by A. S. Green
The beauty of that moment overwhelmed her, but then he pushed her even higher, setting up a relentless rhythm as his hips pistoned in and out, building the friction between them as their wet bodies slid and slapped against each other.
He looked so sexy. So powerful. So…healthy. She'd made him that way. When he said, watch what ye do to me, he wanted her to see how she made him whole.
Declan reached down with one hand and pressed his thumb against her clit. “I want ye to come for me, anamchara. I want to feel ye squeeze my cock like a vise, then I want to feel your sweet aftershocks ripple up and down my shaft.”
Sweet Danu. His dirty words were going to be her undoing, better than any book.
“Can ye do that for me, love, because I’m not going to last much longer.”
He rolled his thumb against that tender nub of nerves, and Rowan let out a whimper.
“Can ye?”
“God, yes!” Rowan felt herself ride the edge of her climax.
“That’s it,” he said. “Fuck, that’s it.”
He lifted her an inch and bounced her on his cock, swirling his thumb against her clit, and she let out a scream that Declan quickly smothered with his mouth.
She felt his balls constrict against her thigh, then his cock empty into her. The molten spurts of his cum splashed against her inner walls, making the shower water feel cool by comparison.
Rowan moaned in pleasure, and her body went slack as Declan continued to hold her, now rocking their bodies sweetly as their mutual orgasms slowly tapered off, and the reality of what just happened sunk in.
She’d done it. She’d had sex with Declan MacConall. She was in serious trouble, and in more ways than one. But she didn’t regret it. Not for a second.
“You promised me that wouldn’t happen,” she whispered, though she didn’t blame him. She said she was all in, and she meant it.
“I promised ye nothing would happen in my bed,” he said, making a ridiculous distinction.
“Right,” she said, pretending to realize her mistake. “You did say that. My bad.”
She pushed a strand of wet hair off his face and reveled in the sense that he was still inside her. “I suppose tomorrow morning I’ll just pretend to have come back really early to check on your vitals.”
He made a hmph that sounded a bit like a laugh. “There’s no need for that.”
“Why not?” she asked, her eyebrows pulling together.
He jerked his head in the direction of the doorway. “They all know you’re here.”
Oh, shit. “But you said—”
“This isn’t my fault, Rowan. I told them ye went home, but then you made me into a liar when they heard the shower turn on.”
“Oh my God.” She was a complete idiot.
“Don’t be embarrassed. They’re happy for us, but they won’t say anything.”
Rowan shook her head, then she laughed at how stupid she’d been. Declan moaned, and her eyes widened as she felt his cock harden again, still inside her.
“What can I say?” he said, sounding somehow both sheepish and proud. “Your laugh is a turn on. Fuck, everything about ye turns me on. You’re the one for me.”
She kissed him as he slid in and out again, but this time in more languid strokes than the desperate punishing ones he’d given her before.
She was the one for him. And he was the one for her. There could be no other. How could there ever? Which was why Rowan had to bury her face in his shoulder so he wouldn’t see her cry.
* * *
DECLAN
Declan turned over in bed, felt the curve of Rowan’s ass at his groin then wrapped an arm around her narrow waist and drew her deeper into him. Her luscious scent filled his nose and, even asleep, he was happy in the knowledge that she was his and he was hers. He wished that nothing would disturb this perfect moment and yet something was trying to do just that.
“Wake up!”
Declan groaned and pressed his nose against Rowan’s shoulder. She shifted her hips in her sleep, and he involuntarily thrust his pelvis forward.
“Aiden! Declan! Madigan! Wake up. We need to hide.”
Declan swatted at the air behind him, then he wrapped his arm back around his anamchara and searched for better dreams. The past could not touch him here in heaven—not in this little bit of Tír na nÓg.
“Let’s go,” Cormac said. “Hurry!”
“Not again,” he answered him. “Not again.”
