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Convincing her to spend the day with me was one thing. But what of every other day and the nights in between? A woman of many talents, she enchanted those around her. Underestimating her wiles could prove foolhardy.

My intentions remained unchanged. Eamon tasked me with her safety, but he didn’t have to. I was already there.

I sifted through the Chief’s account, compartmentalizing pieces of information. The object of his investigation—an extremist with self-serving motives—a man who had amassed a cult following. Eamon said he had a source inside, but how deep had he infiltrated the man’s organization? I chastised myself for not demanding more from the older man.

I had never considered the resurgence of paganism outside of Ireland. I reflected on the family rituals and festivals—key pagan gatherings: Yule, Samhain, Bealtaine, and many others. Those celebrations were a way of life. I considered the witch Saoirse, a practicing Wiccan, and many others like her. The problem lay not with the pagans but with one madman.

I imagined what such a man could do. And what of the missing lad in Malin Head? I considered the fantastic—what if the Faeries had stolen the lad and Hamstead’s people abducted the changeling? It wasn’t beyond consideration.

Talking about the Other Crowd was one thing; believing was another altogether. I stopped in my tracks, considering another facet of myth and lore, and followed Calla’s gaze toward O’Donnell’s castle. I could not deny my ancestors.

I accepted one thing. I was in too deep, and my judgment was impaired. Had I disclosed the true nature of my relationship with Calla, would that have changed the Chief’s directive? One thing I could accept—I relied on another to safeguard the most crucial package in the world—the woman I love.

“Do you have plans this afternoon?” I cupped her elbow in my palm. My motives were utterly self-serving, which I wouldn’t deny—the time for second-guessing had long passed. I made the only sane choice, the only one I could live with.

Her brazen confidence stirred my arousal, and yet our last encounter revealed her genuine innocence. I lost my breath along with her and focused on one thought and one thought only. I would be the man who made that vixen sing.

“What did you have in mind?” The corners of her lips lifted into a winning smile.

“How about a walk on the strand?” I offered my hand, yet she wavered, considering my offer.

“Sex on the beach? Is that where this is going?” Her gaze left the castle and returned to me.

“Do you know how to ride a horse?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. Snippets of Calla’s younger life resurfaced in my mind. The deeper I dug, the more I learned. Calla’s adoptive parents were well off and indulged their one and only child in every way possible. Raised on a rolling property in Ontario’s Caledon Hills, Calla’s love for horses blossomed into more than a passing fancy.

“The four-legged kind?” Her face bloomed like a rose.

“Yes.” I hooked my hand around her elbow, escorting her toward my rental car.

“I love horses.” She chewed her bottom lip.

“How about horseback riding on the strand?” My heart stirred. Pounding hooves over hard-packed sand? Her image flowed into my mind, her dark hair flying with the wind, her laughter ringing over the land.

“A pony ride on the beach?” Her voice sounded far away.

“Aye.” I stopped on the sidewalk in front of the castle gates.

“Um, I don’t know, Colm. I should grab my car. I could meet you.” She stared at the castle, her eyes shining.

“I promise to return you to your vehicle.” I glanced at the castle and the tourists swarming the gates, unsure what the cause of her distress might be. I held the passenger door open.

“Are you going to have your way with me, Colm O’Donnell? I’ve heard a lot about those dunes and the strand.” She lifted her chin, inhaling the lavender-scented air freshener dangling from the mirror.

“I can’t promise you won’t meet my mam,” I smirked, turning the key in the ignition.

“You’re taking me to meet your mam? It’s kind of soon, isn’t it?” She twisted a dark curl behind her ear.

“You met her at the pub, Calla. Don’t pretend you didn’t.” I grinned, my gaze finding hers.

“I met many people at the pub. Your family has horses?” She regarded me with an appraising eye. I found her enchanting.

“Aye. Irish Draught Horses. We keep a good breeding stock and offer stud services.” My father’s horses gave the family a sense of pride.

“Stud services?” Her eyes widened, and her interest peaked.

