The Immortal Warlock

THE IMMORTAL WARLOCK …Cormac carried Gwenyth down the dimly lit corridor and into the bedroom. He placed her upon the large, curtain-draped bed in the room’s center. He hated to let go of her, even for a mere second, but unwillingly relinquished his hold to pull the drapes closed before joining her. She turned to him, her vibrant violet eyes pleading. “Make me yours as you promised that day in the forest.” He grazed his fingers across the soft, flawless skin of her face. “You were always mine, Gwenyth Mac Killan. Never once did I desire another.” “Then why did you wait so long? You could have made me your wife long before I became Torin’s ward.” Cormac didn’t answer. Instead, he bent his head to her right breast and licked her nipple. The rosy-colored bud responded to his caress on the instant, puckering into a taut little mound, ripe for the taking. Cormac teased her further. He caressed her pointy tip with his mouth, brushing his lips back and forth over the sensitive surface. “You were…always good…at avoiding the question, Cormac O’Keefe,” said Gwen, her voice raspy and her words interlaced with soft sighs. He pulled his lips away from her breast. “Never give your enemy more than she needs to know.” Gwen offered him an angered glare. “And since when did I become the enemy?” “Ever since you became a woman. Mayhap even before then.”

ALSO BY M. A. DUBARRY The Blood Ruby Silk Secrets, Installment I: The Silk Garters

THE IMMORTAL WARLOCK BY M. A. DUBARRY

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

THE IMMORTAL WARLOCK AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2003 by M. A. duBarry ISBN 1-59279-174-3 Cover Art © 2003 Angelique Armae

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PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

To all those who believe in eternal love

THE IMMORTAL WARLOCK

CHAPTER 1

Ireland, 257 A.D. Free from the watchful eye of her evil stepbrother, Gwenyth Mac Killan let down her guard and lounged naked upon a wool blanket in the clearing overlooking Rosemund Hall, her lover Cormac’s private estate. She’d spent the morning exploring the forests and taking in all the sensual outdoors had to offer, including the brisk waters of Loch O’Keefe. Her shift and gown sat crumpled in a damp pile next to the blanket. Gwen closed her eyes and wondered what her stepbrother Torin would say should he come upon her in such a sinful state. A vision of doom flooded her mind. She took a deep breath and dispelled the thought, choosing rather to enjoy the moment at hand. Gwen knew all too well life could change in an instant. She rolled onto her back and basked in the noon sun’s warmth. As of late, she’d been spending more time with the handsome Fianna 1

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chieftain, Cormac O’Keefe, traipsing about the man’s lands, learning everything she could about him and his kin. But most enjoyable of all, Gwen reveled in learning the tame touch of Ireland’s fiercest warrior. An ongoing lesson she hoped would never end. And judging by Cormac’s present mood, Gwen knew her studies would continue for yet another day. Only her own insatiable sexual appetite equaled the man’s. Cormac sat next to her, his leather-covered thigh brushing against her arm. Gwen frowned at the notion Cormac had already redressed. She preferred him naked, as he had been in the lake, his bronzed body bearing all for exploration. Gwen never imagined a man more handsome, stronger, or mysterious. Cormac was simply something of an enigma. And not just to her, thought Gwen, but to all who knew of him. Cormac O’Keefe never tired, always bested his enemy in battle, and according to rumors, never aged. Members of her late stepfather’s household often whispered of creatures that lived for centuries. But after witnessing the Mac Killan smack her mother’s face during a heated argument over the existence of such beings, Gwen knew better than to take her chances in questioning Cormac. She opened one eye and stared up at her legendary lover. Cormac appeared to be quite engrossed with his noon meal. He sat quietly, looking into the distance, his left hand laden with a wooden bowl and his right fingers firmly secured to a bit of bread. Seeing him at ease pleased Gwen. Often enough she’d known he’d worried about the growing animosity between his clan and her Mac Killan kin. Making matters worse, her stepbrother Torin seemed to grow more hateful toward Cormac with each passing day. The man’s reason didn’t make sense to Gwen. She erased the worrisome thoughts from her head and returned to the present. Save for the wetness between her thighs, Gwen’s naked body, after a playful bout in the lake, was now almost entirely dried. A cool, crisp breeze kissed her skin. Cormac raised his head and followed a hawk gliding on the wind. 2

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He tipped his bowl on a slight angle, apparently oblivious to his hand’s err. But Cormac’s unawareness signaled opportunity to Gwen. She inched closer to him, poising her breast exactly beneath the titled bowl and closing her eyes once more. Thick, sun-kissed honey oozed from above and slowly dripped down to caress the peak of her right breast. The stirring sensation sent tingles through Gwen’s body, right down to the apex crowning her thighs. She let out a soft giggle, trying desperately to hide her sly actions from Cormac. Something gentle, yet uneven, caressed her nipple. Gwen opened her eyes to watch Cormac’s hand playing with her breast. He moved the wedge of bread in a circular motion, soaking up the bulk of the honey. “You’re a wanton wench, Gwenyth Mac Killan.” “And you love me more for it.” He chuckled. “Aye, I do.” He popped the morsel of bread into his mouth and grinned. Stray honey trickled down the side of Gwen’s breast. She met the falling liquid with her finger. “Not so fast, my wench.” Smiling, Cormac grabbed Gwen’s hand and lowered his head to her breast. He trailed his tongue along the honeyed path, retracing the route up to the puckered peak at the top. He teased her, flicking the tip of his tongue over her swollen bud, causing her to ache even more. Gwen squirmed beneath her lover. She arched her back and pushed her breasts forward. The soft linen of Cormac’s shirt rubbed her bare skin. She reveled in the sensation. But she preferred the feel of Cormac’s naked flesh rather than his clothed body against hers. Unwilling to wait, she reached for his tunic and undid the laces. Cormac pushed away her hands and pulled the tunic over his head in one swift movement. Apparently patience wasn’t his best virtue either, thought Gwen. The man’s eager anticipation pleased her. 3

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“I’ve still a hunger firing in my belly,” said Cormac. “And there’s nothing left to the meal your maid packed for us.” Gwen remained silent. She didn’t know how the man could be thinking of food at a time like this. He stared down at her, a hint of mischief glaring in his dark brown eyes. “I suppose there’s only one thing for me to do.” “And what is that, my lord?” Cormac grinned wickedly, bent his head, and licked Gwen’s bare skin. He traced tiny circles around her navel, then trailed his tongue farther down her body. He kissed her inner thighs and nipped playfully at her flesh. Gwen moaned. She parted her legs wider. He raised his head and met her gaze. “I do believe, my lady, you are a far better feast than any cook has ever prepared for me.” “Are you saying I sate your hunger better than a leg of mutton?” He smiled like the devil and nodded. “You’re an insufferable soul,” said Gwen. “To compare me to a leg of mutton!” She pulled up a bunch of grass in her right fist and tossed the loose blades at Cormac. He ducked and escaped the flying weapons. “Don’t think to flee from me, my lord. I’m as fierce a lady as you are a warrior.” “Of that I’ve no doubt.” Cormac nuzzled his head farther between her thighs. A soft kiss caressed her clit. “And,” said Cormac, “speaking of warriors, I must inform you I am an expert at wielding my own weapons.” The vibrations from his voice against her most private parts stirred Gwen into a sensual snit. She laced her fingers through his shiny, black hair. He pressed his tongue against her clit and began lapping. The firm pressure teasing her mound excited Gwen. She released 4

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her hold upon his head and gripped the earth on either side of her. She then slightly lifted her bottom, allowing him to slide his hands underneath her and bring her even closer to his wondrous mouth. The man licked, lapped, and suckled her like a kitten to a bowl of milk, sending spasms rippling through her core. She’d had her Fianna warrior like this on several occasions. Today she’d hoped he’d take her in the proper manner. The thought pushed her closer to the edge. She gasped, her breath coming in small pants. “Cormac?” She barely got the name off her tongue. “Hmmm…?” “You promised…to…take me…to bring me pleasure…like never before…” He flicked his tongue faster. “I will…” “Now…please.” “I don’t think so,” said an angered voice from somewhere above. Gwen froze, suddenly aware of her nakedness. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She opened her eyes and stared upward. Torin Mac Killan stood at her head, his large, tall frame dressed in fine cloths, a sword dangling from his right hand. “Well, well, little sister. What have we here?” Cormac didn’t move. Gwen looked down. Two men, both with swords drawn at Cormac’s neck, stood on either side of him, their faces covered with sly smirks. She rested against the grass. “Let him go, Torin.” The villainous warlord crouched beside her. He raised a finger to her chin. “Why? He’s been my enemy, and therefore yours, for as far back as I can remember.” He traced a rough line along the edge of her face. He looked at two more soldiers standing a foot’s length away. “Take the lady to the castle and have her properly dressed.” Gwen didn’t like the sound of Torin’s voice. From experience, she 5

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knew all too well what her stepbrother meant when he ordered a woman be properly dressed. But Gwen held her tongue. Torin wasn’t a man to be reckoned with. “As for you, O’Keefe,” he said, rising to his feet, “I have plans.” Torin thrust his chin forward, motioning to his soldiers. The men bent down and brought Cormac to a standing position. Torin gave him the once-over. “No arms? Are you daft, man?” “I had no reason to be armed on my own property, so close to my keep.” “Tsk, tsk. You O’Keefe never learn.” “How did you get past my men?” Torin curved his lips in a half-smile. “I simply told them I came on behalf of the lady Gwenyth. The ploy worked like a charm.” Cormac glared at Gwen. She worked feverishly at redressing. “I had nothing to do with this.” Torin stepped closer to Cormac. “I wouldn’t be so quick to believe the wench, if I were you. Women are known for betraying their…amusements. Remember your brother Gavin. Didn’t he die due to a woman’s betrayal?” Cormac lashed out, aiming his fist at Torin’s cheek. The guards caught his flailing arms, then toppled him to the ground. “Take him to the cliff,” said Torin, then turned to Gwenyth. “Once you’ve been properly dressed, I’ll come for you.” “Don’t harm the O’Keefe,” she said. “Give me one good reason to spare his life?” “I’ll give you mine in return.” “You’re worth far more to me alive than dead.” Torin cupped her shift-covered breasts with his hands. “Much more…” She kicked him in the shin. “I hate you Torin Mac Killan. I hate you with all my soul.” He smiled. “Oh, you’re going to be a fun one to tame.” “Never. I’d rather be damned than to be fucked by you.” 6

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He laughed. “Well, sweet sister. Then I have a treat in store for you. A treat indeed…” Gwenyth didn’t like the sound of his words. She knew well how villainous Torin could be. As her stepbrother’s guards led her to Castle Mac Killan, she wondered what would become of Cormac. She’d fight to the death to save him, and fight she intended to do.

