Plight of the Highlander (The MacLomain Series: Next Generation Book 5) Page 18

  Now enslaved by his lust, by his very need, he thrust harshly while holding her in position. Blue flame started to glow beneath the red and orange, spreading a fire over his skin that was borderline tolerable.

  This was not just the fire of the beast but the flame of a dragon in heat.

  Bloody hell, Torra was ripe for reproduction!

  While he should have been terrified that his life might likely end far sooner than anticipated, that the dragon would sear him before release, he was not. Instead he thrust harder, wanted more, needing her to reach the pinnacle she soared toward.

  If he died getting her there, so be it.

  Pulling forth every ounce of magic he had, he could only hope the wizard could protect the man because this was unstoppable. Yet this was worth meeting the afterlife for if the gods so desired.

  A half gurgle, half roar broke from Torra’s lips as her dragon’s enflamed eyes met his. Fierce, far past the point of no return, he drove into her. Hell, if he didn’t want to impregnate her so strong was the need. And even as they moved together in a near frenzy, he realized his thoughts were not just his but hers.

  The dragon wanted him.

  As their minds and bodies melded, he lost all control and cried out. His body locked up so tightly that the blue flame not only surrounded him but filled his vision. Torra began to shake so hard in her own release that his climax was elongated and drawn out.

  Helpless to do anything but remain deep inside her, Colin felt their fire roll over his skin, blazing a trail of unjustified heat not only outside but deep within. His muscles, bones, even his heart rode out wave after wave of an extreme mix between pleasure and pain. How he survived he’d never know but after the sheen of indescribable bliss faded down to pure pleasure, he was still alive and whole.

  If not in a less than favorable position.

  “Colin, are you well?” came Torra’s desperate voice. “Please dinnae die on me, love.”

  Colin blinked several times until his vision cleared and he stared up at Torra.

  Only to realize he had passed out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Torra had never felt more relieved than when Colin MacLeod opened his eyes.

  Confused at first, he blinked several times before his eyes rounded and he sat up. But then he grunted and fell back. Biting her lower lip, she cupped his cheek. “Dinnae move, aye? Not until you’re well.”

  “Well?” Colin put a hand to his forehead, confused as he looked at her. “I’ve never been better in my life, lass.” Then he paused, his brows lowering in confusion. “Or at least I was until…”

  A warm blush spread over her. “‘Twas good then?”

  Colin didn’t seem to know what to make of her words. He started to speak then stopped. “How long?” he started then stopped as he eyed the fire then her. “How long was I…not entirely awake?”

  Torra couldn’t stop a grin if she tried. “I was able to drink nearly a whole mug of whiskey waiting for you to come back to your senses.”

  Though she knew she should not, Torra had never felt prouder of herself than she did this eve with Colin. Aye, he’d pleasured her beyond measure but just look what happened to him. Now that she knew he was awake and well, Torra could truly bask in a job well done.

  Or at least she hoped that’s what this was.

  “Do ye mean to say ye pleasured me until I passed out?” Colin’s brows drew together. “As a lass is more likely to do after such?”

  Torra didn’t have to guess. If he spoke of a lass passing out then he’d certainly caused such in his past. Yet after having already laid with him two times that didn’t shock her in the least.

  But best to tread delicately. “I cannae speak for lasses losing their wits after such but aye, we had our bliss then ye just tuckered out.”

  “Tuckered out?” he said.

  Torra shrugged one shoulder, twisted her lips and nodded. “Aye, ye cried out something fierce then fell beside me, eyes closed, deep asleep.”

  Colin’s expression wavered and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what he was thinking as he eyed her. Eventually, a low sound began in his chest and for a moment she thought him repressing aggravation but it soon turned to a chuckle then full out laughter.

  His response infectious, Torra couldn’t help but laugh as well.

  Still chuckling, Colin at last propped up on his elbows and eyed her with nothing less than awe and love. “Ye’ve a way about ye lass. One that I look forward to enjoying over the years.”

