Skye looked down at her plate and tried to hold her tongue. She did not like that Miko was being forced to talk about whatever had happened to him. She knew it was something difficult to discuss. Besides, she was still contending with those infuriatingly strong protective instincts she had when it came to Miko.
After a moment, Miko managed in a strained voice, “My best friend.”
“I am very sorry for your loss,” Latharn offered sincerely.
“Yeah, well... thanks,” Miko muttered. “Condolences have never managed to bring him back, though.”
“Neither did taking your vengeance, lad,” Latharn told him. “But it did ease the pain a bit.”
“No,” Skye cut in and shook her head. Her eyes were out of focus as she gazed down at one of the candles on the table. “It didn’t. It just provided a distraction from facing the reality of the loss.”
Taran placed a hand on her back, once again offering comfort with his presence.
“Ain’t that the truth?” Miko breathed.
Everyone at the table had gone quiet now, each slipping into quiet remembrance of the ones they had lost along the way.
“And the really screwed up part?” Ciaran said softly into the silence. “Is tha ya go into the fight knowing it won’t bring them back, but somehow ya just lose sight of tha. Like if ya can only keep fighting, then maybe somehow it’ll happen.” He shook his head and laughed bitterly. “Sad thing is, ya come to realize it’s a hope tha ya can die in the effort tha’s really driving ya.”
The ancients at the table looked over at him sympathetically. All of them had been present the morning of his daughter’s death. He had not mentioned it in many centuries.
Skye took his hand in hers under the table, giving it a squeeze of support as she continued. “And when it’s over and you find that you’ve survived... and the ones directly responsible are dead... you realize that it didn’t make a damned bit of difference. For every one you killed, three more were bitten. Not only will you never get to see the ones you lost again, but there are countless others out there going through the same pain... losing friends, family...”
Her head came up slowly as she locked eyes with Latharn.
“And then it’s not about revenge anymore,” she said coldly. “It’s about extermination.”
33: The Pornographic Prince
After the unexpected somber turn in dinner conversation, wine and spirits were promptly called for. Taran watched in amusement as Ciaran and Skye challenged one another to drinking games, each teaching the other something new. It was interesting to see how modern games took their basic rules from ones played thousands of years ago. Latharn and Drostan provided a great deal of help translating and explaining the oldest games known to the clan.
Hearing the topic of the boisterous conversation at the head table, several ancients relocated, bringing their chairs and glasses with them to join the fun. Even Aodh played along – which had never happened before.
Miko, not wanting to miss out on the action, asked a great deal of questions. Within moments, he was tossing back shots as the others cheered him on.
After Ailean whispered something into Latharn’s ear, Elijah was called to join the table. He was the only pup, aside from Skye, permitted to sit with them. She gave Latharn an appreciative smile for it.
A few moments later, when Ailean excused himself from the table to ‘have a slash’, she lied and said that she needed to use the bathroom, as well. In words she could barely understand, Ailean offered to show her the way.
“Thank you, Ailean,” she managed before they returned to the dining hall.
She summoned pretty much all of her courage to express her gratitude by giving him a quick, extremely awkward hug. When she stepped back away from him, Ailean was grinning ear to ear.
“I get all tha cuddlin fur showin ye tae the lavvy?” He teased in feigned ignorance.
Skye laughed and shook her head. “No, you get ‘all that cuddling’ for telling Latharn that I wanted Elijah to join us.”
Ailean waved it off.
“It’s nae fash, wean. The laddie missed ye awfy bad o’er the years.” He shook his head at the memories of Elijah’s grief before smiling back at her. “I’m jist right glad tae see ye together.”
Skye smiled and gave his hand a squeeze of appreciation, but her fingers went rigid in his grasp when she focused on the group of five pups from earlier that evening.
Her smile melted away as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
They were still watching her from a distance, still keeping themselves separate from the rest of the clan.
Seeing the difference in her expression and posture, Ailean frowned.
