Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(81)
His penetrating eyes stared into the depths of my soul. Love, lust, and possession sparked his olive irises, dissolving my misguided fear. I arched up, pressing my breasts up against him, tasting his lips with slow, soft nips.
Iain growled, pressing me down into the bed. No tenderness would soothe his raging beast breaking free. He devoured my mouth in a bruising kiss and slammed into my depths with such force, I grew certain his marks would be everywhere on my body from the inside out.
An indefinable need tore loose in me too. My carnal met his primal. We consumed each other, desperate to release the tension under which we’d been suffering. With every hard drive into me, my hips met his, deepening the impact.
The slaps of hot, slickened bodies mixed with labored grunts as sounds rebounded into the chamber. My climax built on a steady ache, simmering below a boiling point, driving me toward frenzied insanity.
Pleasurable pain thrummed endlessly on a charged tightwire. Iain drove in hard then paused. The break in rhythm cascaded me over the edge, and my muscles clenched around him. A tremendous orgasm thundered through me, and I screamed.
Iain went wild. He plunged into me as I buried my face into his shoulder. His unrelenting thrusts escalated my ecstasy, sending another set of punishing waves crashing through me. I gasped for air, gripping him so tightly, we became one. He roared and stiffened, his release overtaking him.
Heart racing.
Head spinning.
Lungs tried to supply oxygen to my brain, and the rush of fresh air set off a chain-reaction epiphany.
All had been set right in the world. My priorities had been reestablished.
Iain was my world in his realm. Nothing mattered but Iain—not some historical imperative, not a sense of purpose, and certainly not a man who existed twelve hundred years in the past.
Iain needed me . . . all of me . . . for every moment I could grant of myself. Hundreds in his clan depended on him for his selfless love and protection. He gave of himself completely to their needs every single day of his life. When Iain needed to be replenished—so that he had something of value to give to his people—I would be there to provide.
I clung tightly to him as his protective body settled around mine. Iain’s massive arms and legs imprisoned me, allowing just enough room for my easy breath. I nestled closer, enjoying the security of his captivity.
A hazy bliss descended, calming my mind and body. I sank into a peaceful state far beneath the surface, where thoughts were too buoyant to hold within my grasp.
CHAPTER Twenty-eight
Waves swelled and lowered, lifting and dropping, until motion sickness pulled me from restless sleep. My hand flew to my mouth. I almost dashed to the garderobe or a chamber pot, but the uneasiness subsided. On a deep breath, cold, crisp air filled my lungs. An attempt to open my eyes brought reflective light shining so brightly, my lids protested themselves shut.
The disorientation grew when I attempted to sit up and discovered I already . . . stood. I lifted a hand to my brow, trying to shield my vision, but dropped it when equal light came from below. Unable to stop curiosity, I forced my eyes wide open.
Speechless—because I’d gone completely thought-less—I blinked in disbelief, dragging air into shocked-frozen lungs. The world had done another complete three-sixty . . . into a fantasy wonderland.
Microscopic, glittery particles hung suspended in midair, bouncing prisms off of each other. The refracted light seemed to come from everywhere, reminding me of a ski trip I’d once taken where the dry, freezing conditions had crystallized the air into billions of infinitesimal diamonds.
I stroked a splayed hand through the vapor. Cool to the touch, the molecules parted, swirling into disturbed mist. A glance down told me not only had I been transported to Wherever Land completely naked, I floated upon the obviously buoyant, somewhat-solid particles. We undulated together in slow rhythm from a current I sensed by a gentle breeze against my legs.
I took a hesitant step forward. My footing held, secure on the stiff, cotton-candy substrate. With no landmarks or features to gauge any direction by, I wandered aimlessly through the sparkling whiteness, seeking an explanation of my being deposited into all the soft-and-fluffy.
Clearly, stress had breached into my sleep, gifting me a confusing “awareness” dream—a dream within a dream. My subconscious often tricked me into believing I’d awoken into a realistic fa?ade before it shocked the hell out of me, continuing the nightmare.
Only . . . the scenery around me resembled no realistic plane I’d ever been on.
And . . . I couldn’t remember the nightmare.
“Hellooo . . .” My voice sounded muted in the vast nothingness.
Something soft whispered across my right shin. Mist swirled in the wake of a dark shadow moving in my same unidentified direction. I hurried to follow.
As I closed the distance, I realized my pace hadn’t quickened. What I pursued . . . had slowed. The closer I approached, the more the creature’s details sharpened into focus.
I jarred to a stop. Memories of a black-cloaked image flickered, and my heart slammed from zero to sixty, hammering permanent dents into my ribcage. A burst of air from an invisible source cleared the air around us as the creature stopped, its back remaining toward me.
Midnight feathers covered enormous wings, the tops arching higher in agitation, the tips grazing the cloud-covered ground. Each plume rippled to attention as menace poured off the entity, sparking the air with its warning as if a cobra flared its hood, readying a strike. An undetected breeze tousled the figure’s long, glossy, black hair.