Terran Realm Vol 1-6

by Dee, Bonnie

Brigid ran her hand along the vibrator’s length a moment longer, then placed it back in its secret cache, sinking deeper into the scented bath water. Gabe had advised her to practice patience, so she’d give it a try.

  And wait for Gabe to join her.

  * * * *

  Donegal, Ireland

  Dagda’s Cave

  “I still can’t believe it.” Eileen’s voice clung to one last bit of skepticism. “You speak English, though with a strange accent, I do admit. And your modern Irish is odd too. You pronounce words with a twist on the sounds and syllables unlike any I’ve ever heard.” She took a deep breath before she continued. “Yet, what you showed me … and what you did. What I did with your guidance. Everything is true. Everything.”

  Dagda took Eileen’s soft hand in his and patted it, his young guest’s youth a comforting, yet bittersweet reminder of Brigid.

  “Eileen, did you ever wonder why the stories of ancient Eire have never died? In my long sleep my spirit would sometimes roam through the dreams and fantasies of those who carried Terran blood in them. Deep within their hearts and minds a trace of their powers always remained. The singers and poets, artists and actors, philosophers and true patriots all bore the mark of their birth. Why do you think the bards were so admired, feared and respected? They were Singers most likely, though some may have been Speakers.”

  “My great grandmother Keegan always claimed her family never went cold even when they were evicted during the famine. They carried a burning coal inside a scuttle and her father could light a fire even when the wood was damp or the peat not dried.”

  “Keegan? My child, do you not know what the name means?”

  Eileen frowned, then a smile slowly lit up her face as she figured out the answer to Dagda’s question. “Son of fire!” She grabbed Dagda’s hands, dropping them like hot coals when she realized her boldness.

  Dagda snatched her into his arms for a fierce hug, then held her shoulders at arms’ length. “You’re a bright wonder. Perhaps we can find other Terrans through their names.” Dagda released his grasp and sighed. “But ‘twill take months to do so.”

  Eileen grinned and shook her head. “Not with the aid of the Internet. There are all sorts of websites that offer translations of different names. I’ll find those that might refer to Spirit, Water, Fire, Air, and Earth Elements and Speaker, Singer and Protector. We can cross reference them into groups and then—and then what?”

  Dagda shrugged. “I scarce understood what you said in the first place, but if I wanted to contact strangers, I’d offer them something they’d want.”

  Eileen sat down by the long, scarred wooden table and tapped her fingers against its well-worn surface. She spoke slowly at first, her words coming faster as her plan gripped her mind.

  “We’ll set up different websites. One for folks interested in finding out about their families—for those wishing to do a genealogical survey. Another maybe to track down emigrant relations and another site for orphans looking to find kinfolk. Maybe one for DNA studies. There are so many people trying to find their roots. I’ll set it up so that when someone with one of the names accesses a site, I’ll be informed. Later on we can ask more detailed questions and see if anything Terran pops up in their family history.”

  Dagda laughed, the boisterous sound ringing in the cave. “You find the Terrans, my girl, and I’ll train them.”

  Eileen chuckled, her eyes dancing. “We better get this place set up for company, then. I’ve a feeling we’re going to need better accommodations.” She giggled. “I don’t suppose you have a credit card?”

  Dagda shook his head. “I don’t know what that is and I’m sure I don’t have one, but I presume you’ll need some funds to get things up and running.” He strode over to one of the chests lining the perimeter of the cave and opened it. He stuck his hand deep within and pulled out a rainbow of glittering stones. “The remains of some of the treasure we brought with us to Eire from other lands we passed through on our journey here.”

  Eileen gasped as emeralds, rubies, sapphires and diamonds scattered in front of her. A blue, translucent gem caught her eye and she picked it up with a trembling hand. She gulped, once, twice and cleared her throat. “I think these will do nicely, but there might be some question as to where someone like me may have gotten them.”

  Dagda dropped onto the carved wooden armchair opposite her. “You’re right.” He heaved a sigh. “‘Tis not like the old days. I know, we’ll contact my daughter. Her spouse is a knowledgeable man. He’ll know what to do. In the meantime, make a list of what you’ll need.” He leaned against the back of the chair. “And see if we can set up some electricity for the Cave. I’d like to witness this wonder firsthand.”

