Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  The venom in that statement caught Skye by surprise. He was hurt and angry… angry with her.

  They stared at one another, a touch of anguish in each of their gazes. The very notion of quarrelling was shaking them both to the core, but they each had valid reasons for the way they felt. There would be no give from either side.

  Taran studied his brother’s features, gauging whether or not to become involved in this argument. The wolf in his blood was ever-eager to defend his mate. The man, however, felt that it was not his place to intervene. It was clear that more was going on than met the eye. As he did not know all of the details, Taran elected to keep his silence for now, to watch and listen to Skye’s response and try to fit the pieces together on his own.

  “I really am sorry, Ciaran,” Skye offered weakly, leaning more heavily against her King as she tried to stay upright. “Can’t you understand how precious you are to me? I can’t put you at risk. If I ever hurt you… I don’t know what I’d do.”

  Ciaran’s jaw clenched as he shook his head. “But ya are hurting me, a stóirín,” he whispered tearfully. “Can’t ya see tha? Can’t ya feel it?” He held her gaze for another moment before turning and walking away.

  Skye’s body tensed at the sight of him leaving, but Taran held her tight. “Ciaran?” she called, her brows drawing together in confusion. Where was he going? He never left her. Why was he leaving? When would he be back? Would he be back? When he failed to turn or slow, she called out to him in his mind. For the very first time since she had discovered their connection and her telepathic abilities, she received no response. Her calls echoed in the alarming emptiness of their usual link.

  Ciaran leapt up the side of the building, effortlessly pulling himself onto the rooftop without as much as a backward glance.

  Skye’s breath caught in her throat at the terrifying sensation of separation. “Ciaran!” she called and, despite her current state, attempted to go after him.

  “Let him go, my love,” Taran advised softly. “Ya are nah in any condition to follow, and he just needs some time to sort it out. He will nah stray far.”

  7: Kiss and Make Up

  Once they were certain that all fògaraich in the area had been hunted down and slain, the pack returned home to their den in tense silence.

  Skye was so weak, she was barely able to keep her eyes open. Unfortunately, her heartbreak over the fight with Ciaran would not allow her to give in to the need to rest. As she no longer had the physical strength to stand, Taran carried her up to their bedroom. He helped her get dry and changed before putting her into bed, propped up with pillows. While he issued his final orders of the night, Skye stared off into space, replaying the argument in her mind. She searched for a solution to their dilemma – a way to make Ciaran understand her fears without betraying the secret.

  “Skye?” Miko called softly.

  She turned and found him standing at her bedroom door looking extremely contrite. “Hey,” she greeted faintly. Her voice barely had the strength to carry across the room.

  Miko slowly approached and frowned once he was able to see her more clearly. She looked pale, gaunt, sweaty, and diminished. It appeared to be taking all of her energy to keep her eyes open.

  “Jesus, are you okay, chica? You look…” he began fretfully.

  “Wiped out?” Skye finished in a hoarse voice. “I’ll be fine once I get some rest,” she lied. In all honesty, resting seemed to do more harm than good lately. At least the curtains were open so she could slowly draw on the moonlight to recover. “What’s up?” she whispered.

  “It’s just… Well, I heard that you and Ciaran argued, and that he took off,” Miko answered. He winced as he asked, “Was it… um… was it my fault you two got into it?”

  Skye smiled up at him, appreciative for his sincere concern. “No,” she answered with a barely perceptible shake of her head. “It’s been coming for a while now. Ciaran and I just had a disagreement over putting one another at risk. I’m sure we’ll sort it out.”

  “Cool. Glad it’s nothing serious.” Miko stood there in silence for a moment before he ran his hands through his spiked hair and gripped his tattooed scalp anxiously. “Look… I’m real sorry I fucked up tonight,” he finally offered honestly and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “I know Eògan will probably have me scrubbing toilets and pup cages with a toothbrush for a year or some other crazy shit as punishment, and that’s fine, I deserve it. But I just wanted to make sure you’re not pissed at me.”

