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“You said maybe and that my opportunity is slipping away.”
She sighs. “Here is a truth for you. I cannot lie. I will not. Ever. What I tell you is the truth, to the best of my knowledge.”
“But you never answer a question.”
She smiles ruefully and gestures at the table. “Eat. Or drink. Then go.”
Uncertainty swamps my thoughts like a river breaking its banks then surging through town and carrying refuse and debris along with it. Random thoughts, pieces of memory, dance through my head. I can sit here and do nothing, or I can do something.
When in doubt, act. Dad used to say that. Or close enough. I grab the glass the Queen had previously offered. It’s an ornate gold goblet encrusted with gems. I stare at it for a long moment, listening to my heartbeat. This drink is going to bind me to the fae, but if there is even a chance I can save Duncan, then I have to take it.
Taking a deep breath, I drain the goblet.
The last thing I see is the Fae Queen smile as the world fades to white.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I stumble then drop onto my hands and knees in thick, highland grass. My stomach clenches. I retch then vomit as my insides rebel against whatever the hell just happened. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and, shakily, I climb to my feet.
“Thanks,” I mutter. “Nice trip.”
My tongue tingles from the spiced, mulled wine. It’s not unpleasant but a bit odd that the taste of it is still lingering. My taste buds scream with desire for more, but I guess they’ll have to get over it. I force myself to keep standing despite my shaky legs and trembling arms. My belly tries to rebel again, but I press my hands against it and manage not to give in to the nausea.
I blink, forcing my eyes to adjust to the dark. The spiraling stars are bright, and the partial moon gives enough light. I turn in a circle until I see the standing stone that I followed Dugald to.
“Good, I know where I’m at. This is good.” I wipe sweat from my forehead with my forearm and take a deep breath of the cool night air. “Right. Get up. Quit wasting time. Back to the village.”
Chewing my cheek, I turn around to head to the village. The dark seems menacing in ways it hasn’t before, as if it's no longer only an absence of light but a thing. A consciousness that’s waiting. I feel its anticipation. Infinitely patient and prepared to pounce. I shiver, close my eyes, and take a deep breath, but when I open them, the feeling is still there.
“Quinn!” Duncan’s voice is faint and distant.
“Duncan,” I shout and run towards the sound of his voice.
“Quinn? Is it you?”
“Duncan. Here!”
We shout back and forth until he climbs over a ridge. My heart leaps into my throat and tears swell in my eyes. The sight of him is a punch to the guts and I can’t catch my breath. The moonlight illuminates him in soft silvery light. He stands tall and strong, broad shoulders, square jaw, and his long hair blowing in a gentle breeze. He’s a striking figure in any light, but this is too posed, too perfect.
“Quinn,” he yells. It breaks the instant of perfection as he bursts into a flat out run towards me.
His sword slaps against his back as he bounds across the distance. I don’t wait, sprinting towards him. In a small part of my head, I recognize this as some cheesy romance movie moment. The two lovers run into each other's arms, but I don’t care. I’m so happy to see him and know that he’s still alive.
We crash into each other, and he takes the force of our collision by using it to lift me off my feet. He spins me around, holding me up against the night sky, then he crushes me against himself. I find his lips and claim the first kiss.
His heady, musky scent fills my nose. His lips are warm and full as they press onto mine. I drive my tongue into his mouth and twine my fingers in his glorious hair. My grasping, clutching, and kissing are tinged with desperation and fear. Fear of having lost him. Having seen him die over and over. But he is here. We’re here, together, now. We have this moment and I have this one chance to save him.
“Quinn,” he gasps, pulling back and breaking the kiss. “Are ya alright?”
“Aye.” I laugh and jerk his head closer to kiss him again.
He lowers me to my feet and I wrap one arm around his neck, pressing into him. My breasts rub against the rough cloth of my blouse crushing against him. Desire is a raging inferno in my lower belly. I want him.
No, I need him.
I run my hand over his shoulder and down his arm, feeling the strength in his biceps and triceps, then trailing back up to come down across his muscled chest. His shirt is thick but there’s no hiding those muscles or the hard body beneath it.
He gives into the intensity of my kiss, running his hands through my hair and down my back, and then groping my ass. His tongue meets mine, moving with it, accepting me into him. His cock hardens, digging into my lower belly, and I keep my free hand moving down, intent on having it.
