“It’s hard to explain. I guess you could say it’s like holy light.” He gripped her chin softly, raising her eyes to his. “Don’t ever look at it again. You can yell or hit me if you think I’m belittling you, but if you’re around and I aim this thing, you’d better close your eyes.”

“Yes, warrior.”

“I think the time vault weakened it. Otherwise, you’d be dead. We’re lucky it destroyed those halflings.”

“It didn’t look damaged to me. Does it do anything beside destroy demons?”

“It transports the shackles and time vaults. We have shackles that paralyze the demons so we can get them inside the time vaults.”

“What do you do with the time vaults? Bury them?”

“They’re sent to a holding place, not on earth.”

“Another dimension?”

“Aye.”

“Good heavens. Can you take the talisman off?”

“No. We don’t take off our talismans. Ever.”

Not even when they bathed or made love? “You were almost finished with your duty. You could’ve married soon. Did you have anyone special? Were you ever in love?”

He studied an old scar on his hand for too long before he shook his head. There had been a woman. Bree was sure of it. The thought gnawed at her, but there was no point in asking him. Whoever she was, the woman would be dead now.

“You must have dated?” He’d put every other lover she’d had to shame. He had acquired the skill somewhere.

“Dated?”

“Courted women.”

“A warrior needs his head in the battle, not worrying over a lass or a mate,” he said, not answering her question. “Many remain virgins until they take a mate. There are always demons trying to find weaknesses to use against us. The female demons take on exceptional forms.”

“I saw one in the castle. She was incredibly beautiful, then she turned into this thing with hooves.”

“Be glad she didn’t see you. They can be very nasty.”

“So a female demon uses her beauty to distract you, then ka-bam. It must be tough going into training while your hormones are raging.”

“It teaches us to focus. Makes us stronger. What about you and all these men?”

He still acted like she had a male harem. “I’ve dated some… well, a lot.”

There was a slight narrowing of his eyes. “Define a lot.”

She cleared her throat, not wanting to explain her disastrous love life to a man from the nineteenth century. “Ten boyfriends… more or less. Most of them didn’t make it past the first good-night kiss.”

“Most?” He stared at her knees. “How many did you…” his jaw worked, as if he was clenching his teeth.

“Four.” She blushed and looked away. Including him… and Druan. The unspoken words lay between them like a ticking bomb.

Faelan didn’t say anything, just studied her, so she didn’t know if he was horrified or relieved.

She touched his talisman again, the warmth of the metal soothing. “So no one else can use your talisman?” she asked quickly, changing the subject.

“Not unless it’s reassigned. It would kill him… or her.”

“These symbols,” she said, running her fingers over the markings, “look like writing.”

“They are.”

“I don’t recognize the language.”

“No one does. It’s a heavenly language.”

“Like heaven heaven?”

“There’s only one.”

“Is that what you were speaking when you destroyed the halflings in the chapel?”

He nodded.

“At first I thought it was Gaelic. You do speak Gaelic?” She was sure he’d spoken it when they’d made love.

“Aye.”

“Say something.”

“What?”

“Anything.”

A gleam lit his eyes. “Tha thu as do chiall.”

“What does that mean?”

He smiled but refused to tell her, and she finally gave up. She’d look it up on the computer, if she could ever get the thing to work.

“Where do the talismans come from?”

“Michael—” Faelan pressed his lips together.

“Who’s Michael?”

“It’s a long story. Why don’t you tell me about this instead?” He slipped one finger underneath her shirt collar, pulling out the silver cross.

“It was my dad’s.”

“What was it doing under the floor?”

A barrage of memories assaulted her. A young girl in tears, bloody fingernails, a glowing crypt. Her dad before he died, fear in his eyes, hugging Bree so tight it scared her. “It’s a long story,” she said, throwing his words back at him.

He met her gaze, then gave a brief nod and released the necklace.

“What about your tattoos? What do they mean?” She stroked one of the curved symbols on his chest, and his skin quivered under her touch.

“They’re battle marks. They appear after our training, when we accept our calling.”

“You have a choice whether to be a warrior?”

“A warrior can refuse his mission. He wouldn’t do much good if his heart weren’t in it.”

“Are all battle marks the same?”

“Each warrior is marked according to his strengths and weaknesses. Same with the symbols on the talismans. They protect and bless.”

