Most people thought Tavis and me were twins. Twins are common in our clan.”
“What were your brothers like?”
“Tavis was quiet, when he wasn’t mad or teasing us. Hot-headed, but loyal to a fault. Usually acted before he thought. Ian was full of mischief. Both of them were always getting into trouble.” Much like Bree. Faelan had saved his brothers’ arses from getting strapped many a time.
“And your mother?”
“She was cook, storyteller, and nurse. She had an elderberry bush she used to treat us for ailments. The stuff tasted bloody awful. Ian ran away every time he got sick.” Faelan and Tavis had dragged him home more times than Faelan could remember. “And she made the best shortbread in Scotland.” He smiled, almost hearing the tinkle of her laugh as she handed him the plate. His smile faded. She couldn’t laugh anymore. She was gone. Everything he knew was gone. No one knew he was alive, except Grog and Bree.
“Did she tell you stories about fairies and kelpies when you were a boy?” Bree’s voice was only a whisper now.
“Aye,” he said softly, touching the section of hair his dirk had sheared. But he’d always known the stories weren’t true. The real monsters were out there roaming the earth. And one day it would be his job to destroy them.
***
Faelan jerked upright, chest heaving, muscles taut as bowstrings. Bree lay with her back to him. He could see the curve of her cheek, her face as bonny as an angel. It was just a dream. He lay down beside her, watching her sleep as his nightmare faded. He touched her hair, wishing he dared pull her closer. He’d never felt anything like this for a woman. She set his body on fire, but it was more than that. He wanted to right the world for her, hold her and tell her every dream he’d had, every mistake he’d made—Druan, his deadly disease, the war… wee Liam. That was scary as hell. Not only was she not his, he also didn’t know what she was. She’d destroyed a halfling with his dirk and looked at the light from his talisman and lived.
Bree moaned and moved in her sleep. Her dreams were unsettled too. No wonder, after what she’d seen tonight.
“Russell, no.”
What had the bastard done to her? She’d faced half demons, killed one, yet her nightmare was about Russell? Faelan stroked Bree’s hair. There was a small birthmark at the top of her back, near the demon’s scratch. He dropped a kiss there, and she seemed to calm. Moving closer, he slid his good arm under her head, the other around her waist, and pulled her against him, careful of her injury. He told himself it was to comfort her, but he knew he needed to feel her breathe, to know he wasn’t alone. A century and a half had passed. Even if he could locate his clan, had they forgotten him?
Bree nestled her back against his chest, her backside snug against his groin, and Faelan was glad he’d worn a T-shirt and the sleeping pants she’d bought him. He should’ve put on his Levi’s for an added layer, and his kilt, if he could find it. He wasn’t just worried about Druan and his evil, Faelan worried he’d lose control and do something unforgivable to Bree.
***
The ache spread low in his groin. He rolled over, searching for warmth. A noise intruded, her voice. He was dreaming of her again. His body burned as he rubbed against the softness and found the place he craved. He shoved the barrier away and freed himself. He pushed, and pleasure poured over him like honey. Home. He was home.
The noise came again, and he felt pressure against his back, pulling him deeper into the dream. His nose tickled against something soft. Hair. The grogginess faded, and he had a feeling he shouldn’t be here, but something dug into his thighs, keeping him close. He heard a whispered plea and felt hips moving against his. He groaned as he thrust, burying his face in her hair. The fire grew hotter. A soft moan sounded at his ear, and something sharp pierced his back, jerking him from the dream. Fingernails.
Faelan opened his eyes. Bree was under him, her lips parted, both of them panting for the same air. Her nightgown was pushed above her breasts, and his hand crushed between their locked bodies, holding aside a scrap of material she wore underneath. This was no dream.
He pulled out and leaped from the bed, heart in his throat, body aching with near release. The front of his pants gaped open. He adjusted them, afraid he’d spill it on the floor.
“I’m sorry.” His mouth opened and closed, but he didn’t know what to say. Had he raped her?
Bree pulled her nightgown and strange undergarment over her breasts. “Faelan—”
He struggled again for words, shaking inside. “I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.” How could he guard her if he could do this? He would have to leave. He would take her to her archeologist, or Peter.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. Her face was still flushed. “You were dreaming at first.” Her fingers clutched the hem of her gown. “I think I was too.”
He’d done a lot of unforgivable things to her, but this…
She stood and moved next to him. “You didn’t force me, Faelan. I could’ve stopped you… if I’d wanted to. This has been building since I opened the time vault. We both know it.”
For half a second he was tempted to drag her back to bed, beg her to let him finish, so he could rid himself of this burning in his loins just once, but he’d already crossed the boundaries of acceptable behavior. He rubbed at the knot of tension in his neck as the throbbing in his body gave way to disgust. “The sun will be up in a few hours, then we should be safe until nightfall.”