Rowan stirred at the sound of his voice. She rolled to face him, then he felt her jerk the blankets higher to cover herself.
Declan opened his eyes and saw Cormac standing over him in real life. It wasn’t a dream.
“Holy shit! What the fuck are ye doing in here?” He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and shielded Rowan with his body.
“Get up!” Cormac said. “They’ve come back.”
Cormac didn’t have to say any more. Declan knew what he meant. He shoved his glasses on his face.
“What’s going on?” Rowan asked.
“The Black Castle,” Declan heard his da say in his head.
“The Black Castle,” Cormac said. “They’re throwing rocks at the house. Some of them have found the target.”
“They can see the house?” she asked, sounding as bewildered as Declan felt.
“I don’t think so, but they know for sure that it’s here now.”
“Here?” Declan heard the memory of his mum ask. “They’ve followed us here?”
“Aye, Siobhan. Are the lads asleep?”
Declan heard the dull sound of a rock hit the outside of the house.
“There it is,” Cormac said.
“Can they get in?” Rowan asked.
Cormac’s face looked grim. “Not if they keep hitting the walls. If they break a window… Branna tells us that if they breach the perimeter, it’ll only be a matter of time before they get inside.”
“Where is Branna?” Declan asked, the déjà vu of this moment making him feel like there should be a black rabbit standing on its hind legs at Cormac’s feet.
“I don’t know. Not here. We need to go.”
“But the council,” Declan said. “Ye can’t cancel it. We need to get everyone together more than ever.”
“We won’t cancel it. Now lock up whatever ye have that needs protecting.”
Meghan suddenly appeared in the doorway wearing a bulky sweater and heavy coat. Her eyes were wide. Cormac glanced over his shoulder at her, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. Then he turned to Rowan.
“Get yourself dressed in as many layers as you’ve brought with ye. It’s going to be cold. Declan, grab our council offerings. We have to go.”
Cormac rushed from the room, grabbing Meghan’s hand and towing her behind him. Rowan jumped out of bed and started putting on clothes. Declan watched her.
There was nothing valuable or sentimental in his room that he needed to lock up. He’d made a point not to collect anything that he wouldn’t mind losing. But Rowan… If anything happened to her... And on this miserable weekend, too.
“You heard your brother,” Rowan said, realizing he hadn’t moved. “Get the offerings. I’ll be right behind you.”
She’d be right behind him.
They all rushed downstairs together, then toward the kitchen. They made it as far as the built-in cupboards in the hall when the front window shattered in a splintering burst of sound behind them.
Declan looked toward the cupboards where they’d hidden as children, then he and his brothers shared a look of intense resolve. They would not hide again.
“Meghan. Rowan,” Cormac said, his voice calm and resolved. The meaning behind it raised Declan’s hound, and it licked its teeth, readying for a fight. “To the game room. Lock yourselves in.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Declan said.
Meghan looked at Rowan, then they clasped hands and ran.
“What do ye say we go see what their trouble is?” Cormac asked, loo
king meaningfully toward the front door, then over his shoulder at his brothers.
Declan pressed his lips together and gave him a single nod.
“And brothers…” Cormac stopped there, not needing to finish because Declan and Aiden both knew what he was going to say.
Of the three of them, Cormac had yet to personally avenge their parents and Madigan. Aiden had killed three Black Castle at the falls; Declan, two. Even Branna got one. Cormac had abstained from the kill in order to rescue Meghan. Tonight was his night, and on the eve of the council, he needed it.
Declan closed his eyes and, with his brothers, tilted his body through the dimension-splitting tunnel of space and time. When they reappeared, they were on their front lawn, standing side by side behind the backs of the two Black Castle from the woods.
Each of the pádraigs had a rock in his hand and stood staring curiously at what—to them—still appeared to be a grassy clearing.
“It’s there. I heard the glass break. But how do we get inside?” Tobacco Beard asked Jerry.
