Here’s a sneak peek into book 3 of the MacLaoch curse series, The Legend of the Brotherhood, due out in 2024.

Authors note: This work is unedited, unvarnished and for your delightful eyes only, this is copyrighted work and may not be used for anything other than promotional purposes. Enjoy!

The night was as I remembered it. Moody, windy, loud with chaos of a warring hillside filled with skeletons and clanspeople. The ring of fire had erupted around me and Rowan was preparing to race through it with the quaich.

I remembered the tumbling in my gut, the way it does when the mind says, “Oh, no. What have I done?”

But just as the thought came Rowan tossed his wool tartan over his head and ran for my flames. Despite him safely passing through - the smoke behind him a kind of nod to his invincibility to fire as if a Scotsman borne of water is not burned by flames - my mind had already tumbled down the rabbit hole that I’d fucked things up and was having a hard time returning to reality. A reality where he was safe, I was repeating an oath with Rowan, slugging down a magical slurry, and pushing two ancestors back into the ether with him.

This was no normal dream, it was a nightmare and within the confines of my mind something dark and recognizable as being a private horror just for me grabbed my wrist and pulled me down deep into my personal den of fears. She, my dark self, opened each door showing me every which way that night could have gone: clanspeople murdered. Ethel slaughtered and my body possessed running a sword through my own chest. Ulfberht in my hand, raised high, ready to cut down, it’s target: Rowan bloody on his knees before me.

Again, I woke screaming. This time when arms grabbed me around the middle I was still too deep in my wilds of dreamland that I struck out. Desperate to save Rowan, to keep my arm from descending I ended up clipping the real one in the face.

“Oh!” came from behind me in the dark, sheets tangled up around us. “Fuck.”

I froze as the world I was departing and the world I was coming into merged and I caught my bearings.

My heart thumped deafening in my chest as I sucked in the reassuring smells of fresh linens, Rowan’s warmth and his smell surrounded me splashed with the faint cool scent of a recent evening rain breezed through the open window.

From behind me, “Mo ghràdh…be calm, ye are home, you’re safe, leannan.”

“You…you were…”

“It’s all right,” he whispered, “you’re here now, everyone is alive.”

I felt his hand spread wide over my back where I was hunched over in bed. The warmth of it had me close my eyes, “Sorry.”

He said nothing and sat up with me, his hand going in steady reassuring circles on my back.

“Same dream as the last times?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Aye. Those are the worst.” I knew he was quite familiar with what I was going through. “I dreamt of Vick for a week and begged for a new nightmare each time it’d start.”

I wiped the tears I’d shed while screaming in my nightmare. “How’d you get them to stop?”

I felt him sigh, “ Ye know? I’m not sure. I do know tha’ drinking, avoiding sleep and trying not tae think on it didn’t help.”

I gave a small laugh, “Those were my top three choices, though.” I blew out a breath along with the last of the dream and the feelings that it had left in me. “I’m sorry, did I hit you when I was thrashing about?”

“No, no, dinnae worry about it.”

I reached over and flipped on the side light.

Rowan winced at the sudden low light, “Come, love—”

Rowan’s hair was mussed and sleep hung heavy on his eyes. But his nose was alarming, blood was slowly oozing down his right nostril. “Rowan…”

I grabbed a tissue off the nightstand and put it to his nose.

“Och,” he said nasally, “I didn’t think it’d bleed.”

“Rowan—”

“Shh, it’s fine.”

“Your nose—”

“Will heal.”

I felt a dagger twist in my gut, I’d only dreamt about my darkness the last few nights, but now, tonight some of it returned with me into real life and hurt Rowan.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I said, “Until I can figure out how to work through them.”

He dabbed his nose, “You’ll do no such thing. I’ll be here with ye, and help ye through them—”

I shook my head, “Rowan, you’re bloody.” Again, my mind supplied.

“I was a fool thinking ye just needed a hug.”

“That’s a normal thought, babe, I don’t—”

“I could use an ice pack if you’re feeling charitable?”

“Oh,” I said, “Yes, of course.” And with a directive, I leapt from the bed.

I came back with crushed ice in a plastic baggie.

“Sorry,” I said under my breath as I sat next to him on the bed and watched him set the baggie in place.

“That’s the last one ye get to say.”

I nodded, he was feeding me my own advice back at me. “I don’t like this.”

“Ye just need to talk and work it out, mo ghràdh.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“What makes it feel like it won’t?”

I put my finger tips to my chest and closed my eyes, “It feels like chaos in here.” Then to my head, “And here.”

Rowan looked at me for a long while before affirming something in his own mind, “Tha’s about right.”

“What is?”

“There’s lots of names for it but for me they called it post-traumatic stress disorder.”

I felt my mouth go sour, “Oh.”

“Aye.”

“No thank you.”

