Highland Beast Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Highland Beast

  ISBN 9781419921506

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Highland Beast Copyright © 2009 Regina Carlysle

  Edited by Helen Woodall

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication May 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Highland Beast

  Regina Carlysle

  Dedication

  For my brilliant author friends Barbara Huffert and Amarinda Jones, who keep me laughing and constantly on my toes. For their support and encouragement, I humbly thank them both. I am so happy you are in my life.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Dallas Cowboys: Dallas Cowboys Football Club, LTD

  Philadelphia Eagles: Philadelphia Eagles Football Club

  Twinkies: Interstate Bakeries Corporation

  Chapter One

  Tonight it felt as if a million hungry eyes watched her every move. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t. The dream, a nightmare actually, was just so damn real. Normally there wasn’t a cowardly bone in her body but there was just something about the middle of the night that she’d always found disturbing. Especially since she was a woman alone living out in the middle of nowhere. Yeah, she was spooked but she forced her eyes open and stared up at the ceiling fan as it did lazy turns above her.

  Martha Joan Bennett was, by anyone’s estimation, a plain woman, but her deeply hidden empathic abilities made her a little less so. It was her gift, her curse and the reason she’d moved from the city to this country retreat. Here there were few sad or terrible thoughts to absorb, to worry over. She didn’t want to feel anymore. She just wanted peace.

  There was no peace here tonight. Not for her. Strong emotions swamped her and they weren’t her feelings. They belonged to someone else. Frustration, loneliness, lust, combined from this other source to swirl in her mind. Her nipples tightened beneath the soft cotton of her nightgown and moisture seeped from her core to dampen her inner thighs. Stunned that someone’s thoughts and feelings would affect her this way, Martha struggled to control her breathing. The lust wasn’t directed at her. That was just silly.

  She slid her eyes to the right as the gauzy bedroom curtains caught a whisper of breeze from the open window and slithered across the surface of the beautiful antique mirror she’d bought the day before. It was a full-length oval, framed in intricately carved mahogany and to her it had been irresistible. Designs of unknown origin had earlier felt the touch of her fingertips as she’d explored the strange bumps and swirls. Suddenly her eyes focused on the piece. A strange sort of energy seemed to come from it but that was just crazy, wasn’t it?

  Martha sat up, ignoring the chill bumps that raced over her skin and swung her legs over the side of the bed as a strange fog sifted across the surface of the mirror. Sucking in a breath, blinking in disbelief, she helplessly leaned closer, squinting her eyes at the silvery swirls. The sheer curtain whipped wildly in front of her face. She batted at it with one hand as the fog cleared. Instead of staring at her own image, she found herself staring into the golden eyes of a huge black wolf.

  Lurching to her feet, she stumbled and landed on all fours on the rug beside her bed. She looked up through a curtain of curly brown hair and covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God!”

  Blinking rapidly as her heart threatened to pound from her chest, she caught her breath and held it as she stared. The wolf was huge and looking straight at her, his spooky eyes oddly intelligent. He lay sprawled across the foot of an enormous four-poster bed in a room that looked as if it belonged in another time. Dark stones made up the walls and a roaring blaze lit the depths of a massive fireplace. A feeling she couldn’t begin to describe swamped her as the wolf studied her. Emotions rolled from him into her and her nipples hardened, pressing painfully against the cotton she wore. “Who are you?” she whispered. “Who? What?”

  The massive beast growled low and stretched itself across the foot of the bed as the unbelievable happened. A series of cracks and pops filled the room with a whoosh of sound and light, as paws became hands and feet. Black fur morphed into hair that brushed the shoulders of a brawny, swarthy man who was ripped with muscle. White teeth flashed as he grinned at her through the surface of the mirror. “Come to me, woman.”

  Martha struggled to her feet and stared in amazement. Finally she shook her head. If this was a bizarre dream, she wasn’t going to participate. No way. His grin widened as he stepped closer, still separated from her by the mirror. “Come to me,” he said again. The deep baritone voice was laced with impatience and a touch of humor that she found oddly appealing. When he moved closer, she sent her eyes down his heavily muscled torso and gasped at the size of his erect cock. It rose against his belly, thick and heavily veined and topped with a dark, thick head. Between his thighs, his balls were hard and drawn up high against his body.

  Arousal hit her like a punch.

  She wasn’t the kind of woman who succumbed to men who oozed testosterone but this man was something different, something more. More than man. He was also a beast. His gaze swept her body and his expression went hard with lust.

  Lust?

  Impossible. There was nothing remotely enticing about the simple white nightgown covering her more-than-generous curves but he loved what he saw. His feelings whipped through her mind and suddenly she saw herself as he did, tall and full-figured with high, generous breasts and a mop of curly dark hair that brushed her shoulders. His nostrils flared as if he were breathing her in and Martha’s body reacted. Her thighs quivered, her pulsed sped.

