Read Online The Sixth Labyrinth (The Child of the Erinyes Book 4) by Rebecca Lochlann - Free Book Online Page B

sea-wind off Loch Ryan, and currently redolent with whisky, drifted around her. She inhaled with enthusiasm.
    When he bent to give her his usual amicable peck, she turned her head, placing her mouth in line with his. He started to jerk backward, but she flung an arm around his neck and held on tight.
    For one long moment he remained motionless. Then he seized her arms. His mouth pushed against hers, forcing her lips open.
    Nothing she had ever experienced could compare to this. She rolled her tongue against his, thinking she might well get drunk from the whisky she tasted. For the first time she thought she understood those couples in Stranraer’s wynds, why they’d done things, with only the barest privacy, that they weren’t supposed to.
    She felt herself being lifted then deposited on a bed of straw. His body lay heavy upon hers. She heard herself protest when he stopped his kisses, but he’d merely lowered his mouth to the side of her neck, which instigated an entirely new level of delight.
    “Oh, Morrigan,” he said, covering her breasts with his warm hands. “You’re so braw.”
    The panic that ignited at this intimate touch disintegrated under the rare, longed-for endearment, and she tightened her grip, squeezing her eyes shut to keep out unwanted reality.
    No rigid corset or petticoats separated them— nothing but her muslin nightgown. The barn, nearby horses, fear of discovery, all vanished. Again, the daydream floated through Morrigan’s head; it felt as though two men made love to her, one young, inexperienced and clumsy, yet warm and real, the other demanding, sure in what he wanted but insubstantial, like a ghost. Behind her closed eyelids she saw the flicker of a fire. She heard the sigh of wind in nearby trees and caught an unfamiliar, exotic scent, similar to the spices Beatrice kept on a shelf in the kitchen.
    Impatiently, Kit— or was it the dream-lover— fumbled with the front of her gown. Eventually the two conspirators had her buttons undone, and oh, the feel of their mouths, the way their teeth pulled her skin… she could never have imagined such sensations existed.
    Where was she? In the barn with Kit… or in a meadow, embraced by wind and dreams? Two realities fought for ascendance, one clear when she opened her eyes, the other bursting with life when she closed them.
    “I can’t stop,” he said into her ear, and though she recognized Kit’s voice, was there another, underneath, hardly more than an echo?
    Even death won’t break our bond .
    “I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.” His hands crept beneath her, pulling her hips closer. “Please, Morrigan, don’t make me stop….”
    Hearing her name severed the fantasy. She was in her father’s barn. There was but one man, one mouth, one set of hands. The aromatic crackle of burning embers and nearby murmur of oak leaves diffused into dry straw, hot lamp oil, fresh manure.
    Everything recoiled as she realized he’d bunched her nightgown up around her waist, and was settling between her legs with determination. No, she screamed inwardly. Stop him, don’t let him, he can’t…. Her thoughts were disjointed, but the overwhelming terror wasn’t. She had to get away. Oh God, help me.
    She pushed at his chest, yet he didn’t seem to notice, and he was so heavy she despaired of having any effect. “Stop! Kit, stop!” She craned away desperately, even resorting to balling a fist and striking him on the cheekbone, then the side of his head. Where a moment ago she had succumbed with unthinking joy, now her stomach churned with revulsion.
    Oddly, the wild girl inside her agreed. He’s not the one.
    Kit’s breath tore in ragged gasps. She cringed, fearful he’d be vexed enough to strike her. Could she stop him? If she didn’t, it would ruin everything. This was not right. He wasn’t… right.
    He opened his eyes. Stared at her face then her breasts. Shame brought her hands up; she tugged the opened edges of her