Fire on the Island (28 page)

Jeremiah was
wary of camping out in the open with all of the dangers that were waiting for
them, but the soft rustling of wildlife and the soft bubbling of a nearby burn
put him more at ease.

The activity,
or lack thereof, of the woodland animals would be their early warning system.

Isla pulled out
some dehydrated vegetables and black beans from her backpacking kit to cook
over the fire. They had plenty of energy bars and snacks, but nothing lifted
the spirits like a hot meal, so he quickly set about building the fire.

After they'd
pitched the tent and laid out the bed rolls, Jeremiah tried to raise Callum on
the radio as promised.

"Callum?
Callum? Come back."

Static.

He repeated the
call and breathed a sigh of relief as the radio sputtered to life.

"Oi,
Jeremiah! Come back!"

"Yeah,
Callum. We're bedded down for the night on Dun Fionn, just inside the woods
from the old fort. Over."

"Find
anything, mate?"

"Not a
thing. Seems like we've hit a dead end. We'll head home at first light and
regroup. We should make it in to Expeditions by midmorning. Over."

"Sounds
good. We don't hear from you by then, we'll send the cavalry."

"'Night.
Over and out."

Clicking off
the radio to save battery, Jeremiah joined Isla by the fire ring. She shivered
lightly in the evening chill, so he pulled out the trail blanket to cover them.
She sighed and leaned in.

"What do
we do now? I thought for sure that locating the missing people would give us
some clues as to how to beat Alastore. Samhain is close, but what the hell do
we do when it gets here?"

Jeremiah shook his
head and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Not sure, babe. This is
new territory for me too. When we get back, I'll contact my friend Drew to see
if he's gotten any more done on the translations. And I think we should try and
see Mhairi again."

"I guess
we should. If anyone knows how to stop Alastore, it would be her. I have to
wonder why she won't just tell us. Don't you?"

"Maybe she
doesn't know. Not specifically. But she may know something that could lead us
to the answer. She's already given us a big part of it—
the blood is the key
."

After they
finished their hiker's feast, they climbed into the tent and almost immediately
fell asleep. The events of the day had taken their toll, and the two of them
were engulfed with exhaustion.

Jeremiah was pulled
halfway out of his bone-deep fatigue by the feeling of warm lips pressed
against the pulse point in his neck. He moaned sleepily and lifted his chin to
give better access. He shuddered when teeth nipped along his jugular.

The last thing
he felt before sleep claimed him again was a hand sliding down his abdomen.

When Jeremiah
awoke hours later, he was disoriented and alone. Shaking his head to clear his
mind of the exhaustion and latent lust from his fervent dreams, he squinted to
look around the tent. His gut twisted in panic as he imagined what could have
happened to Isla. Had she been taken in her sleep again? She could be anywhere.

Taking a breath
to calm himself, Jere emerged from the tent to look around. It was almost pitch
dark, the only light coming from the dying fire and the bit of moonlight that
broke through the forest canopy.

"
Isla!
"
he hissed, not wanting to lose the element of surprise if something had gotten
to her. Shivering in the cold of full night in Scotland's October, Jere tugged
a wool sweater over his head and shoved his feet into his hiking boots.

Grabbing his
hunting knife, he set off on the most obvious path, down to the river.
Following the sound of the gently babbling brook, he trod soundlessly on the
soft brush of the forest.

"
Isla
,"
he whispered, straining his ears for any sound that would give him a clue.
Hearing nothing but silence at first, he was just about to move on, when it
came.

Faint and
otherworldly, the tinkling sound of light splashing floated on the air. Cautiously,
he approached an opening in the trees that he knew would lead down to the burn.
Stopping short, he was taken aback by what he saw.

There in the
clearing was a small pool, caused by the buildup of rock and sediment in the
low-flowing river. Isla was submerged up to her chest, the water licking just
over her full breasts, and she leaned back on her elbows against the bank.

Seeing
Jeremiah, she smiled, causing her dimples to wink out at him. Despite his
confusion, seeing that sent a shot of pure lust straight to his groin.

"Come
in," she beckoned with no less power than a siren's song. "It feels
lovely."

"Uh,
Isla," he started, swallowing against the tremor of desire in his voice.
"It's October. In Scotland. Don't think skinny-dipping is the best thing
to be doing right now.”

Her laugh rang
out like a bell on a clear day, sending little shivers over his skin. He
wondered if she was in her right mind, but other parts of him were really close
to not caring.

Her laughter
died as her gaze dropped to his lips. Wetting her own lips, her eyes traveled a
scorching path down his body. "I think this is exactly what we should be
doing," she murmured.

Aw, fuck it
all, he thought as his brain short circuited. If he was going to freeze to
death, what a way to go it would be. Anxious to join her, hypothermia or not,
he stripped off his sweater and shirt. He had peeled his jeans halfway off,
when he realized he hadn't taken off his boots.

Isla giggled as
he stumbled in his haste to get them off. When he was finally, blessedly,
naked, he summoned all of his mental fortitude to step into what he could only
imagine would be ice-cold, murky water, and hoped he wouldn’t squeal like a
girl.

It was a shock
to his system when the water he stepped into was the temperature of a hot-tub,
and instead of the black, peat-infused, muddy color it should have been, he saw
that the pool was as clear as bathwater, softly reflecting the moonlight.

Wading in until
the water lapped at his hipbones, Jeremiah stopped to stare at her. She was a
dazzling water nymph, her lush and curvy body belying the strength that rippled
beneath it.

She stood and
he was mesmerized by her luminescent skin as the water rolled down in
glistening rivulets. He swallowed. Hard.

Isla bit her
lip as she studied him until he began to fidget under her scrutiny.

