Sorcha's Wolf (12 page)

He bent his knees and rocked forward, bearing down just right. He was so thick. So long and hard, she wanted to touch, stroke and lick every inch. She wanted to hear him shout her name when she opened her mouth to him and sucked his shaft past her lips. But not now, now, she needed to come. She was close, so close she nearly cried out when he took his mouth from hers.

“Witch, you drive me wild. I need inside you, now.”

Witch.

The word hit like another blow. One she should have accepted by now, but still shocked her with a stab of pain. That’s all she was to him, wasn’t it? Once again, her passion fizzled out, leaving her chilled to the bone. She wasn’t more than a witch to him, one he’d use to gain what he wanted—now and with his revenge.

She broke the kiss and escaped his embrace with a soft cry. Breathless, she leaned against the mantel, refusing to look at him because if she did, she feared nothing would stop her from letting him have anything—everything—he wanted. She feared even the knowledge of what Rage would do to her wouldn’t stop her from letting this man have anything he wanted.

Silence pounded between them. She expected anger, another rage, or at the least, more scathing words. Instead of getting angry with her, he stood quietly except for his heavy breathing.

When she chanced a glance at him through the curtain of her hair, she bit the lip he had so recently nibbled on with such devastating results. He looked hot, steaming even. Not moving any other part of his body, he lifted an arm and reached out to slowly touch her jaw with his knuckles, then let his arm fall to his side. Without anything else, he turned from her and walked out, closing the door softly.

Chapter Fourteen

Alex was a fool. He’d had Sorcha in his arms and had felt her passion shimmering between them like a rainbow through a light rain shower. Then, like a jackass, he’d pressed her too fast, too far.
What did she think of him?
She’d stated her rules, and with each, he’d felt the guilt hit hard.

He found a fountain, one of many he could hear flowing throughout the elegant gardens. Sighing, he gazed at the intricately carved marble. Water rippled from the palms of women holding their hands above their heads as if they caught the rain as it fell and fed it to the waiting creatures carved into the base of the fountain. The beautiful details had suffered from time, but the worn away edges merely added to the elegance of the artwork in his mind. Nothing could be truly beautiful without the signs only time could bestow.

The beauty of the Fay realm was legendary. The very air shone as if blessed by nature. More statues stood along the low, covered walkway lining the white marble building he shared with Sorcha. Tall, majestic oaks grew alongside the outer edge of the grassy pathway, creating a sense of walking through a forest path dotted with tall, grey statues depicting the Fay in all their different forms. Roses bloomed in a variety of colours, mingling with the scents of fresh rain and heather the soft breeze brought to him. The magic on the air glittered like butterfly wings.

Sorcha belonged in a place like this. He tilted his head and examined that thought.
Sorcha
.

The life and brilliance of Sorcha was too bright for this world with its dim light and carefully constructed beauty. She belonged elsewhere. New England? He couldn’t imagine her there, but he’d seen the pictures of her outside the gates to her home. Her hair had been straight there.

He smiled thinking of her riot of red curls. How often had he wanted to tangle his hand in those curls and feel the silk curl around his fingers? Why had her hair been straight in America? She’d dressed differently there as well. Not that he’d given her the option of heels and skirts. Still, she belonged in Scotland. For all the pain it had given her, he could see her clearly here, on the bright green meadows, the pines above her and the craggy grey rock of their homeland at her feet.

Their homeland.

Had he ever had a home? As a young lad, he’d had a home and even at nine winters, he’d seen the love between his parents and wanted that for himself. To be the protector and provider for someone. To have that special someone look to him and care for him in turn.

“You are sad?”

He turned to see a child and from under her golden, bright hair, he recognised the youngling they’d saved. Sorcha had saved.

“You saved me as well.”

“Do you read minds?” he asked her, more surprised than offended.

She giggled, her eyes sparkling a deep, dark blue not in the least chastised for having been caught reading his mind.

“It’s not polite.”

Nodding solemnly, but still smiling, she moved closer to him, amazing him when she took his large, battle scarred hand. He froze.

“You are not used to kindness. This evil has tainted you for long. Too long?”

Alex blinked and inhaled sharply. She gazed at him, the laughter in her eyes muted by a perception far beyond her years.

Another sound caught his attention and he shifted his gaze from the child’s to see a tall, slender Fay approaching. He stood, still letting the child hold his hand.

