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

by Stasia Morineaux

  Oh to finally be here. I pulled away and ran my hands over his shadowed jaw, so mesmerized by every detail of him. I looked into his eyes and what I saw there took my breath away. So much need and desire, so much emotion. Gone was the detachment and cold and practiced indifference. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. I could gaze into those deep, deep blue eyes forever. Oh, the way he was looking back at me. It was worth it. Every loss for this.

  “You were worth dying for,” I breathed out.

  He stroked my face, my hair, taking in all of me before kissing me again, holding my face in his hands, so I couldn’t move from his attention again. He kissed me deeply, possessively, claiming me, finally, no more denial.

  I ran my hands into his hair, tearing my mouth from his. I kissed his face, his throat, lifted his shirt roughly over his head, throwing it to the floor. I drank him in with my half-closed eyes, working my hands over the curves and cuts of his muscled shoulders, chest, his stomach, feeling the rapidly increasing rise and fall of his chest as I ran my hands over his body, my tongue tracing everywhere my hands had been, tasting his skin.

  He picked me up against him and tumbled me backward, onto my back, into the pillows, growling deeply in his throat with desire. He pushed up onto his hands, pulling away, taking his mouth away from my kisses.

  When he spoke, his voice was coarse and his breath was shuddering. I stroked his rough cheek, reaching for him. He held my hands over my head, buried his face in my hair. “Gideon,” I purred to him.

  “Oh, Milseachd,” he growled. Then unexpectedly he was moving away from me, breaking my heart ever-so-slightly, and pulling me from the bed, leading me to the couch in front of the fire. I wondered, in my dazed state, if Michael had brought back an ember for this fire too.

  He sat down in the middle, drawing me down with him, my legs stretched across his lap, putting his arm around me, tugging me closer, his other arm hugged around my bent knees.

  “A talk is long overdue—” he began.

  “No. Gideon, I don’t want—” I began.

  “Yes. It should have happened sooner.”

  “Are you ending me Gideon?” I blurted out.

  He looked at me, amazed, shaking his head in disbelief, nearly laughing. “Yes, Milseachd. That’s why I can’t stand to take my hands off you.” He kissed me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. That felt better. Too soon he broke our kiss. “More talk, less of that for now.” His eyes traveled over my face. “I heard Michael filled you in on some things this evening. Taught you some about Deireadh an Samhraidh?”

  I nodded.

  “Tip of the iceberg.”

  My hand found his shoulder, he’d put a shirt back on and the material of the T clung to the curves of him snuggly. My fingers roamed the curve of that shoulder. He caught my hand and placed it in my lap, but he held on to it. Smart. It really wanted to go back to stroking his arm.

  “When I went away, when I was gone for those two weeks…I was in Tiarnas, the homeland, the dominion of the Sióg.” He stopped, letting that settle in my mind, reading my face for a reaction.

  “Okay.” I sat up straighter. I was not in trouble, or going to be killed again. And Gideon was sitting here offering up answers. And he had his arms around me, and was right at that moment placing a light kiss on my bare knees. “Michael mentioned that place last night, and the Sióg. Briefly anyway.”

  “Alright, so, we’ll start off with Na Síraide Cinn, The Everlasting Ones. They hail from Tiarnas…Dominion...the Realm of Sióg.”

  “He said the Sióg have been here for thousands of years. Is that true?”

  “Yes…many thousands. Na Síraide Cinn are the Siog, they are one and the same.

  “Huh.”

  “These days they’re more commonly referred to as Fae, mistakenly so, but we are.”

  “Ohhh."

  “I told you before you would need to forget everything you’ve ever been taught.”

  “I thought you just meant in regard to death.”

  “Nearly everything.” He rubbed my knee. If he kept doing that I’d never hear anything he was telling me. “We first came to the Great Northern Lands. We were Sióg, but we were also Álfaer. Think of dwelling on Earth, you’re a Terrean, but you’re a human as well. Same thing. The Norse called us Álfaer, not Sióg. We were sent as guardians and protectors, to live in unison with humans. There are nine domains of guardians within the Rúnaigh.”

  “Wait, not just us? There is more to the Rúnaigh?”