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CHAPTER 2

Anger flared in Cormac’s soul. He stood at the cliff’s edge, his hands and legs tied spread-eagle to two wooden stakes planted firmly on either side of his body. The sea’s cool spray lapped at his back, its harsh cry calling to his ears. “Why have you brought me here, Mac Killan? Why not kill me in the forest?” Torin approached him, his steps marked in steady, confident strides. “I know what you are, Cormac O’Keefe. I know about ye being the Devil’s spawn.” Cormac nearly choked. No one knew the truth about his immortal soul, save for his closest kin. And of those, all would die to protect the family’s sacred secret. “Then do you really think killing me like this will put an end to my evil soul’s existence?” “It will put an end to our earthly fight. With you dead, I will conquer your lands, and sample the charms of your women. I will have no mortal enemy.” “And when I come back from the dead? What then?” 8

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“You wouldn’t risk exposing your kin.” Cormac tossed back his head and languished in anger. Torin knew him well, mayhap too well. But he would never give in to the man so easily. If Torin wanted him out of the way, he’d have to put more muscle into the deed. Cormac studied the sky. Judging by the now-fading sun, night would soon descend. His only hope of besting Torin at his own game was to do so fast, before word of his death reached the village. Mayhap he could escape the bastard before it was too late, and return under the cover of darkness. His first mission would be to free Gwenyth. If it was freeing she needed. The thought of her betraying him caused his stomach to churn. He would have never believed she’d turn against him like this, especially to join forces with Torin. And to think he’d fallen in love with her. Lost his heart to her. When he came back, he’d confront the woman face-to-face. And if she did betray him, Gwenyth Mac Killan would pay dearly for her actions. No soul betrayed the O’Keefe, for doing so was to betray an entire tribe, and never would Cormac allow his kin to suffer in his stead. “Are ye prepared to meet your maker, Cormac O’Keefe? Are ye prepared to die?” Cormac raised his head in defiance. “Aye.” “Then to death’s door ye shall go. But not before I’ve tormented ye a bit.” Torin turned his back on Cormac. He tossed the dagger in his hand to a guard. “When I give the signal from the tower, cut the ropes. The body will fall effortlessly into the sea.” The guard nodded. “And how do you suppose to make me suffer?” Torin took a deep breath, but kept his back to Cormac. “I go now to the tower at Castle Mac Killan and to your precious Gwen. I’ll have my way with her, and she’ll enjoy it.” “Damn you, Mac Killan,” shouted Cormac. “Keep your hands off 9

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Gwenyth.” Torin laughed. He looked over his shoulder and glared at Cormac. “She always said she liked me better than you. Now she’ll have only me.” Cormac struggled against the tightly bound ropes. He wanted nothing more than to beat Torin to a bloody pulp. But his only power at present was his immortality. Everything else had been lost in a horrific incident a year before, an incident involving his now-dead brother Gavin and the villainous Torin. Frustrated, Cormac fisted his hands and shouted to the empty sky. “Victory is sweet,” said Torin. “I’ve waited twelve long months for this moment.” “You’ll never have her, Mac Killan. I swear. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from claiming Gwen, even if it means coming back from the dead and haunting you for eternity.” Torin turned to face the open path in front of him. “A challenge from a dead man mean’s nothing to me. Nothing at all…” With his hands, he motioned for his horse to be brought around. “You know nothing of my soul, Mac Killan.” Torin mounted his stallion. “And nothing is all I care to know.” He rode off toward Castle Mac Killan. Cormac remained upon the wood posts, choked by the dust kicked up from Torin’s horse. He closed his eyes and prayed to the gods for help. Again, his heart sank at the thought of Gwen betraying him. But he’d find a way to survive this death. He’d escaped man’s wrath in the past and he’d do so again… * * * Stripped of her gown and shift, Gwenyth’s body ached from the chilly, damp air assaulting Castle Mac Killan’s interior. The temperature inside the keep’s stone walls, even on the hottest of summer days, was always much colder. Gwen rubbed her hands over her arms, hoping to warm herself. She’d been made to wait, naked, for 10

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more than an hour since being brought back to Torin’s abode. Her stepbrother’s guards had handled her roughly. Several bruises had formed on her legs and wrists. The door to her empty tower chamber opened. A maid crossed the threshold. Gwen ran up to her on the instant. “Please. Can ye spare me a blanket?” The woman shook her head. “I ’ave me orders and I’m not fool enough to betray the Mac Killan. I’ve seen the back of his ’and on more accounts than I care to remember.” The woman took a step backward and pushed Gwen away. She popped her round, chubby face out the door. “Bring it right in ’ere.” Several sully looking characters with missing teeth entered the room. Upon their backs they carried an iron contraption Gwen had scene on several occasions. A torturous device Torin called “the dressing cabinet.” She shuddered at the thought of being confined and displayed in such a cage. Torin had numerous dressing cabinets built after his father died. Made of iron and designed in the likes of a metal dress, the device’s sole purpose was that of exposing a woman’s vital parts. Gwen stared at the rings dangling from the top of the iron corset. She’d seen Torin “dress” his whores in the contraption on several occasions. First he’d have the women forced into the metal chairs with the angled seats. The black bottom would tilt the woman’s bum forward, her torso back. Then the woman’s breasts were hoisted into open iron cones, and iron rings placed upon their tips. The circular devices bit into the flesh, forcing the nipples and areola to protrude and pucker. Then Torin would wedge an iron bar between his whores’ legs, spreading them wide. He’d next place two large clamps upon their vaginal lips and tighten the clamps so they’d pull back the folds, exposing the vagina and clitoris. With their arms secured in iron sleeves, the women were helpless in defending themselves against 11

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whatever it was Torin’s sick desires stirred in him. The memories sickened her. Gwen turned to the maid, reached for the woman’s sleeve, and pulled her into the corner. “Free me,” she whispered. “I’ll see to it my allies help you in turn.” The woman glanced at the men assembling the dressing cabinet. “I’ve seen what the Mac Killan has done with that monster. And I’ve no desire to end up inside it. No. No desire at all.” She turned to face Gwen. “I won’t be taken me chances.” “I have allies stronger than Torin. I need only to be free of here.” One of the men standing at the dressing cabinet coughed and eyed the maid. He nodded toward the door. Torin appeared at the threshold. His eyes went straight to the maid at Gwen’s side. “Conspiring against me, Sarah?” “Never, me lord. Only doing me job, holding y’ whore in ’er place.” Torin’s cold, sweeping glance raked over Gwen’s naked body. He took a deep breath, then focused his attention on the dressing cabinet. Like a doctor to his patient, he inspected his torturous device with care. He paid the utmost attention to every last screw and clasp, grunting here and there, shaking his head and whispering to his men Gwen couldn’t hear what he said, but whatever it was, his words seemed to shock the servants assembling the contraption. One man shook his head, apparently disagreeing with Torin, but the villainous lord held his ground. The man finally conceded, handing a small black sack to his master. What was inside the pouch? Gwen wondered. No doubt she’d soon find out. Torin stepped back and gave his final approval of the servants’ work. He dismissed the men with a wave of his hand. “And you may go as well, Sarah,” he said, still ogling his sick creation with apparent satisfaction. The woman scurried from the room, closing the door behind her. 12

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Torin walked to the door and lifted a key from the belt around his waist. He secured the latch, then returned the key to its proper place. “Alone at last, sweet sister,” he cooed. “I’m not your sister, so don’t ye call me such. I’ve no Mac Killan blood in my veins.” He folded his arms about his broad chest and leaned against the door. “You should be glad my father had agreed to take in your mother when she was with another man’s child.” “My mother paid well for your father’s attentions.” “Tell me, Gwen. If you’re not a Mac Killan, then who are you?” She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her whole life she tried to get her mother to reveal her father’s identity, but the woman had refused, saying such a revelation would be detrimental to Gwen’s safe-keeping. “Ah…so you don’t know, do you?” Gwen shook her head. Torin approached her. She stepped back. “Stay away from me. Or…I’ll, I’ll…” “Or you’ll what? Scream? Shout?” He wrapped his strong arms around her naked body. Gwen kicked, the heel of her left foot clashing with Torin’s boot. He held her steady. “I won’t go in the dressing cabinet,” she said. “Give me what I want and I won’t put you in.” She stopped kicking and squirming. “I won’t lay with you.” “I’m not asking you to.” He paused and released her from his grasp. She looked up at the towering lord. “Then what do you want from me?” “Tell me where Aine hid Gavin’s ring.” “I’ve no knowledge of such a thing.” Gwen lied. Aine gave her Gavin’s ring the day before Torin killed her. She made Gwen swear upon her soul to protect the odd-looking ring, to never let it fall into Torin’s hands. 13

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“Don’t lie to me, wench.” “I have no reason to lie.” Torin rubbed his chin. “Then you leave me no choice.” He walked to the window and pulled back the heavy velvet drapes. “Come. I want you to watch.” “Watch what?” “Cormac’s death.” Pain welled up inside her chest. “Please, Torin, I beg you to reconsider.” “I’ll do no such thing. Cormac O’Keefe has been my sworn enemy for as far back as I can remember, and now, Fate has blessed me with the upper hand. I have no desire to let this chance slip from my grasp.” “I hate you,” spat Gwen. “I’m sure you do.” But she knew Torin had no idea just how much she hated him at the moment. He fixed his hand around Gwen’s wrist. With a hard tug, he pulled her to the window. She’d never forgive him for this, for forcing her to watch Cormac’s death. In defiance, she turned her gaze to the ceiling. Torin grabbed her face with his free hand and brought her head down, and toward the window. In the distance, at the edge of the cliff at the back of Castle Mac Killan, stood her mighty Fianna warrior. The sight of her lover gagged and bound pained Gwen. She was helpless to come to his rescue, and now she would be forced to watch him die. Tears marred her vision. She had to do something. Cormac was the only soul she’d ever loved. “Open the window,” said Torin. She did as ordered. The sound of waves crashing against rocks beneath the cliff echoed in the evening air. The sea chanted an eerie song, calling to Gwen, offering her all that it had to help. She pushed with all her might against 14

