Wicked Paradise (21 page)

Ryan sobered, straightened his back. “James was my father’s—Ian O’Rourke’s—cousin. He was like a second father to me.” He beat his fist on his knee. “It makes sense why he was always around, why he and my mother were killed together in a car accident. He knew.”

“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry you didn’t know this while he lived.”

“Are you sure?” Ryan swept her onto his lap, and she straddled his muscular thighs. “What about my brother? You seem to know more about my life than I do.”

Morgan rested her hands on his knotty shoulders, tightening her legs about him. Electricity floated from the silky furs on the bed, a tickling pleasure crawling across her legs. “I don’t know. My seer powers have changed since I arrived here. It’s not customary for me to see much of one’s past, or to mind link, for that matter.”

“This island enhances everything. It’s feeding you pure earth magic.” Ryan’s hands locked against her spine, holding her firmly in place. The pressure of her rear on his groin sent a surge of heat to his hardening erection. “What else did you see?”

Morgan snuggled into him, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Then it hit her. Brother? Was that Ryan’s brother in her latest vision? She lifted her head and kissed Ryan soundly on the lips, grinning wide. “Oh! I thought it was you. But it must be your brother. Is he still alive?” She held her breath.

“I hope so.”

Delight ripped up her spine, and she clapped a hand to her mouth. “I had another vision this morning.”

Morgan sent the image into Ryan’s head. His mind revolted against the scene, and she faded it off at Lauren embracing Michael on the beach.

His back hit the wall. “Son of a bitch!” He eased her off his lap, gently setting her on the bed. He leapt up and stalked the small enclave, smashing a fist into his other palm. “They’re plotting against me.” Ryan stopped, glowering at Morgan. His face tempered, and he touched his fingers to her shoulder. “I’m not angry with you.”

Morgan offered him a timid smile. “How could they be plotting against you? They didn’t know this island was your destiny.”

A treacherous dark veil shifted over Ryan’s features. “I hid the Druid ring of leadership in my room in our base church. Fomorians can’t encroach on consecrated land. I wanted nothing to remind me of my future while I took my last trip of independence on the safe seas.” Crimson rage rolled up his tight neck. “Michael has coveted my powers, my role as the oldest and strongest all his life. My father gave him whatever he wanted, including freedom to do what he wished.”

“Because Michael wasn’t strong enough to lead.”

“Exactly.” The heat of jealousy emanated off Ryan’s motionless body. “But it didn’t stop Michael from competing with me for everything, including,” he sent her a tight apologetic look, “women. But I don’t get it. He hated Lauren, tried to break off our marriage pact before the wars. He had an idea to rule without the merger, a demon vanquishing potion he was working on.”

“It sounds like you two should have traded places.”

Ryan flicked his hand irritably. “Hardly. Back then, he’d rather befriend a Fomorian with one of his love potions than kill it.”

Morgan rose, hugging the fur to her chest. “Are you so sure of your brother? Maybe he wanted you to see things his way. To rule with Lauren’s coven without a pact.”

He pinned a glare on her, his forehead creased in doubt. “If I’d spent more time at home rather than working my ass off, I might’ve known Michael better. All I saw were the demands Ian and our people placed on me, and the freedoms Michael didn’t have to earn.” He resumed pacing in taut, awkward movements. Sounds of his cracking knuckles riddled the tension like gunshots. “After the wars began, he fled to the east coast. He returned just before Lauren and her people found us a few months ago. Lauren hated Michael—or so I believed. I’d probably be a floating corpse right now if it wasn’t for your father, for fate.” He clutched his amulet. “For this.” He kicked a log off the stack by the entry. The log thudded to the ground and split in two. “That bitch probably would’ve killed me in my sleep.”

Misgivings overshadowed Morgan’s happiness. The rest of the vision bothered her, and she knew she had to share it. A death trap, a life of betrayal he didn’t deserve awaited Ryan if he managed to escape the island.

“Ryan.” Morgan approached him, grasped his forearm. “You blanked out the vision before it finished. Who is Alexander?” Not waiting for his reply, she passed the vision.

Ryan froze. Again, the blood drained from his face, leaving an ashen tint in its wake. He deliberately peeled Morgan’s hands off his arm and eased away.

