Ciaran eagerly changed into dry clothing right then and there. He was chilled to the bone. Also, he did not want to be nude near Skye. He figured it would only work to put her more on edge. He did not want her to worry for even a second that he might be expecting sex from her, too.
He returned to her and handed over a change of clothing, motioned for her to stay where she was, then pointed off to where he had abandoned the sacks of supplies earlier in his race to reach her. He waited for her to nod her understanding of the dual purpose of the task. He was going to gather the supplies. It would provide her a few moments of privacy to get changed. He was thankful for the small smile of appreciation she gave for his consideration.
He took his time retrieving the discarded sacks and all the stray items. While he managed to keep tabs on her location the entire time, he kept his eyes trained on the ground every step of the way. He hoped it was enough to help – he so desperately wanted her to feel at ease in his presence again. She could not possibly understand how much peace she had already brought him after such deep despair. Her touch was his lifeline to hope.
By the time he returned to the fire, she was dressed in dry clothing. He smiled in approval. She wore pants and a tunic of supple leather. They were both clearly made for a man and were too large for her feminine frame. Fortunately, Ailean had thought of this and provided a few lengths of rope. She had used a couple of them to hold things where they were supposed to be.
Seeing that she was having difficulty figuring out how to wrap and tie the oversized, draped, fur cloak, he gestured that he could help – but only if she wanted him to. Again, he was rewarded with a small smile and nod in reply. Once she was wrapped up, nice and warm, her smile grew a great deal brighter.
Ciaran chuckled and motioned to the fur and the fire as he joked, “Yes, I have found that being warm again after an icy swim does wonders for a person’s mood.” Laughter still on his lips, he turned to continue setting things up for her. He stopped when she placed her hand on his shoulder. With brows drawn together and a curious frown, he turned back to her and asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Your hair – it’s still dripping wet,” Skye said quietly as she motioned to his ponytail. She had taken the time to shake her own out and dry it a bit by the fire, but Ciaran had yet to stop long enough to do much of anything for himself. She motioned for him to sit so she could help him. She figured it was the very least she could do.
Skye paused before removing each braid and charm from his hair – gesturing that she wanted to know if it was okay to do so. She had no way of knowing if these items held meaning or significance. In this world, such things could easily denote a person’s rank.
Ciaran smiled and nodded each time, then quickly returned to the task of keeping his heartbeat and breathing steady. He sat as still as possible while she let his hair down and combed her fingers through it. His eyes rolled closed in pleasure. It was positively overwhelming to have her hands on him, to listen to her breathing so close, to be the center of her attention and feel her gentle tugs on his hair as she worked. His body gradually relaxed into her touch and he fought to prevent a moan from escaping his lips. He could have fallen asleep right then, if not for the small laugh Skye gave. He turned to give her a curious look over his shoulder. In reply, Skye held up a section of his hair and gave a thoroughly impressed nod and smile.
“Your hair is ridiculously gorgeous,” Skye declared and shook her head as she marveled over its texture. “Like black satin. I have to remember to beg you to grow it out for me like this when I get back home,” she chuckled.
Ciaran tilted his head to the side, not fully understanding her words, but gathering the gist of it. He motioned to his hair and asked, “In your time, it is different?”
Skye knew what he was asking. In reply, she took her fingers and acted out cutting off all but a few inches of his hair.
Ciaran’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? That short?”
Skye laughed at his astonishment and nodded. “You look great both ways, don’t worry,” she assured before guiding him to face forward again. She spent a lot longer than was necessary combing out his hair. It was soothing for them both. She would have kept going long into the night were it not for the yawns that kept sneaking up on her.
Finally hearing enough, Ciaran reluctantly urged her to sit while he got back to work. As close to the fire as was safe, he fashioned a thick bed of heather and moss draped in furs. When he finished, he motioned for her to lay down. He turned away as she climbed onto the bed and settled in. He had already decided that his position for the night would be sitting by the fire and keeping it fed. He was perfectly happy with that plan, so long as it kept her relaxed and calm. He had barely taken a seat before he heard her call his name softly. Turning back in surprise, he found her watching him with a look of uncertainty and fear twisting her beautiful features.
“Skye? What is it?” he asked worriedly.
After a moment of indecision, she extended her hand to him in invitation. She absolutely did NOT want to have sex with him after what she had just gone through, but the idea of sleeping alone in this strange time and place was utterly terrifying. She had a single ally she knew she could trust. She needed him as close as possible.
Mercifully, Ciaran understood all of this without a single word – foreign or otherwise. He settled down alongside her and looked to her for guidance. He did not move a muscle as he waited for her to show him the position in which she felt most comfortable.
As she did with him in her own time, she faced him and brought her body nearly flush with his. She reached up and slowly drew his arms down around her.
Ciaran understood that this must be her preferred position with him… but it currently felt less like affection, and more like a silent plea for protection. He muttered words of comfort and rested his chin on top of her head as he held her tight.
