With trembling hands, she pushed his fur cloak off over his shoulders. She watched eagerly as he removed his shirt, exposing to her view his porcelain skin and toned physique.
His breathing quickened as he wrapped his arm around her back and pulled her body close to his. He groaned in approval at the sensation of her bare breasts against his chest and held her closer still. He could not even recall how long it had been since he last had a woman, but he knew no experience had ever compared to this.
Skye kissed him deeply then and his hands instantly cradled the back of her head in response. His body quaked in anticipation of what was to come. His breathing grew louder and more fevered. He gripped her hair as he hungrily returned her kiss.
In response to his overwhelming passion, Skye moaned loudly into his mouth. She ran her hands down his shoulders and back, reveling in the feel of him. Amongst all the foreign things in this time, Ciaran’s body was home.
She pulled back from their kiss. Her lips parted as she panted in desire. His eyes followed her gaze as she looked down between them. He gave a strained sigh of arousal as her hands slid down his belly. He watched eagerly as she pushed the last piece of his clothing down over his hips.
Skye licked her lips and met his gaze as she took him in hand. Ciaran’s body trembled terribly in response. His muscles simultaneously tensed and relaxed. He moaned and kissed her in a daze as she began stroking him.
When he hissed and pulled away from her mouth a minute later, she stopped. She recognized that sound and response – he was already incredibly close. She marveled at how sensitive he was, how such simple touches could nearly push him right over the edge. Through their link, she sensed the emotions he was experiencing. She gauged that it had been a very, very long time since he had been with a woman. On top of that, his inherent need for her magic was heightening the experience to celestial levels for him. She smiled up at him reassuringly and kissed his cheek. Slow worked just fine for her. Better to savor every minute of this. After all, it was technically their first time…
Or was it their second-first time?
First-first time, maybe?
She supposed it all depended into which of their timelines you were placing the event.
Recalling her original vision of this moment, Skye laughed and picked up bowl of blue paint. Ciaran watched curiously as she dipped her hands into the liquid. When she turned back and found his head tilted adorably in perplexity, she gave him a playful smile.
He watched as she pressed their palms together, thoroughly coating his hands as well. He smiled and arched a brow when she traced her fingertip across his cheek, leaving a streak of paint as she did. To drive the point home, she deliberately brought one of his hands to her breast, guiding him to take a firm hold. He chuckled and bit his lip when she pulled his hand away to reveal the evidence of their contact.
Ciaran’s eyes flashed with interest and he nodded in approval of her game. She wanted to mark him. She wanted to see his marks on her flesh. Once she eventually climbed into that whitewash bath and coated her skin, she wanted them both to know that his handprints were still all over her body, touching her intimately, hidden away from view. Their secret.
With intentional movements and a mischievous smile, Ciaran reached behind her to grab her ass with both hands. Skye gasped in surprise as his grip lifted her up onto her tip-toes. She grinned that he was playing along.
She reached behind him and brought a hand firmly to his shoulder blade as she pulled her body flush against him. With her other hand, she held the side of his neck. Using her thumb on his jaw to guide him, she brought their mouths together in a playful kiss. He laughed at the trail of handprints she was leaving behind.
Unbeknownst to them, just outside the cave entrance, a group of their clansmen were laughing and joking about their audible moans and groans, as well as the scent of their joint arousal. It was very quickly common-knowledge just what the two of them were getting up to inside the cave.
And it did not take long at all for the taunting of Taran to begin.
The woad dried quickly. Ciaran lifted her up into his arms and carried her to the bed of furs. He settled his body down on top of hers and paused. He spent a blessed moment just gazing down into her eyes and marveling at the fact that this beauty – this Queen – this Goddess – truly loved and wanted him. A smile curved his full lips before he bent to kiss his way down her jaw and throat, purring deeply in approval as he went along. He wanted to stay like this until the world died around them, an immortality spent naked with her. Skin pressed to skin. Heart pressed to heart. He never again wanted to know the anguish of another moment without her hands on his body.