  The man, who moments ago had been a huge black wolf, reached down and fisted his hand around the base of his erection. Martha watched, mesmerized, as he dragged it up the thick length and slowly down again. “Come to me, wench.”

  Courage to refuse him abandoned her and she licked her lips as he pleasured himself. She swallowed and flicked her gaze up to find him watching with a strange intensity. “Who are you?”

  “The MacAdam.”

  “The MacAdam? Who is named The MacAdam?”

  “I am. It is my name. Say it again. I like the sound of it on your tongue.”

  Martha licked suddenly dry lips. “MacAdam,” she whispered.

  Loneliness swept her and she knew it was his. Lust too. His and hers. He stepped to the mirror’s surface and lifted his palm, settling it on the other side of the mirror. His lips were b
eautiful, full and sculpted, the lower slightly larger than the top. His smile was soft. His eyes at half-mast. “Give me your hand.”

  Without thinking, she lifted her palm and settled it against his, expecting to feel the cool glass of the mirror but felt warm skin instead. Martha gasped. Sparks sizzled from where their flesh touched and then suddenly his big hand snaked around her wrist and he gave her a yank. As if she were in the midst of a stranger-than-hell dream, she fell like Alice down the rabbit hole through the mirror and straight into his arms.

  He caught her up against him, wrapped her in his brawny arms and then looked into her eyes. His mouth took hers with savage intensity. His tongue swept inside her mouth to taste her deeply. It ghosted the insides of her cheeks and thrust in a lusty parody of hotter-than-hell sex before he pulled back and gave her a wicked grin.

  Dizzy and disoriented, Martha had just started to breathe again when he tightened his hold and settled his mouth against her ear. “I have you now,” he whispered. “Thank the gods the curse is broken and you are mine.”

  Yes, he would thank the gods for his good fortune. Silas had seen her walk into the dusty shop and look around. He ached at the sight of her, the sweetness of her expression, the softness of her body. When she’d turned those dark, mossy green eyes toward the mirror, he swore his heart might stop.

  Touch it, touch it, touch it.

  He’d repeated the words like a mantra. As she’d come closer, he could smell her scent and his body hardened, reacted violently. He wanted her and, damn, if she bought the mirror and took it home, he would make her want him just as much. Later, as she settled it in her bedroom near her bed, he’d shivered with anticipation, practically willing her to see him. He lived in another realm, in another space, locked eternally in his blasted castle. His basic needs, food and other necessities, appeared as if by magic and his only knowledge of the world outside, a new and modern world, came in occasional glimpses through the mirror. Because of the nature of the witch’s curse whoever freed him must stroke the rune designs and possess a pure heart. Already he’d known her heart because he could see it in her eyes. She was a woman who loved and felt things deeply.

  He wasn’t the sort of man who cried but tears had welled when she curiously, lovingly stroked the ancient symbols carved into the wood. He’d felt the touch as surely as if she were with him, stroking his flesh, and he burned. That she now was clutched against his chest, blinking up at him, was a miracle.

  “Your name. Give me your name before I take you.”

  “Martha,” she whispered. “Just plain Martha.”

  He ran his hand down her back, loving the feel of her curvy body. “I see nothing plain about you.”

  She shook her head and her dark curls danced, enchanting him. Later he would stroke them. Later he would trace the small brown spots that marched across the bridge of her nose.

  “How did I— Where am I?”

  “Enough!” He growled the word low and inwardly flinched at the sound of his voice. By the gods, he would terrify her with the power of his lust. He took her plump bottom lip between his teeth and stroked his tongue along it. Her breath expelled on a sigh and he drank it in. His cock throbbed with the need to bury it deep in her lush body. “I have waited for a woman, for you, these past three hundred years.” Ignoring her gasp, he lifted her in his arms and let her see the lust burning there. “Come to my bed. Later we talk.”

  “Wait. I—”

  He silenced her with a kiss and turned to the bed where he laid her upon the furs. In truth, she looked dazed. Her eyes swept over his nakedness, pausing at his reaction and his body heated further. Reaching for the wide neck of her sleeping garment, he dragged it down her body before tossing it aside. “I want to feast my eyes on you, woman but you make me too hungry.”

  Her long legs were draped over the foot of the bed on either side of him and MacAdam saw the dark curls between her thighs glistening with her woman’s dew. Focused completely on her and his desire to make her want him, he trailed one finger down her sweet slit, played at her opening then dragged that finger back up, collecting her moisture upon the tip. Her soft moan wasn’t lost upon him.

  Bending over her, he grabbed her shoulders and dragged her higher on the bed and followed to kneel between her outspread thighs. Her eyes were big and wondering as they focused on his face and his heart tightened with emotion. A lump formed in his throat.

  “I must be dreaming. This is impossible,” she whispered.

