Midnight Sky (The Wolf's Bane Saga Book 3)
Page 24
“Dagda, do you ken where he is?” Isla asked.
Dagda took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.
“My powers are weakened but I can sense him. He was scared and feeling guilty,” Dagda said, his eyes still closed. “He killed.”
“Aye, he was under the influence of Wolf’s Bane,” Aedan said. “It was nae him.”
“Nay, but he does not know the difference,” Dagda replied. Eventually he opened his eyes and looked straight at Weylyn. “He is returning to my grove.”
Giorsal let out another sob and fell into her mother. “Nay,” she sobbed. “He cannae. He promised me.”
“I am going after him,” Tristan growled. “How dare he leave Giorsal like this.”
“I am going as well,” Aedan glared. “I will nae allow you to hurt my son.”
Weylyn looked between his son and his wife. She nodded. “Go,” she urged.
“I cannae leave,” he said. “No’ with you about to—”
“I will be fine, you must go,” she replied. Weylyn gazed deeply in her eyes and saw her meaning. She had a vision. He nodded once, kissed her and stood. The men went to the door but stopped when Giorsal cried out for her father.
“Papa,” she cried. “Please find him. I need him.”
“Nay, you donnae, sweet one,” Tristan said. “He does nae deserve you. I go to bring him back to answer for what he has done.”
“I love him,” she cried.
“I ken, but—”
“I am with child,” she answered. The room fell silent. “I was going to tell him this evening. Please bring him back to me and our pup.”
“I will, my love, I promise,” Tristan took four steps forward, leaned down and kissed her forehead. “All will be well. I love you.”
She hiccupped that she loved him too and when he turned back to the men waiting, his expression hardened.
“We leave, now,” he growled.
To be continued in The Wolf’s Bane Saga: Moon Rise…
Acknowledgments
Thank you, my readers for making this series successful! I truly appreciate all of you and love that you have taken Weylyn, Aedan, Tristan, Alexina, Isla and Eithne into your hearts. I hope you enjoyed Caylean’s story as much as I did. His angst, uncertainty, and unbelievable power was fascinating to write. This story was supposed to be the last chronological story in the series but Caylean’s not done yet.
The next story will not follow our beloved heroes and their feisty strong-willed mates, instead it will be the story of the alpha couple, Alasdair and Deena. Please keep an eye out for Star Crossed coming soon.
Caylean’s and Giorsal’s story continues in Moon Rise coming Fall of 2018.
I want to send a special thank you to my family who have been with me ever since this saga was a crazy idea written down from a dream I had when we returned from Scotland in 2013. Now having found our true connection to Scotland through my maternal grandfather’s line, this story is all the sweeter.
Please read on for a sneak peek of Star Crossed…
The Wolf’s Bane Saga
Star Crossed
A Novella
Prologue
This tale has been passed down from wolf pack to wolf pack and has finally been written down. As English isn’t my first or second language I hope all will forgive any mistakes. But I learned my language, then the Celts and then Scottish. I want to dedicate this to my mate, Eithne and my son Aedan. My Leader, Tristan and all of my family members who have helped me along the way. A special acknowledgement to my son’s mate, Isla who helped me with some research. I am forever in your debt… Weylyn.
“Do you think it will be all right?” Weylyn asked his wife as she read over his shoulder. “Should I perhaps use wife instead of mate?”
“Perhaps, but there are those who will understand and maybe it will help those lone wolves in need of a pack find us. But I think it is well done,” Eithne replied.
“I ken the language was different then but as it is 1625 I wanted to use the language of the time.”
“And I think that is very appropriate. Who are we to ken what Alasdair sounded like. He may have been an ogre.”
“I doubt it,” Weylyn replied.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because he is my ancestor and I hardly think he would be an ogre,” he grinned.
“Och silly lad,” she laughed and swatted his arm but kissed his cheek. “You are correct, no ancestor of yours would be an ogre.”
“Aye,” heat flared in his eyes as he gripped her to him.
“Don’t you have to get this to the printer?” She asked breathlessly.
“In a little while,” he answered. “But I have some time to do this,” lowering his mouth to her neck he kissed and sucked until she was shaking.
Chapter One
Scottish Lowlands
The sun shone down on Alasdair as he woke and looked up at the canopy of trees. Fate never looked kindly on him when he picked a spot to rest his head. Every morn, the sun found his eyes no matter how carefully he scouted the spot the night before.
