Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  Taran gave her a suspicious scowl.

  “I’m not goading you!” she assured with a soft laugh. She knew the rules. Any suggestion that his interest in Ciaran went beyond heterosexual, brotherly love was wholly unwelcomed in Taran’s eyes. He was more than willing and eager to share Skye with Ciaran, but he was decidedly, emphatically straight.

  Ciaran, on the other hand… Yeah, Skye had no doubt that boy was a switch-hitter. He had spent most of his immortal existence seeking out and indulging in every single pleasure he could find. To think those pleasures never involved men was hopelessly naïve. Ciaran was an unabashedly sexual being by his very nature. He never discriminated when taking lovers. That said, Ciaran knew the rules, too. Aside from busting on Taran good-naturedly about it, he never pushed the subject. He was deliriously happy with their current arrangement. He had precisely ZERO desire to screw it up by making Taran feel uncomfortable.

  Taran continued studying Skye’s eyes for a moment. After deciding that she was sincere in her curiosity, he finally nodded. "Of course. Ciaran is my brother in the deepest sense of the word. We were joined by breed and purpose, united by loyalty, and made inseparable by time. Our bond is far stronger than one dependent upon blood relation alone. I love him fiercely. I’d carve my own heart from my chest to spare him pain. I've nah a doubt in my mind tha he’d do the same for me."

  Skye drew a choppy breath, still blown away by their level of loyalty to one another. The whole concept was still new to her. "Hasn't it ever... scared you to love him so deeply?” she asked in uncertainty.

  Taran gave her an understanding smile as he recalled her concerns about caring for Miko in a similar fashion. "It has nah. Ciaran has earned such devotion from me. As have I, from him."

  "I guess I’m just still having a hard time dealing with all of this,” she admitted. “After everything that happened when the war started… I mean, I lost you. I really, truly lost you. I almost lost Miko, too. Ciaran was almost killed for helping me. It still grips me sometimes, remembering all that pain and fear. I…”

  She stopped, biting her bottom lip and wondering briefly whether to keep her fears to herself. Taran’s sympathetic eyes pleaded for her to continue. As always, she gave in to his silent request.

  “I still catch myself trying to back off of all of you sometimes,” she confessed.

  Taran frowned at that and kissed her brow. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

  “I never can, though,” she went on softly. “I mean, how could I? It’s just… I guess it’s still fresh in my mind.” She shrugged self-consciously. “Gonna take a hell of a long time for me to learn to focus on the here-and-now instead of the what-ifs.”

  “Time, we have,” Taran reassured.

  Skye grinned at that. Immortality with this hunk as her mate and Ciaran as her friend / lover. It just didn’t get any better than that. “Aren’t you ever afraid?” she asked Taran curiously as she kissed the back of Ciaran’s hand. “Scared of what it would be like to lose him?"

  Taran’s eyes wandered to Ciaran's sleeping face, a sad smile coming to his lips as he studied his brother's features fondly. "I very nearly did," he answered quietly. "Many times in the beginning, he was wounded in battles... Several times, so gravely tha we were nah sure he would be able to heal from it. We lost a great many others, but none ever so close to me as Ciaran. I blamed myself for it every time, for nah being close enough to him when it happened. I would drive myself half mad wondering whether I had killed the fògarach or whatever other creature in time, or whether they had drained him of his immortality. The others would urge me to rest, but I could nah bring myself to leave his side…" Taran averted his eyes, gritting his teeth at the memories. "Each time, I endured pain and fear the likes of which I'd ne'er known. It broke my heart to no end tha I might nah see him again. But nah even for a second did tha pain and fear make me regret caring for him as I do,” he declared earnestly.

  Skye leaned up to steal another kiss from her mate. She loved it when he spoke to her like this, so openly and honestly. Hell, she loved it every time he spoke to her, but times like this were special. She could see in his eyes all that he was – the great man and fierce faol. The King of their clan, and rightly so.

  “You're definitely the top point," Skye declared when she ended their kiss.

  “The ‘top point’?” Taran repeated curiously as he searched her eyes, as if hoping to somehow glean her meaning from the blue and yellow waters of her gaze. “I do nah understand, my love,” he admitted regretfully.

