26. Conor

26

CONOR

C onor stood suspended in the doorway, staring at Rowan asleep in his bed, feeling as afraid to leave as he was to stay. He'd temporarily lost his mind to lust and let her curl up to sleep in his bed once she'd bathed. Now his fresh sheets—and likely his whole room—would smell like her. He'd allowed her to take over the only Rowan-less room in the entire keep.

He feared if he blinked, she'd disappear. Rowan was too good to be true, and he was certain he was moments from waking from a rare, pleasant dream. Still, he felt her contentment as his own through the bond she shared with him. At least he hadn't shared his blood with her. For now, their connection remained one-way. The last thing he needed was for her to know everything he was feeling. If she knew the extent of what he felt, she'd be impossible.

Rowan's full lips tugged up in a gentle smile even as she slept. Her auburn hair pooled around her like a halo. She shifted, and the blanket slipped down, revealing the pale skin of her shoulder.

Desire perked to life at the hint of her nudity. He was not even mildly satisfied with the little of her he'd allowed himself.

Conor cursed and dropped his head back against the doorframe.

"Afraid of your little conquest?"

He startled at Charlie's voice.

"How did you know?" Conor asked.

Charlie chuckled. "As if I could miss all that moaning. Sounded like she enjoyed herself."

Conor narrowed his eyes at his friend. He didn't like that anyone else had witnessed it. The territorial way he felt about Rowan was unnatural.

"I thought you'd be more relaxed, considering," Charlie said, waving a hand at the bed. "I just wanted to check in on you. It seems you were successful in not sucking the life out of her."

Conor nodded. "I don't know if I can do it again. It was hard enough to keep my composure, and she seems determined to tempt me until I lose my mind."

"By sleeping?" Charlie challenged.

"She offered to bond with me."

Charlie choked on a laugh. "And you took it? Are you truly out of your mind?"

"Yes. That's what I'm telling you. I think I made a mistake. Even right now, all I'm thinking about is fucking her and devouring her life force. Once she's awake, I'm going to feel everything she does."

"And that's a bad thing?" Charlie asked.

Conor grimaced.

"Mother's tits! You actually have feelings for her."

Conor shook his head violently.

Charlie laughed. "You do . Little Red is under your skin."

Conor scrubbed a hand over his face. He did care for her, and that would not do at all. He needed to stop caring as soon as possible. His emotions had only ever served to create destruction, and it would be no different for her.

The best he could do was approach her with the same cool indifference he had in the beginning. The problem was that was what he'd been trying and failing to do for weeks. He only succeeded in popping up out of nowhere, kissing her, and then disappearing again to stew in his own self-loathing.

It would be so much easier if he hadn't killed an elder, if they hadn't sent Rowan to stay with him, if there was anywhere on the island that was safe for her.

He'd cursed himself for the deal he'd made with the Mother so many times he'd lost count. He'd been a different person then, a mortal-turned-god, hardened by centuries of fighting and loneliness. Conor hadn't counted on the way the Maidens had taught him about kindness, duty, compassion. He'd become dreadfully soft.

Rowan needed him to be who he once was, yet even though he knew he'd be her destruction, all he could think about was climbing into bed and curling around her.

That sweetness competed with the darkness inside him that wanted to kiss her awake and make furious love to her in the way he'd held back from doing earlier. He wanted to show her who he really was. He wanted to drag her down into the darkness with him. He was afraid she'd go—that she'd like it as much as he did.

If one of them didn't act as the voice of reason, things would spin out of control fast.

"What are you thinking about?" Charlie asked with a grin.

Conor rolled his eyes. "How to stay in my right mind."

"Just have some fun. You've been way too tense, boss. You deserve it, and she certainly seems a spirited girl. No reason not to enjoy yourself. It would only help?—"

Conor narrowed his eyes. "No. It's out of the question."

Charlie sighed, shaking his head. "If you don't, you might not be able to protect her much longer anyway."

The words settled in Conor's stomach like a stone. As much as he hated to admit it, Charlie had a point. The magic in him surged at the thought.