“Ye awright, bairn?” He asked worriedly and, while tightening his grip on her hand, turned to follow her gaze. His movement had been so fluid that Skye was surprised to find herself hidden away behind his back.
“Fine. I’m fine,” Skye assured unconvincingly.
Ailean merely grunted and gave her a skeptical look over his shoulder in response.
“Really, it’s just. I’m still getting used to being around so many people,” she lied.
“Mince!” Ailean declared knowingly as his suspicious eyes scanned the crowd. “Wur tha the ony trouble, ye wid nae huv told me aboot it.”
She cursed in her mind that the know-it-all gene must develop over time because all of the ancients possessed it.
“All right, fine,” she sighed in frustration. “Those guys over there against the wall. See the five together? They haven’t bothered me at all. They haven’t come near me or said a single word to me. I just... don’t like the way they’re acting. Something’s off about them,” she confessed.
Ailean grunted his agreement. After muttering something that she had no hopes of understanding, he started off toward the pups.
“Whoa, wait!” She whispered and clung to his hand until he stopped. “No reason to call them out in the middle of the celebration, right? You can just talk to their ancient about it, can’t you? Find out what the deal is with the pack of freaks?”
“Aye,” Ailean agreed reluctantly. “But I ought still tell the dafties tae shoot the craw.”
“Shoot the... ? I have no frigging clue what that means!” Skye admitted in exasperation and he smirked. “But I don’t want to spoil the night for everyone if these guys are just checking me out or something.”
Ailean’s eyes widened and complexion took on a hue of outraged red at that possibility. As he turned to stalk toward them again, Skye realized that ‘checking her out’ would be a major no-no on the part of the pups.
“I’m not saying that’s what it is!” She urged as she raced in front of him.
She managed to stop him by pressing a hand to the center of his chest – which she very quickly withdrew for fear it might involuntarily wander over the contours of his fantastic pecs.
“We’ll just ask around,” she offered, absently gripping her hand to ensure that it would not meander back to his chest. “We’ll find out who their ancient is and straighten it out tomorrow. If they give me any problems in the meantime, I have every confidence that you, me, Taran, Ciaran, Elijah, or one of the thousands of other faoil sitting in there will be able to handle it. Right? Ailean... ? Right?” She coaxed.
When he refused to look into her eyes, she stood on tip-toes. Tilting her head from side to side, she attempted to block his view of the offenders.
He rolled his eyes, avoiding her gaze as he growled in disapproval.
When she took his arm in hers and began leading him away, he sighed and grudgingly nodded that he would behave himself. It took a great deal of placation to get Ailean back into the dining hall without incident. She breathed a sigh of relief once he was finally back in his seat.
Thinking it was over, she took her place between Taran and Ciaran, only to note once she was in her chair that they were both staring at her expectantly.
“Well?” Taran began quietly.
“Well what?” She asked in confusion.
“Well what happened to give ya tha fast pulse and nervous sweat?” Ciaran asked in a similar tone, ensuring that his words would not carry.
“Seriously?” She asked incredulously, but both men simply continued to stare at her in silence. She sighed and realized that this was the unforeseen downside of having two men in her life. “I was trying to prevent Ailean from starting a brawl, okay? Can we drop it?”
“Who did what to ya and where are they now?” Taran asked as he thrummed his fingers across the tabletop.
“What makes you think it had to do with me?” She asked in surprise.
“Because, a stóirín,” Ciaran began with a smile. “Had it been an offense committed against Ailean, and he’d already made up his mind tha it was worth punishing, you’d nah have stopped him from fighting without knocking him out cold. Were it a mild infraction toward you, on the other hand, he’d have – albeit reluctantly – heeded your feelings on whether or not a beating was in order.”
While Ciaran was eager to hear the answer to Taran’s question, he was not all that concerned. He already knew that if...