  She kissed him again for his sincere desire to always comprehend her (sometimes foreign) words. “Hand me that notepad and pen,” she said, motioning to the items on the bedside table.

  Much to the still-sleeping Ciaran’s displeasure, she sat up in bed. Once Taran handed over the items, she got to work sketching. Taran leaned in close to watch.

  “Every time I think of us, this symbol is in my mind,” she said once she had finished and tapped the top of the knot. “See? You’re the top point.”

  Taran smiled knowingly at the simple triquetra she had drawn and slowly spun the page in a circle. "Tha's the beauty of the Trinity, love. It is ever-changing. See? No one side is greater than the others. None is above the other two. It simply depends on the perspective ya are viewing them from."

  “You know this symbol?” Skye asked.

  “Aye. It is more ancient than even myself,” Taran answered.

  “Really? What is it supposed to mean?” She asked curiously.

  Taran exhaled heavily in response. His eyes widened at the multitude of possible interpretations. “It has been used to represent a great many things o’er the centuries, wee one,” he assured. He shook his head that there was no single answer and instead began rattling off the first things that came to mind. “Love, loyalty, and friendship. Life, death, and rebirth. Spirit, Mind, and Body. Mother, Father, and Child. Past, Present, and Future. Creation, Preservation, and Destruction. Mother, Maiden, and Crone. Other world, Mortal world, and Celestial world…”

  Skye frowned as she studied the symbol. "There's another meaning to this… It was used to represent Sorcha’s original Trinity, wasn’t it? With Faolan and Brandubh?”

  Taran nodded that it was true but looked deeply troubled by her mention of the original Trinity in the presence of the symbol. In a seemingly superstitious fashion, he took the pen and quickly drew another symbol over Brandubh’s point. The addition clearly held significance. Skye did not need to ask. She knew somehow that the added rune was a ward meant to signify Brandubh’s separation from the Trinity – a way to cleanse the remaining portions of his evil.

  Skye stood on the rooftop – a favored spot of hers in their massive, new home – and looked out across the predawn skyline. The glittering electric lights of the city had yet to give way to the approaching sun. She breathed it all in, allowed it to bring back pleasant memories of her childhood.

  Without warning, a raven landed beside her on the roof’s edge. Startled by the sudden intrusion, Skye took a step back, planting her feet and preparing to fight. But the bird simply cocked its head to the side and studied her. Skye waited a moment in tense anticipation, but no attack came. She exhaled slowly as her muscles relaxed. She had just begun to lower her hands, about to laugh at how jumpy she was, when she heard it. The chilling voice in her thoughts:

  All die.

  Her eyes turned to yellow and talons instantly presented on her fingertips in response to the ominous, hissed warning.

  “No,” she ground out determinedly.

  The raven stared back at her with cold, black eyes.

  They will all die.

  Die now, as they died then.

  You never should have brought your family here,

  SKYYYEEEEEEEEEEE…

  The voice turned to a sustained, whispered shriek as it spoke her name, and suddenly her surroundings warped and shifted. She found herself racing through the front gates of their new home, but the world
was stuck in slow motion. No matter how hard she fought, it felt as if she was running through water or sand. Everything around her seemed disproportionately large until she realized in horror that she was trapped in her 12-year-old body, rendered a defenseless child once more.

  Her wordless screams of terror and desperation echoed through the empty halls as she climbed over the shattered remnants of the front doors. She turned from left to right, calling for her men until suddenly they appeared. Skye retched and took a staggered step back. The world fell to silence. The halls were filled with her dead pack members. Their mutilated corpses were heaped atop one another. No part of the floor could be seen beneath their remains. The scent of blood was overpowering. Limbs had been torn off and thrown aside. Throats were ripped out. Heads had been severed and left in piles. The extent and brutality of the slaughter was enough to bring her to her knees in their cold, congealing blood.

  Skye wept in silence and covered her opened mouth with a trembling hand. She could not even force sound from her lips in this horrid place. Her senses frantically sought out any signs of life, but there was nothing. No sounds or scent of breath. No body heat to be found in their home…

  The promise of the chilling voice tore through her mind again:

  ALL DIE!

