Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  He stopped abruptly. His eyes flicked over to Skye. He was suddenly reluctant to discuss this in front of her.

  With gritted teeth, Skye motioned for him to get it over with. She sure as shit was not going to say it.

  Miko nodded and swallowed hard, looking at his computer screen as he logged in. He tried his best to act like she was not in the room so that he could say what needed to be said.

  “Her brother – or rather, the fògarach that used to be her brother – showed up behind the bar and started talking like he wasn’t afraid. And Skye? Man, I don’t even know how to describe it.” Miko’s eyes were wide as he recalled the sight of her. “She just went berserk. I mean I’ve been fighting vamps for almost ten years and I’ve never taken one out barehanded. She beat the living hell out of him, totally lost her grip on reality. Lights were on, but nobody was home except this raw violence that I’ve never seen a human dish out. She tore out his throat, Tar. I mean literally tore out his throat.”

  Taran was growing steadily more aware that he was missing several pieces of the little puzzle that was now pacing his kitchen and avoiding his gaze.

  “Aiyana, she’s my... she’s one of our lieutenants,” Miko said, thankful that Taran was too interested in the story to bust on him about the ‘my’ part. “Well, she couldn’t take it anymore. See, Skye was just going to keep tearing him apart with her bare hands. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone covered in that much blood before, which reminds me...” he said before turning and pointing at Skye. “I’ll be sending a few therapy bills to you as well.”

  When she smirked in response, he smiled in relief and winked at her. He hated talking about this in front of her and was thankful that she was able to find at least some humor in that moment. He pretended to shudder at the memory before continuing.

  “So, Aiyana kicked a blade across the floor to her and she used it to finish the job... and then everything went nuts. We started killing the vamps and, while we did cross paths once during the fighting, I wound up losing track of Skye for a few minutes. Next time I saw her, she was going after Drostan.”

  Taran’s expression was beyond serious when Miko dared to look up at him. He appeared to be close to bursting with questions but – for some reason – he was not asking them. He looked away from Miko and over to Skye, changing the course of his inquiries. There were a few more points he wanted to cover here.

  “Skye, love, tell me what happened after ya killed the fògarach,” he said softly, intentionally avoiding calling it her brother. Truth be told, it had not been. Her brother had died the moment the change came in him. What she had killed was merely a shell housing the thing that had taken her brother from her.

  She reluctantly turned to face him, but the calming quality of his voice lured her closer.

  “I was fine,” she insisted.

  And in reality, despite it hurting a little, that was the honest-to-God truth. Adrian had been the third brother she killed. By that point, the initial shock of committing fratricide had worn off.

  “I was taking down vamps like usual and everything was okay...” She frowned to herself, her brows drawing together as she recalled the sensation. “But then it just wasn’t anymore. I could just... feel something. Like...” She shook her head; it was so difficult to put to words how these things felt. “Like when we drove past the forest and I sensed...” It still would not come. She had no words to describe this and sighed in defeat as she looked up at him. “Do you know what I mean?” She asked with pleading eyes.

  “Aye, love,” Taran said with a weak smile.

  The more he heard, the more he realized how wrong this all was. Apparently, the only one that would be able to give him the answers he needed was Drostan. He sighed and studied Skye’s eyes for a moment. Damn her rules, he wanted to motion for her to come to him. He wanted raise his arm and have her eagerly take the invitation to stand at his side beneath it. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her forehead as they spoke, but it was too soon.

  “So ya sensed something, then what?” He asked curiously.

  “I looked around to find what it was that I was... feeling... and I saw him standing there against the far wall, just watching me.” Skye rolled her eyes and stuffed her hands into her pockets guiltily, shrugging as she confessed, “And since I figured that he was just another vampire, I did what I do best – I attacked him.”

  Taran shook his head. “And what did he do?”

  Her brows drew together as she closed her eyes and tried to remember. “I had knocked him to the floor, but he blocked every punch I threw, like he was playing with me. Son of a bitch... I think he was actually smiling,” she said in disbelief. “Then he pinned me down and...” She trailed off, recalling Drostan’s words for the first time and frowning. “I think he told me that I didn’t need to be frightened,” she whispered with wide eyes, entirely surprised by the memory.

  Taran smiled lightly. That sounded more like Drostan.

  “And then... well, you know the rest,” she said dismissively. Her hand absently wandered to her shoulder, ensuring that it was still intact.

  “Here we go. We’re live,” Miko announced as he adjusted the webcam and turned on his speakers.

  “Can you see me okay?” Aiyana asked.

  Skye walked around to Miko’s side of the counter quickly, for some reason eager to see Aiyana’s familiar face.

  “All good here. How is it on your end?” Miko asked.

  “Crystal clear. Where is everyone?” Aiyana asked. She grinned and waved when Skye walked up behind Miko. “Hey, Skye! How are... ?” She stopped abruptly before squinting and leaning closer to the screen. “Is it just the picture or... what’s going on with your hair?”

  “Apparently, turning into a faol is sorta like becoming a Pantene model,” Skye laughed. “After the transformation, I woke up with my natural hair color... and that’s not all.” She leaned closer to the camera and laughed when Aiyana broke out into squeals of joy seeing that her facial scarring was gone. ”Oh trust me, it gets better,” Skye assured, but frowned when she looked down at her tight, long-sleeved shirt.