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Torin’s hand and looked him in the eye. “You haven’t won, Torin. You can never win—you’re a soul too corrupt.” He squeezed her face harder and shot her an evil glare. “I don’t care if I win or lose. As long as I have my revenge on Cormac O’Keefe, I’ll be satisfied.” “And what,” she said through pursed lips, “did he ever do to earn such hatred?” Torin eyed her with disgust. “His brother killed Aine. And for that, he must pay.” “But ’twas not Cormac who committed the crime.” “It matters not. His brother is dead and now he acts in his stead. Therefore, it is Cormac’s life I must take.” “ ’Tis not the way of the Fianna.” “And who will chide me for my actions? Name one soul who lives under my rule who will argue against me.” Gwen couldn’t answer. Seeing the way her stepbrother’s servants cowarded to him, she believed she was the only soul in all the castle who had nerve enough to confront him. “I will argue against you.” He laughed. “And where hath such courage placed you? In the tower, a prisoner of my wrath.” Torin pushed her face from his sight, releasing his grasp upon her cheeks. He leaned over the wood pane. “If only Cormac O’Keefe could hear my words from up here.” “Why? So you could further torment him?” Torin shot her an angry glare. “Enough.” He pulled away from the window and headed toward the dressing cabinet. The iron device sat propped up on wheels. Torin gripped the two black handles in the rear of the contraption and pushed it in front of the window. He turned to Gwen. “Get in.” She shook her head. “If I force you inside, it will be worse.” Gwen eyed the door, then the open window. She’d never survive the fall and she’d never allow Cormac to be tortured further by 15

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watching her commit such a desperate act. She had no choice but to appease Torin’s sick desires. She stepped up to the dressing cabinet and lowered her body into the hideous-looking contraption. Torin adjusted the cold iron slats so they snuggly encased her body. The smooth metal teased her naked flesh. She knew trying to escape the torturous device would only prolong her agony, each twist and turn merely serving to heighten her sensitivity, toying with her most private parts in a most sensual way. She chose to remain silent as he locked her arms into the metal sleeves. She thought of protesting one final time, but she knew the brutal Torin Mac Killan would allow nothing to stand in the way of his planned victory. Tonight, Ireland’s most vicious ruling chieftain would slay an innocent man, and he’d planned on doing so by going against every creed by which his clan lived. No, she would have never believed she could hate her stepbrother as much as she hated him now. “Tell me,” said Torin. “Did Cormac suckle you well?” He placed Gwen’s breasts onto the iron slab. Next, he set the rings in place, forcing her areolas to pucker. She squirmed, but her actions did no good. Torin gripped her right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged at the rosy nub, pulling it forward, extending the flesh as far as it would go. Gwen shifted once more, but could do nothing to stop him. The iron contraption prevented her from fighting back. “Did he suckle upon one and work the other?” He reached for her left nipple, all the while continuing to pinch the right one. “Did he fondle both at the same time, like this?” “You disgust me, Torin Mac Killan.” “Do you not appreciate what I now do for you, my precious whore? Not satisfied, sister? Well, I can easily take care of that.” Torin released her breasts and slid one hand to the apex at her 16

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thighs. He reached behind her and removed one of the contraption’s leather-covered handles. “The gods will never forgive you for this, Torin.” “Their forgiveness is not what I desire. They’ve already betrayed me.” He raised the long object level with Gwen’s eyes, holding out its leather end. “Tell me—is Cormac as large?” “I hate you.” “Oh, such harsh words for a brother who seeks only to satisfy his sister’s deepest desires.” Gwen leaned her head forward and attempted to bite him. The warlord reacted in haste, dropping his hand to Gwen’s lap before she could carry out her attack. “Tsk, tsk, sweet sister.” “I’ll not tell you again. You’re not my brother. I have no blood the like of yours running through my veins.” Torin offered an evil laugh. “Then you should have no trouble with me pursuing you in the same manner as did Cormac.” “You’ll never have me.” “I can have anything I so desire. Just watch me.” Torin rested the handle between Gwen’s thighs. Next, he reached for the sack his servant had given him. From inside, he withdrew a round-tipped object covered with small bumps. He fitted the top over one end of the handle, then nestled the bulky, object at her apex and began massaging her clit. In her attempt to push away, Gwen bucked against the handle. Torin leaned in closer to her, his body brushing against hers. “If only the O’Keefe could see you now,” he hissed, his lips warming her cheek. “His little whore desiring such crude amusement. Did he ever please you in such a way?” She leaned to the side and, this time, managed to bite his ear. “Mother of God!” Torin dropped the handle and cupped the side of his head. “Now you’ve done it, Gwenyth!” He stormed to the window and raised his sword. The light of the setting sun glistened off the weapon. “Send him to the sea!” he shouted. 17

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Gwen couldn’t let Cormac die. She had to save him. She cleared her thoughts and silently recalled a spell her mother had taught her. But she had no way of knowing whether the hex would work, or even if it could ever be broken. Gwen hesitated. Cormac’s soul hung in the balance. If she could spare him from death, she’d worry about how to bring him back later. She took a deep breath and threw caution to the wind. “Muireartach, goddess of the sea, protect Cormac O’Keefe from the death now facing him. Keep him safe and sound, alive and well until once again we meet and these words to you I once more tell.” The sound of a heavy object hitting the sea below the cliff echoed in the night air. Envisioning Cormac’s body crashing against the angry waters, Gwen prayed to the gods she had cast the spell in time. She fought back tears and lifted her head. “You have no power over me, Torin. Like your father before you, naïve to my mother’s ways, you’re naïve to mine.” He laughed. “A witch and a whore…such a well-rounded soul. Tell me, does spell-casting and coupling make good bedmates?” He turned back and picked up the handle he had dropped earlier. With a bloodcovered hand, he shoved the object into Gwen’s pussy with a firm thrust. “Do they?” Gwen bit her tongue and held back a scream. Torin had taken everything from her tonight, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could hurt her. Enough was enough. As soon as he returned her to her chamber, she would escape to the cliff and resurrect Cormac. “Now, dear sister, as for your punishment, I have decided to send you to Saint Mary’s Abbey, where you will spend the rest of your days locked away from the world.” Fear enveloped Gwen’s soul. “Torin, please don’t send me away. I am no threat to you. All I desire is to live my life in peace.” “And peace you shall have…as my wife…or…in the Abbey.” 18

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“I hate you Torin Mac Killan! I hate you with all my soul and I curse your evil name! I am no Mac Killan and never will I be!” He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. Mock sorrow veiled his face. “Very well, to the Abbey you shall go.” He gripped the handle still lodged in Gwen’s vagina and yanked it out in one swift movement. He undid the bolts on the dressing cabinet, freeing her from the contraption’s claws. “You’ll pay for this, Torin Mac Killan. If it is the last thing I do, I’ll see to it you pay for your actions taken tonight.” Torin offered her a wicked grin. “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you, dear sister. You see, I am not as naïve as was my poor, wretched father. For I have learned my way with sacred words, even besting my father at his own game. Did it never bother you how the man died? A man who had no cares in the world, free from all hassles? He simply withered away in the span of one year’s time. Grew old overnight.” “The Mac Killan did have troubles,” said Gwen. “Namely, you. Your pathetic soul would cause even God to wither and die of such hassles. You sucked the life out of your father.” He let out a heavy breath and smiled. “You have no idea of the truth you speak. However, now is not the time to discuss my life. I’d much rather talk about yours and how it is about to meet a drastic change. It is not my soul that will now suffer, but rather yours, and it will do so for centuries. And mind you, all the while you suffer, your Cormac will be lost to the sea.” Anger filled Gwen like never before. Nothing could stop her from finding a way to bring Cormac back…nothing! She’d work her spell, even if it took all eternity…

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CHAPTER 3

Cormac O’Keefe opened his eyes and felt the pain of a thousand years bearing down upon his bones. Despite being an immortal warlock, he couldn’t escape the usual side-effects of torturous death. He hated when this happened. But for all his years, he still couldn’t manage to steer clear of scrapes from which there was no escape. Every few centuries he found himself defending a member of the opposite sex and paying dearly for it. At least his male enemies had never figured out how to truly kill an immortal warlock. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain involved in having his heart cut out and his head severed from his body. Cormac thanked the gods for never allowing him to run into another of his own kind. Cormac took a deep breath and stretched his weary limbs. Dim candlelight filled his vision. With caution, he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a room, a swaying room. The gentle rocking of the sea called to his soul. A boat… 20

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He raised his head and saw a shadowy figure perched at the bottom of his bed. The tall, thin being hid its identity with a black, hooded cape. “Who are you?” asked Cormac. “And where have you taken me?” The being rose and approached the side of his bed. A slender hand emerged from the cape and tossed back the hood. “I am Muireartach.” Shock bolted through Cormac’s soul. “The goddess Muireartach? Defender of the Fianna?” “Yes.” “But Muireartach is an old hag.” The goddess laughed. “I can appear as I so chose. Do you think a beautiful temptress would scare off your foes?” Cormac didn’t comment. Instead he turned his thoughts to Gwen and the world he’d just left behind. “You have to send me back.” “I’m afraid I can not do that.” “But you’re the Fianna’s chosen goddess. You can do anything.” Muireartach stepped closer to the bed. “I serve my earthly subjects, nothing more. I am not the soul who called you here. Instead, I am the soul who welcomed you here on behalf of another.” “But I’ve left behind a very powerful sorceress who is presently in danger. If her true identity is found out, she will be killed.” “I cannot send you back. Your sorceress must call you herself.” Cormac didn’t like Muireartach’s answer. “Tell me,” said the goddess. “Why did Torin attempt to kill you in the first place?” “You know about Torin? And Gwenyth?” “I’m a goddess,” said Muireartach. “I know most things.” “He stole my brother’s betrothed.” Muireartach pursed her lips. “Aine?” “Yes.” “That was not a very good arrangement, in my opinion.” Cormac sat up. “No, it wasn’t. Aine betrayed my brother, but he 21

