Lightness Falling (Lightness Saga Book 2)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  “I feel like someone hit my head with a bat.” I cringed when he adjusted the towel.

  “No, but it looks like you tried to head-butt the bed railing. Is that how you Druids say hello?” He tried to smile, but instead reflected the pain flinching across my expression. “It was a close fight. Think I’m going have to give it to the bedframe this round.”

  “Shut up.” I laughed before the sting on my forehead lit up.

  His expression turned serious as he touched my jaw lightly, drifting to my ear. He barely pulled it, but it was more out of habit than me needing that dose of pain to clear my head. The gash on my forehead was doing it well enough.

  “Another vision?”

  “Yeah…” I tried to think back. “It didn’t make sense. West was in one, I think. And I was…” I tapered off, not wanting to bring up I had been kissing someone else. A stranger. Who was that guy?

  “West? What the hell was he doing in it?”

  “We were locked in some underground dungeon or something...” I tapered off, the memories becoming soft and patchy.

  “And I wasn’t there?” He leaned back.

  I shook my head.

  He frowned, pulling the towel away from my head inspecting the cut. He stood, going to the sink, wetting the cotton before kneeling before me again. “Hold it there. It’s still gushing.”

  I healed fast, but still a lot slower than fae.

  Holding the towel in place, I finally looked around the room. A grocery bag lay by the door, tipped on its side, items spilling out, like it had been thrown down.

  “What’d you get?” I nodded toward the bag as I leaned back against the mattress. The vision had been bad, but this was the second time I’d recovered so fast from one.

  Actually they had been better since...

  I swiped my mind clear of that thought. He made them better because he knew my ritual of getting out of them. He had been there when I had my first one and quickly learned what grounded me back to earth. That was all.

  “Why don’t you heal yourself then we can deal with what’s in the bag.”

  “I’m intrigued.” I used the bed to get to my feet. “Or scared.”

  “Nothing to be scared over.” He swiped up the bag, bringing it over to the bed. “Go heal yourself.”

  I walked to the sink, staring into the mirror. Blood caked my hairline and leaked down my face.

  The spell danced off my tongue, twirling up to my head in a variety of colors. The skin threaded itself back together, closing the wound right in front of my eyes. It still floored me I could do stuff like this. It really was badass. And now that I had a taste of magic, I never wanted to be without it. It was seductive and addictive. How I lived so long without it, I couldn’t imagine anymore.

  After I cleaned away the blood, I turned back to Lorcan. He had all the items from the bag out on the bed.

  “I fought with Lars this morning. I don’t want you here—”

  “Dammit, Lorcan. I thought we already went over this?” I cut him off. The bullet of hurt embedded into my chest. “I am part of it. You cannot dictate what I do. It’s my kingdom, my people. I will not sit out while it falls in ruins.”

  “Great. Can I finish my sentence?” Lorcan’s mouth flattened, a glimpse of a warning in his gaze.

  “Sorry.” I folded my arms around my middle.

  “Lars did agree with me on one thing: your appearance is still too noticeable. If we are to go undercover into the enemy’s den, no one can recognize you.” Lorcan sat on the bed. “He was firm you had to be here. Your being a Druid was our best bet to get close.”

  “I agree with Lars.”

  Lorcan squinted at the ceiling, inhaling deeply.

  “Then what do you have in mind?” I moved closer to the bed, taking notice of the hair dye, scissors, fake tattoos, and what looked like a hoop earring. “A disguise?”

  “We can’t have anyone recognize you. Also, no one would believe, looking the way you do now, you could hurt anything, much less fight fae.” He motioned to me.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Ken, you are beautiful.” He tipped his head to the side. “Breathtaking…but too wholesome looking to be taken seriously in any kind of rebellion.”

  My fingers touched a box of hair dye. “And you think turning me ‘raven black’ is going to do that?” I smiled at the irony of the name of the dye.

  “It’s a start.” He grinned, picking up the pair of scissors.