Conor sat in his chair facing the bed, not sure where to begin. He needed to be himself. Maybe that would serve a dual purpose in giving him what he needed while also scaring her away.

Rowan sighed as she rolled over in bed and stretched, pushing her wild hair out of her eyes. She grinned at him, sitting up and letting the sheet fall away from her full breasts.

"I want you again," he said.

Instead of looking apprehensive, Rowan's eyes lit up. "How?"

Of all the questions in the world, she asked the one that sent all of his focus south. Of course she'd ask that. It was what she was taught to ask , he reminded himself.

"You're just saying that," he accused. "You were taught to want that."

"Am I?" she asked. She climbed out of bed and crossed the room until she stood right in front of him. She lowered herself to her knees in front of his chair, and he swallowed hard at the sight.

"Perhaps I simply want to make you feel as good as you made me feel," she whispered. "Perhaps I know you were holding back and I want all of you like you've had all of me."

Conor stared at her. "I held so much back before."

"I know."

"I'm afraid of hurting you. I don't want to get carried away."

"Conor," she said, sliding her hands up his thighs. He flinched at her touch. "I want you to get carried away. You've been in control so long, and so have I. I want something else, and I don't care if it's dark. Neither of us are afraid of the dark."

Conor groaned. "That may be true, but I still don't want you like this."

"Then how do you want me?"

"I want you to tell me what you want," he said. He was losing his nerve.

She blinked up at him and bit her lower lip. "I want you wild—how you really are."

He tugged her to her feet and tossed her back on the bed. She let out a squeal of delight and surprise. He slid off his pants and prowled between her legs.

"Rowan, Rowan, Rowan…where do I even begin with you?" he murmured as he kissed the inside of her ankle, her inner knee, then up her stomach.

She whimpered, arching into his mouth. She had the unique ability to separate him from his sanity with just that sound. How had he ever felt the predator in their relationship when he was so obviously prey to the exquisite woman in front of him?

Her green eyes were bright and full of fire, and he'd willingly let her burn right through him. At times, she seemed unaware of the power she held, and at others, she asserted an effortless command over it.

He wanted her in every position, on every surface of that room, but for now, he'd settle just for seeing her face as he moved with her. In all his years of celibacy, Conor had forgotten what it was like to be with someone.

In the back of his mind, an even more frightening revelation reared its unwelcome head. He'd never once felt the kind of connection he did with Rowan, and it intensified every kiss, every touch, every glance. The bond made it even stronger.

He slid inside her, and they both groaned in unison. He was certain nothing had ever felt as good as being so close to her.

"Okay?" he asked, brushing hair from her eyes.

"Goddess above, Conor! Stop checking on me. I'm fine, and I'll say if I'm not. Now move!" she huffed, lifting her hips, seeking friction.

The words broke his restraint, and his hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise as he pulled back and thrust into her. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he did it again, but her eyes showed only desire and not a hint of pain.

He pulled her into a scorching kiss, swallowing up her moans as he moved rhythmically. She tried to meet his movements, but he held her in place, exactly how he wanted her to take him. The shift in power made her wild. Her hands gripped his arms, and she tossed her head back, sitting right on the precipice of release.

Conor kissed her neck as he moved, dragging his teeth over her skin. He was still holding onto the gentler side of himself, but barely. If his restraint slipped, he wasn't certain he wouldn't take too much from her.

"Conor," Rowan whimpered. He met her gaze. "Let go."

He shook his head.

"Fear is poison. Don't let it steal the joy from this," she whispered.

He remembered the day he'd first looked at her deepest fear when she'd said those words. She was right. Every time he feared losing control, he gave that fear power. He, of all people, understood that.

The ravenous, unrelenting desire took over as he let go, his hips churning faster. His hands were everywhere. He couldn't touch enough of her, even with the soft curves of her body pressed flush against the hard lines of his, even with her clinging to him just as tightly as he did to her.

Conor was absolutely starved for her—for love, for touch, for life itself—and Rowan was every single one of those things. His movements became frenzied, jerking, relentless, and she arched into him. A sound between a scream and a moan ripped out of her as she came undone. It was so beautiful, but even the animal in him needed to see her eyes, needed to know she was okay.