He gave me a sad smile, “Aye, we don’t get asked if we want it do we? We’re just given it then have the burden to figure out how to quiet it so we can do basic things again.” He gave a pause thinking, “Kind of like a smelly, twelve-hundred pound sow ye have to take everywhere and she tries to run amok in the most inconvenient times. And just when ye think, Oh, aye fine, go, run off! Ye realize she’s tied to your ankle. And she drags ye through her rompings, out of control. She especially waits to cause chaos when you’re your most tired, her favorite is when ye sleep.”

“I can stop sleeping,” I whispered like a fool.

Rowan smiled, “Ye can’t.”

“I don’t like feeling like at any moment is a fight or flight moment. How do I turn it off?”

“That’s ye minding your sow. Ye have to find a way to get her to be happy, for her to be fed, exercised and be happy with ye so she doesn’t run wild. And eventually ye can leave her grazing in the forest.”

I smiled at the thought of his pig, fat and happy somewhere, “Is that where yours is?”

“Och, no. She’s rummaging through the fridge. Ye were recently inhabited by a Viking with the strength of the Hulk and when ye came down tha’ hillside in that silk gala dress my sow came tearing back to me from the woods.”

I gave him a sad face, “She was happy there.”

“Aye,” he tucked a group of my ringlets behind my ear, “But what ye’ll come to find out is that she’s devoted to ye and charges back home when things aren’t right. She’s a protector but when she’s done protecting she has a hard time remembering to head back to the forest.”

“So she eats out of the fridge?”

“Well, she doesn’t want to go too far but she’s also a pig and hungry, so aye, she’s in the fridge eating the corn bread ye made and listening to our conversation.”

“Nosy pig,” I smiled against his lips before kissing him.

“Ouch.”

“Oh, sorry—”

“Say tha’ again and I’ll start demanding things in punishment.”

I deliberately said, “Sorry.” Then waited with hope in my eyes.

The baggie of ice was tossed to the side as he tackled me backward into the soft sheets.

“First punishment, ye have to keep yer eyes open the whole time I make love tae ye.”

A laugh burst out of me, “I thought you were going to say that I had to make you cornbread everyday for a week. You know I can’t keep my eyes open when we do it!”

“Aye, tha’s why it’s called punishment.”

“No! It’s like sneezing with your eyes open, I can’t do it.”

“We’ll see about tha’.” He made for me, putting a wide hand on my thigh and pulling me closer to him.

I had a thought just then, “Fine.”

He read my mind, “Ye are going to keep your eyes open wider than they need be aren’t ye?”

“How else do I do it?”

“Fine.”

“And lights on.”

I grimaced, “Crazy eyes it is then.”

“Come, love it can’t be that hard.”

“Speaking of hard, are you? I’ve just socked you in the nose I can’t imagine you’d be up for anything like this.” I pulled up the covers to check. I made an appreciative sound out the back of my throat, while I’d seen him closer to hard like an iron rod, he also wasn’t flaccid. I looked up at him and raised a brow, “I punched you in the face and we’re having some tough talks and still he looks… ready-ish.”

Rowan’s ocean blue eyes went to slits with mischief, his mouth quirked with mirth, “Let us just say tha’ your brawn is no’ a turn off for me.”

“You need help.”

“Aye, tha’ I do…” he said and let my statement float between us like a feather.

With a laugh I fell back on his legs, “Oh Rowan…” I came up on an elbow, “Can you even get an erection now that you’ve been socked in the stomach and now face?”

He gave me a pretend worried face, “Och, no’ sure.”

“Frightening. Let me check.” I lifted the sheets again and in his loose fitting boxers there was a moderate stiffy. He was definitely curious as to the direction this banter was headed and had high hopes.

I slid in and whipped the covers up over my head and sunk face to face with it.

“What’s the prognosis?” came from above me as his wide hand rested on my shoulder, both an encouragement to continue and also a threat that he’d pull me up and put his mouth on me if this teasing took too long.

“It’s bad. Real bad. He’s all covered in blue plaid, I think he’s coding on the table, er pelvis, I can’t tell.”

“Mo ghràdh…” My second warning. His grip went firmer.

“Oh. It’s just your boxers, lemme see here.” I used two hands and slipping it down slowly, gently as if what lay beneath were an actual creature who was in need of life support. “It’s worse than I thought.”

“Och, all right, ghràdh,” his grip on my shoulder pulled.

But I wasn’t done.

“Cole, I plan tae make love to you some time tonight—oh.”

Firm hand to the base of his shaft I slipped his soft erection into the wet warmth of my mouth and put vacuum pressure hard enough to mimic the tight confines of my vagina. Then with the length of my tongue massaged the erogenous zone just below the apex of his cock tip.

His breath shuddered out and his grip loosened moving into a wide palm up to the top of my head where his hand pulled back the sheets. In a practiced motion, my hand followed my mouth up and down as his thighs spread as wide as his eyes opened. As if making more room for both me and the visual eroticism he was witnessing, respectfully.

