“I’m afraid not.” Demeter opened her hand and a crystal pyramid appeared and began rotating above her palm. Rays of variegated colors streamed from it. “You ruled by deceit and your actions were at the expense of two lives.”
“This whole thing was a mistake.” Moros frowned at the spectrum porthole she held, knowing it was meant for him.
“A very large mistake, I would say. However, it is one that you instigated.”
“I didn’t instigate it.” Moros pointed at Gwyndolen and she frowned at him. “She did!”
The queen fae sneered at Moros. How dare he blame her for this entire event.
“I would say there are many to blame in this,” Demeter returned. “But your sword didn’t thrust itself into their flesh of its own accord. It was your choice to end it this way.”
To that Moros said nothing.
A buzz hummed in his ear and he rubbed it vigorously. He was aware of what it meant. Another human womb awaited him. He would be born again, conceived by miserable human flesh, to live and die another miserable human existence.
Demeter directed the beam of colors to expand, and then waved her hand through it. She set the large cone-shaped spectrum upon the floor. “May your next death be more gruesome than the last one.”
Not that Demeter was a vindictive woman by any means, wishing torture on Moros. She only hoped that some day he would come to understand that human suffering was not something for one’s exploitation and amusement. All life, whether it be immortal or mortal was worth savoring.
“What a terrible thing to say, Demeter,” Moros said as he placed a foot in the beam of colors.
“Oh, and Moros, before you go….”
“What now?” Moros asked, his head dropping to an irritated tilt as he looked at her.
“Release your claim on the druid.”
Furling his brows, Moros looked at Fallon’s dead body. “What difference does it make at this point?”
“I won’t allow you to own a smidgen of her, not even her spirit.”
“But I won….”
“You were victorious with nothing! All you managed to do was deceive!” Demeter’s anger was flaring at his arguing. “Now do as I say.”
“Why should I?” Moros snickered as he pushed further into the porthole that would deliver him to his next human life.
Demeter narrowed furious eyes on him. “Because if you refuse, I will see to it that in your soon to be mortal existence that your appearance is so repulsive that no woman could be forced to turn an amorous eye to you.”
Moros pondered that for a moment. No, he wouldn’t like that at all. “Very well, I release my claim on the druid Fallon.”
Truthfully, Moros didn’t really want her anyway. He was just amusing himself.
“Now be gone,” Demeter ordered him with a deprecating twist of her mouth. Moros stepped into the beam of light and disappeared.
Demeter summoned the pyramid crystal and it descended and melded with the flesh of her palm. Looking about the palace’s great hall, she addressed the faerie crowd that remained there. “What happened here today is a crime within all realms.”
Waving her hand over Fallon and Kane, their bodies faded and then vanished. “I expect that this will never happen again, or you will all suffer considerably for it.”
She strolled to where Gwyndolen stood and grasped her by the shoulders. Bending, Demeter whispered in her ear. “Save the favor I owe you for another time. This one I could not possibly grant.”
Stepping back, she smiled at the faerie queen. “Just be joyous that your daughter is immortal.”
Gwyndolen looked at Demeter with surprise.
A half-blooded faerie could be born mortal, immortal or somewhere in between, meaning the offspring could live for centuries or millennia before expiring. But one never knew until they died—or did not die.
In like, they might age or remain youthful forever and that too would only be revealed through the passing of time.
“How do you…?” Gwyndolen opened her mouth to question the goddess, but before she could finish her sentence, Demeter was gone.
Only a moment had passed when Gwyndolen suddenly felt Demeter’s presence. But this time she spoke from beyond, sending her thoughts to the queen fae’s mind. She’s already died once, Gwyndolen, though she doesn’t know it. But there was no one around to tell her that she wasn’t just asleep.
Epilogue
Fallon caressed the whitethorn tree rendering her most sincere praise. Samhuinn was upon them and the harvest had provided food aplenty. For that, Fallon was immensely thankful. The clans could now claim large stores, which would carry them through most of the next season. Soon all foliage would be asleep, and rare it would be to find a green thing, not alone something to pick and eat. The air would turn cold, bright skies would be few, and the ground would be frozen beneath their feet.
