Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) (20 page)

She pulled his shoulders, pushed her pelvis to meet
his hand. His finger sank deeper into her soft, hot flesh. Her hand stroked up
and down his prick, pulling him to her. She wanted it within her. Nothing could
satisfy him more. The very thought of burying his prick in that heat almost
sent him again over the edge.

He pulled his hips back, loosing her grasp, pushing
her out of the water enough so that he could free her from the sodden clothing.
He accomplished the same for himself. Lying atop her, their naked lengths met,
warming, enticing. Quinlan watched her eyes as he drew closer, waiting for any
signs to cease his pursuit.

She only encouraged him forth. Her hands grabbed his
hips, and her breasts arched toward his mouth. He captured one nipple and then
the next. Ailyn writhed and groaned. Her hips wound desperate circles against
his stomach. How did he give her what she deserved—a languorous pleasure
unlike any she could imagine or previously experienced—if she kept him at
his own precipice?

He laved a trail down her belly and cupped her hips.
He sucked one inner thigh and then the other, leading closer and closer to her
glistening sex. He licked, suckled, and teased until the taste of her arousal
met his tongue. He groaned over the slick proof of her anticipation, the way
her body clutched at his tongue for more.

Aye, he had more to give her.

His prick hardened like a stone, swollen, demanding a
taste of this honey.

Quinlan could not wait any longer. If he did not take
her now, he’d climax without her and end the hope of giving her the end they
both so deeply craved. Her eyes pleaded with him.

“Quinlan, I…I….”

“Aye, lass, I feel it, too.” He had no word for it,
this severe need to simply exist within her sheath. As though only their union
could complete him. Like air. Like water. Like life itself.

He pressed the tip of his prick to her slender core.
“Tell me,” he said, refusing any doubts to linger.

Ailyn nodded. “Aye, Quinlan. I need you.”

The satisfaction those words wrought nearly compared
to the pure physical relief of easing into her tight walls. Nearly. Feck, but
he’d pour into her if he wasna careful. He focused all his energy on keeping
his climax at bay but a moment longer.

She wriggled beneath him, gasping, her gaze desperate.

Quinlan knew he should be gentle. This was her first
knowledge of a man, and he should take great care. He couldna. Passion overtook
reason. His eyes on her face, he pulled his prick out and drove it in. Again.
Again. She met his hips with equal demand, slamming up to him.

His prick throbbed. “Feck.” He paused, buried inside
her.

He sucked at her throat, counting the seconds as his
climax receded a safe distance. Then the hunger returned. Naught could stop
him. Hell itself could have surrounded them to swallow them alive, and he’d not
have seen it. Or stopped.

“Ailyn,” he said, pushing his prick into her again. He
rocked their bodies, closing his eyes when pleasure sucked up through him so
intense he thought he might die in it.

Then her body squeezed around him in tight spasms.
Quinlan opened his eyes, his seed shooting into her unbidden. He released a
guttural groan, pumping into her body, watching pleasure grip her as his did
him. Something magickal shone in her eyes, something more than the golden glow
weaving around them. Something that reached down into his heart. A thought
whispered through him—if the chance presented itself, even by the
steepest odds and highest stakes, he would take it.

If Quinlan discovered a way, he would make this lass
his.

Forever.

Chapter Eighteen

By Brigit, Morrigan, and the harvest moon! Ailyn was
stunned by the pleasure Quinlan had just given her. Blessed be, but she had
never thought such bliss existed. How was she supposed to proceed with life in
general after experiencing something so…altering?

A tendril of gold wafted past his brow, teasing
through the soft curl of his hair. His face made her ache; it was so finely
chiseled. So beautiful. Dangerous beauty. The kind that stole hearts and good
sense. Marry it to such pleasure, and a woman could lose herself in the hope
that he could love her. But how could he ever love her?

Love would make leaving so keenly painful. Love
between them would be impossible. Tragic.

Still, she had no regret over this magickal
experience.

She smiled up at him, hoping the wonder in his gaze
would linger just a bit longer, because for long moments, that look made her
feel like the most precious person in the world to him. She felt treasured.
Such power!

Magick. She watched another soft amber glow above his
head as it changed to pink, and then evolved to lavender. Unease seeped into
her belly. Water lapped at her legs. The mossy bank beneath her became suddenly
apparent. The air was cooling.

The lavender deepened to violet. Quinlan’s brow
furrowed. “What is it, lass?”

Emotion clogged Ailyn’s throat. She adjusted herself
so as to encourage him to separate from her. He didna. He held on tighter.

“I’m getting cold,” she said, hoping that would
mollify him.

“Liar,” he said, though did so gently enough. “Tell me
what it is. I can see it in your eyes.”

She pushed at his chest. She would lose her tongue
before admitting her thoughts to him. Because she could not stomach his seeing
that their passion had not simply overruled them—magick had been at play.
A force wanted them to join.

