by S A Archer
Only when he burst out onto the top of the tower, with its iron railing curtaining them in, did he finally lay eyes upon the luminescent beauty of his moon goddess. She spun about, her sapphire silk dress spilling around her like water over her feminine features. The music of her laughter recalled carefree summer nights.
Rhia backed against the railing, bending her elbows to clutch at the bar against her back.
Lugh gripped the bar at either side of her, trapping her within the barriers of his muscled arms. His momentum carried him forward. With the tilt of his head, his lips found hers. His body crushed against hers until her soft curves molded against his firm angles. The magic of his Touch shone forth with the brilliance and heat of the sun. It flooded from him and into her, with the expectation of the response that he’d grown accustomed to for thousands of years.
Yet nothing came. Just the hollow desire… unfulfilled.
Although their lips melded together with familiar passion… Although her tapered, graceful fingers framed his face, drawing him deeper into the kiss… Although he longed for her to the yearning depths of his soul…
Her magic didn’t respond to his call. Not even with the subtle temptation of the dark thread within his magic.
When he drew back and gazed into her midnight blue eyes, an emptiness reflected. His Rhiannon was trapped. Suppressed. Entangled by the dark magic brew concocted by Manannan to keep her from Fading.
And keep her loyalty fixated upon him.
“Soon,” he promised her. “When we are within the new realm, and you have connected to the source of pure fey magic, then…” he kissed her lightly, Touching her with hope and receiving nothing in response, “Then, we can be like before. As we were meant to be.” As they always had been, with her moon reflecting his light, and her magic responding to his Touch.
Making her his Rhia again.
As much as delivering Manannan to the power of the new realm, Lugh vowed this as well.
3 days after the creation of the new fey realm
Chapter Three
The tormenting ache twisting in his muscles awoke Kieran. Automatically, his hand reached out, seeking the feel of the person in the bed next to him. He forgot who it was but it didn’t matter, he just needed them. Needed the contact. His fingers brushed over soft flesh and the first sense of relief eased his panic. The groan that escaped him reflected his aching need. Why had they moved so far away across the mattress? He needed a smaller bed to make sure they had to stick close. Then maybe this wouldn’t have happen. The hurt within him yearned. The void cried out. The sleepy noise that he uttered was close to a whimper. He needed them that bad.
Rolling, Kieran crawled over her. For the soft body beneath him was a woman. More often than not, he invited women into his bed. But not always. The need didn’t care. The ache only knew the hunger.
Dawn rolled to her back beneath him. Her waking smile greeted him, and he kissed her.
The Touch spilled from his flesh automatically. She opened for him, naked and beautifully willing. Her arms greeted him as her thighs hooked over his hips. Kieran was already ready for her. Slipping into her brought an exhale of relief that flowed out of him with his Touch. He needed her. He needed this.
Her Touch responded to him, echoing his. Kieran moaned as the magic washed through his pain. How he needed this. How he needed her. Dawn understood, or should have. He had explained it to her as best he knew how and she was the healer. Why had she broken contact when he slept? It was always so much worse if he didn’t have contact when he was asleep. The void ate him from the inside. A black hole that could never be filled, only relieved temporarily.
Making love to her, even just a quickie, drove back the pain. Her touch, her sex, her giving mouth, all of her offered relief from the torment.
His skin hungered for the Touch. Only the sex and the magic washed away the panic and the ache.
Her orgasm was a soft, quiet one. An early morning release after a night of being spent. Kieran’s was stronger. The rush of pleasure painted over the hurt and anxiety, transforming the morning into something glorious and welcoming. The Touch tingled through him with such relief. He’d be alright now. He could face the day. He could breathe. Think.
Kieran laid over Dawn as he embraced her, his face nuzzling into her neck. She giggled and glided her fingers through his hair. Dawn had cared for him many times in the Glamour Club, and now again here in the new realm. He had needed her and she had responded. Two nights in a row now, she wouldn’t give him the third. Like all of his lovers she would require time away from him before coming back. It used to bother Kieran, but now he knew it was just the way of it.
“I need to get up now. I’m supposed to be helping the fairies move into the new grove.” Dawn said pleasantly, as she toyed with his hair.
Kieran raised to his elbows over her. “I know. I just needed a little more.” He kissed her mouth, lingering at the taste of her Touch magic, before releasing her and climbing out of bed. The shower, and the cleansing flow of hot water that would wash away the sweat and the scent of sex, called to him. He didn’t bother closing the bathroom door, or pulling the curtain all the way closed.
Dawn watched him as she leaned against the door frame all naked and lithe. She was a beautiful creature, much like the fairies that raised her, only with the beauty of the Sidhe. Even as young as she was, and they were both so young by fey standards, she possessed such strong healing magic. At one time Kieran had hoped that her magic might fix him. But it hadn’t. The longing persisted.
It always persisted.
“You could always go back to the Isle of Fey.” She considered him with those clear eyes of hers.
“I don’t want to leave him.” Kieran rinsed off the soap and then towel dried. “Isn’t there anything you can do for him?”