Confusion
clouded his strong brow as his unfocused eyes finally zeroed in on her face.
"What the hell? How is this warm? I've never heard of any hot springs on
Arran."

Again, the
tinkling laughter sent shivers down his spine. "There aren't any,"
she said with a mischievous smile. "What's the point of being a witch if
you can't make a little magic every now and then."

Lowering
herself back onto her elbows on the mossy bank, Isla took a moment to enjoy the
look of him. His shaggy, brown hair was wet at the tips from the gathering
steam, and the heat in his hazel stare was enough to make her belly coil with
need.

His impossibly
wide shoulders and chest tapered down to rock-hard abs, which were now
quivering as he breathed fast and shallow. Isla's own breathing grew shallow as
her eyes followed the stark line of his oblique muscles into the deep V that
disappeared into the water.

 His
worried gaze raked over her as if searching for invisible injuries.
"Doesn't it sap your energy to keep it hot?"

"Surprisingly,
no," she said, examining her fingertips coyly. "I feel great,
actually. Energized. I think it may be because water is one of the elements and
I can tap into its life force."

In that
instant, his gaze became sharp, a slow, wolfish smile curling his lips.
"So you're telling me that you and me are alone in a hot tub?"

Chewing on a
fingernail, Isla nodded, suddenly feeling a bit like a jackrabbit caught in the
crosshairs.

Just when she thought
he would pounce, he surprised her by doing the opposite. Stretching his arms
above his head, he fell back into the water until he was completely submerged.
He stayed under for a ridiculously long amount of time, and the picture he made
when he rose back out of the dark water made her mouth run dry.

Rippling
muscles in his torso stood out in stark relief from the kiss of the dim
moonlight as the water sluiced down his smooth skin. His longish hair was
darkened from the damp and slicked back away from his angular face. The moon
enhanced the shadows around his eyes and the hollows of his cheekbones, giving
his face an almost predatory appearance.

He looked
dangerous—and positively sinful. Gone was the goofy, easy-going scientist who
lit up like a Christmas Tree at any prospect of learning something new. In his
place was a dark, volatile, and unbearably sexy stranger.

Surprisingly,
she loved both sides of him, but she was glad that this one had decided to come
out and play. Slowly he waded his way over to her—how he could make it seem
like a swagger in waist-deep water, she had no idea.

There was no
doubt in her mind that tonight, their lovemaking would not be slow and tender,
but as wild and fierce as their surroundings.

In a flash, he
was on her, strong arms trapping her against the bank of the pool. Tilting her
head back to look up at him, she nibbled on her plump bottom lip. He traced the
path of her teeth with the pad of his thumb, and then tilted her chin up to
claim her mouth in a bruising kiss.

Isla's
heartbeat went into overdrive, and it was so loud in her head it was a wonder
he didn't hear it too. He drew back a hair's breadth, still so close that his
breath mingled with hers.

"Open for
me," he commanded in a gravelly voice that turned her knees to water.
There was really no other choice than to readily comply.

Her head swam
as he deepened the kiss, stroking her with his tongue as if trying to taste
every inch of her. And she was right there with him, teasing, nibbling, biting
at his lower lip. She had learned that it was just that right amount of
aggression mixed with her sweetness that lit his fire.

Unwilling to
release her mouth, he growled his approval when she wrapped her legs around his
waist. Her heart leapt in anticipation as he used his body to push her until
her back was flush with the soft sloping bank. She couldn't help but rock
against him as he sucked up a mark on her collarbone.

She could feel
him fighting for control—he'd want to go slow for her, give her the adoration
she deserved—but the raw wildness of their surroundings had her more feral side
straining to be let loose. She tilted her head up to scrape teeth along his
jugular.

From the way
his hips bucked sharply, she knew she'd found a sensitive spot. His satisfied
grin turned into a groan as she rocked against him again, enveloping him in
warm, moist heat. As his hands roamed her body, his muscles bulged and his body
practically vibrated from the strain of holding back.

“Isla…,” he
said, breaking off with a hiss as she reached down to take him in her hand. His
body tense, he dropped his forehead to hers. “I—I can’t…”

Understanding,
her mouth curved in a wicked smile as she tilted her head up to brush her lips
over his ear. “Then don’t,” she whispered, biting down on his lobe.

A strangled
sound came from somewhere deep in his chest, and the wire snapped. He seized
the hand that was taunting him, captured both of her wrists in one hand and
pinned them above her head, and entered her in one hard surge.

Isla gasped and
arched her back at the exquisite invasion, her heart thumping in her ears. She
could see the pulse at his throat fluttering wildly, and it gave her a sweet
sense of satisfaction to affect him that way and knowing he was right there
with her.

She watched him
through heavy lids as he gripped her hips tightly and surged into her. Muscles
rippled, the chords of his neck strained, bulging veins stood out starkly under
his golden skin. He was magnificent. He was relentless.

Those were her
last coherent thoughts as he hit a spot that caused her eyes to roll back in
her head and her mind to go blank. She could already feel her orgasm building,
a warm coil low in her belly.

They had
survived the unthinkable, a fate worse than death. In the wilds of the forest,
surrounded by the warmth of her magic, she was tempted to give herself over to
the sensation. But she wasn’t ready—she needed more of him.

She wrenched
her wrists out of his grip, causing him to lose his balance and fall forward,
chest to chest and hip to hip with her. He merely growled deep in his throat,
buried his hands in her curls, and thrust deep.

The new angle
provided such an exquisite friction that she felt herself fly apart. Her
release crashed over her until she gasped and clawed at him. He rode her
through it, grazing teeth along her neck, causing her to shiver through the
aftershocks.