Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  Skye leaned closer to get a look up at his tense features. “You can trust me, Taran. What happened back there?”

  He sat up straighter and shifted restlessly. He was fighting off the desire to put up his defenses. He considered shutting her out. Making some teasing, terse, or dismissive comment. Had this been a week prior – or even just before receiving her punishments, he supposed he would have gone that route. But he could recall from her memories the way the two of them were in her time. The openness and honesty they shared. He decided, for whatever reason, to get a taste of it now.

  “I… am afraid,” Taran managed to confess in barely more than a whisper. He shook his head and gave a humorless laugh. He had not spoken those words aloud since he was a child.

  Skye did not reply. Taking a cue from Taran’s future-self and the way he always dealt with her in these situations, she held her tongue. She hoped the silence would encourage him to go on.

  “What if you die?” he finally asked brokenly.

  Putting to words the question thundering through his mind made his eyes instantly wet with unshed tears. He gave her a look of such intense heartache, Skye reflexively moved closer and rested her hand atop his. He shifted his jaw from side to side, swallowing hard to try and force down the lump forming in his throat.

  “What if… I let you leave here… and you go back to face this battle alone and… you die before you ever reach me? What then? What if these final days – here in this time together – are the last you and I will ever share? What if that… back in the cave that first day… was the last time in your life that you and I ever…?” He trailed off and winced recalling his careless actions the first time he had taken her. The callous ways he had touched and treated her before he knew better. Before he understood all the torment she had endured and how truly precious she would one day be to him.

  Gods, she is my wife and I treated her as nothing. Just a warm body to use as I saw fit… he thought remorsefully. He shook his head.

  “I know that when I am older, we will meet and fall in love… but if you die, our time together ends when you are dragged from my grasp in that field. The loop of our destinies irrevocably halts there.”

  A tear slipped from his eyes, falling heavily and vanishing into the soaked fabric of his pants. He inhaled deeply as Skye’s grip on his hand tightened in support. He turned his hand over and accepted the gesture of comfort, entwining their fingers and using the image of their joined hands as a focal point.

  “And then I lose you,” he whispered sorrowfully. “All that you have shown me. Our future and all that we might share in our lives together will be lost. I am just… so afraid of making a mistake here. Of sending you back before you are prepared. Afraid that I am missing some way I can prevent it. Some tactic I could train you on more thoroughly. Some way I might… keep you safe… here… with me. Now. Destiny and magic and reason and all the rest of it be damned.”

  Skye considered his words for a moment, struggling to find anything she might say to comfort him. Before she could speak, Taran knelt in front of her, taking both of her hands in his and meeting her eyes directly. He threw caution to the wind and decided to trust their future bond. She was to be his wife, his confidant. One day, he would trust her with his heart completely. He may as well do so now. He could no longer keep the request from escaping his lips. The one that had been roaring in his mind, then burning the back of his throat, was now forming into a single, coherent, desperate word.

  “Stay?” he pleaded quietly, painfully aware of how pitiful he must sound.

  Skye’s eyes widened. She was completely caught off guard. She had expected this from Ciaran – not Taran. Her brows drew together as she took in the unexpected fragility and pain he was displaying. Her heart ached for him.

  Somehow, Taran managed to brave his open weakness and hold her gaze imploringly. “I know,” he whispered with a shake of his head. “I know it is too much to ask. And I know I have no right to make such a request of you, but… For a year, a month, a week, anything. If only for a little longer… stay? You can still return to the day you left your time, no one there would be the wiser. You will not have aged a day. Just… please…” His grip on her hands tightened as he choked out, “You are not even mine yet, and I am not ready to face the possibility of losing you forever.”

  Skye did not know what to say. She had to leave. She could not stay here… could she? For a little while, at least? She bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. Taran had raised some valid points and concerns, she conceded. There was a very real chance that she would spell herself forward four millennia into the future, only to end up dying within 20 minutes of arrival. It was entirely possible that these were her final days with – not only Taran – but Ciaran, as well. With Faolan and the rest of her clan. And she was being presented with a wholly unique opportunity here – the chance to prolong her hours with her loved ones before facing death head-on.

