Destiny Fulfilled

by Laire McKinney

  Riagan felt a strange flicker of an unknown emotion deep within his gut, almost an urge to take care of this wee lass, to help her bear the burden of life, to protect her from life’s traumas.

  He also had an urge to lick the nipples that pierced the T-shirt. He’d not seen a pair of breasts such as those even on an immortal. They must be caressed. They simply must. So he sat on his hands on the stool near the counter and bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.

  Wren handed him a mug. “It’s hot.”

  Before she finished speaking, he was gulping the scalding liquid, ignoring the burn of his tongue and throat.

  Newly mortal, he had not had an appetite and had not realized his thirst until the tea washed down his throat.

  “Are you hungry?” She watched him set the empty mug on the counter.

  “Famished.”

  “I don’t have a lot here, but I’ll make you something.”

  “I thank you.” His stomach growled as if on cue.

  While she set about preparing him what looked like a meat sandwich, he gathered all the willpower he possessed.

  “We need to talk,” he stated flatly.

  “Um, okay.”

  Duke lumbered over to stand by her leg, as if knowing what was to come and knowing he needed to offer his support. The mutt was perceptive, if not more than a little annoying.

  But just then Riagan heard a shuffling noise and he glanced at the clock. Ten o’clock on the dot. Gods, Wren’s mother was precise. And she was also as naked as the day she was born. Wren rushed forward faster than he’d ever seen a human move.

  “Mama!”

  Wren grabbed her mother’s thin shoulders, turned her around, and marched her back into the bedroom. “Mama, we have a guest. You have to put clothes on.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.”

  “I’ll make you some tea. Once you get dressed, come on out.”

  Wren shut the door to her mother’s bedroom and walked down the hall, hoping her cheeks were not as red as they felt. She wasn’t embarrassed of her mother, more like chagrined for her mother. She should have been more careful in making sure her mother was properly dressed when the clock hit nine fifty-nine.

  Riagan was studying pictures on the wall and seemed oblivious to what had happened, though she knew he’d seen her mother. Naked.

  “Who is this?” He pointed to a photo Wren had taken at Erika’s twenty-fifth birthday dinner. Her sister was glaring into the camera over a plate piled high with food. Wren had gone out of her way to make her sister’s favorite meal of fried chicken and dumplings, but Erika said they’d have been better off going to the local Chinese restaurant in town, which was known for its horrible dishes as well as food poisoning. Wren shut away the memory of her hurt feelings and forced her attention back to the picture, which Ray was tapping with a long finger.

  “That’s Erika. My older sister.”

  “Hmm. You look nothing alike.”

  “No, we don’t. She used to tease me and tell me that I was Snow White and that Mom wasn’t really my mom.”

  “She is mean, this sister?”

  “All siblings can be mean, right?”

  “Nay. My brother and I never fought. He is my twin. His name is Drake.”

  “Are you identical?”

  Two six-foot-five-inch blond-haired men with rippling muscles and enticing accents. Oh, what a dream.

  “Aye, nearly,” he answered.

  Lost in her little sidebar of a daydream, she forgot what question he was answering. “Nearly what?” Damn his good looks for making it impossible to think.

  “We are identical. No one would be able to tell us apart by looking at us, but we know the difference.”

  “Oh, Lord,” she muttered, and he laughed. “And is he your only sibling?”

  Ray stiffened, his jaw clenched.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  He turned from the pictures and headed toward the door. “I have a half brother.”

  She was about to ask more questions when her mother returned. This time she wore a calf-length dress with a plastic strand of green ivy vine woven through her hair. Lipstick was smeared across her mouth.

  “Mama,” she began when her mother shuffled into the kitchen. “This is Ray. Ray, this is my mother, Annie O’Hara.”

  Her mom’s mouth fell open. She gawked at him before demanding enthusiastically, “The time has come, then?”

  Ray glanced from her mother to Wren.

  Wren shrugged. “The time has come for what?”

