Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  After a moment, she began to sense him. She could feel his life energy scattered and swirling in the world around her. She was surprised at first to also sense his energy inside of herself. Then it dawned on her: the abominations had drained him before she reclaimed their energy. A large portion of him had been there in the mix.

  She smiled and whispered, “I have him.”

  Taran sat forward, watching eagerly as Skye’s hands began to glow. Light passed from her healing hands into Ruarachan’s broken body, and there it immediately began mending his form.

  Skye scrunched up her face as she felt her way through the unfamiliar steps of regenerating his body. When she had revived Ciaran from the stake-incident, it had required very little effort by comparison. Something – or rather, some things – were making this exceedingly difficult. She struggled to identify the unknown variables, then realized part of it was that he was dry – so completely dry. Every step in this process was crying out for the blood he was lacking. She drew moisture from the air and earth, used it to aid his body in replenishing his lost blood. From there, things progressed quickly.

  Ruarachan had barely healed past the point of death before his eyes snapped opened in alarm. He snarled and looked around wildly as he bared teeth, ready to fight. His mind was trapped in his final memory.

  Skye pressed down on him firmly when he moved to sit up, using her power to hold him steady. She sent him a wordless sense of security, love, and immense gratitude.

  He gazed up at her in bewilderment at first, then tearful awe as it occurred to him what was happening and what had happened – what she was doing.

  Taran laughed through tears, gripping Ruarachan’s hand and drawing his attention. “Welcome back, brother,” he greeted.

  Ruarachan smiled at that and closed his eyes while his body continued mending.

  “I hear I’m alive because of you,” Skye told him softly as she finished her work. She leaned down, kissing his forehead and whispering, “Thank you for what you did. I’ll never forget it.”

  Ruarachan’s cheeks turned an endearing shade of crimson in reply. His eyes stayed firmly, determinedly shut. Skye chuckled and patted his cheek. She nodded to Taran that she was finished and watched as he helped Ruarachan to his feet.

  “He needs water,” she advised. “A lot of it. Any of the fallen who were drained will be just as thirsty.”

  “Bring him this way. There’s water in one of the trucks,” Elijah called and waved for Taran to follow him. He looked back at Skye and said, “We’ll bring a few cases over here by you. And Skye? Welcome home, little blue,” he said with a wink.

  Skye smiled and took a deep breath as she saw the line of faoil waiting, carrying dead brothers for revival. “I’m ready,” she advised, motioning for them to come forward.

  It took a couple of hours for her to get through the dead. She hit an unanticipated snare on a few. She had never met them before – and with no knowledge of them to draw upon, she struggled to find their life energy. Drostan aided her there. He shared his own memories of the fallen and, with his help, she managed to revive every last one.

  The fields were ablaze. The faoil were controlling the burn and ensuring the ground and cave were purified.

  Skye walked toward one of the SUVs with the familiar scent of smoke in in the air. She breathed it in and struggled with the memories attached to the aroma. It felt as if fire followed her through life, always heralding change.

  As she approached, Ailean opened the rear door of the SUV for her with a joyous smile on his handsome face. His eyes were glittering with unshed tears of relief and pride.

  “Ailean,” she greeted with a smile of her own.

  “Mah fierce warrior Queen,” he greeted, bowing his head in respect. “Glad tae hae ye back wi' us.”

  Skye clasped his arm in warm greeting as she sighed, “Glad to be back with you all, brother.”

  Ailean chuckled and nodded. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers for a few seconds, closing his eyes and thanking the spirits. Clearing his throat and trying to keep his emotions in check, he motioned for her to climb into the vehicle. She thanked him before getting in.

  The second she was inside her body went rigid. She frowned as she tried to identify the cause for her unease, only to realize in surprise that it was the SUV making her feel nervous. It was completely surreal, simply touching something so modern, looking around at its interior, smelling the harsh chemicals of its manufactured upholstery. It all seemed so terribly foreign to her. She felt as if she did not fit into this scenery. The claws and teeth of her armor dug into the seat as she settled in, undoubtedly punching several holes. She closed her eyes, listening to all the noise of the world. Getting reacquainted with modern times was going to take a little while, it seemed. She sympathized with her mate’s struggle in that moment. Although, in his case, he had several millennia to gradually get used to the changes she was grappling with.

  Taran carried Ciaran over and lowered his still-sleeping form in, propping him up in the seat beside Skye. After closing the door carefully, he walked quickly around to the other side and climbed in himself. The door was closed by one of their men as he took his place alongside Skye. He sighed in appreciation of their closeness and lifted her hand to his lips, pressing kisses there and inhaling her subtly changed scent. Countless questions swirled in his mind. He recognized so many scents on her – his own, strangely, but also a great many things he had not smelled in ages. Herbs and oils. Food seasoned in ways he had not tasted since he was barely more than a pup himself. His senses informed him of the only logical explanation: Skye had been in his past somehow. He did not understand how that was possible.

  “I need to meet with all of our clansmen,” she informed him wearily as she leaned into his touch.