  “I…” she began, taking a steadying breath. She cleared her throat and smiled tearfully. “Perhaps… you are right. I should wait until at least the next full moon. It would not hurt to have another month of training before I charge off into battle alone.”

  Taran’s entire body visibly relaxed as he exhaled in relief. He gazed up at her appreciatively for a long moment. Skye smiled down at him warmly in the easy silence. Without thought, she brought her hands to him, using one to cup his bearded cheek as she ran the other through his long, wet hair. Touching him was such a reflexive action on her part that she did not consider the impact it would have on him.

  Taran’s eyes rolled closed. His lips parted, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping him as he leaned into her touch. Seeing his intense response, Skye instantly realized her mistake. This was his first time receiving such tender contact from her. She considered recoiling and apologizing for overstepping the shaky, unclear boundary between them… but had she not just reminded him a few moments prior that they were husband and wife? Was there even anything to apologize for here? They were responding to one another. It was to be expected. The sight of him shirtless with muscles flexing aroused her. Big surprise. The sight of him distressed and kneeling before her, begging brokenly, evoked an undeniable need to touch and comfort him. No shocker there, either. And, just as unsurprisingly, the feeling of her soft hands on him, touching him in such a gentle manner, was causing his entire body to thrum with yearning.

  Skye allowed her instincts to guide her and leaned down slowly to press a tender kiss to his forehead. She fondly recalled her future King’s response to this. He would say she was ‘crowning’ him. (He would also eagerly respond by bringing his hot mouth to her breast and his large, strong hands up to caress the curves of her body.)

  The younger version of Taran’s brows drew together as he ached with longing to do precisely those things. His mouth drew tightly closed. His hands clenched and relaxed at his sides, wishing more than anything to touch her, but he refused to give in.

  “We should not…” he managed in a strained whisper. If she truly wanted him, he knew full well that he would be incapable of refusing her. He wanted her too badly to consider putting up much resistance, but the fact remained that he did not feel worthy of bedding her. He had such a long way to go.

  Luckily for his tenuous restraint, Skye was not up for sex with him yet, either. She was, however, warming to the idea of physical affection. Her gentle kiss turned to a smile against his brow as she teased in a whisper, “I know. ‘Still too young to ride’, my leggy colt.”

  Taran chuckled and looked up at her adoringly as she backed away.

  “But I can still care for you and connect with you,” she stated resolutely. “Will you sleep with me tonight? Just sleep.”

  Taran’s brutally handsome features tensed as he considered the pleasure of what she was suggesting, and then the logistics of it. “Just sleep… with you… and Ciaran?” he asked with a wince.

  Skye laughed and offered, “I sleep in the center, if that is any consolation.�
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  Taran grunted at that as he considered it. Finally deciding not to allow his reluctance to rob him of the experience of sleeping beside her while he still had the option, he nodded.

  They made their way through the forest, returning to the clan’s village long past dinner for the first time. The sun had already set. The darkness was only held back in random places by torches and firepits. Faolan greeted them at the perimeter and spoke quietly with Skye. He bid her a good night before casting Taran a look that was somehow simultaneously fond and threatening. Faolan may otherwise approve of their union, and he may have taken Skye’s word that Taran’s offenses had been satisfactorily punished. Neither of those facts would prevent Faolan from harboring a bit of a grudge for as long as his memory remained intact.

  When they entered Skye’s shelter, Ciaran was waiting as he always did for Skye’s return. Taran watched as his brother cast a curious look back and forth between them – as if gauging the implications of Taran’s presence tonight. Skye and Ciaran met one another’s gaze for a moment. The pair did not utter a word, but just like that, Ciaran’s features relaxed. He greeted Taran warmly and offered him something to eat and drink.

