Blue Keltic Moon (Children of the Keltic Triad) (36 page)

His warm breath flowed over her cheek. “I lived in such a way for many years. I used those shields to protect my wounded mind, as you sought to protect your healer’s heart. A beautiful woman insisted I see the truth of my life. In doing so, she enabled me to unlock the flow of love in my heart.”

The beat of her heart thrummed in her chest. Awareness flowed over her skin. She began to feel. “I will always grieve for my brother.”

“As it should be. You have taught me there is no absolute. We sorrow for what we have lost, and at the same time rejoice in our ongoing lives. Because of you I have learned that to love, and be loved in return, is the greatest defense against the pain we submit ourselves to. The pain we hold to ourselves because we believe it to be a comfort or an armor.”

“Gowthaman?”

“Yes, beloved?”

“Even after all this, you still love me?”

He groaned, captured her face between his palms and kissed her. Bree leaned into the kiss, planting her hands on the hot skin of his bare shoulders for balance. Much too soon, he drew away.

Silent, he watched her and she wondered what thoughts he hid behind those wonderful dark eyes.

“Breanna. Can you leave your sorrow?”

While she thought, she watched his face. He tried to restrain his reactions, to hide his thoughts from her, but she understood. He was worried.

“I can. I know I spent many long weeks wallowing and only a few minutes ago accepted the truth of what happened. I know how my perceptions colored my thinking. I know it’s pretty fast, but you know me.”

“Do not take this healing lightly.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t. I just... Gowtham? I don’t think I can go back to the Alastriona. I don’t want to be responsible for missions or battles. I want to... help you in the library. I need to smile. I need to see you smile.”

Gowthaman rose in a fluid motion then held his hand to her. A serious expression lasted a few second then he granted her wish. “Then you shall not return. In truth, your decision eases my heart. Will you come with me?”

At her nod, he drew her to her feet, pulled her close then lifted her in his arms. She stroked the fine sheen of sweat covering the back of his neck. “The desert’s pretty hot. Are we going someplace cooler?”

In response he laughed, formed a portal and stepped though.

Cool, damp air caressed Bree’s skin. A slight breeze rustled through the palms, setting the tiny bells tied to the branches in musical motion. She sighed. Gowtham’s oasis.

“Beautiful. I love the bells. Thank you for making the magic for me.”

He gave a soft huff. “I did not. Such would be a frivolous use of magic.” His expression softened. “I asked a tribe of Korin’s winged fairies to assist me.”

“However the bells happened, thank you.” Playful, she poked his shoulder. “Since we’ve obviously been in the Sahara, how about a dip under the waterfall to cool off?”

“I have no wish to cool off.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

The fierceness of his kiss thrilled her to the tips of her wiggling toes. During the mating of their tongues, he lowered her feet to the grass covered ground and she discovered his desire in the press of his body.

“Okay,” she panted when he allowed a breath of air between them. “No dip in the pool.”

A beatific smile burst across his face. “Good choice.”

She arched her eyebrows. “Good choice?”

“May I show you something?” The soft shyness in his voice intrigued her.

“Sure.”

“Turn around.”

After giving him a dubious look, she did. Suspended from high branches, panels of brightly colored silk rippled in the breeze. Centered between the panels sat a huge, bed-sized cushion draped with more silks and piled with pillows. “It’s like something out of Aladdin.”

Wrapping an arm about her waist, he encouraged her forward. “This is my fantasy. Even when I denied you, denied my feelings, this was the fantasy I had of you. Of our first time together.”

“Instead we had danger, hard gray ground, rocks and an unforgiving sky.”

“I—”

“Hush. Don’t apologize. It didn’t matter where we were. Only that we were. I love you, Gowtham. Not romantic trappings. Not a place.”

“But, will you allow me my fantasy?”

She caressed her hand down his chest. His golden skin quivered under her palm. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Ah, Breanna.
TvaaM kaamayaami
. He gathered her close, but she stepped back. He moved closer and she retreated. A look of consternation filled his face then he smiled and stepped forward, pushing her more quickly toward the bed.

That suited Bree just fine and she reached for the button on her jeans as she moved. Gowthaman stopped her hands and shook his head. “This is my fantasy.”

Willing to discover whatever he carried in his mind, she sat, then lay back and held out her arms. A wicked gleam lit the eyes of her gentle librarian as he crawled over the cushions to half cover her with the delectable heat of his body.

He nipped at her lips, then eased the sting with the slow caress of his tongue and kisses that left her senses reeling. Longing for more, she sighed when he eased away.

He passed one hand above her and her clothing disappeared. Desire darkened his eyes to nearly black.

She chuckled. “I didn’t think you approved of the frivolous uses of magic.”

Lowering his head to nuzzle her breast, he mumbled, “Not frivolous. Expedient.”

“But... but you’re still partially... Oh.” The soft texture of his hair tickled her palms as she held his head in place while he teased and delighted her nipples.

Lost in the sensation of his mouth, his hands, the slide of his body against hers, she reveled in his slow exploration. Breathless, she tried to reconstruct her last thought when he propped himself on his elbow and watched her with a soft, sensuous gaze.

Cool silk caressed her heated skin. He drew the length over her breasts, twirled the soft fabric around her peaked nipples then piled the scarf at the juncture of her thighs. After a much too brief kiss, he tugged another cool scarf along her heated body.

“But, Gowtham...”

He silenced her with a kiss. Bemused, she fought to remain still and silent while he covered her in a multitude of colored silks. Then he sat back on his calves.

“This is how I imagined you. Yet even the finest of silks are not...” Reverence filled his gaze and he shook his head as if searching for words.

The silks caressed her overly sensitive skin and she squirmed, igniting sparks of desire in Gowtham’s eyes. “I... oh, don’t make me wait longer. Gowtham, you’re still partially dressed,” she cried in frustration.