  “Oh. No.” I shook my head at the sharp shears. My hair reached my lower back and had been my mother’s pride and joy. I always had it long.

  “Doesn’t have to be up to your ears, but it needs to be different.” He reached up brushing a line at my bicep. “Like to here. It will still be long. Believe me, I don’t want to touch your hair, but you can’t have hair the same as the Queen’s.”

  I sucked in my bottom lip. He was right. I had to fit my part, and anything still resembling the Queen would put us in danger.

  “Okay. But only to here.” I tapped at the same spot he had indicated.

  A wicked grin yanked at the side of his mouth. “You trust me to cut it?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Because you know I can take you down now if you mess with me.”

  “Sounds fun.” Red flared at the rims of his gaze, our eyes meeting, driving a truck through my lungs. He snapped his head back toward the items on the bed, seizing the fake tattoos. “Also, no one would ever imagine the Queen having a raven tattooed behind her ear, or an Awen symbol on her shoulder.”

  “And how are earrings changing my image?” I motioned at the rings on the bed.

  “Those don’t go in your ears.” He smirked.

  “Did you actually get me nipple piercings?” I choked out.

  He burst into laughter, grabbing the package, his head wagging. “Damn, I wish I had now.” He stood up, standing in front of me, his laughter dying away. “That would be so fucking hot…but this is for your nose. Radicals are into piercings.” He lifted an eyebrow.

  He was so close, and his breath curled down my neck, heating my breasts. Torching desire drove from the tips of my hair to my feet, wanting nothing more than for him to seize me into his arms, not letting me think, or giving me a choice. Just taking…

  “O-kay.” I took a step back, needing space to clear my head. “I’ll start with the dye.”

  He grabbed the box off the bed and tossed it to me.

  Since I couldn’t glamour like fae and there were no long-term spells I could use to change my appearance, there seemed to be no other option. The Druid part of me, the one longing to defy my sweet side, settled into the driver’s seat, ready to take control of the wheel.

  “Goooodbye to Saaandra Dee.” I hummed homage to Grease under my breath.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I went to the sink, staring once again at the girl in the mirror.

  I was sick of being scared and unsure. I was Queen. Looking the part was one thing. For once I wanted to feel it. I tore the hair dye box open.

  Goodbye to Kennedy Anne.

  “Wow.” I stared wide-eyed at my reflection, shorter silky black tresses dangled to my shoulder blades, feeling like two pounds had been lifted from my head. I swung my head, loving the way it swished and tickled my arms. The simple color change and cut completely altered my appearance. My skin, already fair, looked even paler, in contrast. My brown eyes shone sharper and brighter, especially when I lined them with thick black eyeliner.

  I looked older. Tougher. A girl who was not afraid to fight.

  “Very goth.” Lorcan came behind me, watching me in the mirror.

  Wrinkles formed at the bridge of my nose. “Goth?” In high school it was equivalent to being called a nerd. Unimaginative and derivative. Not really an insult.

  “Sexy, dark, and mysterious.” Lorcan flipped my hair to the side, his fingers sliding below my ear. My body went still, every nerve going numb except where he touched. “I think this is a good s
pot for your moniker.”

  “Moniker?”

  He grabbed the fake tattoo and a wet cloth. “Raven.”

  “Raven,” I repeated the name, looking at myself say it. It felt as natural to say as Kennedy, like it had always belonged to my Druid self. “I like it.”

  Lorcan wiped my skin, cleaning it before placing the tattoo on the spot, rubbing it with the cloth again. Holding it in place for several minutes, he then peeled the paper away, leaving a black raven in mid-flight stained on my neck.

  “This one is infused with magic and should last for a month. Hopefully you won’t need it past that.”

  His chest bumped my shoulder, his fingers grasping my chin and the back of my neck, tipping my head to the side. Leaning in, he blew on the tattoo, his breath running down my neck, sending shivers over my skin. I swallowed, feeling my body come to life.

