I placed my free hand on top of his, sandwiching his much bigger palm between mine. “Odhran.” I waited until he looked up at me, but he took long seconds, and the expression on his face told me he was fighting with himself, living with this turmoil, because he couldn’t forgive himself over what had happened. “Oh, Odhran,” I whispered.
We’d both been living in our own personal hells, it seemed.
“What happened is not your fault.” His rumble of protest had me shaking my head, stopping him, because I knew he’d try to argue with me. “It’s not your fault, and it’s not mine. Because sometimes things just happen. We can’t control every aspect of our lives. I’m a firm believer in fate. You have to be as well in order to know that I am yours and you are mine.”
He licked his lips slowly, and his eyes flashed blue. I knew he understood what I meant, that he felt it too. We were fated to be together, and because of that, he had to know we didn’t control our destiny.
For long moments, neither of us said anything, the heavy weight of my words hanging between us. And then he cleared his throat, brought my hand to his mouth, and kissed each one of my knuckles again.
“If fate hadn’t given ye tae me as my mate, I would’ve made ye mine regardless.”
My heart lurched in my chest at his words, at the sincerity, the bone-deep genuine tone. He meant what he said, and I felt the exact same way.
The strange atmosphere that we found ourselves in faded away as a young man came to the table to take our order. We were given menus, and I looked at all the selections. For so long, I had my choices taken away, so I almost felt uncomfortable in a way, picking the simplest thing like my meal.
How sad was it that even picking what I wanted to eat had now become a gift?
The authentic Scottish cuisine was something I’d never had, and so I ordered a couple of different items, much to Odhran’s excitement and clear pleasure.
I ordered the salmon and a small sampling of mussels and oysters. As an appetizer, I ordered a soup called Cullen Skink, which the young man taking our order took great pride in explaining was a thick Scottish soup made of potatoes, onions, and finnan haddie, making the dish authentic.
I was speechless as I listened to Odhran order an array of dishes that could’ve easily fed a small village, but then again, he was a large male, big and strong, and needed a lot to fuel his powerful body. And I liked that he was eating so much, that he’d fill in those cheeks, that he didn’t have to worry about me, because I, too, would be eating better than I ever had before.
We ate and laughed, talked about our lives, things we’d done as children, and the memories we had. We steered clear of any conversation that had to do with after I’d been taken. It was safer that way. It was better, because it gave us a chance to focus on the positive.
After we’d eaten our fill, Odhran ordered coffee and shortbread. There was an array of flavors, chocolate and caramel, even a delicate rosewater. It was served with raspberry preserves and local honey.
When we left and were back in the SUV, my belly full, my body relaxed, and my mind clear of anything that wasn’t wonderfully positive, I felt myself become lethargic in the best of ways.
He covered me up with his jacket as soon as we’d gotten in the vehicle, and I settled back in the leather and felt the warm air coming from the vents blowing over me, the soft music coming from the speakers lulling me into relaxation.
I was looking at him as my eyes became heavy, marveling at how we were actually here, together.
It was his image I stared at as I drifted off to sleep, and I hoped the demons in my mind stayed in the dark recesses to give me a semblance of peace.
Chapter
Sixteen
Larkin
I must have fallen asleep, because I was roused by the feeling of fingers caressing my cheek and the scent of Odhran filling my head.
I shifted in the car’s seat and blinked open my eyes. The passenger side door was open, the cool, fresh night air wafting in. Odhran had his face buried in the crook of my neck, the sound of him inhaling pulling a smile at the corner of my lips.
Sleep still tugged at my consciousness as I lifted my arms, which felt too heavy, and I slipped my fingers through his soft, short dark-blond hair. He smelled so good, felt so nice against me, warm and big and strong. I let my nails slowly scrape over his scalp, and he groaned, his hands on my upper arms gently clenching, as if he was trying to be gentle.
I blinked open my eyes fully and waited a second before my vision cleared. I could see how dark it was outside, no more hints of dusk teasing the horizon.
I’d clearly slept the rest of the way to his home, night fully fallen over the land. The light from inside the SUV created a glare, which made it almost impossible for me to see the surroundings clearly.
Or maybe it was because my mind was hazy as the comfort and pleasure of being surrounded by my mate filled me. He pulled back slightly, and I shifted on the seat so my legs were now outside of the car, my feet braced on the frame. I spread my thighs slightly so he could move in even closer, and I wound my arms around his broad shoulders.
He still had his face buried in the crook of my neck, still intermittently smelling me. The feeling of his lips brushing up and down that spot where my throat and my shoulder met had goose bumps forming along my arms.
“You feel so good,” he rumbled out, his accent seeming thicker. “Smell like mine.”
My breath caught at the sound of those words.