Indecent: The Moray Druids #2 (Highland Historical) Read Free Page B

she’d been working so hard to suppress. Not only was her magick weak, but her body was also. Not just weak, but wounded, and she hadn’t the gift for healing like her cousin Morgana did.
    Kenna’s element was fire. And, though it was one of the more powerful and dangerous elements, it wasn’t among the earth’s most abundant resources like air or water. It needed fuel. Ignition. Something upon which to burn. Those druids who were evil or lazy used powerful and plentiful resources upon which to feed their fire. Fear, anger, and hatred.
    But those who were actual practitioners of elemental magick, who understood from where true power could be found, drew theirs from the well of the less profuse, but ultimately infinite. The potency of passion overcame fear and anger. The intensity of love always conquered hatred. It was from sensations such as these that Kenna knew she could revitalize her strength in order to face the dangers that lie ahead.
    She thought of the nuns in the courtyard, most of whom were generous, pious women. Of her cousins Malcom and Morgana with whom she shared the bond of blood, duty, and magick. Of the book hidden in the walls of her room that contained the secrets of the Goddess and the workings of the cosmos. Of all the souls who were and are and would ever be, who needed this earth upon which to live out their incarnations.
    She thought of extraordinary men, like the one supporting her weight and staring at her as though she held his universe in her hands.
    She did, after a fashion, and it was heavy.
    He was supposed to be attempting to tear her limbs from her body in true Berserker form. The fact that he didn’t only meant one thing.
    Their eyes met and held. Hers heating with fire. His cold with a fathomless abyss, but unmistakable intent.
    The Berserker wanted her, and that was just as well, because he was a powerful being with magick of his own. And his magick was just what she was after, and there was only one way to get it.
    “Take off your clothes, warrior,” she whispered.  “I need you inside me.”

Chapter Three
     
    Heat raced through Kenna’s veins, settling as a familiar and insistent throb between her legs. If her own reaction to the very idea of lying with this man was so powerful, she could only imagine how the act would feel.
    The Berserker made a low sound, half warning, and half disbelief. Then another sound permeated the air, this one a rip, and the rest of her soiled dress slid to the floor.
    “Nay,” she whispered softly, trying to think beyond the haze of pain and lust and heat now permeating the chill left by the rainstorm. “’Tis you who should disrobe.” She gestured to his layers of woven linen and leather armor belted and strapped with sharp-looking studs.
    He didn’t speak. Not once. And Kenna got the impression that it was impossible for him to do so in this form. But the look he gave her as he tore through the buckles of his armor—not stopping to undo them—could have steamed the rainwater from her skin.
    She’d done this before, shared her passions with a man, taken his sex, his essence, to feed her power, but never with a man this potent. Never with one this lethal.
    The skin of her back felt shredded and swollen and it protested movement, but as the beast in front of her peeled his armor from his body, the pain faded beneath a surge of heat.
    His light hair, darkened with rain, streamed glittering rivulets of water into the deep tracks of muscle he uncovered. He hissed great lung-fulls of air through his bared teeth, his abysmal gaze devouring the sight of her bared, chilly flesh. His long, water-spiked lashes lowered, those midnight eyes snagging on her nipples, puckered tight with the cold.
    His muscles were not only large, but long, stretching over his bones as though holding together a frame as big and potent as his took a great deal of strength.
    Unable to help herself, Kenna reached for him, enjoying the way his pectoral jumped and flinched