He slowed and sat back on his heels, drawing her up to straddle his lap. He had all the power, but he was handing her control.

Her eyes lit up as understanding dawned on her. She covered his face in kisses. In all of Conor's years, no one had ever been so sweet with him.

She paused, tentative as she rolled her hips. Her eyes were glued to his face, watching every reaction. He didn't expect to ever find anything he liked as much as control, but at that moment, he liked Rowan being in control more than anything else in the world.

Her back arched, and her breasts thrust forward as she moved her hips. She looked wild and lovely, and he wanted to lay the world at her feet.

It's just sex , he reminded himself. Don't be desperate, Conor.

But in the back of his mind, he knew it was more than that. He was falling for this wild, magical woman. He liked her sharp edges and her rage as much as her humor and warmth. She wasn't afraid of wounding the same way she wasn't afraid of the wounded. There were moments when she seemed untouchable, even to him. Parts of her would always be unknowable, but it didn't stop him from wanting to know them.

He shoved those thoughts away. He tucked the feelings deep inside him as she curved into him and squeezed so tight around him that he followed her over the edge. He devoured her mouth with a passionate kiss and she let him, smiling breathlessly when he finally pulled away.

"That was more like it," she laughed as he laid beside her.

Conor laughed in disbelief. "You'll be the death of me."

Her smile faltered momentarily. "That's impossible," she mumbled.

Conor was about to lob a comment back when he licked his lips and tasted burnt sugar.

Rowan was lying . She somehow knew it was possible for him to die. Through their bond he sensed a slight buzz of nervousness buried under heavy fatigue.

"Rowan, what do you know?" he asked. He needed to know exactly what she was planning so he could save her from herself.

"Hmm?" she asked as her eyelashes fluttered, sleep carrying her away.

She curled into Conor, and against his better judgment, he let her. He tried to kiss her back to consciousness, but she stayed asleep.

He smiled at how sweet she looked asleep beside him. The feeling of soft skin against his was a sensation he'd all but forgotten.

Rowan might have been exhausted, but Conor felt wired, powerful, energized. He extracted himself from her arms, worried he would wake her, but she remained heavily asleep.

Conor hadn't had true companionship in years. Though he was surprisingly desperate to connect, he had no idea where to begin. He feared that everything he'd held back was bound up inside him in a hopeless knot. If he let any part of it free, it might all unravel at once, and he could not abide a loss of control.

Pulling on his robe, Conor felt better than he had in years.

A knock on the door drew him away from the bedside. He opened the door and found Charlie holding a tray of tea and biscuits.

"Thought you could use some refreshments." Charlie stopped suddenly. "What did you do?" he demanded, his wide eyes looking through Conor.

Conor frowned.

"Your aura, it's brighter than I've seen it since?—"

Horror crashed over Conor in a great wave. It couldn't be true.

He dragged Charlie into the room. The tray clattered to the floor, the teapot and cups shattering with a loud crash. Rowan didn't stir.

Conor raced across the room to her side. He sighed with relief that she was still breathing.

"What about her?" he demanded, looking at Charlie's stricken face.

"Hers is faded. What did you do?"

Conor cursed, raking his hands through his hair. "I must have lost control. I must have accidentally sucked out some of her life force when I—" The guilt punched the air from his lungs.

Rowan had tried to meet him as wild as he was, and he'd nearly killed her for it. All she had succeeded in doing was proving for sure how little control he had over himself. He needed to get as far from her as possible as fast as possible.

No wonder he felt so good. He'd stolen from her.

"Calm down," Charlie said. "She's fine. She's only slightly faded, so you must have only taken a little bit. She'll wake up and be no worse for the wear. You'll just tell her what happened, and everything will be fine."

Conor shook his head. "It's not fine! Everyone in her life has looked at her and only seen what they could take from her. I convinced her that I saw more, and then I did the same thing. I stole something."

"But you didn't mean to," Charlie argued.

"I'm not sure intention matters when it comes to stealing someone's life force."

"The lass is quite forgiving?—"

"I'll not make hope a noose from which to hang myself," Conor interrupted. "Hope is not for me. I'll only become a bigger danger to her if I believe it is."