  “No, please! Please!” Skye sobbed as she thrashed and fought in bed against an unseen assailant.

  “Shh, a stóirín,” Ciaran soothed. “You’re safe, girl. I’ve got ya.”

  Gradually, Skye became aware of her surroundings. She focused on the sound of his voice before her eyes would cooperate and focus on his face. “Ciaran,” she whispered gratefully and reached out for him, anchoring herself with the feel of his warm skin beneath her hands.

  “I’m here, Skye. You’re all right. Nothing’s gonna harm ya,” he promised as he covered her face with sweet kisses.

  Skye sighed and allowed his presence to bring her back to reality. She could sense that Taran was not in the surrounding area, but that was common in the mornings. Her King was an early riser. Skye and Ciaran, on the other hand, slept in as late as possible. Unfortunately, that had not been very late at all since their arrival in the city.

  “Another nightmare,” Ciaran commented with a frown.

  “Another nightmare,” she repeated in reassurance to herself.

  “S’happenin’ more and more,” he said disapprovingly. “Seems the only time ya ever get any decent sleep is right after ya use your powers. And then’s only ‘cause you’re too beat to dream.”

  “It’s fine,” she lied.

  “Like hell it is,” Ciaran declared with a huff. “This started the night we arrived here. Ya’ve nah slept properly in a week. We ought to change locations and be done with it.”

  “Everyone’s already put in too much work here to move now,” Skye groaned. “I’ll be fine. It’s just… I guess it’s my brain’s way of releasing the anxiety of being back here again after so long. I don’t give these feelings the time of day when I’m awake, so they’re taking it out on my mind at night.”

  “Precisely the reason ya’d be better off in another city. Any other city,” Ciaran declared with wide eyes. “We could head South. Louisiana? New Orleans is bloody brilliant. Florida? Miami, maybe? I’m sure Miko and Aiyana wouldn’t mind being back on their old turf. Maybe head out West somewhere? Anywhere, love, but here. Ya’ve enough on your plate without adding nightmares to the mix. Ya need sleep for the fights to come.”

  Skye smiled suspiciously. “Is that why you two haven’t been waking me up lately?”

  Ciaran’s eyes sparkled with merry mischief. He rolled her over onto her back and gazed down into her eyes hungrily. “Trust tha your wellbeing’s the only reason we’d ever willingly let ya sleep instead of havin’ our way with ya, darlin’. But seeing as how you’re awake noooowww…” he began with a grin.

  Skye laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he kissed her deeply.

  “Mmph… wait, I’ve a present for ya first,” he said a second later as he reluctantly pulled his mouth from hers.

  She watched adoringly as he climbed from the bed. She was thankful for every opportunity to openly enjoy the sight of her men naked. She rolled her eyes, however, when he retrieved an ornate, hand carved wooden box from his dresser.

  “Ciaran, you know you don’t have to buy me anything," she groaned for the millionth time. He knew damned well that she was not materialistic. It never seemed to stop him from finding something for her every time he left the den.

  “I know I don’t have to. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he said with a grin as he jumped back into bed beside her.

  She sighed and sat up, giving him an apprehensive look as he placed the box into her hands. In just the week since their arrival in the city, Ciaran had already cleared out half of the inventory of Jewelers’ Row. She had a close-to-overflowing jewelry armoire now because of him. Not a jewelry box. A straight up armoire. Who knew they even made armoires specifically for jewelry? Who even owned so much jewelry that they needed a freaking armoire to store it? Answer: SHE DID. And to think, just a week prior, the only items she owned were her old nose ring (for sentimental purposes) and the cross-necklace Aiyana gave her. Both items were in the top drawer of the armoire, still within the small wooden box Taran had placed them inside during her first transformations.

  Skye frowned as she studied the far more ornate box currently in her hands. This one looked different than Ciaran’s usual gifts… It was old and clearly valuable all on its own. It made her seriously concerned for what she was about to find inside. Ciaran watched eagerly as she opened the box to reveal a golden necklace covered by a truly ridiculous amount of diamonds and rubies.

