Reclaimed (A Highland Historical Trilogy) (The MacKay Banshees 1-3) (21 page)

He didn’t stop until he loomed in front of her, and Kylah could only stare at his deep chest, a curious lump in her throat and an even more perplexing heat in her loins.

“Every powerful force produces its own identifiable sound. The wind, the sea, a storm… And ye, Kylah, ye are a creature of pure, dynamic resonance.”

She turned from him, her heart surging beneath her breast. Something in his words resonated, all right, and she thrummed with the power of it.

“To a Druid, the understanding of it goes even deeper than that,” he murmured.

“Deeper?” she breathed, catching her lip in her teeth.

“Every soul, every scream, every emotion leaves an echo in this world. Every conscious being is made of energy. Every heart beats with it. Every thought is shaped by it. And that energy canna be created or destroyed. Not by magic. Not by death. Not even by the Gods. It can only be manipulated or changed. Therefore, everyone who ever existed still continues to do so, in one way or another.”

Though they weren’t touching, Kylah could
feel
the energy he spoke of leaping off his potent, vital form and melding with hers. The sensation was like no other, arcing between them as though charged with lightning. His tattoos glowed blue in her light, seeming to rise off his skin and pulse with magic.

Kylah tilted her head back to look into his eyes and what she saw in their brindled depths caused her to jump away from him.

“You
know
,” she gasped. She didn’t have to clarify. He’d somehow found out about Angus, about her darkest and most terrifying shame. About the violent loss of her innocence and the hour of hell she’d endured before her death.

His eyes closed in a protracted blink, and when they opened she saw none of the pity she feared. She couldn’t feel it, either. But she did feel the anger, the sorrow, the helpless, masculine rage that burned within him, searching for the absolution of retribution and finding none. It roared at her from his aura, from his eyes, from the tension in his dangerous body.

It drew her back toward him. “You don’t have to worry about vengeance, for there is none to be had.” She heaved a great sigh. “And besides, it’s not your responsibility to exact.”

“I
know
that.” His demeanor darkened into something vicious and altogether frightening. “In here, I know that.” He tapped his finger to his temple. “But in here…” He pressed his fist to his heart, but didn’t finish his sentence.

Kylah reached out and put her ghostly, iridescent hand over his fist. “Sometimes, I’m sad that I cannot touch you. At first, I was glad of it, because I didn’t have to be afraid. But now…”

He shuddered as her hand passed through his to settle by where his heart beat. Kylah could almost feel the power of it, the strong, steady rhythm accelerating along with the shallower breaths he took.

“Ye should be grateful for it still,” he murmured, then blinked, as though stunned he’d said it aloud.

“Why?” she frowned.

“Ye have good reason to fear me.”

“Because you’re going to find a way to kill the Fae, possibly even me?” She met his eyes and saw something in them that transfixed and repelled her with equal force.

“That,” he said in a low, rumbling growl. “And because despite everything, I desire ye, Kylah. Just as much as that MacKay bastard wanted ye, probably even more.”

Kylah snatched her hand back, horrified. “But-but you said that beauty doesn’t matter. That it doesn’t
mean
anything! You told me you
didn’t
want me.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped and he turned his face, the tattoo flexing with the clench of his teeth. “I know what I said.”

“You
lied
?” she gasped. “You, who seek and regard truth above all else?”

“
Aye
,” he hissed, advancing on her. “But I didna lie to ye, I lied to myself, which is the greater sin.”

Kylah shrank back, forgetting that he posed no physical threat. Right now, he was the most dangerous being on the planet. How could he? How could he make her care for him, make her
trust
him? Lure her into a false sense of security, make her
feel
again. He’d delighted and soothed her with his poetic knowledge about the Universe and her place within it and then he tells her
this
. It changed everything.

“You would hurt me like they did?” she accused, suddenly feeling very small. Like she wanted to crawl inside of herself until the moon let go of the earth and the sun evaporated the sea. She wanted to die. Again. “You would humiliate me? Bind me? Expose me and—”

“
Nay
,” he rasped, reaching out like she was a cornered, skittish animal he was trying to tame. “Never. I wouldna cause he pain for the world, but teach ye all the pleasures a woman’s body is capable of.”

