Sword of the Raven (14 page)

Her fingers clutched his hand. “Archer found us there and took us to a shelter for runaways. A place where they asked no questions. He was twenty-two, and he volunteered at the shelter. He still does. By then, I shouldn’t have trusted
anybody.
But Archer, maybe because he was so young and closer to our ages, inspired complete, immediate reassurance. Now I know why.”

“Aye. And believe me, lass, the Guardian is far older than he appears.”

“Oh? I’ll have to ask him about that.”

“Good luck getting a straight answer.”

“We all have our secrets, don’t we?” She gave him a considering look. “Archer obtained medical treatment for Connor, again subverting any inquiries. Eventually, Connor and I moved into Archer’s apartment. We kept Erin and Eamon as middle names, chose new first names, and picked Morgan for a surname because it was our paternal grandmother’s maiden name. Something Graves wouldn’t know, and Mom likely wouldn’t remember. Even if she did, it’s common enough. Archer procured new birth certificates, social security numbers, school records, life histories—I didn’t ask or care how.

“Connor finished high school, toiling at menial jobs to support us until I graduated. My grades earned me a full scholarship to University of Oregon. He got into the police academy, then over the years, he worked his way up to vice detective so he could bust drug dealers. It’s how he exorcises his demons. Or was, until he got framed. I became a victim’s advocate and wanted to eventually earn a law degree and become a prosecuting attorney. We didn’t quite get our happy ending. Yet. But at least Graves never found us.”

“The Guardian cast a shield around you all these years. He’s good. Hidden you well. But as you began to come into your Powers, you would’ve become more and more difficult to conceal.” Which is why Rowan had finally sensed Delaney’s
Aillidh
and tracked her to Oregon. Other entities would soon sense it…and be hunting her.

 “But Archer isn’t my Guardian anymore, right?” At his nod, white teeth sank into her full lower lip. “What if Graves saw Connor’s trial in the news? What if—”

Rowan clenched his jaw. “Don’t fash yourself, luv. If your stepfather comes after you now, it’ll be his final act on this earth.”

 “Connor gave up
everything
for me. I have to get him back.” Her shoulders sagged. “I have a
lot
to learn about this Supernatural world, don’t I?”

“Aye. And that’s what I’m here for.” Too bad it had to be a crash course.

She looked down at their interlocked fingers as if just realizing they were joined. Yanking away, she flung back the covers on the opposite side of the bed. “I could really use a long, hot shower.”

“Delaney, don’t—”

Ignoring his warning, she stood up. And crumpled to the floor.

He stayed put, fighting every instinct to rush to her aid. Delaney’s health wasn’t in danger. He didn’t need to grind salt into her wounded pride.

Muted cussing reached his ears, then she laboriously pulled herself to her feet. As she limped forward using the bed frame for support, Rowan briefly, covertly linked with her to assess her pain level.

“Stay out of my head!” she snapped.

So much for covert. He understood better than he wanted to both her need to feel clean, and her aversion to being touched right now. And he related all too well to her fear of relinquishing control.

Sometimes, the only thing you had left was self-reliance.

He raised his palms. “I’ll take the dishes to the kitchen and start breakfast. If there’s anything I can do, give a shout.”

He scooped up the tray and sauntered out, keeping his senses homed on her. If she needed help, he’d know.

* * *

A half-hour later, lively flames snapped and popped inside the living room fireplace, the dishes were clean, dried and put away, and Rowan had rummaged the pantry for food he could cook without bolloxing up.

He still hadn’t heard the shower switch on and he felt dejection clouding Delaney’s essence. He strode down the hallway. Rapped on the door. “Delaney? How are you doing in there?”

Her low “fine” didn’t sound too sure.

“I can go back to the kitchen, then?”

Long silence. A sigh. “I’m on the bench, and can’t stand up,
dammit.”

“I’m coming in.”

“Not unless you can teleport through the locked door.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He tripped the lock with his Power, opened the door and walked inside.

Delaney looked up at him from her perch on the wooden bench against the wall beside the tub, still clothed in the shirts she’d slept in. Distress pinched her delicate features and perspiration sheened her skin. “I made it this far. Can’t quite manage the tub or shower.”

He squatted in front of her. “How can I help?” When her lovely mouth pressed into a grim line, he shook his head. “If I were wounded, you would see to my comfort, would you not?”

“Yes.” Another sigh. “I
need
a shower.”

I ken, Delaney.
He used the more intimate communication for his confession.
I too have felt the need to wash away the past
.