  She touched his cheek, concerned. “So you’re all right.”

  A warm, albeit slightly dopey grin stayed on Colin’s face. “Aye, lass, ‘tis safe to say I’m better than all right.”

  “Are ye then?” she whispered.

  Colin perked a brow and leaned his cheek into her touch. “Trust me, few if any Scotsmen can say a wee lass made them pass out after lovemaking. Ye are a cut above the rest, Torra, but it doesnae surprise me.”

  If she blushed before, she burned now as he kissed the back of her hand, his ever aroused eyes on hers. Yet still she couldn’t help but ask, “Did it hurt? I dinnae wish such every time we lay together.”

  Another low chuckle bubbled in his chest as his eyes made a slow stroll down her. “Nay, lass, it didnae hurt a bit.”

  A shiver rippled through her and all the worry she had for him soon became something else altogether. Torra still didn’t understand what had happened betwixt them save it was even more intense than what they’d experienced at Iosbail’s castle.

  Whatever happened had taken her far, far beyond this plane of existence. Obviously as addicted and once more aroused as her, Colin stood, swung her into his arms and laid her on the bed. Their chuckles died away as she arched so that he could deftly unlace her dress. Though his eyes never left hers, she was overly eager to have him against her once more.

  Torra knew as he pulled away her clothes and his body came against hers that this need would never go away. It would never be assuaged by mere touch or likely endless conversations. Colin MacLeod was so much a part of her yet still his own man that there would forever be desire betwixt them.

  Clothing gone, Colin rolled her beneath him and all was soon lost as his lips covered hers. This time they didn’t struggle to come together but spent a long time kissing and caressing, simply enjoying the feel of their bodies against each other’s. Passion built slowly then became a raging inferno. When it did, he would slow it down and spend more time discovering her body. Soon after, she would do the same.

  The snowstorm raged beyond and the flames on the hearth grew low.

  Still, they explored, learned, adored.

  When at last they lay side by side facing one another, their fire once more stoked far beyond a high flame and sweat glistening on their bodies, he lifted her leg and entered her. Though flames crackled in their auras, Torra shivered at the feel of him.

  His eyes locked with hers.

  The burn sizzling around them could not nearly touch the heat within as he cupped her cheek. As before, the feel of him near her, within her, made everything else fade away. Nothing mattered but the intensity in his loving eyes or the feel of his strong body pushing her toward what would be another brutally emotional crescendo.

  When he suddenly jarred her from the safe haven of his eyes and flipped her onto her stomach, Torra’s heart skittered so quickly she cried out into the pillow. But her cries didn’t matter or mayhap they mattered overly much because he snaked his hand beneath her stomach just enough to touch the top of her pleasure. Shoving aside the pillow, she bit into the fur beneath when he once more entered her.

  His thrusting, his unabashed need, might have lasted moments or hours, as it filled her world with white light and pleasure so intense that she cried out over and over. Her body separated from her mind or mayhap it was the other way around.

  All she knew was that nothing mattered but Colin MacLeod.

  Yet even as she thought it, he pulled back her hips, growled,
grunted, and thrust so hard that the night was nothing but a blur afterward. Aye, some might have dewy romantic moments but not her and her betrothed. Nay, theirs were made of nothing but overwhelming climaxes that only ever seemed determined to outdo the one before. So when at last their flames flared brighter than ever and pure fire screamed down to her womb, whiplash shudders raked her so violently that Torra had no choice.

  She blacked out.

  When next she awoke, dim light poured through the Highland Defiance and Colin lay on his side, affectionate yet amused eyes on her face.

  “Ye look far too smug, my Laird,” she murmured.

  “Och, nay,” he said softly. His hand rested protectively over her stomach and his gaze so adoring it made her throat close.

  Colin had always allowed her into his mind, but now she felt it barred. Distressed, she frowned. “What is it?”

