Dark Embrace. Brenda Joyce
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assimilate that, a huge weight fell on her, crushing her. She cried out in alarm and fear as more stones fell, rapidly burying her in darkness.
Brie wanted to panic and scream; she wanted to fight the rocks, try to push up against them. But instead she lay very still, absolutely calm, aware that she was entombed.
“Brie, what is it?” she heard Tabby cry from far away.
Brie’s eyes widened. She was looking up at black stone; it was as if she was buried alive. She tried to move her arms, her legs, but stone pressed in on her from all sides.
Aidan had been buried alive.
And he was utterly calm, utterly resigned, a man without hope.
She reached out to him.
She felt him start.
She tried to focus entirely upon him. He was physically trapped, unmoving. Like her, he had no difficulty breathing. He was staring at the blackness. She felt him more acutely now. The stones were painful, their weight crushing, but he didn’t care. They weren’t crushing him to death. It was the heartache that was killing him.
And she felt his acceptance of death.
He was waiting to die.
“Brie, honey, it’s okay. You’re here with us, on Five.”
Aidan, Brie tried. You can’t die!
If she had reached him, he was now gone. He had slipped so far away that she couldn’t feel anything at all.
“Can you hear me?” Nick asked, sounding far away.
She could, but she couldn’t answer Nick now. Aidan had powers. He could break free of the rocks and stone if he wanted to. If she had reached him a moment ago, surely she could find him again. She was almost certain he had felt her, or heard her. She strained for him, calling his name. Aidan, break free of the stone. She waited for him to respond. A long time seemed to elapse, and he never moved, never answered.
She couldn’t stand this. Don’t die!
Nick was speaking to her again.
“Brie, it’s Nick. We’ve given you Ativan. It’s an antianxiety med, and you should be feeling pretty good right now. You’re at CDA on Five and we’re taking care of you. You’re having an empathic reaction again. Look at me.”
Brie felt her body soften. She looked at Nick. His handsome face and sexy body formed before her, coming gradually into focus. Someone had put her eyeglasses on, she recalled inanely, and she smiled.
“Good. To find the Highlander, we need you. Where is he?”
She could see Aidan so clearly now, in his grave beneath the rubble, a red castle soaring above a loch. Brie said, “There’s a castle on a lake. He’s in Scotland…and he’s in the past.” She was so surprised by her response that she faltered, but she knew she’d sensed the truth.
“Are you certain?” Nick asked. “Are you certain he’s not in the city?”
“Yes.” Brie had never been more certain of anything. She had been wrong earlier. He hadn’t been close by. She’d try to figure that out later, she thought. “We can’t let him die.”
Nick turned away and said, “Her Encounter last year should have been reported. Now that I know what you two ladies are up to, any Encounters or Sightings come right to me. Failure to do so is against the law.”
“I’m not aware of any such laws,” Sam said bluntly.
“It’s against Nick’s law,” Nick said swiftly. “And you really don’t want to break Nick’s law.”
Brie was floating, feeling really wonderful now, as if she’d had three or four glasses of champagne. Sam sat down and smiled at her. “Your boss is such a jerk.”
“Yeah, he is,” Brie agreed, aware that Nick had walked out. No, he’d stalked out, like a hunting tiger.
Sam leaned close and whispered, “I’m calling in every favor I have. If he’s here, someone’s seen him. You just rest.”
“He isn’t here. He’s far away.” Her happiness was gone. “I don’t want him to die. I love him, Sam.”
Sam’s blue eyes went wide. “Brie, I know you’re high right now, but if it’s Fate, you know we can’t change it.”
“It can’t be his time,” Brie whispered. She wasn’t sure what happened next, but Sam was gone, and it was only her and Tabby, who sat by her bed, holding her hand. Then Brie blinked curiously. A little boy was standing at the foot of her bed, clad in a white hospital gown that was oddly belted. He started speaking urgently to her. His blue eyes were so familiar, as if she knew him, but she didn’t think she did. Brie realized she was too high to hear a word. He seemed frightened. She knew he wanted to tell her something important, and she turned to Tabby. “What is he saying?”
Tabby was surprised. “Who are you talking about?”
Brie looked at the foot of her bed, but the little boy was gone. “I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said.
She must have been dreaming.
CHAPTER TWO
Castle Awe, Scotland—November 1502
SEX NO LONGER MATTERED TO HIM.
Like the best wine drunk far too often, it could not be appreciated. Pleasure escaped him now.
But he moved harder, faster, into the woman, not seeking release, even though a release was inevitable. Instead, he used her for his own ends, taking power, euphoric, until she lay unmoving and silent beneath him.
Aidan held himself over the woman, breathing hard. He had experienced the powerful ecstasy of La Puissance thousands of times, a climax that combined raging power with sexual release. When he had first begun to hunt Moray after Ian’s murder, he’d taken power to assure himself of victory over the deamhan he was now sworn to kill. But Moray had vanished in time, fleeing him. And Aidan had needed more power to chase him.
Power was addictive. He lusted for it now. Unfortunately, the lust for power was terribly arousing. Otherwise he would not even bother with the sexual act.
Still consumed with a sense of invincibility, he moved away from the woman. He stood and leaned against the wall, arching back, savagely relishing the power coursing through his muscles. It even throbbed in his bones.
No one could defeat him now—not man, not beast, not deamhan and not even a god. Not even his demonic father. His father had returned to murder Ian, when a beheading would destroy most deamhanain. There were Masters who believed Moray immortal. Others said he had returned with otherworldly help. Aidan had dared to demand answers upon Iona. MacNeil had told him Moray’s return was written, but that no deamhan was immortal, no matter how it might appear.
Ian’s image seared his mind, as hot as a firebrand. He welcomed the pain.
“Is she alive?” The other woman gasped, kneeling half-naked beside the Innocent.
He barely glanced at the lush redhead, who was flushed with her own pleasure. He’d left the Innocent alive, although barely. “Aye. Tend her.”
Anna Marie took the limp woman in her arms, but she was staring at him with glittering eyes. Most women feared his desire. Having lurked in her mind on several occasions, he knew that she both feared and desired his passion—all of it. Now, she said, “Do you want me again?”
He’d found her in Paris in the mid-eighteenth century. She was the courtesan of a prince. She enjoyed hours in his bed and understood his need to take far more than pleasure from her and others, even simultaneously. Her presence was convenient, especially because he never slept and there was one certain way for him to pass the long, dark hours of the night.