“It’s worse than I imagined,” he finally said. “Alexander is the leader of the Alasoron Cabal. Michael and Lauren are setting up the Druids for a fall.” Ryan nailed her with a black glance. “You need to help me return home.”

Chapter 21

Ryan stalked the confining cave while Morgan tidied their improvised kitchen. He tried to help but she waved him away, her face strained with a range of emotions he failed to decipher. It would be forever before he knew Morgan of Avalon’s secrets. A lifetime he’d gladly live whether on the island or elsewhere. He sensed her holding things back, just as he withheld information. Trust hadn’t come easy to him in many years, especially when he didn’t always know if the person in front of him was a Fomorian or Fomorian minion in disguise. Part of him wanted to share everything with Morgan, the other part kept a tight fist around his mind. However, one puzzle he needed to piece together rose above all others.

The mystery of the Druid charm had nagged him from the moment he came to on the deserted beach with it twined in his fingers. The amulet had lured Ryan straight to it during the deadly squall. Forever etched in his mind, the life-altering day surged back...

Sunlight had beat down on him, roasting his body through layers of clothes. His head thundered and his eyes refused to open. He’d sputtered out a mouthful of seawater, coughing up his lungs, salt burning his throat. Sand mashed into his face, gritty and cool. His battered body refused to move, not that his brain signals slunk past his raging headache. He’d wondered if he was in line waiting for the gatekeeper to punch his ticket to hell. Waves crashed on the shoreline and flowed sedately over his feet. Seagulls screeching filtered into his waterlogged brain. Then it all slammed into him like a tidal wave. The freakish storm, capsizing, oblivion.

He blinked back the grit and peered upon a strange new world. Slowly, he rotated his head to the side and eased his left hand up to check for wounds. Seaweed strangled his fingers, and he fruitlessly tried to shake it off. Fire seared his muscles. Biting down his pain, he pushed up on his elbows and lifted his head off the fine sand.

Slack-jawed, Ryan scanned the deserted beach, the rocky, bushy cliffs leading up to a lush jungle. Vibrant and alive, he hadn’t seen such ripe beauty in a year. Pristine white sand surrounded him in a wide half oval, not a bone, nor any evidence of death in sight. Contentment washed over him as if he belonged there. It was a sensation he’d only felt on his sailboat, never in L.A. or anywhere else for that matter, before or after the apocalypse.

He leveraged his beaten body into a sitting position. As he lifted his hand to untangle the seaweed, a glittery object knocked against his thigh. Raising his hand in front of his face, he inspected the charm suspended from a twist of leather, silver, and leafy seaweed. A tarnished silver circlet centered a rough-cut amethyst the size of a robin’s egg. Rune symbols covered both sides of the flat ring. The stone had vibrated on his palm. Weathered and ancient, it felt as if it belonged to him and only him. His lifeline to something he sensed, but was unable to pinpoint.

Here and now, he knew why the amulet had found him, stolen him from a life hardly worth living. Gave him to Morgan, to the island. Once the charm branded him, and Morgan cast her spell upon him, he’d felt a microscopic change in his power, a conduit to her sparkly fire, her crisp air, and her velvety earth magic. Did she also feel a bond to him?

Frowning, he strode to the wall alcove and looped his fingers through the braid of her pendant. Careful not to touch the amulet, he swung it in front of him. Morgan’s wolfish stare followed his movements.

“What magical abilities will we share once I complete the ritual?” He inched his fingers down the braid. “What kind of bond will tie us together? Will it help us defeat WindWraith?”

Morgan’s expression mellowed. “You are perceptive. As I explained, the amulets hold archaic magic. It is how I knew you were of ancient Druid blood. I knew it the moment you touched this one.” She delicately traced the rune-marked circlet resting against his chest. “I made the charms based on old customs. You feel my powers, sense a hint of my emotions?”

He nodded, fascination riding the anxiety knotting his shoulders.

“Once you fulfill your part of the rite, I’ll sense your power, your emotions. We’ll share an awareness of each other that will grow over time.” She shrugged, her eyes fixated on her charm, as though afraid it would vanish back to Avalon any second. “The amulet magic is meant to bind,” she curled her fingers around her pendant, and added shyly, “Druid soul mates.”

