by Lori King
Turning on the hose, he sucked in his breath as the cold water drenched his clothing, washing off the remains of the treacherous witch. Caitlin’s giggle made him chuckle despite the frigid temperature. Opening his mouth, to tease her a bit more, Kyran swallowed his words when his dragon growled a low, threatening snarl in his mind.
Dropping the hose, he spun around and was racing toward the woods behind Caitlin’s cottage while yelling into her mind, “Get in the house and lock the door! Someone’s coming!”
9
Watching through Kyran’s eyes, Caitlin disobeyed his shouted orders and stood by the opened back door, holding tight to a growling Duke’s collar. The dog made it abundantly clear he was more than ready to help her mate, should the black dragon run into trouble handling the intruders she could sense were just over the ridge. The long, tense moments dragged on as she waited to ‘see’ or hear something …anything.
Finally, she felt her mate preparing to attack. Heard the footsteps of the trespassers coming closer to where he was lying in wait on the first branch of a tall tree just to the left of their path. She saw the glint of his blade in the setting sun and held her breath as he held his.
Just as he was about to attack, a low baritone with just a touch of an accent she couldn’t quite discern hollered out, “I swear to the Heavens, if you cut me with that blade, I will be forced to kick your ass before I welcome you back from the dead, Kyran O’Connor.”
Immediate recognition burst into her dragon’s mind followed by the name Drago at the same time she breathed, “Kyran? Who is that?”
Laughing as he jumped out of the tree, he answered, “My Commander and the lads.”
Caitlin wasn’t quite sure what was happening, but knew from the happiness her mate felt at seeing not only the man with short dark hair and goatee who had yelled at him, but also the four other men with ‘the Commander’ that they were most definitely friend and not foe. Kyran felt a kinship for each of them that filled her with hope. They were his family, his brethren, Guardsmen with whom he shared a bond almost as strong as the one he shared with her.
“Drago?” he asked, walking toward them while sliding his knife back into his waistband.
“Who the hell else would it be? Did you think you could get away so easily?” Drago chuckled, but there was steel in his voice from years of being in command and if she wasn’t mistaken, a little anger.
“Ah toold Doxie Ah woold be back whin Ah hud doone what needed tae be done.”
“And since when do we ever get to do things on our own when the Commander’s around?” the tall blond joked, wrapping Kyran up in a big hug and slapping him on the back, completely ignoring her mate’s wet clothes and the small bits of gore he hadn’t had time to wash off. The name ‘Kayne’ floated through her mate’s mind, as well as the word ‘demi-god.’
Okay, gonna need more explanation on that one…
No sooner had the one called Kayne let go of her mate, than the scowling man with a beard and hair that seemed to have a mind of its own who stood off by himself, stepped up and grabbed Kyran’s outstretched hand, clapped him on the back and in a low almost whisper said, “Yeah, thanks for almost getting me killed. Never…I repeat NEVER, make me the messenger again. You know our Drago doesn’t take kindly to being left out of the loop.”
Barking with laughter, Kyran shook his head, “Aye Doxie, what’s a matter? Th' Assassin git th' best o' you?”
“Assassin?” The question was asked before she could stop it. She had vowed to not interrupt his reunion with his friends, but his quick response made her smile, “Drago’s nickname. Juist lik' mine is th' Phantom. We a' hae them. Ah promise tae explain.”
Not missing a beat, her mate went right back to his conversation with his brethren as Doxie, whom she now knew from Kyran’s thoughts was really Maddox, growled, “Yeah, and he wasn’t the only one.”
Walking toward Drago, who had been standing back, Kyran knelt, bowed his head and in a low voice apologized - for what, Caitlin didn’t know but was sure she would soon find out. “Ah offer mah deepest apologies fur mah behavior 'n' th' suffering ye endured because o' mah actions. Ah …”
Drago’s hand landed on his shoulder, stopping the black dragon’s words. Several seconds of silence ticked by before the Assassin spoke. “Get up. There’s no need for all that, and had you stayed in the lair long enough to talk to me, you would have known that. You were under that evil wench’s control. You could not help what you were doing.” He grabbed Kyran’s hand and pulled the black dragon to his feet before continuing with a cheeky grin, “Besides, the scar gets me special attention from my mate.” He waggled his eyebrows as the whole group erupted in laughter.
