His lips followed, open mouthed and wet-hot over her nipples, tonguing and teasing until she felt like they were hardwired to the ache growing below. At his mercy, she tried to curl her fingers around the hard length of him, but somehow he stayed just out of reach. While he was distracted by his play, she anchored her foot and pushed, rolling until she sat on top of him, straddled his hips, staring down at the bare expanse of his chest. The banked fire burnished him in shades of gold and bronze, casting his muscular form into something beyond beauty.
He had his own scars, battle wounds. Small rounded puckers of silky skin, long jagged slashes of pink-white, irregular depressions that spoke of flesh gouged out and excruciating pain. Two raw places appeared to be freshly stitched, yet he was perfect—it stole her breath just how perfect. His shape—from broad shoulders, heavy and strong, to arms that bunched and bulged to the slabs of his chest, hard and flat with nipples small and tight—pleased every part of her. She could have bounced a basketball off the ripped abs that narrowed and angled down to the dark trail of hair and the vee of hips beneath her.
His big hands circled her thighs and inched up until he raised her above him. She looked down between their bodies, watching as he shifted, and then slowly, God, so slowly, he entered her. Shealy threw back her head with a moan that came from the very center of her being. A moan that seemed to expand as she stretched over the thick length of hard heat. She sank back, meeting his thrust until he was buried deep inside her.
A quicksilver shiver went through her and she opened her eyes to find him watching her face, and for a moment she was embarrassed, wondering if her expression had revealed the way this felt, as if he’d stroked every cell in her body. She’d had sex before, and that’s what she’d thought this would be. Sex. Hard, driving, forgettable. But in that look she realized what a part of her had known all along—nothing about this man would ever be forgettable.
And then he began to move, still holding her hips, her body astride his as he lifted her up each time he pulled back, watching her face for every nuance of pleasure because he knew,
he knew
he pleased her. The flash of pure masculine satisfaction on his face could not be mistaken any more than the answering purr in her throat could be denied. He felt that stiff coil of need in her, felt how each long stroke tightened it another notch, and the knowledge gratified him. She didn’t need words to explain it because spiraling within him was the mate to the emotion; she was not alone in this seduction.
Every muscle in his body tensed with each thrust. Sweat glistened on his chest as he kept the strokes long and smooth when she knew he wanted to pound. He wanted to hammer her with his body until they felt like one. It seemed he took some pride in the measured control, as if he’d accomplished some great feat in bringing her to this fervor without allowing either one of them to spill over the edge.
She leaned down and kissed him, losing herself in the twin assault of his soft tongue and his hard thrusts. She relented willingly when he rolled her to her back and settled between her spread thighs, sliding deep with a satisfied groan that seemed to vibrate down to the very point where they were joined. Goose bumps broke out over his shoulders and back as he held himself still. He looked at her then, as if contrite for the pending loss of his iron control. But control wasn’t what she wanted, not at any degree. She wanted abandon, she wanted wild, she wanted passion so great that it could not be reined in.
She rocked her hips against him, daring him to withstand the torture, feeling her own sense of power grow when she saw him surrender. He braced his arms on either side of her head and he drove into her, hard and relentless, without kisses, without words, and Shealy felt that tight, hot need grow and grow until it filled even the particles in the air and then snapped with a scream she muffled open-mouthed against his shoulder, letting it pulse with her release as she orgasmed once, then again in a long, lush wave as Tiarnan gave a low, guttural curse and came with her, pounding flesh and the scent of their sex so thick that it pushed her over again, until it was almost pain.
Hearts racing, they both stilled at last and lay for long moments in a boneless heap as the cold dried the sweat from their bodies and brought with it the chill of a moment taken and lost. Slowly Tiarnan eased his weight off of her, flushing as he looked into her eyes and then quickly away.
She could feel her own face getting hot as she reached for her tattered dress. She wanted a shower but she knew from her crude surroundings she wouldn’t get one. Still, the scent of him, clean and male and seductive, clung to her skin with an intimacy that felt at once jarring and soothing. She’d known this man less than a day and yet a part of her felt as if she’d known him a lifetime.
