Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 5

  Furiously wiping her hand across her face, the hopelessness dissolved, and determination flashed in her eyes, a courageous spark that nearly broke his heart. She rose from the table, and hope flashed through him. He skirted the desk. He grabbed the edge as three little girls emerged from the narrow stairwell and careened into the room. They rushed straight through his body, and the touch of them filled him with a spasm of grief. Such sadness overwhelmed their little hearts that tears flooded his eyes.

  The woman held out her arms, and the four of them fell to the floor. The sounds of their sobbing tore through him and the sight of them… It wasn’t possible. The girls looked exactly like his sisters had looked ten years ago. As he wondered how that might be possible, he studied the oldest one. He stared at Faith in her preteen years. The girl’s thick black hair fell in a straight line past her waist. Her small, fragile body had begun to blossom and held the promise of Faith’s petite but lush frame. The girl’s gestures were so familiar, he knew the exact moment she would touch the youngest girl’s face. The girls began to fade, and the Faith-clone glanced over the head of his red-haired beauty. Her deep blue gaze locked on his, the brilliance enhanced by the tears that sparkled there, but her alert, clever eyes filled with a knowledge that stunned him. She offered him a gentle smile, and when her lips moved, he leaned forward eagerly.

  He heard no words, but he knew what she said. “We need you.”

  He took a step forward, and the woman and children vanished.

  They didn’t vanish, Kendall. They were never there. What is wrong with you?

  The vision had seemed so real. Filled with sight, sound, smell and, if he’d had another few moments alone with his dream girl, touch.

  Who were these children that seemed to be his sisters’ twins? And who was this woman that had managed to tug at his heart?

  He fell back into his chair, picked up the page, and reread the words.

  He glanced toward the center of the room. Was there enough strength and emotion in the words on the page to manifest four ghosts? Or had his heart merely conjured what he wished he could have—a strong-willed, spirited woman with courage, determination, pride, and a wounded heart only he could mend? Ryder traced the words again with his fingertips. She wanted a champion. He suddenly felt a desire to be a hero, and with any luck, the little wench might be grateful.

  You going to make love to a ghost, Kendall? This figment of your imagination will only lead to trouble or rehab. Stick with real women.

  “She is real, or was real. And she’s mine. I can feel it.”

  This specter fulfilled the criteria his heart demanded. He felt an intense need for this exact woman, as though he had been dreaming of and searching for her all his life. Beautiful. Desirable. Spirited. She was almost a gift.

  The trouble was—

  “She’s probably dead, but that’s not going to stand in your way, is it? A ghost? Trapped in the past? A different dimension? All minor problems. You’ll deal. Your life isn’t exactly normal. You live with three witches. Compared to that, finding a dead girl should be easy.”

  But her identify could be a problem. The only clue was Stephen Caindale and Faith’s rather dubious beliefs.

  The little hottie with the gorgeous hair could not be Sarah Kendall. Sarah had died giving birth to the youngest, as his own mother had died with Charity. She was not the girls’ mother, but this could be a perfect opportunity for her to be the mother to his.

  “Jesus Christ, are you seriously thinking of finding this girl? This dead girl? That wasn’t a window into the next room. Oh, no, that was a window into some other time. A time that’s gone.”

  Then how did the Faith-clone see you? She looked right at you, talked to you.

  Faith was right. History was his job, and the history of his adopted family, his hobby. They were Fiana, Hannah, and Corliss Caindale—the first American Trinity, the Kendall lucky charms, the Kendall witches—and exact duplicates of his Weird Sisters. Faith, Hope, and Charity.

  “How is that possible?”

  He glanced across the room, willing the four girls to return. A trinity of girls who were dead ringers for his own sisters, and one beautiful redhead, the most fuckable woman he’d ever seen. He thought he might be falling in love.

  He pulled a leather volume toward him. The Keats. He flipped it open to his favorite poem, the one that fulfilled his dream and seemed to offer him the most promise. He skimmed through the lines he knew by heart.