"I don't see how you being a martyr for an honest mistake changes things," Charlie quipped. "Just talk to her when she wakes up. Let her stay a bit."

Conor paced the room. "No. She has to go. I'm sending her back to the tower. I'm no better than those elders. I'm just as much of a risk to her."

Charlie grimaced. "Would it be the worst thing if?—"

"I don't want to doom this woman," Conor hissed.

He didn't know how to tell Charlie that Rowan had been let down by all of the people she cared about most. He didn't know how to explain why he cared. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He could not believe he'd been so careless.

"It's worse because I knew better, and I still let her convince me to do this. She's dangerous to all of us, Charlie. I don't need to remind you. I think she knows she can kill me."

Charlie shook his head. "But you're safe now. There's nothing else for you to take from her."

Conor met his gaze. "Isn't there? The way I see it, there are two more things I could take from her. Her heart and her life."

The two stared at Rowan as if they could see through her to her true intention.

"Then let the elders or the Dark Wood have her. Mother's tits, Conor! Don't you have any sense of self-preservation?" Charlie said.

"And then what?"

Charlie huffed out a breath and banged his head back against the wall. "Then finish the job. Take all of her life force now. She is a sweet girl, but there's so much more at stake." He ran a hand through his hair. "You've been dreaming again, haven't you?"

Conor stared at him and said nothing. Contrary to what he'd told Rowan, he did sleep—and more so lately. He'd only dreamed a couple of times, but that was all it took.

Charlie shook his head. "Well, I have."

Conor froze. That was alarming. If Charlie was dreaming, all the reapers would be. The problem was much worse than he'd thought.

"You could do so much with that power. It's my job to protect you and there are things even I cannot save you from. This is your time. If not now, when ?" Charlie pleaded. "Will you wait until the nightmare is stronger?"

The words stirred something cold and ancient in Conor, but he shoved it down.

"You'd have a ten-year-old guide spirits across the Dark Wood? Aeoife is still a child . I won't have her terrified and walking through the Dark Wood with a group of spirits," Conor said bitterly.

"What about the fifteen-year-old Maiden?"

Conor shook his head. "She's gone."

A crease formed in Charlie's brow. "Dead?"

"No. Just gone. I know she's out there, but she's much farther away than Ballybrine."

"I could hunt her down."

Conor cocked a brow. "Have you not been trying to do that for years?"

Charlie threw up his hands, his eyes glowing. "I'm telling you, she's magically protected somehow. Every time I think I have the trail, it slips away."

They fell into a tense silence.

"I'll go to meet the little one and guide her," Charlie said. "It's unorthodox, but there's nothing preventing it."

Conor shook his head. "I'm not going to devour Rowan. End of discussion. When she wakes up, I want her things packed, and then you will take her back to Ballybrine, kicking and screaming if need be."

"You know she'll just come back. She's the most stubborn Maiden ever," Charlie groaned.

Conor sighed and walked to the window. There had to be a way to convince her. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

The answer came to him like a dagger to the heart. The only way to ensure that she stayed away would be to hurt her.

It was far from what he wanted. Centuries had taught Conor that clear communication was best, but Rowan was the type of wild that did not respond to reason. The only way he could attempt to keep her safe would be to keep her away.

"I will convince her. Don't worry about it," Conor sighed. "Go pack her things up. I have no idea how long she'll sleep, but I want her out as soon as she's awake."

Charlie gathered the shattered tea set in a huff and left the room.

Conor gazed miserably from the spiderwebbed frost on the windows to Rowan asleep in the bed. Already her color looked better. Her cheeks were pink, and her lips, red and swollen from being well-kissed, were drawn up in a slight smile.

Mother slay me. She's beautiful , he thought.

He was a fool to even risk taking her to bed. It appeared there was no end to his foolishness. When she woke, he'd give her up, but while she still slept, he wanted to hold her one last time.

Climbing into bed, he pulled her against him, burying his face in her neck. He breathed in her sweet lavender-vanilla scent and cursed the Mother, the elders, and magic itself. He cursed himself for tempting fate with his happiness.