  “Destiny. The time has come to fulfill your destiny.” Her eyes danced with a delight Wren did not understand or share.

  “Wren, Mom. Call me Wren. And it’s time to fulfill my destiny? What are you talking about?”

  “Who is he?” Annie’s mood changed like a sideswipe.

  “Ray is a…friend. He’s new to the area.” She glanced at Ray, but he was staring at her mother, a morose and miserable expression on his handsome face.

  “I’m going for a walk. I need to see if they’re here.” Her mother made for the door.

  “Mama, you have to eat breakfast and take your medicine. Where is your pillbox? I couldn’t find it this morning.”

  She didn’t answer but instead demanded of Ray, “Did you know her name is Destiny?”

  “Destiny? I did not.”

  “Call me Wren.”

  “Do you know why I named her Wren?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she plunged on. “When I was a little girl, I used to catch wrens. I had a huge wooden cage built just for them. I could leave the door open, though. Even if they flew away, they always came back. The little people liked them too.”

  She cupped her hand imitating how she used to hold the birds. “They would fly right into my hand, eat from my palm, sit on my shoulder. At one point I had at least twenty that lived in my cage and hundreds that lived in the woods. I could go walking in the forest, and they would follow me.”

  The smile on her face was serene and peaceful, evidence of yet another mood change. Then she frowned. “They all flew away and I don’t know what happened to them. They don’t come around anymore. Maybe they’re with the faeries.” She turned to Wren. “But now I have my very own wren and she’ll never leave me.”

  Annie walked toward Wren with her arms outstretched, like she was going to embrace her, then stopped mid-stride, turned to the living room, and fell into her chair. Wren tiptoed over and reached into the pocket of her mother’s robe where she found the medicine box. The pills she’d watched her mom take before work yesterday were in there. She must have spit them out after Wren left. Oh no.

  “What are those?” Ray asked.

  Wren massaged her temples as the dull ache of a headache threatened to grow roots behind her eye. “Her medicine. Excuse me, but I need to call her doctor.”

  “Why?”

  Wren ignored his question and headed back into the kitchen. Ray followed her, so close she could feel the vibrations off his skin. She had to stare at the phone a full minute before her mind could re-register what she needed to do. Call the doctor. Right.

  Just then, Kelly showed up for her biweekly visit, letting herself into the home without knocking. Duke greeted her with a sloppy lick of her knee. She patted him on the head like he was an old friend, then pulled a bone out of her purse and gave it to him.

  “Hi, Kelly,” Wren greeted.

  “Wren.” Kelly gave her a quick hug then turned to stone when she saw Ray.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Ray, this is Kelly. Kelly, Ray.”

  Ray muffled a hello, but Kelly said nothing, gawking like she was seeing Fabio or some other male model in the flesh.

  “Kelly?” Wren prompted.

  “I’m sorry.” Kelly shook her head more violently than was normal. She walked over to Ray and held out her hand. “Hi.”

  Ray smiled, and Kelly’s knees buckled. She caught herself on the table with her other hand, then scurried into the kitchen. With hands on the coun
ter, she leaned forward, gazing at him from afar.

  Oh come on. He’s not that good-looking. Well, maybe he is, but really? Despite herself, Wren cracked a smile.

  “He should’ve come earlier,” her mother muttered. “You can’t wait till the equinox to get shit done.”

  “Did she miss another dose?” Kelly asked, unnecessarily.

  “Yep. With what’s been going on at work, I haven’t been as diligent about checking her pillbox. She’d been doing so well.”

  “Need some soup,” her mother quipped. “The faeries told me they’d bring me soup. The kind with the little berries from the forest. Now I don’t have no soup.”

  Wren sighed and found Ray staring at her. “What?” she demanded, prepared to defend her mother against any ill speak.

  “Your mother says interesting things, does she not?”

  “Yes, she does. That’s part of her illness.”