  “Nothing, lass,” he whispered and brushed his lips over hers. “I but admire ye and cannae help but enjoy that now ye are the one to have passed out.”

  Torra lowered her brows. “I dinnae think so.”

  “Oh, aye,” he assured, eyes merrier than she’d ever seen them. “One second we were loving then the next.” He shook his head and grinned. “Ye were done for ye were.”

  “Nay,” she said through a grin to match.

  King Naðr muttered into her mind. “He had his revenge he did.”

  Torra ignored the Viking.

  “‘Tis rude to steal this moment from her,” King Erc commented.

  “I steal nothing from the moment.” She heard the smile in Naðr’s voice. “It was an impressive night between the two. Torra does proud by her Viking blood.”

  “Enough, away with you both,” she said mentally.

  Thank the gods that Colin could not hear these two.

  The MacLeod’s eyes continued to roam her face with appreciation. He was about to speak but stopped.

  Grant was coming.

  Colin flicked his wrist and both were clothed. Still he mumbled, “My friend is making a habit of this.”

  Torra couldn’t help but agree.

  Were they not allowed some moments of romance?

  But too soon did she remember that they’d been allowed more than most during wartime and because of her they were all caught in a time warp. As she stood, Torra blinked away more emotion than she thought possible. She was growing tired of deceit, war, and more in favor of spending good times with friends, family and most especially Colin. Gods but did she want to be happy for more than just an eve or a few stolen moments.

  Yet these were selfish thoughts and she’d learned long ago to push them aside.

  Still, she wasn’t ready for their time here to end. As if he felt her emotions, Colin took her hands. His words were soft. “We’ve many memories yet to make. This place is ours. ‘Tis cherished. If this is a place ye wish to call ours again, I will make it happen once Keir is defeated.”

  Torra blinked away wetness. “‘Twas just a moment made of good memories yet I know even better ones lay ahead, ones we will find within your castle.”

  He cupped her cheek. A promising smile curved his lips. “Not just at our castle, lass. I intend to have ye everywhere. The burns, lochs, forests, the tops of mountains—”

  Torra put a finger over his lips and chuckled. “Aye, there will much be variety then.”

  Grant called down the hallway. “Are you awake?”

  It was time.

  “Aye,” Torra said. “Please, come in.”

  Torra smoothed her hair as not only Grant but all who had traveled here with them came into the room. For a moment, she was embarrassed by the twisted furs on the bed but when she turned it was to the chamber she and Colin had left behind so long ago. Two benches lined either side. Nothing else.

  Leslie eyed the benches dubiously. “Well, this had to make for an uncomfy night of lovemaking.”

  “I dinnae know.” Iosbail’s speculative eyes covered the room. “There be a lot ye can do with a few benches and some solid enough walls, aye?”

  “True,” Leslie agreed, grinning.

  Adlin winked at Torra and Colin.

  Torra focused on Grant and Valan. “Are the MacLeods leaving to join the MacLomains?”

  Colin crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow at Torra. “What’s this then?”

  Before she could answer, Adlin spoke to Colin. “They have been told all that you didnae share last eve. That you and Torra are here by chance of magic and that you will be returning to the innards of Keir’s castle. From there you will turn on Keir and aid them as they fight alongside the MacLomains.”

  “Ah.” Colin’s eyes narrowed slightly on Torra. “Might it be time that you share all those secrets you wouldnae before?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Aye, ‘tis time, my love.” Torra pulled free the piece of leather and looked at them all, at last explaining what to expect. “When Colin and I return to Keir’s chamber, time will resume and if King Naðr and King Erc are correct, the Hamilton will never know we left.”

  “Of course we’re correct, woman,” Naðr muttered.

  “Let her speak,” Erc said.

  Torra ignored them both and continued. “When freed of this fold in time, I will again be down half a soul. While most might think Keir eager to once more make my soul whole, he willnae do so right away. Instead, he will take a few days to better ken me before the full moon.”