  I met a lady in the meads,

  Full beautiful - a Fairy's child,

  Her hair was long, her foot was light,

  And her eyes were wild…

  She looked at me as she did love,

  And made sweet moan…

  And sure in language strange she said, I love thee true…

  And this is why I sojourn here

  Alone and palely loitering,

  Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake,

  And no birds sing.

  He never thought he’d find a love like that. He doubted it could be healthy to love like that, oblivious to everything but the woman in your arms. It sounded dangerous, but it also sounded right. What would be the point of loving at all unless it enveloped your entire soul? Ryder picked up the parchment and folded it gently. He slipped it between the pages of the Keats and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans, a lucky talisman to hold onto until he found a way to resolve this situation. His hands wandered over the lists and ledgers Mrs. Cargill had loaned him.

  “They’re in some kind of trouble,” he muttered. “Hell, I can be a champion. I’m not the Keeper of the Trinity for nothing. I’ll talk the girls into doing me a little favor. Maybe I’ll have them work a little magic, and I’ll take a trip. I’ll find some way to get to you, baby, and when I do, you’re going to be mine. You can’t fight destiny.”

  That was the last thing he remembered.

  Chapter 6

  Caindale Castle, Ireland

  1235

  The man wound his fingers around her hand and tugged her through the thick wooden door and into a rounded chamber. The castle keep was dark and cool even after a day of blistering sunshine, and though she cared little what environment surrounded her, she relished the sensation. She took a moment to inspect the room, noting the heavy tapestries that covered tall, narrow windows, the rushes upon the floor and the wide hearth spread with a thick cover of ashes. She turned to the man.

  He was as beautiful a man as she’d ever seen, though beauty mattered little to her. She was the Leanan sidhe, a faery wisp, and mortal men existed only to sustain her life. She lusted for the soul within and this man, with his youthful face, his wonderfully hard body and his love of life, held a soul worth hundreds of ordinary men. He was young, but she cared not. His soul was strong.

  And if and when she chose, pleasure could be found in the strong arms of this man. At her bidding, his mouth would spread kisses over her flesh, his tongue would lick her pussy and slide over her clit and she would revel in the shudders that racked her body. When his cock pushed between her pussy lips and touched the spot within, she would soar to the heavens while waiting for his essence to flood the hollows of her body, bringing with it the glorious sustenance she craved. More importantly, she would live for another length of time.

  His face held a boyish charm that thrilled her and that dimple in his chin would be her undoing. She would spend more time in this man’s arms than necessary. But that was her prerogative after all.

  “What name shall I call thee?” the man asked.

  She turned to him and smiled. His mane of honey blond hair tumbled over his shoulders in shaggy disarray. She brushed at several locks that had drifted into his face. Even in the gloom of the keep, his hair glinted with streaks of gold. “I rarely need a name.”

  “Perhaps not, but ‘tis well to know the name of your one true love. Ye’ve captured my heart, lass.”

  Why do some of them always insist on talk?

  She rose
on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. “’Tis but a fantasy, a small piece of time that will belong only to us. Then ‘twill vanish as quickly as a summer’s rain. No need exists for names between us, but you may call me Aislynn.”

  “Thy name means vision, dream. Is that what thou art?”

  “I am whatever thou wishes me to be.”

  He touched her face, his finger blazing a path of fire across her cheek. She sighed as her pussy clenched, needing his cock to fill her, wanting to feel the pounding of his heart against her breasts, already swollen, tender and aching for his touch. Her heart fluttered with anticipation as his hand slid behind her back and began to tug on the laces of her dress.

  “I wish to see all of thee,” he whispered.

  Aislynn—she rarely thought of herself that way but often they insisted on a name—smiled. “And I wish to see all of thee.”

  He slid the dress down her body, and it fell into a lavender puddle at her feet. She loved the way he looked at her. The power of his gaze infused her with strength. Everywhere his glance touched created a heat that simmered beneath her skin, waiting for the spark that would catch it ablaze. She knew how she looked to his eyes. She looked the same to all mortal men. Perfect.

