Wicked Paradise (19 page)

Another vague vision lumped like clay in her mind. WindWraith’s purpose had become evident while it held her in thrall. What had it meant by its final words to her? The Fomorian tried to warn her of something. Would Ryan betray her? Did he want her only for her power? She strained her mind until her head pounded. For hell’s sake, what did the forsaken bastard mean? Why had it shared that story with her? Goddess, how had she ever gotten embroiled in such a world of desire and terror?

* * *

Morgan’s arms and legs draped around Ryan like a fire warm blanket. A frisson of desire spread upward from his groin to his chest. Her head rested over his rune brand, lips parted slightly, her breath fanning warmth across his skin. Her heart beat steady and strong against his side, and the knotty fear between his shoulders evaporated. Morgan’s magic dusted the air, and her eyelashes fluttered.

“Morgan?” he whispered.

She hid a yawn behind her hand. “How long have I been asleep?”

He glanced at his watch hanging on a wooden peg embedded in the stone wall, grateful it had survived the squall. “Almost half a day. Are you okay?” Ryan twirled a loose strand of her silky hair around a finger.

“Sore, weak.” She pulled the furs over her bare thighs. “Thank you for saving me.” Dark circles ringed her eyes, but her color had normalized.

“You would have done the same.”

“I do not have star power,” she accused feebly.

They had a lifetime’s worth of history to unearth about each other. It was time they put their brains and considerable powers together and determine how to tackle his plan. WindWraith would reform, if it hadn’t already, stronger and craftier than ever. Because now it knew what magic Morgan and Ryan possessed—except for one hidden gift. Smug satisfaction oozed contentedly inside Ryan’s gut, smooth as century-old brandy.

Reluctantly, he eased away from Morgan’s enticing body. He perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the dead fire. The foal had gone outside during the night and hadn’t returned.

“It’s not something I tell people. I’m probably the only person alive with ether magic. Because of the element, I was the best demon killer, Fomorian assassin, in the twenty-first century.” He bunched his shoulders, flexing his stiff muscles. “Only you and my mother know—knew.”

“I need to know everything about your powers,” Morgan’s voice demanded.

“As I do of yours.”

“You know what magic I possess. Earth, air, and fire, which enable other sundry innate powers.” She sat up and scooted beside him, a careful distance between them. “I don’t know yours.”

“You know now,” Ryan replied cagily. Averting his face, he rose and snagged a log off the wood stack. Embers glowed beneath the ashes in the fire ring and he stirred them, adding the log in a shower of sparks.

“You’re lying,” she replied with quiet vehemence. Heat rose up her neck practically putting her own deception on the table.

“And you’re not?”

Emerald fury blazed in Morgan’s eyes. “Why would I lie when it is my life—and yours—in jeopardy? And the lives of a multitude of others.”

Ryan reached over her head and snatched her amulet from the alcove. He dangled it in front of her face, gripping its twin around his neck. “What kind of magic did you dump into me? It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

* * *

After WindWraith’s ominous warning and her morning’s vision, she didn’t know what to tell him. She didn’t know if the vision was a dream, a foresight, or neither. The island had changed everything.

Her gaze followed the amulet swinging from Ryan’s hand. Obviously, he hadn’t touched the crystal, and he was careful not to touch it now. If he had invoked the magic, she would experience a burning in her heart, an enmeshed drawing of her powers to pinch and poke her insides, and an overwhelming yearning for solace. If the ritual didn’t progress, the feelings would intensify until he voiced the words to bind his magic to her. Or death. Death certainly didn’t appeal to her, which left her with no choice.

Stalling, she said, “I must relieve myself.”

He caught her wrist, his fingers inflexible. Morgan struggled, but his grasp grew ironclad. She refused to waste magic to fight him, even though she wanted to whiplash him into submission with an air flog.

“Give me the amulet.” She curled her fingers around the charm. If he touched it, they must complete the ritual, the last thing she wished to happen now.

“Why are the charms identical?” he demanded. “What did you mean when you said it was a temporary spell?” He tapped his healing brand.

