No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1)

by Stasia Morineaux

  What about Gideon? Uldwynah had made it sound like I was supposed to be with Gideon. But Gideon was right this moment with the Roghnú, and she hated me, wanted me gone. Would Collum really be here tomorrow, and the following days to come?

  I grabbed his face and kissed him hard, matching his hunger with my own, running my hands over his torso. He pulled away, chuckling jovially. “Oh but you are a minx.”

  The sound of pounding hooves pulled his attention from me; he lifted his face to look behind us. I twisted under him, to look in the same direction. Two riders were approaching.

  “Beannachtaí, Collum,” one of them called out.

  A look of concern crossed his face. He pulled my sweater over me, kissed my forehead. He stood and I watched as he walked over to the men on the horses. Gods, he was beautiful. He exuded authority, power, and potency. I admired his physique as he stood next to the horses, he was tall, broad shouldered, rugged, vital. He was in command. These men were under his rule. My head spun. My heart was beating fiercely. It hadn’t been Gideon on the horse that night in the dream.

  Oh, holy crow! It had been Collum.

  Had it been Collum, not Gideon? Other than the difference in eye color…there was really no difference at all. I tried replaying every ‘dream’ meeting with Gideon over in my mind, but something felt odd…

  I sat up and put my shirt and sweater back on. With the blissful heat of his body away from me I’d become very chilled. Extremely chilled. Clear down to my bones. I began to shake uncontrollably. I felt so hot suddenly. But frozen too. My head began to whirl, worse than when he had been spinning me around our imaginary bonfire. The ground was falling out from beneath me. I didn’t feel well. Suddenly, nothing made sense.

  “Collum?” I managed to get out before the spiraling had me sinking back down to the ground, with the thought of…‘here we go again’.

  ~ Chapter Thirty-One ~

  I sat up in bed. It wasn’t my bed. It was not my bedroom.

  Oh shit. I scrambled backwards until I was flush up against the headboard with nowhere else to back up to. I turned and looked at it. It was heavily carved wood, incredibly old looking, with big plush velvet pillows stacked against it. The room was dimly lit, an amber floor lamp that was more of a lantern, had been left burning next to the bed, and a low fire was aflame in the hearth at the other end of the room, they gave the only illumination.

  Don’t freak out…

  I’d been at a party with the others. They would not have let anything happen to me, would not have let me wander off from the party.

  This must be Liam’s. No. Liam’s did not have this style of furniture. I looked around and took in my surroundings the best I could with the minimal amount of light that was available. Maybe Michael’s? It was too masculine to be either Serena’s or Erin’s.

  I tried to remember how I’d gotten here, but I couldn’t. I tried to remember anything after dancing around the fire. Zip there also.

  I looked down at myself. Shit. Again. I was not wearing my jeans, my lace blouse, or even my sweater. I was now dressed in a plain, dark grey thermal pull-over…and my panties. I could actually feel the color rise in my cheeks. This was not my thermal top. And I did not recall changing from my clothes into this.

  I criss-crossed my legs under me. I tried again to think back to my last lucid moments. There had been lots of food, lots of cider and wine—too much cider and wine perhaps—much dancing around a bonfire, I tossed a stone into the fire, watched the stars, imagined I saw a faun at the edge of the woods…my brain tickled. What else? I knew there was more.

  My heart was pounding, my mouth dry, my lips hot…what was that about? Oh…Oh yeah…a lot of talking, with Serena, Liam, Erin and Michael. Oh geez. Talk about being in love. Liam had guessed it was Gideon. Michael knew it was.

  Oh, where were my clothes. I really should find them and sneak out of here…wherever here might be. I glanced around the room again. I didn’t see my clothes anywhere. Great.

  I bent forward, placing my head in my hands. I was running the entire night through my head once again when I heard the door open. I froze.

  “We need to talk, Draghail.” My heart skipped a beat. I raised my head at the sound of Gideon’s voice. Relief. Briefly and only a small measure, but relief still. I figured I might be out of woods as far as having done something stupid and regrettable with a stranger, but probably not so much as for having maybe done something stupid and regrettable with Gideon earlier today—or was it yesterday now? He had been far beyond fuming, intensely mad at me then.