  His gaze traveled over the soft glowing texture of her shoulders, moved to the full swollen breasts, and over the smooth line of her waist which curved into gently rounded hips and long legs. His stare focused on the dark russet V between her legs. The place he wanted to be. Her pussy pulsed and a tiny shiver ran beneath her skin.

  Touch me. Love me. Die for me. Give me the sustenance I must have to survive.

  He reached behind her and pulled the pin from her hair. Glossy red curls spilled over her shoulders and down her back. They tickled her skin and she laughed, but her laugh was for the fire that burned in his eyes and the anticipation of all it would bring. He couldn’t take his gaze off her hair. That didn’t surprise her in the least. Her hair made men want to lose themselves in the silkiness of the strands, smell the aroma of wildflowers and green hills, revel in the warmth, the texture, the fire.

  He took one step backward and began to shed his clothes, yanking at the laces of his shirt and ripping it over his head. He toed off his boots, trying to keep his balance while tugging at his hose. He nearly tripped over the growing heap on the floor. She smiled as she watched because the exuberance of youth held a special elixir, and she could not wait to drink from his soul.

  Aislynn had never felt an aura like this man possessed—so vibrant, healthy, intoxicating. Something else hovered around him that filled her with slight apprehension though she had no idea why. She struggled to determine what it was but could think of nothing substantial. Was it his age? Was he the youngest man she’d ever enchanted? Perhaps that was it. He certainly wasn’t the most handsome because that honor belonged to a warrior named Cameron Flynn.

  She’d just left Flynn to languish into death. She’d fought hard to win his soul. She almost laughed because the man Flynn had very little soul to win. He was a hard man, cruel, sometimes vicious. Months had passed in this mortal world while she waited for Flynn to pledge his undying love. She grew stronger, draining from him every meager scrap he had to give. It hadn’t been much but, as she absorbed what life he possessed, she had become more powerful. The strength came from the challenge, and she had gained great strength from Cameron Flynn. She still felt the effects of that theft. It had left her with a giddy euphoria that lasted days.

  She’d come across this man, this Remy Caindale, quite by accident on a nearby road. His wide smile, friendly eyes and strong, muscled body had attracted her attention immediately. It hadn’t been hard to gain his. It usually only took a smile. Remy Caindale was a dream, a vision, a—

  He was completely naked. She felt the smile dissolve from her face.

  The man’s cock held her spellbound. That surprised her somewhat because she did not usually care about the physical details of the prize. Her gaze focused on the length of cock jutting toward her and swaying with an erotic rhythm. Its dark purple veins pulsed in sync with the pounding of his heart, its swollen head plump and juicy. A drop of his essence clung to the tip and she wanted to lick it away.

  The man—she really must try to remember his name was Remy for a short time since he insisted on names—held out his arms and she went to him.

  His mouth came down hard against hers, his lips searching hers with an urgency that caught her off guard. They loved her. They always did. But the spell held them bound to her desires, her needs, not their own. He should wait for her kiss, die with need until he received it.

  Fear sliced up her spine. Something was wrong.

  But his mouth brought such wonders to her. His lips pushed hard against hers, demanding a response, forcing sounds from her body that seemed foreign, unnecessary for the theft. Pleasure was something she took at her will but not always part of the game. She’d not yet opened herself to the enjoyment. She hadn’t taken them to the Between Times. His mouth roamed across her lips, nipping, tugging, teasing, tasting. His tongue slipped inside her mouth against her will and she sucked it in with a strength and greed that scared her. She raked her hands through those glorious strands of honey hair and pulled him closer. He felt so wonderful.

  His lips slid across her face, touched her ear, kissed her jaw then moved down to lock on her throat. She forgot to breathe.

  Aislynn panicked. For the first time in thousands upon thousands of year, kissing and fucking hundreds upon hundreds of men, something coursed through her that she’d never felt before. The man’s soul nudged at the edge of her sanity, trying to steal its way into her heart, trying to touch the soft spun fabric of her own tattered soul.