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never knew it. He died in my arms and I never had the heart to tell him the truth.” “Aine loved Torin.” Cormac shook his head. “Aine loved power. She had my brother convinced she was an immortal sorceress, when in truth, she was only human.” “How did you find out?” “My brother received word that Torin had abducted Aine and raped her. He went to the Mac Killan castle seeking revenge. When he arrived, Aine suddenly discovered her conscience, and as she began to confess, Torin pushed her onto my brother’s sword. Gavin never forgave himself for Aine’s death. He took his own life weeks later. When I found him, I tried to comfort him as best I could. But I had to ask him about the Eye of Knowledge, the sacred ring my ancestors possessed for generations. It is customary that when the O’Keefe finds his immortal mate, he give her the ring until their wedding night, at which time she gives it back to him in exchange for a share of his powers. Gavin gave Aine his ring and I’ve not seen it since.” “Do you believe Torin now possesses the Eye of Knowledge?” “No,” said Cormac. “I don’t think Aine would have given him the ring. I think she wanted to see who was the more powerful of the two first—Torin or Gavin. Besides, the ring would do her no good if someone else possessed it. Aine was mere mortal—she’d have to find an immortal warlock willing to share his secrets with her. And to that, I’m sure she knew Torin would never agree. He’d never share his woman with another man, regardless of the gain.” Muireartach crossed the room and headed toward the door. “I think it best, for now at least, to forget the Mac Killan. You need your rest, for your stay here will be a lengthy one.” Cormac lunged from the bed. He reached out for Muireartach’s cape and turned the goddess to face him. “What I need is to go back to Gwen.” 22

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He paused. Part of him wanted to be angry at the possibility she had betrayed him, while the other part of him wanted to believe she’d never do such a thing. But fact was fact, and Gwenyth Mac Killan was a powerful sorceress who knew nothing of her true calling. “She’s in danger.” Muireartach offered a cold stare. “Gavin believed Aine to be in danger.” “Are you saying Gwen betrayed me as Aine did Gavin?” “I am saying you are better to forget the Mac Killan.” Cormac released his grasp on Muireartach’s cape. A dull ache throbbed in his head and pain twisted in his heart. He should have seen it coming. Gwen must have known he was Torin’s immortal rival. Mayhap she collaborated with the Mac Killan and the two of them did him in together. He turned his back on the goddess. “I won’t rest until I’ve learned the truth firsthand.” “You’ll have a very long wait.” “Then I’ll use that time to plot my revenge.” The door behind him opened, then closed. He was now alone in the cabin, riding the Irish Sea in Muireartach’s mythical boat. Fate might have bested him at present, but in time, thought Cormac, he’d find a way to return to the earthly world. And when he did, he’d return with great vengeance. Including seeking revenge against Gwenyth Mac Killan for sending him to the sea. * * * When Muireartach left Cormac’s cabin, she entered the dark corridor that ran the length of her ship. The Morrigu waited for her in the shadows. “You’ve led the O’Keefe to believe he was betrayed by the one woman who loved him.” Muireartach turned to face the great goddess. “Morgan leFay, you, 23

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above all others, should know I never lead another soul astray.” “I, above all others, know the lesser goddesses under my powers. Why have you led the man to believe false accusations?” “If he knew the truth, he’d only agonize over not being able to help his Gwenyth. She’s in danger and there’s nothing he can do. Cormac must remain strong if he’s ever to return to man’s world and fight Torin again. Feeling helpless would only destroy whatever power he has left. Anger, however, will fuel his fire, and when the time comes, he’ll be well stoked to fight the likes of the Mac Killan.” The Morrigu lifted her hand out from the shadows and placed it upon Muireartach’s right shoulder. “Beware,” said the great goddess. “Should Cormac fail, your soul shall be held accountable for the sins of all those involved.” “So be it, then,” said Muireartach. “I’ve lived centuries fighting mortals on behalf of other mortals. Death from the gods would be a welcomed state…”

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CHAPTER 4

Gwenyth kept to herself at the Abbey. Torin provided for her every comfort, including paying the rent on a private room, furnished with a bed along with heavy draperies to keep out the cold, damp draft that filled the stone building. Her room even had a small window, her only connection to the outside world. The nuns tried to comfort her, befriend her. But Gwen refused to open up to them. Worry for Cormac consumed her every thought. She missed him dearly, her body aching for him on a daily basis. Only in prayer did she find some sort of peace. Now, as Gwen sat in silence in the Abbey’s center chapel, an aging nun took the seat next to her. The woman’s presence interrupted Gwen’s praying. She sensed a strange energy emitting from the nun’s closeness. Gwen rose from her seat and turned to make her way out of the aisle. The nun reached out her wrinkled hand and pinched the edge of Gwen’s sleeve. “I knew your mother.” 25

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A sudden calm descended upon Gwen’s soul. “My mother never spoke of sisters or of this abbey. How did you come to know her?” “Sit, child, and I’ll tell you.” Gwen eyed the woman with caution, but decided to listen to what she had to say. She sat down and gave the nun her full attention. “I was once like her,” said the nun. “In what way?” “I never dreamed of growing old.” Gwen smiled. “We never do. I suppose it’s due to mortal vanity.” The nun raised an eyebrow and nodded. “And immortal vanity is far worse.” The nun’s use of the word “immortal” shocked Gwen. “What do you know of such beings?” She stared at the nun. “I have reason to believe my mother had great interest in souls who never aged.” “That is because she was one.” “Impossible. My mother died when I was ten and two.” The nun retrieved a small strand of prayer beads worn around her wrist. “Your mother was murdered. Immortals can be killed, they just can’t die of old age.” “And how do you know such knowledge?” “Your mother came here seeking solace from the Mac Killan. She feared for her life, but no one would listen to her.” “No one except you?” “I had a calling. I know all creatures are God’s children.” She toyed with the beads, running them through her fingers one at a time. The fragrant perfume of roses filled the air. “I couldn’t let her return to the keep without at least listening to her.” Gwen studied the woman’s aging hands. Though wrinkled, no dark spots marred her flesh. “You said you were once like her. What did you mean by that?” “I am older than one could ever imagine. I have come here simply to spend eternity in peace.” 26

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Gwen lowered her head. “But surely,” she whispered. “The church does not acknowledge such things.” The nun rose from her chair. “The church is not my ruler. But rather, God. And I’ve made a pact with my maker no man can break.” The nun edged toward the end of the aisle. A surge of hope flared in Gwen’s heart. “If you knew my mother, then mayhap you knew about my father.” “She never mentioned his name.” Despair returned to Gwen’s soul. “Was he like her? A being capable of living forever?” “I wouldn’t know.” The nun eyed a group of men accompanied by a priest, making their way into the Abbey. “Please, I can say no more. Ever.” “But I have to know.” The nun turned to face her. “Why? What difference will it make now?” “I have been sentenced to spend the rest of my days in this place. Please, let me know the truth so upon my deathbed I can go to my maker knowing my true family name. I need to know who I am.” “I don’t know. If I did, child, I would tell you.” The nun stepped into the main aisle and genuflected. She faced the front of the church and blessed herself by making the sign of the cross. She turned back, fleetingly, and gave Gwen a warning glare. “We must never speak again. Just know you are one of us.” The woman then simply walked away in silence. Gwen watched the nun disappear past the small incoming crowd led by the priest. She hated Torin for sending her to this place, but in reflection, she realized he’d done her a great favor. She was immortal, a secret she never knew. The priest approached Gwen. “My lady, may I have a word with you?” “Aye,” she said, then stepped to the side, allowing a vacant chair for 27

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the priest. The men who accompanied him remained standing in the aisle. “I have word of your brother.” Gwen didn’t expect correspondence from Torin for at least another fortnight. “ ’Tis not like the Mac Killan to write early.” The priest looked up to the man at his right, then back again to Gwen. “ ’Tis not a letter I come bearing.” A knot twisted in Gwen’s stomach. “There has been a raid on Castle Mac Killan. The Fianna invaded, due to certain actions taken by your brother.” Gwen swallowed hard. Torin had made many enemies in his lifetime, and it was no surprise one had finally fought back. “How does my brother fare?” The priest lowered his gaze to the stone floor. “I’m afraid, my lady Gwenyth, Lord Mac Killan has died.” “Are you saying I am all alone?” The priest looked up at her. “You can stay as long as you wish. We would never turn you out. However, you are fortunate to have a choice in this matter.” “A choice?” A man stepped out of the small crowd. “I am Padrick O’Keefe. The late O’Keefe’s youngest brother.” Gwen remembered Cormac speaking of a sibling many years his younger, but she’d never met the man, due to his training with the Fianna. “And what business do you have with me, my lord?” Gwen’s soul twisted in confusion. “I am prepared to take you back to Castle Mac Killan.” “Torin had no heirs, not even distant ones. He was the last of his line. Whomever killed him would now reside inside the castle.” Padrick remained silent. The revelation stunned Gwen. The battle between the O’Keefe and 28

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the Mac Killan had finally come to an end. “Did you avenge Cormac’s death?” “My lady,” said Padrick. “I fought the Mac Killan for many reasons. Most, I am sure, of which you would have no knowledge.” “Why do you welcome me to your home?” The man nodded to the priest, who rose from his chair, allowing Padrick to sit next to Gwen. He leaned in close, his head studying the floor. “Cormac was no mere mortal,” said Padrick, his voice little more than a whisper. “I have reason to believe my brother would have wanted you to be safe, my lady. And for the O’Keefe, I would do anything.” “You speak of him as if he were still alive.” Padrick inched his way as close to Gwen as propriety would allow. “One day he will return and reclaim all that was his. Until that time, I act in his stead.” Gwen eyed Padrick with caution. “This is all too much for a soul to bear in one day.” “I am prepared to wait as long as necessary, my lady. The offer will always be yours.” Padrick rose from his seat and headed toward the center aisle. Gwen wanted Cormac back. “Wait. I wish to return to Castle Mac Killan…” She paused. Her return to the castle would mean she’d have access to the cliff where Cormac had last been seen. “I only ask I be given freedom to move about the garden overlooking the sea.” “ ’Twill be arranged, my lady,” said Padrick, nodding in agreement. A swirl of emotions flooded Gwen’s soul. She no longer was bound to Torin Mac Killan’s vile ways, nor was she any longer forsaken from seeing the outside world. Her life had been stirred on this day. But even free of the Mac Killan, trouble still plagued her. Mixed emotions met the news of her immortality. She would live for all eternity—an empty eternity— unless she could bring Cormac O’Keefe back to life. She wondered why he never told her the truth of his soul. 29

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The realization pained her. As close as she had been to the man, and for all she’d shared with him, he never revealed his innermost secret to her. Mayhap he never really loved her. She caught her breath and sobbed in silence. Yes, eternity was a long time to remain alone, tormented with questions only Cormac could answer. Bringing the great Fianna warrior back to life was her only hope to learn the truth. If only she’d had more time in thinking over her mother’s spell. For Gwen knew well, spells cast in haste, even with the best of intentions, weren’t always easily broken.

