MacNachton Vampires: Born To Bite Part 6

"I find I am in nay mood to play, either," she whispered against his ear and then lightly nipped at the lobe.

"Sweet Jesu, I dinnae think I have e'er heard sweeter words."

Her soft laugh turned into a gasp of pleasure as he thrust inside of her. Her body welcomed him greedily. Murdina held him close as he moved, each stroke deep within her sending her pa.s.sion climbing higher until she trembled from the force of it. A tightness low in her belly increased until she knew she was close to tumbling into the bliss he could give her. There was a quick, sharp pain in her neck and she fell, crying out his name as pleasure swept over her in waves. A small, still sane part of her heard him cry out her name as he joined her in that fall.

It was not until she felt a cool, damp cloth bathe her between her legs that Murdina became aware of her surroundings once again. She opened her eyes as Gillanders walked away to rinse out the cloth he had used on her and quickly bathe himself. He was a beautiful sight to behold, she thought a little besottedly, as he walked back to the bed and slipped in beside her. She murmured with pleasure when he took her into his arms, holding her close and running his fingers through her hair.

" 'Tis done now, love," he said. "Everyone at Cambrun will ken that ye are mine now."

She frowned and touched her neck, surprised by the feel of a small mark upon her skin." 'Tis a scar already?"

"Aye. When we bite someone, if we lick at the wound afterward, it will heal. We dinnae ken why, but when we bite the woman we have chosen as ours, when we have fully accepted that she is our mate, that mark doesnae fade away as all the others do. If ye allow me to have a wee sip of ye now and then, those marks will fade ere we catch our breath." He brushed a kiss over her forehead.

"Catch our breath?"

"Weel, unless 'tis done for some dire need, most time 'tis done with one's mate as part of the loving."

"Ah, I see. Since I barely noticed it when ye did it this time, I cannae see that I shall object. All it did was make the pleasure e'en fiercer," she whispered.

"That it does, but we dinnae do it often. It wouldnae do to take too much blood, and the pleasure can be the sort to make ye want it too often if ye are nay careful."

For a moment she simply enjoyed being held in his arms, savoring the knowledge that this man loved her. Murdina could feel it, knew it would always comfort her. It was a very strange life she would be living now, but she found only happiness in her heart. She had all she could ever want, but there was still one small shadow on that happiness.

"Adeline told me that ye all live for a long time, that your ability to heal so quickly adds many years to your lives," she said. "I dinnae have that ability, Gillanders."

"Ye will." He pulled back a little and smiled at her. "We have discovered that that gift of a long life can be shared. Ye have seen my parents, aye?"

"Aye, your mother was good to come and speak with me several times." She did not think he needed to know that most of that was to encourage her to hunt down her son and make him mark her.

"My mother is four and fifty years old, and my father is eight and seventy."

"Nay."

"Aye, and dinnae look so horrified. My aunt has discovered that, if an Outsider drinks some of our blood, it works in them as it does in us by healing wounds and keeping old age away from the door."

She frowned, not completely sure she could stomach drinking blood, but then certain she could overcome any hesitation if it meant she could remain at his side for many years to come. "But, I dinnae have fangs."

"Ye dinnae need them. I can make a wound if ye can abide drinking from me now and then, or ye can drink the potion Aunt Bridgit has made, one so full of rich wine and spices ye cannae taste the blood in it."

"Oh. Weel, that will do," she said, and was rewarded with a kiss that had her pa.s.sion raising its sated head. But, a chilling thought suddenly occurred to her as he kissed her throat, and she pulled away to look at him. "The Laird kens that, doesnae he."

"We think he might, or will verra soon if we dinnae find him and kill him." He pulled her back into his arms. " 'Tis a dangerous time for us, but ye will be safe here."

"It wasnae my safety I feared for."

"Ye have seen that I am nay without skill in battle, my love. And our laird rarely asks the mated males to go out ahunting, for the loss of a mate is a verra hard thing for a MacNachton to bear, e'en one who has only wed into the clan. Be at ease. Dinnae allow the fears of what might happen to shadow all we can share."

"I love ye, Gillanders," she whispered, brushing a kiss over his mouth.

"And I love ye, Murdina MacNachton."

"Do I get a wedding?" she teased.

"Aye, and since one of the people who hailed us as I rushed ye up here like a fool blinded with his own need was my mother"-he laughed when she blushed-"I suspicion she has already begun the planning of it."

"I shall ne'er get used to how all in a keep seem to ken everyone's business."

"Aye, ye will, for this is nay like Dunnantinny. This is now your home and your family. We shall have us a fine life together."

"Even if it proves to be a verra long one? Can ye love the same la.s.s for a hundred years?"

"Easily. For that long and far longer."

HIGHLAND VAMPIRE.

Diana Cosby.

This book is dedicated to Eric, Stephanie, and Christopher, my amazing children, who are truly blessings in my life. I want to thank each of you for being who you are, and for your service to our country. I'm proud to be your mom. G.o.d bless. I love each of you so much. *Hugs*

Acknowledgments.

I am truly thankful for the immense support from my parents, family, and friends. My deepest wish is that everyone is as blessed when they pursue their dreams.

My sincere thanks and humble grat.i.tude to my editors, Alicia Condon and Megan Records; my agent, Holly Root; my critique partners, Shirley Rogerson, Mary Forbes, and Mich.e.l.le Hanc.o.c.k. Your hard work has helped make the magic of this story come true. A huge thanks as well to Joseph Ha.s.son for brainstorming Highland Vampire with me and allowing the magic of this story to breathe life. A special thanks to Sulay Hernandez for believing in me from the start.