There’s a word for it
, she thought. People who became ensnared in their attraction in a time of extreme duress, but she couldn’t remember it right now. Couldn’t remember anything but the heat of his body and the dejection she felt now that it was gone.
She heard him behind her, the sound of his pants sliding over his hips and then more shuffling as he moved around. After a moment, he handed her a soft washcloth.
“There’s water in the bowl,” he said to her back.
Nodding, she held her dress in front of her as she cleaned up, aware of him waiting, watching. With her dress on, she felt better, but she couldn’t manage the zipper. His warm fingers at her spine made her stiffen and melt in simultaneous reactions. As soon as he’d pulled it up, he moved away quickly.
“We should sleep,” he said, his voice deep and stoic. And yet the throb of loss somewhere in his words quieted the tumultuous insecurities that hammered at her now.
She glanced back to catch a wary glimmer in eyes that just moments before had burned with heat. She approached the beds, looked at the one she assumed belonged to Liam and then at Tiarnan’s. As awkward as she felt, she still didn’t want to sleep alone. Silently she slipped between Tiarnan’s furs, waiting tensely to see if he would join her. When the bed creaked beneath his weight, her eyes fluttered shut with relief.
He pulled her back into the hard curve of his body, covered them both, and said nothing. For a long time afterward, they both lay still and stiff until finally, painfully, Shealy succumbed to sleep.
Chapter Seven
A
T first, Shealy didn’t realize the screams came from outside.
She thought another nightmare chased her through her sleep. Her own screams, perhaps, echoing as she leaped from the cliffs with the wolves snarling at her heels.
Then she felt the heated body next to her move, and instantly she awoke.
Tiarnan.
She slept in Tiarnan’s bed, his arms holding her tight. In a rush, her memory filled in all the missing pieces of where she was, what had happened . . . the sex that had touched and soothed something inside her even as it opened a chasm between them that gaped wide even now.
Another scream split the silence. This time she knew it hadn’t come from her nightmares. The horror in the sound ruptured the remains of that fine bubble of slumber that tried to insulate them. Tiarnan was on his feet in an instant. Peering through the gloom of predawn, Shealy watched him from the warmth of the bed they’d shared as he pulled on boots and reached for a sword and an ax, gripping one in each hand as he strode to the door. He wore only his pants and all that bare flesh reminded her of how it had felt beneath her hands.
“What’s happening?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep but her mind sharp and alert as she sat bolt upright.
More shrieks of terror had joined the others and now it seemed the darkness writhed with them.
One hand pushing open the door, Tiarnan glanced back and his eyes burned at the sight of her in his bed, no matter that the world around them seemed to be in a jarring panic. In that flashing second, a taut awareness stretched across the room, binding them in an inexplicable way. And then another shriek—a sound so piercing and discordant that it couldn’t be human—broke the tenuous hold.
“Stay here,” he said, turning sideways to get through the narrow doorway.
He disappeared in an instant, and Shealy sat stiff with fear as the chaos outside built into cacophony. She scrambled out of the cradle of warm furs and inched to the door. Smoke stained the air, singed the freshness with an acrid taint as unfamiliar as the screeching and screams. Whatever burned, it wasn’t anything she’d ever smelled before.
What was out there?
She remembered nothing of the landscape that waited beyond Tiarnan’s shelter. It had all been shifting shadows and lurking gloom when they’d arrived last night.
Carefully, she inched the door open and stared out at a sandy bank trailing into the black wrapper of predawn. They were at the point of the islet, where the river split and flowed fast around it on either side. She could smell its nearness, but she couldn’t hear anything over the shouts and cries coming from every direction. If she’d wanted to run, she wouldn’t have a clue which way to go.
Someone called orders, voice raised to be heard over the panic and mayhem that she couldn’t see. Had the wolves returned? Through the instant terror the thought signaled, a sane voice told her no, that didn’t fit. There were no howls or snarling growls, no triumphant barks over cornered prey. A wolf didn’t make that strange bleating whine—strident yet droning. It echoed endlessly. What sounded like that? It couldn’t be human—it sounded too loud, too alien.