If only it were that easy to cleanse the stains of grief…and guilt.

“The best thing about the past, is that it’s in the past. Done.” She nodded resolutely. “Moving on, now. I can’t wear my nightshirts to shower. Would you mind bringing me my bra? It’s in the bed. I’ll put it on, then you can help me into and out of the shower stall.”

“Absolutely.” He fetched the coral bra from the bedroom, trying not to visualize the sexy curves the small scrap of lace would barely cover. Then he waited outside while she changed.

“Ready,” she called.

Rowan reentered the bathroom. All those tempting curves were now reality, and far more enticing than he’d imagined. As he’d told Delaney, he was no angel…and food and water weren’t the only things he’d been deprived of during his imprisonment. He averted his glance, snapped his fingers. Multiple shower jets hissed on.

“Show-off.” Delaney assessed him.
“Can
you teleport?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What manner?”

He whispered the incantation and evaporated into mist. Seconds later, he re-materialized in front of her.

“Holy freaking Houdini!
That’s
how you followed me before! I have Powers now, right? Teach me to do that!”

“You can’t. ‘Tis my Gift.” He offered his hands to help her up. “Our Powers aren’t party tricks, meant to entertain. If we attempt to rescue your brother, we’ll be fighting deadly enemies.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She gestured at the blackened slash on her thigh before placing her palms in his. “So what’s my Gift?”

He eased her to her feet. “I’m not completely certain. As we start training, it’ll become clear.”

He slid his arm around Delaney’s waist and pulled her close. The friction of her bare, silken skin rubbing against his shot heat straight to his groin.
Sod all.
He should’ve taken time to put on a T-shirt with his jeans.

She limped toward the shower with him supporting her. “Training?” The question sounded slightly breathless.

“Aye.” She was far less steady on her feet than he’d like. “This afternoon, I’ll outline the plan.” At least the part she’d be privy to.

Nobody needed to know Rowan suspected he wouldn’t survive the endgame.

 He didn’t particularly want to die. But as long as he achieved his goal, his fate didn’t matter.

When they reached the shower enclosure, he opened the glass panel and helped her inside. Then he stepped in behind her and shut the door.

Delaney stiffened in his grasp as steaming water cascaded over them. “Oh no, you—”

“I’m not leaving you in here alone to fall on your sweet arse.”

She awkwardly turned. Glared.

Rowan read the intent in those hot blue eyes as she considered attempting a Power push on him. “Aye,” he challenged with a smile. “Give it your best shot. But I’m far more experienced, and water only strengthens my Gifts.”

With a huff, she snatched up a bottle of body wash. Leaning against the wall, she stroked lather over her supple limbs, filling the air with berry fragrance. “You said you couldn’t force people to do things.”

Actually, he’d said he
didn’t
force people to do things. “I have various weapons at my disposal to fend off a Power blast.”

Delaney’s wet bra and panties had gone semi-transparent beneath the spray, revealing peaked nipples and an enticing shadow between her thighs. Unfortunately, the jeans plastered to him did nothing to conceal his rapid-fire erection. He grabbed the shampoo. Might as well wash up. Keep his hands busy…and off her.

“Trade you soap for shampoo,” she said.

Their fingers fumbled together, slick and wet, and his cock twitched. He spun, putting his back to her and thrusting himself beneath the jet on his side to lather and rinse. Bloody hell, he wanted an ice cold shower.

“Is that what I did to you, Rowan?”

I don’t see anybody else in here inspiring a raging boner.
Then he realized what she’d really asked. “Blast me with your Powers? Aye, but you didn’t mean—”

“I hurt you,” she said softly.

Only a coward would be afraid to face her. He had many faults, but being lily-livered wasn’t one of them. He tipped his head into the spray, raked his hair back, then pivoted. “You didn’t.” Compared to other wounds he’d borne, it was nothing.

“Don’t deny it to spare my feelings.” Moving closer, she gently touched his scratched cheek. “I
did
hurt you, and I’m sorry. I’ve learned to live with the things I’ve done. And yet…telling you my ugly secrets made me feel as if I’ve dropped a thousand pound weight. Made me feel like a new woman.”

He smiled. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you, lass? Not a victim. Certainly not a criminal.” He held her gaze. “I see a survivor…with no ugliness, inside or out. What that fecking waste of oxygen did to you…there’s no shame in it for
you,
Delaney. The guilt belongs wholly to
Graves.
None of the shame is yours to bear, luv.”

