by KB Anne
Dead but not gone.
Hunger quenched only by death.
Contained but not restricted,
Controlling that once dedicated to another.
The Storm approaches.
Enemies emerge through stealth of step,
Led by one with two faces.
Force alliance,
Or expire from unstoppable force.
New Drama
The fairy mound looks so ordinary from Alaric’s thinking rock. There’s little indication of the wonders awaiting on the other side of it. The vibrant greens. The brilliant blues. Mom. Gram. Maybe even Dad by now. I might be a reincarnated goddess but that doesn’t mean I’ve been downloaded with all the information I’ll ever need to know about the admission process to the Otherworld. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. Last night, after the cows plowed Clayone into the depths of my shrine, one of them licked my cheek. With that sandpaper kiss, Brigit’s memories were wiped away with it. Leaving just me, Gigi Brennan, a girl who lies. Who cheats. Who steals. A girl of no exceptional worth or value, whose family gave their lives so that she might live.
And if the allure of seeing my family again wasn’t enough of a temptation, the faint scent of honey blossoms and the whispers of fairy wings try to trick me into visiting. But I know if I return to the Otherworld anytime soon, I’ll remain there forever, and I have far too much living to do in this one first. I owe Gram, Mom, and Dad a long, full life.
I rub my new crystal necklace back and forth across my lips. Clarissa gave it to me this morning. Most likely as a bribe because she wouldn’t let me go with her, Amorin, and a few of the other coven members to Carman’s bonfire to take care of last night’s fallen. It’s not that I possess some fascination with rotting Maleficium witch corpses, but I wanted proof that Carman was dead and that the entire evening wasn’t a result of a grossly overactive imagination. But when I asked Clarissa if I could go, she insisted I stay with Scott while he recovered from his wounds. I tried to argue with her. I might have even added in some I’m-a-goddess-don’t-you-want-me-to-be-happy? whining, but she manipulated me into doing exactly what she wanted. She wasn’t above using Scott as a carrot—I admired her approach.
When she gave me the necklace, she told me the crystal along with the ring of amethyst stones would soothe me with their calming properties and alleviate my grief and sadness. I told her a few stones wouldn’t fix what’s wrong with me—because I’m a freaking shit show. Just because I’m a reincarnated goddess doesn’t mean I can’t be a bitch too. She gave it to me anyway.
I suppose, in a way, the necklace did help me this morning. It distracted me while they were gone and Scott was sleeping. I studied the crystal and the amethysts in the sunlight, searching for imperfections. I didn’t find any. Then I focused my energy into it to see if I could make it glow. I couldn’t, but it passed the time. After a few hours, I grew restless and ornery. Amorin sensed as much when he returned from the bonfire site. He suggested I go for a walk and stretch my legs. That’s how I ended up at the fairy mound thinking about everyone I lost to a psychotic, oversized werewolf and a power-hungry, revenge-bent witch. Amorin, or Granda—it’s still feels weird to call him that when I only recently discovered I had a mom and dad who actually cared about me—alluded to another prophecy, the real reason why Scott and I reincarnated. I can’t imagine a fight more devastating and emotionally draining than the one we barely survived last night. With the exception of Scott, everyone I love is dead. How could things get worse?
“Why does my siofra continue to carry such heavy burdens?” Alaric’s enchanting baritone voice calls out to me. His beautiful, dancing, emerald-green eyes remind me of the Otherworld—vivid and full of life. The moment his lips meet mine, my fears and worries magically disappear. At Metropol all those weeks ago, I blacked out after we kissed. Whether because of him or because I’d unknowingly taken something, I don’t know. But each kiss since then strengthens me. It’s like he gives me energy when everyone else seems to take it away.
Eventually, he pulls back, dazzling me with his deliciously mischievous smile and sparkling white teeth.
“I missed you,” he whispers, inhaling deeply. “I told you I’d come back to you. I will always come back to you. I will always find you. You believe me, don’t you?” he murmurs, his eyes intense.
Content to bask in his attention, I smile back at him. “Uh-huh,” I manage to reply, sounding like the dimwit Scott likes to call me and not the goddess I am.
He brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I came straight to you. I didn’t even stop at home because I couldn’t wait to see you. I have good news.”
For some reason chills run down my spine, as if I somehow know that what he’s about to tell me is going to be bad. “Go on,” I whisper reluctantly when he doesn’t continue.
“Right before I left, Nan told me my dad was coming home. I want you to meet him. I want you to be a part of my life.”
