Curse of the Celts by Clara O'Connor (most romantic novels .TXT) 📕

I put my hands down into the icy water and felt the heat burn through me and out through my hands into the water. The water seemed to sigh as it took the power I released, sending out a feeling of gratitude and love at receiving the gift I gave it. The anger that had ignited the power had transformed into a blessed energy. Usually Devyn distracted me, grounding me somehow while the power dissipated.

This time, as the energy was released, my body seemed to go limp, until I was unable to tell where the power I was giving ended and my own personal energy began. I couldn’t stop myself feeding the energy into the river. It flowed into the water that journeyed the course of this land and out to the sea where waves embraced it, the land-born water joining with the salty pull of the tides that washed it away.

“Stop her.” I heard Marcus’s urgent voice come from the bank.

Gideon scooped me higher, my skin losing contact with the rushing, swirling waters. I moaned softly. I wanted to go back. I felt abruptly cut off from the loving force that had taken the power I poured into it. I didn’t want to leave. I struggled in the arms that confined me as they swept me up to the bank where Gideon laid me down on the ground far from the water’s edge because the lapping swirl still called to me.

“Cassandra,” Marcus cried. I lifted sleepy eyes as he ran his hands over me, pressing against my pulse points. My head swung back, too heavy to hold up as he attempted to lift me.

“What in Hades have you done?” he snarled at Gideon. But it seemed Gideon still wasn’t in the mood to explain himself and his footsteps faded then returned with the accompanying sound of the whickering horses.

“Lift her to me.”

“No.” Marcus spoke sharply. “I don’t know what you just did to her, but she stays with me.”

“You thrice-damned fool.” The warrior’s voice was a low growl in the gloom of approaching night. “We’re trying to sneak away from the beasts that hunt us, and she throws out a gods-damned beacon that any hound within a hundred miles will have felt. We need to be elsewhere, fast. Now, stand up, hand her to me, get on your horse, and we ride for the town. Keep up or don’t, I couldn’t care less, but when those hounds get here, I will be long gone. Do you understand?”

I tried to help as Marcus lifted me into the waiting arms. Gideon’s hands gripped my upper arms as he hauled my almost entirely limp body up onto the horse in front of him.

He took the reins and, taking care to ensure my cloak was wrapped tightly around me, his arms settled in a warm band around my waist. Unable to help myself, I slumped against the warmth of the broad chest behind me.

I still loathed him.

Without waiting for Marcus to mount, he turned his horse’s head and started to ride.

We flew through the night, the horse surefooted as its master guided it across the obstacle course of trees and bracken that was barely lit in the fading evening light. Finally, the lights of the town could be seen in the night sky and we joined a road that headed directly towards the closed gates.

Our arrival caused a commotion and there was some argument with the guards. Gideon of course overruled them with some no doubt terrifying threat, but I was too tired to follow it. My only real awareness grasped that Marcus was still with us as I heard his soothing voice temper Gideon’s aggressive approach.

When I opened my eyes again, it was to the soft firelight of a bedroom, the feel of blankets, and the security that came with Marcus’s proximity in the bed with me. A bed. I was unresisting as sleep pulled me back down into its comforting arms.

I woke again as the grey light of dawn slipped into the room. I surveyed my surroundings – it seemed we were in a house or an inn, perhaps. Nothing too fancy – bare floorboards and barer walls – but it was inside, though a little cold now that the fire seemed to have gone out. I raised my head to see if I could solve that particular situation. There, beside the still glowing embers of a fire, was Gideon, stretched out on a chair, his long legs before him, his head uncomfortably rolled to the side.

I lifted the arm that Marcus had wrapped around me and crept out of bed and across the dusty floorboards. I gently poked a couple of logs onto the fire and watched as they caught from the embers and flame began to lick up the side of the lower one. Backing away, I flicked a glance at the long-legged warrior, the hard planes of his face stern even in rest. The tangled tattoo winding up his neck was exposed by the awkward fall of his head and his long dark hair was free and trailed loosely over his shoulder. I winced as I caught sight of his trousers. They were still wet on the side that had not been exposed to the heat of the fire.

I took a blanket from the bed and returned to place it over the large sleeping man; it was the least I could do. What was wrong with me? Had I really tried to…? I paused. How had I pulled all that power into myself? What had I thought I would do with it? Obliterate him? I realised I could have; that possibility had flickered before me in the moment. What had I been thinking? But I hadn’t been thinking, and the power had surged in response to my fear for Devyn and my annoyance at Gideon. Instinctively, it had wanted to strike… In anger or in defence, I wasn’t sure. I could have killed him.

Draping