  Wait. I was at Gideon’s.

  I looked down and smoothed my hands over the covers. This was Gideon’s bed…

  This. Was. Gideon’s. Bed.

  Words that made my brain dance and spin like mad. Changed the rate of my heart and breathing instantly. Every inch of me became ultra heated and I had to think to breathe.

  “We need to talk? That’s never anything good.” I joked, my voice barely more than a whisper in the hush of the room. I hoped I was just joking. “Where are my clothes?” I gestured at my body, the shirt that was not mine.

  My voice was weak and shaky from a fine mix of fear and desire. Fear because I’d heard those words before—‘we need to talk’—they most always led to sadness. And desire because against my will I now had those oh-so-familiar visions bouncing and flashing through my mind. Gideon in the Draíochta ar Linn, Gideon wrapping his arms around me in the woods, Gideon kissing me at Elysium…Gideon on the horse. Why was that one making my brain itch, like I should remember something else?

  I bit my lower lip and tried to clear my mind, tried to get a better grip on the night. I looked down at the velvet comforter over my legs.

  “You couldn’t be expected to sleep in your clothes from that party.” His voice was tight. “They were covered in debris from the woods and reeked of elderberry wine and spiced cider.”

  Was he mad I had gone to the celebration? Was he mad at them too? Or was this just another special rule set aside just for me?

  “You passed out, Michael and Liam brought you here. They were concerned.”

  “I passed out? I never pass out from drinking…I never drink that much.”

  “Apparently you did tonight.”

  I gripped the blanket in my hands. Why couldn’t I remember anything past looking at the moon and stars?

  “I didn’t drink enough to pass out. The last thing I remember, I was perfectly lucid. I didn’t feel much more than happy and tipsy. I…I saw something…in the woods…at the edge of the woods.” I shook my head, unable to see it in my mind now.

  “Well, you did indeed pass out completely or you wouldn’t be here. Michael phoned me.” He paused. His brow furrowed. That extremely alluring-to-me way, creasing slightly right between his eyes, it always signified him thinking deeply. Was he truly concerned or just royally pissed off?

  “What’s up with you, Milseachd?” he asked evenly.

  I shrugged. Bit my lower lip again, trying to hold away my emotions. I was confused and felt on the verge of tears. I had no idea what was happening to me, other than my baffling feelings for him. How was I supposed to tell him? I couldn’t tell him.

  I recalled perfectly how he’d looked at me this afternoon, in the garden of the Elysium. He’d looked sickened and infuriated. What was I supposed to do with that? He was too closed off to me now to tell him how I felt for him and expect anything happy in return for the effort. I’m sure if I couldn’t be with Liam, there was no way that being with the Caomhnoir was allowed or appropriate.

  Gideon sat down on the bed, directly in front of me. His legs just a scant inch or so away from mine. He was searching my face intently.

  “Why don’t you talk to me? Why won’t you talk to me?” he asked gently, his voice so soothing, and it made me feel like collapsing into him and crying. I was so very tired.

  I shook my head almost imperceptibly. “I can’t.” I shrugged again. He was too near…and not nearly close en
ough.

  “I know things haven’t been perfect. Nobody imagines this happening to them. It’s only been a few weeks. I expect anger, resentment, mourning, the works.” He spread his arms wide and gave me that small, light smile I so adored, then he sighed. “But I simply can’t pin you down. Your culls are beyond perfect. You have adjusted to this life amazingly well. Yet…” he shrugged again, lifted his palms up in front of him and let them settle to his legs, exasperated, “strange things keep happening with you, and we clash and we clash…” he trailed off.

  My heart ached, it tumbled, fear wrapped around it. This wasn’t heading anywhere good. I could feel panic building in me. My throat beginning to constrict with painful, unshed tears. My eyes flashed up to him. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” I cut in.

  “What?”

