Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  A scissor lift, rented to reach the towering 30’ ceilings, was noisily rolling along through the unfinished sections of the loft. Three of her clansmen were riding in its basket. While Donnach drove along bellowing spiritedly and beeping the horn relentlessly to warn of their approach, the other two wrestled and tried to toss one another over the edge. Spotting her down below, Donnach brought his fist to his heart in respectful greeting… then instantly returned to bellowing and beeping.

  Skye laughed and shook her head watching them roll by. No matter how many centuries a man lived, they never grew up at heart.

  This level of chaos had been going on every morning since she arrived the week prior, beginning at the crack of dawn and continuing well into the night. It was… bliss. This was home now. She had a home. Not to mention, an immense new family. Just a month prior, she never would have believed it possible for her to experience such contentedness. For years, she had been completely alone in the world, moving from one motel and city to the next. Her only concern had been killing the blood-suckers that had murdered her family and turned her life into a living hell. These days, while the sun was up, she spent most of her time laughing and smiling, enjoying the company of her mate, her lover, and the rest of her clansmen.

  Regardless of the war that she had started between the breeds. Regardless of the secret – Sorcha’s secret – that had been thrust upon her and currently weighed heavily on her heart. Regardless of the nightmares which plagued her… the future was still bright and shiny for her. She did her best to hold her head up high each day and keep the lurking darkness in her mind at bay. It was a tiresome struggle. It required constant effort to stay positive and hold back the tormenting thoughts, but her pack was well-worth the effort. They were starting a new life together. Building a new home.

  A few weeks before they had left Scotland, her clansman, Ailean, had scouted ahead for a prime piece of faoil-friendly real estate. They needed an incredible amount of space to house so many men, total privacy, and an easily-securable location. It was a tall-order for the densely populated city of Philadelphia, but they found everything they were looking for and more.

  Skye and her pack were now the proud owners of a massive compound on the waterfront. Somewhere in that moment, there was a real estate agent with a fat commission check in the bank singing their praises. Once a bustling cement factory, this building had been closed down and abandoned during the great depression. For the better part of a century, it had remained untouched and forgotten. The city had gone on around it, unaware of what lay hidden from view behind towering stone walls and heavy iron gates.

  If Skye had any say in the matter, they would remain ignorant. It would not be easy, though. Things had been moving at a breakneck pace. Within two days of landing in Philadelphia, Ailean had purchased the property and started the massive renovation project. From the first time they opened those gates to have dumpsters and construction equipment delivered, the city had been buzzing with curiosity. Locals, of course, wanted to know what was going on. Were they building something beyond those walls that might be worth protesting? Were they using bona fide union labor?

  The men were warned not to talk to anyone, not even to the guys making deliveries. Eventually the curiosity would die down, so long as no information was given. They did as she asked, feigning inability to speak English and chattering away in Gaelic whenever anyone tried to speak to them.

  Ever since Ciaran had arrived and joined the chaos a week prior, if one of the truckers asked enough questions, their queries were directed to him. Skye’s little lover-boy could talk circles around anyone. By the time the truckers were two miles down the road, they realized all they had learned was that Ciaran was an incredibly funny little Irishman. Had Ciaran not chosen sex as his sole area of study for the past four millennia, he would have made a damned fine politician.

  Skye refused to speak so much as a word to the press as they shouted requests for interviews and promised top dollar for the exclusive rights to the story. Her men had been all-too-happy to keep the reporters off of the premises. Her silence in the press was not to avoid attracting fògarach attention. The blood-suckers knew damned well where she was. Seeing her face on the 10:00 news was not going to spur any impulsive attacks. She remained silent because, firstly, she despised reporters. In fact, she despised them nearly as much as she did lickers, which was really saying something. Secondly, all the press had been able to uncover thus far was that a corporation from Scotland had purchased the land and zoned it as a residential structure. If she opened her mouth to opt out of the reporters’ offers, they would hear her unmistakable Philly accent and instantly be on a mission to identify her.