  “All of them, my love?” Taran asked, studying her face and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “All of them,” Skye confirmed. “Every single one – from ancient to pup. I need to spend time with each of them. Get to know them personally. Establish my own memories of them. It is crucial. If Drostan hadn’t been here today, I wouldn’t have been able to revive several of our brothers.”

  Taran nodded. “I will have Ruarachan make the arrangements. We will rest at Faol Seunta for a few days, then you can begin daily meetings when we return to our den.”

  Skye nodded and leaned against him, sighing blissfully as he draped his arm around her and kissed her brow. “Mmm… I missed you,” she declared, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, breathing him in and feeling the familiar, dearly-missed sense of security he always provided.

  “Likewise, wee one,” he whispered. “I feared I’d nah get to hold ya like this ever again. Although… my senses tell me I was somehow holdin’ ya whilst ya were gone?”

  He quirked a brow and picked up his long-lost sword from the floor of the SUV. He studied the blade, noting the metal showed no evidence of aging since he could last recall seeing it. His eyes wandered to the torque around her neck for the first time, and his lips parted in wonder at the symbols he found there.

  “And this… this is Drostan’s work. How…?” he breathed.

  She laughed softly. “Long story short? I blasted myself back to a time when you still had tats and an ego at least 4 sizes too big.”

  “The cave,” Ciaran muttered from beside them, causing them to turn. His sleepy eyes opened, and he grinned. “Playin’ with ya in the woad. Blue finger streaks and handprints… I remembered bits of it when we first met. I’m remembering tha and so much more now.”

  Taran shook his head and frowned. “I can nah remember a thing.”

  Skye bit her bottom lip, wondering whether that was a good or bad thing. She had hoped to spare him the parts that would wound him… Perhaps she still could.

  “It may come back to you. We’ll see how it goes,” she offered noncommittally. “You might not remember it, but you should know that you were the one who train
ed me for battle. Gave me this sword. Helped me prepare to fight.”

  Taran frowned even more severely, feeling intense déjà vu, but nothing substantial enough to truly call a memory. Try as he might, the images were just out of reach. It was infuriating.

  Skye hated the disappointment and frustration on his face. She reached out and placed her hand over his where he gripped the hilt of the sword and gave him a few intimate memories to cling to: They were together in the field of flowers, training at sunset. He was walking up out of the river, nude and smiling up at her playfully. He was braiding her hair. She was kissing him goodbye before traveling home.

  Taran opened his eyes in disbelief. “We were together all tha time ago… why can I nah remember?”

  Ciaran’s eyes passed between the two carefully, sensing Skye’s hesitation. Ya hope to shield him from the bad bits, yeah? he asked.

  Without taking her eyes off of Taran, she replied, If I can, yes. It would only hurt him. There’s no reason to put him through it again. He had already learned his lesson by the time I left. You and I both know that he – the man he is today – would never hurt me under any circumstances. He’s just not that person anymore.

  And he never was again, Ciaran recalled warmly. Meeting ya – it changed him for the better. Forever. Made him kinder, more compassionate. Ya smoothed out all his rough edges, love.

  She smiled up at her mate and ran her fingers over his beard.

  Then he and I are even, she told Ciaran.

  “My timeline needed to remain intact, babe,” she explained to Taran. “Sorcha and I used our power to block everyone’s memories. But I don’t think you forgot me completely – at least, not in your heart. When we were together in the past, I showed you my history – everything I had been through. And you’ve been able to read me like an open book from the second you laid eyes on me. You’ve been everything I needed, every step of the way. In your heart, you already knew me, inside and out, the first time I showed up at your door.”

  Realization hit she recalled how he had been so terribly let down when their first (modern day) sexual encounter had not been sweet, loving, and gentle. No wonder it had saddened him so deeply. On some subconscious level, he had been determined to be better for her the next time they met – and then they finally did, and he banged her like a screen door in a hurricane in the backseat of his car. He had been so deeply disappointed in himself for giving in to the temptation of her being in heat. But, to his credit, the first opportunity he had after that, he spent hours exploring her body, making her feel impossibly adored and precious. She sighed blissfully at the memory.

  “Ya will have to fill me in on what all I am missing. I feel as though I must have been present the first time ya learned to split into three as ya did in battle.” He brought his hand idly up to his forehead, stroking the place she had touched during his punishment. “Gave my heart a jolt to see it. Ya must have given me quite a fright back then.”

  Skye winced at that and snuggled into his arms, glancing over at Ciaran guiltily. Ciaran managed to keep his expression unreadable, but he was chuckling through their link.

  Taran and Skye entered their room in the castle together – the place that had so recently been Taran’s private chambers. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, giving the room a warmth that felt like a fresh start.

  She walked to the end of the bed and ran her hand over the ornately carved frame, marveling that so many pivotal moments in her life had taken place on this massive mattress. Her Trinity had been forged on these sheets. She smiled fondly as she reminisced. Then she recalled the horrifying image of finding Taran’s lifeless body there… She closed her eyes at that memory, repressing it and choosing to relive the happy ones instead.

  Taran stepped up behind her, kissing her temple and hugging her tightly. His eyes passed over the bed as well, and suddenly he was very keen to be in it with her. “Let us get ya out of this armor, wee one,” he said softly behind her ear.