She rubbed her free hand over her face. “When I was a child, I found the crystals washed in with the tide on Avalon’s shores. I assume the earthquakes here may have loosened them from the island’s barrier and they followed the trail of magic to Avalon. There were many matching pairs. I had ridiculous and fanciful notions of love as a young girl when I fashioned each pair into twin amulets.”

Ryan strengthened his clamp on her wrist. “And?”

“You’re hurting me!” she squeaked out.

He loosened his fingers a hair.

Despite her anger, his touch engulfed her with the all-consuming need to confess everything. She refused to hide from him any longer. She hated lies and hidden truths that always managed to cause more havoc than outright confession. Since he hadn’t offered up much information about himself or his world, maybe her tales would start the flow of communication.

Something tight unwound in her belly. “I imbued the charms with ancient Druid magic. They draw destined lovers out of their final moments of despair, to beckon one to the other. Without my knowledge, my father added more magic to them.” An ember shot from the fire, crackling onto the ground. Ryan stomped it out, giving her pause to form her next words. “He cast your amulet into the sea some time ago. It landed where you were expected to find it.”

Comprehension dawned across Ryan’s face. His mouth parted, and he appeared ready to speak, but shook his head. Absently, he touched the rune tattoo on his chest. “Did these spells cause us to share our dreams?”

“I believe that stemmed from the magic my father added to our charms, a means for us to become acquainted and to bolster our bond.”

“So the spells are permanent?” He slanted his head, picked at the crusty brand.

“Yes,” she whispered. Ryan hid matters of great import from her, and she felt it like a vise on her heart. “Who is Lauren Blackwell?” she asked defiantly.

Ryan released her wrist and dropped her pendant as if both were rancid. He reeled backward and proceeded to stomp a ditch around the fire.

She sent him the first image of Ryan and Lauren announcing their pact, then making love to seal their promise. An image she hated with all her might.

Hands fisted at his side, Ryan halted. Approaching her slowly, he hung his head avoiding her loathing. “She’s my intended pact mate. Our covens enacted a law to prohibit marriage. There were too few women left to tie down to one man. Eventually, we wanted to find a peaceful, secure place to start a new life with the hopes of having children to rebuild the human population. But Lauren and I—” Abruptly, he stopped rambling, shuffled his feet over the ground.

Even though Morgan already knew the woman’s identity, the spoken truth sent her world spinning awry. “Are you to be exclusive and rule together as if wedded?” she whispered.

Ryan lifted his head, his misery aging his face ten years. “It’s not what you think.”

Gooseflesh sprouted on her bare arms, and she rubbed her hands across her prickly skin. “In spirit, you are to wed?” she demanded.

“Yes.”

“Do you love her?” Morgan twisted the braided rope around her fingers.

“No. It’s not like that,” he snapped, his face pinched tight. “I told you I was born for duty. Love isn’t—”

“You made love to her,” she accused, then realized how foolish she sounded.
They
had shared similar intimacies. He didn’t love her, either.

“We had sex. There’s a difference.”

“You said you would find a way home. When you do,” Morgan wiped at her watery eyes, “will you enforce your... pact?”

He stood stone still then walked to the cave’s entrance. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.” Without a backward glance, he disappeared around the bend.

A feeling of doom swept over Morgan, worse than having her life nearly wiped out by WindWraith yesterday. Death had taken her mother and left her abandoned at birth. She’d seen further death take its toll on her family and people, had been terrorized and lost in the forest, and forced to leave her beloved father. Despite her losses, nothing matched the grief she felt at that moment. Tears slipped down her face, and she let them flow.

Morgan pressed her palms over her scars, her amulet falling and striking the top of her foot. She gulped down the bitter desolation rising in her throat. Leaning her head against the wall, she willed her heart to stop breaking. Why had she fallen in love with a man she could never have? Loathing for Fate made her blood run icy.

Chapter 20

Dusk descended, dimming the chinks of light in the ceiling. Morgan returned from investigating the other caves behind the waterfall and watched Ryan prepare supper over the fire. A cautious smile quirked his lips in acknowledgment of her return.

The foal’s cold nose bumped her leg. She had all but forgotten about the winged horse. He bobbed his head in excitement, tail swishing wildly.

