A Druid of Her Own: An Immortal Highlander (Druid Series Book 4) (5 page)

She hoped being bonnie was a good thing. And that bonnie wasn’t code for coyote ugly in his book—the kind of ugly that would make him want to chew off a limb come morning should he wake next to her. More than that, she hoped she got to touch him. At least once. Was he as hard all over as he looked?

I hope so.

He stepped even closer, his long hair falling over a shoulder. “You dinnae answer me. Why are you on the same plane as the dark sorcerer? And do nae try to distract me with words about findin’ me pleasant enough or talk of me gettin’ naked. I’m already of a mind to bed you, wench. Do nae encourage it. From the looks of you, you could nae handle a man such as me.”

Have a mind to bed me?

She stared at him, her eyes wide, that damn ache between her legs growing. Yes. He was totally the stuff of romance books because men like him didn’t happen in real life, but beyond that he was a total dickhead. “What are you doing here in my dream?”

“I’ve told you already, ‘tis nae a dream. This is old magik that pulls us here together. Magik one does nae pull upon lightly. How are you here?”

“I’ve explained this to you already. Now who is the daft one?” she countered.

He grinned. “You’ve spunk, lass. I’ll give you that.”

Maybe he wasn’t a total dickhead. She thought about his threat of bedding her and decided it was time to throw caution to the wind. It was her nightmare, and if it was going to finally let her mold it, then she was going to turn it into the best sex dream she’d ever had. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeated. “Okay what? You’ll tell me why yer here?”

“Okay bed me,” she said, licking her lower lip, wanting the man to do as he threatened. She just hoped he did it all night long and that she didn’t dare wake from the dream.

He sputtered as he spoke. “A-are you daft?”

“No. Stop asking me that. Enough people in this stupid town think I’m crazy. I don’t appreciate you bringing it into my dreams too. I’m horny and you’ll work to fix that problem. When else would someone like me ever get a chance with someone like you?”

“Lass,” he pressed, taking one hand and adjusting himself through his kilt. “Yer tryin’ hard to do what Athol wants—yer tryin’ to kill me. But yer weapon is yer tongue as it weaves promises of beddin’ you. We will be explosive when we join.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” she replied, reaching for him and swiping her fingers over his forearm.

His jaw clenched as if he was trying to maintain control of himself. “Lass, the beast in me wants free. It wants me to claim you and yer nae ready for that.”

She jutted her chin out. “How is it you know what I am and am not ready for?”

“Redheads,” he mumbled. “Stubborn.”

She pouted and realized she’d played into his hand nicely. “This is my dream.”

He opened his eyes but they were no longer green, they were yellow and seemed almost aflame. His nostrils flared. “’Tis about to be yer weddin’ night too, lass. Do nae push me. I am holdin’ on by a thread. You do nae want to be tied to me for eternity.”

Everything inside her told her to stop pushing, that something wasn’t right. She actually started to wonder if she was really dreaming and if the hunk was there with her, but that would mean the snake-man was real too and she couldn’t bear to believe it. It didn’t matter that Maggie had seen things no one else could explain. Heck, she policed the supernatural, as best as she and Maria could do, but believing the boogieman was real wasn’t something she could do. Not yet.

She exhaled slowly. “I’m still voting for sex.”

Kennard grinned and screamed alpha male without saying a word.

She would have stepped back if she could have moved her legs.

“I’m no guid for you, lass.”

“Honestly, it’s what I’m hoping for. I need a little bad boy in my life right now.”

“Little?” he echoed and then puffed his chest, his eyes flickering back to deep green. “I’m nae little, wench.”

“Stop calling me a wench,” she said, touching him again. Fire seemed to dance between them as their skin connected. Her power jumped from her, and for the briefest of moments it was as if he had power coming from him. Had she dreamed up the biker man in a kilt and given him magik too?

Perfect indeed.

He took a large step back from her, putting space between them. It was then she noticed he was sweating more. “Lass, have you no sense? We’re on a plane with a demon and you want me to rut you.”

“Is rutting like banging my brains out?” she asked, totally serious. “Because if that is a yes, I’m still game. More than game. Take me and rut the living hell out of me.”

He tipped his head back, his hair going in all directions as he did. “Wench. You’ve no sense.”

She shrugged. “I can have as much or as little sense as I want. It’s my dream. You want more sense, go dream your own dream.”

He tipped his head and gave her a curious stare, the edges of his mouth quirking upwards. “Yer nae right in the head, are you?”

She touched her lower lip, her gaze fixed on his groin. She wished the kilt would melt away. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough it would. It was her dream after all. Anything was possible.

The man took hold of her arm and the heat returned. He gasped. “Yer magik?”

It was her turn to be surprised. “W-what did you ask me?”

Growling, he looked past her, in the direction the bad guy had been. “Are you in league with the demon?”

