“I know. I found it earlier.” Maybe he’s not mad at me after all.
“I was never mad. Just disappointed.”
For some reason, his incursion into her head didn’t bother her this time. Maybe she was getting used to it. Maybe she was just tired. Fionn smiled. There was hope in that smile. And determination. His blond hair looked damp.
“Did you get a bath?” she asked.
“A shower.”
“Were you able to warm the water?”
He shook his head.
She grinned, gaze wandering over him. Aislinn sucked in a breath. No one should have such a perfect body. “Well, you should have joined me.”
“I thought about it. Wasn’t certain you’d welcome me.” Blue eyes augured into her.
She dropped her gaze. “Thanks for giving me some space. I needed it.” She paused. “But you could have shared my bath. Tub’s big enough for an army.”
He laughed, and the tension between them evaporated.
Rune was in a corner. Somehow, she knew that had been his place. He lay there, looking incredibly relaxed, head atop his paws, tail curved around his hindquarters. She stopped next to him, hunkered down, and stroked his fur. It was matted in places.
“You’re home.”
“I am. It feels…different without her, but I slept here for many years. Sometimes, Marta was away. I have been pretending this is one of those times. That way I can enjoy my memories of her without grieving.”
Aislinn wrapped an arm around the wolf’s neck. “Sleep well, bond mate.” Bending forward, she kissed him.
Fionn had Marta’s journal propped open on his stomach. She looked at where he was and realized he was nearly done with the first volume. Good. The sooner they found out if Marta knew anything, the quicker they could put her information to use.
Draping her towel over an upholstered chair, Aislinn crawled onto the bed and sank into mattress springs. A real bed. “This is the first time I’ve slept in a bed since my house got trashed.” The sheets felt silky against her skin.
“Have you missed it?” He laid the journal aside and turned to face her.
“Mostly, I don’t let myself think about things like that. Why long for something I can never have again?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She looked hard at him. “It’s the only answer you’re going to get. No point in playing Let’s Remember. It tears my heart out.”
He looked as if he wanted to gather her close. Instead, he said, “Are you awake enough to hear what I found?” Something lay beneath his words. Was it excitement?
She turned onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “Sure.”
“Seems we were on to something when we thought there might be a link between the dark gods and the Lemurians. At least, according to Marta…”
She woke to sunlight streaming through leaded glass panels. The bedroom faced east, so its windows caught the morning sun. Fionn’s body was snugged up next to her back, his arm woven around her waist. He had a musky, exotic scent. She breathed it in hungrily. It reminded her of the mead he gave her. Sometime during the night, he’d pressed inside her, tentative at first until he was certain she wanted him there.
She snorted inwardly. She was damned near as helpless with him as she was with the dark gods. Once he got his hands on her, touching her, stroking her, all she could think about was fucking him. Apparently sensing she was awake, he nuzzled her neck and then trailed his tongue lazily down to the hollow in her collarbone. He shifted a hand and captured one of her breasts. She giggled.
“Again?”
“And why not?” he demanded, voice half-lost against her body.
She felt him harden against her ass, pressing against its curves. She pushed back, and he made a sound low in the back of his throat. She loved that sound. It was the same one he made when he came. Like a jungle cat purring. Aislinn turned in his arms so she could look at him. His eyes gleamed blue like the sea, with amber flecks around the irises. His hair splayed across the pillows in a golden cascade. She traced the lines of his face with a finger. Her breath caught in her throat. “You are so beautiful. It’s not fair for a man to be so exquisite.”
He caught her hand in one of his. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed it. “I’ll take any advantage I can with you, lass. ’Tis a prickly one, you are. You could be a poster girl for Irish temper.”
“At least I come by it honestly.”
“Och aye, goes along with that bright mop of yours.” He grabbed a lock of her hair and brushed the tips of her nipples with it.
“Stop.” She batted playfully at him.