  What was it about us? We kept saying goodbye, set in our decision, only to find ourselves right back here. He was a force I could not fight, no matter if we were good for each other or not. Lorcan would forever be my weakness, the flame I could not help but fly into and burn up once I touched it.

  Tugging my sweater up, he added another large tattoo to my shoulder blade. You couldn’t just find the mark of Awen in a shop, so he drew the character himself with a magic-infused pen. It was huge, taking up most of my shoulder, but we had no time to be subtle. We had to get this group’s attention.

  Air softly stroked my skin like they were his fingers as he dried the tattoo, his mouth close to my shoulder. My lungs clenched, a tiny gasp escaping. Over my shoulder, green eyes met mine in the glass, the intensity parching my mind of lucid thoughts. Our connection pulled me under until I could no longer breathe.

  He broke away first, curving back for the bed. With his back turned, I momentarily closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain my footing.

  “Two more things.” He ripped open another package, seizing a small hoop between his fingers, clipping it between my nostrils.

  Raven, the Druid extremist, formed before my eyes.

  Pulling out an item from his jacket pocket, he slid the dark red frames up my nose, hooking them on my ears.

  “Lorcan…” I took in a deep breath, his gesture cutting deep across my heart.

  “I know they aren’t your normal prescription. But it’s not like you really need them anyway.” He turned his head away from my watery gaze. “I personally don’t think Raven should have glasses at all, but watching you today absently touch your face repeatedly, people would notice.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered. He nodded and moved farther away from me. I glanced back at the girl and took her in. I was already dressed in all black and with combat boots. Lorcan picked up a dark green army-style jacket with patches on it, fitting my new image better than the expensive stylish one Lars had given me. The differences were startling; I was a completely different girl. The Seelie Queen was nowhere in sight.

  “You ready?” Lorcan pulled on his beanie and gloves. “Might as well start tonight.”

  One last glance in the mirror and I nodded. “Yes.” Raven had emerged and was ready to play her part.

  FIFTEEN

  The bass thumped through the dark underground club, the air thick with lust, sweat, pot, and alcohol. The brick roof arched in shallow domes, stuffed with skulls and bones across the openings along the walls. I was pretty sure they were real. The tiny dance floor was packed with bodies bouncing along to the grunge band playing on stage. Dilapidated sofas and chairs grouped together filled most of the empty space between the bar and the dance floor. Disturbing art depicting death covered the walls, and the bar was designed out of coffins.

  After the barrier between the worlds dropped, places like this made a huge comeback. While the masses claimed they were scared of fae and didn’t like them, many were secretly fascinated with the monsters of the night. Succumbing to their darkest fantasies, people came to these kind of scenes hoping to encounter their desire. Clearly fae were no dummies. They were here in abundance, exploiting and fulfilling the curious humans’ fancies and probably their own.

  “Here.” Lorcan handed me a bottle of beer. It had taken us two hours talking to some college students and fae to even find out about this place. It was still a long shot that anyone from the Irish Republican Army, the IRA, or Druid Liberal Republic, the DLR, would be here, but it was a start.

  “Thanks.” I grasped the chilled bottle, lifting it to him. I couldn’t get over the impression I had been here before. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” He tapped his against mine and took a swig.

  “What do we do now?” I yelled to him over the music as the band shifted to a haunting, sexy beat. Lorcan turned to me, grabbed the beer from my hand, and set it on the bar. He reached up, taking off my sweatshirt. His fingers slipped over my shoulders, peeling the fabric from me, tugging it off, leaving me in my thin racerback tank top.

  “We dance.” His mouth brushed against my ear.

  Yearning flamed up my body. My veins pumped with it, cooking me from the inside out.

  “You dance?”

  “No, but I don’t think what they’re doing on the dance floor is called dancing.”

  From what I could see it was barely a half step above actually having sex.

  “O-kay,” I croaked.

  Lorcan placed my beer back in my hand and took my free hand, tugging me to the packed floor. He kept to the edge but turned my back to the bar. “The more who see this…” His hand glided over my shoulder blade. “The more chances they will come to us. We only need one.”

