Mists of Velvet

with long grass and wildflowers.
    Like a sleepwalker, he followed her. So trusting, she thought, as she looked up at him. His eyes were closed, and his head lolled from side to side. She must get him to her cottage, and there she must rid his body of the poison ruling his mind.
    The moon fortuitously slipped behind a cloud, shrouding the path in darkness, and Bronwnn’s wolf eyes and instinctive tracking abilities aided them in the dark. Silently, they walked on until she moved off the path and into a densely wooded area. In seconds they were standing before the dilapidated cottage she used for herself.
    One night as she explored outside the temple, she had come across the abandoned croft. Besides offering shelter, it afforded her the luxury of privacy, and a place she could truly call her own, where she practiced divination, and the ancient healing arts of her goddess mother. Here she kept her mother’s books and studied whenever she could. Her mother had also been the only goddess versed in the Dark Arts. Knowledge of the occult led to greater understanding of all alchemy, so her mother had sought knowledge in the darkness and practiced it for the greater good of all in Annwyn. It was this dark knowledge that Bronwnn knew she would need to call upon tonight, to save this man from the mage’s ritual spell.
    Here, in her cottage, with all her herbs and spells, she could heal this man—her mate—freeing him from the grip of the mage who sought to rule the mortal world and the Otherworld.
    Supporting his weight against her, Bronwnn reached for the rusted latch. He was heavy, and she was tired from bearing the majority of his weight. The hinges groaned as she opened the door, and the man pitched forward, taking Bronwnn with him. He landed on his knees, Bronwnn on her back, the wind knocked out of her.
    It was dark in the cottage and quiet. The only sound was the harsh, rasping breath of the man as he leaned over her. With a shaking hand, he touched her face, her cheek, her eyes, then down her nose to her mouth, where the pad of his thumb rubbed back and forth.
    His eyes were dark, an indistinguishable shade in the dim light of the cottage interior. But they watched her, focusing on her face even through the glaze that made them shine. She was keenly aware of him, not only of his size above her, but of the way his body seemed to call to hers. She was a wanton to be thinking of her own needs at a time like this. But these desires were too new for her to control.
    He cupped her cheek in his hand and leaned down so that his lips were against her ear. “Thank you, mo slanaitheoir ,” he whispered before collapsing against her. My savior.

    Rhys felt his body being dragged across a wooden floor. He was too tall and heavy for her, he knew, but he was too damned weak to help her. He could barely keep away the call of unconsciousness, let alone drag his carcass to wherever the woman was taking him.
    He tried to talk, but his mouth was too dry, and his throat felt as though it might seize up. He could only just crack open his eyes, which was a real bitch, because the brief glimpse he had of the woman as he kneeled over her was stunning. Her hair seemed to glow, and her eyes were a pale blue, a color that reminded him of the icy waters of the Arctic Ocean.
    She was an efficient little thing, because he quickly found his body being placed on top of a pile of blankets—no, furs, he realized as he sank into the soft luxuriousness. The woman didn’t speak a word, but Rhys heard her walking about the room; then he heard a scratching sound, immediately followed by the acrid scent of smoke. Beside him a roar went up, and the crackle of a log snapped. The flames of a hearth washed over his body, absorbing some of the chills that raked him.
    In a way, he was damned glad for the drug he’d been given. It was playing with his mind and giving him a reprieve from the pain in his body. His chest hurt like hell, and he was losing too much blood.
    Blackness beckoned, and he fought it, trying anything to stay awake. He thought of Keir, and he tried to reach him, to find a connection, but he was too weak, and his mind too drugged out to do anything effectively.
    Lifting his arm, he searched with his hand for the woman. Immediately she was there, grasping his arm. The darkness eased away, and slowly he lifted his head and tried to open his eyes. She was kneeling before him, her body glowing a pale alabaster in the firelight. She looked