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  She tilted her chin up. “I know,” she said, challenge blazing in her eyes. “At least give me a memory to last the next 800 years.”

  Her back smacked against the cool stone wall, as for her pants, well, she didn’t really care what he’d done with her pants. Somehow the gold belt still rested on her hips, shimmering in the candlelight.

  “Eager much?” she asked, wiggling her hips.

  Finn stared at the flickering gold band snaking across her belly button. His gaze moved lower and he about choked. “Let’s just say it’s been a while for me too.”

  He growled most deliciously and swept her into a crushing kiss. She felt lavish, wanton, alive. And when Finn’s hands trailed up her sides and cupped her breasts, she darn near bit him. She couldn’t help it. This was all so new, so fresh, so utterly perfect.

  She drove her fingers through his hair, revelled in the way her bare body scraped against his. He twined her legs with his, the wool of his kilt rubbing her in the most delightful place. Still, she wanted more.

  Hadn’t she said she was going to find out what Scotsmen wore under their kilts?

  While his mouth did exquisite things to her upper chest, Kat drew her fingers down his back, pressing small circles along his spine. Down to where the tartan clung to that groove of muscle at his waist.

  “Oh my,” she said, as she observed how the evidence of his desire made the rough wool fabric stand on end.

  He chuckled low in his throat. “You don’t know the half of it,” he said, spreading his legs for her.

  Fingers shaking, she touched his knees, drew her hands up his legs, all the way to his “Bicycle shorts?”

  He swallowed hard, as if the wait was killing him.

  “It’s . . . ” she began, wondering just how much bigger he’d be if he wasn’t crushed into the shorts. It was an enticing, almost intimidating thought.

  She lifted the tartan to get a closer look. Sure enough, his powerful thighs were encased in matching cloth bearing the Royal Arms of Scotland.

  She lifted a brow.

  “Trade secret,” he hissed through his teeth. “It’s the only way I can ride a Harley in a kilt.”

  “It’s not a very good secret,” she informed him. And with that, she liberated his kingdom once and for all.

  Yow. The Scotsman did not disappoint. As she paused for a moment, trying to decide exactly what to do with her new find, Fionnlagh MacLaomainn took things into his own hands.

  He kissed her cross-eyed before devouring her collarbone, her neck, that little spot behind her ear. He nibbled, he sucked, he trailed his hot mouth all the way down to her – Oh my.

  Finn used his tongue on her breasts, his teeth, and she darned near slid down the wall, undone by the pleasure of it all. Only one thing kept her standing – she wanted more. She held the back of his head, raked her fingers through his hair and willed him to go on for ever.

  She almost climbed the wall when his fingers found the very centre of her. She was soaking wet with need and she gasped with surprise. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. He caressed her, parted her, rubbing her in ways so that she thought she might burst. All the while, he kissed her breasts, her belly button, her . . . “What in the world are you doing?”

  Kat never knew one person could do that to another and she certainly hadn’t imagined how bone-crushingly delectable it would feel. He licked her, sucked her, tasted her everywhere until she exploded once, twice. “Finn!” The ankle grip she had around his neck would have flattened the average man, but Finn was certainly not an average anything. She gave up, threw her head back and released a very un-princesslike scream of pleasure.

  “Is this another one of your supernatural powers?” she gasped, only half joking.

  “We haven’t even gotten to the good part,” he said, standing.

  She wrapped her fingers around his length. Her excitement rocketed as she sensed her power. If only she knew what to do next. “I’ve only ever done it in a bed. In the dark.” Even that had been a few hundred years ago.

  Finn kissed her like he was ready to devour her. He broke away, chest heaving. “We’ll go slow.”

  Slow was bad, she wanted to say. This night was not about holding back. She wanted him hard and fast and now.

  “No,” she said, and nearly shrieked at the loss when he stopped. “Wait,” she said. “I meant not slow. I didn’t mean, oh hell – now, Finn. Now!”

