Velvet Haven

like the wings of a humming-bird. It’s speeding up, isn’t it, the longer you wait, the longer you anticipate this?”
    She nodded, feeling her heart skip a beat as he pressed closer to her, his mouth grazing her sensitized flesh.
    “Do you trust me, Mairi?”
    She held his head in her hand, pushing forward, needing his mouth on her. “Yes.”
    “Do you trust me enough to let go, because that’s how I want you, free and wild, writhing as I go down on you.”
    She could do that. Most definitely. She could be wild. Hell, she was nearly there.
    He found her clitoris and flicked it. The motion, combined with the strange vibration in his touch, sent her over the edge. His lips set fire to her, as he spread her wide and licked her all over, leaving no inch of her sex un lapped by his incredibly skilled tongue.
    She screamed and arched, holding him to her as she shook beneath his mouth. She probably should have been mortified by how easily she came, but she couldn’t think of that. All she could think about were the amazing sensations of her orgasm—then the fleeting disappointment that she hadn’t waited to feel more, because she was certain that Bran could definitely have taken her even higher.
    She collapsed against the pillows, spent, breathing heavily. He kissed her inner thigh, dragging his tongue up the length of her, before his head fell to her navel. He nuzzled her with his warm lips as his fingers played with her sex.
    He was definitely not finished with her. Thank God!
    “Mairi?”
    “Hmm?”
    “Undress me. I need to be naked with you.”

CHAPTER NINE

    Banging on the door jolted them both from the sensual haze hovering between them. With a curse, Bran was off of her and striding to the door before she could cover herself with her shirt. With a fierce pull, he inched the door open.
    “What do you want?” he snarled with a sound that seemed inhuman.
    “We got issues downstairs.”
    “Not my problem.”
    A hand shot out and landed on the door, preventing Bran from slamming it shut. “It sure as hell is your problem—it’s her friend.”
    With a sinking feeling, Mairi knew what was happening. “I’m coming,” she called as she clutched her shirt to her chest. Rhys MacDonald averted his eyes and turned his back as she got dressed, but he stayed in the hall, his stance telling her that he was pissed off and in a hurry. She should be horrified by how she must appear to him, but she couldn’t worry about that now. She had Rowan to be concerned about.
    “Is she having a seizure?” Mairi asked as she pulled on her pants.
    “No, why? Does she have those?” the man asked, sounding alarmed.
    “Yeah. So if she’s not seizing, is she stumbling around muttering incoherently?”
    “She’s walking around like a zombie.” The man’s gaze slid to where Bran stood, scowling. “Talking about Morgan and hellhounds.”
    Mairi saw Bran visibly jump. “Let’s go,” he commanded, all but pulling her from the bed. She was rumpled and her hair was a mess, but at least she was dressed. Bran didn’t give her a chance to make herself presentable. He pulled her along the dark hallway, almost dragging her behind him.
    “Hurry, before it is too late.”
    “Too late? Too late for what?” she gasped, pulling away from him. Something dark and scary curled in her belly. “What the hell has Sayer done to her?”
    He turned and glared at her. “You said you trusted me.” “I did. Now I’m thinking I might have been wrong. Was it your plan to separate us so that your friend could hurt Rowan and you could do whatever the hell you wanted with me?”
    His glare turned glacial; his mismatched eyes actually looked as though they were churning up one hell of a storm. “There was no plan.”
    He touched her face and his gaze softened. “We’ll talk about what happened later. First we have to see to your friend.”
    Reaching for her hand, Bran tugged her along, down the carpeted steps to the main floor. Skirting the dance floor, they made a left, then another quick left away from the lounges and the bar, and down a dark hall.
    A door was suddenly thrown open and Mairi saw Rowan pacing, her jade-colored eyes wide. She was ranting like a madwoman about dogs, fog, and black magick.
    “Honey, it’s Mairi.” But like always, Rowan didn’t hear her. “It’s okay,” she soothed, reaching for Rowan’s hands. “I’m here, and I won’t leave you.”
    “A house of mourning, a garden of pain, a path of tears.