Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  Cutting him off, she brought her face within inches of his.

  “We are connected, you and I,” she declared as she rested her hand over the center of his chest. Her eyes wandered over that area of his body for a moment, fondly studying something that only she could perceive. She leaned in close to his ear, caressing his cheek with her hand as she whispered, “I see you in my future – our paths are joined. You are to be bound to me.”

  Ciaran’s eyes widened in horror as she backed away slightly and held his gaze. Her words had just made things immeasurably worse for them.

  “What? Why would ya say tha?” He whispered pleadingly, unsure of the tender way her fingertips were now tracing his jaw-line. The rational side of him warned that this was unacceptable behavior coming from the mate of his brother, insisted that he needed to put an end to it. Her touch and words were indecently intimate given her bond to Taran...

  But no matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to move away from her. He felt inexplicably drawn to her. Something in the back of his mind urged him to remain where he was. It felt as if being here with her was precisely where he was supposed to be. Those feelings brought on untold levels of anxiety for him.

  She’s Taran’s mate! His mind declared frantically. She was the first woman that the miserable bastard he adored so much had shown such an interest in. Ciaran loved Taran dearly, more than any of his other brothers. He would do anything to protect him. He would never dare to break his trust or cause him grief.

  In response to his horror at the thought of betraying Taran, Skye’s eyes ensnared him. They drew him in, enraptured him, enchanted him...

  The hall faded away from his senses, leaving nothing but Skye and the warmth and light that seemed to radiate from her. He swayed on his feet as her love washed over him. His eyelids grew heavy as her scent intoxicated him. Without thought, he was leaning into her touch, his breathing shallow as he submitted to her will. He stared into her eyes intensely, a comforting feeling settling over him that he had always belonged to her.

  Skye smiled warmly and nodded that he understood. “When the time comes, my dark one, you will battle bravely at my side. Your heart is pure and loyalty unwavering. You alone will follow me without hesitation where no other would dare.”

  The men shared mystified looks at her prediction. They had no idea how to react to the effect her voice was having on them or the way an ancient was so inexplicably transfixed by her. They did not have a clue how they were supposed to respond to this decidedly bizarre exchange.

  “He’s all right, wee one!” Taran called, jogging down the hall toward them. “I hope ya’ve nah broken any bones yet.”

  At the sound of Taran’s voice, Ciaran let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. The world around him lost the glow it had taken on. He watched in astonishment as Skye’s eyes faded back to blue.

  Her hand fell from his face and posture changed as she stared at him in sudden confusion.

  “I... I’m sorry. I must have...” she muttered in her normal voice, shaking her head and blinking repeatedly. She finally looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time. “What did you say your name was?”

  “What the –?” Ciaran breathed and took a startled step away from her. “Did ya see tha?” He demanded, turning to exchange bewildered looks with the other men as they nodded.

  “They did nah give ya a fright, did they?” Taran asked as he walked up behind her. “I came as soon as I heard Latharn had sent them, figured it was the only way to save their lives,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around her. “This is Ciaran, my love. I’ve known him since I was just a wee bit older than ya are now,” he told her with a smile, but upon focusing on his brother’s bewildered face, Taran’s brows drew together. Pulling Skye back in his arms, he peered down at her. He found a dazed look in her eyes as she continued watching Ciaran. Noting the startled faces of the men, he asked sternly, “What’s happened?”

  “I know it’s too soon, but she...” Ciaran said, pointing at her and continuing to stare at her in perplexity. “She speaks when she does nah know it, brother. And her wolf is speaking of things tha have nah come to pass,” he insisted, hoping to point out in advance that he very definitely had not overstepped any boundaries.

  “What are you talking about?” Skye asked defensively, still trying to shake off the overwhelming feelings she had just experienced.

  “It’s true, Lord Taran,” Onchu said, eyeing her anxiously. “Her wolf already takes her voice... but it’s more than tha...”

  “She spoke of seeing the future, Lord Taran,” Maon added solemnly.

  Taran frowned, looking down at Skye and back at Ciaran. “What was said?”

  Ciaran’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth, it was a nervous habit that he had not broken since his time as a mortal. He shifted his weight guiltily from one foot to the other and narrowed his eyes on Skye. He sure as hell was not going to be the one telling Taran what had been said. The whole thing had been entirely too personal.

  Mercifully, Maon chimed in with the play by play.

  Skye bristled as her actions and words were described, avoiding Ciaran’s gaze at all costs.

  Taran, on the other hand, was smirking at them both.

  “It seems your wolf has a great judgment of character, love,” he said before kissing her cheek. He found Ciaran’s discomfort to be extremely amusing.

  Skye was dying for a change of subject. She raged at her inability to control her actions. It was disturbing and happening entirely too frequently.

  This is Latharn’s fault, she decided. If these men had not been waiting for her, she could have avoided the exchange. It had done incalculable damage to her decision to keep the men distant from her.