“Am I in league with that snake-headed monster who has been terrorizing my dreams for years now? Uh, no.” Maggie stood her ground. “But to answer your question, yes, I’m magik.”

“How is it yer here, lass?” he asked, his voice less harsh this time. It was evident he was trying to be patient with her, despite his obvious annoyance.

She sighed, really liking the sound of his brogue. The man was completely yummy. “I already told you, I’m dreaming. What is your excuse for being here? Come to kiss and run again? You’re good at that.”

His lips twitched. “I’m clearly here to save the damsel in distress. ‘Tis nae evident? For she does nae seem to believe this is no dream. Far from it.”

She stared at his covered package again.

He caught her chin. “Eyes, up, lass.”

“Or kilt down,” she suggested, gaining her a double-take from him.

His mouth fell open. “Yer a spirited one, aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Listen carefully to me. This is nae a dream. The events that happen here are verra real and verra dangerous. You must understand as much and believe me.”

Confused, she shook her head. “No. This is a dream. I’ve been having them for years and the creepy guy is in all of them.”

Kennard gritted his teeth. “He wants you for something. What?”

It was hard to rip her gaze from him to give him an answer that she didn’t even have. When he scowled and then took hold of her elbow rather forcefully, she jerked her arm free. She folded her arms over her chest and his gaze seemed fixed on the action. “I don’t know for sure. He wants me to come with him for some reason. I’m pretty sure if I say yes and go, I’ll end up seven kinds of evil, but I wouldn’t end up dead. What I want to know is why I dreamed you up too. And better yet, why didn’t I dream you here naked? The kilt is a nice touch, but really, naked would have been better.”

“Aye. It would.” The man tossed his head back and laughed. He settled and then stared at her, his expression somber. “Lass, you do nae look to be dimwitted to me. Of course he means you harm. He is dark. It is what the dark do.”

She didn’t appreciate being made fun of, even if only in a dream by a man she saw in passing. “I’d like to wake up now.”

Nothing happened.

“Why didn’t I wake up? I should have woken up, right?” she asked, surprised. The dreams never lasted this long before. The temperature around her increased.

The man eased closer, his chest dripping with sweat as the heat in the area continued to rise. It became hard to draw in air without it stinging. It was even harder to keep her hands to herself. Mmm. Just one small touch. That would do, right?

Her hands shook with the need to make contact with him. He came to a stop before her, his hand rising toward her hair. She flinched and he stopped just shy of touching her.

“I’ll nae hurt you, Maggie.”

She gasped. “You know my name?”

He looked to be trying not to laugh. “It would appear so. ‘Tis
yer
dream. You tell me.”

He had a point. She pursed her lips. “And you’re Kennard?”

“Aye,” he returned, a gleam still in his eyes as if he was enjoying himself immensely at her expense. “Kennard O’Caha.”

What a strange name to give such a sexy man. She wasn’t sure why her subconscious came up with it, but she’d go along with whatever at this point. His abs were very distracting with the sweat sheening on them. Men did not come built that way in real life.

No way.

No how.

And seriously, why wasn’t he naked? Her brain should really know better than to send something that yummy to her in her dreams and dress it.

This time when he reached for her hair, she didn’t jerk. His hand connected with her hair and it was as if electricity shot right through her. It didn’t hurt so much as it tingled. How could a simple touch cause such a reaction?

“Come, lass, isnae safe here,” he said, dragging her closer to him with a simple tug of her hair, somehow breaking whatever hold the demon had on her, allowing her to move. He bent his head, his height even more imposing up close and personal. His gaze bored into her and she stared back into the green abyss, feeling as if she had a window to his soul. “Athol’s presence lingers and he isnae one you want to come into contact with. He’s tainted.”

A nod was all she managed. It was too hard to concentrate with his lips so darn close. What had she been thinking about? Oh, waking up.

Not a chance in hell
, she thought to herself.
I’m staying asleep if it means this could turn into a sex dream.

It would never move to the next level if she didn’t take it. After all, it was her dream. Emboldened, Maggie reached up, yanked gently on one of his braids, and when he bent, she went to her tiptoes, her mouth going to his. Their lips connected and the kiss was everything it had been in the shop and more.

Butterflies danced in her stomach as she kept going, kept allowing her inner wild child out to take what it wanted. And it had its sights set on the hunk she was locking lips with. She couldn’t seem to stop herself, her hands having minds of their own as they wandered over his tawny flesh. His hands slid up her sides and under her shirt, coming to a rest just beneath her breasts.

Oh no. Romance hero guy wasn’t going to stop there. Not in her dream.

She took hold of one of his hands as she continued the kiss and yanked his hand up and over her breast. He gasped into her mouth and she sucked hard on his tongue.

