The Queen of Swords: A Paranormal Tale of Undying Love by Nina Mason Page A

gouging me with your bony fingers?”
    “It’s not Death?”
    She poked him again, for good measure, presumably.
    “No.”
    “Then what is it?”
    “I don’t know .” There was an edge in his voice. “Something else. But your bloody monkeyshines are making it impossible to see. So, will you kindly get off so I can have a proper look?”
    As she slid off him, giving his bum a spiteful swat in the process, he pulled the card closer and studied the image. The rainbow was actually an arc made up of ten gleaming golden chalices. Below it stood a man and a woman—a married couple by all appearances—with one arm around each other and the other outstretched toward the rainbow. Beside them danced two joyful children. A home stood in the background’s pastoral setting.
    “Well?”
    “It’s the Ten of Cups.” Rolling onto his back, he continued studying the image.
    “Oh?” She brought her face next to his to have a look. “Do you think it means we’ll finally get to be together? To fulfill our destiny?”
    “Destiny’s a cruel mistress, lass , as I well ken. So be careful what you wish for, eh?”
    She yawned as he handed her the card.
    “Right now, I only wish to close my eyes and float away to dreamland.”
    “Oh?” He was surprised, and also a mite disappointed. The way she’d been touching him, he thought sure she had more in mind than sleeping. “Where shall I sleep then?”
    “What’s wrong with where you are?”
    “It could lead to trouble.”
    “Promises, promises,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
     
    * * *
     
    Broiling with need, he laid awake a long while before drifting into restless, dream-filled sleep. In one dream, Caitriona lay in his arms, smelling of violets, love herbs, cigarettes, and blood. He could feel her warm breath on his neck and her supple breasts on his chest. Seeking one with his hand, he teased the nipple until it grew hard. He pushed his other hand between her legs, finding wiry hair and damp heat. As his fingers played, she emitted a deep, satisfied moan, spurring his galloping desire.
    “Kiss me .” The breeze of her breath grazed his scalp.
    Locating her face, he captured her mouth and gave her his tongue. She drew it deeper, entangling it with her own. The kiss grew more torrid, his need more urgent. Groaning, he pushed hardness against softness.
    She rolled him onto his back, broke free of the kiss, and began to unbutton his shirt. A euphoric fog settled over his mind. She worked her way down the placket of his shirt, easing the buttons out of their holes. Reaching the waistband of his trousers, she tugged loose the tails before freeing the last two buttons. She pushed the shirt open, ran her hands over his bare chest, and pressed her lips against his navel, making his abdominal muscles spasm. He was achingly hard and his canines throbbed with the need for blood. She moved higher, kissing his stomach, then his sternum, then his clavicle, then his chin.
    “I love your hair,” she said, running her fingers through it.
    His mouth burst into a fang-revealing smile. “Do you?”
    “Yes. Promise you’ll never cut it.”
    “I shan’t. I promise.”
    She kissed him, her mouth soft and luscious, once, twice, thrice.
    “I want to be with you.”
    “I want that too.”
    Kiss, kiss, kiss.
    “Then make love to me.”
    Eyes still closed, he slipped his hands inside her robe. Goosebumps pebbled her skin as he caressed it. He got goose bumps of his own as her hand crept down his abdomen, her touch sweet and needful, but unsure. His breath caught when fingers brushed his fly and began to explore.
    “ You’re big.”
    “Aye.”
    “Ouch.”
    A wistful grin spread across his face. “It only hurts the first time.”
    “In that case, I look forward to the second time.”
    As a n eerie deja vu swept over him, he opened his eyes. The room was lighter but still dark. He could smell cigarettes and violets and heard rain outside.
    “Hello, sleepyhead .” Her breath warmed