A Hunger Like No Other

trusted Bowe with his life, and if pressed, he'd say even with something so important as his mate, but he was still restless waiting here.

Her arms were still opened. 'It's been centuries, Lachlain.'

'If Emma walked in and saw us 'embracing,' how do you think that would make her feel?'

Her arms dropped and she sank into a chair across from the desk. 'No' like you think. Because she feels nothing for you. While I mourned your death as a widow would.'

'A waste of time on your part. Even if I'd died.'

'Bowe explained where you've been and what she is. She has no place here. You've been unwell and canna see how wrong this is.'

He couldn't even bring himself to anger, because he'd never been surer of anything than he was of Emma. He realized now that the reasons he'd continued to befriend Cassandra over the years no longer applied.

In the past, he'd felt sorry for her. Like him, she'd gone centuries without finding her mate, and he'd thought that, like him, she reacted to the lack in an unhealthy way. But whereas he'd sought out enemies, eagerly taking the forefront of every war and volunteering for any dangerous task abroad where he might stumble upon his mate, Cassandra had seized on him.

'Who was there for you when your da died? Your mother? Who helped you search for Heath?'

He exhaled wearily. 'The entire clan.'

Her lips thinned, then she seemed to rally. 'We have a history together. We are of the same species. Lachlain, what would your parents have thought about you taking a vampire as mate? And Garreth? Think of the shame this will bring him.'

Truthfully, Lachlain didn't know how his parents would have reacted. Before they'd died, they'd regretted that their sons had been unable to find their mates for so long, and had understood Lachlain's, the oldest son's, more obvious pain. But they'd also abhorred vampires—thought them malicious parasites and a blight on the earth. He couldn't say for Garreth, either. So instead, he answered, 'I look forward to the day when you find your mate and you can think back on this and truly comprehend how ridiculous I find your words.'

Bowe ambled through the doorway then. At Lachlain's raised eyebrows, Bowe shrugged, as though the conversation with Emma hadn't been overly encouraging.

Harmann bustled in just after, perspiring, hectic, the complete opposite of cool, uncaring Bowe. 'The staff is departing. I just wanted to check to see if you need anything else before I leave.'

'We'll be fine.'

'If you need anything, my number is programmed into the phone.'

'As if that helps me,' Lachlain muttered. He thought he'd been doing so well with learning the tools of this time, but the sheer amount of technology was daunting.

'Oh, and the packages that arrived today for your queen have been unpacked.'

'Harmann, go,' he ordered. Harmann looked as if he was ready to pass out.

He cast Lachlain a grateful expression and strode out the door.

'Gifts will no' sway her,' Cassandra pointed out in a churlish tone.

'I disagree,' Bowe answered, pulling a red apple from his jacket pocket and shining it on his shirt. 'I've learned the queen does so like her gifts.'

When Lachlain raised his eyebrows, Bowe said, 'Showed her the horse. Regret stealing your thunder.' He displayed no sign of regret.

Lachlain shrugged as if unconcerned, though he had wanted to see her reaction and capitalize on any gratitude she might have demonstrated.

'The good news is that she dinna like the idea of Cass up here talking to you. Distressed the wee creature.'

Could Emma have been jealous? Lachlain knew she could never feel the soul-deep possession he felt for her, but he'd take anything. He frowned. He didn't want her distressed. 'Cassandra, you will leave here. No' to return until invited by Emmaline herself. I will no' be moved from this.'

She gasped, truly shocked, but how could she be?

She shot to her feet, shaking, her voice sharp. 'It may never be me, but when you are well, you'll see it never could be that vampire either.' She flew to the door.

'I'll make sure she leaves,' Bowe offered. 'Just after a quick detour to the kitchen. They cooked for an army.' He hesitated, then said, 'Good luck.'

Lachlain nodded, lost in thought, hearing cars departing down the long drive.

A king was in residence with his queen, a Lykae had his mate after a millennium, and the moon was waxing. Everyone here knew what that meant. Everyone except Emma.

He'd run out of time. He'd run out of options. His gaze fell to the sideboard, to the crystal glinting in the light.

24

When Emma woke, she was in Lachlain's arms, with her face tucked against his chest and his fingers gently sifting through her hair. Just before she went irate at the thought of him moving her to the bed again, she realized he was in her blankets on the floor.

Then the dream came back to her in a rush.

She'd seen Lachlain in some kind of war long ago, passing the time between charges. Garreth and Heath—his brothers?—and some other Lykae males talked about finding their mates, musing on what they would look like. They spoke in Gaelic. She understood the words.

'I'm just saying it would be nice if she's fair of form,' one called Uilleam said. He indicated what he meant by cupping his hands in front of his chest.

Another said, 'Just give mine a sweet arse to hold on to in the night —'

They quieted when Lachlain walked by, not wanting to talk of such things in front of him.

Lachlain was the oldest, and had waited the longest. Nine hundred years he'd waited.

He continued to a stream by their camp, bounding easily over boulders even under the weight of chain mail. He knelt on the shore by a becalmed pool and leaned down to cup water to his face.

His reflection wavered for the briefest second. He hadn't shaved for days and he had a long, winding cut down his face. His hair was long.

He was absolutely stunning to Emma, and she reacted viscerally to this remembered image from the dream.

When he'd sat back on his haunches and gazed up at the blue sky, Emma had felt the startling warmth of the sun as though she'd been there. Then a wave of emptiness had hit him. Why can I no' find her… ?

Emma blinked open her eyes. She was her. The one he'd longed for…

She'd seen him with rage in his eyes, with confusion, with hatred, but she'd never seen hopelessness as she had in his reflection.

'Sleep well?' he said, rumbling his words.

'Did you sleep with me? Here?'

'Aye.'

'Why?'

'Because you prefer sleeping here. And I prefer sleeping with you.'

'And I have no say in the matter.'

Ignoring her comment, he said, 'I want to give you something,' then reached behind him, drawing out…the gold necklace from her dream. Her eyes locked on it, mesmerized. It was more beautiful in reality.

'Do you like it? I never knew what you would prefer and guessed again and again.'