“Aye, the Irish Draught, when bred with a thoroughbred, produces some of the finest sports horses in all the world,” I recalled my father and the hours he spent analyzing breeding records. I continued down the one-way and nosed into rush hour traffic.

“You must have a lot of property, then?” She looked confused.

“Aye, meadowland, coursing the sea.” Gunning the motor, I left the town behind, following the familiar roads toward the coast.

“Yes, that’s right. You live near the sea. I don’t remember seeing horses. I remember little of anything. Jet lag, I guess.” She rubbed her forehead and winced.

I gazed into those sparkling silver pools, sure of only one thing—I was a drowning man. Holding my head above water had become my only priority. Her presence overpowered everything and everyone. I couldn’t stay away. I thought of nothing else. She was an illicit drug. Logical thought left me the day we met.

“Do you intend to answer the question?” Her braided locks tumbled like a waterfall over her shoulders. She rested her hands on her lap.

“Which one?” I drove leisurely through a tunnel of blue hydrangeas, followed by swaths of ragged robins dancing in the afternoon breeze, fingered petals blooming vibrant pink.

She looked away, extending her hand out the open window, her beautiful face expressing pure wonder.

Calla had no idea that a madman hunts for her. I hid that information from her, thinking I could protect her from the danger. Glancing sideways, I questioned my decision. She was not a woman to be controlled. I couldn’t keep her under lock and key or shadow her every move. I could try, but I would likely fail. I sighed inwardly. Protecting her meant sharing the brutal honesty of the situation. Leaving her in the dark was perilous and downright stupid. I would tell her—later.

“Here we are. This is Clonmara.” At the end of a long driveway, a two-story white clapboard house sat on a cliff overlooking the sea—a surrounding patchwork of green meadows dove down steep banks onto the rocky shore below. I saw the rugged beauty through her eyes.

“Wow. This is amazing.” She slammed the car door shut and left me, striding one step after another toward the horses grazing in one of the farthest pastures. She showed no trepidation.

I threw my hand over my eyes, blinded by the sunshine.

“They can be skittish, Calla. Be careful.” I picked through piles of dung, following her silhouette through the green meadow.

The lead horse lifted his head, tossing his long mane. He flared his nostrils, inhaling her scent. Leaving his herd, he trotted toward her.

I watched, in awe, as she extended her hand, her palm radiating sunshine.

The horse cantered around her in a wide arc, stopped, and pawed the ground.

I swallowed hard, fear closing my throat.

The wind howled, lifting the sea. I turned, stunned by that wild force. The waves scraped the sky, fell, then rose again. But they were not waves. They were dark and dangerous and not of this world.

White horses, magnificent in stature, emerged from the turbulent froth, leaving their sea home and galloping one hundred strong. Thundering hooves. Whinnying screams. Beautiful beasts from the underworld circled their queen.

I rubbed my eyes, but the vision remained. I had seen nothing like it, not in my wildest dreams.

“Hello, big boy. What’s your name?” She skimmed the stallion’s brow with a feathered touch.

“He likes you,” I whispered as the shadowy figures faded into the dark waters.

“Horses like me.” The stallion lowered his head and nuzzled Calla’s chest.

“This is Jack.” I sidled up to her, my hands in my pockets. The stallion proved hard to handle, a challenge most days, yet the horse had loved my father.

“Jack? Well, hello, Jack. Aren’t you a handsome fellow?” She stroked the crest of his powerful neck.

“Shall we tack up and explore the caves?” I searched the sky, estimating the remaining hours of daylight.

“The caves?” She expressed interest, her smile quick.

“Yes. Not far from here.” I clucked my tongue at a white mare named Jezebel, who returned my call with a soft nicker.

Jack trailed behind Calla.

“I’m not wearing riding boots, Jack. You’re going to be nice to me, okay?” Calla murmured in Jack’s ear.

“Calla, this is James.” I introduced our stable hand, a young boy from a neighboring parish. I pinned my lips into a tight line, inspecting the boy’s bruised forehead—a conversation for later.

“Good day, miss.” James nodded, moving like smoke between the two horses, slipping halters over their heads.

Jack didn’t seem to mind.

