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“Voldlak,” he said, and fell to the ground.
The stranger knelt in front of Suzanne and gathered her in his arms. “Trust me,” he said as he carried her to his motorcycle and placed her on the seat. “You’ll have to hold on to me.”
He started the engine, and with a few roaring gusts, they rode off.
Petrified, Suzanne clung to the muscular form in front of her. She had never ridden on a motorcycle before, and her fear, combined with the stress of her near rape, caused her to sob uncontrollably. When they finally reached the castle, the man parked the bike and carried Suzanne gently inside and up to her room.
He opened the door, and still holding her, let her feet touch the floor. “I-I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “If you hadn’t come along when you did—”
“What the hell were you thinking?” His bellow shook the room. “Don’t you know better than to go into town alone at night?”
“I-I—”
The man crushed her body to his and buried his face in her neck. “If anything had happened to you…”
“I’m f-fine. Really. Oh God, oh God.” Tears fell down her cheeks, their heat burning little trails into her delicate skin.
“You’re all right now.” He pressed his nose to her neck. “It’s over. It’s over.”
“Th-Thank you.”
His Scottish lilt had softened to an almost English accent. He pulled away from her for a moment, and even in the dim light of the candles, she could see he was extraordinarily handsome. Wavy dark brown hair fell to his collar and framed his perfectly sculpted face. His eyes were the color of jade veiled in light cognac.
“Mo cridhe, you’re beautiful.” His eyes grazed over her face and then her body.
“I-I’m a mess.”
“Can you smell me?”
Suzanne shook her head, confused. “What?”
“God, I want to fuck you.”
She blinked, unable to ascertain whether she had heard him correctly.
“I want to touch you everywhere, mo cridhe. I want to bury my face between your legs and make you come again and again, until I’m drowning in your cream. I want to thrust myself so deep inside you that you won’t be able to tell where I end and you begin, and then I want to fuck you until you cry for me. I want to absorb you into my body—”
Suzanne pulled away, her skin crawling with invisible bugs. “Oh my God. I just escaped a gangbang. You’re not going to…rape me are you?”
His eyes softened and looked sad, forlorn. “God no, love. I’d never hurt you.”
“Wh-Who are you?”
He walked farther into the room and sat down on the bed. “This is my room.”
“You’re Dougal’s son?”
“Aye. Damian.”
“Of course you may have your room back,” Suzanne said. “I never felt comfortable taking it. I’ll move out tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Where will you stay?”
“Here.”
Suzanne jerked her head toward him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I’m staying here with you. I belong with you and you with me. I want your fragrance near me, you near me.”
Suzanne swallowed, confused by Damian’s words. “Look, I appreciate what you did for me tonight. Really I do. But saving my life doesn’t give you license to my sexual favors.”
“Don’t you understand?” Damian stood up and pulled Suzanne into his embrace again. “Don’t you feel this? My heart is beating for you. I can’t think of anything but you, of getting inside you. Can’t you…what’s your name, anyway?”
Suzanne rolled her eyes. “All this sexy talk, and you don’t even know my name.”
“I will in a minute.”
“Fine. It’s Suzanne.”
“Suzanne. Beautiful.”
“Damian—” She enjoyed the caress of his name on her lips and tongue.
He grasped her hand and held it to his chest. “Can’t you feel it?”
Suzanne trembled as he lowered her hand from his heart to his crotch and pressed her fingers into the stiff ridge beneath his jeans. “I’m hard for you. I’ve been hard since I first smelled you.”
“You smelled me? What in the world?” She removed her hand from his arousal and tried to shake free of his grip. He held her hand firmly, though, and roughness scraped her palm. Her eyes widened at the scabs on his fingertips. “My goodness, what happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing. You look like you’ve been clawing a brick wall. Are you all right?”
“I said it’s nothing!”
She shrank away at his harsh tone.
“I’m sorry, mo cridhe. Don’t back away from me. Please.”
Puzzled, Suzanne gazed into his greenish eyes. Mo cridhe. My heart, in old Scottish Gaelic. She didn’t realize the language was still spoken, but then, Padraig was a small village in the northern Highlands.
Pain and torment filled his eyes, but she also saw kindness and compassion. His gaze burned onto her and inflamed her. Her pulse quickened and tingles rushed over her skin. Between her legs, a flicker of desire sparked. She wanted him.
She slowly inched forward, her knees wobbly, and fell into his embrace. He lowered his head until his lips touched hers.