  There was chattering in the background and Miko rolled his eyes watching Schrader and a few of the scientists cramming in behind Aiyana. They said that they were putting the feed up on a larger monitor so that they could get a closer inspection.

  Taran, while still on the other side of the counter and well out of view of the camera, waved for Skye to approach.

  “Come hither, Skye,” he coaxed.

  She gave him a quizzical look in response. Taran had called her by name. Similarly to when Taran referred to Miko as ‘Lance’, Skye felt the intended sting at her demotion from ‘love’, ‘my love’, or even ‘wee one.’ She tried not to let it show in her expression, though.

  “Ya wish to show them the other changes in ya?” He asked innocently and she nodded. “Then ya’ll need to follow me. We’ll be back in just a moment,” Taran called. He smiled hearing the woman on the computer asking a quiet ‘was that him?’ before Miko shushed her.

  15: Varying Degrees

  “Where are we going?” Skye asked as they exited the kitchen. For the first time since their introduction, Taran was not guiding her by her arm or hand as they walked.

  It was duly noted.

  At first, she was unsure how she felt about it. Was she relieved or disappointed that he was distancing himself as a result of her earlier apprehension at his touch? After a moment of his coldness, and judging by the painful twinges in her chest, she grudgingly pegged her reaction as that of disappointment.

  “Ya can nah show them your shoulders and back in what ya are wearing now,” he said casually as he climbed the stairs.

  He could feel her eyes on him, could sense that she was trying to mask how truly thrown off she was by his sudden distance.

  “So we will just have to go fetch ya another shirt,” he added and waited for his vague words to have their intended impact on her. A knowing smile spread across his lips
a second later as, right on cue, she nearly missed a step.

  “Another shirt?” She repeated weakly and bit the inside of her cheek as she cast him a worried look. “Umm... won’t she mind that I’m taking her clothes while she’s not here?”

  Taran smiled victoriously as he held his tongue. It had been a direct hit.

  Skye stared at his back as her thoughts instantly turned to chaos. What in God’s name was causing the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins and the pain that was making it difficult to breathe? Was she honestly freaking out that there was a woman living here with him?

  Her jaw clenched at the thoughts ‘woman’ and ‘with him’. There was her answer. Damned if she was not suddenly crazy jealous and extremely pissed off, planning out how to rid the world of whatever shameless hussy had made herself cozy in this castle as if it was not hallowed ground. Her fingernails were digging into her palms in outrage as she struggled to stay calm. For whatever reason, she instinctively felt betrayed at the thought of a mortal residing on this land.

  Fighting to keep her breathing steady, she forced herself to recognize the reality of the situation – she had absolutely no right to be possessive of Taran. He was a complete stranger. The only things she knew about him were that he was a faol and that he was old enough to have signed Jesus’ yearbook. Besides, every time he had tried to show an interest in her, she had shied away from him. Because she wanted to be alone. Because she didn’t really want to be with him, right?

  But if that was true, why did the thought of him allowing a mortal lover to live with him in this castle boil her blood? And why did the thought of him having a mortal lover anywhere turn her stomach and fracture her heart? And why did she feel that, as a faol, she had claim to him over any mortal woman? And who was to say this unknown woman was a mortal anyway? He had mentioned that there were two other female faoil...

  Her eyes widened at the intensity of the rage that suddenly flared in her.

  And if it was a female faol, why did that prospect fill her with the primal urge to kill it?

  She had to grip the railing for support. There was no way it could be possible, she reasoned, but she could have sworn that the wolf in her was trying to transform again.

  Taran continued his silence while listening to her racing pulse. Her breathing was becoming far more labored than the climb up the stairs would cause. When the scent of her rage was nearly at its peak, he finally put an end to it. He chuckled and smiled over his shoulder at her – as if she had just made a preposterous assumption – as if he had not deliberately set her up to think there might be another woman in his life. It had been a manipulative maneuver, true enough, but he had effectively proven his point. With just a few vague words, he had forced Skye to examine the feelings she harbored for him – the feelings that she would have otherwise continued to ignore.

  “There is nah another woman here, love,” he assured. “Ya’ll have to make do with a shirt of mine. It’s likely to serve ya as a dress, but sadly, it is all tha I can offer.”

  As discretely as possible, Skye breathed a sigh of immense relief. She eyed him suspiciously as they approached his room, wondering whether that had been retaliation for her ‘rabid dog’ remark about Drostan. The second he opened the door to his bedchambers, she was slapped in the face with that damnable scent of his and nearly tripped.

  Vaporized sex. So, this is what Superman feels like around kryptonite, she mused as she struggled to walk in a straight line. One foot in front of the other was difficult to accomplish with his bed in view. She stopped at the center of the room, trying not to gawk at it too openly. The mattress was massive – large enough to hold him comfortably in whichever form he chose to sleep. Her brow arched as that thought sparked the recollection that just a short time earlier, she had been naked and curled up beside his faol form. She looked at him in awe as he opened the drawers of his dresser.

