Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  Skye deflated at that and rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, you already said that to me today in the vision,” she grumbled as she continued studying him curiously. “So, because I’m... different than the rest of you... is that what drew the fògaraich to me?”

  He inclined his head to her so slightly in agreement that it was barely perceptible.

  “I figured,” she breathed. “But I don’t want to be ‘more’, I just want...” She looked away angrily, shaking her head and refusing to let the confession fall from her lips.

  I just want to go home, she thought. But that desire led to the realization that she already was. There was nowhere else left in the world for her, nowhere she could run to avoid all of this confusion.

  “Do you smoke?” She finally asked in a tone bearing uncanny resemblance to a whine.

  He chuckled at the desperation in her voice before pulling the pack from his coat pocket. After passing one to her, he took one for himself.

  “Marlboro reds?” She asked as inspected the cigarette.

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” he laughed while searching his numerous pockets for a lighter. “They happen to be one of me favorite things from the States. Though it seems I’ll be needing to add a new entry to the top of tha list, won’t I, a stóirín?” He teased with a dimpled smile, sparkling blue eyes, and a wink.

  At hearing the term of endearment that he had used for her in her vision, Skye laughed and shook her head. She could not help but marvel at the fact that, despite his constant compliments and flattery, she had yet to feel awkward in his presence.

  “Wait... a stóirín,” she repeated after a moment. “That means ‘my little treasure’ or ‘my little darling’, doesn’t it?”

  Ciaran gave her a thoroughly impressed nod. “Know a bit of Irish?”

  Skye gave him a troubled look. “No.”

  “Then where in the world did ya pick up a phrase like tha? An ex-squeeze? Have a taste for the Irish Cream?” He taunted, but seeing the way she averted her eyes, he nodded in understanding. “Ah... nah from an ex-squeeze then. So, it’s another of those things ya know, but ya really shouldn’t know, yeah?”

  “There are way too many of them,” she sighed.

  “Eh well, there are worse things in life than having an overabundance of knowledge tha ya did nah have to work for, don’t ya think?” He offered.

  “This is true,” she agreed, pressing the cigarette between her lips when he finally pulled a Zippo from his inside coat pocket.

  “So how much ya wanna wager...” he began as he lit both cigarettes. He exhaled a lungful of smoke and stared at the men that were still watching them expectantly. “... tha I can guess where in the States you’re from?”

  Skye arched a brow. “You can place accents?”

  “I can place – and mimic, mind ya – any accent, any language, any dialect, any era in the past 4,100 years,” he declared with a self-satisfied grin. “Fancy me self a linguist, I do. Always attributed me talent for languages to me talented tongue,” he teased and laughed when Skye rolled her eyes. “I’m sure tha I’ve already got ya pegged. But first, a game – just a few questions for fun.”

  “Shoot,” she instructed.

  “Where did ya spend your summers growing up?” He asked nonchalantly.

  She looked over at him in surprise. He really did already have her pegged. “Down the shore.”

  “Uh-huh. Thought so,” he said knowingly as he nodded to himself. “All right, next up: were I to make ya a cold sandwich on a long roll with meats, cheeses, oil, and vinegar, what would ya call it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “A hoagie.”

  “Figured. And if tha sandwich were instead hot, with thin strips of beef and cheese, fried onions, and ketchup on top, what would ya call it?”

  “A cheesesteak.”

  “And if ya were back home, and decided at 3:00 in the mornin’ tha ya were craving one of those – as well as a cup of coffee, a pack of smokes, and some sweets, where would ya go?”

  “Wawa.”

  “You’re too damned easy!” He whined and smiled victoriously at her laughter. “Next – repeat after me: water,” he said slowly.

  She shook her head, knowing this would be the deciding factor.

  “Water,” she repeated, though with her distinctive accent, it sounded as if she were saying ‘wooder’.

  “I knew ya were a Philly filly!” He declared as he bumped her shoulder with his.

  Skye laughed along with him – and then realized in surprise that she had been smiling all throughout this conversation. It was amazing.