  “Yes – let’s!” Skye agreed eagerly, greatly looking forward to being free of it. She leaned her head to the side to get her hair out of his way. Taran chuckled at her enthusiasm and got to work unlacing the first of many sections.

  Her décolletage and arms were blessedly bare, aside from the paint, when several of their clansmen arrived at the door. She looked up to see who it was and caught Ruarachan’s shy glance among the rest. His cheeks darkened and he quickly averted his eyes. She smiled to herself. She still had no idea why he was so intimidated by her that he could never bear to look her in the eyes, but she was extremely thankful he was alive.

  She looked down at the carpet and frowned as something… new… happened. In rapidly rising disbelief, she realized that she could actually feel Ruarachan without seeking him out. She could hear his distant thoughts, like an echoed whisper from across the room. Her lips parted as she began to understand. Reviving him, touching his life energy and every molecule in his body with her light as she had, must have opened a link between them.

  She not only saved him; she claimed him with her power.

  What had her inner Goddess said so plainly of Brandubh? ‘He is not mine.’ Brandubh was crafted by Sorcha. Skye did not own him, just as she did not own Faolan. But she certainly owned Ruarachan now. She could see it. The light shining within him was no longer Sorcha’s – it was her own.

  She had just inadvertently discovered a means of discretely expanding her territory. The implications were staggering.

  She turned back to find Ruarachan staring at the bed with a haunted expression, and then she caught a flash of the vivid memory replaying in his mind. He was there when she found Taran’s body. In the room. Standing behind Ciaran. Watching her despair. Through his eyes, she could see herself cradling Taran as the room burned around them. She could see herself wailing and begging him to live. She could see Ciaran fighting to stand as his grief threatened to overwhelm him, see Eògan and another holding him upright. She watched as she screamed over and over until her Nasgadh completed, joining her to her Wolf for the first time.

  Her eyes widened as Ruarachan’s powerful emotions from that night washed over her. They were wholly unanticipated but undeniably genuine. She looked away from him quickly, closing their link as carefully as one would a door after stumbling upon something not meant for their eyes.

  She had no idea what to do with… all of that… but she was sure as hell not dealing with it today, she decided. She would shelve it for now and unpack it when she was mentally equipped for it.

  Ciaran entered with an oversized stick of half-wrapped beef jerky hanging out of his mouth. Being drained and recharged had left him half-starved, he swore. He tossed his bag onto a chair, took a generous bite off the jerky, then motioned with it for Ruarachan and the other men to leave Taran and Skye’s bags just inside the door. As soon as they had finished, Ciaran thanked them, ushered them out, and closed the door. He leaned back against it heavily, flinging his arms out across it as if to hold it closed.

  “SAFE!” he sighed in relief.

  Skye and Taran chuckled, both feeling exactly the same.

  There was so much to say and catch up on, so many questions to ask and answer, but they had time. For now, they wanted to enjoy the simple pleasure of being alone together, uninterrupted, sharing space with no threats in the area.

  Chewing as he walked, Ciaran headed for the bathroom. His voice echoed out a second later. “Ah, Christie – ya absolute saint of a woman! She’s drawn ya a hot bath, a stóirín.” He exited the bathroom with a knowing grin. “Ya shall have to thank her and Ruarachan for tha. He called ahead to let her know ya were coming. She must’ve rushed over here on her day off. Your giant, ginger friend there’ll be lookin’ out for ya even more than usual, now tha ya’ve gone and brought him back from the dead.”

  Skye arched a brow at that but said nothing.

  Ciaran hopped up onto the foot of the bed, watching delightedly as Taran continued removing sections of her armor.

&
nbsp; “Just gonna sit there, huh? Not gonna make yourself useful and help get me out of this stuff?” she teased.

  Ciaran scoffed. “And deny Taran the fun of unwrapping his all-time favorite present? I wouldn’t dream of it!” He tore off another bite of jerky and tucked it into his cheek for a moment to add, “Besides, I’m nah nearly as patient. I’d’ve started tearing it off by now. This way, ya get to save your armor as a souvenir, Taran gets his rightful honor of undressing ya, and I’ve a front row seat to the show.”

  Ciaran waggled his eyebrows, earning a laugh from Skye, then happily returned to chewing. He marveled over her appearance as more and more of her body came into view. The line of her neck. The curve of her hip. The way she gazed up at Taran so lovingly. She somehow seemed even more beautiful than ever to Ciaran in that moment. There was this incredible grace about her – a timelessness that was settling in with each impossible dilemma she solved, each struggle she overcame, and each ascension she made.

  He smiled to himself thinking, Taran’s ‘wee one’ is growing up right before our very eyes.

  He felt her energy through their link and noted that her soul was so much quieter than it had been before – peaceful and content. Perhaps it was largely due to the lack of torment from the Droch-draoidh, or her acceptance of the Goddess within her, but it also felt as if whatever she had been worrying over – whatever heavy secret had caused her such grief – was at last settled in her mind. He was glad for it, for the quiet joy in her.

  Skye felt his eyes on her and looked back, giving him a radiant smile. Ciaran melted in response, falling even harder for her.