  Taran fought back the sensation that he was entering another man’s home. Skye and Ciaran were well established in this place. They had a nightly routine. They had slept here together for the past month. More than slept, as was inescapably clear to Taran’s sense of smell. It was difficult not to give in to the pangs of jealousy he felt – the way his heart twisted, and his lingering ego stung. Skye’s horrific shared memories were there in the back of his mind, however, serving as reminders that she was long overdue happiness in her life. He could not fault her.

  Taran’s tension gradually eased as they all sat and ate together. Conversation was light, and laughter came easily. It kept coming back to the fact that the other man in this situation was Ciaran. Not some stranger. Not any other of his clansmen. This was his most beloved brother. He felt ashamed anew at his past behavior. He seemed to be the only one struggling with the idea of a Trinity between them.

  When the time came to settle down for the night, Taran was rigid with tension. He did his best to mask it as he laid down. He also did his best to ignore the amused smile Ciaran was unsuccessfully attempting to suppress from the other side of the bed. When Taran finally gave in and cast a scowl in Ciaran’s direction, it felt forced, even to him.

  “You convinced her to stay longer,” Ciaran stated knowingly.

  Taran frowned. He knew Skye had not spoken to him about this since their arrival.

  “Thank you,” Ciaran said sincerely before admitting, “I was not ready for her to leave yet, either.”

  Any response Taran could have come up with was forgotten when Skye slid into the bed between them and pressed herself back against him. He watched in awe as she looked over her shoulder at him encouragingly. She guided him to place his arm around her middle, urging him to hold her close, and it was… just perfect. He let out an involuntary moan of contentment and melted into her, wrapping his body around her like a second skin. It felt as if he had been made to hold her in such a way. He nuzzled her hair and the side of her neck, reveling in her scent. Skye gave a blissful sigh in response and pressed herself even further back into his embrace.

  His entire body buzzed pleasantly with the sensation of having her against him. It went far beyond the intense sexual desire that was most definitely present. Holding her made his heart swell with pride. This wondrous warrior woman would be his wife. His Queen. While she was here in his arms, he could stand between her and danger. He could lay down his life before any harm could come to her. It granted him such a sense of intense peace, he was instantly yawning. Parts of his mind that had been in a frenzy since her arrival were suddenly silent. He was surprised to realize that he was completely exhausted.

  He could feel that Ciaran was shifting in front of Skye, moving closer and settling into position facing her. Taran opened his eyes just enough to discretely observe the sleeping arrangement that would be his nightly routine someday. Taran’s head was slightly higher than Skye’s, with his mouth at the level of her ear. Ciaran’s head was precisely at Skye’s level – no higher or lower. Ciaran and Skye were face to face, their hands entwined between them and – from the looks of it – Skye was clutching Ciaran’s pendant. The trio’s position was a visual representation of Ciaran’s status as Skye’s equal, and an open acknowledgement by both that Taran – as Skye’s mate and King – came above Ciaran.

  Despite his initial apprehension, Taran now marveled at the rightness of it all. He had originally seen Ciaran as a threat or competitor for Skye’s affections. It felt very different from this new, intimate perspective. Instead of a rival, he saw Ciaran in that moment for precisely what he would prove to be in this Trinity: a powerful ally. Another formidable layer of protection. As Taran guarded over Skye from behind, Ciaran protected her front.

  Taran could feel the way Skye’s body rapidly relaxed between them – the way her breathing evened out and heart rate slowed. He smiled when he noted the room around them was awash in barely perceptible white light. His future Queen was so blissful in that moment, the very world around her was glowing.

  His brow furrowed at the thought of losing this connection – this bond that would grow immeasurably deeper with time. It stole his breath to even consider it. He held her a bit tighter. He simply could not lose her. She could not die in the battle that awaited her. He would not allow it. If they had to practice every waking moment until she left, so be it.