I extract myself from his hold, breaking whatever spell we cast together whenever we touch. I turn away to face the fairy mound. A pit roots in my stomach. There are many things I know about his nan and his “aunt,” Calliope, that he doesn’t know—or at least I don’t think he does. If he knew they wanted me dead, he wouldn’t have left me yesterday. He might have been raised by them, he might even be dedicated to them, but I believe with all my being that his feelings for me are stronger. That being said, this new piece could be the surprise Carman warned me about. I hate surprises—especially if they have anything to do with psychos of any kind.
“How long has your dad been gone?”
He embraces me from behind, nuzzling my neck. “Fifteen years.”
My heart speeds up, my vision blurs, and I suspect I begin to lose the ability to speak, but my next question is much too important not to ask.
“What’s your dad’s name?”
“Clayone.”
The edges of consciousness slip away.
* * *
“Gigi? Gigi! Are you okay?”
I find myself cradled in Alaric’s arms, his warmth permeating my soul, making me better, stronger, at peace. Making me hate myself more than I already do for being so weak. Screw the damsel-in-distress routine. I need to get my blood sugar checked. I can’t pass out every freaking time something shocking happens—especially since something shocking occurs daily. Next time it might not be someone who cares about my well-being catching me.
And I have to believe that Alaric cares about me. Despite who I am. Despite who he is.
“What did you say your father’s name was?” I hope beyond reasonable, rational hope that I heard him wrong as a result of someone shoving cotton balls in my ears when I wasn’t paying attention.
“Clayone.”
Cold certainty wraps around my heart. I shrink into myself and roll out of his grip and into a standing position. I was firm in my belief that he cared for me more than he cared for his nan or his “aunt.” But this new reveal, this blasted surprise from Carman, could ruin us.
His hands curl around my biceps from behind. For the first time in his presence I realize how very breakable I am. I command myself not to shudder from his touch. My body, however, ignores my warnings.
“Gigi, what’s wrong?”
I pull away from him. “I’m not feeling well. I need to go home.”
He rushes over to me. “Let me help you. You look terrible.”
I drop my eyes. I can’t look at him. I want to, but I can’t. It’s devastating that the one person, the first person I finally feel something for, might be the one most terrible for me. The one whose father wanted to kill me so I imprisoned him for all of eternity instead.
He draws me into a tight embrace. My initial, natural impulse allows me to sink into him. Then my brain reminds me why I can’t. Why I shouldn’t. I break away and start cutting across the meadow toward Granda’s cottage and either a psych evaluation or a straitjacket. “I got it. It’s not far.”
He easily
catches up to me and swings his arms around me as if to carry me. I try to resist, both frustrated that he thinks I can’t walk on my own and also that I can’t let him. I can’t let myself care for him more than I already do. I swat at him, but he completely ignores my effort and sweeps me off my feet.
“Alaric, I’m fine. Let me walk.”
He’s the only one who has purposely held me when I could actually move by my own power—first at Carman’s and now here. Scott, Ryan, and random strangers have carried me when I wasn’t completely coherent, but Alaric possesses some impulsive need to cart me around. The quirk endears him to me even more, which given the current circumstances is unfortunate and potentially hazardous to any long-term living goals I might have. My head, with a mind of its own and possibly a death wish, rests on his chest.
“Better?” he asks, his voice like a cat’s purr.
I tell myself to forget about the potential future drama and conflict that is bound to occur between us and soak in this feeling of security and comfort, because inevitably, in the end, it’ll all go to shit. Why should the fact that I now know I’m a goddess be any different?
“Everything all right, Gi?”
He can either read my mind—which I pray to the gods he can’t—or he can read my body language, which at least doesn’t indicate that a war was waged last night and his family lost. My family lost too, but in a much different way.
I nod, afraid that my voice will betray me. He pulls me in closer, as if sensing I need comfort. Maybe he does too.
All too soon our time together comes to end. We wind up at Granda’s faster than I would have if I had walked on my own two feet. He lets himself into the front gate with me still cradled in his arms. The gate creaks behind us, but it’s not the noise it makes that alarms me—it’s my enraged brother stalking down the path.
“Who the hell are you?” he growls.
Alaric’s arms tighten. “I can ask you the same.”
“I’m her brother. Put her down.”
His tension eases, but it still boils just below the surface. “Brother? Gi never mentioned her brother was here.”
Scott stops in front of me. “She never mentioned you either. Now, unhand her.”
“Oh my god, Scott. ‘Unhand her’? What are you, an Arthurian knight returned from the dead?”