  Kelly studied the pillbox, counting under her breath. “I think she needs to go into the hospital, Wren, just to tweak her meds and get her stabilized. She shouldn’t have deteriorated this much so fast. Maybe she needs a different dose.” Kelly stopped talking to stare at Ray again who was simply too large a presence to be in the small kitchen.

  Wren returned to her mother and gently shook her. “Mama, Kelly’s here, and we think it would be a good idea for you to go to the hospital for a few days. Is that okay?”

  “I’m tired, honey. I am.”

  Ray moved into the living room, casting uncertain glances at Kelly who was staring at him like he was something not quite human.

  “Kelly, can you call the ambulance?” Wren tried to swallow the aggravation she was starting to feel.

  “Yes.” She tore her eyes from Ray long enough to get her cell phone. She dialed, then talked for a few moments before flipping the phone shut. “Done. They’ll need you to sign the papers.” Her gaze settled back on Ray.

  “Okay.” Wren’s voice was louder than necessary. “Thanks for your help.”

  No one spoke for a long time while Wren packed her mother a bag and set it by the door. She turned to find Kelly slowly inching her way toward Ray like a cat on the prowl. He seemed oblivious, more fascinated by Annie than the nurse. The whole thing irritated her. “You can wait outside if you want.”

  With a brisk nod, Ray turned and slipped through the metal door, letting it slam shut behind him.

  Kelly’s shoulders slumped as she watched him descend off the porch and pass out of sight. The rain stopped and the thunder could be heard rolling off into the distance.

  Once the ambulance arrived, Wren signed the paperwork after they loaded her mother inside. Before she could say good-bye, her mother fell asleep, snoring softly.

  With Ray nowhere to be seen, Kelly seemed more her old self and gave Wren a big hug. “I’m so sorry to hear what happened at work. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Kelly. I appreciate that. And thanks for all your help with Mom.”

  After Kelly left, Wren went onto the small wooden porch and scanned the property. Clouds spread across the sky, gray and ominous, hanging low on the horizon, obscuring the peaks of the mountain range. Little sunlight passed through, and the air was cool. She shivered and was about to go inside for a sweater when Ray stepped out from behind an enormous tree that grew along the side of house.

  He started across the yard, his gaze locked on hers. Something in him had changed since he was last in the trailer, and uncertainty erupted through her body.

  She swallowed a flash of fear as his purposeful steps carried him forward, toward her. His hands were not clenched but his body was tight, like he was about to explode from some pent-up emotion. He didn’t look angry but resolute, determined. And for whatever reason, she had the feeling that she was at the heart of this new, alarming focus. She felt like a helpless doe about to be devoured by a starved lion.

  The grass crunching under his booted feet was the only sound. She wanted to rub her arms to warm her body but found she couldn’t move. The expanse of Ray’s chest broadened as he approached, making him seem bigger somehow, threatening. With each step, more and more of her breath left her body until she felt dizzy.

  He stopped at the bottom stair, five steps away from her. Sweat broke out over her palms as he climbed, slowly and one by one. Not once had he averted his lock on her face. Would he catch her again if she fainted?

  Heat emanated off his body and the air surrounding her rose in temperature until it was almost too hot. He was too close. With each of his breaths, electric shocks fired off him, pricking her own skin, turning her chilled and bumpy skin into a heated wet blanket.

  She dug her nails into the rail and couldn’t help but pant at his closeness. Breathing became difficult. Ray moved toward her, lifting his arms, prepared to do something. Would he pull her to him again?

  Or would he hurt her, beat her, kill her? She really did not know this man very well.

  But she found herself gently yet firmly gathered into his arms. Her head found the now familiar indentation and settled there like a magnet. His arms—long, powerful, intense—wrapped around her small frame and supported her weight, her fears, her uncertainties. And she realized this was just what she needed and wanted—to be held. To just be held.

  THE LASS FELL into his arms with no hesitation, and it felt good to have her there. Always one who preferred the act of sex over anything else, Riagan was surprised to find that he could hold a woman close and not be fighting off the urge to take her.