Kennard jerked against her, his other hand moving to mimic the actions of his left. He kneaded her breasts with expert fingers, making her nipples harden instantly and her entire body strum with need. She went at the top of his kilt, wanting what he had beneath it. She’d never been so free with her sexuality, so bold with her actions in terms of sex.

Unable to figure out how to undo the kilt, she went with the next best option, she drew it upwards and then slinked a hand under it, finding the prize.

She nearly bit his tongue as her hand tried and failed to wrap around the width of his cock. He was long, longer than she could probably take easily, but she didn’t care. He was exactly what she’d hoped for. He jerked against her as she stroked his length. A low growl emanated from him as he pulled her hand free from his cock and his lips from her mouth.

He closed his eyes tight and put his hands out to the side. “Do nae hurt her. Do nae hurt her.”

He continued to chant the same thing over and over before she touched his chest, drawing his gaze to her. “Lass, I could harm you.”

“I don’t mind a little pain with my pleasure,” she responded.

Moaning, he tipped his head back. For a moment neither of them said a word. Then Kennard growled, his lip curling as he spun around from her, facing the other direction. Maggie saw it then. The snake-like man he’d called Athol was back and he was huge. Much larger than he’d ever been before. Larger than was humanly possible.

He’s not human.

Even with all the weird things she’d seen in her life, this took the cake. Athol was there, a long staff in one hand, a sinister look upon his face. He seemed almost pleased that Kennard had been distracted with Maggie. He charged Kennard and Maggie couldn’t help but scream.

Kennard knocked her backwards out of harm’s way as Athol hit him full-on. The ground shook as they slammed into one another like two gods were fighting and thunder and lightning would be the end result.

A dagger materialized in Athol’s hand and he drove it home. As it connected with Kennard’s side, a burst of energy sprang forth from Maggie. “No!”

In that moment she snapped awake to find Maria at her side, worry etched on her friend’s face. Maria touched Maggie’s brow. “I couldn’t get you to wake up.”

Maggie’s stomach churned. “I’m going to be sick,” she said, pushing off the sofa and running for the bathroom. Apparently, girl’s night had struck full-force.

K
ennard woke
in the tiny bed and breakfast, covered in sweat, his muscles aching from the fight he’d surely fought. His hand was even outstretched, but why? The realization that he’d been reaching for someone or something in his sleep made him pause to reflect. What had he been dreaming about?

“Not what,” he whispered. “Who.”

He thought harder upon it, coming up blank. He knew deep down it was someone he wanted to help, not harm. Everything was fuzzy still, as if he’d drawn upon too much of his power in too short a time. He rolled to his side to sit up and hissed. His side burned as if he’d been wounded, but nothing was there marking as such.

‘Twas just a dream.

He groaned, wiping a hand over his face. Several of his braids were plastered to his skin from sweat. He peeled them back and drew in large gulps of muggy air. Scowling, he glanced at the cracked window. The damn town sweltered even at night. Bike Week meant the big hotels had been filled, thus taking with them modern amenities Kennard found himself liking more and more—air conditioning for one.

This B&B prided itself on giving an authentic lakeside experience. He was surprised they bothered with running water with as “rustic” as they appeared to be. He slid out of bed, unabashed in his naked form as he stood before the window, tossing it open wider. He was a Highlander from the past, a man to whom nudity meant little. Couple in that he was a shifter and it was a wonder he bothered with clothes at all. He often felt misplaced, as if he didn’t belong to the past any more than he did the present. Much had changed in the world around him over the centuries. He was truly a man out of time.

“What woke you so?”

He concentrated on his dream and why he now felt as if he’d single-handedly battled an army. His hand ran over his side, trying to ease an ache he had no idea how he’d gotten.

No. Nae an army
, he thought, the fuzzy feeling giving way to a moment of clarity.
Athol.

His dream state became clearer then. Maggie had been there. Athol had wanted her for some reason. Kennard remembered it then. Foreign power, separate from his or Athol’s, had consumed him as white-hot pain had raced through his side. But it hadn’t been the foreign power’s doing. That power had been on his side, trying to aid him. He knew that power. He’d sensed it before, in the cave where they’d all assumed they’d ended Athol. Though it was not assisting Athol this time. It had been doing something he couldn’t quite believe.

Trying to heal me
, he thought, understanding dawning upon him. Athol had run him through with a cursed dagger in a plane of existence that could have killed him, yet Kennard had been ejected from the realm and the dream state, unharmed because of her.

Because of the lass. The lass he’d been about to fuck before Athol had come to kill him.

“The lass is more than she seems for sure,” he mused, his hand touching his unscathed side. He knew full well he’d taken a cursed dagger to the spot. And it mattered not that it was simply within a dream. The dagger should have seriously injured him. Mayhap even have killed him should the dark magik it was cursed with be strong enough.

As he knew Athol would have seen to.