And, thanks to the Roving Lunatics (Mary Beth Shortt and Sandra Hughes) and the Wild Writers for their friendship as continued amazing support!

Chapter One.

July 1297.

Medieval Scotland.

Enter the stone circle.

At the deep burr echoing in her mind, Rowan Campbell whirled. Against the cast of moonlight, she peered between the ma.s.sive towers of stone encircling a swath of land.

Naked, a lone man lay sprawled on his back within the circle. Black hair was strewn over well-muscled shoulders, the firm slide of skin angling to a taut, lean body, a body designed for war.

Had he spoken to her mind? Impossible.

Long moments pa.s.sed.

The warrior remained still.

Had he been injured in battle? Or were the men who'd labeled her a witch responsible for his fate? On a shaky breath, Rowan searched the nearby forest for any sign of movement.

Not a breeze stirred or a stick cracked beneath the cloak of the night. 'Twas as if the world had stopped. Nay, stilled, as if under the sway of a greater force.

The air began to pulse with raw, primal energy. Expectancy curled around her, seeped into her pores. Beneath the silvery cascade of the fading moonlight, the man's body began to shimmer.

Terrified, she stumbled back.

No. Come closer.

Rowan whirled, scoured the night-blacked trees arching toward the sky with ominous intent.

No one.

She'd heard naught but her overactive imagination. Imagination? Nay, being branded a witch and on the run for a sennight would leave the stoutest man on edge. Exhaustion and fear fed her mind.

But neither mattered. If she didn't escape from the Highlands, she would be caught and burned upon a stake. On a sigh she studied the heavens.

Red ribbons of light streaked the sky like blood, announcing the oncoming dawn.

Weariness weighed upon her like a sodden gown. However much she wished to rest, with danger about, she could not tarry. Rowan tried to turn, but sensation halted her, then tugged her forward. Panic threatened, and she tried to step back.

The force dragged her closer to the timeworn stones erected centuries ago. Columns, Highlanders whispered, that held immense power.

"Release me!" Her cry echoed into the night. Merciful Mary, she was on the run. With her pursuers nearby, only a fool would call for help!

She struggled against the pull, but with her next step, her foot settled inside the circle of stones. Like a curtain drawn, the air around her grew thick, the silence rich. When she stood in front of the stranger, her body halted. Fighting for calm, she stared at the formidable man.

Morning rays continued to seep into the sky, its growing brightness silhouetting the warrior's figure. The paleness of his face surprised her, but the hard slant of his cheeks drew her gaze to his mouth, to lips pressed together in pain.

You must aid me to the cave nearby.

She turned to find who'd spoken.

Trees swayed in the breeze, a hawk flew in the distance, but she found no sign of another person.

This was crazy. Rowan tried to step back, but a force dragged her to her knees, drew her hands to encircle the intimidating stranger's waist. As her fingers skimmed across muscled flesh, a jolt rocked her, awareness so deep it shook her to her core.

No, she didn't want to do this! She fought against the compulsion, but her arms lifted him.

Without warning, his legs pushed with her. Then he stood at her side.

I must lean upon you.

Rowan refused to think, to a.n.a.lyze the strangeness of this moment. 'Twas a nightmare, one she prayed she'd awaken from posthaste.

Shafts of sunlight slid over the horizon, and the heat within the stone circle swelled.

Move!

At his low growl, Rowan hurried forward, amazed that even though his face was contorted in agony, he kept pace. They navigated through the break within the stones, and the air around them cleared.

Unsure, she hesitated.

To the cave!

At his harsh command, Rowan guided the dangerous-looking man forward, his weight as he leaned upon her increasing with each step. If he pa.s.sed out, she could never lift him. What was she thinking? If he pa.s.sed out she could escape!

Paces away from the blackened entrance, his breath left him in a hiss, and the stench of burning flesh permeated the air.

Rowan glanced over, stilled. Beneath the sun's newborn rays, slices of red clawed the stranger's shoulder, more pale flesh becoming scorched with each pa.s.sing moment. G.o.d in heaven, what was going on?

On an oath, he jerked her against him, lunged toward the cave. They landed hard, but he kept her protected within his arms.

Her body caged against his, Rowan struggled to break free. "Release me!"

The stranger remained still, his chest unmoving, not a flicker of emotion upon his face.

Frantic, she shoved against his chest.

He budged a hand's width.

Heart racing, she pushed on his injured shoulder; he collapsed onto his side, his moan, low and chilling, echoing through the cavern.

Fear collided with her urge to heal. Ever since she was a child, she'd been skilled in helping others. This man's skin was ice. More, he'd not attacked her but had collapsed atop her from pain.

In the glow of morning light illuminating the land beyond the cave, she caught the pallor of his face, his teeth clenched in pain. Guilt tamped down her nerves. How could he harm her? He could nae move.

Many questions lay unanswered about who he was and how he had ended up naked and near dead within the stone circle, but she needed to focus on tending to him, not on her fear.

With a final tug, Rowan pulled herself free, the honed curve of his backside drawing her to look, appreciate his very male, very muscular form. His pale skin accented the hard angles of his body, highlighted every nuance that formed this incredible man. Fine he was to look at, a fact she had little doubt many a woman had noted.

Even battered and undressed, his body seemed that of a man used to being in charge. A warrior. A man who would normally fail to notice a common healer such as her.

Enough.