“There’s writing on the side of your talisman, too. I didn’t see it before.”

“Before?”

“The night you passed out, your shirt was off. I saw the talisman and your marks then.”

Faelan’s look turned mischievous. “I remember waking with far less than my shirt. What else did you notice?”

“Very little. And I didn’t take your clothes off. You did.”

“Little? You think I need some of those supplements you were talking about?” His gaze flickered over her breasts and legs.

She grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her lap, cheeks burning. No, he didn’t need them.

“I remember a dream. But it didn’t feel like a dream. I was kissing you.” He brushed a knuckle across her lips. “And you were kissing me back.”

Danger, Bree Kirkland. Danger. “Do I need to get a broom from Mrs. Edwards?”

He grinned and tucked his hands back under his arms, making the muscles in his shoulders and chest ripple. “Better?”

No. “Is this another battle mark?” she asked, touching the small circle behind his ear. She felt a jolt run up her fingers.

“I don’t have…” He stood and walked to the mirror. The color drained from his face.



Chapter 19


Faelan scrubbed his fingers across the small circle with jagged edges. A mate mark. How? Bree stared at him, puzzled. Her hair was pulled back. He could see she didn’t have a mark, at least not behind her ear. A woman often got her mark later than her mate, and it wasn’t always in the same place, but Bree wasn’t his mate. She wasn’t even from his time or his clan. Was his mark for a dead woman he’d never known?

He wanted to sleep, to forget about coincidences and questions without answers and things that couldn’t be. Just for a few hours.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” He sat on the bed with a weary sigh and lay crossways on the soft mattress.

“I should get back to my room.” She glanced at the door but didn’t move.

“Don’t go.”

She watched him, her eyes wide. Her hair was damp, and her skin, scrubbed clean, was as smooth as porcelain, cheeks with a hint of blush, growing deeper as he stared at her. Clear green eyes he knew he’d see in his dreams, whether he was alive or dead. And red, juicy lips, like an apple waiting to be tasted. She’d broken into a demon’s castle and escaped, but she looked like a princess. His bonny princess, he thought, like the stories Alana had begged him to tell. He touched his neck again and patted the bed next to him. “Sleep next to me.” He didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. “Please.”

***

The man eased across the landing, unaware he was being watched. The air thickened, forming a black mist. The man turned. It was Faelan. The mist swirled like a great, dark cloud, and when it was gone, Faelan had vanished.

Bree’s eyes flew open, and it took her a minute to figure out where she was. Faelan’s body was curved around her, keeping her warm and safe. He moved his head, mumbled a name she couldn’t make out, and tightened his arms around her. Was this a premonition or another dream? She let the steady beat of his heart soothe her to sleep.

***

Faelan woke to a warm scent as familiar as his talisman, but he felt unsettled, maybe because Bree was sleeping half on top of him. Her head rested on his chest, one leg nestled between his thighs, and her hand curled close to his belt.

He shifted, and the arm holding her prickled with numbness. He needed to see the mark on his neck again, to make sure. It must be the time vault throwing things off kilter. He didn’t know everything Bree was, but he knew what she wasn’t. His mate. And lying here any longer would be a bad idea. He didn’t need the entanglement. He couldn’t let his guard down again, and she’d said she didn’t want a man in her life, but having her draped over him made it hard to remember what was best. He tried to lift her head so he could move, but she sighed and rubbed her face against his chest. He repositioned his arm, and blood flowed into the starved limb. Both of them.

He made the mistake of sniffing her hair, which had worked loose from its clasp. He pressed his lips to it and inhaled. Hunger stirred, making him hard. He suspected she wouldn’t say no if he persisted, but it wouldn’t be right. Last night he’d wanted her next to him for comfort. It would add insult to injury to ravish her after what he’d already done. Even as he tried to talk himself out of it, her scent roared into every part of his body. Now that he’d had a taste of her, it was harder to hold back.

He felt her wake and heard a soft gasp. Her fingers twitched, far too close to his groin. He reached down to pull the covers across his lap, to spare them both further embarrassment, but her hand moved quicker. He held back a groan as she grazed one fingertip over him. Did she have any idea what she was doing? She made the trail a few more times while he held his breath. Unbuttoning his pants, she tugged on the zipper, and slipped her hand inside.