“If someone needed their ass kicked for offending me, do you really think I’d be the one playing peacekeeper?” Skye asked incredulously. “Please. We might not have known one another long, but inside of the first five minutes, both of you knew me better than that.”
Ciaran smirked and nodded to Taran that she had a point.
Taran sighed and muttered his agreement. He still disliked that he had not been present for whatever had come to pass, no matter how minor it may have been.
“Like I told Ailean, we’ll deal with it tomorrow,” Skye purred.
The drastic change in her tone sent Taran’s brow arching skyward. He looked down at her curiously as she poured a tall glass of whisky.
Leaning back into his lap, she offered the drink up to him and batted her eyelashes. “For tonight, I would much rather ply you with alcohol so that I can take advantage of you.”
Ciaran chuckled, hearing the voice of the wolf and woman intermingling in their seduction.
“Who am I to argue with tha?” Taran teased and kissed her deeply before taking the glass from her hand. As Taran downed the drink, Ciaran gave Skye an impressed nod. The victorious grin they exchanged as he set the empty glass down gave Taran the sneaking suspicion that he was being set up.
Hours went by as the clan celebrated its long-overdue reunion. Eventually, Eògan tied one on and began belting out the most hilarious, raunchy and inventively perverse songs Skye had ever heard in her life. Surprisingly, his gravelly voice was well suited for singing. It was not until he switched over to reciting limericks that he was interrupted.
“Chreest, your mind has gone straight to the gutter in your old age, brother!” Ciaran cried in a scandalized tone, clutching his chest in feigned offense. “When did ya turn to such a right dirty bastard?” He grinned victoriously when Eògan’s jaw dropped open in disbelief.
“Oi, ya wee runt! You’re the one wrote these songs and poems and taught them to me!” He insisted indignantly.
“And why does this not surprise me?” Skye asked with a smirk.
“You made all of those up?” Miko asked in surprise.
“Fuck me runnin’. Come to think of it, I believe I did!” Ciaran said, beaming with pride. “Language may nah be the same, but it’s been a pass-time in the land of me birth since long before I was thought of. I s’pose with as dark as the times must have been before me arrival in this world, they needed a bit of entertainment.”
“I see someone’s a cocky bastard,” Skye breathed.
“Guilty as charged, darling!” Ciaran said and flashed her a devious grin. “I’ve heard tha very same declaration from women many a time.” His brows drew together in feigned confusion. “Though... I’m nah sure how ya were able to tell through the table,” he commented, leaning toward her as if trying to gauge whether she could see his lap from her angle.
“You are such a little pervert!” She laughed, swatting him in the chest and shaking her head.
“Aye,” Taran breathed. “But we’ve found over the years tha his perversity only truly begins to present itself after he’s downed his third bottle of whisky.”
“Nearly there, brother,” Ciaran warned, holding up his bottle and shaking it, showing that only a quarter of its contents remained.
“Then go on and play the game. Show the whelps how it’s done,” Latharn urged.
“Aye, let’s see if you’re lewd enough tonight to rosy up even this wee one’s cheeks a bit,” Taran challenged, pressing a rough kiss to the side of Skye’s face. He laughed at the twinkling of mischief that instantly came to Ciaran’s eyes.
Skye arched a brow and peered up at him. “Are you insinuating that I’m morbidly pale, or a pervert just like him?”
“Shh...” Taran insisted, feigning complete engrossment in the conversation around them. He smiled when she elbowed him the ribs for dodging her question.
“Aye, c’moan!” Ailean called hopefully. “We huv nah had a round in ages.”
“Fine. No need to beg, you’ve convinced me already,” Ciaran breathed with a dramatic sigh as if they had been pleading for hours. “Okay, gents. Ya know how this works. Give me a subject.”
“Adultery,” Drostan called, laughing when the others cheered their approval of the selection.
“Miko, give me a woman’s name. First tha comes to mind,” Ciaran instructed, pointing at him and waiting.
