Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) (18 page)

He dug his fingers under the wet hem of her pants and
made a fist. He had to stop. Lord, but he craved tugging the material down her
hips, down her thighs. He wanted to explore every inch of her, yet take her
fast, hard, and make her cry out in shocked pleasure. He let go of her pants,
knowing he could not fully take her.

But she had begged for a bit more.

Just a bit more. He explored above her navel, cupping
her breast. She gasped in pleasure. He rubbed his thumb over her rigid nipple,
pinched it. She moaned. Her hands roved up his chest, pausing at his chest to
palm then back down his belly.

Again, he broke the kiss.

“Nay,” she pleaded. “I’ll go mad, Quinlan. Please.”

He shook his head, easing his hips back. “I must,
Ailyn.” He could not marry her, even if such things could exist between her
kind and his. He had naught to offer her. No property as yet, little else.

Her eyes pleaded, her legs wound tighter, bringing his
erection hard against her softness. “It is a hunger I’ve never known, Quinlan.
It’s driving me to distraction. Please.”

His body urged him to give in, but reason bore
through. “There are commitments that come of such things here, Ailyn.
Commitments I canno’ make to you. Do you ken?”

Her brow furrowed as understanding seeped into her
expression. “I understand. I canno’ stay, Quinlan. And you canno’ go with me. I
realize this. But it only makes me want you more.”

A pang shot through his chest. He kissed her nose and
her forehead and pulled away. But she wouldna release her hold. “I canno’
compromise you, Ailyn. I couldna live with myself.”

“And living all your years wondering what could have
been is better?”

“Aye. If there were a child….”

Pain flashed over her eyes. She nodded, shutting them.
Quinlan bent to kiss her nose once more. If there were a child, he would find a
way to never let her go. But there would be no child because he was mature
enough, honorable enough, to recognize the long repercussions mere moments of
pleasure could bring. He kissed her sweetly just once more, memorizing the feel
of her full lips against his; knowing in his gut that he could never, ever let
this happen again.

To do so would be reckless.

She deserved better.

She returned his kiss and pulled his shirt a bit
higher. Perhaps he could at least give her what her body craved in part. He
tugged her pants loose enough to delve a hand down her stomach. Ailyn’s pelvis
writhed to meet him, her legs widening to accommodate the room he needed.

Soft curls met his touch, damp and hot. He slid his
fingers over the fleshy mound, his prick begging to explore the slippery folds
his fingertips touched. So velvety soft. So hot. Such a narrow, tight passage.
He should not take her so far. But her words rang true. There would be regret.
A deep, primal part of him wanted to leave an indelible mark on her—to
brand her with his name.

He found the nub of her sex with his thumb and gently
pressed it with the heel of his palm as he slowly stroked one finger into her
tight, wet heat. She bucked in pleasure, sending his fingers even deeper. She’d
known no other; that was clear. The knowledge gave him possessive feelings he
had no business allowing. He should stop. But good sense warred with the hunger
he too felt. He could give her relief. He could remove at least one regret yet
keep her safe from the risk of bearing his child in her world alone.

He kissed her neck, cradling her head in his other
hand. “Ailyn,” he whispered at her ear. “You bring me to my knees, lass.”

Her body responded to his words. Pride washed through
him as the first grips of her climax clenched his finger. Soft, sweet moans
escaped her lips as she held to him. He pulled back to watch the pleasure wash
over her face. Again and again, her body throbbed until at last she fell still
and opened her eyes.

Wonder stared back at him. Quinlan grinned, separating
from her enough to wrap both arms around her. His body ached to bury inside
her. But he refused.

The sound of movement to their left sent Quinlan to
his feet, sword in hand. Ailyn swiftly followed suit, pulling at her tunic and
pants. A dark blur of gray charged at Quinlan.

“Colm! No!” Ailyn screeched, throwing herself in front
of Quinlan, arms out.

The wolf. Quinlan adjusted his sword to deflect rather
than kill as the beast sidestepped Ailyn and leapt at Quinlan, fangs bared and
murder in its eyes.

Quinlan shouldered the impact, barely knocking the
wolf off balance. It recovered quickly and leapt again. Ailyn screamed again,
ordering it to stop. The creature ignored her. Quinlan might not be able to
spare the animal’s life. It knocked him onto his back. Quinlan’s sword fell to
the ground. He rolled to the right, nearly losing his throat as he did. The
animal’s gnashing teeth echoed in his ears.

Ailyn kicked it in the ribs, hollering. “Colm, I’ll
kill you myself if you dinna stop at once! D’you hear me? It isna what you
think!”