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CHAPTER 5

Present Day, New York City Gwen laid back in the tub, her head resting against a white, clamshell-shaped vinyl pillow. Candlelight from several vanilla-scented votives cast a soft glow about the Roman-styled bathroom. Here she escaped from her age-old sins, and from the world in general. She reached for the champagne glass standing on a table next to the tub. As she extended her hand, small droplets of water fell from her fingers and landed upon the tile floor. Tonight marked the anniversary of Cormac’s death. In years past, Gwen had commemorated the event by returning to castle Mac Killan and recasting her spell. She’d linger for hours outside, under the moon’s glow, reciting every word to a “T.” But after all the failed attempts in 1,800 years, she gave up on ever bringing Cormac back to life. For all she knew, he truly did die that night. And Torin Mac Killan was all to blame. Gwen sipped the champagne and closed her eyes. She recalled her 31

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mornings of endless passion spent with Cormac. The great warrior was hers and hers alone. He’d pleasured her like no man had ever done before, or since, for that matter. Gwen knew several partners over the years, but never did she allow a single soul to join bodies with her— that was an act she’d promised herself she’d share only with Cormac. Still, she sought her pleasures in a variety of ways. But nothing, she knew, could compare to what she’d hoped to experience with her great Fianna warrior. Knowing her spell would fail as it had every year since Torin sent Cormac’s body plunging into the sea, Gwen decided she’d recite the sacred words once more—for old times’ sake. She took a second sip of champagne and cleared her thoughts. “To the powers that be, to the great Muireartach, reach into the sea and bring Cormac O’Keefe back to me…” She waited in silence, hoping this time, by some slim chance, the gods would hear her. But as in the past, the life of Cormac O’Keefe didn’t return. Gwen knew her spell no longer meant anything. She took a deep breath and tried to convince herself that Cormac’s ill fate wasn’t her fault. She did everything in her power to save him and to bring him back. Her spell-work was never the same after she’d been sent to the convent. Even the sisters’ God refused to answer her plea. Gwen repeated the words in her head several times before finally giving up. If Cormac were no longer alive, mayhap his soul would feel her pain, her loss. Mayhap he’d understand why she had never come back for him that night. The warm, fragrant bath water swirled about Gwen’s legs, caressing her inner thighs. She recalled how Cormac’s large, rough hands had once done the same…and more. She slipped deeper into the tub. Ripples skimming the fragrant water teased her nipples. The sensation sent a shiver down Gwen’s spine. She took the bottle of 32

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bubble bath from the table and undid the cap. Cool, spicy-scented gel oozed out, pouring first into her palm, then dripping through her fingers, down to the puckered tip of her right breast. Gwen set the bottle back on the table. With her gel-covered fingers, she swirled the clear liquid about the surface of her breast and teased her nipple until the achy bud swelled to its limit. Satisfying herself had been an intense pleasure that once helped her ease her loss of Cormac. But it never filled her need for true love, a void she could never seem to fill. In the end, she always felt empty, lonely. Cormac was the only soul who ever really pleased her. She sighed, then traced with her forefinger an invisible line, down the front of her body to the apex between her thighs. Her nether lips parted as her legs relaxed and opened wide against the tub’s cool, porcelain sides. Gwen reached her hand further down and slid the pad of her finger across her clitoris. The sensitive nub responded in an eager manner. She squeezed her thighs together and moaned. A sudden disturbance in the air shattered her somewhat peaceful night. Something didn’t seem right to her. Something in the air was…different. Gwen took a deep breath, sat up, and pulled her hand from the water. A sudden rumble shook the house. Tiny ripples of water swayed in a whirlpool-like movement throughout the tub. Water slowly rose, then fell, then splashed over the porcelain lip, soaking the bathroom floor. Alarmed, Gwen shut her eyes and froze. Dear Mother of God, save me. She knew the disturbance roaming about her space wasn’t something of the earthly world. No man could create such stirrings. The water calmed. Gwen opened her eyes and nearly died. There before her, in the very same tub in which she only moments ago had leisurely relaxed, stood a six-foot-tall bronzed god. Cormac O’Keefe had finally returned to her. 33

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Droplets of now-cold water dripped down the warrior’s glistening frame and teased Gwen’s exposed flesh. The cool sensation stirred her body and her soul. “My lady,” said Cormac, “It appears you have finally summoned me from the depths of my hell.” She didn’t know how to comment. What did one say to a warlock who had been thought dead for 1,800 years? “Your silence is not what I had expected. However, I welcome it just the same for, if I recall correctly, when we parted ways, when Torin discovered us in the forest, I was in the middle of something.” Gwen thought back to the day the Mac Killan had found her and Cormac entwined together. The muscled warrior had had his head buried between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her clit as if it were the man’s last meal. Even just thinking of that moment, Gwen orgasmed. She instinctively attempted to squeeze her legs together, but Cormac remained standing between her thighs. The brown-eyed warlock stared down at her, his lips curved in a sly grin. “Thou does remember our last moments together.” Gwen remained silent, offering only a nod in answer. “I am a man of my word, my lady.” He knelt in the tub, between her thighs, and leaned his handsome face forward. The cool, crisp scent of his breath brushed her cheek. “That day, I promised to take you like I’d never had before, and now I shall uphold my word.” Gwen swallowed hard. She didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t the way she had planned Cormac’s return. It wasn’t supposed to have taken this long, and it certainly wasn’t supposed to have taken place in her damned tub. The heat radiating from Cormac’s well-muscled body warmed her, but despite the rising temperature, she shivered. Having him back tonight wasn’t what she expected, regardless of her wishing for his return. * * * 34

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Cormac pulled away from the bewitching beauty displayed in the tub before him. Her thin frame shivered in the cooling water. He cursed to himself. He wanted nothing more than to have his way with Gwen, then leave her, hating her more than he did when he first learned of her betrayal. But the devil had him. Staring down at his former betrothed, he could feel only desire. The truth of the matter wasn’t what Cormac wanted to face. He still loved Gwenyth. “Mayhap now is not the right time for me to uphold my promise,” he said. Gwen looked at him, her long red hair falling free from its bun. “I couldn’t agree more.” She shifted slightly in the tub, brushing her inner thighs against his legs. The velvet soft touch stirred Cormac’s senses. His already hard cock ached even more. He needed to get out of this tub and settle in a more formal place. His plans for revenge were quickly fading. Cormac offered Gwen a hand. She accepted without hesitation—a sign Cormac welcomed. He pulled her up, then stepped out of the tub. “The towels are there,” she said, pointing to an alabaster column in the corner. He didn’t move. The site of Gwen’s curvy body dripping with water enticed him. He watched a single droplet fall from her nipple, down her midriff, then through the thatch of coppery curls leading to her womanhood. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to have the same access to Gwenyth’s body as did the droplet. Gwen sighed. “Towels are cloths made for drying.” He gave her a puzzled stare. “Over there,” she said, accentuating her words with vigorous hand movements. “I know full well what a towel is. I may have spent almost two millennia in Muireartach’s boat, but I was kept abreast of man’s 35

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changing world. I’ve probably even seen more than you.” Cormac retrieved two white towels off the pile. He unfolded the first one and offered it to Gwen. As she stepped out of the tub, he wrapped the thick cotton sheet around her body. He didn’t bother with a towel for himself. He wanted to be as near to Gwen as he could, keeping as little between them as possible. In silence, he held her tight. The fragrant scent of spices mixed with roses filled his nostrils. Even after all these years, she still preferred the same fragrances. Mayhap she’d still prefer him. Cormac bent his head to her neck and kissed her. The sweet taste of sun-kissed honey coupled with his tongue. A taste he’d never forget; a taste he’d savored for centuries. He took a deep breath and silently grunted. Revenge could wait; his body couldn’t. Cormac spun Gwen around and undid her towel, letting the white sheet pool at her ankles. “It’s been a long time,” she said. He didn’t comment. In an instant, Cormac pulled her closer, the tips of her breasts brushing against his bare chest. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she no longer desired him like she did in the past. “Mayhap too long?” “I’d wait an eternity for you,” whispered Gwenyth. His heart skipped a beat. He wanted so much to hear those words, to believe her. But the warrior inside his soul knew better. She had betrayed him in the past, so what would stop her from doing so again? Her skin burned against his. Cormac lifted her chin and kissed her lips. The fresh taste of mint danced with his tongue. Gwen moaned. Her knees buckled, and she wrapped her arms about his neck, allowing him to catch her in the nick of time. “Please,” she cried against his lips. “Take me.” He lifted her body into his arms and headed out of the bathroom. “Do you have a bedchamber?” 36

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She nodded, motioning toward the open door at the end of the hallway. He’d take her tonight and damn his revenge. Gwenyth Mac Killan was the one and only woman he ever loved. And he had every intention of making her his, even if it meant never returning to Castle O’Keefe and avenging his family name. For once he’d lay with Gwenyth, he’d never be able to harvest the power of the Eye of Knowledge. He’d have to have the ring first, then give it to his betrothed, and wait for their wedding night when she’d give it back to him. Without the ring, his true destiny could never be filled. But Gwen meant more to him than anything else in the world.

