Velvet Haven

Mairi was in the tub. From that moment on, Mairi had been sure that it was Rowan’s pain, her emptiness, that she had felt. But how? Why? There was no plausible explanation, so she kept her thoughts to herself and told no one. Not even Rowan.
    Neither of them talked about it. Not Mairi, and not Rowan. Rowan hadn’t asked about the injury and Mairi had not dared to ask Rowan about the rape. They were both good pretenders, but now it was hard to pretend, what with her scars reddened and itching. Even the skin around the scars was a dark shade of pink that looked irritated. Since Lauren’s gruesome death, nothing had been the same, most especially her scars.
    And now Suriel. He had come to Rowan, thinking it was her. His appearance paralleled the resurfacing of memories of the voice that guided her, soothed her when she was frightened.
    Was it coincidence? No, Mairi knew it wasn’t. She had seen things that science couldn’t explain. Miracles that happened, but in theory shouldn’t have. Suriel’s appearance had a purpose. Rowan’s dreams had a purpose. These scars . . . Mairi feared what meaning they might hold.
    Shoving aside the old memories that still haunted her, Mairi reached for the soap and sponge and poured some vanilla-and honey-scented bubbles on the pink gauze.
    Think of something else. Something happy. Something . . . Bran . The name slipped into her thoughts and she smiled. For someone who didn’t trust easily, she had certainly trusted him.
    As she soaped her body, her hands cupping her breasts, she felt her nipples, which were still tender from Bran’s mouth. But along with the tenderness, she felt the lingering sensation of need.
    As her fingertip slipped over her nipple, it tightened, making her belly clench in the same needy response. She was wet and horny. She thought of Bran and slipped a hand between her thighs as she rested her foot on the edge of the tub, stroking herself.
    She had never touched herself as much before as she had in the two days since she had met Bran. But damn it, she needed this release! She’d dreamed of Bran last night, confusing him with her dream lover. He’d asked her to fuck him, and like a madwoman she had said no. She had awakened this morning hornier than she had ever been, dying to know what it would be like with him.
    Slipping her fingers deep inside, she moaned at the instant relief. She closed her eyes and imagined Bran there with her. She thought about what it would have been like to take his cock in her mouth, to feel the satiny smoothness of him on her tongue, his hands in her hair as he angled her head the way he wanted her.
    Fingers frantic now, she moved from her pussy to her clitoris, stroking as the visions fueled her rhythm. Bran on top of her, Bran behind her, taking her hard, whispering dirty thoughts into her ear.
    Lightning flashed, illuminating the bathroom. She looked up over the top of the shower toward the window and saw the raven perched on the sill. Forked lightning once more lit the sky, silhouetting the bird; then suddenly it was Bran who stood before her, reaching out his hand. She heard his thoughts in her mind.
    I like your fantasy. Let me show you mine.
    Suddenly she was transported to a wood. It was night and rain fell steadily from the sky. She was lying on a stone slab like a sacrifice on an altar. Spread wide, her sex aching, her body hungry.
    And then Bran appeared, crawling atop the stone, then over her.
    “Let me finish it, mo muirnin ,” he whispered.
    Mairi’s own fingers seemed to be replaced by Bran’s hot palms. His gentle fingertips traced her body, touching her breasts, her belly, then down her hip. He teased her with his touch, with the brush of his lips against her body. As he moved lower, his hair trailed over her shoulders, down her arms, heightening the arousal, making her sensitized skin even more so.
    Open for me, Mairi.
    She cried out, clutching at his hair as she drew up her knees. The rain continued to pour down on them and lightning flashed. Mairi looked down to see the forked line of pure energy hit Bran’s skin. The tattoos on his neck, chest, and arm glimmered as the lightning ran down the ink like an electrical current. He grabbed her bottom, pulling her up for his mouth. When his tongue swiped against her, she arched, crying out, begging for more.
    And he gave more. His fingers deep inside her as his tongue played with her clitoris. She was greedy, taking everything and asking for more. He