  Eileen smiled. “Whatever you say. It’s your home.”

  Dagda looked around him and smiled. “Aye. It’s my home.”

  * * * *

  Greenwich Village, New York City

  “Don’t leave yet, Ethan. It’s only ten o’clock. Come back to bed.”

  Ethan turned at Aviva’s bedroom door. The sultry Terran lay on her side, her iridescent coverlet drawn up to her waist, her opulent breasts displayed for his admiration. Her curly hair clung to her shoulders and her mouth was swollen from his voracious kisses. The heady aroma of sex permeated the room and he felt his cock rise. He gritted his teeth. “I have to call Tony Doherty to pick me up and it’s getting late.”

  The alluring Terran shifted to a sitting position and the sheet fell away. He could see the belly ring glittering in her navel and he watched, mesmerized, as she stretched out her arms to him and licked her lips in blatant invitation. “Eytan,” she purred.

  Eytan. When she put that little Israeli twist on his name, it went straight to his balls. He hesitated.

  Aviva rose to her knees and swayed, cupping her breasts and undulating her hips. “Come back to bed and fuck me.” She licked her lips. “You know you want me and I want you too.”

  He took a step toward her.

  Mrowwr!

  “Sorry, Khat.” Ethan bent and picked up the mewling animal, cradling it in his arms. Stroking it gently, he sighed. “Sorry, Aviva. It’s late and I’d rather not take advantage of Gabe’s hospitality.” He loosened his grasp and the sleek animal jumped onto the bed, sitting on its haunches before the pouting female. Ethan grinned. “Besides I’ll be back tomorrow, greedy puss.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at Aviva’s lips. “Go, before I use my Singer’s ability and make you my sex slave,” she teased.

  Ethan shook his head. “I don’t think so, my darlin’. My mojo’s pretty damn strong.”

  “Mojo?”

  He headed back to the door and spoke without turning around. “‘Tis what Brigid calls my Singer talents. Oiche mhaith, a chara. Good night, my dear.”

  “Lilah tov, ahavti. The same to you, Eytan.”

  *

  Aviva sat back on her heels, her gaze lingering on the closed door long after the Irishman left. The hours they had spent in her bed filled her mind. She knew he hadn’t used his Singer ability to cause her to capitulate to his lovemaking.

  She shifted and leaned against the pillows, cuddling Khat against her breasts and petting the purring animal, scratching behind his ear. The furry creature’s engine revved and she laughed. She whispered to it in Aramaic, one of the languages her Terran group spoke. “So, my little love, do you think we have found a new bedmate? Did you like his mojo? He may think he didn’t use it, but I fear his mojo cannot be resisted. At least not by me.”

  Aviva kissed the top of Khat’s head and he scooted off the mattress. The agile feline slipped underneath the bed and she rolled over to shut off the lights. Her face pressed into her pillow, she turned on her side and sniffed the down-filled pillow.

  It smelled of Ethan.

  With one smooth movement, she rose, threw on the robe hanging behind the door and, in her bare feet, took the stairs to the first level guestroom. Hopefully, she’d be able to get some rest in the one roo
m he hadn’t inspected.

  *

  Ethan placed Ceol Mhor by Aviva’s doorstep and leaned against the building. He had left an earlier message with Gabe’s housekeeper that he wouldn’t be back in time for the evening meal. He hoped that there was something he could snack on in the mini-fridge in the kitchenette on his floor of the house. Food had been the last thing on his mind for the past few hours. A twinge of guilt pinched his conscience, though he tried to shrug it off. Brigid was unattainable; married for chrissake, and he had to accept that. Or go mad.

  He grimaced and placed his call to Tony.

  * * * *

  East 92nd Street

  Brigid paced back and forth in the fourth floor sitting room. Gabe was down in his office, slaving away again on Nolen’s files. He’d hardly taken a break to eat, and when Ethan had called to say he wouldn’t be joining them, Gabe had used it as an excuse to cut the meal short.

  He’d gobbled Marty’s special cheese biscuits, inhaled the poached salmon and asparagus hollandaise, gulped down the sparkling cider in his glass and turned down his favorite dessert. A tipsy trifle.

