Building From Ashes (30 page)

Her small voice tore at his heart. “Sometimes I’m tired of being strong.”

“So don’t be,” he said hoarsely. “Just for a little while. We’ll do something fun and silly tomorrow night when you wake. Maybe I’ll even get you to laugh.”

“I know you consider it a personal challenge at this point, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“I’m a vampire. Don’t really need to breathe, do I?”

“So you’re just going to wait forever?”

If I have to.

He followed Madoc, who sat waiting by one door. Carwyn pushed it open and looked around the room. Simple. Spartan. A few pictures on the dresser were all the decoration she allowed. One of Brigid and her Aunt Sinead. One of her as a child, sitting next to Ioan in the library. The only art was a poster of a sunset over Loch Torridon, the sky painted vivid red, purple, and gold. It was taped over her bed where she would see it when she woke. He smiled as he laid her down and stroked a hand over her cheek. One hand came up to touch his chest and his heart gave a quick thump under her fingers.

“Going to hell for sure,” she murmured.

“What are you talking about?” But before she closed her eyes, he caught it. The look she would never have allowed if she weren’t so exhausted: pure, feminine hunger.
Want
. For him. Carwyn almost threw his head back and howled in triumph.

“Nothing. I’m talking about nothing. Let’s do something fun tomorrow night, like you said. Even if I don’t laugh, you will.”

He knelt down and whispered a kiss over her cheek, fighting back the urge to crawl in next to her. “I bet you’re gorgeous when you laugh.” Brigid opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes fluttered closed again, and she let out a soft sigh before she slipped into sleep.

“Why… why is he tapping out? He could easily get out of that! Oh, it’s so obvious that was a set up.”

Tavish rolled his eyes. “Of course it was a set up. It’s
all
set up. It’s professional wrestling.”

“Shut up, Tavish,” Max said.

Cathy shook her head. “Look at his manager. He’s up to something.”

Carwyn grunted. “You know he broke up with his girlfriend last month. I wonder if that’s thrown him off.”

“His girlfriend?” Max asked. “You mean the one who does tag team with the redhead?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“They were dating for months. No wonder he’s off his game.”

“So ridiculous,” muttered Tavish. “You know it’s all—”

“
Shut up, Tavish!
”

Cathy, Max, and Carwyn were staring in fascination at the spectacle on the screen. Tavish was reading an agricultural journal and rolling his eyes at his family. Carwyn had woken in the early afternoon and immediately decided to answer Brigid’s long-standing suspicion about professional wrestling. It was just the sort of ridiculous escape the girl needed.

The next match was cued up by the excited announcers with the American accents that Cathy imitated to everyone’s amusement. The three were watching the main event with such attention that Carwyn barely registered the soft footfalls that entered the room. They paused at the door. Came closer. Then a giggle came from the back of the room. He turned his head.

It was Brigid.

“You…” She snickered. “You really…” Her face fell and she burst into peals of laughter as her eyes darted between the television and the four vampires who sat in front of it.

Carwyn shot to his feet, the fight on the screen forgotten. She was laughing—
really
laughing—and he’d been right; she was glorious.

“You
do
watch it!” She gasped, clutching her stomach. “That’s the most… I can’t believe you’re actually watching it!” She burst into another round of laughter while she wiped bloody tears from her eyes with the edge of her shirt. “I mean, I didn’t really believe them when they told me. Why on earth would anyone…” She gasped again and her eyes met his. “A thousand years old? And you— why? It’s
so
ridiculous!”

“And fake!” Tavish called out, but he ignored him. Carwyn ignored everyone in the room except for the beautiful woman who laughed in front of him. Brigid’s face was lit with a fire within. Joy. She was overflowing with it. Pure, carefree…

“Oh, God,” he breathed out. “I love you.”

The crowd on the screen erupted in applause, but the laughter died on her face, overtaken by sheer panic. Brigid’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, her breath caught and held a second before she bolted from the silent room. The front door slammed a moment later.