  He nodded. “Of course. Na Teagmhasach Bháis, The Contingency of Death; Airíoch de Beocht, Caretakers of Life; Airíoch Cruthaitheach, Caretakers of the Arts; Airíoch Draíochta, Caretakers of the Enchantments; Airíoch Nádúr, Caretakers of Nature; Airíoch Breathnadóir, Keepers of the Records and Watchers of the Earthbound; Airíoch am Uilíoch, Caretakers of Universal Time; and Eirr Rúnaigh, Warriors of the Rúnaigh.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like the choir of angels.”

  “Time to unlearn. I’ll get to why it sounds familiar in just a bit.”

  He gave me a crooked half smile.

  As if he found the comparison funny.

  “The Álfaer are merely one race within a realm of beings whose mythology is spread across all of Europe. They are one of the most well known and yet strongly misunderstood, the lore having become corrupted and vague…and it’s often difficult to get straight answers out of them.” He paused and gave me a sidelong glance, a smile played at the edge of his mouth.

  “Kind of like you huh?” I teased.

  “Yes…kind of.” The curve at the edge of lips lifted just a tad higher. “Once they were well settled in the North, the Álfaer broke away into factions traveling south, and east, and west. They became known as Alva in Sweden, Aif in Holland, Fee in Germany and France, Sidhe in Scotland, Sióg in Ireland, Fae in America and the U.K…all are the word that should still be Álfaer.”

  I had to keep my mouth from gaping open. “Elf and Fae?” No way.”

  He stared me down.

  “What?” I shrugged.

  “Yes. And don’t interrupt. We, the Álfaer, were the first of the Sióg to arrive in this Realm…and the others that arrived from Tiarnas later came at a time when the term Fae was already widely in use. Over the centuries I guess it was just easier for humans, particularly after we became myths, to simply keep lumping us all in together under the main category of Fae.”

  “Like what…what kind…what others?”

  He gave me the stink eye for interrupting, but how could I not? He was telling me the real history of the Fae!?

  “Okay, I’ll give you a few quick ones…but then no more butting in, Milseachd. Púca, Piskies, Brownies, Redcaps, Fauns, Kelpies…too many to list right now. So, please let me continue.”

  “Alright,” I pouted. “No…I’m sorry, but I have to…” I did it again. “So, all Álfaer are Sióg, but not all Sióg are Álfaer.

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “And in current terminology, Álfaer is equivalent to Elf. And Púca, Piskies, Brownies, Redcaps, Fauns, Kelpies, Elves, and all the ones you have not mentioned, would be categorized under the Realm of Fae. Incorrectly, but still.”

  “Yes.”

  “And in truth, had the records and histories been kept correctly, the main category should be Sióg, not Fae. With Púca, Piskies, Brownies, Redcaps, Fauns, Kelpies, Álfaer, and all the ones you have not mentioned, being categorized under the Realm of Sióg, rather than Fae. Because Fae and Elf are the same, words derived from Álfaer.”

  “Yes. Exactly. You’ve got it!” He hugged my legs tightly as he spoke He looked astonished…and relieved.

  “But in Irish, Sióg means Fae.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Because they adopted the word into their language centuries ago and made it such. Prior to that Sióg was just Sióg, those from Tiarnas. We brought the word here, along with Álfaer.”

  “They should have just kept their facts straight and left it Sióg and Álfaer to b
egin with and none of this confusion would ever have happened.” I reasoned.

  That brought a huge smile to his face. I liked that.

  “Also, only Álfaer can be of the Rúnaigh.” He paused to lay another light kiss on my knee.

  “You’re making my head hurt.”

  “Anyway,” he went on, after resting a kiss on my forehead, “as they traveled, Ingresses were raised across the land, doorways for traveling easily among these lands, and between this realm and Tiarnas.

  “For thousands of years, the Sióg cared for humans and all within this realm. All was in balance. When Christianity came about, a dire change took place among the Sióg. The balance was disrupted; the echelon of guardians was torn. This new religion came between humans and their deities, their gods and goddesses. This new religion sought to obscure and chain the mhésen. A war began not just between the new and old way, but amongst the Sióg also.

