Helen. Just thinking her name sped up the beat of his heart. Human or bird. He supposed he owed her an apology for embarrassing her in front of the men. But with him away from the Keep as much as he was, he didn’t like the thought of the others hitting on her. Simon wasn’t a Viking, wasn’t about to toss her over his shoulder and claim her as his, but being a warrior in the Highlands had a few advantages over being a mere man of the twenty-first century.
He knew she watched him in the courtyard when he sparred with the other men. Felt her eyes as he walked across the room. And her taste, sweet lord he could live with it forever. Under all her spirit there was an innocence he didn’t expect. She’d lived the exact opposite of his life. Alone and without a family to bring her up when she was low, or take her down when she needed to learn a lesson. The MacCoinnichs had been a blessing to him and his mother. Fin and Lizzy’s love and commitment to each other was something Simon wanted for himself.
Was Helen for him? So what if she lived in the future. He had too at one point in his life. Who knew, maybe she’d choose to stay in the past? Or maybe a higher power intended a different plan for them altogether.
If there was one thing in life Simon knew, it was that tomorrow could hold his unexpected future. A future with magic, family, even death. He remembered his days in Mr. Price’s algebra class wondering if he’d ever use the crap they taught him. Wondering if he’d ever make it through junior high school without getting his ass kicked or kissing a girl. And then his Aunt Tara disappeared, and his mom lost it.
Okay, maybe lost it wasn’t quite the way it all happened. But she poured every minute she wasn’t working into searching for Tara. Then Myra appeared from nowhere talking about time travel and magic. Simon reflected back on how he thought his mom had hooked up with a bunch of quacks. In amongst the craziness that followed, Simon found one resounding theme.
Family.
How he’d craved a normal family as a child. How he wanted a father who gave a rat’s-ass about his well-being. Fin fell into his mother’s arms, and Simon’s entire life changed.
So yeah, tomorrow might be the first day of the rest of his life. He was a living testament to that cliché.
Simon caught the first flickering light of the Keep just as a few drops of rain started falling from the sky. He bent his beaked-head toward the fresh scent and willed his massive wings to hold on a little longer.
Dawn broke and from the distance he could see the activity of Ian’s men beginning their day’s preparations. A crow announced the end of the night or the beginning of the day, however you looked at it.
The closer to the Keep he flew, the more tired he became. Simon was ready for bed. Needed a few hours sleep before reporting to Ian. He was beyond taxed.
On the highest turret, he found the open shutter and aimed directly home.
As his falcon talons reached for the floor, Simon pictured human feet touching the cold, stone surface. His entire body reached toward his human form with one long, electrifying snap. Every muscle stretched, every bone crushed and elongated into a man.
It hurt like hell.
Before his feet touched the floor, he knew this morph would be like none other. He’d pushed himself too far and his body was going to let him know how pissed it was. When this had happened one time before, he’d fallen into a deep sleep and lost hours of his life.
Simon willed the shift to complete, knowing it would be better to be found as a naked man in the Keep than a wounded falcon.
His last viable thought as he hit the ground was Who left the blankets on the floor?
* * * *
Helen no sooner lifted her head from the pillow before Simon, in all his naked splendor, fell into a heap at her feet. His elbow met with her cheek with a sound crack. She reached her hands out and barely managed to keep his head from splitting open on the stone below.
“Simon?”
Nothing. She didn’t hear a thing.
Her heart leaped inside the small cavity of her chest, and she scrambled onto the balls of her feet. She ran her hands over his arms and chest. “Simon?” her voice rose in a rushed whisper. “Please, answer me.”
Still he didn’t move, didn’t utter a sound. Helen pushed her ear to his chest and held her breath.
His heart beat in a rapid tattoo, slowing with every deep even breath he managed. Unable to stop herself, she collapsed on him. Alive. He’s alive.
Once she caught her breath, she moved far enough away to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was exhausted. On some level, she knew being tired was his only illness. She grasped onto the pillow and bedding she’d dragged up to the turret while waiting for his return. After placing his head on the padding, she tucked one of the two blankets under and over his body. Unable to stop herself, she took her time making sure he wasn’t injured. His body was lean, strong, and completely lethal. Even asleep, his masculine vitality that ruled her brain and her libido since she met him, shone through. She wanted to run her hand over his six-pack abs and narrow waist, but to do so while he slept felt like a violation, even though she doubted he’d mind.
She diverted her gaze away from his sex and covered him completely. Glancing at the door, Helen pushed away the thought of leaving to find him clothes.
When he awoke would be soon enough. She decided to lay beside him. After closing the shutters and some of the draft coming from the Scotland dawn, Helen lifted the second blanket and covered them both. She made use of his arm to lay her head on and curled up into his warmth.
She took in a deep breath, inhaling his rain-scented skin, and tasted a strong dose of pine. His scent changed constantly, she decided. This cologne was born of the falcon.
How did it feel to fly? To soar above the treetops and see what no man has ever witnessed?
And what of the wolf? The form he took that very first day? She remembered a wildness about his scent then. A fierceness hiding behind his eyes. Did he ever lose himself to the animal?
How would it feel to be pursued and cornered by the beast and then made love to by the man?
Helen shifted next to him as warmth flooded her belly and her ni**les hardened beneath the long sleeping gown she’d been given to wear.
With a will of their own, her fingers fanned over the expanse of his chest and rested above his heart.
Simon moaned in his sleep, his hand moved to hers and held it there. He didn’t wake, but managed to pull her closer to his side.
Forcing her mind to clear, Helen touched her lips to his chest and closed her eyes. Safe. Even with a war raging, warriors fighting, she felt safe in his arms.