That gave the wolf a change of interest. It turned on
Ailyn and stalked toward her. She backed up step by step.

“Dinna look at me like that. You have too many of your
own secrets to judge me. Or are you ready to share what Maera truly means to
you now?”

Quinlan got to his feet despite the thudding pain in
his head and ribs. He held his sword ready but allowed Ailyn to continue, as
she clearly now had the animal in hand—its head lowered, its hackles
smoothed down.

“I’ll strike a bargain with you, Colm. I’ll share mine
if you’ll be telling me yours.”

Her words didna seem to soothe the beast so much as
quiet it. Perhaps subdue it. It made a growling sound, as though communicating
back to her its frustration.

“Aye, well imagine my mortification upon finding you
witnessing a very private moment.”

It gnashed its teeth, growling again, walking toward
her.

Ailyn ran a hand over her face and hair. “Enough,” she
said.

It growled again, snapping at her feet before trotting
back into the wood. Ailyn watched him go, shaking her head in dismay.

“Your wolf found you twice, lass. I’m sure he’ll do so
again.”

“Aye. I doubt he’ll leave my side for even a moment
now.”

Quinlan decided pointing out that the beast just had
left her side would not behoove him. He shut his mouth and allowed what had
transpired between them return to his thoughts, watching for signs that it had
returned to hers as well. After long moments of her contemplating the dense
trees, she turned to him.

He doubted he would like what she was about to say.
Guilt trickled through him, but he braced himself for what could only be
remorse over letting passion rule.

“He’s not just a wolf, Quinlan.” Ailyn squared her
shoulders and met his stare. “He’s my brother.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Your
what
?”
Quinlan shouted, sword ready.

“My brother,” Ailyn said, arms wide, praying Colm
would stay back.

He didn’t. With a deep growl, he charged from the
north thicket, leaping for Quinlan’s back.

“Stop!” She ran at the wolf in hopes of putting her
body between the two. Before she could make contact, though, the wolf emitted a
piercing shriek and fell to the ground.

Quinlan pounced on the opportune moment, straddling
the wolf and taking a fist of his neck scruff. “Stay back, Ailyn. Whatever
affection this beast holds with you, it is not worth a life.”

Colm writhed under Quinlan’s massive hold, the awful
sound becoming a gurgle in his throat. “You’re hurting him,” she said, pulling
at his arm.

“I’m subduing it,” Quinlan said, his arm not budging
any more than his gaze as it held hers.

Ailyn let go, seeing a change in the wolf that turned
her stomach. Its limbs twisted at odd angles. Colm’s snout receded, the fur
shedding in thick, dark tufts. The beast’s cries took on a distinctly human,
male tone that sent dread down her spine and into her stomach.

Colm lay curled up and prone, shivering. Blood spotted
the ground. Ailyn quickly retrieved a blanket, fear for her brother careening
through her. She put a hand on his forehead. Hot. Too hot. “I need to cool
him,” she said.

Quinlan knelt next to her, placing a hand on her
forearm so that she looked up. Gently, he tugged her back, lowering the blanket
as well to Colm’s hips. He exposed her brother’s legs. “Dinna crowd him, lass.”

There was more to his concern than Colm’s comfort,
though. She could sense it in the wary way he moved. “He willna hurt me,
Quinlan. He’s my brother.”

“Ailyn, you canno’ be certain he knows who or what he
is. He could be more dangerous now than as the wolf ready to tear out my
throat.”

She hated it, but he was right. Begrudgingly, she stepped
back a pace. “I need to know why he’s come. How he found us.”

“In due time, lass.” He put his hands on her shoulders
and maneuvered her back further. “Let him wake.”

Quinlan’s hand no longer held scruff, but skin instead
until he couldn’t hold it at all because the muscle and flesh beneath took its
previous form. He shot to his feet, eyes bulging at the once-wolf, now-man
groaning at his feet.

Colm had grown very still as they spoke. Too still.
Hot and unmoving. Vulnerable to the elements and to a dramatic physical change.
What did this mean? Where was Maera? Daniel. He must have gone to Breanne.
Perhaps Breanne sent Colm, their location thereby known. Or mayhap Breanne had
a vision. What other answer could there be?

She begged any goddess who would hear to spare her
brother and grant him his life. Let him recover. Let Colm have come in Daniel’s
stead. Let this journey end so they could all return home.

“I ken now why he likened to tear open my jugular.”

Ailyn broke her stare at her brother to look at
Quinlan, quizzical.

“Your brother saw us, Ailyn.” His tone was somber.