“Mary,” Miko said, unsure of why he was giving it.
“Ah, an excellent choice! Let’s see...” Ciaran said, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands over his chest.
“There once was a trollop named Mary...”
“Ooh, I adore the trollops.” Eògan gushed.
Ciaran smiled over at him as he continued.
“Whose lover declared her too hairy...
And as he shaved her shrub,
Who should land in the tub?
Why, if it wasn’t his lost brother, Larry!”
“Now tha is a woman in desperate need of a trim, right there,” Latharn mused as the men cracked up.
“Seriously, sounds like Mary was smuggling around a penis-flytrap,” Miko added with a slight slur.
The men laughed even harder in response, clapping him on the back and insisting they had to remember that one.
“All right, Skye, give me a man’s name,” Ciaran urged. “Quickly now, gotta be the first one and ah, ah, ah...” He held up a finger and smirked. “I see it forming on your lips but no, ya can nah say Taran,” he teased.
She laughed that he had known what name would come to mind first.
“I don’t know... Thomas?” She offered with a shrug.
“Thomas it is!” He called, smacking his hand down on the table happily.
“There once was a cheater named Thomas
And, alas, he could ne’er keep a promise.
Whilst passed out from drink,
On his cock his wife inked
Her own name to keep the bloke honest.”
The men clapped and knocked on the table wildly in approval as Ciaran pointed around at them. “And let tha be a lesson to ya all,” he warned with a smirk.
“What lesson is that? Don’t cheat?” Miko asked.
“Nah! Never get married and most definitely never sleep too soundly with a scorned woman in the house,” he joked. “All right, next subject – who’s calling it?”
“Bondage!” Lorcán shouted from what was now the third row of seats crammed in around the table.
This game had drawn even more ancients than the drinking had.
“Name?” Ciaran inquired, pointing around the group until his finger was on Taran.
“Heather,” he answered with a grin as Skye leaned back against his chest and pulled his arms down around her.
“Brother, you’re nah making this much of a challenge,” Ciaran teased. “All right, very we
ll,” he said with a sigh.
“There once was a nympho named Heather,
Who could only cum when bound and tethered.
She’d fuck any a man
With a whip in his hand,
But abhorred touches light as a feather.”
“That’s one hard bitch,” Miko laughed.
“Man’s name is Dwayne!” Drostan called as he filled his glass.
Ciaran rolled his eyes. “Aw come on and quit it already with the easy ones, will ya?” He whined and turned to Skye. He leaned closer to her as if telling a rumor.
“Ever heard of tha freak they called Dwayne?
Well, he got off suspended by chain.
But Heather hoisted him high,
And left him there to die.
Guess he did nah provide enough pain.”
“Ooh, tough break,” Latharn laughed.
“Next subject?” Ciaran asked, looking around the group.
“Giving head,” Skye said with a smirk.
Ciaran blinked repeatedly, slowly turning to face her in surprise. His lips parted, a response threatening to tumble forth, but somehow, someway he managed to prevent it.
“Taran, brother,” he said instead, never taking his eyes from hers. “I’m trying me very best to behave right now. I want full credit for tha,” he informed him as a smile stole across his lips.
“Duly noted,” Taran laughed.
After giving himself a shake to get his mind off of Skye and her suggestion of giving head, he turned to the others. “Name? And I swear to ya, if anyone says Skye, I’ll beat them bloody,” he warned as they laughed.
“Shannon seems safe enough, or should we avoid all names tha start with ‘S’ for a while?” Eògan teased, reaching across the table to give her a playful shove. “Look who went and rattled our very own Prince of Perversion’s chimes! Good job, sister!”
“Give me just another moment,” Ciaran said, draining his whisky as the others messed up his hair and joked with him about being thrown off his game by a pup. As soon as he pulled the bottle from his lips he was beginning the next limerick.
“The Queen of fellatio, Shannon,
Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel Page 48