  He was guarding me while I slept, she realized. The thought was surprisingly comforting – at least, you know, in a creepy, horrifying cuddling-with-a-hulking-beast kind of way. Her brow furrowed as she searched her mind. She struggled to remember... something.

  Stupid tranquilizer darts, she growled in her mind. She had the vaguest feeling that she had slept in Taran’s arms at some point but could not decide if it was a dream or an actual memory. Oh hell, was I naked then, too, she wondered? She rolled her eyes at the likelihood. Dream or not, she could recall in perfect clarity the sensation of his warm, strong arms around her. She could feel his kisses on her forehead; hear his rumbling voice speaking so soothingly in her ear...

  “This ought do,” Taran called.

  “Huh?” She asked in surprise, snapping back out of her memory or daydream or whatever the hell it was.

  Taran closed the drawer and smirked at the dazed tone of her voice. Turning to face her, he held up a black muscle shirt that looked as if it had never been worn.

  Thank God for small favors, she thought. Maybe it had never been wrapped around that hard... massive... magnificent chest of his (pause for choppy, feminine sigh). Maybe it had never been exposed to his trademark scent of Au de Sexy Screwable Scotsman. If that was the case, at least she stood a small chance of being able to function properly while wearing it.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. After a few seconds, however, it became apparent that he had no intention of bringing it to her. He was instead holding it out for her to retrieve.

  Damn him, she thought and, giving herself a pep talk the entire way, she went for it. I can do this. I can be purity gal and deny the temptation before me. My mind is a temple... nay, a citadel of pure thoughts. No sexy thoughts. No thoughts whatsoever pertaining to Taran and sex...

  Mmm... Taran...

  And sex...

  She clenched her fists at her sides discretely and tried again. No sexy thoughts. No thoughts about him in his massive bed with his equally massive body covered in sweat and his glorious chest heaving and his growls in my ear and his hands running over my body and... Damn it!

  She took a steadying breath as she stopped in front of him, trying not to let her hand tremble too much as she reached out for the shirt. To her surprise, he pulled it away at the last second.

  “Ya swore at me,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “I huh what?” She asked as her face contorted in confusion. Her hand was still hanging in midair for the shirt that was now hidden behind his back.

  “Ya raised your voice to me in anger and ya swore at me,” he elaborated as he stared down into her eyes intensely. “Repeatedly. And in varying degrees, I might add.”

  “Oh.” She breathed as she deflated guiltily.

  Silence settled over them for a long moment and she studied his expression, thinking that he could not possibly be serious. His continued stubborn silence told her that he most definitely was.

  “I...” she tried.

  The effort to keep her eyes from rolling of their own accord took every ounce of self-restraint she possessed. She was terrible at this stuff. Her initial reaction was to debate that she had not so much cursed at him as she had cursed to him. Unfortunately, she realized that argument would get her nowhere fast.

  Clearing her throat and trying not to sound sarcastic in any way, shape, or form, she managed a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

  A satisfied grin instantly spread across Taran’s lips and he handed over the shirt.

  “Apology accepted,” he stated cheerfully as he walked past her.

  Just when she began to grimace at having to say those words, his hand came down across her ass... hard.

  “But do mind your tongue, wee one,” he warned gruffly in her ear. “For I’m nah always so forgiving.”

  She growled in outrage, spinning around and watching in disbelief as he crossed the room and winked at her. He motioned for her to change before turning his back.

  “You... I cannot... You just fu—,” she sputtered.

  Try as she might to restrain herself, everything that wanted
to come out of her mouth seemed to include all conceivable uses of the f-bomb, the phrase ‘cocky bastard’, and other ‘varying degrees’ of ‘swearing at’ him. She changed quickly, grumbling under her breath the entire time.

  “I can’t believe you just... Who in the... ? What gives you the right to... ?” She stammered indignantly.

  The task of pulling off her shirt was made far more difficult in her enraged state. Who did he think he was? She had broken men’s arms for letting their hands brush up against her in the past. What made him think it was acceptable to reprimand and touch her so intimately in one swift action?

  Across the room, Taran was struggling to keep his body from shaking as he laughed silently to himself. She was simply adorable when angry.

  The shirt hung to her knees and she clenched her teeth, struggling to piece together a profanity-free sentence.

  “Can I cut this?” She growled.

  He turned to find her standing with her hands on her hips, a scowl set firmly on her face that had him biting his cheek to keep his laughter at bay.

  “Aye, love,” he said with a smirk. He retrieved a pair of scissors from his desk before returning to find her still scowling. “Ya know, if the wind changes, your face may well become stuck like tha,” he warned and chuckled at the outraged huff she gave in response. “How short do ya want I should cut it?”

  Her brow arched defiantly (or was it in intrigue?) when he gripped the shirt and dragged her closer by it.

  “Here? No answer? Okay, looks good to me,” he said with a grin.

  Despite herself, her lips parted when he knelt down in front of her. The feeling of his hand on her hip guiding her to turn as he cut away the extra material had parts of her pleading for him to just cut it all off and carry her to the bed already. She blinked at the vivid detail with which her mind painted the entire scene. She could see...