“And let me tell you what, ol’ Drago is getting good at working the sympathy angle,” the tall dragon with red curls and an easy smile joked just before the dark-haired man standing next to him, obviously his brother from the unmistakable resemblance, added, “For sure. That old dragon has learned a lot of new tricks since returning to the land of the living.”
Holding out his hand, the brother with the brown hair said, “I’m not sure if you remember me. It’s been awhile.” He winked. “I’m Ronin’s oldest son, Rian, and this is my youngest brother, Rory.”
Shock caused her mate to falter for just a second before shaking Rian’s hand and then Rory’s. “Ne'er did Ah imagine…Ronin’s lads. Wasn’t thare anoother?”
“Yep, we left Royce at home, minding the lair,” Rory answered, ignoring Kyran’s hand and slapping him on the back. “Damn, we’re glad to see you in one piece and back in your right mind.”
Another wave of guilt washed over her mate at the redhead’s words, but this time, as the group laughed and agreed, all saying how great it was to find him healthy and well, Kyran pushed it aside and focused on his brethren. Caitlin could not have been happier for her dragon. She could feel how much these men meant to him and how having them back in his life eased some of his torment.
Listening to their conversation as they made their way toward her was comical. Here were centuries-old men and dragons, responsible for destroying evil and keeping the world safe, joking and teasing as if they were fraternity brothers returning for another semester at school.
“What brought you all the way out here?” Drago asked.
Winking at his old friend, her dragon taunted, “Aye, ye’ll see soon enuff.”
“Has to be a woman. It’s always a woman with the Phantom,” Kayne laughed from where he stood at the rear of the group.
“Always a woman, huh?” Caitlin grumbled. “Well, those days are over, bub.”
“Aye, they are, mo maité, aye they are.” His quick answered reassured her, even though she truly had no doubts that he truly was all hers.
Still not answering their taunts, Kyran motioned, “C'moan, if ye hae tae knoow what Ah’m oot 'ere in God’s land fur, you’re gonnae hae tae follow me.”
“Lead on,” Drago agreed, then added, “And while we walk, you can explain why you’re wet and covered in the remains of something evil that reminds me of the O’Baoills.”
“Aye,” was Kyran’s quick reply just before he began explaining what had just happened with Marcie.
Caitlin grinned when, every time her dragon spoke her name, love filled their mating bond. He had yet to reveal that she was his mate but could tell from the questions his brethren were asking they were quickly putting two and two together.
She heard the rustle of the bushes right before Duke barked at the Guardsmen’s arrival in her yard. “Hush, boy. They’re all our friends.” She chuckled as the German Shepherd grumbled and groaned but finally laid down at her feet as they both waited for Kyran and his friends to arrive on the deck.
“Caitlin, these are mah lads,” Kyran announced as she heard his boots strike the redwood. His hand touched her then he added, “Lads, Ah’m happier than you’ll ever knoow tae introduce ye tae Caitlin Brookes, mo maité.”
“I knew it was a woman,” Kayne whooped wit
h laughter.
“Congratulations, old boy,” Drago cheered. Then to Caitlin, he said from where he’d moved to stand before her, “And Heavens bless you for having to deal with our Kyran. He can be a hand full.”
She saw the Commander’s outstretched hand through Kyran’s eyes and reached to shake it, chuckling when her dragon shook his head and growled, taking her hand in his own. His brethren all howled with laughter, but it was Rory’s who explained, “The mating call has got the old Phantom all tied up in his underwear. Jealousy’s a bitch, huh, old man?”
Laughing out loud, Caitlin pulled her hand from his while saying, “I will not be rude to your friends. You have to trust me.”
“Caitlin…” he grumbled as her hand touched Drago’s.
“Kyran…” she growled right back, shaking not only the Commander’s hand but also all the other Guardsmen while completely ignoring her mate’s discomfort.
Last to offer his congratulations was Kayne, who after welcoming her with a hug she knew was mostly to irritate Kyran, knelt down and asked, “And who do we have here?”