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CHAPTER 6

Cormac carried Gwenyth down the dimly lit corridor and into the bedroom. He placed her upon the large, curtain-draped bed in the room’s center. He hated to let go of her, even for a mere second, but unwillingly relinquished his hold to pull the drapes closed before joining her. She turned to him, her vibrant violet eyes pleading. “Make me yours as you promised that day in the forest.” He grazed his fingers across the soft, flawless skin of her face. “You were always mine, Gwenyth Mac Killan. Never once did I desire another.” “Then why did you wait so long? You could have made me your wife long before I became Torin’s ward.” Cormac didn’t answer. Instead, he bent his head to her right breast and licked her nipple. The rosy-colored bud responded to his caress on the instant, puckering into a taut little mound, ripe for the taking. Cormac teased her further. He caressed her pointy tip with his mouth, 38

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brushing his lips back and forth over the sensitive surface. “You were…always good…at avoiding the question, Cormac O’Keefe,” said Gwen, her voice raspy and her words interlaced with soft sighs. He pulled his lips away from her breast. “Never give your enemy more than she needs to know.” Gwen offered him an angered glare. “And since when did I become the enemy?” “Ever since you became a woman. Mayhap even before then.” The words fell from Cormac’s lips so easily, and so harshly, the tone of his voice startled even himself. “We’ve known each other many years, Cormac. What would cause you to think me your foe?” He certainly couldn’t tell her what he thought of her now. Bringing up her betrayal of him was something he’d wait to discuss. Instead, he thought back to an earlier, more innocent incident. “You once said you’d never marry an O’Keefe.” A puzzled look crossed Gwen’s face. She arched a brow and pursed her lips. “I was a girl of ten and two at the time, and you were a mudcovered boy who bore a toad as a gift when your father came to visit the Mac Killan. That was the first time we met.” “It was for your spell,” said Cormac. “The slimy creature cost me a new tunic and breeches.” Gwen smiled and turned onto her side. She placed her hand against his chest. “You certainly can’t hold me to something I said when I was ten and two.” She traced small circles against his bare flesh with her forefinger. “No,” he whispered. But he could hold her to the betrayal. A soft caress at his navel made him quiver. Cormac reached for Gwen’s hand to stop her from moving it further below, but he was too late. * * * Gwen cupped her warrior’s large, erect penis in one hand, and 39

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marveled at its thickness. Cormac’s size both intrigued and frightened her. She wanted him to take her like he’d once promised. She wanted to be more to him than just a passing dalliance. “I tried for almost two millennia to bring you back,” said Gwen. “Why do you think it took so long?” He pulled her hands away from his penis and placed them upon his chest. “I don’t really know. Where were you when you recited the spell?” “At castle Mac Killan. At the cliff.” He offered a slight laugh. “Then that’s why. You were at the cliff. To return me from the sea, you had to be in water, not just near it. Either in Muireartach’s sea, a lake, or…bathwater.” “I wish I’d known that long ago.” “I wish you knew lots of things, long ago.” “Like my being immortal?” “Yes,” answered Cormac. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?’ “I wanted to protect you.” She leaned her arm on one elbow and propped up her head to look directly into Cormac’s brown eyes. “Wanted to—or had to?” “And what is that supposed to mean?” She didn’t want to tell him about Torin’s secrets. About how he killed his father, literally sucking the life out of him. It took her years to figure out what Torin had done, what he meant about besting his father at the man’s own wicked game. She wondered if that had any impact on the friction between Torin and Cormac. “Nothing,” she said. “It really doesn’t matter anymore. Besides, I’m quite hungry all of a sudden.” She pushed away from Cormac and left the bed. “I’ll be right back.” * * * Cormac lingered in bed while Gwen was gone. It had been centuries since he’d last slept in a four-poster covered with heavy drapery. 40

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Gwen’s bedchamber reminded him of his private apartments at Rosemund Hall. He’d give anything to return to the home he’d left behind, to the life he once lived. He stretched his weary limbs, then rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around a pillow. The sweet scent of rose mixed with herbs filled his nostrils. Even though centuries had passed, he’d never forgotten Gwen’s perfume. To be able to capture the woman again was more than a miracle for him. He chided himself for thinking his beloved capable of betraying him. He should have known Torin had taken Gwenyth against her will. He settled deeper into the covers and sheets. A sharp prick struck his finger. Cormac pulled his hand from underneath the pillow and watched as a small droplet of blood bubbled on the pad of his forefinger. He lifted the pillow and froze. Shock washed over him like a tidal wave, encompassing his entire being. He couldn’t believe what he’d found. Under Gwen’s pillow sat the Eye of Knowledge, the legendary ring once owned by the O’Keefe Warlocks. His beloved had the ring all along. She alone had the power he’d fought centuries to take back. Footsteps echoed in the hall outside the bedroom. Cormac put down the pillow and returned to his casual position. Gwen entered. “I’ve brought you some flavored honey and bread.” Her eyes hinted of mischief. “Your favorite meal.” He took a deep breath and kept his anger in check. “Thank you. But I’m no longer hungry.” She raised an eyebrow; a puzzled look crossed her face. “Is something wrong?” She set the tray of food on the dresser. Gwen’s casual attitude annoyed Cormac. How could the woman be so calm when the entire world was at stake? He rose from the bed. “You tell me,” he said, his ire no longer at bay. “Tell you what?” “Something about this.” He tossed the down-filled pillow to the 41

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floor. “When were you planning on using it against me?” Anger flared in Cormac’s soul. “After we fucked yet again? Once I was too weary to struggle against you?” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “You really expect me to believe that?” Gwen nodded. He stepped to the dresser and pressed his body against her, pinning her between himself and the furniture. She struggled, turning around, but failed to break free of his grasp. He stared at her in the mirror. “How long have you had the ring?” “Ever since Aine gave it to me.” “Aine?” He laughed to himself. The idea of Aine giving away anything seemed ludicrous. Even Gavin commented the woman was an ice queen. “Why would she give you my brother’s ring?” Gwen looked into the mirror and met Cormac eye to eye. “Aine feared Torin might take it. She loved Gavin with all her heart. But once Torin found out about the engagement, he forbid Aine to marry your brother.” “What did Aine have that Torin wanted?” “It wasn’t so much anything she had that he coveted, but rather what he thought she was.” “Meaning?” “Torin had heard rumors of a powerful sorceress living among his tribe. He thought since Gavin asked for Aine’s hand in marriage, it had to be due to her being immortal.” Cormac pulled away from Gwen, putting a small space between them. “Aine was never a sorceress, let alone immortal.” “I know that now,” said Gwen. “But at the time I had no idea. I took the ring as Aine wanted and promised to never let it fall into the wrong hands.” “As in Torin’s hands?” Gwen bit her bottom lip and nodded. 42

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“I take it, since you are still alive, Torin never learned the truth about your own soul, did he?” “He couldn’t have. I didn’t even know such knowledge until he had me locked up in the convent.” “You never knew you were immortal until then?” “No.” “How did you find out?” Gwen released a deep breath and swallowed. “A nun told me. Then your brother Padrick confirmed it. He came for me when Torin died.” Padrick. It had been centuries since he’d last seen his brother. Muireartach kept him informed of most events taking place in the mortal world, but not all. “Did Padrick ever tell you the legend of the Eye of Knowledge?” “No. He didn’t know I had it.” Cormac eyed Gwen. Her long, fiery red hair spilled across her shoulders like sparkling embers. The site of her firm breasts peeking out through the copper strands ignited further his already burning desire. Like in the past, the woman’s bewitching beauty cast a deadly spell over him. He cursed himself. There was no escaping this foolish manner. His heart belonged to Gwenyth Mac Killan and to her alone would it remain. He raised his hands, grazing his fingertips over her bare arms. She licked her bottom lip and offered a soft moan. For the first time since his return, Cormac realized the woman was as much his as he was hers. * * * Cormac’s touch dotted Gwen’s skin with goose bumps. She reached for his hands, craving his fingers upon her breasts, rather than on her arms. The man obliged her silent request, tracing small circles around her nipples. He bent his head and nuzzled her neck. “When the O’Keefe finds his soul mate,” said Cormac, his voice low and raspy, “he gives 43

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her the ring as a sign of his heart and trust belonging to her. All his powers are contained in that ring. He is powerless until his wedding night, until he joins with his wife and she gives him back the ring in exchange for a share of his powers. Their coupling forms a true union of souls.” The thought of forming a true union with Cormac further whetted Gwen’s appetite. She took a deep breath and arched her breasts forward, forcing her immortal lover to cup her assets in his palms. Her nipples ached. Her clit throbbed. Still facing the mirror, Gwen stepped backward, closing the slight gap between her and Cormac. With her bare bottom pushed firmly against the man’s body, she realized the full extent of his own desires for her. She parted her legs and sighed. “Fulfill your promise, O’Keefe.” Cormac wrapped his arms around Gwen’s waist and turned her to face him. For a split second, she stood, silent, staring into his deep, chestnutcolored eyes. Staring into the face of the only man she had ever loved. “No soul has ever stirred me like you do, Gwenyth Mac Killan.” She wanted to tell him he did the same to her and more. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how much he meant to her. “I…I…” Gwen sucked in a deep breath and held her tongue. No words could express how she really felt about him. He raised a finger to her lips. “Don’t speak.” Cormac tightened his hold on her waist and lifted her onto the dresser. He parted her legs with his body, never once unlocking eyes with her. Gwen gripped the edge of the dresser, her fingers wrapped tightly about the carved woodwork. She leaned back and spread her legs wider. Cormac slid his hands over her hips, then brushed the tops of her thighs. His long fingers worked their way back up her legs. The anticipation of his touch upon her most private parts further ignited the heat already burning inside Gwen’s core. She felt her inner 44

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juices coating her pussy. Slick, wet, and ready for the taking, she sucked in a deep breath and waited. But much to her dismay, it wasn’t Cormac’s large cock that greeted her clit. The man stepped back and stared at her. His wicked glare raked her from head to toe and back again, stopping at the apex between her thighs. He inched his hands upward. His searing touch teased her nether lips. He brought one hand up to her pussy and pushed her lips wide. With his free hand, he reached for her clit. He flicked the pad of his forefinger across her swollen bud, then glided his fingers downward, and inside her. First he inserted one finger, then a second. Gwen squirmed against his hand, wanting more of him. He brushed his thumb over her pink mound. She moaned. Cormac moved his fingers in and out in a rhythmic manner, pulling away, then reentering her with eager thrusts. He continued his assault both inside her and on her. The ongoing flickers of his thumb against her clitoris grew intense. Pressure mounted inside her pussy and she inched closer to the edge of the dresser. She moved against his hands, meeting him thrust for thrust. He stepped back and pulled away his hands. Gwen gasped. Cormac lowered his head and assaulted her clit anew, this time with his tongue and lips. He licked her in a slow manner, teasing her, savoring her, lapping at her pussy as if it were a fine dessert made of the most exquisite of ingredients. Gwen noted the precise detail with which Cormac performed. Every touch of his tongue pushed her closer to the edge. But apparently he preferred to make her wait. He teased her, darting at her clit, then slithering his tongue farther down, lapping at her juices. He moved back up again, culminating his 45

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jest with a wicked twirl of the tip of his tongue around her aching nub. Gwen couldn’t stand it anymore. Her clit was fully exposed, swollen and eager to be had with a firm touch. She released one hand from the dresser and grabbed Cormac’s head. She laced her fingers through his dark hair and pulled him close. She exploded on the instant, with ripples of pleasure shooting through her pussy. The intensity with which she came shocked her. She released her hold on Cormac and leaned back against the mirror. Raising his head, he leaned in close, his still-erect rod brushing her thigh. He pulled her forward and brought her lips down hard upon his own. Gwen reached for his cock. The hard, thick member jutted out into her hand. She wrapped both hands around the eager rod and twisted her fingers back and forth as she slid her hand up and down. She didn’t need to work him long. A single brush of her bare palm against his tip brought forth a flood of seed. Cormac offered a grunt, then kissed her even harder than before. He pumped into her hand several times before resting his spent body against her. After a moment, he lifted Gwenyth off the dresser and returned them to the bed. “Cormac…” He tucked a blanket around Gwen and pulled her close. “Not now. Sleep. We can talk in the morning.” “But…” “Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.” He wrapped a firm arm around her waist. She fell silent, listening to his rhythmic breathing. She had waited almost two millennia for the return of her immortal warlock and for the chance to tell him Torin’s secret. Waiting one more day couldn’t hurt.