  “Shame we didn’t wager anything,” he complained. “I’d be telling ya to pay up. But at least I got to see what ya look like without tha sourpuss ya keep wearing. Guess tha is payment enough.”

  “Thanks, Ciaran,” she said with a sincere smile. It felt strange to be so relaxed, but somehow – he made it possible for her. Just by being there, just by smiling the way he did, talking the way he did, he comforted her to no end.

  “Ah, any time, a stóirín,” he assured. “I was thinking, this has got to be an awful lot for ya to take in. What do ya do for distraction? I mean, when you’re nah uprooted from all ya know and flown halfway around the world to turn into a mythical creature?”

  She smiled at the question, as well as the answer. “Train. Drink. Fight. Repeat.”

  He burst out laughing. “Cheap date, yeah? Well, I think we can manage all tha,” he said with a nod. “Tell ya what – we finish up here, leave our audience to stew a while longer, and then the two of us can get some training in. How’s tha sound?”

  Her smile shifted to a mischievous grin. “Make it look believable?”

  “Aw, ya read me mind, love,” he said with a wink.

  Drostan stepped up beside Taran and Miko at the door, munching away on a bag of chips and looking out at the two on the fountain. He shook his head in disappointment.

  “I feel I’ve been led out here under false pretenses,” he complained. “I was informed tha Ciaran was to be beaten within an inch of his life by Skye.”

  “And – being the caring brother that you are – you then, of course, rushed right out here to see if he needed your help?” Miko asked and eyed the bag of chips incredulously.

  “Hey, ya can nah blame a man for wanting to see his brother beaten by a girl,” Drostan said with a smirk. “So, what’s going on, then? Do my eyes deceive me, or are they nah sitting out there smoking and chattin’ all casual like?”

  “Aye, but this is Ciaran we’re talking aboot,” Taran offered.

  “Hmm... good point. Tha mouth will do him in as always, especially with as eager as she is to brawl,” Drostan agreed. “Damn, I wish I’d thought to grab us some ale. With her temper and the words tha fall from tha man’s lips, this is bound to be an event.”

  “What’s your poison?” Ciaran asked.

  “Whatever you’ve got,” Skye answered honestly.

  “Well, the things ya learn!” He exclaimed happily and gave her an impressed nod. “The reasons for me inevitable ‘unwavering loyalty’ are fast becoming apparent,” he teased with wide eyes. “Drink me shot for shot later?” He asked as he took a drag off his cigarette.

  “More like bottle for bottle,” she laughed. “Think we can get Taran and Miko hammered?”

  “Oh, love – you’re after me heart,” he cried, clutching his chest and eyeing her in dramatic awe. An instant later he was speaking in a conspiratorial tone and leaning closer. “All right, Miko will pose li’l trouble. Ya could get tha boy to jump off a bridge after the stunt ya pulled to save his neck earlier. Taran on the other hand...” He scrunched up his face and shook his head. “Eh... nah so easy. I’ve only gotten him plastered a handful of times in the past few millennia. I assure ya, it’s nah for a lack of trying on me part. The man’s a real stick in the mud... but, dear sister, ya might well be our ace in the hole. I get the feeling if ya bat those pretty eyes at him, we’ll have him tripping up the s
tairs by the end of the night.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Skye said, exhaling the last drag of her cigarette and flicking it out into the gravel. “So, who throws the first punch?” She asked, grinning over at him and watching his eyes flash with mischief.

  “You’d best do it, else I’ll have Taran charging out here after me for sure. Now, I’m going to play rough, but nah rough enough to break anything. Just want to show ya what you’re capable of. Clear your head, listen to your instincts and hey...” He put his arm around her shoulders and laughed knowing that the action would seem like the cause of the ‘fight’ they were about to get into. “Try to have some fun, yeah?”

  “If you say so,” she breathed.

  Without hesitation, she snatched his arm from around her, twisted it behind his back, and shoved him from the fountain to the gravel below.