  Skye exhaled sharply in disbelief. “Holy fuck, Ciaran! Did you steal the crown jewels?” she wheezed and clutched her chest.

  Part of her really wanted to believe she was holding a piece of costume jewelry. It was the only thing that made sense. Knowing Ciaran, however, that was not the case. The piece was so unbelievably ostentatious, her brain was suffering a meltdown just contemplating the monetary value of so many jewels in one place. It was an oversized bib style necklace, designed to drape the vast majority of her décolletage in glittering gems.

  Ciaran beamed with pride over her stunned expression and removed it from its box. He kneeled behind her on the bed and carefully got to work putting it on for her.

  “Ooohhh my God. This thing must be worth more than a mansion, Ciaran. You are draping a freaking mansion around my neck.”

  Ciaran chuckled at that. “Come now, love. Five mansions, easily.”

  “Where the hell did you even buy this?” she stammered.

  “Meh, ya would nah know the country by name,” he answered nonchalantly. “It dissolved several centuries ago. I’ve had this in me own personal collection since well before then.”

  “Jesus Christ, this thing is a legit museum piece?!” she squeaked. “Then how much is it wor–?” She stopped herself abruptly, held up a hand, and closed her eyes as she shook her head. “Wait, no. No. No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,” she insisted.

  “I can tell ya it’s nah even half as precious and rare as ya are,” he answered breathily behind her ear. “There’s nah another woman in the history of this world I’d’ve placed it on. It was made for a Queen. A Goddess.”

  Skye’s cheeks flushed pink knowing that he was being utterly sincere. She always felt unworthy of the adoration he had for her. “‘Queen’, ‘Goddess’ – those are just words, Ciaran. They don’t mean anything. I’m still just me. And ‘just me’ doesn’t deserve… All of this. Any of this,” she insisted as her eyes locked on the comforter. “Ouch!” she yelped a second later when Ciaran pinched her side unexpectedly.

  “Just words?” he repeated disbelievingly. “Have I nah provided enough action by now to prove their meaning? I suppose I shall just have to step up me worship so ya understand,” he declared as he nipped at her earlobe.

  Skye
smiled and teased, “You’re liable to fucking break me if you worship any harder.”

  Ciaran gave a pleased chuckle in reply and wrapped his arms around her. Drawing her back against his chest, he gave her a squeeze and nuzzled the side of her neck.

  Skye leaned appreciatively into the comfort his touch provided. A moment later, she sighed and shook her head. “Seriously, though – this is way too much,” she insisted. “I can’t wear this thing. I’ll lose a bunch of the gems or snap the chain or something inside of five minutes. Please tell me you insured it? What am I even supposed to do with this? Where would I wear it? What could I possible wear to go with this thing?”

  Ciaran stood and guided her to lay back on the mattress. He quickly knocked all the blankets and pillows onto the floor until the only thing left on the bed was her. The way his eyes lustfully raked over the sight of her in that moment was enough to silence any further questions or protests she could come up with.

  “Exquisite, a stóirín,” he purred. His eyes were smoldering as he crawled up the length of her, kissing his way up her body and answering in a low tone, “The ‘where’ is right here in this bed with me. And as to what you could wear it with? Absolutely nothing. Just your smile. Best combo I can think of.”

  The mind-blowing sex that followed lead Skye to the realization that Ciaran had himself one hell of a jewelry kink. With that in mind, she decided she did not mind his sparkly gifts quite so much.

  3: Den Sweet Den

  Two hours after Ciaran had left her delightfully dazed and sexed-out in their bed, Skye finally got up to shower and dress. When she at last exited their temporary bedroom, she had to lean back against the door for a long moment just to take it all in.

  Music, laughter, and the voices of nearly 200 men echoed throughout the building. Sunlight filtered in through the sections of windows which had already been replaced in its vast interior. Dozens of nail guns were in use, securing flooring in what would soon become a massive kitchen. Screw guns let out their unmistakable whine as they fastened drywall to its tracks. The high-pitched whirring of a circular saw started and stopped in a practiced rhythm. Each pause was punctuated by the sound of a section of wood clattering to the floor.