Heat tripped his heart, and a slow burn of longing crept to his groin. He hadn’t expected to hear that—he’d never believed in soul mates. At least not until Morgan seduced his dream. Damned if it didn’t turn him on, though.

She told him how she had bound the amulets with spells she didn’t comprehend as a child, and how her father repaired them. “We don’t have to complete the ritual.” Morgan rushed on, placating him unnecessarily. “The moment you touched your amulet, you bound yourself to it. When I touched it, I set the binding spell in motion. I placed another spell on you to diffuse the magic. If I hadn’t, and we never completed that part of the binding spell, the magic would devour your insides, destroy your powers, and eventually kill you.”

Shock whipped through Ryan. “What happens if we complete the magic binding? What spells complete the entire ritual?” He eased the amulet out of her hands, his fingers a mere inch from touching the charm.

“Do not touch it if you aren’t prepared for this.” Her fingers dusted his chest. “For me.”

Spellbound in the grip of each other’s eyes, they stared as though they could see into the other’s soul. He wanted that face gazing at him with need and devotion, her lips swollen with his kisses, her body pressed to his the way it did on the moonlight meadow in their dream.

“Prepare me.” His voice sounded husky to his ears. His loincloth barely contained his surging erection. He may as well throw the damn loincloth away for all the good it did.

“Ryan, do you understand what you’re saying?” Hope stirred in Morgan’s face. Her trembling palm flattened over his heart and he nearly melted from her gentle touch. “We will be bound for life. You will have access to my magic and I will have access to yours. But your magic won’t fill me, I can only link to it when you send it to me. The same will work for you with my magic. We’ll always have that link.”

“Will the amulet brand you?” He hated the idea of her satiny skin marred by the runes. She nodded. “That’s it? Our magic will be joined?” Ryan narrowed his eyes.

“We will sense each other’s strongest emotions. That’s one part.” Morgan crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding her beaded nipples.

Ryan’s erection bucked against his leather sheath. “The next step?”

She coughed, her neck reddening. “If we wish to proceed, the final spell will also bind our souls. We must make love. You must fill me with...your essence.” A crimson tide stained her face.

That explained her reticence to let him make love to her. Ah, Gods...he wanted to perform the ritual that moment. Life altering, the idea allowed no outlet for doubt, no return. Did he want this? He tugged on the leather thong around his neck, cupped the warm, glowing amulet in his palm. Knowing that it owned him, it kindled his inner fire, swept a wave of pride and honor through him.

“You will be mine?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His hand slid down her stomach to the swell of her hips. “I will be yours?”

“Yes.”

Hell, yes, it’s what I want!
All he thought about was Morgan. Loving her, protecting her, having children with her, growing old together. After a lifetime of sacrifices, his feelings overwhelmed him, consumed him like nothing ever had.

Raised to believe no place for love existed in his future as a coven leader, Ryan learned that it was a weakness to fall in love. Deep down, part of him had always wanted a normal life with a loving family. The Horde Wars had destroyed even that slim hope. Was Morgan the chance for a future long denied him? A fresh start in life? Was she truly his destiny? Did the ancient spells really work?

After years spent hunting and killing demons and Fomorians, and a year surviving in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, Morgan exemplified his biggest challenge to date. A challenge he’d spend a lifetime conquering if it meant having her in his life every day, holding her every night, learning to accept love, to give love freely.

“Ryan?” Worry compressed Morgan’s mouth into a thin line.

He cupped her face in his palms. “Do you want this?”

“It is our destiny.”

“To hell with destiny. Do
you
want me?”

“I think I’ve wanted you from the first moment your dreams touched mine.” Standing on tiptoes, she touched her lips to his. “I never believed I’d live to see this day.”

Ryan’s mouth covered hers hungrily in a long kiss filled with infinite promise. Feathering his lips over hers, he asked, “If we complete the first ritual now, do we follow immediately with the second?” A slow grin spread across his mouth.

“Do you not want to make love to me?” Her sultry British accent teased his skin like a mild Samhain breeze.

“Hell, yes.” Ryan groaned. “But I want to get out of here before WindWraith regains strength. There’s a safe place I want to take you.”

Excitement and hunger melted in her eyes. “I can wait. But can you?” She reached beneath his loincloth and her fingers grazed his steel length.