“That’s Duke,” she responded. “My seeing-eye dog.”
She could feel Kyran’s pride when none of his brethren missed a beat at the admission of her blindness, but found herself bursting out with laughter when Rory joked, “Good for you. You won’t have to look at Kyran’s ugly mug for a thousand years.”
Yelling over the hilarity, her mate threatened, “Watch it, young’un, Ah whooped yer dad’s arse 'n' Ah kin whoop yers tae.” Which only made the Guardsmen laugh louder.
When things died down and Caitlin could get a word in edgewise, she asked, “How about some dinner? I’m starving. What about you guys?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“I can always eat.”
“You know it.”
“It’s been hours. I could eat a horse.”
“I never turn down a meal.”
Caitlin grinned as they all answered in unison and Kyran grumbled, “Okay, bit ye lot wull helping tae wash th' dishes.”
“Kyran,” she scolded, holding his hand as he laid it in hers then letting herself be led into the house.
“What? Ye don’t knoow thae lads, mo chroí, they’ll et ye oot o' hoose 'n' home 'n' leave a mess th' size o' the aftermath of a hurricane.”
“Hey, hey, hey – hold up there,” Rory interjected. “You’re out of the loop, old man. All of us but Kayne have been domesticated.”
“Ye doon’t say?” Kyran coughed, holding back a laugh.
“Oh, yeah, mated and happy and whooped by our women,” Rory added with a snicker.
“Speak for yourself, little brother,” Rian’s voice sounded from across the room, making everyone laugh for the hundredth time.
Life with these guys is gonna be a lot of fun…
As soon as she could be heard, Caitlin asked, “How does spaghetti sound? I think it’s the only thing I have enough of.”
“That’s sounds great!” Kayne said before quickly offering, “And why don’t you take a seat and let us cook. We really aren’t as bad as Kyran makes us sound.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she shook her head.
“No, really,” she could hear the sincerity in the Guardsman’s voice. “We want to.”
Shrugging, she chirped a quick, “Thank you,” and then made her way to the table, leaving Kyran to help his brethren get the food from the pantry and the refrigerator.
Listening to their comradery as they cooked and kidded around, always including her and explaining their private jokes, made Caitlin realize that in the blink of an eye without any prejudice or questions, she had truly been accepted into their clan and their family…she was one of them. Laughing along with something Kayne said, she felt a buzz race through her mind. It reminded her of the sensation she’d felt the first night Kyran had appeared under her tree.
Trying to zero in on it, she could only hear static. It was then she realized her dragon was talking to one of his brethren without allowing her to hear. Knowing he was up to something but feeling the sincerity in what he was doing, Caitlin focused again on the other Guardsmen and waited for dinner to be ready.
Eating with more than Duke was more fun than she remembered. The men talked between bites and told story after embarrassing story about Kyran from his young and reckless days. More than once, her mate had warned with a growl, “Nae that oone. Some things ur meant tae stay in th' past.” To which they’d all laughed and moved on, promising Caitlin to tell her when ‘the old man’ wasn’t around.
As the last of the spaghetti was eaten and all the men complained about being full, Caitlin tapped her glass and stood, “I know it sounds like I’m proposing a toast, but really I just wanted to say thank you so very much not only for cooking, which by the way was magnificent, but also for accepting me so quickly and lovingly. I know I wasn’t what you expected…”
The sound of a chair sliding across the tile and Drago clearing his throat interrupted, “No, you were not what we expected.” Caitlin held her breath as he paused, afraid of what he was about to say but breathing a sigh of relief when he continued. “You are so much more. I had always prayed for Kyran to have a mate who could not only understand him but was strong enough to stand up to him, and you, Caitlin Brookes, are an answer to my prayers. Thank you for saving our Phantom and bringing him back to us.”
“Hear, hear!” The Guardsmen called in unison.
Tears flowed down her face as once again her words were cut off when Kyran stood beside her and then dropped to one knee. “Caitlin, mo ghrá, Wull ye dae me th' honor o' bein' mah mate, nae joost in wurds but in th' wey o' mah ancestors, blessed by th' Universe before mah brethren 'n' th' Heavens.”