Beneath her feet the earth quaked in a disjointed shudder. Shealy stepped back from the door, instinct urging her to hide, but there was nothing in the room but the two beds and a table. An image of her cowering under either flashed through her head, along with an inane memory of a storybook elephant trying to hide beneath a tiny mushroom.
Against the far wall sat a low shelf with an array of knives, a quiver full of arrows, and a bow propped nearby. She scurried over and picked up one of the heavy blades, wondering what she intended to do with it. She’d never even boned a chicken, for Chrissakes. She hefted it and then grabbed one of the arrows, finding some absurd comfort in the length of it. She’d never used a bow, didn’t think now was the time to learn. But the glinting point at the end of the long shaft looked lethal and she felt better holding it.
A boom came from outside of the stone walls, as if a giant wrecking ball had swung into a structure like this one and brought it down. A loud clatter of rocks cascading, hurling through the gloom, followed instantly. Eyes wide, she stared, as if she had X-ray vision that could penetrate the walls and see what happened on the other side. That eerie screeching drone filled every molecule of air, and a hard, cold jolt went through Shealy’s body.
What was out there?
Terrified, she backed away, never averting her eyes from the wall that separated her from whatever rampaged on the other side.
“Get behind it,
behind it
!” a man shouted.
Tiarnan.
Already she recognized his voice. It sounded full of fear and rage.
Another
boom
reverberated through her body, and before she could react, a third thundering rumble shook the shelter, and suddenly rocks flew at her as the wall exploded inward. She screamed, stumbling as she tried to duck and protect her head from the hard round missiles bombarding her. The heavy knife tumbled to the floor, but somehow she kept hold of the arrow. She heard Tiarnan shouting again, but her ears rang and she was shaking so hard her teeth chattered, drowning out his words. An unearthly shriek sliced into her eardrums, making her think they’d ruptured. Arms above her head, she peered out and saw through the hole in the wall just what made that sound.
“Mother of God,” she breathed.
The creature stood four, maybe five, feet tall and was equally broad across its massive shoulders. Like the American buffalo, she thought in some distant part of her mind. But the comparison ended there. The beast didn’t have fur—instead silvery feathers covered it like armor. Thick legs extended from enormous, muscled shoulders and ended in pointed talons. Five sets of legs ranged down its long, thick body.
Fast. It would be very fast.
But that was not the most terrifying aspect of the creature. What chilled her blood and clenched at her heart rose up above the monstrous body and stared at her. The monster had three heads.
Three. Heads
.
She understood at last. This was the creature Jamie had been talking about.
This
was the thing that had terrified Tiarnan. He’d said it was indestructible. Staring at it now, she believed him. A dim glimmer of dawn broke the black velvet of night, and she could see the horror of it clearly.
Each of its three heads was squared and heavy boned, like a gigantic helmet, with a long flat brow and gigantic extended jaws that snapped, exposing double ridges of sharp triangular teeth. Its mouth opened so wide it could chomp a man with one bite, like a shark. The necks were long, and they gave the heads a mobility that was snakelike as they writhed amidst the people scattered and running in a panic. When they reared on their back legs, they towered over everyone. One set of eyes pinned her, unwavering while the other two heads turned and snapped at the fleeing people around it.
Men with weapons like Tiarnan’s circled it fearlessly, with a steely focus that gave Shealy a moment’s hope. But then from behind the bulky body with its centipede-like legs a fourth, fifth . . .
ninth
head appeared as the beasts clustered together.
They moved in a closely knitted unit, like a swarm of predatory insects. Huge, deadly vermin with ferocious eyes, beastly bodies, and tails that swung wildly, crashing into the shelters built in a circle, destroying them with the mass and weight of each blow. As she watched, one of them lowered its heads and charged into one of the huts, bringing it down in a shower of rock and dust. She saw terror-filled faces on the people who’d hidden inside before the jaws snapped up one of them and swallowed in a chomping gulp. The other two occupants were devoured before anything could be done to stop it.