“This is a beautiful property. Did you grow up here?” She gazed beyond the house toward the sea and then back toward me.

“It’s called Clonmara, meaning meadow by the sea. That building there is the tack room.” I gestured toward an old Irish clachan, a settlement of cottages in sight of the sea. The ancient stone buildings now served a different purpose.

“This is amazing.” She brushed her hand over the tumbled stones. “When were these built?”

“Hundreds of years ago. Let’s get you a helmet.” I took her hand, leading her into the smaller stone building. “You’re not afraid of spiders, are you?” I positioned my hand against the small of her back, noting her lower ribs, too pronounced through the canvas shirt.

“No, I’m not afraid of spiders.” The gunmetal flecks in her eyes deepened to a molten shade.

“Calla?” I left my hand stationed on the rise of her butt, unwilling to let her go.

“I need you to kiss me, Colm.” She turned, removing any distance between us, curling her fingers into my shirt as she had once before. She lifted her face, presenting her moist lips—more than a man could resist.

“Right now?” I stared into her eyes—star-struck. Would I ever get used to that feeling of helplessness? I pushed aside the absurd thought and buried my other hand into those snaking tendrils, cupping the nape of her neck.

“Yes. Right now.” She slipped the tip of her tongue into my mouth, flicking the roof, tracing my tongue with hers.

When she arched her wee pussy into my swelling erection, I lost my mind. I swept my tongue between the sweet cleft of her lips, savoring her tender softness. Her scent overpowered my senses, nightshade, and black orchids. And something else—honey. My mind numbed, and my cock hardened instantly.

“I want you, O’Donnell. You’ve teased me enough.” She shoved her foot between mine and kicked my legs apart, demanding a wider stance. And then shoved me downward, settling my butt onto one of the many saddle racks jutting from the tack room wall.

“This is a first. Do you do this often?” I planted my feet on the slab floor, anticipating the ride of my life.

She shimmied aboard, straddling my lap. Her intentions—crystal clear.

“There’s a first time for everything, lover boy.” The most adorable sigh escaped her lips.

A voice whispered, telling me to take what’s mine. I argued that only a fool would ravage such a sweet delight.

“Where did you get this shirt?” I ripped the placket open, revealing a lacy pink bra. Another flick unsnapped the front closure. Two circular globes surrounding rosy pink nubs spilled into my waiting palms. I swept my thumbs over the pebbled areola—my mouth watering for a taste.

“Do you like it?” She placed her hands over mine and squeezed the peaked darts. In a dream, that moment came back to me. We did that.

“You’d look beautiful in anything.” I dragged my mouth along her nape, tasting her.

She rolled my hands over her breasts, her eyes closed, her lips half-parted.

From the courtyard, the horses whinnied. Wee James spoke to them in low tones.

“What did I tell you about your next orgasm?” I pinched her chin and closed my mouth over hers—Calla’s need—my only priority. I intended to fulfill every one of them.

“You did this to me.” She rocked against me, rubbing her clit over my hardened width.

The price I would pay to claim her here and now.

“Two more days, Calla. Bealtaine.” I slid my fingers beneath her waistband—the words I needed to say stuck in my throat.

“You want to hash this out right now?” Her sweet breath made my ears roar.

“Soon enough, I promise you.” I sat deeper, friction building heat.

“Looky here, O’Donnell. Yeah. Oh, yeah. I’m gonna come.” She bucked into me, grazing my cock with maddening thrusts.

“Calla.” I swallowed her rising whimpers, my tongue drawn to those pointy canines. They seemed harmless enough. I suckled the length of her fluttering tongue—my lifeline. A tender kiss turned into an insatiable desire.

She plowed her fingers through my hair, her heart pounding with every swell of her breasts. Her thighs clenched as heat flooded her panties. She sagged into me, her breasts stabbing my chest.

“There. There. It’s okay.” I lifted her dark mane, twisting the wild strands between my fingers and gazing at heaven on earth. Her skin flushed pink, and her eyes glazed with lust.

“That was amazing.” She popped off the saddle, fastened her brassiere, and snapped the buttons closed on her shirt. “I’m serious. It was good.”