  “Ooohh!” The men cried as Ciaran landed face-first on the driveway.

  “What the hell would possess him to put his arm around her? Is he mental or something?” Miko asked in astonishment.

  Drostan smirked. “Ya know, we’ve been wondering tha very thing for thousands of years.”

  “Well, you’d better get ready to stop her. She’s liable to kill him after that,” Miko told him.

  “With all the drinking he does, he could use the workout,” Drostan joked. “If she looks as though she’s planning to break anything important, we’ll lend a hand. Right, brother?” He asked Taran.

  Taran only crossed his arms over his chest and smiled in response. His eyes narrowed suspiciously on the two in the distance.

  Ciaran groaned and started to push himself up off the gravel. Hearing her landing beside him, he quickly flipped over onto his back and caught her wrists the second she reached for him.

  Her eyes went wide at how fast he had been able to move. Before she had a chance to react, his feet came up and planted against her stomach.

  With a hard shove, he lifted her up and sent her flipping over his head to the ground. She landed heavily on her back in the gravel, but even as the wind was knocked from her, a satisfied grin was on her face.

  “Holy sheep-shit, Batman! He’s actually gonna fight her?” Miko cried, looking around at the group of faoil that were instantly placing bets on who the winner would be.

  “I just told ya tha we’ve wondered if he’s mental all our lives. Did ya think I was lying?” Drostan asked as he turned out his pockets and put everything he had on Skye.

  “And you’re seriously just gonna let them fight?” Miko demanded of Taran.

  “It’ll be good for both of them. She’s looking to vent her frustrations and he’s in need of a good thrashing,” Taran said distractedly as he opened his wallet. “300 says my wee one breaks his face. She’s just warming up,” he told Onchu.

  “Fast little fucker, aren’t you?” Skye breathed as she looked over at him.

  Both of them were lying on their backs in the gravel, their heads side by side.

  “Getting a tad bit personal there, don’t ya think? But to answer your question, it all depends on me mood,” he purred before feigning to be struck by realization. “Oh! Ya meant... with the fighting?” He asked and she rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m taking it easy on ya. What with it being your first lesson and all tha,” he said with a grin. “Shall we continue, or did ya want to lay here enjoying the clouds a while longer?”

  They both scrambled back onto their feet in the gravel.

  For appearances, Ciaran held up his hands as if trying to calm her down. “Right, now I want ya to charge at me like ya mean it. Like I’ve pissed ya off and you’re ready to choke me for it.”

  Skye arched a brow as she circled him aggressively.

  “So, do it then, piss me off,” she dared him with a smile.

  “Got any Irish in ya, love?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, biting his lip, and letting his eyes wander over her body.

  “No,” she answered suspiciously at his roving gaze, despite not knowing whether her response was the truth.

  “Well, in tha case,” he began with a sly smile before locking eyes with her. “Might I provide ya with some?” He offered.

  As quickly as her mouth fell open, she was lunging for him.

  “Whatever he just said, he’d best hope she does nah get a hold of him for it,” Onchu laughed. “She looks to mean business.”

  “His mouth always has gotten him into trouble,” Taran commented.

  Three times she was sure that she had bested him, only to come up with handfuls air.

  He dodged her effortlessly, grinning in satisfaction every time she missed.

  “Come on, a stóirín. Ya can do better than tha,” Ciaran goaded.

  He ducked a series of punches, wound up behind her, planted a boot on her ass cheek, and shoved her forward. The growl of indignation that left her as she spun back to face him was as endearing as it was alarming.

  Seeing the rage in her eyes, he held up his hands pleadingly – this time for real.

  “Whoa, love! Remember – we’re just playing around here,” he tried.

  But her instinctive reaction was to lash out and she had already drawn back.

  A hard three-hit combo (her favorite: right hook, left hook, uppercut) was landed squarely on his jaw before he could attempt to block it. The impact sent him stumbling backward several paces clutching his mouth.

  “Tar...” Miko breathed as he took a panicked step forward.