  Who was this local woman that had brought so much revenue to the city? How was she involved with this Scottish company? What was her story? Was there scandal involved? Was there romance?

  But not even the knowledge that there were reporters camped out beyond the gates could keep a smile from Skye’s face. The members of her pack (which was still a strange concept, ‘her pack’) were focused on turning this previously uninhabitable building into a proper ‘den’.

  The first stage, long before her arrival, had been demolition. The men had walked through the doors of this abandoned factory and proceeded to completely level its interior. They did not stop until the only thing that remained were bare brick walls and concrete floors. Once they cleared away the debris, it was a clean slate – a blank canvas to design however they wished. And evidently, after living for more than 4,000 years, a man no longer needed to call a contractor to handle anything. Gasps of horror and mortified expressions had been their only response when Skye made the mistake of suggesting it during a video chat with them. As she learned, just amongst the men in her pack, she had numerous electricians, carpenters, masons, plumbers, etc.

  Skye sidestepped the buckets of tools, empty cigarette packs, and overabundance of Dunkin Donuts coffee cups to cross the loft. Every man stopped his work when he spotted her. If they were one of the young faoil, it was to incline his head to her respectfully and offer a polite greeting. If they were one of the ancients, their acknowledgment of her presence was far more relaxed, friendly, and exuberant. If they were one of the two gorgeous men with whom she shared a bed at night, well...

  “Mmm, there’s my love,” Taran purred in her ear, catching her from behind and wrapping his arms around her. “Was just coming to find ya. It’s awfully lonely out here without your smiling face. I’ve missed ya terribly,” he crooned and kissed her temple as she grinned.

  “You just saw me a few hours ago,” she laughed as she leaned into his kiss and drew his arms down around herself tighter.

  “Tha long? No wonder I was needing a fix,” he joked.

  His beautiful smile greeted her when he turned her to face him. He picked her up and guided her to wrap her legs around him. Drawing her close to his chest, he gave her a long, deep, breathtaking good morning kiss.

  “Ugh! Get a room!” Miko griped.

  When the happy couple reluctantly ended their kiss and looked over at him, he crossed his arms over his chest in mock disapproval, feigning disgust as usual over their public displays of affection.

  “We have one. As a matter of fact, ya happen to be standing in it at this very moment,” Taran countered.

  “Shall I escort him out, my King?” Ruarachan offered.

  Skye glanced over at him and smiled. Ruarachan caught her glance and quickly averted his eyes as always. Now that Taran was King, the clan insisted he have a constant guard. Skye was supposed to have one, as well, but considering the fact that 99.9% of the time she was attached to either Ciaran or Taran, they filled that role. Any time she walked through the den alone, every member of the pack shared the duty of keeping her safe.

  Ruarachan had been ever-present for the past several weeks, so quiet at times it was easy to forget he was there – which was his goal. He did his best to stay out of the way and blend into the background as much as possible. He
only spoke up to offer aid or voice concerns if he felt there might be danger. He was Taran’s constant shadow, even posted outside their bedroom door anytime Taran was there. Skye wondered when he found the time to eat and sleep. She tried to ask him about it once, but he always seemed terribly uncomfortable when she spoke to him directly. He became instantly awkward and shy. He kept his responses short and avoided eye contact. She had given up pressing him about his eating and sleeping schedules, but she had taken to making a second plate and nonchalantly placing it beside him any time she ate a meal with Taran. They never spoke of it, but Ruarachan always cleared those plates.

  The man was routinely within 30 feet of her, yet there were times she swore she would be hard pressed to pick him out of a line up. The whispers stirred lightly, warning that this was a mistake. She must pay attention to him. Must know him. There was an inexplicably dire need for this. It would prove crucial down the road. She knew better than to question the whispers.