Sleep lost to him, he stretched his large frame and took a deep breath. It was early spring, his favorite time of year and the sun was warming the ground yet the air still held the bite of winter’s chill. Standing, he looked over at the two lazy yokes who claimed to be his younger brothers, still loudly snoring in sleep. He swore that if he had not been old enough to remember their mother heavily with child with them both, he would not believe they were related.
His equally lazy, though slightly more silent companion; Baelfin looked up from beside him. His yellow eyes gazed sleepily through the massive amount of gray fur that covered his entire body.
“Donnae be looking at me like that, lad,” Alasdair said to the wolf beside him. “We cannae sleep the day away if we are to reach the highland coast by the Spring Equinox.”
The wolf huffed and, if he were human, Alasdair would swear he would have groaned. Shaking his head at his companion, Alasdair rummaged through one of the three small packs Baelfin protected. Grabbing the one he needed, he turned to his companion.
“Watch over them, Baelfin,” he indicated Fillion and Jeeran still asleep. “I am going to the loch to bathe. Once I return we will go hunt for food to break our fast.”
The moment he said the word food, the wolf’s eyes lit up hungrily and he padded over to his master eager for the hunt.
“You and Fillion, I swear, you two should be brothers,” he chuckled petting his wolf’s head. “Food always wakes him and I see you are nae different.” The wolf grunted and panted, his right hind leg shaking uncontrollably as Alasdair scratched between his ears. “Keep watch,” he whispered. “And howl if you need me to come back.”
Baelfin dropped his head almost in a nod. With a quick look around, Alasdair grabbed his weapons and left the glen in search of the loch.
***
“Deena!” She heard her father’s daughter shout. Deena sighed knowing Myrna would not stop yelling for her until she was found. Merely seeking a moment of peace before the ceremony that evening, Deena took a deep breath and sat up among the tall grass. “Deena! By the gods, child where have you gotten to?” Myrna bellowed.
“I am here, Myrna,” Deena called.
“Finally,” Myrna said coming around a large tree and walking straight towards her. “Did you not hear me calling?”
“Was that you?” Deena asked feigning innocence.
“Do not try and be cute, little one,” she said harshly.
“I am sorry, Myrna,” Deena continued in the same voice. “I must have fallen asleep. What do you require of me?”
“Father requires you, not I,” Myrna spat.
“And what does Father require?” She asked.
“Have you forgotten today is the day you are initiated as a high priestess?” Myrna huffed.
“I have not,” Deena answered. She was to endure the immortality transition that evening. “But I only required a
moment’s peace before such a life altering event. Surely father would grant me that? As the ceremony is not until sunset, I promise to be home before then.”
Myrna crossed her arms over her amble chest and huffed.
“You are impossible,” she said. “Far too much like your mother.”
“If you recall, my mother was high priestess of our order and a lady,” Deena replied.
“A trait she failed to pass on to you,” Myrna said. “Marrying my father, a man nearly thirty years older than she. She used our friendship to bed him.”
“You will not speak thusly of my mother,” she defended. “They were married before she bedded our father. And she was a good woman, unlike you.”
“Your mother knew what she wanted and stopped at nothing to get it,” Myrna spat. “I am ashamed I introduced her to our grove.”
“Enough, be gone,” Deena shouted and with a flick of her wrist sent Myrna back to the keep. As daughter to the high priest and priestess, Deena used her exceptional gift only rarely.
Once she was alone, sadness washed over her. Her body buckled and she fell to the ground crying. Her parents were married only a year before her mother had giving her life and only five years later she was killed by Roman Legionnaires. Her father was never the same again, at least, Lochlan said he was not. Her eldest sibling, son of her father and his first wife, Lochlan was Myrna’s blood kin and was honing his skills across the sea in Erin.
A moment later, she took control of her emotions and stopped her tears. Walking through her forest, feeling the early morning sun on her face, she stopped a moment to give thanks for its warmth and companionship.
She reached the edge of the woods where the trees lined the loch’s beach and paused when she saw a man’s tunic and belt hanging on a tree limb. The tunic was dripping wet and the scent of lemongrass wafted over to her. A rough broadsword hung from the belt, its hilt was wrapped in leather but Deena caught a glimpse of a jewel peeking out from underneath, clearly not the sword of a peasant no matter what the clothes looked like. Stepping forward, she reached out to touch it when she heard a battle cry and saw two men rushing toward the loch.