With a gesture, his trousers were gone. Bree blew out a soft breath. His body was magnificent. And wanting. Her.

She had to feel him, skin to skin, so held out one hand and started pushing at the silks with the other.

Gowtham stopped her hand. “Please,
sundarii
, do not.”

He gave her no chance to argue, settling himself between her thighs and drowning her in another wild kiss. The slide of silk between their bodies, the heavy heat of his erection against her thigh, the strange words he murmured between kisses... thought fled. Holding on to the man she loved became her only reality.

Gowthaman trailed kisses down the arch of her neck. She tasted of golden sunshine and sweet honey. Tasted of love and desire and hope. Innocence and desire. He took her silk covered nipple deep into his mouth. Her nails scraped his shoulder and they groaned together.

“Gowtham.” A whispered demand.

“Breanna,” he replied and cupped his hand over the silks guarding her mound. He lifted his head and watched her face while he stroked and danced his fingers over her. Her lush mouth, those perfectly kiss-swollen lips were soft in an expression of delight and surprise. But her lashes lay in soft crescents upon her cheeks and he wanted to see the brilliant blue of her desire. Wanted to see through her eyes when he entered her.

“Look at me,
sundarii.
”

She smiled and opened her eyes. As he swept the silk from her body then slowly entered her, she shifted, her eyes wide. No longer able to deny himself, he drew her into an insistent, tension-building rhythm. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders, slid down his back, cupped his buttocks, silently encouraging. Touching, exploring, he discovered what she needed in this moment. No desperation clouded their movements making this their first, truly joyous time together.

Enraptured, Gowthaman watched each ripple of pleasure dance sparkles in her eyes. Her response tightened around him, drawing him deeper, holding him, demanding from him. When she cried out her release, startled oasis birds darted into the sky. Gowthaman followed their flight with his own hoarse cry of soaring, inexplicable pleasure.

Gowthaman eased to Breanna’s side and molded her against him. Soulfire sparkled around them, rising into the treetops where gold and crimson danced among the palm fronds. He held out their cupped hands to catch the magic of their love.

The birds returned to their branches, an occasional scolding disrupting the muted chattering. Before his heart slowed, Breanna rose up on her elbow, gazing at him with such love and satisfaction, the heavy beating nearly stalled in his chest. How had such a woman chosen him?

She brushed hair from his forehead and caressed his cheek. “That was some fantasy.”

“In the years you waited for me to acknowledge my love for you, did you not dream or create fantasies of our time together?”

She touched a finger to the seam of his lips and nodded.

He drew her finger into his mouth and sucked softly, caressing the pad with his tongue. When she could no longer contain her groan, he smiled and eased away, scraping her fingertip with his teeth. “Then we shall discuss your fantasies and find ways to fulfill them.”

“I’ve had lots of fantasies, Gowtham. Lots.”

“My beloved, my Breanna, we have ages of discovery before us.”

––––––––

Epilogue

D
eadeaters circled the prone form, slobbering, drooling, long strands of gray spittle trailing from their needle-sharp teeth. The circle closed. They snarled and snapped their jaws with vicious anticipation. Seldom did they fall upon fresh meat and this meal was fine. Young. Not hardened by long ages in the world between worlds.

One, the alpha, leapt forward, stretching its long, ragged claws toward the prize.

Yelping, it fell back, scattering the gathered cluster of its brethren. It held one paw out to halt its fellows, jabbering with wet clicks and guttural stops.

A second deadeater separated from the pack, stumbled to a halt then inched forward. Dark claws clacked together, hesitation evident in the challenge and awkward advance.

Inches from the meal, burning agony sliced up the deadeater’s arm. It shrieked in combined pain and rage.

The alpha snorted and pushed it away. “No dead,” it clattered to the pack. “Life-pain yet. Bah.”

Leaning closer, the alpha sniffed. Pleased, it gurgled low in its throat. “No long. Soon, no life-pain.”

The pack jostled each other, snapping and growling before settling in an ungainly pile. The alpha wiped drool from its mouth and sat apart from the rest. Watching the meat. Waiting for the last of the faint life-pain to drain away. Waiting for the meal.

Sudden silence from its pack mates lifted the hair covering the wrinkled skin at the back of its neck. It plucked at the feeling with a claw, a vague bit of memory making it growl. Then it felt—them. Remembered—them. The Watchers.

The growl deepened to a powerful threat. The pack echoed the sound, a crescendo rising to a cacophony of discordant yelps and whines.

Mist hovered above the ground just beyond the meat. Confusion stirred the lesser pack mates to a frenzy, but the alpha cocked its head. It was old, had long eaten the dead of this place, knew the Watchers. Knew they would steal the prize. If they did, there would be no meat.

Joining its snarling, slobbering pack, the alpha clacked and pointed. The meat still lay upon the cloth they’d used to drag it to their territory. Recognition, then knowing the meat still belonged to them ignited slowly in the dull eyes of its brethren. Pushing and shoving they clamored toward the meal.

Mist grew thicker. Descended and moved to cover the meal. The pack screamed in denial. The alpha scrambled toward the meal and fell forward through the cool mist. Shards of life-pain numbed its skin, its cries receding to soft, confused clacking.

The meat. Gone.

*lizzie always made up games and stories to keep her company. So, a cunning witch lived in Grampa’s weather research station and was only held at bay by waving a certain weed. An ancient road grader morphed into a boat carrying wild adventurers to islands filled with fierce lions and dangerous cannibals, which really looked a lot like sheep. Now, filled with fantasy, love, and romance with a sparkling twist, the stories of her imagination swirl their way into the mundane world. When *lizzie must return to a more routine life, she’s *the Lunch Lady* at a private school.

Author and lunch lady~~what a combination!