Skye’s eyes rolled closed at the sensation of his starved, open-mouthed kisses and teeth raking against her skin. She eagerly rose to meet his wandering mouth before catching him completely off guard by rolling him over onto his back.
Ciaran was so surprised, he paused in his kissing to stare up at her in confusion. Skye laughed adoringly at his response before moving to straddle his hips. His features instantly twisted, and brows drew together in pleasure at the sensation of her wet heat pressing against his hard length. Through clenched teeth, he ground out a long stream of praise for her and dropped his head back onto the furs.
She watched him in intrigue, granting him a moment to recover before slowly sliding her hips back and forth, letting his shaft slide against her without penetrating. Ciaran called out her name and wrapped his arms around her back. With a groan, he thrust his hips upward, continuing the delicious torture.
Skye smiled when she realized that whatever Gaelic words were tumbling involuntarily from his lips, they sounded unbelievably familiar. He would be saying these very same things to her in bed four millennia down the road.
When she finally drew him into her body, the moment was rapture. She made love to him slowly and thoroughly, bringing him just shy of release again and again. Each time he began to drift away into pleasure, she felt him grow a bit stronger. The fracture she had sensed in him upon arriving in this time was healing. The sorrow that had haunted his gaze was lifting.
On a hunch, she brought her mouth just shy of his. She waited for him to look into her eyes before she exhaled slowly, releasing a tendril of her power. She watched eagerly as he breathed in the soft white light. His eyes instantly rolled closed and he cried out in appreciation.
Skye was thoroughly intrigued. Not only was he able to carry her magic, it was actually pleasurable for him to do so… She fed him more wisps of power with each kiss. It was impossibly arousing, the way he hungrily drank her in, the way he shuddered in ecstasy at the sensation of her power filling him up.
When she finally allowed him to finish, she stared deeply into his eyes and memorized every second of his release. Ciaran held onto her tightly, calling her name until his voice broke as she worked him through every last tremor.
Taran’s rage grew deeper and uglier by the minute. He tried to talk himself down. He tried reminding himself that Skye had told everyone they were part of a TRINITY, so it was not as if she was being brazenly unfaithful to him. He had absolutely no reason to be embarrassed. And she was Queen, after all, with or without him. Noble born. Powerful in her own right. She could do as she pleased.
He managed to make it through nearly an hour of torment without incident, but every time his brothers laughed, every time they stole a glance in his direction to gauge his reaction to the spectacle taking place well within earshot of half the clan, his temper grew hotter, more irrational. His thoughts became darker.
Skye was supposed to be his Queen. Ciaran was supposed to fill the role of friend and – fine – occasional lover, but at the end of the day, she belonged to Taran. He just knew it to be true.
As Ciaran cried out in increasing pleasure, several of Taran’s brothers burst out laughing and looked over at him in disbelief, as if wondering how he could possibly be sitting by listening to such a thing. He wondered precisely the same.
&
nbsp; Judging by the sounds coming out of that cave, Skye was giving every bit as good as she got from Ciaran. And it was evidently far better than she had gotten from Taran.
Pride officially and irreparably wounded, Taran got to his feet with fury in his eyes, intent on marching into that cave and putting a stop to it himself. Before he took a step, Drostan moved in front of him, placing his hand on his chest and blocking him.
“Easy now. Easy,” Drostan urged quietly.
The whispers were swirling in the wind, warning of a moment of fate fast approaching. Drostan hoped to redirect the course of destiny and avoid anything violent from coming to pass.
“Remove your hand before I rip it from your arm,” Taran snarled.
Undeterred, Drostan remained as he was and waited for Taran to grudgingly meet his gaze.
“Temper, brother,” Drostan warned gravely. “I know it is a thing you have always struggled with, but you need to mind it doubly well now. You have not committed yourself to some nameless girl. The old rules do not apply here. That is Faolan’s daughter in that cave,” he reminded, and watched a look of indecision pass over Taran’s features. He pressed on, “That is Sorcha’s daughter, and you must treat her as such or be prepared to suffer dire consequences. You have a sharp wit – use it to keep your anger in check. Do not make the wrong choice here and succumb to a thoughtless reaction.”