  “Earlier today…or yesterday.” I glanced around for a clock, didn’t see one. When was it anyway? “At Elysium. When I touched you, when I…” I shook my head. How could I even try to explain what I didn’t understand myself? “I said those words...I didn’t know…I don’t know how I knew them…” I brushed the hair from my face, but then looked down anyway.

  I didn’t want him to guess at anything he might see in my eyes, displayed on my face. I saw the sheets and blanket gathered in my lap, balled into my fists. I could just see his jean clad legs, and a bare foot, where one leg was crooked up and under the other and it rested on the bed. So casual. So out of place, casualness, with where this talk seemed to be heading. If I wasn’t so nervous, a total mess, I would probably have found myself smiling at the thought of Gideon being so at ease and relaxed.

  “If you give me my clothes, I’ll go, get out of your way,” I blurted out, flustered by his nearness and worried about what he ‘had to say’. After the prior warnings of worse things to come and unimaginable torments, combined with his reaction to me this afternoon, I shouldn’t be anywhere near him. He hadn’t had enough cooling off time. I didn’t want any more of his anger or disappointment. And how long until something that obviously freaked him out happened again?

  “You’re not going anywhere tonight. It’s late, you’ve been drinking—”

  “I did not drink enough to pass out.” I bristled.

  What I wanted was answers, full disclosure about what I was and why these things were happening to me, why I was different. Why I had this ember-like light that came from me, why I had wings made of a darker version of it, why I could cull so differently, why I knew this language, why…why…why.

  It went beyond being of the Bháis, I was positive of that. He should have come back from wherever he’d been with the answers. Uldwynah had said so.

  And oh my gods…that’s right, he had actually been in the dreams, my dreams, we’d shared dreams…or had somehow gone to the same place while I was sleeping. He’d wanted me in those dreams. His eyes had burned for me. Even more questions to be answered. Would his answers condemn me?

  “Well, regardless, something made you pass out…and we have things to discuss.” His scent swirled around me, making me lightheaded, making me drunk on him. Gods, he smelled incredible…was that vanilla in the mix now? His eyes were wintry and guarded.

  “I don’t want to discuss anything Gideon. There’s nothing to discuss.” Panic seized me. I looked up at him. Into his eyes. Trying again to remember to breathe. Oh. How I loved that face. I wanted nothing more than to put my hands in his hair, pull his face to mine, put my lips on his. My skin ignited at the thought and I looked away. If I could just get my heart to behave instead of threatening to burst out of me, maybe then I could think more coherently.

  “I should just go and I’ll see you in the morning,” I paused, looked back at him. “If I fucked up tonight by going to that party, or earlier today with…well, whatever all that was, I’m sorry Gideon.” My heart was fluttering rapidly in my chest like a little bird against the bars of its cage. Tears were brimming. I only had to look at him and all coherent or logical discourse flew from my head.

  His reply was to take my hand in his—something that sent small electric shocks up my arm, made me shiver clear through my being—and flattened it against his chest. I could feel his heart, feel its rhythmic beating.

  “So you do have a heart,” I laughed softly. I’d questioned its existence.

  I was looking at his hand over mine, where they rested on his black T-shirt clad chest, wondering at it. The tension melted from my worried brow. I was consumed by how the flesh of his palm felt against my skin. How his chest felt beneath my palm, the rise and fall of his breathing. My spirit quieted, relaxed. In that moment…there was nothing else.

  I wanted to look at him, but I couldn’t bring myself to raise my head. I didn’t want to lose the moment. And what was the moment? What was happening? Was it some sort of apology for this afternoon?

  Or was it leading up to his goodbye, and something awful for me? As if anything could be more tormenting than to be away from him forever.

  Well, if this was it, if this might be the last of it, I’d make the most of this moment. I sucked in my lower lip; bit it, hesitating, trying to build up my courage. I tentatively leaned forward, eased my hand down to rest on his stomach, placing my cheek and ear where my hand had been. The well-worn cotton was soft beneath my face. His hand stayed over mine. I closed my eyes, fearing that any moment he might push me away, as he had earlier when I’d gotten too close. I listened to the steady beating of Gideon’s heart. I smiled. He didn’t move me away from him, or pull away from me.