The scene was lit only by the moon and now the red glow of Cormac’s eyes. Declan and Aiden had not yet transformed, and Declan hoped they wouldn’t have to. He wanted this for Cormac.
“I don’t know,” Jerry said, still oblivious of their presence. “But we’re gonna figure it out. I’m not letting those freaks get away this time. I’m gonna nail their bloody pelts to my wall by the time I’m done, every single one of ‘em. And if that female’s still with them,” he chuckled low. “Well I’m gonna have me some fun with her first.”
“Excuse me,” Declan said, barely holding his hound at bay. When they both turned, Declan took some perverse pleasure in the bruising along each of their jaws. “Were ye looking for me?”
The men locked eyes on Declan, but their attention was quickly stolen by the giant wolf-like creature licking its muzzle. Tobacco Beard’s eyes jerked to the ground where they’d lain their shotguns, but they were too far away to easily grab.
Obviously sensing they were outnumbered, they searched for an explanation. “We got lost,” Jerry blurted as he inched closer to his weapon. “We’re looking for the road to town.”
“Most people find a map works better than throwing rocks,” Declan said, semi-playing along. It was more fun with Rowan safe inside.
Tobacco Beard didn’t move, but Jerry lunged for his shotgun. None of the brothers stopped him, even when Jerry took aim while holding the shotgun low at his waist. “Back off,” he said. “Back off, or I’ll shoot.”
Declan wasn’t interested in drawing this out any further. They’d breached his home, scared his anamchara, and attempted to repeat the worst night of his life on its very anniversary.
“Cormac,” he said. “End this.”
Cormac lunged. A shot went off, and Tobacco Beard screamed. Cormac sunk his teeth over Jerry’s jugular, ripping out his throat, and Tobacco Beard ran for their truck.
Aiden and Declan turned woodenly as the rest of the scene played out like a movie. With Jerry’s blood dripping from his teeth, Cormac leapt for the truck, covering twenty-five feet in a single bound. He caught Tobacco Beard by the foot as he climbed in the cab and dragged him out.
Declan didn’t need to watch any more. He needed to see to Rowan. He walked up the porch and in through the front door as the sounds of Tobacco Beard being ripped limb from limb filled the stillness of the night.
Chapter Fifteen
DECLAN
A few hours later, four MacConalls and a McNeely arrived just outside the faerie ring in Isabella. It was dark, still an hour before star-fade when the sky lightened from black to a soft navy. The air was cold and sharp, tingling their noses, and they drew their winter coats tighter around them.
They’d tilted to the bottom of the hill, having first joined hands. Only one of them—Cormac—had ever been to the area around Isabella before and could envision it clearly enough for smooth travel. He’d never been to the area’s faerie ring, however—avoiding them whenever possible—so that meant they had to climb to the top of the hill on foot.
Declan held Rowan’s mittened hand to help with her footing. Her pink and white Reeboks were cute, and they had been fine for their walk in town and through the woods, but their smooth bottoms weren’t gaining much purchase on the matted grass that was slick with frost.
When they finally reached the top, they stood in a line on the outside of the circle of ash trees, their breath condensing on the air in puffs of silver.
“No one’s here,” Declan said, putting voice to all their thoughts. He closed the top snap of his down jacket, shutting out the cold.
“They’ll come,” Cormac assured him. “They’re just waiting for the Call.”
“Ye did call,” Declan said, pulling his wool beanie down over his forehead. “I heard ye on the phone for hours.”
“No,” he said. “I mean, the Call.”
Aiden stepped through the trees and entered the ring first. “Cormac’s right. We need to get the fire started.”
The rest of them followed. As Declan passed between two trees and into the circle, the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, and he felt the warning he’d given Meghan hours earlier. Faerie rings are notoriously dangerous places for pádraigs… And often no safer for the sídhe.
As they went about building a tower of kindling at the center of the ring, then stacking larger branches to set up for the bonfire, they based their actions more on stories from their childhood and illustrations in books.