  “Why were these goons told to wait outside my door like some sort of Scots Secret Service?” She demanded as she spun and glared up at Taran. “Is Latharn, or whatever his name is, under the false impression that I’m incapable of defending myself?”

  Taran sighed heavily upon seeing her furious expression. Funny that she had mentioned the word ‘secret’. Neither he nor Ciaran could point out that they had good reason to believe that her life might be in danger. He had no choice but to downplay it.

  “No, my love. Latharn is simply acting as he feels is necessary. He’s been alive longer than any of us. In his eyes, ya are still a child, newly arrived in his family and in need of protection. Do nah be offended, he means no disrespect,” Taran offered, but he could see in her posture that she was not going to relax. She was troubled by her reaction to Ciaran and would cling to this anger as a means of distracting from it.

  She continued to glare up at him, rage seething from her as she fought off her instinctive urge to lash out. Cruel words were on the tip of her tongue, threatening to erupt from her lips – malicious, pitiless, hurtful declarations that would effectively push them all away and leave her blessedly alone again.

  For the first time since her arrival, she found herself longing for the solitude of her previous existence. Things had been simpler then. She had been in control then. And control was what she craved. So crucial to her sanity, it was the only thing that kept her from losing her grip on reality. She had stood at the mouth of madness once, had given herself over to its seductive embrace and it nearly swallowed her alive. When things were under her command, when she knew what to expect, she could keep her head clear. She needed to keep her head clear. She did not know why that was so imperative, to keep everything locked down. There was just this paralyzing fear deep inside of her that if she let go, if she lost her hold for even a second...

  Her brow furrowed as a strange sensation suddenly hit her, seemingly brought on in response to that train of thought. A stir of echoed whispers rose from the silence of her mind, growing louder and louder in her perception until they reached a deafening level.

  She covered her ears and winced.

  “What’s the matter?” Taran asked, but she could not hear his words, hardly
noticed the hand he rested on her shoulder or the way he was now watching her so concernedly.

  There were too many voices, too many words that she did not comprehend. On and on they came, urgent warnings, but they were not being spoken in her language. She screamed to them in her mind, begged them to stop, to explain it to her. All at once, the whispers simply faded away...

  And everything was suddenly so clear.

  She opened her eyes, her head coming up slowly in complete and total understanding. Looking around herself in wonder, she found the world glowing to her eyes. She could see it now. And it was all connected. Earth and sky, sun and moon, life and death, past and future. She could feel it all. She was linked to everything.

  “They kept ya in the dark...” the woman whispered.

  A blinding light filled her perception and she cried out, gripping her head and struggling to remain standing when it hit her full force. Her knees buckled as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her mind was being flooded with fragmented memories interwoven with things to come. It was overpowering, overtaking her senses so completely that it felt as if she was reliving – and experiencing for the first time – the events at its core.

  She did not notice that she had hit the floor, could no longer perceive the sensations of her body. She covered her face, quaking violently as she lost herself to the visions in her mind.

  The full moon...

  She was screaming to it... connecting with it...

  “I have sensed your rage...” the woman breathed.

  “Why would they want me?” She heard herself ask.

  Fire... white light... anguished shrieks...

  Hands were reaching out to her...

  They begged her for mercy...

  They received none.

  The scent of burning flesh...

  She was walking through the mansion...

  It always started in that place...

  Always started on that night...

  “Do you see?” She heard herself ask in the voice of her wolf.

  The interior of the mansion began shifting...

  Changing to that of the castle...

  Taran was by her side, leading her by her arm...

  By the next step she took, she was in a forest...

  There was cold and pain and grief and heartbreak in this place...

  Something hunted her...

  She was not safe here, death waited in the darkness...

  Her body tensed in terror as growls erupted in the distance...

  She was afraid, more afraid than she could ever recall being...

  But there was a man beside her now...

  He clutched her to his side protectively...

  She was safe with him...

  “I’ll nah have ya dying without me,” he whispered determinedly.

  She spun in surprise hearing his Irish accent...

  “Ciaran?” She called in confusion. Her eyes were still closed, but her body suddenly and visibly relaxed as she recognized him beside her in the mists of the dark forest.

  Ciaran’s mouth dropped open in response.

  Talk about a bad time to be calling out the wrong name, Christ, he thought as he arched a brow and looked over at Taran. Thankfully, his brother was entirely too concerned with the convulsions that she had just gone through to care who she was asking for.

  “I’m here, love. I’m right here and so’s Taran. We’ve got ya, it’s gonna be okay,” he soothed, thinking that she was finally starting to come out of it. “Ya gave us quite a scare. Are ya all right?” He asked anxiously as he rolled up his jacket and placed it beneath her head.

  But the vision was only just beginning.

  Skye gripped his arm tightly and let out a bloodcurdling shriek as her body went rigid once more.

  “Do you trust me, my dark one?” She heard herself ask.

  “I do, a stóirín. Ya know I do,” Ciaran insisted as he faded away.

  The forest, the castle, the mansion...