  Skye arched a brow and smiled. “I’m too fucking tired to be pissed at you.”

  Miko chuckled – half in humor, half in relief that she was teasing him. “Lucky for me, huh?” he said with a warm smile. “But I do feel real bad about it. I mean, Ailean really drilled it into my head just how dumb it was to leave the den like that. I hadn’t even stopped to think about it, I just wanted to keep Warren from getting into trouble… But Ailean reminded me that I wasn’t just putting myself in danger. He made me remember that I gotta be careful the fògaraich don’t come at you through me again. Shit, it was my fault they got you last time.”

  Skye’s heart clenched as she recalled the sight of Miko being brutally beaten just to draw her out. She recalled his muffled screams when his arm had been broken… She drew a choppy breath as she fought off the painful memory. “That wasn’t your fault, Miko,” she assured. “We all thought we were safe. You didn’t do anything wrong that night.”

  Miko shrugged, reluctant to agree. He was clearly still harboring guilt for what had happened. “I guess I just reacted tonight, you know?” he said, avoiding the subject. “But I won’t do anything like that again. I won’t give them the opportunity to hurt you through me again. Promise.”

  “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Skye warned with a tired smile. “Any repeats of tonight’s incident and all you pups can kiss that ‘Ultimate Gamer’s Package’ goodbye.”

  Miko’s eyes widened. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

  “You do that,” Skye laughed before closing her eyes for a moment to rest them. She was so bone weary. It was a terrible feeling. “Come. Sit,” she said softly and patted the bed as she opened her eyes again. “Tell me – how are you holding up? First change is coming. Gotta be getting nervous.”

  Miko sat at the foot of the bed. “Nervous is a hella tame way of putting it. Believe it or not, beneath this calm, cool, smoldering exterior, trust and believe I am wigging the fuck out.”

  Skye laughed at that. “Yeah, I might have played it cool, but I was exactly the same way. Is it helping to be around the other pups at least?”

  Miko shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess. Eli is pretty awesome about explaining stuff, telling me what to expect. I would ask you, but my experience is bound to be a whole lot different from yours. Which seriously sucks, by the way. The rest of us poor shmucks are forced to do things the slow, old fashioned way.”

  Skye gave him a sympathetic frown before offering, “Hey, who knows? Maybe it’ll be easier for you since you’re my pup. We can always hope that there’ll be some benefit to your being bitten by the only descendant of ‘the First.’”

  “That’d be nice,” Miko laughed. “I won’t hold my breath, though. So… how about you? How have you been doing? We haven’t gotten to talk one-on-one as much since we moved here. I miss your crazy ass,” he said as he shook her foot.

  Skye grinned. “Yeah, I guess I sorta miss you, too. I’m good, just… I don’t know. A lot is going on. A lot to take in all at once.”

  “I hear that,” Miko agreed. “And you’re rocking your new magic, I see. That was pretty damned impressive, by the way. I’d heard everybody talking about it but seeing it in person was a different thing entirely. You kick some serious ass!”

  “I try,” she offered with a self-conscious shrug. “It’s still weird and hard to control.” She laughed bitterly and motioned to her current enfeebled state. “It leaves me feeling like I could sleep for a month afterwards. Which I
gladly would, were it not for…” She paused and decided to change what she had intended to say. “…all the things that demand my attention.”

  “…and the nightmares?” Miko reluctantly added. When she rolled her eyes and looked away, he offered, “Sorry, bitty. Didn’t mean to call you out on it. I’ve heard you a few times since we got here. Do you think it’s because you’re back here in Philly after so long?”

  Taran walked into the room then, but he did his best to appear busy so as not to interrupt the private conversation between friends – between Maker and pup.