Her eyes welled, and a tear slid down her cheek. That single, silent tear hurt him more than any torture.

“I— I understand…intellectually. I’ve spent a lifetime convincing myself emotionally.”

 “Be proud of who you are, Delaney Morgan. A smart, brave lass who defeated a monster…and grew into a strong woman who turned past hurts into helping others.”

Her breath caught and her lower lip wobbled. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Rowan.”

“Nor I, you.”

“You fascinate me.” Trembling fingertips wandered over his jaw to soothe the scratches on his throat. “You make me want things I shouldn’t. Make me want things I’ve never needed before.”

Desire coiled tight and hard in his belly. “Lass, I—”

“You scare me.”

The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.

I heard that, MacLachlan.
Her fingertips slid downward, skating over his collarbone while his heart tried to pound out of his chest beneath her touch. “I learned early on that fear puts me at a disadvantage. So do you know what I do when something scares me?”

He had a very bad feeling he did, indeed.

Delaney moved closer, stood on tiptoe. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I confront it.”

Then she cupped his face in her palms…and kissed him.

Chapter 8

Rowan froze. A dozen stunned heartbeats thundered past while the water caressed their joined bodies. Delaney’s warm scent in his nostrils, her small trembling hands cradling his face, her soft, generous lips feathering over his mouth—flooded his veins with intoxicating desire.

Sanity evaporated into the shower steam.

He wrapped his arms around her and delved his tongue into her silky mouth. Raspberries and cream, and the unique, heady essence that belonged to only Delaney. He’d been so parched, so alone. So long. He drank her in. Devoured her.

She jolted, breaking the kiss.

Disappointment careened through him. Muscles clenched, he steeled himself to release her.

Then her arms slid around his neck, her mouth again seeking his.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he backed her to the wall. Her pebbled nipples rubbed his chest, her velvety belly pressed into his aching hard-on.

She answered with a low hum of pleasure…and he was lost.

Thrusting his knee between hers, he parted her thighs, rocked his hips into her. No finesse, just raw, animal heat. Thirst. Longing. Hurt and loneliness…he poured them all into Delaney. She took everything, and gave him back peace, edged with scalding passion.

Rowan didn’t consciously summon his Power, but the glittering rush crashed through him, and he spilled it into her. She shuddered, moaned…then spiked heightened pleasure back into him.

His breath caught and he staggered. No woman had ever been capable of echoing their combined pleasure inside him.

Every erotic sensation intensified tenfold. The carnal invasion tripped his pulse, tightened his muscles, tingled along his nerve endings.

Too much, way too fast.

The startling urge to climax roared through him, wrenching a groan from deep within. He tangled his fingers in Delaney’s hair, desperately clinging to the breaking edge of control. Mouths fused, he ground his hips into her welcoming softness while riding her on his thigh. Gave her another hot, fervent push of Power.

He wanted, needed her with him when he hit the crest.

She shook in his arms, ragged breaths hitching, galloping heartbeat thudding against his chest.

Meshed so close in body and spirit he could feel, taste her rioting need entwined with his. Amplifying his.

C’mon, luv. Go over for me.

Yes—

An unexpected shaft of searing agony speared his brain, buckling his knees. He tore his mouth from Delaney’s. Panting for air, he propped his forehead on the stone wall.

“R-Rowan?” Delaney sounded as breathless as he felt. “What’s—”

“Shite!”
He could barely force out words. “C-coming.”

“It’s…okay.”
Me, too. I thought.

“Nay. I meant—” His cock throbbed, and he ground his teeth. “Someone…tripped my perimeter wards. Approaching the cabin.” Although the internal alarm was usually a subtle buzz. It had never blasted his brain.

“I see.”
Maybe…not such bad timing.
Her silent message transmitted clearly, although she had trouble meeting his gaze. “Friend or enemy?”

“Not sure.” But at least after the intimate link with her just now, he was ninety-nine percent certain she wasn’t a demon.

He lifted her out of the shower, and his mere thought instantly dried them both. Her injured leg gave out…and before he even formed the intention, light pulsed from his palms into Delaney.

Bloody hell.
His Powers seemed to be mega-charged.

Delaney gasped. Her skin flushed beneath his hands, rosy pink spreading up her body and into her face. Her lashes fluttered rapidly and she swayed.
Ohhh! Rowan!

Rowan grinned as he steadied her. He hadn’t intended to do
that,
either. Well, one of them wouldn’t be left frustrated. “Delaney, you okay? I need to check it out.”