***
Alasdair always enjoyed a long swim in a cold loch. It cleared his mind and helped his aches from war, training, or traveling. A cold dip always cleared away sleep and grief. He glanced over at his father’s sword. Seeing him slain on the battle field by a shapeshifting druid scum and not being able to get to him in time, had been the hardest thing he and his brothers ever endured. It was nearly two years since they had lit his pyre and Alasdair carried the heavy burden of his father’s passing every time he strapped the belt around his waist. Not only did he lose his father that fateful day, he became chief of his clan, a role, at twenty-six, he was not ready to accept.
Alasdair was a warrior, one of the best, but he was no leader. Hearing twigs crack, his trained eyes saw movement near his clothing. He fingered the long knife he kept strapped to his forearm.
All of a sudden, he heard his clan’s battle cry. His eyes whipped around to see his two brothers running out from the forest alerting any living thing in a half a league radius where they were. Stripping out of their clothes, they rushed into the loch, splashing Alasdair with water as they barreled in.
“Quiet down, ya buffoons!” Alasdair scolded. “Do you want anything that draws breath to ken where we are?”
“Awe, come off it, Al, who is going to be around here at this time of day?” Fillion, the eldest of his two younger brothers, complained. “We are merely having a little fun.”
“Your fun could get us all killed,” Alasdair scolded. “Now quiet down.”
“I am sorry, Alasdair,” Jeeran, the youngest, said. “’Twas my idea. When we saw Baelfin still with us and the bag of soap gone we figured you were here.”
Alasdair smiled gently at his brother. At sixteen, Jeeran looked the most like their mother while Fillion, at eighteen, looked the most like their father. Alasdair had traits of both. Fillion’s jet black hair hung past his shoulders and his green eyes rivaled the leaves on the trees. Even at eighteen, his body was matured to handle the harsh winter of their highland home. In contrast, Jeeran had light brown hair and the deepest brown eyes Alasdair had ever seen. Still very much a boy, Jeeran’s frame was tall and lanky but his strength was unmatched for someone his age.
“’Tis all right to have fun on occasion, Jeeran,” Alasdair said. “But you must always observe your surroundings. I saw movement by da’s sword no’ a moment before you announced we were here. That is the reason I caution you.”
Fillion turned and grasped his knife strapped to his upper arm.
“What are we waiting for?” Fillion asked. “Let us go hunt.” He attempted to wade to shore when his elder brother yanked him back.
“Are you mad?” Alasdair asked. “I am no’ letting you go alone.”
“Then come with me,” Fillion said. “Or are your aches and pains too much for you, old man?”
“The only ache and pain I have, Fillion is you. A pain in my arse,” Alasdair replied.
“Och,” Fillion’s green eyes lit with excitement as the two brother’s goaded each other. “I have nae doubt I could inflict more than just a pain in your arse, brother.” He jumped on his back, laughing and wrestling with his older brother.
Copyright © M. Katherine Clark 2017 Subject to Change
Table of Contents
Other Works by M. Katherine Clark
Prologue
Chapter
One
Chapter
Two
Chapter
Three
Chapter
Four
Chapter
Five
Chapter
Six
Chapter
Seven
Chapter
Eight
Chapter
Nine
Chapter
Ten
Chapter
Eleven
Chapter
Twelve
Chapter
Thirteen
Chapter
Fourteen
Chapter
Fifteen
Chapter
Sixteen
Chapter
Seventeen
Chapter
Eighteen
Chapter
Nineteen
Chapter
Twenty
Chapter
Twenty-One
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Part Two
Chapter
One
Chapter
Two
Chapter
Three
Chapter
Four
Chapter
Five
Chapter
Six
Chapter
Seven
Chapter
Eight
Chapter
Nine
Chapter
Ten
Chapter
Eleven
Chapter
Twelve
Chapter
Thirteen
Chapter
Fourteen
Chapter
Fifteen
Chapter
Sixteen
Chapter
Seventeen
Chapter
Eighteen
Chapter
Nineteen
Chapter
Twenty
Chapter
Twenty-One
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Acknowledgments
Star
Crossed