Only after their tower of timber had taken sufficient size and shape did Declan strike the match. It took a second for the dry leaves to catch, but soon it was blazing and lighting the entire circle and even several feet beyond. They held their breath, hoping the stories were true.
“If this doesn’t work to entice a dryad,” Declan joked, trying to cover his nerves, “your voice isn’t horrible, Aiden. Maybe ye could be the caller?”
Aiden rolled his eyes, but then closed them in relief when the first strains of faerie music came from above them. They looked up and collectively exhaled a cloud of smoky breath. Just like the stories they’d read, a dryad appeared in the branches of one of the ash trees and began to play. Between the blazing bonfire and the ancient music, there would be no mistaking the Call. A council was truly happening. Now all they needed were for the other clans to show.
It could be minutes, it could be hours before they’d know if their efforts had been in vain. Declan held Rowan’s hands to keep them warm. Meghan and Aiden held theirs to the fire, while Cormac paced outside of the ring, anxiously watching for the sign of anyone’s approach.
“You’re going to wear a groove in the ground,” Aiden said.
“He does that sometimes,” Meghan said, with a small smile at her lips.
Then, just as the horizon was streaked in rose, the first clan arrived. Not surprising, they were the other cú sídhe—including their father’s old friend, Nolan Cassidy—from Tofte and Silver Bay. They greeted Cormac with soft grunts and tosses of the head, their tails rigid behind them.
Rowan pulled her hands from Declan’s, but she drew close enough to whisper, “Why have they come as hounds?”
“They’re distrustful,” Declan said, his lips at her ear.
Rowan shivered. “Of you?”
“No, love. Of you.” He kissed her temple, then turned when the sound of many more feet approached.
It had to be at least fifty leannán sídhe—some Declan recognized from Ely, most must have come from the North Shore. They were dressed in their typical black, but this time all in leather—looking like a dominatrix motorcycle club.
Declan felt Meghan tense beside him as her half-blood relatives arrived. When he turned to look at her, she was staring at them with both fear and longing. He gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance because—despite being underdressed for the weather—the leannán did not seem to be affected by the cold. This meant they were using their powers of persuasion on themselves ton
ight, which was a very good thing. The more their minds turned inward, the less of a threat they were to everyone else.
After the leannán came a half dozen kelpie and—apparently—three grogoch. For the latter, Declan couldn’t see them himself. They were invisible to everyone, except those whom they trusted. He wouldn’t have known they were there at all, except for the surprised comments of the elderly Silver Bay cú sídhe standing behind him.
The daoine clan was the last to arrive, and only those from Ely came. As soon as they appeared, Declan felt Rowan slip away from him.
He reached out, whispering, “Stay with me.”
She gave him an apologetic look, but then went to join her own kind, and her father, who did not look happy to see her there. In fact, for all the daoines’ supposed interest in peace, they looked the most hostile of any clan gathered.
No redcaps had come down from Grand Portage by the Canadian border, though their absence wasn’t a loss. And, of course, no bean sídhe came either. Even if Cormac had wanted to invite them, as far as Declan knew, they always refused the Call unless they had their own morbid business to attend. Their absence was the first vote of confidence that this council would not end in bloodshed.
Not wasting any time, Cormac stepped up to the fire and threw his offering into the flames, which flared with a blue-green light before returning to orange. “Thank ye all for coming. It is good to see everyone, and I thank ye for taking the time to—”
Another blue-green flare burst out of the other side of the bonfire. “Forget the civilities, cú sídhe, and get to it.” It was Ian Collins, the chieftain of the daoine clan. “This is not a tea party.”
“Of course not,” Cormac said, sounding undaunted though Declan noticed his hand ball into a fist. “I’ve called ye all here because the sídhe are under threat.”
Another blue flare shot sparks into the sky. “It has been for centuries,” said Maeve, the priestess of the Ely leannán.