Ryan turned, masking his expression. Pain blanched
Morgan’s love-ravaged face. He wanted to die on the spot.
She rose from the bed, crumpling her gown over her
breasts. Resolve shifted across her mottled face. “You do not want me,” she
“No, it’s not...hell, yes I want you.” His gut lurched.
“You have no idea—” I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. He
scrubbed his hand across his face, wishing to mop his confusion away so
easily. “It just cannot be.”
“Because I’m a powerful sorceress from another land,
another time?” Her voice rang flat and resigned to her fate.
Softening his gaze, he replied, “It has nothing to do
with who you are.”
“Then enlighten me,” she challenged, giving him her
black, mad raven glare.
He considered his words carefully. “It’s about my duty
to my people. I...we...must find a way off this island. I have a life to
return to, people to help, Fomorians to destroy.” He hung his head.
“Fucking, lifelong duty,” he grumbled.
“Will you tell me about your responsibilities to your
people and your world?”
Ryan warred with the wish to tell her everything versus
nothing, spoiling their time together in paradise. All too soon, he must
return to that harsh, oppressive life of fighting, running, and hiding. A
long pause ensued before he heard the faint rustling of clothing. Ryan
lifted his head. Morgan wore her gossamer gown, arms folded over her
“Why were we sent to this paradise prison?” His step
ate the distance between them.
Morgan squinted, regarding him coolly. “Someone must
kill WindWraith before it steals more of Avalon’s magic, escapes this
island, and completely annihilates both our worlds. She gave him a slow,
appraising look. “We were sent to this island to destroy the creature.
Together we can defeat it.”
Disgust curled Ryan’s lips. “Who sent us? Who but our
worst enemy would do that to us?”
Morgan’s bare soles swept the hardened ground. Their
mixed floral and spicy aromas clung to her. He inhaled through his mouth,
trying not to let it suck him in again.
Ryan felt a single tremor pass down his spine. “Tell
me, Morgan. Who?” He moved a step closer.
Embers in the fire ring threw off a pitiful glow in the
darkening cave. Too dark to see, he felt her spark of defiance, the twinkle
“My father,” she finally said. She sent a vision into
his head, showing her father telling her, verbally and telepathically, about
her obligations to her people and Avalon. Once again, Ryan saw WindWraith’s
identity and its ages-long path of destruction. She cut off the horror show,
depriving him of the ending. Morgan tightened her arms around herself,
guarding her body from his venomous look.
“You set me up.” Power leapt inside him with angry
flashes of lightning along his nerves. He stalked out of the cave and didn’t