“She means no harm. You are her favourite hero now, I am afraid.”

The child let go of him and raced to her mother, he assumed by the almost identical blue eyes and long, straight blonde hair. “We owe you our gratitude. For many moons we have sought our daughter.”

“It was Sorcha more than anything I did.”

“Not true. You could have stopped Sorcha at any time. If you had, our daughter would have remained hidden from us, a slave to Helga. Instead you fought to save her, and your witch.”

Alex suddenly felt heat hit his neck. He shifted his feet and glanced away from the two Fay. “I did what I could.”

“Now you are anxious to poison the witch again, and use her to seek your vengeance.”

“Poison is a strong word.”

The Fay nodded. “True, but is it not accurate?”

He examined the woman’s face and found no animosity there, only cool, clear curiosity.

“She may not destroy the poison this time and permanently lose her gifts.”

Alex frowned but when he would have spoken, the child squirmed. The woman gently set her on her feet and the young one raced back to him, hugging him around the waist.

“You will do the right thing. I know this.” With a brilliant smile, she broke away and skipped to her mother.

“May the light of the sun guide your steps, warrior, and provide you with the truth.”

He wanted to ask her what she’d meant by her words, what she knew of Sorcha and more, what she knew of this poison that withheld her gifts, but she turned and with the child in her arms, walked away.

As soon as they had left, he felt a curious sense of urgency.

Sorcha.

Suddenly he needed to see her again, feel her lips under his and not let her tell him no, not let her
want
to tell him no.

Sorcha left Alex’s chambers and headed aimlessly through the gardens and fountains of the Fay realm. Samantha, a good friend and a member of her coven, had lived here for years and left, never to return. Now Samantha was mated to Alrick’s brother, Derek, a good friend to Alex. Samantha had even spoken of Alex, but mainly to complain about how cold the man appeared. She’d never returned to the Fay realm, nor ever would, Sorcha imagined. Not after learning that her life had been a lie here, in this realm. Sorcha had come here once before, but not returned. Life as head of her coven had taken all her time and then demanded more. She’d always wanted to return here, but hadn’t. Now, the magic of the realm surrounded her, but she found no peace within its embrace.

“Why do you find no solace here, daughter?”

Sorcha brushed her tears aside and turned to see the child she’d saved from Helga and her mother, walking towards her. The child slept soundly in Gwyneth’s arms, looking so peaceful Sorcha reached out and touched the silk of her long tangle free hair. “She looks so young, so small.”

“She is young, by our standards, too young to have been exposed to such horrors.”

Gwyneth bent to settle the girl in a low soft mound of grass. “Do you not want your mate now that he wants you?”

Startled by the woman’s bluntness, Sorcha turned away, hiding the ache such words caused. Alex’s husky words rippled through her memory, ‘
Witch, you drive me wild’.
Why couldn’t she simply accept what he offered and not care what he thought of her?

“He is here, you are here. What stops you?”

Sorcha traced the lines of flowing vines in the fabric of her borrowed gown. He was here, somewhere. Probably finding relief like he had in the mountains, or with some willing woman who didn’t mind being called names. ‘
Witch’
.
Why does that bother me? I am a witch. Who cares if he uses that?
She cared. Throughout her lifetime, that name had been spat at her by her enemy. Alex wasn’t her enemy. Why did it matter so much? She felt like banging her head on the fountain—perhaps then she’d knock some sense into it. He’d been holding her, kissing her, doing things to her body she’d only read about in sexy romance novels and she’d…lost the magic of the moment because he’d called her a silly name.

“Sorcha? Your aura has dimmed with sorrow. What troubles you so?”

She shrugged and patted her gown flat where she’d been folding it and unfolding it. “He wants relief nothing more. Now, well, now he finds it elsewhere.”

The woman laughed a tinkling soft sound that irritated Sorcha more than she could say.

“Do you believe this? That he would turn from you and go find comfort from another while he knows he’s done something to upset you?”

“Upset me? You give him more credit than he deserves, I think.”

“And you don’t give him enough.”

“I’m trying!” She sucked in a breath in surprise. She’d yelled at the poor woman. Trying for some control, she shook her head and gathered her thoughts before saying, more calmly, “I am trying. Every time he looks at me, every time I see the heat in his eyes, I can’t stop myself from wanting him. Why is that when he’s kidnapped me? I mean, even if now I know why and respect his need for vengeance, why would I fall apart in his arms? And when I do, I still can’t simply let go of the past and just sleep with him, not when he keeps throwing me with his behaviour.”