  It was getting harder to breathe, more difficult to think. His hand moved from mine and for a moment, a moment of dread, I thought he was going to move away or push me away, but instead he placed his hand against the side of my head, over my ear, holding my head to his chest, his heart. I relaxed a little more into him. Felt the warmth of his body beneath his shirt radiating from him, warming my face. I thought of every close moment we’d had. Every moment that I’d wished for him to reach for me. Every moment I’d wished to touch him.

  “And it even beats,” I joked, almost a whisper in my desire strained voice. He said something in response, I could feel the vibration of his voice rumble in his chest, but with his hand laid gently over my ear, I couldn’t quite make out what he’d said. I decided to ignore it, in case it was something I didn’t want to hear. I could stay this way forever.

  I traced me fingertips lightly down his fingers where they lay over my hair, I could hear his heart, strong and steady…and speeding up under my touch. My heart leaped forward to match. My touch did affect him.

  I felt his hand move away, but before my heart could dip with lament, he cradled my face between them, lifting upward away from his chest, heard him say, “For you, Milseachd.”

  I forced my drowsy eyes open from my trance-like state just in time to see his eyes lock on my lips, then slip closed, and felt his mouth meet mine. And I died a little more, but in a good way.

  “Gideon,” I sighed softly against his mouth. And then kissed him back. I took a shuddering breath, feeling so much. I slid my hands to his chest. Oh to finally have my hands against his chest. He wasn’t pushing me away. He brushed his lips over my cheeks, my eyes, back to my lips.

  I was breathless. I was muzzy headed and lulled by him. I just wanted to savor his touch, breath him in deeply. I was soothed by his scent, his heartbeat, entranced. So close—finally so close.

  I moved my hands over his broad shoulders up to his neck. He pulled me closer to him, pressed me to him. He kissed me softly, bit my bottom lip and pulled it gently into his mouth. Which was just about all I could stand. My world spun out of focus. Gideon. Finally Gideon. I felt faint; my entire body went weak and felt insubstantial.

  It was a good thing he was holding me so tightly crushed to him. I felt tears building beneath my closed eyes. This was all I had ever wanted. Wanted since I first saw him at Elysium if I was to be completely honest. This was Gideon—my Gideon. The only one I wanted, had ever truly wanted. Had searched for al
l my life—and finally found in death.

  I ducked my head away from his kisses, felt his fingers tangle in my hair. I nuzzled his neck, inhaling lightly as I did so, breathing him in, making myself even more lightheaded and breathless. Over one side, under his jaw, nudging his chin up with my mouth to expose his throat, I littered kisses across the bared flesh there, delirious with it all. I grazed my cheek against the other side of his neck, breathing in more of him. I took his earlobe between my lips, tugging gently, and then spread more kisses down his neck to his T-shirt clad shoulder. Oh that had to go.

  Before I’d quite finished that thought, or my travels, he raised my head with his hands. I inhaled sharply in objection. He looked into my unfocused, misted eyes, then hungrily claimed my mouth again with a deeply groaned, “Iliana.”

  I ran my fingers up the sides of his face, over his temples, into his hair. My heart was performing the most incredible acrobatics. He pulled away with another rumbling groan. “My Draghail,” he spoke raggedly, resting his forehead against mine. “Now we really need to talk.”

  “No. No way. That’s just never any good.” I was breathless, shaking my head. I was shaking all over.

  Gideon laughed softly and hugged me to him, burying his face in my hair, inhaling my scent. Finally inhaling me into him. Filling his lungs with me. “Ah…what have you done to me?”

  I was touching him, finally touching him. I was finally pressed tightly in his arms and I couldn’t stop touching him, afraid this was another dream and I’d wake.

  “You’re worth every risk.” My voice was just above a whisper. I touched his neck, my hands stroking down to his chest. I couldn’t still my hands. I couldn’t get enough of how he felt under my hands, even through his clothes.

  I moved my head away and rubbed my cheek against his, grazing my lips against his briefly as I made my way to the other side of his face, his slightly stubbled, unshaved cheek. I loved the way it felt against my soft skin. I’d thought about it so often all these weeks.