The moment she was tucked away in the safety of his embrace, her eyes closed of their own accord and she let out a tremulous breath. She gripped his back and sobbed softly in relief. It was everything she needed in that moment. Tears streamed down her face and she let them flow unchecked. She abandoned her preferred mask of strength in favor of letting it all go. She cried in exhaustion, fear, and sadness. She cried over how deeply she missed her Taran – how the distance from him made her bones ache. She did not feel the same level of distance from Ciaran. Perhaps it was because this young version of him was still just as adoring. She felt every bit as safe in his care here as she did in her own time.
Ciaran spoke to her gently as she wept. He did not know or understand all that she had endured, but he could plainly sense that her journey leading up to this point had been terribly difficult. She was taking advantage of the brief respite to drop her guard. He was grateful that she felt safe enough in his arms to do so. After a few moments, he felt her reach down for the pendant he wore around his neck. He tilted his head back to watch as she idly played with the necklace. She did not look down at it. She seemed to already know it intimately. She simply twirled her fingers around the chain and stroked the pendant in a familiar fashion, as if this was a calming routine for her.
“Have I managed to keep this then?” he whispered. When she met his eyes, he inclined his head purposefully down to the pendant she was holding. “Do I still wear this in your time?”
The corner of Skye’s mouth turned upward in a half smile and she held up the pendant. She nodded as she answered softly, “It looks a little different by then. Like you’ve had it dipped in silver… and the chain has been replaced… but yes, you still always wear it.”
“Really?” Ciaran laughed and smiled brightly. The pendant had been from his mortal tribe. It was a gift from his mother – one of the only things he had from her. His first unplanned transformation had broken its original chain beyond repair. He had been unable to hide his sorrow over the loss of another integral piece of his mortal life. As a surprise to cheer him up, Drostan had made a new chain fo
r him – this time long enough to fit around his neck even in faol form. So far, it had allowed him to keep it safe even in the thick of battles. If he understood Skye right, it seemed he would keep it with him long into the future, too. He found that incredibly comforting.
Seemingly pleased to have put such a genuine smile on his face, Skye smiled, too, and burrowed into his arms. She laid her cheek on his chest and his heart skipped several beats. She nuzzled her head beneath his chin and held onto him and it felt as if he was anchored to the world again somehow – as if he had been slowly floating away up until that exact moment. When he drifted off to sleep, it was into dreams of a peaceful, bright future.
21: Beseech
The sounds of hushed voices in the surrounding area brought Skye reluctantly back to consciousness. However long she had slept, it was not nearly long enough. She groaned in protest as she burrowed deeper into Ciaran’s embrace and hid her face away from the world. She refused to wake up and face all of her problems again so soon.
Ciaran gazed down at her adoringly as she did so. His smile could have lit up the entire cave. In his opinion, waking to find Skye cuddled so closely against him was the very best way to start the day.
“Well, I see the two of you have settled in comfortably,” Drostan commented.
Ciaran craned his neck to find his brother standing over them with a warm smile on his face.
“I was going to let you know they are cooking breakfast outside, but perhaps you will be skipping the meal altogether?” Drostan asked in amusement.
“I do not know. Let me see if I can find out whether she is hungry,” Ciaran answered with a yawn. He leaned down and whispered into Skye’s ear, “Skye, darling… Are you awake?”
Skye grumbled and shook her head. Ciaran and Drostan laughed.
“All right. I would say that is answer enough,” Drostan granted. “I will have the men save you both something for when she is willing to be bothered.”
“Thank you, brother,” Ciaran said quietly and gave Drostan a smile of genuine appreciation.
“You are most welcome,” Drostan assured with a wink. He was beyond thrilled to see a look of such serene joy on his brother’s face. He was thankful to leave the happy couple to it. Before he went, he stopped to feed their fire so Ciaran would not need to get up to do it again for quite some time.
Ciaran and Skye both drifted back into a blissfully deep sleep after that. So deep, in fact, that several hours passed with no sign that they intended to get up. They were warm, safe, and together. Neither was in any hurry to end it.
By the afternoon, Latharn gave up on waiting for them to wake on their own. With several of the clan watching and waiting, he sent Taran to rouse the sleeping pair.
“Ciaran. Time to wake. Come on, wake now,” Taran urged as he shook his brother’s arm impatiently.
Hearing Taran’s voice so close as she came to consciousness, Skye reflexively gripped Ciaran in alarm. Her breathing quickened, and body went rigid.
Ciaran was instantly wide awake in response. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and let out a ferocious growl of warning as his golden eyes searched for a threat.
“Ciaran! Easy now. It is only me,” Taran admonished. He tried to keep his shock from his voice that his brother had warned him off so aggressively. He reasoned that he must have startled Ciaran from a deep sleep and caught him off guard. That was understandable. He took a step away and moved so that he was standing in full view of his brother. “See? No danger, Ciaran. You can stand down. It is time for you both to wake. Latharn wishes to try and speak with Skye again.”
Skye slowly relaxed in Ciaran’s arms, which allowed him to relax in turn. He looked down into her eyes and she watched his fade from gold back to blue.
“Okay. We are getting up now,” Ciaran answered in a sleep-roughened voice without taking his eyes off of Skye.
Taran frowned deeply at the feeling of being on the outside looking in on them. Skye had said a Trinity, had she not? So why did he always feel so unwelcome when they were together?
