Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  Ciaran huffed at that and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

  Taran sighed as he studied his posture and features. His brother was tensed up in a way that he had not seen since the beginning. This was weighing heavily on him, causing him great anxiety to discuss, and Taran knew precisely why that was.

  “Come here,” he finally urged quietly, motioning for Ciaran to move closer.

  “Why? So ya can break me arm?” Ciaran snapped defensively. “I’ve already told ya everything. Me bones will be staying over here, in one piece, and well outta your reach, thank ya very much.”

  Taran said nothing in response. He merely held his tongue and waited patiently for Ciaran to do as he was asked.

  Muttering under his breath the entire way, Ciaran finally crossed the hallway and stood in front of him. “What can ya tell me now tha ya could nah tell me while I was 3 meters away?” He griped.

  With an understanding look on his face, Taran rested his hands on Ciaran’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “If what we’re all thinking is true,” he began in barely more than a whisper. “Then ya know very well tha great danger lies ahead for every member of this clan – but especially for Skye. Her very existence is enough to invoke the other one’s wrath.”

  Ciaran shifted beneath Taran’s hands. Despite his efforts to conceal it, his features twisted angrily at the truth of those words. Taran nodded in approval, he had been counting on such a response. But unbeknownst to him, something far beyond rage was stirring inside of Ciaran at the mere mention of Skye being in danger. An innate need to protect her was awakening in his blood. Without thought or hesitation, an unknown part of him began desperately searching his surroundings for her location. When he realized what he was doing, however, he scoffed at the absurdity of it in his mind. No matter how strong his faol senses had become over the passing millennia, Skye was entirely too far away by now for him to be...

  His eyes rolled closed as it hit him unexpectedly.

  She was on the lower level, to the east of him.

  He could reach her in less than a minute if given cause.

  Her unwanted guards were following at a distance.

  She was well aware of their presence.

  She was still angry, but otherwise fine.

  Her heart was beating steadily in her chest.

  Ciaran flinched and opened his eyes, focusing on Taran’s chest in surprise as he regained his senses. It felt as if he was being poured back into his own body again after a brief stay inside of Skye’s. His shock had apparently severed whatever link he had just accidentally stumbled upon. Though he was unsure of how he acquired the knowledge of her whereabouts and condition, he was absolutely certain of its validity. A quick, nervous glance up at Taran’s face confirmed that his brother was completely unaware of what he had just experienced. In the span of a few seconds and with a thought alone, he had been able to feel what Skye felt, to sense what she sensed, and even as he stood there, face to face with Taran, he had not given the slightest outward indication of the endeavor. He frowned deeply to himself at that, recalling the sensation as Taran continued speaking to him.

  “Now, as much as she denies the possibility tha she might ever need our protection, she does nah know the facts to the contrary. While we have no choice but to keep our silence until after the Gathering, it does nah mean we must be blind to what we are being shown. Ya are hearing whispers – from a woman – whilst here, of all places – tha are telling ya to join with Skye in a Trinity. Skye’s wolf is speaking far before her time of a bond between ya, of a role ya are to play by her side in battles ahead. Do ya nah think it would be hopelessly foolish of us to dismiss these things?” Taran asked in a calm, patient tone.

  Ciaran averted his eyes, not wanting to give the obvious answer. Unfortunately, as always, Taran had a point. This was hardly a wise time to start burying his head in the sand when something came along that he did not want to see. His thoughts took on a brooding, sarcastic tone as he considered everything.

  A ‘bond’, she said. A ‘connection’ between us, she said, he recalled glumly. Well, it’s certainly difficult to deny that now!

  “And with what’s likely to come, we can nah ignore the fact tha much strength would be gained by forming a Trinity,” Taran added slowly, knowing full well the effect those words were going to have.

  As predicted, Ciaran instantly abandoned his ponderings to look up at him with a thoroughly troubled expression. He could not believe what he was hearing.

  “We are nah having this discussion!” Ciaran insisted.