  The desire was there, to be certain—no man could be near a woman such as this and not think of taking her to his bed. But for right here, right now, he was content to hold the suffering lass. That may have been the strangest thing that had happened so far.

  After several moments, when he was sure her strength had returned, he asked, “How fares your mother?”

  With a sigh, she removed herself from his arms and stared at her fingernails. Would she cry if she tried to speak? He had little doubt she would. His arms were ready to pull her back against him at the first sign of her need.

  Instead, she spoke. “Why were you in the forest that day?”

  Shocked by her question, he realized there was a yearning in her, but he was uncertain what it was for. The first rays of the day’s sun finally broke through the cloud cover and shone down upon the dead grass.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to face him, to acknowledge him and his closeness. She tilted her head back and met his eyes. Her shoulders shook under his touch, and he realized she not only fought the emotions about her mother but fought the ones about him as well. She was falling for him but wanted it not.

  He straightened, tall and erect, until he towered over her. He had little time left and there was certainly no time for romantic games. With a glimmer of hope, he forced himself to focus on his goal—to fulfill the terms of his punishment and return to the Brotherhood—and pushed aside any other feelings that threatened. The full moon would rise soon, and he had no time to waste.

  He studied her expression, trying to gauge her willingness. If she could but fall in love with him, then he could cross the portal, save the Cauldron, and redeem himself for past mistakes. But of course she’d fall in love with him—that had never been a problem for him in the past. But could he get her to do so with so short of time left?

  And what about her? Was she supposed to be the one to have her heart broken so he could regain immortality and his place in the Brotherhood?

  He liked the idea not.

  I do not want to hurt this lass. I have grown but a bit fond of her, I have.

  He gazed toward the forest, where the portal’s light shone like a dim glimmer of hope. With the full moon so close, the veil between the worlds was already thinning.

  He squelched an emotion he chose not to recognize and coldness settled into his body, the coldness of the warrior druid he was. Resolve built in his body like the bricks of one of the empty buildings on her Main Str
eet. Just the way he’d been taught.

  Fluttering along the tree line danced the faery, her sunshine colors flashing against the brightening sky. She blended in with the rays, and he doubted Wren could see her. But Riagan could see the troublemaker well. She flitted around, and the trees swayed behind her, their limbs intertwined and waving like the ocean.

  “It is time, Riagan.” The faery’s voice carried to him, and he understood.

  He returned his gaze to Wren. He felt like he’d not had a woman in centuries. If he were to claim her body, her heart would be his. He didn’t know how he knew this, but he did, as he knew having her would be the pinnacle of his existence.

  He was suddenly overcome with an urgent yearning he could not control. The tenderness he’d shown moments ago, whilst cradling her in sorrow, was gone. In its place was the need to fulfill his destiny. And his destiny lay with the Cauldron.

  He clamped down on her shoulders until she cried out, opening her cherry lips in protest. He silenced her words with the force of his own mouth, desperate and bold. Even the softest of heather that powdered the landscape of his homeland could not compare to the plush pillows of her mouth.

  He yanked her to him and barely noticed she struggled. She was so much smaller, weaker than he that he didn’t feel the push against his chest, the writhing of her petite frame. Her fight just served to create more delicious friction against his alert and responsive body.

  He increased the pressure against her mouth and groaned as her soft lips gave under his aggressive probing. Licking the inside of her mouth was like tasting the sweetest, ripest fruit in all the land. Her tongue was warm, wet, and he could not temper the way he flicked it with his own.

  Her mouth was unlike any taste he’d experienced upon his realm—sweet, light as honey and berries.

  With one hand, he gripped her mass of curls and tugged her head back from his, breaking the kiss to taste the skin on her neck. He brought his lips to the pulsing spot right under her ear, and then he extended his tongue and tasted her. He licked her collarbone to the sharp line of her jaw. He readjusted her head how he willed and held her immobile with the strength of his other arm.