Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

SIERRA

T wo male voices wound their way into my subconscious, quickly followed by an urgent need to pee. Mac was no longer next to me, and I had no idea what time it was. I padded into the bathroom. When I was done, I picked up on Mac's tension. How I knew he was feeling that way I had no clue, just that whomever he was speaking with wasn't a threat, but Mac wasn't exactly pleased the person was here.

Not sure what to do, I decided to take another shower and cover myself in more lotion. It had a light tropical scent I adored that not only helped to make my brain forget the sulfur I'd been smelling for months, but I now associated it with Mac and how he reacted when he trailed kisses along my thighs and lower stomach. The memory of his tongue on my skin sent tingles along my spine then lower. Hopefully, he'd be done soon and we could go another round.

Crawled back into bed I noticed on the nightstand there was a covered dish from room service along with a bucket of ice that had a container of milk. My stomach rumbled at the thought of real food as I lifted the stainless steel dome.

I gasped at what was underneath. Chocolate Pop-Tarts. What on earth? He'd remembered. My eyes teared up at his thoughtfulness. When had a boyfriend ever remembered something I mentioned wanting then went out and gotten it for me? Never, that's when. Not that I'd ever allowed a man to stay in my life long enough to be called a boyfriend.

Had some part of me known Mac was out there, somewhere? That I never seemed to be able to connect with a man for more than an hour or so, and even then, I was often left dissatisfied and empty. Was that why I always held back from having relationships?

For a moment I felt guilty at not saving myself for him if he was truly my mate, even as I knew how ridiculous that sounded. I had needs, plus I had no idea about the prophecy or him. Pushing all thoughts of my past back where they belonged, I grabbed a Pop-Tart and took a bite. Heaven. Cold milk and chocolate. Was there anything better? Um, yes. Mackenzie Smythe.

Jeez, first my body, now my subconscious was rooting for him . I think I need more chocolate before I decided if I wanted to believe in this prophecy or not.

Munching happily, I ate two and half more Pop-Tarts, finished the milk, then snuggled back down under the sheet and comforter. I still couldn't make out what they were saying in the other room and eventually closed my eyes, thinking I would just rest until Mac returned.

A feather tickling my arm woke me. But when I opened my eyes, instead of a feather, it was Mac's index finger lightly tracing an unseen pattern on my upper arm. "Hi." I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and grinned at him.

"Hi, beautiful." Mac placed a light kiss on my nose, then pulled back. "We need to talk."

A lead weight plunked itself in the pit of my stomach. Nothing good ever came after those four words.

"No, don't get all twisted up. Before I take you back to Scotland, you need to know…things. And I'd like to know a bit more about my mate before my brothers, and their mates, monopolize all our time." Mac stretched out beside me on top of the comforter.

He was fully dressed, so the chances of having more naked time before he took me back was not looking good. Resigned to talking, I tucked the comforter under my breasts and asked, "Where do you want me to begin? From when I was captured or from birth?" The attempt at sarcasm fell flat. I sounded like a bratty teenager who hadn't gotten her way.

"Begin with why you were unable to use your power to avoid being taken."

My head snapped so fast to look at him I grimaced, then in a high-pitched tone said, "What makes you think I have any powers?"

His eyebrows lifted at my outburst and yeah, not my best moment.

"Alright. So, I'm a witch, but not by choice. My mother, whom I never knew, was human. Or at least that's what I've always somehow known. It was almost like she was simply my incubator, you know. I have no feeling toward her one way or the other, which is kind of sad."

I half expected him to say something like "How can you not care about your mother?" because everyone's supposed to love their mothers no matter what, right? But he remained silent.

"Then there's my father. I'm not sure what he is. All I know is that he didn't want me, and he left me with a coven that was not exactly welcoming, more indifferent. All they cared about was making money off their magic. Then, around seventeen, when my powers became apparent and the coven mistress sought to use them, and me, for profit, I left."

Next to this extraordinary man, er shifter, admitting all I ever wanted was to live a normal, quite life seemed like I

"And you never heard anyone mention the Brethren's Prophecy?" Mac asked.

"I remember hearing them discuss Brigid's curse. A Celtic goddess who was rumored to have been struck down by one of Lucifer's soldiers after she refused to become his bride. Her daughters were also killed. But she'd hidden away a son no one knew existed. A son who lived and produced six sons, ensuring her bloodline carried on." It had all sounded like a lame fable to me, and I hadn't given it another thought until just now.

"Did you not think they were speaking about your father? That you are from Brigid's line? Why did you never question your coven mistress to learn more about what you are?" Mac sounded incredulous. Like anyone would believe something so vague. But I'd never read anything in mythology that even came close to what the coven mistress and the others had been discussing all those years ago. How was I to know it was real? All I cared about was taking off on my own.

"Because I wanted—want—nothing to do with magic. No one has ever provided proof that the curse was true or that I was the first girl born to my father's line. I've always believed my mother had been messed up with drugs or something equally dangerous and left me with my dad. And then he left me too, and I wanted nothing to do with the coven's goals. I wanted to be normal. I am normal, dammit. I'm a children's librarian from Inverness and I want to go home. Now." Whoa, where'd that come from. Had I been ignoring all that pent-up hostility all these years?

"Inverness!? You live in Inverness? Bloody hell, you've been in my backyard this whole time." Mac's jaw had dropped much like you see in old cartoons. It was comical, but this wasn't the time for laughter. The more time we spent together, the more connected I felt to him. Prophecy, or curse, didn't matter.

All that did was this building need within me to wrap my legs around his waist and ride him until we both collapsed in pleasure. It was all I could focus on.

"Why couldn't we have met in a smoky bar, hooked up for a night of mutual, multiple orgasms before one of us did the walk of shame the following morning?" I would have been up for that memory because I'd long ago decided marriage wasn't in the cards for me. Or having kids of my own.

Nope. There was no way I'd put myself in a position to disappoint a child. Much safer to have occasional one-nighters than to repeat my parents' failures.

The children who attended my weekly story times satisfied any motherly instincts I might have. I knew what it was like to be a child whose mother didn't want her and to have a disinterested father who couldn't wait to dump his kid off on someone else.

"What are your expectations, Mac? Of me, of us? It might help if you explained more about this prophecy which proclaims us mates. Help me understand, please?"

He threaded his fingers between mine then lift my hand and placed light kisses onto the healing flesh. The sweet gesture was almost too much, and I fought more unshed tears.

"I want nothing more, Sierra. But first you need more nourishment than milk and Pop-Tarts." He stood and gathered the new clothes he bought from the chair I had tossed them on earlier. Holding them out to me, he grinned.

"Hey, I'll have you know that Pop-Tarts sustained me during some very lean years." I tugged the sheet around my body, then wiggled to the side of the bed and stood. "Do you mind handing them to me please."

"I've seen pretty much every inch of you, love. You can dress in front of me." Mac's grin grew wider.

"Yes, but if I drop this sheet, what are the odds we'll even leave this room tonight?" I was pretty sure the sheet was thin enough he could see right through it, but it was the principle, after all. Besides, I was pretty sure we'd be having more sexy time later. Well, at least I hoped.

But now that he mentioned real food, all I could think about was having an order of eggs benedict and hashbrowns. Extra crispy.

"Point taken. I'll call down to have the car I rented brought around. I'll leave you to dress." Our fingers touched as he placed the clothes in my hand, and oh, was I tempted. My stomach chose that exact moment to protest. Nourishment first, more orgasms after.