  “Aye, we most certainly are,” Taran declared calmly, but with irrefutable authority. “Regardless of the atrocities which have arisen from such a bond in the past, all Trinities are nah doomed to end in disaster,” he assured warmly. “Besides, if this is the way it was fated to be, I am grateful tha it is to be you. Ya know full well tha I trust ya as I do no other.”

  “But... !” Ciaran began to argue.

  “No ‘but’,” Taran insisted as he shook his head and held up an imploring hand. “Go with your gut on this, with your heart and your instincts. I know why this situation causes ya such grief. Ya are fiercely loyal by your very nature. Ya ever have been to me above all others, as have I, to you. It’s one of the reasons why I choose to tolerate your persistent harassment,” he teased, watching expectantly for the smile that tugged at the corner of Ciaran’s mouth in response. He sighed in relief at the sight and gripped the side of Ciaran’s face affectionately. “I am asking ya nah to worry tha ya are overstepping any lines here, brother,” he said softly. “Skye is my mate, true enough. But the heart can love in many ways. And if one were to be given consent for such a thing...” he began, giving Ciaran a purposeful look as he put extra emphasis on the word. “... then the body would be permitted to know many forms of pleasure, as well.”

  Ciaran’s brow did another startled-cat impression, arching high in surprise that Taran had included a consent clause in his bond to Skye right from the get-go. That sort of arrangement only went into effect after a faol spent a few decades mated to a mortal woman – as rare an occurrence as that was. The woman’s short life would be counting down and, in instances of true love, faoil were known to permit others to lay with their mate. It was an act of trust, only used when a faol was certain his woman would not betray his heart’s love. It was also a means of distracting from their fear of her imminent death. Once they reached the point where they could see her end on the distant horizon, faoil often reached the same decision:

  Let her know pleasure. Let her experience new types of love. Let her know the warmth and joy of many lovers’ embraces. Let her enjoy this life to the fullest before time steals it away from her.

  There were rules, of course. Only those deemed worthy and given express consent were ever permitted to bed another faol’s mate. The time and place was established in advance, as well as the period during which the permission would be granted. It was solely at the discretion of the faol mate whether it would be a single occurrence, or if the other man would be an accepted lover for his woman from that point forward.

  Ciaran had not even thought about it, but taking it into consideration now, he realized that it was the only logical way for Taran and Skye’s mating to withstand the test of time. Given the fact that she was immortal and still but a pup, as well as the fact that Taran was not the type to do anything without taking the feelings of others into account in advance, Ciaran was surprised that he had not realized this would come into play.

  Taran’s hand on the side of his face, guiding him to meet his gaze once more, brought him back from his thoughts.

  “Do nah avoid her, as I know ya were intending to do from here on out,” Taran instructed.

  Ciaran rolled his eyes in response and smiled that Taran knew him too well. He had, in fact, been planning to stay on the opposite end of the castle from Skye for the remainder of his stay. After the Gathering, he would have been on the opposite end of the world
.

  “Go to her as ya would any other new member of the clan. See what comes next, what this whispering woman tells ya. We need every advantage tha we can get in the coming battles,” Taran offered. “Besides, it is obvious tha Skye is receiving messages where ya are concerned, as well. D’ya think it coincidence tha the first time I’ve seen her experience the taibhsearachd was within but moments of her laying eyes upon ya for the first time?” He asked incredulously.

  “I guess nah,” Ciaran conceded reluctantly.

  “Oh, ya ‘guess nah’?” Taran teased, ruffling Ciaran’s hair until he smiled up at him and laughed.

  With that sound, all was right with the world again. Now that he had managed to put his brother’s concerns to rest, he was seeing again the lighthearted man that he had so dearly missed.

  “Nah, it is more than coincidence and we both know it,” Taran went on with a chuckle. “Perhaps ya were meant to be her friend, perhaps something more. Why nah let tha be decided by fate?”

  “Ah well, I s’pose it’s possible she’ll want to keep me. Especially with me devilishly good looks and all tha,” Ciaran said with a wide grin.