Carwyn turned to see the shocked faces that were ignoring the final round on the screen.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Max nodded.

Tavish said, “That was far more amusing than professional wrestling.”

Cathy only shook her head. “Bit rusty on the wooing skills, aren’t we, Father?”

Max finally rose to his feet. “You idiot!” he hissed. “Go after her before she’s halfway to Glasgow.”

His heart was pounding when he sped from the room.

Smooth, Carwyn
. ‘A bit rusty’ was an understatement.

He slipped off his shoes when he reached the door and stretched out with his senses. He felt a trail of her energy speeding away from the house and toward the dark trees where the deer often took shelter. He grinned and followed her.

“Brigid!”

He tracked her past the tree line. Along a narrow stream. She was fast; he’d give her that. But then, perhaps the shock of his confession had terrified her even more than a raging predator. For a moment, he slowed. Had he truly frightened her? Then he remembered the soft, trusting look in her eye the night before. The hunger. The glorious, long-awaited joy he’d only ever imagined lighting her face. He had to see it again. He
loved
her.

It was so glaringly obvious, he laughed. His possessive behavior around the little shit Murphy. The overwhelming desire for her, when so few women in a thousand years had even tempted him. The ache in his chest when he thought of her strength and determination.

He loved her.

Carwyn found her pacing in a clearing, as if readying for battle. Her head was down, her shoulders stiff, and her hands clenched.

“Brigid?”

She looked at him like a frightened animal caught in a trap.

“Brigid, I’m sorry. That wasn’t the way—”

“Is that what you meant?” she shouted. “Something ridiculous? Something to make me laugh?”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “No!”

“Because that ridiculous joke—”

“Was not a joke!” he roared.

She stopped pacing and glared at him. “Of course it was. You can’t love me.”

He stepped toward her. “Says who?”

Brigid held up a trembling finger. “The pope, for one. And… the church. And I’m fairly sure Father Jacob would have something to say… along with the pope.” Her hand fell, but the glare had turned back to panic as he approached her cautiously.

Carwyn tried to smother his smile. “So, I’m not allowed to love you… because it would anger the pope?”

The panic was growing as he drew closer. “Yes! You’re a priest.”

He lowered his voice to a soothing murmur. “I cheat at poker. And Mario Kart.”

“Still a priest.”

He came closer, but she backed away.
Slowly. Carefully.
“I watch professional wrestling and use bad language.”

She whispered, “Still a priest.”

“Let’s not even mention the Hawaiian shirts during mass,” he whispered.

Brigid swallowed and took a ragged breath. “Carw—”

“I want you,” he said roughly as her back met a tree. He pressed closer. “More than I have ever wanted any woman in a thousand years.”

Her chest heaved, and she lifted tortured eyes to his. “I can’t!”

Carwyn smiled and shook his head. “Silly Brigid. It’s not anything you can or can’t do. It’s me. I love you. You can argue with me, but it doesn’t change anything.”

He could hear her heart pounding. Smell the rush of her panicked blood.

She whispered, “It changes everything.”

“No.” He braced his arms on the tree behind her and gave into the desire that had eaten at him for months. He leaned down, letting his lips brush over her forehead.
Soft
. Stroke her temple.
Hot
. Relaxing her inch by inch with his touch. “I love you. That’s all.”

“You can’t love me, Carwyn. You can’t. This is… some infatuation.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Infatuation. Yes.” Testing lips nipped at her cheek. The taste of her lingered on his lips, and he licked them. He felt her temperature rise and her amnis tentatively reach toward his. He held back a shudder. “Desire.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and her hips shifted slightly toward his.

He put his hand on her cheek. “But it’s more than that. And you know it.”

Another nip at her chin when she sighed. Her hands came up to rest lightly on his shoulders, and he could feel the pulse of her amnis through his clothes.

“Love, Brigid.” He trailed one finger from her collar up her neck, tilting her chin up until their eyes met. She was trembling beneath his touch. “I love you.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because you’re… you.”

“Ridiculous man,” she murmured a moment before her hands grasped his neck and brought his mouth down to meet hers.