Taran growled and clenched his teeth as Skye and Ciaran reached another loud, clearly mutually satisfying climax in the distance. Drostan rolled his eyes and shook his head, wishing they would just finish already. They were certainly making this more difficult for him.
“I will go in and get them to wrap things up,” Drostan offered before adding, “Whilst I am gone, it might help you to recall her condition yesterday as opposed to how strong and well rested she is feeling today.”
Taran’s brows lifted slightly. He had not considered that. Skye had been wounded and weak when he claimed her. Perhaps that was the reason she was relishing the act so much more today.
Drostan nodded, relieved to see a bit of Taran’s tension ease. “Later, after you have had time to cool your head a bit, perhaps you can try to… speak… with Skye again?” he suggested meaningfully. He prayed she would be feeling more receptive toward Taran today. Ciaran seemed to have gotten the proverbial (and literal) juices flowing. With any luck, her appetite would still be strong. If she bedded Taran as enthusiastically as she just had Ciaran, it would go a LONG way to alleviating the growing jealousy.
Unfortunately, Ciaran and Skye chose that precise, exceedingly inopportune moment to start back up again. Her joyful laughter echoed out before it quickly changed to moans. The pair were far too wrapped up in their bliss to consider the impact their activities were having.
Drostan closed his eyes and bit back a growl of irritation when their nearby clansmen began muttering and laughing again. Just that quickly, Taran’s body was rigid once more.
Taran glared at him. “Tell them to finish. NOW. Get her ready and get her outside or I swear, I will go in and retrieve her myself. May the Gods watch over Ciaran if he ever thinks to stand between us again after all of this.”
Drostan cleared his throat and nodded. He quickly made his way into the cave hoping to prevent any issues.
Taran sat down, gripping his hands in an effort to calm his temper, but a nearby conversation caught his ear.
“Well, our Queen is certainly… enthusiastic,” someone noted in amusement.
“Not to mention thorough,” someone replied.
Several of the men muffled their laughter at that.
“Never would have guessed, though. After all, this is the first… anyone… is hearing of it,” someone replied, purposefully juuussst loud enough for Taran to catch it.
Taran’s notoriously fragile ego was beyond bruised. It had been beaten to a bloody pulp.
24: Goddess Risen
“I’ve created a monster!” Skye laughed when, for the third time, Ciaran dragged her back onto the furs before she could climb into the now-cold whitewash water.
Ciaran had become steadily bolder and more confident with each round. He no longer looked to her for guidance on what she wanted. He took the lead and went with his own instincts. Just as in her own time, they were preternaturally on-point. She had always assumed he was so damned good in bed because of his ridiculous amount of experience. Apparently, no experience was needed. He just possessed an innate gift for sex.
He settled back on top of her with a wonderfully-familiar playful and loving glint in his eyes. Skye smiled up at him adoringly as they studied one another’s features.
“We may never leave this bed now that I know the bliss of your touch,” he teased as he stroked her hair.
Skye grinned and leaned into his hand. “I don’t even need a translation for that,” she laughed.
They both jumped a bit when someone cleared their throat purposefully. Drostan was standing a short distance away with his back turned, giving them the opportunity to disengage if necessary. He waited until he heard them get onto their feet before speaking.
“Thought you should both know you have drawn a bit of an audience outside. There are… some individuals…” Taran. Just Taran. “…who are impatient for you to finish and join them.”
‘Impatient’ was a drastic understatement, but Drostan knew his words could easily be heard beyond the cave mouth (much like the couple’s amorous sounds and exclamations had been.) Drostan thanked the spirits that he had convinced Taran to allow him to come break things up. Had Taran been the one to enter the cave first, things would have turned ugly.
Ciaran sighed in disappointment. “Very well. We will get her ready now.”