The heated embrace Colm must have witnessed flashed
through her mind. Heat washed her face. Ailyn wanted to burrow into a deep,
deep hole. Fast on the heels of embarrassment came the memories. A new level of
shock kicked in. She’d become so wanton. Dangerously so. Unlike she imagined
she could ever be. Certainly unlike any experience she’d had afore. A few
stolen kisses over her few years in life could not compare to the world-altering
experience Quinlan had given her.

Ailyn shook her head. What Colm did or did not see
mattered little now. There was a difficult truth about that embrace, but one
she couldna deny—she was irresistibly drawn to Quinlan. Good sense
abandoned her when he got too near. She would guard against repeating such
intimacies, lest she lose sight of what truly mattered. Getting home.

“Upon return to Tir Conaill, we shall be forced to
marry.”

His words threw knots into her stomach. She stammered,
bewildered. “Why would we be forced to marry?” She stepped toward her brother,
but Quinlan barred her with an outstretched arm. She pushed his arm away,
kneeling next to Colm. His forehead was so hot. “We need to cool him.”

Quinlan pinned her with a hard stare. “Ailyn, your
brother witnessed me compromising your virtue, lass. Clearly, he’ll demand no
less than my honoring you by wedding you.”

“He’ll demand nothing if he doesna live, Quinlan.” She
attempted to get under her brother’s arms to drag him toward the pool. Giving
up, she strode to the water’s edge and scooped the icy liquid into two hands.

Quinlan grunted something unintelligible. He fetched
the other blanket, rolling it and placing it under Colm’s head. Ailyn poured
the water over her brother’s chest, watching for him to react. He didn’t. She
scooped more water, pouring it on his head, running her hands over his brow and
hair. Praying. Was he cooling? Or getting hotter? She couldna tell.

Bind her life to Quinlan’s? What an inane notion! She
forced the thought away. Colm needed her. “Please prop his head so I may pour
water into his mouth,” she said, ignoring that her hands trembled. Quinlan
complied, thankfully.

Ailyn trickled water onto Colm’s lips, getting some
into his mouth. Quinlan tipped Colm’s head so that the water slid back.

“He will recover, Ailyn. Is it not better to face what
happened before he does?”

She glared at him. “There is naught to face. I’ll not
let it happen again.”

His gaze narrowed on her. “You’ll not?”

“Aye. Nor will you. As you said, you’ve no desire to
marry.” Neither did she. Well, that wasna true. She hoped to one day bind her
life to a man’s. Perhaps have children, if her first duty to Maera and the
kingdom allowed. If she ever found a man who completed her in the way her
mother had oft described: a safe harbor in life’s fiercest storms. The one
person she could cling to without losing herself within him. It was a rare
thing for any Fae to find such a beautiful match. But worth holding out for.

For as much as her parents’ love she’d grown inside,
Ailyn also witnessed its opposite. She had no interest in a life feeling
claimed, ruled, and stifled.

“This is a matter of honor, Ailyn. My own selfish
desires will never supersede honor.” His tone sounded grim. “Your brother will
feel the same.”

Aye, he believed Colm would “force” his hand to hers.
Was that it? “Dinna speak for him.” She brought more water to her brother. He
was cooling. The water was helping. Her pulse slowed as hope eased through her.

Quinlan was looking at her rather oddly. A mixture of
determination and…interest? Was that it? She’d have no man who needed forcing.
Besides, Quinlan was a mortal man. She was Fae. Such a pairing only happened in
tragic tales designed to warn Fae children to never, ever risk their lives for
magick.

“If it was my sister, she’d be wed by sunset.”

Ailyn stood up. “How would forcing a mortal to bind
his life to me be honorable?” Her mind circled around the word “forced” again.
Had he any idea how insulting such a suggestion was? It didna matter. Colm
recovering from his violent transformation mattered.

“Focusing on my choice in wording doesna change the
truth, Ailyn. Your brother witnessed much.”

“Aye. How much he witnessed, we dinna ken. And I, for
one, would rather never discover the answer.” Heat washed her cheeks anew as
memories flooded forth. “Regardless, my brother canno’ force my hand. Trust me,
Colm learned long ago that I willna be forced.”

“You would prefer to be ruined?” Quinlan asked, gaping
at her in such a way that for once his chiseled face did not steal her breath
away with its beauty.

She rather liked seeing him flustered. “Ruined?” Ailyn
nearly snorted. Their worlds clearly did not align in all things. “I’m not of
noble blood, to be handed about as a pawn for peace, Quinlan. Who I bind my
life to is my choice.”

“Exactly how many times has your brother attempted
forcing you?” His face was getting a bit mottled.

