The tension in his chest eased a bit and Latharn chuckled with relief. Brodie had fire. Good for the lad. At least, he’d not considered himself mad when Latharn had spoken aloud. The MacKay power was strong in this one. He swirled the energy just beneath the surface of the crystal and shimmered it at Brodie’s growling reprimand. “If it makes ye feel any better, Cousin, I havena spoken to anyone in several hundred years. I’ve no’ uttered a word to the outside world since my mother took her life and traveled to the next plane.”
Fiona covered Brodie’s hand with hers and silenced her husband with a shake of her head. “Forgive him, Cousin Latharn. It’s just that Brodie has always defended ye and felt a particular sorrow for all ye have suffered.”
With a curt nod, Brodie cleared his throat as he stared down at Fiona’s hand over his. “Aye, please forgive me, Cousin. My words were thoughtless but I meant ye no ill will. I just thought ye would have spoken to us before now. It might have helped us in your search for the woman who was the one to set ye free.”
Latharn deepened the color of the globe by allowing his emotions to fuse into its aura. The force of the light intensified as his voice echoed through the room.
“I’ve watched ye since before your soul decided to leave the cosmos and join us on this plane. I know your heart is pure, Brodie MacKay. Hear me when I say I am proud to know ye will be the one to aide me when I rejoin the world.”
Brodie propped his elbows on the counter, his face reddened as he strained to see even deeper into the orb. “The legend says the one woman ye could ever love must whisper for ye to join her and be her lover. Is that true? Is that the secret to breaking the curse and setting ye free?”
Latharn caused the witch’s ball to shimmer with his response. It flared brighter than the light from the farthest window. “From everything my mother could find that appears to be the way of it. Ye see, my fine cousin, the dark sorceress, Deardha, thought me quite incapable of ever losing my heart to another. And to tell ye the absolute truth of it, I had often doubted it myself.”
Latharn pulsed the glowing aura with each word he spoke. He ensured the energy kept a perfect tempo with his words. “When she first cast me inside this crystal hell, I meditated upon the mysteries for the first hundred years. With my mind, I searched through many planes of existence to find the melody that resonated with my own. It was during my meditations that I found her spirit’s existence. Her essence called out to me from far across time and space. Her song came to me from deep within the mystical winds. It echoed into the depths of these crystal walls. When her soul decided it was time to choose a physical form, she was born. Ye canna imagine my relief when I found she existed on this plane. In the summer of her eighteenth year, an act of cruelty revealed the pathway to her dreams. Her heartache called out to me. It weakened the void. It enabled me to connect with her…to contact her subconscious mind. Through her dreams, I’ve been able to form a bond with her even though I’ve never been able to speak. Ye have no idea how difficult it is to attempt to guide someone to ye without ever saying a word.”
Scratching his jaw, Brodie paced back and forth in front of the counter. “Why can ye not speak to her? Why can ye not talk with her while ye walk among her dreams? As your guardians, they warned us never to speak of the curse. Your glass tomb would be shattered and your soul splintered into the depths of the eternal abyss. Are ye telling me the same thing could happen if ye tried speaking to the lass whilst ye walked in her dreams?”
Brodie’s innocence amazed him. It must be the century. Latharn’s rumbling chuckle boiled up through his belly and rippled through the glass, spilling out across the room. “If I was able to speak to the lass, then I’d be able to tell her how to break the spell. Your heart is too pure, Brodie, m’lad. Ye would make a terrible wielder of dark magic.”
Fiona shoved her face closer to the globe as she pushed Brodie aside. “Are ye trying to tell us ye’ve turned evil, Latharn MacKay? If that be the case, we’ll not be helping ye break free of your prison in any way! We’ll have no evil walking among us. We’ll leave ye to your crystal hell!”
Fiona had no idea. What a dear sweet lass. Latharn struggled to remember his descendants couldn’t fully understand. How could they? They had never walked his path. He inhaled a deep, cleansing breath, and forced himself to rein in his temper. With a jerk of his hand, the room swelled with a pulsating flash of energy. The shockwave blasted out of the ball and shoved them both away from the counter.
“I am not evil, Fiona, my lass. However, I will warn ye of this. After six hundred years of imprisonment inside this globe, my patience is no what it used to be.”
