Chapter Eleven

Solène stared at Taran’s broad shoulders, dimly hearing the exchange between brother, sister, and Angus. Alone—she needed to talk with Taran alone. Now. And as time moved at a snail’s pace, the more urgent the need became. What had pushed him to the point he no longer wanted to be free of his curse?

She forced a smile to her face as Isolde and Angus stood to leave. No need to let on that her stomach felt like she’d just gone two rounds on a tilt-a-wheel, first forward then backward. Isolde would only draw the waiting out longer if she had reason for further concern.

To Solène’s surprise, Isolde didn’t move to embrace her. Instead, she crossed to Taran and set an elegant hand between his shoulder blades. His head snapped up, his body reflexively twisted a fraction away. Surprise filled the high arch of his brow. Before he could retract himself completely, Isolde embraced him.

“I will do my best, Taran,” she offered quietly. “I owe this to you.”

Slowly, as if he feared touching her might burn, Taran looped his arms around the sister he both despised and envied. For a moment, for one stutter-step of time, Solène observed the relief in the way he closed his eyes. But it vanished just as quickly, and Taran stepped out of his sister’s hug. He extended an uncertain hand toward Angus, who grasped it, covered it with his other hand, and shook firmly.

Tears blurred Solène’s vision, and her smile took on genuine meaning. A lifetime of distance, breached now by the very same curse that divided them.

Isolde returned Solène’s smile. “I’ll keep you both posted. We’re staying at the Chateau Frontenac. If anything…happens…phone us.”

Solène nodded as Angus slid his hand into Isolde’s and escorted her through the doorway, leaving Solène alone with Taran in ominous silence. Her heart clanged erratically. He made no move to leave his hunched-over position at the mantel.

“Taran?” she whispered in an unsteady voice.

He lifted his head. Through the mirror, his gaze latched with hers. Sorrow and remorse shadowed those luminous dark eyes, telling Solène her assumption had been correct. Drawn to him by a force that mirrored gravity, she crossed to his side and lifted a hand to his shoulder. Uncertainty, however, made her withdraw her fingertips before they grazed the leather of his jacket.

She studied the drawn lines of his profile. “Why do you want to die?”

“Want?” A soft scoff escaped him. He turned and moved to the chair he’d abandoned earlier. “There’s no want, any longer. It is decreed. You know—”

“Stop.” With a sharp shake of her head, she frowned. “You were not so cold the last time we conversed in this room. I don’t want your bravado, Taran. Tell me what’s in your heart.”

Taran heaved a sigh and pushed a hand through his long black hair. His gaze strayed away from her, to the window on the far side of the room. Unable to tolerate the physical distance that amplified his emotional withdrawal, Solène moved to his side. Taking one hand in hers, she crouched at his knee. “Talk to me. This distance between us isn’t right.”

“I intended to kill you.” Quiet and reflective, he kept his gaze fastened on the thin sheers.

“I know. But we’ve moved beyond that. Or so I thought.”

“After…what happened…” He trailed off, his throat working visibly as he swallowed. When he pulled his stare away from the window and turned it on her, the corners of his eyes glistened with gathered moisture. Tears that made her own pool even more.

Taran tugged his hand free from hers and gently cupped the side of her face. His thumb stroked her cheek. Tenderness softened the harsh shadows in his expression. “It has been a miserable existence without you.”

His hoarse whisper sent hot droplets trickling down her cheeks. The gentle back and forth glide of his thumb swept dampness across her skin. She blinked to clear her vision, and rubbed her cheek against his callused palm.

“An existence I no longer wished to endure.” He cleared his throat, and his voice gained strength. “When you were with me, I was inspired to hold on to my mother’s lightness. There was no end to what I would do, so that when I stood before the ancestors I could return. But…I’ve followed my sire’s calling, Solène. Though I have not killed since the weeks after your death, I have done many things, and people have suffered at my hands. I was cruel to my own brother’s fiancée when I could have simply explained my purpose.”

The pain that reflected in his raw honesty pulled at the strings around Solène’s heart. Her chin quivered, and she sniffed to stop the overflow of tears. “Oh, Taran. I am so sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“When I came to the shop last night, it was to seal my fate with the ancestors. I cannot undo my wrongs now, my sweet. To be free of this curse, to destroy the bastard who set this upon my family, I will perform Nyamah’s intended ritual. I will face my judgment, and I will not return.” Ever-so-slightly, his fingers tightened against the hollow of her ear. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“No.” She eased out of his hold and set a knee on the chair. Looping her arms around his neck, she hugged him tight. “You haven’t failed me.” Brushing a kiss against his temple, she whispered, “You never could.”

He turned his head, and his mouth found hers. Softly. Hesitantly. Yet the tightening of his fingers at her waist belied deeper yearning. Need that had no definition. Hunger that knew no satisfaction. She sank into the warmth of his body and parted her lips to his tender persuasion.

Taran’s hand slid up her back to tangle in her hair. But despite the underlying fierceness in his fingers, his kiss remained slow and undemanding. She met the stroke of his tongue with equal languor, allowed the heady scent of his cologne to balm the savage tears across her heart. What happened between them tomorrow night, whether they said a final goodbye, or whether she would spend eternity as Drandar’s slave, held no meaning. All that mattered was here and now. His arms holding her tight. The love that bound them together. The happiness they had shared before and could now know again, however brief it might be.

His grip tightened in her hair, and he eased her away as he broke the kiss to look into her eyes. “I have loved you beyond all reason for as long as I can remember.”

That simple, heartfelt confession sent a fresh rush of tears coursing down Solène’s cheeks. Her throat clogged with emotion, and she could only manage a nod that echoed his sentiment.