She thought of Colm’s attempts—sending her home
whilst he scaled a particularly tall tree in their childhood, refusing to teach
her to ride, even most recently in ordering her back to the keep. “More than I
can count.”

“More than you can count?” Quinlan fairly sputtered.

She didna understand what he found so offensive. “Aye,
more is what I said. Colm has never let the fact that I am his elder stop him
from trying to dictate my destiny.”

Or failing. Miserably. Which mattered little.

What did matter was his limp, contorted form lying
before her. She knelt again, touching his forehead. Still too hot, by half.
“Can you bring Breanne here?”

He knelt beside her, his gaze searching hers. He raked
a hand through his hair. “Nay, lass. I’ll not leave your side.”

 
“I’m no
healer.” She swallowed against thick emotion. “Please. I canno’ watch my
brother die.”

 
“He’s not
dying, lass. Trust me. I’ve seen death, and it is not this.” He jabbed a hand
in Colm’s direction. “He’ll wake soon enough, and we’ll then see who is right.”

Quinlan turned on his heel and strode away. “Where are
you going?” Ailyn called.

He waved his hand dismissively. Ailyn scrambled to her
feet, not about to allow him to simply walk away. But as soon as she stood,
Colm’s hand snaked around her ankle. With a gasp, she landed on her knees. She
yanked her leg away, facing him. Relief overcame her irritation. She hurried to
his side. “Colm! You’re well?”

He nodded, blinking his eyes. Adjusting, he groaned.

“Dinna move. Your body has suffered a great ordeal.”

He gave her a look that was two steps away from an eye
roll. He thought her dramatic, did he?

“You might like to know that you were a wolf not more
than an hour ago. And you nearly killed a man.”

“He’s right,” Colm said, his hoarse voice barely
audible.

Ailyn ignored the statement. “Shh, Colm. Rest. There
will be time to talk once you are well.”

She touched his arm. The fever was nearly gone. A
sheen of sweat beaded over his skin. Better that he save his strength. Better
to find out where Maera was, why he’d come through the veil too, and—most
importantly—how they could return. Perchance she should abandon the
entire plan of finding the three stones. The chaos the kingdom must be in with
Tullah gone, Maera missing, and Kristoph in power.

You
don’t belong in the guard, Ailyn. You belong upon a throne.

The memory and possibilities heaped in her mind,
making her feel ill with fear. She covered Colm’s chest with the blanket,
moving to his legs. His hand around her forearm stopped her.

“He’s right, Ailyn,” Colm said, his voice stronger.
His eyes searched her face.

She didna want to ask, didna want to know what he
meant. She pulled her arm free but gave in. “Who is right, brother mine?”

“You will marry him,” Colm said, closing his eyes,
wincing.

Ailyn’s stomach tipped. She shook her head. “I’ll not
marry a mortal, Colm. You’re fevered. You dinna ken what you’re saying.”

Colm winced, leaning upward, only to sag back down
with a huff. “You’ll marry him, Ailyn. It is their custom.”

“Fae and mortals cannot join, Colm. I’ve no care for
what their customs dictate.”

“You should, and you will. Some Fae can join with
mortals.”

“Aye. Some. Not a brown-blood like you or me.”

“Half, Ailyn. Only half. Your other half is as
blue-blooded as Maera, and you know it.”

She shot to her feet, torn between storming away and
kicking sense into him. The power he suggested went beyond commanding a weapon
to her hand. Or whispering to an arrow what direction to take. Her father’s
blue blood mattered little when her mother’s brown muddied the weak magick in
her veins. She refused to defend as much. He was clearly addled from his body’s
dramatic change. “Why are you here, Colm? Where’s Maera? How did you find us?”

Colm leaned upward, his face showing the pain every
move likely shot through him. His skin looked raw. He brushed at clumps of
lingering hair. “I followed your scent. Forget about Maera. She’s no longer
your concern.”

“No longer my concern? Unless and until you relieve me
of my duty to the throne, she is my utmost concern. As she is yours.”

“Consider yourself relieved, then.” Pulling the
blanket, Colm stood and wrapped it around his waist. “Ailyn, far more critical
matters take precedence now.”

Aye, she would agree with that. Kristoph hunting her
down with his sorcery was critical. The stones Daniel begged her to find for
the sake of two races were critical. Not, by any measure, was her near
dalliance with Quinlan. If Colm pushed the matter of marriage, he’d find
himself pushing a fortress of resistance. He was too young when their father
disappeared to recall what a happy marriage their parents had. Colm would know
only of the distant union of necessity their mother had resigned herself to for
the sake of her children’s future.