ChapterSeven
He lit the candles. This time, the ritual would be right. She had spoken to him and shown him the error of his ways. He had the book now. She had given him strength and taught him the meaning of the words. The moon was waxing, and he had a bit of the woman’s hair. With this spell, he would have his revenge. Thick, sputtering candles lit the darkened room. It reeked of the incense he’d used to cleanse the space. He’d copied the diagram on the floor with the stone he’d dug from the graveyard.
He’d cleansed his body then ritually fasted and bathed to honor the Dark One. He had stripped naked, shaving his torso to be marked with the symbols for the spell. The preparations were complete. This time, she would be honored and impressed.
He traced his finger down the page. His lips moved as he repeated the words to himself. Over and over, he repeated the curse until he was certain he’d get the rhythm correct. He must be perfect. She must be pleased. He must not disappoint her.
Hand shaking, he took the athame and ran the blade across his palm. He didn’t flinch as the razor sharp steel of the ritual knife sliced into his flesh. Unblinking, he stood mesmerized as blood drizzled down the tips of his fingers and dripped into the awaiting chalice.
He brought a neatly tied bundle of reddish blonde hair to his lips for a kiss before adding it to the cup of blood. Then he sprinkled some powder from a brown, folded packet, smiling as the contents bubbled and hissed. After tucking the cup beneath one arm, he walked in a counterclockwise circle around the table full of sputtering candles. The choking incense filled the room. Fists pounded the inside of his head. The smoke from the candles stung his eyes; he blinked as his sweat also blinded him. He breathed in more smoke. She would strengthen him. If he remained steady, she would return to his dreams.
He dipped his fingers in the murky concoction and smeared the symbols on his torso. He muttered the curse under his breath as he circled about the table. Nine circuits he made around the table, chanting the ancient curse. Nine times, he called out to the darkest power to give him the magic he desired. Nine times, her voice echoed inside his mind. She promised him if he did her bidding, all he asked for would be his.
Her voice stroked him like a lover’s hand, warm as brandy flowing through his veins. She promised him power. She promised him women. She promised him the ability to do the darkest of magic. She had one small request of him, assuring him he would find great pleasure in it as well. But he must be patient. The time would be soon. She wasn’t ready for him to prove his loyalty yet. She would call upon him soon.
But until then, there would be other women for him to enjoy. After all, he needed the practice…and she craved to feed upon their fear.
ChapterEight
Nessa soaked up the vista of the rugged hillside as though it were her last day to walk the earth. The dusky blue crags spanning the horizon framed the rock-strewn meadow stretched out before her. The wind soughed through the nearby pines as it rushed to whisper the Highland’s mysteries against her cheek. Her soul sang as she drank in the crisp, sweet air. She’d arrived home at long last. She belonged here. She’d known it from the beginning. She’d never been this contented before in her life. Peace settled to the marrow of her bones. Satisfaction hummed through her veins.
Even the nightly visits from her silent Highlander had changed since her arrival in Scotland. They were more vivid, more realistic, and more sensual than they’d ever been since he’d first made his presence known.
A smile tickled at the corner of her mouth. A shiver of lust stirred in her belly as she remembered the latest dream. His hands, his mouth, the way the man knew every delicious pleasure spot and every nerve ending set her body thrumming.
Nessa inhaled a deep breath. She mentally shook herself and forced herself to put the dream to the back of her mind. When she opened her eyes each morning, every detail remained vivid. Her soul-shattering orgasms branded themselves in her mind. His visits were becoming almost sensual torture. There wasn’t the tiniest part of her body he hadn’t kissed, tasted, or caressed.
Nessa picked her way over the rocky hillside, unbuttoning her jacket to the cooling air. She had hoped the cold air of the fading day would tamp down her smoldering passion to a bearable level. Her dreams had become so increasingly vibrant it was a constant effort to put them to the back of her mind. She had found it difficult to recover once she awoke the next morning. To her frustration, she remained in a constant state of arousal; her body ached for her dream lover throughout the day.
There was just one detail about all her dreams that she hadn’t quite been able to understand. Although her masterful Highlander always gifted her with mind-reeling orgasms, not once had he ever consummated the act and joined his body with hers. His hands were blissful tools of delicious pleasure; his mouth drove her insane. But not once had he claimed full possession and consummated the deal.
Was this some kind of Freudian sign? Did she think herself too plain to deserve the full attention of such a magnificent man? Had her parents’ constant belittling while she was a child managed to damage her psyche so much that she couldn’t even finish an erotic dream?