  As his eyes drifted closed, he muttered drowsily behind her ear, “We shall train twice as hard moving forward.”

  Skye and Ciaran opened their eyes just long enough to exchange knowing smiles.

  36: Letting Go

  The others took the news of her imminent departure only slightly better than Taran. Faolan possibly took it even worse.

  “What is preventing you from simply remaining here with us in Faol Seunta until the time of your mortal birth?” Faolan asked. “Or longer still, until the time you first come to the forest in the future? We could keep you safe and hidden. You could live here, happy and safe, for ages before ever having to face the possibility of death.”

  Skye opened her mouth to reply, but it hung open uselessly when she stopped to consider his suggestion. Holy shit, was that the real reason the forest had been so sacred to the clan? Why no one was permitted to enter without receiving express permission? Had she really been hiding in here all the while? When she had first arrived at the castle, the first time she met Taran on the eve of her first transformation, had she also been here in the forest watching her own arrival? A chill ran through her at the thought.

  Taran and Ciaran each looked over at her slowly, holding their breath and waiting to see whether she would agree to it.

  In the end, though, Skye decided that it simply did not feel right. Her gut told her this was not her path. Besides, what was she supposed to do? Wait here in the forest, twiddling her thumbs for 4,000 years while Taran and Ciaran lived their own lives out there in the world? She knew they had not stayed in Faol Seunta. They had lived rich, full lives in her absence. They had loved and lost, made friends and experienced all kinds of pleasures (Ciaran mastered almost every type there was to be had). They had each learned and done innumerable things that shaped them into the men she loved. She could not rob them of all that they were meant to enjoy.

  Breaking the tense silence, Sorcha spoke up first. “This is not her time, Faolan. I know it hurts, my love, but she does not yet belong here.”

  Skye looked to the Moon Goddess and gave her an appreciative smile. She tried not to wonder too much about Sorcha’s possible ulterior motives for wanting her gone.

  Faolan looked to Skye mournfully. He wrapped her in his massive arms and rested his cheek on top of her head, as if he could somehow hold her tightly enough to prevent the inevitable.

  “I am sorry, father,” Skye whispered into his emb
race. “I cannot stay.”

  Taran and Ciaran exchanged disappointed looks before casting their eyes downward. The hope had been nice while it lasted.

  After a while, Faolan released her from his arms, but he was not ready to let go entirely. He settled for holding her hand. “When will you leave? How long do we have with you?” he asked hoarsely.

  “A month. I will leave here the first night of the next full moon. Taran and Ciaran will escort me back to the cave where I arrived, and I will travel home from there.”

  Faolan frowned. “So soon?” he pouted before managing a weak smile.

  Skye squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. “Well, it would have been sooner. I planned to leave in a couple of days – Taran talked me into staying longer.”

  Faolan arched a brow and cast an appraising look at her future mate. Taran stood up straighter under the Maker’s direct scrutiny. After a moment, Faolan let out a low, ‘hmm…’ and looked back to Skye. Taran let out the breath he had been holding.

  Faolan looked to Sorcha. “Have the two of you finished with your nightly practice and discussions?”

  Sorcha smiled knowingly. “We have, love.”

  Faolan grinned and turned back to Skye. “In that case, you will spend your nights humoring this old wolf for the remainder of your stay, my girl. In your waking hours, whenever you are not training with Taran, I would ask that you spend your time with me. I wish to soak up every available moment before we must part ways.”

  “Gladly,” Skye assured with a warm smile.

  Faolan beamed down at her, then brought her hand up and kissed the back of it. “Our clan shall feast in your honor every night leading up to your departure.” He looked over to Latharn and nodded purposefully. “See that it is done.”

  Latharn smiled and bowed his head. “It would be my honor.”

  The month passed far more quickly than any of them would have liked. Skye drank in every passing second, fearing she might soon need to look back on them for comfort while dying in battle.