  He groaned and surged forwards. It stung, but she didn’t care. She grabbed his perfect butt and forced him forwards. “More!”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he heaved against her ear.

  “Then don’t stop.” He couldn’t stop now.

  With a loud shout, he pushed himself inside her. She gasped at the bliss of being completely and utterly possessed. She’d never felt it. Would never feel it again.

  Don’t think. Just feel.

  At some point, they ended up on the stone floor, the kilt under her, Finn above her. She was surrounded in the scent of him, the feel of him, as he drove into her, over and over. She revelled in it. Clutched his back, luxuriating in the muscle and power and strength she found. It was bliss. He was heaven. And if he was trying to make up for the last 839 years, he was doing a bang-up job.

  When she came for the third time, he came with her, groaning against her ear as he spilled himself inside of her.

  When she felt sufficiently able to speak, she tipped her head forwards against his. “Is it always like that?” she asked. Because really, if it was, then her life before this was even more pathetic than she’d imagined.

  He chuckled against the crook of her neck, “Princess,” he said, pressing wet kisses across her skin that made her all squiggly again, “it’s never like that.”

  A chill crept down her spine, despite the warmth of the man currently rubbing his cheek against hers. She’d never have this again. Never have him. What good was it to experience so much when she’d be forced to live without it for the next millennium?

  She pulled him closer. After centuries more of neglect, she might not even care any more.

  “It’s time,” he said quietly, pulling away from her. She let him go, and felt the cool air creep in between them. He really was magnificent. Lean and strong, all bone and muscle and . . . yum. Well, she might as well look. She’d never see it again.

  Finn’s entire body stiffened as he checked his watch. “By Skara Brae, we’ve been at it for three hours.”

  Mmm . . . she sat up on her elbows. Her entire body felt sated, and a little wobbly. “It couldn’t have been three hours.”

  “And then some.” Finn frowned, studying the shredded bottom of his kilt.

  His fault for putting his tongue in places she’d never dreamed a tongue could go.

  She stood slowly and ran her fingers through her tangled hair as she watched him dress. At least her father was late. She considered it a gift. The King had a reputation for putting business over everything else. And that, Kat sighed, was exactly what she was – an item to be bartered and handed off to the royal with the most influence to peddle.

  Finn handed her a conservative, medieval dress like the one she’d worn for the last 800 years. And like the ones she’d wear for the rest of her immortal life. She stuffed the shapeless, long-sleeved, high-necked bundle of brown velvet and trim over her head.

  The lace itched at her neck in a way it hadn’t before, now that she knew what it felt like to live without a noose of fine Romanian needlepoint. She pulled at the intricately woven fabric, almost wishing she hadn’t known how her life could be.

  Finn gathered what little they’d brought with them, the muscles in his back working as he double-checked his weapons.

  He was so powerful, so alive. Not just because he lived and breathed, or because he could walk in the light. Finn lived his life. And for a while, when she’d been with him, he’d made her feel that she lived hers too.

  Kat reached into the pocket of her gown and found a royal headpiece –
a shapeless, formless cap of black thread and pearls. Her fingers moved of their own volition, weaving her long hair into a braid around her head and tying the velvet ribbons under her chin.

  Having him – if only for an evening – had almost been worse than not having him at all. Because now she knew what she was missing. And it would kill her.

  Finn frowned at his black satellite phone and strapped it back into his pack. “Your father’s party isn’t answering. He sat back on his heels as he checked his watch. “We’re more than an hour past the pick-up time.”

  Kat licked her lips at the fact they could have been caught.

  “Impossible,” he said, “I would have sensed them coming.”

  “Would you at least pretend you can’t read my thoughts?” she asked. It was bad enough that her life was an endless, open book. She didn’t need him telling her what she was thinking.

  He slung his pack over his shoulder as he strode towards her, a contrite hitch to the side of his mouth. “I can’t read your thoughts, just your feelings.” He touched his forehead to hers. “And I apologize.”

  Finn folded her into his arms. Safe.