“Hi, baby.” Wrapping her arms around him, she buried her face in his neck. Morning dew clung to his fur. Fresh new life. Hope existed in that, even if Morgan never recovered from her emotions leading her astray, or whatever else Fate promised to serve her on a tarnished, dented platter.

“Morgan?” Ryan called gently. “You need to eat.”

He brought her a hollowed coconut filled with flavored water and fresh stew in a carved wooden bowl. Fragrant steam wafted from the wild stew. Her stomach rumbled, whether from hunger or distress, she didn’t know. However, she needed to restore her strength after draining her magic reserves. First, she wanted to wash WindWraith’s evil filth from her flesh before she crawled out of her skin.

She elbowed aside the burrowing foal and snatched up a fur. “I’ll eat in a moment.”

Once again, Morgan left the edgy atmosphere and strode outside to the waterfall. She slipped off Ryan’s T-shirt, letting it slither down her legs to the ground, and tiptoed into the cold spray. Water sheeted over her, sluicing away the scum of evil and her own tangled agony. She lathered soaproot mixture in her palms. Heat sailed through her as she scrubbed herself clean, renewing her ache for Ryan’s touch.
Stop!
She dunked into the waterfall, numbing the need seizing her body and heart.

Torn between passion and practicality, she knew she’d never rest without his touch a final time. Even if he belonged to another, he’d always carry her brand upon his chest, stamped into his soul. If not for his duty, he might love her one day.

“I’d never live with myself if I forced his actions and he held it against me,” she whispered. Morgan knew all too well what responsibility and dependability meant in a leader’s life. Escaping near death engendered newfound apathy for it. Her damp hair cascaded down her back in a cold blanket, enhancing her cold dread.

Clean and resolved, she returned to the cave. A fire snapped brightly, the atmosphere inviting and homey. Ryan had set her food on an upper ledge out of the foal’s reach. Waving his arms like a madman and hissing at the foal, he tried to shoo the winged horse outside the cave, relenting when the foal trotted to her side. The baby horse lay next to her with a deliberate wag of his head at Ryan.

Ryan tossed it a wild carrot, kneeling beside her. “I’m sorry,” he said in a gravelly voice.

A sob escaped before she had a chance to choke it down. He slipped his arms around her waist. Her scars burned as he pressed his lips to her moist skin. The fur spilled around her feet as anguish puddled at the bottom of her heart.

First to break the silence, Ryan began, “You were all I believed I wanted from the dream we shared. You’re all I want now.” Grief spilled across his face in the downturn of his mouth.

Hope pricked her heart. She wanted to smooth his sorrow away with her hands but sat on them instead.

“I realized once I signed the pact, I’d no longer have freedom in any aspect of my life. It galled me even when it shouldn’t have.” His fingers skimmed across her stomach, his touch blazing a trail over her skin. “Then I dreamed of you, wanted you and everything you represented.” Expectation pooled in his eyes, a swirling expanse of ocean blue. “I want to take you home with me.”

His words churned in her stomach. “For what, Ryan?” she asked acerbically. “To live in Lauren’s shadow?” If escape from the island was even possible after they destroyed WindWraith.

“That’s not what I want.” Ryan sighed, gliding his hands over her taut skin to her hips. “Lauren is...was the Eastern High Druid. Both the Eastern and Western covens have long planned unification, first with our arranged marriage—” He appeared to war with himself before he released her and rose with the fur in his hands. He draped it over her shoulders, a muscle in his arm protruding tensely. “Everything’s changed. Fomorians have destroyed Earth.”

Calmly, face devoid of emotion, she said, “My father foretold your devastated future. He told me as much before he sent me here. His Sight is rarely wrong, but I had a difficult time understanding it. Can you tell me what happened?”

Ryan snorted. “Would have been nice to have a seer like your father in my coven to prophesy the end of civilization. Maybe we could have prevented it. As it was, the Druids and other pagans tried their damnedest to kill as many of the Fomorians as possible from the moment their population exploded five years ago. They’d walked among us, looked like us for so long.”

Morgan rubbed the silky fur between her thumb and finger. “How did their masses grow so plentiful? In our time, we were able to recognize and defeat them easily when they slipped into our world, except for rarities like WindWraith, which required more ingenuity.”