  “Maybe,” Skye sighed. “I don’t know. They just… It’s not like they’re about things that I think of before I fall asleep or anything. I’m actually…” She bit her lip and glanced over at her mate. Perhaps it was the sheer exhaustion. Perhaps it was the gut-wrenching absence of Ciaran by her side. Perhaps it was Miko’s innocent questions and sincere concern for her wellbeing. Whatever the cause, Skye finally decided to just give it up – to abandon her fervent denial of the thoughts swirling around inside her mind. She would need to return to Sorcha for council at this point. She could no longer deny the truth. Swallowing hard, she finally confessed quietly, “I’m starting to think they’re coming from an outside source.”

  Taran slowly turned and met her gaze intensely. The possible ramifications of that admission were deeply troubling.

  “Like the visions you were having back in Scotland?” Miko asked curiously.

  “No. Sort of. I mean…” She grimaced and shook her head. “They’re only alike in the fact that they’re not coming from inside my own mind. The nightmares – and hell, the things I’m seeing while I’m awake now, too – they’re different from the whispers. They feel… dark. And cold. And evil. And the way they drain me? It’s like someone out there is sending them to me. Planting them in my head to sap my strength and scare me.”

  “An outside source… like Brandubh?” Miko asked nervously. “He did say he had ‘grand plans’ for the two of you. Do you think he’s coming after you again?”

  Taran’s jaw flexed and eyes nearly glowed in outrage. “When did he tell ya tha?”

  Skye gave her King an understanding frown and held out a hand for him to join her in bed. He moved to her side on the mattress and took her hand in his own.

  “It was back just before the car crash, babe. When Miko and I were taken. We only heard his voice through the phone over the speakers. He didn’t get near either of us,” she assured.

  Taran nodded, but still seemed rattled by the mention of the Father of the Forsaken within the sanctuary of their bedchamber. He kissed the back of her hand and held it tightly, as if fearful that she might somehow be stolen away from him again at any moment.

  “And yes. I hate to say it, but it may very well be his doing,” Skye admitted reluctantly. “It feels like there is something inside me. Something making me sick. A blackness. A poison in my mind.”

  Taran gave her a pained look at the confirmation of his worst fears. Even here, seemingly safe in their bed, evil was still able to harm her. “Ciaran has sensed it, as well,” Taran said in concern. “He told me today tha he felt something dark lurking in your mind, just out of reach.”

  Skye swallowed hard at the confirmation and bit her lip before whispering, “Taran?”

  “My Queen?” he responded worriedly.

  “We have to go back to Faol Seunta,” she declared.

  With Skye’s confessions and the knowledge of their looming trip to Scotland hanging over his head, Taran bid Miko a good night and sent him off to bed. Taran settled down in the darkness beside his Queen, holding her as he prepared to sleep. For Skye, sleep would not come. There was a cold and empty place beside her in bed. The sound of raindrops pelting against the massive windowpanes served as a somber soundtrack to her heart ache. Where was Ciaran? Was he sheltered from the storm? Was he alone? Would it make her feel better or worse if he was not?

  “Do you think he’ll be back tonight?” she asked as she stroked the cool, Ciaran-less sheets to her left. She tried to keep the sorrow from her voice, but her King was always able to read her emotions.

  “I am sure he will be home soon enough, wee one,” Taran soothed quietly.

  Her eyes filled with tears when he drew her back against his chest and rested his chin on her shoulder.

  “I can’t feel him. Not like I usually can,” she confessed weakly with a shake of her head. “I can sense that he’s angry and upset and frustrated with me. I can sense that he’s safe… but I can’t pinpoint where he is.”

  “Perhaps he’s just nah wanting to be found,” Taran offered. “It is his unique gift to remain hidden – ya know tha – but he’ll be back by the morra, ya will see.”

  Unable to face the empty place at her side or its jarring reminder of Ciaran’s absence, Skye turned toward Taran and gazed up at him. In the moonlight, her mate’s brutally handsome features were all the more breathtaking.

  “Taran, can I tell you something?” she whispered as she searched his eyes deeply.

  “Ya can tell me anything, my love. Anything at all,” he assured in a quiet, rumbling voice.