  “Na Síraide Cinn became split in two, becoming the Fíor Sióg, the True Sióg and the Bréagach Sióg, the False Sióg.”

  “Wait, I’ve heard of the Unseelie and Seelie, is that what you’re talking about?”

  “No, that is something else, I’ll get to it.”

  I nodded. He was playing with my fingers now, occasionally kissing the tips and driving me crazy. I wanted to kiss him again so badly.

  “It came to war between the Fíor and the Bréagach, the Fíor staying true to Tiarnas and the Old Ways. The Bréagach sided with the new religion, which was working diligently to convert the humans to their ways, taking away their deities and their traditions, their culture, through fear and propaganda…torture and cruelty.

  “The Old Ways began to lose their hold with the humans, and the Bréagach fearing the loss of being revered and beloved, and in order to remain divine beings to the humans, devised a plan to remain in their high positions. They would become what were to be known as angels. The Choir of Nine.

  “They called war upon the Fíor, allying with the perpetrators of this new found religion. It raged for many years. The Bréagach won and the Fíor left this realm, from that point on in time to be demonized by this new Church.” His tone spoke of how much he despised this new church, how abhorrent he found it.

  “But you’re here. Does that mean that you were Bréagach?”

  “No. Never.” I felt his hand tense around my fingers. I’d insulted him.

  “Sorry.” I touched his face. Kissed his jaw.

  He turned his mouth to mine, letting his hunger take over for just a moment, before releasing me, pushing me back down to sit on the couch.

  “So, if the Fíor had won…the world would be so very different.” It was mind boggling.

  “Yes, incredibly different.”

  “Many centuries after, the Bréagach became dissatisfied and even repulsed by these new ways; saw the error of their decision. Many returned to Tiarnas, the ones who remained have been plotting the return to the Old Ways, biding their time, for the right time.

  “The Sióg never stopped coming to this realm, though since those times it’s been done in secret. We had lost many Ingresses during the War, so traveling was made more difficult. Many of your fairy tales and horror stories are based around the Sióg. The church had quite successfully turned us into monsters to be feared, or made into cartoon creations.

  “The humans lost their faith in us. The Queen did not retaliate, we’d lost many in the War, and she was happy to have any representation or toe-hold left in this realm. Our time will come to regain what is rightfully ours. We have infinite patience.”

  Infinite patience.

  Had he said that to me in one of the dreams?

  “Can you tell me about the dreams? What they are? Where I was? How I was there?”

  “You were in Tiarnas. I don’t know how you traveled there.”

  “But you were there. I thought I was just dreaming. That’s where you went for those two weeks, so…when I saw you in what I thought was my dreams…it was real? You were really at the Draíochta ar Linn? The necklace…Uldwynah? She’s real? She told me you were supposed to put it on me…you kissed me in the woods.” And he kissed me on the couch, making my spine disintegrate.

  His phone began vibrating across the small table in front of us. He ignored it.

  The rattling movement stopped. Then abruptly began again…and stopped again.

  “I was there. You were there. I wasn’t able to find out how you did it. An Ingress has to be used. I watched you one night; you never left your bed. You don’t sleep walk either. So it remains a mystery.”

  He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the pendant. He placed it around my neck, carefully clasping it behind me, his fingers brushing against my nape. It rested just slightly above my breasts. “You remain something of a mystery.”

  He played with a long wave of my hair.

  “So if those dreams were real, what about the ones that were taking place here and not in Tiarnas? I was at Elysium and you kissed me. I saw you talking to Liam there another time…I was in the garden. I could hear your conversation through the glass.”

  “Dream walking.”

  “You said I didn’t sleep walk.”

  “It’s not the same. You seem to be able to travel in dreams. Enter others’ dreams, pull them into yours.

  “Why didn’t you tell me all of this before now?”

  “I needed to find out more, about you.”

  “Am I human Gideon? Am I Sióg? Why am I with the Bháis, how is that even possible, if everything I’ve done is wrong and different?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know that yet…I don’t believe that you are human. No Rúnaigh are human, only Álfaer.” He stroked my hair. Looked me over, very completely.