  I nodded, a slight flicker of disappointment nicking my heart. I knew why we were here. We had a mission, but I still wanted Lorcan to dance with me without a motive.

  Shut up, Ken. This is about the mission, which is the only thing that is important.

  Lorcan kept his arms down, but pressed his physique into mine, slightly rolling his hips to the beat of the music.

  Fuck. Yes, it was one of those times that called for swearing.

  I let out a whimper, hoping it was absorbed by the music, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. I refused to look at his face. This was torture, my body intimately aware of how well he could move his hips and wanted nothing more than to be reacquainted again.

  Slamming back a huge gulp of beer, I tried to fight back the overwhelming need for him as our bodies moved together in sync. Figures crowded around us, my neck and back growing damp with sweat, but I barely noticed anything beyond our bodies. The erotic beat of the music, his hand gliding up my arm, our chests moving in and out in shallow breaths, and his physique pressed into mine.

  “Ken?” Lorcan whispered hoarsely in my ear, his mouth so close all I had to do was tilt my head to claim them with my own.

  “Yes?” I shifted a bit, making us even closer, and his mouth so near I could almost feel them on mine. Kiss me. Now.

  “There is a man staring at you in the corner. His eyes haven’t left you since we stepped out here.”

  “Oh.” I jerked back. Not at all what I had imagined him to be saying. Or doing. I had lost focus, again, forgetting everything but Lorcan, and here he was eyeing the club, keeping on task. Acting the part.

  “Don’t look until I lead you back to the bar. Ginger in the corner, tall and skinny, with a beard.”

  “No. I lead you.” I stepped back, folding my arms. “Time for the beast to be my plaything.”

  His mouth flattened, his lids narrowing.

  “You need to look a little more vacant than that.” I reached up and patted his chest. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard.”

  He made a low rumble.

  I was lashing out in hurt, once again becoming someone I never thought I could be. Before I met Lorcan I could relinquish my bad behavior. Now, I flipped around, heading back to the bar. I scanned the room, the man Lorcan described easy to find. He stood by himself, leaning against a corner pillar, his arms folded. He did not hide the fact he was staring at me
intently. His face was expressionless, but I instantly picked up on magic rolling around him. Magic like mine.

  A Druid.

  It was like climbing back into your own bed after weeks or months away. My body recognized the familiarity. My heart leaped up my throat and excitement buzzed my spine. I had never encountered another Druid and hadn’t expected the thrill of interacting with another one face to face. I felt an instant draw, a sensation of long-lost family, elation of not being completely alone. My legs itched with the longing to go over to him. I hadn’t even realized I was complying till Lorcan hooked my belt loop, tugging me back.

  “Let him come to us,” he said.

  I wiggled free of him, twirling around to look at the beast. “You have to stop being the dominant one here. I am in charge.” I thrust my hands on my hips. Lorcan stared down at me, his eyes wandering over me. Hungry. Intense.

  I had been a reluctant leader but quickly learned I could not let them see the deep fear and uncertainty I felt being Queen. With Lorcan those facades were hard to keep up. It scared me how willing I was to let him take the lead. Not in everything, but here and now I desired him to take what he wanted. I could easily shut down every excuse and denial on my lips.

  He stepped back with a huff, ripping his gaze from mine, looking over my head. “Shit,” he growled.

  I whirled around. The spot where the man had been was empty. The Druid was gone.

  “He left.” My gaze drifted wildly over the club trying to see if I could find him. No. We can’t lose him. Everything was based on us getting into this group. What were the chances we’d run into him or anyone else?

  “By the door.” Lorcan jerked his head toward the exit.

  My feet took off, not exactly sure of my plan yet.

  1.) Stop him.

  2.) Say what after that? I don’t know.

  I elbowed between the bottleneck of bodies near the door, pushing my way through, anxiety at losing our only lead spiking my adrenaline. I might be small, but I shoved at men twice my size, knocking them back with shock. My heart pummeled my throat, pulsating where my raven tattoo lay.