What was—
“Um…go.”

He dematerialized without having to invoke the incantation—another first. Instead of drifting, his essence blasted out of the cabin and rocketed through the misty forest. Somehow, their passion had caused their Powers to interconnect. Had it also supercharged his abilities?

Nothing in his experience, nor those of any Mages in his lineage, gave him the answer.

Rowan watched the ground rushing past in a blur.
Feck! I could get used to this.

* * *

Delaney’s wobbly knees barely got her to the wooden bench against the bathroom wall. Of all the hare-brained ideas… Kissing Rowan MacLachlan ranked up there with provoking a Great White shark.

She’d impulsively decided to prove to herself she wasn’t intimidated by the attraction arcing between them. Prove she could quash her cravings for him with the same force of will that got her though every problem in life.

Instead, when he’d looked at her with unabashed admiration brimming in his striking silver and jade eyes, common sense had evaporated. Everything had spiraled completely out of her control.

And after Rowan had lifted her out of the shower— She swallowed. Right then, right there, she might have had…sort of an orgasm.

She’d never gotten that
hot.
Especially so
fast.
She’d been teetering on the verge of something spectacular when he’d stopped a breath from the edge, but—

What the
hell
just happened?

She drew a shaky breath. She and Zack had made out plenty. But the same reservations that stopped her from letting any man invade her body, even her fiancé, had also kept her physical responses locked down. She’d thought her libido was less enthusiastic than most women’s.

But now…. Her skin was still flushed, her nipples and more intimate places sensitive and tingly.

The idea that Rowan could make her climax for the very first time—while barely touching her—was disconcerting. Terrifying.

Her hands fisted. And she hadn’t just tasted Rowan’s passion, she’d somehow absorbed his feelings. The man was emotionally tormented. His aching undercurrent of private agony made her want to embrace and console him. Some savage, primitive instinct within her that she didn’t even recognize made her long to find the person who’d hurt him so badly…and rip out their jugular.

They shared more in common than she’d ever imagined, past and present.

What did you do to me, MacLachlan?

Delaney?
His astonished reply was as clear and strong as his presence—which she suddenly realized was still linked with hers. Reading her every thought and emotion.
That was your first?

Oh, crap. She buried her burning face in her hands. It was supposed to be
one simple kiss,
to vanquish her doubts.

Instead, their sizzling connection had spun her world inside out.

Nothing to be embarrassed about, lass. I’m glad I gave you pleasure,
Rowan answered matter-of-factly.
However, you’d best be getting dressed. If something’s about to try to breach the wards around the cabin, things could get…dicey.

Delaney surged to her feet, pain-free and completely healed. She glanced down at the faint white scar on her thigh, the only remnant of her injury. She’d barreled right past
dicey
and charged head-long into
dangerous.

When it came to her secretive, sexy Scot, she was out-matched and out-maneuvered. Her mouth tilted in a determined smile.

For now.

* * *

Delaney quickly dressed in black leggings, black knee-high boots, and a turquoise turtleneck. Accessorized by a wide leather belt…and the kitchen’s biggest butcher knife. Hilt gripped in her fist, she hovered near the coat rack beside the front door and flipped aside a stray curl. She should’ve taken time to braid her hair. If she had to fight, it was gonna get in the way.

Sensing a presence in the living room behind her, she spun, blade raised.

Rowan leapt back. “Steady on, lass.” As his gaze skated over her, amusement—and blatant male appreciation—glinted in his quicksilver gaze. “I prefer to keep the appendages attached.”

“Did you see who’s coming?” His naughty grin sent warmth creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. “Uh…arriving?”

“Aye, although nothing’s ever alerted me from eight and a half kilometers out before. It’s Walker.”

“Zack?”
Her pulse sped up. “Maybe he has news about Connor!” But if that were the case, Archer would’ve called her. Provided there was cell reception.

“You want me to allow him through the protective wards, then?”

“Yes! Is that why you wrote those blood symbols on the door? As protection?”

“Aye.”

So Connor must have done the same to her, with her palm. But how did Connor know warding spells? Was that what he’d meant by messing around with stuff he hadn’t a clue about? “Ah, Rowan, it’ll be interesting explaining the bloody artwork to Zack.”

“You won’t have to. It’s invisible to humans.”

Then why could she see it?
“Okay…while I’m talking to him, you go get dressed. And please hang out in the bedroom until he leaves. I don’t want to have to explain
you.”