Dawn shook her head. “He’d rather not accept my help. Besides, it’s not his body that’s broken.”
Kieran didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t like to think about it. Besides, denial was one of his favorite tools. If it hadn’t been for denial he wouldn’t be able to make it through most days. As Kieran dressed in a soccer jersey and jeans, Dawn shimmied back into her clothes. The swishy white skirt only reached her mid thigh, and when she moved it hugged her bum beautifully. The shimmering top wasn’t cut too low, but it gave him a peek of her cleavage and made him smile. She was beautiful.
But although she gave herself to him when he needed her, there was always something distant about her. Kieran guessed that he should be happy with whatever she wanted to give him, even if the sex felt empty most of the time.
When she left he would have to find a lesser fey willing to share his bed. Someone he could Touch and hold. Someone to keep the emptiness at bay.
Kieran sat on the edge of the bed as he tied his trainers. From the corner of his eye he could see her staring at him even as she fluffed her hair so she didn’t quite have so much of the ‘just laid look’. “What?”
“Nothing.” She lied. Kieran hated when she did that. Obviously something had been on her mind. Likely, she just knew that he didn’t want to hear it. Which meant it was probably about Malcolm. In which case, she was right.
Kieran stood up and kissed Dawn on her cheek. “Good luck with the move. Catch up with you later then.” By which he meant he didn’t know when they’d see each other again.
Without the Glamour Club, and without Donovan, the Unseelie had scattered. Gone were the days when he could just walk down the hallway and knock on the door to any flat and find a Sidhe within. That did nothing to soothe his tension.
But for right now, he felt good. Dawn had scratched his itch and he felt glorious. His happy smile was infectious, and reflected from every face he saw.
They had offered him a cottage that overlooked the village, but Kieran h
adn’t wanted it. Some place big and isolated would never work for him. The flat over the tavern had been perfect. All he needed to do was jogged down the steps and be in the center of the action. It wasn’t as modern as the Glamour Club had been, but it bustled with fey of every race. As his long strides carried him between the customers he caught the eye of Jenna. Her smile sparkled for him, open and friendly. Kieran gave her a wink. She may well be his companion for tonight. It was good to have several possibilities waiting. Nothing was worse than heading to bed alone. He’d rather stay up all night than suffer that torment.
Kieran bumped up against the bar, leaning against it to glance down at the back side of the Brownie that bent over something on the other side. “Megan…”
The Brownie woman turned and stood at the same time. She handed off the bag as if she’d been expecting him. “It’s all right there for you, Kieran. Been waiting for you.”
“You are a jewel.” Kieran bent down and kissed her cheek. His Touch was always close to the surface and could flow with the slightest of efforts. The magic passed from his face into her cheek with a pleasurable vibration, earning him at pleased chuckle and a swat on the shoulder. He knew that Megan would do anything for him, for any of the Sidhe, even without the reward of the Touch. But the Touch made her happy, and the echo of it returned to him in equal measure.
He slung the bag over his shoulder and strode out of the tavern. Outside, on the busy brand-new streets of the bustling brand-new town, the activity never seemed to stop. Kieran loved everything about it. The artistry of the village architecture. The new vines and flowers that brought life in bright colors to everything. The voices and the music that swirled around him. The smell of the cooking and fresh-cut wood. It amazed him more every day.
Breaking into a jog, mostly because his body felt that good and moving it felt even better, Kieran headed out of the town and over the hill down into the crater where the portal back to earth swirled inside its brand-new stone framework. The dwarves had crafted the most beautiful swirling and geometric patterns mixed with knotwork into the stones. It looked ancient and sturdy even though it was no more than two days old.
Kieran passed the portal, dodging the early morning trickle of fey immigrants. He smiled and nodded at all the happy faces. Everyone was so excited, and with good reason. The realm that they had hoped for was here now, and so much more than he ever could’ve expected it to be.
A dark-haired beauty caught his notice, and Kieran immediately recognized her as Sidhe. One he’d never met before. As he passed, he turned, keeping his gaze fixed on her even as she watched him pass. The exiles were returning to the realm. Donovan would have been pleased. But better yet, the pool of potential Sidhe lovers was expanding.
The brunette lifted a child of maybe three up to rest on her hip, and Kieran quirked a smile at the little one. He didn’t have any children of his own. Although he knew a few were on their way. But the mothers were all lesser fey, and he’d never know the children. They would just be welcomed silently into their race as gifts which would increase the magic of their gene pool. It was a fair trade, for the evenings of companionship those fey women had given him, staving off the emptiness.
As Kieran crested the hill at the far side of the crater, he spotted the lone Sidhe who hadn’t broken a smile since they had arrived.
Malcolm had a feather which he swept over the face of his skinny little cat. The gray fuzzball flopped onto its back to grab and bite it, only to lose it as Malcolm slipped it away and then bopped him in the nose with it again. Even playing with the animal hadn’t eased Malcolm’s gloom.