Slowly, reverently, he feathered kisses across her cheeks, her eyes, down her nose to dust each corner of her mouth. The tension in his fingertips ebbed, and he held her loosely in place as he traced her lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

A shudder rolled through Solène. Her stomach fluttered, and she struggled for a normal breath. Too much…Not enough…A gasp wrenched free as Taran brought his free hand between their bodies and covered her breast with his palm. His dark eyes burned into her before thick long lashes shuttered them away, and he clasped her lips once more. A chaste catch and release that amplified the rasp of his unsteady breathing.

Solène tucked her fingers beneath the lapels on his jacket to push the supple leather to his shoulders. Despite the fine fabric of his shirt, his skin was warm beneath her palms. Heat she craved in the deepest recesses of her soul.

Her nail caught on a tiny button, and she worked it free. As she moved to the next, Taran opened his eyes, and her breath caught all over again at the emotion reflected in those dark pools. But even more earth-shattering was the glimpse of pure humanity that lived inside his tormented soul. The goodness few others had ever taken the time to observe.

Silence enveloped them as she loosened the remaining buttons and he mirrored the motions of her hands. No words could convey what transmitted through the press of fingertips, the catch and fall of their mutual breathing, the intimacy shared with a soft smile, a prolonged blink, a spellbound shiver. And neither would voice what they both understood—this would be the last night they would share together.

When Solène’s blouse pooled on the floor beside his shirt, Taran pulled her sideways onto his lap. His forearm slid beneath her knees, and in one graceful movement he rose to his feet. His heart thumped steadily against the side of her breast as he carried her to the center of the faded ornate rug and gently laid her on the floor beneath the chandelier, where they had first made love in their new home. She looped her arms around his neck and drew him down against her. At the press of his bare chest against hers, her stomach somersaulted. Sweet ancients of the beyond, he felt good.

The rumble of satisfaction that bubbled in the back of his throat said he shared the same sentiment.

Time stood still as Taran kissed her. The slow, languorous stroke of his tongue mimicked the brush of his thumb against her breast. Her nipples beaded at the pleasant torture. Heat swept through her veins and settled in her womb. Perfect pleasure. And yet, nowhere near enough.

She shifted beneath him, craving the full contact of his body, the way he would fill her to completeness. Taran dropped his free hand to her hip and held her still. His mouth left hers to skate down the column of her neck. The scrape of his teeth against her tender flesh left her trembling. The flick of his tongue scored a trail of fire to her breast, and as he closed his lips around her puckered nipple, a quiet mewl slid from her lips. Taran answered the sound with the slow pull of his mouth.

She tangled her hand in his long hair. Twisted her head against the ecstasy. “Taran…”

“Shh.” A wicked smile danced across his lips before he lowered his head to her opposite breast and swirled the tip of his tongue around her nipple.

Solène clamped her teeth into her lower lip to stifle a sharp cry. She ordered her body to remain still, to submit to his sweet agony. Her fingers disobeyed and curled into his scalp. Despite the pressure of his hand, her hips shifted against his.

When she began to believe she might fracture into pieces, Taran let her breast slide from his mouth. Cool air met her wet skin. Goose bumps broke across her body. The sudden contrast wrenched free a gasp. But before she could fully recover and pull her disjointed thoughts into sense, Taran shifted to his side, and his calloused palm scraped across her body. His index finger dipped beneath the low-rise waistband of her jeans. Teasing her further. Making her wait for what she craved.

Two could play at his game. Giving him a dose of his own medicine, she offered a smile full of false innocence and flattened her hand against his jeans, over the hard ridge of his erection. Her taunting squeeze tightened Taran’s body into hewn stone. He never had been able to hold on to his composure when she cupped him so.

“Damn.” The oath hissed between his clenched teeth.

Mischief broadened her smile. “Shh.” Before he could twist out of her grasp, she trailed a solitary nail down the rigid length of him. Taran’s shudder sent pleasure rushing through her bloodstream.

As if he were intent on ignoring the way she manipulated him, he chewed on the inside of his cheek and released the buttons at her waist. His large hand nudged the denim aside, and one lone finger slipped over the satin of her panties. As equally affected by him as he was by her, she reflexively lifted her hips, guiding him lower.

Another oath whispered through the room, and Taran withdrew his hand. He knelt, dislodging her hold on him, and tugged on her jeans. She raised her hips, allowing him to shimmy the denim and her panties down her legs, over her feet. As he bent over her once more, he glided his hands up the inside of her legs. Inching closer to where she most wanted his touch, easing her legs apart to satisfy the yearning he knew she suffered.

But instead of settling between her thighs and making love to her with his tongue, he merely brushed a kiss across her feminine curls. Disappointment and frustration launched through her. She bit back a plaintive whimper, and closed her eyes, counting to five. To ten. To fifteen before she felt she could once again see through the haze of blistering desire. Dimly she heard the rustle of his clothing, as he undressed.

No sooner did she lift her lashes, than Taran’s warm, strong body settled over hers. His broad thighs fit neatly between her legs. The tip of his cock nestled against her damp center. Solène arched her back in a vain attempt to guide him deep within. But the effort only earned her a soft chuckle, a slight shake of his head, and a devastating roll of his hips that drove her out of her mind. She dug her nails into his shoulders, clinging to the edge of sanity.

Taran braced himself on his hands, seemingly unaffected, though the twitching muscles in his shoulders belied his efforts at maintaining control. But he refused to give in. Instead, he dropped his head and drew her nipple into his mouth once more. One firm suckle reduced her to uncontrollable trembling. Between jagged gasps of air, she begged, “Taran…for the love of the ancients…please…”