He glanced down like he hadn’t remembered he was barefoot and wearing only jeans. The man was definitely comfortable with his body. Why wouldn’t he be, with a physique as magnificent as a Celtic god’s? “You will eventually. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ever?” At his shrug, she stared at him. “Oh…
hell no,
don’t tell me…you’re immortal?”

His throaty laugh warmed her faster than the hot shower. “Back to Hollywood again, are we? Nay, I’m not immortal. Neither am I wholly mortal.”

She frowned. “Care to be a ‘wee bit’ more specific, laddie?”

“I can die. Will die.” Storm clouds gathered in his eyes. “But not as easily as some would like. Or as soon.”

“How long have you been around?”

“Tuatha Dé
don’t measure time the same way as humans. For a Mage, I’m relatively young.”

“Give me a number.”

He hesitated. “Detective Walker—”

“Isn’t here yet. Come on, in the last few days I’ve lived through a reality that makes the Syfy channel’s lineup look mundane. I’m not going to spaz out. How old are you?”

“Around a century or so.”

She’d suspected he hadn’t honed those amazing Powers overnight, but the truth staggered her.
“Over a hundred years?”

“Give or take, aye.”

“Huh.” She arched her brows. “I wouldn’t have made you for a day past seventy-five. Must be all that clean living.”

A fleeting smile. “I’ll tell you about my origins…everything you need to know…as we start training. I spent half of my first century learning and refining my Powers. Unfortunately, you don’t have that luxury.”

“Fortunately, I’m a fast study.”

“You’ll have to be.”

“Yeah.” Her stomach pitched. “I’ve seen the evil we’re up against.” Before Rowan could reply, tires crunched on the graveled drive. She waggled her fingers at him. “Bye, now.”

With a snort, he sauntered down the hallway.

Delaney ditched the butcher knife and threw open the living room drapes before answering Zack’s insistent knock.

“Delaney!” He stepped inside, black jeans and brown leather bomber jacket splotched with raindrops, his mouth bracketed by tired lines. Worried hazel eyes locked with hers. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“I know you come to the beach whenever you need to regroup, and Archer said you wanted to be left alone. But enough is enough. Why aren’t you sitting vigil at Connor’s bedside?”

She slammed the front door closed behind him. “You’re not in the best position to judge me. Seeing as how you deserted Connor the minute being his friend impacted your career.”

“I’m not judg— I didn’t—” He raked impatient fingers through his damp hair.
“Hell,
Lanie, what happened to us? We can’t even carry on a civilized conversation anymore.”

“You know what happened.”

He sighed. “I smell coffee. Mind if I help myself?”

“Are you staying that long?”

“As long as it takes to settle up.” Zack shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. He walked into the kitchen, lean athlete’s body weighted with weariness, shoulders stiff beneath his dark plum shirt.

Her chest tightened. She’d given him that shirt last Christmas because she loved the way purple emphasized the amber highlights in his eyes. It had been the final holiday they’d spent together. “Pour me one, too, then. Settling up will take a while.” She detoured to the living room and dropped onto the sofa nearest the fireplace.

Zack followed, handing Delaney a warm orange mug. He commandeered the coffee table and sat facing her with his knees bracketing hers. “What I have to tell you…isn’t easy.” He hesitated. “For me to say. Or you to hear.”

Uncertainty was alien to Zachary Walker. The weight on Delaney’s chest grew smothering. “Is it…Connor?” Is he…”

“No!
God no! His condition is unchanged.”

Of course not, Archer would’ve come to tell— “Archer!” Had Rowan misjudged the extent of his injuries? “Is Archer hurt, did something happen—”

“He’s okay. Vanessa’s okay. I’m sorry, Lanie, I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t mean a lot of things.”

Gulping coffee perfectly mixed to her taste, she slumped into the sofa cushions. “What are you doing here, Zack?”

“I’ve been lying to you.”

Suspicions confirmed, she stiffened. Was he involved with the criminals who’d framed Connor? She couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to. Yet shame compressed his lips. “About…?”

“Everything. I hated doing it. I—” His Adam’s apple jerked. “I
had
to protect you. Connor and I both agreed, it was the only way.”

“Connor
knows?”

“Since day one.”

“How
could
you? Connor must have been devastated. He loves you like a brother.”

“I feel the same.” Zack set aside his untouched mug. He leaned forward, hands gripping her thighs. “I had to make an untenable choice…and I chose him. I’m sorry, babe. It was the only way to help him.”