Glorious
.

Their mouths met in a bruising, hungry kiss that reached down and filled the aching hollow in the center of his chest. His heart pounded as he drew her closer, fumbling like a schoolboy for a moment before instinct took over. The few dalliances that had tempted him had been nothing like this. Brigid
consumed
him.

He braced his hand against the trunk of the oak as he felt the earth’s energy rush up his body to steady him. From his bare feet, up his spine, and down the thick arms that held her.

He had crushed boulders with these arms. Killed immortals older and more powerful than himself. Ripped the earth with his hands and rendered mountains at will. But Carwyn held something precious now, so he coaxed the earth beneath him with a whisper. The ground beneath her rose up, pushing their bodies together as his other hand gripped the small of her back. She pulled away for a minute, her mouth flushed red, but he growled softly and pulled her back.

“Oh,” she breathed out. “The earth really
does
move.”

He kissed her again, and a low purr left her throat the same time she dug her fingers into the thick muscle at his shoulders. Carwyn felt the burning tips push against his skin and he reveled in the sensation as he pressed her closer.

Mark me.

Brand me.

Claim me.

Brigid’s hand tugged at his hair, tilting his neck back before she ran scorching lips down his neck till he felt the sharp point of her fangs slide across his skin. His own fangs grew long in his mouth.

Yes. Yes. Yes!

“I love you,” he groaned.

A soft moan answered him. “Oh…” she said. “This is wrong.”

He pulled her mouth back to his. “No, it’s not.”

“Going to hell,” she mumbled between kisses.

“They can’t have you. You’re mine.” He nipped at her lower lip, drawing a tiny bead of blood that he licked away and swallowed greedily. “Sweet,” he gasped. He sank to his knees in front of her, the taste of her blood rushing to his head like a drug.

More, more, more!

Carwyn wrapped his arms around her hips and pressed his face to her soft breast. “So sweet, Brigid.”

Her hands skimmed over his shoulders as he closed his eyes and pressed her closer.

“I love you,” he whispered again. “How did I not see it before?”

Her heart was pounding. He could hear it. Her temperature was rising. The aching grew in his chest. His groin. The need for her was roaring through him. Take. Drink. Possess. Carwyn wanted every inch of her. Her body and her heart.

A primal knowledge reared its head.
Mate
. Here was his mate. She was his, and he… he was utterly and completely hers. Their energy crashed together as her hands dug into his neck, and he couldn’t stop the slight wince when her skin met his.

She drew her hands back bracing them against the tree, and the bark blackened beneath her palms. Brigid stared at him in horror, and he tried to hold onto her.

“I did it again.”

He shook his head. “No, Brigid. Don’t. I’m fi—”

“I did it again!” she cried, the tears flooding her eyes. She dashed them away, and her hot fingers sizzled against her own skin. Carwyn tried to grab her hands, but she twisted out of his embrace and sped through the trees.

“Brigid!”

She didn’t turn back. Carwyn turned and slumped against the trunk of the scalded oak tree, confused, aching, and alone.

Chapter Twenty

Scotland

July 2011

Brigid tossed the small throwing knife into the air, watching it flip in the low light as she lay in bed and the fire she had started crackled in the grate. Madoc snored by the door as she catalogued her accomplishments for the previous month:

Finally rounded up the sheep faster than the dog. Check.

Learned how to bake bread with Max. Check.

Burned off Tavish’s eyebrows. Double check.

Lusted after a priest. Triple check?

Kissed a priest in the most mind-numbingly intense encounter she’d ever had with a man.

Burned a priest while engaged in previously mentioned mind-numbing kissing.

Ran away from priest after kissing and burning.

She should really stop counting checks.

Brigid sighed. Going to hell wasn’t even a question anymore.

She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed.

Dear God
,
I’m not sure if the kissing and the lusting and the burning is a mortal sin. Even worse, I can’t really bring myself to feel repentant about the kissing and the lusting bits, so it probably doesn’t matter anyway.