“I’m glad.” My cock throbbed. My balls burned for the woman—two more days. I would keep my promise.

“Okey dokey. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” She turned her back, walking toward a shelf of various-sized riding helmets. She twisted her hair into one long braid and tried on one and then another.

“Sure. I’m just grand. Thanks for asking.” I slid from the saddle rack, shifting my cock into a better place.

“Colm, are you all right?” She threw on a bucket helmet and smiled at me, her eyes shining bright.

“Brilliant, my queen.” I bowed at the waist, extending my hand in a broad flourish.

“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” she exclaimed, jumping up and wrapping her legs around my waist.

“What are you doing to me, Calla?” I held her close. Leaving Ireland and returning to my old life was seriously out of the question.

“The same thing you do to me.” She held my face in her hands, then kissed me, her lips soft on mine.

My heart throbbed, the blood in my veins burning hot. She lied, that woman, her words twisting the other way around. She did that to me.

I closed the entrance door and threw the bolt.

Tasting her sweet delight would be my reward, and it would be enough. How long could a man play the teasing game?

I scooped Calla into my arms and laid her on the soft straw.

“What are you doing to me, O’Donnell?” She stretched her arms out, languishing.

Heat crackled between us.

“I will make you come, and this time, I’m going to taste you.” I hooked my fingers under her waistband and pulled her leggings over her bottom.

A sweet honey scent wafted from her lacy undergarments.

I tossed those aside and gazed upon perfection. Her pussy glimmered, gossamer silk protecting her outer lips from abrasion.

My hard-on was instant. I itched to sink my cock between those soft folds and make Calla mine. Dropping on my hands, caging her beneath me, I whispered, “I’m going to lick your wee pussy. I’m going to suckle your wee clit. I will play with you, Faerie girl, and you will not come until I tell you. Do we have an agreement?”

“I can’t stop it. It just happens.” She shrugged.

“You are perfect, mo grhá , in every way.” I walked my fingers over her sweet folds and drew circles around her hooded clit.

“Oh. Oh.” Her skin flushed with wet heat.

Her whimpers weakened my resolve.

“You can, and you will.” I hooked my hands behind her knees, lifted her legs over my shoulders, and opened the gates of heaven.

“Oh, God.” She peered at me through slitted lids, her long lashes resting on her cheekbones.

I separated the pink folds with the tip of my tongue, licking from the inside out, finding the softest flesh beneath. Deep licks that made her squirm.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” She rolled her hips, her eyes blazing with need.

I glided my hands over her perfect bottom, nibbling, pulling, and tugging her tender folds. When I pulled her clitoris into my mouth, her wee pussy spasmed with hot liquid heat.

“Yes. Oh, God. Yes.” She fisted her palms, flexing her hips in response to my trailing tongue.

A man could lose his mind over a woman like her.

When I introduced the tip of one finger and then two, her belly tightened, and her skin rippled. Her whimpers were enough to make me lose my resolve.

“Do you like that?” I stroked her heated channel, curling my fingers until her breathing raged and her hips bucked.

“Uh-huh, I want to come.” She squealed, calling the daemons to rise.

“No. Not yet.” I drew circles with my tongue, flicking her wee clit from side to side. I swept my tongue through her soft folds, delighting in her soft moans. I paused, dropping soft kisses to her exquisite belly button.

“More. Oh God, I need you. Colm. I want you.” She tossed her head back and forth.

Her heated gaze took me away from my task. She was more than beautiful, her hair in disarray and her cheeks flushed. She wet her bottom lip, causing me to lose concentration. I inched away, easing the pressure in my groin.

“I need to come.” Her voice rasped.

“Soon.” Soon, I would take her on one long, sensual ride.

“Now. Now, you don’t play fair, O’Donnell.” She bucked in rhythm with my gliding fingers.

I teased her flesh, pinching her clitoris between my teeth. When I suckled her burgeoning hood, her vagina tightened, clutching my fingers.

“Come for me, mo grhá .” I stroked her slick heat faster with just the right amount of pressure.

Anticipating her orgasm made my cock pulsate. The beast throbbed, threatening to burst the zippered confines of my jeans.