Kieran couldn’t help but wonder if Malcolm was ever going to accept the loss of Donovan, or if it would break him.
Chapter Four
From the corner of his eye Malcolm caught Kieran approaching. He didn’t look up, just continued to tease Tom Cat with a feather. If he didn’t occupy the cat it took to attacking his feet or his twitching fingers. Only when Kieran caught the feline’s attention did it abandon the feather game and bound towards the one who fed it.
Malcolm dropped the feather and folded his hands back in his lap. He’d sat there cross-legged on the ground so much over the past three days that the grass was smooshed down beneath him.
In typical Kieran fashion, the bloke started chitchatting as if nothing was really wrong. “Smells like chicken for you today, Thomas O’ Kitty.” He set out a small bowl of shredded chicken, broth, and cheese, and then filled the water bowl from a bottle. Once the cat was purring and eating at the same time, a trick that Malcolm couldn’t figure out, Kieran pulled out two pastries. He handed one to Malcolm and then sat down beside him with one of his own. He set a thermos of tea between them and they would share that. “I’ve got a change of clothes for you in there, too. Are you sure you don’t want to come back to my place to take a shower?”
“I want to be here when he gets back.” Which Kieran should know because Malcolm had told him that six times a day.
Kieran hesitated, and Malcolm knew what he was thinking. It was the thing that neither of them had talked about. And the longer they didn’t talk about it the bigger it seemed to get until the air between them was so heavy that neither of them spoke at all for a while.
Instead, he pulled out the fresh and folded clothes.
Standing up, he lifted his chin toward the other way. “Turn around.”
“Malcolm, I’ve seen you naked.” Kieran dismissed it.
It hadn’t been because Malcolm had meant for him to. That had been on accident, on the first day he was in the Glamour Club, and the funnel of Kieran’s sound magic had scared the bejesus out of him, making him jump out of the bathroom right out of the shower. And even still, Malcolm had been facing Kieran for the most part, so he didn’t get a good chance to see Malcolm’s back.
“Turn around and quit being a perv.” Malcolm kicked off his trainers.
Kieran dutifully scooted his bum around so his back was to Malcolm.
Switching out the bottoms first, just in case Kie got a notion to peek, Malcolm tossed the dusty old clothes in a pile, and jerked on the stiff, new ones. These were brand new, without the comfort of wear to soften them. Then he pulled the long sleeved t-shirt off, careful to keep it from catching on his leather wristbands, and laid it aside. It was then that he noticed the sleeveless muscle shirt. It would barely hide the scars across his shoulders, and not do anything to hide the ones on his upper arms. At least they would cover the ones on his back, though, so he jerked it on.
Then Malcolm knelt down and rummaged through the bag, tossing aside the fresh socks in his search. He couldn’t believe that the Brownies would have given him a shirt like this. They should know better. He’d told them, he wouldn’t go sleeveless. But then he jerked out the short sleeved button up shirt with light blue and white crisscrossing lines. Malcolm pulled it on over the muscle shirt and left it hanging open, unbuttoned. It covered to his elbows, and that was enough. It was too hot to button it up though.
He flopped back down. “Ok, you can turn around,” he said, as he changed socks.
Kieran swung back around, dragged his gaze over Malcolm in an appraising way, and then nodded his approval. “Kind of geek-sexy.”
“Shut it.” Malcolm switched fingers with his silver ring. The pink mark it left itched bad. He dug into Kieran’s backpack and found some of the cream that the Brownie had made for him. It soothed the burn. Of course, now the other finger would begin to itch and burn. Stupid silver. He really, really hated silver. And he hated that that was the only thing that helped.
“You can’t keep hurting yourself like that.” Kieran said.
“It’s just until Donovan gets back.”
Again with the silence. Only this time Kieran started fidgeting.
Here it comes, Malcolm thought.
“What if he
never comes back?”
“He’s coming back.”
“It’s been three days. Malcolm, can’t you wait for him in the town?”
“I’m waiting for him here. I’m going to be right here when he gets back.”
Kieran murmured, as if that might soften the blow. “What if he’s never coming back?”
“He’s coming back. He’s just getting adjusted.” That had to be it. Every thread of Donovan’s body had been pulled apart. That had to hurt. But he had been alive. Malcolm had seen him, had touched him. Donovan might’ve disappeared like a ghost, but he wasn’t dead.
“But what if he doesn’t. How long can you sit here waiting for him?” Kieran scratched Tom Cat behind the ear like he was just discussing nothing. Like what he said wasn’t a betrayal. Like he hadn’t just gutted Malcolm with his words.
Malcolm stood up, growling with his frustration. “He wouldn’t just leave us. Don’t you even say that.”
“Maybe he didn’t have a choice.” And Malcolm knew what Kieran meant. He thought that Donovan was dead and Malcolm just couldn’t handle it.
But that wasn’t what happened. Donovan said he was the realm. He had been right here. Everyone had seen him. Kieran had seen him.
“Malcolm, I’m just saying what if—”
“Shut up!” Malcolm snapped. “Just shut up!”
It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.