  Kat closed her eyes and let his warmth wash over her. Yes, she’d be sad later, and she’d mourn him, but right now, she had him.

  Finn rubbed her back through the heavy velvet. “I don’t know how to say this easy, so I’m just going to say it.” He drew back and considered her carefully, his expression sombre. “There’s no reason for your father to have missed our rendezvous. Worse, he’s not answering his phone.”

  Apprehension seeped through her. “Do you think something’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, all business. “But we’re not going to waste anytime wondering. We’re going to the castle.”

  So this was it. She swallowed hard and stared at the grey stone floor. He was taking her back to Varstnic Castle. She’d be married before sunrise.

  Finn had told her to expect it. Still, a tiny part of her had held out hope.

  “Come on.” He wrapped her hand in his and led her towards the door. “We need to leave.”

  “Can I at least wear your jacket?” she asked, feeling silly but needing it all the same.

  With great tenderness, he helped her into the coat. She savoured the warmth and feel of it, wrapped it around her so tightly that something poked her in the back.

  “Ow.”

  He rubbed his thumb along her jaw. “It’s just a spare stake. It won’t hurt you.”

  “Right,” she said, proving they couldn’t go five minutes without one of them thinking of his job. Well, unless they were occupied as they had been earlier. Parts of her body immediately turned to liquid at the thought.

  Finn looked flustered too. “Just—” he closed the jacket firmly around her “—just don’t touch it. That, either,” he said, as she pulled a heavy black gun out of the pocket.

  “Bullets can’t hurt me.”

  “No, but that gun shoots holy water. Hard and deadly accurate. Put it away.”

  Kat considered the gun, before stuffing it back into his coat pocket. Too bad. Where she was headed, it could come in handy.

  Like a true Scot, he rode commando. Had to. The vixen had ripped the biker shorts right off him. Not that he’d minded. What started out as an act of mercy had turned into something else entirely.

  Finn gunned the engine. If he could save her from this, he would.

  He’d promised to return her to her fiancé. It was the way of her people, what her family wanted. He’d clear up what he hoped was a misunderstanding with the King about the drop-off scenario. Then he’d go back to the kind of hard-nosed jobs that kept her world safer.

  Problem was, deep down he didn’t think the King had made a mistake about the pick-up time. The King was rigid, precise. In the three centuries he’d known the man, he never knew the King to ditch his part of a mission – especially when his family was at stake.

  The lack of a royal entourage tonight meant one thing – while Finn had been off diddling the Princess, King Petronius Brasov Volholme D’Transylvania, Lord of the Seven Clans and Romania was under attack.

  Finn turned on to Highway 11 to Brasov, Transylvania. Whatever was going on, he had to keep Katarina out of it. She might be strong, and downright wicked when she wanted to be, but she wasn’t a warrior. And he didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to her. The mere thought of it made his gut clench.

  Because she was the mission.

  Yeah, right.

  Finn steadied his breathing, the way he’d been taught. Slowly, he disentangled himself from the emotions of the little vamp behind him. Her quiet sorrow was a thousand times worse than her protests.

  As they neared her father’s castle, he opened himself up to the night. Along with the pine and dog roses in the air, he smelled danger too, the sticky sweet remains of deception and evil.

  His fingers tightened on the Harley as he zoned in on the threat – three vamps and something else.

  Varstnic Castle loomed like a spectre on the mountainside. Finn had travelled supernaturally fast, but they were running out of night. It didn’t affect him in the slightest. Finn could walk in the sun. As for Katarina, he didn’t even want to think what could happen to her if he didn’t secure the castle by sunrise.

  Just under an hour.

  Finn powered the bike up the steep mountain passage. The Harley spit rocks as the tyres fought for traction. He took them all the way to the limestone gorge that snaked around the edge of the property, and parked in a patch of Russian thistle. “We walk from here.”

  Worry clouded her eyes. “My father is in trouble, isn’t he?”

  Finn didn’t answer.