She squinted at him, weighing the earnestness of his expression, the desire in his voice, the veracity of his words.

Never had he looked so open. So naked.

“What do ye mean by ‘pleasure?’” she ventured.

“Och, Kylah, a woman’s pleasure is a very powerful, very complicated thing. But once attained it is… indescribable to behold.” He ran the backs of his knuckles down what would have been the curve of her cheek.

Kylah’s eyes fluttered closed and if she concentrated very hard, she could almost feel his touch.

Almost.

Her curiosity tempered her anger at him, anger that should have been stronger than it was. She had to admit that beneath the fear, beneath the dark memories and instinctive revolt, relief resided there. He’d noted her beauty, as she’d noticed his. He was not immune to her, as she was so entirely affected by him. “Where does one find it?” she whispered. “How?”

His lids lowered by half, a knowing smirk toying with the edges of lips that appeared much more full than any time previous. “The incidentals differ for every woman, but it culminates in the same place for all of them.”

Kylah had a feeling she knew which place that was, for at his low, silken words it clenched and ached with a foreign awareness. She couldn’t think of that place. She couldn’t face it. It couldn’t exist.

“I don’t believe you,” she breathlessly denied.

He chuckled. A dark, threatening sound that washed over her like a cauldron of boiling tar, scalding skin that no longer existed with a heat that was not unpleasant. “I could prove it to ye.”

“Nay, you cannot!” she quickly reminded him, holding up a hand to ward him off. “You can’t touch me.”

“Aye, but…” his brow quirked.

But what? He could not touch her. He couldn’t
teach
her. There was no way around it, to her immense relief. There simply was no
but
.

“Ye can touch yerself, can ye not?” he rumbled. “Ye can feel yer own… flesh?”

Her hand flew to her throat in absolute shock. She felt its pressure as sure as when she was alive. In response to that realization, she jerked it to her side again, and hid both hands in the flowing folds of her robes.

His face gave the notion of a triumphant smile without the slightest movement of his lips. Though his tattoo did wrinkle devilishly beside his eye. He stepped closer, bending his head so it was right next to her ear. “What do ye say, lass, are ye up for… an experiment?”

Chapter Ten

Kylah swallowed. Failed. And did it again. She was attempting to swallow her heart which kept trying to escape through her throat. What if she could do it? And yet, what if she couldn’t? How awful would that be… for both of them?

She pulled back a little and looked at him. He was so certain. Self-assured to the point of arrogance. He knew so much about pleasure, did he? What if…

“What if it doesn’t work?” she worried aloud. “What if—they’ve broken me?”

“That’s really up to ye, isn’t it?” The gentleness in his dappled eyes softened the hard truth of his words.

A storm brewed within her. How could she be broken if she did not allow herself to be so? How could she let the pain they inflicted upon her ruin any chance at pleasure? If it existed, didn’t she deserve it? Didn’t she need it more than most? If it was to be had, if it was a part of her body, she should be claiming it. Owning it.

“Tell me what to do.”

His nostrils flared at her whispered order, but he held completely still. He took a few breaths deep into his chest and let them out slowly, his gaze conflicted and intense.

“S-should I be… undressed?” The idea left her cold and terrified.

His brows drew together. “Eventually, but ye often doona start out that way.”

“Oh.” she felt suddenly very awkward, and moved closer to his imposing body, instinctively seeking his warmth.

“Gods how I wish I could touch ye,” he groaned.

The same desperation he expressed vibrated through her body. “Tell me what would happen if you could. If you
were
. Where would you begin?”

“That’s easy, lass,” he said huskily. “I would start with yer infuriating, tempting mouth.”

She covered her mouth with diffidence. “Infuriating?”

He grunted with amusement. “Aye. I’d stop yer incessant questions with my own lips as I’m tempted to do time and again.”

“Oh?” she asked from behind her hand. How long had he been
tempted
to do so?

“Move your fingertips,” he cajoled. “Run them across the ridges of your lips where they meet yer skin.” She did so, discovering that her mouth felt fuller and warmer to her now than it ever had. Keeping her touch feather-light, she traced the two peaks beneath her nose and enjoyed the sensation of her breath escaping through parted fingers. Her lower lip had more sensation in it than her upper and she lingered there, looking to him for further direction.