Was that force man, or fate? She didna know. But
enchantment had wrapped around them, blocking out the world, transcending them.
Without that force, she didna doubt, they would not have been led by their
desires. They would have been again tempted, aye, but they would not have
surrendered.

Quinlan tucked her chin and squinted at her. “Whatever
you are convincing yourself of in that mind of yours, I’ve an interest in
hearing. Particularly if it pertains to me.”

Ailyn masked her face, or leastwise attempted to.
“This changes nothing,” she said, keeping her tone soft to protect his pride,
yet distance herself as well. She needed a safe distance from the impact their
union wrought on her body and spirit. “That is all I was thinking of. That, and
of my pendant.”

His eyes crinkled the tiniest bit, as though he
thought her words a bit amusing.

Her unease tinged with sadness. He would be hard to
leave. The threads of light were disappearing; with the magick, the darkness
beyond lifted, too. The sound of her name in the distance sent a jolt through
her.

Quinlan stiffened, too. “Your brother?”

She shook her head. It couldn’t be Colm. In wolf form,
having spoken of Maera just seconds before falling to the ground and changing,
he’d run from here. She felt that, deep down, he’d not be back. “Not unless he
transformed again.”

“And there are rules around such happenings?” Quinlan
moved to the side, reaching for his wet clothing, handing hers to her.

She honestly didna know. Ailyn hurriedly rang out the
breeches, looking for a low bough to hang them on to dry. Quinlan next handed
her his mantle. She gladly took it, letting him wrap it around her and securing
it. She nigh drowned in the heavy material, but it covered her well enough.

Again, she heard her name, closer this time. She
opened her mouth to call an answer, but Quinlan hushed her.

“I’ll be wanting to know who’s coming before we oblige
a potential foe.”

The distant voice sounded hoarse and weary, so she
couldna be sure it wasna Colm, perhaps harangued over such rapid changes to his
body. That was a fretful notion. She paced the tree line as Quinlan disappeared
into it, clad in naught but his woolen blanket—the very one Colm had
used.

The magick that had seduced them now receded
completely, leaving a cloudy late afternoon sky above and a deep sinking
feeling in Ailyn’s belly. She’d thought herself a more capable, sturdier force.
She’d lost her mother’s pendant. The key to her safety. To her brother’s
safety. To her entire world’s safety.

She’d completely lost sight of her quest in the face
of a powerful attraction. An attraction that could bear no fruit, and in fact,
worsened matters in ways she would not fool herself into believing
comprehensible now. Daniel was gone; his research taken. Kristoph was searching
her out.

Oh, blessed be, was it Kristoph’s sorcery at hand?
What if he had bewitched them? Distracted them in the most seductive way as he
searched out her pendant in the depths of the pond?

Ailyn put her hands to her stomach, feeling she might
be sick.

What had she done?

What more could she fail?

“Mother, how could you have entrusted this to me? Colm
would have done so much better.” Colm would have the pendant in hand, would
have acquired the bloodstone with ease, and would likely have slain
Kristoph—all in one clean stroke of his blade.

Her mother’s last words echoed through her.
You are its keeper now, Ailyn. Protect it
above all else. Promise me, Ailyn. Let no man or thing come before protecting
this stone.

Had she let her lust come before it? Was she blaming
the magick when the true blame resided with her? She would definitely be sick.
She fell to her knees near the pond, searching the grassy mound that Quinlan
had made love to her upon.

“What have I done?” she whispered, unable to stop the
tumbling fear.

“We’ll find it,” Quinlan said from the trees. “I swear
to you, if it is here, we will find it.” He strode to her, taking her hand so
that she looked up at him.

Ailyn followed his glance back at the trees where a
grizzled-faced man stood, shoulders hunched with age, a bundle of parchment
held close to his chest. She stood up, wary of the man’s cagey movements.

Quinlan touched her shoulder. “It’s Daniel,” he said
very softly. “I nearly cut and disemboweled him. He’s been cursed, to be sure,
but he’s found what he was looking for.”

The air left her body.
Daniel
? Her gaze flew from Quinlan back to the man before her,
wizened with age, his hands gnarled from time, his hair grayed, his beard long.
“Impossible.” Yet as she drew near him as carefully as she would to a wounded
animal, she saw there in his eyes…youth.

“Who did this, Daniel?” she asked, reaching out to
him. But she feared she knew.
Kristoph
.

He entered the clearing with great care, waving away
her hands. “We shall need a fire, Ailyn,” Daniel rasped. “The dark descends
upon us. Only light will keep it at bay.”

“I’ll see to it,” Quinlan said in a low timbre that
worsened the worry in her belly.

Ailyn shook off her shock, scrambling to provide aid
where she could. She cleared a stone for Daniel to sit upon near the pit.
Digging through her satchel, she found a last bit of dried meat and a hard
roll. In Quinlan’s, she found a skin of wine.

Daniel’s hands shook as he ate, but his sigh of relief
gave Ailyn hope. “Where have you been, Daniel? What force brought this upon
you?” If Kristoph was to blame, she needed to know. “Know one’s enemy as you
would your friend,” Colm had oft said.