His penis had been unsure at the beginning but now was rock hard and ready for everything I was suggesting. My ministrations were on point.

Sheet off, Rowan’s hand went to my face and as I performed my neck exercises to my now thriving patient and he caressed my cheek with the back of his hand.

Around his cock I murmured, “I think he’s coming around. He’s gonna live.”

Rowan’s face had been one of seriousness, as if he were studying my every move and writing all of it to memory. At my words his face cracked into a smile and it was his turn to have his head fall back with a laugh.

Head on the tower of pillows behind him he covered his face with one hand as his other went to the back of my head and gripped. With the flex of his bicep he stilled my head.

“Mo ghràdh, I cannae laugh and get aroused.”

I pulled harder down against the grip at the back of my head and felt the delicious pull of my scalp. I gave his red throbbing erection a tender lick, like it were my last taste of thick buttery ice cream.

His groan was soon followed by my release, I was granted rights to continue.

“God, ye are intoxicating…”

I gave him a mental smirk and upped my game. One hand on his shaft my other became the great explorer of the back of his knee then up his inner thigh to the righteous nether region. Gentle pressure and feathering of the sensitive skin on the back side of his testes, tested his restraint. His left foot fell off the side of the bed while his other spazed out kicking the blankets sideways.

What he said next was a mix of both prayers and I was sure every curse word he’d learned his entire life. The common Gaelic and French ones I caught.

He really liked it.

His abdomen constricted as he did a crunch, mini blocks of muscle and sinew built themselves up to the flat plains of his pectorals. While I had control of his joystick I also felt something akin to power and pleasure collide in my own guts. We were tied after all and seeing him lose control so pleasantly by my hand made me indeed feel like a goddess.

His hand touched my hair then left it as his head fell back then he looked down again as if taking small sips of the erotic vision at his crotch.

The next groan was long and pained, “Mo ghràdh, I’m going to need a towel. Soon. Now.”

I intended to slip into his mind to tell him that I had it, not to worry, I was going to take everything he gave me. But once I opened the connection he was flayed open and raw with sexual energy. I gasped as the peak of orgasm swam across my skin and flooded my blood to my pelvic bowl. I was suddenly hot, wet, and yearning for his thick cock to do some deep thrusting. My voice whined out of me as my thighs rubbed together, I wanted more, needed it all.

Trying to think through it I wrapped my hand back around his engorged erection and pressed it back into my mouth. With a tight grip at the base, I sucked hard and slid his blood-hot velvet skin up the rock hard flesh beneath. I took him in deep into my throat and back up again and again.

I could feel him preparing to come because it was happening to me as well. Blood rushed to my clitoris as if she were Rowan’s cock. I looked up to him and his dark sapphire eyes were on me, his body was flexed as if attempting to prolong his beautiful death for as long as humanly possible. My mind, high with his peak, did her own mental orgasm checklist. We felt his love, embraced his protective arms, appreciated his physicality, power of his hands, the strength of those loch smashing form and endurance of his thighs that could carry my weight with ease.

Lightning of the orgasm bolted through me and Rowan arched his pelvis up wanting quick hard hits that I could give him with my mouth and hands for a powerful finish. As his body rode through the orgasm I drove my mouth and hands harder on his erection swallowing and holding on until his erotic cries turned into laughter then mirth, begging me to stop.

His hands were on me then, pulling me up off his overly sensitive erection onto his chest. He cradled me to his chest and kissed my mouth: a thank you, and an I love you woven into one.

We were quiet for a while letting the bond flow between us until Rowan smiled into my hair at the top of my head. “I’m fairly sure tha’ I was supposed tae make love to ye as you kept your eyes open.”

I smiled up into his softening drugged gaze, “I think you did, that last part…”

“Aye, where ye connected us?”

“Yeah, I came right along with you.”

His fingers explored between my thighs and luxuriated in the velvety wet that he found between the folds of my lady bits.

He sighed, before softly rubbing my clit making me giggle. “Oh aye, ye have come.”

His wet fingers slid under my see-through white night shirt and gently pinched my taut nipples making them wet.

“Are you investigating my orgasm claims? Because if you are, you know I can perform on repeat.” He gave me a lazy smile and after taunting my other nipple moved his hand farther south and back into the wetness of my own tidal zone. I gave him an appreciative moan as his fingers lazily found his favorite tidal pool between the folds of my labia. “This time though,” I put in my request to a fading Rowan, “I would like you thick and throbbing, inside of me.”

He gave my cheek a sleepy kiss. “Aye, just give me thirty minutes.”

I smiled as his nose nuzzled in my neck and he clutched me to him, his fingers going slack, “Sure,” I whispered but turned nestling my back like a spoon against his front. “How about you owe me one in the morning?”

“Aye,” he whispered before sleep took him.

END OF SNEAK PEEK