Wicked Paradise (22 page)

A tremor rolled up his body. Her hand fisted around him, and she provocatively applied just the right amount of pressure.

“An appetizer?” Morgan dipped her head, flicked her tongue over his left nipple. His nipple instantly pebbled. She shifted to the right side, the barest touch of her tongue teasing it to attention.

Ryan flung his head back and gasped. In the throes of his desire, his hand coiled around Morgan’s amulet, the crystal searing his palm. Adrenaline exploded in his hand, jolted into his groin. “Ah, Gods,” he cried, his strength draining down his legs.

Morgan withdrew her hand, an enchanting smile touching her lips. “Say the words.”

Magic rumbled chaotically inside him, expanded, detracted. “What words? What the hell’s happening?”

Morgan touched his cheek, smoothed her hand over the vein throbbing in his jaw. “The words will come. Put the charm around my neck. The pain will subside.” She peeled off her T-shirt and stood reticent.

Firelight rendered her pale skin a golden-tawny hue. It took all Ryan had not to glide his body around her nakedness, and replace the fire’s warmth with his own. He lifted her hair free and slipped the necklace over her head, then draped her hair like a black shawl over her alabaster shoulders. Her breath was distractingly warm against his hand, and he forced himself to proceed before he lost himself in her completely. Afraid to allow the amulet contact with her peachy skin, he palmed it securely.

“Let it go.” Her fingers slid beneath his hand.

Ryan uncurled his fingers, eased the amulet against her skin. The silver ring settled above her left breast. He focused on the unbidden words surfacing in his head. A shockwave hit him full force, and fathomless peace and satisfaction flowed over him. The words bubbled up from the bottom of his soul, into his heart. As they tumbled from his lips, he knew their absolute truth. “I give you the magic of my body, my heart, my soul. I allow your magic entrance into my body and allow you to call upon my magic as if it were your own. Never will I use my magic or yours against you. I will guard your powers as I guard my own. I will protect you to the full depths of my abilities. My magic is one with you, and our magic together becomes one whole. I give you the magic of my body, my heart, my soul, everlasting.”

Electricity sparkled in the air like tiny flashes of lightning. Power streamed between them, showering them as though a rain cloud opened up and dripped sparks upon them. Their amethysts glowed in unity. Energy ruptured inside him, and it wasn’t his alone. The silver ring scalded Morgan and her chest twitched. He felt her magic churning inside her, as his magic did the same in him, a dam impatiently waiting for the gates to open wide.

Perspiration filmed Morgan’s blanched face. She repeated the spell’s words, her voice hitching at the end. A tear escaped her right eye, and Ryan caught it with his thumb, tenderly caressing the moisture over her lips.

He kissed her, slid his mouth lower to the brand above her heart. The scent and flavor of her, freesia and passion, drove him crazy. He pressed his lips against the blistered skin, flicked his tongue over it to assuage her pain.

Morgan held him against her breast. “It will heal and turn gold and black, as will yours.”

Their magic swirled sweetly inside him, mixing like sugar and chocolate. Without moving his mouth from her skin, Ryan sank to his knees. He laved her left nipple, suckling it into a stiff kernel. Her soft breasts filled his massaging hands perfectly. He released her nipple with a pop and exhaled a frayed groan. He’d never felt such a desperate need for another. He smoothed his hands over Morgan’s hips to her luscious, round ass. She buried her hands in his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp, sending prickles down his neck. Her perfume flowed over him, a salve to his savage world.

Their magic meld cascaded like a river of shooting stars within him. Morgan’s elation permeated his mind until he couldn’t tell if it was his excitement or hers. Ecstasy blasted through him, traveling to the same destination. So incredible, air grew in short supply and he gasped against her stomach.

Morgan clutched his hair, using the strands as an anchor. “Ryan,” she whispered.

Her voice returned him to the land of sanity. Night grew long and they had little time to spare to get to the safe place he wanted to take her before dawn settled over the island. The Fomorian shied from darkness, and he didn’t want to risk traveling during daylight. He’d rather move now and have a leisurely time to spend with Morgan in safety. Now that he understood WindWraith’s magical makeup and its current potency, he’d give it no more than another couple of days to increase its powers. He didn’t want to add to Morgan’s fear by telling her about his strange altercation with the Fomorian, and aid in her justification to deplete its powers and kill it. Once he convinced her of his plan and how it would save his people, only then he’d confess how he knew intimately of WindWraith’s magic.