“Do you believe he wants you simply as a man wants a woman? Truly?”

Sorcha shrugged, not certain why she would reveal so much to this woman. No one knew of her pain, not even her sister. Why would she reveal herself now?

Because he just made your dreams come true, then killed it all with calling you witch.

He had no clue, either. He used witch the way some used wolf, or vampire, but to her, it was one more way he showed how he really didn’t care about her. And he didn’t. Not the way she wanted. She thought he might worry for her now, the way a friend worries, or the way someone who knows you shows concern if you get sick. So in other words, not at all.

“Do you truly believe he doesn’t sense your pain?”

“He doesn’t know I’m hurting. How could he know?”

Gwyneth sat near her and regarded her silently. “At one time that may have been true, but not now. Slowly he is learning you, and your pain confuses him, as does, I think, his treatment of you. Sorcha, you must learn patience. Always so quick to action, so quick to anger. You two are well suited, for he is just as quick to anger, no?”

She nodded, but for some reason smiled too, remembering the growl he often gave her instead of growing angry at her quick temper.

“Think on him. Remember who he is, what he is, or was, before you entered his life. He was a man set on a course to fulfil his need for revenge not three days ago, and now that purpose, one he’s had for centuries, is slowly being destroyed by his witch.”

“Witch.
Exactly
.”

“He means no harm by the word, Sorcha. You
are
a witch.
His witch
.”

She gave Gwyneth the incredulous look such nonsense deserved. “Oh, I doubt that. He’d have to recognise me and he doesn’t. Besides”—she flicked her hand at such rubbish—“I also have a name. He knows this, I’ve
told
him.” She threw her hands up and started pacing. Gwyneth simply watched her, the clearness of her gaze irritating Sorcha even more. “I am a means to an end for Alex. I see why now, I even want to aid him, but in the end, I mean nothing to him. Nothing.”

“What do you fear most?”

What did she fear most?
The question startled her. The Fay used logic the way most used a sword, or magic, but unlike those other, more direct attacks, Gwyneth’s logic tossed her for a loop.

She feared many things. Most tied to Alex. Tears flooded her eyes and she hugged herself tightly to try to keep them inside. “I fear being loved by him, but only in body, and then having him walk away, like he did before, but this time with a piece of my heart and not merely my dreams.” She swallowed painfully and ducked her head in misery. “I fear I will never recover from that, from knowing him, knowing what we could have and have him not wanting it—not with me,” she whispered. “He’s turned from me once and it nearly destroyed me. That was before, though,” she managed. “I…I fear it’s too late. Already I see him and know I’ll remember every detail for the rest of my life. And yet, he’ll leave again, once this is over, once he’s either gained his revenge or—” She cut off unable to continue.

Gwyneth stood and squeezed her shoulder. “Ah, child, you are full of fear. Full of the worries we all face when the chance at love presents itself. But with you, I heard the sorrow of your past colouring your future. You will need to let go of those memories, much as Alex will have to let go of this need for retribution if you two will find common ground. With love, comes the possibility of loss. But come, see, your wolf is not with another, no other I believe will do, nor ever has been enough.”

Gwyneth passed her hand over the fountain’s waters and slowly the still water filled with a vision of Alex pacing his chamber, his hair a mess, his body tense and a frown of concern on his face. He paused to face her room, but started pacing again almost immediately. Seconds later a knock at his door revealed a beautiful Fay with raven black hair to her waist carrying a tray of food. Alex frowned at her irritably and motioned her out when she would have lingered. He stalked the room again almost immediately. She could see the bulge of his erection even in the vision and brushed her hand through the water to hide his condition from the Fay.

Gwyneth laughed and fluttered her fingers at the building where Sorcha now knew Alex paced. “I have my own bonded. He more than satisfies and frustrates me. These things are between you and your wolf. He fights himself, and his hunger for you. Why?”

“Because I am a witch, why else?”

Gwyneth raised her eyebrows in dismay and spread her arms. “Why else indeed. You must discover why, but your man is waiting on you, Sorcha. Go to him. Be brave.” She reached out, displaying a silver pendant swinging gently from her long fingers. “But first, you will take this token from me, and when you have need, you will call my name. No matter where you might be, aid will come.”