Mists of Velvet

forging through her and stretching her to fit him. She did not cry out but clung to him, nipped his neck, and bucked her hips back against his, taking him deep.
    Slowly he rocked against her as their chests rubbed together, and they looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Never had he felt anything so damned good. He’d had sex—lots of it—but never with a woman he knew was to be his, and never alone. Keir had always been there, either in form or shadow, feeding off Rhys’ energy. It had never been just Rhys alone with a woman he desired.
    He would never share this one. The thought slammed into his head as he deepened his thrusts—claiming her. Keir would have no part of her, no energy from their union. He couldn’t allow it—wouldn’t. They’d have to find other ways for Keir to feed, because what was happening between them right now was for them alone.
    “ Mo bandia ,” he whispered as he thrust harder. “Come with me.”
    Her eyes closed, and she shivered beneath him as he played with her clitoris, still wet from his mouth.
    “Come,” he whispered again, afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. And then she did, shivering in his arms, holding him close and clamping around his cock.
    “You’re mine now.”
    She smiled a womanly smile—one that said she didn’t take any offense to his mortal possessiveness.

    Keir shut the door to Rowan’s chambers and leaned against the wall. He still couldn’t believe it had worked. She had taken him with her on her journey. But through the euphoria of knowing there was another way to connect with her, his conscience poked at him. He’d lied to her, not because he deliberately wanted to hurt or deceive her, but because he knew she wouldn’t understand what he wanted to do.
    Rowan was new to magick and Annwyn. She saw things as only black and white, good and evil. What she couldn’t comprehend yet was that magick had many faces. Some might condemn him for what he was thinking of doing, but he was doing it with an honest heart, and a love that wouldn’t die.
    In his soul, he knew who he was—Rowan’s Anam Cara —Soul Friend. They could be together, if he used the right magick, and if Rowan allowed him to break through the barriers of her past. There was a future there. He had seen it; he had seen her.
    There was so much more that he could do, now that he had confirmed that Rowan was indeed not fully mortal. But one thing did weigh on him—the angel in the vision. Keir wasn’t certain what his presence in Rowan’s future meant. But he would find out. Rowan held a key to the prophecy. That had been an unexpected finding. He was happy to have something new to report to Bran, but that hadn’t been the reason for his visit. He’d wanted to know if Rowan could trust him; if he had the power to make her forget and experience something new. And she had. And that knowledge sent him reeling.
    He would go back to Velvet Haven and use a divination to see what he should do next. There was a way to keep her alive through magick, and Keir would do it. But first, he needed to find Bran, and maybe even that pain-in-the-ass fallen angel.
    Looking down at his palm, he studied the symbol he had drawn, the Φ etched on the angel’s neck. It was a strange symbol, one that looked both divine and demonic. It was different from the symbol the Dark Mage had used when he had murdered the mortal outside Velvet Haven. That symbol denoted the angel Uriel, as well as Gwyn, the god of the dead in Annwyn, and the ruler of the underworld.
    So, who was this angel, and what was his role? Keir wondered. “ Destroyer . . .” whispered the word in his mind. Was this angel the ninth warrior? Would he deceive them all?
    Closing his fingers over his palm, Keir decided it was time to learn of the Sacred Trine. They had been so focused on the Dark Mage, and on finding Carden, Bran’s half brother, that they’d ignored that part of the prophecy. And that was a mistake. Now more than ever, they needed to understand it and how it brought both the mortal and immortal realms together. Only then, once the prophecy was fully understood, could they defeat the faceless Dark Mage and put an end to the Dark Times in Annwyn.
    Stepping into the shadowed hall, Keir froze. A black adder with a white zigzag stripe was curled up, hissing at him. As a shaman, he knew that seeing the reptile was not mere coincidence. The snake was here for a specific purpose.
    The nathair was long associated