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CHAPTER 7

The smell of fried eggs and ham greeted Cormac’s nose, waking him from a restful sleep. He yawned, stretched, and thanked the gods for a sleep free of nightmares. For the first time since being sent to the sea by Torin Mac Killan, Cormac had slept through the night without waking his usual four or five times. Mayhap life was getting better. He sat up and dangled his legs over the side of the bed. His feet met the thick, wool, mauve carpet peeking out from beneath Gwen’s fourposter. A commotion, albeit a happy-sounding commotion, emitted from somewhere down the corridor outside the bedroom. Gwenyth. Cormac rose from the bed and headed toward the kitchen. He stepped quietly, wanting to watch Gwen without her knowing it. At the end of the hall, in a room next to the bathroom, stood Gwen, whistling as happy as a lark. She wore a white, see-through little nightshirt, dotted with small flowers. In one hand she carried an iron skillet, in the other a metal spatula. It pleased Cormac to see Gwen happy. 47

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She stopped in mid-stride and gave him the once-over from head to toe. “You might want to grab a towel from the bathroom. I’m afraid it’s the best I can do at the moment in offering you any clothes.” He smiled. “I thought you’d rather have me naked?” She blushed. “Of course, I would. But…” Cormac sensed an uneasy feeling settle in Gwen’s soul. He snapped his fingers and, on the instant, produced a black T-shirt, black leather pants and boots. “Does having me dressed in this manner make you feel better?” She dropped the spatula and stared at him, her mouth agape. “Where did you learn that trick?” He curved his lips in a devilish grin and dressed. “Being trapped in Muireartach’s boat offered me time to study my craft. I’ve learned a lot from the great goddess. Over time, I’ll teach you what she’s taught me.” “I’d like that.” As would I, thought Cormac. He entered the kitchen and bent down to pick up the spatula. “Thank you. I’ve made you breakfast. Eggs…ham…potatoes…” He took a seat at the round, glass-topped table and reached for a pitcher sitting in the center. He poured a glass of orange juice for Gwen, then one for himself. “What was it you wanted to tell me last night?” Gwen sat in the chair next to him. “Nothing, just a silly thing that appeared important then, but not so now.” He placed his hand on her arm. “Please. If it’s something you thought was important, I’m fully prepared to listen.” “It’s about Torin.” “Go on.” “When he took me to the tower room, on the night he sent you to the sea, he said something that didn’t make sense. But, after learning of my own immortality, and having all these years to think about it, I 48

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sometimes wonder if there was more to his words than what I understood.” With his free hand, Cormac brought the glass of orange juice to his lips. He drank a gulp, then put down the glass. “What did your brother say?” “He said he sucked the life out of the Mac Killan. At first it didn’t mean anything to me. But then I started to think about how the Mac Killan died. I remember that night as if it were only yesterday. The man came to my room, fell to his knees at the threshold, cried out my dead mother’s name, then just disintegrated into ash. It was as if he’d aged overnight, withered away to literally nothing.” “The Mac Killan was a sick man,” said Cormac. “I had heard he’d been sick for more than a year. But no one knew what infliction assaulted his body.” “He was sick for a year and a day.” The news startled Cormac. “A witch’s year.” “Aye.” “Mayhap it means nothing, Gwen.” She frowned. “I wish I could really believe that.” “Tell me,” said Cormac. “How did Torin die?” “He was killed in battle. The Fianna raided the Mac Killan lands while I was at the convent. Padrick came for me after the battle.” “Did my brother ever say who killed Torin?” “No,” Gwen said. “No one knows. He was killed in the midst of the raid.” A look of despair settled across her face. “Is something wrong?” “It’s just silly, that’s all. I hated Torin, and after he died, on many occasions, I could have sworn I’d seen him in the tower room, at the cliff, coming up from the sea. I suppose despite not liking him, my subconscious still felt a loss over his death.” Cormac pushed away his plate. “Did you say Torin sucked the life out of his father?” 49

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“Yes, so he said. Why? What do you make of it?” Cormac raked a hand through his hair. “Do you know why the O’Keefe is referred to as a Warlock and not a Witch?” Gwen shook her head. “One of my ancestors, an ancient immortal, was given by the gods the Ring of Knowledge. This gift was bestowed upon him due to his mastery of the Craft. But there was a catch. He was never to tell another soul, other than to those whom the gods deemed, the secrets of his immortality. One night, a dear friend betrayed him. He came to my ancestor saying he was to die. To save his friend, the O’Keefe shared his secrets. Ever since, those who share the O’Keefe blood must bear the name Warlock.” “It’s such a degrading name for a male witch. It can’t be easy for you.” “I try not to think about it. In the general world, no one knows about the legend. But in the world of the Craft, my family name is tainted. In my eyes, the O’Keefe did nothing wrong. And those descended of his blood are proud to bear his name.” “Can you ever redeem the name?” Cormac rose from his chair and carried his plate to the sink. “Aye. But in order to do that, I must kill the mortal who betrayed the O’Keefe.” Gwen turned in her chair to face him. “And who might that be?” “Until now, I had no idea. Over the years, the O’Keefe Warlocks were hunted down and murdered. I am surprised Padrick is still alive.” “You don’t suppose,” said Gwen, “that Torin is still alive?” Cormac leaned against the counter. “Do you know how in battle he died?” “Padrick believed, from examining the body, that Torin must have been thrown from his horse. He had a cracked skull.” “An immortal witch or warlock, for that matter, must have his heart cut out, then his head severed from his body.” 50

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Gwen covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes filled with tears. Cormac leapt to her side, placing his arms about her shoulders. “What’s wrong?” “My mother,” she cried. “Torin was the one who found her body. He said she committed suicide, that she plunged her body into the sea from the cliff. He said her head must have been severed by one of the sharp, pointy rocks jutting from the sea. I also remember a gaping whole in my mother’s chest. Now I know how she was killed. It was Torin. My mother died one year and a day before my stepfather.” Cormac wrapped his arms around Gwen and held her close. “Torin must have killed them both.” Gwen looked up at him, her eyes red from tears. “Why didn’t Padrick finish him off on the battlefield?” “He probably didn’t know Torin was immortal. The Mac Killan must have been the one who betrayed my ancestor, then Torin stole his secrets. It all makes sense to me now. He murdered his own father.” “But the Mac Killan died like a mortal. He grew old and turned to dust.” “Naturally,” answered Cormac. “He was a mortal. He might have forced my ancestor to share with him the secrets of immortality, but only those born immortal can remain so. Others, who learn of immortality through the workings of magic, eventually revert to a mortal stage, at which time they grow old, very fast, then die.” “Then surely I have brought you back to face your death,” said Gwen. “For if Torin learns of your return, he will seek you out and kill you. He must still be alive. That is why I saw him every now and then. He must have taken liberties when opportunities presented themselves. He was looking for you, for a way to bring you back. Torin must have learned you were immortal.” Cormac let go of Gwen and gently kissed her. “I have to go now.” “Where? Why?” “Wait for me.” 51

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He headed for the door. “Cormac…” Gwen followed him, but it was too late. He vanished before her very eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t leave your home, Gwen…” Cormac’s voice echoed through the empty hallway. A sick feeling knotted in the pit of Gwen’s stomach. She made a beeline for the bedroom, dove onto the bed and tossed the pillows aside. Her heart panicked. She searched the linens for the ring, but found nothing. She pulled up the sheets and in the corner, tucked inside the elastic of one end, sat the Eye of Knowledge. Gwen retrieved the ring and immediately placed it on her forefinger. Cormac still had a chance if she controlled the powers of the immortal warlocks. A cloak-covered figure emerged from the shadows of the room. “Muireartach?” “Yes, my child.” “Why are you here? Have I disturbed you in any way?” The woman from the shadows removed her cloak. “Not at all, my precious Gwenyth. I come only to tell you your Cormac now needs you.” “I know he does. But I’m five hours away by plane.” “Then you know he’s gone to Castle Mac Killan?” Gwen nodded. Cormac was a fierce warrior and he went wherever battle called. She knew he’d want to find Torin before Torin found him. “Go to Castle Mac Killan in the same way your Cormac has gone.” “I don’t have that kind of power.” Muireartach smiled. “But you do, child. You have those and more, much more.” “Then show me.” “Close your eyes and visualize Castle Mac Killan. If you believe in yourself, and what you see, you will be there.” Gwen shut her eyes and focused. She tuned out all noise, the world 52

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outside her apartment. She thought only of Castle Mac Killan, of the cliff where she last saw Cormac, the tower room, and the sea. But nothing happened. Gwen opened her eyes. “I can’t do this.” “Yes, you can. Think of finer things. Of things you enjoyed at Castle Mac Killan.” She felt her face go flush. Muireartach rolled her eyes. “Go ahead. I know all about you and Cormac, anyway. About your escapades in the forest. I even know about last night. So, your thoughts will be nothing new to me.” Gwen closed her eyes and tried again. She thought of the green grass of Ireland, the wild flowers, the leisurely mornings spent with Cormac. The sound of chirping birds echoed in Gwen’s head. She opened her eyes and froze. She wasn’t in New York anymore, but rather, at the cliff at the edge of Castle Mac Killan. Muireartach’s ways had worked. Gwen rubbed her hands together and noticed her arms. They were covered in long black velvet sleeves. She looked down and realized that not only did her surroundings change, but so did her clothes. She wore a black dress and cloak similar to Muireartach’s. A light flashed in the window of the tower room. Gwen headed straight for Castle Mac Killan and to find her Cormac.