  Taran groaned and rolled his eyes. “I get a hold of ya and I’ll be sure to take care of tha problem,” he joked, rushing his brother and growling in feigned frustration when he ducked under his arm and took off down the hall.

  “Gotta catch me first, ya big bastard!” Ciaran called, walking backward and goading him to chase him. “Come on, ya need the exercise... or did she already steal all your leg strength?” He asked, sniffing the air. He grinned as Taran raised a bicep to his nose for an inspection. “Tha’s right, you’re thick with the scent of a sweaty and...” Ciaran closed his eyes, inhaling the intoxicating scent of Skye’s arousal. “Apparently extremely well received romp.” He gave Taran an impressed smirk and applauded. “Bravo to our very own lycanthropic Lothario! Good on ya, brother! Glad you’re finally getting some.”

  Taran shook his head. “I see you’re still using the mortals’ slang for our kind. I thought ya were warned aboot tha.”

  Ciaran waved off the concern with disinterest. “I’ve been warned nah to do a great many things, me brother. I follow the ones tha matter.”

  “The ones tha matter in your eyes, at least,” Taran teased. “And to ease your worry aboot my ‘getting some’, I’ll be getting more just as soon as I introduce her to the rest of the clan.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we’ve this chance to talk beforehand. I’m sorry to say, but I’m nah so sure ya’ve been doin’ it right,” Ciaran said, tapping a finger to his chin thoughtfully as if considering it. “She did seem awful testy after, don’t ya think? Should have been glowing, lying in bed trying to recover her powers of speech and the like. Instead, she was out here, just as tough as nails.” He stopped, giving Taran a mortified look. “Oh, God. Ya did nah bore the girl with talk of honor and duty and such during the act, did ya?” He asked. “How many times must I tell ya about tha, brother? Nobility’s got no place in the bedroom.”

  “Tha settles it, I’m going to have to kill ya,” Taran said with a sigh of feigned defeat before taking off after him.

  Ciaran grinned triumphantly. “Well it’s about damned time!” He called, waiting until the last possible second before his brother reached him to turn and race down the hall.

  26: Rise and Shine

  So far, the morning had not been going well for Miko.

  He had woken at sunrise to the sound of somewhere in the area of 30 faoil standing in the hall outside his door, laughing raucously and chattering away in Gaelic. No matter how many pillows he had used to cover his head, he could not block them out. Wandering down to the kitchen, he was not only horrified to discover that these goliaths had drained nearly every blessed ounce of coffee that he had brought along for the trip, but he also ran into Taran.

  That, of course, led to the dreaded ‘I’m really sorry that I shot you while you were getting a piece of ass, please don’t kill me’ discussion. Thankfully, he had not sustained any physical injury during their uncomfortable little chit-chat. He did, however, come to the conclusion that Tar was entirely too fond of making him wonder whether a beating was coming.

  Every room he wandered into held another mob of faoil, none of which made any effort to make him feel welcome. He was, after all, one of the ‘daft stake-wielders’ which would have been cause for heckling anywhere in the world. In this castle, however, he was on their turf and they were decidedly unhappy with the arrangement.

  So far he had endured – he checked his watch – more than eight hours of verbal abuse and bullying and it was barely past lunch time. Needless to say, he had a great deal of work to do. He had not told Aiyana yet that female faoil go into heat and can shut down a major city with their scent alone. The second the mad scientists got a hold of that juicy bit of information, they would start demanding a report. He figured that if he finished one prior to broaching the subject, he could avoid listening to their whining. Finding a quiet place to type up the form was proving to be problematic, though.

  When they had returned to the castle with the unconscious couple the night before, he had been deeply alarmed to find that a few hundred faoil were there waiting. He assumed that Taran had been too busy with the internal debate over whether or not to kill him for letting Skye loose to mention the family reunion. The only thing that saved him when he entered the sacred grounds was Drostan’s announcement that Taran had invited him. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he had returned to the castle alone with the two tranquilized love-beasts, he would currently be in itty bitty pieces in a shoe box on its way to Asher headquarters.