Kennard was too old to push away what had happened. He’d seen far too much come from the dark magik side to believe anything other than it had all been real. On another plane, but real all the same.

He had no doubt Athol’s essence had truly been there. That he and Kennard had battled in another plane and that somehow Maggie had saved him from certain death. Another certainty rushed over him.

She wasn’t human and she was in danger.

Athol wanted her and clearly transcended death and realms to try to get to her. Kennard nearly roared at the idea of losing the tiny redhead he’d only just met, and even that was in another realm. Athol could not be permitted to take her.

Kennard wouldn’t allow it. But he wasn’t sure he could do it alone. He’d seen Athol’s true form now, and it was worse than in the cavern where they’d last fought. The dark sorcerer had become the black-hearted beast he’d strived so hard to be in life.

He’d become a monster.

Grabbing his jeans, he hastily pulled them on. He rushed out of his room and to Liam’s room. He didn’t bother knocking, and when he opened the door to find Liam being ridden hard by one of the bimbos from the bar while another of the bimbos kissed the one riding him, Kennard instantly regretted barging in. With a groan he looked up at the ceiling.

“Athol lives,” he said clearly so there could be no room for misinterpretation.

Liam stopped what he was doing and practically tossed the woman on him to the side. He sat up quickly, naked, covered in obvious signs of sex. The girls tried to kiss him, but he shook his head, his concentration on Kennard. “Yer sure?”

“His soul has not been trapped in the Otherworld. It’s free enough to pull me onto the same plane and nearly kill me,” Kennard returned.

Liam touched the blonde woman’s arm. “Take yer friend and go.”

“But we’re not finished,” she pouted.

Liam stood, brazen in his naked state. “I’ve made you both come at least four times. And I’ve spilled my seed onto yer stomachs more than once. We’re done. Go.”

With a huff the women gathered their clothing and stormed out of the room, still naked as they stomped down the hall.

Kennard stared at his cousin. “I suspect they’re none too happy with you.”

Liam shrugged. “They were a means to an end. I dinnae even catch their names.”

No. Kennard didn’t think he would.

“Cillian know of this development?” asked Liam.

Kennard shook his head. “Yer room was closer.”

Liam grabbed jeans and slid them on. He moved past Kennard and headed in the direction of his brother’s room. He had the sense to knock. After several long pounds on the door Cillian answered, looking as if he just woke. “What the hell time is it?”

“Time to get yer sorry arse up,” Liam snapped. “Athol’s soul isnae trapped in the Otherworld.”

Cillian’s sleepy appearance vanished. He seemed wide awake as he asked, “Are you sure?”

Liam thumbed in Kennard’s direction. “This one just had it out with him on another plane.”

Kennard bit his lower lip. “There is more.”

The twins stared at him.

He sighed. “The redhead from earlier was there, in the dream. And she’s the reason I stand before you now.
She
broke the connection to Athol right as he rammed a dagger of the dead into me.”

The twins gasped.

“Coffee shop lass took on Athol and won?” asked Liam, shock evident.

Kennard looked to the floor. “I have to find her. He wants her. I’m nae sure how I was pulled into it all, but when I arrived in the dream realm he was after her.”

Cillian eased closer to the wall. “To be able to call someone into another realm, onto another plane of existence, takes powerful magik. I dinnae sense that comin’ from the redhead earlier. Would be hard to hide that much from the likes of the three of us.” He rubbed his jaw and then froze. “One could do so with a fair amount of power and if they were one’s chosen.”

“
By Daga
,” Liam said, partially under his breath. “You do nae think she is yer chosen one, yer mate, do you, Kennard?”

Kennard snorted and was about to say no when something deep within stopped him from doing as much. Frantic, he stared wide-eyed at his cousins, seeking guidance where none was to be found. They were as lost with it all as he. Maybe more.

Cillian gapped openly at him. “I’m callin’
seanmhair
.”

“Tattle tale,” snapped Kennard, as Cillian grabbed his phone and followed through on his threat—phoning their grandmother. He talked briefly and then handed the phone to Kennard who took it begrudgingly.

“
Ciamar a tha thu?
” he asked, hoping to feign ignorance.

“I’m fine,” she replied, not bothering with their native tongue. “Grandson of mine, have you somethin’ you want to tell me?”

“No. I’m guid.”

Coward.

His cousins snickered. He narrowed his gaze on them and they shut up.

“Och, lad, Cillian told me what I already know,” she stated evenly. “You’ve found yer mate. Yer chosen. Why are you talkin’ to me when you should be with her? Best you get to her soon before the dark mage does. He’s plans for that one, boy. Do nae let him have her. Go now.”

She hung up.

His stomach tightened. Grandma knew things she shouldn’t, and if she was calling Maggie his mate then it was so. And Athol wanted his woman.