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CHAPTER 8

“Well, well,” said Torin. “If it isn’t Cormac O’Keefe in the flesh. Enjoy your little voyage in the sea?” “You should have killed me when you had the chance,” said Cormac. “Now you’re going to have to pay for all your sins. I know all about your little magical prank, Torin.” “Found me out, then, ha?” “You killed your father, stole his immortal secrets so you could live for all eternity.” “I’m surprised it took you this long, O’Keefe.” “I’m surprised it took you this long to hunt me down. Why the wait, Mac Killan?” Torin leaned against the mantle set on the far wall of the castle’s great room. He picked at his nails in a cocky manner. “I’m waiting for my ring. With the Eye of Knowledge, my immortality will become real.” “Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a long time, because I don’t 54

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have the ring. Thanks to you, Gavin gave it to Aine, and Aine gave it away.” Torin sauntered across the room and took a seat at the long dining bench. He propped one boot-covered foot onto the table. “I know all about Aine and her giving the ring to your precious little Gwenyth. I always thought my sister had the ring, but when she denied it, I believed her and let her go.” He glared at Cormac. “Only a fool would make that mistake again.” “You should know all about fools,” said Cormac. Torin feigned a look of shock. “You wound me, O’Keefe.” “I have no time for games, Torin. Gwen isn’t here. It’s just you and me this time.” “Oh, she’ll be here. Just wait and see.” Torin extended his hand and offered a seat to Cormac next to him on the long wood bench. “Where are my brother and the rest of the O’Keefe kin?” “They’re safe, have no worry. Save for my occasional visit and Gwen’s, Castle Mac Killan hasn’t been lived in for centuries.” The sound of a creaky hinge echoed through the castle’s cold air. “That would be your little whore, now, O’Keefe.” Cormac glared at Torin. He wanted nothing more than to strangle the man. But to kill an immortal, he would be denied such satisfaction. No, he had to make a quick, clean cut to the neck and be done with it. No pain, no suffering. Part of him didn’t like the idea. Part of Cormac wanted Torin to suffer as his kin had suffered all these years. Gwenyth entered the main chamber. “Welcome home, little sister,” said Torin. He rose from his seat and approached her. “I told you once never to call me that.” Gwen aimed the Ring of Knowledge at Torin’s heart. “I won’t tell you again.” A bolt of flaming light hurled toward Mac Killan. Torin fell back, the wind knocked from his lungs. His sword shot across the room, screeching against the stone floor. 55

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Gwen grabbed the weapon and tossed it to Cormac. Torin jumped to his feet and vanished. Gwen offered Cormac a dazed look. “Where did he go?” “Right over here, sis.” Torin’s evil voice hissed in the air. She reached for her throat. “Cormac…help…me…” He raced to her side and aimed his sword into empty air. Behind Gwen, Torin’s body began to take form. He held a dagger at her throat. Cormac cursed to himself. “Give me the ring, Gwen,” said Torin. “I can’t.” “Don’t lie to me, wench. You wear the ring on your finger as we speak.” “I’m not lying. The ring is not mine to give.” Torin pushed the dagger into her skin. A small droplet of blood formed at the blade’s point. “Aine gave it to you. Now you will give it to me.” Gwen shook her head. “Aine never gave me the ring. She only asked that I keep it from you until its rightful owner could claim it.” Torin eyed Cormac with a watchful glare. “Gavin is dead. I watched, in the shadows, as he cut out his own heart. Then, your Cormac, here, sliced off his head. Gavin was the rightful owner. He gave the ring to Aine, therefore giving up his right to the Eye of Knowledge.” Cormac took a step forward. “I did only what my brother asked of me. You had no right to spy on us.” “The ring belongs to Cormac,” said Gwen, struggling against Torin’s grip. “When Gavin died, Cormac became the O’Keefe.” “Aine took the ring from my brother under false pretenses,” said Cormac. “And, according to the code of Warlocks and Witches, when such an occurrence takes place, the ownership of said ring does not pass to the soul who possesses it.” 56

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“Bloody, bastard,” shouted Torin. He pushed Gwen away, steering her into the path of Cormac’s sword. Cormac jumped out of the way. He lunged for Torin, chasing the man across the room and into the main corridor. At the foot of the stone steps, Cormac grabbed Torin’s boot. He pulled the Mac Killan to his knees, forcing him to drop his dagger. With one hand on Torin and the other bearing his sword, Cormac knew he had to make a decision. The heart had to be cut out first, while the immortal was still alive. He dropped his sword and reached for Torin’s dagger. With one swift thrust, he rammed the pointed blade into Torin’s back, right behind his heart. Torin shrieked in horror. His body shriveled like a mummy’s taut skin. He fell forward. Cormac released Torin and picked up his sword. He took a deep breath. Killing was never an easy task, even if it was in the name of justice. He aimed his sword at Mac Killan’s neck, and with one swipe, severed the head. Torin’s body crumbled to ash and dispersed into a dark wind, carried out the nearest window. There was nothing left of the oncepowerful, yet evil Mac Killan. Cormac dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Gwen rushed to his side. “Are you all right?” He nodded. “It’s over. I can’t help but think my ancestor risked all to save a life and now I have done the opposite. I only hope he can forgive me one day.” “I am sure your ancestor’s soul would have no ill feelings for you. You freed your family’s name, Cormac. You’re no longer a warlock.” “No, I guess I’m not.” Gwen slid the Eye of Knowledge off her finger and handed it to him. “My lord. I do believe this belongs to you.” Cormac stared at the ring. It had been so many years since he had last held the object. He placed it on his forefinger and marveled at the 57

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way it gleamed. The small eye in the center opened. A strong, vibrant ray of light shot up from the eye, striking Cormac in the heart. He fell backward and gasped. His body convulsed in spasms. * * * Gwen screamed. “Don’t die on me, Cormac. Not now!” She reached for the ring on his finger, but couldn’t remove it. Cormac let out a deep breath and fell still. Gwen wept. “No! No!” She kissed her fingers, then placed them upon his chest, right over his heart. He sucked in a mouthful of air and regained consciousness. He reached a hand to his neck and sat up, panting, gasping for air. He grabbed Gwen’s arm. “I’m…still…alive.” She smiled. She’d finally brought her Cormac back for good.

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EPILOGUE

Padrick waved from the bottom of the hill. As did all the O’Keefe kin. Gwen couldn’t remember a day more beautiful. Her wedding to Cormac O’Keefe was like a fairytale come true. And now she finally had the man all to herself. She stepped back from the balcony of Rosemund Hall and entered the bedroom. Cormac waited for her inside, a wicked grin covering his lips. “And what sinful thoughts corrupt your mind, husband?” Cormac grabbed hold of her waist and pulled her close. “As usual, the meal did little to satisfy my hunger.” “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep on an empty stomach.” A frown crossed Cormac’s face. Gwen pulled away. “Is something wrong?” She fell back upon the bed. “You can’t have me like that tonight, Cormac.” 59

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“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s our wedding night.” “And you’ll take me in a proper way or you won’t take me at all. Besides, you made me a promise you’ve yet to uphold.” He offered a slight laugh. “Oh, have no fear of that tonight, wife. I shall make you mine in every sense of the word.” Gwen smiled up at him. Cormac joined her on the bed. He undid the buttons at the back of her gown and slid the sleeves off her shoulders. His kisses seared her skin; his tongue licked at her earlobe. She slid off the gown and turned to face him. “I believe this should now go back to you.” She took off the Eye of Knowledge and handed it to him. “I can never repay you for helping me clear my family name and for returning my ring,” said Cormac. “According to the gods, I’m indebted to share my powers with you. But know I do so from my heart and not due to ancient rules.” His words meant everything to Gwen. “I look forward to learning your secrets, O’Keefe.” “And I look forward to teaching you.” A hint of mischief sparkled in his eyes. He held the ring in the palm of his hand and wrapped his fingers over it, squeezing it. “What are you doing?” “Shhh…” Cormac shut his eyes. Then smiled. “I have a gift for you, Gwenyth Sullivan O’Keefe.” He opened his eyes. Gwen stared at him in confusion. “Sullivan?” “Your father’s name. He was a powerful immortal witch, hunted down by an evil warlock tied to the Mac Killan. Your mother never revealed his name for fear the same warlock would come looking for you. You’re a powerful sorceress, Gwen. You only need to harness your powers.” “The ring told you my father’s name?” 60

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“The ring knows all things. That’s why it’s called the Eye of Knowledge.” She smiled. “Everything? Really?” He nodded. “I bet it doesn’t know what I’m about to do next?” “It probably does, but I’d rather find out for myself.” He laughed, then slid the ring onto his forefinger and kissed her. Cormac turned her onto her back and undid the clasp at the front of her bra. He bent his head forward. His lips against her nipple stirred Gwen to the core. She squirmed under him and undid his pants. He sat back, and as usual, removed his own clothes in haste. He also undid the tiny bows at the sides of her undergarments. She was naked, as was her beloved Cormac. Nothing standing between them save for her husband’s large erection. Gwen spread her legs. Her sweet scent mixed with the aroma of her floral perfume. “I love the way you smell,” growled Cormac. He nuzzled her neck. “I want you inside me.” Cormac flicked his finger back and forth over the slick nub of her clit. “I want to make sure you’re ready for me first.” He slid one finger inside her pussy. “God, you’re wet.” “I’m always wet for you, Cormac. When have I not been?” He laughed. “True.” He carefully positioned himself between her legs and reached for his cock. He teased her clit with its head, then slid down and entered her vagina. Cormac’s long, thick shaft completely filled Gwen. A slight pain struck her for a moment, then eased. The walls of her pussy tingled. Nothing ever felt this good. “Oh my God, Cormac. You feel absolutely wonderful inside me.” He grinned. “And you feel wonderful around me.” She clenched her vaginal muscles. 61

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Cormac offered a grunt. He picked up rhythm and eased his cock back and forth, in and out of her pussy. Gwen enjoyed the feel of him. She met him thrust for thrust, forcing him to go faster and harder. The pressure mounted inside her. She reached out to pull him forward. The friction of his thrusts slammed against her clit. Over and over, he rode her until she cried out. Cormac grunted a second time and pumped his seed into her womb. Spent, he collapsed on top of her. Gwen squeezed her pubic muscles one more time. Cormac’s large cock still filled her. She liked having him inside her and never wanted to let him go. “I love you Cormac O’Keefe. I’ll love you for all eternity.” “And I’ll be yours for all eternity, my sweet Gwenyth. I’ll never let you go.” “Is that another promise, my lord?” He looked at her and flashed his pearly white teeth. “Aye. And I am a man of my word.” “Oh,” said Gwen. “How I know that now…”

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M. A. DUBARRY

M. A. duBarry is a pseudonym for author Angelique Armae. Under the duBarry pen name, Miss Armae crafts paranormal, gothic, contemporary, & historical erotica. These books include vampire novels, gothic romances, and dark fantasy. To find out more about Miss Armae’s work, please visit her websites at: www.madubarry.com & www.angeliquearmae.com

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