The world around them would become bleak, boredom setting into daily life as all around grew dismal. Hardship was sure to follow.
Rubbing her blossoming belly, Fallon was also humbly thankful for the child she conceived—a greenwood babe, though it was not created from a night of rutting, but an intense and unforgettable love. She carried the child of the whitethorn, conceived beneath and by the son of a sacred tree.
Without question she was blessed.
Resting her cheek against the tree trunk, Fallon deepened the thoughts of her lover. It was here in this very place they discovered their love and their passion.
And it was here they were also betrayed.
But Fallon discovered something important that Bealtuinn eve. She could look upon her love with sincere eyes, without fear that he would lose his mind or that her heart might be broken.
She also discovered her immortality.
For that reason Fallon would be eternally thankful to Demeter, or else she might have more to be troubled about this Samhuinn than spending it alone. Once again the veils were thinning and the immortals were free to cross over. Had Demeter failed to force The Bryan’s hand in releasing Fallon, the loathsome faerie if otherwise unoccupied in a mortal life elsewhere, might come to seek her. And if he did, this time Fallon would not have her warrior’s protection from him.
Pushing the ritual cloak from her shoulders and allowing it to drape down the length of her back, Fallon stroked her fingers between her breasts and caressed the scar that remained there, never to fade.
After taking the brunt of Moros’ thrusting sword through her body, the last thing she remembered before going cold, was giving her heart to Kane.
And he gave his in return.
Fallon sighed and closed her eyes. He sacrificed his life for her, fought to the bitter end, all for the sake of loving her.
Oh, she missed him so.
Turning her face upward and toward the sunny sky, Fallon savored the warmth on her flesh, appreciating that the sun’s heat that would soon be gone. She inhaled what remained of the forest fragrances, letting them seep into her memories.
The scents reminded her of Kane.
Fallon longed for brighter days and warmer suns and of times gone by when happiness was more of a friend to her than it was at this moment.
How would she survive the coming season without him?
And though Fallon was loath to celebrate the harvest rituals alone whilst others found merriment together, she had little choice as druid of the village. The clans needed her to perform the rites this eve.
Nay. Fallon must push her aching for Kane aside, and ignore the loneliness within her. It was her duty, not only as a human, but as a faerie as well that she should preside over the dark time rituals, lead the clans in preparing for the forthcoming winter’s strife.
If only she could find comfort in her father’s eyes and warm embrace, but he was no more. Marlow Moireach was nowhere to be found, having disappeared sometime between the Bealtuinn day and Bealtuinn eve last season. No one knew for sure exactly why or when it happened.
But Fallon, however,
truly believed he was with her mother.
Sighing, Fallon thought it might be pleasant if the queen crossed the veils this eve, just to spend a short visit. But it was something she refused to count on. Though Fallon forgave her, Gwyndolen was ashamed of the devious scheme that nearly killed both Fallon and Kane. Before they were returned to the earth, the faerie queen promised to stay away, never to meddle in Fallon’s life again. Regardless, Fallon would still attempt to summon her mother.
Again Fallon’s palms fell to her belly and she caressed it gently.
“I have ye, little one,” she whispered. “And because of ye I keep goin’.”
And at least she had Alanna’s friendship, as well.
Fallon released a small chuckle, thinking about her friend and the days prior when Alanna swept Fallon’s hair aside whilst she emptied the contents of her stomach.
Over and over and over and over again.
Alanna kept laughing, irritating Fallon to an extreme degree for refusing to retrieve the herbs that would rid her of the culprit that was making her ill.
I do no’ think ‘twould be a culprit ye wish ta be rid of, Alanna told her.
Fallon completely lost her temper, accusing Alanna of taking vengeance for leaving her swooning on the path the day The Bryan had shown his face to them. She told Alanna that if she was really a true friend, she would practice forgiveness and take pity on Fallon for feeling like a rodent the dog dragged in.