“You make me hot, O’Donnell. So hot.” Her eyes drifted open and closed, and a shudder rippled over her, the walls of her pussy clenching. I stroked her until she was replete. When her frenzy slowed, I withdrew my fingers and lifted her core to my lips, lapping and suckling her raw flesh, drinking up the last of her sweet nectar.

My hunger sated; I embraced her tightly and kissed the beads of sweat from her brow.

* * *

T he two horses stood beneath the canopy of a leafy oak tree, tacked up and hitched to a cedar rail. There was no sign of wee James.

“Can I give you a leg up?” I twined my fingers together, offering her a jump onto the horse’s broad back.

She humored me, placing her foot in my cupped hands and taking the offered help.

She sat deep in the saddle, gazing down upon me, a smile lifting her luscious lips.

I adjusted her stirrups while Jack stood gallantly at attention as if he knew what precious cargo he carried.

Her eyes flashed, and a smile played on her lips.

I rested my hand on her calf, unable to resist touching her.

I mounted the white mare and, without further ado, leaned forward, giving Jack a firm slap on the buttocks.

Jack bolted toward the sea, his long stride sending Calla diving for the flying reins.

She regained her seat, as I knew she would, at ease with the big horse’s rhythm.

The horses slowed, and we rode side by side across the rolling meadow to where a narrow chasm, a green gully blooming with pink and purple flowers, led us toward the sea.

White sand, flecked with black diamonds, glimmered in the sun. Towering cliffs embraced the cove, with jagged rock slabs pitching into rolling waves. In the faraway distance, tendrils of peat smoke wafted on a west wind.

Calla urged her horse into a full-on gallop, pulling up before the rising rock formations.

“What’s this?” She dismounted with ease.

“These are the caves.” I looped both sets of reins over a protruding stack. “Would you like to explore?”

“Of course.” She removed her shoes, leaving them on top of a rocky outcrop, rolled her pant legs over her knees, and then walked through the first tide pool, unaffected by the frigid temperature.

My heart jumped when I saw how far she had ventured into the narrow sea cave.

“Wow, this is cool. How far does it go?” She pressed her palms into the pitted wall, venturing knee-deep into the tidal basin.

“Be careful, it’s slippery.” I took one hesitant step, finding a foothold on bare rock.

“How many caves are there?” Her face glowed radiant in the reflective light. She seemed nonplussed by the colony of algae buffering the smooth surface.

“Fifteen. Depends on the tides. We’re a little late for most.” I scraped my toes on sharp dragon claws.

“Look, there’s a crab.” She stooped, studying the fast-moving crustacean. She hopped from one sloping rock to another, deeper and deeper into the cavern. “This is so cool.” Her voice echoed from a faraway chamber.

“The last man who disappeared into this cave never came out, Calla. I think it’s time we leave.” I called out, slipping and tearing my foot on a barbed rock.

“Really? We just got here.” She appeared behind me.

I wondered how.

“You’re lucky to have grown up in such a wonderful place.” She scrunched her nose. “Not those bogs, though. I’m not a fan.”

The waves crashed into the sand, rising higher with the coming tide, bringing the moss-covered outcrops to life. I dove for her hand, pulling her toward the light.

Jack whinnied, stamping his hooves.

“It’s time to go, Calla. We can come another time if you’d like to explore.” I clutched her wrist, urging her across the strand toward the rock stacks where the horses waited.

“No worries, O’Donnell.” She rose onto her tiptoes, kissing the side of my cheek. Gathering Jack’s reins, she leapt into the saddle. “Where to now?”

“I can show you the dunes.” I rode my horse toward the low grassy hills abutting the strand.

“It’s time you made love to me, O’Donnell. Don’t you think you’ve teased me long enough?” She grinned.

“This is not the place.” I gazed into her wild eyes, taken aback by the set of her chin.

“Look around you. The sun is shining. The bees are buzzing, and the world smells brand new. What could be more perfect?” She loosened her reins, giving Jack his lead.

Jack picked through the sand, stopping amidst the thick marram grass. A moth floated from one waving tendril to another, catching his attention.

