A loud whooshing startled her, making her jump and turn to find the sound. Every fire pit around the spa had roared to life with a crackling blaze. She pressed a hand to her chest and forced herself to pull in a slow deep breath then gently ease it out. There was a logical explanation for everything. She was just being silly. The answer came to her like flicking on a light. Gas logs. Those were gas logs on some kind of thermostat. That was it. As she peered closer and studied the fires, she refused to acknowledge the ash and debris from the stacked wood at the base of the flames.
“It’s because I’m tired. Overwrought. I am going to drink my wine, take my bath, and worry about everything tomorrow.” She scanned the room as she spoke, informing whatever was messing with her mind leave her alone.
She stripped down and slid into the tub. The scalding hot water was a blissful tonic to her bones. As she closed her eyes and leaned back against the towels, the healing spring water seemed to ease some of the agony from her heart. She sipped her wine and watched the reflection of the candle flames dancing across the water. And she breathed. For the first time since Taggart’s death, she felt likebreathing actually did some good. The tightness in her chest had finally relaxed. And she drank. A lot. The more wine she sipped, the sleepier she got. Maybe that was the solution to her loneliness. It would be so easy just to slip beneath the surface and let all her worries and heartaches end.
“Hannah!”
She jumped to full wakefulness, spilling her wine and knocking Taggart’s urn into the tub. She watched in horror as the lid slowly floated away from the body of the box and released his ashes across the water. “No! What have I done? How did you get on the side of the tub? I put you on the floor. No! No! Now, I have nothing of you at all. Oh, Taggart, no, you cannot leave me again!”
She sagged forward, sobbing into the spring water, as she filled her hands with his muddy remains and tried to pour them back in the box. As her tears streamed into the water, it effervesced, turning the spa into a glowing energy froth. Fear filled her. What had she done now? She scooted back into the farthest corner as the reaction in the center of the large tub grew more frenzied. A dark form rose from the center of the glowing chaos, becoming clearer and more refined until Taggart sat there smiling at her.
“Well done, my dear one. Ye brought me back. Just as I knew ye could. I was longing for ye to discover the way to bring us back together.”
She didn’t move. Paralyzed by fear. Fear that it might be real and even more fear that it wasn’t. It was the wine, or she had drowned and gone to heaven. She pinched her inner arm and winced when it hurt. “Please tell me you are really here. Please tell me this isn’t a cruel lie.”
He leaned forward and cupped the curve of her cheek in his hand. “I swear to ye, my precious love. I am as real as ever. Yer love and magic brought me back. I am verra much alive and ready to be yer mate for all time.”
She dove into his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. His cool, wet hair pressed against her face. His smooth chest slid against hers. And warm. The warmth of the living filled him. He had been so very cold the last time she touched him.
She pulled back and searched his fathomless eyes while touching his cheeks, his lips, and raking her fingers through his hair. He smiled and ran his hands along her arms and shoulders. “How?” she whispered. “I don’t understand.” She dove in for a kiss before he could answer. Soft, warm, demanding. He tasted of love and hope. She finally broke the connection. “I have no magic, but I am so glad you are here.”
“There is magic here,” he said softly, while smoothing her hair out of her eyes. “The magic of Scotland. Our love. Our immortal union. More magic than death could withstand. And now I have returned because we have much unfinished business. I awakened to the pull as soon as Isla sent us back. But, know this, I never truly left ye.”
She hugged him tight again and closed her eyes. “I don’t care what brought you back. But I do know I am never letting you out of my sight again.”
“Aye, m’love.” His arms tightened around her. “We have an eternity to watch over one another. Now stop talking and kiss me, ye ken?”
EPILOGUE
Taroc Na Mor
18 months later…
“I thoughtyour mother said it would be several hundred years before we received more eggs for the nursery?”
Taggart nuzzled the tender spot behind Hannah’s ear, smiling as the eternal mark naming her as his mate flared dark and proud. The elaborate scrollwork almost glowed in the dim gloaming light right before sunrise. He had pleased his dear one well. Her mark always flared when he took her to the deepest levels of bliss. “What did ye say, my own? Your delicious taste distracted me from all else.”
As she stretched and curled tighter against him, she made her happy humming sound that meant he was forgiven. “The new eggs. For the nursery. A full clutch.” She paused and released another purring sigh as he caressed her inner thigh and slowly worked his way higher. “I thought centuries would pass before we had more hatchlings to watch over.”
“I believe it to be a bribe,” he rasped against the salty sweetness ofher skin while slipping his fingers back inside the warm wetness he could never get enough of. “Mother wants grandchildren. She thinks another clutch of eggs might put us in the mood to become parents.”
She stilled beneath his touch, and he sensed he had foolishly fouled the possibility of continuing the day with another round of loving. He eased back, giving her the space he sensed she needed and cursed himself for his witless tongue. “I have lost ye, m’love. What did I say to end your wanting me?”
“I will never not want you,” she whispered, staring up at him with concern puckering her brow. “But—do you want children?” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her expression almost sorrowful.
“Ye fear what our children will be,” he said quietly. He had carried the weight of that very question on his heart ever since returning from the dead.
“We live in a cold, cruel world. Even Erastaed is as divided as the human world. Remember how they treated you before they experienced Sloan’s cruelty?” She lovingly cupped a hand to his cheek. “I know we will always be here for our children. But will it be enough if they are born different?”
“They will be three quarters human and blessed with all the ancient magic we share.”
“But will that be enough when they are the only ones of their kind? Will they be lonely when they need more than just us?” She blew out a heavy sigh, pushed herself up, and leaned back against the headboard. “They will be neither Draecna nor human.” She shrugged. “And not like you either. What if they are unable to shift and are born into whatever form the DNA decides?”
“We will love them whatever their form and nurture them into strong, loving individuals.” But his tone lacked conviction, and he knew without looking that she felt the same. He gave a solemn nod. “Do ye want children? The risk? The possible heartache?”
“I want them happy. Loved. Never alone. And welcomed in worlds that revile anything different from the norm.”
“Every parent wants that, m’love.” He leaned forward and kissedher forehead, but her uneasiness revealed something more. He sensed it. “Ye are with child already.”