And then Fallon emptied the contents of her stomach once more.
With a hardy laugh Alanna confessed she suspected Fallon carried a bairn in her belly. She further teased Fallon for her lack of insight when for many a seasons it was the very kind of illness that women sought the druid’s cures for.
Fallon laughed, at first disbelieving of Alanna’s claim. But the soreness in her breasts and the fact that, despite her upset stomach, she was hungry, convinced her that she was indeed carrying a bairn.
No’ to mention the manner by which yer moods keep changin’, Alanna commented.
Fallon’s delight immediately changed to irritation as she scowled and denied it. There be nothin’ flawed with me moods!
And she scowled at her friend.
Ignoring Fallon’s temper, Alanna brought her bread and broth, which Fallon ate and drank and then promptly vomited. That caused Fallon to weep miserable tears, though she was unsure of what prompted her crying.
It was Kane. She so wished to tell him of the babe they conceived, but he was not there to tell.
“Yer papa would be immensely pleased,” Fallon spoke to her belly. “I jest wish he knew of ye.”
Fallon closed her eyes. “Well, he be knowin’ about ye soon enough.”
A horse neighed behind her and Fallon’s heart leapt. Had soon enough come? Spinning around to see who it was, she blinked, unsure if her eyes deceived her, but they did not.
A broad smile beamed across her face. “Ye have come home!”
Kane waved to Fallon, matching her wide, happy smile with one of his own. “Did ye trust I would have no’, woman?”
After nearly half a season’s absence, he was returning home from war.
The horse moved closer and Kane’s eyes fell upon his wife. Her ritual cloak was tossed over her shoulders, exposing her naked body to his eyes.
By the gods he was overjoyed to see her. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered.
Nay. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and Kane suspected she always would be, to his eyes at least.
Pulling off his leather breastplate, Kane tossed it aside and flashed Fallon a lusty grin. He then unlatched the belt that sheathed his blade. That too, he tossed away.
Fallon laughed, her eyes seeking his, beckoning him toward her as she watched him undress. There was no mistaking his intentions.
Hers were the same.
Just before he reached her, he pulled off his leine, and Kane too was naked to her sight, save the fur boots wrapped around his feet and calves, held in place with crisscrossing twines.
Blowing out an amorous breath, Fallon smoothed her hands along her own body as she watched him approach, her gaze gliding all over his muscular form. She ached to graze her fingers through the hair on his chest, trace her tongue along the line that trailed the center of his firm stomach and ran straight downward to the luscious shaft between his thighs. Fallon moaned, watching the manner in which his hips rocked forward and back in a gentle cadence as the horse he sat naked upon ambled. It conjured images of his hips rocking between her thighs as he slid his shaft in and out of her, much in the same rhythm she was seeing now.
Fallon licked her lips. He was a glorious sight to see. Particularly with the center of his desire now thickening and lengthening like a mighty weapon. She was flooded with the yearning to be penetrated by it.
Finding her breasts, Fallon skimmed her thumbs across her nipples causing them to peak. Her passion for Kane surged, fanning her flaming need, and Fallon opened her arms to Kane as he drew nearer, waiting, seeking, craving his embrace, his body.
Kane dismounted from the horse and treaded directly to her. Gathering Fallon into his arms, he sighed at the warmth of her heated, naked body pressed against his longing, aching flesh.
“Ye are home,” Fallon whispered as she set her cheek upon his bare chest, and Kane inhaled heavily, the emptiness that pursued him all the days he was away from her and on the battlefield now being relieved by the feel of her in his arms. He was tremendously jubilant to be back in the homelands, and to be with Fallon again.
Cupping her face between his palms, Kane tipped her head back, gazing steadfastly into her eyes. “Aye, love. As by me request, Mor mac Eirc released me from me duties and expressed his gratefulness ta me fer the extended service I gave to him.”
Comforted by those words, relief filled Fallon. Kane would depart no more.