  “Since the beginning you’ve been perplexing. The way you gained a body almost immediately, the way you cull differently, the influence you have over others…human and Sióg. The fact you seem to know a language that you know nothing of. You know things and can do things that as a human you should not, and yet you don’t know the things that you should know as Sióg.”

  The phone started up again. Did its thing twice and became quiet. Became still.

  I ventured on. “And the words feel so right, I can feel them on my tongue, as if my heart knows them, very well, and if my head would just get with it and cooperate…I could remember all of it. I find at times that speaking any other way doesn’t really feel right. Like it’s trying to emerge.”

  “I’ll be sure to add that to my list.” He stroked my cheek, ran a finger over my bottom lip. It made me tremble.

  “And why did this tattoo upset you so much?”

  “It’s a symbol of the High Court of Na Síraide Cinn.” He ran his thumb across the shimmering metallic greys of the marking. “Jeremy did a beautiful job.”

  “So, I suppose Jeremy is Rúnaigh?”

  “Of course.”

  I shook my head. I was doomed to have no human friends…but I may not be human...

  “How does that work Gideon? How does someone become Rúnaigh? If I had a human body and died, was just left as mhésen…how did I get a new body? If I was human, how did I become Sióg?”

  His phone started shaking its way across the table yet again. He groaned, picked it up this time, but it was a text not a call. Had his face lightened a shade or so?

  “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “Okay.”

  He laid a kiss on the top of my head, left the room, closing the door behind him.

  The doorbell was going nuts now, rather than his phone.

  Moments later I heard him talking to someone in the living room. Someone was in the living room with him. I could hear a woman’s voice. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but I did detect a rise in the volume between them. As if an argument had begun.

  With him gone, my body was getting cold. I tugged the soft throw from the back of the couch and wrapped it around me. It was the twin to mine; the one on my couch, except this one was a deep cranber
ry red.

  The voices escalated, turned to yelling, then hushed yelling, then elevated again. What was going on? Was Halah here? It didn’t sound like Erin.

  “She’s here? You brought that here?” The unknown person said. It didn’t sound like Halah either.

  “Stop now.” Gideon warned.

  “Have you told her? That she wasn’t supposed to be the one to die that night?”

  “I’m warning you.”

  Then the voices diminished, dropping very low and I could barely tell anyone was even out there. I heard footsteps approach the room, just one set.

  What were they talking about? Were they talking about me? Was I the one not supposed to die?

  He shut the door firmly behind him. He crossed the room towards me, but his head was down. I could feel his mood, his energy, clear across the room, rolling off him in dark, hot waves.

  Angry. Furious. Dangerous.

  He began pacing in front of the fire.

  A chunk of ice dropped into the pit of my stomach. I was suddenly terrified. All the perfect feelings turned to mist, floating away into nothing.

  “Gideon—?” I began softly.

  “This is not going to happen.” He said it so low, so lethally, his teeth clenched.

  “What?” I breathed out. What had happened in those few minutes? Why was his voice so full of barely contained rage?

  “You heard me.” He was facing the fire.

  “Gideon. What’s wrong?”

  “We’re not doing this…we’re not going to happen.” He waved towards the couch and then the bed.

  “What? We just were. I don’t understand—”

  “You cannot be Rúnaigh. You are not Álfaer.” He turned away from me, faced the fire. “You were not supposed to die.” He ground out the last part, with such loathing and intensity as if he wanted me to hurt.

  Bam bam bam. Triple tap.

  My world tilted and spun out of control. The air felt sucked from my lungs.

  The pain was so entwined between the two that I wasn’t sure which was causing the most anguish, the not-supposed-to-die part or the we’re-not-happening part. I think the latter was coming up more heart shattering. I shook my head.

  “Why? Why are you telling me this? Why were we just…why now? Why are you angry at me?” My stomach was a roiling, queasy mess. The floor looked like it was getting closer. I held my stomach, held my head. I wasn’t sure if I was going to throw up or pass out. “Why now? Why didn’t you tell me before? How long have you known?” I walked in a small circle, aimlessly. “What am I supposed to do with this?” My world had just been perfect mere moments ago, now he was demolishing it with just a few words.