Blood Magick (The Cousins O'Dwyer Trilogy #3)(18)

“There you see, not so bad now is it?” He stroked gently to soothe as well as clean. “Not so bad at all.”

He gestured toward the ceiling. Lights streamed, soft colors, music flowed in, soft and lilting. He set the dog down, gave himself the pleasure of the hot jets while the dog lapped at the wet tiles.

Fin was quick, but not quite quick enough to dry the dog before Bugs shook himself, shooting drops all over the bath. His own laugh echoed in the room as the little dog shot him a look of satisfaction.

With that mess sorted out, he moved into the bedroom, tossed down one of the big pillows that grouped on the sofa in his sitting area. But the dog, fully at home now, jumped onto the big, high bed, stretched out like a potentate at his ease.

“Well, at least you’re clean.”

He climbed in himself, decided on a book rather than TV to ease him toward sleep.

By the time Fin turned off the light, Bugs was quietly snoring. Fin found the sound of it a small comfort, and wondered how pathetic it was when a snoring dog eased the lonely.

In the dark, with the fire down to glowing embers, he thought of Branna.

She turned to him, her hair a black curtain, all silk spilling over her bare shoulders. The fire flickered now, gold flames that turned her eyes to silver with that gold dancing in them.

And she smiled.

“You yearn for me.”

“Day and night.”

“And here you want me, in your big bed, in your fancy house.”

“I want you anywhere. Everywhere. You torture me, Branna.”

“Do I?” She laughed, but the sound wasn’t cruel. It was warm as a kiss. “Not I, Finbar, not I alone. We torture each other.” She trailed a finger down his chest. “You’re stronger than you were. As am I. Do you wonder, would we be stronger together?”

“How can I think, how can I wonder, when I’m so full of you?”

He took her hair in his hands, pulled her to him. And God, oh God, the taste of her after so long, after a lifetime, was like life after death.

He rolled over, pressing her under him, going deeper into the wonder of it. Her breasts, fuller, softer, sweeter than he remembered, and her heart drumming under his hands as she arched up to him.

A blur and storm of the senses—the feel of her skin, silk like her hair and warm, so warm, chasing away all the cold. The shape of her, the lovely curves, the sound of her breathing his name, moving, moving under him, chasing away all the lonely.

His blood beat for her; his own heart pounded as she tangled her hands in his hair as she used to, as she ran them down his back. Gripped his hips, arched up. Opened.

He plunged in. The light exploded, white, gold, sparking like fire—all the world afire. Wind whipped in a torrent to send that fire into a roar. For an instant, one breath, the pleasure struck.

Then came the lightning. Then came the dark.

He stood with her in the storm, her hand gripped in his.

“I don’t know this place,” she said.

“Nor do I. But . . .” Something, something he knew, somewhere deep. Too deep to reach. Thick woods, whirling winds, and somewhere close the rush of a river.

“Why are we here?”

“Something’s close,” was all he said.

She turned up her hand, held a small ball of flame. “We need light. Can you find the way?”

“Something’s close. You should go back. It’s the dark that’s close.”

“I won’t go back.” She touched her amulet, closed her eyes. “I feel it.”

When she started forward, he tightened his hold on her hand. He would find a way to shield her, if needed. But the urgency to move on pulled him.

Thick trees, deep shadows that seemed to glow with the dark. No moon, no stars, only that wind that sent the night screaming.

In it, something howled, and the howl was hungry.

Fin wished for a weapon, dug deep for power, drew a blade, and set the blade on fire.

“Dark magicks,” Branna murmured. She, too, seemed to glow, alight with her own power. “All around. This is not home.”

“Not home, but near enough. Not now, but long ago.”

“Yes, ago. His lair? Could it be? Can you tell?”

“It’s not the same. It’s . . . other than that.”

She nodded as though she’d felt the same. “We should call the others. We should have our circle in full. If this is his place.”

“There.” He saw it, dark against dark, the mouth of a cave hunched in a hillside.

He would not take her in, Fin thought. Would not take her there, for within was death. And worse.

Even as he thought it, the old man stepped out. He wore rough robes, worn hide boots. Both his hair and beard were a long tangle of gray. Both madness and magick lived in his eyes.

“You are too soon. You are too late.” As he spoke he held up a hand. Blood dripped from it, blood spread over his rough robes.

“It’s done. Done, as I am done. You are too soon to see it, too late to stop it.”

“What is done?” Fin demanded. “Who are you?”

“I am the sacrifice. I am the sire of the dark. I am betrayed.”

“I can help you.” But as Branna started forward, power roared out of the cave. It swept her back, Fin with her, sent the old man falling to the ground where his blood pooled black on the earth.