“Give him a bit of respite, Ailyn.” Quinlan stirred
the fire with calm, but Ailyn could feel his interest as keenly as her own. He
wanted answers as well. Time was a luxury they could not afford. Yet she could
not demand that Daniel answer. Not in his weakened state. Part of her wanted to
prolong those answers, too. They would not be easy to hear. She’d not hear them
alone, though. The realization gave her comfort. Whatever powers she would face
in Krisoph, she might not have to face alone.

Soon, the full moon reflected off the water and the
fire cast dancing shadows on Daniel’s face as he quietly chewed. Quinlan went
to the fire and fashioned a torch from the peat and a thick branch. He walked
the perimeter of the meadow, sweeping the ground with the torch. He was
searching for her pendant, she realized.

She rose to assist him, glad for an excuse to escape
seeing what she’d brought upon a man who happened to be a scholar, and
therefore had helped her people. Daniel put a hand on her arm, though, stopping
her.

“Wait,” he said, his voice slightly less raspy but
worrisome all the same.

Reluctantly, she sat back down, moving closer when he
indicated that she do so.

“Colm?” he asked.

“He came here, but he’s gone now. Did you send him to
me, then?”

Daniel shook his head. “Nay. But alive?”

“Aye.” Her chest ached. “Leastwise, he left alive, as
a wolf.”

Nodding, Daniel wiped his mouth. He eased the bundle
down to his lap, having kept it clutched tight as he ate. He fingered through
the pages. Watching his trembling, fumbling hand was torture. She wanted to
take the bundle and comb through each page, to understand what he’d found.
Biting back the urge, she glanced at Quinlan. She had to wonder if he was
searching or simply allowing them a bit of privacy.

The fire crackled. Sparks spit into the air.

“Your mother gave it to you.”

She nodded, frowning as he handed her a page. There,
in deep azure ink, was a drawing of her pendant dangling from a delicate hand.
Her mother’s hand.
Fione
had the loveliest hands.
Elegant. Expressive. But so strong that one firm squeeze could banish such fear
in her child’s heart. The memories flooded Ailyn. Pieces of conversations with
her mother echoed in her mind. How she missed her!

Colm
is your brother, not your keeper, love. Your path is yours to forge.

Your
father and I made our own magick. The kind that transcends blood and binds
forever. Dinna settle for less than the love you come from, Ailyn.

The
moon will not hang itself, my sweet. It needs the hope and faith within us all.

Fione
D’Eru
had a beauty all her own. One that shone from within.
It had shone bright till the end, and Ailyn’s life had dimmed without its solid
presence. Aye, she had Colm, but naught compared to the enduring unconditional
love her mother gave.

The pat on her hand brought her back to the present
moment. Daniel’s kind eyes acknowledged her pain.

By Morrigan, she prayed that Daniel would be okay. The
evidence of Daniel coming to harm because of her hurt her heart. Daniel had no
connections to the Faerie world save his research, as far as she could see. For
him to risk so much, only to lose his youth—his life—was
indefensible.

Her mother took the secret of the pendant with her as
she gasped her last breath.

Ailyn had guarded it with extreme care, never letting
another see it. If none saw it, none could touch it. Quinlan and Daniel were
the first, and she’d only done so willingly because Daniel already knew of it
and she’d been desperate to make Quinlan stay.

He’d seen it at Breanne’s as well. She felt certain of
it.

Tears stung her eyes. Blinking them back, Ailyn
released a shuddering breath. Where would her fate next take her?

“I’ve seen that before,” Quinlan said from behind her.

Both Daniel and she looked up at him.

His gaze darted from Daniel’s to Ailyn’s. “At
Breanne’s. I saw your pendant.”

Heat washed up her cheeks. She’d feared so. All the
care she’d taken her entire life to protect it from any eyes, and Quinlan had
spotted it.

“Seeing the pendant isna what you meant just now,
though,” Daniel said. “Is it?”

Quinlan hesitated. “Aye, at Heremon’s, a parchment was
discovered. It looked a great deal like the one you hold now.”

“Alike, but not exact?” Daniel said, sounding far
younger than he appeared.

Quinlan squatted in the space between Daniel and
Ailyn, his presence solid and comforting. Daniel’s gaze fixed on Quinlan. Ailyn
found her heart thrumming in anticipation, feeling the answers coming even as
he took the page in hand and examined it.

“Not exact, no.” He handed the parchment back.

Ailyn frowned, unsure she wished to know, yet needing
to hear more. “What is different?”

Quinlan released a ragged breath. “While you and Maera
rested, I discovered something disturbing. Upon ensconcing you at Breanne’s, I
returned with the king’s
galloglas
to investigate.”

Her frown deepened.

“His guard,” Quinlan clarified. “One of them found a
parchment with similar drawings. Having glimpsed your pendant at Breanne’s, I
felt it prudent to follow you and Daniel.”