Page 51 of The Last Kelpie

Áedán straddled me, hands on the bed. “I'm not going anywhere. And we're not done yet.” He rolled me onto my belly, pulled me up onto my hands and knees, and settled between my legs. “You can still move.”

I had thought I was tired, but my body came alive the instant he slid inside me. My head went back on a hungry cry, and I pushed back onto him until my ass flattened and he was as far in as he could go. In seconds, we were back to being two wild men lost to desire.

That desire consumed us for several hours until I flopped back onto the pillow and declared that I couldn't move. Only then did Áedán settle beside me. I closed my eyes and let myself drift to sleep, held in the arms of the last kelpie in the world. My last thought was maybe Caelum was right. Maybe myths saved Velascans as often as we saved them. Maybe Áedán and I would save each other.

Chapter Seventeen

I woke to Áedán's hand tracing lazy patterns across my chest, his breath warm on my shoulder. Morning light filtered through the curtains, turning everything soft and golden. For a moment I let myself exist in that space—the weight of his arm across my ribs, the smell of him and sex, the quiet certainty that I was exactly where I wanted to be.

Then reality reasserted itself. The missing journal. The conflicting stories. The note. Áedán fading.

“You're thinking loudly,” Áedán murmured against my skin.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “I can feel you worrying. It's rather endearing.”

I turned in his arms to face him. His hair was a disaster, dark strands falling across his forehead, and his eyes were heavy-lidded. He looked younger, less guarded, and damn sexy.

“We need to find that journal.” I brushed the hair out of his face.

“I know.” He nuzzled me. “But I'd rather stay here.”

“Ten minutes.” I snuggled into his arms.

I couldn't get up anyway. Images from the night before bombarded me and turned my bones into liquid. We'd both been so exhausted when we finished that I was betting it was late morning, closer to afternoon. And I didn't care. Sex with Áedán had been the most amazing sex of my life. It had been a while for me. What with my work and then training to join the Velasca, I hadn't any time for romance. That tube of lubricant had been for self-pleasuring until last night. I smiled, remembering how much Áedán loved the stuff. He had waxed poetic about the slickness adding to his pleasure.

My body ached in all the best ways, muscles tight and channel tingling. And I wanted more. Áedán had been insatiable—all grasping hands, hungry mouth, and thrusting cock. In my mind I saw him above me again, his hair wild, then beneath me as I rode him with abandon. I remembered the feel of his hand stroking me as I moved on him, a smile on my face. Sex had never been so much fun.

Áedán made a soft, sexy sound in my ear. “Someone needs attention.” His hand found my erection and squeezed.

I moaned and wriggled my ass against him to find him just as hard as me. “Maybe a little more than ten minutes.”

“Oh, it's going to be a lot more than ten minutes.” His hand left me to direct his cock to my entrance. “You're still slick.” He kissed my neck and slid inside. “Is this all right? You're not too sore?”

“It's very right.” I angled myself so I could push back on him.

“I think so too.” Áedán wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the bed to hold me pressed against him, and started thrusting.

Two hours later, we had lunch in the dining hall, smiling at each other like a couple of teenagers. After lunch, we went to the Great Archive. As soon as I walked through the doors, my carefree feeling left. It was time to work. Not just because it was my job, but mainly because I couldn't let Áedán fade.

Julian and Agnes were already there, standing beside Eleanor's desk with identical expressions of frustration. The sign-out ledger sat on the desk between them.

Agnes looked up and met my gaze. “I've spoken to every senior archivist. I even spoke to Brother Thomas, though he hasn't been in the Archive for months.”

“And?” I looked from her to Julian.

“None of them remember approving the sign-out.” Julian's voice was measured, but I caught the edge beneath it. “Which is unusual, but not impossible.”

“In my archive, it is impossible.” Agnes crossed her arms.

“Could someone have removed the authorization form after the fact?” I asked.

“We warded the ledger against tampering.” Agnes's voice came out clipped, precise. “Any attempt to remove anything from it would leave traces. There are none. Besides, Eleanor would have recorded the sign-out.” She flipped the book to the front where every borrowed book was listed. “If she didn't record it, it wasn't signed out.”

Julian placed a hand on her shoulder. “Agnes, I understand your concern, but there are simpler explanations. Perhaps the enchantments failed. Perhaps someone stuck it in their bag by mistake.”

“The enchantments don't fail.” She smacked the ledger. “I've maintained them for over a century. They. Don't. Fail.”