It was a terrible hardship on her heart when he left. Fallon and Kane were together only a short time following Bealtuinn when the future king sent word that Kane was needed and must come immediately. Kane hesitated to go, but it was his duty. And Fallon, though she was terrified to see him depart, worrying that he would fall in battle, accepted his loyalty to the would-be king and instead offered her blessings and prayers for his safe return, letting fate take its course.
Whatever was meant to be would be.
Still, she remained hopeful, unable to accept that anything other than Kane coming home was inevitable. He had the shield of Demeter’s protection about his head, a shield that saved him that Bealtuinn eve when Moros’ sword brought him down. That, and Fallon taking the brunt of Moros thrusting blade.
Aye.
Her healing blood spared Kane from impending death, flowing through him in great abundance, seeking his fatal wounds, refusing to allow Kane to meet his doom.
Fallon pressed her lips to the mark that remained on Kane’s chest where the sword cut through it. In like with hers, the scars were a reminder to always trust, to always have faith in those you love.
“What be this?” Kane asked as he stepped back to take a look at her. His eyes fixed to her rounded belly.
Tipping her head back, Fallon smiled brightly. “Are ye pleased to be a papa?”
It was more blessing than Kane could possibly hope for and he was mightily pleased, the expression on his face telling it all. “And may we be hallowed with a house of bairns aplenty, or at the verra least, die tryin’.”
Fallon chuckled softly, but her amusement turned to heated passion when Kane insinuated his leg between her thighs and their hips melded.
Lifting his hand, Kane strummed his fingers along the scar between Fallon’s breasts, there to remind him how she sacrificed her life for him that day.
Though the goddess guided him on how to defeat the faerie, ensuring him it was the only way for him to remain alive, Demeter never revealed that Fallon would react in such a way. Had Kane known she would put her life in front of his, he with certainty would not have invited The Bryan’s
blade at all.
He was profoundly relieved Fallon was immortal.
Tightening his embrace around Fallon, Kane lowered his head, taking her mouth, kissing her lips and then dipping his tongue inside. Fallon moaned her pleasure, relaxing into his arms, melting, her heart thumping and her body begging. His hands came up cupping and caressing both of her breasts, intensifying her need for him. And then Kane’s mouth sought, ascended, suckling her throat and her breasts, his tongue licking, his lips sucking one and then the other, before returning to her mouth.
Kissing her deeply, Kane’s hands skimmed the flesh along Fallon’s sides, continuing further to her arms and urging them above her head where her hands found the overhead branches of the whitethorn. She grasped them tightly, and as she did, Kane pressed his naked body against her, forcing her to lean back on the trunk of the sacred tree. In one sweep he wrapped her legs around his hips and plunged his hardened shaft into her.
Fallon released a lustful groan with his deep penetration, moaning out a sharp breath when he grasped her bottom, withdrew his shaft and plunged deep within her again. Over and over his hips moved, in, out, faster and then slower and faster again. Fallon clung tightly to the branches above her for support as Kane’s mouth suckled her flesh, licked her throat and breasts, meandering all over her upper body, her passion soaring closer to ecstasy with every thrust Kane gave her. And she panted, her breathy gasps increasing, shifting to sensuous moans that emerged and escalated, threading with the sounds of nature and the whirring of the harvest wind that blew through the branches of the forest trees around them.
Kane thrummed, driving into Fallon, his wife. He was still awestruck by the alluring effect she held over him, but readily accepted and savored it. She was his mate, his heart, his love. And Kane would never surrender her to another, else he would die.
Pumping harder, Kane’s heartbeat quickened at the sound of Fallon’s passionate wails and the tightness of her squeezing around him as she peaked. His own need surged, igniting and rising higher and higher until Kane felt his own savage fire from within bursting through. And on one last, hard thrust his seed spilled in a riotous rupture, so overwhelming, so gratifying, so depleting that Kane could no longer stand. His knees gave way, and Kane lowered both himself and Fallon to the ground.
Passions of the Flame Page 13