Chapter Six

As Solène’s soft flesh pulsed around his fingertips, Taran struggled against the unyielding knot his lungs had become. It had never been easy to resist the siren call of Solène’s body. But refusing to give in to the sheer base urge to pound his way to bliss had never been more difficult. He focused on the soft lines of her face. Counted backwards from fifty until his lungs let go and he could draw a normal breath.

When her body sank into the cushions, released from the tight grip of orgasm, he glided his hand around the gentle curve of her hip. Before her lashes could flutter open, before she could spiral down into complete satisfaction, he lowered his body into hers. In one agonizingly slow thrust, he entered her slick depths.

His world spiraled beyond his control. The squeeze of her inner walls, the heat of her made it impossible to hold on. She was real. She was here. And her love was every bit as strong.

Taran couldn’t help himself—he closed his eyes and moved within her, drawing back to slide in deep again. Beneath the thick veil of bliss, the darkness churned. Delighting in the simple carnal act, even as his soul reveled in the sweet perfection of the emotion that bonded them throughout time. For the moment, the ever-lingering urge to kill lay dormant, the loneliness he’d fought for a century ebbed, and the hatred he felt for himself disappeared. She’d always had that effect on him. Managed somehow to pull together all the conflicted pieces of his spirit until he believed there might be a place for him in this world after all.

Tonight even more so.

Dragging in an unsteady breath, Taran opened his eyes to find her smiling up at him. She lifted a shaky hand to the side of his face, rested gentle fingers there. Lifting her head, she sought his mouth. He gave it to her willingly. Beneath the velvet warmth of her kiss, his heart shuddered. Captured by the undulation of her hips, his body began to shake.

He couldn’t hold back much longer. But oh how he wanted to. How he longed to draw this night out forever and eternally thwart the memories of their terrible end.

As ecstasy clamped another fist around his chest, he broke their kiss to draw a shallow breath. Wide green eyes held his, brimming with emotion. He nuzzled her cheek with the tip of his nose as he thrust into her once more. “I could stay inside you a lifetime.”

She laughed softly. “No you couldn’t. You are too addicted to fresh baguettes.”

The misplaced truth lessened the rising force of uncontrolled desire and relaxed the tension in the base of his spine. He chuckled, reminded once more of how deeply they were bonded. At a much more relaxed pace, he slid within her slickened depths. But the brief relief from imminent climax wasn’t to remain. As she bent one knee to flatten her foot on the cushions, she took him even deeper. He touched the mouth of her womb, and Solène gasped in pleasure.

He almost spent himself at that simple sound. With a groan, he grabbed at his resolve, and flicked the tip of his tongue against the elegant lobe of her ear. Solène’s arms wound around his waist. Her fingertips pressed into his muscles, urging him on, telling him without words that she’d returned to the place where pleasure threatened to consume her.

Taran allowed feeling to override conscious awareness. Bliss wound around his nerve endings. Emotion clawed at him from the inside out. Everything he was rose up to embrace the woman who had never turned from him. Through whatever miracle, she had returned, and he knew only the incredible way she made him feel.

Her body tightened beneath him, a hairsbreadth away from the same release that stormed down his spine. He held his breath, waited for the jagged, telltale catch of hers. When that soft sound cracked through his awareness, he thrust in deep and hard, and ecstasy exploded through him. Numbness invaded his limbs. Pinpoints of light danced behind his eyes. He gasped for air, shook like a leaf in a strong wind.

Dimly, he became aware of the rasp of their combined breaths. The weighty feel of her soft body beneath his. And to his utter shame, the wetness that gathered in the corners of his eyes. He turned his head before she could observe the evidence of his threatening tears.

“Taran?” Concern filled her quiet question.

He should have known better than to attempt to hide from her. She could read him long before he even became aware of his own emotions. Dropping his head to her shoulder, he whispered, “I never meant to hurt you. I am so sorry.”

Though she said nothing, her arms encircled him. The strength of her embrace conveyed understanding. More, it spoke of forgiveness.

Forgiveness he didn’t deserve, no matter what curse rode his shoulders. He had no right to her love. Yet, no greater heaven existed. And as certain as he would live to see another morning, he would steal this precious life again. There was only one way to avoid that inevitability—to embrace the eternal end he had sought only yesterday.

An end that would come with the recitation of his mother’s Samhain ritual.

He rolled off her body and sat up. “Solène, I need the scroll.”

The cushion gave behind him as she sat. Though he couldn’t see her expression, he felt her frown in the sharpness of her voice. “Is this not enough, Taran? Us?”

Damn the tide that divided them! He stood, anger snapping through him. “I cannot live like this.” Wheeling on her, he thrust an arm to the window. “You cannot imagine what it’s like to walk those streets wanting to kill the woman I cannot live without!”

An instant of regret smacked into him as she winced. But too many years of conflict overrode sympathy. His dark spirit grabbed at the anger, driving him a step closer. His fingers twitched, the urge to take her dainty neck between his hands as fierce as it had ever been. “Give me the scroll, Solène. Before you regret the decision to refuse me.”

Before he could flinch against the dark need to destroy, two equally indomitable presences enveloped each side of him. Menacing, every bit as dark and vile as he was, they loomed, daring him to act. Loyal to her.

In that moment Taran recognized the witch he had overlooked. Proud in her erect stature, defiant in her nakedness, Solène faced him. Her restrained power ebbed off her in heavy waves. Her magic had darkened. Taken root in the teachings he offered and growing despite her demise.

“You will not hurt me, Taran. I vow this.” Confident, she rose and elegantly crossed the room to pull another robe from within an antique wardrobe. “And if you should try, I will not be responsible for what befalls you.”

There was warning in her voice. An edge he had never heard before. Something else as well. A vibration that came not from anger, not from the conviction of a deadly threat. But as if she who had summoned the malignant spirits feared what might occur.

That tremor, as insignificant as it was, scraped fingers of ice along his spine.

She walked to the door, opened it. “Go. You may not have the scroll, and I will not make the mistake of sleeping beside you again.”

Fueled by the anger he couldn’t rein in and the futility of their impossible circumstance, Taran jerked on his clothes and stormed to the door. There was no need to warn her of his return. They both knew he couldn’t stay away.