  Taran’s arms fell from where they had been crossed over his chest as he pushed off the wall. His expression was instantly serious and body tensed in case he really would need to intervene on Ciaran’s behalf.

  “Seems she’s intending to take care of those ‘devilish good looks’ he’s always claiming to possess,” Drostan mused.

  “Sweet, merciful Jesus! Leave things intact, will ya?” Ciaran groaned, pulling his hand away from his throbbing mouth long enough to spit out blood. He swayed on his feet and shook his head, trying to clear his vision. When the attempt failed miserably, he leaned forward and put his hands on his knees for support. A pup – a woman – had just severely rung his chimes. He was thoroughly impressed by the amount of pain she had doled out. Not to mention, quite a bit turned on.

  The jarring sight of blood on his pale skin snapped her back to reality. Her features twisted remorsefully as she took a few steps closer to him.

  “Ooh! I’m sorry, Ciaran!” She whispered. “It got away from me. Are you okay?” She asked, trying to get a look at his face without giving up their charade. She kept her fists up and feet spread, hoping the others would not be able to read the difference in her posture. “Is it bad? Shit, I didn’t break it, did I? Let me see,” she pleaded as he continued clutching his mouth and leaning on his knees.

  She took another step toward him and – of course – she should have known better. Unfortunately, the thought of causing him harm broke her heart.

  In a flash, he had leapt for her. There was not a chance of stopping him before he had tackled her to the ground and rolled her across the gravel. Ferocious growls rumbled from his throat as they fought for control over one another. Disturbingly, she heard her own coming instinctively in response, matching his in intensity. After several heated moments, she stared up at him in shock as he pinned her down. He straddled her waist and pressed her wrists into the gravel over her head.

  “Somebody go save that dopey, suicidal bastard’s life!” Miko cried.

  Drostan shook his head, speaking around a mouthful of chips. “I do believe our brother may be a bit dim, Taran. Does he nah realize she has deep-rooted dominance issues?”

  “Apparently nah,” Taran said with a smirk. “He’d better pray to any God who’ll still listen tha he can keep her pinned like tha until she falls asleep.”

  Ciaran’s jet-black, poker-straight hair was no longer styled in an 80’s quaff. Tousled from the fight, it hung wildly in front of his crystalline eyes.

  Skye wondered how it was even possible for her to be t
hinking about how sexy he looked in that moment. There was something in his gaze now – a burning hunger that made her body respond to him in ways that she was wholly unprepared for.

  Judging by the sly, wicked smile his mouth quickly curved into, he had caught scent of her arousal. He let his eyelids grow heavy, wincing and nodding in agreement as his full lips formed an intrigued and playful little ‘O’. A low growl of approval rumbled from his throat before he blew a kiss at her.

  Skye licked her lips, trying not to moan when his sizeable excitement made its presence known. Involuntarily, her eyes rolled closed for a few seconds to appreciate the sensation.

  “Oh ho ho – what have we here?” He purred.

  While resisting the maddening urge to wrap her legs around his hips and grind against him like there was no tomorrow, she instead devoted her efforts to trying to buck him off.

  He laughed in delighted surprise at the fight in her as he struggled to keep her in place. Pressing her wrists harder into the gravel, he leaned down and brought his face closer to hers.

  “Come now, a stóirín. Tell me true,” he coaxed as those damnable pillow lips of his brushed against her own. “Were ya really tha concerned about hurting me pretty face?” He asked with a wink.

  She growled defiantly at being restrained, finally working up the strength to throw him off of her as he laughed.

  “Hey, I’m flattered, love! And since I know you’ll nah ask again, I’m okay,” he assured once they were both on their feet. Her eyes went to his jaw guiltily. He lifted it for a better inspection, watching relief pass over her features before she smiled back at him. “See? All in one piece. But damn do ya pack a punch! Tha was one hell of a combo. Glad I’m on your side,” he said with an impressed nod. “Ready to learn something then?”

  “Another pick-up line?” She asked as she circled him, waiting for him to slip up and leave himself open.