  Ordinarily, she did not look at him directly for longer than a few seconds because simply being in her presence made him anxious. With his focus temporarily on Taran and Miko, she hoped he would be distracted enough to give her the opportunity to observe him properly.

  Ruarachan was tall even by their pack’s standards. Not nearly at Aodh’s level, but a full head taller than Taran. His fiery red hair was cut short on the sides, but spiked wildly on the top and back where it was several inches longer. A well-groomed beard complimented his square jaw. Even from a distance, she was able to appreciate his striking hazel eyes. His skin was paler than hers – paler than Ciaran’s, too, she noted, and that was a feat. He was alabaster. A living, breathing sculpture. She had yet to see him nude, (which, now that she thought of it, was actually strange given how often they all ended up naked after changes…) but even through his clothing, it was obvious that he was heavily muscled. His chest was positively massive. His shoulders were easily broad enough to build a tree house upon (which was handy, as she imagined most women would want to climb him like a tree.)

  She concluded that Ruarachan had no observable reason to lack self-confidence, which made his shyness around her even more flummoxing. He was a very handsome man – although she had yet to find a member of her clan who could be described as ugly. She wondered whether the beast within made each of the men more attractive, made them own their individual brand of masculinity…

  “Hmm, tempting,” Taran answered Ruarachan as Skye continued her discrete, unhurried inspection of him. “I may take ya up on tha in a minute.”

  Ignoring their exchange, Miko went on undeterred. “No, see, when I said to ‘get a room,’ Tar, this is not the kind of ‘room’ to which I was referring. This section is the pups’ living room.” He motioned to the area they were standing in. “Or… it will be in a few weeks, at least,” he corrected as he glanced around at the active construction.

  Taran rolled his eyes and gave a bored look. A smile came to his lips, however, as Skye draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. It was difficult to feign annoyance while she was in his grasp. He kissed her forehead as she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “And anyway,” Miko continued. “As we previously established, living rooms aarreee…?” he coaxed, waiting a few seconds before answering his own question. “‘Nookie-free zones’, that’s right! Now, when I said for you two to ‘get a room’, I meant for you to get – or go into – a bedroom. You remember bedrooms, Tar. We talked about those. They’re the places you go inside of, close the door, and as a result, don’t subject me to your endless pawing at one another. Why do you think the very first room they finished in this building – and sound-proofed – was a makeshift temporary bedroom for you guys? We all know what a bunch of freaks you three are.”

  Satisfied with her appraisal of Ruarachan, Skye turned her attention to Miko. She opened her mouth to chastise her outspoken pup, but promptly abandoned the effort when she spotted Elijah approaching. “Good morning, Eli!” she greeted with a grin.

  “Mornin’, little blue,” Elijah answered cheerfully. “Good Morning, King Taran,” he said as he inclined his head respectfully to her mate. “Ruarachan, Miko,” he greeted, tossing his head back to each of them in a far more relaxed greeting.

  “Hey, Eli,” Miko answered.

  Ruarachan nodded in acknowledgment but did not speak.

  “Aye, it was a good morning ‘til a moment ago,” Taran answered and cast an accusatory glare at Miko.

  Elijah nodded in understanding. “This goofball’s bothering you two again?”

  “No,” Miko replied.

  “Yes,” Skye and Taran answered in unison.

  “Hey!” Miko cried indignantly.

  “Come on, young buck,” Elijah laughed as he draped his arm around Miko’s shoulders and dragged him away. “I’ll let you play with some power tools or something.”

  “Really?” Miko asked eagerly. “Which ones?”

  “The really loud ones. The kind you could seriously injure yourself with,” Elijah replied knowingly.

  “Sweet!” Miko declared.

  “Tell me again why ya gave him the bite?” Taran teased as they watched the two pups leave.

  “Eh, he sorta grows on you after time. Like a fungus,” Skye offered.