Grudgingly, Taran walked back to wait with the others. He spoke with Latharn and Cathal about what they needed to learn from Skye and what their next steps would be, but all the while his attention was divided. He watched as Ciaran and Skye communicated with relative ease using hand gestures and facial expressions. They even managed to joke with one another, despite the language barrier. Skye braided her long, golden hair with practiced ease, but sought Ciaran’s help in tying it off. Apparently, she was unfamiliar with how to use the thin, leather strap and clasp Ciaran had offered as a binding. Taran went rigid at the sight. He grew steadily more envious as he watched Skye return the favor by braiding sections of Ciaran’s hair for him before tying it back up. Taran growled involuntarily under his breath in displeasure. In his mortal tribe, hair was seen as sacred. To braid and care for another’s hair was an act strictly reserved for husband and wife.
“Is she ready yet, Ciaran?” Latharn called, purposefully jarring Taran from his brooding. He shot a sideways glance at Taran and watched him guiltily avert his jealous gaze.
“Yes. Sorry. Here we come,” Ciaran answered. He motioned to Skye to show where they were going and what they were doing before taking her hand and leading her over to them.
“Well, now that we have all had the chance to rest a bit… Some of us more than others,” Latharn began in mild amusement. “Has she relayed anything about how she came to be here in this place? In this time? Has she mentioned who harmed her?”
“We have not gotten that far,” Ciaran answered. His eyes flitted to Taran as he considered whether to mention her failed attempt to return to her own time. He quickly decided against it. He was not up for the round of questioning that would follow or the way Taran was sure to react upon hearing that she had tried to flee immediately following their encounter. Taran’s ego was a terribly easy thing to bruise, and when that happened, it never ended well for anyone.
“Drostan should be here any moment. He went to grab you both something to eat. Lucky thing he was turned to our kind – elsewise he would be the size of a cow by now with the way he is always worrying about food,” Latharn joked. “Until he graces us with his presence, let us see what you can find out.”
Ciaran nodded before turning to Skye. “How did you come to be here in our time? And in such a wounded state?” he asked, motioning to the cave and the places on her body that had been most injured upon her arrival.
Skye sighed. She understood his questions well enough but coming up with an answer he would comprehend was going to be a challenge. “The Droch-draoidh… Do you know about them?” Skye asked.
“Dro… Droch-draoidh?” Ciaran repeated with a frown. He turned and looked around the group, hoping someone else could understand the dialect she was using. He only received shrugs. “Droch-draoidh… Droch-draoidh…” he continued thoughtfully. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he recognized the root Gaelic words she was absolutely slaughtering with her accented pronunciation. “Wait, the wicked druids?!” Ciaran asked. “Yes! Okay. They were the ones who harmed you?”
“Of course, it was those wretched, loathsome bastards,” Taran growled. “Blessed shall be the day we kill them off once and for all.”
Skye had already bent to find a stone like the one she used previously because words just would not help her explain the rest of this. “Here – this is the cave, understand?” she asked as she drew a large circle on the cave floor and motioned to their surroundings. The shape in no way represented the cave’s true outline, but it would have to do for illustrative purposes. “And this is me. This is Skye. I was outside.” She drew herself far outside the cave at first. “The Droch-draoidh took me. They grabbed me – Skye – me – with their magic and puulllllleedd me towards the cave.”
She sighed, tapping the rock absently on the ground as she realized that she could not use drawings to adequately convey most of this. She elected to go for a heavily simplified version of events.
&
nbsp; “I fought. I fought so hard, but…” she whispered as she shook her head. She acted out pulling on her arm and dragging herself, then drew lines leading from her original place outside the cave to a new stick figure inside the cave. “Here. Skye. Me. This is where I ended up.” She looked up to gauge their reactions. She hoped they understood her intended meaning and did not think she was crazy.
“Go on. We understand,” Ciaran assured as he motioned for her to continue.
Skye exhaled in relief and nodded before going on. “Teàrlach – the leader of the Droch-draoidh had used his power to prevent me from leaving.”
She drew a stick figure with horns and shuddered. The innocent looking representation did nothing to convey how horrific he truly was. She drew a line from the creature to a short distance beyond the outline of the cave, then turned the rock on its side to make an outer circle that was far thicker to represent the barrier.
“I could not leave. Do you understand? I tried to get out…” She pointed to her stick figure, then to the line, and acted out not being able to pass the boundary. Tears sprang to her eyes unexpectedly when she began drawing dozens of stick figures outside the thick circle. Her family, right there, watching it all helplessly, unable to reach her. She pointed to the two at the front of the group and whispered their names in turn. “Taran… Ciaran…”
Taran and Ciaran exchanged troubled looks at what she was depicting. In her time, the Droch-draoidh had evidently been able to just snatch her away from them.
Ciaran crouched and pointed to the representations of him and his brother. He traced his finger along the ground to the thick boundary surrounding the cave. “Were we not able to reach you?” he asked softly.
Skye’s tearful eyes remained locked on the drawing as she slowly shook her head. Heavy silence fell on the group for a moment as the scene played out in everyone’s minds.
Goddess Rising Page 29