  “Nothing is impossible. Have you not realized this? The fact you felt deeply enough to see me reflected in the mirror should tell you so.” MacAdam lowered himself over her, balanced on his elbows. He was a big man and wouldn’t harm her for the world. His cock settled against her belly and was dampened by the wetness between her thighs. Reining in his need, if only for a moment, was the hardest thing he’d ever done. She would only feel pleasure from him, he promised himself. He dragged his tongue across her bottom lip and teased it with his teeth.

  “Did I really see you change from wolf to man? Am I crazy?”

  He laughed softly. “No. I am not human, yet I feel what a man does when he wants a woman. I feel the loneliness in you. I feel the need curled tightly in your body. Stop questioning me, my lovely. There will be time aplenty for answers later.”

  Questions swirled in her eyes so he took her mouth with gentle passion, teasing the seam of her lips, dipping his tongue deep to taste the freshness of her. Her sudden response burned through his body and with a curse, he broke free and latched on to a pink, tightly drawn nipple. He raked his teeth over the pebbled morsel and teased the tip with his tongue before sucking hard. A cry broke from her lips. It was like music to a man who had lived in silence for such a long time.

  Switching his attentions to the other breast, he teased and played as he sent his hands down her torso. Her curves, soft and supple, tormented him. He released her nipple and scraped his teeth along her breastbone, over the pale skin stretching across her ribs. He settled his face against her softly curved belly as the scent of her arousal drifted in the air around him. “You are the sweetest of all women, my Martha.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Oh yes,” he growled in response before lowering his face between her thighs to drag his tongue over her drenched flesh. Her cry of surprise spurred him on and making a low sound of need, he gripped her knees and lifted until he was settled comfortably between her quivering thighs. Juices seeped from the pink petals of her quim. MacAdam lapped it up, drank her down and applied his teeth and tongue with voracious intent. Focused on giving her pleasure and readying her for sex, he parted the lips of her sex with his fingers. Martha’s lower body lifted in a seeking way as he looked his fill.

  “Touch me. Touch my pussy. Please,” she whispered.

  Silas absorbed the word she’d used for “quim”. He had much to learn of modern women. The pearl of her sex was a sweet, succulent bud and he latched on to it to suck gently. He plunged two fingers deep into her channel, feeling the feminine tissues tighten and release.

  Applying skills he hadn’t used in hundreds of years, he poured all his longing into this delicate claiming. He sucked and pulled while below him she panted and made little whimpering sounds that burned him like fire. “Find your pleasure,” he whispered against her flesh. “Find it now.”

  Martha cried out and MacAdam felt her pulse against his mouth and tongue and against his deeply buried fingers. Remaining fully engaged with her weeping flesh, he lapped gently, bringing her down. Her scent called to his basest nature, and with a low sound he rose up to loom over her. Her shattered expression was almost his undoing. Aching to claim her as his own, he steeled himself.

  “Say you are mine! Say it.”

  “C-can’t think. C-can’t think.”

  Maybe it was for the best that she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

  “I will claim you now. Take you.” MacAdam lowered himself over her, loving the way her long legs lifted to either side o
f his hips. Fisting his hand on his cock, he looked into her eyes as he placed the thick, fat head against her burning folds. “If you tell me to stop, I will, but I vow, it will kill me to wait.”

  Tiny lines creased between her eyes as she frowned at him. “Condom?”

  What was this?

  His confusion must have reached her. “Do you, um, have something to cover yourself?”

  Her concern penetrated the lusty red haze in his brain. “French letters?”

  Martha’s expression lightened as she released a breath. “Yes.”

  Quickly, he kissed her lips. “My kind doesn’t carry disease, sweet one. There is no need to worry, and though it will kill me, I will not spill my seed in you. ’Tis not the time to make a babe.”

  MacAdam dragged the head of his cock through the tender folds of her pussy, loving the way she sucked in a breath at his actions.

  “No worries about that,” she managed. “I have an implant.”

  He bent and kissed her throat. “Hm?”

  “In my arm. Keeps me from getting pregnant.”

  “Your time is a miracle. You are a miracle.” He dipped the head of his erection in her opening. “Enough talk, woman.”

  It was a tight fit, so tight. The beautiful lady beneath him gasped as he pushed, hard then harder. “By the gods you are like a virgin.”

  “Long time. Oh yeah.” She wound her legs around his hips to pull him closer as he breached her fully, plunged deep into her. He stilled, absorbing the feeling of her into his very bones. “Yessss,” she whispered. “Dear God, yes.”

  “Now, my sweet. Now.” Gritting his teeth, he began to move in and out, sliding through her cream, feeling the walls of her body clasp him tightly. Sensation held him in the strongest of grips, blinding him to everything but the textures of her, the beauty of her as she stared up at him with a look of passion and surprise. Reaching between their bodies, he teased the swollen pearl of her sex with his fingers and beneath him she began to writhe with mounting desire.