  All three places were burning suddenly...

  Debris rained down around her...

  She could feel the flames licking at her bare feet...

  Her body was nude...

  Then clad in the scorched remnants of her dress...

  The corset and tattered underskirt faded away again...

  She could feel the heat of the fire on her flesh...

  The men at her side came and went...

  Rapidly changing as her surroundings continued to shift...

  All connected.

  Voices swirled in the flames around her; past and future...

  Things that had been and would be said...

  “They came in the night...” a man said sorrowfully.

  She could see the fire reflected in his tearful, golden eyes...

  “They destroyed...” she heard herself say.

  “Our happiness, our future, our life...” golden eyes whispered.

  “They murdered...” she had said.

  “My daughter...” Ciaran choked out in grief.

  Suddenly, she was standing at the doorway of a small, earthen home...

  A cold winter dawn was breaking...

  She could sense men following closely behind her as she entered...

  The air was heavy here, tense... thick with sorrow and pain...

  And for the first time, she smelled death with her faol senses...

  None of the others had wanted to venture inside...

  She soon focused on the reason for their reluctance...

  Ciaran was weeping, screaming at the top of his lungs...

  Unlike the rest of her visions, there was no familiarity with him here...

  She felt as if she was seeing him for the first time...

  He was clutching a child... a lifeless little girl in his arms...

  His desperate, frantic pleading filled her mind...

  She could not understand his language or words...

  She understood without a doubt what he was begging for...

  What any father would ask for in his place...

  His grief fractured her heart...

  He was a stranger to her here, yet she wept openly for his loss...

  When she reached out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder,

  She noted that her arm was not her own...

  She was witnessing this memory through a man’s eyes...

  A man with intricate blue markings covering his tan flesh...

  He knelt beside Ciaran on the floor, putting an arm around him...

  Ciaran turned and buried his face against the man’s chest...

  He sobbed inconsolably as he accepted the comfort...

  The man was speaking softly and soothingly to him now...

  They did not understand one another...

  They did not need to...

  As she wept, she inhaled deeply...

  She wanted to know whose memory she was reliving...

  Who had comforted Ciaran in his darkest hour...

  The scents of the memory filled her senses...

  She smelled... Taran...

  This was his memory...

  This was the day Taran and Ciaran met...

  She was in the mansion again...

  With tearful, stricken eyes, she searched for Ciaran...

  But he was not with her...

  This was her past, not his...

  She stood alone as the flames closed in around her...

  “They took everything I loved...” she had said.

  “To break your spirit...” the woman breathed.

  “The light had left her eyes...” golden eyes recalled.

  “But I just couldn’t let her go...” Ciaran sobbed.

  A crash sounded beside her, drawing her attention...

  She watched as an archway collapsed in flames...

  The mansion was falling to ruin around her...

  She recalled the fear, the agony left in her wake that night...

  “Your vengeance...” the woman whispered.


  A cruel smile came to Skye’s lips...

  “Eventually we lost all hope...” golden eyes confessed.

  “At least we had...” he breathed, “... until now.”

  “Ya know you’re something more...” Ciaran whispered.

  “Something special...” Taran said.

  “Return to me...” the woman called.

  As fast as it had claimed her, it was gone, leaving her breathless and trembling.

  Her body was covered in cold sweat as she gasped for air and fought to regain her senses. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, Ciaran’s grief was still so fresh in her mind that it hurt to draw a breath.

  “Sweet Jesus!” Ciaran was shouting in panic as her body finally stilled.

  “Come on, wee one. Look at me,” Taran was pleading softly.

  “This ever happened before?” Ciaran demanded shrilly. “Cuz I gotta tell ya, if ya knew this might happen, a little warning woulda been nice!”

  Skye opened her eyes slowly as Taran solemnly shook his head in response. To her complete disgust, she realized that she had collapsed to the floor. Both men were kneeling beside her. The scent of leather attested to the fact that her makeshift pillow was Ciaran’s now absent jacket. Judging by the firm grip Taran still had on her legs and Ciaran had on her shoulders, they had been holding her in place.

  Oh, isn’t this just fucking fantastic, she thought bitterly. So, her mind’s game of show-and-tell came with seizure-like symptoms if she happened to be awake for the fun. She definitely preferred it when they came in her dreams.

  When she tried to sit up, Ciaran urged her to remain where she was.

  “Whoa – easy now, darling. Just lie still a moment. Let’s make sure you’re really out of it this time, yeah?” He suggested nervously.

  She struggled to focus on him, if only to eye him in uncertainty. And, all right, maybe to note that that he looked sexier without his jacket – as well as the fact that the cut off sleeves of his t-shirt exposed the flawless, ghostly pale, impossibly soft skin of his biceps...

  Biceps which, she suddenly realized, she was still gripping tightly.

  She quickly released her hold of his arms and studied his features worriedly. Her brows drew together as she recalled what she had just seen of him in the vision.

  ‘I’ll nah have ya dying without me,’ he insisted.