  Instead, he helped her unwind her long dress from the bike and led her down as she dismounted. It reminded him of the way he’d assisted the ladies of old, and he quickly dismissed the thought. Kat wasn’t a simpering maiden. He wasn’t a knight and this was no fairy tale.

  Katarina’s ancestral home jutted from the rocks above them as they made their way to the stone bridge at the edge of the property. The night was eerily silent. He didn’t like it one bit.

  Finn kept her hand in his, and focused on what lay ahead.

  Moss clung to tightly packed stones of the ancient castle. It was four feet thick in most places. Little had changed in the last several centuries, save for the secret entrance Finn had commissioned for the King.

  You never could be too careful.

  Kat clutched Finn’s arm as he led them through a thick forest of spruce. She knew what was coming: home. Well, Finn was just doing his job.

  She hesitated as he drew her into the clearing that housed her family’s small cemetery.

  “Not this way.” Kat held back, shivering against him.

  He hated bringing her here, but if they were going to get into the castle undetected, this was their only choice.

  Life-sized brass effigies stood ramrod straight, in concentric circles. The earlier statues dressed in ancient robes, the latter in medieval garb, some in nothing at all, green tarnish staining the joints.

  Kat spoke her words as if drawing each one from somewhere deep inside of her. “I haven’t been here since . . . ”

  “Your wedding. I know,” Finn said quickly.

  Finn ran a thumb along the smothering velvet at the waist of her gown, and caught it against the loop of the gold belt she still wore underneath. If he could save her from this, he would.

  Like peeling the layers of an onion, Finn took Kat’s hand and began leading her through the generations. He felt her pause at the memorial to Baghatur the Decapitator, the infamous Byzantine Conqueror, but he pulled her onwards. His job didn’t leave room for sentiment.

  As they neared the centre of the graveyard, she stiffened and clutched her hand to the neck of her gown.

  He gave her a quick once-over. “Are you OK?”

  She wound her fingers through the stiff lace at her throat. “Do you have to ask?”

  �
��For the record, this isn’t my idea of a dream date, either.” He diverted a portion of his empath senses her way and was hit immediately with her overwhelming desire to flee. He paused when they reached the centre of the inner ring, the final resting place of Illi the Father. The statue, as naked and muscular as Michelangelo’s David, held aloft a bronze dagger. “I need you to stay here.”

  “Of course,” she said, eyeing the path they’d just taken.

  “If I’m not back before the sun rises, go to ground.”

  She nodded.

  “Kat.” He cupped the back of her neck and leaned in for the last best kiss of his life. He descended on her with mouth and tongue, pushing her, tasting her, scorching them both with the intensity of what they had found together.

  Pleasure swamped his senses. He ground her closer, needing her like he’d never needed anything before in his life. He couldn’t have her, didn’t deserve her. But he would save her.

  He smoothed her arms to her sides, his body aching for one final touch before he unleashed the full force of his empath abilities and froze her on the spot. She stood stock still, the epitome of desire.

  Finn stepped back from her immobile form. “I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it, even as the expression in her eyes went from confused to downright hostile. He couldn’t let it affect him. Finn had work to do.

  He knelt at the feet of Alulim the First. Brushing aside the leaves at the base of the statue, he quickly located the security punch pad and dialled in the code. “Don’t worry,” he said, refusing to let himself look at her, “I’m not leaving you defenceless.”

  Why did he have the sudden urge to show her? Touch her? It was ridiculous. Finn gripped the heavy metal trapdoor. It opened with the groan of joints that hadn’t been worked in years.

  A ladder led down into the dark. Finn launched his fairy sixth sense down the narrow opening and found it empty of life.

  “You stay here,” he said, glancing back at her and immediately regretting it.

  He made one final check for the stake at his back and the knife at his belt before descending into the darkness. “Once I leave you, you’ll be able to move again. But don’t even think about following me. You can’t.” He’d designed the maze of passages under the castle long after she’d been married off the first time. No one, except for him and the King, knew how to get in or out. Smelling him, tracking him would be impossible.