  He’s stealing pieces of me! A mortal man cannot steal pieces of the Leanan Sidhe. ‘Tis unnatural.

  His mouth covered hers again, slanting across her lips then forcing hers open as his tongue pushed inside once again. She struggled for a moment, but he would not release her mouth. His kiss went on forever, longer than forever, until Aislynn thought she would be drained of life, drained of sustenance, wither and die without his mouth.

  “My beautiful vision, my perfect dream,” he murmured. “My Aislynn.”

  He lifted her in strong arms, cradling her like a child, and carried her across the room and fell with her to the bed. The mattress sank with their weight. The soft fur of the bedclothes brushed against her skin and enveloped her.The hard length of his body covered hers—breasts to chest, hips to hips, cock to pussy. His legs fell between her thighs and pushed them open. She surrendered willingly and opened her legs wider, enjoying the feel of the tight, well-used muscles of his thighs, the dusting of coarse hair on his skin.

  She angled her pussy against his cock, rubbing her clit hard, feeling the tension spiral through her. Her heart thundered in her chest, matching the beat of his. Her lips parted with a moan when he shifted and ground his hips into hers. Her swollen pussy flooded with moisture and ached with an intensity she’d never felt in her eternity of existence. If he didn’t fill her with his cock, she would die.

  .“Fuck me, Remy.”

  “Not yet,” he said. “I fear thou will disappear as thou appeared. Promise thou will stay and be mine.”

  A wimper escaped her lips. “I will stay. I will grant any wish to thee. But I need your body in mine. Now.”

  His dark gaze locked on hers, his face close, his breath fanning her cheeks. His hand stroked her hair, tenderly, gently, his big hands reaching to cup her face. She closed her eyes. It stole her soul to look at him. She had none to spare.

  His cock grew larger, lunging against her. He possessed such willpower.

  ’Tis impossible. How is it that he resists?

  His body slid down hers. She clutched at his hair, trying to hold him, but he continued down until his face nestled between her thighs. She jerked when his mouth touched her clit. He dropped gentle kisses against the throbbing flesh and an ache roared through her.

  ’T
is not happening. I’ve fallen into my own spell. I’ve created an illusion out of want, need. It cannot be real.

  Oh, but it felt real.

  His fingers parted the lips and he buried his face into her flesh. Remy’s tongue lapped at her pussy, licking the cream that slipped from her body without her permission. She threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged him closer, holding him to her as her hips thrust up with an urgency she’d never felt before. The tension in her body spiraled higher and higher. The muscles in her thighs clenched and released.

  Remy sucked on her clit, and her body convulsed, her back arching upward, her head flinging back. Her neck muscles strained and Aislynn gritted her teeth. She tried to control the shudders that rippled under her skin.

  “Oh, Remy. Stop. ’Tis a gift I cannot accept.”

  Her voice sounded strange to her ears.

  He didn’t stop. His mouth continued to drink its fill. His tongue continued to drive her to madness. She held her breath, hoping it would end, willing it away and yet the sensations grew stronger. Her body quivered as if it too waited with bated breath.

  His tongue speared into her pussy and he touched her clit with his finger. One tiny touch and her body exploded. She cried out with a sound she didn’t recognize. Her hips jerked upwards and every inch of her shook with a force she couldn’t control. Still Remy did not stop. His lips sucked and licked. He pulled her pussy lips into his mouth. He fingered her swollen, vibrating clit, forcing her to accept wave after wave of grueling, torturous sensations that burst through her and shattered her thoughts. She could think of nothing but her pussy and the delicious swell of ecstasy. It went on forever, for a lifetime, an eternity.

  Her body melted into the furs, limp, exhausted. Her limbs felt heavy. She could not raise her head. Remy finally stopped and worked his way back up her body, dropping kisses on her feverish skin.

  “Thou art mine now?” he whispered.

  Aislynn sighed. “Oh, aye, my lord. For now and ever after.”

  His cock slid into her wet, swollen pussy and she clenched her muscles around him, holding him tightly. He kissed her mouth and brushed the hair away from her sweaty face.