His eyes hungrily tracked each movement of her fingers and in a moment of impulse, she slipped one into her mouth and wet it on her tongue. She took the soft hiss of breath through his teeth as an affirmation.

When he spoke again, his voice was tight and low. “Next, I’d explore yer jaw, and the hollow of your throat. It can be very sensitive there.”

Kylah ran the backs of her fingers across her jaw, mirroring the action he’d attempted to perpetrate only moments before, before dropping beneath her chin. She sucked in her breath. It was like the entire surface of her skin awakened and came alive. Starting with the skin on her cheek and spreading downward in a wave of delicate sensation. Her chest became flushed, her nipples constricted, her belly tightened and beneath it, a shameless quiver began, stunning her into stillness.

“What de ye feel, Kylah?” he prodded.

She searched her mind, which had somehow deserted her. “Awake?” No. That didn’t seem quite right. “Aware.”

“Yes,” he sounded pleased, but she couldn’t look at him. “That is the beginning, now ye must discover more.”

She swallowed hard again, feeling her throat work beneath her fingertips. “What would you—discover next?” she queried.

That dark chuckle speared through her again, weakening her knees.

“I’d run my hands over yer shoulders and down yer arms, taking yer robes with them.”

“Really?” Her brows fell together in puzzlement. “To be frank, I thought you would go straight for my… my breasts.” She finished in a whisper.

“Oh, I’ll get to them,” he vowed. “But they have to ask for it, first.”

Ask for it? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yer shoulders,” he reminded. “Slowly. Feel the softness of the skin there.”

She followed his dictate, undoing a few clasps and sliding her ghostly robes from her shoulders with her fingertips, taking a moment to feel the soft glide of her fingers over smooth and velvety skin. It was lovely. It relaxed and revitalized her all at once.

“Lower,” he pressed.

Her robes hung onto her nipples, almost exposing them to his eyes that appeared to glow in her intensifying light.

“I-I’m frightened,” she admitted. Even though this time there was no tearing and rending of garments. No violence. No pain. There was still danger. Danger of degradation. Of shame and rejection. Of judgment and failure. She couldn’t bring herself to bare her body to the greedy eyes of a man. “Maybe I should just lie down.”

“Excellent idea.” He locked eyes with her, and they simultaneously lowered their bodies to the smooth stone of the grotto. His hazel gaze remained steady on her own. Never once wavering, never drifting to other parts of her bared flesh. He sustained her, strengthened her, staying with her until she was prostrate on her back and he on his side next to her, his head propped onto one palm supported by his elbow.

“All right.” She let out a shaky breath. “All right, what would you do next? Now that I’m lying down.”

He took more breaths, as though choosing his words very carefully. “When you open your robes, doona focus on what ye expose of yerself. Just run your fingers along the underside of yer wrist and forearm.”

She frowned at him again. It seemed as though he focused on the strangest parts. No other man had ever even
mentioned
her wrists or forearms. Never looked at them. Touched them. They were mundane parts with no particular erotic draw. “Are you entirely certain—?”

“Do it. Just with your nails. Score it lightly.” He gave her an impatient look that dispelled much of her earlier tension and brought a smile to her lips.

She lifted her shoulders off the ground, and shrugged her robes away, scoring her tender skin with her nails.

Pleasure. There it was. A hollow, aching pleasure skittering along her skin in such a way, that if she tried to define where it was, it would disappear. The acute response danced along her nerve endings with such intensity that her back arched and her thighs clenched.

“Now,” he stated tightly. “They’re asking for it now.”

“What?” she tried to latch onto his words through the gathering fog in her brain. She was more concerned about what was going on below.

“Yer breasts,” he gritted out. “Yer incredible breasts. They’re begging to be touched.”

They were? She glanced down. They
were
. She was certain of it now. The pert mounds with small, pink tips quivered with her unsteady breath. She risked a glance back up at Daroch, who was staring at them in a most peculiar way. As though he’d never seen their like before. He swallowed convulsively. Once. Twice. His tattoo intensifying the movement of his throat.