Reluctantly, Ryan rose to his full height, his fingers shimming up Morgan’s naked body, dying to lay her down and make love to her body and soul. Her eyes had turned to the deep color of emeralds. He stood there and let her consume his senses.

No one else would know her touch and her senses. And he’d destroy anyone or anything that tried to take her away from him.

Chapter 22

They followed the familiar path toward the quake-ruined cave, Ryan carrying a torch to light their way. Every so often, an ocean breeze dipped into the ripe vegetation, cooling Morgan’s face. The salty tang chased the rich jungle odors, clogging her throat.

She hadn’t regained her energy from her ordeal with WindWraith. The binding ritual hadn’t helped matters either. Ryan’s magic twined inside her nearly as useless as her own sluggish power. It was enough to warm her woman’s parts in the most disconcerting way. Desire to be fully bound to Ryan roared to life, and fire blazed up her chest to her face. Flying off a cliff to soak her feverish body in the seas seemed like a good idea. Morgan plucked at her damp chemise, and half-heartedly swatted at a nocturnal black and red striped bee buzzing by her head. Torchlight attracted the wretched backward bugs. “Buzz off. Hope you hate my blood.” Her legs and arms grew weary with every movement.

Her presence on the island increased the Fomorian’s power at a faster clip than they had anticipated. Even the island magic flowing within her had diminished into a trickle, its resonance barely palpable. Ryan alluded to a plan to destroy WindWraith tomorrow or the next day at the latest. He held back more, wanting to share a surprise with her first, but she hoped they’d have the physical and magical abilities to carry out their daunting task.

“Ryan. My father saw that your land is bleak, buildings destroyed, everything crumbling. How did it happen?”

“Fomorians laid waste to the land fighting their wars, burning whole cities in waves of invisible fire.”

“How do your people live and eat?”

“Some buildings remain only partially destroyed and we scrounge what we can. Lots of canned and preserved food. The twenty-first century Fomorian is a hybrid from centuries of change among humans and breeding with demons and Sluagh. Salt weakens them now even though the
Tuatha
drove them under the sea where they originally came from. So the oceans are intact and we catch seafood. We’ve built our strongholds in churches in my hometown along the coast. They can’t breach consecrated land. If we eventually don’t find a permanent defensible place to live, we’re thinking of building out into the water.”

“Trading places with them, from land to sea and vice versa,” Morgan mused, rubbing her temple. “Are there many humans left?”

“No. Out of billions worldwide pre-war, there probably aren’t more than a hundred thousand free humans. We don’t know exactly how many are left since the world is a large place. I’m sure there are groups who managed to survive by sheer will just like my people have. As for other humans, the Alasoron Cabal marked many as their controlled minions, draining their energy to boost their own. Once a human is marked, they essentially become a lower caste Fomorian.”

“Don’t humans die when drained of their souls and energy?”

Ryan knocked a thin branch out of their path and let her pass. “Not if they’re marked first. They live as long as their master does.”

“Which can be centuries.” Morgan shuddered.

“Exactly.”

“Do Fomorians need humans to maintain their energy or powers?”

“No. They used the extra energy to increase their potency to overpower the other Cabals. It helped them win the wars.”

A cold burst of air whooshed up her neck. “I’m so sorry the people of your world had to endure such a horrific experience.” Morgan faltered on a rock, plowed into Ryan’s back. “Oof.” She pushed off him and gained her balance. “Pardon me.”

Ryan stopped in a small clearing, moonlight painting a violet sheen over the glade. “Rest.” He slid her bulging bag off her shoulder and set it on the mossy ground next to his full load. He rubbed her shoulder where the strap left a welt. “I can carry this.”

“You have enough to carry. I can manage.” She was reluctant to relinquish the pouch of charms hidden in her satchel. Without them, the island would forever remain a lonely prison. Shaking off her paranoia, she continued to interrogate Ryan. “Surely the creatures didn’t drain all the dead of their energy. How did they kill so many people in such a short time?”

Ryan secured the torch in a bed of loose rocks. “Fires destroyed many. Fomorians infected major water and food supplies. The ground is tainted and nothing can grow. One bite from a Fomorian or a marked minion can kill within hours. One bite is all it takes to send a human on a killing spree. Only a strong human can survive a mark and hide it. Many people were betrayed and killed by Fomorian minions who were once friend or family.”