Unable to speak past the emotions filling her entire being, Caitlin could only nod as the Guardsmen whooped and hollered and Kyran stood and kissed her for all she was worth saying, “Tomorra under th' noonday sun, ye wull be mine, always 'n' forever. Ah love ye, mo maité, with all that Ah am, Ah love ye,” as only her mate could do.
10
Thankfully, the bag of clothes Caitlin had saved were big enough for him and even contained some halfway nice things. Kyran hated that he and his brethren wouldn’t be dressed in their surcoats that signified the color and significance of their dragons, and his mate wouldn’t have a gown handmade by the women of his clan. It also bothered him that the mating ceremony he was giving his banshee wasn’t being performed in one of the sacred places of his people, at the lair of the Blue Dragons with all the Elders in attendance. He’d thought about waiting, but knew that simply was not an option. He wanted to be bound to his mate in every way possible as soon as possible.
It had already been decided that they would battle Eve together; his Caitlin had made that perfectly clear. So, if she was going into battle with him, he was making sure she was protected in every way within his power. He would share not only his heart, mind, and body with her, but also his soul, his dragon, and the powerful white magic flowing within him. Together, they would be unstoppable.
Sitting on the deck, looking over the decorations he and his brethren had prepared until the wee hours of the morning, Kyran had to smile. His Caitlin had begged to help and even tried to make Duke keep Kyran from escorting her to her room and tucking her in, grumbling about her traitor of a dog turning on her in her hour of need as the black dragon kissed her goodnight, thrilled that it would be the last evening they would ever spend apart. Letting her have one last look at her backyard before severing that part of their connection, he’d whispered, “Codladh sámh, mo chroí,” exited her room, and stayed in her mind until she was sound asleep.
It had been a crazy night that reminded him how very much he’d missed his lads and how good it would be to kill Eve and return to the clan and his Force. Rory and Kayne raided Caitlin’s garage, coming back with trellises and floral wire they positioned and tied together to make an archway, and at the crack of dawn, complete with sunglasses to shield his still-healin
g eyes from the morning sun, Drago had corralled Rian, and the two of them made their way to a nursery in the next town, returning with white roses and huge yellow daffodils with orange centers. Not only did their scent remind him of his mate, but also the bright colors made everything feel lighter and more festive just as his stunning Caitlin had done for him.
After a brief absence, in which Kyran wondered if all his brethren had abandoned him, they eventually returned with four of the biggest terra cotta pots he’d ever seen and loads more flowers, refusing to tell him where they had found them.
“Don’t worry, we didn’t steal them or anything,” Kayne smiled as Rory snickered while unloading one of the enormous pots.
“Really? The coppers aren’t goona come looking for mah Caitlin, are they?”
A slap to his back was quickly followed by, Drago’s assurance, “No, no, nothing like that. I promise, we asked the owner’s permission and promised to return them before the end of the week.”
Shaking his head, he helped finish the preparations then showered and changed and was now watching the sun as it approached its apex in a cloudless blue sky. One by one, his brethren came out of the house, showered and shaved and ready for the ceremony.
Exactly one minute before the grandfather clock in Caitlin’s foyer was scheduled to strike noon, Rian took his place under the archway. As the only Elder present, and with the blessing of the other three whom he’d spoken to the evening before, the oldest O’Reilly brother would perform the ritual that would bind Kyran and Caitlin together forever.
Watching his brethren assemble to the left of the archway, Kyran followed suit on the opposite side and once in place, whistled for Duke. Opening his sight to Caitlin once again, he was blown away by the love and affection she let fill their bond. Watching the door, he felt weak in the knees when his banshee appeared, being led by Duke, onto the redwood deck.
She’d left her hair long, just the way he liked it, and the crown of daffodils Drago had fashioned fit perfectly upon her head, accentuating her radiant smile and making her appear the goddess Kyran already thought her to be. Her dress, an antique her mother had preserved in a storage unit Caitlin found out about after the reading of her parents’ will, had been worn by five generations of Ó Broin women, with his banshee being the sixth. It was made of the finest off-white silk covered by delicate hand-made lace that draped lovingly off her shoulders and across her décolletage, enhancing the porcelain color of her silken skin and giving her an ethereal glow.