of ocher and rust, standing out in vivid contrast to the creamy white material. Patrick turned his head and Sabrina stared over his shoulder, blinking rapidly, trying to figure out if the altar was a figment of her imagination or if it was real. Apparently he saw it too, because he curled his hands underneath Sabrina's ass to hold her steady and walked over to the altar. Reaching down, he felt around on the cloth, eyes wide as he pressed against the stone, fingers sliding over the densely woven material. Apparently satisfied that it was real, he lifted her off of him and placed atop the altar, her hair in wild disarray, lips swollen from his kisses.

Sabrina shook her head, trying to clear the fog of lust and desire that still swirled in her body, making it hard to think. Blinking, she looked down, reality slamming home in an icy wave. Her knees rested on soft, thickly woven cloth, cushioning the low stone altar she knelt on.

"No… it's too fast… too much," she mumbled, scrambling backwards, nearly falling off the altar.

Patrick grabbed her arms, stilling her. "Sabrina, it's okay."

Her eyes were wild and she fought his hold. "No! It's not okay! We… I… we… dammit Patrick, I can't do this again."

His touch gentled, coaxing her towards him with soft caresses and soothing nonsense words, his arms slipping around her waist, pulling her back onto his lap as he straddled the altar.

Her body ached with need, and he pressed insistently against her center. Sabrina lifted her head, staring down into his face. She knew how much he wanted her; her legs were wrapped nearly around his waist. Biting down on her lip, she moved slightly. Patrick hissed when her body slid across his cock. Soaking wet, the sodden bit of material she wore as panties trailed against the swollen flesh beneath his boxers and heat flared between her thighs, spreading out in a thick, molten wave, searing along her nerves. Oh, she wanted this… him… so much. Heady lust flowed through her, confusing her, seducing her. She remembered this feeling, knew it intimately. They'd spent eight months becoming acquainted with each other's bodies, learning what made each moan and sigh. Every time he'd taken her to his bed, he'd shown her how deeply he'd fallen in love with her, worshipping her with his mouth and hands, bringing her to dizzying heights of ecstasy.

"Brina," he groaned, hips arching upwards.

Her eyes closed and she inhaled sharply, her stomach feeling like it had dropped to her knees.

"Stop," she whispered, pushing against his chest.

They shouldn't be doing this! It hurt too much to know they were over and she couldn't fall again, it'd destroy her this time if she had to let him go again. She'd fallen so hard for him. It nearly ruined her when they'd broken up.

He opened his eyes. "You're the one moving, sweetheart."

She shook her head, scrambling off of him. Her knees felt like water and she backed away, off the altar and over to where he'd first begun to kiss her, searching for her shirt. She pulled it from the pile of their clothing, dragging it over her head before standing to face him once more.

"I'm not going to have sex with you."

He shrugged and shook his head. "I'm tired of fighting the same fight over and over, Sabrina. Let me know when you figure out that we don't have a choice in the matter."

She glared, searching the narrow confines of their space for a distraction.

Her gaze landed on her wrist and her eyes widened when she realized her watch had gone missing. "Is there anything of yours gone?"

He looked up at her. "What?"

She gestured towards her arm. "My watch is missing."

Patrick looked at his own wrist, seeing the whiter patch of skin where his watch usually rested. He cursed under his breath, running his hands through his hair.

Sabrina bit her lip in consternation, struggling to accept the implications of the situation they were in. Time had no meaning down here. Obviously, it wasn't a joke. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If this was truly real, it meant they needed to have sex to get out of here. Opening her eyes again, she studied Patrick intently.

Patrick had turned around on the altar and leaned on his elbows, watching her. She tried to focus on his face, but it was damn distracting to see him lying there, nearly naked and aroused, the tip of his cock pushing up from the waistband of his plaid boxers. A tattoo peeked out along his hip bone, something dark and scripty that drew her attention in further. Taking a deep breath, she turned away, looking for her skirt.

No, she wouldn't go there, she couldn't. "I don't give a damn what some voice says."

He stood behind her before she could blink, the long, heavy length of his body pressing against hers, his hard cock rubbing against the cleft of her ass. "Scared?"

She spun around, two angry spots of heat on her cheeks. "You don't even know me anymore! I don't know you! What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe that after five years apart I'd just fall back into your arms? Voice or no voice, stuck or whatever, I'm not going to sleep with you, so back the fuck off!" Her hands curled into fists, fully intending to beat his bits into oblivion.

Patrick frowned, shrugging his shoulders. "Fine," he said sharply, bending over and picking up his clothing, jerking his shorts on. "But I'm not stupid, Sabrina; you wanted that as much as I did."

"That's not funny, you seduced me!" Sabrina hissed, stomping over to where he stood, her hand cracking against his cheek.

Patrick grabbed her wrist, jerking it upwards. "Believe what you want, you always did anyway."

Sabrina's startled gaze darted to his face, searching his eyes, trying to find the lie in his words.

Her heart sunk when realization settled in. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You chose to believe what you wanted, rather than the truth. I never cheated on you, despite having women throw themselves at me. I was in love with you, Sabrina! Why the fuck would I want anyone else when I had you?"

She laughed right in his face. "So you had the chance but you never took it? I'm supposed to just take your word for it? I saw the pictures, Patrick!"

"Dammit! I told you a million times those fucking vultures took pictures of me constantly. Anything to sell papers, Sabrina! If you trusted me, you would've listened when I told you the truth."

Sabrina shook her head. "Pictures don't lie."

He lifted his brow. "You've got that look in your eye that always precluded you not wanting to accept the truth unless it's the truth as you see it."

She lifted a shoulder. "I'm just thinking."

"I can tell, you keep pressing your thighs together. You're thinking about how good it was between us, aren't you?"