“Have any in your coven been marked?” Wheels spun in Morgan’s head. She wished to find a way for Ryan to save his people and bring them to the island, if possible. There had to be a reason why his people had survived, beyond utilizing their wits.

Ryan slipped his warm hand around Morgan’s neck. “They can’t touch my people with their taint. The ones who’ve been marked resist the poison.” Ryan hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Do you have a clue why that is?”

Morgan’s heart tumbled excitedly. Only the Ancients carried the magic to travel to the island, a tidbit her father forced into her head. “It may be your Druids carry the blood of the Ancients.” She wrapped her fingers around Ryan’s arm. “Yet, the Fomorians were able to drain your people of magic or energy, just like WindWraith does to us?” She hated the idea that Lauren, as an Ancient, may have a rightful claim on Ryan.

“Yes.” Ryan cocked his head thoughtfully. “Except me.”

Morgan gasped, leaning into Ryan. “Did one try?”

“Three attempted it. They died from trying.”

Oh, Goddess alive!
Morgan’s mind spun out of control. What did that mean? What other magic did Ryan carry in his body? Was it his ether? How would it affect her if they completed the soul mate ritual?

“But WindWraith has no trouble stealing your magic,” she said.

“I know. That alarms me.”

“It’s likely because WindWraith’s older, stronger. Because it knows how to unravel your Ancient magic, whereas, your future Fomorians have lost the knowledge.”

A crimson-breasted parrot screeched shrilly at them before vaulting into the sky in a flurry of moonlit wings, startling a whinny out of the winged horse. Morgan’s defensive powers rose then unconsciously dropped like lead inside her core, leaving her feeling bereft of magic. She loathed having to smother her magic. Trembling, the foal butted between them, tromping on Ryan’s toes. Ryan swore at the winged horse. Smiling, she envisioned his scowl the darkness hid.

Torchlight glistened on his hair, a golden halo framing his tanned face. He linked his fingers through hers, leading her to a fallen tree. Age crumbled the log’s ends, the middle left solid. He hunkered down between her legs and offered her the waterskin, which she gratefully took and drank deeply. Morgan patted water on her face, then handed the waterskin back.

Ryan kissed her lovingly, her lips quivering in unspoken passion. His tongue explored the recesses of her mouth. She swished her tongue around his, tasting the sharp bite of coconut. Their passions magnified and her palms grew damp. Without breaking the kiss, Ryan pulled her into the circle of his arms, her toes barely scraping the ground. Fresh energy danced along her skin. She clung to his waist, loving his safe solidness. Ryan feathered kisses across her cheek to her ear, and they remained in each other’s arms for a long moment, hands roving, caressing, devouring hungry skin.

“I can’t get enough of you.”

She chuckled against his bare chest, preferring his mixture of sweat and spicy soap to the mud-thick jungle aromas. “Nor I you.” She craned her neck back to gaze adoringly at this man who belonged to her.

He kissed her forehead, her nose, then pressed his lips to hers in a last fleeting kiss. “Let’s hit it.”

“Yes, taskmaster.” She mock saluted him.

Whinnying and tossing his head, the foal chased a gray and green rabbit into a thicket. He nosed at the bushes and stamped a tiny hoof in frustration. Laughing, Morgan coaxed him away from the harmless bunny. Ryan refilled their waterskins in the creek gurgling sluggishly through the jungle. Soon enough, they wrestled with the overgrown vegetation again.

“Ryan, how did you come by clothes and whatnot when you washed ashore?” She slipped in loose river pebbles in a dry arm of the creek. Ryan caught her elbow, steadying her. They moved inland a few yards to steer away from the natural path alongside the creek that haphazardly altered their course, lengthening their trek.

“The day before the pact signing, I couldn’t wait to escape my horrible life, if only for an afternoon.” His tread grew heavy. “I sailed out of the bay on a wide-open sheet of aquamarine, not a cloud in the sky. That wasn’t surprising since clouds no longer formed. The Horde Wars caused electromagnetic pulses that zapped all electronics, machinery, and much of the world’s population. It also screwed up weather patterns.” He touched her arm, stopping her. She looked up at him expectantly. “I’d never given up hope that somewhere out in the vast seas I’d find a normal life again. Hope crawled through me like an inchworm, never dying, never growing.” Ryan smoothed his fingers down her cheek. “Hope was all my people had.”