“I am to stay and assist in order to ensure it is done quickly,” Drostan said before casting his brother a meaningful glance.
Ciaran’s brows drew together at what was being left unsaid. He knew Drostan well enough to read between the lines. Taran was in a mood. Despite Skye’s assurances that – in her time – Taran did not mind their Trinity, Drostan’s deeply concerned frown did not bode well for Taran’s current sentiments on the matter.
Skye looked back and forth between them, reading their troubled expressions and sensing the drastic shift in Ciaran’s mood.
She gave Drostan such a worried, inquiring look, he felt his expression instantly soften in reply. With a sigh, Drostan walked over to her. For an unknown reason, he felt such a bond to this strange girl. His instincts were to guide and protect her. He held out his hands and waited for her to take the invitation to link to his mind. With a palpable sense of dread at the forefront of his thoughts, he showed Skye his recollections of Taran’s growing jealousy. He showed her each frown and scowl he had witnessed Taran make over her increasing closeness to Ciaran. Even though she could not understand the words, he showed her how Taran had caught his arm and demanded that he find out which man would be the future King.
Skye grew steadily more concerned over what awaited her outside. Clearly, she was going to have a confrontation with Taran, but she had no idea what to expect. How would they argue without being able to speak one another’s language?
Lastly, Drostan showed her how the other men had goaded and taunted Taran over the sounds coming from the cave, and how Taran had nearly charged in to put a stop to it. When he showed her his recollection of talking Taran down, Drostan also conveyed his internal confusion over his own intense desires to protect her.
In response, Skye smiled lightly. She shared a brief flash of her memory of Drostan giving her the bite.
Drostan gasped as he recoiled and took a startled step back. “Impossible!” he declared adamantly.
Skye arched a brow at his reaction.
“What is impossible?” Ciaran asked in confusion as he looked back and forth between them.
Skye kept her hands in place and nodded to Drostan that it was true. She gave him a reassuring smile and waited for him to return and allow her to continue.
With
a deep frown, Drostan cautiously stepped closer and brought his hands back to hers. The instant they reconnected Skye could sense his deep inner turmoil over the idea that he would ever bite someone – least of all an unwilling woman. The memory of his own making was still terribly fresh and painful for him. She thought it over for a moment and came up with a way to explain.
Drostan looked around in surprise as he suddenly found himself in a vivid vision of a forest. He was standing at a fork in a path with Skye beside him. She pointed down the left path and, in the vision, took his hand to guide him down it. After walking together for a moment, the wooded path faded, and the vision abruptly shifted.
She showed him that fateful night at the club, how she was fighting the fògaraich off. Instead of how things had actually transpired, she showed him a terrible alternative. The fògaraich swarmed and overwhelmed her in a feeding frenzy. Despite her efforts to fight them off, there were simply too many of them. One after another, they bit down and sank their fangs into her legs and arms and neck and back. With ten of the blood drinking abominations latched on and feeding from her at once, they lowered her to the floor. While the others held her in place and drained the life from her, an ancient slashed its wrist and poured its tainted blood into her mouth. She choked and gagged on it until she finally involuntarily swallowed.
There on the club’s floor, she died her mortal death. When her eyes opened again, they were obsidian and cruel beyond measure. She bared fangs and shrieked in fury as she was reborn as something far more terrible than a fògarach.
The vision rapidly shifted to innumerable scenes of bloody chaos. The fògaraich had been set loose upon the world like a plague. Mortals were fed upon right out in the open without fear of reprisal. Cities burned to the ground.
The vision shifted to Brandubh’s lair in his stone forest. Brandubh was seated upon his throne with a victorious smile on his bloodstained lips. He turned to look over at Skye admiringly where she was seated in the throne beside him – every bit the Wicked Queen. Skye was wearing a matching onyx crown and gown of black feathers. Her mouth was wet with fresh blood. The steps to the thrones were littered with bodies of faoil and mortals alike. At her feet were the broken bodies of Taran, Ciaran, Sorcha, and Faolan.
Goddess Rising Page 33