  Colin growled, “What do you mean he’ll take the time to better ken you?”

  Torra kept her eyes averted. “‘Tis hard to know precisely how he will spend the time but there is no way around this if we are to defeat him.”

  A short silence fell over the room as everyone frowned at her.

  “Nay,” Colin suddenly said. “I willnae have it.”

  “Aye,” she said quietly. “You are a chieftain now and must think only of protecting your people. If we dinnae defeat the Hamilton ‘twill be bad for all.”

  “You are my people too,” he ground out, his temper rising. “I’ll not have you sacrifice yourself to that monster after all this time.”

  Grant sighed, a heavy scowl on his face. “Torra, tell them the rest.”

  She nodded.

  “I have a plan and see no reason why ‘twill not work.” Her eyes cut to Colin and she tempered emotion. “We have all come too far in this war and there are far more lives at risk than but mine. You cannae stop this, love. If you somehow managed to, I would never forgive you. For your verra actions would keep us apart forever and our beloved clans in ruin.”

  Their eyes locked for a long moment.

  He knew the truth of it.

  “Bloody hell.” Colin’s frown deepened and he raked a hand through his hair. “Tell us the rest then.”

  Torra stood up a little straighter, relieved that though angered, Colin was now willing to listen. “At dusk on the eve of the full moon, Keir will be able to harness great power. ‘Twill be then that he will have everything he needs to join the two halves of my soul and control the dragon. Because the moment he unwraps the leather from around the pentacle hanging from his neck and my soul is once more whole, I will have no choice but to shift. It will be a compulsion unlike any other and he’s banking on that.”

  Bradon’s expression was as dark as the others when he said, “Then, I take it, he controls you.”

  “Aye. But not for long. Not if everything is then done in a verra certain way.” She fingered the scrap of leather and looked at Colin. “Because of the connection you and I now have, that you and the dragon have, you will know moments before Keir releases half of my soul. When such happens, you will wrap this leather around the hilt of your sword, murmur the words I tell you to, and then whip the blade at Keir.”

  Before Colin could speak she shook her head. “I know you wonder if you’ll even be with him at such a time. He will want to be on the tallest battlement so that he’s close to the dragon when it…when I take flight. ‘Twill not be difficult for you to be the
re as well, aye? Mayhap eying the MacLomain’s placement below. Keir trusts you above all else. He will want you up there when the dragon is freed.” Her voice lowered. “If for no other reason than he might better relish the pain on your face when you see all that is lost to you.”

  Colin clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “You mean to tell me that a simple sword wrapped in a swath of leather will kill the undefeatable warlock?”

  “Nay,” Adlin said. “But ‘twill slow him down some.”

  “Then what?” Iosbail asked, totally enraptured.

  “Then,” Torra said. “The dragon will afford all a chance to come together at last and fight Keir Hamilton.” Her eyes turned to Grant. “I will make sure you are once more reunited with your Viking sword. Once you have it, you will know what to do.”

  Grant arched a brow. “Do you not know then?”

  “I only know that the kings wish you to have the sword. Once you do, much will be put into motion.” Torra met his eyes. “The MacLomain chieftain will know what do to. He has been told.”

  “Far too much is being left to chance,” Colin muttered.

  “Mayhap but this is our only hope.” Her eyes went to Bradon. “And while Grant must have the Viking sword ‘tis equally important that you have the Celtic sword given to you by Adlin. That which was forged beneath a blood moon. ‘Tis of the Celts. ‘Tis also of Fionn Mac Cumhail.”

  Bradon didn’t seem overly shocked by that last bit of information. He but gripped the hilt poking over his shoulder and nodded. “It never leaves my side.”

  “And Malcolm must have his Dire wolf, Kynan,” she said to Grant.

  Grant nodded. “Should your brother Colin be told anything else?”

  “Nay. He already knows what to expect.” Her eyes went to the black leather. “May the gift he gave me so long ago protect not a few but many in our darkest hour.”