  Brigid glared at the inoffensive grandfather clock ticking away in the corner of the room and sighed. No two ways about it—she was horny. Aware now of her Terran identity and the Water and Fire elements she controlled, she found herself more sensitive to her body’s urges. And her body was urging her to find Gabe and fuck him senseless. She sprawled on the loveseat’s down-filled cushion and fumed. If she was taking a night off, so was Gabe.

  Decision made, she jumped to her feet and went back to their bedroom. Put neatly away in her dresser was the delicate lingerie she’d bought in Ireland. Two tugs and off went her T-shirt, down went her shorts and panties and two swift kicks got rid of her sandals.

  Slowing down her movements, she knelt and opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and took out a tissue-wrapped package. The gossamer gown and matching robe were displayed when she unfolded the fragile layers. She stood, the gossamer lace in her hands, and lifted it over her head. The silky gown drifted around her shoulders, settling on her hips and lingering on her breasts. She shrugged into the matching robe and tied the sash around her waist. The long-flowing silk sleeves, edged with the same lace as the gown, reached her wrists. The gown swished around her legs, caressing her skin as she entered her walk-in closet and glanced at the mirror. Perfect.

  The pale ecru color melted against her skin, projecting the effect that she was nude. She could even see the faint shadow of blonde hair between her thighs. Absolutely perfect. There was no way Gabe could resist her.

  Too impatient to put on slippers, she scampered down to Gabe’s second floor office and skidded to a halt. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and sauntered into the room.

  Gabe’s back was toward her, his gaze fastened on the multiple screens in front of him. The bastard hadn’t even realized she’d entered the room.

  Brigid whirled and slammed the door, rattling the Mary Cassett painting above the fireplace. With the flick of the wrist, she flipped off the switch and plunged the room into darkness, the only light coming from the glow of the PC screens.

  Gabe spun his chair around and gaped. “Brigid?”

  Keeping silent, she unbelted the robe with a tug. A shift of the shoulder dropped it to the floor. Her fingers trembling, she untied the bows holding up the gown and it puddled at her feet. She stood there unmoving, waiting for his response.

  He turned his back on her. And the screens went blank.

  * * * *

  “Thanks for the lift, Tony. See you tomorrow.”

  “No trouble, Ethan. You’ll let yourself in?”

  Ethan fumbled for the keycard Gabe had left for him. “I’m fine. Tomorrow morning, around ten.”

  “You got it.” Tony paused. “Oh, yeah, Marty told me to tell you she left a plate for you in the kitchenette fridge. Just heat it up for about five minutes in the microwave.”

  Ethan grinned. “Ah, your wife’s a gem, boyo. You’re a lucky man.”

  Tony smiled back. “I know. That’s what she tells me every day.”

  Ethan swiped the keycard, thankful that he didn’t need to remember the code, and entered the foyer. He hoisted his harp in his arms and quietly mounted the stairs. A pool of light on the second floor landing cast by an antique lamp offered a silent welcome. As he turned to continue up the stairs, he heard a female scream. Dropping Ceol Mhor to the carpeted floor, he raced toward the source of the cry and braked to a sudden stop as the sound’s meaning became all too clear.

  A woman, Brigid, his woman, calling out in unmistakable ecstasy as a lover pleasured her, as her husband pleasured her, as Gabe pleasured her. He leaned his head against the door unable to move his feet; unable to stop hearing the rhythmic thuds of two people fucking. His damned acute hearing took in Gabe’s grunts and Brigid’s moans, growing louder as they reached for a shared climax.

  He wrenched away from the door and stumbled to where his harp lay on its side. With weak hands he bent and picked it up, clutching it like a shield and staggered up to his room. His appetite fled, and he threw himself onto his bed, his eyes clenched tight, all thoughts of sleep obliterated.

  Chapter Four

  Manhattan, East 92nd Street

  “It’s here!”

  Brigid danced into the kitchen waving a slim package aloft and threw her arms around Gabe’s neck, smacking him on the cheek with the wrapped volume. Still jigging, she bent and kissed the top of Anthony’s head, ruffling his neatly combed hair.

