Velvet Haven

Mairi was nothing compared to the chain that now bound her to Suriel.
    It made him realize that Mairi would never fully belong to him. So he had decided that he would leave her. Would no longer think of her. Would use her only to discover the true identity of the Soul Stealer. When he was caught, when the Dark Times were over, he would release her without a second thought.
    Until then, he would remain apart from her. He had to. For his own sanity. “You know, by striking this bargain, you’ve managed to climb into bed with the devil.”
    Bran glared at his companion. “You talk too much, Sayer.” “You don’t talk enough. I think that’s the problem with your human. She needs more than what you’re giving her.”
    “Fuck off, Sayer.”
    The Selkie laughed. “That is my cue, then, to depart.” Sayer flashed him a smile before he slapped him on his back. “Cheer up, Raven, you might find you enjoy snuff sex.” Sayer held up his hands when Bran’s expression blackened. “I’m leaving.”
    “Going to check on Rowan again?” Bran taunted.
    “Maybe. I like her. And she likes me.”
    “Don’t hurt her. Mairi would be unhappy. You know what will happen to you if Mairi is unhappy.”
    “You’ve got it bad,” Sayer teased. “A few days ago you were boasting that you would not be brought low by a mere mortal.”
    “I hadn’t met Mairi yet.” Hadn’t felt her incredible energy, or tasted her sweet arousal. How could he have known what she would do to him? How could he have guessed that a human could be a perfect fit for him?
    Silence and the howl of the wind echoed through the terrace. Sayer had left him alone with his thoughts. Thoughts he didn’t want.
    What was he going to do? He couldn’t allow himself to be intimate with her knowing she was part of Morgan’s curse. Yet he couldn’t walk away from her either. He’d given his heart to her. A heart he didn’t even know he had, and love he wasn’t aware he could give.
    “You bitch,” he roared to the heavens, hoping Morgan could hear him in the Wastelands, where she had been exiled for the past hundred and seventy years. “I’ll kill you for this.”
    The wind rose, blowing past him, carrying with it the tinkling of a woman’s laughter. “Oh, how I love to see you brought low. So proud, so powerful, brought to your knees by a mere mortal.”
    “I’ll make you pay for this, Morgan.”
    “Try, Raven, and see what will happen. You do want to find your brother, don’t you? Or have you forgotten all about him while you’ve been fantasizing about your mortal whore?”
    He had not forgotten about Carden. There was no doubt, however, that Mairi had become his first priority.
    “Time is running out for your brother, King. Submit to me. Marry me, and I will release your brother from his curse.”
    “I would rather die than marry you.”
    “Then I am naturally happy to fulfill your wish, my king.” She would use Mairi, of course, he thought with hatred. To destroy him she would use the only woman he wanted.
    “I will find Carden,” he vowed, “and when I do, I will break both of our curses and send you to the Shadowlands where you belong.”
    “You will try, but I know your weakness.”
    Morgan’s laughter drifted away on the wind. Bran turned to look for her, but she was not there. In her place was Mairi.

    Mairi wrapped the heavy woolen shawl around her shoulders as a gust of wind whipped past her. She saw Bran, standing alone, dressed all in black, looking fierce and gorgeous.
    His black hair rippled in the wind. He wore only a T-shirt, leaving his arms bare. It was cold, yet he didn’t shiver. He stood perfectly immobile, lost in whatever he was thinking as he studied the tattoos that ran along his forearm. A soft glow flickered from his flesh and she wondered how he had gotten energy to make them glow.
    As she got closer to him, she let her gaze travel downward. He had a fabulous ass in his tight-fitting pants. An image came to her of him sitting on the bed beside her. She remembered the way he’d looked naked, all sculpted and hard—and the tattoos—she remembered them, too, and how when she ran her fingers over them she felt his muscles shift and slide beneath her fingertips.
    Bran was handsome in a lethal sort of way. And Lord, she wanted him. Despite what he was.
    She was standing right behind him when he turned suddenly and faced her.
    “Your tattoos—they’re glowing.”
    “They’re called sigils.”
    “Looks