He glares at me. Quiet.
I haven’t even gotten started yet.
“I said, put her down,” he hisses.
I glare at him. “And I said, I’m not done yet.”
He scowls at me in return. You realize you just admitted you can read minds.
“I’ve done no such thing.” Then I realize I have, but it’s too late to cover up my mistake. “Alaric, would you mind setting me down now?”
He obliges, which is also surprising. Most people don’t listen to me, let alone honor my requests. Well, except for Granda’s coven, but only when I act goddess-like, not when I’m just Gigi. I cross my arms and stare at Scott. He can be a downright bastard when he wants to be.
Alaric rests his hands on my shoulders. It makes him seem like he’s on my side. That he’ll always be on my side, regardless of the secrets I keep from him.
“Scott, Alaric. Alaric, Scott. Now, play nice.”
Alaric reaches a hand over to Scott, palm out. Scott scowls at me again before extending his. If he keeps up the constant facial disapproval, he’ll get wrinkles deeper than the Grand Canyon. Would serve him right too.
There are firm handshakes and then there are iron death-grip handshakes. I watch as veins and tendons strain and knuckles whiten. Before any bones break, I rest my hands on top of theirs. Their grips soften immediately. At least I retained some of the Goddess Brigit’s healing touch, or maybe the crystal and amethysts actually work.
“There, there. Now let’s make peace.”
Scott rolls his eyes and releases his grasp. “Nice to meet you, Alaric.”
“Likewise,” Alaric says, returning his hand to my shoulder.
The three of us stand in an awkward testosterone-filled silence.
“Scott, I’d like to speak to Alaric for a minute.”
“Sure,” he says.
“Why don’t you go inside, and I’ll meet you in there?”
His arms return to their crossed position. “I’ll wait.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’d like to speak to him a-lone.”
He growls, “Fine,” and stomps up the path and into the cottage, leaving the front door open so he can eavesdrop. He’s un-freaking-believable.
I turn to face Alaric.
A touch of accusation sparks his pupils. “You didn’t mention your brother was here.”
I’d like to be as up-front and honest as possible with Alaric because there are already far too many secrets between us. I also don’t want to send him home to an empty house—or worse—to the fallen remains of his nan and his aunt in case Granda and Clarissa left them at the bonfire site. But I need to figure some things out. A lot of things. Like is Alaric really Clayone’s son? And if so, is he a werewolf? And if so, will he want to kill me too? You know, run-of-the-mill teenage drama.
But I ignore those nagging concerns and reach for his hands to pour good-vibe energy into them. “He just got here yesterday.”
“And he already got into a fight. Not surprising, given his bad attitude.”
Even without being able to read his mind, I know he means the bruises covering most of Scott’s face. Unfortunately, it was much worse than a fight. It was a battle between life and death. But it’s the wounds Alaric can’t see that are the real cause of worry.
“He’s protective of me.”
Alaric stiffens. “Did someone mess with you when I was gone?”
I reach up and wrap my hands around his neck to pull his lips to mine. “He’s not the only one protective of me.”
He smiles before our lips meet.
Quit it. Scott pours all his focus into making me hear his single thought.
Of course, I ignore him.
“Ahem,” he clears his throat.
I break away and turn to him. “Really? Privacy, please.”
“We need to talk now,” he says.
“In a minute.”
Right now.
“Fine.”
Alaric looks from me to the open door where Scott is standing and back to me. “Do you two read each other’s minds?”
I pull away from him. I forget myself when we’re together. “What? That’s weird. No. Just brother-sister ESP.”
He dips down in front of me, studying my reaction. “Are you sure? Because I only heard part of the argument, but it seems decisions were made.”
His powers of observation will only add to the trouble.
“Would you mind leaving and maybe meeting at our secret spot later?”
He eases back into me. “And finish what we’ve been trying to start.”
I wink as I step away. “Something like that. Meet at say . . . nine.”
“Brilliant. Leave your brother at home.”
I glance up at Scott who’s been shouting in my head for the past several seconds. “Make it ten, and that shouldn’t be a problem.”
A little sleeping potion never hurt anyone.
“Until then, sweet Gigi,” he says, leaning down for another kiss.
My insides turn to mush, which I never thought would be possible. I assumed my organs were made of granite and vinegar along with a heavy dash of toxic sludge. “Until we meet again,” I murmur as our lips find each other once more.
To keep reading, grab your copy today…
Dark Moon: The Goddess Chronicles Book 3
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