  Unfortunately, despite Drostan’s words saving him from a gruesome death, they had not earned him any leniency from the clan. Presently, he was skulking, trying not to draw attention to himself, and looking for a room – just one freaking room in a few thousand – that was not occupied by anyone who wanted to snap him like a twig. Finally, after nearly an hour of wandering, he came upon an empty parlor. Cautiously, he ducked inside and closed the doors. Breathing a sigh of relief, he gleefully settled down on the couch. He hurriedly set up his computer, but barely turned the damned thing on before the doors opened and they poured in. Miko’s shoulders slouched in defeat. Shy of going upstairs and hiding in his bed or sitting out in that little joke of a rental car, he was not going to catch a break.

  “Oops, clumsy me,” a faol the size of a refrigerator breathed as he towered over him.

  Miko looked up in confusion. “What makes you clumsy?” He asked, though he really, really should have known better.

  “Tha,” the faol said as he knocked his laptop off the table.

  The others all burst out laughing, but Miko was not amused.

  “Aww, come on, dude! What the fuck?” He shouted, climbing to his feet and glaring up into the faol’s face.

  Not the electronics. They could have broken a few fingers and he would have smiled and walked away. The laptop and iPod were sacred. They were the only things making this trip and its quiet, picturesque landscapes tolerable. They would be fought for valiantly. It would be in vain, of course, but they would be fought for, just the same.

  Miko knew that he was going to get pummeled for sure now. These guys had been goading him for a reaction all morning and this was it. All they had wanted was a reason to rearrange his face and he had just given it to them.

  “Well, well, well... a feisty little fooker, yeah? What then? What ya gonna do?” The faol teased as his clansmen egged him on.

  Now that Miko was standing face to chest with the immortal, he decided that was a very good question. What the hell was he gonna do? This guy was double his size and Miko was in no way small. There were twenty others surrounding him and every one of them left him with the same feeling of inferiority that Taran always did. Even Vin Diesel would feel compelled to run to the closest gym for a vigorous workout after getting a look at them.

  So maybe he could make this juggernau
t see how pointless beating on him would be. Maybe he could use his mouth to diffuse a situation instead of instigating one for once.

  “You know what? Screw this. I’m not throwing down with a faol,” he laughed. “You can bench-press like five times my bodyweight without breaking a sweat and – contrary to popular belief – I’m not stupid. So, if you’re gonna rough me up, toss me around a little to make yourself feel better, then go right ahead, be my guest. You’re not going to prove anything we don’t already know. Yeah, you’re tougher than me – there’s a big shocker. You a freaking immortal. Of course you can kick my ass! But go on, get it out of your system so I can get back to what I was doing. I won’t move a finger to stop you,” he said, sounding a lot braver than he was feeling.

  Alas, any hopes he held for avoiding a thrashing dissolved as a look of satisfaction passed over the faol’s features. He barely managed to swallow hard before the big bastard was reaching for him.

  And then something unexpected happened.

  A guttural growl erupted behind the men, so deep and powerful that it shook the floor.

  Miko saw a blur of black fabric and pale skin fly by...

  But it was the blonde braid whipping past that tipped him off as to who had intercepted his would-be attacker. With wide eyes, he watched Skye charge for the faol at a dead run. She gripped the behemoth by his throat as she passed, forcing him backward across the room, and slamming him against the wall. The impact was forceful enough to send a web of cracks outward through the centuries-old stone.

  “Arrogant fuck!” She seethed before, in one swift motion, bringing a hard right hook and elbow across his face.

  The faol cried out in anguished disbelief as the blow broke his nose. With blood flowing down his face, he stared at her in panicked confusion. When he tried to take a step forward, she tightened her grip on his throat and pressed her forearm into his windpipe. His features twisted in worry. He could not get free from her and did not understand how that was possible. Despite the fact that he was well over a foot taller than her, Skye was pinning him in place effortlessly.