  Leaving the men, she gave Marty a hug, snatched a fluffy, hot biscuit from the basket on the counter next to her and plunked down in the chair opposite Gabe and looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”

  Marty spoke without turning away from the stove. “He rang me earlier to say he’d grab something later. He called a cab to take him to Aviva’s studio. I checked his fridge. He didn’t eat the food I left him.” She sighed. “I hope the woman fed him. Anthony picked him up late last night so perhaps he ate with her.”

  Anthony looked up from the sunny side eggs and hash brown potatoes he was devouring. “He seemed worn out. Making music must be more strenuous than I realized.” He grinned and tucked back into his wife’s crispy potatoes, unaware of Brigid’s stricken response.

  Brigid kept her gaze fixed on her plate of rapidly congealing scrambled eggs, her feelings even more scrambled. Only one thought emerged intact. Was Ethan making music or making love?

  The first time she’d met Aviva had been at her twenty-first birthday party here in the house and she had been instantly jealous of the seductive older woman. Her beautiful sultry voice and stunning looks garnered everyone’s attention. Including Gabe’s. He’d asked her about her exotic outfit and jewelry, but Brigid had been sure it was just an excuse to get up close and personal with her.

  She tamped down the six-year-old memory. It happened before Gabe had asked her to marry him, before he told her that he loved her. He had been free to do whatever he liked with whomever he liked. Just like Ethan. The bastard.

  Brigid took a deep breath and looked up from her plate, a smile plastered on her face. “Well, I’m sure he won’t go hungry. He’s just eager to do his bit. And so am I. You’ll excuse me if I eat and run, Marty, and not help you clear the table?”

  Marty slipped into the last remaining chair and shook her head. “No problem, child. I have two eager men to help me.”

  Gabe and Anthony choked on their coffee, casting deer-in-the-headlight gazes at her.

  Brigid and Marty glanced at each other and burst into laughter. Checking her giggles, Brigid carefully placed her fork on her plate and applauded. “Way to go, Marty. You really had them scared.”

  The older Terran female surveyed the men’s reddened faces and sighed. “You’d think I’d asked them to dance naked in Times Square. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t trust my dishes to your clumsy hands. You can finish eating without worrying about your macho-ness .” The audible sighs of relief se
t both women off again.

  Brigid gobbled her meal, patted her stomach and stifled a contented groan. Marty offered her another flaky biscuit. “You keep feeding me like this and I’ll lose my girlish figure.” She rose and pushed in her chair. “I’m not sure if I’ll come down for lunch. I’ll ring later and let you know.”

  Gabe picked up his coffee mug and also stood. “I don’t know either, Marty. I may skip lunch too. I’ll see.”

  Marty pinned them both with a look. “You’ll both take a break and eat something. I’ll ring you at noon.”

  Duly chastised, the couple left the kitchen scuffling their feet like disobedient children. They parted ways at the staircase. “If you need any help, Bridge, just ring me.”

  “I will, but I don’t think I’ll have any problems translating the journal.”

  Gabe shrugged. “It stumped everyone at KOTE headquarters.”

  “Ah, but they didn’t learn the language from Dagda like I did.” She held up the neatly wrapped book. “I’m impatient to get started.”

  “Go, go! You’ll burst otherwise. Call me if you find a way to defeat Nolen.”

  “You’ll be the first to know.” And she raced up the stairs to the fourth floor study as Gabe turned back to his office.

  * * * *

  Brigid smoothed her hand along the handcrafted book. The cover appeared to be leather. The symbols emblazoned on it were easy for her to understand now and she marveled at the simplicity of the title—The Search.

  She opened the cover.

  Inside were sheaves of hand-sewn papyrus, the pages still creamy, the print black as pitch. She riffled the sheets, noted different handwriting, and turned once more to the inside cover. A bold hand penned the first words—For the seekers of truth, a Guide. Understand with your mind. Believe with your spirit. Trust with your heart.

  Tears welled in her eyes. The ancient Irish Seer had composed the message and she trusted that they’d find the answers they needed within the journal’s pages. She opened up her laptop and set up a folder. First, she’d input a rough translation and notes as she went along, and edit later.