  “I have this sense… this feeling, deep down… that something bad is coming. Like a storm building or a shadow creeping in. Something big is going to happen soon. I don’t know what it is… but I already know there is nothing I will be able to do to stop it.” She bit back tears as she did the unimaginable and admitted aloud, “Taran, I’m afraid.”

  He held her gaze as his chest constricted painfully with emotion. What could he say in that moment? ‘Don’t be frightened’? She had a valid reason to be afraid. ‘Nothing bad will happen’? He could promise no such thing. ‘Things will look better in the morning’? Not always. ‘I will protect you’? There was no guarantee. Taran would happily give his life all over again if it could keep her safe from harm, but this was a new kind of threat. How could he possibly protect her if it was, in fact, spells being cast upon her from an unknown location? He was a warrior. He had no defense against dark magic.

  He shook his head and stroked her hair. With tearful eyes, he whispered all that he had to offer. “I love ya, my wee Queen. And I swear to ya, I will do all in my power to be at your side to face the battles ahead. Come what may, ya have my heart, loyalty, and any protection I can offer.”

  “I love you, too,” Skye whispered and closed her eyes, taking comfort in the sincerity of his words. She held on tighter and drew a labored breath as she recalled the night he had died. She remembered facing the gut-wrenching knowledge that she would never be in this position again – that she would never again know the warmth and safety of lying naked in his arms. “Will you hold me all night? Don’t let me go?” she whispered.

  Taran smiled tenderly. “Aye, my love. Ever gladly.” He held her closer, stroking her hair and kissing her brow.

  Sometime before dawn, Skye awoke to the sound of soft music. She opened her eyes slowly, looking over and expecting to find Ciaran in his favorite chair, his 6-string in hand. She found nothing. No Ciaran. No guitar in sight. Aside from her sleeping King, the room was empty.

  With a frown, she tilted her head to the side and tried to identify the source of the music. When she focused her senses, the sound changed suddenly, shifting from an echoing, distant tune to become a crystal-clear melody ringing through her thoughts. Her eyes widened in surprise when she realized that she was hearing Ciaran… and his guitar… in her mind. Her heart swelled, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a smile.

  Ciaran was singing a favorite of his – ‘She is the Sunlight’ by Trading Yesterday – through their link. (Although, it was always ‘Moonlight’ whenever he sang it.) She closed her eyes and took a deep, relieved breath as his voice filled her mind. As he sang, his subtle-but-noticeable lilt gave the lyrics his own personal touch. She stretched up and kissed Taran’s lips, running her fingers through his hair until he stirred.

  “Up already?” Taran muttered against the pillow in a sleep-roughe
ned voice.

  “Ciaran’s home,” she whispered with a smile, “and singing…” She closed her eyes to enjoy Ciaran’s voice.

  Taran chuckled and smiled down at her warmly in reply, grateful for the relief in her expression. He kissed her lips sweetly. “Means he’s reeking, most likely. Go on,” he urged with an affectionate pat to her backside. “Go to him. Just stay–”

  “–within the confines of the den,” she finished with an even wider smile. “I know, babe. Trust me, I don’t want a repeat kidnapping, either.”

  Taran drew a steadying breath at the memory of losing her – of waking to find that she had been stolen away. He ran a hand tenderly over her hair.

  Seeing the sadness in his eyes at the memory, Skye kissed him deeply. “I’m right here. I’m safe,” she whispered in reassurance and met his gaze.

  Taran smiled and nodded before motioning that he was fine. He watched her slip from the bed. He laughed a moment later when she pulled on one of Ciaran’s white, button-down dress-shirts.

  “You’re liable to melt the man’s brain wearin’ tha,” Taran teased.

  “Sorta the point,” she replied with a wink. The material fell to her knees and she left the top few buttons open.

  She very deliberately neglected to put on panties.

  It did not take long for Skye to locate Ciaran now that he was connecting openly with her again. She made her way down the stairs into the mostly-finished dining hall and found him seated at far end of the table. He continued strumming his guitar until she was at the base of the steps, then brought his fingers down on the strings firmly, bringing their pleasant vibrations to an abrupt, jarring halt.