“Did you bring a condom?” Calla slid from her horse, landing on both feet. She turned toward me, her fingers working the buttons of her shirt.

“No, Calla. Wait.” I searched the distant landscape, the public parking lot at the end of the slat walkway. We were alone.

“That’s okay.” She dug into her pocket, offering a wrapped package. “Will it fit?” She bit her lower lip, looking at me.

“Are you blushing, Calla Sweet?” I inspected the condom. The heat dusting her cheeks confirmed my mounting suspicions.

“No.” She patted her cheeks, then blew a warming breath in my direction.

The skies darkened, and black clouds coated the sun. A wind gusted, picking up the sea and washing the dunes with a salty spray.

The rising tide swept away any thought of ravaging her sweet delight.

“We should save this for another day.” I stuffed the condom into my back pocket.

“What? Don’t you want to?” She pouted her pretty lips, her arms glued to her sides.

Did I imagine the shadow of relief passing through her eyes?

“I want to, more than anything.” I threaded my hand through her wild locks, clasping the back of her head and gazing into her silver eyes. What I would give to make her mine—right here, right now. I pressed my lips to the side of her face.

I sensed the temperature change. Once warm and soothing, the air shivered. Ice crystals formed and then shattered, blanketing the sand in a thick white layer—of snow.

The skies filled with a luminescent mist, a thick fog rolling over and turning into itself. A thunderbolt struck the rolling surf, followed by a resounding clap.

“Colm, something’s happening. Do you feel it?” Her voice flowed through me, and her eyes glowed white-gold. She turned away, facing the unknown alone.

“Calla. No.” I struggled to maintain my hold on her wrist.

The wind pressed against me, and shards of ice numbed my bones. I lunged forward, straining my elbows and every knuckle, realizing my worst fears.

The sky flashed electric blue.

Her essence lingered and faded, leaving only the memory of her soft touch and sing-song voice. She had vanished.

Winter’s breath tore through me. An otherness, a cold rage, blinded my mind and left my limbs paralyzed.

My foe raised the tides, whipping the waters into a maelstrom. The waves lifted on command, pounding over me, throwing me face-first to the bottom of the sea.

I fought to break the surf, gagging on salty brine, only to find the sea floor again.

Anguished screams rose from the depths, the keening cries of lost souls. Voices called to me, familiar voices. The waves chased the ocean deep, and reality left me, oblivion extending its dark, cold hand, clenching my throat and dragging me under. Again. And again.

The ocean roar crashed one wave against another. Rippling, curling, and then retreating, the tides sucked the sand away from the land. The waves churned, and froth washed over me. I clawed the sand with shredded fingers, my jaw cracking on a rocky outcrop.

Her voice rang in my ears, an echo from a distant land—neither here nor there, but elsewhere. The emptiness in my chest told me she was gone. The quiet called to me. I had no fight left. Care left me long ago.

Laughter filled the air. Voices cajoled, whispering of happy times—throwing a ball on the strand, body surfing these same killer waves. My heart lifted, and light rained down.

“Colm, dear gods, mate. What are you doing out here?” The man’s voice rang with familiarity.

Strong arms dragged me through the wash and lowered me onto the grassy dune. A voice soothed me.

The horses nickered, tossing their heads back and forth.

Sunlight streamed from the sky, searing my eyelids shut. I opened my mouth to speak, my throat burning with strangled breaths.

A man I had known forever, a man I had mourned, crouched before me.

“Can you ride, man? We have to get you home. You’re concussed.” Ciarán’s piercing blue eyes questioned me. He held my head steady with one cool hand.

“Am I dead? Is this heaven?” I rasped, my mouth full of sand.

“Jeez, bro. Is that all you’ve got to say to a long-lost brother?” He lifted me onto my feet.

I lurched forward and then fell onto my knees. My vision blurred, my mind spinning with confusion.

Her sneakers, one tied to the other, floated in the wild surf.

Calla taken from me.

Ciarán returned.

“Calla.” I stumbled and ran into the sea, screaming at the gods, but no one answered.