  “So, what, might I ask, is my wee Queen doing out of bed so early?” he asked with a light frown as he returned his gaze to her. He studied her features intently. “I thought for sure ya would be sleeping soundly until at least noon.” He inhaled deeply through his nose, no doubt searching her scent for any hint of the anxious sweat brought on by her nightmares.

  Skye did not want him to worry for her any more than he already did, so she offered coyly, “Perhaps I awoke starving for the touch of my King and was searching for you in hopes of luring you back to bed.”

  She grinned at the intrigue that instantly passed over his features. Taran’s brow arched as he licked his lips. He had just opened his mouth to reply when someone bellowed his name. He winced and plead for strength in response. Beyond the walls of their sleeping quarters, Taran rarely had a moment’s privacy with his mate. With a disappointed sigh, he looked to where Eògan was ducking through a section of hanging plastic sheeting.

  Seeing their current position, Eògan winced apologetically. “Ooh, sorry – did nah realize ya were otherwise involved,” he joked. “Mornin’, Skye,” he greeted warmly and placed a brotherly hand on her back before looking over at Taran. “Hate to interrupt, just wanted to ask ya – over in your part the building there, did ya tell the pups ya wanted tha entryway door frame 100 or 250 millimeters thick?”

  Skye looked to Taran expectantly for his reply. She had no idea what ‘their’ section of the building even looked like, let alone what the specifications for things like the door were supposed to be. It was all very hush-hush. The few details she knew had only been learned by distracting Ciaran with gratuitous nudity, then peeking over his shoulder as he, predictably, went right for the bait. All she had been able to make out from his outlines on the blueprints was that their section would be at the center of the compound and included its many silos. Ten other interconnected buildings (which served as living quarters for the rest of the pack) surrounded their section, circling it tightly. All but the silos and upper floor were shielded from view.

  She had smiled at that, knowing it had been chosen specifically for its tactical advantage. Undoubtedly, that choice had been made by Taran. His Queen would reside in the most defendable location. Taran was always thinking from a warrior’s standpoint.

  Her men had spent many hours huddled around the table designing their new quarters together. Preventing her from knowing anything about it had become a pack-wide conspiracy. She did not grill them too much about it, mainly because she found it adorable how they went to great lengths not to spoil the surprise.

  “Of course, it’s 250 millimeters!” Taran cried and his voice drew her back from her pondering. His eyes widened in disbelief at the obviousnes
s of Eògan’s question. “If it was 100, a fògarach would barely need breathe heavily upon it to burst through!”

  Eògan held up a hand toward him and nodded. “See? I knew they were wrong, I said, ‘there’s nah a chance Taran would make tha mistake.'”

  “What are they doing over there? I explained everything they were to do very clearly before I came up here,” Taran growled in frustration and held Skye closer, as if it would prevent his presence from being needed elsewhere. “I swear, I leave them alone for two minutes and…!”

  Skye smiled at his continued, reluctant position of foreman on this project. No matter what was going on, be it battles or building, the members of their pack – and in fact, their entire clan – looked to him for instruction. Maybe it was the wolf in her, maybe the woman, but she adored him for his natural role as leader.

  Taking his chin in her hand, she turned his face toward her. He trailed off the instant their eyes met. “Babe? Go ahead. Make sure they don’t screw it up. I’m not going anywhere and besides,” she began as she slid down the length of him to land on her feet, “you know where I sleep.”

  He frowned and let his eyes pass back and forth between her and Eògan. It was very obvious which path he would rather have taken. “Fine,” he grudgingly agreed. “But I may well be back in an hour,” he warned with a wink.

  “Ooh… promise?” she teased in a throaty voice.

  Taran took a step toward her, seeking to give her a preview of things to come, but Eògan caught him by the arm and stopped him.

  “All right, brother. There’ll be plenty of time for tha. She’ll be up here just waiting with bated breath for your return, I’m sure,” Eògan joked. He put his arm around Taran’s shoulders to lead him away and laughed as the King dragged his feet.